In 1596, when Philip of Spain was preparing for a second invasion of England, Howard, the Lord Admiral, with his characteristic daring and love of adventure, urged that, instead of waiting for the enemy’s attack, a blow should be struck at Spain herself, by destroying the fleet before it could leave her harbours. The more cautious Burleigh counselled the less hazardous policy, but was overruled by the dashing and impetuous Devereux, Earl of Essex, who, with Howard and Raleigh, was eventually entrusted with the command of the expedition. Young Urian Legh could not remain a laggard when such opportunities for distinction offered; leaving the bower and the tilt yard for the Spanish main, and the saddle of the war horse for the deck of the war ship, he joined the expedition, and on the 1st of June, the fleet, then lying at Plymouth, loosed its sails and bore away towards the shores of Spain, arriving before Cadiz on the 12th. Essex, whose impetuosity could brook no restraint, and who had, moreover, a bitter aversion to the tyrant Philip, was so eager for action that he threw his hat into the sea in the exuberance of his delight. The attack was commenced on the following day, and with such fury that the Spanish Admiral’s ship and several others were blown up with all their crews on board, whilst the few vessels which were not either sunk or burned were run on shore, the English admiral refusing to accept a price for their release, declaring that “he came to burn and not to ransom.” This daring and successful enterprise was followed up by an attack on the strongly-fortified town of Cadiz. The impetuous Essex threw his standard over the wall, “giving withal a most hot assault unto the gate, where, to save the honour of their ensign, happy was he that could first leap down from the wall, and with shot and sword make way through the thickest press of the enemy.” The daring of the leader called forth the courage of his followers. The town was captured on the 26th June, and six hundred and twenty thousand ducats were paid as a ransom for the lives of the inhabitants. The heir of Adlington took the leading part in the attack, and displayed such conspicuous bravery that the Earl knighted him upon the spot. The display of British valour on the occasion has been justly described by Macaulay (“Essays,” art. “Lord Bacon,”) as “the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on the continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim.”
Sir Urian Legh stands out with marked individuality in any record of the house of Adlington. The Leghs have ever looked with pardonable pride upon the doughty deeds of their warlike ancestor, and the feeling has been nothing lessened by the romantic incident which tradition has linked with his name. He is commonly believed to have been the hero of the old legendary ballad,—“The Spanish Lady’s Love,” written by Thomas Deloney immediately after the return from Spain, and reprinted by the Percy Society from “The Garland of Goodwill”—
Will you hear a Spanish lady,
How she wooed an English man?
The story is that, while with Essex in Spain, a captive maid, “by birth and parentage of high degree,” was so overcome by Sir Urian’s kindness that she conceived an ardent attachment towards him, and when he was about to return, the amorous and high-born beauty, flinging aside the trammels of country and kin, begged that she might be allowed to accompany him and share his lot in life—a request the gallant Cheshire man, after urging many other objections, was compelled to refuse, for the best of all reasons—he had already a wife.
Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,
Here comes all that breeds the strife;
I in England have already
A sweet woman to my wife;
I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,