Clare Avery: A Story of the Spanish Armada

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  "DIEU LA VOULU."

  "Over himself and his own heart's complaining Victorious still."

  The bells were pealing merrily for the marriage of Clare Avery--I begher pardon--of Clare Tremayne; and the wedding party were seated atbreakfast in the great hall at Enville Court.

  "The bridesmaids be well-looking," said Lady Enville, behind her fan, toSir Piers Feversham, who was her next neighbour,--for Sir Piers andLucrece had come to the wedding--"and I do hear Mistress PenelopeTravis--she of them that is nearest--is like to be the next bride of ourvicinage."

  "Say you so?" responded Sir Piers. "I do desire all happiness be withher. But there is one of yonder maids for whom in very deed I feelcompassion, and it is Mistress Lysken Barnevelt. Her May is well-nighover, and no bells be ringing for her. Poor maiden!"

  "Go to, now, what dolts be men!" quoth Mistress Rachel Enville,addressing herself, to all appearance, to the dish of flummery whichstood before her. "They think, poor misconceiving companions! that webe all a-dying for them. That's a man's notion. Moreover, they take itthat 'tis the one end and aim of every woman in the world to be wed.That's a man's notion, again. And belike they fancy, poor patches! thatwhen she striketh thirty years on the bell, any woman will wed any manthat will but take compassion to ask her. That caps all their notions.(Thou shalt right seldom hear a woman to make no such a blunder. Theyknow better.) Poor blockheads!--as if we could not be useful nor happywithout _them_! Lysken Barnevelt and Rachel Enville, at the least, benot fools enough to think it."

  "Neither is the Queen's Majesty, my mistress," observed Sir Piers,greatly amused.

  "Who e'er said the Queen's Majesty were a fool?" demanded Rachelbluntly. "She is a woman, and no man--Heaven be praised for all Hismercies!"

  "Yet if no man were," pursued Sir Piers, "methinks you gentlewomenshould be but ill bestead."

  "Oh, should we so?" retorted Rachel. "Look you, women make no wars, norserve therein: nor women be no lawyers, to set folk by the ears: norwomen write not great tomes of controversy, wherein they curse the onethe other because Nell loveth a white gown, and Bess would have a black.Is the Devil a woman? Answer me that, I pray you."

  "Do women make no wars?" laughed Sir Piers. "What! with Helen of Troy,and--"

  "Good lack, my master!--and what ill had Helen's fair face wrought inall this world, had there been no dolts of men to be beguilen thereby?"was Rachel's instant response.

  Sir Piers made a hasty retreat from that part of the field.

  "But, my mistress, though the Devil be no woman, yet was the woman thefirst to be deceived by him."

  "Like enough!" snapped Rachel. "She sinned not open-eyed, as did Adam.She trusted a man-devil, like too many of her daughters sithence, andshe and they alike have found bitter cause to rue the day they did it."

  Sir Piers prudently discovered that Lady Enville was asking him aquestion, and let Rachel alone thereafter.

  Ay, Lysken Barnevelt adopted from choice the life to which Clare hadbeen only willing to resign herself because she thought it was theFather's will. It amused Lysken to hear people pity her as one who hadfailed to win the woman's aim in life. To have failed to obtain whatshe had never sought, and did not want, was in Lysken's eyes an easilyendurable affliction. The world was her home, while she passed throughit on her journey to the better Home: and all God's family were herbrethren or her children. The two sisters from Enville Court were bothhappy and useful in their corners of the great harvest-field; but shewas the happiest, and the best loved, and when God called her the mostmissed of all--this solitary Lysken. Distinguished by no unusual habit,fettered by no unnatural vow, she went her quiet, peaceful, blessedway--a nun of the Order of Providence, for ever.

  And what was the fate of Lady Enville?

  Just what is generally the fate of women of her type. They pass throughlife making themselves vastly comfortable, and those around them vastlyuncomfortable, and then "depart without being desired." They are nevermissed--otherwise than as a piece of furniture might be missed. To suchwomen the whole world is but a platform for the exhibition andglorification of the Great Me: and the persons in it are units with whomthe Great Me deigns--or does not deign--to associate. Happy are thosefew of them who awake, on this side of the dread tribunal, to theknowledge that in reality this Great Me is a very little me indeed, yeta soul that can be saved, and that may be lost.

  And Rachel?--Ah, Rachel was missed when she went on the inevitablejourney. The house was not the same without her. She had been like afresh breeze blowing through it,--perhaps a little sharp at times, butalways wholesome. Those among whom she had dwelt never realised all shehad been to them, nor all the love they had borne to her, until theycould tell her of it no more.

  The winter of 1602 had come, and on the ground in Devonshire the snowlay deep. The trees, thickly planted all round Umberleigh, drooped withthe white weight; and a keen North wind groaned among the branches. Allwas gloomy and chill outside.

  And inside, all was gloomy and mournful too, for a soul was indeparting. The ripe fruit that had tarried so late on the old tree, wasshaken down at last. Softly and tenderly, the Lady Elizabeth, the youngwife of Sir Robert Basset, was ministering to the last earthly needs ofPhilippa the aged, the sister of her husband's grandfather. [Note 1.]

  "'Tis high time, Bess, child!" whispered the dying woman, true to hercharacter to the last. "I must have been due on the roll of Death thesethirty years. I began to marvel if he had forgot me. And I am goingHome, child. Thank God, I am going Home!

  "They are are all safe yonder, Bess--Arthur, and Nell [Wife of SirArthur Basset], and little Honor, and thy little lad [Arthur, who diedin infancy], and Jack, and Frances--my darling sister!--and George, andKate, and Nan. I am assured of them, all. There be James and Mall,--well, I am not so sure of them. Would God I were! He knoweth.

  "But I do hope I shall see my mother. And, O Bess! I shall see him--myblessed, beloved father--I _shall_ see him!

  "And they'll be glad, child. They'll all be glad when they see poorblundering old Philippa come stumbling in at the gate. I misdoubt ifthey look for it. They'll be glad!

  "Bess, I do hope thou wilt ne'er turn thy back upon God so many years asI have done. And I had never turned to Him at last, if He had notstooped and turned me.

  "Tell Robin, with my blessing, to be a whole man for God. A whole manand a true! He is too rash--and yet not bold [true] enough. He carestoo much what other folk think. (Thank God, I ne'er fell in that trap!'Tis an ill one to find the way out.) Do thou keep him steadfast, Bess.He'll ask some keeping. There's work afore thee yet, child; 'tis workworthy an angel--to keep one man steadfast for God. Thou must walkclose to God thyself to do it. And after all, 'twill be none of thydoing, but of His that wrought by thee.--

  "And God bless the childre! I count there's the making of a true man inlittle Arthur. Thou mayest oft-times tell what a child is like to bewhen he is but four years old. God bless him, and make him anotherArthur! (Nay, I stay me not at Robin's father, as thou dost. AnotherArthur,--like that dear father of ours, whom we so loved! He is _the_Arthur for me.) I can give the lad no better blessing.

  "Wilt draw the curtain, Bess? I feel as though I might sleep. Blessthee, dear heart, for all thy tender ministering. And if I wake notagain, but go to God in sleep,--farewell, and Christ be with thee!"

  So she slept--and woke not again.

  Three months after the death of Philippa Basset, came another death--like hers, of an old woman full of years. The last of the Tudors passedaway from earth. Sir Robert Basset was free. To Stuart, or Seymour, orClifford, he "owed no subscription." King of England he would be _defacto_, as _de jure_ he believed himself in his heart.

  And but for two obstacles in his way, it might have been Robert Bassetwho seated himself on the seat of England's Elizabeth. For England wasmuch exercised as to who had really the right to her vacant throne.

  It
was no longer a question of Salic law--a dispute whether a womancould reign. That point, long undetermined, had been finally settledfifty years before.

  Nor was it any longer a doubtful matter concerning the old law ofnon-representation,--to which through centuries the English clungtenaciously,--the law which asserted that if a son of the sovereignpredeceased his father, leaving issue, that issue was barred from thesuccession, because the link which bound them to the throne was lost.This had been "the custom of England" for at least three hundred years.But, originally altered by the mere will of Edward the Third, the changehad now been confirmed by inevitable necessity, for when the Wars of theRoses closed, links were lost in _all_ directions, and the custom ofEngland could no longer be upheld.

  The two obstacles in Robert Basset's way were the apathy of themajority, and the strong contrary determination of the few who took aninterest in the question.

  The long reign of Elizabeth, and her personal popularity, had combinedto produce that apathy. Those who even dimly remembered the Wars of theRoses, and whose sympathies were fervid for White or Red, had been longdead when Elizabeth was gathered to her fathers. And to the newgeneration, White and Red were alike; the popular interest in thequestion was dead and buried also.

  But there was a little knot of men and women whose interest was alive,and whose energies were awake. And all these sided with one candidate.Sir Robert Cecil, the clever, wily son of the sagacious Burleigh,--LordRich and his wife Penelope sister of the beheaded Earl of Essex,--RobertCarey, a distant cousin of Queen Elizabeth through her mother,--hissister, Lady Scrope, one of the Queen's suite--and a few more, were allactive in the interest of James the Sixth of Scotland, who wasundoubtedly the true heir, if that true heir were not Sir Robert Basset.

  In their way, too, there was an obstacle. And they were all intent ongetting rid of it.

  King Henry the Eighth had introduced into the complicated question ofthe succession one further complication, which several of hispredecessors had tried to introduce in vain. The success of all, beforehim, had been at best only temporary. It took a Tudor will to do thedeed, and it took an obsequious Tudor age to accept it.

  This new element was the pure will of the sovereign. Richard the Firsthad willed his crown to a nephew shut out by the law ofnon-representation, and the attempt had failed to change the order ofsuccession. Edward the Third had in his life demanded the consent ofhis nobility to a scheme exactly similar on behalf of his grandson, andhis plan had taken effect for twenty-three years, mainly on account ofthe fact that the dispossessed heir, a protesting party in the firstcase, had been a consenting party in the second. But one great elementin the success of Henry the Fourth was the return of the succession tothe old and beloved order.

  The principle on which Henry the Eighth had governed for nearly fortyyears was his own despotic will. And it would appear that England likedhis strong hand upon the rein. He had little claim beyond his stronghand and (so much as he had of) his "Right Divine." Having becomeaccustomed to obey this man's will for thirty-eight years, when thatwill altered the order of succession after the deaths of his ownchildren, England placidly submitted to the prospective change.

  His son, Edward the Sixth, followed his father's example, and againtried to alter the succession by will. But he had inherited only aportion of his father's prestige. The party which would have followedhim was just the party which was not likely to struggle for its rights.The order set up by Henry the Eighth prevailed over the change made byEdward the Sixth.

  But when Elizabeth came to die, the prestige of Henry the Eighth hadfaded, and it was to her personal decision that England looked for thesettlement of the long-vexed question. The little knot of persons whowished to secure the King of Scots' accession, therefore, were intenselyanxious to obtain her assent to their project.

  The Delphic oracle remained obstinately silent. Neither graverepresentations of necessity, nor coaxing, could induce her to open herlips upon the subject; and as no living creature had ever takenElizabeth off her guard, there was no hope in that direction. The oldwoman remembered too well the winter day, forty-five years before, whenthe time-serving courtiers left the dying sister at Westminster, to paycourt to the living sister at Hatfield; and with the mixture of weaknessand shrewdness which characterised her, she refused to run the risk ofits repetition by any choice of a successor from the candidates for thethrone.

  There were five living persons who could set up a reasonable claim, ofwhom four were descendants of Henry the Seventh. They were all a longway from the starting-point.

  The first was the King of Scotland, son of Mary Queen of Scots, daughterof James the Fifth, son of Princess Margaret of England, eldest daughterof Henry the Seventh.

  The second was the Lady Arbella Stuart, the only child of Lord CharlesStuart, son of Lady Margaret Douglas, daughter of the same PrincessMargaret.

  The third was Edward Seymour, son of Lady Katherine Grey, daughter ofLady Frances Brandon, eldest daughter of Princess Mary, youngestdaughter of Henry the Seventh.

  The fourth was Lady Anne Stanley, eldest daughter of Ferdinand Earl ofDerby, son of Lady Margaret Clifford, only daughter of Lady EleanorBrandon, second daughter of the same Princess Mary.

  And the fifth was Sir Robert Basset of Umberleigh, son of Sir ArthurBasset, son of Lady Frances Plantagenet, eldest daughter of Arthur LordLisle, son of Edward the Fourth.

  Of these five, the one who would have inherited the Crown, under thewill of Henry the Eighth, was unquestionably Edward Seymour; and, Maryand Elizabeth being both now dead, the reversion fell to him also underthat of Edward the Sixth. But, strange to say, he was not a formidableopponent of James of Scotland. Queen Elizabeth had been so deeplyoffended with his mother (Lady Katherine Grey, sister of the beheadedLady Jane) for making a love-match without her royal licence, that shehad immured both bride and bridegroom in the Tower for years. Perhapsthe prestige of Elizabeth's will remained potent, even after Elizabethwas dead; perhaps Edward Seymour had no wish to occupy such a thornyseat as the throne of England. Neither he nor Lady Anne Stanley set upthe faintest claim to the succession; though Seymour, at least, mighthave done so with a decided show of justice, as the law of successionthen stood. By the two royal wills, King James of Scotland, and hiscousin, Lady Arbella Stuart, were entirely dispossessed; their claim hadto be made under the law as it had stood unaltered by the will of Henrythe Eighth.

  But there was one prior question, which, had it been settled in theaffirmative, would have finally disposed of all these four claims atonce. If the contract between Edward the Fourth and Elizabeth Lucy wereto be regarded as a legal marriage, then there could be no doubt who wasthe true heir. Better than any claim of Stuart or Tudor, of Seymour orStanley, was then that of the Devonshire knight, Sir Robert Basset. Forfifteen hundred years, a contract had been held as legal marriage. Thevast estates of the Plantagenets of Kent had passed to the Holands onthe validity of a contract no better, and perhaps worse, than that ofElizabeth Lucy. [Note 2.] Why was this contract to be set aside?

  Had England at large been less apathetic, or had the little knot ofagitators been less politic, a civil war might have been reasonablyanticipated. But the intriguers were determined that James of Scotlandshould succeed; and James himself, aware of the flaw in his title, wasbusily working with them to the same end. Cecil, Lady Rich, LadyScrope, and Carey, were all pledged to let him know the exact moment ofthe Queen's, decease, that he might set out for England at once.

  All was gloom and suspense in the chamber of Richmond Palace, where thegreat Queen of England lay dying. Her ladies and courtiers urged her totake more nourishment,--she refused. They urged her to go to bed,--sherefused. She would be a queen to her last breath. No failure of bodilystrength could chill or tame the lion heart of Elizabeth.

  At last, very delicately, Cecil attempted to sound the dying Queen onthat subject of the succession, always hitherto forbidden. Her throatwas painful, and she spoke with difficulty: Cec
il, as spokesman for herCouncil, asked her to declare "whom she would have for King," offeringto name sundry persons, and requesting that. Her Majesty would hold upher finger when he came to the name which satisfied her. To test thevigour of her mind, he first named the King of France.

  Elizabeth did not stir.

  "The King's Majesty of Scotland?"

  There was no sign still.

  "My Lord Beauchamp?"--Edward Seymour, the heir according to the wills ofher father and brother.

  Then the royal lioness was roused.

  "I tell you," she said angrily, "I will have no rascal's son in my seat,but a king's son."

  There was no king's son among the candidates but one, and that was Jamesof Scotland.

  Once more, when she was past speech, Elizabeth was asked if she wishedJames to succeed her. She indicated her pleasure in a manner which somemodern writers have questioned, but which was well understood in her ownday. Lifting her clasped hands to her head, the dying Elizabeth madethem assume the form of a crown; and once more those around her knewthat she desired her successor to be a king.

  Tradition says that as soon as Elizabeth was dead, Lady Scrope dropped asapphire ring from the window--a preconcerted signal--to her brother,Robert Carey, who was waiting below. Carey states that he was told in amore matter-of-fact way--by a sentinel, whom he had previously requestedto bring him the news.

  That hour Carey set out: and except for one night's rest at Carlisle, hespurred night and day till he stood before King James. There was asudden intimation--a hurried action taken--and the Stuarts were Kings ofEngland.

  The claims of the Lady Arabella were disposed of by making her acompanion to the new Queen, until she had the presumption to marry, and,of all people, to marry the heir under King Henry the Eighth's will.This was too much. She was imprisoned for life, and she died in herprison, simply because she was her father's daughter and her husband'swife.

  The claims of Lord Beauchamp and Lady Anne Stanley needed no disposal,since they had both remained perfectly quiescent, and had put forth noclaim.

  But Robert Basset was not so easily managed. James knew that he wascapable of making the throne a very uncomfortable seat. And Basset,with his usual rashness, had on the Queen's death dashed into the arenaand boldly asserted his right as the heir of Edward the Fourth. Theonly way to dispose of him was by making him realise that the crown wasbeyond his grasp; and that if he persevered, he would find the scaffoldand the axe within it. This was accordingly done so effectually thatweak, impulsive Basset quailed before the storm, and fled to France tosave his own life. He survived the accession of James the First forseventeen years at least [Note 3]; but no more was heard of his right tothe throne of England.

  Forty years after the death of Elizabeth, the son of James of Scotlandwas struggling for his crown, with half England against him. Five yearslater, there was a scaffold set up at Whitehall, and the blood royal waspoured out. There were comparatively few who stood by King Charles tothe last. But there was one--who had headed charges at Marston Moor"for God, and King, and Country"--who had bled under his banner atEdgehill--who lived to welcome back his most unworthy son and successor,and to see the monarchy re-established in the Stuart line. His name wasArthur Basset. [He died January 7, 1672. See Prince's Worthies ofDevon.]

  Ay, there had been "the making of a true man" in Colonel Arthur Basset.The fit representative of that earlier Arthur, he had adopted in hislife the motto which, a hundred and fifty years before, the son ofEdward the Fourth had embroidered on his banner--"_Dieu l'a voulu_."

  God had not written the name of Arthur Basset on the roll of the Kingsof England. And Arthur Basset bowed his noble head to the decree, andfell back to the ranks like a hero--no king, but a true man.

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  Note 1. The date is fictitious. The Atherington register has beenvainly searched for the burial of Philippa Basset, and the Heantonregister is marked in the return "illegible."

  Note 2. The evidence in the earlier case (of Joan Plantagenet) seems tohave rested entirely on the oaths of husband and wife; in the latter (ofElizabeth Lucy) the contract was known to the entire family of thebridegroom.

  Note 3. Prince states that "in consequence of his pretensions to theCrown, and of his extravagance," Sir Robert was obliged to sell Heantonand Whitechapel, which last was the old seat of his family. If he didsell Heanton, his son must have bought it back; for it was the familyresidence in the year after Colonel Basset's death. Umberleigh had beendeserted for Heanton on account of the low, damp situation of theformer, and the thick trees which crowded round the house.