112: Going to the War

A small picture of a few people in a snowy street.What a winter we had that year.  For many a day Linkin and I scarce stirred from our hearth.

Small wonder that we had no newes but what our master brought.  One time he sayt the river was near froze.

Then, when I wished to step out to see if this were true, snow lay thick upon our roof and folk walked splay-foot in the street.

Next, the master told of a poet who’d died.  His corpse was taken to the Abbey, where many poets gathered to mourn him.

They read out verses in his praise, then dropped their quills into the hole where he was laid.

“Old quills past use, most like,” sayt I to Linkin. “Those starvelings would not cast away their good ones.”  And I arrkst him where this Abbey was.

“Many ways from here,” came the answer.

All the master sayt of the poets’ verses was that he’d heard better.

I was joyed to hear that.  My uncle was a famous poet, and he was laid in a hole in our Earl’s garden.  But his fellow poet Nero sang most splendid in his honour.

Linkin and I counted on our claws the winters we had seen.  Linkin thought his numbered fifteen.  Then he sayt he never was so content in all his days, even if he could not leap across the rooves as I did.

That winter was my fourth.  I was not content.  I lodged in a house where the lewd books were kept in a box and any sight worth seeing was “many ways from here”.

“I’ll gain entry to Essex house or die,” I swore to Linkin. “Come spring.”  And how I rejoiced when I first caught its scents, then saw the sun.

I was ready to set forth when little dog Wattie came running wagtail.

He boasted that he would see the Earl of Essex.  Yes, and our Earl too.  And many more fine lords and gentlemen who were going to the war in Ireland.

I pricked mine ears.  The master’s children were speaking of a house in cheap sight [Cheapside] where they could watch all from a window.

“I pray you,” sayt I to Linkin, “do not tell me that cheap sight is many ways off.”

A small black and white cat peering out of the unglazed window of a Tudor house.“No,” sayt he.  “For it lies beyond Paws’ yard [St Paul’s churchyard].  When all leave this house you should follow across the rooves as far as you can go.”

So I went, and on my way saw Onix at his window.

His master and mistress and their kits were gone to see the Earl of Essex too.  When I told him I was bound for cheap sight, he joined me.

And what a sight we saw!

In truth, we were made deaf by the drums and the church bells and the roars of all who called blessings on Lord Essex and his men.

But we sat fast on a high roof, and I also saw our own Earl and his friends ride by.

Many from the streets followed after them, but Onix and I turned for home.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” sayt Onix, carried away.  “And I never saw so many fine horses, nor so many gentlemen.  May the Queen Cat of Heaven pour her blessings on them all!”

Hard upon his utterance came a great clap of thunder, and dark clouds loosed their rain.

Without another word, we fled.  Onix to his house and I to mine, while those below us in the streets sought shelter.

Linkin sayt I came in looking like some villain had near drowned me.

We did not understand the meaning of such foul weather on so bewteous a day.

Had the Queen Cat of Heaven set her mark on us all to show we were under her protection?  Or was this a sign of her displeasure?

A glimpse of 16th Century Cheapside, with the Westcheap Cross in the foreground.
This picture is from a panorama showing Edward VI riding to his Coronation in 1547, but in 1599 Tricks and Onix may have found vantage points on the roof of one the buildings in the background to see the Earls ride by.

Toutparmoi - Note from the EditorThe poet Edmund Spenser was buried in Westminster Abbey in January 1599.

A month or so earlier he’d arrived in London from Cork in Ireland, bearing letters for the Privy Council on the dire situation there.  He and his family had fled to Cork city from their home in Kilcolman, County Cork.

What is now referred to as the Nine Years War in Ireland began in 1593, but its origins lay in the Anglo-Norman invasion four centuries earlier.  After that, English rulers regarded themselves as overlords of Ireland, but their influence was pretty much limited to Dublin and the surrounding area known as the Pale.

Elizabeth I’s father, Henry VIII, had declared himself King of Ireland in 1541, but the native Irish had no interest in being anglicised, nor in accepting him as the head of their church.

The Elizabethan policy of appropriating Irish land as “plantations” for new English settlers (the old ones having become too Irish) gave rival Irish chieftains a common enemy.  By the late 1590s their formidable leader, Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, had inflicted some crushing defeats on English forces in Ireland.  

After the Privy Council had failed to agree on who the next Lord Deputy of Ireland would be, the Earl of Essex was told that, as he opposed the suggestions of Queen Elizabeth and Sir Robert Cecil, he could have the job himself.

Elizabeth never wanted to invest any more money than she had to in Ireland, but nor was she prepared to lose it.  Essex, as Earl Marshal of England and its leading military commander, could hardly refuse the post, though he suspected that his absence from London was exactly what his political rivals wanted.

At the end of 1598 Elizabeth appointed Essex not merely Lord Deputy but Lord Lieutenant (effectively Viceroy).  He left for Ireland in the spring of 1599 as commander of the largest English force sent anywhere since the days of Henry VIII – 16,000 foot and 1300 cavalry – though Tricks and Onix probably saw only a few hundred men parade through London.

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16 thoughts on “112: Going to the War

  1. April Munday November 9, 2017 / 10:13 am

    In the programme about Elizabeth’s spies we’ve just reached the bit about the rivalry between Cecil and Essex, so I know how Tricks should interpret the omen of the thunderstorm.

    I’m more than a little confused by Cecil’s dealings with the king of Scotland, but so are the historians. Gunpowder Plot next.

    Like

    • toutparmoi November 9, 2017 / 11:02 am

      The Spies programme sounds interesting. I do hope it appears here soon. Incidentally, I feel ashamed for failing to mention, when we commented on how clever Robert Cecil was, his mother Mildred Cooke. The spy cat Grey who recruited Gib as a spy referred to her as Lord Purrlie’s learned lady.

      She was a scholar and translator who probably oversaw the curriculum for the school for young noblemen and gentlemen in Cecil House on the Strand, though it’s usually referred to as the school Lord Burghley ran. But how would he have had the time?

      Mildred’s sister Anne was Sir Francis Bacon’s mother. From the little I’ve read of her she sounds fierce.
      The cats would attribute the brains of both Sir Robert and Sir Francis to their mothers.

      Liked by 1 person

    • April Munday November 9, 2017 / 7:15 pm

      I’m with the cats.

      I hadn’t realised before how much of a gamble Sir Robert took with James VI. I’m also learning how much the drama Gunpowder twisted and misrepresented what happened.

      Liked by 1 person

    • toutparmoi November 9, 2017 / 7:59 pm

      I’ve read a little more about Gunpowder, and it sounds pretty dire. A pity, because it could have been a really interesting drama.
      The range of characters involved and the story are exciting enough without misrepresentation.

      Like

    • April Munday November 9, 2017 / 11:19 pm

      It wasn’t completely dire; there were some good moments. You’re right, though, the true story, as much of it as is known, would have been better.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Claudio LeChat November 9, 2017 / 8:17 pm

    I do hope that Tricks makes it to the Abbey one day. I think she’d appreciate the spectacle and ambiance of the place. And she may even enjoy an Evensong.service.

    Liked by 1 person

    • toutparmoi November 10, 2017 / 7:29 am

      I’m sure she would!

      Like

  3. Mick Canning November 10, 2017 / 3:16 am

    The Thames would not freeze over during a cold winter now, as it has been narrowed by the reclaiming of a good deal of its width (at Embankment!) during (I think) the early 18th century, and therefore flows much faster than it did in Tricks’ time.

    Liked by 1 person

    • toutparmoi November 10, 2017 / 8:00 am

      The posh riverside properties along the Strand look very appealing in the early panoramas of London. Location, location.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. chattykerry November 12, 2017 / 3:40 am

    Sometimes I forget how often Ireland has been invaded and for how long. Excellent post as always.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. colonialist November 16, 2017 / 8:25 pm

    Always so many interesting side alleys in these accounts. I wonder if ‘Beyond the Pale’ came into greater currency from that Dublin connection, which probably arose from the palings beyond castle walls?
    A time-worn ploy to get rid of someone inconvenient – give them an important job to do far away. Note how often it is used to this day.

    Liked by 1 person

    • toutparmoi November 17, 2017 / 9:18 am

      It may well have done, because the Irish Pale is the one most have heard of. As for time-worn ploys – yes indeed. If the nuisance does well in a remote place, ah-ha, the glory reflects on you, and if they fail, ah-ha, you’ve shown them up most successfully.

      Like

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