Chapter VIII: Part 8

The resistance of Haarlem and other places determined Alva to try what might be done by an affectation of clemency; and on the 26th of July he issued a proclamation in which Philip was compared to a hen gathering its chickens under the parental wing. But in the same breath his subjects were admonished not to excite his rage, cruelty, and fury, and they were threatened that if his gracious offers of mercy were neglected, his majesty would strip bare and utterly depopulate the land, and cause it to be again inhabited by strangers. So ludicrous a specimen of paternal love was not calculated to excite much confidence in the breasts of the Hollanders, and Alkmaar, the next town to which Don Frederick laid siege, though defended only by eight hundred soldiers and thirteen hundred citizens against sixteen thousand veterans, also resolved to hold out to the last extremity. Enraged at this contempt of what he called his clemency, at Haarlem, Alva resolved to make Alkmaar an example of his cruelty, and he wrote to Philip that everyone in it should be put to the sword. But the inhabitants made a heroic defence and repulsed the besiegers in many a bloody assault; till at length the superstitious Spaniards, believing that the place was defended by the devil, whom they thought that the Protestants worshipped, refused to mount to the attack, suffering themselves rather to be run through the body by their officers; and Don Frederick, finding from an intercepted letter that the Prince of Orange contemplated cutting the dikes and flooding the country, in order to prevent the place from being surrendered, raised the siege (October 8th) after it had lasted seven weeks.

About this time William published his _Epistle in the form of supplication to his Royal Majesty of Spain, from the Prince of Orange and States of Holland and Zealand_, which produced a profound impression. It demanded that the privileges of the country should be restored, and insisted on the recall of the Duke of Alva, whose atrocities were vigorously described and condemned. Orange, as stadtholder, was now acting as the King's representative in Holland, and gave all his orders in Philip's name. He had recently turned Calvinist, and in October publicly joined the Church at Dort. It was reserved for the two greatest princes of the age to alleviate by their apostasy, which, however, approached more nearly than the orthodoxy of their adversaries, the spirit of true Christianity, the evils inflicted on society by a consistent but bloody-minded and intolerant bigotry.

The siege of Alkmaar was one of the last acts under Alva's auspices in the Netherlands, and formed a fitting termination to his career. He had himself solicited to be recalled, and in December, 1573, he was superseded by Don Luis de Requesens, Grand Commander of St. Jago. In fact, Philip had found this war of extermination too expensive for his exhausted treasury. Alva boasted on his journey back that he had caused eighteen thousand six hundred Netherlanders to be executed. He was well received by Philip, but soon after his return was imprisoned along with his son, Don Frederick; the latter for having seduced a maid of honor, his father for recommending him not to marry his victim. Alva was, however, subsequently released to undertake the conquest of Portugal.

Requesens, the new Governor, had been vice-admiral to Don John of Austria, had distinguished himself at the battle of Lepanto, and had subsequently governed the Milanese with reputation. He was mild and just and more liberal than the generality of Spaniards, though inferior to Alva in military talent. He attempted immediately after his arrival in the Netherlands to bring about a peace through the mediation of St. Aldegonde, but Orange was too suspicious to enter into it. Requesens put down robbery and murder, but he was neither able to abrogate the Council of Blood nor to alleviate the oppressive taxes. Philip had selected him as governor of the Netherlands, as a pledge of the more conciliatory policy which he had thought it prudent to adopt; yet Requesens' hands were tied up with such injunctions as rendered all conciliation hopeless, and he was instructed to bring forward no measures which had not for their basis the maintenance of the King's absolute authority and the prohibition of all worship except the Roman Catholic.

The Gueux de Mer were at this time most troublesome to the Spaniards, as their small vessels enabled them to penetrate up the rivers and canals. A naval action had been fought (October 11, 1573) on the Zuyder Zee between Count Bossu, who had collected a considerable fleet at Amsterdam, and the patriot admiral Dirkzoon, in which Bossu was completely defeated and taken prisoner. One of the first acts of Requesens was to send a fleet under Sancho Davila, Julian Romero, and Admiral Glimes to the relief of Middelburg, which had been besieged by the patriots upward of eighteen months and was now reduced to the last extremity. Orange visited the Zealand fleet under the command of Louis Boissot (January 20, 1574), and an action ensued a few days later, in which the Spaniards were completely beaten. Requesens himself beheld the action from the lofty dike of Schakerloo, where he stood all day in a drenching rain; and Romero, who had escaped by jumping out of a porthole, swam ashore and landed at the very feet of the Grand Commander. The Hollanders and Zealanders were now masters of the coast, but the Spaniards still held their ground in the interior of Holland. After raising the siege of Alkmaar, they had invested Leyden and cut off all communication between the Dutch cities.

The efforts of the patriots were less fortunate on land, where they were no match for the Spanish generals and their veteran troops. It had been arranged that Louis of Nassau should march out of Germany with an army of newly levied recruits and form a junction with his brother William, who was at Bommel on the Waal. Toward the end of February, 1574, Louis encamped within four miles of Maestricht, with the design of taking that town; but finding that he could not accomplish this object, and having suffered some losses, he marched down the right bank of the Meuse to join his brother. When, however, he arrived at Mook, a village on the Meuse a few miles south of Nimwegen, he found himself intercepted by the Spaniards under Davila, who, having outmarched him on the opposite bank, had crossed the river at a lower point on a bridge of boats, and placed himself directly in his path. There was now no alternative but to fight, and battle was delivered on the following day on the heath of Mook, when fortune declared against the patriots. The gallant Louis, seeing that the day was lost, put himself at the head of a little band of troopers, and, accompanied by his brother Henry, and Duke Christopher, son of the Elector Palatine Frederick III, made a desperate charge in which they all perished, and were never heard of more. The only effect of Louis' invasion was to cause the Spaniards to raise the siege of Leyden; before which place, however, they afterward again sat down (May 26th).

The defence of Leyden formed a worthy parallel to that of Haarlem and Alkmaar, and acquired for the garrison and the inhabitants the respect and admiration of all Europe. A modern historian has aptly observed that this was the heroic age of Protestantism. Never have the virtues which spring from true patriotism and sincere religious conviction been more strikingly developed and displayed. Leyden was defended by John van der Does, Lord of Nordwyck, a gentleman of distinguished family, but still more distinguished by his learning and genius, and his Latin poetry published under the name of Joannes Douza. The garrison of Leyden was small, and it relied for its defence chiefly on the exertions of the inhabitants. The revictualling of the city had been neglected after the raising of the first siege, and at the end of June it became necessary to put the inhabitants on short allowance; yet they held out more than three months longer. Orange, whose head-quarters were at Delft and Rotterdam, had no means of relieving Leyden except by breaking down the dikes on the Meuse and the Yssel, and thus flooding the country, a step which would involve the destruction of the growing crops, besides other extraordinary expenses; yet he succeeded in obtaining the consent of the Dutch States to this extreme and desperate measure. On the 3d of August he superintended in person the rupture of the dikes on the Yssel; at the same time the sluices of Rotterdam and Schiedam were opened; the flood began to pour over the land, while the citizens of Leyden watched with anxious eyes from the tower of Hengist the rising of the waters.

A flotilla of two hundred flat-bottomed vessels had been provided, stored with provisions, and manned by two thousand five hundred veterans under the command of Boissot. But unexpected obstacles arose. Fresh dikes appeared above the water, and had to be cut through amid the resistance of the Spaniards. Twice the waters receded under the influence of the east wind, and left the fleet aground; twice it was floated again, as if by a providential interposition, by violent gales from the north and west, which accumulated on the coast the waters of the ocean. Meanwhile the besieged were suffering all the extremities of famine; the most disgusting garbage was used for food, and caused a pestilence which carried off thousands. In this extremity a number of the citizens surrounded the burgomaster, Adrian van der Werf, demanding with loud threats and clamors that he should either provide them with food or surrender the city to the enemy. To these menaces Adrian calmly replied, "I have taken an oath that I will never put myself or my fellow-citizens in the power of the cruel and perfidious Spaniards, and I will rather die than violate it." Then drawing his sword he offered it to the surrounding crowd and bade them plunge it in his bosom and devour his flesh if such an action could relieve them from their direful necessity. This extraordinary address filled the people with amazement and admiration and inspired them with a new courage. Their constancy was soon rewarded with deliverance. On the night of October 1st a fresh gale set in from the northwest; the ocean rushed furiously through the ruined dikes; the fleet had soon two feet of water, and sailed on their onward course amid storm and darkness. They had still to contend with the vessels of the enemy, and a naval battle was fought amid the boughs of orchards and the chimney-stacks of houses. But this was the last attempt at resistance on the part of the Spaniards. Appalled both by the constancy of their adversaries and by the rising flood, which was gradually driving them into a narrow circle, the Spaniards abandoned the two remaining forts of Zoetermonde and Lammen, which still stood between the fleet and the city. From the latter they fled in alarm at the noise of the falling of a large portion of the town walls which had been thrown down by the waters, and which in the darkness they luckily mistook for some operation of their adversaries; otherwise they might easily have entered and captured Leyden. The fleet of Boissot approached the city on the morning of October 3d. After the pangs of hunger were relieved the whole population repaired to church to return thanks to the Almighty for their deliverance. On October 4th another providential gale from the northeast assisted in clearing off the water from the land. In commemoration of this remarkable defence, and as a reward for the heroism of the citizens, was founded the University of Leyden, as well as a ten days' annual fair, free from all tolls and taxes. During this siege the Gueux had been again successful at sea. On May 30th Boissot defeated between Lilloo and Kalloo a Spanish fleet, took the admiral and three ships, and chased the rest into Antwerp.

The bankrupt state of Philip II's exchequer, and the reverses which his arms had sustained, induced him to accept in the following year the proffered mediation of the emperor Maximilian, which he had before arrogantly rejected, and a congress was held at Breda from March till June, 1575. But the insurgents were suspicious, and Philip was inflexible; he could not be induced to dismiss his Spanish troops, to allow the meeting of the States-General, or to admit the slightest toleration in matters of religion; and the contest was therefore renewed with more fury than ever. The situation of the patriots became very critical when the enemy, by occupying the islands of Duyveland and Schouwen, cut off the communication between Holland and Zealand, especially as all hope of succor from England had expired. Toward the close of the year envoys were despatched to solicit the aid of Elizabeth, and to offer her, under certain conditions, the sovereignty of Holland and Zealand. Requesens sent Champagny to counteract these negotiations, which ended in nothing. The English Queen was afraid of provoking the power of Spain, and could not even be induced to grant the Hollanders a loan. The attitude assumed at that time by the Duke of Alençon in France also prevented them from entering into any negotiations with that Prince.

In these trying circumstances William the Silent displayed the greatest firmness and courage. It was now that he is said to have contemplated abandoning Holland and seeking with its inhabitants a home in the New World, having first restored the country to its ancient state of a waste of waters, a thought, however, which he probably never seriously entertained, though he may have given utterance to it in a moment of irritation or despondency. On June 12, 1575, William had married Charlotte de Bourbon, daughter of the Duke of Montpensier. The Prince's second wife, Anne of Saxony, had turned out a drunken, violent character, and at length an intrigue which she formed with John Rubens, an exiled magistrate of Antwerp, and father of the celebrated painter, justified William in divorcing her. She subsequently became insane. Charlotte de Bourbon had been brought up a Calvinist, but at a later period, her father having joined the party of the persecutors, she took refuge with the Elector Palatine, and it was under these circumstances that she received the addresses of the Prince of Orange.

The unexpected death of Requesens, who expired of a fever, March 5, 1576, after a few days' illness, threw the government into confusion. Philip II had given Requesens a _carte blanche_ to name his successor, but the nature of his illness had prevented him from filling it up. The government, therefore, devolved to the council of state, the members of which were at variance with one another; but Philip found himself obliged to intrust it _ad interim_ with the administration till a successor to Requesens could be appointed. Count Mansfeld was made commander-in-chief, but was totally unable to restrain the licentious soldiery. The Spaniards, whose pay was in arrear, had now lost all discipline. After the raising of the siege of Leyden they had beset Utrecht and pillaged and maltreated the inhabitants, till Valdez contrived to furnish their pay. No sooner had Requesens expired than they broke into open mutiny and acted as if they were entire masters of the country. After wandering about some time and threatening Brussels, they seized and plundered Alost, where they established themselves; and they were soon after joined by the Walloon and German troops. To repress their violence, the council of state restored to the Netherlands the arms of which they had been deprived, and called upon them by a proclamation to repress force by force, but these citizen-soldiers were dispersed with great slaughter by the disciplined troops in various rencounters. Ghent, Utrecht, Valenciennes, Maestricht were taken and plundered by the mutineers; and at last the storm fell upon Antwerp, which the Spaniards entered early in November, and sacked during three days. More than a thousand houses were burnt, eight thousand citizens are said to have been slain, and enormous sums in ready money were plundered. The whole damage was estimated at twenty-four million florins. The horrible excesses committed in this sack procured for it the name of the "Spanish Fury."

The government was at this period conducted in the name of the State of Brabant. On September 5th De Hèze, a young Brabant gentleman who was in secret intelligence with the Prince of Orange, had, at the head of five hundred soldiers, entered the palace where the council of state was assembled, and seized and imprisoned the members. William, taking advantage of the alarm created at Brussels by the sack of Antwerp, persuaded the provisional government to summon the States-General, although such a course was at direct variance with the commands of the King. To this assembly all the provinces except Luxemburg sent deputies. The nobles of the southern provinces, although they viewed the Prince of Orange with suspicion, feeling that there was no security for them so long as the Spanish troops remained in possession of Ghent, sought his assistance in expelling them, which William consented to grant only on condition that an alliance should be effected between the northern and the southern, or Catholic, provinces of the Netherlands. This proposal was agreed to, and toward the end of September Orange sent several thousand men from Zealand to Ghent, at whose approach the Spaniards, who had valorously defended themselves for two months under the conduct of the wife of their absent general, Mondragon, surrendered and evacuated the citadel. The proposed alliance was now converted into a formal union, by the treaty called the Pacification of Ghent, signed November 8, 1576, by which it was agreed, without waiting for the sanction of Philip, whose authority, however, was nominally recognized, to renew the edict of banishment against the Spanish troops, to procure the suspension of the decrees against the Protestant religion, to summon the States-General of the northern and southern provinces, according to the model of the assembly which had received the abdication of Charles V, to provide for the toleration and practice of the Protestant religion in Holland and Zealand, together with other provisions of a similar character. About the same time with the Pacification of Ghent, all Zealand, with the exception of the island of Tholen, was recovered from the Spaniards.

SEARCH FOR THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE BY FROBISHER

A.D. 1576

GEORGE BEST

Martin Frobisher, the English navigator, was born in Yorkshire about
1535. When a lad he went to sea, and seems early to have dreamed of
a shorter route to China through the Arctic Ocean. He became the
pioneer in the long search for a northwest passage from the Atlantic
to the Pacific by the northern coasts of the American continent. He
even contemplated the planting of English colonies on the Pacific
shore of the New World.

Columbus had found the western way to China barred by the continent
of America. Magellan discovered a southwest passage around that
continent. Half a century later Frobisher entered upon the northern
quest.

Frobisher was poorly educated, and wrote with difficulty. The
narrative of his first voyage was written by George Best from an
account furnished by Frobisher himself, whom Best accompanied on his
second and third voyages. The present narrative has therefore all
the value of a first-hand record, and it is included in the
_Principal Navigations_ of Hakluyt.

Although over two hundred voyages have now been made in search of
this passage, which in 1850-1854 was achieved by Sir Robert McClure,
the long-cherished hopes of its advantages have not been realized.
The route, for commercial purposes, is thus far quite useless, owing
to arctic conditions. Great gains, however, through these
expeditions, have been made in scientific knowledge.

Which thing being well considered and familiarly known to our General, Captain Frobisher, as well for that he is thoroughly furnished of the knowledge of the sphere and all other skills appertaining to the art of navigation, as also for the confirmation he hath of the same by many years' experience both by sea and land; and being persuaded of a new and nearer passage to Cataya[1] than by Cabo de Buona Sperança, which the Portugals yearly use, he began first with himself to devise, and then with his friends to confer, and laid a plain plot unto them that that voyage was not only possible by the northwest, but also, he could prove, easy to be performed. And further, he determined and resolved with himself to go make full proof thereof, and to accomplish or bring true certificate of the truth, or else never to return again; knowing this to be the only thing of the world that was left yet undone, whereby a notable mind might be made famous and fortunate.

[1] Cathay (China).

But although his will were great to perform this notable voyage,[2] whereof he had conceived in his mind a great hope by sundry sure reasons and secret intelligence, which here, for sundry causes, I leave untouched; yet he wanted altogether means and ability to set forward and perform the same. Long time he conferred with his private friends of these secrets, and made also many offers for the performing of the same in effect unto sundry merchants of our country, above fifteen years before he attempted the same, as by good witness shall well appear, albeit some evil-willers, which challenge to themselves the fruits of other men's labors, have greatly injured him in the reports of the same, saying that they have been the first authors of that action, and that they have learned him the way, which themselves as yet have never gone. But perceiving that hardly he was hearkened unto of the merchants, which never regard virtue without sure, certain, and present gains, he repaired to the court, from whence, as from the fountain of our common wealth, all good causes have their chief increase and maintenance, and there laid open to many great estates and learned men the plot and sum of his device. And among many honorable minds which favored his honest and commendable enterprise, he was specially bound and beholding to the Right Honorable Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, whose favorable mind and good disposition hath always been ready to countenance and advance all honest actions, with the authors and executers of the same. And so by means of my lord his honorable countenance he received some comfort of his cause, and by little and little, with no small expense and pain, brought his cause to some perfection, and had drawn together so many adventurers and such sums of money as might well defray a reasonable charge to furnish himself to sea withal.

[2] Further details of this voyage may be gathered from the log of
Christopher Hall, master of the Gabriel, printed in Hakluyt. The
present narrative, prefixed to Best's accounts of the second and
third voyages, was preceded by a treatise intended to prove all
parts of the earth, even the poles, equally habitable.

He prepared two small barks of twenty and five-and-twenty ton apiece, wherein he intended to accomplish his pretended voyage. Wherefore, being furnished with the aforesaid two barks, and one small pinnace of ten ton burden, having therein victuals and other necessaries for twelve months' provision, he departed upon the said voyage from Blackwall, the 15. of June,[3] Anno Domini 1576.

[3] The date is incorrect. Hall quitted his moorings at Ratcliffe
on the 7th, and left Deptford on the 8th. In passing the royal
palace of Greenwich, says Hall, "we shot off our ordnance, and
made the best show we could. Her majesty, beholding the same,
commended it, and bade us farewell, with shaking her hand at us
out of the window." Gravesend was passed on the 12th.

One of the barks wherein he went was named the Gabriel, and the other the Michael; and, sailing northwest from England upon the 11. of July he had sight of an high and ragged land, which he judged to be Frisland,[4] whereof some authors have made mention; but durst not approach the same by reason of the great store of ice that lay alongst the coast, and the great mists that troubled them not a little. Not far from thence he lost company of his small pinnace, which by means of the great storm he supposed to be swallowed up of the sea; wherein he lost only four men. Also the other bark, named the Michael, mistrusting the matter, conveyed themselves privily away from him, and returned home, with great report that he was cast away.

[4] The land was Greenland. Friesland was the name given to the
Faroe Islands in the voyage of the brothers Zeni. Hall saw the
rocky spires of the coast "rising like pinnacles of steeples" in
the afternoon sun.

The worthy captain, notwithstanding these discomforts, although his mast was sprung and his topmast blown overboard with extreme foul weather, continued his course toward the northwest, knowing that the sea at length must needs have an ending and that some land should have a beginning that way; and determined therefore at the least to bring true proof what land and sea the same might be so far to the northwestward, beyond any that man hath heretofore discovered. And the 20. of July he had sight of an high land, which he called "Queen Elizabeth's Foreland,"[5] after her majesty's name. And sailing more northerly alongst that coast, he descried another foreland,[6] with a great gut, bay, or passage, dividing as it were two main lands or continents asunder. There he met with store of exceeding great ice all this coast along, and, coveting still to continue his course to the northward, was always by contrary wind detained overthwart these straits, and could not get beyond.

[5] The northeast corner of the island to the north of Resolution
Island.

[6] The North Foreland, at the southeast corner of Hall's Island.

Within few days after, he perceived the ice to be well consumed and gone, either there engulfed in by some swift currents or indrafts, carried more to the southward of the same straits, or else conveyed some other way; wherefore he determined to make proof of this place, to see how far that gut had continuance, and whether he might carry himself through the same into some open sea on the back side, whereof he conceived no small hope; and so entered the same the one-and-twentieth of July, and passed above fifty leagues therein, as he reported, having upon either hand a great main or continent. And that land upon his right hand as he sailed westward he judged to be the continent of Asia, and there to be divided from the firm of America, which lieth upon the left hand over against the same.

This place he named after his name, "Frobisher's Straits,"[7] like as Magellanus at the southwest end of the world, having discovered the passage to the South Sea, where America is divided from the continent of that land, which lieth under the south pole, and called the same straits "Magellan's Straits."

[7] Afterward called Frobisher Bay.

After he had passed sixty leagues into this aforesaid strait, he went ashore, and found signs where fire had been made. He saw mighty deer, that seemed to be mankind, which ran at him; and hardly he escaped with his life in a narrow way, where he was fain to use defence and policy to save his life. In this place he saw and perceived sundry tokens of the peoples resorting thither. And being ashore upon the top of a hill, he perceived a number of small things fleeting in the sea afar off, which he supposed to be porpoises, or seals, or some kind of strange fish; but coming nearer, he discovered them to be men in small boats made of leather. And before he could descend down from the hill, certain of those people had almost cut off his boat from him, having stolen secretly behind the rocks for that purpose; where he speedily hastened to his boat, and bent himself to his halberd, and narrowly escaped the danger, and saved his boat.

Afterward he had sundry conferences with them, and they came aboard his ship, and brought him salmon and raw flesh and fish, and greedily devoured the same before our men's faces. And to show their agility, they tried many masteries upon the ropes of the ship after our mariners' fashion, and appeared to be very strong of their arms and nimble of their bodies. They exchanged coats of seals' and bears' skins, and such like, with our men, and received bells, looking-glasses, and other toys in recompense thereof again. After great courtesy and many meetings, our mariners, contrary to their captain's direction, began more easily to trust them; and five of our men going ashore were by them intercepted with their boat, and were never since heard of to this day again; so that the captain being destitute of boat, bark, and all company, had scarcely sufficient number to conduct back his bark again.

He could now neither convey himself ashore to rescue his men, if he had been able, for want of a boat; and again the subtle traitors were so wary, as they would after that never come within our men's danger. The captain, notwithstanding, desirous of bringing some token from thence of his being there, was greatly discontented that he had not before apprehended some of them; and, therefore, to deceive the deceivers, he wrought a pretty policy. For knowing well how they greatly delighted in our toys, and specially in bells, he rang a pretty loud bell, making signs that he would give him the same who would come and fetch it. And because they would not come within his danger for fear, he flung one bell unto them, which of purpose he threw short, that it might fall into the sea and be lost. And to make them more greedy of the matter he rang a louder bell, so that in the end one of them came near the ship side to receive the bell. Which when he thought to take at the captain's hand, he was thereby taken himself; for the captain, being readily provided, let the bell fall, and caught the man fast, and plucked him with main force, boat and all, into his bark out of the sea. Whereupon, when he found himself in captivity, for very choler and disdain he bit his tongue in twain within his mouth; notwithstanding, he died not thereof, but lived until he came in England, and then he died of cold which he had taken at sea.

Now with this new prey, which was a sufficient witness of the captain's far and tedious travel toward the unknown parts of the world, as did well appear by this strange infidel, whose like was never seen, read, nor heard of before, and whose language was neither known nor understood of any, the said Captain Frobisher returned homeward, and arrived in England, in Harwich, the second of October following, and thence came to London, 1576, where he was highly commended of all men for his great and notable attempt, but specially famous for the great hope he brought of the passage to Cataya.

And it is especially to be remembered that at their first arrival in those parts there lay so great store of ice all the coast along, so thick together, that hardly his boat could pass unto the shore. At length, after divers attempts, he commanded his company, if by any possible means they could get ashore, to bring him whatsoever thing they could first find, whether it were living or dead, stock or stone, in token of Christian possession, which thereby he took in behalf of the Queen's most excellent majesty, thinking that thereby he might justify the having and enjoying of the same things that grew in these unknown parts.

Some of his company brought flowers, some green grass; and one brought a piece of black stone, much like to a sea coal in color, which by the weight seemed to be some kind of metal or mineral. This was a thing of no account in the judgment of the captain at first sight; and yet for novelty it was kept, in respect of the place from whence it came. After his arrival in London, being demanded of sundry his friends what thing he had brought them home out of that country, he had nothing left to present them withal but a piece of this black stone. And it fortuned a gentlewoman, one of the adventurer's wives, to have a piece thereof, which by chance she threw and burned in the fire, so long that at the length being taken forth, and quenched in a little vinegar, it glistened with a bright marquesite of gold. Whereupon the matter being called in some question, it was brought to certain gold-finers in London to make assay thereof, who gave out that it held gold, and that very richly for the quantity.[8] Afterward the same gold-finers promised great matters thereof if there were any store to be found, and offered themselves to adventure for the searching of those parts from whence the same was brought. Some that had great hope of the matter sought secretly to have a lease at her majesty's hands of those places, whereby to enjoy the mass of so great a public profit unto their own private gains.

[8] The English assayers all pronounced the stone worthless. An
Italian, Giovanni Baptista Agnello, reported it to contain gold.
On being questioned as to how it was that he alone was able to
produce gold from the stone, he is said to have replied, "_Bisogna
safiere adular la natura_" ("Nature requires coaxing "). Agnello's
assay necessarily involved the addition of other substances for
the purpose of separating the gold; and it has been suggested that
the gold produced by him was itself added during this process.
There is no good reason for thinking so. Pyrites often contains a
minute proportion of gold. Admitting the possibility of trickery
in the case of the small specimen submitted to Agnello, it is
incredible that the fraud should have been successfully repeated
when the two hundred tons of mineral brought back by the second
expedition came to be tested. The mineral undoubtedly contained
gold, but not enough to pay for the carriage and working.

In conclusion, the hope of more of the same gold ore to be found kindled a greater opinion in the hearts of many to advance the voyage again. Whereupon preparation was made for a new voyage against the year following, and the captain more specially directed by commission for the searching more of this gold ore than for the searching any further discovery of the passage. And being well accompanied with divers resolute and forward gentlemen, her majesty then lying at the Right Honorable the Lord of Warwick's house, in Essex, he came to take his leave; and kissing her highness' hands, with gracious countenance and comfortable words departed toward his charge.

BUILDING OF THE FIRST THEATRE IN ENGLAND

A.D. 1576

KARL MANTZIUS

_A History of the Theatre_, the scholarly work of Mantzius, has had
no time to become a classic--published 1904--but certainly the
author has delved into his subject with a minuteness and presented
it with a lively interest which fully justify the selection of his
work for presentation here.

The theatre has become so prominent an institution among us that its
origin must be of interest to all; and the building of the first
theatre is inextricably interwoven with the larger and vaguer story
of the rise of the modern drama itself. The dramatic arts of Greece
and Rome had never been wholly forgotten. Their traditions survived
in Italy in the crude pantomime performances of the common people.
Practically, however, the Middle Ages invented a new dramatic art of
their own, developed from the gorgeous religious pantomime of the
church services. The theatre was born of the cathedral; the stage,
of the altar.

The plays, at first purely religious, rapidly developed a comic
side, which by degrees became their central theme. The moral purpose
of the performance was forgotten; and the Church disowned its evil
changeling. To none of these early plays can the term "drama" be
accurately applied; for each and all of them lack plot. They are
merely a series of disconnected scenes, pictures having small
connection and less development. The idea of pursuing a single,
slowly developing story to its climax and conclusion dawns upon the
modern stage only with the English Elizabethan drama.

Despite our imperfect knowledge of the plays and players of that
time, one feels almost justified in saying that the modern drama was
created about 1580 by Christopher Marlowe and was raised to the
highest point of its development about 1600 by William Shakespeare.

At the date of Shakespeare's birth, 1564, no permanent theatre as yet existed in England. But there had long existed a class of professional actors, descended partly from the mystery and the miracle-playing artisans of the Middle Ages, partly from the strolling players, equilibrists, jugglers, and jesters. Professional Italian actors, players of the _commedia dell'arte_, who in the sixteenth century spread their gay and varied art all over Europe, also supplied English players with that touch of professional technique in which their somewhat vacillating and half-amateurish arts were still wanting.

While, however, as far as France is concerned, the Italian influence must strike everybody who studies the stage history of the country, the evidence of a fertilization of English scenic art by the commedia dell' arte is scanty. Yet I think it is sufficient to deserve more attention than has hitherto been bestowed upon it.

In any case there is sufficient evidence to prove that Italian professional actors penetrated into England and exercised their art there.

In January, 1577, an Italian comedian came to London with his company. The English called him Drousiano, but his real name was Drousiano Martinelli, the same who, with his brother Tristano, visited the court of Philip II, and there is no reason to suppose that he was either the first or the last of his countrymen who tried to carry off English gold from merry London. The typical Italian masks are quite well known to the authors of that period. Thus Thomas Heywood mentions all these doctors, zanies, pantaloons, and harlequins, in which the French, and still more the Italians, distinguished themselves. In Kyd's _Spanish Tragedy_, and in Ben Jonson's _The Case is Altered_, mention is made of the Italian improvised comedy, and a few of the well-known types of character in the dramatic literature of the time bear distinct traces of having been influenced by Italian masks, _e.g._, Ralph Roister Doister in Udall's comedy of that name; as well as the splendid Captain Bobadill and his no less amusing companion, Captain Tucca, in Ben Jonson's _Every Man in his Humour_ and _The Poetaster_, all of which are reproductions of the typical _capitano_.

However, it is not these literary testimonies that I consider the most striking evidence of the influence of Italian professional technique on English professional actors. It is a remarkable discovery made by the highly esteemed Shakespearean archaeologist, Edmund Malone, about a century ago, in Dulwich College, that mine of ancient English dramatic research, founded by the actor Edward Alleyn.

Among the notes left by the old pawnbroker and theatrical manager, Henslowe, and the various papers, letters, parts, accounts, etc., of his son-in-law, the famous and very wealthy actor Alleyn, among these rare documents, to which we owe a great part of our knowledge of the Shakespearean stage, Malone found four remarkable card-board tables, on which the plots of as many plays were put down, together with the names of the persons represented, their entrances and exits, cues for music, sonnets, etc.

According to Collier's description, these tables--one of which only is preserved, the three others having disappeared through the carelessness and disorder which at that time prevailed in the Dulwich treasury--were about fifteen inches in length and nine in breadth. They were divided into two columns, and between these, toward the top of the table, there was a square hole for hanging it up on a hook or some such thing. They bore the following titles:

1. The Plotte of the Deade Man's Fortune.
2. The Plotte of the First Parte of Tamar Cain.
3. The Plotte of Frederick and Basilea.
4. The Plotte of the Second Parte of the Seven Deadlie Sinns.

The last-mentioned play is known for certain to have been composed by the excellent comic actor, Richard Tarlton. Gabriel Harvey, the astrologist, and the implacable antagonist of Thomas Nash, tells us in his letters how Tarlton himself in Oxford invited him to see his celebrated play on _The Seven Deadly Sins_; Harvey asked him which of the seven was his own deadly sin, and he instantly replied, "By G----, the sinne of other gentlemen, lechery."

Tarlton died in the year 1588, and some of the other plays, especially _The Dead Man's Fortune_, are considered to be a good deal older than his. They belong, therefore, to an early period of the English Renaissance stage.

These four tables caused considerable trouble to Malone and his contemporary Steevens, as well as to later investigators, as they are without equals in the archæology of the English stage. If these men had known that such tables, containing the plot of the piece which was acted at the time, were always hung upon the stage of the Italian commedia dell' arte in order to assist the memory of the improvising actors, they would have seen instantly that their essential historical importance to us consists in their showing by documentary evidence how the early Elizabethan scenic art in its outer form was influenced and improved by the Italians.

The fact that one of the principal characters in the oldest scenario, _The Dead Man's Fortune_, bears the name of "Panteloun" further confirms this supposition.

This is not the place to investigate how far the English were influenced by Italian professional dramatic art. At any rate, the English national character differed too much from the Italian to allow it to receive more than an outward and formal stamp. And even this superficial effect is much less significant in England than in France. Still, we are certainly not mistaken in assuming that it helped to strengthen English dramatic art, which already possessed no small amount of power; and we may take it for granted that about the time of Shakespeare's birth London possessed a socially and professionally organized class of actors, in spite of the fact that they did not yet possess a theatre of their own.

Before proper theatres were built, and after the time of the great mysteries, the actors found a refuge for their art chiefly in the inns, those splendid and expensive old public-houses which convey to our minds the idea of old-fashioned and picturesque comfort; where the nobility and clergy sought their quarters in winter, and where the carriers unloaded their goods in the large square yards, which were surrounded on all sides by the walls of the inn. On these walls there were galleries running all round, supported by wooden pillars and with steep picturesque ladders running up to them.

It was in these yards of the Cross Keys in Gracechurch Street, of The Bull in Bishopsgate Street, La Belle Sauvage on Ludgate Hill, or the Tabbard Inn in Southwark that the actors set up their stages. Perhaps it was this very circumstance that became one of the indirect reasons why they finally were obliged to build a house for themselves.

Certainly the inns offered advantages to the actors; they were meeting-places for the public, frequented by lords and other persons of distinction; probably the companies paid next to nothing for the use of them. In themselves they afforded good room for the audience, with a natural pit for ordinary people in the yard, and with more comfortable "boxes" for the more distinguished part of the audience on the surrounding balconies and at the windows facing the yard.

On the other hand, these inn-theatres had their drawbacks. In the first place, the actors were not on their own ground, and so, after all, they were only tolerated. Secondly, it must have been very difficult for them to keep to regular prices, and especially to secure the payment of the entrance fee, as they had probably to collect the money during or after the performance, thus depending on the liberality of the public for their remuneration. And finally, worst of all, they were led into quarrels with the lord mayor and with the citizens.

Indeed, it is not unlikely that these performances in the inns caused a good deal of noise and disturbance in the quarters where they took place, and that the joyous, but by no means refined or quiet, "pit," when going home, excited by one of Tarlton's jigs and by the strong ale of the inn, was not animated by very respectful feelings toward their sour Puritan fellow-citizens, who were scandalized as they watched "merry London" crowding past their windows. Nor is it improbable that these anything but respectful feelings vented themselves in some of the coarse expressions in which the plays of those times abound, where Puritanism, the sworn enemy, is concerned; "this barbarous sect," as it is called by a modern English author, "from whose inherited and contagious tyranny this nation is as yet but imperfectly released."

It is certain, at any rate, that the Puritan citizens entertained a deep and sincere hatred of anything connected with plays and actors, and if it had been in their power to do what they liked, the world would once for all have been relieved of such pernicious and wicked vagabonds as William Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, and Ben Jonson.

Fortunately, however, this power did not lie with the Puritans only.

Luckily, this sect, which like a malicious growth seemed to have gathered to itself all the stubbornness, insensibility, and rude obstinacy of the nation, was counterbalanced by a refined and intellectual nobility, which was inspired by the new artistic and philosophical thought of the Renaissance, and seemed to foresee, if not fully to recognize, what a mine of poetry the English theatre of those times was destined to be. Thanks to men like Sir Francis Walsingham, Lords Leicester, Nottingham, Strange, and Sussex, the drama resisted for a time the violent and unwearied attacks of the Puritans. Most fortunately for the actors also, Queen Elizabeth, as well as her successors, James I and Charles I, was fond of plays and favorably inclined toward their performers.

Elizabeth rendered a great service to the actors by placing them under the patronage of the nobility. The municipal authorities, who were frequently Puritan, considered neither dramatic art nor dramatic poetry as an acceptable means of livelihood; consequently, those who cultivated these noble arts easily exposed themselves to being treated as "masterless men," unless they could give a reference to some distinguished aristocratic name.

The Queen ordered by law--in a statute which has often been misunderstood--"that all common players of interludes wandering abroad, other than players of interludes belonging to any baron of this realme, or any other honorable personage of greater degree, to be authorized to play under the hand and seale of arms of such baron or personage, shall be adjudged and deemed rogues and vagabonds"; in other words, the Queen urged all actors, for their own sakes, to place themselves under the patronage of some nobleman, in order to protect them against the persecution of the Puritan citizens.

But even such mighty protection could not entirely shield them, and it was this very power of the London corporation to injure the actors that caused the establishment of the first London theatre.

In the year 1572 the plague broke out in London; it killed many thousands of people, and kept recurring at certain intervals during the next twenty or thirty years, carrying horror and death with it. Under these circumstances all dramatic performances were prohibited for a time in London, a precaution which was reasonable enough, as the dense crowding of people might have helped to spread the disease. But the magistrate seems to have caught eagerly at this opportunity of interfering.

In Harrison's _Description of England_ the event is reported as follows: "Plaies are banished for a time out of London, lest the resort unto them should ingender a plague, or rather disperse it, being already begonne. Would to God these comon plaies were exiled for altogether as seminaries of impiety, and their theatres pulled downe as no better than houses of baudrie. It is an evident token of a wicked time when plaiers wexe so rich that they can build suche houses. As moche I wish also to our comon beare baitinges used on the Sabaothe daies."

We cannot help noticing the predilection of the Puritans for the coarse bear-fights, which in their opinion were only displeasing to God when performed on a Sabbath, whereas the playhouses at any time were no better than the "ill-famed stews" in Southwark. It cannot be denied, however, that under the prevailing circumstances it was quite right that the playhouses should be temporarily forbidden.

But the sudden and unwarranted expulsion of all dramatic performances from the precincts of London a few years later, 1575, cannot be accounted for otherwise than by the increasing popularity which these plays enjoyed among the non-Puritan public, and the envy with which the clergy saw the people crowding much more to the places where actors interpreted the rising poets than to those where the preachers themselves enunciated their gloomy doctrine.

In the year 1574 the actor James Burbage, with four other actors, all belonging to the retinue of the Earl of Leicester, had received permission from the Queen to perform all kinds of plays anywhere in England, "for the recreation of her beloved subjects as well as for her own comfort and pleasure, if it should please her to see them."

Perhaps it was a counter-move on the part of the Puritan community when the lord mayor and the corporation in the following year straightway forbade all plays within the precincts of the town. If so, it proved a failure. James Burbage resolutely hired a liberty outside the city, and here, in 1576, on the premises of an ancient Roman Catholic priory, he built the first English playhouse, which he named "The Theatre."

In the following year The Theatre gained an ally in "The Curtain," which was built in the same neighborhood, both, of course, causing great indignation among the Puritans. In 1577, the year after the first playhouse had been erected, there appeared a furious pamphlet, by John Northbrooke, against "dicing, dancing, plays and interludes as well as other idle pastimes."

No doubt all possible means were taken to have plays forbidden and the playhouses pulled down, but though the attack of the Black Army never ceased for a moment, the Puritans did not succeed in getting the better of the theatres till the year 1642, when they acquired political power through the civil war; and, fortunately for the part of mankind which appreciates art, this precious flower of culture, one of the richest and most remarkable periods in the life of dramatic art, had developed into full bloom before the outbreak of the war.

In a sermon of 1578 we read the following bitter and deep-drawn sigh by the clergyman John Stockwood: "Wyll not a fylthye playe wyth the blast of a trumpette sooner call thyther a thousande than an houres tolling of a bell bring to the sermon a hundred?--nay, even heere in the Citie, without it be at this place and some other certaine ordinarie audience, where shall you finde a reasonable company?--whereas, if you resort to the Theatre, The Curtayne, and other places of playes in the Citie, you shall on the Lord's Day have these places, with many other that I cannot reckon, so full as possible they can throng."

That the bold defiance with which James Burbage and the other actors met the lord mayor and the corporation should prove so successful lay almost in the nature of things. The prohibition of plays within the bounds of the city of London did not mean that they were looked upon with animosity by the people, but merely that a majority of the corporation was unfriendly to them. It was soon shown that, though the wise city fathers could easily forbid the actors to perform their plays in London, they could not prevent the enthusiastic public from walking in crowds a mile out of town in order to see such performances, especially as people were quite accustomed to the journey. Burbage, who was a business-like man, had chosen his ground quite close to the public places, where the Londoners practised their open-air sports and amused themselves with tennis and football, stone-throwing, cock fights, and archery.

Although Burbage called his new building "The Theatre," the title was not intended to mean _the_ theatre _par excellence_, for the word "theatre" was not then commonly used to denote a building in which dramatic representations were performed. It is more probable that he thought he had succeeded in choosing an elegant name with a certain suggestion of the old classics, which was euphonious and not quite common.