o find strength even in their
exhaustion, to furnish the machinery for destroying their own countrymen,
and for hurling to perdition their most healthful neighbour.

And this approaching destruction of England--now generally believed
in--was like the sound of a trumpet throughout Catholic Europe. Scions of
royal houses, grandees of azure blood, the bastard of Philip II., the
bastard of Savoy, the bastard of Medici, the Margrave of Burghaut, the
Archduke Charles, nephew of the Emperor, the Princes of Ascoli and of
Melfi, the Prince of Morocco, and others of illustrious name, with many a
noble English traitor, like Paget, and Westmoreland, and Stanley, all
hurried to the camp of Farnese, as to some famous tournament, in which it
was a disgrace to chivalry if their names were not enrolled. The roads
were trampled with levies of fresh troops from Spain, Naples, Corsica,
the States of the Church, the Milanese, Germany, Burgundy.

Blas Capizucca was sent in person to conduct reinforcements from the
north of Italy. The famous Terzio of Naples, under Carlos Pinelo, arrived
3500 strong--the most splendid regiment ever known in the history of war.
Every man had an engraved corslet and musket-barrel, and there were many
who wore gilded armour, while their waving plumes and festive caparisons
made them look like holiday-makers, rather than real campaigners, in the
eyes of the inhabitants of the various cities through which their road
led them to Flanders. By the end of April the Duke of Parma saw himself
at the head of 60,000 men, at a monthly expense of 454,315 crowns or
dollars. Yet so rapid was the progress of disease--incident to northern
climates--among those southern soldiers, that we shall find the number
woefully diminished before they were likely to set foot upon the English
shore.

Thus great preparations, simultaneously with pompous negotiations, had
been going forward month after month, in England, Holland, Flanders.
Nevertheless, winter, spring, two-thirds of summer, had passed away, and
on the 29th July, 1588, there remained the same sickening uncertainty,
which was the atmosphere in which the nations had existed for a
twelvemonth.

Howard had cruised for a few weeks between England and Spain, without any
results, and, on his return, had found it necessary to implore her
Majesty, as late as July, to "trust no more to Judas' kisses, but to her
sword, not her enemy's word."

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