of carelessly leaving such distant details to chance, or subsequent consideration.  On the other hand, plain Dutch sea-captains, grim beggars of the sea, and the like, denizens of a free commonwealth and of the boundless ocean-men who are at home on blue water, and who have burned gunpowder against those prodigious slave-rowed galleys of Spain—­together with their new allies, the dauntless mariners of England—­who at this very moment are “singeing the King of Spain’s beard,” as it had never been singed before—­are not so much awestruck with the famous preparations for invasion as was perhaps to be expected.  There may be a delay, after all, before Parma can be got safely established in London, and Elizabeth in Orcus, and before the blood-tribunal of the Inquisition can substitute its sway for that of the “most noble, wise, and learned United States.”  Certainly, Philip the Prudent would have been startled, difficult as he was to astonish, could he have known that those rebel Hollanders of his made no more account of his slowly-preparing invincible armada than of six fisher-boats off Rye.  Time alone could show where confidence had been best placed.  Meantime it was certain, that it well behoved Holland and England to hold hard together, nor let “that enterprise quail.”

The famous expedition of Sir Francis Drake was the commencement of a revelation.  “That is the string,” said Leicester, “that touches the King indeed.”  It was soon to be made known to the world that the ocean was not a Spanish Lake, nor both the Indies the private property of Philip.  “While the riches of the Indies continue,” said Leicester, “he thinketh he will be able to weary out all other princes; and I know, by good means, that he more feareth this action of Sir Francis than he ever did anything that has been attempted against him.”  With these continued assaults upon the golden treasure-houses of Spain, and by a determined effort to maintain the still more important stronghold which had been wrested from her in the Netherlands, England might still be safe.  “This country is so full of ships and mariners,” said Leicester, “so abundant in wealth, and in the means to make money, that, had it but stood neutral, what an aid had her Majesty been deprived of.  But if it had been the enemy’s also, I leave it to your consideration what had been likely to ensue.  These people do now honour and love her Majesty in marvellous sort.”

There was but one feeling on this most important subject among the English who went to the Netherlands.  All held the same language.  The question was plainly presented to England whether she would secure to herself the great bulwark of her defence, or place it in the hands of her mortal foe?  How could there be doubt or supineness on such a momentous subject?  “Surely, my Lord,” wrote Richard Cavendish to Burghley, “if you saw the wealth, the strength, the shipping, and abundance of mariners, whereof these countries stand furnished, your heart would quake to think that so hateful an enemy as Spain should again be furnished with such instruments; and the Spaniards themselves do nothing doubt upon the hope of the consequence hereof, to assure themselves of the certain ruin of her Majesty and the whole estate.”