mentioned meant, to Lord Strange and Sir Thomas, the head of a county
family of Devonshire, a gentleman of first-class blood. But to her it
meant not only the great-grandson of Edward the Fourth, and the heir of
the ruined House of Lisle,--but the bright-faced boy who, twenty-seven
years before, used to flash in and out of John Avery's house in the
Minories,--bringing "Aunt Philippa's loving commendations," or news that
"Aunt Bridget looketh this next week to be in the town, and will be rare
fain to see Mistress Avery:"--the boy who had first seen the light at
Calais, on the very threshold of the family woe--and who, to the Averys,
and to Barbara, as their retainer, was the breathing representative of
all the dead Plantagenets. As to the Tudors,--the Queen's Grace, of
course, was all that was right and proper, a brave lady and true
Protestant; and long might God send her to rule over England!--but the
Tudors, apart from Elizabeth personally, were--Hush! in 1587 it was
perilous to say all one thought. So for some minutes Lord Strange's
further news was unheard in the little chamber. A pathetic vision
filled it, of a night in which there would be dole at Umberleigh, when
the coffin of Sir Arthur Basset was borne to the sepulchre of his
fathers in Atherington Church. [Note 3.] He was not yet forty-six.
"God save and comfort Mistress Philippa!"
For, eldest-born and last-surviving of her generation, in a green old
age, Philippa Basset was living still. Time had swept away all the
gallant brothers and fair sisters who had once been her companions at
Umberleigh: the last to die, seven years before, being the eloquent
orator, George. Yet Philippa lived on,--an old maiden lady, with heart
as warm, and it must be confessed, with tongue as sharp, as in the days
of her girlhood. Time had mellowed her slightly, but had changed
nothing in her but one--for many years had passed now since Philippa was
heard to sneer at Protestantism. She never confessed to any alteration
in her views; perhaps she was hardly conscious of it, so gradually had
it grown upon her. Only those perceived it who saw her seldom: and the
signs were very minute. A passing admission that "may-be folk need not
all be Catholics to get safe up yonder"--meaning, of course, to Heaven;
an absence of the set lips and knitted brows which had formerly attended
the reading of the English Scriptures in church; a courteous reception
of the Protestant Rector; a capability of praying morning and evening
without crucifix or rosary; a quiet dropping of crossings and holy
water, oaths by our Lady's merits and Saint Peter's hosen: a general
calm acquiescence in the new order of things. But how much did it mean?
Only that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the light?--or that age
had weakened her prejudices?--or that God had touched her heart?
Some such thoughts were passing through Barbara's mind, when Lord
Strange's voice reached her understanding again.
"I ensure you 'tis said in the Court that his grief for the beheading of
the Scots Queen is but a blind, [Note 4] and that these two years gone
and more hath King Philip been making ready his galleons for to invade
the Queen's Majesty's dominions. And now they say that we may look for
his setting forth this next year. Sir Francis Drake is gone by Her
Highness' command to the Spanish main, there to keep watch and bring
word; and he saith he will singe the Don's whiskers ere he turn again.
Yet he may come, for all belike."
The singeing of the Don's whiskers was effected soon after, by the
burning of a hundred ships of war in the harbour of Cadiz.
"Why, not a man in England but would turn out to defend the Queen and
country!" exclaimed Sir Thomas.
"Here is one that so will, Sir, by your leave," said another voice.
We may peep behind the green curtain, though Barbara did not. That
elegant young man with such finished manners--surely he can never be our
old and irrepressible friend Jack? Ay, Jack and no other; more courtly,
but as irrepressible as ever.
"We'll be ready for him!" said Sir Thomas grimly.
"Amen!" was Jack's contribution, precisely in the treble tones of the
parish clerk. The imitation was so perfect that even the grave Lord
Strange could not suppress a smile.
"Shall I get thee a company, Jack Enville?"
"Pray do so, my good Lord. I thank your Lordship heartily."
"Arthur Tremayne is set on going, if it come to hot water--as seemeth
like enough."
"Arthur Tremayne is a milksop, my Lord! I marvel what he means to do.
His brains are but addled eggs--all stuffed with Latin and Greek."
Jack, of course, like the average country gentleman of his time, was a
profound ignoramus. What knowledge had been drilled into him in
boyhood, he had since taken pains to forget. He was familiar with the
punctilio of duelling, the code of regulations for fencing, the rules of
athletic sports, and the intricacies of the gaming-table; but anything
which he dubbed contemptuously "book-learning," he considered as far
beneath him as it really was above.
"He will be as good for the Spaniards to shoot at as any other,"
jocularly observed Sir Thomas.
"Then pray you, let Lysken Barnevelt go!" said Jack soberly. "I warrant
you she'll stand fire, and never so much as ruffle her hair."
"Well, I heard say Dame Mary Cholmondeley of Vale Royal, that an' the
men beat not back the Spaniards, the women should fight them with their
bodkins; wherewith Her Highness was so well pleased that she dubbed the
dame a knight then and there. My wife saith, an' it come to that, she
will be colonel of a company of archers of Lancashire. We will have
Mistress Barnevelt a lieutenant in her company."
"My sister Margaret would make a good lieutenant, my Lord," suggested
Jack. "We'll send Aunt Rachel to the front, with a major's commission,
and Clare shall be her adjutant. As for Blanche, she may stand behind
the baggage and screech. She is good for nought else, but she'll do
that right well."
"For shame, lad!" said Sir Thomas, laughing.
"I heard her yesterday, Sir,--the occasion, a spider but half the size
of a pin head."
"What place hast thou for me?" inquired Lady Enville, delicately
applying a scented handkerchief to her fastidious hose.
"My dear Madam!" said Jack, bowing low, "you shall be the trumpeter sent
to give challenge unto the Spanish commandant. If he strike not his
colours in hot haste upon sight of you, then is he no gentleman."
Lady Enville sat fanning herself in smiling complacency, No flattery
could be too transparent to please her.
"I pray your Lordship, is any news come touching Sir Richard Grenville,
and the plantation which he strave to make in the Queen's Highness'
country of Virginia?" asked Sir Thomas.
Barbara listened again with interest. Sir Richard Grenville was a
Devonshire knight, and a kinsman of Sir Arthur Basset.
"Ay,--Roanoke, he called it, after the Indian name. Why, it did well
but for a time, and then went to wrack. But I do hear that he purposeth
for to go forth yet again, trusting this time to speed better."
"What good in making plantations in Virginia?" demanded Jack, loftily.
"A wild waste, undwelt in save by savages, and many weeks' voyage from
this country,--what gentleman would ever go to dwell there?"
"May-be," said Lord Strange thoughtfully, "when the husbandmen that
shall go first have made it somewhat less rough, gentlemen may be found
to go and dwell there."
"Why, Jack, lad! This country is not all the world," observed his
father.
"'Tis all of it worth anything, Sir," returned insular Jack.
"Thy broom sweepeth clean, Jack," responded Lord Strange. "What, is
nought worth in France, nor in Holland,--let be the Emperor's dominions,
and Spain, and Italy?"
"They be all foreigners, my Lord. And what better are foreigners than
savages? They be all Papists, to boot."
"Not in Almayne, Jack,--nor in Holland."
"Well, they speak no English," said prejudiced Jack.
"That is a woeful lack," gravely replied Lord Strange. "Specially when
you do consider that English was the tongue that Noah spake afore the
flood, and the confusion of tongues at Babel."
Jack knew just enough to have a dim perception that Lord Strange was
laughing at him. He got out of the difficulty by turning the
conversation.
"Well, thus much say I: let the King of Spain come when he will, and
where, at every point of the coast there shall be an Englishman
awaiting--and we will drive him home thrice faster than he came at the
first."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. He was fined 10,000 pounds for contempt of court. What his
real offences were remains doubtful, beyond the fact that he was a
Papist, and had married against the will of the Queen.
Note 2. The state of the gaols at this time, and for long afterwards,
until John Howard effected his reformation of them, was simply horrible.
The Black Assize at Exeter was by no means the only instance of its
land.
Note 3. I stated in _Robin Tremayne_ that I had not been able to
discover the burial-place of Honor Viscountess Lisle. Since that time,
owing to the kindness of correspondents, personally unknown to me, I
have ascertained that she was probably buried at Atherington, with her
first husband, Sir John Basset. In that church his brass still
remains--a knight between two ladies--the coats of arms plainly showing
that the latter are Anne Dennis of Oxleigh and Honor Granville of Stow.
But the Register contains no entry of burial previous to 1570.
Note 4. In the custody of the (Popish) Bishop of Southwark is a quarto
volume, containing, under date of Rome, April 28, 1588,--"An admonition
to the nobility and people of England and Ireland, concerning the
present warres made _for the execution of His Holiness' sentence_, by
the highe and mightie King Catholicke of Spaine: by the Cardinal of
England." [Cardinal Allen.]--(Third Report of Royal Commission of
Historical Manuscripts, page 233).
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
"His power secured thee, when presumptuous Spain Baptised her fleet
Invincible in vain; Her gloomy monarch, doubtful and resigned To every
pang that racks an anxious mind, Asked of the waves that broke upon his
coast, `What tidings?'--and the surge replied,--`All lost!'"
_Cowper_.
King Philip of Spain was coming at last. Every Englishman--ay, and
every woman and child in England--knew that now.
When Drake returned home from "singeing the Don's whiskers," he told his
royal mistress that he believed the Spaniards would attempt serious
invasion ere long. But Elizabeth then laughed the idea to scorn.
"They are not so ill-advised. But if they do come"--and Her Majesty
added her favourite oath--"I and my people will send them packing!"
The Queen took measures to prepare her subjects accordingly, whether she
thought the invasion likely or not. All the clergy in the kingdom were
ordered to "manifest unto their congregations the furious purpose of the
Spanish King." There was abundant tinder ready for this match: for the
commonalty were wider awake to the danger than either Queen or Council.
The danger is equal now, and more insidious--from Rome, though not from
Spain--but alas! the commonalty are sleeping.
Lord Henry Seymour was sent off to guard the seas, and to intercept
intercourse between Spain and her Flemish ports. The Earl of Leicester
was appointed honorary commander-in-chief, with an army of 23,000 foot
and 2352 horse, for the defence of the royal person: Lord Hunsdon, with
11,000 foot more, and 15,000 horse, was sent to keep guard over the
metropolis; and Charles Lord Howard of Effingham, Lord High Admiral of
England, was appointed to conduct the naval defence.
It is the popular belief that Lord Howard was a Papist. He certainly
was a Protestant at a later period of his life; and though it is
doubtful whether positive evidence can be found to show his religious
views at the time of the invasion, yet there is reason to believe that
the popular idea is supported only by tradition. [See Appendix.]
Tilbury, on the Thames, was chosen as the rendezvous for the land
forces. The Queen removed to Havering, which lay midway between her two
armies. It was almost, if not quite, the last time that an English
sovereign ever inhabited the old Saxon palace of Havering-atte-Bower.
The ground around Tilbury was surveyed, trenches cut, Gravesend
fortified, and (taking pattern from Antwerp) a bridge of boats was laid
across the Thames, to stop the passage of the river. Calculations were
made as to the amount requisite to meet the Armada, and five thousand
men, with fifteen ships, were demanded from the city of London. The
Lord Mayor asked two days for consideration, and then requested that the
Queen would accept ten thousand men and thirty ships. The Dutch came
into the Thames with sixty sail--generous friends, who forgot in
England's hour of need that she had, only sixteen years before, refused
even bread and shelter in her harbours to their "Beggars of the Sea."
Noblemen joined the army and navy as volunteers, and in the ranks there
were no pressed men. There was one heart in all the land, from Berwick
to the Lizard.
Lastly, a prayer was issued, to be used in all churches throughout the
kingdom, every Wednesday and Friday. But ecclesiastical dignitaries
were not called upon to write it. The Defender of the Faith herself
drew up the form, in a plain, decided style, which shows that she could
write lucidly when she liked it. This was Elizabeth's prayer.
"We do instantly beseech Thee of Thy gracious goodness to be merciful to
the Church militant here upon earth, and at this time compassed about
with most strong and subtle adversaries. Oh let Thine enemies know that
Thou hast received England, which they most of all for Thy Gospel's sake
do malign, into Thine own protection. Set a wall about it, O Lord, and
evermore mightily defend it. Let it be a comfort to the afflicted, a
help to the oppressed, and a defence to Thy Church and people,
persecuted abroad. And forasmuch as this cause is new in hand, direct
and go before our armies both by sea and land. Bless them, and prosper
them, and grant unto them Thine honourable success and victory. Thou
art our help and shield. Oh give good and prosperous success to all
those that fight this battle against the enemies of Thy Gospel."
[Strype.]
So England was ready.
But Philip was ready too. He also, in his fashion, had been preparing
his subjects for work. Still maintaining an outward appearance of
friendship with Elizabeth, he quietly spread among his own people copies
of his pedigree, wherein he represented himself as the true heir to the
crown of England, by descent from his ancestresses Philippa and
Katherine of Lancaster: ignoring the facts--that, though the heir
general of Katherine, he was not so of her elder sister Philippa; and
that if he had been, the law which would have made these two sisters
heiresses presumptive had been altered while they were children. Beyond
this piece of subtlety, Philip allied himself with the Duke of Parma in
Italy, and the Duke of Guise [Note 1] in France; the plot being that the
Duke of Medina Sidonia, Commander-in-chief of the Armada, was to sail
first for Flanders, and take his orders from Parma: Guise was to land in
the west of England: some other leader, with 12,000 men, in Yorkshire:
while Philip himself, under shelter of the Armada, was to effect his
landing in Kent or Essex. Ireland was looked upon as certain to revolt
and assist. Parma harangued the troops destined to join the invading
force from Flanders, informing them that the current coin in England was
gold, only the very poorest using silver; the houses were full of money,
plate, jewellery, and wealth in all shapes.
It is well to remember that England was no strange, unexplored land, at
least to the higher officers of the Armada. Philip himself had been
King of England for four years: the courtiers in his suite had lived
there for months together. Their exclamation on first journeying from
the coast to Winchester, twenty-three years before, had been that "the
poor of this land dwelt in hovels, and fared like princes!" They had
not forgotten it now.
Lord Howard took up his station at Plymouth, whence he purposed to
intercept the Armada as it came; Sir Francis Drake was sent to the west
with sixty-five vessels. But time passed on, and no Armada came. The
English grew secure and careless. Many ships left the fleet, some
making for the Irish coast, some harbouring in Wales. The Queen
herself, annoyed at the needless cost, sent word to Lord Howard to
disband four of the largest vessels of the royal navy. The Admiral
disobeyed, and paid the expenses out of his own purse. England ought to
bless the memory of Charles Howard of Effingham.
It was almost a shock when--suddenly, at last--Philip's ultimatum came.
Spain demanded three points from England: and if her demands were not
complied with, there was no resource but war.
1. The Queen must promise to withdraw all aid from the Protestants in
the Netherlands.
2. She must give back the treasure seized, by Drake the year before.
3. She must restore the Roman Catholic religion throughout England, as
it had been before the Reformation.
The first and second clauses would have been of little import in
Elizabeth's eye's, except as they implied her yielding to dictation; the
real sting lay in the last. And the last was the one which Philip would
be most loth to yield. With a touch of grim humour, His Catholic
Majesty sent his ultimatum in Latin verse.
The royal lioness of England rose from her throne to return her answer,
with a fiery Plantagenet flash in her eyes. She could play at Latin
verse quite as well as Philip; rather better, indeed,--for his question
required some dozen lines, and one was sufficient for her answer.
"Ad Graecas, [Note 2] bone Rex, fient mandata kalendas!" was the prompt
reply of England's Elizabeth.
Which may be rendered--preserving the fun--
"Great King, thy command shall be done right soon,
On the thirty-first day of the coming June."
Some knowledge of the terrible magnitude of Philip's preparations is
necessary, in order to see what it was which England escaped in 1588.
The Armada consisted of 134 ships, and, reckoning soldiers, sailors, and
galley-slaves, carried about 32,000 men. [The exact figures are much
disputed, hardly two accounts being alike.] The cost of sustenance per
day was thirty thousand ducats. The cannon and field-pieces were
unnumbered: the halberts were ten thousand, the muskets seven thousand.
Bread, biscuits, and wine, were laid in for six months, with twelve
thousand pipes of fresh water. The cargo--among many other items--
consisted of whips and knives, for the conversion of the English; and
doubtless Don Martin Alorcon, Vicar-General of the Inquisition, with one
hundred monks and Jesuits in his train may be classed under the same
head. Heresy was to be destroyed throughout England: Sir Francis Drake
was singled out for special vengeance. The Queen was to be taken alive,
at all costs: she was to be sent prisoner over the Alps to Rome, there
to make her humble petition to the Pope, barefoot and prostrate, that
England might be re-admitted to communion with the Holy See. Did Philip
imagine that any amount of humiliation or coercion would have wrung such
words as these from the lips of Elizabeth Tudor?
On the 19th of May, the Invincible Armada, as the Spaniards proudly
termed it, sailed from Lisbon for Corufia.
The English Fleet lay in the harbour at Plymouth. The Admiral's ship
was the "Ark Royal;" Drake commanded the "Revenge:" the other principal
vessels were named the "Lion," the "Bear," the "Elizabeth Jonas," the
"Galleon Leicester," and the "Victory." They lay still in port waiting
for the first north wind, which did not come until the eighth of July.
Then Lord Howard set sail and went southwards for some distance; but the
wind changed to the south, the fleet was composed entirely of sailing
vessels, and the Admiral was afraid to go too far, lest the Armada
should slip past him in the night, between England and her wooden walls.
So he put back to Plymouth.
If he had only known the state of affairs, he would not have done so.
He had been almost within sight of the Armada, which was at that moment
broken and scattered, having met with a terrific storm in the Bay of
Biscay. Eight ships were driven to a distance, three galleys cast away
on the French coast; where the galley-slaves rebelled, headed by a Welsh
prisoner named David Gwyn. Medina regained Coruna with some difficulty,
gathered his shattered vessels, repaired damages, and put to sea again
on the eleventh of July. They made haste this time. Eight days' hard
rowing brought them within sight of England.
A blazing sun, and a strong south-west gale, inaugurated the morning of
the nineteenth of July. The fleet lay peacefully moored in Plymouth
Sound, all unconscious and unprophetic of what the day was to bring
forth: some of the officers engaged in calculating chances of future
battle, some eagerly debating home politics, some idly playing cards or
backgammon. These last averred that they had nothing to do. They were
not destined to make that complaint much longer.
At one end of the quarter-deck of Drake's ship, the "Revenge," was a
group of three young officers, of whom two at least were not much more
profitably employed than those who were playing cards in the "Ark
Royal." They were all volunteers, and the eldest of the three was but
two-and-twenty. One was seated on the deck, leaning back and apparently
dozing; the second stood, less sleepily, but quite as idly, beside him:
the last, with folded arms, was gazing out to sea, yet discerning
nothing, for his thoughts were evidently elsewhere. The second of the
trio appeared to be in a musical humour, for snatches of different songs
kept coming from his lips.
"`We be three poor mariners,
Newly come fro' th' seas:
We spend our lives in jeopardy,
Whilst others live at ease.'"
"Be we?" laughed the youth who was seated on the deck, half-opening his
eyes. "How much of thy life hast spent in jeopardy, Jack Enville?"
"How much? Did not I once fall into the sea from a rock?--and was
well-nigh drowned ere I could be fished out. More of my life than
thine, Master Robert Basset."
In something like the sense of Thekla Tremayne's "Poor Jack!" I pause
to say, Poor Robert Basset! He was the eldest son of the deceased Sir
Arthur. He had inherited the impulsive, generous heart, and the
sensitive, nervous temperament, of his ancestor Lord Lisle, unchecked by
the accompanying good sense and sober judgment which had balanced those
qualities in the latter. Hot-headed, warm-hearted, liberal to
extravagance, fervent to fanaticism, unable to say No to any whom he
loved, loving and detesting with passionate intensity, constantly
betrayed into rash acts which he regretted bitterly the next hour,
possibly the next minute--this was Robert Basset. Not the same
character as Jack Enville, but one just as likely to go to wreck
early,--to dash itself wildly on the breakers, and be broken.
"Thou art alive enough now," said Basset. "But how knowest that I never
fell from a rock into the sea?"
Jack answered by a graceful flourish of his hands, and a stave of
another song.
"`There's never a maid in all this town
But she knows that malt's come down, -
Malt's come down,--malt's come down,
From an old angel to a French crown.'"
"I would it were," said Basset, folding his arms beneath his head. "I
am as dry as a hornblower."
"That is with blowing of thine own trumpet," responded Jack. "I say,
Tremayne! Give us thy thoughts for a silver penny."
"Give me the penny first," answered the meditative officer.
"Haven't an obolus," [halfpenny] confessed Jack.
"`The cramp is in my purse full sore,
No money will bide therein--'"
"Another time," observed Arthur Tremayne, "chaffer [deal in trade] not
till thou hast wherewith to pay for the goods."
"I am a gentleman, not a chapman," [a retail tradesman] said Jack,
superciliously.
"Could a man not be both?"
"'Tis not possible," returned Jack, with an astonished look. "How
should a chapman bear coat armour?"
"I reckon, though, he had fathers afore him," said Basset, with his eyes
shut.
"Nought but common men," said Jack, with sovereign contempt.
"And ours were uncommon men--there is all the difference," retorted
Basset.
"Yours were, in very deed," said Jack obsequiously.
This was, in truth, the entire cause of Jack's desire for Basset's
friendship. The latter, poor fellow! imagined that he was influenced by
personal regard.
"Didst think I had forgot it?" replied Basset, smiling.
"Ah! if I had but thy lineage!" answered Jack.
"Thine own is good enough, I cast no doubt. And I dare say Tremayne's
is worth something, if we could but win him to open his mouth thereon."
Jack's look was one of complete incredulity.
Arthur neither moved nor spoke.
"Hold thou thy peace, Jack Enville," said Basset, answering the look,
for Jack had not uttered a word. "What should a Lancashire lad know of
the Tremaynes of Tremayne? I know somewhat thereanent.--Are you not of
that line?" he asked, turning his head towards Arthur.
"Ay, the last of the line," said the latter quietly.
"I thought so much. Then you must be somewhat akin unto Sir Richard
Grenville of Stow?"
"Somewhat--not over near," answered Arthur, modestly.
"Forty-seventh cousin," suggested Jack, not over civilly.
"And to Courtenay of Powderham,--what?"