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Title: Two English queens and Philip
Author: Martin A. S. Hume
Release date: June 15, 2026 [eBook #78876]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Methuen & Co., 1908
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78876
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO ENGLISH QUEENS AND PHILIP ***
ROMANTIC HISTORY
_General Editor_: MARTIN HUME, M.A.
TWO ENGLISH QUEENS
AND PHILIP
[Illustration: _Philip II in 1586._
_From a contemporary engraving by Essarts._]
TWO ENGLISH QUEENS
AND PHILIP
BY
MARTIN HUME, M.A.
(PEMBROKE COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE)
EDITOR OF THE CALENDARS OF SPANISH STATE PAPERS PUBLIC RECORD OFFICE
WITH A FRONTISPIECE IN PHOTOGRAVURE AND
TWELVE OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
_Con todo el mundo guerra_
_Y paz con Inglaterra_
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published in 1908_
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY (1552-1553) 1
The Emperor and England—Death of Edward VI.—Mary and
Renard—To capture England by marriage—Philip II. accepts the
sacrifice—Spanish efforts to moderate the religious reaction in
England
CHAPTER II
1553-1554 32
The Coronation of Mary—Noailles _versus_ Renard—Mary
accepts Philip—The marriage treaty—Alarm in London—Egmont’s
missions—Wyatt’s rebellion—Attitude of Elizabeth—The coming
of Philip—His voyage and arrival—His popular manners in
England—Arrival at Winchester
CHAPTER III
1554-1555 75
Philip’s first meeting with Mary—The marriage—Discontent and
disappointment of the Spaniards—Philip’s kindness to his
wife—Spanish descriptions of England—Philip in London—Arrival of
Pole—Philip’s religious policy in England—His attempts to marry
Elizabeth to Savoy—The Emperor’s war with France—Departure of
Philip from England
CHAPTER IV
1555-1558 128
Religious persecution in England—Philip’s attempts to restrain
it—His efforts to keep control of English policy—Elizabeth comes
to Court—Return of Philip to England—French intrigues—The
English drawn into the war—St. Quentin—Loss of Calais—Penury of
the English treasury—Illness and death of Mary—Feria’s approaches
to Elizabeth
CHAPTER V
1558-1565 181
Accession of Elizabeth—The beginning of the long duel—Feria
urges Philip to use force—Philip’s many difficulties—He offers
his hand to Elizabeth—The Peace of Cateau Cambresis—The
Franco-Spanish Alliance—Fears of a Catholic League—Philip marries
a French Princess—English Catholics appeal to Philip—Mary
Stuart claims the Crown of England—War with Scotland—Philip’s
efforts to effect a reconciliation—Bishop Quadra—His relations
with Leicester—Intrigue for a Catholic reaction in England—Mary
Stuart approaches Philip—Disgrace and death of Quadra—A war
of tariffs—Guzman de Silva, ambassador—The interviews of
Bayonne—Failure of the Catholic League
CHAPTER VI
1565-1569 234
Mary Stuart marries Darnley—Their intrigues with Philip through
Guzman—Plan to promote revolution in England in favour of
Mary—Expulsion of the English ambassador from Spain—Recall of
Guzman—Don Gerau de Spes ambassador—His character—Commences
conspiring at once—His turbulent behaviour—Seizure of Philip’s
treasure in England—Indignation of de Spes—His imprudent and
disastrous action—Alba stops trade—Strained relations—Proposed
declaration of war against England—The views of Philip and
Alba—The Norfolk plot—The Northern rebellion
CHAPTER VII
1570-1578 296
Desperation of Alba—Fresh Catholic conspiracies—De Spes’s
complicity—Alba and the Ridolfi plot—Discovery—The revenge
of John Hawkins—De Spes outwitted—His expulsion from
England—Guaras appointed Spanish Agent—Reopening of trade—Guaras’
intrigues with Mary Stuart and Don Juan of Austria—The plot
discovered—Imprisonment of Guaras—Fall of Don Juan—Bernardino de
Mendoza appointed ambassador in England
CHAPTER VIII
1578-1584 354
Mendoza and Elizabeth—His haughty behaviour—The French in
Flanders—Elizabeth’s approaches to Philip—The Spanish designs
on Portugal—Renewed plots of Mary Stuart—Appeals to Philip to
aid her in England—Philip’s attitude towards Guise—Co-operation
with him in Britain—The Jesuit mission—Mendoza and the Catholic
plot in Scotland—Elizabeth aids the Portuguese Pretender—Anger
of Mendoza—His altercation with Elizabeth—Progress of the
plots—Collapse of Lennox—The interference of Guise in the
plans—The jealousy between English Catholic exiles and the
Scots—Development of the Anglo-Spanish plans and intended
exclusion of Guise—Arrest of Francis Throckmorton—Discovery of
the plot—Expulsion of Mendoza—Philip faces the inevitable and
slowly prepares for a war of invasion
CHAPTER IX
1584-1588 416
English Catholics _versus_ Scottish—Santa Cruz’s proposal to
conquer England—Enlisting the Pope—Intrigues in Rome—Mary
Stuart and Philip—Drake’s raid on Galicia—Elizabeth assumes
the protectorate of the Netherlands—War at last inevitable—The
preliminaries of the Armada—The Babington plot—Philip’s
consent—His distrust—Discovery—Elizabeth’s fears of war—Her
approaches to Spain—Santa Cruz’s fresh proposals to invade
England—His great plan—The Scottish Catholics try again to
share the attack upon England—Failure of Huntly’s scheme—Guise
not allowed by Philip to interfere—Mendoza in favour of the
Scottish plan—Philip’s claims to the English crown—The peace
negotiations—Drake’s dash upon Cadiz—Parma and the Armada—Death
of Santa Cruz—Medina Sidonia—The Armada—The failure and its
causes—The end of the struggle to win England
ILLUSTRATIONS
PHILIP II. IN 1586 _Frontispiece_
From a Contemporary Engraving by Essarts
TO FACE PAGE
PHILIP II. AT THE AGE OF 24 38
From the Painting by Titian in the Prado Museum.
Photograph by R. Anderson
WILLIAM LORD PAGET 62
From a Painting in the National Portrait Gallery
QUEEN MARY AT THE PERIOD OF HER MARRIAGE 80
From the painting by Antonio Mor in the Prado Museum.
Photograph by R. Anderson
CARDINAL REGINALD POLE, PAPAL LEGATE AND ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY 102
After a Painting by Sebastiano del Piombo. Photograph by W. A.
Mansell & Co.
QUEEN ELIZABETH 192
From a Painting by Zucchero in the National Portrait Gallery
ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER 208
From a Painting at the National Portrait Gallery
WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURGHLEY 228
From the Painting by Marc Gheeraedts in the National
Portrait Gallery
FERNANDO ALVAREZ DE TOLEDO, THIRD DUKE OF ALBA 308
From an Engraving
ROBERT PARSONS, S.J., 1546-1610 368
HENRI, DUC DE GUISE 400
From an Engraving. Photograph by W. A. Mansell & Co.
CARDINAL ALLEN 432
From a Photograph by W. A. Mansell & Co.
QUEEN ELIZABETH 464
From the Painting by Marc Gheeraedts at the National
Portrait Gallery
TWO ENGLISH QUEENS AND PHILIP
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
1552-1553
The Emperor and England—Death of Edward VI.—Mary and
Renard—To capture England by marriage—Philip II. accepts the
sacrifice—Spanish efforts to moderate the religious reaction in
England
At an uncovered table, upon which rested a clock, a pair of horn-rimmed
spectacles and some other trifles, there sat a prematurely aged man of
fifty-two with a long, fair, sallow face and a white beard. His great,
projecting nether-lip was cracked and sore with fever, and between it and
the tongue there lay a fresh green leaf to give coolness and moisture.
His hands and feet were distorted by gout; and his fur-lined, black
gown clung around a once-stalwart frame now shrunken with sickness.
On his right hand at the other side of the table a stout, somewhat
pursy, middle-aged English gentleman, with his cap in his hand and in
an attitude of profound respect, was delivering a speech in Italian,
to which the old man was listening with eager attention, now and again
painfully raising his hand to his flat black velvet cap in salute when
the name of King Edward was mentioned. It was in the little city of
Landau in the Bavarian Palatinate, and Sir Richard Moryson, the English
Ambassador, had ridden from Spires, nearly twenty miles away, that day,
the 4th October, 1552, bringing his message to the greatest potentate on
earth, the Emperor Charles V.
Fate had dealt hardly with the Emperor of late, and the impossible task
he had assumed was breaking him down mentally and physically. Once again
he had found himself faced, not only by his old enemy France, but by his
own German Princes; and solely by flight and good luck had he escaped
capture at the hands of the Judas whom he had made powerful at the
expense of right and justice, Maurice of Saxony. From sheer impotence to
struggle further, the Emperor had been forced to accept the humiliating
terms of the Peace of Passau dictated to him by the Lutheran Princes. But
free now from danger from his own people, he had turned again to cope
with the foreign ally of his rebel vassals, determined this time to make
a supreme effort to crush his French rival utterly before his growing
infirmities crushed him.
As he had always done throughout his reign at such a juncture, he looked
to England for aid. The insults offered by Henry VIII. to his House
and to the Catholic faith, whose champion he was, had not been able to
alienate the Emperor, who well knew that with England permanently on the
side of France against him, the vast ambitions he cherished for himself,
his son, and his country were doomed to failure; and now, notwithstanding
the still more aggressive Protestantism of young Edward VI. and his
mentors, it was as necessary to Charles as ever it had been to secure the
goodwill of England in his struggle against France in defence of his own
Netherlands. So long as Charles had been fighting his German Lutheran
subjects it was hopeless for him to bid for Northumberland’s help; and
one of the considerations that led him to accept the terms imposed upon
him by Maurice and the Germans was that thereby he might the better
enlist his old ally England against the monstrous coalition of France,
the Pope, and the Turk. The suggestion for an alliance had reached
Northumberland from Charles’ sister, Mary Queen of Hungary, his Regent of
the Netherlands; and Moryson had received his answer from England whilst
he was following a day’s march behind the Emperor and his army, who were
on their way from Austria to Flanders when Charles had fallen ill at
Landau.
Much dulcet verbiage there was in Moryson’s address, and much vague
desire expressed on the part of the English King—or, rather, the Duke of
Northumberland—to join a coalition against the Turk; but what Charles so
eagerly listened for—a declaration against the French—came not; though
he knew that the English had just then a bitter quarrel of their own
with France about the seizure of English ships and cargoes by French
privateers. Charles lisped and mumbled much at the best of times, but
now that he had the green leaf on his lip, it was difficult for Moryson
to understand what he said in reply to the speech, which, indeed,
the Emperor interrupted more than once in his anxiety to get at the
important point of it. “He could not forget,” he said, “the love of Henry
VIII. for him, shown at sundry times, nor betray the trust the late King
had put in him in asking him to protect his young son. He would never
forget the amity that for many years had lasted between England and his
House, and he had perpetually tried to preserve this ancient friendship.”
Then, raising his voice and speaking more emphatically, he said that
friendships that had long been tried and found good should be made much
of. Charles was not a man to wear his heart upon his sleeve; and his
stolid face and leaden eyes as a rule gave no key to his thoughts; but
Moryson says that on this occasion “he did so use his eyes, so move his
head and order his countenance, ... as I do surely think he meant the
most of what he said. Sure am I that he is too wise not to wish the
King’s Majesty surely his.”
That Charles was sincere in his wish to gain the help of England against
France on this, as on all other similar opportunities, did not require
much penetration to understand; but when Moryson left the Imperial
presence and came to close quarters with Charles’s minister de Granvelle,
the wily ecclesiastic and future Cardinal tried what cajolery could do
the further to persuade the Englishman of the goodwill of the Emperor,
and his wish for England’s friendship. “He [the Emperor] only wished,” he
said, “that he found in the rest of the Princes the like godly mind as
in King Edward, his good brother, and did trust he should be a king of
as great honour as hath been in England this hundred years. This and a
hundred times as much he spake with such affection as, if words may be
thought to mean what they say, there can be no more wished for than is to
be hoped for.”[1] There was no thought yet of the young King’s premature
death; but Northumberland had many bitter enemies at home, and to him it
was a matter of policy to secure for himself a powerful supporter on the
Continent. The Catholic and Spanish interest being naturally against him
for his religious action and his treatment of the Princess Mary, he had
always hitherto looked towards France as his friend; but the maritime
aggression of the French and ancient prejudice had aroused a bitter
feeling against them generally in England; and it behoved Northumberland
at this juncture to make an appearance at least of conciliating the
ancient ally of England, the Emperor-king of Spain and monarch of the
Netherlands. To Northumberland in the circumstances this was a passing
expediency: to Charles the alliance or benevolent neutrality of England
was a permanent necessity if his cause and country were to prevail.
This necessity became more pressing still three months after the
interview just described. The Emperor with a demoralised and discontented
army laid siege to Metz, which the French had captured from him, and
after months of effort and hardship in the depth of winter he was obliged
to retreat, defeated and heartsick; already swearing that he would turn
monk: “for fortune, like a very strumpet, doth reserve her favours for
the young.” In his palace at Brussels—sick, sorry, and dejected—he was
obliged to haggle with the German Princes as to the price of their
aid to fight the French. His darling son Philip, they stipulated,
must be separated from the succession to the Empire, and the dream of
the Emperor’s life to leave Philip strong enough to triumph where he
himself had failed must be forfeited. The French had stirred up trouble,
too, in the Emperor’s Italian dominions; the Turk was dominating the
Mediterranean with the blessing of the Christian Pope; the Netherlands
were sore and angry at the war taxes and the presence of marauding
Spanish soldiery; the Imperial ministers were at deadly feud with each
other; and on all sides Charles was surrounded by debts and difficulties.
If only England could be prevailed upon to divert the French by attacking
them in the Channel during the coming spring campaign, the tide of
victory for the Emperor might yet be turned and France be rendered
powerless. That, however, was the last thing that suited Northumberland’s
book.
The continuance of the war, nevertheless, was a standing danger
to England itself, for it would have been impossible for her very
long to have stood by idly whilst the French overran Flanders; and
Northumberland made desperate efforts to bring about peace between the
two antagonists. To all approaches in this sense the Emperor and his
sister, the Queen-Regent of the Netherlands, could only point to the
aggressive action and impossible demands of the King of France. “And,”
writes Moryson in April, 1553, “whyle all these sturres ar growing great
in Germanie, and whyle the French King is plying both sides with secret
aydes and unseen practices, th’ Emperor keepyth his bed as unfyt to hear
of the myschiefs that grow rownd about him, as unable to devise how to
remedie them if they were told him.”
All through the spring, however, the Emperor’s officers worked hard
to muster his armies in Germany and Flanders to face the French and
save the Netherlands. Northumberland still pressed upon both sides the
mediation of the King of England in their quarrel, but in the midst
of these negotiations in April, 1553, the new Imperial general, young
Prince Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy, suddenly dashed upon the French
frontier-fortress of Thérouenne and inflicted a heavy defeat upon the
Emperor’s enemies. Northumberland’s new embassy to urge peace upon
Charles found less ready response even than before, whilst the King of
France in no wise abated his extravagant claims now that the Emperor was
looked upon as sick unto death. When the English envoys at length gained
audience of Charles in Brussels early in June, 1553, they found him with
his gouty limbs propped up, “looking very pale, weak, lean, and feeble,”
though his eyes were still bright and his mind clear. “Marry, to judge
him by our sight, we must say that he appeareth unto us rather a man of
short time rather than continuance.”[2]
How important the life or death of the Emperor was at that juncture to
England, few people outside the immediate circle of Northumberland’s
friends fully understood. Already dark rumours were spreading abroad that
the slight indisposition of the boy King of England was really a mortal
malady. If Charles died first, it might easily be foreseen that the break
up of his Empire and the confusion resulting from the demise of his many
Crowns would deprive his successor of the power at the critical moment to
interfere with Northumberland’s plans to exclude the Princess Mary from
the throne and to perpetuate the Protestant _régime_ in England under
his own Dudley descendants. If, on the other hand, Edward died whilst
the Emperor’s power was intact, it was certain that such support as he
could give would go to his cousin Mary Tudor. To Spain and Flanders the
goodwill of England was the crucial point upon which their future power
and prosperity turned. To gain that, Charles had already condoned and
suffered much, and there was hardly any sacrifice too great for him if he
could win it now. With Mary on the throne and at his bidding—for he had
been her only friend in all her tribulations—the sympathy of her country
would be secure to him, and he and his could face France with confidence.
So Charles and his Ministers were alert for every whisper as to Edward’s
sickness, and the English envoys who were at his Court grew daily more
apprehensive at what would happen to them and their master if the young
King died before the old Emperor.
On the 24th June Sir Philip Hoby, one of the English envoys in Brussels,
received a visit from Evered, “the King’s jeweller dwelling at
Westminster,” who had just come from Antwerp. In that city, he reported,
it was current, and wagers laid on it, that King Edward was already
dead, and that Mary had succeeded. To make matters more threatening for
Northumberland’s friends, it was further stated that the Emperor was
sending to England with all speed three Catholic Flemish statesmen to be
councillors of the new Queen of England. Well might Hoby in his private
letter to Cecil, written the next day, exclaim in dismay: “Pray God that
England’s wickedness may not be the cause of His taking away the King”;
for if the country was to be guided by Charles’s councillors, of whom
Hoby held but a poor opinion, then goodbye to Northumberland’s ambitions
and to the prosperity of all his friends. “England would go to utter
ruin,” he said, “if ruled by such men.”[3]
The three envoys sent by the Emperor to capture England for Spanish ends
when Edward should die had indeed received their instructions two days
before Hoby wrote his letter to Cecil. They were all men of mark—Jean
de Montmorenci, Lord of Courrières, Jacques de Marnix, Lord of Tholuze,
both members of the highest Flemish nobility, and one of the Emperor’s
Masters of Requests, a keen, sagacious lawyer named Simon Renard. Charles
had maintained a minister resident in London, one Schefyne, who became
Chancellor of Brabant, but for so important a mission as that now in
hand he was considered inadequate; and in right of his experience and
ability Simon Renard, though inferior in point of rank to his colleagues,
became the real leader of the embassy. The envoys were to seek audience
of Northumberland and Edward, and to say that, as the King of France had
sent a secretary to visit him on account of his sickness, the Emperor,
whose affection for him was infinitely greater, could do no less. All
sorts of assurances of friendship and goodwill towards England were to be
given, and care was to be taken in any case to conciliate Northumberland.
“But,” continue the instructions, “if you arrive too late, you must take
counsel together and act for the best for the safety of our cousin the
Princess Mary, and secure, if possible her accession to the Crown: whilst
doing what you see necessary to exclude the French and their intrigues.
You must endeavour also to maintain the confidence and good neighbourship
which it is so important that our Flemish States and Spain should enjoy
with England for mutual trade and intercourse; and especially to prevent
the French from getting their foot in, or gaining the ear of the men
who now rule England, the more so if it be for the purpose of troubling
us.”[4]
Already news had reached Flanders that Northumberland would endeavour to
exclude Mary from the throne on the death of her brother; and although
the Emperor foresaw that in such case the life of his cousin would be
in grave peril, especially if French aid were given to Northumberland,
the principal efforts of the envoys were to be directed to assuring the
English Government, in any case, that the Emperor was their real friend
and not France, the ancient foe of England. If Northumberland and his
friends feared that Mary would contract a foreign marriage under the
Emperor’s influence, they were to be assured that no such thing was
thought of, and Northumberland was to be given to understand that any
husband chosen by him for the Princess as future Queen would be willingly
accepted, though the actual fulfilment of the promise was to be postponed
as long as possible in order that Mary might, if she was strong enough
later, avoid compliance with it altogether. The envoys, indeed, were to
promise anything and everything to secure the throne for Mary. No change
should be made in the government or in religion, and full indemnity
should be given for all past acts against her. It is clear throughout
these instructions, however, that, much as Charles desired the accession
of his cousin Mary, he was prepared to accept any solution that would
enable him to remain friendly with England and exclude French influence
from the country.
Before Renard and his colleagues arrived in England, Schefyne wrote
to the Emperor the news of the King’s expected death, and the patent
intrigues of Northumberland to exclude Mary from her inheritance; and
when, on the 6th July, 1553, the Imperial ambassadors entered London,
though Northumberland’s officers greeted them as though all was well,
they promptly discovered that Edward was no more for the world, and that
everything was prepared for the elevation of Jane Grey to the English
throne. On the day after their arrival, the 7th July, the ambassadors
learnt secretly that Edward had died the previous night, and that Mary
in fear for her life had fled to Norfolk and had resolved to proclaim
herself Queen as soon as her brother’s death was officially announced.
In their perplexity at this critical state of affairs, and their dread
at driving the ruling power of England into enmity with the Emperor, the
envoys took the unheroic course of blaming Mary’s bold action instead
of supporting it. Certain it is that if the Princess had waited upon
her Imperial kinsman’s effective aid, her opportunity would have been
missed and she would never have been Queen of England. She had, indeed,
no one to thank for her crown but herself; and the attitude of the
Imperial envoys towards her in her hour of trial proves once more the
impossibility of the Emperor and his son allowing any considerations,
either of religion or kinship, to stand in the way of their securing the
co-operation of England to their ends.
Renard and his colleagues were weak reeds for Mary to depend upon,
and she did well to go her own way, understanding the feeling of her
countrymen better than they did. The envoys found Mary’s action in
defying Northumberland: “Strange, difficult, and dangerous.... All the
forces of the country are in the hands of the Duke, and the Lady has no
hope of obtaining forces nor aid to oppose him, whilst her proclamation
of herself as Queen will justify the new King and Queen in attacking
her by force, and she will have no means of resisting them unless your
Majesty stands by her. Considering your war with the French, it seems
unadvisable for your Majesty to arouse English feeling against you, and
the idea that the Lady will gain Englishmen on the ground of religion is
vain.”[5] Serious remonstrances were sent to Mary herself by the Imperial
envoys, pointing out her danger and the hopelessness of her position in
the face of Northumberland’s supposed strength; and at the same time they
laboured hard to dissuade the Duke from the idea that they had been sent
to England to sustain Mary’s cause.
The Emperor himself was no bolder than his envoys. “If you cannot draw
the Duke of Northumberland to our cousin’s cause, you may see if you can
gain over some of the nobles by promises about religion or otherwise, in
order to alarm the Duke into showing some favour to the Princess.”[6]
Renard and his colleagues had been in London five days and had already
assumed the attitude towards Mary just referred to, before Secretary
Petre came officially from Northumberland on the 10th July to inform
them of the King’s death. They merely begged the Council to be kind to
Lady Mary, although they well knew that she was mustering her forces and
issuing her decrees in Norfolk, and that Jane was to be crowned in the
Tower of London on the following day; after which they feared that Mary
would be captured and done to death as a rebel.
All through the critical time, whilst Mary was sturdily asserting her
rights and gathering her friends, the envoys of her cousin were thus
paltering, in mortal fear of driving the new government into the arms of
France, limiting themselves to a repetition of the mission originally
intended for Edward, and: “recommending Lady Mary to them with all
softness and modesty, without entering into any contention as to the
succession, which would be of no use.” In the meanwhile Northumberland’s
cause grew more and more hopeless, though the Imperial envoys did not
even yet understand it. English Catholics and others came to them begging
for information as to the Emperor’s attitude, and urging him to make
at least some declaration in his cousin’s favour; but all the answer
they got was a mild deprecation of violence of any sort, and an appeal
to the Emperor for instructions. The over-cautious ambassadors first
began to pluck up courage when the heralds proclaimed in London the
accession of Jane and her Dudley husband on the 11th July amidst the
silence of the frowning citizens; but when on the following day, 12th
July, a deputation of Jane’s Council, Lord Cobham and Dr. Mason, came to
inform them of the accession of the new Queen, and told them haughtily
that their embassy had come to an end, as they were known to be in
England only to help Mary, the ambassadors replied with bated breath and
whispering humbleness, and with perfect truth, that they had done nothing
of the sort. Their only mission, they said, which they had hitherto no
opportunity of carrying out, was to thank King Edward for his efforts to
bring about peace, and to assure the Government of the Emperor’s desire
to be friendly with England in spite of French lies and intrigue.
On the 13th July the ambassadors had their first audience with the
Council. Northumberland, of course, was absent: he had just started on
his disastrous expedition to Cambridge, already a beaten man in the
face of Mary’s growing popularity; but Arundel, Shrewsbury, Pembroke,
Mason, Petre, and others received them. Renard was the spokesman of
the envoys, and he laboured hard, even now, to persuade the Englishmen
of the Emperor’s desire to banish from their minds all suspicion
of his motives—a suspicion, he said, engendered solely by French
misrepresentations. He was naturally anxious for the safety and good
treatment of his cousin, Lady Mary, but he had no desire whatever to
use her as a political instrument, or to promote her marriage with a
foreigner, or indeed to interfere in any way with the established order
of affairs in England. The Emperor’s message was received courteously,
as well it might be, for the Councillors were already trembling in their
shoes, and the envoys were requested to defer their departure from
England until further instructions came from the Emperor—a notable change
of tone since their interview with Cobham and Mason the day before.
The ambassadors, however, were still as far as ever from understanding
the real state of affairs, even at the date of their next letter (16th
July). “We consider it certain that before four days are over the Lady
will be in the Duke’s power if she has no force to resist him.... He is
raising troops everywhere and is strong on land and sea, so that we do
not see how those who secretly hold with the Lady will be able or dare
to declare themselves. We have no confirmation that the Lady is aided
by so many people as was reported.... On the contrary, a messenger from
the Lady brought us to-day the copy of the Council’s reply to her letter
to them, and a verbal message from her telling us that she saw the ruin
into which she would fall unless your Majesty helped her.”[7] If this had
really been the case, Mary would never have been Queen of England, for
the Emperor plainly told his envoys that, for an infinity of extremely
sage and prudent reasons which he detailed at great length, he could not
give the help that Mary hoped for. New credentials, indeed, were sent
to them, and instructions that they were again to ply the Council with
assurances that nothing was farther from the Emperor’s thoughts than to
interfere in any way in England. A mild word or two was to be introduced
on behalf of Mary; but the whole object of the mission was to induce
the English Government, whatever it might be, to renounce the French
friendship and depend solely upon their ancient ally the Monarch of Spain
and Flanders.[8]
Before these instructions reached London, Northumberland’s house of cards
had fallen. His son, Henry Dudley, had in vain prayed for help from the
King of France; but the latter was now at grips with the Emperor and
dared not send troops to England, where the dread and hatred of the
French was one of the principal reasons of Northumberland’s fall. The
Duke himself was hopeless and helpless at Cambridge, ready to save his
unworthy skin by throwing up his bonnet and crying, “Long live Queen
Mary!” when in spite of him the Princess he had just declared a bastard
was acclaimed Queen; whilst the miserable Councillors he had coerced into
being his tools in London were tumbling over each other in their anxiety
to disclaim him and betray the unhappy girl whom his ambition was to lead
to an untimely death.
On the 19th July the Earl of Shrewsbury and Dr. Mason came to the
Imperial ambassadors in a very contrite mood. There was no talk of their
embassy being ended now, no haughty reproaches for their supposed support
to the bastard Lady Mary. After much hemming and hawing, the deputation
of the Council announced to Renard and his colleagues that they came with
glad news, which they thought would be welcome to the Emperor. All that
the Council had done previously had been under the coercion of the wicked
Duke of Northumberland, whom they repudiated. They now all acknowledged
Mary as their true Sovereign, and they had decided to proclaim her
publicly that day in London. To the delight of the Imperial envoys, but
still apparently to their bewildered surprise at the failure of all their
predictions, Mary was proclaimed both in the Tower and the City amidst
the frantic joy of the people. Bonfires blazed, feasts were spread,
wine ran freely in London,[9] and coins galore were scattered; for the
rightful Queen had come into her own at last, whilst the “nine-days’
Queen”—the poor fated girl in the grim fortress that had been her only
palace—found herself a prisoner instead of a potentate; and the cowardly
craven whose tool she had been was basely striving to win mercy, if not
favour, from the proud Princess whom he had injured beyond forgiveness.
Still intent, as ever, upon gaining the friendship of England, no matter
who reigned over it, the first instructions of the Emperor to his envoys
when he heard the good news of Mary’s accession were to urge upon the new
Queen the acceptance, at all events at first, of the _status quo_: not to
be in a hurry to change anything, to bow to the decisions of Parliament,
to practise her own religion only in private, if necessary. “And above
all things she should be a good Englishwoman, and let people understand
that she has no intention of acting alone and without the advice and
co-operation of her nobles and the Parliament.” An assurance might now be
given to her of the Emperor’s desire and intention of supporting her—as
had always indeed been his intention, he said—and upon her, as formerly
upon her brother, was to be urged the first and principal points of
all—distrust of the French and the conviction that the real, trustworthy
friend of England was the Sovereign of Spain and Flanders.
Mary was perfectly well aware that she owed her Crown to her own right
and to the boldness of the action she had taken, and she was not inclined
to accept to their full the moderating counsels of the Emperor, who
had done so little for her in her need. But she also understood that
her position was, as yet, far from stable; and with French intrigue
against her and in favour of the _régime_ she had supplanted, she turned
naturally to her powerful Spanish kinsman for such support as she might
need, as well as for counsel. So anxious was Charles to consolidate her
position as Queen, that the advice he gave her might rather have come
from a Protestant constitutional monarch than from the absolute champion
of Catholicism. She was urged to moderate her religious zeal, to abandon
her intention of celebrating the obsequies of Edward with Catholic rites,
and whilst using severity with the few leaders of the revolt against
her, to be clement to the great majority, and not to begin her reign by
any vengeful action either of her own or of the friends who had suffered
under the rule of her brother. Above all, she was recommended to summon
Parliament in the old form and banish most of the foreigners, especially
Frenchmen, of course, from her realm. With these sage counsels the
Emperor sent Mary a promise that if the French attempted anything against
her, she might depend upon the aid of Imperial troops under the Prince of
Savoy.
The very first letter written by the Emperor after he had news of
Mary’s proclamation instructed Renard to tell the new Queen that it
would be advisable for her to take a husband at once, and to say that
the Emperor would support her in any choice she might make. There were
really very few princes whom Mary could have chosen. If she married an
Englishman, there was none of fitting rank and faith to be her husband
but Courtenay, whom she had just released from his long durance in the
Tower, and the elderly Churchman, Cardinal Pole, both of these being of
the blood royal of England. Mary, in violet velvet, rode in triumph from
New Hall in Essex to the Tower of London on the 3rd August. A thousand
velvet-clad courtiers followed in her train and ten thousand armed men
formed her bodyguard. As she passed through the leafy lanes and into
the smiling villages, and so to the eastern gate of her capital, no
discordant voice reached her. Close behind her in a litter rode her
younger sister, Elizabeth, with her fair skin and yellow hair, composed
and self-possessed; but, as Mary well knew, ready to make common cause
with her enemies if it would serve her own ends. Before Mary had left
New Hall the clever, courtly French ambassador, Antoine de Noailles, had
ridden out from London to greet her. Noailles’s task was a difficult one.
He had done his best, almost openly, to aid Northumberland and exclude
half-Spanish Mary from the throne; indeed, the Londoners, who hated
him and his country, were loudly proclaiming that six thousand armed
Frenchmen had been ready to invade England in the interests of Queen
Jane.[10] But Noailles was supple and insinuating, and the first speech
he made to Mary when he greeted her was an assurance of the devotion of
his master to her and an offer of armed assistance if she needed it. Mary
was polite but cool, for she knew, notwithstanding Noailles’s charming,
that she had nothing to hope for from France. As she entered London there
rode also in her train the Imperial ambassadors, jealous and distrustful
of the Frenchman, who they knew was trying to checkmate them. Beyond
formal greetings in the presence of many watchful eyes Renard had not
been able to obtain private conference of the Queen, who remained in the
Tower of London awaiting her journey to Richmond. Mary herself, knowing
who her friends were, was naturally anxious to have speech with the
representatives of her Imperial cousin, to whom she looked for guidance,
and she suggested that Renard should seek entrance to the Tower in
disguise to see her.[11] The ambassador, however, appears to have thought
it safer and more dignified to have patience for a few days until, in
the comparative freedom of Richmond, he could see the Queen without
attracting so much attention as in the Tower. In the meanwhile he had
been able in private conversation with Paget, of the Council, to broach
the subject of the Queen’s marriage. From him he had learnt positively
that the current rumour of the intention of Mary to make Courtenay her
Consort was untrue. “She was against such a match, because she distrusted
the English nation, knowing it to be treacherous and fickle, because
Courtenay is too young and lowly, her heart being high and magnanimous.
Besides which, if she married an Englishman, the children—if she had
any—would not be so much thought of as if her husband were a foreign
prince.”
The Emperor’s son Philip, a young widower of twenty-seven, after
several years of widowhood, was betrothed to his cousin, the Princess
of Portugal, whose rich dowry was sorely needed by the Emperor for the
war; but Renard well understood without instructions that if Mary of
England could be won for the House of Spain, the gain would be infinitely
greater than any Portuguese money dowry could bring. So he gently hinted
to Paget in his talk that the Prince was not married yet, though the
Spanish merchants in England had falsely reported that he was. Paget
was doubtful. Yes, he said, no doubt the Queen’s marriage would be
the richest one in the world, but it was not yet time to discuss it.
Nevertheless, Renard decided when first he saw the Queen in private to
mention Philip’s name as if by chance, “so as to put the idea of such a
marriage into her head; for if she takes to it, she will be better able
to convert her councillors to it than anybody else in the world.”
The idea once started was eagerly taken up by the Emperor—if, in fact, it
did not originate with him—and no time was lost by him in preparing the
ground on his side. He wrote to Philip as soon as Renard’s information
reached him that Mary would probably favour a foreign marriage,
recommending him to send from Spain a formal embassy to congratulate
Mary upon her accession. But to this recommendation he added the hint
that if Philip would break off the Portuguese match and consent to his
marriage with the new Queen of England it would be a masterstroke of
policy. Charles had not seen his son for two years, and although he knew
well that Philip was dutiful, yet he did not venture to press him too
urgently. The Prince was, as Granvelle wrote to Renard, a man of full
age, with children,[12] and the Emperor would do nothing decisive with
regard to the English marriage unless Philip’s own inclinations led him
to it. There was some fear on the part of the Emperor that Mary might
think of himself for a husband. To this he had no inclination.[13] He
was, as we have seen, in declining health, and had in secret already
made up his mind to embrace a monastic life as soon as he could cripple
France and leave his son at peace. Pending Philip’s reply, Renard was
instructed to keep the affair open with the Queen, always mentioning
Philip as being the preferable _parti_, but without pledging him, “in
case the Portuguese affair has gone too far, ... or if the Prince’s fancy
alights elsewhere.” Even Courtenay, who was known to be intriguing with
the French ambassador, was not to be banned entirely, though that idea
was to be gently discouraged; “for if her fancy tends that way she will
not fail, if she be like other women, to go on with it, and would never
forgive you if you had said anything against it.”[14]
When, after all, Renard was received privately by the Queen in the Tower
on the 6th August, he slily introduced the idea of marriage, after
all the more prosaic points of his instructions had been disposed of.
At the suggestion of a foreign match, but with no mention of Philip,
Renard says: “She laughed, not once only but several times, whilst she
regarded me in a way that proved the idea to be very agreeable to her.
She clearly made me understand that she would not attempt or accept an
English marriage, but preferred a foreign one, ... by which I recognised
that she had her usual pride and inclination to speak of her rank and
grandeur. From what I can understand, her idea is that the Emperor should
propose some one to her, ... and I am in good hope that if his Majesty
inclines to our Prince [Philip], it would be the most welcome piece of
news that could be taken to her.”[15] But whilst this was the case, the
observant ambassador also recognised that the English Council would not
be so easily pleased as the middle-aged Princess, who for her thirty-nine
years of life had been starved of love—she, a Tudor, true daughter of her
father, whose passions and affections were strong; she, a Queen, who had
been outraged and insulted for years and now hungered for the vengeance
upon her foes that was only possible with the possession of power such
as the Imperial connection could give her. The French, said Renard with
perfect truth, were leaving no stone unturned, by intrigues, bribes, and
promises, to make the idea of a Spanish alliance hateful to the English
people; and if Mary’s councillors were to be gained to the Spanish side,
it could only be done by lavish expenditure both in ready money and in
future pledges. Gardiner, the most powerful of Mary’s Ministers, was
strongly in favour of his late pupil Courtenay as a Consort for the
Queen, and even Paget and Petre, both pro-Spaniards and former pensioners
of the Emperor, looked askance at a match which it was seen would be
hateful to the great majority of the English people.
As week followed week—for the road between Spain and Flanders was a
long one—it is plain to see that Mary became somewhat restive at the
delay. Renard saw her privately at Richmond early in September, and, in
order to start the conversation on the subject, mentioned the common
talk in London of her intended marriage with Courtenay. Mary coldly
replied that she had never spoken to the man except when she pardoned
him. She knew nobody in England whom she would care to marry. Had the
Emperor, she asked, made up his mind about recommending any suitor to
her? Renard had much to say about the difficulty of selecting a fitting
person, though he was sure that the Emperor would do his best. Renard
dared not go too far, for no reply had yet been received from Philip;
and rumours were current in London that his marriage with his Portuguese
cousin was now irrevocably settled. But Renard began by mentioning the
various unmarried Catholic Princes—the Archduke of Austria, the Prince
of Savoy, the Princes of Ferrara and Florence, and even the Dauphin; to
all of which Mary listened crossly, for she knew this was only fencing.
“Of course, your Majesty,” continued Renard, “if you think twenty-seven
or twenty-eight too young for a husband, I do not know any other Princes
who are not too old.” Mary took the hint, for she knew that the age of
Philip was twenty-seven, and she replied: “But your Prince is already
married, I hear, to the Princess of Portugal.” Renard said that he did
not think that the marriage was concluded yet, though he knew that it
had been mentioned before the war;[16] whereupon Mary, apparently losing
patience at so much beating about the bush, determined to speak more
plainly. She was sorry, she said, that Philip should marry his Portuguese
cousin, as they were such near relatives. All the Princes that Renard
had mentioned to her were very young—she might be the mother of any
of them. She was even twelve years older than Prince Philip; besides
which, the Prince would want to remain in Spain and his other dominions,
and she knew how much English people objected to any reigning foreign
Prince marrying an English Princess.[17] When her father was alive, she
continued, several proposed matches for her had fallen through for this
reason alone; and when the late Duke of Orleans was proposed to her,
the affair was prevented by the antagonism which always existed between
England and France. She hoped the Emperor would bear this point in mind,
and not recommend her to marry a man she had not seen and spoken to in
England. Renard then began praising Philip’s good sense, judgment, and
seriousness. He had already a son six or seven years old, he said, and
was wise and experienced beyond his years. Mary, apparently thinking she
had gone far enough, broke into Renard’s panegyrics and declared most
emphatically that she had never felt the smart of what was called love,
nor had she ever had a voluptuous thought. She had never had an idea of
marriage until God called her to the throne, and now the step would be
taken against her own inclination and on public grounds alone.
There need have been no misgivings as to Philip’s attitude in the
matter. Throughout his life he made of himself a martyr to his duty.
Overshadowed always by the immensity of the task confided to him and
his House, awed by the greatness and majesty of his father, he looked
upon himself from youth to age as an instrument in the hands of the
Most High to compass the victory of righteousness upon the earth as he
understood it, and incidentally to exalt Spain to the highest place among
the nations. That human suffering had to be endured to arrive at the end
was only an incident: that he himself, in his degree, should forego his
own inclinations, his ease, his comfort, and his pleasures in favour
of the great objects for which he lived, was to him quite natural and
inevitable, and he accepted the fate without repining. The marriage with
Mary—a woman whom he had never seen, who was twelve years his senior and
no beauty at best—could not have been attractive to him. His domestic
life with Doña Isabel de Osorio had apparently been harmonious; and the
absence from Spain which the English marriage would entail was both
inconvenient and unpleasant, whilst the necessary concessions in manner
and demeanour to his wife’s English subjects would, perhaps, be more
distasteful to him than any other of the sacrifices imposed upon him by
the match. But, as his Spanish contemporary biographer says, like another
Isaac he readily submitted himself to his father’s will and wrote without
a day’s delay that the Portuguese match might still be avoided, and he
had already taken steps in that direction, “cheerfully and unreservedly
placing himself in the Emperor’s hands to do with him as he thought
best in the interests of their great cause.”[18] Two days after the
Emperor had received the welcome letter from his son, a swift courier was
speeding to England with instructions to Renard to propose Philip, Prince
of Spain, as a husband for Queen Mary.
The occasion was one of supreme international importance. Ever since
Ferdinand the Catholic sixty years before had betrothed Mary’s mother to
the heir of Henry VII., the sovereign of Spain had been trying to win for
his country the control of English policy, in order that France might
be beaten in the struggle for the hegemony of Europe. The tremendous
cataclysm of the Reformation, personal ambitions, the weakness and
sensuality of Henry VIII., and unexpected deaths, had again and again
frustrated the design. England had more than once fought by the side of
France in the great Continental duel, and the English friendship upon
which the House of Spain was forced to depend as one of the main elements
of success, had been for all those sixty years an unstable quantity,
though generally on the side of its traditional ally. But what was
necessary for Charles and his son was a friendship that could be counted
upon in all circumstances—an alliance that no bribes nor blandishments of
Frenchmen and Lutherans could shake; and for the first time this seemed
possible of attainment if by the marriage of Philip and Mary the crowns
of England, Spain, and Flanders could rest upon the same brows.
To Mary of England, too, the match with her Spanish second cousin had
more than a sentimental interest, strong as that was with her. The
English people had rallied to her cause under the influence of their
recognition of her legal right to the throne, and their detestation of
Northumberland and his French friends; but Protestantism was undoubtedly
strong, especially in London and the Eastern Counties, which had first
acclaimed the new Queen; and it was evident to Mary that if she was to
impose her faith upon the country, as she was determined to do, even
against the advice of the Emperor, she must be able to depend upon some
force independent of her own people to aid or support her at a pinch.
France, of course, being out of the question for her, she could only look
to a Spanish match to serve her turn. Mary shut her eyes obstinately to
the vast change that had come over her country in the last thirty years.
She believed, as did the Churchmen throughout Europe, that she only had
to decree a return to the state of affairs prior to her father’s apostasy
for the country to accept the change without demur. Pole was for extreme
measures at once, and so, of course, was the Pope, Julius II.; but the
Emperor, who in the supposed cause of religion was always ready to
postpone religious considerations for politics, continued to advise Mary
through Renard to go slowly and to avoid incensing her people until at
least she was strong enough to coerce them. The marriage of Philip with
the Queen therefore seemed to hold out to both contracting parties the
ideal opportunity of attaining their great desire—in the one case the
control of English policy to the detriment of France, and in the other
the increment of strength necessary to force England once more into the
fold of the Church.
Thenceforward for forty-five years Philip of Spain strove, often in
almost impossible circumstances, to attain this end. There was no
instrumentality left untried by him to secure it. Marriage, and proposals
of marriage, wars, and threats of wars, arrogance, humility, diplomacy,
bribery, subornation of treason and murder, were some of the means to
which Philip in his long struggle appealed; for to him and his cause and
country it was a matter of life and death; and it is my object to set
forth in the following chapters from contemporary sources the story of
this long series of efforts on the part of the Spanish King to win the
support of England by fair means or foul. To regard Philip as a fiend,
or even as a bad man, because in the cause of this life-struggle of
his he assailed England with weapons that would now be rejected by any
right-thinking statesman, would be unjust. The ethics of the time were
widely different from those prevalent to-day; the supposed interest
of the State was infinitely greater in proportion to the lives of
individuals that is at present the case, whilst the assumed interests of
religion—or, rather, of the orthodox Church—were considered by Philip to
be so overwhelming as to condone any action necessary to serve them, no
matter how criminal it would be if employed for other ends. No doubt,
in the view of the present day, Philip blinded himself to a sense of
right and wrong in his zeal to serve the cause for which he lived,
namely, the dominance of Catholicism for the temporal benefit of Spain.
But to him there was no wrong if it was done by his orders in the cause
which he believed to be that of righteousness. Sacrifice and suffering
seemed to him, as to most Spaniards of his day, a natural and necessary
preparation for spiritual exaltation and triumph; and whilst he never
flinched from inflicting suffering upon others, though naturally he
was a tender-hearted man, he never spared himself in the same cause.
Throughout his long life he made himself a martyr to what he conceived
to be his duty; a slow, laborious, unimaginative, morbidly conscientious
man, a good son, a good husband, and, according to his lights, a good
father; kind and indulgent to his servants, patient under adversity and
humble in success: indeed, a man endowed with most of the elements of
righteousness; and yet with a sense of right so blunted by his zeal as to
think that he might do God’s work with the weapons of the devil, and turn
enemies into friends by fear. How these principles as applied to England
ended in failure, it is the purpose of the present book to tell.
CHAPTER II
1553-1554
The Coronation of Mary—Noailles _versus_ Renard—Mary
accepts Philip—The marriage treaty—Alarm in London—Egmont’s
missions—Wyatt’s rebellion—Attitude of Elizabeth—The coming
of Philip—His voyage and arrival—His popular manners in
England—Arrival at Winchester
All London was ringing with preparations for the coming pageant of the
Queen’s coronation. Fenchurch, Gracechurch, and Leadenhall, Cornhill,
Chepe, and Saint Paul’s were erecting the scaffoldings for their
triumphs, repainting and gilding gable ends and pinnacles, and trimming
forth their fine stuffs and liveries in honour of the great day when the
Queen was to ride in state from the Tower to Westminster.[19] Away across
the fields in the little sylvan palace of Saint James’s, Mary sat under
her canopy in her audience chamber one day in late September, surrounded
by courtiers, all, like the Queen herself, in a blaze of magnificence;
for the prim Puritanism of the late reign had been banished as savouring
of Reform, and the splendour of King Henry was being copied by his
daughter. To one man alone had Mary somewhat sourly prescribed modesty
in attire, and that was to Courtenay. The dissoluteness of this young
man of twenty-six, who had never before been free since his childhood,
had already shocked the austerely virtuous Mary, and had made his chances
of winning her hand more impossible than ever. But neither she nor those
around her could fail to see that the cunning Frenchman Noailles was
still ostentatiously feasting and honouring him, and already the talk
of the French party at Court was coupling the names of Courtenay and
the Princess Elizabeth in a way that boded ill to Mary’s peace of mind.
Courtenay had ordered a gorgeous suit of blue velvet covered with gold
for the coming ceremony; but blue was the colour the Queen had chosen for
her own outer garb, and she had no intention of allowing so much bravery
to the man she knew was being made the tool of her enemies to injure her,
and Courtenay was ordered to put his finery aside and wear more modest
raiment. At the public audience Renard brought forward to present to the
Queen two great Spanish nobles—Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza and Don Diego
de Geneda—who were on their way from Flanders to Spain, the latter a
member of Philip’s household. As the two gentlemen in their distinctive
Spanish garb and with national gravity were led forward for presentation
to the Queen, many scowling brows were bent upon them; for although the
matter was supposed to be so secret, the talk of the Spanish marriage was
already common at Court; and Noailles, in the deepest chagrin at the way
things were tending, noticed that Don Diego de Geneda on this occasion
had whispered conference with the Queen, unheard even by his colleague or
by the Imperial ambassador.[20]
Whatever French gold or interest could effect to alarm people at the idea
of the coming of a Spanish Consort was done. Stories of the terrible rule
of the Inquisition in Spain, and of the pride and cruelty of Spaniards
generally, were spread industriously by the agents of Noailles, and by
the day fixed for the Queen’s state procession to Westminster, the 30th
of September, 1553, London was almost in a panic of fear. The Queen
had come in with promises of toleration, and already the zeal of the
Churchmen and her own had belied her people’s hope for religious peace.
Parliament had been summoned for the 5th October, specially for the
purpose of restoring England to the orthodox Church; Cardinal Pole was
known to be coming to the land of his fathers as the Legate of the Pope
to receive the submission of England to the Power which King Henry had
flouted so contemptuously; and already the dungeons in the Tower were
being filled by the prelates of the newer ritual.
All the dazzling magnificence that accompanied the passage of the
Queen through London from the Tower to Westminster, on the last day of
September—all the official greetings, the frequent pageants at the street
corners, and the wonder of the multitude at the rare show of sumptuous
garb—could not banish the dread thought amidst the crowd that, perhaps,
all this bravery was only a prelude to a Spanish domination over England.
The nobles who rode in Mary’s train and filled the great Court offices
in her household had most of them been enriched by the plunder of the
monastic lands, and had their own reasons for dreading a return of the
old order in its extreme form; though they did not know as yet that the
Spanish Consort, whose advent they feared so much, would be the great
modifying influence in their favour. Frenchmen and Venetians joined the
alarmed Englishmen in their apprehensions of the coming change, but the
few Spaniards in London were jubilant. One Spanish resident,[21] who
described the splendid show for the benefit of a noble patron in Spain,
thus writes with reference to the match: “If the Lord vouchsafed us to
behold this glorious day, what great advantage would befall our Spain
in holding the Frenchmen in check, by the union of these kingdoms with
his Majesty’s dominions. And were it only to preserve the States of
Flanders, surely the Emperor and son must greatly desire it, for, as your
Lordship knows well, the day that the Emperor dies the Low Countries
will be in peril of attack from the French or of a German invasion under
French auspices, help from Spain being so remote, and Flanders itself
not being free from suspicion of revolt on the ground of religion or
from the disaffection of the people towards Spaniards. It would be most
advantageous, too, to Spain, for should aught happen to the Prince’s son
(Don Carlos), the son born here would be King of both countries, which
would be a good thing for the English too.... All the Catholics here
would lift up their hands to God, for they love their country and the
Queen, and especially Spain, for the sake of the good Queen Katharine;
and the goodly here are so many that there are a hundred Catholics for
every four heretics.”
With these mixed hopes and fears amidst the multitude, there went a
general trust in, and affection for, the Queen personally. She had
been ill-treated so long, as the people knew; she had grown faded and
middle-aged under unjust oppression, and she was a true Royal Princess
descended on both sides from kings of highest lineage. So when at the
Abbey next day, 1st October, during the interminable ceremony of the
coronation, Gardiner led the Queen, in her crimson velvet and ermine, to
the four corners of the daïs and called in a loud voice, “Is this the
true heir to this realm?” there was no hesitation, and all the lieges
shouted as if with one voice, “Yea! yea! God save the Queen!”[22]
Parliament met on the 5th October. The Catholics in the country were
unquestionably in a majority, though not so great, probably, as in the
ratio of twenty-five to one, as the Spaniards asserted; and Mary had
no difficulty in obtaining the repeal of all the anti-Papal laws which
severed England from Rome. Gardiner was willing enough to aid the Queen
in this; but, prompted by Noailles, he managed dexterously to get the
House of Commons to vote an Address to the Queen, praying her not to
marry a foreigner. This, it is true, voiced a very general feeling in
the country, but the Queen had now (November) quite made up her mind;
for she had seen a portrait of Philip by Titian, and had fairly fallen
in love with the young, fresh-coloured man with the curly, yellow beard
who was asking for her hand. So in a rage, and after much delay, Mary
received the deputation of the Commons led by the Speaker. “This is one
of the Chancellor’s tricks,” she muttered, “and I will be equal with him
for it.” Then haughtily addressing the deputation, she rebuked their
presumption in attempting to dictate to her on such a matter, and said
that if private persons were allowed to choose mates for themselves,
surely sovereigns were not to be less privileged. This was the true Tudor
attitude towards the representatives of the people; and the Queen, having
legalised her religious changes, promptly dissolved Parliament.
Watchful eyes followed Renard everywhere. The Queen’s Council, with the
exception of Paget, Arundel, and Petre, looked askance at him; French
and Venetian spies at Court reported his every movement; and his own
colleagues were bitterly jealous of him, as the marriage negotiation
had been kept exclusively in his hands. For many days he could obtain
no private access to Mary for the purpose of giving her the Emperor’s
message; but at last, by Paget’s management, on the 10th October, he
was introduced secretly into the Queen’s presence at Westminster. The
Emperor deplored, said Renard, that his age and infirmities prevented him
from offering his own hand in marriage to his cousin, as he would have
wished; but that being impossible, he begged her to accept his only and
beloved son as her husband. To the chagrin of Renard, Mary was now full
of hesitation. What would her people say, and how could her Council be
persuaded? She feared that when Philip succeeded his father, his many
other realms would occupy the whole of his time, and that he would never
be able to stay in England. Was Renard, moreover, quite sure of his
character? He could not be so wise as the Emperor, and he was very young
for her. Of course she would obey her husband, but he must not think for
a moment that she would allow him to rule her State, nor could she give
any offices to foreigners; and she threw out a strong hint that perhaps
Philip’s Austrian cousin, Maximilian, would be a better husband for her,
as she was absolutely free, and she had heard the Archduke was considered
wise. Besides, if Philip was voluptuous in his ideas, she had no desire
for anything of the sort at her age.
[Illustration: PHILIP II AT THE AGE OF 24
FROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN IN THE PRADO MUSEUM]
All these objections were, no doubt, only a display of becoming maiden
modesty, but they somewhat disturbed Renard. He painted to her in lurid
colours the enmities by which she was surrounded, and the dangers that
threatened her—the intrigues of the French with Courtenay and Elizabeth,
the menacing attitude of the Protestant party in the provinces—and Mary
answered as best she might, asking Renard at last to put in writing the
arguments he urged in favour of her marriage with Philip. Four days later
he saw her again, and this time her hesitation took a more personal form.
With tears in her eyes she seized the ambassador’s hands and conjured
him to tell her truly whether Philip was so moderate, settled, and
well-behaved as he said. On his life and honour the ambassador protested
that he was, but still the perplexed Queen was unconvinced. If she could
only have seen the Prince first, she said, she would be better able to
judge. That, the ambassador gently told her, was not possible; but a good
portrait of him could be sent to her, and with this she was obliged to be
content.[23]
It was only after long hesitation and prayerful searching of heart that
Mary finally decided to carry through her marriage, in the face of the
almost universal opposition of her people. She undoubtedly yearned for
the support of a husband in her difficult position, and naturally hoped
for a son who should carry on her tradition of a Catholic England. She
was of affectionate disposition, and for all her modest assurance to
Renard that she had never felt the promptings of the flesh, there is
nothing unbecoming in believing that the sight of her cousin’s portrait
had lit up the feeling of love in her heart where natural affection had
been suppressed for so long. But, withal, her principal desire for the
match and her determination to effect it were mainly prompted by public
considerations. The intrigues of the French with the Protestant elements
in the country, and the almost open way in which Noailles was playing
off Courtenay and Elizabeth against her, had convinced Mary that France
was her enemy. The only force in Europe strong enough to resist France
was the Emperor; and unless the Queen could depend absolutely upon his
support, it was evident that sooner or later the Protestant element in
England with French aid would oust her from the throne—probably in favour
of the young Queen of Scots, her cousin, already betrothed to the heir of
France.
Motives personal, religious, and political, therefore all dictated to
Mary the absolute necessity of her prompt marriage with Philip; and, as
we have already seen, the motives of the Emperor and his son for the
marriage were equally strong. Some of Mary’s Council—especially Arundel,
Paget, and Petre—were first won over, for they were in the Emperor’s pay
before; and when Gardiner saw that the tide was too strong for him to
resist, he also accepted the inevitable with the best grace he could.
But when he had to be consulted on the terms of the marriage treaty, he
drove as hard a bargain as possible; for he, and, it is just to say, most
of his colleagues also, were determined that the marriage should not
mean the political subjugation of England by Spain. On the 31st October,
Sunday evening, Mary summoned Renard to her oratory, where she received
him, attended only by her devoted nurse, Mrs. Clarencius. Her eyes were
red with weeping, and she told the ambassador that for days she had been
sleepless, praying for guidance as to the choice of a husband. “My last
resource in all my difficulties,” she said, “is the Holy Sacrament, and
as it is even now displayed upon this altar, I will appeal to it for
counsel.” Then kneeling, as did Renard and Mrs. Clarencius by her side,
she recited with whispered fervour the _Veni Creator Spiritus_. After a
short period of silent meditation she rose, calm and self-possessed, and
told the ambassador that her mind was now made up: he, Renard, should
be her father confessor. She had consulted some of her Councillors, and
herself had pondered deeply upon the subject; and now, bearing in mind
what she had been told of Philip’s good qualities, she prayed the Emperor
to accept her as a daughter, to be indulgent with her, and to consent
to the conditions which her Councillors declared would be necessary for
the welfare of her realm. She hoped that henceforward the Emperor would
be doubly a father to her, and Philip a good husband. Then with all
solemnity she approached the altar and, with her hand upon the gospel
before the Sacred Presence, swore to marry Philip of Spain and make him
a good wife. God had now sent her light, she said, after she had wavered
long. No man but Philip should be her husband.[24]
Whilst Renard and the Council were fighting hard over every point of
the marriage treaty, Noailles and the Venetian ambassadors were busy
intriguing against it, entertaining Courtenay constantly, and doing their
best to draw cautious Elizabeth into their plots. The muttering of coming
trouble sounded on all sides—Mary, jealous and distrustful of Elizabeth,
whose illegitimacy she was determined to assert; the Protestant elements
in the Court and country already in a ferment, thanks largely to French
incitement, and disaffection showing itself by partial disturbances
in various parts of the country. Religious persecution, too, began to
raise its head. Cranmer and Ridley were condemned to death, as were Lady
Jane Grey and the three sons of Northumberland; whilst the Emperor,
determined for his part to avoid exacerbating the evil, had, to the great
indignation of the Pope and the Churchmen, almost violently forbidden
Pole to go to England with his extreme Papal mission, at least until the
ultimate control of it had passed into the Emperor’s own politic hands.
At length, by the end of the year, the hard terms of the treaty were
drafted. Renard had done his best, and so had the Imperial ministers in
Flanders; but Gardiner had been firm, and the conditions were a bitter
dose for Spanish pride to swallow; for, as they stood, they bade fair to
deprive the bridegroom’s country of the only benefit to be derived from
the marriage—namely, control of the policy and resources of England. The
Consort was to have no rule in the country, and none of his countrymen
were to hold office of any sort; the Queen was to receive a jointure of
30,000 ducats a year from Flanders; and the issue of the marriage, if
any, should, failing Philip’s only son Carlos, succeed to all his Crowns,
as well as to England; whilst in the case of Mary’s death, the Consort
was to have no hold whatever upon her country, nor was he to take the
Queen or her children out of England without the consent of the Council.
These and many similar provisions fenced round the authority of the
Consort so completely as to deprive him of any direct political power in
England; but Charles, confident in Mary’s secret promises to Renard that,
notwithstanding the conditions, the will of the Emperor should prevail in
England after the marriage,[25] determined to make the best of it, and to
gain the stubborn islanders by his son’s charming, if they were not to be
won by a diplomatic document.
Noailles grew daily more bitter, and almost came to blows with Paget on
the subject of the marriage, but it became clear even to him now that
he had been beaten, and that in future England and the Emperor would
make common cause against France. A pompous Flemish embassy, headed by
the splendid young Count of Egmont, was known to be on its way across
to ratify the marriage treaty in the name of the Emperor; and Noailles
took care that all London should be in a fever of apprehension at their
coming. On the 1st January a great retinue of servants with the baggage
of the ambassadors rode through London to Durham House in the Strand,
where Egmont and his suite were to be lodged. Thick snow lay upon the
ground, and as the foreigners, with their long line of pack-horses,
passed through the narrow lanes of the old city, the very street-boys
pelted them with snowballs, “so hatfull was the sight of ther coming in
to theym.”[26]
The next day, at the Tower Stairs, a gallant company of courtiers, headed
by Sir Anthony Browne, in the gorgeous garb he loved so well, awaited the
coming of the Emperor’s representatives, whilst the guns on the Tower
overhead boomed out their salutation. Egmont, the first of the Flemish
nobles, was accompanied by Montmorenci, Sieur de Courrières, who had
formerly come with Renard to England, as well as by several other high
Imperial functionaries; and they were escorted by Lord William Howard,
from Calais, and by Lord Cobham, from Dover, as Lieutenant of Kent. As
the gallant embassy of eighty finely clad gentlemen pranced out of the
Tower Gate, they were affectionately greeted by Courtenay, Hastings,
and Strange on Tower Hill, and led through the City in state, though
“the people,” we are told, “nothing rejoysing, helde downe their heddes
sorrowfully.”[27] Nothing was left undone by Mary and her Court to
show honour to the guests; and banquet followed banquet, whilst Egmont
unsuccessfully strove to modify the terms of the treaty. Renard tells
in a letter to the Emperor of a banquet given to the ambassadors by the
Queen on the 6th January,[28] after which a little scene took place which
well illustrates the free manners of the time. “And towards the end of
the dinner the Lord Admiral [Howard], who had dined in an adjoining
chamber, came in and stood before her [the Queen], who seemed pensive.
He said something to her in English, and then turning to us, asked us
whether we would like to know what he had said. Although her Majesty did
her best to prevent him from translating it to us, he went on and said
that he had wished that his Highness [Philip] had been seated there by
her side, pointing to her right, in order to banish her melancholy. She
blushed at this and asked why he said it, to which he replied that he
was sure she was not cross and liked to hear it; whereupon the Queen and
every one else laughed, and it all went off in good part.”
The day after this entertainment (7th January, 1554), Egmont wrote an
urgent letter to Prince Philip, praying him to hasten his coming to claim
his bride. The treaty, he says, has now been agreed to with only a word
or two changed, and will be signed in two days. It is clear from this
letter that Egmont foresaw the trouble that was looming. The nobility,
he said, had received them better than he had expected. “But as for the
people, they are uncertain. We will advise the Queen to raise forces to
prevent any hostile movement, which would not be extraordinary, for these
people are very unstable.... It is of the utmost importance that your
Highness should come without delay. I hear that the French are arming
strongly in Normandy and Brittany.... I beseech you humbly to consider
how urgent it is that you come hither at once, for many reasons which I
hope to lay before you verbally soon. Besides this, I should like your
Highness to know that the Emperor has not provided us with a sou to spend
on necessary presents. More can be done here with money than anywhere
else in the world.”[29]
The hollow affectation of keeping the Queen’s marriage secret could
not be continued after the treaty was signed, and on the 13th January
Gardiner, with the best countenance he could command, made an oration in
the Presence Chamber of the Palace of Westminster before the assembled
lords and courtiers, declaring the Queen’s intention to marry the Prince
of Spain “in most godly, lawful matrimonye: and further that she should
have for her joynter xxxᵐⁱˡ duckets by the yere, with all the Lowe
Countries of Flanders; and that the issue betweene them two lawfully
begotten shoulde yf there be any, be heir as well to the Kingdom of
Spayne as also to the sayde Lowe Country.” He declared, farther, that “we
were much bounden to thancke God that so noble, worthye and famouse a
prince would vouchsaff so to humble himself in this maryadge to take upon
him rather as a subject than otherwise: and that the Quene should rule
all things as nowe: and that there should be of the Council no Spanyard,
nether should have rule or office in the quenes house or elsewhere in
England nor have custody of any fortes or castells.”[30] Gardiner made
the best of it; but the bare fact of the announcement being officially
made set light to the tinder which Noailles and his allies had so
carefully prepared. When, on the following day, Gardiner made a similar
announcement to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, Noailles had seen enough to
justify him in sending off a special courier post-haste to his master in
France. “The nobles and commonalty declare,” he wrote, “that they will
never tolerate the Prince of Spain for their King. They would rather die
fighting against him than obey him, and will defend their liberties by
force before they will submit to such servitude. They are making ready to
rise in arms any day and expel this Queen, who they now see is unworthy
of the Crown and as she had twice broken her promise to them after they
had raised her to the position she occupies. First, in changing the
religion after she had promised them toleration; and, secondly, in taking
a foreign husband although she had promised that she would not.”[31] In
a few days the result of all this excitement was seen. Carew and his
friends and kin in the west, depending upon poor feeble Courtenay’s
open co-operation, rose in revolt. Rumours ran that French troops were
on the way across to aid him. But Courtenay was a reed easily broken,
and allowed Gardiner to frighten him into alarmed submission, whilst
Elizabeth, closely watched at Ashridge, was too cunning to be drawn into
open complicity by Noailles’s intrigues; though the Emperor and Renard
were urging Mary to put her sister well out of harm’s way in prison.
And then came the most perilous movement of all—that of the men of Kent
under Wyatt. From the 26th January to the 3rd February Mary’s crown
was not worth a day’s purchase; for, though the cry of the rebels was
only against the Spanish marriage, the Queen knew full well that she
must now stand or fall by that. And she stood manfully when many of her
courtiers were distraught by fear and ready to desert her at a moment’s
notice. Whilst Wyatt and his growing host swept triumphantly onward from
Rochester Bridge to Blackheath, and so to Southwark, the Council were
wrangling. Should the Queen retire to the Tower or should she fly to the
country; should she believe what the friends of the French faction urged,
that the only safe place for her was Calais, where she could claim the
Emperor’s protection? Mary, almost alone, was undismayed. She sent word
privately to Renard that for their own safety’s sake the other Imperial
ambassadors should return home, but that she had no intention of backing
out of the marriage or of leaving London, although she might temporise
with Wyatt whilst she mustered her forces.[32] Riding to Guildhall, stern
and sorrowful but unafraid, she made a stirring oration to the citizens;
and although many were in favour of Wyatt, London Bridge was held
firmly by the Queen’s friends, until the rebel force began to melt away
discouraged at the delay.
If Wyatt had struck promptly, he would probably have won; but loath to
shed blood and to use arms openly against the Crown, he lingered in
Bermondsey, hoping for the declaration of the citizens of London in his
favour, until it was too late. Then came the ignominious march through
the mire to Kingston Bridge, and the footsore, famished, and rain-soaked
crew tramping through the night into London, to be beaten almost without
effort by those who, if they had shown a fine front, would have joined
them. Vengeance promptly fell upon the offenders. The scaffolds at the
street corners with their dangling corpses taught the common people that
treason was a dangerous game to play; the block in the Tower was soaked
with the blood of Greys and Dudleys and many of their noble friends,
and Elizabeth was no longer bidden courteously to join her sister at
Court, but was sternly, if ceremoniously, brought to London, dangerously
ill though she seemed to be (22nd February). And, as the young Princess
passed through the silent, sorrowful crowd that greeted her, making, as
she did, an appeal to their sympathies by her proud, pale face and her
snow-white garments, the Londoners in their hearts felt that Elizabeth
was their champion against the Spaniard, whose coming they feared so
much. On the same day (Ash Wednesday, 7th February) that poor Wyatt’s
draggled host toiled up to Ludgate, there to meet final failure and
the gallows, Renard urged the Queen to make an end of Elizabeth and
Courtenay; and the Count of Egmont was already hurrying to England with
advice from the Emperor to the same effect; but Mary, who allowed herself
to be drawn into extreme severity against those who had openly conspired
against her crown, asserted her own will in the matter of her sister,
whose countenance of the French ambassador’s intrigues was amply proved
by Wyatt’s avowals and the seizure of Noailles’s letters at Gravesend.
Thus whilst Courtenay once more found himself in the Tower a prisoner,
Elizabeth was at first only secluded in her sister’s palace at Whitehall.
A perusal of the letters of Renard and Noailles, and the evidence given
by Wyatt himself, leaves no shadow of doubt that Elizabeth and Courtenay
were accomplices in the series of risings that, with French support,
were intended to frustrate the Spanish match; and, although Froude and
other English historians have done their best to exonerate them, Mary’s
clemency to her sister on this occasion is at least entitled to a word of
praise, considering the great provocation she had suffered at her hands.
When at last Elizabeth was sent to the Tower, in March, it was only
because Mary was about to absent herself from the capital for a time;
and it was, of course, impossible to leave the disaffected Princess,
beloved as she was by the Londoners, practically at liberty in their
midst. Thus the open enemies of the marriage were silenced; Wyatt and
his accomplices, as well as the Greys and Dudleys, were dead or doomed,
Noailles was found out and raging impotently, Courtenay and Elizabeth
behind the bars, and the Carews and their West-country friends refugees
in France.
When, therefore, on the 2nd March, 1554, Egmont again arrived in London,
with the Bulls, powers, and other formal documents necessary for the
solemn betrothal, it seemed as if all would now run smoothly. Renard,
it is true, always anxious to augment the importance of Philip, gravely
raised the question before the Queen and Council whether it would be safe
to bring the Prince to England in the circumstances; because, he said,
if there was to be any risk to either the Queen or her betrothed, it
might be better to abandon the match. But whilst Mary declared that for
the world she would have no harm happen to Philip, “neither she nor her
Council saw any means or danger that should cause the postponement of a
marriage so beneficial and honourable. Thank God, the heretics and rebels
were imprisoned, their conspiracy discovered and proved, and in a short
time exemplary punishment would be inflicted upon them! For the future
the Queen would see to it that the strong hand would be hers, and that
she retained full authority over her subjects; so that they had no doubt
whatever that his Highness might safely pass over to England, provided
that he guarded himself against the French naval force which was being
prepared to intercept him.”[33]
A more private matter still had to be settled by Renard with the Queen.
Which of her ministers and household should be pensioned and bribed
by the Emperor, and to what extent, “as in order to gain them for his
Highness [Philip] his Majesty had ordered us to be liberal to those she
thought best”? and this question was gravely submitted to the Council
for consideration. Charles, as usual, was dreadfully driven for money,
but an extra turn of the screw could always be applied to long-suffering
Castile; and when it was a question of gaining England, money had to
be procured in plenty at any cost. As may be supposed, the list sent
by the Council to Renard for presents to themselves and others did not
err on the side of modesty; and four thousand crowns’ worth of gold
shoulder-chains and as much ready money was promptly handed over to the
itching palms of the English courtiers; whereupon “the Councillors gave
us such a good response, that if the result corresponds with their words,
we have no doubt that safety will attend the coming of his Highness to
this country.”[34]
The further to secure Philip from the attacks of the French, a fleet of
twenty English ships was commissioned for his escort in the Channel; and
when all this was arranged, a deputation of the Council on the 7th March
came to lead Renard and Egmont to a chamber in Whitehall, where the Queen
and her household awaited them. Upon an altar in the room the Blessed
Host was exposed, and before it Mary and Egmont respectively swore that
the conditions of the marriage treaty should be held binding. Mary was
fervid and excited. Before taking the oath she spontaneously “fell upon
her knees and cried to God to witness that the marriage she had agreed to
had not been prompted by any carnal affection, by cupidity, or any other
reason than the honour, welfare, and profit of her realm, the repose and
tranquillity of her subjects; and that she had no other intention than
to keep true to the marriage and oath that she had already made to her
Crown; saying all this with such grace that the spectators were moved
to tears.”[35] The ceremony ended with more devout prayer by the Queen
on her knees; and then Egmont, handing to her the magnificent ring that
had been sent by Philip as a token of his troth, bade her farewell and
hurried off to Spain.[36]
In the meanwhile Philip himself was busy with his great preparations.
All Spain was impressed with the grandeur of the occasion. The marriage
meant for Philip’s faithful lieges the final conquest over France and the
bringing back into the Catholic fold of the rich realm of England; it
meant, they believed, a cessation of the ruinous wars which had beggared
the realms of Castile and reduced whole provinces to misery. But, though
the Spaniards rejoiced at the great stroke of policy that in their view
was to fasten another crown upon the brows of their beloved Prince, they
were doubly enthusiastic at the noble self-sacrifice that he was making
for their sake, and filled with regret at his leaving them. Endless
preparations had to be made for the tremendous transport that would be
necessary for the crowds of nobles, courtiers and servants who were to
accompany the Prince to England. The absence was looked upon as being
for an indefinite time, and only such persons as were able-bodied and
fairly unencumbered were allowed to go. Indeed, a great assembly of
members of the household was held in order that the Duke of Alba might
announce that any of those who had good reason for not accompanying his
Highness were free to stay behind. Those who elected to go—the great
majority—were granted considerable sums of money for their outfit; and
the nobles, too, were given leave to go to their own towns to prepare the
gorgeous dresses and appointments they and their households were expected
to take with them. It is curious to note that many of the servitors
who were to undertake the journey sold all their property in Spain, in
the belief that they were at once to settle and take possession of the
land of England. We are told that the wife of one officer, expecting to
obtain the approval of Philip, asked for his leave to sell all they had
in order to follow him unencumbered. Philip’s answer was significant and
characteristic. “I do not order you either to sell or not to sell your
property, for know ye that I am not going to a marriage feast, but to a
fight.”[37] This was the spirit in which all regarded the sacrifice he
was making. He was going on a holy crusade, amidst many heretics, whom
he was to win for the Church; the French were lying in wait to thwart or
capture him; and all Spaniards felt that the Prince went to conquer and
not to woo, though none doubted, nor did he, that victory would finally
be his. Old servitors unable to make the journey were pensioned; the
girl children of those who went were, at Philip’s expense, boarded and
educated in their parents’ absence, the boys being similarly provided for
at Alcalá de Henares.
Whilst all Spain was thus busy providing the splendid stuffs and
adornments by which the savage Englishmen were to be dazzled, news came
to Philip at Valladolid that the English special ambassadors, the Earl
of Bedford and Lord Fitzwalter, who were coming with greetings from his
betrothed, might be expected any day at Laredo, on the Biscay coast, and
his Steward, Gutierre Lopez de Padilla, hurried off to do them honour at
the end of February, whilst Valladolid was hastily decked from end to
end with bravery and lists erected for sports, bullfights, tourneys, and
the like. But the news was premature, for it was the 13th March before
Bedford and his colleagues left London on their embassy; and before they
arrived in Spain the rejoicings prepared for their reception were turned
into mourning by the news of the death of Philip’s brother-in-law and
cousin, the Prince of Portugal.
As soon as the tidings of Mary’s ratification of the treaty reached
Philip, he, like the gallant suitor he intended to appear, despatched
the Marquis de las Navas to England with a present to his bride truly
magnificent in its richness. “A table diamond set as a rose, beautifully
wrought and worth 50,000 ducats; a necklace of brilliant diamonds
consisting of eighteen stones worth 30,000 ducats. A great diamond with
a large pendant pearl, one of the most beautiful pieces ever seen in
the world, worth 25,000 ducats; besides many jewels, necklaces, pearls,
diamonds, emeralds, and rubies of inestimable value.” This list is given
by one of Philip’s lackeys, attached to the service of Don Carlos. The
sartorial splendour of velvets, silks, satins, and bullion, which the
same authority sets forth for our admiration, as being in preparation for
Philip and his Court, and the extravagant richness of the appointments,
dresses, armour, saddlery, plate, and furniture, for the Prince’s service
sent forward to Corunna, where he was to embark, reads like a fairy
tale. Every noble’s dress and livery is described with the minuteness
of a tailor’s bill, and the appearance of these proud hidalgos must
have been sumptuous in the extreme.[38] Philip himself always preferred
serious gravity in his dress; but he had been told that the English loved
splendour, and he was determined on this occasion that they should have
it to their hearts’ content. Some of his beautiful garments we shall have
an opportunity of describing later, but here is one suit which must have
been exceedingly gorgeous. A crimson velvet cape, covered with little
chains made of silk twist, enclosing lozenges, and a sort of sprig with
large leaves running between them, made of silver lace and filled in
with silver fringe. The lining of this cape was smooth cloth of silver
embroidered with the same sort of work; the trunks, doublet, and tunic
were of smooth crimson velvet embroidered in the same way.
All these elaborate preparations being completed, Philip, with the
Dukes of Alba and Medini Celi, Egmont, Feria, Pescara, Ruy Gomez, and a
score of the highest grandees of Spain and nearly a thousand horsemen
glittering and flashing in the Castilian sun, rode out of Valladolid on
the 14th May, 1554. The Prince’s Spanish and Teuton guards and his three
hundred servants were all dressed in the gaudy red-and-yellow livery
of Aragon, and each of the nobles was followed by a retinue which vied
with that of the Prince in brilliance. The cavalcade had to make a long
detour down to the Portuguese frontier to receive the grief-stricken
young widow, Philip’s sister, who was to govern Spain in his absence, and
again to Tordesillas for the Prince to take a last farewell of his mad
grandmother, Jane the Crazy. At each town, too, especially at Benavente
and Astorga, there were bullfights and tourneys, banquets and religious
ceremonials, so that it was the 22nd June, the day before the Vigil of
St. John, when the kneeling aldermen of Santiago de Compostela tendered
to Philip the golden keys at the gates of their sainted city.
As the Prince and his suite rode through the decorated streets to worship
at the shrine of the Spanish patron Saint James, and thank him for his
protection so far, a party of gentlemen at the upper window of a house
looked on with faces shrouded in their cloaks. These were the English
ambassadors—the Earl of Bedford, Lord Fitzwalter, and others—sent by Mary
to pledge her troth to her new husband; and on the following morning they
were brought by a crowd of Spanish hidalgos into the presence of the
future King Consort of England. Philip received them smilingly, cap in
hand, for even thus early he had taken to heart the injunctions of his
father and of Renard that he would conciliate the English by changing
his habitual grave aloofness for the gay amiability which he afterwards
assumed in England. Bedford, Fitzwalter, Sidney, and the rest of them,
bowed low and half bent the knee before him one by one;[39] and when the
presentations were over, Bedford took from a secretary a copy of the
capitulations and handed them to the Prince, who confirmed them by word
of mouth without opening the paper. Bedford appears to have impressed
the Spaniards favourably as “a great gentleman and a good Christian,”
and both he and his colleagues did their errand in courtly fashion. When
Philip had confirmed the capitulations, we are told, “they showed the
greatest delight, from the highest to the lowest, kissing his Highness’s
hands with great demonstration; and as they went out they said to each
other in their own tongue, ‘Blessed be to God who has given us as good a
king as this!’ This was said so quietly amongst themselves that it would
not have been noticed, but that a Spanish gentleman who understood their
tongue heard and repeated it.”[40] The next day the Englishmen attended
pontifical Mass at the Cathedral with Philip, greatly, we are told, to
their edification and devotion, “which God grant may continue, for they
need it badly enough.” Before starting on his thirty-miles’ ride from
Santiago to Corunna, Philip distributed costly presents to the English
embassy, Bedford’s gift being “one of the finest pieces of gold plate
ever seen, more than three feet in height, exquisitely and elaborately
chased with classical and grotesque figures, the intrinsic value of the
gold contained being six thousand ducats.”
A brave show of ships awaited the arrival of Philip in Corunna, for
many soldiers were to pass over with the Prince to defend him from the
French on the way and reinforce the Emperor’s army in Flanders; and as
the glittering cavalcade came in sight of the harbour, he was met “by
six hundred seaman—lancers from the province of Guipuzcoa, smart men
and prettily accoutred, who performed many evolutions, waving their
lances joyously, with much playing of drums and fifes. Then the fleet
and the fortress shot such a salute that in very truth it seemed as if
town and fortress together were coming down, the people being in great
fear and wonder to see the houses tremble thus as if by earthquake. All
said that the human race had never witnessed such a discharge as this.
The smoke was so great during the hour and a half that the firing lasted
that neither earth nor heaven could be seen. After this there entered
the harbour nine ships of the fleet, well supplied with everything and
very smart, with a vast number of painted standards and 3,500 soldiers
on board. These ships then took up the salute with their big guns, after
which the infantry shot with their muskets for half an hour.”[41]
On Philip’s return to his lodging, forty fishing sloops cast at his feet
their fresh-caught harvest of the sea, and the next day he inspected the
ship, _The Holy Ghost_, of Martin de Bertondona, in which it had just
been arranged that he was to make the voyage to England. From end to end
the ship was alive with scarlet silk streamers, and many-hued heraldic
pennons waved aloft: the bulwarks and castles were hung with crimson
damask, and the cabin destined for the Prince was a marvel of chased and
chiselled gold and exotic woods. The great standard of crimson damask,
painted with the Imperial arms and golden flames, was thirty yards long,
and dozens of other standards rivalling it in size fluttered from every
mast and spar. Three hundred sailors, garbed in scarlet liveries, manned
this gallant craft. But all this splendour seems to have aroused some
jealousy amongst the English, and when Philip went on board the ship
that had brought the ambassadors to Spain to be bounteously entertained
at dinner, Bedford urged him to trust himself to an English ship and
English sailors. The Prince hesitated a while, but his councillors, and
particularly the Duke of Alba, would not hear of it, for none knew as yet
how far they might trust to the islanders so recently heretic. To please
the English sailors, however, Philip allowed them to choose for him the
Spanish ship they considered the safest; and at their recommendation he
sailed in Bertondona’s vessel, instead of, as intended, in the galleon of
the great sailor Alvaro de Bazan.
To muster and ship six thousand soldiers as well as the great train
of courtiers and servants that followed Philip took many days, whilst
the Prince was being feasted and entertained by neighbouring nobles.
During this time there entered Corunna the Spanish ship that had carried
the Marquis of Las Navas to England with the presents for Mary, and
marvellous stories had the mariners to tell of the eager preparations
being made by the Queen and her people to receive the new King. How she
was at Winchester with a thousand gentlemen, and how, amongst other
fine things to welcome her bridegroom, she had collected two thousand
fine horses for the Spaniards, believing that they would bring none by
sea with them.[42] At length the fleet of nearly a hundred sail was
ready. The gilding upon the towering stern and forecastles, with lines
of shining lanterns, flashed back the summer sun, and the crowds of
gaily clad soldiers and sailors played strange pranks in the rigging and
amongst the gaudy flags to amuse grave Philip, whilst for two days the
ships lay idle in Corunna harbour awaiting the fair wind that was to
carry the Prince of Spain upon his mission of conquest.
On Friday, 13th July, a soft breeze from the south enabled the fleet to
sail, whilst a dense crowd upon the shore sent up fervent prayers for the
safety of the Prince, who in a pure spirit of martyrdom was thus going to
“our new realm of England for the exaltation of our holy faith and the
good of Christendom.” Others there were on the shore who shouted insults,
taunts, and challenges to all the Frenchmen alive; for with England at
the bidding of the Emperor, the poorest beggar in Spain knew that France
was powerless against him. The slight swell that at first somewhat upset
unaccustomed stomachs, was succeeded on the morning of Saturday by a dead
calm and a motionless sea, which, whilst it comforted the landsmen, made
the seamen look blank; for, as they said, it might delay the fleet for a
month. But the next day, Sunday, a delightful fair wind sprang up, and
the long trail of vessels stretched across the tranquil Bay until Ushant,
the land of the enemy, loomed up to starboard on Monday afternoon. On
Wednesday morning in the Channel a fleet of galleons was sighted, which
it was feared might be Frenchmen, but which turned out to be the Flemish
escort sent by the Emperor, with several ships of the English navy. Thus
accompanied, the Spaniards sailed up to Southampton Water on Thursday,
19th July, and at four o’clock in the afternoon anchored amidst the royal
salute from the thirty English and Flemish ships assembled to receive
the Queen’s new Consort.[43]
Things had not been going very smoothly in England in the meanwhile.
Mary’s Council was profoundly disunited, Paget and the Chancellor, Bishop
Gardiner of Winchester, being at bitter feud with each other; and Mary
herself was angry and distrustful with Gardiner and his adherents, who,
she feared, quite without reason, were secretly favouring Elizabeth
and the Wyatt prisoners. On one occasion, late in March, a number of
members of the Council, even Paget being amongst them out of enmity to
Gardiner, took the bold course of entering the Queen’s oratory after
vespers, and told her that it was now time for clemency, and that
if any more noble blood was shed it would no longer be justice but
cruelty. The bloody-minded advice, they said, of others should not be
followed—meaning by this Gardiner, who was absent, and Renard, who was
never tired of urging severity upon Mary. The Queen, taken by surprise,
at once pardoned six of the gentlemen of Kent implicated in Wyatt’s
rising who had been condemned to death. Poor Mary was beset on every
side by warring counsels, with Renard telling her that for her own and
her husband’s safety she must strike hard, and her Council in revolt
at what they considered the cruelty inculcated by Gardiner, and at one
time she consented to Renard’s plan for a _coup d’état_ which should
practically make her supreme. The Lord Admiral (Howard), Pembroke, Derby,
Shrewsbury, and Sussex were to be employed in distant parts of the realm;
a reconciliation was to be effected between Gardiner and Paget, and the
whole business of State was to be managed by them, with the assistance
of Petre, the Earl of Arundel, and two others. Renard thought that
this solution was the only one which offered any security for Philip’s
safety, and when the Queen was induced by some of her Councillors to
pardon on Good Friday the Marquis of Northampton and eight more prisoners
implicated in the Wyatt rising, the Imperial ambassador roundly scolded
her for her ill-timed clemency. It was not by any means certain, he said,
that Philip would consent to come to England at all. The dissensions of
her Councillors were very dangerous, and it behoved her to consider very
carefully, since the security must be furnished by her, and the Prince
could not come armed, what a scandal and calamity it would be if anything
happened to him.[44] Mary wept at this, and said that “she would rather
never have been born than that any outrage should be committed on his
Highness, but she trusted to God that no such thing would occur. All her
Councillors would do their duty in receiving the Prince, and are in great
hopes of him. She would reform her Council and reduce it to six members;
she would do her best to incline her subjects to his Highness’s favour;
and she would take good care that the cases of Courtenay and Elizabeth
were finished before the Prince arrived.”[45]
[Illustration: WILLIAM LORD PAGET
FROM A PAINTING IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY]
Noailles and the French sympathisers, too, were still at work stirring
up alarm at the coming of the Spaniards. Here was a bridegroom, they
sneered, who was coming to win a wife, with a great army intended to
land on English soil and proclaim himself King in his own right, with
all his swarm of priests, friars, and inquisitors to oppress the English
people. Even the English sailors on Howard’s ships were so distrustful
of the Spaniards that when the Flemish crews of the Emperor’s fleet set
foot on shore during the time they awaited Philip’s arrival the visitors
were hustled and insulted everywhere, whilst the Lord Admiral himself had
openly mocked at their ships as mussel-shells.[46] Whether it be true,
as was asserted, that Howard committed the grave discourtesy of throwing
a shot across the bows of the Prince’s fleet to compel a salute to the
English flag is doubtful, but it is certain that the feeling in the
country amongst high and low as the time went on was as strongly against
the Spanish bridegroom as ever.
During the months that passed between the formal betrothal in March and
the coming of Philip, Mary grew more and more impatient, railing at her
quarrelling Councillors, worried almost daily by Renard to hasten the
execution of Elizabeth and Courtenay, and a prey to frequent hysterical
attacks of wounded pride at what she considered the ungallant lack of
eagerness on the part of her new husband to join her. She grew more
faded and older with her anxiety, and this increased her distress,[47]
for Elizabeth was young and beautiful, and the Queen knew that the love
of the people for her was growing with the dread of Spanish Catholic
intolerance. And yet the majority of the Council, not to mention the
Parliament that was sitting, would never sanction the sacrifice of the
Princess at the instance of the Imperial ambassador; and even the Lord
Admiral and his fleet were suspected of a design to declare against the
Queen unless his cousin, Princess Elizabeth, was well treated. Renard’s
letters of the time reflect the distracted condition of affairs from
day to day, no man knowing in which direction future safety or ruin
to him might be encountered. “The Queen is reduced to such a state of
perplexity that she is at a loss whose advice to adopt, knowing well
that all is being done in favour of Lady Elizabeth.” Scurrilous ballads
were flung about in public places, even in the Queen’s palace, bitterly
lampooning the unhappy Mary and her lagging Spanish bridegroom. To make
matters worse, when the French ambassador, Noailles, who was known to
be the principal fomenter of all this trouble, went to take leave of
Mary at Whitehall the day before she set out on her gradual approach to
the coast to meet Philip at the end of May, an open wrangle took place
between them, and the ambassador in a rage threatened to leave England
immediately—a threat not at all distasteful to the Imperialists, because
it brought nearer what they aimed at before all things—the breaking out
of hostilities between England and France.
By slow stages Mary travelled through the latter half of June and early
July from Richmond by Oatlands and Farnham to Winchester, where she
arrived two days after Philip had landed at Southampton. As Philip had
truly said, this was no romantic love voyage that he was making, but a
deliberate sacrifice of all his personal tastes and wishes for the sake
of overwhelming political expediency. No effort was to be spared to gain
England to the side of Spain against France, and Philip deliberately laid
himself out to please. On his famous voyage to stay with his father in
Flanders some years before, his cold hauteur and lack of expansiveness
had quite alienated the Germans and Flemings from him. His grave young
face, his prim demeanour, his sober garments, his rigid abstemiousness
in eating and drinking, and his distaste for the martial amusements of
the time, were all foreign to the rough vitality of the Teutons; and
Renard and the Emperor had warned the Prince that he must not repeat
his mistake, but conform to English customs and learn at least some
English words. The Spaniards of his train were enjoined also “to behave
themselves according to English fashion, and to be modest in their
bearing, trusting that your Highness, with your accustomed kindness,
will make much of them.”[48] And the Emperor, desirous of avoiding all
occasion for dissension, writes to his son (1st April, 1554): “They tell
me that some married women are going with their husbands in your company.
I think they will be more difficult to govern and keep friends with the
English women than even soldiers would be. You had better see whether
it would not be wiser to send them here [to Flanders] until affairs in
England are more settled.”[49]
Even Philip’s enemies, the Venetians, testified to the change of
his demeanour during his stay in England; and Soriano, the outgoing
ambassador, said that from that time forward, even in Spain, his gentle
courtesy and kindness were continued habitually, whilst Michaeli, the
new Venetian ambassador, who was the staunch ally of Noailles, was
emphatic in his testimony of Philip’s affability in England, and says
that his conduct towards his wife was such as to make any woman love
him: “for in truth no one in the world could have been a better or more
affectionate husband.” Yet another Venetian envoy, Damula, accredited
to the Emperor, wrote that on disembarking in England the Prince was
“remarked by everybody for his graciousness, without any stiffness or
assumption of royal ceremony, mixing with the courtiers rather as a
comrade than as a king.” Certain it is, with public opinion in England
strongly unfavourable and in a perfect panic of apprehension, Philip’s
tact and graciousness to a great extent overcame the prejudice against
him, and he became in a few months personally quite popular, whilst he
contrived almost immediately to gain his wife’s devoted affection. The
over-coloured picture of Philip as a trembling, seasick creature,[50]
in daily fear of poison, which Froude drew from the letters of Noailles
and the account of the Venetian, Baoardo, needs much modification to be
near the impartial truth; for though, as we have seen, Philip looked
upon the marriage as a sacrifice to reasons of State, as undoubtedly it
was, he bore his cross gaily and like a well-bred gentleman. If he had
done otherwise, indeed, as he was quite clever enough to recognise, the
sacrifice itself would have been useless.
From the hour of his arrival in Southampton Water, two o’clock in the
afternoon of Thursday, 19th July, until after breakfast the next day,
Philip remained on board the _Espiritu Santo_ at anchor, whilst the
salutes of the ships and forts thundered out their welcome; state barges
brought the English and Flemish Lord Admirals to visit the Prince, and
the Marquis of las Navas, Figueroa, the Emperor’s special ambassador, and
several high English nobles, came to pay their respects to the new king.
After breakfast on the 20th July, Howard’s state galley came alongside
the _Espiritu Santo_, and from it climbed to the deck the Lord Admiral
and a little group of English nobles—Arundel, Derby, and Shrewsbury—with
Sir John Williams, to whom Philip at once handed the white wand of
Chamberlain. The Prince stood upon the high deck, cap in hand and with
smiling face, to receive them, and after they had been presented to
the principal grandees the English nobles led the Prince to the barge,
followed by the Duke of Alba, with his lean, dark face and long, grizzled
beard; Count de Feria, with his raven hair and flashing eyes; Ruy Gomez,
Philip’s dearest friend, suave and imperturbable; Pescara, Egmont, Horn,
and a dozen other high courtiers, Spaniards and Flemings. No permission
was given to the other courtiers to land until the Prince’s barge touched
the shore, whilst no soldier or man-at-arms was allowed to land at all
on pain of death, for Philip dared not offend English feeling in this
matter, and he had learnt from his father that the fortune of war had
been against him, and he needed every man-at-arms at once in Flanders.[51]
As the gaily dressed oarsmen rapidly forced the great gilded galley
through the smooth water to the shore, a little ceremony was performed
under the stern canopy. The Earl of Arundel and Sir John Williams as a
commission from the Queen besought permission to invest the Prince with
the Order of the Garter; and Williams fastened the gilt ligature around
his leg, whilst Arundel placed upon his breast a glittering pendant rose
and George. As Philip stepped upon English soil for the first time,
thirty nobles and gentlemen of the Queen’s Court did him reverence, and
Sir Anthony Browne, leading a beautiful white hackney caparisoned in
crimson velvet and gold, announced himself in a Latin speech as the new
Consort’s master of the horse. The Prince thanked the new grand equerry,
but replied that, as the distance was short, he would walk on foot to
the house prepared for him. But this he was told was not in accordance
with English etiquette, and without more ado Browne, lifting him up in
his arms, placed him in the saddle, and then, humbly kissing the golden
stirrups, walked bare-headed by his master’s side. With crowds of gaily
clad English and Spanish courtiers preceding him, Philip passed thus
through the curious townsfolk to the Church of Holy Rood. He must have
looked an impressive figure, with his dapper, erect bearing, his yellow,
curly beard and close-cropped fair head, dressed, as he was, in black
velvet and silver, hung all about with massive gold chains and with
glittering precious stones in his velvet cap, upon breast, neck, and
wrists. Browne himself was no unworthy company for his Prince, for he too
was garbed in a rich suit of black velvet entirely covered with fine gold
embroidery, with a surcoat of the same, of which the long, hanging false
sleeves were lined with cloth of silver.
After a brief service of thanksgiving, Philip was taken to the house
destined for his reception. The English guards and archers on duty
and a crowd of English household servitors had been dressed by Mary’s
directions in the red-and-yellow livery of Spain; and when Philip
entered the rooms prepared for him, he found that here, too, his wife’s
thoughtful prevision had been exercised; for the appointments and
furniture were sumptuous, and upon the walls there hung royal draperies
of gold-embroidered damask.[52] To the assembled English nobles Philip
then delivered a dignified speech in Latin, saying that he had left
his own land not to augment his possessions or his power, of which he
had sufficient, but because God had called him to marry their Queen,
with whom he intended to live here in harmony; and he promised his
hearers that if they were faithful to her and to him, “he would be to
them a right good and loving prince.” He was from the first all smiles
and graciousness to the English, who were, indeed, agreeably surprised
at his amiability when after his private supper he came out into the
presence chamber and chatted unaffectedly and gaily with the gentlemen
there. To bluff Lord Admiral Howard he said that he had come to England
for his wedding unprovided with garb sufficiently sumptuous to do honour
to their Queen, but he hoped that the velvet horse-cloth of the hackney
the Queen had sent him might serve him to make a splendid vestment withal.
The pledging of the company after supper in a draught of English
beer, which the partial view of Froude presented as a repellant and
unwilling concession, was a perfectly natural part of the whole of
Philip’s behaviour. He had come to win the English by affability, and
he was determined as much as possible to conform to English prejudices
and to impress upon his Spanish followers the need for their doing
likewise. Even the enemy, who records the action, does not hint at any
demonstration of dislike or reluctance on the part of Philip to the
politic course he took. So thoroughly, indeed, did he act up to his
policy, that before he left Southampton his Spanish attendants were
all scowling and grumbling in spite and jealousy that their Prince was
preferring Englishmen to them, and that his service and safety were
placed in the hands of foreigners to the exclusion of his own people.
Though Philip had great ends to serve in drinking beer and sitting out
gargantuan English feasts, at which his proud frugal countrymen scoffed,
to the courtiers who accompanied him from Spain, it was as gall and
wormwood to see the greatest Prince in Christendom thus curry favour
with these rough islanders, whom they regarded as inferiors; and when,
on Saturday, the Spaniards were all ordered to leave the church at
Southampton before the service was over, in order that the Prince might
come out attended only by Englishmen, they broke out into almost open
protest, particularly when, as the rain was coming down in torrents and
the Prince was without cape or hat, he borrowed the garments from an
Englishman near him rather than from a Spaniard, to go the few yards from
the church to his lodging.
The three hundred houses of which Southampton consisted were already
crammed to overflowing with Philip’s great train of courtiers and four
hundred servants, but every hour the crowd in the little port grew as
the neighbouring gentry, with their followers, rode in to honour their
new King in accordance with Queen Mary’s orders. Nor was this all, for
early on Saturday morning the Earl of Pembroke came with an escort for
the Prince of two hundred English gentlemen in black velvet and gold
chains, and three hundred more in scarlet, all splendidly mounted. In
return for this, Philip sent Egmont to the Queen with thanks and loving
messages. Half way to Winchester Egmont met a great train coming towards
him, escorting the Lord Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, bearing from his
Sovereign a valuable ring to her spouse. Gardiner had done his best to
prevent the match, and when that had proved impossible, he had cleverly
minimised its disadvantages from an English point of view, so that he was
far from being _persona grata_ to Renard and the Spaniards. But for weeks
past he had been in hourly danger of ruin from the cabals against him
and the distrust of the Queen; and he now sought safety in an apparent
cordiality towards the Spanish marriage, an attitude which Philip repaid
by treating him with almost excessive deference. The next day (Sunday),
in the torrential rain, the favourite Ruy Gomez rode to Winchester with
another beautiful ring for Mary, and the Lords of the Council and a
host of other nobles came in to salute Philip, who, after rising late,
dined and supped in public for the first time in England. To the rage
of the Spaniards, his English household served him; though the proudest
of his grandees, the Duke of Alba, was allowed unofficially to hand him
the napkin.[53] “We are of no more use here, and are simply vagabonds.
We should be better employed in serving in the war, for they make us
pay here twenty times what a thing is worth,” grumbled one of Philip’s
gentlemen-in-waiting, who fairly represented the general feeling amongst
them, even on the first days of their arrival in England.
Before Philip started on Monday afternoon for Winchester, better news
came from the Emperor. The French had not followed up their victory at
Marienburg, and the six hundred Spanish jennets which had come in the
fleet, with Philip’s own horses, might now be landed.[54] The anxious
Queen, nevertheless, continued to send fresh supplies of splendidly
caparisoned horses for Philip’s use; and when, in a perfect deluge
of rain, at two o’clock in the afternoon the Prince started out to
join his bride in the ancient city seven miles away, a train of three
thousand magnificently accoutred horsemen clattered in his train. With
the exception of some fifteen of the highest Spanish nobles, who rode
close around the Prince—Alba, Medina-Celi, Feria, and their like—Philip’s
strong bodyguard was formed of English men-at-arms dressed in Spanish
colours, much to the jealousy of the Spanish guard still cooped up in
the pestilential ships. On the road six hundred more English gentlemen
in black velvet and gold met the cavalcade and joined it. Then, nearer
Winchester, six of the Queen’s pages, dressed in crimson brocade and
cloth of gold, were encountered with a herald bringing for the Prince six
more beautiful steeds as a present from their mistress. The malicious
Venetian tells a story embellished by Froude of a breathless, galloping
messenger from the Queen, whose haste threw Philip and his Spanish
friends into a panic of fear; but everything that Baoardo wrote on
the subject of the marriage is suspect and cannot be accepted without
confirmation, of which in this case there is none.
When the Prince started from Southampton, he wore a surcoat of black
velvet adorned with diamonds, and doublet and trunks of white satin
embroidered with gold. But this delicate finery, though covered by a
thick red felt cloak, was wet through before he arrived at Winchester;
and a halt was made at the beautiful hospital of Saint Cross to enable
a change of garments to be donned, the fresh suit consisting of a
black velvet surcoat trimmed with gold bugles, and under-garments of
white velvet and gold. Thus bedizened he entered the ancient gateway,
past kneeling mayor and aldermen, and through silent, gaping crowds of
townsfolk, direct to the splendid cathedral, the shrine of England’s
ancient Kings. A little group of mitred bishops stood before the great
west door, crosses raised and censers swinging; and in solemn procession
to the high altar they led beneath a velvet canopy this slim, erect,
little man with fair face and yellow hair, whom they and their like
regarded as God’s chosen instrument to undo the impious work of Henry and
of Somerset.
CHAPTER III
1554-1555
Philip’s first meeting with Mary—The marriage—Discontent
and disappointment of the Spaniards—Philip’s kindness
to his wife—Spanish descriptions of England—Philip in
London—Arrival of Pole—Philip’s religious policy in England—His
attempts to marry Elizabeth to Savoy—The Emperor’s war with
France—Departure of Philip from England
Dusk was falling upon the gloomy day when Philip, having duly performed
his devotions and admired the splendid fane of Winchester, found himself
at ease in the Dean’s house, which had been prepared for his reception.
The Queen’s maiden scruples had been respected, for it was not in
accordance with etiquette that they should both sleep under the same roof
before they became man and wife; so that whilst the Deanery sheltered the
bridegroom, the bride was lodged in Bishop Gardiner’s castle adjoining.
Philip supped, and when he was thinking of going to bed, it being ten
o’clock at night, some English courtiers and the Mistress of the Robes
came and said that the Queen wished him to visit her secretly in her
closet, where she awaited him, but that he was to bring only a very few
followers. Another beautiful dress had perforce to be assumed, consisting
of a French surcoat embroidered in silver and gold, with doublet and
trunks of white kid covered with gold embroidery; and then, accompanied
by Alba, Medina-Celi, Feria, Aguilar, Egmont, Horn, and a half-dozen
more grandees, the Prince was led by his English guides across the lane
and still-existing little green to a garden gate, through which only the
nobles chosen by Philip were allowed to enter. They found themselves in
a delicious garden, and in the mysterious darkness threaded the leafy
alleys, until they arrived at the great moated house, which they entered
by a little back door, from which a private stair led direct to the
Queen’s private apartment.
When the English guide threw open the door at the head of the stair,
Philip for the first time looked upon the woman who was to be his second
wife. Mary was slowly pacing the long passage or gallery lined with
tapestry, which constituted the room. Two gentlemen bore torches before
her, and with her were Gardiner and three or four other aged men and some
ladies-in-waiting. Philip hung back a few seconds whilst Egmont entered
the room. He, being known to the Queen, was greeted by her graciously;
and then, as she caught sight of the smart figure of her bridegroom, she
walked rapidly towards him, and kissed her hand before she grasped his.
Philip did the same, and, in the English fashion of the time, gallantly
kissed his elderly bride upon her lips. Mary was, as usual, splendidly
dressed, and her trim little figure must have looked stately enough in
her black velvet gown, cut high at the neck, her petticoat of frosted
silver, her coif of black velvet and gold, and wonderful girdle, collar,
and pendants of flashing gems. Her complexion was of that peculiar
transparency which usually accompanies red hair; her eyes, which were
also of ruddy brown, were almost without eyebrows, as her father’s had
been; and her somewhat austere face was wreathed now with smiles of
welcome to the man for whose coming she had yearned.
Leading him by the hand to a chair beside her own beneath the canopy,
she replied in French to his Spanish compliments. Whilst they were thus
seated in happy converse, the irrepressible Lord Admiral Howard broke in
with some of his usual suggestive jokes, not in the best taste according
to the ideas of to-day, but apparently accepted at that time as quite
permissible. Then, one by one, the Spanish nobles were brought forward
to kiss the Queen’s hand; and Philip, apparently finding the interview
somewhat tedious, as his knowledge of French was not extensive, proposed
that he should go into the adjoining apartment to greet the Queen’s
ladies. Mary insisted upon accompanying him. The ladies, in pairs, were
led forward to courtesy before the Prince, who, cap in hand, “in order
not to violate the custom of the country, kissed each of them on the lips
as they passed him.” The ceremony, probably, was not over-pleasant to
Mary, for when, the kissing being at an end, Philip suggested that it was
getting late and he had better retire, the Queen insisted upon leading
him to the canopy again for another chat.
Already the Spaniards began to nod and wink to each other to signify that
the Queen had fallen in love with her husband thus soon at first sight,
and it is quite probable that such was the case. Mary’s heart had been
starved for love all her life. There was none of her kin now with whom
she could unbend, and, with her crushing responsibility, it must have
been for her like a glimpse of heaven to feel that this good-looking,
wise, young man, fully her equal in rank, and her superior in power, was
in future to be kinsman, husband, and upholder in one. At last the time
came for parting, and in jesting mood grave Philip learnt of his bride
how to say “Good-night” in English. But alas! before he could reach the
ladies in the other room to say the newly learnt words to them, the
outlandish sounds had slipped out of his mind, and with much laughter
and smiles he had to go back and learn them again from the Queen.[55]
In conversation with Philip, the Queen’s governess (Mrs. Clarencius?)
expressed her joy at the coming union and thanks to God for letting her
live to see the day, though she regretted that she had not reared a
more beautiful bride for him;[56] and according to another eyewitness’s
account the Queen herself modestly thanked Philip for accepting so old
and ugly a wife. Generally speaking, however, Mary does not appear
to have produced an unfavourable impression upon the Spaniards. They
speak of her manner at this time as being gay and gracious, and her
clear complexion was much admired. Certainly Philip played his part to
perfection, whatever his private feelings may have been; and if Mary had
been a budding beauty of twenty instead of a faded old maid of nearly
forty, he could not have been a more gallant bridegroom in appearance
than he was: although to his bosom friend, Ruy Gomez, he confided a few
days after the wedding that he was prepared with resignation to drain the
chalice to the end which his marriage presented to him, since, as his
friend knew, he had not married for love, but to restore England to the
Church; and such an object made him lose sight of the Queen’s lack of
personal attractions.
Philip slept late the morning after his arrival at Winchester, and as
soon as he was out of bed the Queen’s tailor brought him two superb sets
of garments—one made of very rich white brocade profusely embroidered
with gold bugles and seed pearls, with diamonds for buttons, and the
other a similar suit in crimson. Philip went that day, Tuesday, to Mass
at the Cathedral, dressed in a purple velvet surcoat with silver fringe
and white satin doublet and trunks; and then after his private dinner,
went in great state to visit the Queen publicly. This time she received
him in the great hall of the Bishop’s palace, surrounded by the whole of
her Court and attended by fifty ladies—“none of them pretty”—dressed in
purple velvet. Mary received the Prince at the foot of her daïs, amidst
the fanfare of trumpets, and after kissing him affectionately led him
to the seat at her side. She must have looked as magnificent as fine
clothes could make her as she sat “in sweet converse” with him under her
canopy; for we are told that her purple velvet robe and cloth-of-gold
petticoat were all aglow with precious stones, and that coif, neck,
breast, and wrists, were stiff with pearls and diamonds. There were
special ambassadors, too, to receive and welcome: Figueroa, viceroy of
Naples, from the Emperor, others from the King of the Romans and his son,
from Venice, Florence, Poland, and Ferrara. But one was missing; for
Noailles, the Frenchman, for whom this marriage was a dire defeat, had
not been bidden to the feast; and in the intervals of his plotting to
raise trouble was writing to his baffled master ill-natured and distorted
reports, at second hand, of the proceedings.
The next day, Wednesday, 25th July, was the Feast of St. James, the
patron of Spain, and the noble cathedral of Winchester was aflame with
glowing colour. The ancient nave can never have seen so gorgeous a
company as was there assembled in the forenoon. All that pomp, skill, and
lavish expenditure could produce was there to do honour to an event which
all spectators felt was one of moving interest for the future of the
world; because it meant, so far as men might see, the secure fastening
upon the neck of England again of the yoke of the Papacy, which Henry
VIII. had shaken off, the stifling of the Reformation in Europe, and the
reduction of France to a secondary place amongst the nations. Philip,
in the white satin suit the Queen had sent him and with a regal mantle
of cloth of gold, led his dazzlingly clad bride up the lofty nave to an
elevated platform in the centre; and there Gardiner, with three attendant
Bishops, made them man and wife. To equalise their rank, it was announced
that the Viceroy Figueroa had brought formal instruments from the
Emperor, resigning to his son the Kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem; and
this proclamation having been made, the King and Queen, with swords of
state borne before them by the Earls of Derby and Pembroke, descended to
the high altar, followed by fifty ladies in cloth of gold, to hear Mass,
during which, we are told, the Queen never removed her devout eyes from
the crucifix.
[Illustration: QUEEN MARY AT THE PERIOD OF HER MARRIAGE
FROM THE PAINTING BY ANTONIO MOR IN THE PRADO MUSEUM]
Rarely can a marriage have taken place prompted on both sides by such
elevation of spirit as this. The objects in view may be condemned now,
as they were condemned by many at the time, but there is no gainsaying
that, so far as Philip and Mary were concerned, they both believed they
were making private sacrifice for the public welfare. This feeling was
evident through the whole of the marriage negotiations and afterwards,
especially in Philip’s case, until it was seen that the plan had failed.
It is true that the famished heart of Mary grew to love her husband for
his own sake as time went on; but she loved him first and best because he
personified the force that was to make England Catholic, whilst she to
him meant the influence that was to enable him and his House to wield the
power of England against their enemy.
After the ceremony, the King and Queen walked in procession through an
immense crowd to the Bishop’s palace, where in the great hall was laid
the wedding banquet. All the courtly ceremony of saluting the royal
dishes as they were brought in, the genuflexions to the throne, the
trumpeting of minstrels, and the symbolic functions of the great officers
of State, aroused the admiration of the form-loving Spaniards; but their
hearts were raging with jealousy during the progress of the feast, for
their wounded pride did not fail to notice that Mary took precedence of
her husband everywhere, that she had a more stately seat, and that while
she ate off gold plate he was served on silver. They comforted themselves
with the idea that all this would be changed when the King had been
crowned; but that their Prince, the Emperor’s son and heir, should take
a second place to any one on earth filled them with anger, for they had
already begun to realise that they were not to enter into possession of
England as they had hoped. The richness and abundance they saw around
them made their disappointment the more bitter. Such a show of plate
on tables and sideboards as this they had never seen before.[57] All
the platters and dishes were of silver, and great buffets loaded with
plate stood at both ends of the great hall. The sideboard behind the
high table, at which Philip and Mary sat, with Gardiner far off at the
end, had upon it a hundred great pieces, “with a great gilt clock half
as high as a man, and a marble fountain with a rim of gold.” Before the
King and Queen stood Lords Pembroke and Strange with sword and mace;
the four services of thirty dishes each, far too much for the 158 noble
guests, were borne in to the sound of minstrelsy; and after the feast the
Earl of Arundel presented the ewer of water for the King’s hands, whilst
the Marquis of Winchester bore the napkin. The only Spaniard allowed to
serve the King was the Duke of Infantado’s son, Don Iñigo de Mendoza, as
cupbearer: “as for any of the Prince’s own stewards doing anything, such
a thing was never thought of, and not one of us took a wand in our own
hands, nor does it seem likely we ever shall, not even the controller.
They had far better turn us all out as vagabonds.”[58]
After the Queen had pledged her guests in a cup of wine, and a herald had
proclaimed Philip’s new style as King of England, France, Naples, and
Jerusalem, Prince of Spain, and Count of Flanders, the royal pair retired
to another chamber, accompanied by the English and Spanish nobles, where
the afternoon was passed in gallant conversation, though apparently with
some difficulty to the Spaniards, who were desirous of showing their
gallantry to the English ladies. “We had great trouble in making out
their meaning, except those who spoke Latin; so we have all resolved not
to give them any presents of gloves until we can understand them. The
gentlemen who speak the language are mostly very glad to find that we
Spaniards cannot do so.”
At the ball that wound up the entertainments, the same difficulty arising
from diverse customs stood in the way of intercourse, for the Spanish and
English dances were different, and the courtiers of the two nations could
not hit upon a common formula until Philip led his wife out to tread a
measure in the German fashion, which was known to both.
With every day that passed the discontent and jealousy grew. Philip
himself was charming, treating his wife in lover-like fashion, and full
of tactful affability to the English people. But the more conciliatory
Philip showed himself, the more his Spanish courtiers chafed. They
had found their position in England entirely different from what they
had expected; and their hopes of easily dominating the country were
fading rapidly. The men-at-arms and the bodyguard were still confined
to their ships at Portsmouth and Southampton, forbidden to land under
pain of death, and were becoming restive; the courtiers themselves and
their servants were ridiculed in the streets of Winchester, and even
waylaid and robbed if they ventured into the country; and yet they dared
not complain. “After this weary voyage these people wish to subject
us to some extent to their laws; for it is a new thing for them to
have Spaniards in the country, and they wish to feel secure.”[59] “We
Spaniards are miserable here, much worse than in Castile; and some say
that they would rather be in the barest stubble field of Toledo than
here in the groves of Amadis.” Another courtier writing from Winchester
says, “Great rogues infest the roads, and have robbed some of us, amongst
others, the chamberlain of Don Juan Pacheco, from whom they took 400
crowns and all his jewelry and plate. No trace can be found of the
property, nor of the four or five boxes missing from the King’s lodging;
though the Council is scouring the country for it. As for the friars,
they have had to be lodged in the college for their safety, and they
bitterly repent having come.”
It was difficult to please proud, disappointed people who were ready to
disapprove of everything; and when the Duchess of Alba came, three days
after the marriage, to join her husband, though Mary treated her with
almost royal honours, the haughty dame and her kin were in a chronic
state of indignation at the position she was obliged to occupy. An
amusing account of her first visit to Mary on the third day after the
wedding[60] does not suggest any lack of ceremony, though the lodgings
assigned to her may not have been so sumptuous as she thought fit. The
Duchess was conducted to the Bishop’s palace by the Countesses of
Pembroke and Kildare and the Earl of Bedford, and the Queen advanced
almost to the door of the presence chamber to meet her. The Duchess
knelt, and the Queen, failing in her efforts to raise her, courtesied
almost as low, and kissed her upon the mouth, which she usually did only
to those of the blood royal. She then led the Duchess to the daïs, and
seated herself upon the floor, inviting her guest to do likewise. But
the latter refused to sit on the floor until the Queen sat upon a chair.
This the Queen would not do, but sent for two stools as a compromise,
upon one of which she sat and invited the Duchess to take the other,
instead of which the Duchess then sat upon the floor, whereupon the
Queen left her stool and also sat upon the floor; and after an almost
interminable friendly wrangle, both ladies settled down on the stools,
their conversation being interpreted by the Marquis de las Navas, as
Mary, although she understood Spanish, did not speak it. When the Earl of
Derby was presented to the Duchess, she was horrified at his offering to
salute her in the usual English fashion by kissing her lips, and she drew
back from him in hot indignation, though hardly in time to avoid contact.
But as the lady haughtily expatiated to her own people afterwards upon
the uncouth fashion, she declared that the Earl had only just managed to
reach her cheek.
By the last day of July most of the English gentry had gone home for
the present, the Spaniards being distributed about Winchester and
Southampton, whilst the troops were only awaiting a fair wind to carry
them to Flanders. With a comparatively small suite the Queen and King set
forth on the 31st July for Basing House, fifteen miles away, the seat of
Lord Winchester, the Lord Treasurer, and so by short stages to Reading,
Windsor, and Richmond, where they remained until the 17th August. In the
meanwhile the impatience of the Spaniards at their position in England
grew intolerable, and the Duke of Medina-Celi, the premier noble, and
of royal descent, was the first to insist upon immediate release with
permission to join the Emperor in Flanders. Within a few days eighty
other hidalgos had demanded similar licence, and by the time Richmond
was reached the only Spanish nobles in attendance upon Philip were Alba,
Feria, Olivares, Pedro de Cordova, and three gentlemen, amongst whom was
the indefatigable letter-writer, Pedro Enriquez, whose narrative of the
events is so expressive of the lack of community between the two peoples.
Not only were the manners of the English ladies and their dresses
unbecoming in Spanish eyes, and the English food coarsely excessive, but
the political institutions of the country appeared to them, used as they
were to the absolute monarchy of Castile, to be almost Republican in
their hard limitation of the power of the Sovereign.
“Their Majesties” (writes Pedro Enriquez from Richmond) “are the happiest
married couple in the world, and are more in love with each other
than I can write here. The King never leaves her, and on the road he
rides by her side, helping her to mount and dismount. They sometimes
dine together in public, and on Feast days he accompanies her to Mass.
Although the Queen is not at all beautiful, for she is little, and thin
rather than stout, she is very red and white. She has no eyebrows,
she is a perfect saint, but she dresses very badly. The ladies here
all wear farthingales of coloured cloth, without silk, their outer
garments being of coloured damask, satin, or velvet, but very badly
made. Some of them wear velvet shoes, but most of them kid. They wear
black stockings, and even show their legs, some of them up to the knees,
at least whilst they are riding, for their skirts are not long enough.
They look quite indelicate when they are travelling thus, and even when
they are seated. They are not at all beautiful, nor are they graceful in
dancing, which with them consists simply of prancing and trotting.[61]
None of the Spanish gentlemen are in love with them or think anything
of them, nor they of the Spaniards. They are not worth troubling about,
or feasting much, or spending money upon, which is a good thing for the
Spaniards. All the rejoicing here consists of eating and drinking. The
Queen spends in food 300,000 ducats a year. The whole of the Lords of
the Council—thirteen of them—feed in the palace, as do the Officers of
State, the Lord Steward, the Lord Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse,
and the King’s English household with all their wives. The ladies and
their servants and the households of all the courtiers and two hundred
guards all live in the palace as well. Each officer has a cook to look
after his food in the Queen’s kitchens. There are eighteen kitchens, and
there is such a hurly-burly in them that each one is a veritable hell.
So that, notwithstanding the greatness of these palaces, ... and the
smallest of the four we have seen has more rooms and better ones than
the _Alcazar_ of Madrid, the crowds in them are so great as to be hardly
contained.... The ordinary consumption in the palace every day is from
eighty to a hundred sheep, with a dozen fat oxen and dozen and a half of
calves, besides vast quantities of game, poultry, venison, wild boar, and
rabbits; whilst, as for the beer, they drink more in the summer than the
river would hold in Valladolid. The ladies and some of the gentlemen put
sugar into their wine. The noise and bustle in the palace are dreadful.
And notwithstanding the vast number of rooms, they have never given to
the Duchess of Alba a chamber in the palace. They are the most ungrateful
people ever seen. Not even in the villages where we stay—and each one has
a village—do they give to the Duke and Duchess a house to themselves, or
the best one. They have fine trouble over their lodgings, as if it were
not enough to prevent them from serving in their offices without housing
them badly.”
Already the courtiers saw that the chance of Philip being allowed to
dominate England in consequence of his marriage was a slender one, but
the King himself, in his patient, prudent way, persevered. His personal
influence over his wife grew stronger every day, and when later she
gave him hopes of the birth of an heir, a new prospect for the future
seemed to open to him. The Londoners were as yet still almost in a panic
at the coming of the Spanish King, and the most exaggerated ideas with
regard to the number of armed men he would bring with him prevailed,
artfully fostered by Noailles and the Protestant party. On the eve of the
state entry of the royal pair into London the appearance of affairs was
unpromising enough, as may be seen by Pedro Enriquez’s letter dated on
the 17th August.
“The English cannot bear the sight of the Spaniards: they would rather
see the devil. They rob us, even in the towns, and on the road none of
us dare to stray for a couple of miles for fear of being robbed. A body
of Englishmen on one occasion plundered and beat no less than fifty
Spaniards. The Councillors know all about it, but they shut their eyes.
The number of thieves in the country is quite incredible. They go about
sometimes twenty together. There is neither justice nor fear of God....
For us there is no justice at all. The King commands us to raise no
questions, but whilst we are here to put up with everything and suffer
all their spite without a word. So, of course, they treat us badly and
despise us. When we have complained to Bribiesca (the magistrate) and to
the ambassadors, they tell us that it is to his Majesty’s interest that
we should overlook everything. This marriage will have been of small use
if this Queen does not have a child, of which I am not at all sure. When
we were in Castile they said that as soon as his Highness was King of
England we should be masters of France. The opposite is the case, for the
French are now stronger and more aggressive than ever in Flanders....
Kings in this country do not command more than if they were subjects. The
real rulers are the Councillors, who are not only masters of the country
but masters of the King as well. They are all lords, some enriched by the
plunder of the monasteries, some by inheritance, but they are much more
feared and reverenced than the Sovereign. They say now that they will not
let his Highness go unless the Queen and they please, as this realm is
quite big enough for a King without any others. Seeing what they are, I
should not wonder if they do it, ... for they know how hard pressed we
are in Flanders and are glad of it; ... they would not care a farthing
if Flanders were lost, and his Majesty with it. The King and Queen enter
London to-morrow, and I am sure we ought not to do so, seeing the way
they are treating the Spaniards already there. Not only do they not
provide lodgings for them, insulting them as if they were savages, but
they rob them in the inns. As for the friars who came with his Majesty,
they had better have stayed at home, for these English are so wicked and
godless that they even maltreat friars, and these dare not leave their
lodgings. Don Pedro de Cordova and his nephew, Don Antonio, are knights,
and the people wanted to strip them of their habits the other day, making
fun of them and asking them why they wore those crosses on their coats.”
On the day that this was written Philip and Mary and their Court in
state barges rowed from Richmond to Southwark, where they landed at the
Bishop of Winchester’s house, and after killing a fat buck in Southwark
Park, slept at the palace which stood upon the site of the present
London Bridge Station, in order to start betimes in the morning of the
next day across London Bridge, and so through the capital to Whitehall.
All the fifty gibbets in the streets upon which Wyatt’s men had hanged
were cleared away; the heads of the noble malefactors on the spikes at
the Bridge-foot were no longer to be seen. All that paint and gilt and
pageantry and pleasant looks could do to make the dour Londoners think
well of the Queen’s Consort was done. Gog and Magog in new suits stood
at the drawbridge that spanned the space from London Bridge end to the
Southwark shore. Triumphs stood at the street corners, one of the first,
that in Gracechurch Street, containing the maladroit statue of Henry
VIII. with the Bible labelled _Verbum Dei_ in his hand, that so much
moved Bishop Gardiner’s wrath.[62] Past kneeling aldermen and velvet-clad
guildsmen, and with a great train of splendid courtiers, Philip and his
English wife rode through the silent crowds, whilst the guns of the
White Tower thundered what was at the same time a salute to the King
and a warning to the people. The official greetings were, as usual,
extravagantly fulsome. That borne by Gog and Magog is thus translated—
“O Noble Prince, sole hope of Cæsar’s side,
By God appointed all the world to guide,
Right harteley welcome art thou to our land.
The archer Britayne yieldeth thee her hand;
And noble England openeth her bosom
Of hartie affection for to bid thee welcome:
But chiefly London doth her love vouchsafe,
Rejoicing that her Philip has come safe.
She seeith her citizens love thee on each side
And trusts they shall be happy of such a guide,
And al do thinke that thou art sent to their citie
By th’ only means of God’s paternal pitie,
So that their minde, voice, study, power and will,
Is only set to love thee, Philip, still”—[63]
and from Gracechurch to Whitehall tributes in Latin verse even more
eulogistic than this greeted the man whose very presence the great mass
of the people had been taught to dread. All the Philips that ever lived
were dwarfed, he was told, by such a paragon of excellence as himself;
Orpheus had not such power to move as by his eloquence could this
reticent, mumbling Philip, who spoke but little of any language but his
own.
“In like case now, thy grace of speech so franke,
Doth comfort us whose minds afore were bleak
And therefore England giveth thee harty thanke
Whose chiefest joy is to hear thee Philip speke.”[64]
Mary herself could see no evil in her husband, and we are told that she
was highly gratified at all this dithyrambic praise of him. As they
dismounted at Whitehall Gate, and she led him, all smiles, into the great
presence chamber, Mary and Philip seemed to onlookers an ideally happy
couple, notwithstanding the difference in their ages. Ruy Gomez, writing
on the 24th August to Eraso in Spain, says: “The King entertains the
Queen excellently, and well knows how to pass over what is not attractive
in her for the sensibility of the flesh. He keeps her so pleased that
verily when they were together the other day alone she almost made love
to him and he answered in the same fashion. As for these gentlemen
(_i.e._, the English nobles), his behaviour towards them is such that
they themselves confess that they never yet had a King in England who so
soon won the hearts of all men.”[65]
Philip, indeed, had by his tact and amiability already begun to break
down the hatred and distrust that had heralded his approach. At the
period of the state entry into London, a diarist writing in the Tower
of London no doubt only reflected the general feeling of apprehension
when he wrote: “At this time there were so many Spaniards in London;
that a man should have met in the street for one Englishman about four
Spaniards, to the great discomfort of the English nation. The Halls
(_i.e._, of the City companies) taken up for the Spaniards.”[66] In
actual fact the number of Spanish servants and followers left to Philip
at the time was very few—less than a dozen noblemen with their respective
households, probably not more than two or three hundred people at
most; and as time wore on, and it was seen that no attempt was made by
Philip and his countrymen to interfere with the English, the influence
of the King personally being recognised as invariably on the side of
conciliation, a more equable frame of mind became general. News had come
that the Emperor and his son had detained Cardinal Pole on the way to
England, and had vetoed the extreme Papal policy with which he had at
first been entrusted; and it was seen also that Mary herself, as well as
her husband, assumed a desire to avoid drawing England into hostility
with France, which was the great fear of the English people.
Noailles had not been bidden to the marriage, and had only been coldly
and tardily invited to the state entry, which invitation he refused.
But on the 21st August, whilst the Queen was at Whitehall, the French
ambassador could hardly avoid offering some form of congratulation, for
it was of the highest importance that England should not be driven to
espouse the Emperor’s war. Noailles was as grudging as possible in his
felicitations, dryly commenting upon the fact that he had not been asked
to the wedding, but hoped that it would not interfere with the friendship
between England and France. Mary was most emphatic in her assurance that
the peace would never be broken on her side, and as the ambassador left
the Queen’s presence, somewhat reassured, he turned to Bishop Gardiner,
who was conducting him, and said that if there was no objection he would
like to salute Philip also. The Bishop was delighted, and conducted
Noailles at once to the King, to whom the ambassador expressed a hope
that the peace which had existed so long between England and France would
not be imperilled by the coming of a Spanish Consort to England. He,
for his part, would do his best to prevent any rupture. Philip called
Gardiner to him and, speaking in Latin, told him to reply to Noailles,
that although he understood French he did not speak it. “He had sworn,”
he said, “both before and after his arrival in England, to maintain all
the friendships and alliances existing between this and other countries,
and he would keep his word faithfully. For his part the peace should not
be broken so long it served the interests of England.”[67]
Noailles partly suspected what to us now is clear, namely, that all this
suavity and tolerance on the part of the Prince of the proudest nation
on earth was only a part of the deep-laid plan of the Emperor to obtain
for his son the full control of English policy that the marriage treaty
had withheld from him. Mary probably suspected this as little as any one.
Her position was extremely difficult. She was by this time really in
love with her husband, and was deeply desirous of pleasing him; she was
anxious for the aggrandisement of Spain, which would mean, she thought,
the triumph of the Church over heresy in Europe, and the consolidation
of her own throne. But she knew that her people dreaded above all things
being dragged into a war with their nearest neighbour in a quarrel which
did not concern them: she was an English Queen determined, so far as
in her lay, to govern for the benefit of her country, and to her the
only road to safety seemed to strive her hardest to bring about a peace
between the two antagonists before England was involved in the war. Pole
had also been entrusted by the Pope with the mission of pacifying the
Emperor and Henry II., and was as earnest in his efforts to do so as was
Mary herself. From Brussels, where he had been kept chafing impotently,
he had gone to Paris on his mission of peace, but the French arms were
on the whole in the ascendant at the time, and he returned to Flanders
unsuccessful.[68]
These efforts of Mary, Pole, and Gardiner, to reconcile France and Spain,
received no active help from Philip and his father. The object of the
Emperor was to cripple France by the aid of England, not to patch up
another temporary peace with her, and the whole tendency of the Imperial
policy was to obtain complete control over England as the first step
to this principal object. The Emperor had always used religion when
necessary as an instrument for political ends, and it is not surprising
that the English Catholic Churchmen should regard his present attitude
towards the Catholic party as inconsistent. Gardiner, Pole, Bonner, and
the rest of them, who had never yearned for the Spanish connection,
thought, perhaps correctly, that they could have restored England to
the Church more speedily and safely if they had been unencumbered by
the unpopular marriage. Mary, for whom the question was complicated by
considerations of her personal maintenance upon the throne, thought
otherwise, and wisely the Churchmen had made the best of the position.
But they had no intention, if they could help it, of slackening in their
own purpose, or of allowing the restoration of their faith in England to
be retarded or imperilled for the political interests of the Emperor; and
the harsh action of Bonner particularly, supported as it was by Gardiner,
caused bitter complaints amongst the English people, and something
approaching dismay in the Spanish party of Mary’s Council.
Throughout the home and eastern countries, where Protestantism was
strong, the action of the priests gave rise to constant brawls, the
actors of which were unfortunately not proceeded against by the civil
authorities but by ecclesiastics on the charge of heresy. Philip,
by means of his friends on the Council, did his best to discourage
these tactics, for which he saw he would unjustly have to suffer the
unpopularity. Whilst Philip and his wife were living at Hampton Court, in
September, there was a wild rumour in London that twelve thousand Spanish
troops were on their way to land in England and seize the Crown,[69] and
almost simultaneously people indignantly whispered that the Archbishopric
of Canterbury was to be given to a Spanish friar. The most extravagant
false news, too, was current that many leading noblemen and Councillors
had been proclaimed traitors, amongst them Pembroke, Shrewsbury,
Westmorland; that Dr. Petre had been dismissed from the Council; that the
Marquis of Winchester had been forced to give Basing House to the Queen;
that the King and Queen, in violation of the ordinary English traditions,
had become inaccessible to the lieges;[70] and much else of the same
sort, evidently designed to keep up the irritation against the Spanish
Consort, who, for his part, was using every means to ingratiate himself
with his poor faded wife[71] and her suspicious subjects.
It is obvious that, so far as religion alone was concerned, the great
majority of English people would have been ready without demur to
accept Catholicism again if it had come without the foreign mark upon
it, and the moderative policy of the Emperor was dictated solely by the
political aim of conciliating the minority, who it was thought would
be most strongly opposed to Spanish influence. For this the Churchmen
cared nothing, whilst the Protestants and French party, instead of
being conciliated by the King’s attitude, naturally seized upon the
ecclesiastical prosecutions, which he deprecated, still further to
discredit him. Pole in the meanwhile was growing restive. He was a man
of high and unselfish aims, a true Catholic as well as a true Englishman,
and he resented his exclusion from his own country at the bidding of a
foreign potentate after his long exile for the cause of his faith. His
letters of exhortation to Mary and to Philip are throughout inspired by
the Churchman’s zeal, and not infrequently by scorn of the opportunist
policy which was, in his view, hampering the prompt and complete return
of his country to the Church.[72]
Almost from Mary’s accession Cardinal Pole had been held back from his
mission by the action of the Emperor, thanks mainly to the complaisancy
of the new Pope Julius III. The great difficulty was the question of
the restitution of the Church property which had been confiscated in
the previous reigns. There were few noble courtly families in England
which had not indeed been enriched from this source; and the Emperor
expressed his opinion to Pole that the English people cared neither
for one form of faith or the other, so long as they could keep their
property.[73] “Pole,” said the Venetian ambassador at Brussels, “might
beg for permission to go to England for ten thousand years without avail,
unless he went with the briefs confirming the alienation of the Church
properties: for if the Church insists upon reclaiming them disorder will
prevail throughout the country.”
At last the Cardinal had to accept the inevitable, not without some
bitterness of heart,[74] and steps were taken in the Parliament, which
met at Westminster early in November, to reverse the act of attainder
against him. His coming was regarded in some sense by the country as
that of a restraining force upon the dreaded Spanish influence in the
English Councils. He was known to be single-minded in his attachment
both to the Church and to England. He was not ambitious, and had nothing
to gain by serving as a tool for anti-English forces, whilst his rank,
his ability, and his good repute promised that his authority would be
great, even if necessary, against the foreign King-Consort. On the 5th
November, 1554, a deputation was despatched by Mary, consisting of Lords
Paget and Hastings and Sir William Cecil, to invite Pole to England, not
ostensibly as Legate, but as Cardinal and ambassador, on condition that
the Pope would consent to the present owners of the ecclesiastical lands
being left unmolested. Renard had already been sent over to Flanders to
persuade Pole of the need for this proviso, and had returned successful.
The Cardinal was ready, and rejoiced greatly when Sir John Mason, the
English ambassador, told him the news; though, “Marry, quoth he, you know
I am at this present, as it were, in another’s ward [keeping].—I must
depart when it please the Emperor, who is not at all times to be spoken
withal. I have already one sent to M. d’Arras (_i.e._, Granvelle) to be
my mean to have access to his Majesty to take my leave.... Marry, the
truth is that they have had as yet no news out of England of the Queen’s
determination.”[75] Mason assured the Cardinal that it was all settled
and that the embassy named had been despatched to fetch him.
This news Mason also carried to the Emperor, who was better and brighter
than he had been for years, for he knew that Pole would now go only to
carry out his policy, so far as regarded restitution, and he was already
full of hope that a child was to be born to Philip and Mary. That,
indeed, would be to fix the hand of Spain upon England for at least long
enough for his great purpose to be effected. In answer to an inquiry
as to the Queen’s state, somewhat too coarsely worded to be quoted
verbatim here, Mason was able on this occasion to inform the Emperor
that: “I understand to my great joy and comfort that her garments wax
very strait.” “I never doubted, quoth the Emperor, of the matter; but
that God, who had for her wrought so many miracles, could make the same
perfect by assisting nature to His good and most desired work. And I
warrant it shall be, quoth he, a man child. Be it man or woman, quoth I,
welcome shall it be: for by that shall we come to some certainty, to whom
God shall appoint by succession the government of our State.... Doubt
not, quoth he, God will provide both with fruit and otherwise: so as I
trust to see yet that realm to return to a great piece of that surety and
estimation that I have seen it in my time.”[76] Here, indeed, the wish
was father to the thought. For some weeks past it had been whispered at
Hampton Court that the Queen was with child, though Mary herself refused
to confirm it or otherwise; but to the Spanish party such a fact was
all-important, and the Emperor’s jubilation was heart-felt. Noailles,
on the other hand, scoffed incredulously at what he asserted was only a
conspiracy to cheat the English people into giving Philip greater power
and importance in the country, and he quotes as an instance of the way in
which the hope was regarded by English people, a scurrilous placard on
the subject which, he says, was nailed to the door of Whitehall Palace.
Cardinal Pole, already ailing and elderly, was carried in his litter
with great ecclesiastical state from Brussels to Calais, and crossed the
Channel as soon as news reached him that the Parliament at Westminster
had reversed his attainder. Travelling by road, as usual, from Dover
to Gravesend, he found awaiting him at the latter port King Philip’s
own state barge to convey him to Westminster. On his way to London,
on Saturday, 24th November, he was met by all the English Catholic
Bishops and the Lords of the Council in their barges, and then, leading
the imposing procession with uplifted crosier before him, the English
Cardinal, in his rochet, tippet, and scarlet hat, passed up the London
river to the palace of his royal ancestors.
King Philip was at dinner at Whitehall when news came to him that the
Cardinal’s barge had shot the dangerous rapids formed by the narrow
arches of London Bridge. Rising from the table at once the King descended
to the landing-stage of the Palace as the state barge was approaching
it. With uncovered head and respectful mien Philip greeted the great
English Churchman with more honour than he might have shown to any
sovereign prince, leading him on his right hand through the alleys and
galleries to the entrance to the hall, where at the head of the stairs
stood Queen Mary. Making a profound obeisance to the huge uplifted cross
which preceded her husband and Pole, she advanced to meet them, Pole
kneeling at her approach. Curtseying low and kissing her kinsman the
Queen assisted him to rise, and then between him and her husband she led
the way to the canopy, where for half an hour in polyglot converse, for
Pole had lost some of his English, and Philip knew little Italian, Mary
must have been for once in her life happy.[77]
Nothing could exceed the honour shown by the Sovereigns to Pole, for it
was Philip’s policy to win him over entirely to his side, and Mary was
overjoyed at the prospect of the full reconciliation of her country with
the Papacy on conditions that seemed to promise general harmony. The
people, too, who knew Pole’s history, welcomed him warmly. He, like Mary
herself, had been unjustly used, and his family judicially murdered; he
was virtuous, upright, and honest,[78] and above all, in the eyes of the
populace, he represented an English force strong enough to champion the
cause of his countrymen, if needs be, against the Spanish faction. Pole
was lodged at Lambeth Palace, from which the unhappy Cranmer had been
sent to the Tower, and on the day of the Cardinal’s arrival in London,
Mary offered him the primacy, an offer which Pole for the moment put
aside until, as he said, he had done his errand as papal ambassador.
For the next three days Pole and the Sovereigns were closeted for hours
together settling the preliminaries for the formal return of England to
the papal fold, and Philip himself on one occasion, breaking through all
the traditions of his house, crossed alone to Lambeth and remained with
Pole for the entire afternoon.
[Illustration: CARDINAL REGINALD POLE, PAPAL LEGATE AND ARCHBISHOP OF
CANTERBURY
AFTER A PAINTING BY SEBASTIANO DEL PIOMBO]
At length, on Wednesday, 28th November, all was ready, and in the great
hall of the Palace the assembled Lords and Commons were gathered in the
presence of the Queen and King to receive the Pope’s representative.
Outside the people were still saying—to the horror of the Spanish
listeners—that the Pope was only a man, after all, and could do no more
than other men[79]; but here, in Mary’s Parliament, no inharmonious note
was sounded, as the Lord Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, rose and introduced
the Cardinal as the messenger from the Apostolic Pontiff. Pole, speaking
from the second stage of the daïs just beyond the canopy, begged in
Latin permission of the Queen to address the assembly in English; which
granted, he spoke first feelingly of his long unjust exile and the
persecution of his House, his attachment to the land of his birth through
all his trouble, and then he launched into an eloquent appeal for the
reunion of England to the Church. He praised the Emperor for his sturdy
defence of orthodoxy; but said that for some inscrutable reason God had
not allowed him to achieve his end. “But,” continued Pole, “I can well
compare him [_i.e._, the Emperor] to David, whiche thoughe he were a
manne elected of God, yet for that he was contaminate with bloode and war
could not builde the temple of Jerusalem, but left the finishing thereof
to his son Solomon, which was _Rex pacificus_. So may it be thoughte
that the appeasing of controversies of religion in Christendom is not
appointed to this Emperor but rather to his son who shal perfourme the
building that his father hath begun.”[80]
When the long and moving extempore speech was finished, the Queen desired
Gardiner to express her thanks and congratulations to the Cardinal, and
to desire Parliament to consider deeply his weighty words. On that very
day, as Noailles insisted for the purpose of forwarding Pole’s mission,
official letters were despatched in the Queen’s name ordering that
thanksgiving and rogations should be offered in all the churches for her
pregnancy, now openly acknowledged. Whatever the malicious Frenchman
may have said, it is quite incredible that Mary herself did not believe
the assertion of her condition, nor is it likely that Philip thought
otherwise, seeing the assurances which, even in private letters, he gave
to his father on the subject.[81] The Queen’s subjects, too, rejoiced
exceedingly at the news, for a disputed succession seemed to portend
if Mary died childless. But, in any case, the announcement was most
opportune both for the success of Pole’s mission, and for another mission
to be mentioned presently, which was nearer the Emperor’s heart, and he
had entrusted secretly to Paget when he had gone to Flanders to escort
Pole to England.
On Thursday, 29th November, 1554, during the discussion of the
ecclesiastical question in the House of Lords, the lay peers roundly
blamed the Bishops for all the schism and trouble that had occurred. If
they had not been poltroons, and had refused to humour King Henry in his
repudiation of his wife[82] and his defiance of the Holy See all would
have been well, said the laymen; but recriminations apart, both Lords and
Commons promptly adopted, almost unanimously, a resolution repealing the
acts that separated England from the Papacy, and authorising a commission
of twenty-four members of both Houses to beg the Queen’s approval of the
resolution, and to present to the papal ambassador the submission of the
nation to the head of the universal Church, begging for absolution and
readmittance to the fold. The next day, St. Andrew’s Day, 30th November,
the formal ceremony was held in the Palace of Whitehall. That morning
Philip had gone to Mass at Westminster Abbey in state with 100 German,
100 Spanish, and English guards, all in new uniforms, 50 Flemish archers,
and 150 smartly-clad pages, as if to mark the occasion as one of special
significance, and at five o’clock in the afternoon the Cardinal in his
pontifical vestments rowed across from Lambeth, the King receiving him at
the foot of the Palace stairs. In the presence chamber the Commissioners
of Parliament presented their petition to the Sovereigns through Lord
Chancellor Gardiner. Then the King and Queen rose, and crossing to
the Cardinal’s chair, in attitude of supplication asked him as the
Pope’s ambassador to receive the submission of England; after which
the Sovereigns, having returned to their thrones, Pole’s powers from
the Pope were read, and the Cardinal in an English discourse heartily
welcomed the strayed sheep into the fold again.[83] Kneeling, the whole
assembly received absolution and the apostolic blessing, and England was
recognised as a Catholic country again.
To spectators of the scene, and especially to Spaniards, this seemed to
be an occurrence which for importance surpassed all others of the time.
Spain burst out into uncontrollable rejoicing, and Philip, the man who
his countrymen thought had performed this miracle by God’s mercy, was
more revered than ever. Now indeed, with the almost certainty of a son to
be born and to succeed as King of a Catholic England in close union with
Spain, the Frenchmen must rest content with a secondary place and the
House of Burgundy-Habsburg must lead. This view, to some extent, was one
that it suited Philip himself to promote in England, and he left no stone
unturned to impress upon his wife’s subjects the profound significance of
the formal reconciliation of the country to the Papacy; a power which,
when it had suited his father and himself, they had flouted again and
again, and which, within a year under the new Pope, Paul IV., was to
denounce them both with invective more bitter than was applied to the
worst of heretics.
On the 2nd December, in great state, Philip rode along Fleet Street and
up Ludgate Hill to St. Paul’s, accompanied by the whole Court. From
Lambeth Pole had gone by water to Paul’s Wharf, and thence in procession
with crosses, banners, and censers to the Cathedral, where he awaited
the King’s coming with the Lord Mayor and Corporation of London. Side by
side the King and Cardinal, with a glittering train, passed up the nave
and out at the east end to St. Paul’s Cross, where, we are told, “with
all the Lords of the Council and with such an audience of people as was
never seen in that place before,”[84] fiery Gardiner preached a sermon
upon the words of St. Paul, “Brethren, know ye, that it is time we arose
from slumber”; in which he exhorted his hearers to shake off the evil
dream of the past and salute the new dawn. But not exhortation alone
occupied Gardiner’s oration, for he hinted that all the ruin and misery
that England had suffered, “all the abominable heresies, synistrate and
erroneous opinions, tumults and insurrections,” were owing to the “lack
of restraint” that had permitted such evils without due punishment. For,
once more into the hands of the priests, the rod had been delivered,
and Gardiner had no mind that it should lie idle. The famous sermon was
a threat to England, and the people who had spoken lightly of the Pope
for the last twenty years looked askance not only at the Churchman who
threatened, but at King Philip, whose furthest thought it was for the
moment to light the fires of religious persecution in the country, the
enmity and suspicion of which he was striving to lull to rest.
We are told by Philip’s watchful gentleman-in-waiting that he enjoyed
his dinner well after Gardiner’s sermon, but the gentleman-in-waiting
saw the surface only. Philip was glad to have England back again
within the fold, though that was not the end, but the means for him.
Two days afterwards the long-delayed Spanish cane tourney, perhaps the
only one ever held in England, was celebrated with great pomp in the
tiltyard at Whitehall. For many weeks the bands of Spanish horsemen had
been rehearsing the mimic battle, in which opposing forces dressed in
splendid uniforms prance and caracol to within a few yards of each other
at full speed, and then, launching cane javelins at their antagonists,
wheel suddenly away. The Queen and her ladies were dressed in cloth of
gold with solid sheet-gold coifs, all at the King’s expense, and the
Queen must have been a blaze of magnificence in her rich brocade, her
overgarment of crimson velvet lined with fur, and her dress covered
entirely with precious stones and sheet gold spangles. Twelve thousand
people, we are told, looked on, as band after band of Spaniards pranced
into the arena, some in white velvet and gold, some in blue and silver,
some in black and gold; and a great ball and supper wound up the
entertainment.
Three weeks later, the visit of Philip’s heroic young cousin, Emmanuel
Philibert of Savoy, was an occasion for further festivities of the
same sort, although the occasion of his coming was in itself far from
a festive one. The Prince was in command of the Emperor’s army, but in
the clash of great empires he feared that his own smaller interests were
going to the wall, as indeed they were. The war had prevented him from
accepting the invitation to Philip’s wedding; but in September, 1554, he
had sent an embassy headed by Count Langosco to London to pray Philip to
intercede with the Emperor for him. Much of his paternal territory was
occupied by the French; he had no money even to pay the garrisons of
Nice and the other fortresses that remained to him, and he foresaw the
possibility that when France and the Emperor made peace Savoy might be
left in the hands of the former. Philip was amiable but indefinite in his
reception of Savoy’s embassy in London. A commission was sent to invest
the Duke with the Order of the Garter, and kind assurances of regard were
exchanged, but Savoy wanted more than that, and when his troops were in
winter quarters he managed with difficulty to raise enough money to run
over personally, in the last days of the year 1554, to see his cousin
Philip and his English wife for the purpose of urging his own suit. It
is usually assumed that the primary object of his visit was to offer his
hand to Princess Elizabeth, but such was not the case.[85] His handsome
presence and the fame of his military exploits made him an attractive
guest at Mary’s Court, and both the King and Queen were very favourably
impressed by him, Philip, indeed, to a great extent acceding to the
demands that brought him to London.
The idea of his marriage with Elizabeth appears first to have come
from some of his Piedmontese subjects, naturally anxious that the
succession to his ancient throne should be secured. Writing from
London in September, 1554, one of his ambassadors says that if he were
authorised to do so, he would propose the match to King Philip. In any
case, some communication seemed to have passed between Philip and the
Savoy ambassadors on the subject, and when Emmanuel Philibert arrived
in London early in January, the question was further discussed. It was
a match that would have suited Philip admirably, and he was prompt to
adopt the idea. Emmanuel Philibert himself was in no mood for wooing, for
the French had just captured another of his fortresses, Ivrea, and it
seemed to him politic to keep himself free to marry a French princess,
if necessary, as the price of his restoration to his domains. Nor were
the obstacles in England to his marriage with Elizabeth slight. To begin
with, the Queen was opposed to her sister’s marriage at all without
the consent of Parliament, which would certainly refuse to authorise a
foreign match for the Princess, and especially to a dispossessed Prince
under the influence of the Emperor. Nor did the Queen wish to give to
Elizabeth the additional importance and power which would accrue to
her from her marriage with a sovereign. Philip, if we are to believe
Michaeli, was somewhat afraid of his wife, and did not dare to press
her too far in the matter “as she had a terrible and obstinate temper.”
To the King’s Confessor, therefore, was entrusted the task of winning
over Mary. After much trouble he persuaded her so far as to get her to
promise to speak to the King about it the next evening. This she did
not do, and it was believed that Pole had in the interval dissuaded
her. The opposition from Elizabeth was even more decided. She was quite
resolved, she said, neither to marry nor to leave England. On the part of
Savoy also the terms proposed by Philip were held to be quite out of the
question, including as they did the cession to Spain of the fortresses
of Nice and Villafranca, in case any children were born to Emmanuel
Philibert and Elizabeth. It will be seen, therefore, that at this time
the match was never probable, and though Savoy was lodged in Elizabeth’s
palace, Somerset House in the Strand, the Princess herself was not
even brought from her seclusion at Woodstock to see him.[86] Emmanuel
Philibert, impatient to be gone, left England, though not empty-handed,
to resume his turbulent career after a three weeks’ stay.
Philip had to a great extent overcome the personal unpopularity which
at his first coming he had to face; but the fear of the people that,
sooner or later, England would be dragged by the Imperialists into
war with France was stronger than ever, and the Spanish followers of
the King got on no better than before with the English. One of the
gentlemen-in-waiting writes at this time, “We are in a pleasant land, but
amongst the worst people in the world, at least of Christian nations,
for these English people are terrible enemies of Spain. It is easy to
see that by the many serious quarrels that take place between us and
them. Hardly a day passes without a slashing match in the Palace between
Englishmen and Spaniards, and many have been killed on both sides. Only
last week, in consequence of a fight, they hanged three Englishmen and a
Spaniard, and every day something of the sort happens.... We Spaniards
go about amongst these English people like fools, for they are such
barbarians that they do not understand what we say, nor we them. They
will not crown our Prince, although he is a King now, nor will they
acknowledge him as their superior. They say that he only came to help to
rule the country and to beget a child, and that as soon as the Queen has
children he can go back to Spain. God send that it may be soon, for he
would be glad enough, and we infinitely more so, to get away from such
barbarous folk.”[87] To add to the tribulation of these disappointed
courtiers, they found prices in England ten times higher than those they
were used to, and they were almost ruined by their necessary expenses,
besides being robbed, even of their cloaks, if they ventured out after
dark in London.
To their chagrin, too, they saw great sums of Spanish money, sorely
needed, they knew, for the Emperor’s wars, being squandered upon English
purposes. Gresham had been allowed by the Emperor to borrow for Mary
and export from Spain £100,000, an enormous sum in those days, and
one which, Gresham wrote, was terribly wanted in the country itself.
“I am not abell,” he wrote, “with my pen to set forthe unto you the
greate scarsity that is now through all Spayne....” And he adds later,
“I fere that I shall be the occasione they shuld all play bankrupt,”
since one great bank had already suspended payment in consequence of
his operations.[88] Apart from this, Philip’s own guard carried through
London to the Tower 97 chests of silver, estimated to contain £50,000
for his own expenditure,[89] whilst Eraso brought 250,000 crowns to
England in January, 1555, and the gentleman-in-waiting says that not only
had the King guaranteed a debt of the Queen’s of 250,000 ducats, but he
had distributed in bribes and pensions to the Councillors and courtiers
30,000 ducats a year.
At length, with all these blandishments and preparations, the Emperor and
Philip thought after the submission of Parliament to the Pope, that the
time had come when they might endeavour to reap the harvest. Paget, in
his interview with the Emperor in Brussels, had been urged to represent
to his colleagues on the English Council that the co-operation of their
country in his war against the French would be of immense benefit to
Christendom, and in a long memorandum sent by Renard to Philip during
the session of Parliament, he discussed the various pretexts upon which
a war between England and France might be precipitated. But Bonner’s
harsh and violent persecution disturbed men’s minds. A great conspiracy
was discovered in the Eastern Counties in which some of the Councillors
were suspected of being implicated, the main object being the marriage
and elevation to the throne of Courtenay and Elizabeth; and although
Parliament passed an Act recognising Philip as guardian of his expected
heir in case of the Queen’s death, his own wish to be appointed Regent in
the event of her death without children, and his present recognition and
coronation as King, were seen to be unrealisable in the state of public
feeling, and Parliament was dissolved on the 16th January Still less was
it possible to urge seriously that England should declare war against
France, and, thanks to the efforts of Mary and Pole, another attempt was
made to bring about peace by means of a Congress meeting at Calais.
So far from going to war for the Spaniards, the people, indeed, were
increasingly inclined to war against them. King Philip’s countrymen,
moreover, were far from sharing or even understanding his tolerant
affability in the face of the unjust suspicion and insults to which they
were daily subjected. Affrays between them and the Londoners were more
frequent than ever, and although the hanging and mutilation of offenders
against the peace, English and Spanish, was frequent, and Philip himself
threatened dire punishment to any of his suite who drew a knife or shared
in a brawl, the national hatred was so strong that no penalties could
stop the disorders. In February, 1555, Renard wrote to the Emperor in an
alarming strain. He prayed most earnestly to be allowed to return home
when King Philip went to Flanders, which he then intended to do in a
few weeks. He was certain, he said, that he (Renard) would be murdered
the moment the King’s back was turned. The heretics were cursing him
for having been the cause of bringing the Papists back to England, the
French party were vowing vengeance against him for introducing the hated
Spaniards to domineer over free Englishmen, the Earl of Arundel had
sworn to be avenged upon him for frustrating his plan to marry his son
to Princess Elizabeth, and the Duke of Northumberland’s sons had already
hired four assassins to kill him.[90]
In vain Philip urged moderation in the prosecution of heresy, and one
of his chaplains, Alfonso de Castro, publicly in an outspoken sermon
denounced the burning of heretics as opposed to the true spirit of
Christ. But Bonner and Gardiner pursued their stern way, and most of the
odium of their proceedings fell upon the King and his countrymen. The
Queen, herself in a fool’s paradise of hope and joy, thought of nothing
but the coming glory of maternity. The country itself was awaiting the
event as one that was to decide, so far as could be seen, its future
fate. Ominous mutterings of the fell bonfires that had already begun in
Smithfield were common enough, and the factions in the Eastern Counties
were as active as ever beneath the surface, notwithstanding their
ruthless suppression. The English exiles in France were being made much
of in the Court of Henry II., and loaded with favours, whilst Noailles
in London kept in close touch with the elements of discontent at home.
In the circumstances Philip’s intention to obey his father’s summons to
Flanders soon after the dissolution of Parliament had to be postponed, at
least until the expected confinement of the Queen in April had cleared
the air and settled men’s minds.
In the meanwhile Philip continued to do his best to maintain his
popularity, counselling prudence to the zealous bishops, lavishing
money on courtiers, interceding gently for Elizabeth and Courtenay, and
taking active part in the showy military exercises which the English
loved, but which for him had no attraction.[91] In March, Courtenay
from his prison at Fotheringham wrote to Philip, saying that, as by the
King’s intercession with the Queen so many persons had been released, he
prayed for his mediation in his favour, very submissively beseeching his
protection and that he would deign to accept his service. This happened
at the very time that the new conspiracy was discovered, but Courtenay
was almost as dangerous in an English prison as free, and, thanks to
Pole’s support of Philip’s efforts, and on the understanding that he
would accompany the English embassy to Flanders and Rome, Courtenay was
summoned to Court and graciously received by the Queen and her husband.
Much more important, and doubtless intended to be so by Philip, was his
successful intercession for Elizabeth. The Princess, as we have seen,
was not brought to London to receive the visit of her would-be suitor,
the Duke of Savoy, in January; for her own resistance to the match, and
Mary’s reluctance to restore her fully in blood, which would have been
necessary if her marriage with Savoy was to serve Spanish ends, had
nipped that plan in the bud. But now, in April, to the great delight and
surprise of the people, the Queen’s sister was summoned with graciousness
from her seclusion at Woodstock to the Palace of Whitehall. Michaeli,
who was a keen observer, attributes her release and presence at Court
before the expected confinement of the Queen to the fear of the Spanish
party that in case of Mary’s death “the King’s safety would depend more
upon her than upon any other person; not only from his hope of being
able, with the help of the nobles here whom he has gained by rewards, to
succeed to the Kingdom by marrying her, it being not improbable that she
herself will incline that way, as she knows his behaviour and character;
but even should she and the country refuse this, yet by her presence, she
being in his power, he would be able to secure himself against any rising
against him and his followers, and they might by her means get away
safely.”[92]
Elizabeth came very quietly to Hampton Court late in April, and was
lodged in the apartment which the Duke of Alba had recently vacated.
It is evident that her presence was desired by Philip more for his own
security than for the sake of the Princess, as she only saw her sister
and Philip in strict privacy on two or three occasions. Whilst in this
close seclusion Elizabeth had at least one long private interview with
Philip alone at the Queen’s request, his object evidently being to induce
the Princess to confess her fault and throw herself upon her sister’s
clemency. But Elizabeth was wary and would not commit herself. When a few
weeks afterwards Gardiner on his knees urged the same advice upon her,
she replied that she had not offended and asked no mercy of any one. A
week later the Queen herself tried her hand upon her recalcitrant sister.
She had not seen her since she sent her to the Tower two years before,
and when the unexpected summons to the presence came to Elizabeth late
at night the young Princess gave herself up for lost. “Pray for me,” she
said to her attendants as she left the apartment, “for I know not whether
you will ever see me more.” Across the dark garden Elizabeth was led
between Sir Henry Bedingfield and Mistress Clarencius to the foot of a
small back staircase to the Queen’s rooms. Leaving her attendant outside,
the Princess was conducted by Clarencius alone to the Queen’s presence
in the bedchamber. Kneeling, Elizabeth besought her sister to believe in
her loyalty in spite of calumnies. “You will not confess your offence,
but stand stoutly in your truth?” asked Mary sternly. “I pray God it
may so fall out.” “If it doth not,” replied the Princess, “I request
neither favour nor pardon at your Majesty’s hand.” The Queen drily
suggested that her sister would probably say that she had been unjustly
punished, but Elizabeth deftly turned the point by a fervent reiteration
of her dutifulness and loyalty, and Mary, apparently somewhat mollified,
dismissed her sister not unamiably.
Foxe, who describes the scene,[93] says that it was believed that Philip
listened behind the arras to what passed at the interview, and “that
he showed himself a very friend in that matter.” Certain it is that on
several occasions after Elizabeth had succeeded to the throne he claimed
her gratitude or consideration for having on one occasion rescued her
from grave peril, and it is probable that this may have been the occasion
referred to. There were many reasons beyond the temporary one already
mentioned that explain Philip’s solicitude for Elizabeth’s life. Failing
Elizabeth, and any possible issue of the Queen, the next heir to the
English throne by natural law was the young Queen of Scots, practically
a French princess married to the heir of France. Better a thousand times
for Philip and his House that England should be ruled even by a heretic
friendly to him than by the staunchest Catholic under the control of
the hereditary enemy of the House of Habsburg. It must have been clear
to him, moreover, by this time that the Reformation in England had not
been crushed by Mary’s advent, and that a large proportion of the people
regarded France as a more desirable friend than Spain. Nor could he shut
his eyes to Elizabeth’s popularity, and to the fact that the enemies of
his faith and his House looked to the young Princess as their head. So
sagacious a politician would naturally endeavour to gain the goodwill,
even the disposal in marriage, of a person so potentially powerful as his
young sister-in-law, who, in any case, was likely to outlive his wife,
and might if well handled perpetuate the hold of Spain upon England, now
depending upon so tenuous a thread.
On the 30th April there came flying to London from Hampton Court the
news that the nation’s prayers had been heard, and that at midnight of
the 29th a male child had been born to the Queen, happily and well.
Proclamation was made, joy bells rang, all business was suspended, and
processions from every church perambulated the parishes with psalms
of thanksgiving for so signal a mercy. Public tables were spread that
all might freely eat and drink their fill, whilst bonfires blazed in
broad daylight, and the people forgot for a moment the grim spectre of
persecution that might be perpetuated if the news was true. But it was
not true, and the sad disillusionment came whilst yet the rejoicings were
in full swing. It was, said the Catholics, an invention of the enemy
in order to cause trouble; but though this was possible, for Noailles
had never ceased to sneer at the assurance of the Queen’s condition,
the open and ostentatious preparations for the event that had been
made at Court were of themselves sufficient reason for the rumour of
the birth. The occurrence naturally distressed Mary, who kept her room
thereafter for a time, and at once a flood of scurrilous literature
was surreptitiously circulated in London, calumniating the Queen, her
husband, and all their friends.[94]
All through May the country stood on tiptoe of expectation for the birth
of the prince whose coming meant so much apparently for the future of
Christendom. Mary, still deceiving herself, was comforted by the sight
of new-born babies brought to her whose mothers were, it was said, as
old and as thin as she. Philip’s solicitude, too, knew no bounds. Every
demonstration of affection was lavished upon his wife, and nothing was
allowed to stand in the way of his anticipated joy. Although in deep
mourning for his grandmother, Jane the Crazy, he ordered that the moment
his expected son was born all signs of mourning were to be abandoned.
His father was summoning him incessantly, and he was yearning furiously
to get away, but he could not leave his wife whilst this event was still
pending. At last, at the end of May, he gave permission for most of his
Spanish suite and his guards to cross the Channel in advance of him. It
was indeed time; for only a week before a regular pitched battle between
five hundred armed Englishmen and a body of Spaniards took place at
Hampton Court, many being killed and wounded on both sides;[95] and the
fires of Smithfield were blazing freely now, to the almost open anger of
the people, who unjustly cast all the blame upon the Spanish influence at
Court.
There were other things, too, which made it expedient for Philip to
hurry to his father’s side. The Venetian ambassador went to see him at
Richmond at the beginning of June, and on their way to chapel together
Philip told Michaeli that he had that moment received news from Brussels
that Cardinal Caraffa had been elected Pope. The ambassador noticed that
the King was disturbed and unquiet at the news, as well he might be,
for the Neapolitan, Caraffa, was the bitterest foe of Spain alive; and
this meant that the peace which was being so painfully negotiated at
Calais would be frustrated, or in any case be of short duration; for in
future the Spanish champion of orthodoxy would have not only to contend
against the “eldest son of the Church,” but against the head of the
Church himself,[96] making common cause, “not only with France, but with
the Turk, and if need be with the devil himself,” to dwarf the Spanish
power in Italy and the Mediterranean. But, urgent though Philip’s
presence elsewhere might be, it was more urgent still in England until
safety came with the birth of his hoped for child. Writing in June to
the Emperor, Renard says that everything hangs upon the happy issue of
that event. He continues: “The doctors and ladies were two months out of
their reckoning, and there is now no appearance of the affair happening
for another ten days. If, by God’s mercy, she does well, matters here
will take a better turn; but if not, I foresee trouble, and a great
disturbance, so great, indeed, that the pen cannot express it. For it is
certain that they have managed so ill with regard to the succession, that
if anything untoward happens Lady Elizabeth will have the preference,
heresy will take a new life and religion be overturned. She being French
in her leanings, the nation will decline, the ecclesiastics will be
persecuted, and revenge will be more rife than ever. I am not at all
sure that the King and Court will be safe from the people, and the final
tragedy will be calamitous. It is incredible to what extent this delay in
the birth affords to the partisans of Elizabeth ground for the spread of
false rumours. Some say the Queen is not pregnant at all, and that if a
fitting child had been found there would not have been so much delay.”[97]
In this critical condition affairs remained for many weeks longer,
the Queen obstinately refusing to give up her hope, which her women
and physicians had already pronounced delusive. Hampton Court was
overcrowded by gossiping courtiers; but none were allowed to see the
Queen except a few of her favourite ladies, and the whole of the routine
work of the Sovereign was done by Philip. All this was, of course, known
by the expectant people in London, who saw daily church processions for
the Queen’s safe delivery month after month, until anxiety began to give
place to ridicule. Sometimes rumours ran that the Queen was dead, and
that the fact was being kept secret by Philip in order that he might work
his will in England. Religious feeling grew more bitter than ever, with
Bonner’s ruthless persecution on the one hand and fanatic sacrilege on
the other. To make matters worse, the summer was the most inclement and
the harvest the scantiest that had been seen in England for years, and
discontent was everywhere. At length, after another disappointment in
July, even poor, forlorn Mary herself was convinced that she had been
mistaken, and early in August she dismissed the crowds of hangers-on from
their attendance at Court and moved with a smaller following to Oatlands,
where she gradually resumed her ordinary routine again.[98]
Orders were given for the processions and rogations of the Church to be
discontinued, and Philip was now faced with the fact that the splendid
plot of his father to capture the control of England by marriage had
practically failed, for Mary’s health was evidently bad, and her life
promised to be a short one. With it would end the hold of Philip over
England unless the Queen’s successor could be lured into the Spanish net.
Little knew the Spaniards yet what a wily bird it was that they hoped
to snare. But in the meanwhile it behoved Philip to make the most of his
opportunities whilst his wife lived. He could delay his departure no
longer, for his father was peremptory now, and the urgent need for his
presence in England had passed. He was as imperturbable as ever, still an
attentive and apparently an affectionate husband to the Queen, though his
gallantries to other ladies began to be talked about somewhat openly. If
the Queen were of a jealous disposition, wrote the Venetian ambassador,
she would indeed be unhappy; to which the reply may be made that she
was jealous and she was unhappy. Even now, on the very eve of Philip’s
departure, she strove ardently to keep him by her side, or at least to
extract a pledge from him that he would return to her within a month, a
promise which at last he gave, though to his own Spanish confidants he
said that if once he set foot in Spain again, he would never leave it on
so poor an occasion.[99]
By the 20th August it became impossible to hide any longer Philip’s
approximate departure. Every day fresh parties of Spanish courtiers
and attendants were starting on the road from Gravesend to Dover, and
the rumour spread in London that, in order to get away quietly, and
so escape the notice of the French, the King intended to go down the
river in Lord Arundel’s barge and embark at Dover secretly. The news
was untrue, for Philip and Mary went openly through London to Greenwich
to make preparations for the voyage; though it was jealously noted by
the people that, although Elizabeth was now at Court and on good terms
with the Queen, she was sent to Greenwich by water, it was said in
order that the people might not see and cheer her.[100] Mary was full
of grief and inconsolable at losing her husband even for a month, and
Philip, ostensibly full of solicitude, specially confided the care of
her to Pole. Orders were given that the minutes of all the Privy Council
meetings, translated into Latin, were to be sent to the King during his
absence, and that no important resolution was to be adopted without his
approval. Gardiner was already dying of jaundice and dropsy, and in no
case would have been trusted by Philip; but Pole was wise and amiable,
and it was hoped would prove a pliable instrument for Spanish ends,
advocated as they would be by the Councillors already bribed in the
Emperor’s interest.
On the 26th August Philip and his wife left Hampton Court by water for
Westminster, where they dined; and in the afternoon, with great and
unaccustomed state, rode through London to Greenwich Palace. It had been
generally believed at one time, and the fear still lingered, that Mary
was really dead, and it was thought necessary on this occasion that
all London should have an opportunity of seeing her. At the head of
the cavalcade rode Philip with the Cardinal on his left hand, followed
closely by the Queen in an open litter. But the French ambassador, who
saw the procession, sneered at the distrust shown by Philip of the
Londoners, for around him there were a hundred of his archers of the
guard, armed to the teeth, with their morrions on their heads and their
lances raised.[101] The joy of the people at seeing the Queen again was
great, for she was still popular personally, though murmurs there were
for the absence of Elizabeth. Three days afterwards, on the 29th August,
1555, Philip tore himself away from his reluctant spouse. Mastering her
grief in public by a great effort, but with tear-reddened eyes and drawn,
pallid face, the Queen led her husband composedly through the long suites
of rooms of the Palace of Greenwich; though when the members of Philip’s
Spanish household who remained behind came one by one, and, kneeling,
kissed his hand, Mary for a time failed to control her agitation: and
she sobbed convulsively when the English ladies of the Court, copiously
weeping, were kissed farewell in English fashion by the gallant young
king. With a last embrace Mary’s husband left her to enter the barge,
whilst she retired to her own apartment, where, leaning upon the sill
of an open window, and thinking herself unobserved, she gave way to her
sorrow unconstrained, whilst she watched the boat speed down the river,
bearing away all she loved on earth.
Philip played his part admirably to the last. Standing on the most
conspicuous spot of the barge, he continued to raise his hat and waft
affectionate salutations to the royal watcher at the window, until a
bend in the river shut from his sight the Palace of Greenwich and its
mistress. The bitterest disappointment must have been his. France was as
far from being subdued as ever, the Emperor was weary of the struggle,
old and sick at heart, and yearning to cast his burden upon his son.
Peace was absolutely necessary at almost any terms that the French would
grant, for it was now clear that England would not, even if she were
able, throw her resources into another’s war at the bidding of the King
Consort. But Philip showed no sign of defeat. Like a courteous high-bred
gentleman, smiling and debonair, he bade a fond farewell for a month to
his faded wife, whom, if he could have his way, he wished never more to
see.[102]
CHAPTER IV
1555-1558
Religious persecution in England—Philip’s attempts to restrain
it—His efforts to keep control of English policy—Elizabeth
comes to Court—Return of Philip to England—French intrigues—The
English drawn into the war—St. Quentin—Loss of Calais—Penury
of the English treasury—Illness and death of Mary—Feria’s
approaches to Elizabeth
Renard had been right in his prediction. The moment that the restraining
presence of Philip was removed from England the ecclesiastics carried
things with a higher hand than ever.[103] Not only did the fires to burn
heretics increase in number, but proposals were made in the Council
to resume possession for the Church of the alienated first-fruits and
tithes, as well as the benefices in lay hands. The minutes of the
discussion were sent to Philip in Flanders with the report of the
publication of the Bull confirming the possession by private people of
the confiscated monastery and Church lands. To the latter Philip gives
his readiest acquiescence; but for the proposal to restore the dues
to the possession of the Church he has nothing but doubt and evasion.
The question, he says, should be maturely discussed by eight selected
Councillors, who should report to him before anything decisive is done,
and he warns them that in the forthcoming Parliament nothing must be
proposed without his prior consent. So, also, in the matter of the
English Navy. The Council reported to him that the ships were mostly
unseaworthy and should be brought into the Thames for repair, whilst
the few good vessels should be reinforced and stationed between Dover
and Calais. There was nothing that Philip needed more than that the
French should be held in check in the Channel, and he is emphatic in his
endorsement of the Council’s suggestion. “England’s chief defence depends
upon its Navy being always ready to defend the realm against invasion,
so that it is right that the ships should not only be fit for sea but
instantly available.... The vessels ought to be stationed at Portsmouth,
where they can much more easily be brought into service.” That Philip had
his own interests in mind quite as much as those of England in the matter
is seen by what follows. “The King is the more inclined to this course,
as the Emperor has decided to sail for Spain about the end of October ...
and has expressed a wish that twelve or fourteen English ships should
escort him beyond Ushant. This makes the King more anxious that these
ships should be ready and in excellent order; so that, besides other
necessary uses, they may go upon this service, which will be especially
grateful to his Highness.”[104]
Mary, it will be seen, counted for nothing. The sole object in view was
Philip’s interests, and, although decently cloaked with his usual bland
professions of his desire to serve England, everything he did at this
time was directed to using the country for his ends whilst his wife
lived. After that he would have to deal with a new state of affairs.
Another instance of the postponement of English interests for his
benefit is seen in the delay in summoning Parliament until after he had
left England. The sole object of the session was to raise money. Mary’s
Government was in the deepest penury. Extravagance, corruption, and
demoralisation existed everywhere in the administration; but pressing as
was the need for funds, Philip could not face the certain unpopularity
that would have fallen upon him if the demand for large taxation before
his departure had given a pretext to the suspicious English for the
belief that the money was being raised for him.
In great state Mary, with Pole by her side, proceeded from St. James’s
Palace in a sort of throne-litter on the 21st October, 1555, to open
Parliament at Westminster, and Gardiner as Lord Chancellor, now a dying
man, appealed in the Queen’s name for liberal supplies to conduct the
business of the nation. It was his last effort, and though Parliament
voted a million crowns, to be paid in two years, the Chancellor took
no further share in public business, dying three weeks after at
Whitehall, whither he was carried from the Parliament Chamber. The
death of Gardiner was an irreparable loss to Mary. The man had many
faults; he was arrogant, unscrupulous, and violent, but he was a bold
and experienced statesman, who kept his shifty, greedy colleagues in
something approaching subjection; and he was determined to prevent, if
he could, either of the great Continental rivals from obtaining control
of English policy for their ends. He had opposed the Spanish match as
long as opposition might have prevented it; but when it was effected
he minimised its disadvantages and never allowed either the Queen or
Philip to subordinate English interests to those of others. He was as
unpopular with the French faction as he was with the Spanish, and his
death left the greedy cliques of Councillors, of whom Paget was the
most active and corrupt, most of them bribed by one or both rivals, to
wrangle uncontrolled in the interests of their paymasters or their own,
with little thought for England. Pole had lost touch of English politics,
for he was, to all intents and purposes, an Italian ecclesiastic, with
a first thought for his papal mission. He lived in the Palace during
Philip’s absence, and every day solemnly prayed with Mary for the King’s
safe return; but he had refused to act as leading political Councillor,
and was only consulted, as the Queen was, on subjects of high importance
or upon which the Councillors differed. He, like the Queen, undoubtedly
meant well by England; but, like her also, his views were exalted and
unpractical, and thenceforward there was little restraining power upon
the Council, except such as could be exerted by Philip, far away in
Flanders and overwhelmed with his own affairs.
Philip had found his father in the last stage of mental and physical
depression, and soon after the son arrived from England, on the 25th
October, 1555, Charles V., in one of the most dramatic scenes in
history, surrendered to him the sovereignty of the land of his birth, his
beloved Flanders. This was soon followed by the abandonment of the rest
of his crowns; and Philip, in January, 1556, found himself monarch of all
the vast inheritance of Burgundy and Spain, whilst his uncle Ferdinand
took the exalted but powerless crown of the Empire. Almost simultaneously
with Philip’s accession to the Spanish Crown the Emperor, desirous above
all things of leaving his son at peace, brought the long-drawn peace
negotiations to an end by signing a five years’ truce at Vaucelles with
his rival, France. England was thus for a short time relieved from the
dread of being drawn into the war to please the King Consort.
In the meanwhile, Mary had been fretting and pining for her absent
husband. He had promised her faithfully to return in a month, but that,
of course, was out of the question. Stories came to her, also, that he
was enjoying himself there with ladies younger than herself, not wisely
but too well for the faithful spouse of so saintly a wife. “This has
so much upset her that in conversation with one of her most intimate
friends she said that if it should so happen that the King never came
back, notwithstanding all her efforts to recall him, she must put up
with living the rest of her life without the company of a man, as she
had done before her marriage, and with such patience as she could. This
gives food for the reflection that in order to persuade him to return
the sooner she will make incredible efforts in this Parliament in his
favour.”[105] Philip’s revenge for his enforced good behaviour in
England, indeed, almost alarmed the Emperor. For the only time in his
life the King Consort now became dissipated, carrying on vulgar intrigues
and scouring the streets of Brussels in disguise in search of adventure.
News came to Mary that he had fallen ill, though there was nothing
the matter with him but the effects of too much gaiety, and a special
English courier sent by the anxious Queen to learn the truth with regard
to his health was received by Philip in Brussels in December, 1555.
The King sent reassuring news to his wife with affectionate greetings,
and a faithful promise to go over to England at once, and the English
messenger, overjoyed at the good tidings he bore, promised the Spanish
courtiers that he would not damp the Queen’s delight by telling her of
her husband’s high jinks, “as she was so easily upset, and was so anxious
about him that it would afflict her too much.” For a few days after she
got Philip’s message Mary lived in a heaven of anticipation, but, alas!
orders came anon that the King’s Spanish household in England was to
make ready to depart, and this cast her into despair, for she believed
it portended Philip’s own return to Spain. The English people, unlike
their Queen, were rejoiced at the departure of the Spaniards, and as they
went on their way to Dover followed them with reviling and insults, for
Philip’s new dignity had in no way increased the popularity of himself
and his countrymen in Spain, because it was feared that when the war
broke out again with France, as it evidently soon would, his position
as King Consort of England and Sovereign of Flanders would make it
impossible for the English to keep out of the conflict.
One of Mary’s baits to draw Philip back to her was to persuade her
Council to consent to his coronation in England. From the first both
Philip and his father had laid great stress upon this, but the successive
English Parliaments, and even the English Council, had vetoed it. Now
that the strongest man who opposed it was dead, Philip urged his wife to
press the proposal again, certain that she would do so, if possible, in
order to bring him to London, if for no other reason; but Mary had to
face for the first time a Parliament of some spirit and independence,
consisting largely of gentry, and she wrote to her husband saying that
she did not dare to propose his coronation yet, as so many disaffected
members had been returned. Noailles was busy inciting opposition in
Parliament, and he noted with glee that now that the King had gone people
spoke more freely about him than ever. Another demand was repeated by
Philip to his wife, namely, that she should join him in the war with
France.[106] Mary, through an envoy of Cardinal Pole, was obliged to
tell her husband that she was surrounded by people whom she could not
trust, that the nation was already unquiet, if not disaffected, and that
any attempt to draw England into the war at present might cost her her
crown. But she ended with another earnest prayer that he would return
to her, and all might then be well. Once more Philip promised to come
immediately, and the English fleet was made ready to receive him at
Calais; but the truce of Vaucelles, already mentioned, for the next few
months made Philip’s need less pressing, and he came not.
Gradually the centre of interest in English politics was changing from
Mary to her sister Elizabeth. Notwithstanding the Queen’s continued
assertion of hope that she yet might become a mother if Philip would
return to England again, every one but the deluded lady herself had now
abandoned such a hope. By the will of Henry VIII., which Mary did not
dare to alter, Elizabeth was the next heir. The Princess was idolised by
the people, and although she was to all appearance a devout Catholic,
the Reform party and the friends of France looked towards her as their
leader. Paget was more than suspected of intriguing in her favour, for he
was now receiving French pay; her kinsman, Lord William Howard, treated
her, to Mary’s anger, almost as a queen already; and other Councillors,
uncertain of the future, were unblushingly hedging in her favour. When
Philip left England he specially commended the Princess to the kindness
of the Queen; and according to Noailles, his chamberlain in England, Don
Diego de Geneda, with the other Spanish courtiers, paid marked attention
to her, visiting her in her apartments at Greenwich during her stay there
every day. Geneda appears, indeed, to have secretly offered to Elizabeth
Philip’s ten-year-old son as a husband, but the Princess again took
refuge behind her impenetrable reserve. She was determined, she said,
neither to marry nor to leave the country.[107]
The Spanish attempts to win Elizabeth were watched closely by Noailles,
as were the suspected intentions of the Queen in her disfavour whilst
Parliament was sitting. Mary, as we have seen, however, found the newly
elected Commons so stout and outspoken that she was afraid to advance
any of her dearly cherished designs to them, and hastened to dissolve
them in December, clapping some of the bolder members into prison for
speaking too freely. The group of English exiles still in France were
continuing to demand fresh help to aid their disaffected brothers in
England, and in the circumstances it is not surprising that Noailles and
his master should consider the juncture a favourable one for making a
clean sweep of Mary and the Spanish interest in England. Courtenay, in
Italy, was secretly warned to hold himself in readiness, but this was
only a matter of precaution, for poor Courtenay was in the hands of the
enemy and already a dead force. The principal card by which Noailles
hoped to win the game for France was Elizabeth, now living quietly
and devoutly at Hatfield, surrounded by servants upon whom she could
depend. Through a French agent named Bertheville Noailles approached a
number of disaffected gentlemen, several of them members of the late
Parliament, from Devonshire; and Sir Henry Dudley, Sir Anthony Kingston,
Sir William Peckham, Ashton, Daniel, the two Tremaynes, and others,
agreed to proclaim Elizabeth, expel or otherwise dispose of Mary, marry
the new Queen to Courtenay, and free the country finally from the Spanish
nightmare. The aid of France was, of course, a necessary condition
of success; but when the moment for action came Henry II. had just
signed the truce of Vaucelles, and he counselled prudence and a waiting
policy, knowing that the blow might be more effectually dealt when the
inevitable war recommenced. That Elizabeth was at least cognisant that
something was afoot is evident from Montmorenci’s letter to Noailles
of 7th February, 1556 (Ambassades, vol. v.), in which he says: “And,
above all, prevent Madam Elizabeth from moving in the slightest degree
to undertake what you say; for if she do it will spoil everything and
prevent the fruition of their designs, which must be deferred until a
good opportunity offers.”
The French Embassy in London became the rallying-point for treason
against Mary; crowds of disaffected Englishmen begged for means of
joining Dudley, who had gone to France, and there with French aid to
organise a descent upon England simultaneous with a rising at Court.
Noailles himself was an eager conspirator, but the French Government
advised delay, and the ambassador was obliged to temporise. The
conspirators were in no mood now for half-measures, for the country
was growing indignant at the religious persecutions and the unfounded
belief that Mary was impoverishing her country by sending out money to
her Spanish husband, and it was determined by the conspirators to act
at once. Sir Anthony Kingston, with the Devonshire men, was to march
to London, raising the country on the way; the Captain of the Isle of
Wight, Uvedale, was to place the island at the disposal of the English
refugees from France, whilst Heneage and other courtiers undertook to
raise London, pillage the treasury, and proclaim Elizabeth Queen. Pole
always distrusted Elizabeth, even in her most submissive and Catholic
moods; and, thanks to a spy, he had already been informed of the whole
plan of the conspirators; whilst Wotton, the English ambassador in
France, had kept the English Council well informed of the movements
and gossip of the English refugees. Just before the time fixed for the
rising, therefore, the hand of the Council came down heavily upon the
conspirators, and by the end of March all the principals found themselves
behind the bars, most of them on the way to the scaffold.
There was no direct evidence of Elizabeth’s guilt—she had taken good care
of that; but Mary and Philip were well aware that she was the person
to supplant them, and they determined, if possible, to remove her from
future temptation. The idea at first was to send her to Flanders or
Spain, with or without her consent; and this probably would have been
done but for the efforts of Pole’s secretary, the Abbé of St. Salut, a
Piedmontese, who had been gained over to the French side, and convinced
the Cardinal of the danger to England of thus handing the heiress to the
Crown to the keeping of Spaniards. As an alternative Mary determined
to search Hatfield House, arrest her sister’s confidential servants,
and place the Princess herself under arrest. Protestant books and
seditious publications against the King and Queen were discovered in a
hiding-place, and some of her household, when pressed in the Tower, gave
evidence seriously implicating Elizabeth herself. Again her fate trembled
in the balance. To carry her to the Tower or to deal with her as a rebel
might precipitate a rising in London, where she was greatly beloved; to
send her to Spain might be to perpetuate the hold of Philip upon the
country, and not even Pole wished for that. So in her perplexity, whilst
guarding Elizabeth straitly, Mary begged her absent husband’s direction.
Philip’s need for England’s co-operation was greater than ever, for he
was faced with a new formidable coalition of France, the Pope, and the
Turk against him, sworn to crush him finally; and he knew that his wife
was failing. To drive Elizabeth into the hands of the French now would
be impolitic, and for him policy was everything. So Mary was enjoined to
treat her sister gently, to release her from arrest, and to assure her
of future favour. Two members of the Council went to Hatfield with the
Queen’s message. Her Majesty did not believe the allegations against her
sister, they said, and so long as the latter was obedient and loyal she
would find that, very far from being distrusted, she would be beloved and
esteemed; and this kind message was sealed by the gift of a costly ring.
But blandishments had no more influence over Elizabeth than threats. She
had begun to realise her power and importance, and declined to play the
game of Spain by going to Court and allowing herself to be cajoled into a
marriage to suit her brother-in-law.
In the meanwhile the English refugees in France, led by Sir Henry
Dudley, were more active than ever, and the reports of the spies with
regard to the intention of Henry II. kept Mary in a state of constant
alarm,[108] for invasion was threatened at a dozen distinct points on
the English coast, and her navy was in a deplorable condition. Some
check was afforded to the intrigues by the premature death of Courtenay
in September, but this rendered more necessary than ever assurance of
Elizabeth to the Spanish party. In response to a peremptory command
Elizabeth was fain at last, in November, 1556, to travel from Hatfield
to London. Attended by two hundred horsemen in her livery, her ride
through the capital to her Palace of Somerset House was like a triumphal
progress. Cheers and blessings resounded on all sides, for she knew
well how to draw the affectionate greeting of the common people: but
what was more surprising was that the courtiers and Councillors, even
Cardinal Pole, who had previously refused even to see her, hastened
to salute her, and on her appearance at her sister’s Court no honour
was considered sufficient for her.[109] What could it mean, asked her
French friends, this sudden favour? and perhaps the Princess herself was
puzzled at first. She had not, however, many days to wait. Philip had
written to Mary and the Council directing them to press urgently the
suit of Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy for Elizabeth’s hand, and Mary left
no effort untried to carry out her husband’s wishes.[110] Letter after
letter came from the King in Flanders expressing his profound interest in
the result, for the new Pope had united the enemies of Spain, Henry II.
had broken the truce of Vaucelles, and, beset on all hands, Philip saw
that unless he could depend upon England even after his wife’s death,
his cause could never prevail. But Elizabeth was as adamant. To all the
arguments and desires of her sister she would only give one reply: she
was determined not to marry.
In vain Mary, losing all patience, stormed and threatened. She would
deprive her of the succession in favour of Mary of Scotland, she would
have her proclaimed a bastard, she would send her to the Tower as a
traitor, and much else of the same sort, said the angry Queen; and
Elizabeth, alarmed at the violence, fell ill. She thought, too, of
seeking safety by flight to France, though from this she was dissuaded
by Noailles. But, ill and frightened though she was, she never wavered
for a moment in her refusal to marry Emmanuel Philibert at the bidding of
her brother-in-law; and after only five days’ stay in London she stolidly
went in disgrace again under guard to Hatfield.[111]
The intemperate violence of the Neapolitan Pope Paul IV. (Caraffa)
against Philip and the Spaniards, and the war which the Pontiff had
precipitated, made it more difficult than ever for Philip to persuade
the English to join him in the fight: for to war against the Papacy
seemed to Mary impious, and Pole, now in the place of the martyred
Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury as well as Papal Legate, strongly
discountenanced any such an attitude on the part of a country only just
reconciled to the Holy See. The Lord Chancellor, Heath, Archbishop of
York, and a devout Catholic, was shocked at the idea of entering into a
war, and above all a war without any provocation, against the apostolic
power; and Philip found now that not only were the common people in
England against his adventure, but the principal advisers of his wife,
and, for the first time, even his wife herself. She was willing, even
eager, to make war upon France; for she had her own grudge against a
Power which harboured her rebels and subsidised all the plots against
her; but to go to war with Henry was now also to oppose Rome, and the
main bone of contention was the Spanish dominion over Italy, which
concerned England not at all. She was, moreover, in the deepest poverty,
for, against Philip’s wish, she had insisted upon restoring to the Church
all the ecclesiastical property in the hands of the Government; and the
country itself was seething with discontent; so that, whatever her own
wishes were, she was perfectly powerless to help Philip as he wished with
men, arms, and ships for his purpose.
Alba, whom Philip had sent from England to represent him in Italy, was no
weakling, and, like his master, though a devout Catholic he looked upon
the Papacy as a mere instrument for Spain’s exaltation, and he promptly
answered Paul’s denunciations by marching in September, 1556, boldly
upon Rome, submitting town after town in the Pope’s dominions. In vain
Paul shrieked anathemas and flung defiance at the hated Spaniards, and
threatened with instant death any one who dared to speak of peace with
them. Guise with the French army hastened to relieve Rome from imminent
capture; and in the hope of delaying matters until he could arrive,
the Pope entered into negotiations with Alba for a forty days’ truce,
leaving the Spaniards in possession of most of the papal fortresses.
Guise and his army soon altered the aspect of affairs, and through the
summer of 1557 Alba and Guise fought out the quarrel of Spain and France
upon Italian papal soil, whilst on the frontiers of Flanders Emmanuel
Philibert was at close grips with Henry II. himself.
Now, if ever, was the time when the English connection might help Philip,
but it was obvious that unless he could exert his personal influence upon
Mary and her Councillors he could not hope to obtain it. So, at length,
in February, 1557, Philip, sorely pressed though he was, announced to
Mary his intention of visiting her again. The Queen’s joy at the news was
pathetic in its intensity, though Pole warned her not to build too much
upon a promise that had been broken so often before. She had been ill and
disconsolate with hope deferred, but the news of Philip’s coming gave her
new life, and she hurried to London from Hampton Court, visiting Pole at
Lambeth on the way, exerting all her influence to win him to her side.
Thenceforward for some weeks, whilst the King’s voyage was pending, the
English Council sat nearly night and day, and couriers hastened backwards
and forwards between London, Brussels, and Paris. The English refugees
in France had treacherously given to Henry II. much information about
the weakness and disaffection in the English fortresses of Calais and
Guisnes; and at the first news of Philip’s fresh visit to England the
French forces around Calais were increased, for it was evident now that
Mary would be dragged into the war, and her most vulnerable point of
attack was Calais.
Philip landed at Dover on the 18th March, 1557, and took horse with all
speed to Gravesend. At Canterbury he alighted to attend service at the
cathedral; but so hurriedly that he did not wait to take off his spurs.
This being against the rule, a young student was bold enough to claim
the forfeit, or fine: and the King smilingly emptied his purse of gold
in the youth’s cap before he rode on his way. Again his habitual haughty
frigidity was changed for the genial _bonhomie_ that he found suited
his purpose best in England. At every stage messengers from the Queen
met him, one of whom galloped back to her immediately with news of his
progress, and on his arrival at Greenwich poor forlorn Mary hailed him
with love unutterable. For two days he remained with her alone, draining,
as he formerly said, the chalice of his sacrifice to the dregs; and then
they passed through London together once more, she borne in a litter,
he riding by her side. His reception was not unfriendly by the people,
whom he tried to gain by his affability and moderation, though the fear
that war might be the result of his visit made them uneasy. So far as
the Councillors were concerned, they were now but feeble folk to stand
against him and the Queen; though Pole, the Pope’s legate, did not even
officially greet one who was in arms against the Papacy, and the Cardinal
departed as quickly as might be to his diocese, so as to be out of the
way whilst Philip was at Court.
But still, bribed though the Council was and however submissive the
Queen, the state of feeling in England was such as to make a declaration
of war against France a dangerous matter. A series of bad harvests, the
depreciation of the coinage, and the enclosure of the commons and parks
had reduced the country to a condition of the utmost misery. Money was
extremely scarce, and the idea of squandering large sums upon a foreign
war drove the distracted Council to despair, though Philip in the course
of many conferences with them urged it incessantly. The Councillors
admitted that, in accordance with the old treaty of 1543 between the
Emperor and Henry VIII.,[112] England might be called upon to provide an
armed contingent if Flanders were attacked by France: but Philip wanted
more than that, and to some extent he was successful, notwithstanding
that Archbishop Heath tearfully protested that the country was quite
unable to meet the necessary expenditure. It was at last arranged that
eight thousand English infantry should be raised for service and one
thousand cavalry, three thousand of the former to reinforce the English
fortresses in France, and the rest to be at Philip’s service for four
months, under the command of Lord Pembroke, Sir Thomas Cheyne, Lord
Bedford, and Lord Grey de Wilton, one-half the cost only to be borne by
England. But there was also a promise on the part of the Council to fit
out and man with six thousand soldiers the English fleet to hold the
Channel against the French. Upon one point the Council was firm: these
forces were simple auxiliaries contributed in accordance with the old
treaty, and must not entail a national war between England and France.
But this arrangement did not suit France better than it did her enemy.
If England was to join Philip in the war, she must be open to counter
attack and reprisals. But if England could strike indirectly so could
France, and by such means a national rupture might be precipitated
which would allow of a French invasion over the Scottish border and
the siege of the English fortresses in France. So again the English
Protestant exiles in France were feasted and made much of by Henry II.
They were a turbulent lot of young gallants whose brawls and adventures
had scandalised the French Court: but now they suddenly assumed a new
importance. Thomas Stafford, the nephew of Cardinal Pole, a cadet of his
family with no valid claims whatever, was the most hairbrained of the
crew, and took it into his head to pose as the rightful pretender to the
English Crown. Henry could not openly countenance such a pretension, but
Stafford was allowed to recruit men for his attempt. Frenchmen, Scots,
and discontented English, a motley rabble of lawless adventurers, flocked
to his standard at Rouen, in ignorance of their exact destination.
Sailing in two well-armed ships from Dieppe, he suddenly descended
upon Scarborough. Affairs were in so critical a condition in England
that anything might have happened, and Wotton, the English ambassador
in France, believed that if Thomas Stafford once secured a footing in
England he might draw to him all the discontented element, to Mary’s
undoing. Stafford, however, was not of the stuff from which successful
pretenders are made. He seized Scarborough Castle in April, whilst
Philip was still in England, and at once announced that he came to claim
the Crown and deliver the country from the yoke of the Spaniards, who
intended to rule it by force. But in a day or two the Catholic Earl of
Westmorland with his militia took him by surprise and Thomas Stafford’s
bubble burst before it was well inflated, greatly to Noailles’ scorn and
annoyance. The retribution for treason came swiftly, and before a month
was out the heads of the principal rebels had fallen on the block on
Tower Hill. But a gust of indignation passed over England at the attempt,
prompted as it had been by the French, and suddenly the idea of war with
France, the enemy of the Queen, became popular. Henry II. did his best
to explain away his complicity;[113] but Mary, transported with rage,
dismissed Noailles, and Philip was delighted to find that England was now
ready to join him nationally in a war against France.
On the 6th June heralds in London proclaimed hostilities, and Philip
for the first time, even at this eleventh hour, saw some return for the
sacrifice he had made in marrying the Queen of England. He hated war, and
his methods were essentially peaceful and diplomatic; but he knew that
his best chance of securing a durable peace was to exert his utmost power
whilst his control of English resources lasted, which it was evident
could not be very long, for the Queen’s declining health was plain now to
every one but herself, though she clung still tenaciously to her pathetic
dream of happy maternity. Satisfied with the results of his mission,
Philip rode on the 1st July, 1557, from Gravesend through Canterbury to
Dover. Mary would not leave him whilst he remained on English soil, and,
weak and ailing but happy with her new fallacious hope, she was carried
in a litter by her husband’s side to the coast. On the 3rd July she bade
him a last farewell, as he stepped upon the barge that was to carry him
to the waiting galleon, and then, with sorrow and satisfaction mingled,
she turned her back upon the sea and was carried to her desolate palace
at Greenwich.
The gentry of England, at all events, were ready to welcome the war with
France that gave them the taste of warlike adventure which they loved,
and the contingent to fight in Flanders was soon made ready, whilst the
Lord Admiral with his fleet of twenty-three ships held the Channel.
Philip’s General-in-Chief was his young cousin Emmanuel Philibert of
Savoy, who had an army of fifty thousand men under him ready for the
autumn campaign; whilst the French on the Flemish frontier, under
Constable Montmorenci, numbered less than half that strength, for the
flower of the French troops were under Guise in Italy, with difficulty
defending the Pope from the great Duke of Alba, and Emmanuel Philibert
opened his campaign as soon as the English arrived. By a series of rapid
and unexpected movements, which entirely misled the French, he suddenly
concentrated his attack upon the rich and important city of St. Quintin,
weakly garrisoned and in poor condition of defence. Montmorenci hurried
with his main army to relieve the fortress, and on the 10th August was
cleverly outflanked by Emmanuel Philibert; caught in a trap between a
stronger enemy and a morass, the French were utterly routed with a loss
of half their numbers, Montmorenci himself being captured, and the whole
force dispersed. Coligny with his tiny garrison in St. Quintin heroically
held out for a fortnight longer; but from the day of Montmorenci’s
defeat there was no force to prevent Philip from marching upon Paris and
crushing his enemy for good.[114] This was his chance, and he missed
it, as he did every great opportunity in his long life by that “prudent”
leaden foot of his which always lagged when it should have hastened. In
vain Savoy begged his permission to march on, and was refused, to the
indignant surprise of the old Emperor when he heard of it in his cloister
at Yuste.
Philip had been at Cambrai on the day of the battle, but when he saw
the awful sack and sacrilege after the surrender of St. Quintin he was
horrified at the sight. Te Deums were chanted, votive offerings of
unheard of richness were promised,[115] joy bells were rung in Flanders,
Spain, and England for the great victory; but Philip’s host moved no
further onward towards Paris. The German Schwartzreiters, mercenary
troops in Philip’s service, unpaid ruffians, held high revel in the
ruined town, burning and ravaging unchecked. The Earl of Bedford, writing
to Sir William Cecil from St. Quintin a few days after the surrender,
says that these rascals, “being masters of the King’s whole army, used
such force as well to the Spaniards, Italians, and other nations as unto
us, that there were none could enjoy nothing but themselves. They have
now shown such cruelty as the like hath not been seen for greediness.
The town by them was set afire, and a great piece of it burnt. Divers
were burnt in cellars, and were killed immediately; women and children
gave such pitiful cries that it would grieve any Christian heart.”
The Germans, discontented with their loot, quarrelled and deserted in
thousands, for Philip’s fatal deliberation had left them idle; the
English, sulky and unpaid, grumbled incessantly. Bedford reports that
“they are pinched with scarcity and divers have fallen sick”; and,
again, a month later: “Our General is sick of ague, our pay very slack,
and people grudge for want. I trust we shall speedily be discharged.”
The Spaniards asserted that the English had shown no stomach for the
fight before St. Quintin, and certainly they did not shine in it. Their
discontent at last became so pronounced that Philip, realising their
uselessness, and being, as usual, short of money, acceded to their
clamour to be allowed to return home at the end of the stipulated four
months of their service. Much was made of the King’s victory in London.
Mary and Pole congratulated him upon the signal mark of God’s favour.
Bonfires, free feasts, and official rejoicings were provided; but London
wanted to gain no victories for Spaniards, and refused to be glad.
Whilst Philip’s army was melting away in idleness Guise, realising
where the danger lay, quietly abandoned the Pope to the mercy of Alba,
and by forced marches hurried to the Flemish frontier. The intemperate
Pontiff was then obliged to make terms with Alba, who entered Rome, as
a pretended penitent instead of a conqueror, and once more the two
great antagonists were left to fight out their quarrel without papal
interference. Henry II. had long had his eye upon England’s important
foothold on France, the citadel and town of Calais. The English refugees
had exposed to him the weak points in its defence, it had been starved
and neglected both by Edward VI. and Mary; and the younger Noailles on
his way home when Mary had dismissed him, carefully scrutinised the
fortress and reported to the King that it might easily be captured.
Guise, on his hurried return from Italy, directed himself straight
towards the place and beleaguered it, capturing the Rysbank, the island
fort defending the harbour, on the first days of January, 1558. Philip
had long known that Calais was weakly held, and in many of his letters
to the Queen and Council he had urged that it should be effectively
reinforced. On Guise’s approach the King sent his favourite, the Count
de Feria, hurriedly to England to say how desperate the condition now
was with the Rysbank in the hands of Guise; but the preparations for
the voyage of so important a person as Feria took much time, and the
Queen in London learnt of the disaster immediately by a letter from Lord
Wentworth, the Governor of Calais.
Mary, still full of her renewed hope of maternity, which all but herself
knew was piteously fallacious, received the news courageously and set to
work to reinforce the town. Pembroke was ordered to raise five thousand
men and cross at once to Philip’s harbour of Dunkirk, whence Calais might
be reached by land. Unfortunately, the English town of Guisnes, near
Calais, was in as perilous a condition as Calais itself, and Lord Grey de
Wilton, the Commander, found himself, as he says, “clean cut off from
all aid and relief. I have looked for both out of England and Calais,
and know not how to have help by any means, either of men or victuals.
There resteth now none other way for the succour of Calais, but a power
of men out of England or from the King’s Majesty or both.”[116] Alas! the
King’s Majesty himself had now few fit troops to meet Guise’s veterans.
His demoralised army, scattered wide in winter quarters through Flanders,
were difficult to collect rapidly, and Lords Wentworth and Grey de Wilton
in vain sent daily beseeching letters to Philip to come to their aid, as
Guise pressed Calais and Guisnes more closely. Calais particularly was
crowded with traitors and enemies of the Spaniard, anxious to deliver
the place to the French; and, although the English troops repulsed one
attempt to storm the town on the 6th January, it cheerfully surrendered
to the besiegers two days later; and Guisnes fell with but little more
resistance directly afterwards.[117]
The news fell like an aerolite upon the English Queen and nation. The
possession of Calais had been regarded for centuries as the keystone to
England’s commercial prosperity and political importance in Europe, and
the surrender of the last foothold in France seemed a loss irreparable.
That it should have been lost in a war undertaken on behalf of the
Queen’s Spanish Consort, whilst he with a great though scattered force
was in the immediate neighbourhood, added bitterness to the humiliation;
and the Count de Feria, foreseeing the storm of anger that in England
would greet the news, tarried a day or two in Dunkirk rather than
cross the Channel with the sinister tidings. His first mission had
been to induce the English Council to send forces to defend Calais and
Guisnes, but he knew full well that behind this demand there was the
need for English forces again to aid his master in the coming campaign;
so, interpreting his instructions freely, he determined to proceed on
his journey and turn his request into one for troops to recover the
fortresses with the King’s help.
Feria arrived in London on the 26th January, 1558, and to his surprise he
found the people and the Queen quite changed in temper since he had left
them with the King six months before. There was no despondency anywhere
now; for though the blow had been a shrewd one it had aroused the spirit
of the nation. The Queen was like a lioness; for she was fighting now, as
she thought, poor soul, for the inheritance of her unborn offspring; and
she threatened to have the head of any Councillor of hers who dared to
talk of peace with France until she had recovered the towns her ancestors
had held for centuries. She would win them again, she said; her son would
be born, and she and Philip, triumphant and at peace, would live happily.
It was a dream, but it was shared, so far as concerned the recovery of
the English territory in France, by the nation at large, which was now
on its mettle; and clergy, gentry, and merchants opened their coffers,
melted their gold chains, and mortgaged their belongings to provide funds
for avenging English honour and protecting the English soil against the
foreigner.
The moment the news of the peril of Calais had reached Mary she
despatched the Earl of Sussex and her Controller, Sir R. Rochester, to
assure Philip that she would send the forces to defend or recover Calais
without loss of time. When both Calais and Guisnes had been surrendered,
however, it seemed better to Philip to curb somewhat the Queen’s ardour
in the matter. It was too early in the year for him to begin his regular
campaign, and it was obvious that without his powerful co-operation the
English troops alone would be unable to recapture the lost fortresses. So
the first letter written by the King to Feria after the arrival of the
latter in England was couched in the cool, prudent tone so characteristic
of him. The ambassador was to thank the Queen heartily for her goodwill
to send him the troops, even after Calais had been lost, but as his own
territories were not in present danger, “I do not wish the Queen to begin
yet to incur expense, especially as we shall have to spend a great deal
later in attempting to recover the ancient English territory. You will
therefore tell the Queen how highly I appreciate her affectionate regard
for my interests; but as I have now sufficient forces to hold my own I
hope she will countermand the sending of troops, and apply the money to
defending the English coast, which is of the greatest importance.”[118]
Before receiving this letter Feria saw Mary in the Palace of Greenwich on
the day he arrived, 26th January, 1558, and found her, as usual, eager to
serve Philip’s interests. Feria said he only wished that her Councillors
were as willing as she. She would, she said, summon the Council at once
that Feria might discuss matters with them; but as Parliament was sitting
it was Friday, 28th, before Feria and the resident ambassador, Figueroa,
met the Councillors in Cardinal Pole’s room. Feria had agreed with the
Queen as to the tone he should adopt with the Council. It was being
murmured in London, and even in the Council itself, that this misfortune
had fallen upon the nation because Philip had dragged it into the war;
and Mary urged upon Feria that he should anticipate any such talk as
that by saying at once that as Calais had been lost during a war which
the English had undertaken on Philip’s behalf, he considered it his duty
to help them to recover the fortress. The first need, however, he said,
was to ensure the coasts of England from attack. What did the Council
propose to do in the matter? Heath, who was the spokesman, was apologetic
and despondent. The nation was in dire danger and its resources were
very low: they agreed that defence of England must precede recovery of
the fortresses on the other side of the Channel, and thought it best not
to send across the hasty levies already collected at Dover. Feria, who
had seen the mob of recruits as he passed through Dover, quite agreed
with them. They had only been sent, said the Councillors apologetically,
because the Queen had insisted. As for the broad question of national
defence, they asked for time to consider what they proposed; and although
Feria and Mary urged expedition, three days passed before the Council,
headed by Heath, came in a body to Feria’s lodging and laid before him
their plan of campaign.
In a harangue full of honied words for Philip the Chancellor set forth
the poverty of the country, the need for a strong force on the Scottish
border to defend the north from a French incursion, the undefended
condition of Ireland, and, above all, the danger of the Isle of Wight
and Portsmouth, now that eighty French ships were collected at Dieppe
with, it was feared, hostile intent. What they proposed was to fit out
a hundred English vessels with fifty victualling smacks for service in
the Channel, carrying an army of some fifteen thousand soldiers, ready,
if Philip needed it, to land upon any spot on the northern French coast
as a diversion. They were in fear, too, of a league of Denmark and the
Free Cities to attack the northern coast of England in the interests of
France; and they knew of no other means of raising a force to defend that
part of the country than to beg the King to choose for them some good
German mercenary leader who would engage to come over in their service
with some three thousand Germans, to embark in Amsterdam for Newcastle.
When they had found the money for all this, they said, they did not see
how they could do more even to recover Calais.
These proposals, which had indeed been suggested first by the Queen and
Philip, were exactly those which suited the latter. Under the guise of
defending the English south coast a large English fleet and army would
be practically at his orders, to alarm and divert the French wherever
he needed. Lord William Howard,[119] the Lord Admiral, a great-uncle of
Elizabeth’s, and little in Philip’s favour, was by Feria’s intrigues
superseded by Clinton, who was his obedient servant. The great
difficulty, of course, was money. Everyday Feria urged the need for
raising large sums at once. Parliament was sitting, and it was believed
would vote liberal supplies in view of the national danger; and Mary
herself once complaisantly told Feria that she believed Parliament would
vote her a larger amount than had ever been granted to her father. “That
is not to the purpose,” replied Feria, “but to get all the money you want
in the circumstances.” The Earl of Sussex when in Flanders had given
the King an idea that the nobles in England might still be induced, as
Spanish nobles were, to supply feudal contingents of mounted men on the
Sovereign’s demand; but when Feria suggested this to the Queen she told
him flatly that all the nobles of England together would not contribute a
hundred horse.
The loss of Calais was unquestionably a serious blow to the prestige
of Mary. Already people were grumbling that this was what she and her
Spanish husband had brought the nation to. Here was this haughty Count
of Feria, too: what had he come over for but to carry some more English
money out of the country to feed Philip’s armies? This, of course, had
no foundation whatever in truth, but the mere whispering of it made
people stay away from the Catholic churches, and frown more sourly at
the persecutions than they had done before. So far from carrying English
money out, except to pay for the recruiting of the German mercenaries,
whom Philip all along, however, meant to use for his own purposes, the
Councillors to a man began dunning Feria for their unpaid Spanish
pensions;[120] for although the Spaniard scornfully complains of their
unwillingness to serve Philip’s interests first, they were all anxious
for his money. The fear of invasion, which was, in fact, very remote, was
industriously promoted by Feria and the Spaniards in order to keep the
English Council up to their determination in raising forces which might
be, and were, subsequently used by Philip for his own purposes when his
summer campaign opened. These forces, however, did not satisfy Philip,
who was somewhat chagrined to find that the English Council was so ready
to limit its efforts to the defence of the coasts, without insisting upon
the recovery of Calais. He had counted upon using the national anger at
the loss to bring when he most needed them a good English contingent
across the Channel to join his army, though the hasty levies in January
would have been worse than useless to him.
Both the King and Feria were impatient at the cumbrous English
constitutional way of raising money, and pestered poor Mary daily by word
and letter to obtain resources by other means. This she knew, and said,
was impossible in England, and might cost her her crown. One day Paget
came to Feria with a great plan to raise the vast sum of 800,000 crowns,
in addition to the parliamentary vote, and the Spaniards were all eager
to put it into practice; but when the time to discuss it seriously came,
Paget’s proposal, to Feria’s anger, reduced itself to a loan of £100,000
to be raised by Gresham in Antwerp and £80,000 to be borrowed from the
London bankers. All would have been well managed, grumbled Paget, if he
had the direction of affairs; and the other Councillors thereupon fell to
wrangling with him as to their responsibility. This was early in March,
1558, and Feria had quite lost patience with what he considered the
ineptitude of Mary’s advisers, which really meant their disinclination
to subordinate English interests entirely to the wishes of Philip and
his minister. From the sitting of the Council just referred to, Feria
and his colleague Figueroa went off in a rage to the Queen to: “complain
of the reply [about the money], and to warn her again of the danger in
which the country and she herself are, her Councillors being so inept
that, although they say that the country is not rich, they cannot devise
means even to raise sufficient money to defend themselves and recover the
prestige that has been lost. We dwelt much upon this, as much indeed as
we could; for the Queen was not fully aware of the poor service rendered
by the English contingent which you had with your army last year. She was
not even yet undeceived as to their not having been the first to enter
St. Quintin until yesterday, we told her amongst other things. She was
much grieved and promised that she would press them again about the money
at Greenwich, where she will go to-day. Her one thought is that your
Majesty should come to her again. She seems still to believe that she
is pregnant, though she does not say so openly. She promises me to send
Gresham to Antwerp at once to borrow the £100,000 they say have arranged.
I think if that be the case, it would be easy to get them to borrow
another £100,000, though I have not pressed it until he is there.”[121]
Gresham’s instructions are dated two days after this letter was written,
12th March. He had previously been dismissed from his former post as
royal financial agent at Antwerp, and his reappointment was probably
owing to the fact that in the narrow condition of the national finances
he alone had sufficient authority on the Continental money market to
raise the funds required. He was to bargain for the loan of £100,000
that had been offered through one Germayn Scholl for one year, and to
ascertain what powder and other munitions of war could be obtained in
Flanders for English use.[122] Scholl was Gresham’s kinsman by marriage,
but the bargain does not seem to have been fully concluded, only £10,000
being obtained from that source,[123] Gresham remaining in Flanders
until the summer, spending much of the money he could raise in munitions
of war. He had been instructed to present letters of recommendation to
King Philip, and to acquaint him with all he did. But Gresham, who was
no admirer of the Spanish faction, appears to have been somewhat remiss
in paying court to the King, for he failed to mention anything about him
in his letters. Mary, who was always hankering for news of her husband,
began to get restive at the omission, and her Secretary, Boxall, writes
a private letter to Gresham in April hinting to him that he will make
things easier all round if he will pay more court to the King, as the
Queen asked about him. Gresham promptly took the hint and wrote a long
letter to Mary, saying that he had just seen King Philip at a monastery
outside Brussels, where he had passed Easter, “who is in right good
health as your Majestie’s own harte can desyre.”[124]
Whilst Gresham in Flanders was thus borrowing and spending money, Feria
was chafing at the lack of sympathetic activity in the Councillors in the
direction he desired. Writing to Philip in March, he says: “Before God,
I can do no more, Sire! I do not know what to make of these people. For,
believe me, your Majesty, from morning to night and from night to morning
they are changing their minds about everything, and do what I can it is
impossible for me to make them understand what a state they are in—the
worst, surely, that ever people were in before. If it were only for their
own sakes, I should like to leave them to the mercy of those who would
treat them as they deserve; but I am afraid that they will drag us after
them, as your Majesty knows. The Queen does, and says, all she can, and
she really has spirit and goodwill; but in all else there is nothing
but trouble. As for the Cardinal, he is a dead man; and although he has
plucked up a little with what they write to him every day from Italy
since the loss of Calais, he is not so warm as I should have liked to see
him. Of all the rest of them, I really do not know which is the worst
disposed to your interest. But I know that those whom you have favoured
most serve you the least.”[125]
Feria noticed that Mary grew ever thinner and more despondent. She slept
badly and was devoured with anxiety and yearning for her husband, whose
letters came to her so rarely. Both she and Pole, indeed, were now almost
negligible forces; and Feria began to plot with a few of the Councillors
upon whom he could depend to take into his own hands practically the
direction of affairs. How it was managed is well set forth in a letter
of his to the King of 1st May, 1558. He has, he says, been able to hold
a private conference with Privy Seal (Bedford) and the Admiral (Clinton)
“about that enterprise they had proposed to me, and also to press them
about the land armaments.” They were of opinion that they could raise a
land army, and that the recovery of Calais would not be so difficult as
people imagined. “They say that they could get together 12,000 English
and German infantry, 3,000 horse (2,000 Germans and 1,000 English),
2,000 English pioneers, and if your Majesty did not think well of the
_enterprise_ they might be used for other purposes. I did not dwell so
much upon this point as upon getting the force together. They think, and
quite rightly, that it is useless to deal with this matter with more
than four or five persons who will be in favour of it; and they propose
besides themselves Jerningham, the Master of the Rolls, who was the
Solicitor-General (Cordell), and the Controller (Rochester), although the
latter is a man who always raises difficulties to everything. I think
that these three will suit best for the purpose, as they are favoured by
the Queen.
“I know of no other way to remedy matters but this: that your Majesty
should write to the Queen saying that on mature deliberation you have
decided that the best course will be for her Majesty to raise these
troops, beginning with the money voted by Parliament: for as soon as the
people see your Majesties determined to avenge the loss of Calais you
believe that they will favour the enterprise, since no prince ever begins
a war with all the money in hand necessary to finish it. You might add
that nothing should be said about spending the Parliament money, but
that it should be entrusted to some person for the object in view. Paget
thinks that Bacon would be a fit person for this, and the Queen would
agree to him. Your Majesty should also write to her that the business
should be discussed with nobody but the five persons mentioned. Paget,
Clinton, myself, and Figueroa think that this is the last thing we can
do. Paget thought lately that Rutland would be the best man to command
this force, and we think that Clinton and the Vice-Admiral should conduct
the fleet. The fleet is now ready and is costing money with no profit.
Even if your Majesty does not think well to press the Queen about the
foregoing business you might send her instructions at once as to what she
is to do with this fleet.”[126]
It will be seen by this that the plan was to use every atom of the force
raised in England and with English money, not for the defence of the
country itself, which had been the first pretext for raising it, but
to send across the sea, either to aid in the recovery of Calais or,
at Philip’s option, for any other purpose he might choose, and that
similarly the fleet was to be placed at his disposal.[127] It is quite
plain from the way in which Feria writes of her that Mary was simply to
be told what to do by Philip, and that she was expected to do it without
demur. How completely she hung upon Philip’s words, and subordinated
everything to his wish, is seen in a paragraph in the same letter as
that quoted above from Feria to the King. A Swedish envoy had arrived in
England with an offer of marriage to Elizabeth from Prince Eric, the heir
to the crown. He had been already several days in London and had not even
asked audience of the Queen, though he had committed the gross breach of
propriety of going down to Hatfield and delivering the Prince’s letter
to Elizabeth before he saw Mary. The poor Queen was terribly upset at
this; and hearing that Feria was despatching a courier to Antwerp, she
feared that he was going to write to Philip about it. Sending for Feria
she with tears and reproaches upbraided him for his supposed intention,
and said that she herself was going to write to her husband telling him
all about it. “When the ambassador from Sweden first came,” writes Feria,
“she was in great trouble, fearing that your Majesty would blame her for
not having carried through that affair last year [_i.e._, the marriage of
Elizabeth with Savoy]. Since then, however, Madam Elizabeth has replied
that she will not marry; and the Queen is more tranquil, but she is
intensely impassioned in the matter; and one of the reasons for her grief
at the pregnancy having turned out fallacious is the fear that it will
cause you to press her in this other business [_i.e._, the marriage of
Elizabeth]. Both Figueroa and I think that your Majesty ought to do so
_apropos_ of the coming of this Swedish ambassador and the failure of
the pregnancy. But it is necessary that such pressure should not come at
the same time as the matter of the land armament, or it will upset the
business altogether. In short, Sire, I believe that the Queen will not
stand in the way of her [_i.e._, Elizabeth] being Queen if God does not
send you children.”[128]
Already Elizabeth’s sun was seen to be in the ascendant, and, regardless
of the feelings of her sister the Queen, it suited Spanish policy to
ensure her marriage, if possible, with a nominee dependent upon Philip.
How anxious Philip personally was not to lose touch of Elizabeth at this
juncture is seen in his reply at the end of May to a suggestion of Feria
that the latter should go to Hatfield and pay his respects to her before
he left England: “What you say about visiting Madam Elizabeth before you
depart appears to me to be very wise, for the reasons you point out,
and I am writing to the Queen, saying that I have ordered you to go.
You will act accordingly; and I have no doubt that when the Queen sees
the firmness with which I write on the subject she will consent.”[129]
Philip’s fiery and impetuous ambassador Feria went considerably beyond
his master in his high-handed dealing with the English Government; for
Philip’s methods were diplomatic and far-seeing, and his object was not
to ride roughshod over his wife’s country, as Feria would have done,
but to use its resources for his ends, as if without design, and to
perpetrate his hold upon it after his wife’s death.
Mary, still suffering from her usual indispositions, persuaded herself
in May that Philip was coming over to see her again. It was, as Feria
said, unreasonable; for Philip was overweighted with business, arranging
the summer campaigns and a thousand other things: but Mary, full of hope
again, caused herself to be carried to St. James’s to be ready to receive
her husband, and had horses and lodgings prepared for him from Dover to
Gravesend and an escort of ships at Dover to convey him across. Feria
told her blankly that the King was too busy to come, and again pressed
her about raising the land army to reinforce Philip in Flanders. He found
her less ready in the matter than he had hoped—“for the Cardinal and
Council persuade her as they like”—and she wearily suggested that Clinton
should go to Brussels to discuss the matter with the King. “This,” said
Feria, “was only because they think that I push them too hard; and they
believe they can deal more easily with your Majesty, their real object
being to upset the scheme altogether;” and the ambassador continues by
recommending the King when Clinton arrived in Brussels to deal with him
high-handedly, blaming the Council angrily for their slackness in the
past. Clinton was evidently the most pliant tool of all; and yet, even of
him, Feria writes: “Nothing that he says will be true, unless he thinks
it will be investigated. I have had no end of trouble about this, for
they do nothing but lie and prevaricate.”
All this haughty pressure on the part of Feria, and the servile
compliance of Paget and the rest of the Spanish clique, in order to bully
the English into raising a large force to join Philip’s army on the
pretext of recovering Calais, was seen by the politic King to be unwise.
The English fleet, with its seven thousand soldiers on board, might be
useful for him in many ways, and he made much of Clinton when he saw
him in Brussels, urging him to have the fleet provisioned and ready for
service whenever ordered from June to September; but the raising of a
land army of Englishmen did not suit him: in the first place because it
would pledge him to a regular campaign against the French in Calais for
the ultimate benefit of England alone, to the neglect of the Flemish
frontier that concerned him most, and secondly, as he says, because “the
English, as they would arm unwillingly, however much they were pressed
and encouraged, would not be of much use. I can even see that they
might cause more inconvenience than otherwise. Either they might come
so badly organised and weak as to be easily defeated, which would be
most injurious, or they might force me to go to their rescue, and upset
my own plans.” The King was of opinion that the English had much better
concentrate their land strength on the Scottish frontier and in Ireland,
so long as he was allowed to do as he liked with the English fleet.
The meaning of this is made abundantly clear, and Philip’s own foresight
vindicated by the sequel. If the English Council were encouraged to
employ all their own forces on the Scottish Border it was foreseen that
they would not need the three thousand or more German auxiliaries which
were now mustering on the Rhine under the leader Wallerdun, much of the
money for them having been already disbursed by the English special
agents in Flanders, Sir William Pickering and others. Feria, in his
letter of 18th May to the King, says: “I understand that these people
already repent of having asked for the three thousand Germans, for their
view now is only to defend their own shores, and the Scots will not
trouble them. They have said nothing to me about it yet, but I know that
what I say is true.... If they do not want to bring these 3,000 Germans
over, your Majesty might consider whether you will ask for them for
yourself.” This, although it was exactly what Philip himself desired and
intended, was only effected after much wrangling about the money spent
and the responsibility incurred by the English Council. Philip, writing
on the 10th June, instructs Feria cunningly to manage so that the Council
may be got to propose that the German mercenaries might be taken off
their hands as a favour; but if they could not be got to see it in this
light that the Queen should be told in confidence that the King needed
the Germans very much. The Council proved recalcitrant; for, as they
said, they had spent already a large sum upon the mercenaries, and might
need them; but they had to give way before the pressure of the Queen and
Feria, insisting ultimately, however, that Philip should pay the sum of
£2,000 for which Gresham had made himself responsible but had not paid
for the arms supplied. The recruiting money of the Germans and first
month’s pay was lost.
Relations between the imperious Feria and the English Council became
daily more strained, every unimportant point was made a question of
dignity by the ambassador,[130] and the sick, disconsolate Queen between
the jarring elements, wishing to conciliate both sides, was rendered
doubly unhappy. From Feria’s contemptuous and insulting references to
Pole it is evident that the Cardinal declined to become an instrument for
purely Spanish ends; whilst all the rest of the Councillors are dismissed
by the ambassador in his letters to the King as lying rascals intent
only upon plunder. Looking beyond Feria’s intemperate, angry words,
the principal sin of the Councillors in his eyes seems to have been a
disinclination to squander money of which the nation was so sorely in
need upon raising forces without some assurance that they would be used
for English ends. Already people were grumbling that the powerful fleet
under Clinton was to be merely an auxiliary of Philip in the war, at his
entire disposal, and the continued bad fortune that followed the Spanish
arms increased the anger in England at being thus tied to the tail of
Philip in the war, without any attempt being made by him to recover the
lost English fortresses.
So far from doing this, indeed, news came early in July that Dunkirk, one
of the most useful of his ports, within a few miles of Calais, had been
captured by the French, as well as Thionville, an important fortress.
Mary was panic-stricken at the news, and summoned Feria from Durham House
to say that she must at once send off a courier to Philip to know the
truth. Feria made light of the news, and said it was not worth while
to send in such haste, and the overburdened Queen broke out in angry
reproaches at his indifference. How could her merchants send their wool
to Flanders, she asked, if Dunkirk was in French hands? and yet Feria
treated the matter as of no importance. But when the ambassador suggested
that the English fleets in Plymouth and Dover should at once sail to
Dunkirk to help the King, Mary eagerly assented, though the Council at
once vetoed it; for, said they, the French have also captured Alderney,
and it behoved the admiral to go there first. “And really, to tell your
Majesty the truth,” wrote Feria, “I did not dare to contradict them,
for I saw that if but four French ships were to land their companies in
England they would overturn everything.” This was written in July, and
shortly afterwards Feria, having hectored the English Queen and Council
thus into placing the English fleet almost entirely at Philip’s disposal,
and having raised and paid three thousand German mercenaries which he had
appropriated, took his leave and returned to Flanders, first visiting
Elizabeth at Hatfield, much, he says, to her and his pleasure: “for
reasons which I will tell your Majesty when I see you.”
Mary now was a mere shadow. The cruel persecutions and the loss of Calais
together had completely destroyed the belief of the people in her power
to rule England for its own benefit. Her father and grandfather, and
even the greatly inferior Northumberland, had managed to maintain the
balance of power between the two great Continental rivals upon which
the importance of England depended. Mary from the first day of her
accession, as we have seen, had neglected this essential point in English
policy, and had ended by becoming a mere satellite of the Spanish
King, involving her country thus in a ruinous war, in which it had lost
much and had nothing to gain. The Council, against which Feria raged so
savagely, was, it is true, after the death of Gardiner, composed of men
of no commanding ability; but it had done its best to prevent the utter
subjection of England to Philip’s aims. The success of its efforts was
not great; for as Feria’s correspondence shows the most active members
of the Council were bought body and soul by Spain, and Mary was in
most cases ready to back up Feria’s arrogant hectoring with her royal
authority. For her, in her forlorn condition, the first consideration
was to please her husband and prevent the Catholic power, upon which she
increasingly depended, from collapse.
Her great hope was that Philip might be lured back again to her side
to live in prosperity and peace. Again and again her fond hopes were
disappointed, and, a prey to a constitutional disorder, she sank deeper
and deeper in despondency. After Feria left her in July she continued
ailing, whilst those around her, seeing the approach of the inevitable
change, busied themselves in plans which might, if they were fortunate,
save them from disaster in the future. For men of all opinions recognised
that it was not alone a woman who was dying, but a political and
religious system that had failed; and vengeance was sharpening its knife,
whilst those who had thus made England the servant of a foreigner and a
prey to the bigots were trembling for the wrath to come.
Early in September a fever came to add to the Queen’s ailments, and this,
being an unusual symptom with her, caused grave anxiety; but Philip’s
Flemish councillor Dassonleville, who was in London to inquire whether
any league was being negotiated between England, Sweden, and Denmark,
wrote early in October that both the Queen and Cardinal Pole were better
than they had been since the beginning of their maladies. Parliament met
at Westminster on the 5th November, and in it resounded loud complaints,
bold and unsuppressed now, of the cost and damage to England caused by
the war undertaken to please King Philip, and suggestions were made that
the peace negotiations already in progress should be actively pushed.
The great question, moreover, that was occupying all minds was that of
the succession to the Crown when the Queen should die. “If your Majesty
could have been present it would have been of the greatest importance in
moving the Parliament to your desires,” wrote Dassonleville. “But if that
be impossible, and important affairs should detain you in Flanders, the
coming of the Count de Feria, who is much liked here,[131] would serve,
nevertheless, to direct affairs so far as the time will allow. Many of
the Council are beginning to understand how necessary the alliance of
Flanders is to this realm, the salvation of which depends upon it, as
England cannot alone withstand for long the efforts of its old enemies,
the French and Scots, without the aid of your Majesty. The common people
do not understand it yet, and talk of allying the Lady Elizabeth with the
Earls of Westmorland or Arundel, and sometimes with a Prince of Sweden or
Denmark, so inconstant are they.”[132]
It is quite evident that when Dassonleville speaks of the impossibility
of England holding its own without Philip’s aid he meant under the
existing system. In this, of course, he was right; but he overlooked
the fact that if the country freed itself from the Spanish connection,
which had dragged it down, and once more dexterously held the balance
between the two Powers, neither would attack it, because neither would
be benefited by weakening a possible useful ally. But the English
people were quite awake to the alternative if Dassonleville was not,
and were looking anxiously away from the sad sufferer who had failed
as a Queen and was awaiting extinction in St. James’s, to the demure,
self-controlled young woman who bided her time so patiently and so
confidently at Hatfield. She knew now she would not have to wait long.
“Sire,” continued Dassonleville, “the Queen has had some good intervals
since her grave malady; and for some days past has been quieter from her
paroxysms. The issue of her illness is as yet uncertain. The people make
her out to be worse than the doctors say, and rumour says that a change
is so imminent that it will cause the enemy to be the more obstinate
about the restoration of Calais. Nevertheless, if your Majesty insists
upon not making peace without it, they will have to put up with it.”[133]
This was written on the 6th November; but before the letter was
despatched Dassonleville heard from Paget that the Queen’s malady
being recognised as grave, the Council had requested her to make some
pronouncement with regard to the succession. Mary, feeling the hand of
death upon her, consented to a deputation of the Council waiting upon
the Princess at Hatfield on the morrow, to tell her that the Queen was
willing that she should succeed when she (Mary) should die, only begging
two things of her—one to maintain the old religion, and the other to pay
the debts she (Mary) had incurred. It was known by this that the gravest
anticipations of the people were justified. Ten days before this Philip
had learnt that his wife was not likely to live, and he had at once
instructed Feria to start for England, for the special purpose of pushing
forward urgently the question of Elizabeth’s marriage, which was now seen
to be the only means by which he might still hold England. As has been
already explained in previous pages, Mary had on each former occasion
when the matter had been urged firmly stood out against it, as well as
Elizabeth herself. Once the Queen had been won over for a day to the
Savoy project, but Cardinal Pole had changed her mind, and nothing had
been done. The bold offer of the Swedish prince had shown to Mary as well
as to Philip the danger of Elizabeth’s accepting a Protestant marriage;
and even at this late hour Philip determined to make a desperate effort
through Feria to win Elizabeth for a nominee who would suit him. Suriano,
the Venetian ambassador with Philip, writes[134] with regard to Feria’s
mission: “The Count’s instructions are that he is to try and dispose the
Queen to consent to Lady Elizabeth’s marriage as her sister, and with the
prospect of succeeding to the Crown. This negotiation is being conducted
with the utmost secrecy, as they suspect that were the French to learn
of it they would easily find means to thwart the project, as the greater
part of England is opposed to the Queen and most hostile to King Philip
and his party, whilst strongly inclined to Lady Elizabeth, who was always
attached to the French faction rather than the other.” Feria tarried a
few days in Flanders when the news came that Mary was somewhat better;
but Dassonleville’s and Cordova’s letters, foreshadowing, as they did,
Mary’s rapid passing, sent him hurrying across to England in order to
perform his mission before she should die. The great obstacle to the
marriage with Savoy—apart, of course, from Elizabeth’s own reluctance—had
now disappeared, for Mary had recognised her sister as her successor,
without which her marriage would have been useless to Philip.
Feria arrived in London on the 9th November, and he found England in a
turmoil. Whispers spread every few days that the Queen was indeed dead,
and that her Council only kept back the news until King Philip should
come with the strong hand. “Every man’s mynde was then travayled with a
strange confusione,” says Hayward, who lived through the crisis, “all
things being immoderately eyther dreaded or desired. Every report was
greedily both inquired and received, all truthes suspected, diverse tales
believed, many improbable conjectures hatched and nourished. Invasion
of strangers, civil dissentions, the doubtfull dispositione of the
succeeding prince, were cast in every man’s conceite as present perills;
but noe man did buysy his witts in contriving remedyes.” Whilst her
people were anxiously looking to the future, some with dread and some
with hope, the Queen lay in anguish waiting for the end. It was only five
years since, full of faith and belief in her system, she had passed over
ruined ambitions amidst the acclamations of the people to the throne of
her fathers. In that short time, with the best of intentions, she had
sapped the basis of England’s international importance, she had opened
wide the doors of religious persecution, and, so far as she could, had
laid the resources of her country at the feet of her foreign husband.
She was leaving England poorer in possessions, in power and in spirit,
than it had been at any time since her grandfather brought to an end
the civil strife of a century. She had sacrificed her people’s welfare
and happiness, as well as her own popularity, by obstinately ignoring
accomplished facts and leaning upon a foreign Power to enable her to
restore a state of things that was dead.
The Queen was only partially conscious and unable to read Philip’s letter
when Feria came to bring her a message from her husband, and he lost no
time in travelling to Hatfield on his principal mission. Elizabeth had
been so wary and diplomatic in her difficult circumstances that she was
as yet an unknown quantity; and doubtless the crafty men of the world who
proposed to win her for Spain anticipated no great difficulty from this
reticent young woman of five-and-twenty, who had accepted Catholicism
so readily. The country was profoundly divided, and it was thought that
the new Queen—as Dassonleville wrote, in good faith—would be unable to
establish her authority without help from abroad. It was therefore, on
the face of it, not an extravagant presumption that she might prefer to
follow her sister’s lead and adhere to the traditional policy of England
in allying herself with the sovereign of Spain and Flanders.
When Feria arrived at Hatfield he received his first surprise. Before
starting from London he had summoned the Council, and in Philip’s name
had approved of Elizabeth as the heir to the Crown. Believing that this
would enable him to claim Elizabeth’s thanks, he began at Hatfield to
enlarge upon the service Philip had done her in thus securing to her
the succession. So long as high-flown compliment had been the staple of
conversation Elizabeth had given Feria as good as he had brought; but
the moment he bespoke her gratitude she stopped him, and said that she
would owe her Crown to no one but her people; and when he broadly hinted
at the advantage to her of a marriage with her Spanish brother-in-law or
a nominee of his she evaded the suggestion dexterously.[135] All through
the interview she showed a determination to resist any attempts to place
her in the tutelage of Philip. She answered Feria, indeed, somewhat
tartly at one point, that her sister had lost her people’s love by
marrying a foreigner; and the ambassador left her already convinced that
she would be no docile instrument in his master’s hands, as her sister
had been.
Mary and Pole lay dying at the same time, fortified by the rites of
their Church, whose services were celebrated ceaselessly before their
weary eyes. With the Queen there were few now to do her reverence,
for most of her courtiers and Councillors were flocking to Hatfield
to worship the rising sun; but Mrs. Clarencius, the Countess of Feria
(Jane Dormer, Mary’s favourite maid of honour), and a few other faithful
friends stood by her to the last. On the morning of the 16th November
the Council assembled in her room, and Cordell, the Master of the Rolls,
read aloud the Queen’s will, although Mary was unconscious at the time.
Feria asserts that when the reader reached the bequests to her personal
attendants the Council desired him to omit that portion. In any case,
little attention was afterwards paid to the Queen’s testament, for there
were none who loved or mourned the forlorn woman. Before dawn on the
17th November Mass was celebrated in the dying chamber in the Palace of
St. James. Like her mother on her death-bed in similar circumstances,
Mary followed the sacred office devoutly, in the full possession now
of her faculties, making the responses audibly and fervently. When the
celebrant appealed to “the Lamb of God who took upon Himself the sins of
the world,” Mary answered clearly “_Miserere nobis, Miserere nobis, Dona
nobis pacem_.”[136] These cries for mercy, for mercy and peace, were the
last words of unhappy Mary Tudor. A few moments afterwards, as the priest
held up before her the Sacramental Host, her eyes flushed with tears, and
then closed for ever. Philip had no longer any footing in England. He
must win one again by force or favour, unless Spain was to surrender her
proud supremacy and Catholicism cease to rule the world.
CHAPTER V
1558-1565
Accession of Elizabeth—The beginning of the long duel—Feria
urges Philip to use force—Philip’s many difficulties—He offers
his hand to Elizabeth—The Peace of Cateau Cambresis—The
Franco-Spanish Alliance—Fears of a Catholic League—Philip
marries a French Princess—English Catholics appeal to
Philip—Mary Stuart claims the Crown of England—War with
Scotland—Philip’s efforts to effect a reconciliation—Bishop
Quadra—His relations with Leicester—Intrigue for a Catholic
reaction in England—Mary Stuart approaches Philip—Disgrace
and death of Quadra—A war of tariffs—Guzman de Silva,
ambassador—The interviews of Bayonne—Failure of the Catholic
League
Though Mary’s death had long been foreseen, Feria was distracted when
it came, for change was on all sides, and each change unfavourable to
Spanish interests. “It is very early,” he wrote, “to talk about marriage
yet; but the confusion and instability of these people in all their
affairs make it necessary for us to be the more alert, so as not to
lose the opportunities that may offer, and especially in the matter of
marriage.... The new Queen and the people hold themselves free from your
Majesty, and will listen to any ambassadors who may come to treat of
marriage. Your Majesty understands better than I how important it is that
this affair should go through your hands, which will be difficult except
with great negotiations and expenditure.” He continues by urging Philip
not to allow the Emperor Ferdinand to offer the hand of either of his
sons to Elizabeth, and opines that the English would not favour Savoy,
whilst, he says, the nobles recognise that it would be impossible for the
Queen to marry an Englishman. This was, of course, preliminary to the
suggestion of Feria that Philip should marry Elizabeth himself. “The more
I think of this business the more certain I am that everything depends
upon the husband this woman may take. If he be a suitable one, religious
matters will go on well, and the realm will remain friendly with your
Majesty; but if not, all will be spoilt. If she decides to marry out of
the country she will at once fix her eyes upon your Majesty, although
some of them here will be sure to pitch upon the Archduke Ferdinand.”[137]
Feria, who had lorded over Mary’s Council, found the members now sorely
changed. They had mostly been bribed heavily by him, and the ambassador
roundly abuses them for their ingratitude. They were indeed, such of
them as were included in Elizabeth’s Council, too anxious to clear
themselves from the odium of the past to smile upon the unpopular Spanish
connection; though secretly Lord William Howard, Clinton, and Paget
promised their services to Feria. As for the people at large, the death
of Mary was to them as if a crushing weight had been lifted from their
hearts. Even as she lay dying, the sacred things—the images, relics, and
the like—of which she had enforced the veneration, were openly slighted;
and Feria wrote a few days after her death: “The people are wagging their
tongues a good deal about the Queen’s having sent great sums of money to
your Majesty, and that I have sent you 200,000 ducats since I came. They
say that it is through your Majesty that the country is in such want, and
that Calais was lost; and also that through your not coming to see the
Queen she died of grief.”
Under Cecil’s guidance Elizabeth’s first steps were prudent and wise
in the extreme. The religious burnings were at once stopped, and those
persons who were imprisoned on the charge of heresy were enlarged on
their own recognisances; but most of the members of Mary’s Catholic
Council were retained, though reinforced by seven new Protestant
Councillors, Cecil and Parry being given the most influential duties.
But, moderate though the new rulers were, the Catholics, and especially
the Spanish party, were in dismay. Only a week after the Queen’s
accession Feria wrote to Philip: “The kingdom is entirely in the hands
of young folks, heretics, and traitors, and the Queen favours no man who
served her sister. The old people and the Catholics are dissatisfied, but
dare not open their lips. The Queen seems to me incomparably more feared
than her sister was, and gives her orders as absolutely as her father
did.”
In the meanwhile the new Queen heard Mass, and made no change in
religious observance, but she turned her back upon Bonner when he went to
greet her with the other Bishops, and took care to show that, Catholic or
Protestant, she was not going to be the submissive tool of either Spain
or France, though she professed a desire to be friendly with both. “These
people,” wrote Feria, “try to make it known everywhere that your Majesty
will have no more influence here than if you had not married the late
Queen, and they persuade the present Queen not to be intimate with me. As
she is much taken up with the people, she does as they wish her to do,
and treats foreigners slightingly. I have therefore decided to go slowly
until things settle down and I see who takes the lead. Up to the present
nothing is certain, and every one talks as his wishes lead him. I wonder
they have not sent me crazy. The whole point is the husband she chooses,
and we must try by money arrangements that he shall be one agreeable to
your Majesty.”
Elizabeth declined to receive personally either Feria or Dassonleville
until she approached London, though Feria sent her an amiable message by
Lady Clinton when she arrived at the Charter House, and a splendid ring
from Philip by Controller Parry. At the Charter House on the following
day the ambassador first saluted the Queen. He was a gallant, handsome
gentleman, one of the first nobles in Spain; and Elizabeth was most
gracious to him, taking off her glove as soon as he entered the room,
in order that he might kiss her hand. The chamber was crowded with
people, and it was, of course, no time for political business. He was
only in England, he assured her, in order to serve her and let her royal
brother-in-law know how best he might gratify her wishes, so as to help
forward the good understanding already existing. Feria ventured to touch
lightly upon religion, hoping that she would be careful on that point;
but to this she gave a broad reply, which Feria thought equivocal. When
he left her she had almost allayed his fears, so fine was her diplomacy,
and he sent her that day by Lady Clinton two more rings that had belonged
to Mary—“as I saw she was so fond of her jewels, and I thought best to
give her even the poorest of them.”
He saw her again three days afterwards at Somerset House, where she was
staying, and told her that a truce had been settled between France and
Spain during the peace negotiations. She showed her suspicions in a
moment, thinking that the intention was to isolate her and leave her at
hostilities with France. By means of Cecil, however, Feria persuaded her
that her fears were unfounded; and in another conversation she exerted
all her blandishments upon him to convince him that her leanings were
not towards the French, whilst he further delighted her by telling her
that he had at Whitehall and at her disposal a casket of jewels that
had belonged to her sister. In this sort of intercourse Elizabeth was a
match for any one living. It was not until Feria tried to pledge her to
anything that he found out his powerlessness. He had occupied the royal
residence called Durham Place, in the Strand, as a dwelling house, but he
had also apartments at Whitehall, and he tried hard to obtain a renewal
of these, “although I am much afraid they will not give it to me. I have
little chance of talking to people unless I am inside the Palace, and
they are so suspicious of me that, as the late Chancellor (Heath) plainly
told me, nobody dares to speak to me.... They are very glad to be free of
your Majesty, as though you had done them harm instead of good. Although
in several of my letters to your Majesty I have said how small a party
you have here, I am never satisfied that I have said enough to describe
things as they really are. I am so isolated from them that I am much
embarrassed and puzzled to get the means of discovering what is going on;
for truly they run away from me as if I were the devil. The best way will
be for me to get my foot into the Palace, so as to speak oftener with the
Queen, as she is a woman very fond of argument.”
The great question for the Spaniards was Elizabeth’s marriage. If she
married a Protestant or a man open to French influence, the effect upon
Spanish interests might be disastrous. The gossip on the subject at
Court shifted from day to day—sometimes an English suitor, sometimes
Prince Eric, sometimes one of the Archdukes, Philip’s cousins, being the
favourite. Savoy was always rejected by public voice, because of the fear
that he might drag England into war with France to recover his dominions.
None of the suitors mentioned except Savoy would have suited Spanish
ends. The Archdukes, if they would accept the absolute dictation of their
cousin Philip, would have been the least objectionable of the foreign
Princes: but Philip was not on very good terms with the Austrian branch
of his family at this time; for he was still sore about the succession to
the Empire, and the Archdukes were too much dependent upon the Lutherans
to please him. So the conviction grew in Feria’s mind that the only
satisfactory solution would be for Philip to marry Elizabeth himself. He
proposed to appeal to her pride, and to suggest that it would be beneath
her to match less splendidly than her sister. Little did either he or his
master understand the subtle mind with which they had to deal. Elizabeth
was, of course, anxious to keep on good terms with them, and indeed to
restore England to its former position as the balancing power, but, smile
and coquette as she might, she would never allow herself to be drawn into
a position from which she could not retreat.
Feria—impatient, scornful, and proud—began to tire of this inconclusive
dallying, especially as he saw, both at Court and outside, that the
Protestants were growing bolder, and the Queen herself was relaxing her
orthodox observance. He complained bitterly to Philip that everything was
hidden from him, and that he could learn nothing, though the Queen said
that he knew too much about English affairs; that he was proud, and that
she would be glad if he were recalled. “I am afraid,” he wrote, “that one
fine day we shall find this woman married, and I shall be the last man to
learn anything about it.... I overlook many things and try not to take
offence or to appear inquisitive; but their enmity and evil consciences
make them so suspicious of me that they think I know everything, and in
return for all my efforts to please, I believe that they would like to
see me thrown into the river—that is to say, the Queen and her friends
would—for the Catholics and goodly people are glad that your Majesty
should gain ground here.”
The fear that Elizabeth would slip through their fingers was accentuated
for the Spaniards by the idea that her proceedings in religion might
induce the Pope to listen to French prompting and excommunicate her,
declaring her throne forfeit to the next Catholic heir, Mary of Scotland,
Dauphiness of France. Anything would have suited Philip better than that,
and it appears to have been this consideration which finally moved him
to dazzle the new Queen, and cut out all the other suitors by proposing
formally to become her husband himself. Elizabeth had, of course, in her
two previous conversations with Feria, understood his veiled allusions
to the subject; and when he had pressed his demand for rooms in the
Palace of Whitehall, Elizabeth, with prudish modesty, sent word by Cecil
that, as she was unmarried and Feria might be her suitor, it would be
improper for him to sleep under the same roof. Feria, recognising the
absurdity of the alleged reason, believed that the refusal was owing to
French intrigue, and urged his master to act promptly. “Your Majesty must
get the affair into your own grasp. We must look to it at once that the
King of France does not get in and spoil the crop that your Majesty has
sown here.” Thus abjured, Philip took the plunge, once more in a pure
spirit of martyrdom—not this time on account of disparity of age or lack
of attraction on the part of his bride-elect, but rather because of her
doubtful orthodoxy.
It is difficult to understand how so sagacious a man as Philip can
have been so blind to the character of his sister-in-law as to have
believed that an offer made in the spirit displayed in his letter to
his ambassador could have been accepted by her. On 10th January, 1559,
the King wrote thus to Feria: “I highly approve of the course you have
adopted in persuading her and the Council that it is not to her interest
to marry a subject. As regards myself, if she should broach the subject
to you, you should treat it in such a way as neither to accept nor reject
the suggestion entirely. In a matter of such grave importance it was
necessary for me to take counsel and consider it maturely in all its
bearings, before I sent you my decision. Many great obstacles present
themselves, and it is difficult for me to reconcile my conscience to it,
as I am obliged to reside in my other dominions, and consequently could
not be much in England, which, apparently, is what they fear; and also
because the Queen has not been sound in religion, and it would not look
well for me to marry her unless she were a Catholic. Besides this, such
a marriage would appear like entering upon a perpetual war with France,
seeing the claims that the Queen of Scots has to the English Crown. The
urgent need for my presence in Spain, which is greater than I can say
here, and the heavy expense I should be put to in England by reason of
the costly entertainment necessary to the people there, together with
the fact that my Treasury is so utterly exhausted as to be unable to
meet the most pressing ordinary expenditure, much less new and onerous
burdens: bearing in mind these and many other difficulties no less
grave, ... I nevertheless cannot lose sight of the enormous importance
of such a match to Christianity and the preservation of religion, which
has been restored in England by the help of God. Seeing the importance
that the country should not relapse into its former errors, which would
cause to our neighbouring dominions serious dangers and difficulties, I
have decided to put aside all other considerations which might be urged
against it, and am resolved to render this service to God, and offer
to marry the Queen of England; and I will use every possible effort to
effect this, if it can be done on the conditions that will be explained
to you. The first and most important is that you should satisfy yourself
that the Queen will profess the same religion that I do, the same that I
ever shall hold, and that she will persevere in the same and uphold it
in the country, doing with that end all that may appear necessary to me.
She will have to obtain secret absolution from the Pope and the necessary
dispensation, so that when I marry her she will be a Catholic, which she
has not hitherto been. In this way it is evident and manifest that I am
serving the Lord in marrying her, and that she has been converted by my
act. You will not propose any conditions until you see how the Queen is
disposed towards the matter itself; and mark well that you must first
broach the subject alone, as she has already opened the door to such an
approach.”[138] Later Philip mentions that the clause in his marriage
treaty with Mary granting Flanders to the issue of the marriage could not
be conceded in the case of Elizabeth.
There are few letters extant that reveal so clearly as this does
the character of Philip. As he points out in his long preamble, the
objections to the match are numerous and grave. Elizabeth was of doubtful
orthodoxy, excommunicate and officially declared a bastard, the daughter
of a woman whom Catholic Spaniards looked upon as the personification of
evil, and yet to marry her the proudest monarch on earth and the champion
of the Church omnipotent was ready to salve his conscience, sacrifice
personal desires and lavish upon a people he loathed the money wrung
painfully from the Castilian subjects that he loved. The talk of his
sacrifice to God no doubt was sincerely uttered and believed by himself,
because he ever identified his political aims with the cause of the
Almighty; but the real reason for his willingness to marry Elizabeth in
spite of everything was primarily to prevent England from slipping away
from his grasp to the irreparable injury of his cause. If England became
a Protestant power under Elizabeth, he foresaw that it would reinforce
the elements in his own dominions with which his great struggle was even
now visible on the horizon; if it became Catholic under Mary Stuart,
matters would be still worse for him, because his great rival France
would then hold the whip hand over him for ever from across the Channel.
It was a dire predicament for a proud, devout monarch to find himself in,
and of the two great evils that threatened, Philip proposed to choose the
lesser in marrying Elizabeth “for the greater glory of God.”
But it takes two persons to make a marriage, and Elizabeth, unlike her
sister, had no notion of allowing herself and England to be made the
tools of another’s ambitions, for she had ambitions of her own, and in
most cases they were not identical with those of her brother-in-law. In
one particular alone they coincided, namely, in the need for excluding
the French from gaining control of England by means of Mary Stuart or
otherwise, and this was the point that restrained Philip from proceeding
to extremities with Elizabeth for thirty years of provocation. Feria,
who was in closer touch with the progress of affairs in England than his
master, must have seen the impracticability of proposing for Elizabeth’s
hand in the spirit of his instructions, and, although he saw her in the
little chamber at Whitehall on the eve of the opening of Parliament
on the 25th January, where she chatted very affably with him, he did
not venture to mention the question of marriage, as he had been told
that Parliament would press her to choose a husband, and thought that
he had better wait until then. But Philip was impatient, the English
Peace Commissioners at Cateau Cambresis, who had now been joined by Lord
William Howard, were standing out firmly for the restoration of Calais
as a condition of the general peace.[139] If Elizabeth showed herself
ready to become Philip’s wife and the obedient tool of his policy, he
was willing to make a stand too on the subject of Calais; but he was
determined not to be kept at war for the sake of the English if Elizabeth
persevered in her proposed Parliamentary action with regard to religious
reform, and he peremptorily instructed Feria to remonstrate earnestly
with her on the subject, and to tell her from him, “as a good and true
brother, who really wishes her well, both on account of our relationship
and because I wish to see her firmly established on the throne, that
I warn her to ponder deeply the evils which may result to England,
particularly so early in her reign, from any change in religion.... You
will enforce this by all the good arguments and persuasions that you
can employ, ... but if you can obtain no success in that way you will
consider whether it will be well to press the Queen by saying that if
this change is made, all idea of my marriage with her must be broken off.
If she has any thoughts that way this may be effective.”[140]
[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH
FROM A PAINTING BY ZUCCHERO IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY]
Feria was in a quandary, for he knew how impossible it was, seeing
Elizabeth’s temper, to deal with her in this way. After two or three
inconclusive interviews with the Queen, in which the question of the
religious changes was pressed and the marriage broadly hinted at, Feria
came to close quarters with her. She began with her usual professions
of disinclination to marry at all, and was proceeding, as he feared, to
decline her brother-in-law’s proposal, when the ambassador stopped her
and said he did not want an answer then. After some coquettish verbal
fencing she promised him that she would give him a good answer if she
gave him one at all. And then came the serious part of the business.
Howard had written to her that Alba had said that they (the Spaniards)
could not stand out for Calais any longer, but must make peace in any
case.[141]
Elizabeth worked herself up into a rage about this, and began to storm
about Mary of Scotland’s claims upon England. She was not so poor that
she could not get what money and soldiers she needed to hold her own,
she said. Her people were all grumbling, she declared, at the waste of
money upon the fleet for Philip’s service and other heavy expenditure
the late Queen had incurred for him; and Feria had much ado to enforce
his view that England owed a deep debt of gratitude to Philip, and the
unreasonableness of expecting that he would keep at war with France for
the sake of a single town like Calais. He was afraid even to speak about
the religious point for fear of exacerbating their relations: “Yet,
although I plainly see her going to perdition, it seems to me that if
the marriage can be carried through, the rest will soon be arranged in
accordance with the glory of God and the wishes of your Majesty. If the
marriage do not take place, all I could say to the Queen about religion
would be of little avail, as she is so badly advised by the heretics who
surround her, and it might even prejudice the principal matter” (_i.e._,
the marriage).
Events thereafter moved apace. To the Queen’s indignation she was
forced to consent to a peace with France, postponing the restitution of
Calais for eight years, to be followed by a peace with Scotland. The
Act of Supremacy and the Act of Uniformity were passed; and every day,
notwithstanding Elizabeth’s diplomatic professions of attachment to Spain
and its King, the hold of the latter over England became less powerful.
Philip had to make up his mind rapidly after the religious changes in the
English Parliament had been made. It was clear to him then that Elizabeth
would be no fit instrument to his ends. Feria was telling him hotly that
“the only way to deal with these heretics is sword in hand,” and Alba,
in Flanders, was for coercing Elizabeth before she grew strong enough to
resist Spain and the English Catholics combined.
But Philip hated war, and had a supreme belief in his own diplomatic
methods. He was face to face, moreover, with a new development. Always
before France had been the insatiable rival of his house, and France had
been a solid instrument in the hands of its King. But the Reformation
was already confusing the traditional boundaries. Henry II. was growing
apprehensive of the increasing spread of Calvinism in his own dominions,
and a solution after Philip’s own heart was devised by the Churchmen that
drew the Catholic rivals together to face the new danger of Protestantism
throughout Europe. England was no longer to be the balancing power
between them, but the enemy of both, so long as she remained Protestant.
To cement this hopeful attempt to combine Europe politically on new
lines Philip was to marry the eldest daughter of France, the Princess
Elizabeth of Valois, who, so long as he had hopes of marrying Elizabeth,
had been destined for his only son Don Carlos.
The close union of France and Spain caused, as usual, a wave of alarm
to pass over England. Paget and the Spanish party in Elizabeth’s Court
were for continuing the war against France at any cost and clinging to
Philip as the sole chance of safety[142]; and, although the Queen and
Cecil would not go so far as that, they did their best to mollify Feria
and his master. When the ambassador saw the Queen on the 7th April, 1559
(the day that the news of the signing of the peace of Cateau Cambresis
came to London) she was pouting and coquettishly aggrieved that Philip
should have engaged himself to be married to any one but her, as she had
given him no answer yet. Feria retorted crossly that the King could not
wait four months for her answer, and when Cecil told him that they were
quite willing to continue the war against France if Philip liked, the
ambassador answered him rudely, and “I left them that day as bitter as
gall.” Again and again the angry ambassador complained and remonstrated
with the Queen about the religious changes and the licence now taken by
the people. But she outwitted him at every point, kept up an elaborate
pretence of negotiations to marry one of the Austrian Archdukes, who
would depend entirely on Philip, and personally assured Feria that she
was as good a Catholic as her father, the only point upon which she
differed from the Spaniards being the supremacy of the Pope.
Thus England freed herself from Spanish tutelage within six months
of Elizabeth’s accession. Feria said she “was a daughter of the devil
and her chief ministers the greatest scoundrels and heretics in the
land,” and when he went back to join his master in Flanders he breathed
fire and slaughter against England and the Queen, whose diplomacy had
stultified all his efforts. He had done his best to persuade Philip to
pluck a quarrel with England that should give him an excuse for armed
intervention, the deposition of Elizabeth by the Pope, and the patronage
of Catharine Grey as a pretender for Elizabeth’s throne with the aid
of the English Catholics, who, he assured Philip, were all in his
favour.[143] But Philip thought that he had found a better way than by
war and rejected the advice of his fiery councillors. To represent him in
England there remained at Elizabeth’s Court the best possible instrument
that could have been selected in the circumstances, the Bishop of Aquila,
Alvaro de la Quadra, a supple, patient, unscrupulous old ecclesiastic,
who had lived long in Italy and was an adept at sly, stealthy diplomacy,
which so cleverly used religion as the stalking-horse of politics. Bishop
Jewel calls him “a clever, crafty, old fox”; and he needed all his
cunning, for his task for the next five years until it broke his heart
was to keep Elizabeth, heretic though she might be, from joining either
the Protestants or the French against Philip.
For even before the ink was dry that ratified the peace of Cateau
Cambresis, before the pompous ceremonies in England, France, and Spain
that celebrated it were finished, a stroke of Fate had rendered the
union between the two great Catholic Powers unstable, and old political
traditions were reasserting themselves. I have told elsewhere[144] of
the ill-fated feast in Paris, when stern Alba wedded in June, 1559, as
proxy for his master, the beautiful Valois Princess of fourteen. How
her father, the gallant Henry, was stricken down mortally at the joust
that followed, and how the rise of his long-neglected wife, Catharine
de Medici, able and ambitious, soon made the Catholic League a hollow
pretence. She needed not the dominance of the Guises and their Catholic
friends, but so nicely to balance them against the Huguenots that she
herself might hold the scale. She did not send her sweet daughter to
Spain as a pledge for the extirpation of Protestantism root and branch,
as had been intended, but to cajole Philip into helping her personally to
hold her own as ruler of France, whichever faction was paramount, and to
win, if possible, the heir of Spain for her younger daughter, so that her
hold over the country might be perpetuated.
The accession also of young Francis II. and Mary Stuart to the throne of
France, under the dominion of their ambitious Guise uncles, had driven
a great wedge into the unity of the Catholic League. The Guises, who
led the Catholic party in France, were now for a short time masters, on
behalf of the young King and his wife, of the national resources, and
were prepared to use them in furthering their Scottish niece’s claims
to the English throne. This naturally drew Philip more to the side of
Elizabeth, however perverse she might be, and, from the very first,
rendered abortive the Catholic League secretly cemented by the treaty of
Cateau Cambresis. When the death of Francis II., after his short reign,
threw the Guises into the background and made Catharine de Medici Regent
of France, matters were hardly improved. Philip was always a bad hand at
playing another’s game, and though his young French wife lived happily
with him, for he was a good husband, the purpose of her going to Spain
was never achieved, and Philip was as anxious after his French marriage
as before it to prevent his mother-in-law and his English sister-in-law
from making common cause against him. They, knowing this as well as he,
could, and did, always checkmate or paralyse him when they pleased by
simulating friendship with each other, either by marriage talk or by a
pretence of common interest. Whilst Catharine de Medici lived this was
the problem of Europe, and to Philip it proved an insoluble one.
Feria and Alba were for ever advocating the high hand with Elizabeth, but
Philip knew that his hollow union with France had drawn all Protestants
together, so that if he aided the English Catholics to depose Elizabeth
and crush Protestantism in her country, not only would Catholic France
be against him, but the Lutheran Germans would be disturbed, and perhaps
he might let loose the storm, of which the mutterings were already
audible, over his own Netherlands. So, in spite of the Bishop of Aquila’s
soft hints and Feria’s warlike advice, Philip decided, notwithstanding
Elizabeth’s religious recalcitrancy, upon a policy of palliation and
suavity in England. “You must,” he instructed his ambassador, “keep
mainly in view by all means to avoid a rupture. I have already pointed
out the importance of this, but it is so great that I cannot be satisfied
without repeating it many times.” But yet he was ready even thus early
if Elizabeth’s subjects attacked her for her religious measures to take
full advantage of the opportunity for his own advantage, and so to
prevent the French from establishing themselves in England. With these
pacific instructions, therefore, he sent the great sum of 60,000 crowns
“to gain friends,” and says, “I have also ordered, in case of need, that
money shall be raised to fit out a fleet at short notice, so that it may
be ready to carry men over to England if required.”
The difference between Feria’s arrogant methods and the Bishop’s
blandness was soon seen in his intercourse with the Queen. Of her and her
advisers in his letters to Philip he has nothing but violent abuse; but
he was all tolerant kindness when he was with her, and got quite friendly
with the “heretic” Cecil. He was lodged in Durham Place, as Feria had
been, and was in close touch with Lady Mary Sidney and her brother, Lord
Robert Dudley, who was soon to be created Earl of Leicester. During all
the comedy of pretended marriage negotiations with the Archduke Charles
the Bishop dexterously aided or hindered the progress as the interests of
Philip seemed to dictate. If the Archduke was to come as a thoroughgoing
Catholic and obedient servant of Spain well and good, but the moment
there was any talk of his making religious concessions or appearing under
Lutheran auspices, then the wily Bishop smiled upon the perennial second
string of Lord Robert Dudley. In the meanwhile he was hand in glove with
the discontented and dismayed English Catholics, gaining friends amongst
them by money promises and blandishments, whilst his spies were busy
discovering the weak points on the East Coast towards Flanders, making
lists of the Catholic and disaffected English gentry, and whispering to
them of the armed aid that in case of need would be sent by the Catholic
King. To Philip the Bishop wrote often with affected humility, but with
studied significance, saying how surprised the English Catholics were
that he made no move to help them. “Your Majesty,” he wrote, “is the only
hope of the godly and the dread of the wicked, if the latter are not to
be allowed time to combat and weaken the Catholic party.”[145]
But Philip was powerless to stir a finger to help them, much as they
might cry to him. The death of Henry II. and the accession of Mary
Stuart’s husband, as has been pointed out, had suddenly changed the
situation. The claims of the Queen of Scots to the English throne, and
the despatch of a strong French force to Leith to succour the Regent
Mary of Lorraine, hardly pressed as she was by the rebels subsidised by
Elizabeth, precipitated the eventuality that Philip dreaded most—a war
in Scotland between France and the Queen of England. If in such a war
the latter were beaten by the Guises, then farewell to Spanish influence
in England, however Catholic the country might become. Yet Philip dared
not fight on the behalf of heresy against the Catholic French element
and the Guises, or the Huguenots would become all-powerful; whilst if he
interfered in England at all to Elizabeth’s detriment his action would
draw together in close unity the powerful Protestant party in England,
the majority of the Scots who were Reformers, the Huguenots of France,
who were panting for revenge on the Guises, and the Lutherans of Germany
and Holland. With such a combination as this behind her Elizabeth might
adopt a stronger anti-Catholic attitude than ever.
But what Philip dreaded even more than this was the encouragement that
such a strong combination of Protestants would give to the Flemings,
who were already straining in the leash to escape from the Spanish
religious system. Philip sent envoys to England and France to urge,
both by persuasion and threats, that the peace should be kept (March,
1560), but, as usual, his step was too late to prevent hostilities. The
Bishop of Aquila, in his private letters to Feria, was scornful of his
master’s methods. “If these envoys from his Majesty are only coming to
talk, they will do more harm than good, as the Catholics here expect much
more than that.... The Queen is greatly alarmed, and this is the time to
do what ought to have been done before; but if we are always to be on
the defensive and to palliate everything, I can only pray for patience,
though I well know we shall never have such an opportunity again. All
here are with us, and the very heretics are sick of it.”[146] The Bishop
dared not write in this strain to Philip, though he said as much as he
could; but the King saw, if his advisers did not, that he could not take
up arms against Elizabeth without playing the French game, and it was
equally impossible for him to fight his Catholic French allies on behalf
of the heretic Queen. All he could do, therefore, was talk.
The result of the short war in Scotland was favourable to Elizabeth, and
the pressing danger passed; but Philip’s threat to aid the French if she
insisted upon continuing the hostilities brought home to Elizabeth and
her minister that the Catholic League was still a danger to them. An
attempt was made to persuade the Spaniards that the Queen would really
marry the Archduke at once and follow Philip’s advice, the object being
to weaken the friendship between Spain and France; but Lord Robert
Dudley’s philandering was now so open, and Elizabeth so obviously
fond of him, that the new pretence about the Archduke and her sudden
Catholic professions deceived nobody.[147] Even Cecil lost heart at the
difficulties created by this infatuation of the Queen for Dudley, and the
Spanish ambassador chuckled with delight that the “heretics” were falling
out amongst themselves and the Catholic cause was looking brighter.
As soon as the death of Dudley’s wife set him free he made an attempt,
which for a time hoodwinked Bishop Quadra, to gain the support of Spain
for his suit, and even wily Philip believed that England was going to
fall under his sway again by means of the Queen’s lover, a belief that
proved that he still failed to gauge Elizabeth’s true character. The
intermediary in this case was Sir Henry Sidney, who, being a kinsman
of the English Countess of Feria and the husband of Robert Dudley’s
sister, was _persona grata_ at Durham House. He came to Bishop Quadra
late in January, 1561, and after much circumlocution remarked that he was
surprised that it had not been suggested to Philip that the opportunity
offered “for gaining over Lord Robert by extending a hand to him now in
the matter of his marriage with the Queen, and he would thereafter serve
and obey your Majesty like one of your own vassals.” The Bishop was cool
about it, for Dudley’s character was bad, and many evil tales were afloat
about his wife’s recent death. The King of Spain, said the Bishop, had
no need to win the Queen of England’s goodwill. She had not, moreover,
shown herself very ready hitherto to take his advice upon anything, and
it was not sure that she would do so in the matter of her marriage with
Lord Robert. Sidney admitted that the rumours about the foul play upon
Amy Robsart were generally believed, but he said they were untrue. The
Queen, however, was really in love with Robert, and was most anxious to
settle the religious question by the help of him as her husband. Yes,
said the Bishop, that no doubt is very praiseworthy and necessary; but he
did not see why the religious matter should be mixed up with so mundane
a business as marrying Dudley. It ought to be undertaken whether the
Queen was married or single. Sidney quite agreed. Matters in the country
were in a bad way, he admitted, but the Queen and Robert were anxious
to put things right, and he swore most solemnly that they intended to
restore the Catholic religion in England by means of a General Council of
the Church, in which England would join if King Philip would patronise
the bridegroom and urge Elizabeth to marry him. The Bishop reminded
Sidney that he had been led astray several times before by such talk
when the Queen wanted for her own ends to appear friendly to Spain. It
was, moreover, very improper to make religion the excuse. If Lord Robert
repented of his heresy and wanted to recant there was nothing to prevent
him from doing so without bargaining about it, and the interview ended
by Sidney’s promising to bring Lord Robert himself to Durham House to
satisfy the Bishop of his _bonâ fides_.
In his letter to the King the Churchman expresses himself as being much
shocked at the barefacedness of the proposal; but he goes on to say
that he believes that it is only by this means that the Queen can be
brought round to the Spanish side. The gossip about her and Dudley, he
says, is so scandalous that she will not dare to marry him without some
strong support; and there was no price she would not pay to obtain it.
Such a tendency as that shown in Sidney’s proposal would, of course, be
strenuously opposed by most of Elizabeth’s advisers; and Paget, with
Cecil and his friends, attempted a diversion by strongly advocating a
close alliance with France, where the young King Francis II. had recently
died, and Catharine de Medici had become supreme. The Dudley intrigue
with Spain, however, went on, though probably, as we see now, without
the full knowledge of the Queen. Lord Robert at length came with Sidney
to see the Bishop on the 13th February, and professed his readiness to
be the humble servant of King Philip if he would recommend the Queen to
marry him. Quadra was cautious. He had no special instructions, he said,
and the King was now in Spain, a long way off; but he would promise
Dudley that he would, the next time he saw the Queen, urge her to marry;
and if she mentioned any particular person he (the Bishop) would enlarge
upon Lord Robert’s good qualities and King Philip’s affection for him.
Two days later the smooth-tongued old Bishop found himself alone with the
Queen, and ventured to say how glad he was to hear that her marriage was
seriously under discussion at last. If she wished to consult the King
of Spain on the matter the Bishop was very much at her service, though
no instructions from Spain had been sent to him. The Queen talked wide
of the subject for some time; but she said at last that she knew she was
no angel, and would make the Bishop her confessor. She would not deny
that she had some affection for Lord Robert for his good qualities, but
had not decided to marry him or any one else. But she saw every day the
necessity for her marriage, and that to satisfy the English humour it was
desirable that she should marry an Englishman. What would the King of
Spain think, she asked, if she married one of her servants? The Bishop
said he did not know, but would ask if she directed him to do so; and
then he launched out into warm praise of Dudley. Elizabeth promised to do
nothing without Philip’s advice, and told the Bishop that when the time
came she would speak to him on the subject. The Bishop, in relating the
interview, says that he humoured her thus “because he saw the heretics so
busy forming combinations with England, France, Scotland, and Germany,
and, above all, because your Majesty’s neighbouring States are so pressed
that a perverse decision of this woman might prejudice them, though she
herself were ruined by it.”[148]
The Bishop, for all his sanctimonious horror that religion should be
used in political bargaining, was really quite willing to carry through
the deal and to patronise the marriage of Elizabeth and Dudley if he
were assured of the payment. That Dudley was ready to promise anything
and everything is also certain, but it is more than doubtful whether
Elizabeth was aware of what he was promising. It suited her at the
moment to meet the Catholic league between France and Spain, hollow as
it was, by threatening combinations of Protestants; whilst at the same
time, as a second string to her bow, cajoling the Spaniards into the idea
that she was willing to be reconciled to them, and had Catholic leanings.
When Bishop Quadra saw Dudley the next day Lord Robert was profuse in
his thanks, for he knew from the Queen word for word what had passed. It
had only been timidity that had prevented the Queen from deciding on the
spot, he said, and he begged the Bishop to revert to the subject when he
saw her again. His promises knew no bounds. Everything in England, even
religion, he said, should be put into the hands of King Philip; and if
the sending of a representative to the Council of the Church were not
enough he would go himself. To this the Bishop replied that he would do
his best to forward matters, but again, in shocked tones, he begged Lord
Robert not to mention religion in the matter on any account. What the
Queen and Dudley did about _that_ concerned their own consciences. Of
course the Catholic King would be delighted to see all these religious
dissensions settled, but it should not be a matter of bargain. “I am thus
cautious with these people, because if they are playing false, which is
quite possible, I do not wish to give them the opportunity of saying that
we offered them your Majesty’s favour in return for their changing their
religion.”
At the same time the Bishop urged upon his master that the moment had now
come for action: either this bargain must be struck with Dudley, or help
must be given to the enemies of the existing _régime_ to revolutionise
England. “To let these affairs drift at the mercy of chance neither
secures England to us nor punishes evil, and must end in disadvantage
to your Majesty.” Philip was just as sanctimonious in profession and as
pliable in practice as his ambassador. “Our principal aim,” he wrote
in reply, “is directed to the service of our Lord, the maintenance of
religion, and the settlement and pacification of England, and, as we see
that Sidney’s proposals tend to this, and further bearing in mind that
God if He wills can extract good from evil, we have decided that the
negotiation suggested by Sidney should be listened to.” Dudley was to
be helped to marry the Queen, but “the bargain and its payment must be
clearly set forth in writing signed by Elizabeth herself, and she must
give some earnest of her sincerity by liberating the Catholics she has
in prison, she must undertake to send Catholic bishops and ambassadors
to the Council of the Church, and submit herself unconditionally to
its decisions. And, besides all this, she must begin by giving full
toleration to Catholic worship.”
This, again, shows that Philip was utterly at sea as regards the real
condition of England at the time, and was still ignorant of Elizabeth’s
character and position. Such demands as those he formulated as a
preliminary were utterly out of the question, even as a final concession.
Before this letter was received in London the insincerity of Elizabeth
in the matter began to appear. The Earl of Bedford was sent to France,
ostensibly to condole with Catharine for the death of Francis II.; but
also to suggest that the French bishops—and especially those of Huguenot
leaning—should join her in sending representatives to the Council, but
not at Trent, as had been agreed, but somewhere else on this side
of the Alps. The cleverness of this move is apparent. Catharine and
Elizabeth would in such case seem to be making common cause, which
would paralyse Philip; and at the same time the Catholics in England
would be tranquillised with the idea that a Council of the Church would
settle matters to their liking. Catharine, however, did not jump at the
bait, as just then in the first days of her Regency she did not wish to
quarrel with her Spanish son-in-law, or to drive the Catholic Guises to
desperation by seeming to join with Elizabeth against them.
As soon as this became evident the English Queen grew cool about the
Council, much to Dudley’s annoyance, who still tried to keep her up to
the mark. She sent Cecil to the Spanish Bishop, asking him to move Philip
to write to her recommending her to marry an Englishman, hinting at the
same time that this was in Philip’s interest, as she might otherwise
marry a foreign enemy of his. Cecil said that her idea was to bring
Philip’s letter before a committee of peers, prelates, and commoners,
all friends of Dudley, and they would recommend the marriage. This was
all very well, said the Bishop, but how about Lord Robert’s religious
pledges? But Cecil had no intention, nor probably had the Queen, of
carrying out any such promises; and this new proposal was really intended
to upset Dudley’s plan. So, gradually, a barrier of limitations and
conditions was introduced by Cecil, which made the affair impossible. The
Anglican and Lutheran bishops were to sit in the Council; certain points
of doctrine must be settled beforehand; the Pope or his legate might be
President but not ruler of the Council; and the place of meeting must
be mutually agreed upon by all the princes. Dudley alternately fumed
and sulked at this diversion by his opponents, and tried desperately to
keep the Spanish Bishop in hand. It had, of course, been evident to the
latter at once that Philip’s attitude as shown in his instructions was
impossible. “Elizabeth,” he said, “had not entered into the business so
humbly and submissively that he could lay down the law to her and insist
upon her pledging herself in writing”; besides, it would be most unwise
to give the “heretics” the opportunity, if they were playing false, of
proving that they had got Philip to bargain for his political help in
return for religious concessions.
[Illustration: ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER
FROM A PAINTING AT THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY]
In the meanwhile, encouraged by this philandering, a Papal Nuncio was
hurrying across Europe to be ready at a moment’s notice to sail from
Flanders to England and invite the representatives of Elizabeth to the
Council of Trent. This Nuncio, the Abbé Martinengo, was to be received at
Greenwich privately, and not to go through the streets of London, which
it was thought would not be safe. Dudley was again in the seventh heaven
of blissful anticipation, and ready, if he was the Queen’s husband, to
lay England and the faith he had professed at Philip’s feet. He would
restore the Catholic Church, he promised, the Queen should give a good
answer to the Nuncio about the Council of the Church, and some of the
Protestant bishops even, he said, were beginning to waver. But Cecil saw
which way matters were tending, and promptly stepped in with another
diversion. Protestant feeling in England was already becoming excited
at the rumour that a Papal Nuncio was on his way to see the Queen, and
Bishop Quadra found himself a prey to intense unpopularity for having, it
was said, plotted to bring about a Catholic revolution. The Nuncio was
informed that he would not be allowed to land in England (April, 1561),
Sidney was hurried off to his post in Wales, Dudley retired before the
storm, and Cecil, triumphant, had the satisfaction of knowing that he had
prevented England from being dragged into Philip’s clutches again by the
ambition of a worthless courtier, aided by the Queen’s momentary weakness.
Bishop Quadra was deeply mortified by the way in which he had been
misled, and became more desirous than ever that strong measures should
be taken to aid the Catholics to rebel against Elizabeth. After
unsuccessfully approaching the French Huguenots to obtain help from them
for his marriage with the Queen, Dudley had the impudence, in January,
1562, to approach Quadra again and offer his servile obedience to Spain
in return for the aid of King Philip towards his marriage; but the bait
was stale, for, as the Bishop wrote, the Catholics thoroughly distrusted
Dudley now, and he was of no use any longer as a Spanish instrument.
Though Philip had failed again to secure England as a satellite, the
need for his doing so was as urgent as ever, for the Netherlands were
seething in discontent, the Huguenots in France were being supported for
the time by the Regent Catharine, and it looked as if the stronger coming
combination in Europe would not be Catholic but Protestant. To counteract
this threatening state of affairs it was necessary for Philip to try a
new tack. The massacre of Vassy had precipitated the opening of the first
war of religion in France (March, 1562), and this made it expedient for
him to strengthen the Guises. So a proposal, upon which, when Cardinal
Lorraine had made it a year before, he had looked upon coldly, was now
regarded with favour. This was no less than the marriage of the widowed
Mary Stuart, now in Scotland, and on ill terms with Catharine, with
Philip’s heir, Don Carlos. It was not such a match as the Spanish King in
ordinary circumstances would have considered adequate for his son; but
as Mary was the Catholic heiress of England, and might by a turn of the
wheel become Queen of Britain she was a useful countercheck to Protestant
combinations.
As soon as the project got wind Elizabeth, Catharine de Medici, and the
Scottish Protestants, led by the Earl of Murray, sought an antidote to
the threatened evil. The Darnley match was positively patronised both by
Elizabeth and Catharine, and Lethington posted off to London eager to
negotiate a friendly understanding between England and Scotland before
his Catholic mistress should fall into the marriage net of Spain. But the
war between Catholics and Protestants in France was now blazing fiercely,
and the Guises were fighting for their lives, unable to help their niece
or interfere in any way with Elizabeth’s game in Scotland. This made
her for the time the mistress of the situation, and she could afford to
deal high-handedly with the Queen of Scots, especially after the Duke
of Guise himself had been assassinated before Orleans (February, 1563).
She threw all her power on the Huguenot side in the struggle, allowing
English contingents to join in the fight and subsiding Condé with money.
Mary Stuart’s Protestant advisers had tried hard to negotiate an alliance
between England and Scotland on Protestant lines in conjunction with
the recognition of Mary as Elizabeth’s heiress under the same auspices;
and once more Lethington went to London, in February, 1563, to urge his
point. He found the Queen coolly evasive, for she had nothing to fear
from Mary or her French kinsmen now, and she knew that Philip would
not dare to attack her or interfere forcibly in Scotland whilst the
Protestants in France were in the ascendant.
Lethington, of course with Mary’s acquiescence, then shifted his ground.
He and Murray had always been strong partisans of England, with the idea
of securing the succession to Mary of a Protestant Britain; but, out of
patience at last with this new rebuff from Elizabeth, they determined
to throw over England and Protestantism, and marry Mary to a nominee of
Philip and defy Elizabeth to do her worst. So, at dead of night, again
and again, Lethington, the Scottish minister, landed from his boat at
the dark stairs of Durham House, and remained for hours closeted with
Bishop Quadra. The Bishop himself was daily growing more bitter against
Elizabeth. She had now openly aided the French Protestants against the
Catholics. She had treated him personally with marked contumely, raiding
his house on the pretext that people other than his own servants attended
Mass there, for she knew she could do all this now with impunity, because
Philip could not afford to quarrel with her whilst the Catholics in
France were in a bad way. So the Bishop listened eagerly as the Scot told
him how the Queen of England had deceived his mistress, and now again
had evaded the question of her succession; how she had artfully stepped
in by intrigue, and had rendered abortive all the negotiations for the
marriage of Mary with a fitting foreign prince, and had tried to drive
her into some unworthy marriage. “Had she not better accept any marriage
that the Queen of England proposes for her?” asked Quadra, as a feeler,
“if in return she obtains her recognition as the heiress of the English
Crown?” No, replied Lethington, emphatically. They had made up their mind
that the only way was to force Elizabeth, by marrying Mary to a powerful
Catholic prince, with sufficient force behind him to maintain the rights
of the Queen of Scots. And then, after a little fencing on both sides,
he proposed that Don Carlos should become King Consort of Scotland, and
afterwards of Great Britain, with Mary for his wife. Mary was, he said,
quite resolved never to marry a Protestant or to accept any husband on
the bidding of the Queen of England, and if her approaches to Spain were
not well received she would offer to marry her young brother-in-law,
Charles IX.
This latter declaration, we may well suppose, was only for the purpose of
forcing the hand of Philip, for the match would certainly not have been
allowed by Catharine de Medici. The old Bishop, aware of this, passed it
over with a smile, and said that there was nothing the Queen of England
dreaded more than a marriage between Mary Stuart and a friend of Spain.
She had been at infinite pains lately to make them believe that she was
a Catholic, but now that her friends the Huguenots were in the ascendant
she had become less anxious to conciliate them. But were not the Scots
Protestants too? he asked. Lethington, Protestant and friend of Knox
though he was, minimised the difference between the creed of Scotland and
Spain. Religion, he assured the Spaniard, was not really at the bottom of
their trouble in Scotland. Both Elizabeth and Catharine, he said, were in
mortal fear of the marriage of Don Carlos and Mary of Scotland, as well
they might be; for not only would the Prince thus win the most chaste
and beautiful bride in the world, “but he would also succeed to almost
universal monarchy by adding to the dominions already possessed by your
Majesty two entire islands, this and Ireland, the possession of which
would give no trouble whatever, having regard to the attachment which the
Catholics bear to this marriage and the union of England and Scotland.”
Bishop Quadra, well aware of the vast importance of such a declaration
from one of the leaders of the Scottish Protestants, tried to extract
precise religious pledges from him. But Lethington had said all he
wished to say in the four hours’ conference, and the Bishop, full of
encouragement, promised to obtain promptly the King’s answer to the
proposal. Lethington’s next move was to approach the discontented
English Catholic nobles, already in a ferment at Dudley’s insolence and
Cecil’s religious policy. Almost to a man they assured the Scot of their
enthusiastic support of a Spanish marriage for Mary and the acceptance
of the revolutionary changes that such a marriage would produce in
England. “Only let her marry the heir of Spain and we will salute her as
our leader,” they said. This could only mean that with Spanish aid Mary
and Carlos were to be placed upon the throne of a united Britain, and
that Philip would regain the paramountcy he had lost. Elizabeth’s spies
soon got wind of all this, and her counter move was a most extraordinary
one—no other, indeed, than to offer Dudley as Mary’s husband, with the
assurance of her succession to the English Crown after Elizabeth’s
death without issue. It was a mere feint and never meant seriously by
Elizabeth, but it divided Scottish opinion and unsettled poor Mary
herself, and shows how much more than a match Elizabeth was for Philip in
diplomacy.
Whilst she, with consummate skill and daring, was ready with such
a diversion as this, the Spanish King was pondering, considering,
discussing, and receiving reports upon every phase of the Scottish offer.
The opportunity was a supreme one for him, and if he had been prompt
and bold to seize the chance he might have won England and Scotland by
this means. It is true that Don Carlos was a weak, half-witted boy of
degenerate type, though this was not generally known at the time, but it
would have been sufficient to betroth him to Mary for his father to have
gained a right to interfere in Scotland. The Catholics of England were
on the alert for any such opportunity, and the Scots, as we have seen by
Lethington’s action, were ready to welcome any power strong enough to
defend their country from the intrigues by which Elizabeth sought to sap
the independence of their ancient realm.
But promptitude was impossible where Philip was concerned. It took him
three months to answer the important letter of Bishop Quadra telling
him of Lethington’s offer, and when the reply came to London, in June,
1563, it was thoroughly characteristic of the writer. As usual, he wanted
to pledge everybody else up to the hilt, whilst himself remaining free
behind bland generalities. His greatest praise was for the Bishop’s
prudence in hearing what Lethington had said without giving him any
plain answer. “And seeing that the bringing about of this marriage
may perhaps be the beginning of a reformation in religious matters in
England, I have decided to entertain the negotiation You will have it
conducted in the same way that it has been commenced if you consider
that safe and secret, telling them [the Scots] to inform you of all the
engagements and understandings they have in England; and you, who know
how valuable such knowledge will be to me, will keep me fully informed
of everything. You will advise me step by step of all that happens, but
without settling anything except to discover the particulars referred to
above, until I send you instructions. You may tell them of my intentions,
but urge them above all to use the utmost secrecy in the business and all
connected with it, as all the benefit to be derived depends absolutely
upon nothing being heard of it until it is an accomplished fact. If it
becomes known that I am concerned in any such negotiations, the French
will be greatly alarmed and will spare no efforts to frustrate them—or
at least to counteract any profitable result that may arise. As for that
Queen of England and her heretics, they are so deeply concerned that it
is easy to judge what they would do if they heard of it; so, as I say,
it is absolutely necessary that you should keep secret and urge secrecy
upon all persons with whom you treat.” Philip knew that Cardinal Lorraine
was now pressing his niece to marry the Archduke Charles, Elizabeth’s
former suitor; but Lethington had scouted him as being useless for their
purpose, as being poor and powerless, and Philip was willing to cut
out his own close kinsman if he could thus gain England and Scotland
for his son, or rather for himself,[149] and above all avoid another
French domination of Scotland, which was threatened by Mary’s pretended
willingness to marry the King of France.
When Philip’s letter arrived in London the old Bishop was under a cloud.
He was accused of holding communication with Arthur Pole in the Tower. It
was known that he had been receiving in Durham House emissaries of the
Irish Catholics; and Cecil’s spies reported that suspicious boats came
often at night to the water gate. To make matters worse, one day in May a
hanger-on of the Bishop’s household, an Italian serving lad, had shot at
from the back gate of Durham House a Huguenot captain who was swaggering
down the Strand towards Whitehall. The would-be assassin had taken refuge
in the house, and had sought sanctuary in the Bishop’s own chamber,
whence he was smuggled away by boat by the servants and escaped. Search
and violation of diplomatic domicile by the officers of the law followed.
The Bishop’s servants were interrogated, the house itself placed in the
custody of an officer of the Queen, and the old Bishop, with bitterness
in his heart, found himself shunned by all and powerless.[150]
So when Philip’s impossible instructions reached the Bishop, affairs
had changed. Lethington had been plainly told by Elizabeth that she was
well aware that he was plotting to marry his mistress to Don Carlos or
the Archduke, but that if she married either she must face her enmity,
whereas if she married a friend of England she would make her the heir
to her throne. Lethington and the Scots were therefore already wavering,
for the fear was that if Mary wedded a Spanish nominee, Elizabeth would
make Darnley her heir. The Catholics, too, not unnaturally, seeing the
Countess of Lennox, Darnley’s mother, suddenly taken into high favour
with Elizabeth, were thinking what an ideal arrangement it would be to
marry Mary and her cousin Darnley with Elizabeth’s blessing, and the
assured joint succession to her crown. The Bishop knew all this, and had
well nigh lost heart when Philip’s letter arrived. He saw how impossible
his master’s methods were in the face of Elizabeth’s rapid changes of
policy and fertility of resource; for how could he keep the English
Catholics in hand and learn all their combinations, or even get them to
make any, on vague secret encouragement which might mean nothing? To
the Duke of Alba he wrote: “The remedy is a weak one for so dangerous
a malady. When they see that instead of giving them a firm reply we
come only with halting proposals and inquiries, I know not what they
will think. It is useless to ask them to give me information as to the
amount of support the Queen of Scots can rely upon in England for the
information of his Majesty. Lethington knows well that all this has been
done long ago, for, of course, I could not hide my communications from
him. We have been approached by the same people about the marriage ...
and they have given to Lethington lists of the Catholics and others who
would raise troops for the Queen of Scots.”
Almost hopeless of success, therefore, the Bishop sent one of his
most confidential servants to Scotland to tell Mary verbally that the
ambassador had a very important communication for her if she would send
a trustworthy agent to London to receive it. This messenger, Luis de
Paz, left London in the middle of July, 1563, and eventually reached
Mary whilst she was travelling in the Western Highlands. She had been
ardently expecting Philip’s answer, and had with difficulty held off the
other suitors, the Archduke Charles and Eric of Sweden, until it arrived.
She gave to Quadra’s messenger a favourable verbal reply, but before
he reached Langley, in Buckinghamshire, where the Bishop was staying,
the old Spanish Churchman was dying. He had plaintively written to Alba
shortly before that it was impossible to conduct affairs in England on
Philip’s lines. He had done his best but had been beaten. The English
scorned and contemned him. He had been expelled from the Queen’s house;
he saw his master’s cause daily waning in England, and he knew that only
bold, prompt action would regain the lost ground. The hopelessness of
moving Philip to such action broke the old man’s heart. Luis de Paz had
just time to whisper Mary’s message to him, and the dying man grieved
sorely, he said, that he should thus drop just when he might hope to have
succeeded. “I can do no more,” he sighed, just before he passed away,
and Spanish influence in England was cast further into the background
by his death; for Durham Place during his residence there had been the
secret trysting-place of all those who hated Elizabeth’s rule. In the
absence of any diplomatic channel through which Mary might work the great
combination that she dreamed was to give her the crown of Britain under
Philip’s protection, the clever, strong diplomacy of Elizabeth carried
all before it. Dudley and Darnley were alternately dangled before Mary’s
eyes and then withdrawn, until at length came the Lennox _coup d’état_
and the marriage of the Queen of Scots with her cousin Darnley, which for
a time took her out of the market.
In the meanwhile every day that passed made it more difficult, and
yet more necessary, for the King of Spain to gain the friendship or
control of England. Affairs were going worse and worse with him in the
Netherlands, where the struggle was assuming the character of a duel
to the death between the old traditions of Flemish self-government and
the newer absolutism which had already been fixed upon Castile and now
threatened the ancient patrimony of Burgundy under Philip. The Reformed
religion, or, indeed, any assertion of the lay right of judgment in
matters of faith, was to Philip the embodiment of a rebellious spirit
against the absolute centralised authority which was the essence of
his system of government, and as such had to be crushed at any cost
or sacrifice. Almost openly the English Protestants were sympathising
with their Flemish brethren, and many Protestant refugees were flocking
into England to establish their industries and seek security under a
Protestant Queen. Boldness and good fortune had enabled Elizabeth, on
the other hand, to take advantage of the jealousy of her neighbours and
to gather around her the growing Protestant party which welcomed the
national independence she had attained in so few years, whilst Philip’s
hesitancy had succeeded entirely in disheartening the English Catholics,
who had at first looked upon him as their champion.
The attitude of Elizabeth throughout her intercourse with the Spanish
ambassadors had been such, that she had been able to beguile them
when it suited her, and to checkmate them at pleasure; for whilst
they had to wait for tardy instructions, which when they came always
enjoined impracticable conditions, Elizabeth was opportunist and able
to change her tack at an hour’s notice, to the utter confusion of her
slow antagonist. The hard treatment of Catholics in England and the
welcome accorded to the Flemish Protestant refugees had been met by
Philip by the cruel persecution in Spain of Englishmen, upon the barest
suspicion of heterodoxy; and this had been resented by the recrudescence
of the pillage of Spanish and Flemish ships at sea by English rovers.
Not content with this, Elizabeth attempted to foster the new Flemish
industries in England by imposing restrictions upon the entrance into her
ports of certain manufactured goods coming from Flanders. In retaliation
the Spanish rulers began a regular war of tariffs against England; and
this, by the middle of 1564, had resulted in a general prohibition being
issued on both sides, which practically forbade commercial intercourse
altogether. Envoys went backwards and forwards for months, trying
unsuccessfully to arrange matters; and in these efforts the Flemings were
much more anxious than the English; for the latter had secured a good
inlet for their cloths to the Continent through Embden, and Elizabeth
had given permission for unrestricted export to all other countries but
Flanders and Spain.
The Flemish merchants, on the other hand, were almost bankrupt by the
loss of the English trade, and were clamorous to Philip to remedy the
matter.[151] Elizabeth could afford to stand firm and resist all attempts
to force her into an inferior position in the negotiations. She had taken
Philip’s measure by this time, and knew that whilst his own Netherlands
were seething in revolt, and the Catholic party in France were held in
check by the Huguenots, he dared not seriously injure her. So at last it
was not the Queen of England, but Philip, who had to speak humbly; and in
June, 1564, there arrived in London a Spanish ambassador of rank, a canon
of Toledo, Diego Guzman de Silva, on a new errand. His instructions were
precise, and his position was quite distinct from that formerly held by
haughty Feria and of Bishop Quadra. They had both had for their mission
the forcing of a policy upon a new unstable Queen, whilst Guzman was
sent to seek a redress of grievances, and by diplomacy and moderation to
compass what threats and retaliation had failed to accomplish. Philip’s
hands, indeed, were then too full of his own troubles, both in the
Mediterranean and Flanders, for him to hope to rule other countries,
and bitter as it must have been for him, and still more bitter for the
statesmen of the Alba school, he was forced to speak mildly through his
new ambassador to the heretic Queen to prevent the ruin of his Catholic
Flemish subjects. To this pass had he been brought in six years from the
time when in the days of Mary he had worked his will in England almost
unchecked.
Guzman was instructed to make vigorous remonstrance to the English
Government with regard to the grievances inflicted on Spanish and Flemish
trade in many ways; but he was warned that when he saw Queen Elizabeth
he was “to compliment her with the fairest words you can use.” “You will
tell her, as I write to her, that I send you to reside near her as my
ordinary ambassador, with orders to try to please her in all things,
as, in effect, we wish you to do, using every possible effort to that
end, and to strive to preserve her friendship towards us, and our mutual
alliance. You will assure her that nothing will be wanting on my part to
this end, as she well knows by the acts we have hitherto done, and the
offers we have made to her.” The ambassador was instructed to win over
Lord Robert Dudley, “who is so great a favourite of the Queen, and can
influence her to the extent you have been informed. With kindness you
will try to gain him, and will also strive to make the friendship of
the Queen’s Councillors and officers through whose hands affairs pass,
so that you may the more readily guide them in the way desired.” His
mission was primarily concerned with securing the restoration of Flemish
trade and the reopening of the ports on both sides, though he was also to
watch closely the coming and going of “heretics” between England and the
Netherlands, to persuade Elizabeth, if possible, to extend toleration to
the Catholic worship in England,[152] and he was to spy out the Spanish
Protestants who had sought refuge there.
But, although he said nothing to his new ambassador, it is evident
that Philip was not inclined to accept as permanent his present state
of powerlessness in England, and was patiently biding his time until
circumstances allowed him to obtain control once more. This is seen by
the stress laid upon the importance of gaining Leicester to the Spanish
cause, and still more by the instruction that Guzman was stealthily to
encourage the hopes of the English Catholics, “with such dissimulation
and dexterity as to give no cause for suspicion to the Queen or her
advisers, as it is evident that much evil might follow if the contrary
were the case.” Guzman was an amiable, easy-going Churchman in favour of
peace, and very soon managed to get affairs upon a more friendly footing.
The marriage juggle, by which Elizabeth balanced her own supposed
marriage against that of Mary Stuart; the prospective bridegrooms,
the Archduke Charles, Don Carlos, Don Juan of Austria, the boy King
of France, with Leicester always in reserve, being often changed or
transferred from one Queen to the other, were looked upon by Guzman with
somewhat scornful amusement. He quite understood that these ever-varying
phases of advance and recession obeyed the passing political need of
Elizabeth and Catharine de Medici, and he was never greatly perturbed by
them.
Elizabeth was all graciousness when she received Guzman’s first visit at
Richmond on the 22nd June, 1564. He had had no need to seek Dudley, who
had begun to cultivate his friendship as soon as he arrived, for what
purpose we shall see presently; and the more to do him honour, on the
arrival of the ambassador at the palace landing-stage, young Darnley,
of the blood royal, was awaiting him, to lead him to the Queen. She was
standing, listening to a keyed instrument, when he entered the presence
chamber, led by Lord Chamberlain Howard; and as soon as she saw him she
came forward and embraced him warmly. Speaking at first in Italian and
later in Latin, she expressed her delight at his coming: “As there were
some friendly countries trying to make her believe that your Majesty
would never again have a representative here, and she was glad that
they had turned out false prophets. She said I should be treated and
considered commensurately with the deep interest which for many reasons
she took in your Majesty’s affairs.” Then, as a diversion, she displayed
much curiosity about the mental and physical qualities of young Don
Carlos, and talked some prurient nonsense about Philip’s widowed sister,
Juana, whom she said she might marry, she (Elizabeth) being the husband
and Juana the wife. To impress the ambassador the more with her desire
to be friendly, and to attract attention, as usual, to her own charms,
she said that the King, her good brother, “had seen her when she was
sorrowful, distressed, ill-treated, imprisoned, and afflicted, and that
she had grown greatly since then, and even gave me to understand that
she had greatly changed in appearance.” She promised the ambassador
a prompt settlement of all grievances, and affectionately embracing
him again, handed the somewhat dazzled cleric over to the hospitable
care of her courtiers. Dudley, Pembroke, Northampton, Clinton, Howard,
and Cecil “came separately and embraced me, congratulating me on my
arrival, and expressing their pleasure at my coming;” and so, with much
suave compliment, Guzman, surprised at the warmth of his reception, was
conducted by Darnley to his barge again.
All this new-born delight in Spaniards on the part of Elizabeth and her
courtiers was, of course, not without its reason. The fact is that, after
all her aid to Condé and his Huguenots, peace had been made in France
upon terms which gave predominance to the Catholics; and she considered
that Condé had betrayed her in this, as, indeed, he had. Cardinal
Lorraine, the bitter enemy of Elizabeth, was now Catharine de Medici’s
henchman, and was busy negotiating a renewal of the Catholic League,
which boded ill for England and Protestantism if it succeeded. A meeting
was to take place between Catharine and her daughter, Elizabeth, Philip’s
wife, with Alba and Lorraine in the background, to settle an accord
between France and Spain for the utter extermination of Protestantism
throughout the world; and even the Bourbon Huguenot princes of France
had been temporarily silenced. In the circumstances Elizabeth naturally
wooed Spain violently, and before Guzman had been in England a week
he found himself in the centre of a real or feigned conspiracy of the
unprincipled Dudley, to introduce Catholicism into England under Spanish
protection, and depose Elizabeth’s Protestant minister, Cecil. On the
pretext that Cecil had helped in the production of a book by John Hales
in favour of Catharine Grey’s claim to the succession, Dudley’s friends
secretly urged Guzman to recommend Elizabeth to dismiss and punish Cecil,
“as if he were out of the way, the affairs of your Majesty would be more
favourably dealt with, and religious questions as well, because Cecil
and his friends are those who persecute the Catholics and dislike your
Majesty, whereas the other man is regarded as faithful, and the rest of
the Catholics so consider him, and have adopted him as their instrument.”
Dudley again was willing to become the humble servant of Philip if Cecil
could be got out of the way by Guzman’s aid. He hoped still, he told
Guzman, to marry the Queen; “he had an understanding already with the
Pope, and a person was in Rome to represent him.” When, however, Guzman
asked for details of exactly what Lord Robert promised to do with regard
to religion, the answers were vague, and the example of Bishop Quadra,
moreover, was not lost on his successor. The ambassador knew that Philip
was not ready to attack the English Protestants yet, or on the shifty
word of Dudley, but he prepared the ground cleverly for future action.
The first thing, he told the conspirators, was to bring the Queen into
close friendship with the King of Spain, and with the Catholics through
him, as otherwise she would not dare to dismiss her Protestant ministers.
“All people think,” he wrote to the King, “that the only remedy for the
religious trouble is to get these people turned out of power, as they are
the mainstay of the heretics, Lord Robert having the Catholics all on his
side; and I tell them that they must take these things [_i.e._, the need
for fortifying Elizabeth by the friendship of Spain] into consideration
when they are seeking a remedy, and that plenty of opportunities will
offer themselves, if needed later, to raise war or stop trade.[153] The
Catholics are much disturbed, and as they have no other idea than this
they will not abandon it until they see some way of gaining their point.
Certainly, from what I hear, they are very numerous if they dared to
show, or had a leader.”
But desirous as the Queen was to curry favour with the Catholic-Spanish
party, and infatuated as she might be with Dudley, she could not
dispense with Cecil’s services, and Dudley’s hopes again decreased,
notwithstanding Philip’s sympathy expressed through Guzman, who was
instructed to offer him all the aid he sought; but only on a distinct
promise fully to restore the Catholic religion in England in the event
of his marriage.[154] This Dudley could not do, though by innuendo he
promised much, and thus Cecil remained unmolested. Elizabeth on this
occasion was probably a party to Dudley’s action, for she carried matters
almost as far with Guzman herself. She went out of her way several
times to hint broadly at her desire to enter into negotiations for her
marriage with Don Carlos, without the slightest intention, of course, of
ever doing so, even if the health of the Prince had made such a match
possible. She assured Guzman that she was really a Catholic at heart,
“although she had concealed her real feelings in order to prevail with
her subjects.”[155] Some weeks later she ordered a crucifix and ornaments
to be placed upon the altar in her chapel, and Guzman told her that the
preachers were slandering her for it, whereupon she said that she would
order crosses to be placed in all the churches in the realm.[156]
[Illustration: WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURGHLEY
FROM THE PAINTING BY MARC GHEERAEDTS IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY]
Elizabeth, indeed, was seriously alarmed at the impending Catholic
League, and in addition to redressing the Spanish trade grievances and
lavishing endless blandishments upon Guzman, she made a desperate bid
to draw Catharine de Medici to her side by opening negotiations for her
own marriage with the boy King of France—negotiations as insincere,
doubtless, as the rest, but directed to the same end, namely, the
diversion of France and Spain from their threatening friendship, as
were also the attempts to revive the now almost outworn subject of the
Queens match with the Austrian Archduke. The constant changes perfectly
bewildered Guzman, who found Dudley (now created Earl of Leicester)
blowing hot and cold. The Catholics, on the one hand, were smiled upon by
the Queen, and on the other strong measures were being proposed by Cecil
and his friends to stay the growth of “papistry.” But though Philip wrote
on behalf of the Catholic English bishops in prison, and Guzman urged for
the toleration of Catholic worship, no practical concessions could be
obtained from Elizabeth, much as she might smile and suggest to Guzman,
with whom she had grown personally very intimate.
In the meanwhile the elaborate preparations for the settlement of the
Catholic League by the meeting of the Queens of France and Spain at
Bayonne went on, and rumours came to England which caused Elizabeth
additional alarm late in 1564, that Philip himself was coming to Flanders
in the following year to bring his Flemish subjects into due subjection.
Elizabeth’s amiability then grew more intense than ever. “How much she
wished her dear brother could stay in one of her ports, that she might
regale him!” and Guzman was the object of her constant affectionate
solicitude at the numerous balls, feasts, and tourneys to which she
invited him, often deploring that his master was not there, too, to
enjoy the fun. It must be confessed that, to judge by the relations
between Guzman and the French ambassador in England (de Foix), the
coming national alliance between their respective countries did not look
promising. De Foix had Huguenot leanings, and Guzman always resented
his presence at Court at the same time as himself, Elizabeth on several
occasions having the greatest difficulty in keeping the peace between
them, when by some inadvertence they met in her presence. Indeed, as was
soon afterwards proved, the national jealousy of France and Spain and the
personal interests of Catharine overrode the Catholic religious object of
the League so perseveringly promoted by Cardinal Lorraine and Alba.
On Ash Wednesday, 1565, Elizabeth listened to an open-air sermon preached
by Dr. Nowell, Dean of Saint Paul’s, an ardent Reformer, who probably was
not a politician. In the course of his sermon he condemned the veneration
of images, and Elizabeth angrily told him not to talk upon that subject.
Nowell either did not hear her or did not choose to regard the rebuke,
and continued, when the Queen again raised her voice and peremptorily
commanded him to pass to another subject, as that one was worn out. Soon
afterwards de Foix, in conversation with Guzman, remarked that the Queen
might have avoided so public and marked an interruption of the preacher.
The Spaniard was of another opinion. “I think quite differently,” he
said. “Those who sin publicly must be publicly rebuked; and as this Queen
does, so might your most Christian King do it: when he gets older he
will, I fear, be likely to make more account of the heretics.”
The much feared interview of Bayonne, which the warlike party in Spain
hoped would result in the crushing of Protestantism and the eventual
submission of England to Spanish dictation, took place in these not very
encouraging circumstances in May, 1565. Elizabeth, as a diversion, had
been for months negotiating with Catharine for a French marriage, and
the Queen Regent of France was taken aback when she saw at Bayonne the
articles which she was expected to sign. The total extermination of
Protestantism in France and the world over would have meant her personal
political extinction, and probably that of her son’s realm; for Philip
in that case would have been paramount. What she wanted was not this,
but to be able to play the Guises off against the Bourbons, and keep
Elizabeth always as a potential ally when the Catholics grew too strong
to suit her. At Bayonne, therefore, whilst she ostensibly acceded to
everything dictated by Alba and Lorraine, and led her devoutly Catholic
and hispanolised daughter to believe that France with all its national
power would support her husband’s objects, Catharine no sooner turned her
face towards Paris than she began to introduce all sorts of conditions
and limitations which stultified the whole plan of the Catholic League,
whilst she became more warmly interested than ever in the talk of
Elizabeth’s marriage with one of her sons.
The result of the much discussed conferences of Bayonne, in which Philip
personally had never been very sanguine, finally disillusioned him as to
the practicability of a league with his artful mother-in-law which should
make him master of Europe. He had thenceforward no other policy open
to him than to revert to the traditional national affinities that had
obtained before the religious changes in Europe. He must win England to
his side by fair means or foul. For seven years he had tried to isolate
her by means of a Catholic league and he had failed: he had spoken
arrogantly through Feria, he had tried subtlety through Bishop Quadra,
and he had essayed friendly cordiality by means of Guzman. Elizabeth,
when it suited her, had been amiability itself, she had languished for
a Spanish husband, she had pretended more than once to be a Catholic,
she had smiled, pouted, or frowned, as her aims for the moment required;
but, notwithstanding all this, the English Catholic bishops were still in
durance, Catholic worship was still proscribed, and Philip was further
off than ever he had been from controlling English statecraft for his own
ends.
CHAPTER VI
1565-1569
Mary Stuart marries Darnley—Their intrigues with Philip through
Guzman—Plan to promote revolution in England in favour of
Mary—Expulsion of the English ambassador from Spain—Recall of
Guzman—Don Gerau de Spes ambassador—His character—Commences
conspiring at once—His turbulent behaviour—Seizure of Philip’s
treasure in England—Indignation of de Spes—His imprudent and
disastrous action—Alba stops trade—Strained relations—Proposed
declaration of war against England—The views of Philip and
Alba—The Norfolk plot—The Northern rebellion
In July, 1565, Mary Stuart had been swept by her passion along the rapids
that led to her marriage with Darnley and her ruin. Up to this period
her policy had been consistent and sagacious, directed mainly to the
recognition of her present or prospective right to succeed to the throne
of England. She had tried to attain the end alternately by the only two
means open to her, by seeking marriage with a Catholic prince strong
enough to enforce her claims, and by winning Elizabeth’s acknowledgment
of them by submission to her will. So long as she was under the influence
of Cardinal Lorraine, and the Guises were powerful, her main efforts
had been in the first direction, but after her arrival in Scotland the
influence of Murray and Lethington had led her into the second course.
In a former chapter it has been related how, despairing of obtaining
recognition from Elizabeth, Mary and her Protestant Anglophil advisers
had on one occasion, in 1563, reverted to her earlier plans, and had
attempted to secure Philip’s aid through her marriage with Don Carlos.
She had never since quite abandoned this hope—her only one in this
direction, since Guise was dead and Catharine de Medici was her deadly
enemy. It is true that she had satisfied herself before Darnley arrived
in Scotland that Don Carlos was unlikely or unfit to be a husband for
her,[157] but prudence would have dictated delay in her marriage in order
that Philip might have provided her with another Consort who would take
with him the support of Spain. But Mary lost her head, if not her heart,
when she saw “the long lad” Darnley, and took the step which made it, at
first sight, appear the more difficult for Philip to help her, and which
yet alienated from her Murray and the Protestants and brought her into
open enmity with the Queen of England. On the other hand, the wedding
of both the Catholic claimants to the Crown of England consolidated
the Catholic elements in the north, making Elizabeth’s position more
dangerous than at any time since her accession, and Mary had undoubtedly
not lost sight of this feature, which she saw might yet enable her to
obtain Spanish support when the time for action came.
On the 24th March, 1565, four months before the Darnley marriage, though
the prospective bridegroom was already in Scotland, a servant of the
Lennoxes, named Fowler, came to Guzman in London with a letter from Mary
Queen of Scots. He had been sent from Scotland, he said, by the Queen,
ostensibly to obtain from Elizabeth a passport for Secretary Lethington
to visit England, but really to ask the Spanish ambassador whether he had
instructions to discuss with her a certain business that had formerly
been broached to King Philip through his predecessor, Bishop Quadra,
as if so she would send Lethington to see him. Guzman did not know
Mary’s handwriting and was suspicious, especially as he was aware that
Don Carlos could on no account marry Mary; so that Fowler, who said he
could not return to Scotland without an answer, proposed to prove his
_bonâ fides_ by showing his mistress’s letter to Luis de Paz, a Spanish
merchant, who knew her handwriting. On the morrow Guzman was satisfied
of Fowler’s honesty, and as he heard alarming news of a plan to marry
Mary to her French brother-in-law, he hesitated no longer but sent the
messenger Fowler back to Scotland with a letter for Mary, asking her to
send Lethington to confer with him.
A few days afterwards Guzman got a further hint from Darnley’s mother,
the Countess of Lennox, of what was really in the wind. She sent to
tell him how kind Mary was to her son in Scotland, and that the French
ambassador had come to her promising all French help and support to
Darnley if the Queen of Scots married him. The Countess in her message
to Guzman affected to distrust this French offer, which probably she
herself had invented, “as she knows the French way of dealing,” and said
“that she and her children had no other refuge but the King of Spain, to
whom she and they will ever remain faithful. She begs me to address your
Majesty in their favour, so that in case the Queen of Scots should open
negotiations about Lord Darnley, or in the event of this Queen’s death,
they may look to your Majesty for support.” A week or two later the
Countess of Lennox returned to the charge. She prayed Guzman to assure
Lethington, when he arrived in London, “that your Majesty desired to
favour her, as she believes that it would help her son’s business very
much. She thinks he may marry the Queen of Scots, who rests her claim to
this country more on the support of your Majesty than on anything else,
especially as the Queen-mother of France is very much against her.” This
seemed to Guzman important, and he did his best to assure Lady Lennox by
hints of the sympathy that Mary and Darnley might expect from Spain. “As
I have said on many occasions,” he continued in his letter to Philip,
“it should be borne in mind that, in addition to the Queen of Scotland’s
great claims to this realm, she has certainly here a very strong party,
and it is highly desirable in many respects that she should be reckoned
with in the interest of affairs that so deeply concern us. The English
ports are necessary for the passage of trade between Spain and Flanders,
&c.; and, besides this, these English are beginning to navigate largely,
and may interfere with us in the Indies, upon which they look greedily,
unless they are prevented from sailing.”
Even mild, conciliatory Guzman was thus already joining those who looked
eagerly for the ejection of Elizabeth and the substitution of Mary Stuart
as Queen of a Catholic Britain under Spanish control. When Lethington
arrived in London, therefore, on the 24th April, 1565, Guzman was quite
prepared for the approaches he knew would be made. The two first met at
some formal occasion at the French Embassy, and as they went along the
road together on their way home, Lethington tried to arouse the fears of
the Spaniard by hinting that Elizabeth was fishing for a French husband;
but Guzman parried that by saying that in such case it would go hard with
the Queen of Scots, who would then be on bad terms with both England
and France. The next day, 25th April, the Scottish Secretary of State
unmasked his batteries. Closeted secretly with Guzman at Paget House in
the Strand, he explained how Mary had always desired to lean upon Spanish
support alone, how she had bidden for the hand of Don Carlos, and had
waited two years for Philip’s answer. Now there were thoughts of the
Countess of Lennox’s son, since the King of Spain, it was feared, might
have other views for Don Carlos. Lord Darnley had many advantages, but if
the King of Spain gave her any hopes of Don Carlos the Queen would not
conclude the proposed marriage with Darnley. Guzman replied that the King
had not pursued the negotiations for Don Carlos because he had heard that
Cardinal Lorraine had practically arranged with the Emperor for Mary to
wed the Archduke Charles. After much conversation and explanation on this
point, in which Cardinal Lorraine’s betrayal of his niece was made clear,
Guzman cautiously expressed approval of Darnley, as he says, “trying to
keep them in a good humour in view of eventualities.”
But this was not enough for Lethington. Setting forth the enmity that
the Darnley match might draw upon Mary from the Queen of England, he
continued, “All this would cause grave evil, but could be remedied by
the King of Spain taking my Queen and her affairs under his protection,
in the assurance that at all times and in every matter they shall be
considered as his own.... Such an arrangement would have to be treated
with the utmost secrecy until the opportune moment arrived. There is
no doubt whatever that the majority of the [English] gentry and common
people are attached to my Queen, and I can promise positively that she
will follow the wishes of your master in everything.” Lethington then
suggested that, as the despatch of an ambassador from Scotland to Spain
might alarm Elizabeth, the King of Spain might authorise Guzman to
conclude a secret agreement by which Mary and her future husband should
be bound absolutely to Spain in return for Philip’s support, or otherwise
that the affair might be carried through by Mary’s ambassador in Paris
(Beton, Archbishop of Glasgow) and the Spanish representative there.
Once again we see here that the exigencies of the position had driven
the Protestant Lethington to place Scotland and, if possible, England,
under the tutelage of the King of Spain, if no other way could be found
to enforce the claim of Mary to the English Crown. The course he took
was dictated by the highest diplomacy, whatever might be said for its
religious consistency. Failing Don Carlos and the King of France, who are
now out of the question, Darnley was, in fact, the only man who could
unite the English Catholics in Mary’s cause and attract foreign support
to her claims. Lethington and Mary knew that Philip’s vital political
need was a submissive England, and that Scotland was only interesting
to him as contributing to that end. If Philip, by means of Mary and
the Lennoxes, could obtain command of the powerful Catholic elements
in England united in favour of the two legitimate heirs to the Crown,
with the added advantage of a permanent base of operations in Scotland,
he might find himself by the death or deposition of Elizabeth, which
might be brought about at any time, the virtual master of Great Britain.
No wonder, therefore, that Guzman smiled upon Lethington’s important
mission, and promised to send post haste to Spain for the King’s decision.
Whilst Elizabeth was making frantic efforts to prevent Mary’s marriage,
and to keep up an appearance of negotiating for her own union with Don
Carlos or the Archduke, and Leicester was again trying to win Spanish
support for his suit by Catholic professions, Philip recognised that the
offer made by Lethington to Guzman at last gave him a real opportunity
of carrying through his plans for subjugating England by means of a
subsidised Catholic rising in favour of Mary and Darnley. The suggestion
was one after his own heart, and he accepted it with alacrity. Although
cautiously, he was gradually coming round to the view that had been urged
by Feria in the first days of Elizabeth’s reign, that England would have
to be dealt with by force, only now, and for years afterwards, he wanted
it to be the force of others wielded for his benefit. The King’s answer
to Guzman was unusually decided and emphatic for him: “Your news has
been very pleasing to me, and on the assumption that the marriage of the
Queen and Darnley has really gone so far as they say, the bridegroom and
his parents being such good Catholics and our affectionate servitors,
and having in view the Queen’s good claims to the Crown of England, to
which Darnley also pretends, we have decided that, the marriage is one
favourable to our interests, and should be promoted and supported to the
full extent of our power. We have thought well to assure the Queen of
Scotland and Lord Darnley’s party, which we believe is a large one in the
country, that this is our will and determination, and that if they will
be ruled by our advice, and will not be precipitate, but will patiently
await a favourable juncture, when any attempt to frustrate their plans
would be useless, I will then assist and aid them in the object they have
in view. I have instructed the Duke of Alba to write to this effect to
the Scottish ambassador in Paris; but I think well to advise you also
that you may know my views and keep them quite secret from the Queen
of England and her friends, seeing the great danger that would result
to this business and all our affairs if it were known. You may assure
Lady Margaret of the sympathy and goodwill I bear to her son and towards
the successful accomplishment of the project, in order that they may
be satisfied, and know that they may depend upon me, and so be able to
entertain and encourage the Catholics and their party in England.”[158]
Philip foresaw the danger of Elizabeth’s being driven by the fear of
a Catholic coalition against her to adopt Catharine Grey, or some
other Protestant, as her successor, and he enforced upon Guzman, the
Lennoxes, and the Scottish and English Catholics, the closest secrecy,
and especially that every means should be employed to prevent a rival
successor being brought forward. At the same time there is in the King’s
letter to his ambassador no concealment of the intention to use this
union of Mary Stuart and Darnley to foment a Catholic revolt in England
which shall sweep Elizabeth aside. “You will,” he writes, “keep in good
intelligence with their party in England and with the Catholics, which
is the same thing, and try by all means in your power to animate and
encourage them to carry the business into effect, promising them what I
have said. But it must all be done so dexterously and adroitly that it
shall not become public or reach the Queen’s ears, or evil results will
ensue.”
Anxious as Philip might be for secrecy, it was difficult to attain where
so many people were concerned. Already Murray and the Scottish Protestant
nobles had fallen away from Mary on the mere rumour of a Catholic Darnley
match, and were looking askance at the Queen’s new Catholic friends. The
Lennoxes, even the Earl himself, retorted foolishly by boasting of the
support of the King of Spain,[159] which made matters infinitely worse
and gave rise to alarming whispers in Scotland that religious persecution
at the point, mayhap, of Spanish pikes might be the outcome of this
godless wooing. Darnley, who was still ill in bed, was as imprudent as
his father; threatened to break the Duke of Chatelherault’s head as soon
as he could get up, and vapoured about his coming greatness under foreign
auspices that would enable him to snap his fingers even at the Queen
of England. Nor was Mary herself much more cautious in her utterances,
and the English agent, Randolph, attributed her new-born pride and
indifference to the effects of some devilish enchantment.
But though she was deeply infatuated with “the young fool,” Mary would
not marry him until she had received a reply to her advances to Philip.
The match with Darnley was to give her, she hoped, the English Crown, but
it could only be done with the aid of Spain. So, tired almost of waiting,
she seized upon a hollow pretext to send James Hay, of Balmerino, to
London to see Guzman, and learn if he had any news for her. On the
very day that Hay first saw the Spanish ambassador Philip’s important
letter had arrived in London. The Scot had just been violently snubbed
by Elizabeth, and all his requests refused contumeliously, as no doubt
he had foreseen they would be; his real reason for coming south at all,
indeed, being to obtain the sanction not of the Queen of England but the
King of Spain to Mary’s marriage with Darnley. The reply from Philip that
Guzman gave to Balmerino was indeed a welcome one. “He appeared delighted
with it, and said that his Queen desired nothing so much as that she
should follow your Majesty’s orders in all things, without swerving a
hair’s breadth, and that you should take her under your protection. I
urged him to try to get his Queen to manage her affairs prudently, and
not to strike until a good opportunity presented itself.”
Hay only stayed in London one day longer, for he knew that the great
wish of Mary’s heart was now to be granted; and though to the English
partisans and the Protestants in Scotland he deplored “the evil success
of his long journey,” it must have been with a merry heart beneath his
doublet that he carried his welcome message to Holyrood on the 7th
July, 1565. Two days afterwards Mary was secretly married to Darnley,
though the public wedding was deferred until the 29th; and the great
conspiracy against Elizabeth and Protestantism was then complete. Mary
was so infatuated with Darnley at the time that she would probably have
married him in any case, but her caprice for him and her determination to
supplant Elizabeth had thus led her to promise the submission of herself
and her realms to the dictation of a foreign monarch, the traditional
foe of France that she pretended to love so well; a monarch whose first
object was to gain command of the policy and resources of Scotland and
England by exterminating the religion of a large proportion of the
people. It was a triumph for her that her marriage with the man for whom
she was temporarily crazy should be instrumental in gaining what she had
striven so hard for since she left France, namely, the support of Spain;
but indoctrinated though she was by the cynical teaching of her uncle,
Cardinal Lorraine, she can hardly have realised the turpitude of the act
of treachery she was committing. She had been cherished and beloved even
by her Protestant subjects, and yet the step she was taking would lead,
if she were successful in her object, to the employment of the hideous
methods of Spanish religious coercion to crush their religious liberty,
to the subordination of the land of her birth, and of England over which
she aspired to rule, to the interests of a foreign nation, and would
involve the ruin or death of another Queen closely related to her.
On the other hand, it must be allowed on Mary’s behalf that her
circumstances were exceptionally difficult. The political system of
Catharine de Medici had deprived Scotland of the strong ally that for
centuries had been its main protection against the aggression of England,
whilst the spread of Protestantism in Scotland had created a new bond
of union between the country and Elizabeth’s government. In order to be
able to rule Scotland peacefully in these circumstances it was necessary
either that the sovereign should accept frankly the Reformed doctrines
and become more or less a vassal of England, or else make common cause
with the great enemy of the Reformation, submit to the dictation of Spain
with all it involved, and restore the lost balance of power in Europe to
Philip’s advantage by uniting England and Scotland under Catholic rule.
The effect would have been to reduce France to a secondary position, to
secure supremacy for the papal Church, and to place Europe at the bidding
of Philip II. Between these two alternatives Mary chose that to which her
Guisan and Catholic traditions led her, and, reprehensible as her choice
may seem to the political ethics of to-day, it was in the circumstances
the most natural course for her to take.
There was no hesitation or weakness in Mary’s attitude as soon as she
had taken the step and married Darnley with the blessing of Philip. Knox
thundered his denunciations from the pulpit, but whimpered and “longed to
depart” when the guns of Edinburgh Castle began to speak; Murray, with
his 1,200 men-at-arms, meaning mischief, waxed lachrymose when he found
that the burgesses shrank from open disloyalty to the Queen, and that
Elizabeth dared not help him now to rebel against the friend and ally of
Spain. Mary, on the other hand, was confident and energetic. Keeping the
saddle through the foulest weather, and over execrable paths, she rode
almost alone, armed, and eager to meet her rebellious brother and his
supporters. This was the eventuality which she had foreseen when she had
ensured Catholic support from abroad on her marriage with Darnley, and
she lost no time in claiming it.
All the North of England was on the alert and ready for action in her
favour if success were assured by the aid they looked for from Philip;
and to the Pope Mary appealed even before her marriage was publicly
celebrated. The Protestants, she wrote, were in arms against her, the
Queen of England was in desperation: if his Holiness would send a force
of 12,000 men to Scotland for six months the religion of Rome might be
restored permanently. It was too much for the Pope to do without Philip’s
connivance, so he put off Mary’s envoy with fair words until the reply
could come from Spain.[160] To Philip himself she also wrote shortly
before her public marriage (24th July, 1565): “I have given notice to
your ambassador of all that has taken place, on the assurance that in the
event of my urgently needing your succour and assistance, which I do,
your Majesty will grant them to me in order to maintain the faith, with
which object you raise such great forces against the Turk. I can truly
say that no war is more dangerous to Christianity nor more pernicious to
the obedience due to princes than that moved by these new evangelists
(God grant that you may never be troubled with them in your dominions),
and I therefore beg your Majesty, for this reason, and in consideration
of the desire I have and always have had to bind myself to you against
all the world, to instruct your ambassador to uphold the rights of the
Earl of Lennox’s son and my own in England, and to order him to declare
to the Queen of England that you will not allow anything to be done to
our disadvantage.”[161]
There is no doubt that a vast Catholic conspiracy, especially in the
North of England, was in existence at this time, full of hope, encouraged
by the agents of the Countess of Lennox, that the aid of Philip sent
to Mary would enable them to shake off the yoke of Elizabeth and her
Protestant ministers. The constant injunctions of the King of Spain
that everything must be kept inviolably secret, and no move made until
success was ensured, had been powerless, as usual, to close the mouths
of elated people who thought that their days of tribulation were soon
to end. Before Mary’s public marriage the eager English Catholics also
sent their own emissary to the Spanish Regent of Flanders, Philip’s
sister, the Duchess of Parma, to confer with her, and thence to proceed
to Scotland. The man they chose was one Francis Yaxley, who had filled
several bureaucratic posts in the English Court, especially that of Clerk
of the Signet during Philip’s stay in England. He had been a friend of
Bishop Quadra and a follower of Cecil, but at this time was a professed
Catholic attached to the Lennox party. He knew foreign countries, and had
even been in Spain; so that he was considered to be a good instrument
for bringing into accord the English Catholics, the Scottish Queen, and
King Philip. Guzman, giving notice to the King of his going to Flanders,
says that “he is a person well acquainted with affairs here and will
be able to give the Queen of Scotland a great deal of information. They
(_i.e._, the English Catholics) say that he is a devoted servant of your
Majesty.”[162]
Exactly what this man arranged in Flanders before proceeding to Scotland
is not known, but when he arrived, in August, at Leith, Randolph, the
English agent in Edinburgh, knew enough to suspect him. “His errand
I yet know not,” he wrote to Cecil, “and would I knew what might be
said to such ‘gestes’ who come for little good.”[163] Whatever message
Yaxley brought it was a welcome one to Mary and her husband, Darnley
particularly “rejoicing and imparting all his affairs to him.” Yaxley is
represented by the English agent as imposing upon Darnley and his “yong
company,” by his boastful talk, “as a fit man to send abroad, as he
knew so well the Courts of Spain and England, besides his acquaintance
in Flanders and at Brussels, that he doubted not to accomplish any
commission. So he is to pass secretly to the Duchess of Aerschot [Mary’s
aunt], who shall procure him audience of the Regent, to whom he shall
declare that this Queen ... will commit herself, her husband, and her
country to his [King Philip’s] protection, and, seeing the Queen of
England disposed to marry the French King, the rather to maintain her
[Mary’s] estate she and her husband will remit all her titles to England
to the King of Spain’s judgment; and if the Duchess of Parma thought
meet he is to pass with these offers to Spain.... He [Yaxley] told his
secret friends the names of many noblemen and gentlemen of good power in
England ready to follow the King of Spain’s directions for the alteration
of religion.”[164]
Before Yaxley left again—not, as this letter says, to Flanders, but
direct to Spain from Dumbarton—he renounced his English citizenship to
become a Scotsman. “The Queen and her husband,” wrote Randolph, “have
sent him ambassador to Spain; he embarked three days past [_i.e._, 17th
September]. It passes my power to know his commission, but it is for
little good.”[165] What Randolph could not fathom is to some extent
divulged to us by the letter Mary wrote to Philip by Yaxley; although, of
course, his verbal message was more precise as to what was required and
intended. “Monsieur mon bon frère,” she writes from Glasgow on the 10th
September, “the earnestness you have always displayed in the maintenance
of our Catholic faith has caused me previously to crave your favours
and aid, foreseeing that which has now happened in this realm of mine,
tending to the entire ruin of the Catholics and the establishment of
these unhappy errors. In resisting them my husband and myself will be in
peril of losing our Crown, and by the same means our claims elsewhere,
unless we have the help of one of the great Christian princes. Bearing
this in mind, and seeing the energy with which you have proceeded in your
own States, and especially the firmness with which you have upheld those
who have depended upon your favour, we have thought well to address you,
in preference to any others, to ask for your counsel, and for your help
and support. With this end we have sent this gentleman, an Englishman
and a faithful servant of my husband and myself, with ample charge to
render to you an account of the condition of our affairs, of which he has
full knowledge; praying you to give credit to his words as if they were
our own, and to send him back with all speed, as the case is so pressing
as to touch both our Crown and the liberty of the Church for ever. To
maintain this we will spare neither life nor estate, with your support
and counsel.”[166]
Elizabeth’s Government were fully informed through their spies of the
grave purport of Yaxley’s mission; and Catharine, who was almost as
apprehensive of a Spanish domination of Scotland and England as Elizabeth
herself, made an attempt by means of a special ambassador (Castelnau
de la Mauvissière) to win Mary away from dependence upon Philip by new
professions of friendship towards her. Mary, however, was in no humble
frame of mind now, and would brook no interference either from her
mother-in-law in France or her cousin in England, with both of whom
she had long scores to settle. She would listen to no suggestions of
a reconciliation with Murray, and she plainly threatened the French
ambassador that if his King did not at once help her to punish the
rebels she would invoke the aid of the King of Spain. The position was a
triumphant one for Mary so long as she depended upon Spanish help; and
if Philip had been prompt and such armed aid had been sent to Scotland
before Murray succumbed, Elizabeth might have been deposed and Philip
have obtained the control of Britain.
Elizabeth for once was really alarmed. There was the confident talk
now of Philip’s coming with a great fleet and army to Flanders, which
pessimists in England thought might be used against this country. So
whilst Mary of Scotland, in full hope of Philip’s support, was defying
England, Elizabeth was afraid of stirring a finger to help Murray and
the Protestants ostensibly, for fear of bringing Spaniards or French
Catholics, or both, into North Britain; in which case her own crown would
have been in dire danger. Guzman saw Elizabeth on the 16th September, and
found her full of complaints of the ingratitude of the Queen of Scots and
the Lennoxes, to whom she had been so kind and meant so well. The present
rebellion in Scotland was not really about religion at all, she said, and
Mary only pretended that it was, in order to enlist the help of foreign
princes. “Well, that may be,” replied Guzman drily, “but in any case it
is very inexpedient, and sets a bad example to help rebellious subjects
in their disobedience.” “Oh,” cried Elizabeth, quite shocked at the
idea, “God forbid that _I_ should ever help disobedient subjects, unless
I saw very good reason why they should not be made to suffer without a
hearing!” Elizabeth, indeed, who was sending money secretly to Murray,
and throwing the blame for everything upon the Lennoxes and Darnley, was
now quite apologetic at the attitude into which she was forced by events
and by Mary’s appeal to Spain. So powerless was she at this juncture that
she had to sit idly by whilst Murray and his adherents fled across the
Border (13th October, 1565) before Mary’s threatened vengeance, and she
was even forced to feign anger and indignation at his rebellion when he
sought audience in England of the Queen whose stalking-horse he had been.
Ignorant, of course, of Murray’s collapse, Yaxley duly arrived at
Segovia, where Philip was, on the 23rd October, 1565, and gave his letter
and verbal message to the King. Fortunately Philip repeated this message
to Guzman in his letter to him, written on the following day, and we are
thus able to understand exactly how far Mary was willing to go in her
ambitious plans. “The first thing,” writes Philip, “was to assure us in
fair words of the great hope and confidence they reposed in me, desiring
to govern themselves by my direction alone, and to do nothing without my
consent and pleasure: for this reason they wish to inform me of the need
in which they are, and assure us of their zealous desire to establish
their realm anew under the Christian religion, and to join other
Christian princes with that object. Not having sufficient forces of their
own they begged me to aid them as a Christian monarch; and, in order to
induce me to do so, the envoy set forth the danger in which the Queen
and King of Scotland were, by reason of the heretics, stimulated and
favoured by the English with men and money; so that the said sovereigns
might easily fall into the hands of the rebels, and be conveyed abroad,
leaving the State unprotected, unless I, in whom after God they put their
trust, aided them with money and troops. If I would consent to do this it
would not only be the means of destroying the rebels, but would confirm
the King and Queen in their hope of succeeding to the English throne,
and would banish their fear that the heretics would oust them, the
real heirs, and elect some heretic instead. They promised that if they
obtained the succession of the Crown by my means they would renew more
closely the alliance and league between England and our house against
the world, and leave all other friends for us. They also begged us to
write urgent letters to the Queen of England, first asking her to release
Lady Margaret (Lennox), and secondly to desist from aiding the Scottish
rebels.”[167] Yaxley also asked that an accredited Spanish ambassador
might be sent to Scotland to arrange a binding treaty and to advise Mary
and her husband as to their proceedings.
Philip was not ready yet for heroic measures in Great Britain, for he
was busy planning the deadly blow he hoped to deal upon his disaffected
Flemings. But he sent back by Yaxley cordial letters to Mary and Darnley,
and told them to consult either Guzman or the Spanish ambassador in Paris
when they were in doubt how to proceed. What advice was to be given to
them in such case is seen in the King’s instructions to Guzman. “They
should confine themselves for the present to punishing the rebels and
pacifying the kingdom. When they have done this, and affairs have settled
down, they could look further ahead than at present.” Philip was equally
cautious in other directions. He did not want to tie himself openly or
formally to Mary until he was quite sure that she would be a fit and
obedient instrument for him to obtain command of England. She must, with
her husband, for this purpose be able to command the united support
of the English Catholic party, and Philip must be quite sure that her
French relatives were not to influence her in any way. So he declined to
negotiate a formal treaty or to write to Elizabeth about Lady Lennox,
and even confined his present assistance to a sum of money, no less than
20,000 crowns, which was to be secretly handed to Yaxley by a Spanish
banker, who himself did not know its destination, outside Antwerp.
With this answer Yaxley travelled post-haste to Flanders, and duly took
ship in Antwerp bound for the port of Leith with this large sum of
money on his person. This was about the 20th November, 1565. The season
was a terribly tempestuous one, and at some time in December, from the
wreck of a Flemish ship, there was cast up by the sea upon the coast of
Northumberland the drowned body of Yaxley with his treasure upon him.
Guzman was alarmed when he heard of it, more for the letters and papers
from Philip that the man bore than for the money, as they would divulge
the whole plot; but if the letters were found, which it is probable they
were, they were not delivered to Elizabeth. The Earl of Northumberland
was a Catholic noble and secretly an adherent of Mary’s, as will be seen
later; but, although his attachment to her might prompt him to keep or
destroy letters compromising her, it was not proof against his claiming
the money upon the dead man, which he seized in virtue of his territorial
rights; although he had angry disputes and lawsuits with the Lord
Admiral on the subject, who also claimed the salvage. Mary herself sent
Melville to ask Northumberland for the delivery of the money intended for
her. “But all my entreaties were ineffectual; he altogether refused to
give any part thereof to the Queen (of Scots), albeit he was himself a
Catholic and professed secretly to be her friend.”[168]
At about the same time the Pope sent to Mary, by Philip’s permission,
a similar sum of 20,000 crowns, and promised a subsidy of 4,000 crowns
a month to pay troops to suppress the rebellion. But Murray was in
England and the revolt practically at an end by this time. Elizabeth
was protesting with injured innocence that nothing was further from her
thoughts than subsidising trouble in her dear sister’s realm; whilst
Mary, taking Philip’s advice to heart, was diplomatically biding her time
for the great blow to be struck that would give her the Crown of England.
She once more turned a smiling face upon Randolph, and readily agreed
now to receive special ambassadors from Elizabeth to settle all disputes
between them. The rebels, all but Murray and Kirkaldy of Grange, were
received into favour again, and to please and lull Elizabeth into false
security, Darnley was ostentatiously neglected by his wife. Kirkaldy,
dour and unbending, warned the English that Mary was fooling them. “Send
as many ambassadors as ye please to our Queen, they shall receive proud
answers, for she thinks to have a force ready as soon as ye do, besides
her hope of friendship [of the Catholics] in England, of which she brags
not a little, so driving time is to her advantage.”[169] Kirkaldy was
right, as events proved. Mary was temporising as Philip advised her to
do, counting upon the aid of Spain, the Pope, and the English Catholics
when the hour should strike. But for her the hour never did strike. Her
evil star led her along the path which ended in England and martyrdom.
The tragedy of Rizzio, the vicious foolishness of Darnley, the levity
of Mary, and the falsity of Murray and Morton, destroyed for a time the
great dream, once so promising in appearance, that the Queen of Scots
would mount the Catholic throne of Britain by the aid of Spain. When Mary
was in Lochleven and her infant son had been adopted as their King by
the nobles, Elizabeth and Catharine vied with each other in their loud
expressions of sympathy with a Queen thus contemned by her subjects,
the object in both cases being to obtain, if possible, either through
Mary or her persecutors, a pretext to interfere in Scotland, and thus
to frustrate the Spanish combination. Murray, who was not in Scotland
when Darnley was murdered, found himself assiduously courted, by the
French especially, on his way home, and had a long friendly interview
even with Guzman in London. After the first shock of dismay caused to
the Catholics by the marriage of Mary to Bothwell—a divorced man and a
Protestant—public opinion on their part agreed to regard her as innocent
of the crimes laid to her charge; and when, on the unhappy 16th May,
1568, Mary, weeping with grief and bitter disappointment, bade a last
farewell to the land of her fathers to claim the hospitality of her
bitterest enemy, her party in the north still founded their hopes upon
her, notwithstanding the black suspicion that hung over her, whilst she
was unsubdued and full of plans for future triumph over her enemies.
In her first letter to Elizabeth she struck a high but unwise note,
claiming admission to the Queen’s presence and English aid to subdue her
rebel subjects, failing which she demanded leave to go to France or Spain
and obtain assistance there. Elizabeth refused both requests, for whilst
she was kept in England the unhappy Mary had nothing to offer in return;
but Knollys, who took the message, warned the Queen of England that the
Catholic gentry were flocking to salute the fugitive, whose presence in
the north was a danger, and Mary sent indignant and imprudent messages
by Lord Herries to Elizabeth threatening to appeal to her great Catholic
friends on the Continent. This attitude sealed Mary’s fate and determined
her imprisonment. Lord Herries talked openly, even in Elizabeth’s palace,
of his plans for claiming Catholic aid for his mistress; and although
Guzman used all his deft persuasions to soften the English Queen,
Elizabeth explained to him quite cogently again and again that she dared
not allow Mary to bring foreign Catholic forces into Britain, nor from a
safe refuge on the Continent to organise disaffection in England.
Elizabeth, with ample reason, was at the time in a panic at Philip’s
action in Flanders. For many months the pretence had been kept up that
the King himself was coming to the Netherlands to pacify discontent.
Great forces had been raised in Italy, Spain, and Germany, and a strong
fleet fitted out, to the great alarm of the English, who feared that at
last the time for Philip’s vengeance had arrived, although Elizabeth
had tremblingly tried to keep up the pretence to Guzman that she was
delighted at “her good brother’s” coming. At last when all was ready,
in the autumn of 1567, vast sums of money collected, and the troops
under arms, no longer a royal escort but a strong avenging army, Philip
announced that he would not go to Flanders himself but would send the
terrible Duke of Alba. Then all the world knew what was meant—war to
the knife until Protestantism and political liberty were crushed in the
Netherlands. It was clear to Huguenots, Lutherans, and Anglicans that the
time of trial and struggle was at hand, and mutual messages and promises
of support crossed from one to the other, for they all knew that if the
King of Spain were victorious over dissent in his own land the turn of
the others would come. Elizabeth’s retort to Alba’s proceedings was, as
usual, both bold and diplomatic. She once more made strenuous efforts
to reopen the negotiations for her marriage with the Archduke, she
cajoled Guzman again into the belief that she was not in accord with the
proceedings of her Reformed bishops; and whilst all England was thrilling
with sympathy for the oppressed Flemings she made the most elaborate
protestations to the Spanish ambassador that she had not helped and would
not help them in their resistance.[170] But at the same time Elizabeth,
by a policy of alternate severity and leniency towards them, convinced
the English Catholic party that their future treatment depended alone
upon their gaining her goodwill.
The first suppression of revolt in Flanders effected by Alba on his
arrival coincided with a change in Philip’s policy towards England,
probably under the influence of the warlike party now dominant in his
counsels. Guzman, as we have seen, had always spoken fair to Elizabeth
and Cecil, though he often complained to his master of having to deal
with “heretics” thus. But from Madrid now a harsher note was struck. The
English spies in Spain reported that all the talk now was of the coming
conquest of England, and of Catholic combinations to overthrow the Queen;
and in February Elizabeth learnt from a messenger sent by her ambassador
in Spain, Dr. Man, Dean of Gloucester, to inform her of the imprisonment
of Don Carlos, that the household of her ambassador had not been allowed
to celebrate Protestant worship in the embassy building. Dr. Man was a
notoriously foolish, babbling person, and, as Philip averred, had openly
scoffed at a religious procession, and had spoken at dinner before
Spaniards disrespectfully of the Catholic faith. The Duke of Feria had
been sent to warn him, which we may be sure he did haughtily enough,[171]
and Philip, on Man’s first arrival in Madrid, appears to have told him
harshly “that he must conduct himself as his predecessors had done.” The
Inquisition had, so Philip declared, complained of him, and he was said
to have acted “simply as a perverse dogmatiser.”
However this may have been, the prohibition of his own national worship
within the embassy walls was a violation of diplomatic privilege, though
Philip said that other English ambassadors (meaning Challoner) had put up
with it; and when Elizabeth heard of it she was violently angry. Cecil
went to Guzman and told him heatedly that unless the English ambassador
in Madrid had the same privileges conceded to him as those that Guzman
enjoyed in London, he would immediately be withdrawn. Philip, said
Elizabeth, might do as he liked with his own subjects, but he should not
persecute hers. The complaint, of course, went to Madrid, and at the
same time a letter to Dr. Man from the irate Elizabeth ordering him to
demand immediate satisfaction from the King. Philip was ready for it and
gave him no opportunity. In a violent letter to Guzman, entirely unlike
his previous tone towards England, he tells his ambassador that he has
banished Man from Madrid, and refused to have any more intercourse with
him. He had, says the King, even tried to proselytise in Spain; and if
he had not been an ambassador the Inquisition would have made short work
of him. If Elizabeth did not recall him at once, he would be expelled
from Spain. When Guzman waited upon Elizabeth early in May, 1568, with
this message and handed her his new letter of credence, he watched her
face closely. “When she came to the latter part about the ambassador she
changed colour and seemed annoyed, asking me what it meant.” Guzman, as
gently as he could, gave her the rough message, and said that a gentleman
was on the way from Spain to explain matters. In the meanwhile, amongst
other things, he might tell her that this precious ambassador of hers
had publicly called the Pope a “canting little monk!” “Oh! there is
nothing in that,” said the Queen, but Guzman thought otherwise. She had
not dealt with Bishop Quadra so harshly, she said, although she found
he was positively plotting against her. “She therefore grieved that her
ambassador should be treated as he had been, especially as at this time
suspicions and comments would arise therefrom. This way of treating
ambassadors was a forerunner of greater unpleasantness, particularly
coming as it did on the top of the news of the Catholic league against
her, and I should hear next day what would be said in London about it.”
A week or so after this came the news that Man had been expelled from
Madrid with every circumstance of insult, and Guzman, anxious to hear
what the English would think of it, called upon Cecil. He found the
minister in a furious passion at the outrage upon international courtesy.
Such a thing, he said, had never been heard of before unless a pretext
for war was sought, and it was a great piece of disrespect and an insult
to the Queen, showing a desire to pick a quarrel with her, as had already
been stated in certain quarters, and it now behoved the Queen to be
prepared. It is certain that this incident, almost coinciding as it did
with Mary Stuart’s arrival in England and her open threats to appeal to
the Catholic Powers for aid, greatly perturbed and alarmed Elizabeth. The
war of religion in France was again in full swing, and her friends the
Huguenots had their hands full and could not help her, the Flemings were
temporarily crushed under the iron heel of Alba, and the Catholics of the
North of England were in a ferment at the coming of the Queen of Scots.
In spite, therefore, of Guzman’s remonstrances, the flail fell upon the
backs of the English Catholics, and for the first time Guzman himself
was treated with harshness. Cecil told him “that the Council regarded him
with suspicion, and the Queen did the same.” The ambassador was gentler
and more conciliatory than ever; but in the new situation created he was
not the man for the place. In February, 1568, he had earnestly begged the
King to recall him on the pretext of ill-health and lack of means. At
that time, before Mary Stuart’s arrival in England, the relations between
England and Spain were not abnormally strained, for Mary, being deposed
and imprisoned, was powerless. Philip sent no answer to the ambassador’s
request for several months; but in May, when the prospect was no longer
“quiet and friendly,” he sent to Guzman his letter of dismissal. The King
at this time needed a rough, overbearing man to support his strong action
with regard to the English ambassador. The communications that had passed
between Philip and Mary Stuart, and the reports he had received as to
the attitude of the English Catholics of the north from the Lennoxes and
others, had convinced him that an opportunity offered for dealing his
blow. Guzman had continued gently to encourage the Queen of Scotland’s
agent, Fleming, but neither his instructions nor his disposition allowed
him to go beyond bare expressions of sympathy. “I have shown him great
goodwill, and have in general terms assured him of your Majesty’s sincere
affection for his Queen, as I am letting the Catholics, her friends,
understand.”[172] But Guzman went no further than this.
Philip always chose his instruments carefully, with a view for the
precise task he confided to them. He had sent Guzman to London to
tranquillise Elizabeth by cordiality and a show of simple frankness,
at a time when trade was suspended and she was deeply irritated at the
intrigues of Bishop Quadra. The ambassador had done his work admirably,
but now another phase had to be dealt with, and a different man was
required. To some extent, perhaps, Guzman’s recall may have been
influenced by his own remark that Catholics are exposed to much danger
to the purity of their faith by living so long amongst heretics, in
answer to which the King told him that he was not to join in religious
discussions with enemies of the Church; but the choice of his successor
was certainly made with a view to an alteration in the attitude in
future to be adopted towards Elizabeth by her brother-in-law. All hope
of bringing her round to a Catholic policy was now quite abandoned. To
invade and conquer her country, as Feria had proposed, when it might have
been done, in the first days of her reign, was not at present in Philip’s
power. But he had a famous general and a powerful army a few hours only
from her shores, and she might be frightened into a humble and tolerant
mood, perhaps, by a rough-tongued bully with such a force to threaten
with. Besides, reports had told the King that the Catholics of the North
of England were yearning for his coming to liberate their country from
the yoke of heresy, and a bold zealot was needed to organise them into a
fit instrument for Philip’s future purpose.
Such a man, though without the subtlety and secrecy required, was found
in Don Gerau de Spes, a haughty Catalan knight of the Alba school, as
intolerant as Feria himself. It was no part of Philip’s intention yet to
quarrel openly with Elizabeth, and the instructions he gave to his new
ambassador were, as will be seen presently, entirely pacific; but the
King was really in great trepidation as to the way in which the Queen
would take the expulsion of her ambassador, and de Spes’s first task was
to frighten her into humility, and into desisting from countenancing the
open aid that was flowing over from England to the Flemish rebels. When
Guzman went to Hatfield to announce to the Queen his recall he found her
troubled and suspicious at the rumours that had reached her as to the
reasons for the change. “She showed more sorrow than I expected, and,
changing colour, told me that she was grieved to the bottom of her heart
that there should be any change, as she was so greatly pleased with my
procedure. She said she had always shown me how pleased she was with me,
and hoped to God there was no mystery behind this change.”
The supple ambassador tranquillised her. She knew, he said, what poor
health he had, and how badly the English climate suited him. There was no
other mystery behind his going than that. She was coquettishly aggrieved,
too, at his wanting to leave her, as they had been such friends; and
besides, there was all this talk about a Catholic league against her!
Guzman again reassured her; but when he got back to London he found Cecil
less easy to calm. He had been told alarming stories by his spies, most
of which we now know were untrue, and after assuring Guzman of the grief
that his recall would cause to the Queen, he continued that “it confirmed
what he had heard from various quarters, that Cardinal Lorraine had
arranged a treaty with the Duke of Alba respecting this country and the
Queen of Scots, which had been negotiated through me [_i.e._, Guzman] as
they could not trust the French ambassador. It was said, also, that the
Queen of Scots herself was in communication with me and sent me letters
for your Majesty. It was asserted that, now that I had arranged it all,
I wished to leave in order that my successor, and not myself, should
witness the carrying out of the plan.”[173] Guzman knew that a letter to
him enclosing one from Mary to Philip had fallen into Cecil’s hands, so
he had to be dexterous in his management of the situation. He affected
to laugh at such assertions as absurd;[174] and the interview ended by
the highest praise being bestowed upon Guzman, who, said Cecil, had
absolutely gained the Queen’s confidence; and many dubious questions were
put by Cecil as to what sort of a person Don Gerau de Spes was.
Don Gerau soon showed this for himself. He was instructed by Philip
to explain to Elizabeth the misdeeds of Dr. Man that had led to his
expulsion, and to exonerate the Duke and Duchess of Feria, and especially
the English relatives of the latter, from any blame in the matter. He
was also to watch the introduction of warlike stores into England and
keep in touch with the Duke of Alba in Flanders; but he is emphatically
enjoined “to serve and gratify the Queen on every possible occasion,
trying to keep her on good terms, and assuring her from me that I will
always return her friendship as her good neighbour and brother.” De Spes,
however, must have carried secret instructions in addition to this,
because when he was passing through Paris, Mary Stuarts ambassador, the
Archbishop of Glasgow, recommended to him the care of the imprisoned
Queen’s affairs, “as she founded all her hopes on your Majesty’s favour,”
and, in reply, de Spes said that he had orders to do everything he could
for her. There is no such clause in his public instructions, and it is
most unlikely that any ambassador of Philip would have dared to plunge
without instructions into conspiracies against the Government to which he
was accredited, as de Spes did immediately after his arrival in England.
Before crossing the Channel, de Spes had a conference with the Duke
of Alba at Utrecht, where a long list of Philip’s grievances against
Elizabeth were discussed. The indictment was a grave one, the injuries
said to be inflicted by the English upon Spaniards and Flemings amounting
in value, it was computed, to 300,000 ducats a year; and it is certain
that at this interview between the two fiery Spaniards plans for
revenging and amending this state of things were canvassed and agreed
upon. In England at the time there resided a Spanish merchant, ambitious
to fill a diplomatic _rôle_, and, although he had lived in London for
thirty years at least, he was as zealous and intolerant in religious
affairs as de Spes, or even Philip himself. This man, of whom we shall
hear much presently, Antonio de Guaras, anxious to ingratiate himself,
had sent to de Spes in Flanders two broadsheets that had just been
published in England attacking Philip’s system and the communications
that it was known passed between the English Catholics and the King of
Spain. Such papers, of course, had been published in Guzman’s time, but
he had wisely passed them by or minimised their importance. To de Spes
they served as a spark to the tinder of his passion, and he arrived in
England fuming with rage at the insolence of the heretics.
As de Spes rode from Dover towards London, with a long train of Spanish
residents in England at his heels, early in September, 1568, he was
overtaken by a Scottish gentleman (probably James Beton) on his way
from Paris in the service of the imprisoned Mary, with whom he was
going to seek an interview. De Spes listened eagerly to his story of
the ill-treatment of Mary by the “heretics,” and told him that he had
letters in London from King Philip to her. He had enough prudence to
tell the Scot when, after their arrival in the capital, he came for the
King’s letter to take to Mary that it would be wise that he, as Spanish
ambassador, should not be seen too prominently in her interests; but he
associated himself at once in all the Scottish Queen’s plans to escape
from her bondage, and sent her warm messages of encouragement. Almost
at the same time (15th September) Philip himself was writing from the
Escorial an important letter to the Duke of Alba. The Queen of Scots, he
said, had written praying for his help to extricate her from Elizabeth’s
hands, and professing her readiness to die in defence of the faith.[175]
“I have refrained from arriving at any decision or answering her
autograph letter ... until you tell me what you think of the business,
and in what way and to what extent I should assist her. I beg you to
write to me by the first opportunity on the matter, and in the meanwhile
to encourage the Queen the best you can to persevere firmly in her
saintly purpose; for whilst she does so God will not abandon her.”[176]
It is obvious from this that Philip had not decided yet to help Mary,
but only to encourage her until affairs appeared to him propitious, and
we shall be able to judge, therefore, to what extent the zeal of de Spes
precipitated matters.
Elizabeth was making a progress through Hampshire, and Guzman presented
his successor to her at Newbury on the 12th September, 1568. To the
scornful anger of de Spes, Cardinal Chatillon, the Huguenot brother
of Coligny, was also seeking audience of the Queen, and being feasted
and made much of in the interval by Sir Thomas Gresham at his house in
London. That a Cardinal, a prince of the Catholic Church, followed by a
wife and family and with several bishops at his side as unorthodox as
he, should be ruffling about the streets of London in cape and sword and
jewelled cap, shocked de Spes gravely; but that he should be asking,
and obtaining, arms from the Tower of London and money and English
volunteers to fight against the Catholics and the King in France made the
Spaniard more bitter than anything else. The new ambassador had not been
installed in Paget House[177] a fortnight before Mary Stuart’s emissaries
were in close conference with him. One of them came to him early in
October disguised as a merchant, saying that he was bearing letters from
her to the Duke of Alba in Flanders. The Conference of York, which had
been summoned to decide Mary’s guilt or innocence of the murder of her
husband, was already gathering, and the Scottish Queen herself was at
Bolton. How eager de Spes was even thus early to engage in plots in her
favour is seen in the letter he wrote to the King on the 9th October
giving him this news. “Where she is the Catholics are more numerous than
in any part of the country. She knows how to ingratiate herself with her
keepers, and has many sympathisers on her side. It will not be difficult
to release her, and even to raise a great revolt against this Queen; but
it will be more prudent that your Majesty should not appear in this,
and I will do nothing until I receive orders from your Majesty or the
Duke.”[178]
All this foregathering with Scottish agents on the part of de Spes was
not lost upon the English Government, whose spies reported everything. De
Spes says that Cecil sneeringly asked Beton (the nephew of the Archbishop
of Glasgow, who was in London on his way from Paris to see Mary) “whether
he had been with his complaints to the new Spanish ambassador yet, and
how often he went to Paget House.” In these circumstances it is not
surprising that relations grew rapidly acrimonious between Philip’s
ambassador and Elizabeth’s ministers. He pressed with boldness and
persistence the claims of the Spanish shipmasters for the depredations
committed by English rovers, and by the Huguenots and Dutch rebels
who took shelter in English ports; and to these claims Cecil retorted
by bringing up the old grievance of Dr. Man’s expulsion, and certain
insulting references to the Queen of England contained in a recently
published Spanish book by Dr. Illescas on Pontifical History. To make
matters worse, de Spes did not confine himself to the redress of Spanish
grievances, but made himself the champion of Catholics generally. A
Portuguese envoy, Dr. Alvarez, was in London to ask Elizabeth to forbid
English ships to go to the coast of Guinea, where Hawkins had been
slave-trading, and suddenly one morning the Bishop of London’s men
appeared before the house in which Alvarez lived and demanded that
certain Englishmen then attending Mass there should be delivered to them
for punishment. The Portuguese refused to surrender them, and the house
was soon surrounded by a threatening crowd. Word was carried to de Spes,
who immediately sent off one of his household to demand of the Lord Mayor
(Sir Roger Martin) the dispersal of the mob. “What is the cause of the
gathering?” asked the chief magistrate, and when the Spaniard told him
that it was a question of Catholic worship, Sir Roger burst out in a rage
that he would rather send his men to reinforce the mob than to disperse
it in such a case.
The presence of such a firebrand ambassador as this in London, in
constant communication, as Elizabeth’s ministers knew, with all the
elements of disaffection in England, and in close correspondence with the
terrible Duke of Alba in Flanders, convinced the English Government that
evil plans were brewing. It was known that Philip’s principal difficulty
was money. The expense of the campaigns in Flanders and the constant wars
in the Mediterranean had exhausted the resources of Castile, and Philip’s
credit was as bad as could be. Alba’s troops were unpaid and growing
mutinous, committing outrage and depredations upon Catholics as much as
upon Protestants. The Duke had pressed, again and again, for money from
Spain, and the English spies in Flanders had continued to send alarmist
reports, all premature as we see now, but then believed to be true, of
the hostile intentions of Alba against England as soon as he had crushed
the Dutchmen and obtained the needed resources from Spain.
Chance threw into Elizabeth’s way a means of paralysing Alba for a time
and rendering impossible the plans to injure her that she knew were
hatching. Philip had, with infinite difficulty, managed to contract,
at usurious rates, a loan of money from Genoese bankers, and, with his
characteristic caution, he had stipulated that the money should be
delivered by the lenders to the agents of the Duke of Alba in Antwerp.
The Channel was infested with Huguenot privateers and pirates of all
sorts on the look out for ships flying the Spanish flag, and the Dutch
“Beggars” blockaded the Belgian coast. The ships, six or seven of them,
which were bringing Philip’s borrowed treasure were known to have sailed
late in November, and the rovers were all on the alert for them when they
came. Finding themselves chased, the treasure ships ran into English
ports, some into Plymouth, some to Falmouth, and the largest of them into
Southampton, in order to escape their pursuers and claim official English
protection. Even in port the privateers threatened the fugitives, and two
of the treasure ships, swift Biscay cutters, fearing that the heretics
on shore were as dangerous as their colleagues afloat, boldly ran the
blockade of pirates and escaped, eventually arriving safely in Antwerp.
But the others, and especially the big ship in Southampton with £31,000
in money on board, could only cling desperately to the English port
authorities, whilst they sent swift messengers to Benedict Spinola, the
famous Genoese banker in London, the agent and partner of the lenders,
praying him to obtain safety for them.
Spinola, being, of course, interested in the treasure, went at once to
de Spes, and asked him to request officially of the Queen’s Council that
the money should be protected effectively in the English ports, and,
if necessary, landed and conveyed overland to Dover for transmission
to Antwerp under English convoy. De Spes lost no time, and on the 29th
November saw the Queen, who readily promised him a passport to carry the
money overland, or, if the Genoese preferred it, she would have the ships
convoyed to their destination. Satisfied with this, de Spes wrote to Alba
for instructions as to which course to follow. In the meanwhile Admiral
Wynter was leaving the Thames with an English squadron to relieve the
Huguenots besieged by the King of France in Rochelle, and on the way he
looked into the Channel ports to ensure the safety of the treasure ships.
Before Wynter sailed finally from England Spinola, who was interested,
as great financiers are to-day, in many enterprises, wrote to him that
he had just received word that rumours were current in Spain of a great
disaster having happened on the coast of Mexico to Captain John Hawkins,
the bold English sailor who had on more than one occasion braved the
Spanish prohibition and had conducted successful trading expeditions to
the Spanish colonies. De Spes had been bitterly complaining of this, and
it was feared, said Spinola, that the Hawkins expedition, in which he had
an interest, had been attacked and annihilated by the Spanish authorities.
When Wynter received Spinola’s news on the 2nd December he was in
Plymouth, assuring himself of the safety of the Spanish treasure ships
there. Wynter naturally told the evil news he had learned from Spinola
to William Hawkins, the brother of John, who lived in Plymouth, and
William at once wrote to Cecil, who was also interested in the venture,
suggesting that Spinola should be questioned, and if it turned out that
the Spaniards had attacked the English trading expedition, the money
in the ships now being protected by English guns should be seized in
reprisal. This letter was written on the 3rd December, the day after
the safe conduct had been signed by Elizabeth for bringing the treasure
overland to Dover, and before Cecil can have received it this safe
conduct was on its way in the hands of de Spes’s agents to Southampton,
and so to Plymouth and Falmouth. Cecil’s messengers, however, were not
far behind, and, in spite of the protest of the Spanish captain, Horsey,
the Governor of the Isle of Wight, by Cecil’s secret orders, landed the
treasure from the ship at Southampton and placed it in the keeping of the
mayor of the town. Similar action was taken with the treasure at Plymouth
and Falmouth, and when the news reached de Spes in London he at once
jumped at the conclusion that the rumours were true that he had heard at
Court to the effect that some of the Queen’s Council and her Huguenot
friends had been urging her to keep the treasure for her own purposes.
Spinola, a resident in London, dependent largely upon Elizabeth’s
goodwill and Cecil’s friendship, had, indeed, let out in conversation
not only what he had heard about the Spanish attack upon John Hawkins’s
expedition in Mexico, but also that the Genoese financiers were
responsible for the money advanced to Philip until it was handed to the
Spanish authorities in Flanders. “In that case,” said Elizabeth, “I can
borrow it myself; for my credit is quite as good as that of the King of
Spain.” Rash de Spes, however, did not wait for any such public avowal.
To his intemperate and insolent protests Cecil and the other Councillors
would only say that the money was quite safe, and for the present no
other answer with regard to it could be given to him. This was on the
21st December and the ambassador at once sent a special courier to Alba
with a letter praying, in burning indignation, that all English property
and that of Spinola on Spanish soil should be seized.[179] Nothing more
unwise than this can be conceived; for no sooner had Alba made the
confiscatory proclamation than Elizabeth not only justified thereby her
seizure of the money, now openly avowed, but at once confiscated all
Spanish and Flemish property in England, including the ships that had
brought the money.
De Spes had been saying for weeks past that the best way to bring the
Queen to her knees, and to force her into the arms of Spain, would be to
stop all English trade; and when he had sent to Alba the unwise advice
to make the seizure of English property he still believed that such a
measure would dismay the “heretic” Government. So far from doing that it
placed Elizabeth technically in the right; for up to that point she had
not openly avowed her intention of keeping the loan money; and the value
of Spanish-Flemish property in England was immensely greater than that of
English property in Philip’s dominions. The news of the seizure of the
loan money fell upon Alba and his master like a death sentence. Without
this money to pay his troops Alba was almost in despair, and Philip had
exhausted his last rag of credit in raising the loan. In vain de Spes
raged and fumed. Cecil and his mistress were perfectly cool about it; for
they saw that the impetuousness of their opponents had put them in the
right, and the large sum of ready money they had seized strengthened them
as it proportionately weakened Philip. De Spes’s house was placed under
guard; and a threatening mob in the City of London breathed vengeance
upon the foreigners, and especially Spaniards, most of whom had fled
into hiding. To make matters worse, a cipher letter from de Spes to Alba
was intercepted and deciphered, full of violent and insulting references
to Cecil, and other letters to Spanish friends in Flanders containing
foolish abuse of the Queen herself.[180] Called upon peremptorily for
explanation of these references, the ambassador could only palliate,
disavow, and explain that he did not mean what he said; and he himself
was placed under arrest and forbidden access to the Court.
Even then, when the dire consequences of his imprudence must have been
patent to him, he was in close cipher correspondence with Mary Stuart,
who sent him news, which he took care to exaggerate, of Protestant
plots being formed to murder King Philip. Writing to the King on the 8th
January, 1569, he says, after pressing him to foment dissatisfaction in
England by stopping all trade: “In the meanwhile means will be found
to bring this country to its senses and subdue it to the Catholic
faith. Those who have spoken to me about a rising for the Queen of
Scots will not fail to return to the subject,[181] and I will inform
the Duke [Alba], as your Majesty orders. Pray do not consider me or my
safety, but take the best course for your Majesty’s interests.... These
heretic knaves of the Council are going headlong to perdition, incited
by Cecil, who is indescribably crazy in his zeal for heresy.” Later
in the same letter de Spes tells how his own prediction came true and
the conspirators did seek him. “The Earl of Northumberland came to see
me disguised at four o’clock this morning, and is ready to serve your
Majesty. I sent a post yesterday to the Duke by an Englishman who has
secret communication with Flanders.... At midnight last night the Bishop
of Ross came to offer the goodwill of his mistress [_i.e._, Mary Stuart]
and of many gentlemen of this country, and I have reported this to the
Duke [of Alba]. The Queen of Scotland told my servant to convey to me
the following words: ‘Tell the ambassador that if his master will help
me I shall be Queen of England in three months, and Mass shall be said
throughout the land.’”[182]
It will be seen that before de Spes had been in England four months
he had forced King Philip into a position of hardly veiled hostility
towards England, at the very period when his lack of resources and the
recrudescence of the war in the Netherlands made it impossible for
him to attempt coercion upon Elizabeth. Alba himself was dismayed at
the unexpectedly bold action of the English Government in seizing the
treasure and embargoing all Spanish-Flemish property in England. The
Flemish burghers, already sorely distressed by the civil war, were almost
in open revolt at this stoppage of the rich English trade and the embargo
of their property in England, and Alba, hard as he might be, was forced
to make an attempt to reason with Elizabeth by means of some more pliable
instrument than de Spes. The person chosen was the garrulous Flemish
lawyer, Dassonleville, who had come to England just before Queen Mary
Tudor’s death, but he found himself more contemptuously treated even than
de Spes. Who was he, the Council asked, that he should seek audience of
a Queen with a letter of credence from a person who, so far as she knew,
was not a sovereign? Nothing wounded proud Alba so much as this slight,
and poor Dassonleville was denied audience, and was placed under arrest
in the house of the Sheriff of London.
By this time no less than 700,000 ducats worth of Flemish ships and
property had been seized in England, besides Philip’s treasure of a
million; and the Spaniards, especially Alba, were bitterly regretting
the deplorable diplomacy of de Spes. Philip, who hated to come to
prompt decisions, was now face to face with a crisis. In obedience to
the clamours of his ambassador he had stopped all trade between his
dominions and England; by which, instead of its bringing Elizabeth to her
knees, his subjects suffered much more than the English. It was evident,
however, that this state of things could not continue indefinitely,
and he was driven by these circumstances, at the very time when he was
more hardly pressed than ever, to consider whether he could now conquer
England by means of the English Catholics and Mary Stuart. For such a
conquest to be of use to him it was necessary to be quite sure that
Mary should be free from French influence, and that the new Catholic
Government should look to him alone for orders.
When, therefore, he received news from Alba and de Spes of the seizures
he wrote to the former: “Don Gerau urges the opportunity which now
presents itself to remedy religious affairs in that country by deposing
the present Queen and giving the crown to the Queen of Scots, who
will immediately be joined by all the Catholics. Please inquire what
foundation there is for this, and what success would probably attend
such a plan; as if there is anything in it, I should be glad to carry
it out. It appears to me that, after my special obligation to maintain
my own dominions in our holy faith, I am bound to make every effort to
restore and preserve it in England, as in former times. If there is any
good grounds for the suggestion, no time more opportune than the present
could be found ... and in order not to miss the chance, I have thought
well to refer the decision to you. If you think the opportunity will be
lost by waiting to consult me you may at once take the steps you may see
fitting.” It was not often that Philip went so far as this in a prompt
decision, and to de Spes he was equally decided. “If what you suggest
about taking the crown away from the Queen were successful, it would
certainly be of great moment, and I would help it most willingly, in
order to redress religion, and shelter and console the Catholics, who, I
am convinced, are very numerous. You will learn all you can about this
thoroughly and advise me and the Duke of Alba fully.”[183]
In the meanwhile the conspiracy, by far the most dangerous that Elizabeth
ever had to face, was developing in London. Cecil, who, in fact, was the
most pacific of ministers, is represented by the Spanish party as the
firebrand, determined to precipitate a war with Spain. This was certainly
not the case. He, with his cool head, understood how far he might go now
that Philip was powerless to attack England. The seizure of the money
destined to pay Alba’s troops had made all the difference, and Cecil
and his mistress knew that they might for the present defy Spain with
impunity. The news of the attack upon Hawkins’s expedition at San Juan
de Lua was now confirmed and added to the determination of the English
Protestant party to get even with a Power which, for the time at all
events, was disabled for harm. But the conservative elements, the old
English nobility, with their strong Catholic leanings, their traditions
of awed regard for the alliance of the House of Burgundy and Spain, and
with their long-standing jealousy of Cecil, saw in his present action a
dangerous provocation to a Power they dreaded, and a possible opportunity
of supplanting him and his party in the counsels of the Queen.
On several occasions the nobles of this party had expressed to de Spes
their annoyance at the seizure of the treasure; and we have seen that
the Earl of Northumberland, the powerful Catholic head of the House of
Percy, had sought him out secretly in the dead of night to make disloyal
offers to him. The Duke of Norfolk, unhappily for himself, had also
been drawn into these questionable intrigues by his father-in-law, the
Earl of Arundel. Late in February, 1569, Norfolk and Arundel sent a
Florentine banker in London, one Ridolfi, a great friend of de Spes and
the Pope’s agent in England, to tell the Spanish ambassador that they had
put up with Cecil’s impertinences and violence in seizing the treasure
so far because they were not strong enough to resist him. “But they are
gathering their friends, and letting the public know what is going on,
in the hope and belief that they will be able to turn out the present
accursed Government and raise a Catholic one, bringing the Queen to
consent thereto. They think you [_i.e._, the Duke of Alba] will support
them in this, and that the country will not lose the friendship of our
King.” The object of this conspiracy was to capture (and probably kill)
Cecil; and, although the nobles euphemistically professed to believe
that Elizabeth would consent to a entire revolution in her religion and
policy, it is evident that the intention of the majority was to depose
her in favour of Mary Stuart. On the 2nd April de Spes writes: “The Duke
of Norfolk and the Earl of Arundel wish to serve your Majesty. They have
many friends and adherents in the country, and when they hear that your
Majesty will accept their goodwill, they will declare themselves more
openly at a convenient opportunity. The Duke of Alba ... orders me to
entertain and caress them on your Majesty’s behalf, and says that he
expects shortly your Majesty’s decision as to what is to be done....
If your Majesty orders measures to be taken for the conversion of the
kingdom and the punishment of these insolent heretics and barefaced
thieves, I do not think it will be difficult to bring them to subjection,
or at least to change the Government and religion.... Many Catholics
write to me secretly, saying that the moment they see your Majesty’s
standard raised in this country they will all rise to serve you.”
But Cecil was too wary to be caught by such weaklings as Norfolk and
Arundel, and by pretending to fall into their views for a time about the
reconciliation and concessions to the Spaniards, he managed a few weeks
after the above letter was written to throw the plans of the conspirators
into confusion by dividing their counsels. In the meanwhile Alba (on the
10th March) had to tell Philip some unpleasant truths in answer to his
suggestion that English affairs should be taken in hand and settled on
the impracticable lines suggested by feather-headed de Spes. “I know
not,” Alba wrote to the King, “whether an open rupture with England at
the present time will be advantageous, considering the condition of your
treasury, and these States being so exhausted with the war and late
disturbances, and so lacking of ships and many other things necessary
for a fresh war; and it would certainly be a grave loss of dignity, with
your Majesty’s power, to return to the old negotiations. All things
considered, I think it would be best to adopt a gentle course, writing
to the Queen that, seeing the close friendship and alliance that have
so long existed between the two countries, particularly between her
father and the Emperor, and your brotherly affection for her, even though
she should desire to quarrel, you will not consent to do so, and that
it shall never be said that the tie that binds you together has been
loosened.”
To this lame and impotent conclusion had even warlike Alba been brought
by the inevitable logic of events. Elizabeth had seized the treasure,
imprisoned two ambassadors, embargoed all Spanish property in her realms;
she had at the time hundreds of Spanish sailors and others in gaol, and
she rejected with contumely all attempts of the Spaniards to reconcile
her on the basis of mutual concessions. The Dutch and the Huguenots
depended now largely upon her support, and the English Catholics were
made to feel more painfully than ever that appeals to their powerful
friends upon the Continent could not protect them from the hard rule of
their own Sovereign. And yet, withal, Alba had to confess that the only
course now open to him was to speak fair, until at some future time a
safe opportunity for injuring Elizabeth might arrive.
Up to this time since Philip had faced the necessity for winning England
by other means than moral suasion, the projects for doing so had always
run upon the lines of subsidising and supporting the revolt of the
Catholic party in the interests of the Queen of Scots; and in this
direction, but later with an ominous addition to the programme, the
next attempts developed. During the sitting of the Conference of York
in October, 1568, to investigate the charges against Mary relative to
the murder of Darnley, the Duke of Norfolk had suggested to Lethington
the desirability of hushing up the ugly business as against the Queen of
Scots; and on the following day he had a long, private conversation with
Murray to the same effect. Thomas Howard, fourth Duke of Norfolk, son of
the martyred Surrey, was the greatest noble in England, a kinsman of the
Queen, and up to this time ostensibly a Protestant. Personally, he was
popular, for his manners were kindly and his possessions great, but, as
events proved, he was as weak and unstable as he was ambitious. At this
time he was about thirty-three years of age, and his wife, the daughter
of the Earl of Arundel, and widow of Lord Dacre, had died. Such a man,
with his personal prestige and his powerful name, was a fit instrument
for stronger spirits than himself. In conversation with Murray at York,
Norfolk said that Queen Elizabeth herself would not consider the subject
of the succession, but it was necessary for the nobles of England to look
ahead. “What could be Murray’s motive,” he asked, “in coming to England
to blacken Queen Mary’s character and thus injuring her chances of the
English succession?”
As a consequence of these efforts of Norfolk, it was agreed with Murray
and Lethington to make the Conference of York abortive, and Mary was
informed of this by a letter from Norfolk.[184] In the course of the
subsequent negotiations a few days afterwards, Lethington remarked that
as Norfolk showed himself so much in favour of Mary, the whisper he had
heard about the possibility of his marriage to her was probably true,
and, according to Norfolk, earnestly advocated the match.[185] Norfolk
listened, for the prospect of the matrimonial Crown of England was a
tempting one, and his sister, Lady Scrope, who was with Mary at Bolton,
had no difficulty in obtaining the Scottish Queen’s acceptance of a
suggestion which seemed to secure for her cause the higher nobility
of England, who were anxious to overthrow the Cecils, and Bacons, and
Hunsdons, and other new men, who now ruled England. De Spes was very soon
approached, and, of course, warmly approved of the plan to marry Norfolk
to the Queen of Scots, whilst a close and affectionate correspondence
was carried on between Mary and her new suitor. For a time the plan was
frustrated by the alarm of Leicester, when he suspected the real object
of it, and by the dexterity of Cecil, as has already been described.
Norfolk and Arundel had, however, never lost touch of de Spes, both of
them constantly importuning him for money in return for their efforts
in favour of the Spaniards in the seizure dispute. The Bishop of Ross,
Mary’s busy agent, also kept the matter alive with de Spes. Norfolk,
Arundel, Lumley, Northumberland, Cumberland, Montagu, Dacre, Morley, and
many other Catholic nobles, de Spes wrote to Alba, were ready to join
in the conspiracy to release Mary and place England under the control of
King Philip, if some armed demonstration were made on their behalf from
Flanders. But Alba, as he plaintively assured King Philip, was powerless
to assail, or even to offend, Elizabeth further, until she could be
persuaded to surrender the vast quantity of Spanish-Flemish property she
now held. Until then, he said, they must speak fair and softly to her,
though the English and other Protestant privateers were capturing and
plundering every Spanish ship they came across.
In the meanwhile de Spes, still in disgrace and forbidden from Court,
could only plot impotently through the Bishop of Ross and Italian
intermediaries, many of them spies. The coming and going of such folk
and the constant news sent by de Spes of the progress of the conspiracy,
fairly alarmed Alba, who was now chiefly concerned in getting some of
the confiscated property restored and trade reopened. In July he sent
to de Spes, though he could ill spare it, the six thousand crowns bribe
demanded by Norfolk, Arundel, and Lumley for their efforts in favour
of the Spanish claims, and for the first time he spoke firmly to de
Spes about his constant plotting. “I must again repeat,” he said, “to
you, most emphatically, that you are not, on any account, to entertain
approaches to you against the Queen or her Councillors, or anything
touching them. On the contrary, if people come to you with such talk, you
must be so reticent that they may never be able to say that any minister
of the King has given ear to it.” At this very time the imprudent
ambassador was almost daily or nightly closeted with some agent of the
conspirators, and was warmly seconding their plans. But as pacific,
almost humble, representations by other agents came from Alba to the
English Government, in hope of some arrangement for the restitution,
Elizabeth assumed a gentler attitude; though she gave up not an atom of
her plunder, and she partially released de Spes from his imprisonment.
In the comparative remoteness of Winchester House, in Southwark, which
he now rented, the Spanish ambassador, as imprudent as ever, found it
easier than before to carry on his plots for the subjection of England;
and, regardless of Alba’s stern injunction quoted above, he became more
active and mischievous than ever. On the 25th July, 1569, he wrote to the
King that the Bishop of Ross had been to see him at three o’clock that
morning “to assure me of the wish of the Duke of Norfolk to serve your
Majesty. He said he was a Catholic, and has the support, even in London,
of many merchants and aldermen. I will report everything to the Duke of
Alba and follow his instructions.” Shortly before this, Mary herself, in
one of her many affectionate letters to Norfolk, had intimated that she
was in communication with the Duke of Alba; and de Spes followed up the
letter by an assurance that everything was almost ready for the great
_coup_. Whilst Norfolk was thus playing the game of Spain and pretending
to be a Catholic, he was full of Protestant professions to Murray, and
to the French ambassador, La Mothe Fénélon, and he avowed himself at the
same time the devoted servant of Catharine de Medici. A majority of the
English Council had met in caucus and had decided in favour of Norfolk’s
marriage with Mary; and although it is probable that most of the members
were not aware of the plot behind the match, it is certain that neither
Mary nor her intended husband deceived themselves with regard to the
ultimate aim. Nor was there any concealment on the part of the Spaniards.
Alba sent Mary a subsidy of 10,000 ducats in August (she had asked for
30,000 or 40,000), and at the same date de Spes wrote to the King: “I
believe some great event will happen here soon, as the people are much
dissatisfied and distressed for want of trade, and these gentlemen of
Nonsuch have some new imaginations in their heads.”[186]
The “new imaginations,” whatever they were, hardly suited Philip. He had
through life a distinct repugnance to associating himself with the French
in any of his plans with regard to England. Norfolk and his friends,
doubtless in good faith, desired by means of Mary Stuart to change the
government and religion of England, with or without the deposition of
Elizabeth, and in order to do so they were glad to obtain support from
any quarter they could. They had primarily no desire to hand England,
bound hard and fast, to Spain, which was alone what Philip wanted. It is
certain that Mary herself was willing to do so, because she knew that
no effective armed aid could come to her from France, divided as that
country was religiously and with her enemy Catharine dominant. Whilst
Norfolk and his friends, therefore, were bidding for support on all
sides and obtaining it, Mary was endeavouring with her might to keep the
Spaniards, upon whom alone she depended, from slipping away from her. By
the Bishop of Ross she begged de Spes to obtain Philip’s consent to her
marriage with Norfolk, and the ambassador, in relating this to the King,
wrote: “The business is so far forward that it will be difficult now to
prevent it, and if it is to be done I think it had better be with your
Majesty’s consent, which cannot fail to be of great advantage to them,
and will bind them more closely to your Majesty’s service. The Queen
of Scots says that if she were at liberty, or could get such help as
would enable her to bring her country into submission, she would deliver
herself and her son entirely into your Majesty’s hands; but that now she
is obliged to sail with the wind, though she will never depart from your
Majesty’s wishes.”
Philip, indeed, was growing doubtful of the way the affair was
progressing, and of de Spes’s management of it. “If the marriage of the
Duke of Norfolk and the Queen of Scots,” he wrote, “is effected in the
way, and with the objects you are informed, there is no doubt that it
would be of great importance for the restoration of our true Faith in
England, and would console the good Catholics now so oppressed. I desire
these objects warmly, as you know; but they [the conspirators] must be
very careful how they undertake the business, for if they make a mistake
they will all be ruined. You did well in referring them to the Duke of
Alba. You will limit yourself to this, in accordance with your orders,
which you will not exceed.” Philip distrusted Norfolk, who up to that
time had been a Protestant, and the Duke’s approaches to the French
completed the King’s coolness towards him. But before this letter of
Philip’s reached London the miserable Norfolk had collapsed. Leicester,
who had been a party to the plan, again took fright when he began to
understand the object behind it, and this time made a clean breast of it
to the Queen herself.
Suddenly the blow fell. Mary Stuart’s prison was made closer, and Norfolk
and the conservative lords were peremptorily summoned before the Queen
at Windsor. The Duke, protesting his unalterable loyalty to Elizabeth,
travelled in deadly fear as far as London, and on the day of his arrival
at Howard House a messenger from the Earl of Northumberland came secretly
to de Spes. Making a private sign, which had been agreed upon as a
proof of genuineness, he said “that the Earl of Northumberland and his
friends in the North had agreed to liberate the Queen of Scotland and
establish the Catholic religion, returning to the amity and alliance with
your Majesty which they so much desire. The Earl wished to know if your
Majesty would approve of this, as he would undertake nothing that was
not in your interest.” To this de Spes dared not say more than that he
would write to the Duke of Alba about it. “The Duke of Norfolk,” he adds,
“is here preparing all his friends.” So far from doing this, Norfolk
was malingering in a panic, and two days later fled to Kenninghall,
whimpering in a pitiable letter to Elizabeth that he never meant any
harm. On his honour, he never dealt with the Queen of Scots further
than he declared to the Queen and some of her Council. Such lying and
prevarication was scorned by the irate Elizabeth. Ill or well, she wrote
in a rage, Norfolk must come to her instantly, and, trembling with
fear, the poor wretch went as slow as he dared to Windsor, there with
lachrymose repentance to be ordered into arrest with Arundel, Lumley,
Pembroke, and all the rest of his accomplices who were within Elizabeth’s
reach.
It is clear that notwithstanding de Spes’s constant predictions of
immediate coming success, and his repeated assurances that Elizabeth
and her friends would be swept aside as a consequence of this plan,
Philip was never greatly deceived by it. Alba had told him that he was
powerless for the present, and he knew England sufficiently well to see
that unless a large and well-organised force was used at the critical
moment by him, an attempt to revolutionise England in his interests would
fail. The trail of deadly deliberation, moreover, palsied every act
of his life. At some time in August, 1569, when Mary Stuart’s appeals
were reaching him, he instructed Alba to obtain full particulars of the
military possibilities of the situation in England, in order that any
action he might decide to take later should be effectual. A half-dozen
or more envoys of various sorts, official and unofficial, had been
sent over one after the other to try by some means to effect a mutual
restitution of the seizures—Genoese financiers, Flemish diplomatists,
and even Protestant merchants—but all without effect. On receiving the
King’s orders, however, Alba instructed another embassy, surely the
strangest for such a purpose ever seen, to go to England and endeavour
to make terms with Elizabeth or bribe her advisers. The leader was
one of Alba’s most trusted Italian generals, Ciappino Vitelli, and he
was to be accompanied by fifty experienced military officers, with
a couple of official secretaries for appearance’ sake. That their
mission was not that which ostensibly appeared is clear from the fact
that at the same time Alba sent another unofficial envoy—the Genoese
merchant mariner Fiesco—to attempt to gain a restitution by the private
bribery of Leicester and Cecil. Cecil and the Queen laughed at the
idea of such an embassy as that of this fire-eating Ciappino coming
to settle a commercial dispute, and when the party arrived at Calais
for embarkation for England, Cobham, the Governor of Dover Castle,
sent word that only Ciappino Vitelli himself and a small suite would
be received. A still smaller number was allowed to proceed beyond
Dover, and another detachment was stayed at Canterbury; so that by the
time the gouty, obese, old Italian general was received by the Queen
at Kingston-on-Thames, not even de Spes being allowed to accompany
him to the presence, the military object of the mission was cleverly
frustrated. The plague was raging in London, and Ciappino never entered
the capital; and his interview with the Queen was mainly taken up by her
angry complaint of the insolence of the Duke of Alba. After many days
of quibbling, he was told that his powers were insufficient, and was
politely invited to get out of the country as quickly as possible, his
despatches to Alba being intercepted and read at Dover.
It was indeed time that so dangerous a guest should be promptly asked
to depart; for this was the most critical juncture of Elizabeth’s reign
and her Crown trembled in the balance. All the lords were not so
pusillanimous as Norfolk. Both Dacre and Northumberland had formally
notified to de Spes that they were ready to take up arms in Philip’s
service. For many months the imprudent ambassador had been going beyond
his instructions and encouraging these nobles to expect effective aid
from Philip. If only a small number of arquebusiers were sent to them
from Flanders, said Northumberland and Westmorland, they would undertake
to release Mary, subdue the North of England, restore Catholic worship,
and make friends with Spain. “I feel sure,” wrote de Spes, “that they
will attempt the task; and it will be better effected by them than by the
Duke of Norfolk, as they are better fitted for it, and the Queen of Scots
will have greater freedom in the choice of a husband.”
The questionable attitude of Westmorland and Northumberland caused
Elizabeth to summon them to her presence. They disobeyed and, raising
their standard, marched into Durham in force on the 14th November.
Destroying the communion table in the cathedral, they caused Mass to
be solemnly celebrated; and then pushing rapidly onward towards Ripon,
Wetherby and Tadcaster, they finally assembled on Clifford Moor. The Earl
of Sussex, the Queen’s Lieutenant in York, was for a time reduced to act
on the defensive; and now, if Alba had been prompt and Philip ready, it
is possible that the die might have been cast a winning number; and Mary
Stuart, rescued from Tutbury, whither she had been rapidly carried, might
have been made Queen of a Catholic Britain, under Spanish protection.
When news came to de Spes of the southward march of the lords and their
renewed prayers for aid from Flanders, he wrote to the King: “I have
on several occasions written to your Majesty of the goodwill of these
nobles, and I have given a letter in cipher to the gentleman they are
sending to the Duke of Alba to ask for aid. They beg for prompt reply,
as communications will soon be stopped.... It is certain that there has
never been so good an opportunity either of punishing those who have so
grievously opposed your Majesty’s interests, or of restoring the Catholic
religion, in which consists the maintenance of our old alliance and
friendship with this country.” To Alba de Spes wrote in jubilant strain
on the 1st December. “The rebels,” he said, “were twelve thousand strong
and were marching to release Mary and give battle to the Queen’s forces;”
but he ominously adds that none of their confederates have yet risen.
Ciappino Vitelli was still lingering at Colebrook, near Windsor, on the
pretext of gout, though messages were being sent to him from the Queen
that she considered his continued stay in England highly suspicious, as
indeed it was, considering that he told de Spes, who doubtless conveyed
it to the rebels, that they ought to march straight to London, where
nothing could withstand them, seeing the confusion at Court, whilst their
other friends would have a greater chance of moving.
And de Spes, the man who, before all others, had led these unfortunate
lords to believe that Spanish aid would not fail them, was obliged,
now that the crisis had come, to assure the Duke of Alba that he would
“do nothing without orders from your Excellency.” The northern lords
could not wait for Philip’s leaden pondering, nor upon Alba’s need,
and, disheartened at the lack of response, they fell into disunion and
wasted the precious time besieging Barnard Castle until the approach of
Sussex with a newly organised army struck them with panic and they fled
to Scotland—Northumberland to be sold basely to the English and to the
scaffold; Westmorland, more unfortunate still, to seek lifelong exile
in Spanish lands—a pathetic, poverty-stricken pensioner upon Philip’s
irregular bounty, striving to earn his poor living by joining in plots
to hand his native country over to the King of Spain. The rebellion
in the North, for a time so threatening, was begun, as we have seen,
without due preparation and conducted without ability to an inglorious
termination.[187] But not a little of the blame for the miserable fiasco
must be laid at the door of de Spes, who for months had been holding out
hopes—as we see now, without authority—that an armed Spanish force from
Flanders would be ready to support the rising. Alas! English Catholics,
even after this first hard lesson, had yet to learn that Philip’s aid was
not so lightly given, or given at all, without ample assurance that he
alone should reap the harvest of success without incurring the penalties
of failure.
CHAPTER VII
1570-1578
Desperation of Alba—Fresh Catholic conspiracies—De Spes’s
complicity—Alba and the Ridolfi plot—Discovery—The
revenge of John Hawkins—De Spes outwitted—His expulsion
from England—Guaras appointed Spanish Agent—Reopening of
trade—Guaras’ intrigues with Mary Stuart and Don Juan of
Austria—The plot discovered—Imprisonment of Guaras—Fall of Don
Juan—Bernardino de Mendoza appointed ambassador in England
Alba was driven well nigh to desperation by the contemptuous treatment
extended to Ciappino in England and the evident determination of
Elizabeth to hold her ground with regard to the property she had seized.
Something must be done, and that quickly, he wrote to the King. If they
exclude our ships from English ports, even for shelter, intercourse by
sea between Spain and Flanders must cease, and we shall be absolutely
obliged to commence hostilities. “Your Majesty’s present urgent needs are
better known to you than to any one, and here the pressure is very great.
The past wars, the emigration of the people, the stoppage of trade, and
the general want of confidence here, all convince me that a rupture with
England at present would be most inopportune; but if the English force it
upon us, we cannot avoid it;” and the grim Duke, who had drowned Flanders
in blood, had tamely to propose to his master, as the only way now open
to them, that Elizabeth should be more mildly treated than ever, in the
hope that at least she would allow Spanish ships to shelter in her ports,
whilst the plundered Flemish merchants were allowed to go over to England
unofficially and make the best terms they individually could to rescue
their property.
Nor was Philip much more stout-hearted than his general. Whilst the
northern nobles were yet in arms in Yorkshire, he wrote to Alba thus:
“English affairs are going on in a way that may make it necessary, after
all, to bring that Queen to do by force what she refuses to reason. Her
duty is so plain that doubtless God causes her to ignore it, in order
that by these means His holy religion may be restored in England and
the Catholics and good Christians rescued from the thraldom in which
they live. In case her obstinacy and hardness of heart should continue,
therefore, you will consider the best direction to be given to our
action. We here think that the best course will be to encourage with
money and secret favour the Catholics of the North, and to help those
in Ireland to take up arms against the heretics, to deliver the crown
to the Queen of Scots to whom it belongs by succession.... This is only
mentioned at present that you may know what is passing in our minds
here [_i.e._, in Spain], and that with your great prudence and a full
consideration of affairs in general, you may ponder what is best to be
done. What you say is very true; we are beginning to lose prestige by
delaying so long to provide a remedy for the great grievance done by this
woman to us.”[188]
Mary Stuart, closely watched and in prison, alone never lost heart or
courage. Norfolk’s weak poltroonery, the disastrous collapse of the
northern lords, the slow hesitancy of Philip, were all met by her with
confident predictions of coming success, if only the King of Spain would
take her cause in hand. Letter after letter went from her and from the
restless Bishop of Ross in her name to Philip and Alba. “The Queen is
in good heart,” the Bishop of Ross assured de Spes, “and the principal
Catholics of this country have sent me word not to desist from the first
intention, for that, as soon as they learn that they will have foreign
help, and arrangements are made for it to reach them, they will rise and
stand out until this country is Catholic and the succession assured to
Queen Mary.” This was soon after the flight of the northern lords (18th
January, 1570), and at the same time a warm love correspondence was
passing between Mary and Norfolk, she with honeyed words, and at serious
risk to herself, urging him not to abandon the great plan that was to
make them both free and great,[189] though he was still a prisoner in the
Tower.
Meanwhile the dangerous attempt at a Catholic rebellion in England and
the known confidence of the Queen of Scots had drawn the Protestants
of Europe together: a close union existed between Elizabeth and the
Lutheran Princes of Germany, whilst Hans Casimir and other mercenary
leaders were raising troops subsidised by England and the Huguenots
to renew the religious war in France. The privateers in the Channel
were more aggressive than ever, and Cardinal Chatillon still flaunted
his unecclesiastical equipment at the English Court. Hardly a letter
was written by de Spes at the time (1570) that does not contain some
suggestion for striking at Elizabeth’s power. The Queen of Scots might
be captured by a _coup de main_ and carried off to Spain, as she herself
suggested; the Bishop of Ross assures him that a few Spanish troops
landed in Scotland might easily overturn the new Regent Lennox;[190] a
small force sent to aid the Irish rebels would enable them to expel the
English; “and it looks as if the enterprise might be effected in both
islands at the same time, for in Ireland most of the nation will rise
as soon as they see your Majesty’s flag on the coast, and no resistance
would be made except in Dublin and the fortresses.”
To all these suggestions of his intemperate ambassador Philip had still
no answer but to enjoin prudence and secrecy. Information, pledges,
assurances without end were requested, whilst Philip pondered and
considered. Everything was referred to the Duke of Alba for decision, and
Alba would not move without specific orders; whilst in this deadlock the
Spanish commerce was swept from the seas and the legendary power of the
Catholic King was made a mock and derision of the heretics. Once Philip’s
hands were nearly forced by the impatience of Mary’s friends. The more
extreme school of English and Scottish Catholics had been urging for
some time that a Papal Bull of Deprivation against Elizabeth should be
obtained, in order that Mary’s immediate claim to the Crown of England
might be regularised. Philip had gently put aside all such requests or
left them unanswered. He was not yet ready for Elizabeth’s forcible
deposition; for, as we have seen, his cumbrous methods forbade prompt
action, and he had no intention of ousting Elizabeth until he had made
himself quite certain that he, and he alone, would be master of England
under her successor. But the action of the Scottish and Guisan Catholics
in Rome, greatly to Philip’s annoyance, procured the Bull from the Pope
over Philip’s head; and de Spes’s chaplain, Father Berga, doubtless with
the full connivance of the ambassador, who was apparently incapable of
understanding high politics, persuaded John Felton to court martyrdom by
fixing the Pope’s Bull on the Bishop of London’s door on Corpus Christi
Day late in May, 1570. De Spes, in the innocence of his heart, wrote
off in jubilant strain to Philip, recording the event and foretelling
all sorts of great consequences from it. But the King had nothing but
condemnation and annoyance that his plans should thus be interfered with
by the meddling of priests, and de Spes had to read some very plain talk
from his master, whilst the share of his fugitive chaplain in the outrage
still further brought the ambassador and his master into the black books
of Elizabeth.
The bold action of Felton, however, frightened the Government into a
milder attitude towards the moderate English Catholics, and the mustering
of a strong fleet in Spanish Flanders, for the purpose of conveying
to Spain Philip’s fourth wife, Anna of Austria, heightened the alarm.
Elizabeth was so much perturbed that she kept her room for days together,
bewailing the vengeance that she thought at last was about to fall upon
her for all her provocations of her brother-in-law. Cecil (now Lord
Burghley) appears to have been the great object of his mistress’s wrath.
To him, she cried, alone was due the trouble in which she found herself.
Here, thanks to Cecil’s policy, she said, was a great army and fleet
ready to attack her in the Channel, and Philip was causing another force
to be mustered in Spain under the traitor Stukeley to invade Ireland.
But this was only a momentary weakness, which even steadfast Burghley
himself shared to the extremity of preparing for timely flight with
such portable property as he could gather.[191] The unwonted fit of
despair did not last long. English forces were got together rapidly, the
English conservative and moderate Catholics were conciliated, and the
Duke of Norfolk was released from the Tower to only nominal arrest in
his own house; for if the conservative nobles of his party considered
themselves absolved by the Pope’s Bull from their oath of allegiance to
the Queen, then, indeed, might Elizabeth tremble. This was on the 4th
August, and, on the 23rd June previous, the Duke of Norfolk had made
in writing the most abject submission to the Queen, pledging himself
“freely, voluntarily, and absolutely, by my allegiance to your Majesty,
my Sovereign Lady, never to offend your Highness, but do utterly renounce
and revoke all that which on my part any wise hath passed, with a full
intention never to deal in that cause of marriage with the Queen of
Scots, nor in any other cause belonging to her.”[192] Even Mary herself
was now smiled upon by Elizabeth, and negotiations for a reconciliation
were opened with her; for the Spanish fleet was still in English waters,
and a peace between the warring parties had been patched up in France.
With these numerous signs of yielding on the part of the Protestants, it
is not surprising that the Spanish partisans should pluck up courage. De
Spes, raging with wounded pride at the indignities continually heaped
upon him,[193] all of which, Philip told him, he must bear patiently,
never ceased to plot with the Bishop of Ross and Mary Stuart. On the 2nd
September he wrote to Philip details of another dangerous conspiracy
that had been broached to him by Mary through the Bishop of Ross. The
Catholics, he said, feeling themselves now absolved from their allegiance
to Elizabeth by the Pope’s Bull, were willing to rise. The sons of
the Earl of Derby and the gentry of Lancashire were ready to release
Mary—one of the Earl of Shrewsbury’s sons having also been brought into
the plan, which would make it easy, as Mary was in Shrewsbury’s keeping.
This combination looked askance at Norfolk as a doubtful Catholic and
a backslider, though it was joined by his kinsmen Arundel and Lumley,
as well as by the thoroughgoing Catholics, Southampton, Worcester, and
Montagu (Sir Anthony Browne). The plan now advanced was for a Spanish
fleet to go to the Stanley country, the Isle of Man, or the Lancashire
coast, and carry Mary Stuart thence to safety. The scheme, however, was
thrown away by the kidnapping and forcible abduction to England of Dr.
Story, the English Catholic Agent in Antwerp, who upon the rack had
torn from him all he knew, which was not much, of the communications on
the subject that had passed between Mary Stuart’s friends and the Duke
of Alba. The ostentatious but insincere negotiations going on between
Elizabeth and the Queen of Scots, and the redoubled vigilance of Cecil’s
Government, completed the impracticability of this scheme, and then once
more Norfolk took the lead.
On the 15th October de Spes wrote to the King that approaches were being
made by the French to marry the young Duke of Anjou to Mary, this, of
course, being one of Catharine’s tricks to frustrate the Spanish attempts
to dominate Britain through the Queen of Scots. “It may be,” says de
Spes, “that the Queen [Mary] will consent, but it will not please the
majority of the English people, and it certainly does not please me. The
Catholics are not very much in favour of the marriage with the Duke of
Norfolk, as they are uncertain about his orthodoxy, although Arundel and
Lumley assert that he will be obedient to the Church. His desire to reign
may well lead him from bad paths to good ones. The Duke [of Norfolk]
himself has been very cool about this marriage, but he now seems to wish
to renew the project, particularly as he expects shortly to be quite at
liberty, in accordance with the Queen’s promise to him. If your Majesty’s
wishes are to be represented ... the Bishop of Ross will be a good
negotiator, and I could conduct the matter with him or with Ridolfi, who
has been in communication with them; and if it should be necessary for
the Duke of Norfolk to bind himself separately to other conditions, steps
may be taken at once in the matter. Pray your Majesty send me orders, for
it is certain that the release and marriage of the Queen of Scots carries
with it the tranquillisation of Flanders and the restoration of religion
in this country.”
Philip, in answer to this and many similar hints, had nothing but vague
expressions of sympathy to send in reply, with fresh orders to his
ambassador to follow strictly the instructions of the Duke of Alba. For
months, until the Spanish fleet had passed harmlessly down Channel, the
hollow negotiations between Elizabeth and Mary went on, and a similar
pretence of conferences with regard to the reopening of trade with the
Duke of Alba, whilst Elizabeth checkmated the French advances to Mary
Stuart by herself suddenly displaying a desire to marry the boy Duke of
Anjou. “They think,” wrote de Spes early in February, 1571, “that with
this talk about the marriage of the Queen [Elizabeth] with the Duke
of Anjou we shall be afraid to offend them, and the pirates are more
welcomed than ever, whilst the Queen of Scot’s business is being delayed.
It is true that so far as the Catholics are concerned matters were never
more favourable than now. I did not dare to accept their offers, in the
face of the Duke of Alba’s instructions; but whenever his Majesty wishes,
a great service can be done to God, and at the same time the safety of
the Netherlands secured and the throne of Spain aggrandised. The position
of the King’s ambassador here does not add much to his dignity.... I
have suffered more than can be imagined.”[194] De Spes had his personal
grudge as well as his Catholic zeal now to spur him on to vengeance. The
irresponsiveness of his master and of Alba to the repeated suggestions
that armed aid should be sent to the English Catholics suggested for the
first time a viler method by which Elizabeth, the main obstacle to the
Anglo-Spanish alliance, might be removed. The above letter is different
from any that had preceded it, and was written privately, not to the
King, as usual, but to his Secretary, Zayas. A “great service might be
done to God whenever his Majesty wished.” It was no longer dependent,
apparently, upon the ability of Philip to send large armed forces, though
they might be needed later to hold the conquest.
We will see from other sources what this new feature in the plan was. Two
days after de Spes wrote the above letter, on the 8th February, 1571,
Mary, who had learnt that the ambassador could do nothing, as he says,
but refer the conspirators to the Duke of Alba, wrote as follows to the
Bishop of Ross.[195] After saying that she would, as soon as she was
released, go to Spain and throw herself entirely upon the protection of
Philip, she proceeds: “I would advise to send some faithful man towards
the King of Spain whom he might trust, to make him understand the state
of my realm, and also of the friends I have here, their deliberations
and the means they may have to set themselves to the fields and saist
[_i.e._, obtain possession] them of me, if the said King of Spain will
embrace and sustain my cause and theirs. I think Ridolfi may best acquit
himself of this charge securely ... under colour of his own traffic.”
She continues by saying that Philip’s fears of Norfolk’s orthodoxy must
be banished. “I see no other means but to assure them of the Duke, for
that is the knot of the matter. My whole hope is in the Catholics of this
realm.” When the Bishop of Ross transmitted this proposal to Norfolk the
latter at once acquiesced in the despatch of Ridolfi to Flanders, Spain,
and Rome,[196] for the purpose of demanding aid to seize and depose
Elizabeth; and on the 10th March de Spes wrote to the King, “The Queen
of Scotland, the Duke of Norfolk, and the Catholic leaders have wisely
resolved to send a gentleman to your Majesty, who will see the Duke of
Alba first, but without the knowledge of the French. I have, after much
difficulty, obtained a copy of his instructions, and send them herewith.”
On the 25th March Ridolfi was ready to start, and de Spes wrote to
Philip: “The Queen of Scots and the Duke of Norfolk, in the names of
many other lords and gentlemen attached to your Majesty’s interests,
and the promotion of the Catholic faith, are sending Rodolfo Ridolfi,
a Florentine gentleman, to offer their services to your Majesty, and
to represent to you that the time is now ripe to take a step of great
benefit to Christendom, as Ridolfi will set forth to your Majesty. The
letter of credence from the Duke [of Norfolk] is written in the cipher
that I sent Zayas, in case the letter is intercepted ...;” whilst to
Secretary Zayas, de Spes wrote at the same time: “The bearer is Rodolfo
Ridolfi, whom the Queen of Scots and the Duke of Norfolk are sending to
his Majesty.... It is necessary that he should have audience of his
Majesty with the utmost secrecy, as you will be able to arrange, on so
important a matter as this.”[197] Almost simultaneously Henry Cobham was
sent to Spain by Elizabeth in order ostensibly to negotiate direct about
the seizures, but really to ascertain how far Philip was helping the
Irish rebels, and de Spes does not conceal his glee that “these thieves
and pirates” will find, “though they send ambassadors and play their old
tricks,” and he (de Spes) “is still mixing his words with honey,” “all
this will not hinder what his Majesty will decide to do.”[198]
Ridolfi arrived in Brussels at the beginning of April, and his mission
was discussed exhaustively by Alba and his Council. The long report which
Alba thereupon sent to Philip is a State paper of the highest interest,
because it not only sets forth fully the whole position, but for the
first time formulates clearly the plan of murdering Elizabeth as a
political measure. We have traced in previous pages how the provocation
had grown, how the powerlessness of the Spaniards to vindicate their
prestige and their interests had embittered them. In all the previous
suggestions for the substitution of Mary Stuart for Elizabeth on the
English throne, it is true that there could have been little doubt as
to what would have been the fate of the deposed Queen at the hands of
the victors; but in Alba’s minute to Philip the killing of Elizabeth
as a preliminary measure is recommended as a condition of Spanish
support. Alba sets forth with great prolixity the pros and cons of the
position, the saintly character of the objects, the liberation of the
captive Mary, and the restoration of the faith in England. Norfolk, he
says, will undertake to rise and hold his own country for forty days
after liberating the Queen of Scots if Philip will promise before the
expiration of that time to send him 6,000 arquebusiers. He has means, he
says, to seize the Tower of London and secure the person of Elizabeth,
and he and Mary will look alone to the King of Spain for guidance. Alba,
as usual, is full of doubts, limitations, and misgivings. Suppose after
the Spanish aid had been sent the enterprise were to fail! Not only
would the Queen of Scots and Norfolk lose their heads, but the Catholic
religion would be utterly crushed thenceforward in England, and Elizabeth
would throw herself entirely into the hands of France. Ridolfi, too,
seemed to Alba rather a talkative person for such a mission. He had to
pass through France: what if he opened his mouth too wide there, or in
Rome? Besides, the Pope himself was rather too fond of consulting French
Cardinals....
[Illustration: FERNANDO ALVAREZ DE TOLEDO, THIRD DUKE OF ALBA]
And so on, and so forth, until at last Alba gives to Philip his final
recommendation. Ridolfi was to be warned that the French must have
nothing whatever to do with the affair, and he was to be sent on his
way to Rome and Madrid. The King is recommended to embark the 6,000
men required for England in the fleet being prepared in Spain to bring
out the new Governor of Flanders, Medina Celi; but that on no account
should the aid be sent to England on the conditions proposed by Norfolk
and Mary, for fear of failure. “But in case that the Queen of England
should first have died, _either of natural death or otherwise_, or the
confederates had seized and secured her person without your Majesty
having had anything to do with it, then I should find no objection
whatever to it, for the affair would be quite on another footing.”
“Everything,” added Alba, “should be prepared secretly in Flanders,
but no move should be made until Elizabeth was dead, _naturally or
otherwise_. As soon as _that_ happened your Majesty ought not to miss
such a fine opportunity to attain the end desired—the restoration of our
holy Catholic faith and the future tranquillity of your dominions.”[199]
Whilst Ridolfi, duly warned to be secret, went on his way to Rome, where
the Pope heartily blessed his mission, and thence to Madrid, where
he arrived in the last days of June, evil fell upon the project in
England. The Flemish Secretary of the Bishop of Ross, Charles Bailly,
had accompanied Ridolfi to Flanders, in order to bring back news of the
reception of Norfolk’s proposals by Alba. The latter had, of course,
not gone beyond general approval in his intercourse with Ridolfi, the
murder condition being reserved for Philip’s own consideration; but he
had said enough to prove conclusively that he regarded with sympathy,
and hoped to aid, a project intended to depose Elizabeth in favour of
Mary and Norfolk. Bailly wrote letters in cipher at Ridolfi’s dictation,
giving Alba’s provisional answers to the Bishop of Ross and two other
correspondents identified by numbers only. Bailly, who had been closely
watched by Cecil’s spies in Flanders, carried the letters to England
himself, and on the 15th April de Spes reports to the King that this man
had been stopped at Dover and his packets taken from him. The letters
he bore were in cipher, which of itself was suspicious; but in addition
to this, every movement of Ridolfi in Brussels was known to Elizabeth’s
Government, and the Secretary’s coming had been looked for. The packet of
letters was given into the custody of Lord Cobham, the Governor of Dover
Castle, until the Council in London should send instructions, whilst the
unhappy youth, Bailly, was sent to the Marshalsea in Southwark pending
inquiries.
The Cobhams belonged to the party of conservative nobles, ready to turn
against Elizabeth the moment she was in danger, and by a trick of one of
the younger brothers, Thomas—they were notoriously a turbulent lot—the
precious packet of letters was spirited away to the Spanish ambassador in
London and a dummy packet substituted for it. When this was opened with
great anticipation before the Queen’s Council in London, to their dismay
they found nothing but a confused jumble written in the same cipher. But
they were not to be baulked. At least they had Charles Bailly safe under
lock and bars, and the rack might induce him to talk. He began by making
a grave mistake, writing letters—of course intercepted—to the Bishop
of Ross that, now that the real letters had reached their destination
without being deciphered, they had nothing to fear; that though they
tore him to pieces on the rack he would confess nothing; and he begged
the Bishop to tell him what answers he should give to his examiners.
The Bishop, claiming ecclesiastical and diplomatic immunity, was just
as imprudent as his secretary, urging him to stand firm and defy the
English and gain the lasting gratitude of Mary. The poor wretch knew
little of the details of Ridolfi’s mission, but he had written the cipher
letters he bore; and gradually the agony of torture wrung from him all
he knew.[200] Every day he sent fresh appealing letters to the Bishop of
Ross, with the only result at length of lodging the Bishop himself in the
Tower, threatened with the rack, notwithstanding his mitre and diplomatic
position. Bailly deposed that Alba had received Ridolfi favourably, and
had sent him on to Rome and Madrid to demand armed help in England for
the two persons whose identity had been concealed by numbers.
For some time the authorities could get no further than this. Of course
they knew that the two persons unnamed were Mary and Norfolk, but they
needed legal proof, and gradually Cecil’s net was widened and swept into
gaol one after the other of the confidants and tools of the plotters.
In August a false follower of Norfolk brought to the Council a bag of
£600 with a cipher letter that had been entrusted to him by Norfolk’s
secretary to forward to Lord Herries, the leader of Mary’s Catholic
friends in Scotland. Curiously enough this sum of money had been received
from the French ambassador, so it is clear that Mary and Norfolk were
playing false and doing what Alba dreaded most, namely, bringing the
French into the business. But this fact made matters no better from
the point of view of the English Council, and suddenly the Duke of
Norfolk, the first noble in England, found himself in prison with all
his confidential servants. The torture did its fell work promptly, and
the secrets of the underlings were drawn from them, implicating the Duke
beyond redemption. The Bishop of Ross, seeing his most secret papers
deciphered, became almost loquacious in his fright, and went out of his
way to vituperate his unhappy mistress.
Norfolk collapsed as abjectly as before. He had hoped at first, he said,
to wed Mary by Elizabeth’s permission. He was sorry and repentant for
having acted so falsely after he had promised not to do so, and would
never do it again. He had not really been a Catholic, he said, and now
submitted himself entirely to her Majesty’s mercy. He had never, he
solemnly avowed, intended to bring foreign troops into England, or to
touch the sacred person of his revered sovereign. It was all the fault
of the Bishop of Ross, of Mary, of anybody but himself, ... and so, with
such sorry lies as this, the most beloved and highest noble in England
whined for mercy and his bare life. Elizabeth was loath to sacrifice him,
for he was her cousin and the head of a powerful group of Englishmen, but
at length the Protestant influences around her were too strong for her to
resist, and Norfolk’s head fell on Tower Hill on the 2nd June, 1572.
Before this happened, Philip’s Council in Madrid had exhaustively
discussed Alba’s recommendation that the murder of Elizabeth should
precede the sending of Spanish forces to England. They not only approved
fully of it, but laid down that the act should be committed, not in
London, but whilst the Queen was on a progress. Much sanctimonious talk
there was in the Council about the sacredness of the cause excusing the
means, and even the Pope’s Nuncio smiled upon the nefarious plan and
called it righteous. As for Philip himself, he was perfectly willing,
and said that the whole thing now turned upon the ability to get the
money together for the purpose, “and it would be a great pity to miss so
important a matter or so small an amount, as later it would cost so much
more.”[201] It is probably true, as was urged for them, that neither Mary
nor Norfolk consented in so many words to this openly avowed condition of
the Spaniards to make the prior murder of Elizabeth a condition of armed
aid being sent from Flanders. The proposal was certainly not contained
in the instructions carried by Ridolfi from Norfolk, though it is, in
my opinion, indicated in the letter from de Spes to Zayas of 25th March
quoted on an earlier page. It is first put clearly in black and white by
Alba himself, and warmly adopted by Philip and his Council. But though
Mary and Norfolk were not therefore necessarily parties to the proposed
crime, there can be no doubt in the mind of any reasonable person what
would have befallen Elizabeth if success had attended the attempt, and
Norfolk had carried out the pledge he gave to Alba to seize the Tower of
London and secure the person of the Queen.
We have here, however, not to deal with the culpability of the English
actors so much as with that of the Catholic King, so full of saintly
professions and so devoutly pious himself, who in his helplessness
and desperation was willing at last, in order to extricate himself
from a political impasse, to consent to treason and murder as a means
to righteousness. In the letter Philip wrote to de Spes (4th August,
1571)—in ignorance, of course, of the collapse of the plot—he conveys
his intention to patronise the murder of Elizabeth in the following
characteristic words: “After carrying the whole question before
Almighty God, whose cause it is, and in whom we trust for the guidance
and direction of the affair better than human prudence can effect or
understand, since the object is entirely, purely, and simply directed
to His glory and service and the exaltation of His holy faith, I have
resolved to adopt the course which you will learn from the Duke of Alba,
to whom I write about it at great length. In conformity therewith and
the orders he will give to you, you will act in the business with the
discretion, dexterity, suavity and prudence which we expect of you,
keeping in close communication with the Duke (of Alba) and carrying out
his orders explicitly.”[202]
As the damning facts were gradually wrung out of the miserable
accomplices in the plot, during the summer and autumn of 1571 the
position of de Spes became daily more impossible in England. His name
was constantly cropping up in the depositions, and every deponent had
some evidence to give of his activity in forwarding this conspiracy
to overturn the Government to which he was accredited. Even then,
semi-prisoner as he was, and himself in danger of punishment or
ignominious expulsion, he never ceased to plot; and his eagerness made
him and his master an easy prey to an amusing piece of successful
mystification that any person less blinded by hate than he would have
seen through at once. It will be recollected that John Hawkins’s trading
expedition to Central America had been treacherously attacked by a
superior Spanish force at St. Juan de Lua, Mexico, in October, 1568,
Hawkins with difficulty escaping with only two tiny ships. Property of
great value and over a hundred men had been captured by the Spaniards
and sent to Seville, the unfortunate sailors being delivered to the
Inquisition and condemned to slavery. John Hawkins was the last man in
the world to reconcile himself tamely to such a loss; and through a
Catholic friend of his, George Fitzwilliam, a kinsman of the Duchess of
Feria, he opened negotiations in Spain for the release of his sailors and
the return of his property, on condition that he deserted the English
service with the Queen’s fleet of fourteen armed ships, and joined that
of the King of Spain for the invasion of England in favour of Mary Stuart.
Poor Mary, as usual, was easily hoodwinked, as indeed was Fitzwilliam
himself at first, and the Ferias eagerly listened to the suggestion of
apostasy of such a man as John Hawkins. Fitzwilliam returned to London
from Spain with an encouraging answer and tokens for the Queen of Scots,
in order that she might be asked to assure the Ferias and Philip of the
genuineness of Hawkins’s offer. Cecil, who was behind Hawkins in the
whole negotiation and enjoyed the position almost as much as the great
sailor, smoothed over the difficulties of access to Mary, who, only
too ready to believe in the honesty of others, sent him back to Spain
with all sorts of assurances, letters for Philip and the Ferias, and a
beautiful missal bound in gold for the Duchess of Feria, wherein she
had written “_Absit nobis gloriari nisi in cruce Domini nostri Jesu
Christi.—Marie R._” When Fitzwilliam came to him, de Spes was easily
drawn into the plan, and became enthusiastically certain of the _bonâ
fides_ of Hawkins. The more he sees of him, he says, the more convinced
he is of his honesty. He is a Catholic, and very ambitious; and only
once, and then but for a moment, did the gullible ambassador somewhat
distrust Cecil’s complaisancy in allowing Fitzwilliam easy access to Mary
Stuart, and to run backwards and forwards unimpeded between England and
the coast of Spain.
Fitzwilliam again returned early in September to England entirely
successful in his mission, and Hawkins wrote full of glee to Lord
Burghley. The King and the Duke of Feria had jumped at Hawkins’s offer,
his sailors had all been released and embarked for England, and the
agreement between Hawkins and the Spaniards with orders for a great
sum of money to be paid to Hawkins had been sent to de Spes, who was
to forward the enterprise with all diligence. “The design is,” wrote
Hawkins, “that my power should join with the Duke of Alba’s power, which
he doth secretly provide in Flanders, as well as with the power which
cometh with the Duke of Medina from Spain, and so all together to invade
this realm and set up the Queen of Scots. They have practised with us for
the burning of Her Majesty’s ships; therefore there should be some good
care had of them; but not so as to appear that anything is discovered....
The King hath sent a ruby of good price to the Queen of Scots, with
letters also, which in my judgment were good to be delivered. The letters
be of no importance, but his message by word is to comfort her and say
that he hath now none other care than to place her in her own. It were
good, also, that the ambassador (de Spes) did make request unto your
Lordship that Fitzwilliam may have access to the Queen of Scots to render
thanks to her for the delivery of our prisoners [_i.e._, in Spain] now at
liberty. It will be a good colour for your Lordship to confer with him
more largely. I have sent your Lordship a copy of my _pardon_ from the
King of Spain, in the very order and manner I have it. The Duke of Medina
and the Duke of Alba hath, each, one of the same _pardons_ more amplified
to present to me; although this be large enough! with very great titles
and honours from the King: from which God deliver me!... Their practices
be very mischievous, and they be never idle. But God I hope will confound
them and turn their devices upon their own necks.”[203]
There was no limit to the credulity of de Spes. The great sum of money
passed from him to Hawkins, but though the fourteen ships that the latter
had promised to the King of Spain came not, for the discovery of the
Ridolfi treason upset for the time the whole plan of murder and invasion,
the ambassador never lost faith in Hawkins and Fitzwilliam. Norfolk was
condemned to death, Mary Stuart, herself in closer confinement than ever,
was in dire danger of the block, de Spes threatened and insulted hourly,
and his henchman, Luis de Paz, haled to prison, and Antonio de Guaras,
his close friend, not daring to leave his house for many months together,
and yet de Spes firmly believed that John Hawkins, an Englishman if
ever there was one, was only waiting the signal from the King of Spain
to desert with the English fleet and join his country’s enemies. At
length, on the 14th December, Elizabeth determined she would have no more
of de Spes. His complicity in the Ridolfi plot had been made absolutely
clear; his pernicious activity had been watched for three years, and
every effort had been made to drive him out of England without avail.
So, on the 14th December, 1571, the Lords of the Council summoned him to
Westminster. Lord Burghley spoke and told him that repeated requests had
been made to the King of Spain to withdraw him, and now the Queen wished
to know when he was going, as she did not want him in England. De Spes
replied defiantly that he knew nothing about her wants. When he received
proper instructions from his own Sovereign to go he would go, and not
before.
A long statement of all his misdeeds in England was then read to him in
Spanish, to which he replied that much of it was false, and he desired
to send an answer to it. “Oh no!” quoth Cecil, “your King would have no
reply from Dr. Man, and our Queen will have none from you.” Then, after
a few more heated words, the ambassador was told roughly that he would
have to leave England in three days, and in the meanwhile he would be
in charge of Henry Knollys. Could he send a courier to his King? he
asked. No; that would take too long, he was told. To the Duke of Alba,
then? Certainly not; they cared nothing for the Duke of Alba, replied
Burghley. “It was impossible to leave,” objected de Spes, “until I send
and get money from Antwerp to pay my debts.” “We will lend you the money
you need,” replied Cecil; and at last de Spes had to make the best of
it. Lagging on the road as long as he could upon all sorts of pretexts,
his servants imprisoned and he himself threatened and insulted at every
step, the ambassador of Spain was at last hustled out of England, fuming
with rage and full of hare-brained projects by which, with the help of
Hawkins, the King of Spain might be avenged on the heretic Queen and
become the master of England.
The Huguenots were now in unrestrained power in France, and Elizabeth,
as usual when she was in fear of Spain, was carrying on a desperate
flirtation with the Duke of Anjou, and surpassing herself in her
blandishment to Catharine de Medici. Simultaneously with the expulsion
of de Spes from England, the Spanish ambassador in Paris, Don Francés
de Alava, found France similarly uncongenial to him; for he had been
plotting against the Huguenots as de Spes had plotted against the
Protestants, and had fled in disguise to Flanders, so that Philip
found himself alienated both from England and France at the same time,
a position that always made him uneasy, especially now that not only
a marriage but a national alliance was in full negotiation between
Elizabeth and Catharine.[204] For the next six months the farcical
political courtship of the young Duke of Alençon, the boy brother of
Anjou and the King of France, was carried on furiously by the middle-aged
Queen of England as an antidote for the unappeasable anger of Spain. But
with her usual diplomacy, now that she had worked her will in everything,
Elizabeth thought best not to drive Philip into violent courses against
her. She had seized his million ducats and all the property of his
subjects in England, she had unmasked all his plots, had expelled his
ambassador, flouted his great viceroy Alba, her subjects had harried
Spanish ships on every sea, and helped unchecked the Dutch rebels who
defied him; but she did not wish to go to war with him if she could help
it, especially if she could gain all she wanted without doing so.
When the Spanish ambassador in Paris was about to escape, Walsingham, the
English ambassador, had gone and congratulated him upon the great naval
victory over the Turks in the Mediterranean that King Philip’s brother,
Don Juan, had just gained at Lepanto; and then, after asking many curious
questions about Don Juan, Walsingham had said to Don Francés, as if in
joke, “This sounds like a marriage, does it not?” The Spaniard retorted
in the same tone, “Yes; let you and I manage it together.” With this
opening Walsingham became serious, and enlarged upon Elizabeth’s personal
obligations and liking for her Spanish brother-in-law, and the turpitude
of certain ministers in sowing discord between them. If it were not for
the obstacle of religion, he continued, the marriage hinted at might take
place. It was, of course, mere talk, and was intended to be no more; but
Walsingham spoke with a purpose, and knew that his mistress thought it
time to repair some of the broken ties that held her country to Spain.
More marked and authoritative approaches were made simultaneously in
England itself. The man who had been instructed by Alba to keep an eye
on Spanish affairs unofficially when de Spes left England was Antonio de
Guaras, an Aragonese merchant living on Dowgate Hill, Thames Street. He
had been established in London for many years as a prosperous importer
of Spanish produce, and had a perfect craze for writing descriptions of
public events and taking part in public affairs; a zealous busybody,
whose flamboyant patriotism and Catholicism had made him the friend and
companion of successive Spanish ambassadors, especially of de Spes. In
the anti-Catholic excitement in May, 1569, his house had been raided by
the officers of the law deputed to destroy superstitious images, and a
considerable stock of church ornaments of this description seized. One
half of the stock was piled into a heap before Guaras’ door and burnt,
the other half being similarly treated by the Standard in Cheapside;
whilst the people, who only a dozen years before, under Mary, had been so
devoutly Catholic, cried in derision that they were burning the Spanish
gods.[205] Since that time, as Guaras had been the principal importer of
such wares from Spain, he had shown himself as little as possible in the
streets to avoid unpleasantness, though of course he, like so many other
Spaniards interested, had tried his hand again and again to make some
private arrangement for the ransom of the Spanish commercial property
seized by the English.
The Flemish noble Zweveghem, and the Genoese merchant Fiesco, who had
both been negotiating in London about the seizures, were packed off at
the same time as de Spes, for Elizabeth and Cecil were bent upon making
the demonstration as political and public as possible; but though it did
not suit the economical Queen to disgorge what she had taken, she had
no wish to drive Philip to extremities, and the stoppage of the great
English cloth trade with Flanders and of the importation of Spanish
produce into England was causing serious distress in the country. So,
having thoroughly humbled the Spaniards, whose hands were fuller than
ever now with the capture of Brille by the Beggars and the rising of all
Zeeland, supported by ample English aid, Elizabeth thought that the time
had come for her to unbend a little to her sorely pressed brother-in-law.
Walsingham’s half joking colloquy with Alava in Paris, in January, 1572,
had been a straw cast into the air; the warning of the Dutch privateer
fleet out of Dover, though ostensibly to satisfy the remonstrances of the
Hamburg merchants, was another; and in March Guaras, a mere merchant,
hitherto so unpopular, suddenly found himself made much of by emissaries
from the Court. Friends of Cecil told him that the Queen was only too
willing to come to an amicable arrangement about trade, and any person
who brought it about would be doing a great service to God and to both
countries. What a pity it was that there was no person accredited in
London who could undertake it! Would Guaras convey these expressions to
Alba? If so, the interlocutor would approach Lord Burghley.
After many hints of this sort Burghley himself sent for Guaras, and told
him that they were anxious to settle matters. “He spoke of your Majesty’s
person with due reverence, confessing to me that they had always hitherto
feared and suspected greatly that the Duke of Alba, being a declared
enemy, might oppose a settlement, but they had lately been informed that
the evil did not arise with him entirely, but from certain persons in
your Majesty’s Court, mentioning the late Duke of Feria, who, he said,
though ostensibly a good friend of the Queen, was in matters of State
her enemy.” Guaras, who loved to play the statesman, boasted somewhat
of his master’s greatness and of the benefit his friendship would bring
to England, but, of course, in diplomacy he was no match for Cecil,
who firmly put him into his place. Thenceforward for weeks the game
of advance and retire on the part of Cecil went on. Sometimes Guaras
would go home to Thames Street in the seventh heaven of delight, with
the idea that he was settling great national affairs where professional
diplomatists had failed; at other times he would stand for hours in
Cecil’s anterooms of Whitehall, only to be passed by silently with a cold
nod when the Minister came out.
When at last it was agreed (8th April) that Zweveghem, the Flemish
Councillor, should come again to England and settle matters, Guaras,
much pleased at his success, entered his barge from Whitehall stairs to
return home with the friend who served as his intermediary with Lord
Burghley. As the boat pushed off into the stream, he says, “I saw the
Queen approaching the landing-place of the Palace in her barge, in which,
the day being fine, she had been taking the air in company with my Lord
of Leicester and many other gentlemen, and followed by a large number of
boats filled with people who wished to see her Majesty. We, being amongst
the press of people, stayed our boat to look upon her, and when I made my
bow like the rest, the Queen, as usual, saluted the people, and noticing
me, either because she recognised me or because I was a foreigner or some
one told her my name, to the surprise of every one, I being such a humble
person, she, calling out to me in Italian, my boat being somewhat distant
from hers out of respect to her, asked me very gaily and graciously if
I was coming from the Court and had seen Lord Burghley I knelt, as was
my duty, and replied, ‘Yes, Madam, at your Majesty’s service.’ As the
boats approached the landing-place her Majesty’s barge was delayed a
moment, when she smilingly seemed to desire to say something more to me,
whereupon I endeavoured to bring my boat alongside the Queen’s barge, and
she turned towards me and asked, ‘When were you with Lord Burghley?’ to
which I replied, ‘Madam, I have just left him,’ whereupon she waved her
hand several times, apparently with great pleasure, and said, ‘That is
all right,’ and her barge then proceeded, she bidding me farewell with so
many signs of pleasure and favour that people noticed it much, and I was
more surprised than any one to receive these favours from the Queen, to
whom I have never rendered any service.”[206]
Elizabeth had no intention, however, of allowing the Spaniards, and
particularly Alba, to assume any airs of superiority on the strength of
her willingness to negotiate about trade. When Zweveghem saw her a few
days afterwards, sent by Alba to discuss terms, she thought that his
tone was too haughty, and that he seemed to assume that she was pleading
for an arrangement. Guaras, of course, had to bear the blame. It was
at once said that he had misrepresented matters to Alba, and there was
nothing but black looks for him. “Tell Guaras,” said Burghley, “that if
he wants to come and see me let him come, or stay away, as he likes....
If the Duke of Alba, through Guaras, pretends to be willing for peace and
concord, whilst on the other hand through Zweveghem he treats the matter
in a different spirit, it is clear that, however good our intentions may
be, theirs are not equally so.” Alba was in no melting mood now, for
English men and arms were being poured into Zeeland, and the Huguenots
also were helping the Netherlanders against him. The Dutch privateers
were still sheltered in English ports, whilst Constable Montmorenci, and
one of the most splendid embassies that ever represented France, was in
England for the ratification of the offensive and defensive alliance of
the two countries that had been signed at Blois on the 12th April. By it
the Spanish Netherlands were to be partitioned, the ancient rivals were
never to quarrel again, the Huguenot Navarre was to marry the King of
France’s sister. Elizabeth might, perhaps, marry young Alençon, but in
any case she and Catharine, with the Huguenots, were bound together for
ever to resist the arrogance of Spain. All this was gall and wormwood
to Alba, and, busy as he was with his bloody work, it is no wonder
that he was now in no hurry to respond to the English approaches for a
settlement, and Guaras for a time found himself cold-shouldered.
The affection between the French and English, however, was too pronounced
to last very long. The offensive and defensive alliance against Spain
had given to the Huguenots more power than quite suited Catharine, and
the Colignys and their friends of the “religion” were speaking too
boldly to please her. The Emperor (whose daughter the young King Charles
IX. had married), the Pope, and the Doge of Venice sent to remonstrate
with the Most Christian King for thus joining rebels and heretics
against good Catholics, whilst the Gondis, Biragos, and Guises were
whispering to Catharine that she was provoking Philip too far. So, as
the summer of 1572 wore on, the messages sent from France to England
grew cooler, and Charles IX. began to cry off the bargain for the joint
action with Elizabeth in the Spanish Netherlands. But still Catharine
pushed industriously the love-making of her favourite boy Alençon with
Elizabeth, in order that England and the Huguenots might not be driven
into open opposition to her. A pretty lad named La Mole, one of the
_mignons_, was sent to England in July, ostensibly to do the vicarious
love-making for Alençon, but really to discourage the idea of any act of
overt hostility on the part of France in the Spanish States,[207] and
thus practically to withdraw from the much-lauded treaty of alliance, of
which the ink was hardly dry.
La Mole performed the philandering part of his mission entirely to
Elizabeth’s satisfaction. She was on her progress to Kenilworth, and
carried the young French gallant along with her from place to place,
exerting all her mature witcheries upon him, but keenly alive and not a
little apprehensive at the way in which she had been thrown over with
regard to the alliance. The danger to her was great, for she had been
drawn into a position of open hostility to the Spaniards in Flanders on
the strength of the alliance with France, and now found herself alone.
So she told everybody, and most people believed her this time, that she
meant to marry the French prince without fail, and when she bade goodbye
to La Mole at Kenilworth, he went on his homeward way loaded with sweet
messages for the Prince and rich presents for himself.
He arrived in London on the 27th August on his way to France; and on the
same day there landed at Rye two couriers from Paris, one with letters
from Walsingham to the Queen, the other with official despatches to
the French ambassador. The latter were seized by the port authorities
and sent in haste to the Queen at Kenilworth; but secret though they
were kept, ill tidings fly fast, and soon there sped through England,
none knew how or whence, the dread news that the Papists had banded
together to slaughter Protestants throughout the world. On the fated day
of Navarre’s wedding in Paris—the day of Saint Bartholomew—the storm
had burst. Hounded on by the King himself and by his mother, slaughter
unchecked had swept across the capital. The noble Coligny had fallen
first, and then every citizen but those who wore the badge of Guise was
hounded to his death. Through France the tale of horror ran, across the
Channel to Protestant England fled thousands of Huguenots, dreading
the general massacre that portended; and when Elizabeth suspended her
pastime at Kenilworth to read the despatch that brought the news, her
brow clouded and her heart sank; for it seemed now that, at last, all her
clever tricks had failed and catastrophe loomed over her and England. For
the league of Bayonne had produced its baleful fruit at last.[208] The
alliance and friendship just so ostentatiously concluded with France was
but a fraud and a blind, the marriage talk with Alençon was all a lie:
Catharine and her son, after all, had made common cause with Philip and
the Guises, and England stood alone opposed to united Catholicism pledged
to wholesale massacre.
In a day the orgy of St. Bartholomew had changed the political aspect.
The French, lately so caressed in England, were now regarded as monsters
of falsity. Elizabeth, in deep mourning, after long delay received the
French ambassador coldly, and contemptuously listened to his palliations
and explanations; for she knew that the Guises were now paramount in
France, and from them she had nothing but enmity to expect. But dismay
was not allowed to dominate the counsels of Elizabeth for very long.
When such a combination as this existed between the ancient enemies
Spain and France, England’s safety depended upon sowing discord between
them. This was never very difficult, for their interests nationally were
always antagonistic, and their antipathies were stronger than their
affinities.[209] At the first flush of the news Philip and the Spaniards
were overjoyed that so many heretics should be butchered, and Guaras from
London, writing to the Duke of Alba on the 30th August says: “God grant
that it may be true, and that these rebel heretics may have met with this
bad end”; and the national consequences were not lost upon him, even thus
early, for though he was but a meddling merchant, he had far clearer
ideas of policy than had de Spes. “Since the news came we hear no more of
English soldiers going over to Flanders. This last affair, indeed, will
give them something else to think about. If the news from Paris be true,
the league between these people [_i.e._, the English] and the French will
probably come to nothing, as the people are already murmuring that they
cannot trust Frenchmen.”
Elizabeth, indeed, had been badly betrayed by the French. She had been
drawn into hostility to Philip in Flanders, and had been left in the
lurch. To her alone now could the Prince of Orange look for help, since
the French had deserted him; and though she had no intention of allowing
the Dutch Protestants to be crushed by Alba, Elizabeth saw that in future
all she did to help them must be done without an open national rupture
between England and Spain. Immediately, therefore, her tone changed.
Not only were the Dutch rebels ostentatiously disavowed by her, but the
somewhat bewildered Guaras found himself once more a _persona grata_
at Court.[210] Early in October the Duke of Alba sent him his cool and
tardy reply with regard to the proposed negotiations for reopening trade.
When Guaras appeared at Windsor with the despatch he found Burghley all
smiles. “On that very day, he said, and on many other previous occasions
the Queen had said to him she wondered why Guaras did not come to Court
with the reply. They were much surprised to have received no answer to
the offer made by the Queen to withdraw the Englishmen from Flanders,
who, he said, only went there to resist the Frenchmen, who might try
to gain a footing.... When I told him I had a letter for the Queen he
seemed greatly delighted and asked me to show it to him. When he read
the superscripture he said, ‘Although it comes tardily and the Queen is
unwell, I will take it to her at once, because I know how pleased she
will be to know that you have come with the message.’”[211]
Thenceforward for a time no one was more welcome at Court than Guaras. A
fortnight after the above letter was written the French ambassador, La
Mothe, remarked: “Guaras ... the Spaniard, is much better attended to
and more favourably received at this Court than he used to be. He has
great hopes of getting them to withdraw all the English from Flushing
and Flanders, as well as of arranging the disputes about commercial
intercourse.”[212] All was not plain sailing yet, for Alba was hard
and Elizabeth stood out firmly for religious toleration for Englishmen
in Spain, which claim from the first was scouted as preposterous by
the Spaniards, and in the end was almost the only point upon which the
English had to give way. But the constant more or less covert aid in
men and money sent from England to support Orange, and the fear that
if driven too far Elizabeth might at last yield to the arguments and
persuasions of the Dutch that she would assume the protection of Holland
and Zeeland, brought down even Alba’s pride; and early in the spring of
1573 trade was reopened, on terms greatly in favour of Elizabeth, since
her subjects again obtained an open market for their cloths, whilst she
kept practically the greater part of the property she had seized.
Gradually Guaras, though in somewhat more humble fashion than de Spes,
immersed himself in intrigues on behalf of Spain, many of them doubtless
proposed to him in good faith, but others, as we know now, mere traps set
for him by Lord Burghley’s contrivance, into which he easily fell to his
own ultimate undoing. Several English captains were in close negotiation
with him for months for the betrayal to the Spaniards of Flushing,
Caunfer, and other strong places, for the murder of the Prince of Orange,
and other schemes. But it is evident that these advances through him
were received with doubt and caution by Philip and Alba, who probably
doubted his discretion, for when a group of English captains had to be
finally negotiated with for the capture of Flushing a special envoy, a
merchant seaman named Zubiaur, was sent to England for the purpose with
strict orders that Guaras should know nothing whatever of it; and even
whilst Guaras was acting as _chargé d’affaires_ of Spain a Portuguese spy
(Fogaza) in Spanish pay reported all his movements to the authorities at
Madrid.
By the end of 1573 it was patent to all the world that Alba’s reign
of blood had failed. The stern old chief had been beaten indeed by
Elizabeth’s seizure of the treasure, and he never recovered from the
blow. Forced to raise money somehow, for Philip was bankrupt both in
credit and in means, Alba imposed upon rich Flanders and Brabant the
“tenth penny” that had ruined Castile. Then all the Netherlanders rose.
It was no longer a question of local government or even of faith, but of
moneybags; and Catholic and Protestant alike rebelled against spoliation
and the destruction of Flemish prosperity. Indignant remonstrances
went to Philip, and the Spanish Council even angrily condemned Alba’s
measure. “Neither the heads smitten off nor the privileges abolished have
aroused so much resistance as this,” wrote Alba: but he needed money for
the King’s service, and money he must have. Thus he found himself face
to face, not with a faction in revolt, but with an outraged and united
nation, and through 1572 the grim old Duke stuck to his guns. First he
crushed the south, sweeping the Huguenot auxiliaries aside and submitting
all those who raised the slightest protest to ruthless slaughter.
Brabant and Flanders, bloodless, could fight against him no more,
but Holland and Zeeland were made of sterner stuff. Money and men in
abundance came to them from England, and all the silver ducats scattered
by Guaras and all Elizabeth’s protestations of friendship for her dear
brother in Spain could not stop them; until at last Philip grew angry
and impatient at the useless slaughter, and Alba, heartbroken, went
into disgrace, whilst a viceroy of widely different type came with the
olive-branch in hand to win back at least Catholic Brabant and Flanders
to Philip’s rule again by almost any concessions. There was, indeed, no
other way for Philip now, for he had come to the end of his resources,
and his troubles were not confined to the Protestant Netherlands.
His brilliant young brother, Don Juan of Austria, in command of the
combined Christian fleet, had sailed from Messina in September, 1571, and
had broken the Moslem power in the Mediterranean that had for so long
been a thorn in the side of Spain. All Catholic Christendom lost its
head over Don Juan: his enthusiasm, his gallantry, his personal beauty
made him in the eyes of his contemporaries a very paladin of the Cross.
Philip, religious though he might be, was cold and reticent, appealing
little to the imagination of men. But this young Prince, his brother,
splendid beyond words and with some of the military ability of his father
the Emperor, might be the man destined by God for the final victory of
the Cross over all its enemies. Don Juan not only carried away others,
but was carried away himself. To follow up his victory by the conquest of
Constantinople and the Holy Land, and to become a new Constantine, seemed
to him and to the Catholics, who idolised him, an easily realisable
vision. If not that, then why not Christianise Africa, re-establish the
empire of Carthage with Don Juan as its sovereign?
But all this meant vast sums of money, and to such suggestions Philip
turned an irresponsive ear. Clamour as Don Juan and his friends might,
no assistance could be got from Spain for his wild schemes; for King
Philip had other things to do than conquer vast new empires for his base
brother, whilst his own Netherlands were slipping from his grasp and
Elizabeth of England openly defied him. Then Don Juan, disobeying orders,
seized and fortified Tunis on his own account. All appeals for support to
Philip were sternly refused, and within a year the city was recaptured by
the Turk and the eight thousand Spaniards in it slaughtered. Don Juan in
despair remained in Italy, full still of high dreams if heroic conquest
for the faith. He was surrounded, as before, by advisers as flighty and
hot-headed as himself; and it occurred to some of them if he was not to
be allowed to become a Christian Emperor of the East, there was in the
West another empire in the hands of heretics, still awaiting its champion
who should restore it to the Church.
Guaras wrote to Philip’s Secretary, Zayas, as early as November, 1574,
saying, “The Queen of Scotland founds all her hopes upon his Majesty
after God, and by a letter she has written to an influential friend, who
read it to me, it is certain that there is nothing she desires more than
to accept the proposition about Don Juan of Austria,[213] she having been
persuaded by this person and others that it would benefit Christendom
greatly. If it be his Majesty’s wish that this matter should be
considered, and communications have to be carried on with the Queen about
it, this cipher can be utilised for the purpose, it being so obscure and
without an alphabet that no one can decipher it.... If this happy event
could be brought about, she would be a saintly, chaste, and Catholic
Princess, the greatest lady on earth, for England, Scotland, and Ireland
are indeed a vast empire.... If his Majesty will graciously allow a
letter for her contentment in this business to be written, an opportunity
might occur for her rescue. If consent is given on our part this project
would undoubtedly be executed. She writes herself about it to the person
I have mentioned, and desires above all things that her son should marry
the elder Infanta, for which purpose she will consent that the man who
holds him should carry him to Spain.”
Philip had heard stories similar to this before, and was not ready
yet for another plot depending upon the English Catholics. Requesens,
the new Viceroy of Flanders, did his best, but he was surrounded by
unconquerable difficulties from the first, legacies, most of them, from
the _régime_ of Alba. Many of the Flemish seamen were disloyal and the
Catholic clergy disaffected, whilst the mercantile classes were nearly
beggared and in deep discontent. But, withal, the Walloons and Southern
States were pacified, though Holland and Zeeland were as stubborn as
ever. Requesens’ principal difficulty, as usual, was want of money; and
the Catholic Flemings insisted that if they were to remain loyal to Spain
the unpaid, murderous rabble of foreign soldiers who were terrorising
friends and enemies alike must be withdrawn from Flanders. But Philip
could not pay them, and they would not budge without their wage, for the
rich houses of the burghers were always there for plunder. In the midst
of this _impasse_, when things were at their worst, Requesens died, in
March, 1576, and Philip, glad to get his brother away from Italy, ordered
him to hurry direct to Flanders and carry out the policy of pacification
at any cost or sacrifice. The troops were to be sent away, the burghers
conciliated, and, if possible, the Dutch won over by promises of large
concessions.
To Don Juan, with his heart aflame with high ambitions, concessions
and conciliation of heretics were utterly repugnant; but the mission
seemed to open a sure road to the great plan we have seen hinted at in
Guaras’ letter of November, 1574. Pope Gregory XIII. was as ready as
Don Juan for such an enterprise, and sent his Nuncio to Philip to pray
him to allow his brother to swoop down upon England with the troops from
Flanders, release and marry Mary Stuart, and with her become sovereign
of a Britain Catholic and a faithful ally of Spain. Philip, as was his
wont when he disapproved of a plan, was vaguely benevolent, but he hated
priestly interference in his plans, and distrusted the Vatican where
the French priests had so much to say. Worst of all, Don Juan disobeyed
orders and came to Spain to press his plans for capturing England, and
the delay thus caused was fatal. Before he could reach the Flemish
frontier the Italian and Spanish troops had thrown off all restraint and
had sacked Antwerp. The Catholic Flemings and Walloons were forced to
make common cause with Orange, who assumed the lead in the Government,
and all Netherlanders stood shoulder to shoulder against the ravishers
and spoilers of their homes. When Don Juan came, therefore, he was told
that he would only be admitted on conditions to be dictated by the
States. Among these conditions was that the mutinous troops should not be
sent away by sea, for the plan to invade England with them was well known
by Orange, but should march out overland. Don Juan protested and raved
in vain. Philip coldly ordered him to accede to any terms consistent
with Spanish sovereignty over Flanders; and at last, in the early spring
of 1577, he made his “joyous entry” into Brussels with a heart steeped
in hate of the Flemings, whose firmness had destroyed his great dream
of capturing England for the Cross and marrying the imprisoned Catholic
Queen, like the hero of a fairy tale.
In these fine plans Guaras was a zealous and a willing agent, and
Mary Stuart, as usual, an eager participant, all their intrigues
being perfectly well known to Cecil through his spies. Cecil, indeed,
had become quite friendly with Guaras,[214] and thus, without being
suspected, kept his eye on all his proceedings. The letters the merchant
wrote to Spain were frequently intercepted, and although the pride
of Guaras in his cipher was justified and most of the contents are
still undeciphered, sufficient was read to prove that he was plotting
ceaselessly with England’s enemies. Letters, too, were known to be
passing by means of Guaras between Mary Stuart and Don Juan; and even
the Flemish Catholic nobles, who had now for a time deserted the Spanish
cause and were appealing to Elizabeth for aid, were constantly warning
the English of the plans that were being so industriously forwarded by
Guaras.
That Mary Stuart and Don Juan at this time understood each other
perfectly, though Philip, for reasons already pointed out, was
irresponsive to their appeals, is seen in an important letter written by
Mary to the conspirator Charles Paget long afterwards (May, 1586) at the
time when she was implicated in the plot that ended in her death. Paget
was instructed to discover through Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador in
Paris, whether Philip was then (1586) ready to attack England, which, she
says, “to me seemeth the surest and readiest way for him whereby to rid
himself altogether of the Queen’s malice against him. So as now he doth
find himself constrained to come to the same remedies which in Don John
of Austria’s time were propounded unto him, which I doubt he shall not
find presently in these parts of such strength and virtue as if he had
applied them in time and place.... I remember that Don John was always
stiff in this opinion that there was no other means in the world whereby
to set up again the King’s affairs in the Low Countries, and to assure
his States in all other parts, than in re-establishing this realm under
God and a Prince his friend; for, so much as Don John foresaw right well
that this Queen would not fail to break with him, and give him, as she
hath done, the first blow.”[215]
Guaras had many hints and warnings which he failed to regard, both from
Cecil and the Queen herself. In his letter of 29th March, 1575, he gives
an account of one such hint. “The Queen was walking,” he says, “a long
way from the Palace of Richmond, where she is staying, surrounded by her
courtiers and nobles, when, catching sight of me from afar, she called me
by name and welcomed me.” He had to ask her permission to buy some cannon
in England for the Flemish Government, to which she gave him an amiable
reply, and he continued to walk through the park a few steps behind her
chatting with her alone. She was full of her witcheries and compliments
to Spaniards, with whom for the moment it suited to be friends, but
told Guaras that she was annoyed at the way her subjects in Spain were
treated by the Inquisition. She grew somewhat vehement about it and
said, “I promise ye my father would not have put up with it, and if the
matter is not amended I shall be obliged to arrest some of the King of
Spain’s subjects and treat them in the same way.” Having given this
hint, she grew gracious again and said: “You know full well, old wine,
old bread, and old friends should be valued, and if only to let these
Frenchmen see, who are wrangling as to whether our friendship is firm
or not, there is good reason to show undisguisedly the kindly feeling
which inwardly exists.” This, of course, referred to the attempts of the
French to interfere in Flanders, which always made Elizabeth smile upon
Spaniards;[216] and when Guaras handsomely returned the compliment the
Queen suddenly turned upon him, and shot the bolt she had been preparing
all along: “You say you wish to serve me, Guaras; will you tell me the
truth? They say that a certain Scottish prisoner of mine has sent you
a token of friendship in the form of a painted lion; is it true?” Poor
Guaras could only protest that he had never received any such token,
as he had not; but the hint, and the more pointed one about the arrest,
certainly did not abate his activity as a go-between for Mary and Don
Juan.
So long as the danger of French interference in Flanders lasted Elizabeth
dared not do anything very unpleasant to Spain; but as soon as that
difficulty was banished by new negotiations for the marriage of Elizabeth
and Alençon, Guaras began to find his position less comfortable. In
November, 1575, Egremont Ratcliff, the brother of the Earl of Sussex, who
had been a fugitive in Flanders and Italy since the northern rebellion,
came to England, with a story of Don Juan’s plans in conjunction with
Mary Stuart, and in this, of course, Guaras was involved. His fresh
negotiations, too, early in 1576 for the betrayal by the English
Catholics of certain of the Zeeland fortresses to the Spaniards was
discovered. The Flemish Catholic nobles were now in England praying for
support against Philip’s soldiery, and Elizabeth was in mortal fear of
French aid being given to them on the one hand and of Don Juan’s reported
plans against England on the other, whilst Guaras in his correspondence
grew more and more bitter and violent as he saw the fruition of his hopes
gradually disappear before Elizabeth’s amiability to the Catholic Flemish
nobles and the united opposition now offered to Don Juan’s ambitions.
But in the circumstances Elizabeth did not dare yet to proceed to
extremities with Spaniards; and one case amusingly shows that these high
political considerations somewhat bewildered administrative officers,
who could not follow such frequent changes of attitude. A Portuguese
ambassador, Giraldi, had been for some time in England endeavouring
to arrange some open questions relative to the depredations of the
Protestant privateers; and late in 1576 the Recorder of London, Sir
William Fleetwood, a zealous Catholic-baiter, with the Sheriffs,
considered it his duty to surround with his posse the house of the
Portuguese envoy for the purpose of catching and arresting unauthorised
persons there hearing Mass. They forced an entry after a stiff fight with
the Portuguese porter, Mr. Recorder Fleetwood being rather seriously
mauled in the affray, and loudly broke in upon the sacred service by
summoning all English people to come out in custody. Immediately the
foreigners present, indignant at the interruption, drew their daggers and
swords, and made as if to attack the officers, but were appeased by the
sheriffs until the ladies had withdrawn. Having allowed the members of
the embassy to depart, the officers then examined the other foreigners:
“and trulie they most despitefully against all civilitie used such lewd
words in their language against us, that if our company had understande
them there might have chanced great harm. ‘Sirs,’ I saide to them, ‘I see
no remedie but you must goe to prison, for most of you be free denizens.’
And then I willed the officers to lay hand on them, and immediately every
man suddenly most humbly put off his cap, and began to be sutors and
sought favour; and so on their submission we suffered them to depart, all
save Antonio de Guaras, who was not willing to go from us, but kept us
company.” After sending the English subjects off to prison and scolding
some of their own constables for accepting “singing cakes” from the
priest at the altar, Fleetwood and Sheriff Barnes stood in the gallery
looking down upon the altar. “And then Antonio Guaras tooke me by the
hand to see the altar how trim it was. And I said to Guaras, ‘Sir, if
I had done my duty here to you and to the Queen upon All Hallowes Day
last I had taken two hundred, and as many more on All Souls.’ ‘Ho! Sir,’
said Guaras unto me: ‘become of this religion, and surely you will like
it well, and I will be readie means to make you a good Christian.’ And
so we went near the altar, where neither he nor I touched any manner of
thing; and so we bade the priest farewell, who gently saluted us, and
I suddenlie looked back and saw the priest shake his head mumbling out
words that sounded like _Diable_ and _male croix_, or to that effect.
Then said I to Mr. Sheriff, ‘Let us depart, for the priest doth curse
us.’ And so we departed, and Antonio Guaras brought us to the utter gate,
where the Sheriff and I invited him to dynner with us; but he departed
back to hear the profaned Mass. The aforesaid Guaras at this business
said that he himself was an ambassador of a greater person than —— and
so did shake his head. ‘What!’ quoth I, ‘do you mean a greater personage
than our mistress?’ ‘Na, na,’ said he, ‘I mean not so.’ ‘No,’ quoth
I, ‘it were not best for you to make comparisons with the Queen our
mistress. Whose ambassador are ye, then?’ quoth I, ‘the Pope’s?’ And then
he departed further off in anger. This Guaras was a very busy fellow in
this action.”[217]
Neither Giraldi nor Guaras was disposed to allow their diplomatic
privileges to be violated in this fashion, however; and in consequence of
their vehement complaints Fleetwood had to submit to a severe scolding
from the Council and was sent to the Fleet. But Guaras’ immunity was
not to last much longer. Elizabeth, before many months were over, found
herself assiduously courted by the French, and assured by Catharine
that Alençon would do nothing in Flanders but with the co-operation
of England—it was hoped as Elizabeth’s husband. Don Juan also, during
the time that he remained in negotiation with the States, was only
too anxious to win Elizabeth’s help, or at least neutrality; so that
when suspicion against Guaras became certainty she had no hesitation
in closing the toils around him. In January, 1577, Sir Amyas Paulet,
the English ambassador in Paris, reported that a dependent of Guaras,
a Spanish tailor, named Damian Dela, a resident in London, had passed
through Paris with some highly suspicious letters for King Philip. We
know now that the King was firmly against Don Juan’s plans to invade
England; but this, of course, was not known at the time, and Paulet
advised Burghley to put Guaras to the torture to discover what was going
on. This only made the English Government more vigilant; but in the
spring of 1577 Secretary Wilson was sent to Flanders to endeavour to
bring about an agreement between the States and Don Juan. The latter,
when jocosely twitted by Wilson on his wish to marry the Queen of
Scots, somewhat ungallantly ridiculed the idea as preposterous; but
whilst Wilson was in the Low Countries he managed to obtain through St.
Aldegonde possession of some intercepted letters from Guaras on the
matter. The cipher was difficult, and only some words could be read;
but they were enough to prove that Guaras was in constant communication
with Mary Stuart and Don Juan, and Wilson wrote to Cecil expressing his
surprise that an unofficial person like Guaras should be allowed to act
more scandalously than any accredited ambassador would be allowed to do.
From that time, May, 1577, Guaras was watched almost night and day, and
most of his letters intercepted, though not many could be read. On the
28th September, 1577, he proposed to Zayas, King Philip’s secretary,
that he should be allowed to arrange for the kidnapping and conveyance
to Spain of some of the important Catholic Flemish nobles then in
England, or to promote a revolt in Ireland; and he continues by saying,
“I have received the enclosed letters from the Queen of Scotland. I have
perfectly safe means of sending and receiving letters for her, and the
world is praying that God may be preserving her for some great service
to the fear of this Queen and her friends. I am encouraging her with
letters of comfort until she can be served by acts.”[218] On the 4th
October Guaras wrote another inflammatory letter to Zayas, detailing
the plans which he said had been agreed upon by England and the Flemish
nobles to throw off the Spanish yoke for good by the aid of Elizabeth.
He passionately cries for prompt reprisals upon the English, but he
complains that his letters are read, and he fears his ciphers may be
discovered.
At midnight on the 19th October, 1577, the Sheriff of London with an
armed force appeared before the house of Guaras in Thames Street. In the
Queen’s name entrance was forced and Guaras placed under arrest, all his
papers being seized, and he himself a few days later placed in solitary
confinement in Newgate. His clerk, in conveying the news to Zayas,
understood the gravity of the affair, for from the first the authorities
refused to acknowledge the prisoner’s diplomatic status. “God deliver us
from these troubles,” he wrote, “for I promise your worship that unless
some remedy be sent from Spain my master Antonio de Guaras will find
himself in dire trouble, as will all of us in his house, for we are sore
distressed. With all earnestness I supplicate you to let his Majesty
know, in the hope that delivery may be sent to us.” Guaras himself writes
from prison in hot indignation. He had, he says, placed the letters from
the Queen of Scots and King Philip in a safe place, and they had not been
captured, but he knows that much of his correspondence has been sent to
England by the Flemish nobles, and, reading between the lines, one sees
that the poor wretch is in mortal fear, though he passionately protests
his innocence whilst vituperating his captors.
No consideration or mercy was shown to him, and now that he was under
lock and key all sorts of claims and accusations were made against
him.[219] To add to his trouble he, who for thirty years at least
had been looked upon as a wealthy merchant, was found to be well-nigh
penniless. Philip was always a bad paymaster, and the 500 ducats a year
he allowed to Guaras had been embargoed or stopped in Spain for some
time previously. The great sum of 20,000 crowns, promised to him for his
services in negotiating the reopening of trade, was never paid to him,
though for the rest of his life he was petitioning piteously for it.
Damian Dela, his tailor-steward, was arrested at the same time as his
master and lodged in Newgate, whereupon Recorder Fleetwood, examining him
in November, he revealed the sad condition of Guaras’ finances: “I finde
that he hath not a groat to bless him withal. His household stuff is not
worth forty shillings. He is in my opinion _Iro Pauperior_, and were it
not that libertie is sweet I know not where in his own country he should
have like entertainment.” By Fleetwood Guaras sent beseeching messages
for mercy to Burghley, “his only hope and trust”; but it was not the
Cecil way to befriend fallen men, and Guaras appealed to his former crony
in vain.
Slowly the act of accusation against Guaras was elaborated. Such portions
of his letters as could be read were brought up against him,[220] his
servants, one and all, were interrogated, whilst he himself was almost
driven crazy by threats of the rack and the scaffold. The questions
administered to him in prison are amongst Lord Burghley’s papers and
at Simancas, and show the charges brought against him: “What letters
had passed between you and the Scots Queen?” “What do you know of their
contents and of the negotiations between her and Don Juan?” “How far did
Don Juan proceed in the marriage treaty with the Queen of Scots?” “In
the cipher between you and Don Juan, who were intended by the numbers
82, 29, and 38?” “What practices have been intended for disquieting the
realm, and who were the principal authors?”[221] and many other questions
of the same sort. In June, 1578, the case against him for conspiring
against the State in favour of Mary Stuart was held to be proven, and
the unfortunate man was lodged in the Tower, threatened now with death.
To all interrogatories Guaras had answered haughtily that he was the
diplomatic representative of the Catholic King, who would heavily avenge
any injury done to him; but Philip had other cares to occupy him than
to avenge a meddling merchant’s plots, of which he (Philip) had never
approved.
It was more important now than ever that Elizabeth should be
conciliated. Don Juan, in despair at his hateful position and at the
cold irresponsiveness of his brother, had in February, 1578, cast all
considerations to the winds, had fortified himself in Namur, and had
defied the States to do their worst. Philip, by the rash impetuosity
of his brother, thus found it necessary to fight not only for the
maintenance of orthodoxy in his Netherlands dominions, but for his
sovereignty. The Archduke Mathias, one of his own kin, had been invited
by the Flemings to accept the Catholic Crown of Flanders, and on his
failure to unite the country, Alençon, the French Prince, had bidden
for the prize. If Elizabeth could be won over by Orange to help or
co-operate with the French in Flanders, then nothing could save Philip’s
sovereignty; and so, until the great Alexander Farnese, Don Juan’s
successor, with warcraft and diplomacy combined, was able gradually to
separate the Catholic Flemings from the Protestant Dutchmen, it behoved
Philip at any sacrifice to win again the good graces of Elizabeth, to
arouse her jealousy of French interference in Flanders, and hold her,
notwithstanding all that had passed, to the traditional alliance with
his House with the ancient object. Nor was Elizabeth loath to meet her
brother-in-law half-way this time, for a French domination in Flanders
she could never allow, and whilst on the one hand she conjured the danger
by befooling Alençon into the firm belief that she would marry him if he
would obey her, on the other she held out her hand to Philip. Wilkes,
the Clerk of the Privy Council, was sent off to Spain to vindicate the
Queen’s action in Flanders: to say how hard she had tried to bring about
peace, notwithstanding Don Juan’s impracticability, to beg for Don Juan’s
recall,[222] and to urge that some sort of peace should be brought about
with the States on the basis that Don Juan had violated, failing which
she will be obliged, as before, to aid those who are battling for freedom
of conscience.
It was a bitter pill for Philip that he should have to brook Elizabeth’s
interference between his rebel subjects and himself, and he treated
Wilkes in very high and mighty fashion, on the pretext that his rank
was inadequate for such a mission. But he made amends by sending to
England, hard upon Wilkes’ heels, a scion of one of the noblest houses
in Spain as his ambassador. Soldier, author, diplomatist, and courtier,
Don Bernardino de Mendoza, a man with the pride of Lucifer and the
intolerance of St. Dominic, was entrusted with a mission of humility
to the Queen of all the “heretics.” No apology had ever been sent by
Elizabeth for the expulsion of de Spes, or for the seizure of the
treasure; Guaras was a close prisoner, daily threatened with torture, and
his claim to diplomatic privilege laughed at; yet the King of Spain was
obliged to swallow his pride, and send an ambassador who was almost a
suppliant to beg Elizabeth not to help his revolted subjects.
The change of position between the two sovereigns since the beginning
of the Queen’s reign is nowhere so clearly seen as by a comparison of
the instructions of Mendoza with the attitude of Feria and his master,
described in the earlier pages of the present volume. Mendoza’s mission
was piteously apologetic. Don Juan and the Spanish troops should be
withdrawn. It was all a mistake about the abrogation of the edict of
toleration. The States should have all they demanded if they would only
be loyal and Catholic, and Elizabeth was appealed to earnestly not to
aid rebellion in her good brother’s States. Mendoza was directed to
“endeavour to keep her in a good humour, and convinced of our friendship,
banishing the distrust of us which she now appears to entertain, and for
which we have given her no good cause.” The English ministers were all to
be heavily bribed, and at any cost, the new ambassador was instructed,
English neutrality was to be secured.
Mendoza passed through Paris on his way to England in February, and found
the French Court in dismay. Young Alençon had escaped his brother’s
vigilance, and, with a force of Huguenots and German mercenaries, was
on the Flemish frontier in full negotiation with the Prince of Orange
and the Protestants to assume the sovereignty as a rival to Mathias, the
nominee of the Catholics. Don Juan had just won the battle of Gembloux
against the united rebel States, and was known to be intriguing with
the Guises against Elizabeth, though not, as was thought in England,
with Philip’s connivance; and the Queen of England found herself in
perplexity between two fires. The Marquis d’Havrey, the Flemish Catholic
noble representing the States, was assuring her that unless she sent an
army over at once, under Leicester or his brother, to help them, they
must hand themselves over to Alençon and the Frenchmen, which she was
determined to prevent, cost what it might;[223] whilst, on the other
hand, she was told from all quarters that the Kings of Spain and France,
with the Pope, Don Juan, and the Guises, were all united and determined
to crush her for once and for all. Her problem was how to save Orange
and the Protestants in Holland from being overwhelmed, without dragging
England into a war with Philip; to prevent the French, even Huguenots,
from gaining a footing in the Low Countries, and to avert a Catholic
coalition against her. By what consummate diplomacy she contrived to
attain her ends will be seen in the next chapter, which recounts her
intercourse with Bernardino de Mendoza as Philip’s ambassador.
CHAPTER VIII
1578-1584
Mendoza and Elizabeth—His haughty behaviour—The French in
Flanders—Elizabeth’s approaches to Philip—The Spanish designs
on Portugal—Renewed plots of Mary Stuart—Appeals to Philip
to aid her in England—Philip’s attitude towards Guisan
co-operation with him in Britain—The Jesuit mission—Mendoza
and the Catholic plot in Scotland—Elizabeth aids the
Portuguese pretender—Anger of Mendoza—His altercation with
Elizabeth—Progress of the plots—Collapse of Lennox—The
interference of Guise in the plans—The jealousy between English
Catholic exiles and the Scots—Development of the Anglo-Spanish
plans and intended exclusion of Guise—Arrest of Francis
Throckmorton—Discovery of the plot—Expulsion of Mendoza—Philip
faces the inevitable and slowly prepares for a war of invasion
On the 16th March, 1578, Mendoza sat on a low stool by Elizabeth’s side,
under the canopy in the Palace of Greenwich. He was a man already of
mature age, of stately port, strong and masterful as became a dashing
cavalry leader, but he spoke on this occasion, his first formal audience
of Elizabeth, in silken tones, as he tried his best to excuse Don Juan’s
breach of faith with the States. The Queen, on her side, had nothing
but complaints and protests. Her aim was to be made a party to the new
pacification, either as arbitrator or mediator, because, she said, that
she would have to provide the financial guarantee offered by the States.
But it was not Philip’s intention to allow her thus to come between him
and his subjects, and this point was always evaded, cleverly as she
urged it. But upon the main point she and Mendoza soon agreed. If Philip
would make the concessions to the States that he now promised, and they
refused to submit, she herself would help to punish them; and as for the
French, she would take care they were never masters of Flanders, with or
without Don Juan. It was noticed that as soon as the Queen said that she
would help to punish the States if they did not accept the terms promised
by Philip, Leicester hurriedly left the chamber, it was whispered to
write by special courier to Flanders that Havrey should at once return to
England and represent the rebel view of the situation.
“I am glad to see you again,”[224] said the Queen, after the business
talk was finished, “although I have been told that the real object of
your coming is to plan many things to my injury; but even if you were
not a minister of my good brother, I do not think that you would do me
much harm.” Needless to say, Mendoza loudly proclaimed his devotion to
her, and for a time all went harmoniously between them. Alençon from
the frontier sent to Elizabeth lovelorn epistles of devotion, which she
looked at for a time with some distrust, believing that this might be a
trap whereby the French, as a nation, were endeavouring to gain a footing
in Flanders to her prejudice. Of one thing she was quite determined,
namely, that for every Frenchman who entered Flanders an Englishman
should enter too; and to all Mendoza’s remonstrances at the aid in men
and money that constantly flowed over to the Netherlands, Elizabeth
had the answer ready that they went as much in Philip’s interest as her
own, to prevent the country from falling into the hands of the French.
To Orange, whom she constantly upbraided for welcoming French aid, her
scolding reproaches meant little, for, as he said, he cared not whence
came the help by means of which he could fight the Spaniards, and if he
obtained, as he did, forces from Alençon and from Elizabeth too, he was
willing to put up with the Englishwoman’s hard words.
She did not mince matters with Mendoza, either. “By God!” she shouted,
“if the edict of toleration is not re-granted to the States I will help
them against you whilst I have a man left in England.” Mendoza drily
remarked that she was helping them pretty effectually already, “and
that, grateful as I was for her kindness to me, I could not help telling
her that your Majesty had very long arms, and that if need arose their
strength would be felt in any country upon which they were placed. She
swallowed this,” says Mendoza, “with rather a wry face, and said she did
not consider these people to be rebels, as they were satisfied with what
your Majesty had granted to them before, and she would not allow either
the French to set foot in the States nor the Spaniards to oppress them.”
Thus surely but slowly Elizabeth worked her way; but with the inevitable
consequence of convincing Mendoza, as all other Spanish ambassadors in
turn had been convinced, that force against Elizabeth was their only
remedy, since in diplomacy she was more than a match for the cast-iron
methods of their master.
To Mendoza’s intercession for the unhappy Guaras, with whom the new
ambassador had little sympathy as a plebeian and bungler in State
affairs, Elizabeth replied angrily that if he had been a subject of any
other King but Philip she would have hanged him long ago, as he had been
plotting against her with the Queen of Scots and English rebels. She
would get rid of him, she said, by and by, when she had squeezed some
more information from him. Once, in June, 1578, Guaras was brought out of
prison and told by the Council that he would have to leave the country
in ten days; but, instead of accepting the decision humbly, he raised an
altercation, again claiming diplomatic privilege, with the result that he
was promptly sent to solitary confinement in the Tower again, though both
Mendoza and Don Juan had received money from Spain to be spent in bribes
for his help and defence.[225]
Generally speaking, the parties in Elizabeth’s Court were now sharply
divided in policy, and Mendoza promptly found who were his friends and
who his foes. Cecil and Sussex, particularly, with Controller Crofts
in a humbler way, were opposed to the open provocation of Spain by the
support of the Flemish rebels; Leicester and Walsingham, whom Mendoza
rarely mentions without the epithet “devilish heretic,” being determined,
if possible, to bring matters to a crisis between Elizabeth and Philip
whilst the war in the Netherlands paralysed the latter. Elizabeth herself
leant now to one side, now to another, always balancing counsel against
counsel. How suddenly and convincingly she could change is seen in her
attitude towards Mendoza directly she heard that Alençon and his French
force, mainly Huguenots, had crossed the frontier into Flanders early in
July, 1578, at the request of the States, and had thrown themselves into
Mons. Alençon had long been trying to convince the Queen that upon her
alone, and not upon his brother the King of France, would he depend in
everything, and his professions of love for her were unabated, but this
alarmed her.
To some extent her distrust of Alençon had been overcome of late,
particularly as a large number of English troops and Germans in her pay
were in Flanders as an antidote to him; but only a few days after the
startling news of Alençon’s invasion reached England, Mendoza writes
(19th July, 1578): “The Queen has been very suspicious of me hitherto,
as she has been assured that I had come to perform I know not what, nor
what bad office; but she is beginning to be undeceived, and is turning
her eyes now more towards his Majesty. Some of the ministers, too, have
begun to get friendly with me, and I can assure you [Zayas] that if his
Majesty wishes to retain their goodwill, I see a way of doing it.... God
knows the trouble I have had in getting her and her ministers so far,
as they always want to see something substantial beforehand,[226] this
being the natural character of the people. I am told by a person in the
Palace that, even in the matter of giving me audience readily, the Queen
has been considerably influenced by the presents of gloves and perfumes I
gave her when I arrived.”
It is true that Elizabeth was a glutton for presents, and her Councillors
had itching palms for Spanish gold, but there were other reasons just
then besides self-interest that made them smile upon Philip’s ambassador.
Not only was there a French army on Flemish soil, but from all sides
there came to England alarming news of some great Catholic combination
against Elizabeth; the Spaniards were known to be supporting the Desmond
rebellion in Ireland;[227] and at a day’s notice, until she had got
Alençon completely under her thumb by the farcical marriage negotiations
with him personally, she thought fit to smile upon Mendoza, and treat the
moderate English Catholics with unwonted mildness. “I never see the Queen
now,” writes Mendoza in September, 1578, “without her telling me how glad
she is for me to be here. She gives me audience freely, and, thank God! I
have her now in an excellent humour, whilst the Englishmen in general are
not bad friends with me, as they think I shall not do anything against
them in case of a disturbance.”
On another occasion in September, 1578, when Elizabeth was sounding
Mendoza about sending an English ambassador to Spain, she said to him:
“If you were a knave, you should not have stayed here so long; ... if you
had been here years ago, things would not have reached such a condition
as they did, by reason of Don Gerau de Spes”; and when he went to see
her at Richmond on her return from an autumn progress, she became quite
coquettish with him. She thought, she said, he must have run away and
left her it was so long since she had seen him; and, though she was
somewhat aggrieved that she was to have no part in the pending peace
negotiations between Philip and the Flemings, she told him that “she
liked his manner of procedure.” “I did not inspire her with suspicion;
and if a favourable peace was made in the Netherlands by any means, she
was quite content not to have been a mediator, being quite satisfied with
my explanations.” Then, turning to him, she broached the subject really
uppermost in her mind, namely, her much-talked-of marriage with the young
French Prince. Did Mendoza think she ought to marry him? The courtly
ambassador was sure she would act wisely in any case; but he knew, as
she did, that all the French wished was to prevent her prosperity and
quietude. “I hope when you see the end you will approve of it,” said
Elizabeth, doubtless smiling in her sleeve; for she alone knew what she
intended the end to be, though Philip himself shrewdly guessed that “it
was all pastime, and she would never marry any man.”
But through all this amiability to the Spaniard, English aid still
found its way abundantly across the North Sea to the Protestants in
arms; and Hans Casinir, with 20,000 soldiers, was in Elizabeth’s pay in
the States. Philip, much as his ambassador might humour Elizabeth and
bribe her ministers, was no nearer than before to the complete control
of English policy, which alone would serve his purpose. Don Juan had
died brokenhearted at his miserable failure on 1st October, and this
made matters somewhat easier for his brother Philip, as it removed the
principal obstacle to the reconciliation of the Catholic Flemings to the
Spanish rule. The absolute dissociation of the King of France from his
brother Alençon’s eccentric vagaries in Flanders, and Elizabeth’s clever
beguilement of the young man, also satisfied the King of Spain that once
more affairs were reverting to the old groove, in which he would have
against him not Catholics, but only the Protestant elements of which
Elizabeth was the main supporter.
Again, therefore, he was able to face the problem of his “good sister’s”
overthrow. All his attempts previously in this direction had been
disastrous for his instruments and discomfiting for himself. He had
subsidised Mary Stuart, before and since her incarceration; he had
ineffectively supported the English Catholics to rebel; he had consented
to Elizabeth’s murder preparatory to his armed intervention in England;
he had countenanced Stukeley’s wild plans to capture Ireland, and
supported the Desmond disaffection in Munster; he had tried to bring
Elizabeth to her knees by stopping trade, with the result of nearly
ruining his own subjects—but all these means had failed. Philip’s
advisers for twenty years had never ceased to assure him that he must
boldly carry the war into his enemy’s camp if he would succeed—that to
win all he must risk something; but he had gone on still believing in the
infallibility of his own methods, which always aimed at binding others
whilst himself remaining vaguely pledged or not pledged at all. Philip
would only play when he held all the winning cards, and, much as his
ambassadors urged upon him a policy of force towards his sister-in-law,
he was determined to wait until Fate had dealt them to him.
In August, 1578, only a few weeks before the death of Don Juan relieved
him from his worst dilemma in Catholic Flanders, his rash young nephew,
King Sebastian of Portugal, was killed in battle in Morocco. His heir
was the old childless Cardinal Don Henrique, and amongst the many
subsequent claimants Philip was the strongest. With the added power and
great wealth of Portugal, the King of Spain might conquer heresy yet
by force, and defy both England and France if needs be, for, with the
harbours of Spain, Portugal, and the Islands closed to them, French and
English ships would be unable to sail far from their own shores. The
danger at once drew Catharine and Elizabeth together, but they could
do nothing effectual yet, and all Philip’s plans were laid carefully
to seize the throne of Portugal when the aged king should die. It was
necessary, amongst other things, for him to provide that both Elizabeth
and Catharine, when that event happened, should have their hands full at
home, and the effect of his manœuvres is noticeable almost immediately.
Mendoza had been instructed to use the greatest caution in all approaches
to him on behalf of the imprisoned Mary Stuart; but in January, 1579,
Zayas wrote to him, saying that negotiations had been opened by Beton,
Archbishop of Glasgow, Mary’s ambassador in Paris, and the Spanish
ambassador there. “If,” he said, “Philip would provide enough money to
raise four thousand troops, great things might be done for her and for
the Catholic religion. His Majesty is very well disposed towards it; but
nothing, as yet, has been decided, because, in good truth, the matter
could only be undertaken on very safe grounds, and with the assurance
that the effect would be produced, as otherwise it would be _oleum et
operam perdere_. Send us your opinion on it.”[228] The French intrigues
in Scotland at this period (1579) had somewhat aroused the apprehensions
both of Philip and Elizabeth, for Guise had sent young Lennox d’Aubigny,
the Franco-Scot Stuart, to woo his cousin James, and he had succeeded
beyond the wildest expectations. Philip was willing enough to foster
Guise’s ambitions to the extent of setting him against Catharine and
the Huguenots; but any attempt at Guisan interference in Great Britain
without his direction always alarmed him, so Mendoza lost no opportunity
of whispering to Elizabeth distrust of French aims in Scotland.
At the same time, still further to divert Elizabeth from interfering
with his Portuguese plans, Philip allowed himself to be persuaded to
help James Fitzmaurice and the Pope’s Nuncio, Dr. Sanders, to land a
small Spanish and Italian force in Ireland in the summer of 1579. The
expedition was routed and pursued, Dr. Sanders dying miserably of want
and exposure; but when heartrending appeals from the Irish were sent to
Philip for further aid, he dared not make open war upon England for their
sake—that was no part of his plan yet. All he could consent to do was to
join with the Pope in defraying the expenses of a formidable expedition,
not under the Spanish but the Papal flag, sailing from a Spanish port,
with eight thousand soldiers to invade Ireland, and hold the Catholic
West for the Desmonds. The affair was mismanaged, and all the invaders
were slaughtered at Smerwick, Dingle Bay (November, 1580); but Mendoza
never heard the last of it from Elizabeth, who in future excused all
her interference in Flanders by pointing to this kind act of her “good
brother.” It was a hint to Elizabeth that she was vulnerable, not only in
Scotland by French intrigue, but in Ireland also, and that it behoved her
to look to her own safety before attacking others.
Mendoza had much cold water to throw upon the suggestion of Beton and
the Spanish ambassador in Paris (with whom he was at feud) as to the
subsidising of a rising of Catholics in favour of Mary Stuart. He, true
Spaniard as he was, looked askance at any plan of the sort in which a
Frenchman had a part. But early in 1580 the matter entered a new phase.
Elizabeth, for the first time in her reign, found herself unpopular, in
consequence of the general belief that she really intended to marry the
young French Prince; the great Jesuit propaganda was busily making ready
to spread through England the young missionaries, who in the true spirit
of martyrdom had pledged their lives to bring back England and Scotland
to the Faith; the power of Morton in Scotland was waning fast, and Lennox
was in the ascendant. Everywhere the Catholic cause had taken new hope,
thanks in great measure to the encouragement of Philip, in order that
when the time came he might have a free hand in Portugal.
But whilst the King of Spain was quite ready to utilise these priestly
and other auxiliaries for his ends, though most of them had no idea that
politics had any part in their propaganda, he himself would make no move
to capture England until he knew that he, and no one else, would enjoy
the benefit of success if success were attained. So long as the Pope and
Guise were the leaders of the movement, Philip gave it his blessing but
no more, and on the 11th February, 1580, the old Archbishop of Glasgow,
in Paris, seeing this, visited Vargas Mexia, the Spanish ambassador, and
made a distinct step in advance. The Duke of Guise and he, he said, had
persuaded Mary Stuart to place herself without reserve in the hands of
his Catholic Majesty; and the Archbishop produced a letter from Mary to
that effect, saying that she had arranged for her son to be captured and
sent to Spain, that Philip might marry him to his liking. Guise himself
came secretly to Vargas Mexia soon afterwards, and told him that he had
everything arranged now by the aid of the Scottish Catholics to overthrow
Elizabeth, and if Philip would subsidise the affair, he (Guise) would
undertake to prevent any French national interference.[229] As for Mary
herself, said the Archbishop, “she was determined not to leave her prison
until she left it to be Queen of England.” Philips attitude changed at
once on hearing this; and when a Catholic Scot, Fernihurst, was sent to
Madrid by the party, he gave him a cordial reply, leaving in Mary’s hands
the arrangement for the capture and deportation of James. But before
anything could be done, the overthrow of Morton in Scotland and the rise
of Catholic Lennox d’Aubigny to supreme power gave a far wider scope to
the plan.
The great conspiracy of 1569-70 against Elizabeth had failed, owing
to lack of complete co-operation of the various Catholic elements:
the present attempt seemed to promise an organisation of greater
ramifications and more intimate combination. This was owing in great part
to a new feature now first introduced. Those who watched the debarkation
at Dover of the passengers from a skiff that had arrived from Calais
on the 12th June, 1580, saw leap upon the shore a swashbuckling young
captain, such as many who came from the Flemish war. He was a man of
five-and-thirty, clad in a buff military coat covered with gold lace, and
had a great, clanking rapier hung upon his hip, whilst a fine feather
flaunted in his wide-brimmed hat. With him came a soldier-servant of
humbler mien, and, after being duly searched and coming through the
ordeal successfully, the two travellers swaggered upon their way.[230]
The captain told the searcher who kindly procured him a horse that a
friend of his, an English jeweller living at St. Omer, would follow him
to England in a day or two. The jeweller, Mr. Edmunds, duly came, and
also went on his road to Gravesend, and so by tilt-boat to London, there
to be lost like his military forerunner in the crowds of the capital.
The captain came not to rest from the wars against the Spaniards in
Flanders, but to conquer England again for the Faith, for he was Father
Robert Parsons the Jesuit, and the jeweller Edmunds, who followed, sold,
not jewels alone, but his own life for the task to which he had been
dedicated by the Church, for he was Edmund Campion.
These three young men were but the advance guard of an army of Jesuit
missionaries who soon flocked over from the seminaries of Rheims and
Rome to strengthen the resistance of the sorely tried Catholics of
England and Scotland. Wherever these zealous clerics reached, the power
of Elizabeth over her subjects was weakened. There were many Catholics
who had grown tired of persecution, and were willing to purchase peace
by open compliance with the Queen’s laws. More there were who would have
been fully content with even limited toleration for their observance.
But to these fiery young spirits toleration was a more deadly blow than
persecution, and although up to this time the secular priests had been
willing to concede to Catholics some appearance of outward conformity,
the attendance at Protestant service was now forbidden to those of
the old Faith. The result was almost at once a recrudescence of the
persecutions against Catholics in a crueller form than ever, with the
inevitable result of raising a stronger and more fanatical religious
spirit than had existed amongst the Catholics in England since the early
days of Elizabeth’s reign.
[Illustration: ROBERT PARSONS, S.J.
1546-1610]
Needless to say, Mendoza soon got into touch with the new fighting
element in the struggle against Elizabeth. The ambassador’s feigned
politeness towards Elizabeth had been strained almost to breaking point
by the news of Drake’s terrible depredations in the Pacific; and he
had already fallen in his correspondence with his master into the same
heated tone of indignation as his predecessors had done, urging the King
to prompt reprisals upon these “insolent heretics.” When Drake himself
arrived with his vast booty, and was effusively received by the Queen,
Mendoza’s angry violence of word, and his open threats, earned for him
exclusion from the Queen’s presence. He was offered, indeed, a bribe
of 50,000 crowns to moderate his tone, but he replied in a rage, “that
he would pay more than that sum himself to punish so great a thief as
Drake.”[231]
Almost daily Mendoza’s indignation with Elizabeth became more heated.
Amongst other causes of complaint was one that for the first time
brought him into an acrimonious squabble with Elizabeth herself, though
the occasion was a small one. The ambassador had been trapped into one
of the usual bogus plots, ostensibly to betray Flushing, but really
to cheat and betray him, and he had paid a large sum of money and
given much information to certain Dutchmen for the purpose. One of the
conspirators had left his son, a child, in Mendoza’s hands as a hostage,
and when the fraud was complete, on the 4th June, 1581, during the
ambassador’s absence, his house in the Strand was forcibly entered by
London constables accompanied by the Secretary of the Prince of Orange,
and the young hostage was taken from the custody of the Spaniards. The
household drew their swords and attacked the authorities, but before the
affray had proceeded far the ambassador himself appeared. Learning that
the officers were acting under the authority of the Council, he ordered
his servants to put up their weapons and angrily protested against this
violation of his domicile.
Mendoza had avoided appearing at Court during the warm philandering with
Alençon and the French that was going on, fearing that Elizabeth might,
with her usual artfulness, get better terms from the French by pretending
that the Spaniards were seeking her. But this new insult overcame all
other considerations. In a violent temper Mendoza demanded immediate
reparation from the Queen. She must receive him at once, he said, and
apologise, or he would leave the country and lay the matter before his
master for redress. Elizabeth was anxious not to have an altercation with
him whilst the special French embassy as well as Alençon’s _mignons_
filled her Court, and by flattery and cajolery she managed to defer the
unpleasant interview until the French embassy had gone. On the 17th June,
Elizabeth stood in the gallery of Whitehall overlooking the river, when
Mendoza, who had landed at the private stairs, was led to her by Hatton,
the captain of the guard. Fearing that the Spaniard might use angry
words, she took him into a window embrasure out of earshot of the only
two persons in the gallery, Sussex and Hatton, and at once anticipated
him by complaining bitterly that King Philip had helped these knaves
of Irish rebels by sending a large body of soldiers to them. Mendoza
said he must leave that subject for another time, and launched into
angry invective of the treatment to which he had been subjected. He
had, he said, been denied rights recognised even amongst savages to the
ambassadors of kings. He had expected to hear that she had hanged the
constables the next morning; but as she had not done so, he supposed they
had told the truth when they said they acted in her name.
Calling Sussex and Leicester to her, she ordered that inquiry should be
made in the matter, and then once more started her Irish grievance, again
forcing Mendoza to take the defensive. He made the best of matters, and
retorted with Drake’s plunder and her constant aid to the Netherlanders,
ending by a scarcely veiled threat that unless she mended her behaviour
towards his master, especially in her attitude towards Portugal, his
vengeance would fall upon her. Elizabeth was rather cowed at this, and
said she did not want to quarrel with her good brother; the King of
France had done more harm in the matter of Portugal than she had. To this
Mendoza retorted curtly that if the King of France did evil that was no
reason why she should. Mendoza afterwards snubbed and hectored Cecil and
the Council, and left the Palace in no very pacific frame of mind. “If I
had not shown spirit,” he wrote to the King, in giving him an account of
the interview, “which is the thing that moves the Queen and her ministers
most, such is their insolence that probably I should never have been able
to get conference with them. This attitude alone has enabled me to hold
my own with them until now, thus gaining time for matters to develop
themselves.”[232] Notwithstanding his self-satisfaction, it is clear
that Mendoza got the worst of the interview with the Queen, for although
she was compliant on the unimportant point of the violation of domicile,
the boy was never restored, and she assumed the position of the injured
party about Ireland, as well as preventing Mendoza from making a formal
reclamation about Drake’s plunder.
But soon there came a new grievance to exacerbate the irritation of the
Spaniards. Alba had been summoned from his retirement to conquer Portugal
for Philip on the death of the old Cardinal King. The many claimants
to the Crown were mostly timid and unready, whilst Philip’s power was
irresistible, and Alba marched through Portugal, with the King in his
wake, brushing aside such slight attempts as were made to stay him in the
interests of the only Portuguese claimant who showed fight at all—the
doubtfully legitimate Don Antonio, Prior of Ocrato, who had at first
been accepted by his countrymen as their Sovereign. He had fled before
Alba’s advance, and had been a fugitive for months past—some said in
Brazil, some in Azores, and some in France. Wherever he was, he carried
with him jewels of inestimable value, and such a man in the hands of
Philip’s enemies might be made a powerful weapon against the King of
Spain. Rumour was busy as to Don Antonio’s movements, and Mendoza’s spies
had much to tell, most of which was untrue. But it was noticed at the
end of June, 1581, that Elizabeth’s Portuguese-Jew physician, Lopez,
was very busy and important, posting backwards and forwards between
London and Dover, and soon Mendoza learnt that a party of Portuguese
had landed there, amongst whom one was treated with marked respect and
consideration. He was described as being “under the middle height, very
dark and thin, with a spare face, a grizzled beard, and greenish-grey
eyes.”
This man Mendoza, from the description, at once recognised as Don
Antonio, the so-called King of Portugal, proclaimed by Philip a rebel
with a heavy price upon his head. Before even he had had time to verify
his suspicions, Mendoza peremptorily demanded audience of Elizabeth to
complain of her thus sheltering the Pretender. The Queen’s ministers,
through the Earl of Sussex, flatly refused him access to their mistress
for any such purpose unless he brought fresh special letters from Philip;
and as, he says, he was determined to have no more _pros_ and _cons_ with
intermediaries who simply talk nonsense and then repudiate what they say,
blaming the messengers, he wrote a haughty letter to Elizabeth herself,
threatening to leave England instantly unless audience was accorded to
him. Elizabeth was hunting at Eltham when the letter was handed to her,
and as she read it she changed countenance. Through Hatton, who was by
her side, she replied to the bearer, “that if the ambassador, for reasons
of health or other private causes, wished for his passports he could have
them; but that the Queen had not the slightest desire that he should
leave her Court, or that she should break with the King of Spain.”
Two or three days afterwards, however, thanks to Cecil, Mendoza was led
up a secret stair into the Queen’s private chamber, where she was with
Leicester, Sussex, Hatton, and Walsingham. “I suppose,” began Elizabeth
as soon as she saw him, “you have come to give me some satisfaction about
Ireland.” “That, your Majesty,” he replied, “as I told you before, is
a matter concerning the Pope, not my master.” She had, he continued,
refused to receive him for nearly a year, pending her investigation of
the case. Elizabeth angrily swore that she had never sent him such a
message. Until he could bring her a fresh letter from Philip excusing
this Irish business, she would have no more to say to him; and she
thought that he had done his master a poor service in giving her the
answer he had done. “If I have done ill to my master, madam,” he replied,
“I have a head to pay for it; and although as the King’s minister I am
bound to render an account to him of my acts, I thank God that He has
granted me such a noble ancestry as alone would prevent me from failing
in my duty to my Sovereign, if for no other reason but to leave unsullied
the scutcheon of Mendoza.”[233] “She screamed out louder than before
at this, saying that I was to blame for everything that had happened,
to which I replied smilingly that she was speaking as a lady, those of
her sex usually displaying most annoyance at the things that were done
in their interest. It was no small service I had done her, I said, in
patiently awaiting her pleasure so long.”
In the heated altercation that ensued, Mendoza seized an opportunity
of mentioning the real object of his visit, namely, the arrival of Don
Antonio. She prevaricated for a long time, and finally retorted that if
Don Antonio was in England, the rebel Earl of Westmorland was not only in
King Philip’s dominions but enjoyed a pension from him. She had not made
up her mind yet, she said, whether she should help the Portuguese or not,
but she was determined not to surrender any one to be killed; and if she
did not choose to give him up it would not be she, but Philip, who had
first violated the old treaties. Upon this Mendoza made a formal demand
for the surrender of Don Antonio in accordance with the international
agreement, and was curtly refused.
Thus every day the breach between Elizabeth and her brother-in-law grew
wider, and Mendoza followed in the footsteps of de Spes and Guaras. Don
Antonio was welcomed at Court with royal honours, and was very soon
borrowing money on his jewels to fit out expeditions to the Azores, which
still held out in his favour. The Queen herself blew hot and cold. If
Antonio succeeded in capturing the throne of Portugal again, she wished
him to be beholden to her for it and not to the French, whilst she was
determined not to be drawn into open war with Philip for him unless she
could manœuvre the King of France into the same position. Philip wrote to
Elizabeth himself, begging her to expel or surrender the rebel Pretender,
and Mendoza continued to press her, often intemperately, on the subject;
but she always countered with Ireland, the refugee Desmonds, Ridolfi, and
the Earl of Westmorland; and usually succeeded in getting up a wrangle
with the heated ambassador, which placed him at a disadvantage. To
prevent Philip from proceeding to extremities against her, and to keep
the King of France from breaking away, the marriage dealings with Alençon
were carried by her to a point from which all observers believed she
could never extricate herself. But her tactics, risky as they really were
at this time, were successful in their main object, namely, in weakening
Philip’s power on every hand, and making it impracticable for him to
avenge himself by force.
The English Catholic party had already felt the cruel consequences of
the renewed Jesuit activity. Campion, the most fearless of the young
missionaries, with two brethren, suffered cruel martyrdom with unshaken
constancy in December, 1581, and scores of other priests and laymen were
under sentence of death,[234] whilst throughout the country recusants
were hunted with merciless vigour, not, of course, for religion, said
Elizabeth’s officers, but as disobedient and disloyal subjects. Most of
the active Catholic nobles were now in exile, and it was clear that no
armed rising in England against the Queen’s Government was now possible,
except with very powerful help from abroad. But in Scotland matters
were entirely different. Morton had fallen, and the half-French Lennox
d’Aubigny, a Catholic, was the most powerful force in the country. His
French ancestry had caused the Spaniards to look askance at him for a
time; but the declaration of Guise to the Spanish ambassador in Paris,
that Mary Stuart in future would look alone to Philip for direction,
somewhat disarmed Mendoza, and, despairing of striking at Elizabeth by
other means, the ambassador turned to this quarter to aid him in his
vengeance.
Philip had commanded him to continue to console and encourage the
imprisoned Mary, and in September, 1581, referring to his correspondence
with her, the ambassador opens a new chapter in his activities in
England. He has, he says, been trying in every way—of course, through
the Jesuit missionaries mainly—to convince the Scots how advantageous
it would be for King James if Scotland were formally to return to the
Catholic Church; but for fear of driving Elizabeth into the arms of the
French, if she knew it, he has had, he says, to work very cautiously and
secretly. He then goes on to say that he had just held a private meeting
with some leading English Catholics, especially the brothers Tresham,
and had urged upon them that the best way to cause trouble to Elizabeth
would be for Scotland to submit to the Holy See. Even if Philip’s other
cares allowed of his sending a large force to England, such a course
would be impossible owing to French jealousy. Yes, admitted the Treshams
sorrowfully, the English Catholics were now so downhearted and crushed
that a rising in England was impossible unless King Philip sent a great
fleet and army fit to conquer the country, which they saw he could not
do. The Irish, too, were not to be depended upon, and they agreed that
the only way to gain England now was by winning Scotland first for the
Church.
The idea took root, and a meeting of six English Catholic peers and
several gentlemen thereupon took a joint oath of fidelity to devote all
their means and energies to this end. The confederates, with Mendoza’s
approval, despatched one of the senior Jesuit missioners, Father
Creighton, to Scotland to broach the matter to Lennox d’Aubigny, saying
that if James would embrace the Church the English Catholics would
rise, have him proclaimed heir of England, and release his mother, but
if he refused they promised to adopt another candidate as Elizabeth’s
successor. D’Aubigny was to be entertained with the notion that help
would be forthcoming from France and the Pope, as well as from Philip;
but this was only intended to be a blind, for Mendoza specially warned
the plotters that nothing should be said to Frenchmen about it, “in order
to prevent it from being hindered by the fear that it is a plan of your
Majesty alone.” “They agree with me in this, as they are all Spanish and
Catholic at heart, and do not wish to have anything to do with France.”
Creighton went on his way to Scotland in disguise, and in the meanwhile
the relations between Elizabeth and Mendoza became more strained than
ever. Philip had instructed him in October to address the Queen strongly
about the unconcealed encouragement she was giving to Don Antonio. For
some time Mendoza asked for audience in vain. Elizabeth was at Nonsuch,
and all sorts of excuses were given for her declining to receive him.
Mendoza, chafing under what he calls “her insolent and outrageous”
treatment of him, at last sent a servant of his to Burghley, positively
to demand audience of the Queen when she arrived at Richmond. The reply
brought back in Burghley’s words was ominous. “Sir, I must tell you the
truth; the Queen is at present alone, unattended by Councillors, and as
Don Bernardino is to bring letters to the Queen from so great an enemy of
hers as his master, it is meet that he should be received accordingly.”
They kept Mendoza fuming for several days longer before he was received;
and when he entered the presence chamber at Richmond, boiling over with
wounded pride, he found the Queen no longer the smiling coquette she
had formerly been with him. Seated upon a tabouret under the canopy,
with Sussex and Lord Admiral Clinton standing by her, she refrained from
rising and advancing to receive him, as was her wont, and welcoming him
with a greeting in Italian. Instead of that she sat frowning as he bowed
low before her, the first words she said being to complain that she was
suffering from a pain in her hip. Mendoza expressed his sorrow that he
should have to trouble her with business in such circumstances, but she
made no reply, and left him standing uncovered. “How about the letter
you say you have from the King?” she snapped at last, and he handed her
the King’s demand for Don Antonio’s surrender, which she read with a
clouded brow. “You know very well,” she said, “that Don Antonio has left
England; but I can tell you that if I had chosen to help him your King’s
fleets from the Indies would not be where they are now, and Portugal,
perchance, would not be so tranquil”—all this, as Mendoza says, with much
browbeating and vociferation.
“What else have you to say?” asked the Queen tartly; and in answer
Mendoza, in high and mighty strain, began to talk about the power of
his master’s fleets, and how those who dared to attack them would get
well trounced. She had helped the rebel Antonio, he said, she had called
him “King,” she had let him sail from the Thames with English ships and
arms from the Tower to attack his sovereign, the London merchants had
lent him money on his jewels, and much more to the same effect. His
King, already offended by the way she had helped the Flemish rebels, was
doubly resentful now. What more could she do, asked Mendoza, even if she
were at open war? To all of which Elizabeth replied boldly. As for Don
Antonio, she had helped him and still would do so; but she knew not what
the ambassador meant by his other complaints. “This was said,” continues
Mendoza, “with the most terrible insolence; and as I saw her evil intent,
I replied that I had been here for over three and a half years; but as
it appears she had heard nothing in all this time of the complaints I
had constantly been making, and would find no remedy for them, it would
be necessary to see whether cannon would not make her hear better.” In
answer to this Elizabeth, for a wonder, replied calmly and in a low voice
that he need not think to threaten or frighten her, or she would put him
into a place where he could not say a word. In future he might negotiate
with her Council, but as she had no ambassador in Spain she would not
receive him herself.
Mendoza thought probably that he had gone too far, as he certainly had;
for Philip, as we shall see later, had no intention, or indeed ability,
at this time (October, 1581) to attempt the conquest of England. He did
not desire to threaten, Mendoza said; he was in her power and of course
she could do as she liked with him, but whatever she did, thank God!
King Philip would avenge him. Elizabeth then ordered every one out of
the room but the two Councillors, to whom in angry tones she repeated
Mendoza’s threat about cannon, and her reply. “I smiled to hear her
relate this with so much fury and agitation, and remarked that I would
not waste time on that point. Monarchs, I knew, were never afraid of
private individuals, and above all she, who was a lady so beautiful that
even lions would crouch before her. She is so vain and flighty that her
anger was at once soothed on hearing this, and she began to relate how
thankful your Majesty ought to be to her for having refused help to the
Flemish rebels. All she had done was to prevent the French from taking
possession of your territory.” Thenceforward to the end of the long
interview Elizabeth played off the Spanish support of the Irish rebels,
the subsidising of the northern rebellion, and the intrigues of de Spes,
against Mendoza’s complaints of her help to Orange, the depredations of
Drake, and the reception of Don Antonio; and the exchange of grievances
ended by Elizabeth coldly saying that she would receive the ambassador
no more until the King sent her some satisfaction, to which he retorted
by saying that he would prefer to do business with the Council. As he
turned to go and was already some paces from the Queen he heard her
heave a deep sigh, and say in Italian, evidently intended to reach his
ear, “I would to God that each one had his own and was at peace.”[235]
Mendoza, humiliated and embittered at the course of events, which he
ascribed entirely to Leicester and Hatton, thenceforward became a more
virulent enemy of Elizabeth than ever de Spes had been. In the next
letter after the interview just described he prayed Philip to avenge
himself by seizing all English property in his dominions; but the King
had tried that game before to his cost, and dared not run the risk again,
nor would he listen to Mendoza’s earnest prayers to anticipate the
intrigues of Leicester to have him expelled from England by recalling him
himself.
When, therefore, Father Creighton returned, in October, 1581, from his
mission to Scotland, Mendoza was ripe for any plan which promised injury
to Elizabeth. The Jesuit told him how he had been secretly conveyed
across the Scottish border, and had conferred with Lennox, Eglinton,
Huntly, Caithness, and Seton, who had warmly consented to Catholic
missioners being sent—“on condition that they brought money for their
own maintenance.” They would have King James approached, too, and told
that his one hope of obtaining the English succession would be for him to
embrace Catholicism and make friends with Spain. Neither Lennox nor the
King was to be frightened with the suggestion that the French were to be
thrown over: but Seton, who appears to have known James’s character well,
proposed that his greed and ambition might be worked upon by his being
shown how much more effectual a friend Spain would be to him than France.
Father Parsons was in London when Creighton arrived, and he and his
colleague Heywood were long closeted with Mendoza to discuss who should
be the pioneer missioners to Scotland. Creighton thought that Father
Parsons, himself, and Heywood should go, “as they would need to be very
learned and virtuous men.” Parsons, still in his captain’s garb, ran over
to Rheims to consult the Principal of the English Seminary, Dr. Allen;
and at Mendoza’s instance it was agreed that Parsons could not well be
spared from England, and that Dr. Allen should appoint fresh men for the
Scottish mission.
The six English Catholic lords who had first arranged the matter with
Mendoza were now in prison: Catholics were being savagely persecuted
everywhere, and it was evident that the scheme for upsetting Elizabeth
by means of a Catholic movement in Scotland must be managed by Spanish
agents in France and Dr. Allen, “as the Queen and her heretics are served
here by such a multitude of spies that the Queen of Scots herself is in
great alarm.” But above all, says Mendoza, though the affair must be
managed in France, “the French must have no suspicion that your Majesty
has anything to do with it.” As may be supposed, Mary Stuart was a keen
participant in the scheme. In April, 1581, six months previously, she had
sent a message through Archbishop Beton to the new Spanish ambassador in
Paris, Tassis. “Things,” she said, “were never in better form in Scotland
than now for a return to ancient conditions, so that English affairs
could be dealt with afterwards from there. Her son was determined to
be a Catholic, and inclined to break with Elizabeth as soon as he could
be sure of substantial help.” This help Mary earnestly begged of Philip
through Tassis, and asked that it should be landed first in Ireland,
ready to cross to Scotland as soon as the treaty was signed.
For some reason or another Mary conceived some distrust of Tassis, the
Spanish ambassador in Paris, and of Beton; and as soon as she heard of
the result of Father Creighton’s mission to Scotland, she wrote direct
to Mendoza to tell him that she had partly consented to join her son
with herself in the sovereignty of Scotland, which course had been
urged upon her by the French, but that she was still determined in all
things to follow the direction of the King of Spain in her affairs.
She had understood from the first that from France, divided as it was,
she had nothing effective to hope for. Her son and the Catholic Scots
might desire to keep alive the ancient alliance with France, but Mary
wanted more than that: she needed rescue from England, and this could
only be effected by a Power that was willing to go to war with England
if necessary for her sake, which she knew France, with its powerful
Huguenot element and Catharine de Medici at the helm, would never do.
Mary was suspicious, and grew even more so, of Guise’s interference in
her affairs, which she saw was not occasioned by the desire to benefit
her personally, but to increase his power by keeping hold of Scotland.
Mendoza, of course, threw cold water upon the suggestion that Mary should
recognise James as King on the recommendation of France, and by gaining
Mary’s entire confidence, gradually worked her affairs into his own hands.
The priests sent to Scotland were meeting with great success; and James
himself told Creighton that, though out of policy he was obliged to
appear in favour of the French, in his heart he would rather be Spanish.
Parsons, whilst, fortunately for himself, he was abroad, though just
about to embark for England, had been proclaimed a traitor and a price
set upon his head; so that in future his sphere of activity was in
Scotland and on the Continent, where he continued to direct English
affairs with ever-increasing violence against the Queen and her faith.
It is characteristic of Spanish methods that, though even Mary protested
against it, all the priests sent by Dr. Allen to Scotland were to be
Englishmen, because it was feared that Scotsmen might have other ends
and incline to France. Above all, it was provided that the French should
have no idea that Spain was behind this purely religious propaganda.
Elizabeth’s Government, suspicious already of the Catholic _régime_ in
Scotland, was well aware that something was going on in which Mendoza was
concerned,[236] and keen vigilance was kept upon the Border. “So far as
can be seen, this business is proceeding most hopefully,” writes Mendoza
in December, 1581, “and is under God’s protection; for, whilst these
two priests were on the English Border one night, a great search was
made in every house in the neighbourhood, as the Queen had been informed
that some English priests would endeavour to go to Scotland, but God
ordained that they should escape almost by a miracle.”[237] Tresham was
in prison, but priests carried messages backwards and forwards between
him and Mendoza, so that the plot was kept going; and the fortitude of
the Catholic prisoners under torture in refusing to divulge the names
of their associates had drawn into the new combination a large number
of sympathisers, whilst Mary herself, gaining ever more confidence in
Mendoza personally, was urging him to assure King Philip that the time
was propitious for him to take some bold and decided action in her favour
in Scotland.
This was the hopeful condition of affairs when Father Holt, a young
Jesuit sent by Parsons and Creighton from Scotland, arrived in London.
Tresham and the other English leaders being in prison, he had been
directed to a disguised English priest in London, who would take him to
the person who was to receive his message. Holt, like the rest of the
rank and file of the Jesuit missioners, had no suspicion that a political
object was behind their Scottish propaganda, and was astounded when
he was led to the house of the Spanish ambassador to give his report.
What he had to say was important. Everything, he reported, was going
excellently in Scotland. The lords were trying by every means to convert
the King; but they wished to obtain Queen Mary’s permission, if he
remained obstinate, “to force the King to open his eyes and to see the
truth.” Failing this, they would, if the Queen authorised them, depose
or transport James until Mary’s arrival in her realm. But, continued
Holt, they considered it necessary, if they were to succeed in their aim,
to be able to count positively upon foreign armed assistance to subdue
the heretics and provide against any interference from England. If they
had two thousand soldiers from abroad they would be sufficient for the
purpose. Where could they look, he asked, for such assistance? Not to
France or to the Guises, for several reasons, and they hoped that Queen
Mary would prevail upon the Pope and the King of Spain to send Spaniards
or Italians. He begged that Mendoza would convey this to Mary and to
Philip, and to have more English priests sent into Scotland for the
propaganda, “only they must bring money for their own maintenance.”
To Mary Mendoza sent the message of the Scottish Catholics in a somewhat
softened form, in order not to arouse her maternal solicitude for James;
but to his own Sovereign, Philip, he wrote almost vehemently, praying him
to seize the opportunity for striking a fatal blow at Elizabeth. “With
the two thousand soldiers they ask for, he says, the Scots might defy
this Queen ... and the whole North of England would be disturbed, the
Catholics there being in a majority, and the opportunity would be taken
by the Catholics in other parts of the country to rise when they knew
that they had on their side the forces of a more powerful Prince than
the King of Scotland.”[238] There was no more concealment of Mendoza’s
opinion beneath a veil of assumed humility: he not only urged Philip to
ensure the victory of Scottish orthodoxy by force, but to aid a rising
of English Catholics over the Scottish Border. The opportunity looked a
tempting one, for it provided for the removal of the doubtful James, and
the plan might be carried out (if the Scottish lords were to be depended
upon) without giving to Elizabeth the legal right to interfere.
The experienced Cardinal de Granvelle, who was governing Spain in
Philips absence in Portugal, was almost as enthusiastic in its advocacy
as Mendoza himself. “The affair is so important,” he wrote to Philip,
“both for the sake of religion and to restrain England, that no other
can equal it. By keeping the Queen of England busy we shall be ensured
against her helping Alençon (in Flanders) or daring to obstruct us
elsewhere.”[239] Mary Stuart was just as eager, but had wider views than
Granvelle, seeing clearly with her great penetration, if she was to be
Queen of Britain, the absolute need for organising the English Catholics,
whilst keeping the French out of the affair and not arousing unduly the
suspicions of Elizabeth. “In the event,” she wrote, “of the Scots having
the support requested, and the Queen of England attempting to interfere,
which might give an occasion for the English Catholics to rise, it
would be necessary to have this latter part of the business arranged
beforehand, but in such a way that they should not understand what is
intended, or have any idea until everything was ready to burst forth.”
Holt went back to Scotland with a promise from Mendoza, which he
certainly was not authorised by Philip to give, that the two thousand
men asked for should be sent to their aid, and the English Catholics, or
such of them as were still at liberty, were conciliated by means of Lord
Henry Howard, who was very heavily bribed by Philip, and thenceforward
became the principal Spanish agent at Elizabeth’s Court. The plot looked,
indeed, a promising one under the sole guidance of Mendoza; and all were
in high hopes that Mary Stuart’s fortune was at last to take a turn,
when Father Creighton arrived in Paris directed to Tassis, the Spanish
ambassador, with a letter from the Duke of Lennox. “Understanding,” he
says, “from the missioners that the Pope and the King of Spain desire to
make use of him for the design they have in hand to restore the Catholic
faith in Scotland and release the Queen ... he is prepared to employ
his life and estate in carrying out the same, on condition that he is
supplied with all things set forth in the statement taken by Father
Creighton.” This letter was dated early in March, 1582, and reached
Tassis in May, having been brought to him by Creighton and Parsons.[240]
The plan was a perfectly new one to Tassis, as Mendoza in London had been
the sole intermediary purposely chosen by Mary and the originators of the
plot, in order to exclude any probability of French participation; and
Philip, to his surprise, was now informed of the affair by his ambassador
in Paris, as if for the first time. Why Lennox should have chosen to send
his adhesion to Paris instead of to Mendoza is not quite clear; but,
being naturally attached to Guisan interests, it is probable that he
wished to ensure that his French patrons should not be excluded.
In any case, it does not need much knowledge of Philip’s character
to foresee that such inept management as this would upset the whole
business as far as he was concerned. The demands of Lennox, as stated
by Creighton, were ridiculous. The Scottish Lords had promised Mendoza
through Holt that if two thousand foreign troops landed they would be
able to effect the revolution, and this was a number that Philip could
have provided; but here was Lennox demanding twenty thousand men paid
for eighteen months and a large quantity of munitions of war of all
sorts. He must have, he says, twenty thousand crowns in money sent to
Scotland immediately for fortifications, &c., and a further subsidy to
raise Scottish troops; he asks that the troops should be of various
nationalities and placed under his command, and if the attempt failed and
he lost his Scottish estate in consequence, he wanted a guarantee from
the Pope and Philip that an estate of equal value should be given to him
elsewhere. He proposes himself to leave Scotland at the most critical
juncture, and to go to Paris to make final arrangements, as soon as he
hears that the Pope and the King of Spain are pledged to the enterprise.
Tassis, not unnaturally, remarked to the priests that Lennox was asking
for a good deal, and he learned from them that the Duke of Guise had
been consulted, and thought that fewer men would do. Parsons then took
up the story, and was quite sure that the Catholics of England would
rise immediately the Scottish affair began; and it was soon evident,
even to Tassis, who had been previously quite in the dark about it, that
not only Guise but many other people, clerical and lay, had been drawn
into the business, since one of the Jesuits was to go to Madrid, others
to Rouen and to Rome; and the Nuncio, Archbishop Beton, and Dr. Allen
were also parties to the proposals. The idea that Lennox should be in
supreme command, and that French troops were to be included, alone would
have sufficed to render the plan abortive, apart from the other quite
extravagant conditions he imposed. Lennox wrote a somewhat similarly
foolish letter to Mary Stuart, saying that the Jesuit Creighton had
promised him fifteen thousand men; and that he, Lennox, was to go to
France to raise a large force of Frenchmen. Mary was furious at such
impracticable nonsense, and wrote to Mendoza begging him to restrain
the bungling priests, as she was trying to do, and once more to get
the matter into his own hands. “I am advising Lennox,” she writes, “to
stay in Scotland, and I disapprove entirely of his plan to raise men in
France. You may inform these Jesuits, too, that I will not on any account
allow anything concerning this matter to be done in my name ... and I do
not approve of sending any one on my behalf to negotiate direct with the
Pope and King Philip.”
Mendoza also was full of scorn for such muddling, and the whole scheme
was thrown into confusion. Guise, as soon as he was informed by Lennox’s
letter brought by Creighton, travelled from Eu to Paris and met
Tassis secretly at Beton’s house. He, too, was full of far-reaching,
ill-digested plans, his main object evidently being to prevent Spanish
troops from being sent to Scotland, in order to avoid, as he says, French
jealousy, but really because he feared Philip’s power. His plan was to
raise a large mixed force to be sent by the Pope to Scotland, whilst
he, Guise, was to make a descent upon the coast of Sussex with a French
force. Philip met the new situation in his characteristic way. So far as
he was concerned, the plan became impossible the moment that Guise and
the French interest were included in it, and he wrote to Tassis, with
vague sanctimonious sympathy, deprecating overzeal and ordering that
nothing more should be done in the matter until further orders.[241]
Father Parsons, by far the cleverest of the Jesuits, went to Madrid and
submitted Lennox’s foolish conditions to Cardinal de Granvelle and Sir
Francis Englefield, Philip’s English secretary. They both agreed that
the bases laid down by Mendoza and Mary were the only practical ones,
and Granvelle incidentally in his report on the matter throws rather
a curious light upon the diversity of views that we see now existed,
although he probably did not know it, between Philip’s views with regard
to England and his own. We shall see presently what was in Philip’s mind;
but that of Granvelle is sufficiently revealed when, speaking of the fear
of the Scots that the landing of foreign troops might endanger their
liberties, he says: “This is not what his Majesty wants, nor do I approve
of it; but that we should loyally help the King of Scots and his mother
to maintain their rights, and, by promoting armed disturbance, keep
the Queen of England and the French busy at small cost to ourselves in
comparison with what she will have to spend, and so enable us to settle
our own affairs better. If it had no other result this should suffice,
but much more when we consider that it may lead to the re-establishment
of the Catholic religion in those parts. When we strike there the Irish
will pluck up courage; and it is advantageous that the matter should be
taken in hand by the Duke of Guise, as it will ensure us from French
obstruction. Since we cannot hope to hold the island for ourselves, Guise
will not hand it over to the King of France to the detriment of his own
kinswoman.” He also hints at the possibility of Elizabeth’s coming to
terms with Spain and renewing the old alliance.
This was certainly not Philip’s view at this time (1582). He had now lost
hope of conciliating England whilst Elizabeth was on the throne, and he
was gradually being convinced that nothing but a great national conquest
with purely Spanish arms would serve his turn. The policy of “loyally
helping the King of Scots,” and, above all, with the co-operation of
the French, would have been useless to him except as a means of gaining
for him uncontrolled command of English foreign policy, which, with
James an unknown factor and Guise as a confederate, was uncertain. The
idea of attacking England through Scotland, which some of his advisers
favoured, was one that never appealed very strongly to him after this
first fiasco of Lennox, and it introduced an element in the situation
which subsequently influenced him greatly, finally, indeed, deciding
his policy. This was the jealousy felt by Englishmen of Scots, and a
determination that nothing like a domination of England by a people whom
they considered inferior should be allowed. Scotland and France, it must
be recollected, had for centuries been looked upon by Englishmen as
their joint enemies, whilst Spain and Flanders had been their friends,
and it soon became a common saying amongst the English Catholics, of
whom Parsons was the mouthpiece, that England would welcome a thousand
times more a Spanish sovereign than a Scottish one. The first note of the
feeling is struck in Granvelle’s memorandum quoted above, where he says
that Englefield is very distrustful of the Archbishop of Glasgow, with
whom he has ceased to correspond, and he wishes that he (Beton) should
not be made cognisant with this business, “which he would immediately
divulge to the French.”
Whilst these events were passing in France, the causes for irritation
between Elizabeth and Philip were becoming daily more grave. The Queen,
almost at her wits’ end, had managed to get rid of her importunate
suitor Alençon, in February, 1582, by means of a solemn promise to marry
which she never intended for a moment to keep. She had insisted upon
Leicester accompanying him to Antwerp, where the Prince was to join
Orange as the obedient servant of Elizabeth. To the Queen’s dismay, a
few days afterwards she learnt that Leicester had sanctioned by his
presence the investiture of the French Prince with Philip’s Crown of Duke
of Brabant, and it seemed now, even to her, that the cup was full and
that nothing could save her from the vengeance of the outraged Spaniard,
especially as she found that the King of France ostentatiously disavowed
her and his brother’s action. Elizabeth railed at Walsingham and
Leicester like a very fury, summoned Burghley from a sick bed to counsel
her, and ended by leaving her French lover in the lurch.
Far from seeking immediate vengeance, however, Philip’s own perplexity
was such, in the face of this new dilemma, that he contemplated a step
which up to that time he had always repudiated with scorn. Writing
to Mendoza in May, 1582, he orders him to endeavour to exacerbate
Elizabeth’s jealousy of the French in Flanders for the purpose of
enlisting her aid as a mediator between his rebellious subjects
and himself. Orange had just been dangerously wounded by a Spanish
agent,[242] and it may have appeared to Philip that the moment was a
favourable one to bring about some settlement which, at all events,
might save his sovereignty. “It will be well,” he writes, “for you to
discover whether it is possible for the Queen herself to intervene
for the purpose of reconciling me with my subjects.” He is not very
sanguine, he says, of such an intermediary; “and she is much more likely
to continue her usual arts to incense my subjects against me, but it is
worth trying”; and to show how urgent was Philip’s need of a peaceful
settlement, he sent the large sum of 40,000 crowns to Mendoza to bribe
Elizabeth’s ministers to propose her mediation.[243]
The presence of Alençon in Flanders as sovereign, even under her own
auspices, made Elizabeth anxious to learn at first hand what the
Spaniards thought of this new provocation, and a hint was sent to
Mendoza that she would receive him again with Philip’s Portuguese envoy,
who had come to announce his accession to the Crown. She was, during
the interview, very emphatic as to her perfect neutrality with regard
to Portugal, “just,” says Mendoza, “as if it were true, instead of an
evident lie.” Mendoza interposed by saying that no doubt that was her
intention, but there were, at that moment, perhaps unknown to her,
several ships being fitted and armed in the Thames for Don Antonio.
What did he mean? Elizabeth asked, and the ambassador gave her full
particulars. Up to this point Elizabeth had been polite, but when she
found that no complaint was made about Alençon, she plucked up courage,
and Hatton, a special enemy of Mendoza’s, who was behind him, seems to
have made some sign to the Queen, for her tone suddenly changed. “This
is no time to deal with that matter,” she cried angrily, and Mendoza
retired more wrathful than ever, and more determined to work his revenge.
He had been praying for his recall for some time, for he was nearly
blind with cataract, and his soul rebelled against the humiliations he
had to suffer; but Philip had pressed him to stay on, for nobody could
manage the great conspiracy against Elizabeth so wisely and stealthily
as he. He would not abandon his post, moreover, until Mary Stuart had
consented to deal with a fresh ambassador, and he urged Philip to send
a special envoy, on the pretext of claiming the restoration of Drake’s
plunder, but really to succeed him if Mary would show confidence in the
new man. “If it be profitable that I should remain here I will willingly
sacrifice myself for a matter so closely touching the service of God
and the increase of His Church, as well as serving your Majesty, since
two hundred priests are risking their lives in the same cause, in face
of great hardships, hunger and poverty.” His stay in England, indeed,
was a true martyrdom, only endured because of his hope that in union
with Mary of Scotland he might be instrumental in overthrowing Elizabeth
and her Protestant ministers. They, for their part, repaid his hatred
with enmity as bitter. Leicester, Hatton, and Walsingham left no stone
unturned to make his post in England untenable. There was no English
ambassador in Spain, they said, and should be no Spanish ambassador in
England: the man was only a spy and a conspirator. It was he, said his
detractors, who had planned the assassination of the Prince of Orange,
and was the abettor and provider of the flock of black Jesuit crows who
were infesting England with their presence. Even the street boys in
London pelted and hooted him as he passed,[244] and he was practically
excluded from Elizabeth’s Court. But for every fresh slight offered to
him he became more ardent in his determination to make Mary Stuart Queen
of Catholic Britain. The correspondence between them was close, for Mary
refused to trust any other intermediary, and until the raid of Ruthven
and the flight and death of Lennox finally upset the Catholic _régime_
in Scotland, the hope of bringing back again into workable shape the
plot that the priests and Lennox had embroiled was never abandoned by
them.[245]
The fact of their correspondence was, of course, well known to
Elizabeth’s Government, and this made the ambassador’s treatment the
harder. Once, in May, 1582, he was driven, by orders from the anxious
King, to demand audience of the Queen, who replied that she would receive
him as a private person if he liked, but would see him no more as
ambassador until he brought an apology from Philip for aiding the Irish
rebels. To this he replied haughtily in a letter, threatening to leave
England at once and let muskets speak for him. When Elizabeth read the
letter she was perturbed, and softened somewhat. “God forbid,” she said,
“that she should ever break with the King of Spain, to whom she bore
nothing but goodwill, ... She hoped that Don Bernardino would not leave;
he could communicate with her in writing until the King’s explanation
of the Irish affair came.” Writing to Philip in November, 1582, Mendoza
says: “I have tried every means, overt and covert, to get into relations
with the Queen’s ministers, but they fly from me as if I were a rebel
subject of hers, and things have reached such a point that no one will
speak to me or even to my servants.” Even his heavily paid Court spies,
Lord Henry Howard and Sir James Crofts, avoided communication with him,
except when they needed money.
The efforts of Guise and Beton to keep the Scottish Catholic intrigue in
their own hands also tended to isolate Mendoza. Both he and Philip, when
the news of the raid of Ruthven and the flight of Lennox reached them,
recognised that the enterprise through Scotland was hopeless for a time,
and endeavoured to confine Guise’s energies in future to France. He was
told how dangerous it would be for him to leave France with his enemies
the Huguenots in possession, and was flattered and encouraged by Philip
with the suggestion that the Crown of France might be his by Spanish aid,
if Henry and his brother Alençon died childless, as seemed probable: “for
it would be a public infamy if the most Christian Crown should fall, as
may be feared, into the hands of a man who was not a Catholic [_i.e._,
Henry of Navarre], besides the danger of this, it will be a standing
disgrace to a true Catholic like Guise himself.” Guise was proud and
delighted that so much deference was being paid him, but he could hardly
be expected to look at Scottish affairs entirely from Philip’s point of
view; and, whilst not losing sight of his vast ambitions in France, he
still endeavoured through Beton, Tassis, and Parsons, to keep his hand on
the realm of his cousin.
When Lennox passed through London in January, 1583, on his way to exile
in France he sent his secretary to Mendoza—not daring to come himself—to
give him an explanatory account of Lennox’s ignominious collapse, and
to inform him of his plans to return to Scotland, with James’s full
connivance, and for an invasion by foreign troops in the Catholic
interest. In such plans both Mendoza and his master had now lost hope,
and though Lennox soon afterwards died, Guise himself, undeterred by
Philip’s flattering attempts at diversion, became the central pivot of
the intrigue, abetted by Beton, Tassis, and the Jesuits, who were still
curiously blind to the real trend of affairs. A new French ambassador, La
Mothe, was sent to remonstrate with Ruthven and the Scottish Protestants
for keeping their King in durance, and to warn Elizabeth not to interfere
in Scotland; and with him went young de Maineville on a separate mission
from Guise to the Scottish Catholics, for the purpose of reviving the
plot for landing a foreign force in Scotland. Beton and Tassis were,
of course, parties to the arrangement, much to the annoyance of Mary
and Mendoza, who thus saw all their carefully planned schemes thrown
into confusion. James in Scotland, as usual, lied to everybody, and
the Scottish Catholic party was disunited, so that Guise’s agent, de
Maineville, promptly saw that any present attempt to invade Scotland in
Mary’s interest would end in failure, and Guise changed all his plans.
[Illustration: HENRI, DUC DE GUISE
FROM AN ENGRAVING]
On the 4th May, 1583, Tassis wrote to Philip that Guise, in view of the
changed position in Scotland, had decided to negotiate with the English
Catholics for a rising in England. “He has already carried the matter
so far that he expects to have it put into execution very shortly, and
intends to be present in person.” He asked for 100,000 crowns from the
Pope and Philip, to be ready in Paris when he wanted it, though Tassis
says that he does not expect that his Holiness will send much. He needed
this large sum, it appears, principally “for one object which I dare
not venture to mention here, but which, if it be effected, will make
a noise in the world.” This object was no other than the murder of
Elizabeth, which was to be the prelude of the revolution to place Mary
on the throne. Two days before this letter to Philip was written by
Tassis the Nuncio in Paris wrote to the Papal Secretary of State, the
Cardinal of Como, much more plainly. Guise and his brother Mayenne, he
says, had arranged for the murder of the Queen by one of her courtiers,
secretly a Catholic, who owed her a grudge for executing certain of his
relations. This man had made the proposal to Mary, and she had refused to
entertain it, but the Duke of Guise was less scrupulous and had promised
the assassin 100,000 francs for the work. He did not ask the Pope’s aid
for this, but for the invasion of the South of England, which he, Guise,
intended to effect immediately after the Queen had been killed. Neither
the Nuncio nor the Cardinal, nor even his Holiness, had anything but
praise for this saintly plan, and readily promised one-quarter of the sum
needed if Philip would find the other three-quarters.
Guise’s ideas, as usual, were vague and scattered. Simultaneously
with this plan for murdering Elizabeth and invading Sussex, with the
connivance of the English Catholics, an utterly impracticable scheme,
he tried to keep the Scottish Catholics in hand by heavy bribes and to
convert James. All this sinister activity could not be quite hidden from
Elizabeth, who made a counter move by proposing terms for Mary’s release,
which in future would render her harmless. Mary at once asked the advice
of Mendoza, who was quite shocked at the idea, and wrote to her, as he
says, “with all possible artifice,” by all means to refuse her liberty;
but he tells Philip his real reason: “Nothing could be more injurious to
your Majesty’s interest and hopes of converting this island than that
the French should get their fingers into the matter through the Queen of
Scotland and turn it to their own ends.”[246] Philip agreed that it would
be best to keep Mary where they could lay hands upon her at any moment;
but, perhaps influenced by the opinion of Granvelle, quoted in an earlier
page, he asks for Mendoza’s further opinion on the association of Guise
in the contemplated revolution. Since he was a near relation of Mary’s,
and had the confidence of the Scottish Catholics and the Pope, would his
co-operation, in the opinion of Mendoza, be open to the same objections
as that of Frenchmen generally? To this Mendoza gave a cautious,
sagacious reply. There was no objection to Guise pulling the chestnuts
out of the fire, if he depended entirely upon Spain, but above all Mary
Stuart must be kept in England.
Philip professed himself willing to provide a part of the money required
for Guise’s murderous attempt, but bargained for a larger contribution
from the Pope.[247] Before anything could be decided, however, the
ill-knit plan fell to pieces. Father Allen and most of the English
Catholic exiles were in deadly earnest, and thought that “all this talk
and intricacy was mere fencing.” The feeling, also, of national jealousy
of the Scots began to manifest itself strongly amongst them. “They
suspected a tendency on the part of the Scots to claim a controlling
influence in the new Empire, and, as the Scots are naturally inclined
to the French, they would rather see the affair carried through with
but a few Spaniards, whilst the English hate this idea, as their
country is the principal one, and they say that it should not lose its
predominance.”[248] This tendency of the English exiles gradually worked
upon Philip and his ministers, until French co-operation in the plans to
subjugate Britain, even under the auspices of the Guises, was eliminated
from the schemes, so far as Spain and the English exiles could influence
them.
Not many weeks elapsed before this vague plot of Guise to murder
Elizabeth simultaneously with an invasion of Sussex had fallen through.
On the 30th May, 1583, the Nuncio in Paris wrote to the Cardinal of Como,
“I believe that the design upon the person of the Queen of England will
come to nothing”; and three weeks later Tassis wrote to Philip that the
murder plot “is, I see, for the present, quite at an end, and nothing
more is being said about it, so the funds referred to will therefore
not be required.”[249] The English Catholic exiles, led by Dr. Allen
and Father Parsons, soon tired of such an unbusinesslike conspirator
as Guise, and they came to Tassis, in Paris, with a scheme of their
own. They were already jealous of French and Scottish intervention in
English affairs. “They have received so much favour from your Majesty,
that they would rather have the help of Spaniards.” Dr. Allen and his
followers therefore stood aloof somewhat now from the Guise proposals,
and “convinced that they must look for a remedy only to the feeling of
England, they have made up their minds that they are simply wasting time
in depending upon what is arranged here in France, and they have decided
to lay the real condition of England before your Majesty, and beg you to
extend your pity to the poor, afflicted, distressed Catholics there.”
Tassis was much impressed by Dr. Allen’s earnestness. Scotland was in no
condition, he said, to co-operate at present, even if it were advisable
for her to do so, which the English thought it was not. The King was
a mere boy, notably unstable and in the hands of heretics, though he
pretended to be secretly favourable to Guise’s plans; and the Catholics
of the North of England were ready to rise on their own account if Philip
would aid them with money and a few troops to be landed in Yorkshire or
Lancashire. “They are so confident of success, with the blessing of God,
in whose service the attempt will be made, that it is impossible for any
one to hear them without being convinced.” In this scheme the exiled
Earl of Westmorland and Lord Dacre were to join, and Dr. Allen was to
accompany the expedition as Bishop of Durham. The time fixed by Allen
and his friends for the attempt was in September or October of that year,
1583, in the hope that Philip’s fleet would by that time have defeated
Don Antonio’s expedition off the Azores, and be free to co-operate with
an English Catholic rising. Even an extreme Catholic party in Scotland
were desirous of working independently of France and the Guises, and
sent Lord Seton’s brother to Spain to appeal to Philip, avoiding all
communication with Guise and Beton.
The Duke of Guise, determined not to lose hold of the business if
he could help it, tried to graft a plan of his own upon that of the
English Catholics, who were in such dead earnest and had no object in
view but the conversion of England. He was willing to abate his demands
considerably, and Tassis thought that if he were flattered enough he
would agree to whatever Philip ordered. Guise eventually managed to
upset the businesslike plans of Dr. Allen and his friends by forcing
upon them his undesired and impractical co-operation. Father Parsons,
who had recently returned from Spain, was to go to Madrid (July, 1583)
to represent to Philip the English view of the case and to crave Spanish
support; but before he left Paris in August, Guise managed to enlist him
as an advocate of his new combined plan, which he was to submit, not to
Philip, but to the Pope. Parsons travelled under the name of Melino—one
of his many aliases—and was instructed by Guise to say that if Philip
would send 4,000 good soldiers and contribute money to raise and pay
10,000 more, with arms for 5,000 Englishmen, the affair could be carried
through successfully. Parsons was to go to Rome first and earnestly beg
the Pope in Guise’s name to provide money liberally, and to leave the
whole management of the affair to the King of Spain. Ports, he was to
assure the Pope, had already been secured, especially that of Fouldrey,
on the Lancashire coast, and troops could be sent from Flanders to join
Guise’s force of 6,000 men to land in the South of England. The whole of
the North of England and Catholic Scotland was ready to rise, the nobles
prepared, and even James of Scotland had now freed himself from the
custody of the Ruthvens and smiled upon the enterprise. The Pope was to
be asked to issue a Bull approving of the expedition, giving indulgences
to all who aided it, and to appoint Dr. Allen Nuncio and Bishop of Durham.
This was the message that Parsons, under the name of Melino, took to
Rome; and to any one who knows Philip’s methods it spells failure on the
face of it. When the King heard that Parsons had in Guise’s name settled
with the Pope what Rome’s contribution was to be, without reference
to him, he expressed his annoyance with unwonted energy, for he had
no intention of allowing his hands to be forced by priestly meddling
or French interference. He had, indeed, by this time, as we shall see
presently, gradually allowed himself to entertain the vast project for
the conquest and domination of England on his own account, towards which
he intended the Pope to contribute, not the comparative trifle demanded
by Guise, but the lion’s share of the expense.
At the same time as Parsons went on his way to Rome, Guise despatched to
England Charles Paget, who, with Thomas Morgan, had been sent by Mary
Stuart to serve as assistants or secretaries to Beton, his mission being
to ascertain from the English Catholics what force they could join to
Guise’s invading army. Paget, although an Englishman, was ostensibly a
devout Guisan, but in strong opposition to the interference of Parsons
and the Jesuits in political affairs.[250] From the first he had been
a spy in Walsingham’s pay, and to him was owing the perfect knowledge
possessed by Elizabeth’s Government of the whole of the present intrigue.
The instructions given to him by Guise display more clearly than any
other document the utter incompatibility of the views respectively of
Philip and Guise with regard to England, and of themselves are sufficient
to account for the subsequent exclusion of Guise from all the Spanish
plans relating to it. Paget is instructed to discover which port will
be most convenient for Guise’s landing, and what strength will join him
there. Guise would come with 4,000 or 6,000 men, and desired a port
within fifty leagues of Dover. He wished to know what provisions and
arms would be ready for him, and much other information was sought. To
all of this Philip scattered on the margin when he read the dispatch
satirical exclamations at the unreadiness and uncertainty that these
inquiries demonstrated; but what finally convinced Philip that Guise
was no fit confederate for him was the concluding portion of Paget’s
instructions. “Assure the English Catholics, on the faith and honour
of Hercules [_i.e._, Guise], that the enterprise is being undertaken
with no other object or intention than to re-establish the Catholic
religion in England, and to place the Queen of Scotland peacefully on
the English throne, which of right belongs to her. When this is effected
the foreigners will immediately retire from the country, and if anyone
attempts to frustrate this intention, Hercules [Guise] promises that
he and his forces will join the people of the country to compel the
foreigners to withdraw.”[251] No wonder that Philip underscored these
lines, and that he thenceforward found the whole plan insufficiently
matured. Once more he primly deprecated undue haste, and gently put the
plan aside with vague professions of sympathy.
Mendoza in England was less cautious than his master. His position,
as we have seen, was a humiliating one, as Elizabeth persisted in her
refusal to receive him as ambassador, and he was exposed to daily
slights from those who took their tone from the Queen. When Charles
Paget went to England on Guise’s errand in August-September, 1583, he
was directed to Francis Throckmorton for the purpose of obtaining the
information he sought; this man being probably the person referred to
in the correspondence already quoted, as having been willing to kill
Elizabeth a few months previously at Guise’s bidding. However that may
be, Throckmorton was an intimate of Mendoza, who had been informed of
all that had been discussed in Paris, and both he and Charles Paget,
whilst he was in England, were closely watched. Through his numerous
spies Walsingham was perfectly aware of all that had been so incautiously
handled by Guise; the whole of the invasion project had been known to
Elizabeth’s Government for months, and though Charles Paget, who was a
spy, was allowed to get clear away to France, no sooner was he gone than
the blow fell upon those in England with whom he had conferred.
Francis Throckmorton was arrested, as was the new Earl of Northumberland
and his son, whilst the Earl of Arundel was summoned before the Privy
Council, and Lord Paget and Charles Arundell (of Wardour) fled to France.
Mendoza was deeply concerned at the arrest of his friend Throckmorton,
and wrote to Philip an account of it, cautiously worded, but sufficiently
inculpatory: “The Catholics are quite cowed.... Only one paper was
found upon Throckmorton, containing a list of the principal ports in
England, and particulars with regard to them, and the chief gentlemen
and Catholics resident in them. For this they carried him at once to the
Tower, and it is feared that his life is in danger, although he informed
me by a cipher note, written on a playing-card and thrown out of the
window, that he denies that the document is in his handwriting, the hand
being a disguised one. He told them that some person had thrown it into
his house for the purpose of injuring him, and he assures me that he
will endure a thousand deaths rather than accuse any one, which message
he begs me to convey to his Catholic friends.... I have written to the
lady in prison [_i.e._, Mary Stuart], encouraging her, and begging her
not to grieve over the matter to the detriment of her health, but the
business, it may be feared, may imperil her life if the negotiations in
France are entirely discovered.”[252]
Tassis in Paris was even more despondent, and he feared, what proved to
be true, that the rack would soon draw from the prisoner all he knew.
Time after time Throckmorton was tormented, as were his brother-in-law
and two other relatives, and sufficient was torn from them, together with
the known correspondence, to furnish a good pretext at last for expelling
Mendoza from England with ignominy. On the 19th January, 1584, a formal
summons for him to appear before the Council was handed to him. “If these
gentlemen wish to see me in my private capacity,” he replied to Beal,
the Secretary, “let them come to my house as I went to theirs when I
wanted to see them. But if they are sitting in Council, I would wait upon
them, as an ambassador should; but I warn them that if I open my ears to
what they have to say, I shall not shut my mouth to answer them, as the
service of my master may demand.” He says he gave this answer because he
knew the intention was to expel him, and on the Councillors answering
that they wished to see him officially, he went to the Lord Chancellor’s
house to meet them.
Walsingham spoke Italian better than the rest, and formulated the
Queen’s complaint. Mendoza, he said, had conspired with Guise to liberate
the Queen of Scots; he was known to be in communication with Mary, with
the French plotters, and with Throckmorton, and he must leave the country
within fifteen days. “It is strange,” sneered Mendoza, “that the Queen
should have summoned them and himself for such a trifle as this. What
you tell me are mere dreams, hardly worthy of an answer. These general
accusations are absurd, mainly extorted by the rack, and unsupported by
details.” Very different were the charges he brought against the Queen of
trying to injure his master, King Philip: and he launched out his usual
string of complaints, from the seizure of the Spanish treasure fifteen
years before to the present helping of Don Antonio against his rightful
sovereign. As for his leaving England, that, as his hearers well knew,
would delight him, and he would go the moment his master instructed him
to do so in answer to a despatch sent by the Queen requesting his recall.
The Councillors rose angrily at this and said that nothing of the sort
would be done: he must leave England at once: “and they explained their
past acts with impertinences that I dare not repeat to your Majesty, the
least of them being that I ought to be very thankful that the Queen had
not ordered me to be punished for what I had done.”
The blood of the proud Mendozas, the noblest family in Spain, flared out
at this: “To my King alone in the world belongs the right of correcting
me, and to him alone under heaven am I responsible: so, say no more
on that point, unless ye are prepared to fight.” As for the Queen of
England punishing him, he laughed at the idea. He would be overjoyed to
be gone as soon as a passport was sent to him. She was a lady, and, as
such, the least grateful to those who served her best; but, as he had
failed to satisfy her as a minister of peace she would in future force
him to try whether he would succeed better as a minister of war. Thus
Mendoza flung down the gage to England and the Reformation. He had been
unpopular in London before, but now the rumour spread through England
that he had plotted to kill the Queen, and his life was in the greatest
danger from the popular indignation against him. He himself, seeing that
the Government refused him the aid of English ships to get away, and the
Dutch privateers still swarmed in the narrow seas, was convinced that
mischief was meant to him. But he held his head high and boasted more
than ever, as slight followed slight from Elizabeth’s ministers, of the
overwhelming greatness and power of his master, King Philip, who would
avenge with interest all the injuries inflicted upon him and Spain. “Don
Bernardino de Mendoza was not born to disturb countries, but to conquer
them,” he said in one of his messages to Elizabeth; whilst to Philip
himself he passionately wrote with a back-handed reproach: “All their
behaviour is on a par with this; and if God had not made you so clement
and God-fearing a prince, surely no vassal of yours would consent to
serve you in England, seeing the way in which the English treat us: for
so powerful an empire as that which God has granted to your Majesty
cannot endure such ill-treatment as this for any earthly reward.”[253]
To add to his trouble, he was almost without money, for Philip was
the worst paymaster in the world, and he had to bring away with him
from England, not only his own great household but the English spies
and intermediaries who had served him. “The insolence of these people
[_i.e._, Elizabeth’s Government] has brought me to a state, in which my
only desire to live is for the purpose of revenging myself upon them;
and I pray that God may let it be soon, and will give me grace to be His
instrument of wrath, even though I have to walk barefoot across the world
to beg for it. I am sure his Majesty will give such an answer as their
insolence merits.”[254]
And so, cursing and reviled, the proud ambassador, with rage in his
heart, was hustled out of England, and once more King Philip was face
to face with the apparently unsolvable problem of how to gain control
of English policy. Five ministers of his had begun hopefully with
methods of suave diplomacy, and one after the other had become dangerous
conspirators and promoters of treason. Elizabeth and her Government,
timidly at first and with many gyrations, had through a long series of
years injured with impunity the dearest interests of Spain. The seizure
of the treasure had caused the failure of Alba; the constant aid of
the Netherlands revolt had prevented the pacification of Flanders; the
sheltering of the pirates and privateers in English ports had almost cut
off communication between Spain and the Flemish dominions by sea; the
depredations of Drake, afloat and ashore, had well-nigh ruined Spain and
demonstrated her impotence to the world; whilst the assistance and asylum
given to the Portuguese Pretender had rendered incomplete Philip’s hold
over the new conquest upon which he based such great hopes.
For five-and-twenty years Philip, against the impatient advice of
many of his ministers, had persisted in the belief that his own slow,
cautious, diplomatic methods would succeed in conciliating Elizabeth or
in substituting for her an instrument more amenable to his hand. The
expulsion of Mendoza, in January, 1584, marks the conclusion of the era
of peaceful effort. The ambassador left England breathing threats of war
and vengeance, and when Philip received the reports of his doings he had
no words but those of praise and approbation for them. “You have acted
with the same good sense and courage in the manner of your departure
as in all else that has happened during your stay in the country. I am
entirely satisfied with you, and with your good services, and will take
care that they are duly remembered.”
Philip at last had made up his mind: henceforward it must be war to
the knife between himself and Elizabeth, and no keener instrument to
work the destruction of his enemy could be found than Mendoza, with a
bitter personal injury of his own to avenge. From his new post in Paris
the ambassador worked incessantly to compass the ruin of the _régime_
in England that had wounded his pride; and for the rest of his active
life, until, blind and heartbroken with failure, the brilliant soldier,
diplomatist, and historian was shrouded in a monk’s gabardine, Elizabeth
had no enemy so indefatigable and rancorous as Don Bernardino de Mendoza.
Plans and plots for revolution in England, for the murder of Elizabeth,
and for the overthrow by treachery of the Protestant power in favour of
Mary Stuart, were the means upon which Mendoza mainly depended.
Philip was willing, in his cool, cautious way, to smile upon such
attempts, when he could do so without committing himself prematurely
or too far. They might turn out well by chance, and he might reap the
harvest where others had sown the grain and nourished it with their
blood. But through it all thenceforward there was slowly maturing in
Philip’s mind, and preparing in his chancelleries, the great enterprise
to which he had been forced by the logic of events—the conquest and
domination of England by his own arms and for his own benefit. Such
a scheme necessitated patient plotting in every capital in Europe
before the material preparations could be even commenced. Of the secret
preliminaries, the laborious concentration, and the final disaster of the
great Armada in which Philip’s ambitions were wrecked the next chapter
will tell.
CHAPTER IX
1584-1588
English Catholics _versus_ Scottish—Santa Cruz’s proposal to
conquer England—Enlisting the Pope—Intrigues in Rome—Mary
Stuart and Philip—Drake’s raid on Galicia—Elizabeth assumes
the protectorate of the Netherlands—War at last inevitable—The
preliminaries of the Armada—The Babington plot—Philip’s
consent—His distrust—Discovery—Elizabeth’s fears of war—Her
approaches to Spain—Santa Cruz’s fresh proposals to invade
England—His great plan—The Scottish Catholics try again to
share the attack upon England—Failure of Huntly’s scheme—Guise
not allowed by Philip to interfere—Mendoza in favour of the
Scottish plan—Philip’s claims to the English crown—The peace
negotiations—Drake’s dash upon Cadiz—Parma and the Armada—Death
of Santa Cruz—Medina Sidonia—The Armada—The failure and its
causes—The end of the struggle to win England
When the news came of the arrest of Francis Throckmorton and his friends,
and the expulsion of Mendoza, in January, 1584, Allen and Parsons were at
Tournay busily discussing and arranging with Alexander Farnese, Philip’s
viceroy in Flanders, the details of the proposed invasion of England
in conjunction with Guise and a rising of English Catholics. At first
the English priests affected to believe that the arrests would have no
serious effects upon their plans. “If,” they wrote to Philip, “these
men had been cast into prison in consequence of our great business,
they would, as usual, have been put into the Tower of London; and we
feel sure, therefore, that up to the present our adversaries have not
discovered any particulars of our plans.”[255] On the contrary, they
continue, what has happened should only have the effect of encouraging
his Majesty to carry the matter through with greater celerity. “It is
nothing short of a miracle that a business known to so many friends for
two years past should have remained undiscovered so long; but it cannot
remain hidden much longer, so that unless aid comes from abroad at once
the Catholics in the island will be utterly ruined. We therefore cast
ourselves at the feet of his Majesty, and cry unto him for the love of
Jesus Christ that he will not abandon so many suffering souls, who with
their hands raised to heaven are looking eagerly for his help. The time
is favourable, and every day’s delay is filled with danger.”
Alas! the zealous Churchmen, who were still at this time acting in
concert with the Duke of Guise, did not even yet understand the character
and aims of Philip. The King, keener sighted than the priests, knew
full well that the arrest of the English Catholics and the expulsion of
Mendoza meant not only the failure of the loosely-knit plan of invasion
with Scottish-Guisan co-operation, but a remodelling of the whole scheme
for subduing England to his will. He faced the new problem cautiously
and speciously, as was his wont, for he could not afford to alienate
the Papacy by avowing political ends, nor dared he at first openly
to fly in the face of Guise. Mendoza was summoned to Spain to confer
with his master, for Mendoza was always haughtily oblivious to any
but purely Spanish means and ends, and to him was confided the entire
direction of the English enterprise from the Spanish embassy in Paris,
to which he was appointed. But ere he arrived at his post the English
Jesuits, recognising, at last, that the Scottish-Guisan plan was really
frustrated, had trimmed their sails in the direction most likely to
attain the ends they aimed at—namely, that which would best please their
Spanish paymaster.
The Vatican, always jealous of Spanish overreaching, still clung to
the inclusion of Guise and the attack upon England across the Scottish
border;[256] and Beton and other Scottish Catholics naturally followed
a lead which offered such prospects for the aggrandisement of their
country. But Allen and Parsons were already undeceived, for they had been
in close touch with Spanish feeling in Flanders; and when the former
was summoned to Paris by Beton and Guise in April, 1584, in order that
they might convince him that the Scottish plan was the best, they came
to high words, and Allen penned a vigorous defence of his own and the
Spanish view. The English Catholics, he said, would never rise and join a
force coming from Scotland, owing to the hatred and jealousy between the
peoples; the King of Scots’ religion being more than doubtful, moreover,
will make people believe that he is trying to conquer England for himself
rather than for the Church, and the very Catholics will fight against him
and his foreign Catholic allies. A landing in Scotland also, said Allen,
would give Elizabeth and her Government time to prepare and mass their
forces on the Border, whilst a descent on the Welsh or northern English
coasts would find the people ready to welcome their deliverers and secure
their footing before the Queen could organise resistance.[257]
Before he surrendered his post to his successor, Mendoza, Tassis, the
outgoing Spanish ambassador in Paris, also wrote a weighty memorandum to
Philip enforcing the same view, whilst recommending him to send money
to the King of Scots to keep him in hand;[258] and thus not many weeks
passed from the failure of the combined Guisan and Jesuit plan before the
English Jesuit and Spanish elements perfectly understood each other, and
agreed that Spain must act alone in England. In May, 1584, Tassis wrote
to Philip that Allen and Parsons were both in Paris: “Still of opinion
that the enterprise should be directed against England itself, and on no
account should it be attempted elsewhere.... Scotsmen here, impatient
at the delay, are discussing the possibility of carrying through the
business by other aid than that of your Majesty; and, although Allen
and Parsons are trying to keep in with them as much as possible, they
[_i.e._, Allen and Parsons] say that the English need no other patron
than your Majesty, and they not only look to you for a remedy, but they
say that even if you make the Queen of Scotland their Sovereign they
hope you will not leave them hastily, or until everything is settled
permanently. They also say they would be glad for your Majesty to keep
some [English] ports in your hands, the better to assure matters.”[259]
This was the thin end of the wedge; and, knowingly or not, the ideas of
Allen and Parsons must even thus early have agreed with Philip’s humour
at the time.
James Stuart, by his tergiversation, had made himself quite impossible,
from Philip’s point of view, as a successor to his mother on the
throne of Catholic England. Philip’s own descent from John of Gaunt
was undoubted, and already had been quietly mentioned as giving him a
claim to succeed to the Crown in default of other Catholic heirs. If
England had to be conquered by sheer force and by Spanish arms, Philip
was determined to make a complete job of it, and to suffer no more
backsliding such as had happened after the death of his wife Mary; so
that the suggestion of the Jesuits that the attack should be a frontal
one on England itself, and that the Spaniards should retain their
hold upon the country even after Mary Stuart had been substituted for
Elizabeth, met a ready but cautious echo from the King himself.
Some months before this, when, in August, 1583, the Marquis of Santa
Cruz, the great Alvaro de Bazan, had scattered off the Azores the
mercenary French and English fleet in the service of the unfortunate
Portuguese Pretender, Don Antonio, and the Spanish squadrons, flushed
with victory, were ready for more fighting, the famous admiral wrote in
exalted strains to the King, praying for his permission to make him King
of England. “Your Majesty,” he wrote, “is now so well prepared, and with
an army so victorious, that I supplicate you not to miss this chance;
for believe me, sire, I have the will to make you King of England and of
other realms as well, whence you might with confidence hope to subdue
Flanders.” Philip was hardly ready for the step yet; for he had the hard
task before him of hoodwinking the Vatican as well as parrying French
opposition and Guisan interference, but he wrote to his great admiral:
“These are things of which we can hardly speak just yet, for they must
depend upon time and circumstances; but in any case I will order the
preparations you propose to be made, biscuits to be provided, the
building of galleons hastened, and men sent to Flanders to be ready.”[260]
The first necessary step was to secure the financial support of the
Pope without letting him know the real object of the proposed invasion.
Gregory XIII. was cautious and unambitious, though not unwilling to
signalise his pontificate by some great effort against heresy, but,
like most Italians, with no desire to aggrandise Spain politically. He
was surrounded by Cardinals representing different interests: Medici,
D’Este, Gonzaga, Rusticucci, Santorio, and others favouring the French
view, which looked with hope towards the conversion of James Stuart and
an arrangement with Elizabeth to recognise him as her heir, the real
object being, of course, the exclusion of Spanish influence from England.
Cardinal Sanzio watched the interests of the House of Guise, while the
Secretary of State, Caraffa, Sirleto, Como, Dr. Allen (somewhat later),
and the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Olivares, worked craftily and
incessantly to forward Philip’s wishes. It will be recollected that when
Father Parsons, under the name of Melino, went to Rome at the instance of
Guise in the autumn of 1583, to beg the Pope’s assistance in money for
the combined Anglo-Scottish project, Gregory XIII. had readily promised
what was asked of him, much to Philip’s annoyance. When, therefore,
Olivares, in Philip’s name in the spring of the following year, 1584,
sounded the Pope upon the much vaster project of invading England with a
great force direct, the Pontiff blandly replied that he would contribute
what he had promised to Guise through Parsons, and at the same time
recommended to Philip the Guisan plan of an invasion of Scotland as a
preliminary of the conquest of England for the faith.
It was not so easy, replied Philip, to liberate the King of Scotland, nor
was it safe for the Duke of Guise to stir from his house in France unless
in great force. If he were to try the Scottish plan he would probably be
lost, which would be an irreparable blow to the Catholic cause in France.
Then Philip gently pushed James Stuart into the background. He shall be
helped with money, of course, and the English Catholics shall be kept in
good heart, but the affair is a great one, and will take time and much
money if it is to be done with a certainty of success; above all, the
Pope must “contribute very largely, and must find ways and means, through
his holy zeal, to do much more than any one has yet imagined.”[261]
The stars seemed to favour the Spanish plan. Young Alençon died in June,
1584, and the next heir to the Crown of France was the Huguenot Henry
of Navarre. Guise, with his high hopes and the people of Paris at his
bidding, was thenceforward more easily brought into obedience to Philip;
for upon Spanish forces alone could he depend to aid the French Catholics
to resist the accession of a Protestant sovereign. Civil war, indeed,
loomed up in France, and from it the Duke of Guise might hope to emerge
a king; and in December, 1584, the Catholic league of Philip and Guise
was signed at Joinville, by which the King of Spain was left a free hand
in English affairs in return for his support of Guise in the rapidly
approaching struggle in France. Philip was thus assured, first, that the
Huguenots would be too busy to help Elizabeth in her hour of need, and,
secondly, that Guise would be too full of his own ambitions in France to
interfere with his in England.
The death of Gregory XIII. and the accession of Felice Peretti as Pope
Sixtus V. also seemed to favour the Spanish objects. Sixtus was full
of vast projects for the spread of orthodox Christianity; he was a man
of great ability and boundless ambition, who had waited long for his
chance and was determined to make the most of it now it had come, so
that Olivares had in future a more ready listener than before to his
exhortations on behalf of the Catholic King. But though Sixtus yearned to
do great things for the Church, he was determined, as his predecessor had
been, not to work for purely Spanish aims to the prejudice of France; and
for the next two years a keen war of wits was waged between Olivares and
the Pope, the Spaniard seeking to obtain the million ducats subsidy to
the English enterprise without pledging his master to any definite course
in England after the conquest.
In the meanwhile the long delay was driving Mary Stuart and the English
Catholics to desperation. The Queen had been taken from the mild custody
of Lord Shrewsbury, and was now kept a close prisoner in the hands of
very different gaolers. Her one hope was in Philip and Mendoza; but as
month followed month whilst her treatment became harsher and no succour
came—for the vast plans of Philip could only be carried out, if at all,
with infinite preliminaries—the unhappy woman became almost vehement in
her prayers that the movement should be made before it was too late.
In November, 1584, she wrote to Mendoza: “Let the end be what it may,
and whatever becomes of me, no matter what change may be made in my
condition, pray use all diligence in forwarding the execution of the
great enterprise without any regard for the personal danger I may incur.
I shall look upon my life as well spent if by its sacrifice I can help to
relieve the multitude of oppressed children of the Holy Catholic Church.”
Both she and Mendoza believed at this time that her life was in danger
unless the Spanish attack was delivered in time to avert the supposed
evil intention, and the ambassador, writing to Philip, added his own
supplications to those of the Queen that no more time should be lost.
What Mendoza dreaded even more than Mary’s murder by the English, was
the possibility of her escape by their means, as she would then owe her
life to heretics, and would thereafter presumably be an untrustworthy
instrument against them. “If, on the contrary, she perish, as may be
feared, it cannot fail to bring scandal and reproach upon your Majesty,
because as you are, after her, the nearest Catholic heir of the blood
royal of England, some false suspicion might be aroused at your having
abandoned the good Queen to be ruined by the heretics, in order to open
the door to your Majesty’s own advantage.”[262] This idea of Philip’s
claim to the English succession was industriously kept alive by Allen,
Parsons, and Hugh Owen, who had been appointed a committee to advise the
Duke of Parma in Flanders with regard to the English enterprise, until
the breaking out of the civil war in France, and the open support given
to the Dutch rebels and Huguenots by Elizabeth, changed the centre of
intrigue from Flanders to Rome; and Allen and Parsons were sent thither
to work in favour of the Spanish plans.
For the scheme was surely growing now into a vast expedition, ostensibly
to place Mary Stuart upon the throne of England, but really to make
Philip master of the country, with or without the nominal sovereignty.
Deeply though France was plunged in civil war, with Guise in arms
tyrannising over the King, the French interest was still strong, and,
both at Rome and elsewhere, would struggle its hardest against anything
like a Spanish domination of England. Nor were the Italians in love with
the idea of a conquest that would make Philip supreme in Europe, and
consequently all the skill, boldness, and cunning of Spanish diplomacy
was concentrated in Rome to obtain by false pretences from the Church the
vast sums required for the conquest of England. With the weak attempts
of the French Government itself to avert the danger Philip could easily
deal. The French ministers proposed to Mendoza in June, 1585, that Spain
and France jointly should invade England in favour of Mary Stuart.
Philip understood the object at once, and in his usual way, with much
sanctimonious verbiage, asked for a multitude of pledges and particulars,
as if he entertained the proposal, whilst he continued his own stealthy
preliminaries in Rome for the purely Spanish enterprise, for which
others might pay but he alone must direct.[263] When the leader of the
French party in the Vatican, Cardinal D’Este, soon after this tried to
persuade the Pope that the best and safest course for the Church would
be to aid Guise to direct the English enterprise and make James Stuart
King of Britain after his mother’s death, another line had to be taken
by Philip. Then Olivares boldly told the Pope that D’Este, like so many
of his house, was a bad Catholic, who sought to bring about the victory
of heresy in France and the consequent downfall of the Guises. Let the
Pope secure the triumph of Guise and the faith in France first, urged
Olivares, and the English enterprise could be undertaken afterwards.
Sixtus V. was willing, nay anxious, to allow the conquest to be
undertaken by Spain alone, recognising that the French Catholics could
not now safely be allowed to exhaust their strength in a foreign war; but
he always hoped that James’s constant assurances of Catholic sympathies
might be sincere, and that Mary Stuart might be duly succeeded by her son
under Catholic auspices. Guise also was constantly plied with arguments
by Mendoza on Philip’s orders, directed to divert him from all ideas
of England. “Warn him [Guise] against making any agreement with his
enemies,” wrote Philip, on the 17th August, 1585, “and open his eyes with
regard to the English enterprise. Point out to him the danger he runs
if he allows himself to be cajoled into leaving his home and country
before he has humbled his rivals and converted or expelled the heretics,
and how much deceived he might find himself when he wished to return to
France from such an attempt.... Tell the French first to put an end to
the heretics in their own country, and afterwards we can deal with them
elsewhere.”[264]
The sinister activity of Philip’s agents in Rome and the vapouring of
the English Catholic refugees in Spanish Flanders, had in the meanwhile
aroused the distrust of Elizabeth and her Government. Ever since Philip
had captured Portugal and obtained thus the command of the Atlantic, the
Puritan element in the English Court, led by Leicester and Walsingham,
had promoted attempts, through Don Antonio and otherwise, to strike a
crushing blow at the Spanish naval power in Europe. Drake’s depredations
in the Pacific had been a terrible loss to Spain, both in a moral and
material sense, and the English seamen were eager to return to the
charge, in order to anticipate and frustrate the evil which most of them
believed was being plotted against their country by the quiet, stealthy
little elderly man far away in the mountains of Castile. Elizabeth and
Cecil detested to face responsibility; and although the Queen was willing
to accept the benefit of accomplished facts, she usually set her face
against assuming an attitude of open hostility to Spain when she could
avoid it. Leicester had at last, in the autumn of 1585, induced her
to accept, with much misgiving, the practical protection of the rebel
Dutch States, and this was naturally assumed by Philip as an act of open
war. Thenceforward any means for injuring the English were considered
legitimate by the King of Spain.
In the spring of 1585 a large number of English ships had been induced,
on a promise of immunity from molestation, to carry cargoes of grain to
the northern ports of Spain, where famine was impending. One of these
ships, the _Primrose_, was discharging her cargo off Portugalete, near
Bilbao, when, as the English sailors averred, the Lieutenant-Governor
of Biscay and a force of men disguised as merchants boarded the ship
and suddenly called upon the Englishmen to surrender. Though taken
by surprise, the crew turned upon the intruders and threw them all
overboard, though some were subsequently rescued by the English, amongst
them the Lieutenant-Governor himself; whereupon the _Primrose_, carrying
her prisoners with her, immediately set sail to England, with the news
of the treachery, the official orders found upon the person of the
half-drowned Lieutenant-Governor being to the effect that the ships were
all to be captured to help the expedition contemplated for the invasion
of England. At all events, the rest of the English ships were captured,
Philip’s own pretext for the act being that it was in reprisal for the
daring abduction by the _Primrose_ of the Lieutenant-Governor.[265]
No sooner did the news reach England than the country burst into a chorus
of indignation, and the sailors and Puritans, who had so long urged
an active policy against Spain on the sea, found that all Englishmen
were now with them.[266] It was no longer to be a timid support of the
Portuguese Pretender, or a surreptitious sheltering of Dutch and Huguenot
privateers, but an avowed public movement, and London and the western
ports of England came openly with subscriptions, to which the Queen
contributed largely, for a joint-stock fleet under Drake, to avenge the
capture of English ships, and to injure Spanish shipping wherever it
could be found. This was open war; and through the summer and autumn of
1585 Philip’s spies in England continued to send him alarming news of the
great preparations for a naval expedition against him under the dreaded
Drake. Sometimes it was said to be another attempt to place Don Antonio
on the Portuguese throne, sometimes it was the Spanish silver fleet that
was to be met and plundered on its way home, and so forth; but whatever
it was it boded ill to Philip’s ships, with Drake in command of his
foes. Retaliatory embargoes were placed once more on Spanish property in
England, and the two countries thenceforward were practically at war.
The enthusiasm in England knew no bounds; and when Drake and his sea-dogs
Fenner, Wynter, and Frobisher sailed out of Plymouth with twenty-one
stout craft and many pinnaces well armed, on the 14th September, 1585,
every one in England knew that Philip’s secret plotting was to be met by
open action. Capturing the Spanish ships, they met, Drake and his company
in a few days, came to anchor off the Bayona Isles in Galicia, and landed
a force of men. “What want ye here,” asked the terrified townsmen, far
from succour. “We come,” said Drake, “for the Englishmen ye have in your
prisons, and for the English merchandise ye have stolen.” The people
could only give them fair words and presents of country produce, for
the English ships had not been captured there. Burning a chapel and its
contents, the English force then sailed to the great harbour of Vigo,
where they looted all they could lay their hands upon. Here again the
people came to parley, and Frobisher, who spoke good Spanish, was the
spokesman of the English. “We want our countrymen and our stolen goods
restored to us,” he said; and the Spaniards were ready to promise this
or anything if the valuables just seized by the English were returned.
Banquets and palavers followed, but they were full of distrust, and
nothing came of them; for Drake saw that his enemies were but delaying
until help should arrive. So, capturing all he could catch in Vigo
Bay, he sailed away on his West India voyage, intending to assail the
Spanish colonial power in its three principal western centres. Philip
was astounded at the boldness of the attack, the first upon Spanish
soil itself, not, as he was careful to explain, because of the material
damage suffered, which was small, but for the “insolence” of the thing;
but withal, it took six months of frenzied effort before Alvaro de Bazan
could muster a Spanish fleet fit to pursue the bold Devonshire sailor,
who was devastating the West Indies.
The departure of Leicester and a strong English army to Holland, at the
end of 1585, finally brought England and Spain nationally face to face
in the field. We have witnessed the slow process by which Philip and
Elizabeth, both haters of war, had been drawn into this position. For
the former it was vital that England should be amenable to his direction
in foreign policy, or the cause for which he lived was doomed, and the
decadence of Spain as a dominant power in Europe was certain; and, with
his patient, inflexible belief in the fated triumph of his methods, he
had striven through twenty-eight years to secure his object by peaceful
means. He had failed, and it was to be war after all. Not now against
a Queen whose throne was unstable, but against a popular sovereign and
a nation which, since he had seen it, had been born to a new sense of
power, a consciousness of potential grandeur, and a determination to
live its own life without interference from its neighbours. But though
Philip’s plans were thus changed late in the struggle and he saw himself
faced by new forces, he, at least, never doubted of the result. For him
the idea of failure, in a cause that in his eyes was that of God Himself,
was impossible. With a limited mental scope, which shut out all views
but one, he was incapable of understanding that there were two sides to
every question, or that Elizabeth was actuated in her resistance to his
advances by anything else than an impious desire to do evil for evil’s
sake. A small spice of imagination would have enabled him to see that she
was fighting for her own and her country’s life and greatness, as surely
as he was fighting for his; and perchance the knowledge might have made
harmony, or at least neutrality, possible. But, given Philip’s character
and Elizabeth’s circumstances, it was inevitable, after the autumn of
1585, that the antagonists should come to close grip, and that one or
the other should be reduced to impotence for harm.
Philip was convinced of this at last, and with his leaden-footed
deliberation he set about making success as certain as he knew how to
make it. He was laborious, unsparing of himself and others, a man of
great personal ability, sagacious and wise within his limitations; but
his ingrained distrust of other men—part of his father’s teaching—led
him to take upon himself the care of every detail in all his enterprises
and deprived his officers of initiative and independence. From his cell
in the Escorial, far away and difficult of access from the coast, he
insisted upon pulling the wires which controlled the smallest actions of
his subordinates, and we shall see how in the crowning effort of his life
these fatal characteristics cast a blight over the vast enterprise, upon
which depended the fate of Christendom for centuries.
[Illustration: CARDINAL ALLEN]
There were many difficulties to overcome before the material preparations
could even be commenced. First there was Sixtus to persuade, which was
not an easy task. Olivares and Allen worked hard in Rome to convince him
that Philip was moved solely by religious zeal, and not by a desire for
revenge or aggrandisement, in projecting the expedition. “I have plied
him,” wrote Olivares, “with every argument ... but in addition to his
natural tenacity and his buckler of precedents, I have been much hampered
with the news of your Majesty’s preparations which pour in from all
quarters.” The Guisan and Italian Cardinals, too, were for ever undoing
one day what Olivares and Allen with Caraffa had effected the day before.
The Scottish and Welsh Catholic clergy in Rome, too, especially Dr. Owen
Lewis, Bishop of Cassano, and even many of the English secular clergy,
were strongly opposed to what they feared would mean a Spanish domination
of the island; and between the opposing factions and his disinclination
to part with the vast sum of money demanded of him, Sixtus was not
easy to bend to Philip’s will. At length, after much friction and many
quarrels, Olivares was obliged to be content with the Pope’s promise of
a million ducats towards the subjection of England; but no persuasion or
pressure could move Sixtus to provide any part of this sum until after
the Spanish army had secured a footing on the island. A more delicate
matter even than this was the question of the sovereignty of England
after the death of Mary Stuart. Sixtus now usually agreed—though he
often wavered on the point—that James Stuart was not to be trusted; and
in compliance with Philip’s argument that a successor to Mary should be
chosen before she was placed upon the English throne, in order to prevent
her from forcing her son as her heir afterwards, the Pope was at length
brought to agree to leave the choice of the future Sovereign of England
to the King of Spain, though he pleaded hard that the person chosen
should be an Englishman.[267]
Whilst Olivares in Rome, with imperious boldness, was managing the Pope,
Mendoza in Paris, with equal skill, was keeping Guise in hand, pointing
out the great destiny that awaited him in France, and the shame of
allowing a heretic King to succeed to the “most Christian” Crown. At the
same time he maintained a close correspondence with Mary Stuart and the
disaffected section of English Catholics who were represented as yearning
for the coming of King Philip’s liberating fleet. Mary was sore and angry
at what she thought an unjustifiable delay on the part of Philip, and was
incessant in her prayers, through Mendoza, that she should be liberated
before it was too late. Most of her intermediaries were false, and her
secret correspondence was known to Walsingham and Elizabeth, but with
Mary’s unhappy trustfulness she never failed to seize upon any chance,
however dangerous, by which her great ambition might, perhaps, be served.
In the middle of May, 1586, Charles Paget, who was still one of Mary’s
agents in Paris, came to Mendoza, bringing with him an English priest
named Ballard, who had been sent by a number of Catholics, especially
in Lancashire and the North, to represent to him that: “God had infused
more courage than ever into them, and had convinced them that no time
was so opportune as the present to shake off the oppression of the Queen
and the yoke of heresy that weighs upon them, as most of the strongest
heretics are now absent in Zeeland. They say that I have never deceived
them, and they beg me to tell them whether your Majesty had determined
to help them to take up arms when they decided to do so.”[268] Mendoza
had but a general expression of sympathy to reply to this; for though
the great fleet of conquest projected in Spain was already the talk of
Europe, to Philip’s officers it was still supposed to be an inviolate
secret. This inquiry of the English Catholics, however, was not John
Ballard’s real reason for coming to see Mendoza. He handed him a letter
from four English Catholics who had access to Elizabeth’s Court, in which
they promised to kill the Queen either by poison or by steel if they were
assured of Philip’s help after the deed was done. Mendoza ciphered the
letter himself and sent it to Philip’s secretary, but as John Ballard
did not broach the subject verbally Mendoza’s disinclination to give any
pledges kept Ballard in Paris beating about the bush in doubt for many
weeks. Parsons, who was a good hater, asserted ten years afterwards[269]
that the whole scheme of Ballard and Gifford was promoted by Paget
and Morgan, Mary Stuart’s correspondents in Paris, for the purpose of
frustrating the purely Spanish attack upon England, to which they are
represented as being bitterly hostile, and that Walsingham was informed
of the plot with the same object. Paget was, and continued to be, a
pensioner of Spain, and Morgan, who was entirely trusted by Mary, was
also richly rewarded by Philip, at her request; but there is no reason
to doubt the positive assertions of Parsons that both of them belonged
to the anti-Jesuit party, to which, indeed, most English as well as
the Scottish and Welsh Catholics adhered; and that by every means they
endeavoured to frustrate what Allen and the Jesuits tried so hard to
promote—a Spanish domination of England.
Whilst Ballard waited in Paris the reply of Mendoza, the latter received
important letters from Mary Stuart, who at last had been able, by
Morgan’s contrivance, to reopen correspondence with the outer world,
little dreaming, poor soul, that the facilities provided were only a trap
of her enemies. This was the first time she had communicated with Mendoza
since his arrival in Paris a year before, and William Paget, the brother
of Charles, was her messenger. He was to make certain proposals to him
for Philip’s aid to “our designs”; but by far the most important part of
the message came afterwards. The continued heresy of her son James had,
she said, well-nigh broken her heart, and in order to secure the triumph
of the Church “I will cede and make over by will to the King your master
my right to the succession of the English Crown, and ask him to take me
in future entirely under his protection, and also the affairs of this
country. For the discharge of my own conscience I could not hope to place
them in the hands of a Prince more zealous in our Catholic faith or more
capable in all respects of re-establishing it in this country.... I am
obliged in this matter to prefer the public welfare of the Church to the
aggrandisement of my posterity.”
Thus Mary finally embraced the Jesuit view which looked forward to
a Spanish sovereignty over England to the detriment of her son and
Scotland, and in opposition to many of her friends and adherents in
England and France.[270] To the King of Spain this renunciation of her
son by Mary was of profound significance. His own English descent had
never been lost sight of, but here his claim was rendered legitimate
apart from his ancestry; and Mendoza, though when he received Mary’s
letter he had just been couched for cataract and was temporarily blind,
caused a reply to be written to the Queen warmly commending her saintly
resolution. She saw, he said, how evil her son was disposed, and the
French had done little enough for her, whereas Philip had always
befriended her. “Moreover,” he wrote to Philip, “failing the Queen of
Scots and her son, your Majesty is the direct legitimate heir to the
Crown of England. Cecil, the Lord Treasurer, was in the habit of saying
that the Duchy of Lancaster had been unlawfully usurped from your
Majesty.”[271] No wonder that Philip replied to this in what was for him
an unusually effusive strain: “She [Mary Stuart] has greatly risen in my
estimation in consequence of what she says, and has much increased the
devotion I have always felt for her interests, not so much because of
what she says in my favour, though I am very grateful for that also, as
because she postpones her love for her son, which might be expected to
lead her astray, for the service of our Lord, the good of Christendom,
and the salvation of England. Tell her all this from me, and assure her
that if she perseveres in the good path she has chosen I hope that God
will bless her by placing her in possession of her own. You will add that
I shall be happy to undertake the protection of her person and interests
as she requests.”[272]
This move of Mary’s made it necessary for Philip to handle the question
of the succession with more caution than ever in Rome, for if once the
French and Italian Churchmen thought that he meant to seize the Crown
of England for himself, half Europe would have been ready to oppose
him. So Olivares was ordered to “keep constantly before the eyes of his
Holiness the advisability of choosing some firm Catholic, who on the
exclusion of the King of Scots should take his place, and it is equally
important to keep his Holiness to the point, binding him to agree to my
nomination of a fit successor to the Queen of Scots in England.” The
reply from Philip gave Mary new hope. She had been deeply discouraged at
the repeated failures of attempts to rescue her and overthrow Elizabeth,
and the long delay of any effective aid from Philip had well-nigh driven
her to despair. But now, surely, a new era of success was opening to her.
Rumours reached even her in her prison of the great preparations being
made in the Spanish and Portuguese ports for some vast naval enterprise;
whilst the open war between Elizabeth’s troops and the Spaniards in
Zeeland seemed to Mary to make certain and near the hour when Philip’s
arms should avenge the injuries done to him by finally crushing the
heretic Queen and substituting Mary for her. Many times in the last six
months, she wrote to Mendoza, she had turned a deaf ear to proposals
of English Catholics for her deliverance: “But now that I hear of the
good intentions of the Catholic King towards us I have written to the
principal leaders of the Catholics here a full statement of my views
on all points of the execution of the enterprise. To save time I have
ordered them to send to you with all speed one of their number, fully
instructed to treat with you, in accordance with the promises given to
you in general terms, and to lay before you all the requests they wish to
make to the King. I assure you, on their faithful promise given to me,
that they will carry out their undertakings, even at the risk of their
lives. I therefore beg you to give full credit to their messenger as if I
had sent him myself. He will tell you the means they have for getting me
away from here, which I will attempt to effect on my own account if I am
assured of armed aid.”[273]
Almost simultaneously with this the group of English Catholics who had
sent Ballard to Mendoza in May were able to supply the ambassador with
the details and assurances he had requested to prove the seriousness
of their intention. Their envoy on this occasion was Gilbert Gifford,
brother of the Dean of Lille, and, according to Parsons, a strong
opponent of the Spanish-Jesuit party. He unfolded to Mendoza the
existence of a vast conspiracy in England, in which most of the Catholic
nobles were implicated. The Earl of Arundel, son of the late Duke of
Norfolk, and most of his kinsmen, with a score or so of other noblemen
and gentry whose names Mendoza sent to Philip, were ready to rise in
force whenever they were advised that the Spanish fleet was approaching.
Sir William Stanley, in command of a large body of Irishmen intended for
Flanders, would delay his departure if possible, revolt against the
Queen, and join the invaders; the English force in Ireland under Bele
would do likewise, whilst Claude Hamilton and a force of Scots would join
the Catholics of the North on the signal being given. The very heretics
themselves, they said, were ripe for revolution, tired of the burden
of taxation; but, above all, a young man named Babington and some six
confederates[274] had determined to kill Queen Elizabeth, in accordance
with the suggestion previously made by them through Ballard. They only
asked that Spain should support them when the deed was done. No Frenchmen
should be concerned in the business, but promptitude was now vital, for
every hour increased the risk of discovery; and they prayed Philip to let
them know at once what he would do to rescue England.
Mendoza jumped at all these proposals, for, according to Gifford,
the greatest men in England were pledged to the rising—as apart from
Babington’s murder plot; even the moderate Catholics being pledged to
it. Two letters went off at once from the Spaniard to the heads of
the enterprise, “praising the proposal as it deserved, as it was so
Christian, just, and advantageous to our holy faith and to your Majesty’s
service, worthy of spirits so Catholic as theirs and of the ancient
valour of Englishmen.” If they succeeded in killing the Queen, promised
Mendoza without authority, they should have the assistance they required
from the Netherlands, and the assurance that King Philip would succour
them. “I promised them this on my faith and word, urging them to hasten
the execution.” Directly they had despatched the Queen, wrote Mendoza to
them, let them seize Don Antonio and the Portuguese with him and lodge
him in the Tower; get Sir William Stanley to seize the Queen’s fleet,
unless Lord Admiral Howard was a trustworthy party to the plot, and let
them be sure to kill Cecil, Walsingham, Hunsdon, Knollys, and Beal at the
same time as the Queen.
Mendoza’s hatred of Elizabeth outran his discretion, and in conveying all
this to Philip he wrote: “Of all the plots they have hatched these many
years past none have been apparently so serious as this. They have never
before proposed to make away with the Queen, which is now the first step
they intend to take. As she so richly deserves her punishment, it may be
believed that God has heard the groans of the afflicted Catholics and
desires to bring it upon her thus swiftly. Let Him dispose as He will;
but if, for our sins, He shall ordain that it do not succeed there will
be much Catholic blood shed in England. Up to the present your Majesty is
pledged no further than the risk of 100,000 crowns, which have been given
to the priests sent thither, and if secrecy be kept we need only watch
what comes of it. If the Queen falls the country will submit without
bloodshed, and the Netherlands war will be at an end.”
Philip was horrified when he received this letter, and scribbled upon its
margin, in that appalling scrawl of his, scornful comments which showed
that his cold, secretive nature rebelled against the rash enthusiasm of
his usually discreet Mendoza. How could such a secret be kept, he asked,
if all these people were chattering about it? How could the schismatics,
or outwardly conforming Catholics, be trusted? They were mere heretics
and no better; and how imprudent of Mendoza, his ambassador, to send to
the conspirators two such compromising letters as those mentioned! Philip
had heard too often in the past of such plots as this, and he had thrown
away already too much money in subsidising such adventures. Nothing but
conquest, he was convinced, would serve his turn now; and to that end he
was bending all his energies night and day, penning the Pope closer into
the corner, inflaming more than ever the French ambitions of Guise, and
fomenting trouble in France; and, above all, collecting stores, arms, and
ships from all his vast dominions to crush Elizabeth for good and for all
in the interests of the Church and Spain.
But, withal, Philip was not a man to throw away a chance if he could
gain it with a minimum of responsibility, and he blended his somewhat
caustic remarks upon the lack of secrecy and caution displayed with
saintly approval of the plan to murder his sister-in-law. “As the affair
is so much in God’s service,” he wrote to Mendoza on the 5th September,
“it certainly deserves to be supported, and we hope that our Lord will
prosper it, unless our sins are an impediment thereto. It appears to be
based upon a solid foundation and to have the support of many Catholics,
but it is difficult to keep a secret entrusted to so many people, and it
causes me anxiety that it should be so widespread, and even schismatics
let into the secret.... But the importance of the matter is great, and
perhaps the time has arrived when God will strike for His own cause.”
Philip left in no doubt his own attitude with regard to the matter. The
Spanish aid should be ready, but should not be sent until the murder of
Elizabeth had been effected. Let the “principal executions” be done, he
urged, without a moment’s delay. “Everything depends upon the one act
which is to be the commencement. When this is done they may with one
voice acclaim it, and the way will be clear, whilst if the intention is
discovered before its execution each one will be destroyed separately and
union will be impossible. As all hangs upon this, and the cause is God’s
own, we must hope that He will prosper it.”
Gifford was sent on his way to England with the King’s message, and soon
the heavy hand of Walsingham fell upon the conspirators, who had all
through been living in a fool’s paradise, betrayed, as was Mary herself,
by the instruments they thought so trusty and faithful. Philip had
been right in his distrust; once more conspiracy subsidised by Spanish
intrigue and money had failed, more disastrously this time than ever
before; and the King of Spain, whilst deploring in conventional terms the
dire fate of most of those upon whom he had depended for an auxiliary
movement in England on the approach of his fleet, accepted the reverse
with stolid philosophy. In one respect, indeed, it was to some extent a
relief to him. There is no doubt that he greatly esteemed Mary Stuart for
her steadfast Catholicism, and would have placed her upon the throne of
England if his attempt at conquest had been successful during her life;
but there was always lurking in the background the fear that after her
accession she might be drawn by French intrigue or maternal solicitude
to adopt her son as her heir, in which case Philip’s vast efforts and
expenditure might have been in vain. But with Mary a condemned prisoner,
whose head might fall at any moment, it was the present rather than the
future sovereignty of England that was now to be decided, and slowly,
with the aid of Parsons and Allen, the claims of Philip to the English
succession were advanced tentatively even in England itself, though not,
as we shall presently see, with any intention of his personally assuming
the sovereignty after Elizabeth was disposed of.
The question of Mary Stuart’s complicity in Babington’s murder-project is
one that does not directly concern us here, but there can be but little
doubt that, even though it was not conveyed to her in so many words,
she was well aware of the whole plan.[275] At least Mendoza, who should
have known, believed that she was; for on the collapse of the conspiracy
he wrote to Philip: “I am of opinion that the Queen of Scotland must
be well acquainted with the whole affair, to judge by the contents of
a letter she has written to me.... Doubtless it is God’s will to give
England to your Majesty by the strong arm only, since He has allowed so
much Catholic blood to be lost, as will be shed by the discovery of this
business. Nothing has been said yet about my letters, but even if they
were discovered and printed they are so worded that another construction
could be placed upon them.” Mendoza was too sanguine in this respect. His
letters were read and his conversations with the messengers repeated.
There was no need on the part of Elizabeth and Walsingham to go out of
their way to put harmless constructions upon his words, which, indeed,
were plain enough, and a shout of execration went up all over England at
an ambassador who thus connived at the murder of a sovereign and a lady.
Already the alarming reports of spies had aroused the worst fears of
Elizabeth and her people. The Queen, particularly, dreaded the vengeance
which seemed hanging over her. For years she had defied Philip and had
beaten him in the game of diplomacy, depending for her immunity upon the
continued war in the Netherlands and upon Philip’s distrust of France.
But she saw that France could not help her now, whatever her extremity,
for the Guises were in arms and the wretched fribble upon the throne
was but a straw borne hither and thither upon the tempest, whilst the
Huguenots were grimly awaiting the hour when they themselves would
have to fight for freedom and for life. The war in Zeeland, moreover,
was now only maintained by English help, and when the dreaded Spanish
descent upon England was made Elizabeth would have to abandon the Dutch
Protestants to their fate, and the last bulwark of Reform would be
submerged by the flood of Spanish popery.
Once more Elizabeth played the outworn game that had served her turn
so often before. Andrea de Loo and many other intermediaries hurried
backwards and forwards at the instance of Burghley between London and
Flanders, impressing upon the Duke of Parma the English Queen’s earnest
desire to come to terms with her “good brother.” Let the Pacification of
Ghent, which had been accepted in the time of Don Juan, be re-enacted and
all might be settled; let a conference meet, in which mutual grievances
might be arranged, and England and Spain should live happy together ever
after. But Parma for a time gave stiff answers to all this, much as he
knew that Flanders needed peace, for Philip kept him in the dark as to
his real intentions, and he dared not act without precise instructions
from the King. Other attempts were made to reopen the trade negotiations
through Portuguese agents with a view to a general agreement, but Philip
was irresponsive now; for after half a lifetime of hesitation he had
finally made up his mind. England must be conquered by the sword wielded
by his hand alone; and although he might feign to talk of peace to suit
his purpose, there was in his slow-moving, inflexible mind thenceforward
no peace possible with England until Elizabeth and her Government had
been crushed.
Another spirited attempt was made by Elizabeth to reach Philip direct.
Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa, the famous explorer and Governor of Patagonia,
had been captured at sea by one of Raleigh’s ships. Usually such men
were held for heavy ransom, but Sarmiento was received by the Queen at
Windsor with every witchery she knew how to exert, and was impressed with
her sorrow that such unhappy relations existed—God knew from no fault
of hers—between her people and the Spaniards. Would Sarmiento convey a
letter to his King, accepting his liberation as a reward for his doing
so? Naturally nothing would suit Sarmiento better, and Raleigh carried
him with all distinction to Durham House as his honoured guest, plying
him with assurances of Sir Walter’s desire to serve the King of Spain by
putting a stop to all this piracy, of which the Queen herself and Lord
Treasurer Burghley disapproved. Besides this, he (Raleigh) would sell a
fine ship of his to Philip for 5,000 crowns, would prevent any more aid
being given to Don Antonio, and would, indeed, become Philip’s humble
servant in England. This was, doubtless, nothing but one of the usual
mystifications to divert Philip; but the Queen herself gave a cordial
verbal message to Sarmiento for the King, saying that she was really
anxious to let bygones be bygones and make a durable peace. Sarmiento
left London in November, 1586, and gave his message to Mendoza in Paris,
but on his way to Spain was unlucky enough to be captured again, by
Huguenots this time, near the Pyrenean frontier, and all Elizabeth’s and
Raleigh’s influence was exerted to secure his prompt release. By all
means accept Raleigh’s offer to prevent further aid being given to Don
Antonio and to stop piracy, wrote Philip; but to the suggestions for
direct peace negotiations he made no reply.
In the meanwhile the arsenals and harbours of Philip’s realms were
ringing with preparations for the great enterprise. The peace conference
so much desired by Elizabeth might meet in Flanders and talk, but no
pause was made in the feverish activity in the Spanish preliminaries for
war. Old Santa Cruz had waited patiently after the King’s gentle rebuff
to him in 1583,[276] until the circumstances detailed in the foregoing
pages had rendered war with England inevitable early in 1586, when he
wrote to the King from Lisbon a letter full of fiery zeal, recalling his
former offer to conquer England when his victorious fleet was ready, and
deploring the shame that had fallen upon Spain since by reason of the
continued insults and injuries inflicted upon it by the heretics, much
to the material gain and moral prestige of the Queen of England. They
had, he said, plundered a million and a half of ducats in the last five
months, and had defied the King of Spain successfully at all points.
Everything was now propitious, urged the admiral, for dealing a final
blow at these daring heretics, and he prayed the King to arise in his
wrath and smite his enemy before the occasion passed. “I am not moved to
this,” he proudly added, “by a desire for fresh battles or the ambition
for new victories, but by no other motive than the service of God and
your Majesty.”
This time the hero’s appeal found the King ready, for all his peaceful
diplomacy had failed to bring England to his side; and Santa Cruz was
requested to submit to the King a plan for carrying out the enterprise
he proposed. It took Santa Cruz two months, as he says, to draw up from
his papers and the experience of forty years at sea a complete scheme
for the irresistible descent upon England; and the estimate with which
he furnished Philip stands to-day, after three centuries and a quarter,
an unexampled monument of foresight, skill, and boldness. Nothing was
forgotten in this prodigious estimate: naval and military requisites,
arms, stores, clothing and material, down to the minutest detail, are
set forth, with estimates of price and with surprising clearness; the
salaries to be paid to men of every rank are given; the weight and bulk
of every article, the best place where it may be obtained, the rations
to be provided, and the discipline to be observed on land and sea,
are all written in due order, and to such a lover of formal papers as
Philip the estimate of Santa Cruz must have been a pure delight from the
bureaucratic point of view.
Not so, however, with regard to the concentrated magnitude of the
demands, greater than had ever been made for such an enterprise before.
Santa Cruz wanted for the invasion of England 150 great ships, 40
store hulks, 320 small craft of 50 to 80 tons burden, 40 galleys and 6
galleasses, or 556 sail in all, besides 40 skiffs and 200 landing rafts.
There were needed 30,000 sailors and nearly 64,000 soldiers, with 1,600
cavalry horses, all to be shipped from Spain, and this enormous multitude
was to be provisioned beforehand for eight months with food and water.
Deducting the ordinary cost of armaments in Spain, the extra estimated
expense to be incurred by the enterprise was placed by Santa Cruz at
3,800,000 ducats.[277] The sum in money was much greater than Philip had
ever had to provide in Spain for any one enterprise before, and it took
him aback now. The Pope, it is true, had promised a million ducats, but
not a soldo would he pay beforehand, and the Italian States might be
coerced into contributing; but the bulk of this vast sum in ready money
had to be wrung somehow out of already exhausted Castile, and, anxious
as Philip was to make assurance doubly sure, he knew that this was
impossible; so Santa Cruz’s estimates had to be modified.
The opportunity for the invasion, nevertheless, was one that could
hardly be expected to recur. The cup of Elizabeth’s provocations was
full to the brim, and her anxiety to open peace negotiations proved her
own apprehensions. France, for almost the first time, was paralysed and
could not interfere. Leicester’s ineptitude in Holland had even turned
the feeling of the Dutch against their protectors, whilst many of the
English troops and their leaders, such as Roland York, Sir W. Stanley,
and Colonel Semple had deserted to the Spanish side and had delivered
to Parma the fortresses occupied by them. The Turk, moreover, was for
the time harmless, and Don Antonio was already a discredited and waning
force. So, although Philip did not approve of Santa Cruz’s plan that
the whole army should be embarked in Spain, he gave orders that the
arsenals and dockyards should work night and day, and through Spain and
Portugal, Sicily, Naples, and Lombardy there rang the echoes of warlike
preparations such as they had never known before; whilst the recluse of
the Escorial, shutting himself away from all other tasks, took counsel
how he might effect his purpose with the means at his disposal.
It is not to be supposed that the French and Scottish faction would sit
tamely by and see without an effort the whole enterprise of England
fall into the hands of Spain. The conversion of James Stuart was still
a fervent hope with many who dreaded to see a Spanish king supreme in
Britain; and the English Jesuit faction had to fight hard against the
Welsh, Scottish, French, and many English Catholics at home and abroad.
James Stuart himself and the Scottish Catholic nobles were fully alive
to the danger that threatened. The Scottish nobles, with the secret
connivance of James, made a bold attempt to associate themselves with
Philip’s invasion, and to bring Guise again into the combination. Huntly,
Morton, Claude Hamilton, Crawford, and Montrose, in the summer of 1586,
sent one Robert Bruce with three blank signed papers to the Duke of
Guise in Paris, where the letters over the signatures were written at
Guise’s dictation and addressed to Philip,[278] begging him to listen to
the verbal proposals of their envoy, Bruce. Guise and Beton introduced
Bruce to Mendoza, and the gist of the proposals was that Philip should
send to the Scottish Catholics 150,000 crowns to raise and arm soldiers,
whom they would maintain for a year, and they also asked that a foreign
force of 6,000 men should be sent to Scotland to secure the triumph
of the Catholics, in consideration of which they promised to place at
his disposal one or more ports in the south of Scotland to serve as a
shelter and a base of operations against England. Mendoza understood, as
indeed did all experienced fighting-men, the immense importance of the
latter suggestion; for Santa Cruz from the first had insisted upon the
need of seizing harbours in the Channel in case of contrary weather; and
Bruce was sped on his way to see Philip with all the support that the
ambassador could give him.
But Philip had had enough of Guisan meddling, and he had no intention of
allowing the supreme effort he was making to be used for the benefit of
any one but himself, and least of all for that of shuffling James Stuart.
As usual, he did not say no plainly, for he had no wish to alienate the
Scottish Catholics, or to arouse suspicions of his motives anywhere.
So, gently suggesting doubts and difficulties, he referred the question
to Mendoza and Parma for report, sending Bruce back to Paris with “fair
words” and a letter to Guise “praising the zeal which moves you to strive
so sincerely for the promotion of our holy Catholic faith.” Mendoza was
directed to keep the Scots in hand, to suggest that they should ask
the Pope for the money they needed, and to flatter Guise as much as he
thought necessary; all of which meant that Philip would not bind himself
to Scot or Frenchman in the execution of his project, though, if on their
own account and at their own risk they cared to divert his enemy, he had,
of course, no objection to their doing so. But the offer of one or two
safe ports in Scotland near the English border was one not lightly to be
refused—its acceptance, indeed, might have changed the whole course of
history—and Mendoza, an experienced soldier, wrote in October, 1586, to
Parma strongly urging that the offer of the Scottish Catholics should
be sympathetically entertained, in order that a diversion might thus be
effected in the North simultaneously with the Spanish invasion of the
South of England; though here commended that full inquiries should be
first made to ascertain to what extent Huntly and his friends could carry
out their pledges.
Parma, however, was almost as cautious as his uncle. He was, in fact,
resentful that Philip was keeping him in the dark as to his ultimate
plans, and was determined not to move a step in any direction beyond his
written orders until he knew what the King was really aiming at; whether
to frighten Elizabeth into peace, which Parma more than suspected, or to
crush her finally by war. So to Mendoza’s almost vehement advocacy of
the Scottish diversion Parma replied coolly, saying that the proposal
would fail unless it formed part of the combined plan and was executed
in co-operation simultaneously with the invasion. Mendoza grew more
and more in love with Bruce’s proposal, which would, he said, give
harbours of refuge for the Spaniards in the North Sea and divide the
Queen of England’s forces; and here began the first whispers of Parma’s
half-hearted loyalty,[279] which amongst the vanquished officers of the
Armada afterwards swelled into a tempest of indignant recrimination.
Mendoza’s inquiries of Bruce had satisfied all his doubts, and to
Philip he wrote beseechingly on the 24th December, 1586, in favour of
the scheme. Some of the passages in his extremely able letter,[280]
read by the knowledge of the subsequent disaster of the Armada, sound
almost prophetic. “It is of advantage to the English,” he wrote, “that
they should be attacked by a force which needs great sea fleets for its
transport and maintenance, both on account of the immense sums of money
which must be spent upon such an expedition, and the vast quantities of
material and the length of time necessary for preparation, as well as
the many opportunities which occur during this delay for impeding the
progress of such armaments. Such expeditions, moreover, are liable to
much greater disasters than land armies, for in most cases the mere death
of the leader suffices to frustrate them ... and in the event of the loss
of a great fleet the owner is deprived at one blow of forces, ships,
and guns—things difficult to replace readily.” It is clear now, with
our later knowledge, that the old warrior-diplomatist—the last of the
disciples of Alba, as he calls himself—was right in his appreciations,
and that Philip made a fatal mistake in not following the advice of such
men, instead of indulging in his fatal itch for retaining in his own
hands all executive monopoly and all ultimate profit in his plans.
But the advances of Huntly were not entirely rejected, for not only
Mendoza, but Parma too, as time went on, saw their importance, and
although the idea of invading England over the Scottish border was
again vetoed, Bruce was sent back to Scotland after many months of
impatient waiting in France and Flanders, carrying with him ten thousand
crowns to freight ships in Scotland ostensibly for Dantzig, but really
for Flanders, to embark there an auxiliary force to aid the Scottish
Catholics in their intended rising.[281] Bruce went on his way late
in the summer of 1586, with his doublet padded with gold, but when he
arrived in Scotland the whole scheme was embroiled and frustrated with
the usual ineptitude. It was too late in the season for the ships to be
obtained. James Stuart was also consulted by the Scottish lords as to his
joining the Spanish attack upon England to avenge his mother, with the
result that was to be expected. Bruce and his companion, Foster, turned
traitors when the plan was seen to be impracticable, and once more, and
for the last time, Philip settled down to the inevitability of conquering
England by himself alone, and for himself alone.
It was more important now than ever it had been that he should succeed
in doing it, for Henry III. of France was without a son, and was in bad
health. If Henry of Navarre, a Huguenot, became King, and France ceased
to be a Catholic country and in alliance with Protestant England, the
Catholic domination of Europe would be at an end, and the sun of Spain
must sink rapidly. The conquest of England, indeed, must be effected,
and the country made Catholic before Henry III. died, or all, it seemed,
would be lost; and Philip, after thirty years of paltering, was now in
a desperate hurry. There was still another reason why Philip’s zeal for
the conquest of England should be further inflamed at this time. Mary
Stuart was condemned to death, and in the bitterness of her heart she
wrote the beautiful letter[282] to Mendoza (23rd November, 1586), in
which she entrusted to Philip alone the task of avenging her and the
cause for which she died, of providing for her servants, and, above all,
of inheriting her rights to the succession of the Crown of England,
which bequest she afterwards confirmed by a formal will. There was no
longer any legal bar between Philip and the sovereignty, and no further
fear of a doubtfully Catholic successor being adopted by Mary after her
accession. With the fall of the head of the Queen of Scots the spirits
of the English Jesuit party rose, for they knew now that James and his
countrymen would not be allowed to lord over Englishmen if once Philip
held the country in his grasp.
The subtle web of intrigue that had been spun for so many years past, the
threads of which we have to some small extent endeavoured to unravel, had
so far been favourable to Philip. He had patiently suffered numberless
indignities and injuries at the hands of Elizabeth and her people; he
had seen England and his own Dutch provinces drift ever further away
from him; but he had never ceased to plot patiently in order to dispose
affairs aptly for his vengeance when the propitious hour should strike.
The Guises had been alternately flattered and frowned at, until their
great ambitions in France seemed to hang upon Philip’s will, and they
dared not stir without his countenance. Henry III. had been by the same
means rendered equally powerless to help England or to hinder Spain. The
Scottish Catholics had been subsidised and cajoled, as had James Stuart
himself, into a benevolent neutrality towards Philip with blended hopes
and fears of the English succession. Mary Stuart had been so handled as
to lead her to make Philip by will the heir to the English Crown; and
gradually all the strings which were intended to pull down the edifice of
the Reformation were gathered into the hands of the gouty old monastic
monarch in his granite cloister-palace on the bleak Castilian sierra.
Each interest, as we have seen, had been silently and separately dealt
with, and tricked into the position that best suited Philip’s ends;
for he would take no risks that he could avoid, and aspired to imitate
natural forces in the slow, insensible accumulation of power, which at
the supreme moment might be launched by the master with irresistible
effect.
When, at length, the stealthy plotting had reached fruition, and
Elizabeth saw herself isolated, with Henry III. and James VI. paralysed;
when the Pope and the Cardinals understood that the Church and its
cherished hoards were to be instruments of Spanish political ends; when
the Guises found that they and their kin were to be excluded from all
share in the great prize of England; and even the English Catholics of
the more patriotic and moderate sort awoke to the knowledge that their
religion and their scorn of the Scots were being used to forward a
conspiracy against the independence of their country; then each separate
interest struggled as best it might to free itself from the toils in
which the diplomacy of Philip had involved it. Allen, with his seminary,
and the English Jesuits under Parsons, had gone over to the Spanish side
bag and baggage, but the English Carthusians and seculars under Dr. Owen
Lewis, and the large Scottish Catholic element in Rome under the Bishop
of Dunblane, aided the Guisan Cardinals in combating the idea of a purely
Spanish domination of England, and the contest went on bitterly and
without cessation, especially after the death of Mary Stuart had made the
fears more imminent.
Before that had happened, Philip had instructed Olivares to sound the
Pope cautiously, and, if possible, to obtain a brief from him, declaring
Philip entitled to the throne of England after the Queen of Scots, “as
I cannot make war upon England for the purpose merely of placing upon
the throne a young heretic like the King of Scots.” The Pope’s fears
were to be lulled by the declaration that Philip had no intention of
annexing England to the Crown of Spain, but of passing the sovereignty to
some suitable Catholic candidate, perhaps to his daughter, the Infanta
Isabel. Olivares, Allen, and Parsons knew at this time (January, 1587)
that the Vatican was uneasy about the whole business, and they prayed
the King to say nothing about his own claim openly until the Armada had
been successful. But when, a month or two later, the news of Mary’s
death came, Philip was obliged to some extent to show his hand to the
Pope, and the brief was ordered to be secretly asked for as a measure of
precaution. Above all, Philip urged, not a word must be said about his
claims to Guise or the Frenchmen.
Unfortunately, much had already been said about them, even by Mendoza;
and Guise and Catharine de Medici, and James of Scotland himself, were
all trying their utmost to prove how very Catholic the latter was, and
what an excellent King of England he would make. Philip ordered that his
claims upon England were only to be broached with the utmost caution to
the English Catholics. In May, 1587, the King wrote to Mendoza: “You
must only speak of my rights to well-disposed native Englishmen in order
that they may be informed of the truth, and convey it to others of their
nationality, that it may thus spread and gain ground amongst them. But
do not mention the matter to Frenchmen and others, who will only take
it up for the purpose of frustrating it.”[283] To add to his authority
in the matter, Philip urged successfully that Allen should be made a
Cardinal, and he was well primed by instructions from Spain how to push
the succession question with the Pope. Religion, of course, was to be
the pretext. The King of Scots was a heretic, and unfit to succeed. For
the good of the Church a Catholic of unquestionable orthodoxy should be
chosen, and he must be powerful enough to keep England in the straight
path. All this, of course, could only tend to the conclusion that Philip
or his daughter alone would serve; and very gradually and cautiously this
view was made familiar to Catholics, to be struggled against fiercely by
all those who were not absolutely under the Jesuit and Spanish influence.
Parsons was indefatigable in writing letters, addresses, and memoranda in
favour of this view, and the absolute quiescence of the moderate English
Catholics when at last the Armada appeared in the Channel, and their
loyalty through the crisis, was largely due to the unwise forcing of the
idea of a Spanish Sovereign over England by the Jesuit propaganda.
Elizabeth was no less active than the other threatened interests in her
efforts to escape from the position in which she found herself. Still
hoping against hope that the old policy of advance and retire might again
be successful, she and Burghley strove heroically to arrange some form
of peace congress with Parma through Andrea de Loo. It was not easy, for
neither side was in a yielding mood in matters of procedure; but Philip
said that he saw no harm in entertaining the advances, which he knew
from the first he did not intend to have any result other than to lull
Elizabeth into a false security, whilst his preparations advanced. The
Burghley party in Elizabeth’s Court had all the Puritans against them,
and, more strongly still, the blue water school of sailors, who for years
past had shown by their deeds that the Spaniards were no match for them
at sea. “Why wait to be attacked on our own coasts,” was their constant
argument, “when we can go and crush our enemies before even they can
leave port?”
The English ships had finer lines and lower bows than the Spaniards. They
could sail several points nearer the wind; and the need for ocean attack
and defence had developed an entirely new school of seamanship, depending
upon celerity of movement, broadside armament low down, by which the
hulls of the enemy might be riddled between wind and water, whereas the
Spanish ships depended still largely upon bulk, needful for the carriage
of cargoes from the Indies, and the old tradition descended from the
Mediterranean galleys of heavy armaments fore and aft. The attack in
the Spanish system consisted only in grappling with the foe and pouring
soldiers on board of him, the vessel being less of a fighting entity than
a conveyance to bring the fighting-men on each side into contact, as
galleys had been. Under Drake the English sailors had developed an ideal
entirely distinct from this, namely, to avoid grappling, and by superior
handiness of the craft to cripple the hulls of the enemy, and make them
unseaworthy and incapable of manœuvring. Again and again the English
sailors had proved that the new methods were effective; and whenever
there was a chance of meeting the Spaniards at sea, they eagerly sought
it.
It was this combination of sailors and the Puritans or Liberals, led
by Leicester, that sought once more to force Elizabeth’s hand in the
midst of the negotiations for the peace conference with Parma early in
the spring of 1587. The Portuguese spies in England continued to report
to Mendoza the great preparations being made for a naval expedition,
by Drake, in Plymouth and the Thames. Elizabeth and Burghley deeply
distrusted a policy of daring aggression, and hesitated much to allow an
attack upon Spain, though Leicester’s influence and Drake’s confidence
ultimately carried the day. The secret of the destination of Drake’s
fleet was well kept. The pretence was cleverly maintained to the last
that it was one more attempt to aid Don Antonio—this time, it was said,
to go to the Indies; and Mendoza, who reported almost daily to Philip
what he heard, was hoodwinked all through. Drake arrived in Plymouth
from the Thames on the 23rd March, in a hurry to get away, for fear
the Queen would alter her mind and order him back. He had obtained her
commission—“to prevent or withstand any enterprise against her Highness’s
dominions, and especially to prevent the concentration of the King of
Spain’s squadrons”—and he was authorised to “distress the ships as
much as possible, both in the havens and on the high seas.” Drake knew
that as soon as he left Court attempts by the moderate party would be
made to spoil and hamper his plans, for his Vice-Admiral, Borough, a
Queen’s officer, had been sent with him only to serve as a clog upon his
actions, and Elizabeth was still full of faith in the insincere peace
negotiations. Sure enough, only a few hours after he hurriedly sailed
from Plymouth, a royal order came thither from London, happily too late,
“to forbear to enter forcibly any of the said King’s ports or havens, or
to offer any violence to his towns or ships in harbour, or to do any act
of hostility on land.” Drake took very good care that these timid orders
never reached him until too late to stay his hand, and went on his way as
usual, in defiance of Borough’s warning.
Slowly, and with infinite difficulty, stores, arms, and material were
being collected in Spain. The roads were bad, communications laborious,
and Philip’s centralising methods clogged the wheels of progress. Old
Santa Cruz was labouring early and late, in Lisbon, making ready such
great ships as could be collected in the Tagus; whilst in the ports of
Andalusia the Duke of Medina Sidonia, the great magnate of the Province,
had seized for the King all the merchant ships and stores; and was
actively getting ready to sail from Cadiz and join Santa Cruz in Lisbon
in the early summer, and, together with other vessels expected from Italy
and the Biscay ports, attempt the conquest of England. Thus matters stood
in April, 1587. Santa Cruz was almost in despair, for he profoundly
disliked the modification of his plans adopted by Philip, by which the
bulk of the army under Parma was to cross in small boats to England when
the Armada should arrive off the North Foreland to protect its passage
from Dunkirk to the Thames, and the command was to be divided, Santa
Cruz to be supreme at sea and Parma on land. The ships in Lisbon were
still unready, and the crews and soldiers were joining in mere driblets
from distant parts of Spain. The provisions, too, for all his host came
in slowly, and much of the stores rotted before they could be used. The
ships from the eastern ports of Spain and from Naples and Messina were
lagging; for delay was inevitable when every detail had to be directed by
one overworked old man far away.
Then suddenly, on the 18th April, 1587, the people of Cadiz saw in the
offing a fleet of thirty white sail. “Some contingent of the Armada,”
thought the Duke of Medina Sidonia, busy with his stores inside the
harbour. It was nothing so welcome as that; for it was the terrible
Drake himself, with his stout ships, bent upon mischief, notwithstanding
Elizabeth’s timid wavering and her Admiral Borough’s warning. Looking
up the harbour of Cadiz, Drake could see a forest of masts, many a tall
ship, he knew, that was intended for the subjugation of his country.
They were, for the most part, store ships, nearly a hundred of them
altogether; and though they were crammed with provisions and material,
neither their guns nor their crews were on board. Into the harbour
dashed Drake, sinking the big galleon at the entrance that served as a
guardship, and disdaining the fire of the protecting forts, and soon he
had all the harbour at his mercy. The very name of Drake appalled the
Spaniards, and without impeachment he turned adrift and set on fire some
twenty-five of the principal ships. Soon the great crowd of galleons was
a blazing ruin, and in the three weeks that followed Drake deliberately
annihilated in the harbour of Cadiz the results of a year’s work and vast
expenditure. Then, on the 1st May, 1587, he leisurely sailed away, secure
in the knowledge that, come what might, no invasion of England by Spanish
ships was possible for that summer.
In the Tagus, at Lisbon, there still lay the fifty great galleons,
under Santa Cruz, which were to form the principal fighting force of
the Armada, and as Drake stood off the mouth of the river, they looked
tempting. He was more than half inclined to sail in and serve them as he
had served the Cadiz ships; but he did not know whether they had their
great guns on board or not. Whilst he was ascertaining this by his spies
the peremptory orders came to him from the Queen that he was to provoke
the King of Spain no more: the great fighting ships of Spain, with no
crews or guns on board, were left unattacked, to Drake’s abiding regret,
and the chance of making the invasion of England by Spain impossible
altogether was missed through Elizabeth’s belief that by her usual
methods she might avoid war, even at this eleventh hour. The damage done
by Drake was in great part irreparable. Not only were many stores and
ships destroyed in Cadiz, but for weeks afterwards the English fleet lay
off the coast of Portugal, capturing great numbers of vessels loaded
with pipe staves,[284] for the water and wine casks of the Armada. These
could not be quickly replaced, and their loss led to the short and bad
water supply in the fleet, which was one of its worst calamities. When
Drake sailed away, Spain was crippled for a time; and the capture of the
rich Indies galleon, _San Felipe_, completed the discomfiture of King
Philip, who had no alternative now but to order Santa Cruz to make ready
his ships in Lisbon, in a hurry, not now to invade England, but to
prevent Drake from intercepting and plundering the silver fleet, whose
safe arrival in Spain would alone enable Philip to proceed with his plan
of invasion in the following year. The injury inflicted by Drake’s raid
was a terrible one to Philip, but he plodded on, still convinced of the
goodness of his methods and the ultimate certain victory of his cause.
[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH
FROM THE PAINTING BY MARC GHEERAEDTS AT THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY]
To Parma, in Flanders, the news of Drake’s attack brought anguish and
discouragement beyond words, for he was less blinded by fervour than his
uncle was, and was brought nearer to his practical difficulties. He was
a great commander and saw plainly the weak points of Philip’s scheme for
the Armada, so far as it was communicated to him. A divided command and
strictly limited authority were repugnant to him, a sovereign Prince
and practically supreme in Spanish Flanders; and from the first he was
determined that no blame for the failure which he feared would attend
the attempt should be laid at his doors in consequence of his exceeding
the strict letter of the King’s written instructions. He had strained
every nerve to muster and equip his troops to be ready for the expected
arrival of Santa Cruz with his fleet in the summer of 1587, and now he
found himself with a large force of men, and short of money, provisions,
and stores for their maintenance. But he was a general of resource, and
utilised his army to capture the Sluys and invest Ostend and so improve
his position before the English Peace Commissioners, the Earls of Derby
and Hertford, Lord Cobham, Sir James Crofts, and Drs. Dale and Herbert,
went over in the autumn of 1587, in the chimerical hope of making peace
with Philip. Leicester, Walsingham, and the sailors wondered aloud how
her Majesty could be so blind as to believe that peace with Philip was
possible now. Exhortations and prayers reached Elizabeth, from those who
knew Philip’s intentions well, that she would allow another bold stroke
to be dealt upon the enemy’s heart; but her parsimony and belief in her
methods made her turn a deaf ear to all such urging, and England still
stood unready in the face of danger so imminent and dire.
Whilst Parma was still spinning matters out with the English Peace
Commissioners on fine-drawn points of etiquette and procedure, in order
to give time for really illuminating instructions to reach him from
Philip, and Elizabeth was living still in her fool’s paradise, the plan
of the Armada was finally settled; for Philip, dead against the advice
of his seamen, had determined to send out the expedition at all risks,
in the autumn of 1587, as soon as Santa Cruz returned from convoying the
silver fleet. The letter in which he conveyed his plan to Parma on the
4th September, 1587, is worth quoting at some length.[285] The Armada,
under Santa Cruz, was to sail up the Channel, avoiding, if possible,
any decisive engagement, until it had reached the Straits of Dover and
had joined hands with Parma. “We calculate that by the time you have
invested Ostend you will have 30,000 men ready for the main business,
whilst 16,000 Spanish infantry, a part of them veterans, will go in the
Armada from here, the whole force of soldiers and sailors in the fleet
reaching 22,000 men. I have decided that as soon as the Marquis of Santa
Cruz returns with the flotillas to Cape St. Vincent ... he shall leave
them in charge of the galleys, and himself go straight to Lisbon, where
he will take command of the fleet which will there await him, and, with
God’s blessing, sail direct for the English Channel. On his arrival
he will anchor off Margate, having given notice to you at Dunkirk of
his approach. You in the meanwhile will be quite ready, and when you
see the passage assured by the arrival of the fleet off Margate or at
the mouth of the Thames, you will, if the weather permits, immediately
cross over in the boats you will have ready. You and the Marquis will
then co-operate, you being in command on land, and he at sea; and, with
the help of God, will carry through the main business successfully.
Until you have crossed, the Marquis is not to be diverted by anything
from assuring your passage. His taking possession of Margate will cut
the communications of the enemy, and prevent him to some extent from
concentrating his forces. When you have landed (the Marquis giving you
six thousand selected Spanish infantry as ordered),[286] I am inclined
to leave to the Marquis’s discretion what he should do with the fleet,
whether to stay and ensure the passage of our people from Flanders to
England and intercept any foreign aid that might be sent to the English,
or to go and capture some port and divert the enemy’s strength; or else
he might go and seize English ships lying in various ports, to deprive
them of maritime forces, upon which their strength mainly depends. You
will settle this point between you, the Marquis carrying out your joint
decision, whilst you will hasten to the front to conduct the enterprise
on the lines laid down. I trust to God, in whose service it is done, that
success may attend the enterprise, and that yours may be the hand to
execute it.”
The advice of all his best soldiers and sailors had failed to move Philip
on one point because he knew that it meant delay, and he was ready now to
risk everything rather than wait any longer. “We are quite aware of the
risk incurred by sending a heavy fleet in the winter through the Channel
without a sure harbour; but the various reasons which render this course
necessary are sufficient to counterbalance the objections. As it is all
for His good cause, God send good weather. The most important of all
things is that you should be so completely ready when the Marquis arrives
at Margate that you may be able to do your part at once without delay.
You will see the danger of any tardiness, the Armada having to wait there
with you unready; as until your passage is effected they will have no
harbour for shelter, whereas when you have crossed he will have the safe,
spacious river Thames. Otherwise he will be at the mercy of the weather,
and if, which God forbid, any misfortune should happen to him you will
understand what a state it would put us into. All will be assured, please
God, by your good understanding; but do not forget that the forces
collected and the vast monetary responsibility incurred make it extremely
difficult for any such expedition to be organised again, if they [the
English] escape us this time; whilst the obstacles and divisions which
may, and certainly will, arise next summer, force us to carry through
the enterprise this year or fail altogether. I hope this will not occur,
but that great success may attend us by God’s grace, since you are to
be the instrument, and I have bountifully supplied you with money. I
have told you how all our prestige is now at stake, and how entirely my
tranquillity depends upon success being achieved, and I now once more
earnestly enjoin you to justify the trust I place in you. Pray send me
word that there shall be no shortcomings in this respect, as I shall be
full of anxiety till I hear from you.”
Thus, like a desperate gambler, Philip at last, after all these years
of waiting and planning, was ready to stake everything—fleet, army,
resources, prestige, and the cause for which he had lived—with the
chances of success and the warnings of experience dead against him. For
years past his expert advisers had been telling him how much superior in
staunchness and seaworthiness the English ships were to his, that the
new naval construction and armament, by which the artillery fire was
delivered low and from the broadside, gave an enormous advantage to the
handy English craft, which, by reason of their finer lines and weatherly
qualities, could avoid fighting at close quarters. Santa Cruz, Parma, and
Mendoza had pointed out to him the rashness of taking a vast, unwieldy
fleet in the late autumn, the worst period of the year, up the Channel
without a harbour of refuge in case of contrary winds or tempest; again
and again he had been told that his ships were still unready, his stores
and arms unconcentrated, and his army but partially mustered in various
provinces of Spain and Italy. All this he knew, and yet in the face of
disorganisation, incapacity, and corruption in his administration, of
almost insuperable material difficulties in collecting and supplying
such an enormous fleet as that contemplated, the growing alarm and the
opposition of all Christendom to his designs, he trusted, in the absence
of all the mundane elements of success, to the special intervention
of Providence in his favour. Patience and diplomacy had brought the
possibility of success within his reach, but patience and diplomacy can
be worked by the methods of a chess-player in a monastic cell, whilst
armies and fleets must be raised, organised, and led by practical men on
the spot, and this was where Philip failed. All power and initiative must
be his, whilst he sat upon his office chair, annotating, checking, and
dictating from morn till night, but never coming within hundreds of miles
of executive action.
In obedience to Philip’s fervent exhortations Parma did his best,
keeping his army of German, Italian, and Walloon mercenaries in good
heart and readiness whilst the sham peace preliminaries went on. Most of
the English Commissioners themselves were soon satisfied that nothing
would come of their mission, for months were wasted in discussing and
wrangling over such questions as the place of meeting, the sufficiency of
powers, and the points to be discussed, though Croft, representing the
moderate Catholic party in England, strained his loyalty to the utmost
to conciliate Parma.[287] But still the Armada came not, though the
winter of 1587 wore on and Parma’s painfully gathered thirty thousand
men-at-arms were rapidly melting away, demoralised by short commons and
dying by thousands of the plague. Not even Parma’s extremity could move
Santa Cruz to take a course that he knew would end in disaster. When
he returned to Lisbon from convoying the silver fleet, he told Philip
flatly that it would be certain disaster to take the Armada out at such
a season of the year, the ships and men, moreover, being unready. Scorn
and derision were poured upon the old admiral by the nobles and soldiers,
as well as by the bureaucrats who were at the King’s elbow, though the
sailors who had met the English on many seas knew that Santa Cruz was
right. “Once let us grapple with the heretics,” cried the vapouring
men-at-arms, “and all will be well; the sailorman’s task is but to bring
us face to face with the foe and we shall know how to deal with him.”
Philip rarely reproached those who served him, but even his almost
inexhaustible patience gave way, and his curt, cold words of reproach to
Santa Cruz for his tardiness in serving him broke the old hero’s heart,
and in February, 1588, there passed to his grave the one man in Spain who
perchance might have rescued from otherwise inevitable catastrophe the
Armada and the mighty freight of hopes it bore.
Philip was, indeed, nearly at his wits’ end, though personally he
never lost faith in ultimate success. Sixtus was growing more and
more sarcastic, and unwilling to pledge himself further to a policy
which he now understood was making religion the stalking-horse of
politics. Olivares might rail insolently at the Pontiff as a garrulous
old curmudgeon, Cardinal Allen and Father Parsons, by word and pen,
might, and did, urge with bland eloquence the saintliness of the
enterprise and the holy aims of the Catholic King; but all Europe now
was aware and apprehensive of Philip’s overwhelming schemes—not against
England alone, it was feared, but against all those who questioned the
political supremacy of Spain. By every courier went frantic appeals
and remonstrances from Parma to Philip, as week after week passed and
no Armada appeared in the Straits of Dover. The army was getting out
of hand, he said, and, what with plague and discontent, would soon
disappear altogether, whilst of money he had none, and even his credit
was exhausted.
In December, 1587, Philip, apparently in desperation, thought that
Parma, failing the coming of the Armada, might have made a dash
across the Straits on his own account, and have captured England by a
_coup-de-main_, whilst the peace preliminaries were being discussed.
Parma, who was a practical soldier, was furious at such a suggestion,
as well he might be. Writing to the King on the 31st January, 1588,
he asks how could he be expected to do what he had the King’s strict
orders to avoid doing. He had laid down clearly, he said, the necessary
conditions of success; namely, that the flat boats and skiffs, too small
for fighting and unfit to weather a freshet, much less a storm, should
be ensured an absolutely unimpeded passage across, whilst the French
should be kept busy at home, and the Dutch rebels rendered powerless
for harm. “Your Majesty ordered me to undertake this business, and be
fully prepared, though the time given to me was short and my resources
were limited. I have done my best to perform the impossible in order
to please you and carry out my duty.... Affairs have been unduly drawn
out, both men and money have been delayed beyond the time indicated, and
particularly the Spanish troops, who are the sinew of the whole business,
and who have, after all, come in less number than agreed upon, and so
dilapidated and maltreated as to look unfit for service for some time to
come. The Italians and Germans have dwindled in consequence of having to
march quickly in very bad weather, and they are so badly housed to keep
them near the ports that many are missing; and our men are dying and
falling away rapidly. I have strained every nerve to keep them near the
coast to be ready for the arrival of Santa Cruz with the Armada ... and
now I see that everything has turned out wrong and contrary to my hopes.
Secrecy, which was of the utmost importance, has not been maintained.
From Spain, Italy, and elsewhere come full details of the expedition.
The King of France, as well as the League, has raised enormous forces,
and they, being Frenchmen, are certainly not likely to be in our favour.
Holland and Zeeland have armed as promptly as usual, and have prevented
the few ships of our fleet in Antwerp from getting out, whilst the
English themselves are preparing for their defence with great energy....
If the Marquis had come in good time the crossing might then have been
easily effected, by God’s help, as neither the English nor the Hollanders
and Zeelanders were then ready.”
Then Parma passionately protests against Philip’s attitude. Let the King,
he says, tell him plainly what he wishes him to do. He will do it at
all risks and at any cost; but to give him orders to do one thing and
expect him to do another in quite impossible circumstances is unfair.
The position has changed, he continues, and the force brought by the
Armada must be an overwhelming one to clear the seas or the troops from
Flanders cannot cross. “The delay in the coming of the Armada is causing
the total ruin of Flanders, and is hardly less disastrous to the rest
of the States. The country can bear the burden but a short time longer.
The greatest trouble of all is my lack of money. The cost of maintaining
the boats, the keep of the soldiers, the subsidy to Guise and Lorraine,
and the contract with the German mercenaries, is all so great that your
Majesty must provide me with a great sum of money. If I run short, as
indeed I am doing, your Majesty may be certain that evil will befall and
all the past expenditure and effort will be wasted.”[288]
Two months after this, when the death of Santa Cruz had cast a still
deeper gloom over the prospects of the Armada, Parma, now quite
disillusioned, and convinced that the great enterprise would fail, urged
Philip earnestly to allow him to turn the feigned negotiations for peace
into real ones. “I should fail in my duty,” he wrote, “if I did not
tell your Majesty that the general opinion is that if the English are
proceeding straightforwardly, as they profess, and their alarm at your
Majesty’s preparations and great power really inclines them towards you,
it would be better to conclude peace with them. We should thus end the
misery and calamity of these afflicted States, the Catholic religion
would be established in them, and your ancient dominion restored. Besides
this, we should not jeopardise the great fleet which your Majesty
has raised, and we should escape the danger of some disaster causing
you to fail in the conquest of England whilst losing your hold of the
Netherlands. It is thought that it would be much best to try to settle
and pacify everything during your own happy reign, so that all might
prosper by the grace of God and your Majesty’s goodness. Nothing more
honourable and beneficent could happen to us, no step would be more
heartily welcomed by your vassals, or more effectually check your rivals,
especially the heretics, than a good and honourable peace. We should thus
avoid the danger of disaster. If the enterprise were in the condition
we expected it to be, and secrecy had been kept, we might, with God’s
blessing, have looked more confidently for a successful issue. But things
are not as we intended. The English have had time to arm by land and sea,
and form alliances with the Danes and the German Protestants.... They
are well aware of our plans, and we shall have plenty of work to do in
effecting a landing and advancing afterwards, especially if our force is
inadequate.”[289]
And thus, point by point, the greatest soldier of his time lays bare
in letter after letter the weakness of Philip’s position and the
hopelessness of success in the circumstances. But to all Parma’s
remonstrances and advice the King had but one cold, precise reply. The
expedition was to go in God’s own service, and it would be duly carried
through by His help. That being the case, Parma could only stand more
stiffly than ever upon the absolute fulfilment of his conditions, without
which he knew that failure and disgrace would befall him. The sea must be
kept clear of enemies before he would embark a man for England, and he
must have six thousand Spanish veterans from the Armada or he would not
undertake the conquest. To Philip’s embarrassments there seemed no end.
His greatest military officer thus predicted disaster, and would take no
responsibility beyond the letter of his instructions, and Santa Cruz, his
greatest seaman, had assumed the same attitude for similar reasons.
But the death of Santa Cruz in February plunged the King into deeper
difficulty than ever; for although it allowed him to control the details
of the command more completely than Santa Cruz would have allowed him
to do, he had no officer of sufficient rank, authority, and experience
to replace the dead admiral. Seamen he had, many of them fine mariners
from the Biscay coast, who had commanded the great flotillas from the
Indies, and had faced with varied fortune the English plundering craft
any time these twenty years; but the tradition lingered that the seaman
was a mere drudge to carry the nobler soldier into the fight, and the
quarrelsome, haughty soldier nobles scorned to serve under a man who
was a seaman only. The men in nominal command of the great ships were
nearly always military officers whose orders the shipmasters obeyed. So
although Oquendo, Bertondona, and Recalde, with a half score of others,
were as splendid sailors as ever ploughed the seas, the supreme command
of the Armada could not be given to such as they. The Spanish nobles were
jealous of each other, each standing upon his dignity in a way that to
modern men looks ridiculous, but which to them was a matter of the first
concern in life.
The man to be appointed to command, since the King himself could not go,
must be of rank so exalted as to overtop the rest, and yet so amenable
to Philip’s control as to allow the fleet to be commanded practically
by the King from his writing-table. The only man in Spain who seemed to
unite in himself these two qualities was appointed by Philip to lead the
fleet upon which depended the fate of Spain and Catholic Christendom,
and he was of all men the least fit to carry to success such a forlorn
hope as the Armada—the Duke of Medina Sidonia, the magnate and admiral
of Andalusia, who had been so busy collecting ships and stores in Cadiz
and his other ports. He was a dignified noble of early middle age, well
meaning and not without administrative ability in normal circumstances,
though utterly unequal to deal with critical conditions. His high rank
was sufficient to ensure the obedient respect of the other nobles and to
hold the sailor commanders in awe. But, as he plaintively protested to
the King, in dismay, when he was first informed of his appointment, he
was utterly inexperienced in practical warfare both on land and sea. He
knew nothing of navigation, he was always wretchedly seasick as soon as
he lost sight of land, and he was quite unable to bear the expense which
such a command entailed. His wife and friends were more emphatic still,
and ridiculed the idea that such a poor creature as this should assume
a responsibility so tremendous. Perhaps Philip was not sorry to have a
weak and timid commander who would not dare to depart a hair’s breadth
from his orders. At all events, his mind was made up; and Medina Sidonia,
with a shrinking heart and unwilling spirit, was forced to go to Lisbon
to replace the great Santa Cruz as the Captain-General of the Invincible
Armada.[290]
The Tagus was crowded with ships when, in March, 1588, Medina Sidonia
took command. Eleven huge galleons, contributed by Portugal, headed by
the flagship _San Martin_, was to be the squadron of the high admiral.
The Andalusian squadron of fifteen vessels was to be led by Don Pedro
de Valdés; and the famous Biscay seamen Oquendo and Martinez de Recalde
were to lead other squadrons, and Diego Flores yet another. There were
thirty-one armed store-ships, all carrying their quota of fighting-men
as well as sailors, seven-and-twenty pinnaces and sloops, and four
armed galleys, such as in the Mediterranean formed the Spanish fighting
force. In all 114 ships lay there before the white city of Lisbon on
its amphitheatre of hills. Gallant and strong they looked with their
carved and gilded prows, their fluttering silken banners, and the soaring
crucifix upon the highest pinnacle of their bows. But, alas! the dry-rot
of Philip’s system was at the very heart of the enterprise. The soldiers
came still in driblets and unwillingly. Arms were accumulating in one
part of Spain, whilst the men to bear them were mustered in another.
Stores went astray or remained bogged and derelict many miles from their
destination; wine ran short and water went bad upon the ships. The long
delay had caused the bottoms to foul and the seams to gape; and the
overburdened Duke of Medina Sidonia could but clamour more piteously
than Santa Cruz had done for more supplies, more men, more arms, more
money, more everything, unless disaster were to fall upon the expedition.
The Irish and English Catholics on the quays of Lisbon, and the priests
and friars who flocked everywhere, made light of difficulties. Was it
not God’s own fleet, going upon His errand, and could He be beaten? Was
not England tired to death of their heretic Queen and her ministers? and
was not a whole nation waiting with open arms to welcome those who came
as friends and deliverers? And the haughty, confident Spanish nobles,
courtiers, and soldiers, fretting in idleness, scoffed and reviled the
timid councils of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. But the sailormen shook
their heads sadly. They knew that Biscay storms and Channel gales could
not be controlled by swords and pikes, and that at sea Drake and the
West-country ships could sail several points closer to the wind than
could their lumbering round-bowed galleons that looked so mighty.
No day passed without some fresh demand from Medina Sidonia; and at
last Philip himself, long-suffering as he was, began to lose patience,
for the spring was wearing on, and Parma, in despair, was, as we have
seen, praying him either to abandon the enterprise or send him means
for keeping together his dwindling army. At length, in April, it was
impossible to hide any longer the open complaints of the soldier nobles.
Medina Sidonia’s insatiable demands, they said, were prompted by sheer
cowardice, with a view to preventing the sailing of the expedition
altogether. Already he had under his command the strongest force that
ever sailed the seas—130 vessels of an aggregate tonnage of 58,000
tons, 2,431 cannon, and 30,000 men, between soldiers and sailors. All
was ready. The orders to the fleet had been given long since—orders that
prescribed a code of conduct for the rough seamen and men-at-arms such as
would have befitted a convent school. There was to be no bad language or
loose talk, no dicing or card-playing, no evil living. Prayers and Masses
were to be sung daily, and every man, high and low, was to be confessed
and absolved; for all were going on a sacred crusade against the foes of
God and the faith. The friars and priests, both on the ships and ashore,
exhorted ceaselessly all these reckless soldiers and half-savage sailors,
until, with hearts aflame, they too began to scowl at the tardy Duke, who
alone seemed to hold them back from their heaven-sent mission.
At length, at the end of April, peremptory command came from Philip that
the Armada must sail at once. The old orders to Santa Cruz were repeated.
The fleet must go straight up the Channel to the North Foreland,
avoiding an engagement if possible, until the main body of the English
fleet should be met, as he thought it would, off Margate, where it was
to be defeated or held in check, and then Parma and his army were to
be protected on their way across to the Thames. All difficulties and
dangers in such a plan were ignored or smoothed over by Philip. The
warnings of years had been lost upon him. He still counted upon his big
ships outmanœuvring and gaining the wind of the English craft; he still
believed that the old grappling tactics were possible, in the face of
Drake’s new strategy and the superior build of the English ships. And he
broke faith with Parma too. Parma had never wavered in his condition. He
would not cross the sea until he was reinforced by six thousand Spanish
veterans from the Armada; and yet in these last instructions to Medina
Sidonia it was left to his discretion whether these veterans should be
sent. Thus all the elements of discord existed before the great fleet
sailed. An almost monkish discipline was enjoined on the fleet by the
King, and it is clear that Philip himself had worked his spirit into a
state of fervour which made him believe that sanctimoniousness would
compensate for the absence of practical provisions for success. Saints’
names alone formed the watchwords, Jesus for Sunday, the Holy Ghost for
Monday, the Holy Trinity for Tuesday, and so on; whilst the ships’ boys
were to chant the Salve and good-morrow at daybreak and the Ave Maria at
sunset on every vessel.
On the 25th April, 1588, the sacred banner was delivered to the Duke by
Philip’s Viceroy, the Archduke Albert, in Lisbon Cathedral; and thence
with raised crosses, swinging censers, flaming candles, and chanting
priests it was borne before the whole kneeling hosts of the Armada in
the great square of the city. And then, sped by prayers and psalms of
rogation, the Armada, with its cargo of hopes and fears, tried for a
month in vain to get out of the Tagus, with a boisterous westerly gale
blowing full into the mouth of the river. But at length, at the end of
May, 1588, the fleet got clear out to sea; the Duke complaining to the
last of his subordinates and of his ships to the King, and praying that
God would avert disaster. Contrary winds still held the fleet back for a
fortnight more on the coast, and then, on the 19th June, a great storm
came and scattered the ships like chaff. Some, with the Duke, fled in
dire danger to shelter in Corunna, some even were blown within sight
of the Scilly Isles, and many ran into the Biscay and Galician ports.
Confusion, utter and complete, overcame the host. Many of the ships were
crippled, spars broken, sails split, and planks started. Provisions were
spoilt; the long delay had consumed stores and water; and again Medina
Sidonia appealed to the King to abandon an enterprise which seemed so
ill-starred, and again he clamoured for more stores, more men, more
money, more arms.
On the 24th June, in despair, he wrote to the King as follows: “When
your Majesty ordered me to take command of this fleet I gave many
reasons why I ought not to undertake it.... I saw that it was going
against a powerful nation, which had the help of its neighbours, and
that the task would require a much larger force than that collected at
Lisbon; I therefore declined the command.... Since then the ships have
suffered much, and the fleet is now greatly inferior to that of the
English; the crews are weakened by sickness, and numbers fall ill daily
in consequence of bad food.... The provisions are rotten, the water
is stinking, and our stores will not last two months under the most
favourable conditions.”[291] Then he goes on to say that all the power of
Spain, all the King’s hopes, credit, and prestige, are entrusted to this
Armada, and its loss would mean irretrievable ruin. “It would be unwise,”
he says, “to run such a risk even with equal forces, but much more so
with such an inferior force as we have now, the men inexperienced, and
the officers, on my conscience I assure your Majesty, hardly any of them
knowing or capable of doing their duty.... Believe me, your Majesty, we
are very weak; pray do not allow any one to persuade you otherwise.” The
timid Duke was full of forebodings, but Don Pedro de Valdés and other
officers were writing at the same time to the King, impatiently scoffing
at the delay, and Philip sternly, almost angrily, ordered Medina Sidonia
to carry out his instructions without further parley—to patch up and
collect his vessels again and sail up the Channel, with God’s blessing,
to conquer the heretics who were holding the fair land of England.
And thus Philip the Prudent cast to the winds all the dictates of
prudence. Parma, at all events, could not be accused either of ineptitude
or of cowardice, and yet he had twice solemnly warned his uncle to
abandon his plan, now that all Europe knew of it and was prepared to
frustrate it. If Philip had determined (as indeed he had) to run all
risks and depend upon the special interposition of Providence in his
favour, it was surely the height of folly to entrust the task, upon the
success of which the whole future of his cause depended, to two unwilling
commanders, both of whom deliberately foretold failure. It was, perhaps,
impossible for him to dismiss Parma at short notice; but the letter
from Medina Sidonia quoted above would amply have justified either his
recall or the abandonment of the enterprise for which he, the commander,
foretold defeat. Like Villeneuve at Trafalgar, Medina Sidonia was a
beaten man before he met his enemy; but Philip, blind to all worldly
considerations and steadfast in his faith in himself and his cause,
elected to strike his supreme blow against Elizabeth with an obsolete and
faulty weapon wielded by a feeble hand.
With plentiful prayers and the blessings of Churchmen, with abundant
copies of Father Parsons’s allocutions to his countrymen on the
blessings of Spanish rule, and Cardinal Allen’s exhortations in favour of
the old faith, the Armada sailed. The victuals were scanty and bad, the
water was putrid, the craft overcrowded and fever-haunted; the admiral
was faint-hearted and prophesied disaster; but the crank ships, with
strained spars and gaping seams, though they looked so brave and loomed
so high, sailed out of Corunna on the 12th July, 1588, doomed beforehand
to disaster, which only a miracle from on high could avert from them. How
the disaster fell there is no space here to relate; but a week’s running
fight up the Channel, and one hopeless battle at bay, struck the first
irreparable blow at the fable of Philip’s irresistible power, and the
prestige that clung still around the name of the Emperor and his son.
We have followed the process by which circumstances and the personal
character of the chief actors in the great drama had driven Philip, after
thirty years of diplomacy in trying to win England to his side without
any concessions on his part, into a violent course at last. The result
of his over-caution for so many years had been that he was forced to be
reckless after all or fail entirely; the outcome of his fatal desire to
win all for himself without risking anything was that when the crisis
came he had to risk everything on a losing hazard. Elizabeth was more
fortunate in the issue than her brother-in-law, but hardly more wise.
Almost to the day when the Armada sighted her coasts she was beguiled
into a belief that her negotiations with Parma might avert war, though
Walsingham and the sailors were almost in despair at what they saw was
the terrible risk she ran. She was far more hard-fisted and parsimonious
than Philip, too, when once it was brought home to her that she and
her people would have to fight for the independence of England. Her
men, unlike those at the bidding of Philip, were full of initiative and
boldness, though they had to cope with material obstacles almost as great
as his. All was unready in England when the peril loomed near, and even
if the Queen had been as liberal as she was stingy, sufficient stores
could not in the circumstances have been improvised and concentrated.
But every one in England, high and low, did his best. There was but
little of the vapouring self-confidence that led the Spanish soldiers
into the disillusionment which destroyed their nation’s potency; but the
predictions and assurances with regard to England of Parsons and the
English Jesuits and Spanish pensioners, were all signally falsified. The
moderate English Catholics, who quite conceivably might have welcomed
the adoption of an English Catholic successor to Elizabeth under Spanish
patronage, were indignant at the Jesuit-Spanish plan to foist Philip’s
daughter upon the throne after deposing Elizabeth and submitting the
country to conquest. The treatment meted out to Englishmen in Spain by
the Inquisition had given even to Catholics no desire to live under a
rule which made such an institution a branch of Government. So, when the
time of trial came, the Howards, Catholics though they were, and often as
they had been parties to Philip’s plans, fought against him as stoutly
as the veriest Puritan of them all. A generation had passed away since
Philip had personally felt the pulse of England. Allen, Englefield, and
Parsons had not, for many years before the Armada sailed, seen with
their own eyes the growing spirit of patriotism which under Elizabeth
was binding Englishmen as such together, independent of their creeds;
and the Jesuit Churchmen and pensioned laymen who advised Philip that
the English people would welcome the men on the Armada with open arms
as liberators were as the blind leading the blind, for they were not in
touch with nor understood the England that had arisen since their time.
For the rest of Philip’s life, ten years, a more pressing task even than
that of winning England by finesse or force claimed his every effort. The
murder of Henry III. made a Protestant King of France; and to prevent
the country from joining the Reformation Philip and Spain would have
to fight until the last dollar was spent and the last Spanish soldier
was dead. Again, the Infanta was his candidate for the Crown of all or
a portion of her mother’s land; and, as in the case of England, the
forces of patriotism in the end overrode the differences of creed, and
all Frenchmen coalesced to oppose foreign aggression. Henry IV. “went to
Mass,” it is true, and that France remained a Catholic country through
his efforts was the only great triumph of Philip’s strenuous life.
From the time when the Armada, or such of the ships as escaped the
wild Atlantic gales, crept home, plague-stricken, battered wrecks, and
the cry of mortal anguish went up from all Spanish hearts at the cruel
disappointment of their hopes, Philip, it is true, continued to strive
against the woman who had beaten him. These efforts I have described
elsewhere: but with no hope of conquering England by frontal attack was
one little expedition after another with infinite difficulty and friction
fitted out thenceforward in Corunna. For that Philip knew well the time
had passed, notwithstanding the continued exhortations of the Churchmen
and pensioned refugees. Thenceforward it was his plan to incite Irish
Catholics to revolt, to render Elizabeth unsafe and uneasy, in order to
prevent her from aiding Henry of Navarre in France; to look forward to
the time when her death, by natural or unnatural means, should give him a
chance of manœuvring a sovereign apt for his purpose upon the throne of
England. With the failure of Philip’s thirty-five years’ struggle to gain
the control of England for his ends under two sister Queens, the downfall
of his own system and the decay of Spain were absolutely inevitable,
though the tradition of its potency died hard and was maintained long
after its reality had fled.
It is bootless to consider what would have been the result if Philip’s
methods had been less rigid, and if he could have fought his enemies with
their own weapons; for if such had been the case he would not have been
Philip, and the situation that made the long struggle incumbent upon him
would never have been created. But, though on his agonising death-bed
in his poor cell at the Escorial, in the autumn of 1598, he knew that
Elizabeth still defied him, and the Dutch Protestants repudiated his
rule, that wherever the yoke of Rome was shaken off it could be imposed
no more, he still held firmly to his faith beyond all earthly evidence,
that God in His good way and time would send triumphant victory to the
cause for which He and Philip had fought in partnership—the supremacy of
Catholicism and the preponderance of Spain amongst the nations.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Moryson to the Council, 7th October 1552. Record Office.
[2] Thirlby, Hoby, and Moryson to the Council. State Papers, Germany.
[3] Sir Philip Hoby to Cecil. Hatfield Papers and Haynes.
[4] Papiers d’État du Cardinal de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[5] The envoys to the Emperor. Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[6] The Emperor to the envoys. Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[7] The Imperial envoys to the Emperor. Papiers d’État, vol. iv.
[8] The Emperor to the envoys, 20th July.
[9] Contemporary account by Antonio de Guaras. Edited by Garnett.
[10] Ambassades de Noailles, vol. ii
[11] Renard to the Emperor. Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[12] He had, in fact, several children by the Lady Doña Isabel de
Osorio, with whom he had lived since his young wife’s death. The fact
that Granvelle puts the word in the plural proves that this was quite
recognised.
[13] In the private letter which the Emperor wrote to his son on the
subject he says: “if the choice falls upon a foreigner, I think the
English would rather have me than any one else, as they have always
been well disposed towards me. But I can assure you that even greater
dominions” (_i.e._, than England) “would not seduce me nor divert me from
the very different intention which I hold. If, therefore, they should
send and propose this marriage to me, I have thought that it would be
better to suggest you, and the matter could then be carried through
successfully. The benefits and advantages which would accrue are so
great and notorious that they need not be particularised. I only place
it before you for your consideration. Let me know at once what you think
of it, so that we may act accordingly; but keep it strictly secret.”—MS.
Simancas. Printed in the _Retiro, estancia y muerte del Emperador Carlos
V._
[14] Granvelle to Renard. Papiers d’État, vol. iv.
[15] Although Renard at this interview of 6th August did not, according
to his own statement, bring forward Philip’s name to the Queen, public
rumour was already busy with it. Noailles three days afterwards wrote
to the King of France saying that the Imperial ambassadors had proposed
Philip to the Queen: “and it was not now so sure that she would
marry Courtenay. It is thought that the effect of his presence has
greatly damaged his reputation, although he is quite handsome and well
bred.”—“_Mais la nourriture que vous, Sire, pouvez penser qu’il á pris
ayant été toujours fermé dés son enfance dans des murailles lui a laissé
si peu de gravité et d’experience qui je crains beaucoup qu’il soit
pour se conduire á telle fortune, Combien que la commune de toute cette
province la lui desire._”—Ambassades de Noailles.
[16] The Princess in question was the daughter of Eleanor, sister of the
Emperor, and now the widow of Francis I. of France.
[17] Renard had seen Bishop Gardiner, the Queen’s principal minister, the
day before, and had tried to draw some declaration from him, although he
was known to be in favour of the Courtenay match. The Bishop said that
he would not suggest any name to the Queen; but if she asked his advice
as to marrying a foreigner, he would tell her that, for the good of her
country and her own safety, it would be better to marry an Englishman, as
the very name of foreigner was hated by the English. “As for the Prince
of Spain,” continued Gardiner, “if she married him, the people would
never tolerate the Spanish character; which even the Flemish subjects of
the Emperor detest; besides which, the marriage would mean for England a
perpetual war with France.”—Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[18] Philip wrote to his father, “If the marriage should be proposed for
your Majesty, that would be the best course. But if your Majesty persists
in the view you state to me in your letter and you think better to treat
of the marriage for me, you know already that as an entirely obedient
son I have no other will than yours, and above all on an affair of this
importance. I therefore leave it to your Majesty to act as you deem
best.”—MS. Simancas. _Retiro estancia y muerte del Emperador_, etc.
[19] A curious account of these preparations will be found in Machyn’s
Diary.
[20] Ambassades de Noailles, vol. ii. Noailles, in describing the scene
to the King of France, says that when de Geneda entered the boat that
was to convey him down the Thames on his way to Spain, he announced that
Prince Philip would visit Queen Mary in the following March on his way to
Flanders; and Noailles advises the King of France to muster his ships in
the Channel to prevent the Prince’s passage.
[21] Antonio de Guaras.
[22] Antonio de Guaras, who was present in the Abbey. It was noticed by
the Imperial ambassadors that Princess Elizabeth, who at the ceremony
took the place due to a Royal Princess, with Anne of Cleves, exchanged
significant glances with Noailles whenever she met him. In the course
of the day she complained to the French ambassador of the weight of the
coronet she was wearing. “Patience!” was his reply, “it will soon produce
a better one.”—Record Office, Brussels Transcripts, i. p. 436.
[23] The details of these interesting interviews are in Renard’s Letters,
Record Office, Brussels Transcripts, vol. i.
[24] Renard to the Emperor, 31st October. Record Office, Brussels
Transcripts. Mary had apparently waited until the Acts had passed
declaring her mother’s marriage legal. This was effected on the 28th
October.
[25] The Emperor to his son, 21st January, 1554, asking him to ratify the
treaty, notwithstanding the hardness of the conditions. MSS. Simancas,
Estado 808.
[26] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[27] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[28] Record Office, Brussels Transcripts, vol. i. 979.
[29] Documentos Ineditos, vol. iii.
[30] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[31] Ambassades de Noailles, Instruction à Lamarque, vol. iii.
[32] Documentos Ineditos, iii.
[33] Renard to the Emperor, 8th March. Record Office, Brussels
Transcripts, vol. i.
[34] Renard to the Emperor, 8th March. Record Office, Brussels
Transcripts, vol. i.
[35] Ibid.
[36] As showing the excited condition of the public mind even yet with
regard to the marriage, it may be mentioned that the day before this
scene was passing, on the 6th March, two bands of about 300 London
urchins collected in a field—probably Moorfields—and engaged in strenuous
combat against each other; one band representing the Queen’s and
Philip’s forces, and the other those of the King of France and Wyatt’s.
Noailles, in his account of the affair—though Renard does not mention the
detail—says that the unfortunate boy who was made to represent the Prince
of Spain was captured and hanged, very nearly fatally. The leaders of
the fight on both sides were well whipped and imprisoned by the Queen’s
orders.—Ambassades de Noailles, iii. 130. Renard’s Letter, 9th March.
Record Office, Brussels Transcripts, and Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[37] Muñoz’s narrative, Sociedad de Bibliofilos.
[38] Muñoz’s narrative.
[39] On this and on all occasions that English fashions of the time
are described by Spaniards, mention was made of the enormous number of
ornamental buttons that English gentlemen wore on their garments.
[40] Muñoz’s narrative.
[41] Muñoz’s narrative.
[42] In fact they shipped a large number of horses.
[43] Muñoz’s narrative. Sociedad de Bibliofilos.
[44] Record Office, Brussels Transcripts.
[45] Renard to the Emperor. Record Office, Brussels Transcripts.
[46] Renard to the Emperor, 9th June. Record Office, Brussels Transcripts.
[47] Noailles to the King, 17th June, 1554. Ambassades.
[48] Renard to the Prince, 13th March, Record Office, Brussels
Transcripts.
[49] Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[50] The only warrant for the seasick story is that contained in a letter
from Bedford and Fitzwalter in Spain to the Council, saying that the
Prince “was wont to be very sick upon the sea,” and proposing that some
preparations should be made at Plymouth for his landing there in case of
need. But, in fact, Philip had a smooth voyage, and remained at anchor on
the _Espiritu Santo_ in Southampton harbour for nearly twenty-four hours
before he landed, and was in perfect health.
[51] The bulk of the Spanish fleet was not allowed even to enter the
harbour of Southampton for provisions and water, which only after much
unpleasantness and discourtesy they were able to obtain at Portsmouth.
[52] Whilst they all praise the sumptuous fittings of the rooms, not a
single Spanish narrator says a word of the story told by the malicious
Venetian, that Philip was shocked by the words “Fidei Defensor” being
embroidered on the hangings.
[53] Enriquez’s narrative. Sociedad de Bibliofilos.
[54] Philip’s courtiers sneered that Browne took the King’s horses to his
own stables to recover from the voyage, in order that he might have a
chance of keeping them altogether.
[55] Muñoz’s and Enriquez’s narratives. Sociedad de Bibliofilos.
[56] Narrative by Car, who was a servant to Pescara. Printed in Milan,
1554. See the author’s “Year After the Armada.”
[57] All foreign visitors to England in the sixteenth century remarked
upon the great profusion of plate used for household purposes at the time.
[58] Enriquez’s narrative.
[59] Philip had sent a Spanish magistrate, Alcalde Bribiesca, to England
before him, to dispose of cases in his own following. The English were
bitterly jealous of this, and refused to acknowledge any jurisdiction for
him.
[60] Enriquez’s narrative. The narrator was a kinsman of the Duchess.
[61] This reminds one of Queen Elizabeth’s dancing, which was praised as
“high and disposedly.”
[62] Queen Jane and Queen Mary (Camden Society), Foxe’s Acts and
Monuments, and other contemporary chronicles.
[63] John Elder’s Letter, Camden Society.
[64] John Elder’s Letter, Camden Society.
[65] MSS. Simancas, Estado 808.
[66] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[67] Ambassades de Noailles, vol. iii. 311.
[68] Letters from both Mary and Pole to the King of France advocating the
conclusion of Peace are in Ambassades de Noailles, vol. iii. 323-4.
[69] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[70] Queen Jane and Mary, and Holingshed.
[71] We get at this time (October, 1554), whilst the royal couple were at
Hampton Court, a glimpse of their life together. “As for newes you shall
understand that the King’s and Queen’s Majesties be in helth and merry,
whom I did see daunce togethers uppon Sunday night at the Court, where
was a brave maskery of cloth of gold and silver apparailed in mariners
garments, the chief doer whereof I think was my lord Admiral.”—Francis
Yaxley to Sir W. Cecil, Landsdown MSS. (Cotton), vol. iii. 44.
[72] Venetian Calendar.
[73] Ibid.
[74] In the Venetian Calendar, 21st September, 1554, there is a dignified
letter from Pole to Philip reproaching him for allowing him, a Prince of
the Church, an Englishman exiled for Mary’s sake half a lifetime, and
a Legate of the head of the Church, thus to knock at the door of his
country unheeded by a Catholic King.
[75] Mason to the Queen and King, 9th November, Foreign Calendar.
[76] Ibid.
[77] Enriquez’s narrative (Sociedad de Bibliofilos) and John Elder’s
letter, Camden Society. Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[78] John Elder says that, as an instance of Pole’s good repute, that
when he (Elder) was in Rome it was a common saying there, not only
amongst Englishmen, but amongst Italians as well, “_Polus Cardinalis
natione Anglus pietatis et literarum testimonio dignus, non qui Polus
Anglus, sed qui Polus angelus vocetur_.”
[79] Enriquez’s narrative.
[80] John Elder’s letter.
[81] Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[82] Enriquez’s narrative.
[83] Enriquez’s narrative.
[84] Michaeli says that ten thousand people listened to the sermon.
[85] Signor Claretta has published (Pinerolo, 1892) an interesting series
of documents from the Turin Archives giving full particulars of the visit.
[86] The assertion of so many historians that she came to Whitehall at
Christmas, 1554, is erroneous. She did not come till the end of April,
long after Savoy’s departure.
[87] At this time (late in 1554) a large number of Spanish shopkeepers
and artisans had established themselves in London under the erroneous
belief referred to in an earlier page, that the marriage of Philip meant
their entering into possession of the kingdom. This had been so much
resented by the Londoners that not only were attacks upon these people
constant, as recorded by Enriquez and others, but on the 12th October
Mary had been obliged to issue a decree commanding all Spanish tradesmen
to shut up their shops. This, of course, was a new source of complaint
with them.
[88] Foreign Calendar.
[89] Queen Jane and Queen Mary.
[90] Papiers d’État de Granvelle, vol. iv.
[91] On occasion of a grand tilting at Whitehall on the 25th March twenty
gentlemen made a brilliant show, and Philip distinguished himself so
much that the Queen became anxious and apprehensive, sending to beseech
him, as he had run so many courses and done enough, not to encounter any
further risk for her sake. He also attended another grand tilt at the
weddings of Lords Maltravers and Fitzwalter in the following month.
[92] Venetian Calendar.
[93] “Acts and Monuments.”
[94] Elizabeth’s Italian master was arrested in connection with one of
these publications, called “A Dialogue.”—Michaeli, Venetian Papers.
[95] Michaeli’s advices, Venetian Calendar.
[96] Michaeli on this visit mentions that he saw Queen Mary, “who was
looking very well; for, placing herself every morning at a small window,
she likes to see the procession pass, which at her desire, goes round
the palace court, she most courteously bowing her head in acknowledgment
to all persons who salute her ... as she did twice with extraordinary
cheerfulness and graciousness to the Portuguese ambassador and myself,
we having gone into the court to accompany the King to Mass, and joined
the procession on the invitation of the Lords of the Council. Her Majesty
expects and hopes during this week to comfort the realm by an auspicious
delivery, but the greater part of her women think that she will go
beyond.”
[97] Renard to the Emperor, 27th June, 1555.—Papiers d’État de Granvelle.
[98] Michaeli, Venetian Calendar.
[99] Ambassades de Noailles, vol. v. 136.
[100] Ambassades de Noailles, vol. v. 98.
[101] Ambassades de Noailles.
[102] Michaeli to the Doge, 3rd September, 1555.—Venetian Calendar.
[103] It must be recollected that Philip’s tolerance and moderation with
regard to the extreme persecution of heresy in England was purely a
matter of policy, as his after life clearly proved. At a later period,
moreover, he actually claimed for himself the credit of the religious
persecution. Cabrera de Cordoba quotes a letter from him to his sister
Juana, in which he says, “I, having diverted the realm [England] from the
sects and brought it into obedience to the Church, and having always been
in favour of the punishment of the heretics, which is now being carried
out so smoothly in England” (Cabrera, “Vida de Felipe II.”).
[104] State Papers, Domestic, September, 1555.
[105] Ambassades de Noailles.
[106] This, of course, was late in 1555, before the truce of Vaucelles in
February, 1556.
[107] Michaeli to the Doge, Venetian Calendar, 28th April, 1556. She had
been asked many times to go to Flanders to stay with Philip’s aunt, Mary
of Hungary.
[108] The process of these conspiracies may be followed step by step in
the Letters of Noailles (Ambassades), Michaeli (Venetian Calendar), and
Wotton (Foreign Calendar).
[109] Michaeli, Venetian Calendar.
[110] In a pathetic and submissive letter (Cotton, Titus B. 2, 57,
British Museum) Mary beseeches Philip to allow her to defer the matter
until he comes to England. Her doubts on the matter seem to have been
partly inspired by jealousy of her sister, who if she married Emmanuel
Philibert in Flanders would be near Philip, for she adds: “If you will
not defer it I shall be jealous of your Highness, which would be worse
for me than death—I have already begun to feel uneasy.”
[111] Noailles and Michaeli.
[112] The particulars of this treaty will be found in the author’s
Calendar of Spanish State Papers, Henry VIII., vols, vi., vii., and viii.
[113] Sorzano to the Doge, May, 1557, Venetian Calendar, detailing a
conversation with Henry on the subject.
[114] The Earl of Bedford, writing to Cecil on the 21st August, says that
“the Count of Egmont with two thousand Spaniards and Schwartzreiters
and as many of us made a ride into France of twenty-two miles, and
found no great resistance, nor should have done though we had gone much
further.”—Haynes’ State Papers.
[115] The vast monastery palace of the Escorial owed its origin to such
a promise on the part of Philip II. when he saw to his sorrow that his
troops had destroyed and sacked a church and cloister dedicated to St.
Laurence at St. Quintin. To appease the saint, he promised on the spot
to build the grandest monastery to St. Laurence in the world, and he
kept his word. For the greater part of his life the building of this
stupendous pile upon the sterile Guadarrama steppes was an obsession of
the King.
[116] Lord Grey de Wilton to the Queen.—Domestic Calendar.
[117] An interesting account of the defence and loss of Guisnes is given
by Lord Grey himself (Camden Society).
[118] MSS. Simancas, Philip to Feria, January, 1558.—Estado, 811.
[119] Howard suspected the influence that had been exerted against him,
and charged Feria with it. The Spaniard assured him that he had been
misinformed; and in order to mollify him Philip wrote to the Queen asking
her to give Howard some Court appointment instead of the Admiralty.
Clinton was by Philip’s influence also placed in the Council, of which
Howard was not a member, but became so, as well as Lord Chamberlain,
shortly afterwards.
[120] Feria to the King, 12th February, 1558 (MSS. Simancas, Estado 811).
Philip replied that he could not send the 10,000 crowns required at once,
as he was very short of money, but would send it as soon as he could get
it in Spain.
[121] MSS. Simancas, Estado 811, Feria to the King, 10th March.
[122] Philip had written to Feria a day or two before saying that the
English orders for powder, &c., in Flanders were so excessive that if
they were made public the dealers would at once put up the price to his
detriment, and he begged that the amount might be reduced. In Rymer’s
“Federa” there is a list of the munitions which Gresham was to obtain
in conjunction with the Italian banker Bonvisi, who had advanced a loan
to Mary: “3,500 hackequebutts, 1,000 pistolets, 500 pondera (lbs.) de
Mauches, 100,000 pondera (lbs.) petre salse (saltpetre), 3,000 corselets,
2,000 mourreyens, 3,000 iron cappes, 8,000 lances and pikes.”
[123] Feria, writing to the King on the 6th April, says in reference to
this: “Gresham writes that he has found much difficulty and has only
taken up £10,000. I do not know how this comes to pass, for Paget and
the rest of them told me at first that the loan for £100,000 was already
arranged with the merchants I wrote about, and I naturally thought
that as it had been settled between them and me that Gresham should go
straight to your Majesty that the affair would be carried through at
once.... He took letters from the Council to your Majesty, and the Queen
instructed him to go straight to you. Now it seems from what he writes
that he has not been to Brussels, and he deserves punishment at your
Majesty’s hands, as I have told the Queen.”—MSS. Simancas, Estado 811.
[124] Foreign Calendar.
[125] MSS Simancas, 10th March, 1558, Estado 811.
[126] MSS. Simancas, Estado 811.
[127] In the letter written by Philip to Feria in reply to that quoted
above he says that he has written to Clinton ordering him to go to
Flanders at once to receive Philip’s orders as to what he is to do with
the English fleet, “in order that the money it is costing should not be
spent fruitlessly.”—MSS. Simancas, Estado 811.
[128] MSS. Simancas, Estado 811.
[129] Feria’s suggestion, to which this is a reply, runs thus: “I wrote
to your Majesty that I did not see Madam Elizabeth when I came here
because my principal means of carrying through what I wanted was the
goodwill of the Queen, and I was anxious not to run counter to her in
anything, especially as your Majesty had given me no instructions to
the contrary. I afterwards sent a message of apology to Madam Elizabeth
by the Admiral’s wife [_i.e._, Lady Clinton], who was brought up with
her and is much in her favour. I said that after she left [London] I
had received orders from your Majesty to pay my respects to her in your
name. I told Paget to excuse me to her also, but I do not think he did
so. On the contrary, the Admiral’s wife told me that he asked Madam
Elizabeth whether I had visited her, and when she said no he expressed
much surprise. Figueroa and myself think the matter should not be left
thus, and that it would be best for me to go and see her before I leave.
She lives 20 miles away. I shall be glad of your Majesty’s instructions”
(MSS. Simancas, Estado 811, Feria to the King, 18th May).
[130] A good instance of this is given in the appointment of the
commander of 1,000 English pioneers who had been raised for Philip’s
service. Feria wished to send Major Randolph in charge of them. The
Councillors appointed another man and said that Randolph was to be
appointed to a post on shore in connection with the navy. Feria insisted,
and a long quarrel resulted, Feria insisting that Philip should write
peremptorily to the Queen about it.
[131] This was certainly not the case. Suriano, the Venetian ambassador,
writing from Brussels on the 12th November, on Feria’s hasty voyage to
England, when Mary was known to be dying, says drily: “He is in great
favour with the Queen and he likewise fancies himself popular there [in
England], but may God grant, in case of her Majesty’s death, that he do
not experience to his detriment the perverse nature of those people, and
their most inveterate hatred of foreigners and above all of Spaniards”
(Venetian Calendar, 12th November). The fable of Feria’s great power in
England persisted for years, probably owing to his marriage with Sir
William Dormer’s daughter Jane, which brought him into relationship with
the Sidneys and a powerful group of English noble families. Dr. Man, the
English ambassador in Spain in 1567, writes to Cecil (Cotton MSS., Galba
ciii.) that he had heard a Spanish gentleman say at table that the “Count
de Feria was so beloved in England that in case he would he might have
made himself King of England. Which although it be an untruth yet it
argueth a confidence the Spaniards have of some great part the Count is
yet able to make in England.” In fact, Feria, whose hatred of Elizabeth
was intense, was extremely unpopular for his arrogance and presumption in
England.
[132] MSS. Simancas, Estado 811.
[133] Philip was already in peace negotiations with the French; and the
English Commissioners were holding out strongly for the restitution of
Calais as a condition.
[134] Venetian Calendar, 29th October, 1558.
[135] The letter from Feria, dated 14th November, detailing this
interview with Elizabeth was abstracted by Gonzalez many years ago with
other papers of the period and translated into English. Unfortunately
since then the letter appears to have been lost. At least I could not
find it when I transcribed the other letters of the period relating to
England in the Spanish Royal Archives at Simancas. The letter, however,
was printed in Kervyn de Lettenhove’s “Relations Politiques,” &c.
[136] From Father Clifford’s contemporary “Life of the Duchess of Feria”
(published), for the inspection of the original manuscript of which I am
indebted to its present possessor, Lord Dormer.
[137] Spanish Calendars of Elizabeth (Hume).
[138] Spanish Calendars of Elizabeth, vol. i. (Hume).
[139] The English correspondence on this matter is of much interest. It
is in Forbes’s State Papers.
[140] Philip to Feria, 14th February, 1559.—Spanish Calendars of
Elizabeth (Hume).
[141] Elizabeth was all the time in negotiation with the Reform party in
France through Guido Cavalcanti for a separate peace, if possible, on
better terms than could be got in conjunction with Spain. She was quite
willing to leave Philip in the lurch, if necessary, though the Catholic
advisers of Henry II. had entirely different views. The correspondence is
in Forbes’ State Papers of Elizabeth.
[142] Hatfield Papers, part i, p. 151.
[143] Spanish Calendar of Elizabeth (Hume).
[144] “Queens of Old Spain,” by Martin Hume.
[145] 12th July, Spanish Calendar, vol, i.
[146] The Bishop of Aquila to Feria, 7th March, 1560.—Spanish Calendar,
vol. i.
[147] This pretended _rapprochement_ may be followed in detail in
Quadra’s letters in the Spanish Calendar. The intrigue was mainly
engineered by Lady Mary Sidney.
[148] Spanish Calendar, vol. i.
[149] Quadra wrote a letter to the Emperor on the 26th June, before
he received Philip’s instructions, worded in a way that was purposely
intended to deceive. Whilst saying that the Scots were not favourable
to the Archduke’s suit unless he brought enough money to keep himself
and also that he was strong enough to assert Mary’s claim to the English
Crown, he hinted that it was to France and not to Spain that she was
looking for a husband. No word is mentioned about Don Carlos.—Spanish
Calendar, vol. i. 340.
[150] Serious allegations of intrigues against the Queen had been made
against the Bishop by a former secretary of his to Cecil. Shan O’Neil was
known to have frequented his house; English Catholics were known to be
attendants at Mass in the embassy chapel, and many other complaints were
made besides the harbouring and connivance in the escape of the fugitive
Italian. The Bishop himself was placed under arrest and subsequently
deprived of the use of Durham House as a result of the investigation of
these charges.—Spanish Calendar, vol. i., and Domestic Calendar of the
same date, 1563.
[151] And not alone to Philip. The merchants of Antwerp wrote
beseeching letters to Cecil, and also to Gresham, asking for their
influence to procure the re-establishment of commercial intercourse.
The correspondence on the subject, extending over many months, is in
the Spanish Calendar, vol. i., and in the Flanders Papers of the date
(1564) at the Record Office, for the most part abstracted in the Foreign
Calendar.
[152] Some of the arguments he is directed to use sound strangely
incongruous as coming from Philip. “You may say that they cannot fairly
refuse the request about the [Catholic] churches, for even the Turk
allows Christians who live in his country to worship God in their own
way.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. i. 353.
[153] The meaning of this is that Dudley and his Catholic friends were
saying that the suspension of commercial intercourse was favourable to
them, as it was driving Englishmen to desperation, and would lead to a
revolt against Cecil.
[154] Guzman was warned by his master that he must be very wary how he
listened to treasonable suggestions, either from the English and Irish
Catholics or from Dudley’s friends, as in either case they might be
traps. If Dudley would get Cecil disgraced, Philip would be delighted,
but the hand of Spain must on no account be seen in it.—Spanish Calendar,
vol. i. 371.
[155] Spanish Calendar, vol. i.
[156] When Elizabeth visited the University of Cambridge on her autumn
progress, she declined, in consequence of want of time, to attend a
theatrical performance offered to her by the students. Before she reached
her next stopping-place she was persuaded to alter her mind, and she
returned to witness the play. To her annoyance the imprisoned Catholic
bishops were lampooned upon the stage with much sacrilegious buffoonery,
whereupon “the Queen was so angry that she at once rose and entered
her own chamber, using very strong language, and the torchbearers,
it being night, left them in the dark, and so ended this scandalous
representation.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. i. 375, Guzman to the Duchess of
Parma.
[157] The Duchess of Aerschot had written to her from Flanders to this
effect at the end of 1564.
[158] The King to Guzman, 6th June, 1565.—Spanish Calendar, vol. i. 433.
[159] Randolph to Cecil, 29th April, 1565.—Scottish Calendar (Bain).
[160] Cardinal Pacheco to Philip.—Spanish Calendar, vol. i.
[161] Labanoff, vol. vii.
[162] Spanish Calendar (Hume), vol. i., 16th July, 1565.
[163] Scottish Calendar, vol. i. (Bain).
[164] Scottish Calendar (Bain), 15th September, 1565.
[165] Ibid.
[166] Labanoff, vol. i.
[167] Spanish Calendar, vol. i. 497, Philip to Guzman.
[168] Diary of Sir James Melville of Hall Hill.
[169] How serious the situation was for Elizabeth, and how wide the
ramifications of the Catholic intrigue at the time, may be seen by a
letter written shortly after this by the English spy Rogers to Cecil.
Arthur Pole, who was a prisoner in the Tower, had surrendered in Mary’s
favour his claim to the Crown of England, and if he could escape from
his prison was to come to Scotland to support her with others of his
kin. Darnley himself, trying to outbid Mary, had boasted that forty
gentlemen and more in England were ready to serve him. Letters passed
fortnightly between the Countess of Lennox in the Tower and her son,
whilst every month an emissary of the northern Catholic gentry came in
disguise to Darnley from Carlisle. A regular plan, moreover, was prepared
for the capture and fortification of Scilly in the Catholic interest,
and the representative of the Irish rebel Shan O’Neil was made much of
by Darnley, who, amongst other presents, sent to Shan two hundred crowns
with which to buy whiskey. The hopes that Mary and Darnley built upon the
English Catholics and Spain were therefore well founded, if they had been
well handled.—Scottish Calendar, vol. ii. 293.
[170] Guzman to the King, Spanish Calendar, vol. ii., 16th February, 1568.
[171] One of the English spies in Madrid, Hogan, said that it was really
Feria who had got Man into the trouble.
[172] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[173] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii., 9th August, 1568.
[174] “I told him that, as for arranging anything of the sort between
the Cardinal and the Duke, I regarded such a statement as a silly joke,
the vain babble of the idle. I could assure him that to say that such
a treaty had gone through my hands was absolutely false. If I had done
such a thing against the Queen I should deserve heavy punishment from
your Majesty, and even from the Queen herself, such action being entirely
opposed to my instructions. I had never in my life had any communication
with the Cardinal, and I was quite sure the Queen would not believe
such nonsense.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii., 65. The English did not
seem to understand fully at this time Philip’s distrust of all French
interference, even that of the Guises.
[175] This letter is not in Labanoff, but it is probably similar to that
sent to Charles IX. from Carlisle on the 26th June.
[176] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii. 71.
[177] Paget House had been the palace of the Bishops of Exeter, and was
the first of the great houses on the river side of the Strand outside
Temple Bar, on the site of what is now called the Outer Temple. It had
been granted by Henry VIII. to Lord Paget.
[178] Very shortly after this, 30th October, when he had got into touch
with Mary’s imprudent agent, the Bishop of Ross, de Spes wrote to the
King: “I am of opinion that this would be a good opportunity for taking
Scottish affairs in hand successfully, and restoring the Catholic
religion in this country; and if the Duke [of Alba] were out of his
present anxiety and your Majesty wished, it could be discussed.”—Spanish
Calendar, vol. ii. 81. A week later de Spes wrote: “It appears as if
the time was approaching when this country may be made to return to
the Catholic Church, the Queen being in such straits and short of
money. I have already informed your Majesty of the offers made by the
brother-in-law of Viscount Montagu, on condition that they may look for
the protection of your Majesty.”
[179] Almost simultaneously de Spes went to the French ambassador in
London (La Mothe) and proposed joint action between them first to oust
Cecil from his office, and secondly to stop trade with England entirely
both from France and the Spanish dominions, the ostensible object being
that, if this were done, Elizabeth and her subjects would be obliged to
become Catholic to avoid ruin. De Spes even proposed that the French
should pull the chestnuts out of the fire for him by stopping trade
first. La Mothe, in writing his account of the suggestion to Catharine,
calmly points out the evident absurdity of both proposals. De Spes
apparently had no notion of the incompatibility with Philip’s objects of
joint action of France and Spain in England.—Correspondance de la Mothe
Fénélon, vol. i.
[180] These letters are in the Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[181] How dangerous the position was at the time is seen by a letter
(3rd December, 1568) from Sir Francis Knollys, who had charge of Mary at
Bolton, to Cecil, in which he says that he has less fear that the attempt
to release Mary by subterfuge as Cecil thought, than by force, and begs
for more troops to resist attack from without. “We all agree herein, that
this is an inconvenient and dangerous place for this Queen to tarry in.”
[182] Whilst this letter was being written, Cecil and the Lord Admiral
(Clinton) with a great train of followers and the alderman of the City
came to Paget House and demanded to see de Spes. Cecil angrily told him
that he had advised the Duke of Alba to seize English property, for which
disloyal act the Queen placed him (de Spes) under arrest, dismissing his
Spanish servants, and handing the charge of the house to Henry Knollys,
Arthur Carew, and Lord Knyvett. De Spes answered defiantly, and the
breach became wider than ever. Proclamations and counter proclamations,
or printed broadsheets, were issued by the English Council and by de Spes
respectively, each claiming that justice was on their side with regard to
the seizures.—De Spes to the King, 8th January, 1569, Spanish Calendar,
vol. ii.
[183] The King to de Spes, 18th February, 1569.—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[184] “Memoirs of Sir James Melville of Hall Hill.”
[185] Norfolk, on his trial, said that Leicester had also suggested the
marriage.
[186] De Spes to the King, 5th August, 1569.—Spanish Calendar. Nonsuch
House was in the occupation of the Earl of Arundel. De Spes, who had
not been admitted to the Queen’s presence for many months, had hopes at
this time of being received again to discuss the eternal question of the
seizures. But another hitch had occurred, as the Queen refused to receive
him without new credentials from Philip himself. It had been intended
to take him from Oatlands, where the Queen was, to Nonsuch, after the
audience, and there a meeting of the conspirators was to confer with him.
This plan, however, was upset by the delay in granting him the audience
with Elizabeth.
[187] The details of the Northern Rebellion may be followed closely in
the Calendars of State Papers of the period (Spanish, Domestic, Border,
and Scottish); in the Sadler Papers; in the Bowes Papers (Memorials
of the Rebellion of 1569, by Sir Cuthbert Sharpe). Wright’s Elizabeth
Papers, &c.
[188] Philip to Alba, 16th December, 1569.—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[189] These letters are in Labanoff and in the Hardwick State Papers.
[190] The Regent Murray had just been murdered.
[191] Antonio de Guaras to Secretary Zayas.—Spanish Calendar.
[192] Haynes State Papers.
[193] He was made to vacate Winchester House “because it had too many
doors”; and on the 10th August two of the City aldermen came to him with
an order to proceed to Saint Albans to meet a Committee of the Council,
who wished to discuss his proceedings with him. He went as requested,
but refused to discuss anything until the Queen would receive him, which
she had refused to do since his disgrace. He was confident even now that
they would soon expel him with ignominy. He was no longer an ambassador,
said Leicester, but a spy, and the sooner he was gone the better.—Spanish
Calendar, vol. ii.
[194] De Spes to Secretary Zayas, 6th February, 1571.—Spanish Calendar,
vol. ii.
[195] The letter is in the Cotton MSS., Caligula, c. 11, p. 469.
[196] Depositions of Ross and Barker.—State Trials.
[197] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[198] Cobham arrived in Madrid in May, when Alba’s memorandum on
Ridolfi’s mission was in Philip’s hands. As was usual in English affairs,
Feria was one of those asked to report on Cobham’s mission. He and his
colleagues recommend that Cobham should be curtly dismissed, and the
English again referred to Alba for the discussion of the trade dispute,
and this course was taken. An extremely interesting letter was written by
Feria to the King’s Secretary, Zayas, which is full of bitterness that
his former advice as to England had not been taken. Amongst other things,
Feria writes: “I understand that our object is to keep friendly with
England because it is not at present possible to undertake the subjection
of that country and Ireland. We were lords of it once and left it. The
friendship will be difficult to maintain if the Sovereign be not a
Catholic and our hold upon the Netherlands less firm. The Queen sees our
weakness and assails us with inventions and fears that she will marry in
France. She will no more marry Anjou than she will marry me.... If Cobham
is not dealt with in dignified fashion I fear that our efforts to avoid
war will only bring it upon us, and we shall find suddenly some day that
we have lost the Catholics, and even they will take up arms against us.
When the Queen once understands that the Catholics depend upon our King
she will not dare to break with us. There is no other way out of it. For
the last two years we have trodden the path of feebleness; let us now try
the other road.”—Feria to Zayas, 10th May, 1571, Spanish Calendar, vol.
ii.
[199] MSS. Simancas, Estado 823. Portions of the document are reproduced
by Mignet.
[200] The whole of the depositions will be found in the Hatfield Papers
Historical MSS. Commission, and the circumstances are related in the
Spanish Calendar.
[201] Simancas MSS., Minuta de Consejo, Estado 823. It will be seen on a
subsequent page that the money, 200,000 crowns, was found.
[202] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii. Even after Philip knew that the plot
had failed and that Norfolk was in the Tower, he did not abandon his
hopes—for he was tenacious when once he had laboriously made up his mind.
In the instructions given to the Duke of Medina Celi in November, 1571,
when he was going to succeed Alba in the Netherlands, the King writes as
follows: “As regards England you will proceed in conformity with what was
communicated to you here and the Duke of Alba’s information, although
I do not think there will be much to do at present, as the Queen has
got scent of the business and has arrested the Duke of Norfolk and the
principal people concerned. She has also made the Queen of Scotland’s
prison straiter, and de Spes writes to me on the 21st October that they
are all in great peril, for which I am very sorry, though I still have
confidence that God, whose cause it is, will help us to forward the
matter as we wish. You will therefore hold yourself ready, in case the
Duke of Alba write to you at sea, to take any step with this end: in
accordance with Clause iv. of your instructions. I have thought well
to repeat it in this letter, _which for greater security you will burn
before you embark_” (the words in italics have been added in the King’s
own hand). Medina Celi is told that 200,000 crowns, half in gold, will
be handed to him for the English business, and must not on any account
be used for any other purpose, “but for this English affair, which I
sincerely hope that God will guide in some unexpected way for the good of
His cause.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii. 349.
[203] Scottish State Papers, Mary, vol. vi.
[204] That Elizabeth intended the expulsion of de Spes, and her
refusal to continue negotiations about the seizures, to be a political
demonstration to show her power and impress her new friends the
French, is seen by her conversation at this time (December, 1571) with
Cavalcanti, Catharine de Medici’s confidential envoy. The King of Spain,
she said, thought that he could separate her from the alliance with
France at any time; but however accommodating he might show himself in
the negotiations about the seizures, and however ready to agree to terms
favourable to the English, she would never trust Spaniards again, seeing
the trouble they had prepared for her in Ridolfi’s plots with the Pope.
The King of France might see how little she cared for the King of Spain
by the way she had ordered his ambassador to be gone without delay. She
wished Cavalcanti could have seen him actually on the road, but with some
pretext about wanting money he was here for a day or two longer. She
could assure him, however, that he should not stay in her country, and
she cared not whether another came or not.—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[205] “Recueil des Depeches,” &c., de la Mothe Fénélon, vol i. 375, and
Spanish Calendar.
[206] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[207] The French Huguenot force that had entered Flanders to aid the
rebels had just been utterly routed by Alba’s son, Don Fadrique, and
Charles IX. saw that unless he could dissociate himself from the
unsuccessful attempt he might be dragged down by the fall of the Huguenot
party.
[208] The story of the reception of the news of St. Bartholomew in
England may best be followed in the Correspondance Diplomatique de La
Mothe Fénélon.
[209] How soon division was introduced is seen by the action of
Catharine, who saw only a few weeks after St. Bartholomew the mistake
she had made in allowing the Catholic party to go too far, and once more
began to court the Huguenots and Elizabeth, and also by the suspicion
evinced by La Mothe, the French ambassador in London, of Guaras’ renewed
favour at Elizabeth’s Court. Writing on the 9th November, he says that
Alba is making all sorts of tempting offers to Elizabeth through Guaras
to draw her away from French friendship and send an ambassador to Philip.
“Guaras is intriguing for this with such good presents that I am told
that he has given more than 10,000 crowns to one personage alone, who has
some authority here. He has done so much that the Lords of the Council
have been busy for several days trying to come to some arrangement
with the King of Spain, and Guaras is often at Court.”—Correspondance
Diplomatique, vol. v.
[210] Guaras went to Kenilworth before the reception of the news of St.
Bartholomew to carry letters to Elizabeth from King Philip notifying
the appointment of Medina Celi to Flanders. Only a few days after the
tidings of St. Bartholomew the French ambassador wrote to Charles IX:
“It seems to me that these people are bent in any case in hatching some
new plan with Antonio de Guaras on the pretext of the letters from the
King of Spain and Medina Celi he carried to the Queen at Kenilworth. The
purport of the letters was simply to notify the coming of Medina Celi
to Flanders; but these people, in consequence of what has happened at
Paris, wish to make them serve for a further purpose.”—Correspondance
Diplomatique de la Mothe Fénélon.
[211] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[212] Correspondance Diplomatique de la Mothe Fénélon.
[213] This was not the first time that the suggestion of a marriage
between Mary and Don Juan had been made. A letter written by Lord
Burghley to the Earl of Shrewsbury, Keeper of the Queen of Scots, written
soon after the discovery of the Ridolfi plot, says that Elizabeth does
not complain of Mary’s attempts to escape to Spain or elsewhere, nor is
she offended by the proposal to marry young James to the Infanta. “Nether
that she sought to make the King of Spayne beleve that she wold geve
ear to the offer of Don Jon of Austria.” The real cause of Elizabeth’s
anger, says Lord Burghley, is Mary’s conspiracy to raise a revolution in
England.—Talbot Papers (Lodge).
[214] One of Burghley’s spies, Lane, a Catholic, ventured even to
reproach the minister for talking so much to Guaras on foreign policy.
It appears that Burghley’s hare-brained son-in-law, Lord Oxford, and
another English noble were in secret negotiation with Guaras to do some
service to the Spaniards in Flanders, Guaras to find the necessary
money on Oxford’s pledge. Lane advises Burghley to put a spoke into the
wheel. Lane says that unless Guaras is employed in some way—preferably
in Ireland on Government affairs—he may develop pernicious activity
elsewhere.—Hatfield Papers, vol. ii., June, 1573.
[215] Hardwick State Papers.
[216] At this time (March, 1575) Orange, despairing of efficient aid from
Elizabeth, was wooing the French. His daughter was to marry Alençon,
who was to join Condé and a French army to assist the Flemings against
Philip. This at once made Elizabeth turn to Spain. Not only was she,
as we see, polite to Guaras, but she sent Henry Cobham to Spain as an
ambassador in August to assure Philip that on no account would she allow
any French domination of Flanders. A fleet of Spanish transports, too, on
the way to Flanders were received with effusion now in the English ports
by the Government though not by the English sailors.—Spanish Calendar,
vol. ii.
[217] Fleetwood to Lord Burghley.—Wright’s State Papers.
[218] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[219] Fleetwood, in one of his letters to Cecil (Wright’s State Papers),
gives particulars of one such. A son of Alderman Lee came and said that
his brother, although a Catholic, was in perpetual prison in Spain, the
reason being that Guaras having bought a ship called the _Clock_, had
given to Lee £160 to man the ship and attack Flushing. Lee having failed
to carry out the plan to his satisfaction, Guaras had had him kidnapped
and imprisoned in Spain. Guaras, he said, had thirty or forty spies in
his service, who used to sit or walk in his hall downstairs at night
without a candle, until, one by one, they were led up to Guaras’ room by
Dela to report what they had discovered. Guaras’ house at Dowgate, Thames
Street, was on a portion of the site covered by Cannon Street Station,
and was bought by the Drapers’ Company on his conviction.—Domestic
Calendar.
[220] Hatfield Papers, vol. ii., and Spanish Calendar.
[221] Guaras had the incredible imprudence to write a violent,
treasonable letter to Don Juan from Newgate itself, dated 14th November.
Though he is a prisoner, he will continue to perform his work by the aid
of friends. All has been seized, but he now sends his son, who is as
zealous as himself, to Spain through France. The draft in Spanish was, of
course, taken from the prisoner when he was transferred to the Tower, and
is now in the Record Office.—Flanders Correspondence, iii. 101.
[222] Her great complaint against Don Juan is founded on his plots with
Mary Stuart, as disclosed by the intercepted letters of his secretary,
Escobedo. “Not that she is afraid of him, but she does not wish knowingly
to foster a serpent in her bosom. If the King asks for proof, let him
read Escobedo’s letters set down in the book above mentioned, and
consider his practices through his agents with her enemy the Queen of
Scots.”—Mr. Wilkes’ instructions, Foreign Calendar, 1577-78.
[223] In May, 1578, she sent Walsingham and Cobham to Orange to warn
him against the French connection, and to Don Juan, to say that if the
French entered Flanders she would send 20,000 men to help the Spaniards,
and if they were not enough, every man in her country should go.—Spanish
Calendar, vol. iii.
[224] Mendoza had come to England some years previously, on one of the
many abortive attempts to settle the question of the seizures.
[225] The unhappy Guaras remained in prison, treated with the greatest
severity, until May, 1579. Mendoza appears to have pressed his case
rather languidly, unwilling to embitter national relations further for
the sake of so plebeian and insignificant a person as Guaras. A wealthy
brother of the latter, named Gombal de Guaras, came to London early in
1579 to try whether bribery could release the prisoner. Mendoza was
furiously angry at this interference, and had nothing but scorn for
Gombal’s boastful tactics on ’Change. Gombal spent large sums of money
to forward the release, and notwithstanding Mendoza’s assertion that
Guaras would have been released earlier but for his brother’s boasts
and turbulence it is doubtful whether the poor man would ever have got
out at all without his expenditure. All sorts of hard conditions were
imposed upon Guaras on his release. All his debts had to be paid and
his maintenance in prison; he had to leave England at once without
communicating with anybody, and was never again to return. He left
England a ruined man, and died in 1584 at his birthplace, Tarrazona,
and later his heirs prayed unsuccessfully for repayment of the money he
had disbursed in England.—Spanish Calendar, vol. ii., and Españoles é
Ingleses en el Siglo XVI., por Martin Hume (Madrid, 1903).
[226] Philip, in reply to the suggestion to bribe the English ministers,
orders Mendoza to send a schedule of the sums to be paid to each. When
he has quite satisfied himself that they will have value for the money
the latter shall be sent. “It is necessary, however, that before doing
anything, we should have this information, so as not to cast our seed on
stony ground, nor give money to people who will cheat us and laugh at us.”
[227] The reason given by Elizabeth for sending Guaras back to prison
was that she had heard anew that he had been serving as the agent of the
Irish rebels.
[228] Spanish Calendar, vol. ii.
[229] Vargas Mexia at once saw the immense importance of this declaration
and wrote to Philip (13th February): “Such is the present condition
of England, with signs of revolt everywhere, the Queen in alarm,
the Catholic party numerous, the serious events in Ireland, and the
distrust aroused by your Majesty’s fleet, that I really believe that
if so much as a cat moved, the whole edifice would crumble down in
three days beyond repair. If your Majesty had England and Scotland
attached to you, directly or indirectly, you might consider the States
of Flanders conquered, in which case you could lay down the law for the
whole world.” The adhesion of Guise as Philip’s servant made all the
difference.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii. It was certainly not the case
that Guise and Beton had _persuaded_ Mary to take this course. It is far
more likely that she persuaded them, as she had seen for many years,
as has been proved in the chapters of this book, that her only hope of
effectively establishing her claim was to obtain Spanish support. Up to
this time the Guises had rather obstructed this than otherwise, as they
looked to Mary’s elevation to serve their own ambitions, which were not
identical with those of Philip. The Duke of Guise in question was Mary’s
first cousin, Henry of Lorraine, aged at this time thirty years.
[230] If we are to believe Camden, who was a fellow-student of Parsons’
at Balliol, this guise was not altogether strange to him. “He was,” he
says, “a violent, fierce-natured man of rough behaviour.... When he was
young the fellow was much noted for his singular impudency and disorder
in apparel, going in great barrel hose, as was the fashion of hacksters
in those days, and drawing also deep in a barrel of ale.” Another
contemporary of his, Archbishop Abbot, who was a Fellow of Balliol,
describes him as being “a man wonderfully given to scoffing, and with
that bitterness which was the cause that none of the company loved him.”
He was Bursar of Balliol—and of course a Protestant—until 1573, when he
got into trouble over his accounts, and for this and other reasons he
resigned his Fellowship. He lived abroad thenceforward until he returned,
as here described, as Provincial of the Jesuits for England, having
entered the Society in 1575.
[231] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[232] A few months later, when Mendoza sought audience of the Queen, to
remonstrate by Philip’s orders with her about her aid to Don Antonio,
Leicester and Hatton strongly opposed an audience being granted, whilst
Cecil, who always advocated a conciliatory course with Spain, insisted
upon Mendoza being received. “Leicester, whilst he was at supper lately,
said that he would either turn me out of here or lose his life and
property in the attempt; whilst Hatton, in the presence chamber in the
hearing of the household, cried that he would do his best to get me
expelled, for the Queen trembled every time I asked for audience. When he
was asked by a friend whether this was because I spoke rudely to her, he
replied: No, it was not that, for no ambassador was more courteous and
respectful, but I communicated things in such a way that she trembled
when she heard me.”—Mendoza to the King, 1st October, 1581, Spanish
Calendar, vol. iii.
[233] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[234] Mendoza, writing to Philip on the 1st October, 1581, dwells upon
the terrible sufferings of the Catholics, and incidentally reveals how
entirely now he had identified himself with those whom the Queen’s
Government held to be disaffected. Not even the gifts of friends to the
imprisoned Catholics, he says, may be given to the individuals, but are
divided amongst all the prisoners. “They are incarcerated with crowds of
thieves, and are left to die of hunger amongst them, in order that their
torment may be the greater. If any one goes to visit them he is at once
arrested, and consequently most of the gifts are sent through me and are
distributed by my servants, the Catholics alone receiving them. In like
manner I take charge of the money sent by the Catholics who have fled
abroad, and of the sums given by others for the Seminaries of Rheims and
Rome.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[235] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii. 188.
[236] Herll to Leicester, 7th November, 1581.—Domestic Calendar.
[237] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[238] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[239] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[240] Creighton had been directed to go to Rouen on the way to Paris,
in order that he might consult Parsons, who was then there to be in
touch with England. The Duke of Guise was near by, at his Castle of Eu,
and Lennox’s letters to him by Creighton were also delivered at the
same time. Even Father Parsons at this period had not penetrated the
antagonism of the views of Philip II. and Guise, though he subsequently
became the leader of the purely Anglo-Spanish party opposed altogether to
the interference of the French influence and the inclusion of James VI.
in the plans for the subjugation of England. At this time and for a short
time afterwards Parsons was in close touch with Guise.
[241] “The two Jesuit fathers who spoke to you about the Scotch affair
must have been very zealous, but their having carried the matter so far
as they did and communicating it to so many people may make it difficult
to keep secret. In order that it may be kept as quiet as possible, you
will detain the priest if he has not already started to come hither. You
can tell him, as if on your own account, that in order to keep the affair
quiet nothing more should be done till you hear from me. You may reply
to the Duke of Lennox to the same effect, dealing with the matter in a
way which will not lead them to think that you are throwing difficulties
in the way for the purpose of refusing the aid they ask for, but only in
order that it may all be managed on such solid foundations as to ensure
success, for which we should all strive, as it is so greatly in the
interests of God and the public welfare.”—Philip to Tassis, 11th June,
1582, Spanish Calendar, vol. iii. Philip’s message to Guise through
Tassis, in September, is in the same tone: “You will tell him I would
gladly have helped in the submission of Scotland, and still would do so
if I saw really good grounds for anticipating success and a willingness
on the part of the Pope to contribute such money as the case demands, as
he has promised me several times. You may dexterously hint at coolness in
that quarter, so that he may see that the affair is not falling through
by any fault of mine.”—Ibid. To those who know Philip’s style this
represents a determination to desist from participation.
[242] Mendoza had entertained several proposals for killing Orange, and
it was asserted that he had been an accomplice in the present attempt. He
was very indignant at the odium that this accusation brought upon him,
but it is extremely likely to be true. He and Mary Stuart had nothing but
praise for the crime in their letters.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[243] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[244] Dr. Hector Nuñez writes to Burghley in August, 1582, that Mendoza,
passing through Fenchurch Street in his carriage, was stoned and hooted
by a group of boys playing at soldiers, and had to take refuge in Lime
Street, where the Lord Mayor, Sir James Harvey, lived.—Hatfield Papers,
part ii.
[245] Mary wrote to him when she was deploring the confusion in their
plans caused by the muddling of the Jesuits and Lennox: “There are, as
you have pointed out, many objections to carrying out this enterprise
from France, and I wish it to be conducted entirely by you, sure, as
I am, of your faith and prudence.... I must therefore beg of you most
earnestly to continue here, and thus gain for yourself the honour of God
and man if the enterprise be successful, as you yet give me hopes that it
will be. The principal thing is for you to remain in England, but if that
be impossible, then in France.”—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[246] Roman Transcripts, Record Office, vols. xvi. and xvii.
[247] This was an ordinary course with Philip when he disapproved of a
plan proposed to him: to pretend acquiescence, but to propose that the
Pope should find the money, which he knew he would not do.
[248] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[249] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[250] Parsons, although always an enemy of Paget, was, up to the
period in question, as we have seen, an adherent of Guise and the
Scottish plans; but he appears to have changed immediately after his
return from Rome. Allen, who was older and more experienced, probably
indoctrinated him with the Anglo-Spanish view. Tassis, writing on the
15th November, 1583, says that Parsons “persists that upon no account
should the enterprise he commenced in Scotland. He is strongly of
opinion that the design upon England should be persevered in and the
heart struck at first: and he says that Allen is told this, by persons
on the Border itself, who prove it by irrefutable arguments.” Amongst
these arguments is one that was constantly used afterwards, viz., that
no matter what the nationality of the foreign troops, if they came to
England _viâ_ Scotland, they would be looked upon as French and opposed
accordingly.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[251] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii. (Paris Archives Nationales).
[252] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[253] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[254] To Idiaquez.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[255] Roman Transcript, Record Office, vol. xvii. Allen and Parsons to
the Pope and Philip, 16th January, 1584.
[256] The Cardinal of Como to the Nuncio in Paris, 9th April, 1584.—Roman
Transcripts, Record Office.
[257] Allen to the Nuncio in Paris.—“Letters and Memorials of Cardinal
Allen.”
[258] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[259] Tassis to Philip, May 27th.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[260] Bazan to the King and the reply. Fernandez Duro, “La Armada
Invincible.”
[261] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[262] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[263] Philip to Mendoza, 5th July, 1585.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[264] Philip to Mendoza, 17th August.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[265] Philip to Mendoza, 23rd July, 1585.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[266] It appears, from a letter written by the Marquis of Santa Cruz
in 1586, that all the English ships were released in a week or so
without any damage being done to them, whereas the embargo upon Spanish
property in England was not raised at all. Santa Cruz represents that
the English were the aggressors; probably some religious point was made
the pretext for the attempt to take possession of the _Primrose_ by
the Lieutenant-Governor of Biscay. The Spaniards insist that none of
the ships were embargoed until the _Primrose_ had sailed away with her
“captors.”
[267] The correspondence of Olivares detailing his negotiations with
Sixtus is in the Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[268] Mendoza to Philip, Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[269] Parsons to Idiaquez, 30th June, 1597. Transcript printed in
“Letters and Memorials of Cardinal Allen.” The original cannot now be
found in the Simancas Archives.
[270] That she knew this is seen in the letter where she implores
Mendoza to keep the matter secret, or she will lose her French dowry.
It is curious, however, that in the same letter she prays for rewards
for Morgan and the Pagets, whom Parsons represents as being strongly
anti-Spanish.
[271] Mendoza to Philip, 26th June, 1586.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[272] Philip to Mendoza, 18th July, 1586.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[273] Mary to Mendoza, 27th July, 1586.—Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[274] It was asserted by Mendoza that Raleigh was one of these, which is
incredible.
[275] If the postscript to her letter to Babington of 17th July, 1586
(Record Office, “Mary Queen of Scots,” vol. xviii.), be genuine, as I
believe, there can be no doubt of this, but her letter to the French
ambassador, Chateauneuf (17th July), is also compromising (Labanoff).
[276] See p. 420.
[277] These were Castilian ducats worth 11 reals (2s. 5½d.), or £467,444,
which would represent in present value nearly £3,000,000.
[278] These letters (copied by me in the Paris Archives) are in the
Spanish Calendar, vol. iii.
[279] Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma, had married a Portuguese
princess, and his children had a better right to the Crowns of Portugal
and England than Philip had. The English Catholic refugees in Flanders
were already suggesting that the young Prince of Parma should marry
Arabella Stuart and reign over England when it had been conquered.
Farnese himself was approached by different English parties, even by
the moderate conforming Catholics in Elizabeth’s Court during the
negotiations, with a view to divide him from the Spaniards on this
question of the succession. The Spanish officers, after the defeat of
the Armada, failing to understand the tactical reasons that kept Farnese
inactive, openly accused him of treachery. There is no doubt that Farnese
was hurt, and justifiably so, at the contemptuous disregard for his
children’s rights, but he was certainly loyal to Philip.
[280] Spanish Calendar, vol. iii. 681.
[281] Philip afterwards ordered that the aid should be confined to a
money subvention, but Parma determined, if possible, to send the armed
contingent, though the whole scheme fell through.
[282] Spanish Calendar, vols. iii. and iv.
[283] Spanish Calendar, vol. iv.
[284] To prove the importance of this point, one of Mendoza’s arguments
in favour of the proposal of Huntly and the Scottish Catholics to attack
England across the Border by land instead of by an invading fleet, was
the great cost of the pipe staves, which he said had already been 150,000
ducats.
[285] Spanish Calendar, vol. iv. 135.
[286] This had been, and continued to be, an absolute condition of
Parma’s, without which he would not move at all. We shall see how the
promise was treated.
[287] There is, unfortunately, no space here to give details of the
endless pourparlers that went on. Much of the correspondence from the
English Commissioners is in the Flanders Papers in the Record Office, and
in British Museum Cotton MSS. Vespasian CVII., whilst Parma’s letters on
the subject to Philip are abstracted in the Calendars of Spanish State
Papers, vol. iv., under the editorship of the present writer.
[288] Spanish Calendar, vol. iv.
[289] Parma to Philip, 20th March, 1588.—Spanish Calendar.
[290] The letters of Medina Sidonia and Philip have been printed in
Spanish by Captain Fernandez Duro in “La Armada Invincible.”
[291] “La Armada Invincible.”
INDEX
A
Alava, Don Francés, Spanish ambassador in France, 320-23
Alba, Duchess of, in England, 84-86, 88
Alba, Duke of, 53, 67, 68, 73, 85, 117, 142, 148, 150, 197, 218, 226,
231, 232.
In Flanders, 258, 265, 266, 268, 271, 272, 275, 277-78, 282,
283-88, 297-316, 319, 324, 327, 330, 333.
Retires from Flanders, 334.
In Portugal, 372
Alençon, Duke of, 321, 326, 327, 342, 345, 350, 352, 358, 361, 370,
376, 388, 395-96, 399, 422
Allen, Dr. (Cardinal), 383, 385, 391, 404, 405, 406, 416, 418, 419,
425, 432, 457, 458, 459, 471, 484, 485
Alvarez, Dr., Portuguese ambassador, 270-71
Anna of Austria, Philip’s fourth wife, 300
Antonio, Don, Portuguese Pretender, 371-73, 375, 379, 380, 396, 405,
411, 413, 420, 427, 429, 441, 447, 450
Armada, the evolution of the, 420, 421, 425, 427, 431, 432, 447, 448,
449, 450, 451, 452, 453, 458, 462.
Orders given to, 466-70, 475-78, 479, 480-82.
The catastrophe, 483-84
Arundel, Earl of (Fitzallan), 14, 37, 40, 62, 67, 174, 281-82,
284-88, 290, 302, 303
Arundel, Earl of (Howard), 409, 439
Arundell, Charles, 409
Ashton, 136
B
Babington plot, 434-44
Bacon, Sir Nicholas, 163
Bailly, Charles, 310-12
Ballard, Father, 434, 435, 439, 440
Barker, 306
Bayonne, the interviews at, 230, 231, 232
Bazan, Alvaro de (Santa Cruz), Admiral, his plan to conquer England,
420, 428, 447, 448, 449, 451, 462, 465, 466, 467, 469, 471, 474,
476
Beal, clerk of the Council, 441
Bedford, Earl of, 54, 56, 57, 66_n_, 145, 149, 162
Berga, Father, De Spes’s chaplain, 300
Bertondona, Martin de, Spanish seaman, 58, 476
Beton, Archbishop of Glasgow, 239, 363, 364, 366, 383, 384, 391, 400,
405, 418
Beton, James, 267, 270
Blanks, the Conspiracy of the, 450 _et seq._
Bonner, Bishop of London, 113, 115, 123
Borough, Admiral, 461, 463
Bothwell, 256
Boxall, Secretary, 161
Browne, Sir Anthony (Viscount Montagu), 43, 68, 303
Bruce, Robert, 450, 451-55
C
Cadiz, Drake’s raid upon, 460-64
Caithness, Earl of, 382
Calais, loss of, 151, 157, 168
Campion, Edmund, Jesuit, 367
Carew, 46
Carlos, Don (Philip’s son), 54, 135, 213, 224, 225, 228, 236, 238,
239, 240
Castelnau, de la Mauvissière, French ambassador to Scotland, 250
Cateau Cambresis, Peace of, 191, 195, 196
Catharine de Medici, 197, 210, 211, 226, 229, 231, 287, 303, 320,
326, 330, 345, 362, 384, 458
Catharine Grey, 196, 241
Catholic League, the, 195, 226, 228, 230, 327, 328, 422
Catholics, English, under Elizabeth, 200, 227, 228, 233, 246-47, 261,
271, 280-83, 285-88, 289-92, 293-95, 298-316, 361, 367-68, 376,
388, 405, 409, 416, 417, 434, 435, 439, 440, 485
Cavalcanti, Guido, 320_n_
Cecil, William (Lord Burghley), 9, 99, 149.
Elizabeth’s minister, 183, 187, 195.
Checkmates Dudley, 209, 226, 227, 247, 260, 273, 274, 278, 280,
282, 301, 317, 319, 324, 336, 345, 348, 358, 371, 374, 379, 395,
427, 437, 441, 459, 460
Charles, Archduke, a suitor for Elizabeth’s hand, 199, 202, 216, 219,
224, 229, 238, 239
Charles V. His attempts to gain the friendship of England, 2-19.
His advice to Mary, 17-18.
His abdication, 132
Charles IX. of France, 327, 352, 358
Chatillon, Cardinal, Huguenot leader, 268, 299
Cheyne, Sir Thomas, 145
Ciappino Vitelli, Alba’s general, 292, 294
Clarencius, Mrs., Queen Mary’s nurse, 40, 78, 179
Clinton, Lady, 184
Clinton, Lord, made Lord Admiral, 157, 162, 163, 167, 170, 225, 278,
379
Cobham, Lord, English councillor, 14, 15, 43, 310
Cobham, Lord (junior), 465
Cobham, Henry, Elizabeth’s envoy to Spain, 307
Cobham, Thomas, 310
Coligny, Admiral, 149, 268, 329
Como, Cardinal of, 401
Condé, Prince of, 226
Cordell, Master of the Rolls, 163, 179
Cordova, Pedro de, 86
Council of Trent, proposal by Dudley for England to join in, 203-10
Courtenay, Earl, of Devon, 19, 20, 22, 24, 32-33, 38, 41, 43, 46, 48,
49, 62, 113, 115, 116, 139
Cranmer, Archbishop, 41, 141
Crawford, Earl of, 450
Creighton, Father, Jesuit, 378, 382, 383, 384, 385, 386, 388, 389, 390
Crofts, Sir James, 358, 399, 465, 470
Cumberland, Earl of, 285
D
Dacre, Lord, 285, 293, 404
Dale, Dr., Peace Commissioner, 465
Daniel, 136
Darnley, Henry Stuart, Lord, 218, 221, 226, 235-37, 238-40, 241-54,
256
Dassonleville, Councillor, in England, 173, 184, 278-79
De Foix, French ambassador, 230, 231
Dela, Damian, 345, 348
Derby, Earl of, 61, 67, 80, 85, 302
Derby, Earl of (junior), 465
Desmond Rebellion, 359, 362, 364, 370, 375, 398
De Spes. _See_ GERAU DE SPES
D’Este, Cardinal, 421, 426
Don Juan of Austria, 334-40, 345, 349-51, 352, 355, 357, 362
Drake, Sir Francis, 369, 371, 381, 397, 413, 427, 429, 430, 460-64,
465, 479
Dudley, Lord Henry, 16, 41
Dudley, Sir Henry, 136, 139
Dudley, Lord Robert, 199, 202, 221, 223, 224, 225, 226.
Plots against Cecil, 227
(Earl of Leicester), 352, 355, 358, 371, 382, 395, 397, 427, 430,
449, 460
Dunblane, Bishop of, 457
Durham House, 43, 170, 199, 217, 446
E
Edward VI., 2, 3, 4.
Illness and death of, 8-12
Eglinton, Earl of, 382
Egmont, Count, his embassy to England, 43, 44, 45, 48, 49, 51, 55,
67, 76
Elizabeth, Princess, of England, 19, 20, 38, 39, 41, 46, 48, 49,
61, 64, 109, 110, 113, 115, 116, 122-24, 135, 136, 138-41, 156,
164-65.
Visited by Feria, 166, 174.
Acknowledged Mary’s heir, 175.
Her accession, 181.
_See also_ ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF ENGLAND
Elizabeth, Queen of England. Perplexity of Feria, 181-82.
Her first measures, 183.
The problem of her marriage, 182, 186.
Her reception of Philip’s offer, 192-93.
Deceives Quadra, 203-10.
Her policy towards the Dutch Protestants, 221.
Her statecraft, 224.
Fresh approaches to Spain, 226-30.
Her danger from Mary Stuart, 235-55.
Her fear of Philip’s designs, 258
Her retort to Alba’s proceedings in the Netherlands, 258.
Her anger at Dr. Man’s expulsion from Spain, 259-62.
Seizes the treasure, 275.
Embargoes Spanish property, 275-80, 292.
Her alarm, 301.
Her reception of Guaras, 325.
Friendly with the French, 326-27.
Alençon’s courtship, 327-28.
Her talk with Guaras, 341.
Receives Mendoza, 354-60, 370, 374, 379-81, 385-91.
Draws nearer to Spain, 395, 396.
Proposal to murder her, 401-3.
At war with Philip, 431.
Plot to murder her, 434-35, 439-41.
Tries for peace, 445, 459, 466, 470.
The Armada, 480-84
Elizabeth of Valois, third wife of Philip, 197, 226
Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy, 7, 108-11, 116, 140, 148, 186
England reconciled to the Papacy, 102-8
Englefield, Sir Francis, 392, 485
Enriquez, Pedro de, his account of England, 84, 86, 87, 88, 90, 102,
111, 112
Eric of Sweden. Offers to marry Elizabeth, 165, 176, 186.
A suitor for Mary of Scotland, 219
F
Farnese, Alexander, Duke of Parma, 350, 424, 445, 451, 452, 453_n_,
462, 465, 470, 471, 472.
Advocates peace, 475, 479
Felton, John, 299-300
Fenner, Captain, 429
Feria, Count (Duke of), 55, 67, 73, 86, 151, 153.
His dealings with Mary and her Council, 153-172.
Leaves England, 172, 173.
Returns to Mary’s death-bed, 177.
Visits Elizabeth, 166, 178.
Philip’s ambassador to Elizabeth, 181.
His bewilderment at the changes, 182-84.
His interviews with Elizabeth, 185.
His action in Madrid, 259, 265, 307_n_, 317, 324, 351
Feria, Countess of (Jane Dormer), 179, 202, 316
Fiesco, 292, 323
Figueroa, Viceroy, Imperial ambassador, 67, 79, 80, 165
Fitzwalter, Lord (Earl of Sussex), 54, 56.
_See also_ SUSSEX
Fitzwilliam, George, 316-18
Fleetwood, Sir William, 343, 347
Flores, Diego, 478
Fowler, a Lennox adherent, visits Guzman, 235-37
Francis II. of France, 197
Frobisher, Captain, 429
G
Gardiner, Stephen, Bishop of Winchester, 26_n_, 36, 40, 42, 45, 46,
61, 71, 75, 94, 95, 103-5, 107, 115, 130-31
Geneda, Don Diego, 33, 135
Gerau de Spes, Spanish ambassador, 264.
His violent character, 265-67.
Begins plotting at once, 268-69, 270, 271.
Causes seizure of English property and stoppage of trade, 275.
His indiscretion, 276, 277, 278.
Under arrest in England, 278-79.
Plots with Mary Stuart, 280-83, 284-92, 293.
The Ridolfi plot, 297-315.
Hoodwinked by Hawkins, 316-18.
His expulsion from England, 319, 375
German mercenaries for England, 156, 168, 169
Gifford, Gilbert, 439, 440, 443
Giraldi, Portuguese envoy to England, 343-44
Granvelle, Cardinal de, 4, 21, 99, 387, 388, 392-93, 394
Gregory XIII., Pope, 309, 338, 401, 405, 406, 421, 422, 423
Gresham, Sir Thomas, 112, 160, 161, 268
Grey, Lady Jane. _See_ JANE
Grey de Wilton, Lord, 145, 151
Guaras, Antonio de, 35-36, 267, 322-26, 330-33, 336-46.
Arrested, 347-49, 357, 359, 375
Guaras, Gombal de, 357
Guise, Francis, Duke of, 142, 143, 148.
Captures Calais, 151.
Death of, 235
Guise, Henry, Duke of, 365, 366, 384, 389_n_, 390-92, 393, 394, 399,
401-3, 405-7, 409, 417, 418, 422, 425, 426, 450, 451, 458
Guises, the, 200, 210, 211, 232, 234, 352-53, 445, 457
Guzman de Silva, Diego. Spanish ambassador to England, 222.
His first interviews with Elizabeth, 225-32.
His negotiations with Mary Stuart, 235-54.
His interviews with Elizabeth about the expulsion of Dr. Man,
260-61.
Begs Philip to recall him, 262.
Presents his successor, 264.
Elizabeth’s grief at his departure, 264-65.
Leaves England, 265, 268
H
Hamilton, Lord Claude, 440, 450
Hastings, Lord, 43, 99
Hatton, Sir Christopher, 370, 371, 373, 382, 396
Havrey, Marquis d’, 352
Hawkins, John, 273, 274, 281.
His trick on de Spes, 316-18
Hawkins, William, 273
Heath, Archbishop, Lord Chancellor, 141, 155
Henrique, Cardinal, King of Portugal, 362, 372
Henry VIII., 2, 32
Henry II. of France, 6, 95, 115, 139, 142, 188, 194.
Death of, 197, 200
Henry III. of France, 399, 425, 455, 456, 457, 486
Herbert, Dr., Peace Commissioner, 465
Herries, Lord, 257, 312
Hertford, Earl of, 465
Heywood, Father, Jesuit, 383
Hoby, Sir Philip, English envoy, 8
Holt, Father, Jesuit, 386, 388
Horn, Count, 67
Horsey, Governor of the Isle of Wight, 274
Howard, Lord Henry, 388, 399
Howard, Lord William (Lord Effingham), 43, 44, 61, 63, 64, 67, 76,
77, 135, 148, 157, 191, 225, 254
Howard, Lord Admiral (Charles 2nd Howard of Effingham), 441
Huguenots, the, 200, 210, 211, 226, 230, 232, 268, 273, 320, 326,
327-29, 353, 358
Hunsdon, Lord, 441
Huntly, Earl of, 382, 450, 454
Hurtado de Mendoza, Diego, 33
I
Isabel, the Infanta, 458
J
James VI. of Scotland, 363, 366, 377, 378, 382, 384, 386, 387, 400,
419, 422, 426, 433, 436, 438, 450, 454, 457, 458, 459
Jane Grey, 11, 13, 16, 19, 41
Jane the Mad, 56, 120
Jerningham, Master of the Rolls, 163
Jesuit propaganda in England, 365, 367, 368, 378, 382, 385, 398, 400,
419
Juana, Princess, Philip’s sister, 54, 56, 225
K
Kildare, Countess of, 85
Kingston, Sir Anthony, 136
Kirkaldy of Grange, 255
Knollys, Sir Francis, 277_n_, 441
L
Landau, Charles V. at, 2, 3
La Mole received by Elizabeth, 327-28
La Mothe Fénélon, French ambassador, 275, 287, 330, 400
Leicester, Earl of. _See_ DUDLEY
Lennox D’Aubigny (Duke of Lennox), 363, 366, 377, 378, 382, 389-92,
398, 399, 400
Lennox, Margaret, Countess of, 218.
Intrigues with Guzman, 235-37, 238-40, 241, 247, 253
Lethington, William Maitland, Laird of (Scottish Secretary), 213,
214, 215, 218, 234-40, 285
Lewis, Dr. Owen, Bishop of Cassano, 433, 457
London.
Rejoices at Mary’s accession, 14-17.
Mary’s entry into, 19.
Mary’s coronation at, 32, 34.
Wyatt’s appeal to, 15, 47.
Fears of the Spanish match, 34, 43, 52, 64, 86-90.
Philip’s State entry, 90-92, 93.
Ill-feeling towards Spaniards, 114, 120
Loo, Andrea, de, 445, 459
Lopez, Dr., 373
Lopez de Padilla, Gutierre, 54
Lorraine, Cardinal, 216, 226, 231, 232, 234, 238, 244, 265
Lumley, Lord, 285, 286, 290, 302, 303
M
Man, Dr., English ambassador in Spain, his expulsion, 259, 265, 270
Marnix, Jacques de (Tholuze), envoy to England, 9
Martinengo, Abbé, Papal Legate for England, 209
Martin, Sir Roger, Lord Mayor, 271
Mary Tudor, Queen of England, 8, 10, 11-16.
Her accession, 17.
Her reception in London, 19.
Her acceptance of Philip, 23-29.
Her anger with Courtenay, 32-33.
Her coronation, 34.
Pledged to Philip, 40.
The public announcement of her marriage, 45, 47, 48.
Anxiety for Philip’s safety, 51.
Her meeting with Philip, 76-78.
The marriage, 80-82.
Entry into London, 90-92, 95.
Receives Pole, 102, 109-10.
Difficulties with Elizabeth, 116-19.
Hopes of an heir, 119-21, 122, 123.
Philip’s absence, 130, 140-41.
Joy at Philip’s return, 144.
Declares war on France, 147.
Her grief at the loss of Calais, 153, 157.
Her poverty, 158-59.
Her decline and death, 171, 175-80
Mary of Hungary, Regent of the Netherlands, 3, 6
Mary, Queen of Scots, 39, 141, 187, 193, 197, 200, 211, 213, 224,
234, 236-40.
Marries Darnley under Philip’s patronage, 243-45.
Her designs against Elizabeth, 247-54.
Rizzio, 256.
Mary a prisoner, 256, 257.
In England, 262, 268, 269.
Her communications with de Spes, 277-88, 293.
The Ridolfi plot, 297-315, 316, 317.
Intrigues with Don Juan through Guaras, 336, 339-40, 345, 349.
Fresh plots, 365-66, 377, 383-84, 401-3, 410, 423, 434.
Bequeaths Crown of England to Philip, 436.
Her part in the Babington plot, 444
Mary of Lorraine, Regent of Scotland, 200
Mason, Dr., English Councillor, 14, 15, 16, 99, 100
Maurice of Saxony, 2
Maximilian of Austria, 38
Mayenne, Duke of, 401
Medina Celi, Duke of, 55, 73, 85, 315_n_, 317, 331_n_
Medina Sidonia, Duke of, 462.
To command the Armada, 477, 479, 481.
Prays Philip to abandon the enterprise, 482
Melville, Sir James, 254, 285_n_
Mendoza, Bernardino, Spanish ambassador to England, 351, 353-54,
355-60.
Plots with the English Catholics, 368-70, 377-83, 386-98.
His unpopularity in London, 398.
His connivance with Throckmorton’s plot, 408.
Expulsion from England, 410-12.
In Paris, 422-25, 433.
Connives at the Babington Plot, 434-45.
Metz, the Emperor’s defeat at, 5
Montmorenci, Constable, 148
Montmorenci, Jean (de Courrières), envoy to England, 9, 43
Montrose, Earl of, 450
Morgan, Thomas, 406, 435
Morley, Lord, 285
Morton, the Regent, 365, 366, 377
Morton, Earl of (Stuart), 450
Moryson, Sir Richard, addresses the Emperor, 1-4
Murray, James Stuart, Earl of, 245, 251, 255, 256, 284, 285, 287
N
Navarre, Henry of, 326, 328, 399, 422, 455, 486
Navas, Marquis de las, 54, 59, 67, 85
Noailles, Antoine de, French ambassador, 19, 20, 33, 41, 42, 43, 46,
49, 62, 79, 93-94, 115, 119, 134, 135.
His plots, 136, 141, 146, 147, 151
Nonsuch House, 288
Norfolk, Duke of (Thomas Howard), his plots with Mary Stuart, 281-83,
284-88, 289-92, 293-95, 297, 301, 306, 311-15
North, the Rising in the, 293-95, 297
Northampton, Marquis of, 62, 226
Northumberland, Duke of, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 12, 14, 15, 16, 19
Northumberland, Earl of, 254, 277, 281, 285, 290, 293, 293-95
Northumberland, Earl of (junior), 409
Nowell, Dr., Dean of St. Paul’s, 3.
Elizabeth rebukes him, 231
Nuñez, Dr. Hector, 398_n_
O
Oquendo, Admiral, 476, 478
Olivares, Count, Spanish ambassador in Rome, 421, 423, 426, 432, 433,
438, 457, 471
Orange, Prince of, 332-33, 352, 356, 369, 381, 395
Osorio, Isabel de, Philip’s mistress, 22_n_, 27
Owen, Hugh, 424
P
Pacheco, Don Juan, robbed in England, 84
Paget, William, Lord, 20, 24, 37, 40, 61, 99, 158, 163, 167
Paget, Lord (junior), 409
Paget, Charles, 339, 406, 408, 409, 434, 435
Paget, William, 436
Paget House, 238, 269, 278
Parry, Elizabeth’s controller, 184
Parsons (or Persons), Father Robert, 367, 383, 385, 389, 400, 404,
405, 406, 407, 416, 417, 419, 421, 425, 435, 457, 458, 471, 483,
485
Paul IV., Pope (Caraffa), 121, 141, 142, 150
Paulet, Sir Amyas, 345
Paz, Luis de, 219, 236
Peace negotiations with Parma, 445, 459, 465, 466, 470
Peckham, Sir W., 136
Pembroke, Earl of, 14, 61, 71, 80, 82, 97, 145, 225, 290
Pembroke, Countess of, 85
Pescara, Marquis of, 55, 67
Petre, Sir W., Secretary of State, 14, 24, 37, 40, 97
Philip II., 6.
To marry Mary, 21-31, 37, 38.
The conditions of his marriage, 42, 44-46, 50.
His coming to England, 52-65.
His presents to Mary, 54.
His demeanour in England, 65, 66.
Arrival and first sight of Mary, 66-80.
State entry into London, 90-92.
Receives Pole, 101-105.
His attitude towards Elizabeth, 116-17.
Leaves England, 125-26.
His influence on English policy, 129, 133.
His attempts to draw England into war, 143.
Visits England, 144.
Obtains armed English aid, 145.
England joins him in the war, 147.
His last farewell to Mary, 148.
The war and the English, 151-60, 162-63, 164.
His friendship with Elizabeth, 166.
He proposes to Elizabeth, 188-91.
His new policy, 195.
Alliance with France, 198-99.
Its inefficiency, 200.
His intrigue with Lord R. Dudley, 203-10.
His reception of Scottish approaches, 215.
His policy in the Netherlands, 220.
Patronises Darnley, 235-40, 241-54.
His determination to crush the Netherlands, 258.
Adopts a stronger policy towards England, 263.
Seizure of his treasure, 272-77.
Stops trade, 278-79.
Intrigues with Mary Stuart, 280-83, 288.
Accepts Ridolfi plot, 308, 313, 314.
His claim to Portugal, 362, 372.
His attitude towards Guise’s plots, 402, 407, 408.
Resolved upon war at last, 415, 421, 426.
His claim to the Crown of England, 436, 437.
His doubts of the Babington plot, 441-43.
Plans the Armada, 448-49, 450, 451-56, 457-58, 459, 466-74.
His obstinacy and the result, 483.
His failure, 487
Pickering, Sir William, 168
Pole, Arthur, plots with Quadra, 217, 255_n_
Pole, Cardinal Reginald, 19, 34, 95, 98, 99.
In England, 100-4, 114, 125, 130, 141, 143, 146, 155, 170.
His death, 179
Portugal, Philip’s claim to, 362, 371, 372, 396
_Primrose_, the attack upon the, 428
Protestant conspiracies against Mary, 136, 146.
_See also_ WYATT
Q
Quadra, Bishop Alvaro.
Philip’s ambassador in England, 196, 198, 199, 200.
Hoodwinked by Dudley, 202-10.
Scottish approaches to, 213 _et seq._
His death, 219
R
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 440_n_, 446, 447
Randolph, English agent in Scotland, 249, 255
Randolph, Major, 170_n_
Ratcliff, Egremont, 342
Recalde, Martinez de, 476, 478
Religious persecution, 96, 113-15, 123, 128
Renard, Simon.
Imperial ambassador, 9-18.
Proposes Philip for Mary, 21-31, 33, 37, 48, 49, 50, 51, 61, 62,
63, 65, 71, 113, 114, 122, 128
Requesens, Viceroy of Flanders, 334, 337
Ridley, Bishop, 41
Ridolfi, Rodolfo, 281, 297, 304, 306-11, 318, 375
Rizzio, 256
Robsart, Amy, Lady R. Dudley, 202, 203
Rochester, Sir R., 154, 163
Rome, the Armada intrigues in, 421, 426, 457
Ross, Bishop of, 285, 287, 289, 298-99, 302, 304, 310, 311
Ross, 306
Rutland, Earl of, 164
Ruy Gomez, Philip’s favourite, 55, 67, 72, 78, 92
S
St. Bartholomew, 328-30
St. Quintin, battle of, 148, 150
St. Quintin, English at the battle of, 149, 159
Sanders, Dr., Papal Legate in Ireland, 364
Sarmiento de Gamboa, 446-47
Schefyne, envoy to England, 9, 11
Sebastian, King of Portugal, 362
Semple, Colonel, 450
Seton, Lord, 382
Shan O’Neil, 217, 256
Shrewsbury, Earl of, 14, 16, 61, 67, 97, 302, 423
Sidney, Sir H., 202, 203, 210
Sidney, Lady Mary, 199, 202
Sixtus V., Pope, 423, 426, 432, 433, 438, 457, 459, 471
Spaniards, discontent of, 83-90, 102, 111, 112, 120
Spinola, Benedict, Genoese banker in London, 272, 273, 274
Stafford, Thomas, his abortive rebellion, 146, 147
Stanley, Sir William, 439, 441, 450
Story, Dr., 303
Strange, Lord, 43, 82
Stukeley, English traitor, 301, 362
Supremacy, Act of, 194
Sussex, Earl of, 61, 153, 157, 293, 342, 370, 371, 373, 379
T
Tassis, Spanish Ambassador in France, 383, 384, 389, 392, 400, 401,
403, 405, 410, 418
Throckmorton, Francis, 408, 409, 416
Treasure, the seizure of Philip’s, 271-77, 321-26, 331, 332
Tremayne, 136
Tresham, 377
U
Uniformity, Act of, 194
V
Valdés, Pedro de, 478, 483
Vargas-Mexia, Spanish ambassador in France, 364-65, 366_n_
W
Walsingham, Sir Francis, 328, 358, 397, 407, 409, 410, 427, 434, 441,
443, 444
Wentworth, Lord, Governor of Calais, 151
Westmorland, Earl of, 97, 147, 174, 293, 375, 404
Wilkes, English envoy to Spain, 350-51
Williams, Sir John (Lord Williams of Thame), 67, 68
Wilson, Dr., 345
Winchester, the marriage at, 72-84
Winchester, Marquis of, 86, 97
Winchester House, 287, 302_n_
Worcester, Earl of, 303
Wyatt’s rebellion, 47, 48, 49, 61, 62, 90
Wynter, Admiral, 273, 429
Y
Yaxley, Francis, sent to Philip by the English and Scottish
Catholics, 248-54
York, the Conference of, 269, 284
York, Roland, 450
Z
Zayas, Secretary, 305, 306, 313, 336, 346, 347, 359, 363
Zweveghem, Flemish envoy, 324, 326
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