As the time drew nigh at which the great armada, boastingly denominated “invincible” might be looked for in the English seas, Europe stood on the tiptoe of expectation, impatient for the result. That it would effect the subjugation of England was never once doubted. But though such was the general expectation, the world was seized with surprise, no less than admiration, at the indomitable resolution by which the doomed English were inspired. They were a nation in arms! The noble and the peasant, the old man and the boy, the Protestant and the Catholic, forgetting all differences of rank, age, and religion, had alike risen against the emergency, and were all alike prepared to stand and die in defence of their country.
Yet it was on their great Queen, and her able minister, Burleigh, that admiration was especially fixed. To them, no exertion seemed too arduous—no amount of effort wearisome. While Burleigh, in his closet, struck out the resources of the country, or negotiated for aid with the Prince of Orange and the King of Scotland, Elizabeth’s perseverance and activity brought those resources into play. The effect of her example might be traced in the very meanest of the preparations for the national defence. She would be seen in the drill-grounds as early as six in the morning; in the dockyards, where the din of workmen, the smoke of forges, and a hundred pestilent vapours, seemed to forbid her approach, she would attend continually, encouraging the artificers by the most gracious and animating words, and where fortifications were in progress, she would go among the engineers unattended, and cheer them to renewed exertion by her words and presence.
The good effect of her activity was soon apparent; and in less than four months from the time that the invasion was first threatened, when the country was almost defenceless, she was prepared to sustain its onset. A fleet of thirty sail, commanded by Lord Effingham, with Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher for his rear-admirals, was ready for sea at Portsmouth; and about twenty ships more, under Lord Henry Seymour, were stationed off Yarmouth, for the purpose of intercepting the Duke of Parma. A regular army, fifty thousand strong, was encamped in the neighbourhood of Portsmouth; and one of the same force, including the flower of the nobility and gentry, serving without pay, was encamped on the banks of the Thames, near Tilbury. Added to this, every district had raised a regiment of volunteers; and the King of Scotland, if his aid should be required, was ready to cross the border with an army of Scots, and co-operate with the Queen in her defence of the Protestant faith.
Affairs were thus situated, when it became whispered abroad, from some unknown source, that, if the expected enemy should effect a landing, the Queen intended to take the field in person. The rumour soon acquired confirmation; for a day was fixed, to the delight of the whole nation, on which the Queen would review the metropolitan army at Tilbury, and take order in the purpose ascribed to her.
The extensive level adjoining Tilbury Fort, on the banks of the Thames, and on the London side of the fort, was appointed for the scene of the review. There, on the day fixed, the army assembled, under the command of its general, Lord Hunsdon, at an early hour. It was a fair morning in June, and the fineness of the weather, no less than the spectacle itself, and the expected presence of the idolized sovereign, drew to the spot, not only all the denizens of the surrounding country, but almost all the population of the metropolis. Great as the area was, it hardly sufficed, after the army had taken up its position, to accommodate the multitude of spectators. The crowd was so excessive, indeed, that thousands who had come to view the sight, despairing of obtaining so much as standing-room, would not venture to land, but sought to obtain a glimpse of the review from the opposite shore. The little hamlet of Gravesend, which was right opposite, was crowded with such adventurers, and even Windmill Hill, a mile to the rearward, was not overlooked, but was capped by masses of eager spectators.
It was a scene such as the eye had rarely beheld. On one side appeared the shore of Kent, backed by the height of Windmill Hill, and falling down towards Gravesend, when it swept round a graceful curve of the river, in a long, verdant level, towards the point since called Milton. Then came the river, bright as a mirror, with its broad bosom, here seeming to expand into a noble bay, covered with every description of craft, all filled with passengers, and decked with a thousand streamers. The grim fortress, bristling with cannon, yet scarcely rising from the low ground on which it was situated, then prepared one for the warlike scene beyond. There the spirit thrilled before the interest and singularity of the expansive prospect. The verdant heights in the background, running from the village of Tilbury towards London, sparkled with white tents, and streamer-capped marquees, forming the army’s camp. On the extensive level in their front stood the army, fifty thousand strong, and embracing, as was before stated, the strength and flower of England’s chivalry. To conclude, the vast area was enclosed, beyond a picket of volunteer cavalry, by one impenetrable mass of spectators, men, women, and children, all dressed in their gayest apparel, and animated by one common feeling of nationality and patriotism.
Such was the aspect of the locality at the time that, amidst deafening and renewed acclamations, the royal barges, on board of which were the Queen and her court, approached the landing-place of the fortress. A guard of honour was waiting to receive them; and the commander-in-chief, Lord Hunsdon, with his staff, were also in attendance. A troop of sumpter-horses, too, under the charge of the royal equerries, waited close by, and everything was prepared to convey the Queen to the field.
A salute of one hundred guns was opened as Elizabeth stepped on the shore. She bowed her head to the guard, who had presented arms; and then, with a bright smile, extended her hand to the general, Lord Hunsdon.
“A fair day to you, my Lord General,” she cried. “Are we for the field to-day?”
“An’ it shall please your Highness to be our leader,” replied the old warrior.