and having them, I look for none at all by them, when we shall meet the enemy.”  This was not complimentary, certainly, to the training of the famous Artillery Garden, and furnished a still stronger motive for defending the road over which the capital was to be approached.  But there was much jealousy, both among citizens and nobles, of any authority entrusted to professional soldiers.  “I know what burghers be, well enough,” said the Earl, “as brave and well-entertained as ever the Londoners were.  If they should go forth from the city they should have good leaders.  You know the imperfections of the time, how few-leaders you have, and the gentlemen of the counties are very loth to have any captains placed with them.  So that the beating out of our best captains is like to be cause of great danger.”

Sir John Smith, a soldier of experience, employed to drill and organize some of the levies, expressed still more disparaging opinions than those of Leicester concerning the probable efficiency in the field of these English armies.  The Earl was very angry with the knight, however, and considered, him incompetent, insolent, and ridiculous.  Sir John seemed, indeed, more disposed to keep himself out of harm’s way, than to render service to the Queen by leading awkward recruits against Alexander Farnese.  He thought it better to nurse himself.

“You would laugh to see how Sir John Smith has dealt since my coming,” said Leicester.  “He came to me, and told me that his disease so grew upon him as he must needs go to the baths.  I told him I would not be against his health, but he saw what the time was, and what pains he had taken with his countrymen, and that I had provided a good place for him.  Next day he came again, saying little to my offer then, and seemed desirous, for his health, to be gone.  I told him what place I did appoint, which was a regiment of a great part of his countrymen.  He said his health was dear to him, and he desired to take leave of me, which I yielded unto.  Yesterday, being our muster-day, he came again to me to dinner; but such foolish and vain-glorious paradoxes he burst withal, without any cause offered, as made all that knew anything smile and answer little, but in sort rather to satisfy men present than to argue with him.”

And the knight went that day to review Leicester’s choice troops—­the four thousand men of Essex—­but was not much more deeply impressed with their proficiency than he had been with that of his own regiment.  He became very censorious.

“After the muster,” said the lieutenant-general, “he entered again into such strange cries for ordering of men, and for the fight with the weapon, as made me think he was not well.  God forbid he should have charge of men that knoweth so little, as I dare pronounce that he doth.”

Yet the critical knight was a professional—­campaigner, whose opinions were entitled to respect; and the more so, it would seem, because they did not materially vary from those which Leicester himself was in the habit of expressing.  And these interior scenes of discord, tumult, parsimony, want of organization, and unsatisfactory mustering of troops, were occurring on the very Saturday and Sunday when the Armada lay in sight of Dover cliffs, and when the approach of the Spaniards on the Dover road might at any moment be expected.