EARLY DAYS
His early going to Oxford--Old Ascham on quick wit and
education--Life at a University--The Queen at Oxford--To
the wars in France--Henry Champernoun--Stories of the wars.
Of Ralegh's early education little is known: it is uncertain whether he
was taught at home, or went to one of the Grammar Schools which Stowe
records with pride existed in nearly every country town. When he was
sixteen he went to Oriel College, Oxford, of which his kinsman, C.
Champernoun, was already a commoner, and sixteen was an early age, even
for an Elizabethan to go to the University.
His kinsman's presence accounts in a measure for this early going (he
started most of his life's enterprises under their shelter, though in
the end he grew to overtop them), but his quick wit was another and the
chief reason. Old Ascham begs the fond schoolmaster to modify his
propensity for caning, and to discriminate between "the harde witte and
the quicke witte. But this I will say, that even the wisest of your
great beaters do as oft punishe nature as they do correcte faultes. Yea,
many times the better nature is sorer punished; for if one by quicknes
of witte take his lesson readelie, another by hardnes of witte taketh it
not speedilie: the first is alwaies commended, the other is commonlie
punished, when a wise schoolmaster should ... not so much wey what
either of them is able to do now, as what either of them is likelie to
do hereafter." He will have none of the quick wit. Slow and sure is his
adage. To him quick wits are "even like over-sharpe tooles whose edges
be verie soone turned." And Ascham was the Queen's tutor, and was
striking out a new line in his theme, in his treatment of it and in his
language. For a scholar of his calibre to write of the education of
little boys, and to write of it in English (fine English it is, too,
with its balanced cadences), demanded profuse apologies, which he is not
slow to offer, and to offer at full length in his preface. No apology
would be necessary now, when Education Bills have been known to overturn
Governments, or even a very few years later than Ascham himself; but in
Ascham's actual day, Latin was regarded as the language of the learned,
and dignity, which Ascham never lost, an attribute of learning. His
remarks are always judicious, and his summing up of the temperament,
which he calls the quick wit, is brilliant if not final. It is in the
nature of generalization to be limited. For there are many wits where
quickness and hardness, which he distinguishes so sharply, are as
memorably, as in the case of young Ralegh, combined--"sharpe tooles"
whose edges be never turned. Such incontestably was Ralegh. His mind and
his character (the motive force) were on the same level of strength;
neither preyed on the other, and he lived in a time when the world
offered scope, as never perhaps in quite the same way before or since,
to the resistless energy of united strength.
But to return to Ascham, whose little treatise throws an invaluable
quiet light of its own upon the methods of the time, when he was old and
Ralegh was young, and upon the making of great men and the great need
of them--from its conception at the dinner party in the palace at
Windsor, to its finish, years later, when the old man turned once more
to the proper teaching of rudiments, doing his best for the younger
generation whose best would outstrip all that he had ever dreamed of in
his least scholastic moments. There is more than a touch of pathos in
his warnings, for all their staid wisdom, and in his fears lest the
young should be overcome by their "stout wilfulness"; blind as he could
not but be to the goal to which stout wilfulness alone could lead them.
With a schoolmaster's conscious effort at broad-mindedness he would not
have the young one sit all day at his studies. "To joyne learnyng with
cumlie exercises Conto Baldesoer Castiglione in his booke Cortegiane
doth trimlie teache: which booke advisedlie read and diligentlie
folowed, but one year at home in England would do a yong ientleman more
good, I wisse, then three yeares travell abrode spent in Italie." And he
passes by way of example "two noble Primeroses of nobilitie, the yong
Duke of Suffolk and Lord H. Matrevers" (such a two as "our tyme may
rather wishe than looke for agayne") on to his famous invective against
the Italianating of Englishmen, with that constant note of sadness at
the falling off of the present generation. His ears were deaf to such
names as Sidney, Gilbert, Champernoun, Ralegh, names which time has set
at their proper value, and against which Ascham's noble primroses sink
into their proper insignificance.
Ralegh was at Oxford only one year, and Anthony Wood writes: "His
natural parts being strangely advanced by academical learning, under the
care of an excellent tutor, he became the ornament of the juniors, and
was worthily esteemed a proficient in Oratory and Philosophy." He
seasoned his primer years at Oxford in knowledge and learning, a good
ground, as Hooker says, and a sure foundation to build thereupon good
actions.
Only one incident is recorded of that year of his life, and that is
recorded by the illustrious Bacon in his apothegms. "... When Ralegh was
a scholar at Oxford there was a cowardly fellow who happened to be a
very good archer; but having been grossly abused by another, he bemoaned
himself to Ralegh, and asked his advice what he should do to repair the
wrong that had been offered him. Why, challenge him, answered Ralegh, to
a match of shooting." It would be interesting to know how the repartee
came to Lord Bacon's knowledge.
[Illustration: FRANCIS BACON]
It is about in the proportion that Ralegh filled his life, compared with
the ordinary way of living, that he took in one year out of Oxford what
most men required seven years to take; for seven years was the usual
time for a full course, and often, as in Germany to-day, men went from
one University to another.
"Ein jeder lernt das was man lernen kann
Nur wer den Augenblick ergreifft das ist der rechte Mann."
Not that life at the University was restrained and dull. Far from it.
Listen to Thomas Lever, who spoke of the work some twenty years before
Ralegh's time. "From 5 to 6 a.m. there was common prayer with an
exhortation of God's word in a common chapel, and from 6 to 10 either
private study or common lectures. At 10 o'clock generally came dinner,
most being content with a penny piece of beef amongst four. After this
slender dinner the youths were either teaching or learning until 5 p.m.,
when they have a supper not much better than their dinner. Immediately
after they went either to reasoning in problems or unto some other study
until 9 or 10 of the clock, and then being without fire were fain to
walk or run up and down half an hour to get a heat on their feet before
they went to bed." This sounds splendidly strenuous, and shows what was
expected by the authorities, and the standard of the dons to which
doubtless many conformed. From Nash's trenchant pamphlets we see the
other side of the picture. Thomas Lever was a preacher: Thomas Nash was
not. It is while he is engaged in "pouring hot boiling ink on this
contemptible Heggledepeg's barrain scalp" (or as we should put it,
proving in controversy the errors of Gabriel Harvey) that he gives his
sudden glimpses of life and customs in town and university. "What will
you give me when I bring him uppon the Stage in one of the principallest
Colledges in Cambridge? Lay anie wager with me and I will: or if you
laye no wager at all, Ile fetch him aloft in Pedantius, that exquisite
Comedie in Trinitie Colledge: where under the cheife part from which it
tooke his name, as namely the concise and firking finicaldo fine
Schoolmaster, hee was full drawen and delineated from the soale of his
foot to the crowne of his head. The just manner of his phrase in his
Orations and Disputations they stufft his mouth with and no Buffianism
throughout his whole bookes but they bolstered out his part with ...
whereupon Dick came and broke the Colledge glasse windowes and Doctor
Perne (being then either for himself or Deputie Vice Chancellour) caused
him to be fetcht in and set in the Stockes till the Shew was ended and a
great part of the night after."
This tells a less sombre tale, and when Nash begins to be scurrilous
about John Harvey, the third brother, and records "the olde reakes hee
kept with the wenches in Queenes Colledge Lane" (how strangely places
retain their character!), the tale becomes less sombre still.
The Queen, too, would make journeys with royal visitors to the
University, as in 1566, when Stowe tells with pride that she made "on
the sodain an oration in Latin to the whole universitie of Oxford in the
presence of the Spanish ambassadors;" so that neither university would
be out of touch with the great world. Nor did the undergraduates keep at
the same respectful distance from royalty that they are wont to now, as
another delightful story of Nash about Harvey shows, who when the Court
was at Audley End came "ruffling it out huffty-tuffty on his suite of
velvet, to doo his countrey more worship and glory." He disputed with
the courtiers and maids of honour, and at last was brought to kiss the
Queen's hand, and the Queen was pleased to say that he looked like an
Italian, a compliment from which he never quite recovered.
So there would be much to occupy the thoughts and attention of an
ordinary boy of sixteen. But Ralegh in a year was ripe for other things,
and left Oxford for the wars in France. The opportunity came through his
kinsman, Henry Champernoun, son of John Champernoun of Modbury, his
mother's eldest brother, raising a company of gentlemen to fight on the
Huguenot side: and Ralegh took the opportunity of active service.
Very interesting are the steps in a great man's life. Chance seems to
play so small a part. The instinct to get the most out of his
personality becomes the conscious effort to which perhaps a great man
chiefly owes his greatness.
Precisely in this way is the boy the father of the man, and Ralegh's
life is a pregnant example of it. He had, of course, no serious motive
for leaving Oxford. He longed for fighting and adventures, and seized
without a thought on the reckless impulse that led him to the wars,
laughing probably at the sad head-shaking of his staid tutors. But he
had learned how to learn: and his passion for life never damped his
passion for knowledge, and impulse led him to the discipline which his
nature demanded. The stern discipline and hardship of war were wanted to
impress him, while still pliant, with the proper value of things by
showing him with war's crude force the bare facts of life and death and
human nature.
The strength and ability of the body told in those times, when man dealt
directly with man, and encountered nature at closer quarters than he
need now do, when her forces are fended off him and controlled for his
use in ways then only dreamed of. Being weaker, men were rougher and
more cruel.
That is manifest in the punishments of the Government. Executions were
public. There was no other means for making the punishment known than by
making the punishment visible. A man paid for trespass against the laws
by disfigurement of his body--by branding on the forehead or palm, by
loss of ear or hand: any one dangerous, or who threatened danger to the
order with such difficulty established, was hung and quartered, or
burned, or beheaded, and his execution was public and a sight not to be
missed. The limbs of malefactors were exposed conspicuously at the
Queen's pleasure.
Cruelty breeds fear, and fear breeds cunning. There was no longer the
shelter of the monastery for the timid or the thoughtful. Accordingly,
craftiness and conspiracy and secrecy prevailed in every corner of the
country.
But there is the contrary side. The man who was able to be independent
of these circumstances of cruelty, rose above them to heights of
bravery and self-reliance and strength, which are almost unknown in more
peaceful times. There could be no monotony, or slackness of endeavour
when a mistake or a careless word, or even a foolish gesture, might
bring with it the consequence of death. A man was braced to continual
effort and unconquerable control, when a moment's lack of either might
mean life's actual ending, or a lifetime's long disgrace. There was no
place for mediocrity. Those were the days of heroes and nonentities;
soaring heroes, crawling nonentities.
Thus the chance which led Ralegh to the French wars, and Ralegh's
readiness to seize that chance (chance by itself does little), were
fortunate in the extreme for the best furtherance of his personality's
development.
In France the religious wars between the Guisards and the Huguenots had
broken out in the year 1562; and as Hayward, a contemporary chronicler,
recounts, "In regarde to her owne person and state the Queen considered
that if the Duke of Guise should prevail these fires of France both
easilie might and readilie would cast dangerous sparkes over the ocean
into England." She could not give aid openly to the Huguenots: but
privately she sanctioned the enterprises of gentlemen who offered their
services in aid of the Huguenots. For the real danger was that if the
Huguenots were wiped out, a formidably close union between France and
Spain might result. It was thus convenient that France should remain in
a state of unrest until England should become properly strengthened and
solidified in her isolated position. Elizabeth's actions were ruled in
this case, as in all cases, not by religious faith or by sympathy with
the people who were suffering death for their faith, but wholly by
political expediency. Religion with her was only a piece in the game,
and she respected it as the most valuable piece. It is easy to cry
"Shame!" and "Treachery!" when modern power over time and space has
modified the rules of the diplomatic game; but game it remains, and
truth in it still plays, and will always play, the subservient part of a
nice convention or a fine pretext.
So those gallant gentlemen, who longed to fight and could find no more
excellent reason than faith for fighting, went with their companies to
France and fought their fill for the Huguenots. They realized the
unfortunate necessity to which the Queen of England was put in ordaining
that if they were taken prisoners a scroll should be pinned on their
breasts as they dangled from the gallows, on which it was declared that
they met their fate "for having come against the will of the Queen of
England to the help of the Huguenots." That, probably, only lent zest to
their endeavour. They would realize, too, that however the Queen of
England might be forced to act, Elizabeth in her woman's heart
sympathized deeply with the cause for which they fought; and Elizabeth,
be sure, with her woman's wit, did her utmost to encourage them in this
belief, and not without sincerity.
Henry Champernoun, of whose band of gentlemen volunteers, gathered
mostly from Devonshire, Camden asserts that Ralegh was a member, was
famous among these Huguenot supporters, though not so famous as his
cousin, Gawen Champernoun, a son of Katherine, Ralegh's younger brother,
Sir Arthur. Gawen progressed so far that he became son-in-law to the
celebrated Count of Montgomery. No doubt Ralegh the nephew looked up to
his uncles.
About his five or six years' absence in France (the date of his return
is uncertain) Ralegh is reticent, partly, as Edwards suggests, in
obedience to the maxim laid down in his "History of the World" which
runs, "Whosoever in writing a Modern Historie shall follow Truth too
near the heels it may haply strike out his teeth;" and partly, too, for
the reason that his experiences as a boy would be adventurous rather
than suggestive. He would have been too young to be enough behind the
scenes to know the motives of movements in which he took part, and the
motives would alone lend a broad or historical value to the adventures.
Among relations, youngness is commonly taken into full account. And
Ralegh, for all his ability, had not probably the opportunity given him
of seeing things other than as isolated incidents. As likely as not, he
was asked to leave the tent or the room when matters of moment were
about to be discussed.
But certain anecdotes he recalls in his "History of the World," one of
which is well worth telling in his own good words, because it shows the
manner of fighting that prevailed in these wars: "I saw in the third
Civil War of France certain caves in Languedoc which had but one
entrance, and that very narrow, cut out in the midway of high rocks,
which we knew not how to enter by any ladder or engine; till at last by
certain bundles of straw, let down by an iron chain, and a weighty stone
in the midst, those that defended it were so smothered as they rendered
themselves with their plate, money and other goods therein hidden."
He was not, however, always among the caves and hedgerows; almost
certainly he was in Paris in 1572, sheltering with Philip Sidney in the
house of the ambassador, Walsingham, when the terrible and famous
massacre took place during the night of St. Bartholomew's Eve, in which
the friends of the Duke of Guise boasted that more Protestants were
slain than in the whole of the twelve years of the war.