increase the prevailing panic. It rained blood in Sweden, monstrous
births occurred in France, and at Weimar it was gravely reported by
eminent chroniclers that the sun had appeared at mid-day holding a drawn
sword in his mouth--a warlike portent whose meaning could not be
mistaken.

But, in truth, it needed no miracles nor prophecies to enforce the
conviction that a long procession of disasters was steadily advancing.
With France rent asunder by internal convulsions, with its imbecile king
not even capable of commanding a petty faction among his own subjects,
with Spain the dark cause of unnumbered evils, holding Italy in its
grasp, firmly allied with the Pope, already having reduced and nearly
absorbed France, and now, after long and patient preparation, about to
hurl the concentrated vengeance and hatred of long years upon the little
kingdom of England, and its only ally--the just organized commonwealth of
the Netherlands--it would have been strange indeed if the dullest
intellect had not dreamed of tragical events. It was not encouraging
that there should be distraction in the counsels of the two States so
immediately threatened; that the Queen of England should be at variance
with her wisest and most faithful statesmen as to their course of action,
and that deadly quarrels should exist between the leading men of the
Dutch republic and the English governor, who had assumed the
responsibility of directing its energies against the common enemy.

The blackest night that ever descended upon the Netherlands--more
disappointing because succeeding a period of comparative prosperity and
triumph--was the winter of 1587-8, when Leicester had terminated his
career by his abrupt departure for England, after his second brief
attempt at administration. For it was exactly at this moment of anxious
expectation, when dangers were rolling up from the south till not a ray