The Queen, too, would make journeys with royal visitors to the University, as in 1566, when Stowe tells with pride that she made "on the sodain an oration in Latin to the whole universitie of Oxford in the presence of the Spanish ambassadors;" so that neither university would be out of touch with the great world. Nor did the undergraduates keep at the same respectful distance from royalty that they are wont to now, as another delightful story of Nash about Harvey shows, who when the Court was at Audley End came "ruffling it out huffty-tuffty on his suite of velvet, to doo his countrey more worship and glory." He disputed with the courtiers and maids of honour, and at last was brought to kiss the Queen's hand, and the Queen was pleased to say that he looked like an Italian, a compliment from which he never quite recovered. So there would be much to occupy the thoughts and attention of an ordinary boy of sixteen. But Ralegh in a year was ripe for other things, and left Oxford for the wars in France. The opportunity came through his kinsman, Henry Champernoun, son of John Champernoun of Modbury, his mother's eldest brother, raising a company of gentlemen to fight on the Huguenot side: and Ralegh took the opportunity of active service. Very interesting are the steps in a great man's life. Chance seems to play so small a part. The instinct to get the most out of his personality becomes the conscious effort to which perhaps a great man chiefly owes his greatness. Precisely in this way is the boy the father of the man, and Ralegh's life is a pregnant example of it. He had, of course, no serious motive for leaving Oxford. He longed for fighting and adventures, and seized without a thought on the reckless impulse that led him to the wars, laughing probably at the sad head-shaking of his staid tutors. But he had learned how to learn: and his passion for life never damped his passion for knowledge, and impulse led him to the discipline which his nature demanded. The stern discipline and hardship of war were wanted to impress him, while still pliant, with the proper value of things by showing him with war's crude force the bare facts of life and death and human nature. The strength and ability of the body told in those times, when man dealt directly with man, and encountered nature at closer quarters than he need now do, when her forces are fended off him and controlled for his use in ways then only dreamed of. Being weaker, men were rougher and more cruel.