It is therefore only by courtesy and for convenience that history recognizes his existence at all, as surely no human being in the reign of Philip iii. requires less mention than Philip iii. himself.

I reserve for a subsequent chapter such rapid glances at the interior condition of that kingdom with which it seemed the destiny of the Dutch republic to be perpetually at war, as may be necessary to illustrate the leading characteristics of the third Philip’s reign.

Meantime, as the great queen was no more, who was always too sagacious to doubt that the Dutch cause was her own—­however disposed she might be to browbeat the Dutchmen—­it seemed possible to Spain that the republic might at last be deprived of its only remaining ally.  Tassis was despatched as chief of a legation, precursory to a more stately embassy to be confided to the Duke of Frias.  The archdukes sent the prince of Arenberg, while from the United States came young Henry of Nassau, associated with John of Olden-Barneveld, Falk, Brederode, and other prominent statesmen of the commonwealth.  Ministers from Denmark and Sweden, from the palatinate and from numerous other powers, small and great, were also collected to greet the rising sun in united Britain, while the, awkward Scotchman, who was now called upon to play that prominent part in the world’s tragi-comedy which had been so long and so majestically sustained by the “Virgin Queen,” already began to tremble at the plaudits and the bustle which announced how much was expected of the new performer.

There was indeed a new sovereign upon the throne.  That most regal spirit which had well expressed so many of the highest characteristics of the nation had fled.  Mankind, has long been familiar with the dark, closing hours of the illustrious reign.  The great queen, moody, despairing, dying, wrapt in profoundest thought, with eyes fixed upon the ground or already gazing into infinity, was besought by the counsellors around her to name the man to whom she chose that the crown should devolve.

“Not to a Rough,” said Elizabeth, sententiously and grimly.

When the King of France was named, she shook her head.  When Philip iii. was suggested, she made a still more significant sign of dissent.  When the King of Scots was mentioned, she nodded her approval, and again relapsed into silent meditation.

She died, and James was King of Great Britain and Ireland.  Cecil had become his prime minister long before the queen’s eyes were closed.  The hard-featured, rickety, fidgety, shambling, learned, most preposterous Scotchman hastened to take possession of the throne.  Never—­could there have been a more unfit place or unfit hour for such a man.

England, although so small in dimensions, so meager in population, so deficient, compared to the leading nations of Europe, in material and financial strength, had already her great future swelling in her heart.  Intellectually and morally she was taking the lead among the nations.  Even at that day she had produced much which neither she herself nor any other nation seemed destined to surpass.