'Guerra con todo il mondo;--y paz con Inghilterra;'
and it has well been said that the episode of the _Revenge_ dealt
a deadlier blow to the fame and moral strength of Spain, than even
the defeat of the Armada itself.[18] But Sir Richard was not left
without a witness. Passing over his son John, who, Carew says, followed
Raleigh, and was drowned in the ocean, which 'became his bedde of
honour;' and also another son Sir Bernard, who died in 1605, after
having served as Sheriff of Cornwall and M.P. for Bodmin--as not
being of such transcendent merit as either Sir Bernard's father or
son--we come to the 'immortal' Sir Bevill Grenville, eldest son of the
said Sir Bernard and his wife Elizabeth Beville of Killigarth near
Polperro--(or, according to another account, of Brinn)--a man no whit
inferior in loyalty and courage to his illustrious grandsire.
Sir Bevill was born, somewhat unexpectedly, on 23rd March, 1595, at
Brinn--probably Great Brinn, the seat of the Bevills, but not a stone
of the old mansion is now standing--in the little Cornish parish of
Withiel; four years after the little _Revenge_ went down by the island
crags,
'To be lost evermore in the main.'
He was doubtless carefully brought up at Stow--the _old_ Stow--which
was in those days a sort of nursery for the better sort of young
Cornishmen. The late Rev. R. S. Hawker, vicar of Morwenstow, has given
us the following pleasant picture of it in Sir Bevill's days:
'On the brow of a lofty hill,[19] crested with stag-horned trees,
commanding a deep and woodland gorge wherein "the Crooks of Combe"
(the curves of a winding river) urge onward to the "Severn Sea,"
still survive the remains of famous old Stow, that historic abode of
the loyal and glorious Sir Bevill, the Bayard of old Cornwall, "sans
peur et sans reproche," in the thrilling Stewart wars. No mansion
on the Tamar-side ever accumulated so rich and varied a store of
association and event. Thither the sons of the Cornish gentry were
accustomed to resort, to be nurtured and brought up with the children
of Sir Bevill Grenville and Lady Grace; for the noble knight was
literally the "glass wherein" the youth of those ancient times "did
dress themselves." There their graver studies were relieved by manly
pastimes and athletic exercise. Like the children of the Persians,
they were taught "to ride, to bend the bow, and to speak the truth."
At hearth and hall every time-honoured usage and festive celebration
was carefully and reverently preserved. Around the walls branched
the massive antlers of the red deer of the moors, the trophies of
many a bold achievement with horse and hound. At the buttery-hatch
hung a tankard, marked with the guest's and the traveller's peg, and
a manchet, flanked with native cheese, stood ready on a trencher
for any sudden visitant who might choose to lift the latch; for the
Grenville motto was, "An open door and a greeting hand." A troop of
retainers, servants, grooms, and varlets of the yard, stood each in
his place, and under orders to receive with a welcome the unknown
stranger, as well as their master's kinsman or friend.'
To Mr. Hawker's graceful pen we are also indebted for the following
capital ballad: