, but by the almost microscopic revelations of sentiments and
motives, which a full perusal of the secret documents in those ancient
cabinets afford. At that moment it was not ignorance nor dulness which
was leading England towards the pitfall so artfully dug by Spain. There
was trust in the plighted word of a chivalrous soldier like Alexander
Farnese, of a most religious and anointed monarch like Philip II. English
frankness, playing cards upon the table, was no match for Italian and
Spanish legerdemain, a system according to which, to defraud the
antagonist by every kind of falsehood and trickery was the legitimate end
of diplomacy and statesmanship. It was well known that there were great
preparations in Spain, Portugal, and the obedient Netherlands, by land
and sea. But Sir Robert Sidney was persuaded that the expedition was
intended for Africa; even the Pope was completely mystified--to the
intense delight of Philip--and Burghley, enlightened by the sagacious De
Loo, was convinced, that even in case of a rupture, the whole strength of
the Spanish arms was to be exerted in reducing Friesland and Overyssel.
But Walsingham was never deceived; for he had learned from Demosthenes a
lesson with which William the Silent, in his famous Apology, had made the
world familiar, that the only citadel against a tyrant and a conqueror
was distrust.

Alexander, much grieved that doubts should still be felt as to his
sincerity, renewed the most exuberant expressions of that sentiment,
together with gentle complaints against the dilatoriness which had
proceeded from the doubt. Her Majesty had long been aware, he said, of
his anxiety to bring about a perfect reconciliation; but he had waited,
month after month, for her commissioners, and had waited in vain. His
hopes had been dashed to the ground. The affair had been indefinitely
spun out, and he could not resist the conviction that her Majesty had
changed her mind. Nevertheless, as Andrew de Loo was again proceeding to
England, the Duke seized the opportunity once more to kiss her hand,
and--although he had well nigh resolved to think no more on the
subject--to renew his declarations, that, if the much-coveted peace were
not concluded, the blame could not be imputed to him, and that he should
stand guiltless before God and the world. He had done, and was still
ready to do, all which became a Christian and a man desirous of the
public welfare and tranquillity.

When Burghley read the