have told you show the temper of the time, and the atmosphere which men
were breathing, but it will be instructive to look more closely at
individual persons, and I will take first John Hawkins (afterwards Sir
John), a peculiarly characteristic figure.
The Hawkinses of Plymouth were a solid middle-class Devonshire family,
who for two generations had taken a leading part in the business of the
town. They still survive in the county--Achins we used to call them
before school pronunciation came in, and so Philip wrote the name when
the famous John began to trouble his dreams. I have already spoken of
old William Hawkins, John's father, whom Henry VIII. was so fond of,
and who brought over the Brazilian King. Old William had now retired and
had left his place and his work to his son. John Hawkins may have been
about thirty at Elizabeth's accession. He had witnessed the wild times
of Edward VI. and Mary, but, though many of his friends had taken to the
privateering business, Hawkins appears to have kept clear of it, and
continued steadily at trade. One of these friends, and his contemporary,
and in fact his near relation, was Thomas Stukely, afterwards so
notorious--and a word may be said of Stukely's career as a contrast to
that of Hawkins. He was a younger son of a leading county family, went
to London to seek his fortune, and became a hanger-on of Sir Thomas
Seymour. Doubtless he was connected with Seymour's pirating scheme at
Scilly, and took to pirating as an occupation like other Western
gentlemen. When Elizabeth became Queen, he introduced himself at Court
and amused her with his conceit. He meant to be a king, nothing less
than a king. He would go to Florida, found an empire there, and write to
the Queen as his dearest sister. She gave him leave to try. He bought a
vessel of 400 tons, got 100 tall soldiers to join him besides the crew,
and sailed from Plymouth in 1563. Once out of harbour, he announced that
the sea was to be his Florida. He went back to the pirate business,
robbed freely, haunted Irish creeks, and set up an intimacy with the
Ulster hero, Shan O'Neil. Shan and Stukely became bosom friends. Shan
wrote to Elizabeth to recommend that she should make over Ireland to
Stukely and himself to manage, and promised, if she agreed, to make it
such an Ireland as had never been seen, which they probably would.
Elizabeth not consenting, Stukely turned Papist, transferred his
services to the Pope and Philip, and was preparing a campaign in Ireland
under the Pope's direction, when he was tempted to join Sebastian of
Portugal in the African expedition, and there got himself killed.
Stukely was a specimen of the foolish sort of the young Devonshire men;
Hawkins was exactly his opposite. He stuck to business, avoided
politics, traded with Spanish ports without offending the Holy Office,
and formed intimacies and connections with the Canary Islands
especially, where it was said 'he grew much in love and favour with the
people.'
At the Canaries he naturally heard much about the West Indies. He was
adventurous. His Canaries friends told him that negroes were great
merchandise in the Spanish settlements in Española, and he himself was
intimately acquainted with the Guinea coast, and knew how easily such a
cargo could be obtained.
We know to what the slave trade grew. We have all learnt to repent of
the share which England had in it, and to abhor everyone whose hands
were stained by contact with so accursed a business. All that may be
taken for granted; but we must look at the matter as it would have been
represented at the Canaries to Hawkins himself.
The Carib races whom the Spaniards found in Cuba and St. Domingo had
withered before them as if struck by a blight. Many died under the lash
of the Spanish overseers; many, perhaps the most, from the mysterious
causes which have made the presence of civilisation so fatal to the Red
Indian, the Australian, and the Maori. It is with men as it is with
animals. The races which consent to be domesticated prosper and
multiply. Those which cannot live without freedom pine like caged eagles
or disappear like the buffaloes of the prairies.
Anyway, the natives perished out of the islands of the Caribbean Sea
with a rapidity which startled the conquerors. The famous Bishop Las
Casas pitied and tried to save the remnant that were left. The Spanish
settlers required labourers for the plantations. On the continent of
Africa were another race, savage in their natural state, which would
domesticate like sheep and oxen, and learnt and improved in the white
man's company. The negro never rose of himself out of barbarism; as his
fathers were, so he remained from age to age; when left free, as in
Liberia and in Hayti, he reverts to his original barbarism; while in
subjection to the white man he showed then, and he has shown since, high
capacities of intellect and character. Such is, such was the fact. It
struck Las Casas that if negroes could be introduced into the West
Indian islands, the Indians might be left alone; the negroes themselves
would have a chance to rise out of their wretchedness, could be made
into Christians, and could be saved at worst from the horrid fate which
awaited many of them in their own country.
The black races varied like other animals: some were gentle and timid,
some were ferocious as wolves. The strong tyrannised over the weak, made
slaves of their prisoners, occasionally ate them, and those they did not
eat they sacrificed at what they called their _customs_--offered them up
and cut their throats at the altars of their idols. These customs were
the most sacred traditions of the negro race. They were suspended while
the slave trade gave the prisoners a value. They revived when the slave
trade was abolished. When Lord Wolseley a few years back entered
Ashantee, the altars were coated thick with the blood of hundreds of
miserable beings who had been freshly slaughtered there. Still later
similar horrid scenes were reported from Dahomey. Sir Richard Burton,
who was an old acquaintance of mine, spent two months with the King of
Dahomey, and dilated to me on the benevolence and enlightenment of that
excellent monarch. I asked why, if the King was so benevolent, he did
not alter the customs. Burton looked at me with consternation. 'Alter
the customs!' he said. 'Would you have the Archbishop of Canterbury
alter the Liturgy?' Las Casas and those who thought as he did are not to
be charged with infamous inhumanity if they proposed to buy these poor
creatures from their captors, save them from Mumbo Jumbo, and carry them
to countries where they would be valuable property, and be at least as
well cared for as the mules and horses.
The experiment was tried and seemed to succeed. The negroes who were
rescued from the customs and were carried to the Spanish islands proved
docile and useful. Portuguese and Spanish factories were established on
the coast of Guinea. The black chiefs were glad to make money out of
their wretched victims, and readily sold them. The transport over the
Atlantic became a regular branch of business. Strict laws were made for
the good treatment of the slaves on the plantations. The trade was
carried on under license from the Government, and an import duty of
thirty ducats per head was charged on every negro that was landed. I
call it an experiment. The full consequences could not be foreseen; and
I cannot see that as an experiment it merits the censures which in its
later developments it eventually came to deserve. Las Casas, who
approved of it, was one of the most excellent of men. Our own Bishop
Butler could give no decided opinion against negro slavery as it existed
in his time. It is absurd to say that ordinary merchants and ship
captains ought to have seen the infamy of a practice which Las Casas
advised and Butler could not condemn. The Spanish and Portuguese
Governments claimed, as I said, the control of the traffic. The Spanish
settlers in the West Indies objected to a restriction which raised the
price and shortened the supply. They considered that having established
themselves in a new country they had a right to a voice in the
conditions of their occupancy. It was thus that the Spaniards in the
Canaries represented the matter to John Hawkins. They told him that if
he liked to make the venture with a contraband cargo from Guinea, their
countrymen would give him an enthusiastic welcome. It is evident from
the story that neither he nor they expected that serious offence would
be taken at Madrid. Hawkins at this time was entirely friendly with the
Spaniards. It was enough if he could be assured that the colonists would
be glad to deal with him.
I am not crediting him with the benevolent purposes of Las Casas. I do
not suppose Hawkins thought much of saving black men's souls. He saw
only an opportunity of extending his business among a people with whom
he was already largely connected. The traffic was established. It had
the sanction of the Church, and no objection had been raised to it
anywhere on the score of morality. The only question which could have
presented itself to Hawkins was of the right of the Spanish Government
to prevent foreigners from getting a share of a lucrative trade against
the wishes of its subjects. And his friends at the Canaries certainly
did not lead him to expect any real opposition. One regrets that a
famous Englishman should have been connected with the slave trade; but
we have no right to heap violent censures upon him because he was no
more enlightened than the wisest of his contemporaries.
Thus, encouraged from Santa Cruz, Hawkins on his return to England
formed an African company out of the leading citizens of London. Three
vessels were fitted out, Hawkins being commander and part owner. The
size of them is remarkable: the _Solomon_, as the largest was called,
120 tons; the _Swallow_, 100 tons; the _Jonas_ not above 40 tons. This
represents them as inconceivably small. They carried between them a
hundred men, and ample room had to be provided besides for the blacks.
There may have been a difference in the measurement of tonnage. We
ourselves have five standards: builder's measurement, yacht measurement,
displacement, sail area, and register measurement. Registered tonnage is
far under the others: a yacht registered 120 tons would be called 200 in
a shipping list. However that be, the brigantines and sloops used by the
Elizabethans on all adventurous expeditions were mere boats compared
with what we should use now on such occasions. The reason was obvious.
Success depended on speed and sailing power. The art of building big
square-rigged ships which would work to windward had not been yet
discovered, even by Mr. Fletcher of Rye. The fore-and-aft rig alone
would enable a vessel to tack, as it is called, and this could only be
used with craft of moderate tonnage.
The expedition sailed in October 1562. They called at the Canaries,
where they were warmly entertained. They went on to Sierra Leone, where
they collected 300 negroes. They avoided the Government factories, and
picked them up as they could, some by force, some by negotiation with
local chiefs, who were as ready to sell their subjects as Sancho Panza
intended to be when he got his island. They crossed without misadventure
to St. Domingo, where Hawkins represented that he was on a voyage of
discovery; that he had been driven out of his course and wanted food and
money. He said he had certain slaves with him, which he asked permission
to sell. What he had heard at the Canaries turned out to be exactly
true. So far as the Governor of St. Domingo knew, Spain and England were
at peace. Privateers had not troubled the peace of the Caribbean Sea,
or dangerous heretics menaced the Catholic faith there. Inquisitors
might have been suspicious, but the Inquisition had not yet been
established beyond the Atlantic. The Queen of England was his
sovereign's sister-in-law, and the Governor saw no reason why he should
construe his general instructions too literally. The planters were eager
to buy, and he did not wish to be unpopular. He allowed Hawkins to sell
two out of his three hundred negroes, leaving the remaining hundred as a
deposit should question be raised about the duty. Evidently the only
doubt in the Governor's mind was whether the Madrid authorities would
charge foreign importers on a higher scale. The question was new. No
stranger had as yet attempted to trade there.
Everyone was satisfied, except the negroes, who were not asked their
opinion. The profits were enormous. A ship in the harbour was about to
sail for Cadiz. Hawkins invested most of what he had made in a cargo of
hides, for which, as he understood, there was a demand in Spain, and he
sent them over in her in charge of one of his partners. The Governor
gave him a testimonial for good conduct during his stay in the port, and
with this and with his three vessels he returned leisurely to England,
having, as he imagined, been splendidly successful.
He was to be unpleasantly undeceived. A few days after he had arrived at
Plymouth, he met the man whom he had sent to Cadiz with the hides
forlorn and empty-handed. The Inquisition, he said, had seized the cargo
and confiscated it. An order had been sent to St. Domingo to forfeit the
reserved slaves. He himself had escaped for his life, as the familiars
had been after him.
Nothing shows more clearly how little thought there had been in Hawkins
that his voyage would have given offence in Spain than the astonishment
with which he heard the news. He protested. He wrote to Philip. Finding
entreaties useless, he swore vengeance; but threats were equally
ineffectual. Not a hide, not a farthing could he recover. The Spanish
Government, terrified at the intrusion of English adventurers into their
western paradise to endanger the gold fleets, or worse to endanger the
purity of the faith, issued orders more peremptory than ever to close
the ports there against all foreigners. Philip personally warned Sir
Thomas Chaloner, the English ambassador, that if such visits were
repeated, mischief would come of it. And Cecil, who disliked all such
semi-piratical enterprises, and Chaloner, who was half a Spaniard and an
old companion in arms of Charles V., entreated their mistress to forbid
them.
Elizabeth, however, had her own views in such matters. She liked money.
She liked encouraging the adventurous disposition of her subjects, who
were fighting the State's battles at their own risk and cost. She saw in
Philip's anger a confession that the West Indies was his vulnerable
point; and that if she wished to frighten him into letting her alone,
and to keep the Inquisition from burning her sailors, there was the
place where Philip would be more sensitive. Probably, too, she thought
that Hawkins had done nothing for which he could be justly blamed. He
had traded at St. Domingo with the Governor's consent, and confiscation
was sharp practice.
This was clearly Hawkins's own view of the matter. He had injured no
one. He had offended no pious ears by parading his Protestantism. He was
not Philip's subject, and was not to be expected to know the
instructions given by the Spanish Government in the remote corners of
their dominions. If anyone was to be punished, it was not he but the
Governor. He held that he had been robbed, and had a right to indemnify
himself at the King's expense. He would go out again. He was certain of
a cordial reception from the planters. Between him and them there was
the friendliest understanding. His quarrel was with Philip, and Philip
only. He meant to sell a fresh cargo of negroes, and the Madrid
Government should go without their 30 per cent. duty.
Elizabeth approved. Hawkins had opened the road to the West Indies. He
had shown how easy slave smuggling was, and how profitable it was: how
it was also possible for the English to establish friendly relations
with the Spanish settlers in the West Indies, whether Philip liked it or
not. Another company was formed for a second trial. Elizabeth took
shares, Lord Pembroke took shares, and other members of the Council. The
Queen lent the _Jesus_, a large ship of her own, of 700 tons. Formal
instructions were given that no wrong was to be done to the King of
Spain, but what wrong might mean was left to the discretion of the
commander. Where the planters were all eager to purchase, means of
traffic would be discovered without collision with the authorities. This
time the expedition was to be on a larger scale, and a hundred soldiers
were put on board to provide for contingencies. Thus furnished, Hawkins
started on his second voyage in October 1564. The autumn was chosen, to
avoid the extreme tropical heats. He touched as before to see his
friends at the Canaries. He went on to the Rio Grande, met with
adventures bad and good, found a chief at war with a neighbouring tribe,
helped to capture a town and take prisoners, made purchases at a
Portuguese factory. In this way he now secured 400 human cattle, perhaps
for a better fate than they would have met with at home, and with these
he sailed off in the old direction. Near the equator he fell in with
calms; he was short of water, and feared to lose some of them; but, as
the record of the voyage puts it, 'Almighty God would not suffer His
elect to perish,' and sent a breeze which carried him safe to Dominica.
In that wettest of islands he found water in plenty, and had then to
consider what next he would do. St. Domingo, he thought, would be no
longer safe for him; so he struck across to the Spanish Main to a place
called Burboroata, where he might hope that nothing would be known about
him. In this he was mistaken. Philip's orders had arrived: no Englishman
of any creed or kind was to be allowed to trade in his West India
dominions. The settlers, however, intended to trade. They required only
a display of force that they might pretend that they were yielding to
compulsion. Hawkins told his old story. He said that he was out on the
service of the Queen of England. He had been driven off his course by
bad weather. He was short of supplies and had many men on board, who
might do the town some mischief if they were not allowed to land
peaceably and buy and sell what they wanted. The Governor affecting to
hesitate, he threw 120 men on shore, and brought his guns to bear on the
castle. The Governor gave way under protest. Hawkins was to be permitted
to sell half his negroes. He said that as he had been treated so
inhospitably he would not pay the 30 per cent. The King of Spain should
have 7 1/2, and no more. The settlers had no objection. The price would
be the less, and with this deduction his business was easily finished
off. He bought no more hides, and was paid in solid silver.
From Burboroata he went on to Rio de la Hacha, where the same scene was
repeated. The whole 400 were disposed of, this time with ease and
complete success. He had been rapid; and had the season still before
him. Having finished his business, he surveyed a large part of the
Caribbean Sea, taking soundings, noting the currents, and making charts
of the coasts and islands. This done, he turned homewards, following the
east shore of North America as far as Newfoundland. There he gave his
crew a change of diet, with fresh cod from the Banks, and after eleven
months' absence he sailed into Padstow, having lost but twenty men in
the whole adventure, and bringing back 60 per cent. to the Queen and the
other shareholders.
Nothing succeeds like success. Hawkins's praises were in everyone's
mouth, and in London he was the hero of the hour. Elizabeth received him
at the palace. The Spanish ambassador, De Silva, met him there at
dinner. He talked freely of where he had been and of what he had done,
only keeping back the gentle violence which he had used. He regarded
this as a mere farce, since there had been no one hurt on either side.
He boasted of having given the greatest satisfaction to the Spaniards
who had dealt with him. De Silva could but bow, report to his master,
and ask instructions how he was to proceed.
Philip was frightfully disturbed. He saw in prospect his western
subjects allying themselves with the English--heresy creeping in among
them; his gold fleets in danger, all the possibilities with which
Elizabeth had wished to alarm him. He read and re-read De Silva's
letters, and opposite the name of Achines he wrote startled
interjections on the margin: 'Ojo! Ojo!'
The political horizon was just then favourable to Elizabeth. The Queen
of Scots was a prisoner in Loch Leven; the Netherlands were in revolt;
the Huguenots were looking up in France; and when Hawkins proposed a
third expedition, she thought that she could safely allow it. She gave
him the use of the _Jesus_ again, with another smaller ship of hers, the
_Minion_. He had two of his own still fit for work; and a fifth, the
_Judith_, was brought in by his young cousin, Francis Drake, who was now
to make his first appearance on the stage. I shall tell you by-and-by
who and what Drake was. Enough to say now that he was a relation of
Hawkins, the owner of a small smart sloop or brigantine, and ambitious
of a share in a stirring business.
The Plymouth seamen were falling into dangerous contempt of Philip.
While the expedition was fitting out, a ship of the King's came into
Catwater with more prisoners from Flanders. She was flying the Castilian
flag, contrary to rule, it was said, in English harbours. The treatment
of the English ensign at Gibraltar had not been forgiven, and Hawkins
ordered the Spanish captain to strike his colours. The captain refused,
and Hawkins instantly fired into him. In the confusion the prisoners
escaped on board the _Jesus_ and were let go. The captain sent a
complaint to London, and Cecil--who disapproved of Hawkins and all his
proceedings--sent down an officer to inquire into what had happened.
Hawkins, confident in Elizabeth's protection, quietly answered that the
Spaniard had broken the laws of the port, and that it was necessary to
assert the Queen's authority.
'Your mariners,' said De Silva to her, 'rob our subjects on the sea,
trade where they are forbidden to go, and fire upon our ships in your
harbours. Your preachers insult my master from their pulpits, and when
we remonstrate we are answered with menaces. We have borne so far with
their injuries, attributing them rather to temper and bad manners than
to deliberate purpose. But, seeing that no redress can be had, and that
the same treatment of us continues, I must consult my Sovereign's
pleasure. For the last time, I require your Majesty to punish this
outrage at Plymouth and preserve the peace between the two realms.'
No remonstrance could seem more just till the other side was heard. The
other side was that the Pope and the Catholic Powers were undertaking to
force the Protestants of France and Flanders back under the Papacy with
fire and sword. It was no secret that England's turn was to follow as
soon as Philip's hands were free. Meanwhile he had been intriguing with
the Queen of Scots; he had been encouraging Ireland in rebellion; he had
been persecuting English merchants and seamen, starving them to death in
the Inquisition dungeons, or burning them at the stake. The Smithfield
infamies were fresh in Protestant memories, and who could tell how soon
the horrid work would begin again at home, if the Catholic Powers could
have their way?
If the King of Spain and his Holiness at Rome would have allowed other
nations to think and make laws for themselves, pirates and privateers
would have disappeared off the ocean. The West Indies would have been
left undisturbed, and Spanish, English, French, and Flemings would have
lived peacefully side by side as they do now. But spiritual tyranny had
not yet learned its lesson, and the 'Beggars of the Sea' were to be
Philip's schoolmasters in irregular but effective fashion.
Elizabeth listened politely to what De Silva said, promised to examine
into his complaints, and allowed Hawkins to sail.
What befell him you will hear in the next lecture.
LECTURE III
SIR JOHN HAWKINS AND PHILIP THE SECOND