For nearly half a century William Cecil, Lord Burghley, exercised greater influence over the future fortunes of England than ever fell to the share of a statesman before or since. It was a period when Medi?val Europe was in the melting-pot, from which, in due season, some of her peoples were to arise bright and shining, with fresh faiths, higher ideals, and nobler aspirations, to start on a new career of civilisation; whilst others were still to cling a while longer to the garb of dross which remained of the old order, and was to hamper them in the times to come.
How England should emerge from the welter of the old tides and the new, depended to some extent upon providential circumstances, but more largely still upon the personal characteristics of those who guided her national policy and that of her competitors. Never was nation more favoured in this respect than was England at this crisis of the world’s history. The conditions of the Queen’s birth compelled her to embrace the cause of religious freedom, whilst her intellect, her sex, and her versatility enabled her during a long course of years successfully to play off one continental rival against another, until she was strong enough openly to grasp and hold the balance. But withal, her vanity, her fickleness, the folly and greed of her favourites, or the machinations of her enemies, would inevitably have dragged her to ruin again and again, but for the fact that she always had near her, in moments of weakness or danger, a fixed point to which she could turn, a councillor whose gaze was never diverted from the ultimate goal, a man whom flattery did not move, whom bribery did not buy—wise, steady William Cecil, who, to her honour and his, remained her prime adviser from the moment of her accession to the day of his death.
It has happened that most of the historians who have dealt in detail with Elizabethan politics, and especially with Cecil’s share in them, have dwelt mainly upon the religious and ecclesiastical aspect of the subject, and have usually approached it with a strong doctrinal bias on one side or the other. It is true that Cecil’s life was coeval with the rise and triumph of the great religious schism in the Christian faith in England, that in his boyhood there was hardly a whisper of revolt against the papal supremacy, and that ere he died the Protestant Church of England was firmly established, and the country freed from the fears of Rome. Upon this text most of his biographers have founded their discourse, and have regarded the great minister as first and foremost a religious reformer. That he was at heart, at all events in his later years, sincerely attached to the Protestant faith, there is no reason to doubt; but before all things, he was a statesman who sought to raise and strengthen England by political means, and used religion, as he used other instrumentalities, to attain the object he had in view. He was far too prudent to say so, but he probably regarded religious dogma in as broad a spirit as Catharine de Medici, Henry IV., and Elizabeth herself. His youthful training and early circumstances had associated him with an advanced school of thinkers, who had naturally adopted the cause of religious reform, condemned by their opponents. The current of events and the blindness of the other side identified that party with the cause of national independence and prosperity; and for political aims, Cecil made the most of the support to be obtained from those who demanded a simpler and less rigid form of Christian doctrine than that imposed by Rome. But in the party of reform Cecil was always the most conservative element. Other councillors might be, and were, driven hither and thither by bribery, by passion, by a desire to flatter the Queen’s caprice, by religious zeal or mere ineptitude, but Cecil was judicious, well-nigh incorruptible, prudent, patriotic, and clear-headed; and though he was often obliged to dissemble and give way, he always returned to his point. Protestant zeal must not hurry the Government too far, or too fast, against the sworn enemies of Protestantism. England must be kept free from entanglements with Rome, but she must also avoid as long as possible national warfare with Rome’s principal supporter; for Spain was England’s buckler against French aggression, and the possessor of the rich harbours of the Netherlands where English commerce found its main outlet.
Throughout a long life of ceaseless activity, in which he had to deal with ever-varying circumstances and problems; hampered by bitter rivals at home and sleepless enemies abroad, Cecil’s methods shifted so frequently, and apparently so contradictorily, as to have bewildered most of those who have essayed to unravel his devious diplomacy. But shift as he might, there was ever the one stable and changeless principle which underlay all his policy, and guided all his actions. He had been brought up in the traditional school of English policy which regarded the House of Burgundy as a friend, and France as the natural enemy whose designs in Scotland and Flanders must be frustrated, or England must be politically and commercially ruined. For centuries England’s standing danger had been her liability to invasion by the French over the Scottish border, and for the first forty years of Cecil’s life the main object of English statecraft was to break permanently the secular connection between Scotland and France, and to weaken the latter country by favouring her great rival in Flanders.
When Spain, under rigid Philip, assumed the championship of extreme Catholicism, and pledged herself to root out the reformed doctrines throughout Europe, whilst France, on the other hand, was often ruled by Huguenot counsels, it will be seen that Cecil’s task in endeavouring to carry out the traditional policy, was a most difficult one, and he alone of Elizabeth’s ministers was able to preserve his equilibrium in the face of it. Some of them went too far; drifted into Spanish pay, or became open Catholics and rebels; others, moved by opposite religious zeal, lost sight of the political principle, and were for fighting Spain at all times and at any cost. But Cecil, though sorely perplexed at times, never lost his judgment. The first article in his political creed was distrust of the French, and it remained so to the day of his death, though France was ruled by the ex-champion of the Huguenots, and Spain and England were still at daggers drawn. In the first year of Elizabeth’s reign Cecil wrote: “France, being an ancient enemy of England, seeketh always to make Scotland an instrument to exercise thereby their malice upon England, and to make a footstool thereof to look over England as they may;” and forty years afterwards, when the great minister was on the brink of the grave, De Beaumont, the French ambassador, spoke of him as still leading “all the old councillors of the Queen who have true English hearts; that is to say, who are enemies of the welfare and repose of France.”
To allow the French to become dominant in Scotland would have made England weak, to have stood by idly whilst they overcame the Netherlands would have made her poor, and to these national reasons for distrust of French aims, was added, in Cecil’s case, the personal suspicion and dislike bred of early associations and tradition. The Queen, on the other hand, could not be expected to look upon the French in the same light as her minister. She was as determined as he was that the French should gain no footing in Flanders or Scotland; but through the critical times of her girlhood France had always stood her friend, as Spain had naturally been her enemy. Her mother’s sympathies had, of course, been entirely French, and her own legitimacy and right to rule were as eagerly recognised by France as they were sullenly questioned by Spain. But when passion or persuasion led her into a dangerous course, as they frequently did, she knew that Cecil, sagacious, and steady as a rock, would advise her honestly; and sooner or later she would be brought back to his policy of upholding Protestantism, whilst endeavouring to evade an open war with the deadly enemy of Protestantism, which could only result in strengthening France.
The present work will accordingly aim mainly at presenting a panorama of Cecil’s career as a statesman, whose active life was not only coincident with the triumph of the Reformation, but also with the making of Modern England, and with the establishment of her naval supremacy. In the space available it will be impossible to relate in detail the whole of the complicated political transactions of the long and important reign of Elizabeth, and no attempt will be made to do so. But Cecil, to his lasting glory, did more than any other man to guide the nation into the groove of future greatness; and the primary object of this book is to trace his personal and political influence over the events of his time: to show the effects produced by his clear head and steady hand on the councils of the able and fortunate sovereign, who transformed England from a feeble and distracted, to a powerful and united, nation.
The task of writing the life of Lord Burghley has been attempted more than once, but in every case with but indifferent success. The failure has certainly not been caused by lack of material, for no English statesman was ever so indefatigable a correspondent and draftsman as Cecil, and the stupendous masses of manuscript left behind by him frightened even the indefatigable Camden from the work of writing an account of Cecil’s ministry three centuries ago. “But,” he writes, “at my very first entrance upon the task, an intricate difficulty did in a manner wholly discourage me, for I lighted upon great files and heaps of papers and writings of all sorts, … in searching and turning over whereof, whilst I laboured till I sweat again, covered all over with dust, to gather fit matter together, … that noble lord died, and my industry began to flag and wax cold.” Strype also, who has reproduced so many important documents relating to Cecil in his “Annals of the Reformation,” and “Ecclesiastical Memorials,” was preparing materials for a life of the statesman, when death stopped his labour. Besides several less pretentious works by various authors, and the curious contemporary memoirs published in Peck’s Desiderata Curiosa, a spirited attempt was made seventy years ago by Dr. Nares, Regius Professor of History at Oxford, to produce a book worthy of the subject. After many years of laborious plodding through countless thousands of documents, the worthy professor produced one of the most ponderous and unreadable books in the English language, of which Lord Macaulay made merciless sport in his famous essay on Burghley. “Compared,” he says, “with the labour of reading through these volumes, all other labour, of thieves on the treadmill, of children in factories, of negroes on sugar-plantations, is an agreeable recreation.… Guicciardini, although certainly not the most amusing of writers, is a Herodotus or a Froissart when compared with Dr. Nares.”
The embarrassment of riches in the way of material is, indeed, the rock upon which most of the serious biographers of Cecil have foundered. In the Lansdowne MSS., at the British Museum alone, there are 122 folio volumes of Burghley manuscripts, which descended through the minister’s secretary, Sir Michael Hicks, besides large numbers in the Cotton and Harley collections. The Burghley Papers at the Record Office are almost innumerable, the foreign documents subsequent to 1577 being still uncalendared, whilst the priceless collection in the possession of Lord Salisbury at Hatfield consists of over 30,000 documents, bound in 210 large volumes. From comparatively early times many of the more interesting of these papers have been in print. The Scrinia Ceciliana in the third edition of Cabala, “The Compleat Ambassador,” the “Sadler State Papers,” Haynes’ and Murdin’s selections from the Hatfield archives, Forbes’ “Public Transactions,” Birch’s “Memoirs of Elizabeth,” Burgon’s “Sir Thomas Gresham,” Nicholas’ “Sir Christopher Hatton,” Burnet, Collier, Lodge, Strype, Foxe, Ellis, the Harleian Miscellany, and Tytler contain a great number of original documents from Cecil’s collections. Above all—since the excellent sketch of Cecil in the “Dictionary of National Biography” was written—the Historical MSS. Commission have completed the six volumes of Calendars of the Hatfield Papers to 1597, and the Calendars of Spanish State Papers of Elizabeth have been published by the Record Office. By the aid of these, and the Domestic and Foreign Calendars of State Papers, it is now, for the first time, possible to obtain a comprehensive view in an accessible form of thousands of documents which have hitherto been difficult or impossible to reach; and obstacles which have marred the success of previous labours in the same field, may, it is hoped, now be more easily surmountable. The sources above mentioned have all been placed under contribution for the production of the present summary account of Cecil’s political life, as well as some uncalendared manuscripts kindly placed at my disposal by the Marquis of Salisbury.
I cannot hope to have succeeded entirely where others have failed, but I have not spared time or labour in the attempt; and I have endeavoured, at least, to prevent my view of the events themselves from being obstructed by the documents which relate to them; and, so far as is possible in a short readable book, to present a general view of the policy of the reign of Elizabeth, especially with relation to the influence exerted upon it by her principal minister.
I have written with no preconceived theory to prove, no religious or political aim to serve, or doctrine to establish. My only desire has been to follow facts whithersoever they may lead me, and to pourtray a lofty personality who has left an enduring impress on the history of his country. I have not sought to present Cecil as a demigod—or even as a genius of the first class—as most of his biographers have done. The ways and methods of Elizabethan statesmen need not be concealed or apologised for because they do not square with the ethics of to-day. At a time when the bulk of the English people cheerfully changed their faith four times in a generation to please their rulers, it would be absurd to hold up to especial obloquy a minister for having persecuted at one time a religion which at another time he professed. The final triumph of England in that struggle of giants was won by statesmen who, like their mistress, owed as much to what we should now call their failings as they did to their virtues. Their vacillation and tergiversation in the face of rigid and stolid opponents were main elements of their success. Cecil was by far the most honest and patriotic of them; but he, too, was a man of his age, and must be judged from its standpoint—not from that of to-day. If I have succeeded in presenting more clearly than some of my predecessors a view of the process by which England was made great, the man who, above all others, was instrumental under God in making it so, may well be judged by the splendid results of his lifelong labour; and his reputation for religious constancy, moral generosity, and political scrupulousness, placed in the opposite scale, will hardly stir the balance.
MARTIN A. S. HUME
London, September 1898.
It may be stated as an historical truism that great organic changes in the relationship of human beings towards each other are usually preceded by periods of quiescence and apparent stability, during which unsuspected forces of preparation are at work. When the moment of crisis comes, the unthinking marvel that men are ready, as if by magic, to accept, and, if need be, to fight and die for, the new order of ideas. Although the outward manifestation of it may be unexpected, yet, in reality, no vast, far-reaching revolution in human institutions is sudden: only that the short-sightedness of all but the very wisest fails to see the signs until the forces are openly arrayed and the battle set.
The period of the struggle for religious reform in Europe was preceded by such a process of unconscious preparation as this. Over a century elapsed from the martyrdom of John Huss before the bold professor of Wittemberg dared to denounce the Pope’s indulgences. It is true that during that century, and before, satirists and moralists had often pointed the finger of contumely at the corruption of the clergy and the lax discipline of the Church, but no word had been raised against her doctrines. In the meanwhile, the subterranean process which was sapping the foundations of the meek submission of old, was progressing apace with the spread of printed books and the revival of the study of Greek and Hebrew. By the time that Luther first made his daring stand, the learning of cultivated laymen, thanks to Erasmus and others, had far outstripped the cramped erudition of the friars; and when at last a churchman thundered from the Saxon pulpit his startling doctrine of papal fallibility, there were thousands of men throughout Europe who were able to do without monkish commentators, and could read the Scriptures in the original tongues, forming their own judgment of right and wrong by the unobscured light of the inspired Word itself.
Thus it happened that the cry for radical religious reform in 1517 found a world waiting for it, and in an incredibly few years the champions of the old and the new had taken sides ready for the struggle which was to decide the fate of civilisation for centuries to come. By an apparently providential concurrence of circumstances, the personal characters and national ambitions of rulers at the same period were such as to enlist the hardiest and most tenacious of the European peoples on the side of freedom from spiritual and intellectual trammels; and eventually to ally the idea of political emancipation and personal liberty with that of religious reform, to the immense strengthening of both. The fight was to be a long and varied one; it can hardly, indeed, be looked upon as ended even now. Many of the combatants have fainted by the way, and both sides have belied their principles again and again; but looking back over the field, we can see the ground that has been won, and are assured that in the long-run the powers of progress must prevail, as we hope and believe, to the greater glory of God and the greater happiness of men.
The year 1520 saw the first open marshalling of the powers for the great struggle, partly religious and partly political, which was to lead to the triumph of the Anglo-Saxon race. In England, as yet, there was no whisper of revolt against the authority of the papacy. The King had just written his book against the new doctrines of Luther, which was to gain for him the title of Defender of the Faith; Catharine, the Spanish Queen-Consort, an obedient child of the Church, as became the daughter of Isabel the Catholic, lived in yet unruffled happiness with her husband; whilst the all-ruling Wolsey was plotting and intriguing for the reversion of the triple tiara of St. Peter when Pope Leo should die. The first step to the political rise of England was the election (June 1519) of young King Charles of Spain to the imperial crown of Germany, in succession to his grandfather, Maximilian of Hapsburg. The marriage of the new Emperor’s father, Philip of Hapsburg, the heir of Burgundy, with Jane the Mad, the heiress of Spain, had joined to her heritage Flanders, Holland, and the Franche Comté, and had already upset the balance of power. Francis I. had sought to redress matters by securing his own election to the empire, but he had been frustrated, and he saw a Spanish prince in possession of territory on every side of France, shutting her in. Naples had been filched by greedy Ferdinand, and was now firmly Spanish, as Sicily had been for centuries; the Emperor asserted suzerainty over most of Italy, and, above all, over Milan, which Francis himself claimed and occupied. It was clear that the expansion of France was at an end, and her national decline must commence, unless the iron bands braced around her by the Hispano-Germanic Empire could be broken through. It was then that the importance of England as the potential balancing power between the two great rivals became evident. Henry VIII. was rich in money, able, ambitious, and popular. He had devoted all his great energy to improving the resources of his country, and to reconstructing his navy; besides which he held Calais, the key to the frontier battle-ground of Flanders and France, and was as fully conscious of his rising importance as he was determined to carry it to the best market.
It had been for many years the main point of English foreign policy to counteract the unification of France by maintaining a close connection with the House of Burgundy, as possessors of Flanders and Holland, the principal markets for the English wool and cloth. This policy had drawn England and Spain together when the inheritances of Spain and Burgundy were united, and it had also led to the marriage of Catharine of Aragon in England. But Henry’s desire to hold the balance, and Wolsey’s greed and ambition, had made them willing to listen to the blandishments of Francis, and to consent to the distrustful and pompous comedy of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Charles, the new Emperor, had shown his appreciation of the threatened friendship between France and England, by his Quixotic rush over to England to see Henry earlier in the year (1520). His stay was a short one, only four days, but it was sufficient for his purpose. He could promise more to Wolsey than Francis could, and Henry’s vanity was flattered at the young Emperor’s chivalrous trust in him. When Charles sailed from Dover, he knew full well that, however splendid and friendly might be the interviews of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, Francis would not have the King of England on his side in the inevitable coming war, even if he did not fight against him.
This was the condition of English politics at home and abroad when William Cecil first saw the light at Bourne, in Lincolnshire, on the 13th September 1520. He came into the world at the opening of a new epoch both for his country and for the general advancement of civilisation, and before he left it the modern dispensation was firmly planted, in England at least, owing in no small measure to his sagacity and statecraft.
In his after life, when he had become famous, Cecil drew up in his own hand a private journal (now in the British Museum), in which he endeavoured to set down in chronological order the principal events of his life. It will be seen, by the specimen line reproduced under the portrait, that he was in some confusion as to the year of his birth and other events of his earlier years. The entry relating to his birth, as first made, is against the year 1521, and reads, “13? Sep. Ego Gulielm. Cecill nat? sū, apud Burne in Com? Lincoln?i;” but afterwards the date was crossed out and entered above the line, so as to correspond with the year 1520, whilst the blank against the year 1521 is filled in with the mention of the arrival of the Emperor Charles V. in London on the 5th June of that year. This also is a mistake, as the Emperor’s second visit was in June 1522. The entry with regard to Cecil’s becoming a student at Gray’s Inn in 1541 mentions that he was at that time twenty-one years of age, so that it may be concluded that the year of his birth was really 1520, although 1521 has usually been given by his earlier biographers. There is at Hatfield a little book which appears not to have been noticed or calendared, but which is, nevertheless, interesting for purposes of comparison, as I conclude it to have been the foundation or rough draft of the journal. It is a small perpetual calendar bound up with a custom-house tariff: “Imprinted at London at the Longe Shop adjoining St. Mildred’s Church in the Pultrie, London, by John Alde, anno 1562.” In this calendar the entry relating to his birth runs thus: “13?? Sep. 1521. Ego Gul. Cecill natus sū: 13 Sept. 1521, between 3 and 4 P.M.;” whilst his entering Gray’s Inn is stated as follows: “6?? May, 33 Henry VIII. Gul. Cecill veni ad Graye’s Inn.” No age is given in this case, so that it may probably be concluded that on copying the entries into his permanent journal he recollected the age at which he became a law student, and then saw that he was born a year earlier than he had originally thought, and at once corrected the statement he had written.
The question of his remote ancestry is of no great importance to the purpose of the present book, although Cecil himself, who throughout his life was a diligent student of heraldry and genealogy, devoted considerable attention to it; and Camden was at the pains to trace his descent to a Robert Sitsilt, a gentleman of Wales in the time of William Rufus (1091). It may be sufficient for our purpose to adhere to a written pedigree at Hatfield House annotated and continued by William Cecil, which proves, so far as such documents can, that the statements made by his opponents to the end of his life that he was of “base origin,” were entirely untrue. This pedigree traces the descent of the statesman’s great-grandfather Richard Sitsilt, who died in 1508 possessing considerable estates in Monmouthshire and Herefordshire, to the ancient Welsh family of Sitsilt; but its interest and trustworthiness really commences with Cecil’s own continuation of the pedigree from his great-grandfather to himself. At the end of the engrossed genealogy he has written, “Here endeth ye old Roole in parchm?,” and “The contynuance of ye line in ye heyres males untill this yere 1565.” This continuation shows that his grandfather David, the third son of Richard Sitsilt, came across England and settled at Stamford, whilst his elder brothers remained in possession of the ancestral acres at Alterennes, Herefordshire. In the perpetual calendar at Hatfield, this David’s death is recorded by his grandson as follows: “David Cecill avus meus obiit Oct. 27 Hen. VIII.” (1535). He was an alderman of Stamford, and appears to have possessed a good estate in Lincolnshire, which he purchased in 1507; and was appointed in 1512 Water-bailiff of Wittlesea Mere, in Huntingdonshire, and Keeper of the Swans throughout all the fen country.
Soon after the accession of Henry VIII., David Cecil, the substantial Lincolnshire squire, became a courtier, and was made one of the King’s serjeants-at-arms. Thenceforward royal grants and offices came to him plentifully, stewardships of crown lands, the escheatorship of Lincoln, the shrievalty of Northampton, and the like, which must have added greatly both to his wealth and his importance. No indication has ever been given of the reasons for his court favour, but it may be conjectured to have arisen from the friendship of his powerful neighbour Lord Willoughby d’Eresby of Grimsthorpe, who married Maria de Sarmiento, Queen Catharine’s dearest friend and inseparable companion; as the connection between Lady Willoughby’s daughter, the Duchess of Suffolk, and William Cecil, remained almost on a sisterly footing throughout the lady’s life. In any case, David’s influence at court was sufficient to obtain for his son Richard, the statesman’s father, a succession of lucrative offices. He was one of the King’s pages, and is said to have attended the sovereign to the Field of the Cloth of Gold a few months before William Cecil was born, and he subsequently became Groom of the Wardrobe, and Yeoman of the Robes. He, like the rest of the King’s favourites, fattened on the spoils of the monasteries, and stewardships of royal manors showered upon him. He was Constable of Warwick Castle, Bailiff of Wittlesea Mere, and Keeper of the Swans, like his father, and Sheriff of Rutland; and to add to his prosperity, he married the heiress of William Heckington of Bourne, who brought to him the fine property of Burghley adjoining his own estates at Stamford. When, therefore, William Cecil was born in the house of his maternal grandfather at Bourne, he was prospective heir to broad acres in a half-dozen counties, with almost the certainty of advancement through court influence in whatever career he might choose.
Little is known, or need be told, of Cecil’s early youth. He went to school successively at Grantham and Stamford, and in May 1535, when he was fifteen years of age, entered St. John’s College, Cambridge, to embark upon deeper studies. His anonymous biographer, who lived in his household in his later years, and can only have spoken by hearsay of his college days, says that he was so “diligent and paineful as he hired a bell-ringer to call him up at foure of the clock every morninge; with which early rising and late watchinge, and continuall sitting, there fell abundance of humours into his leggs, then very hardly cured, which was thought one of the original causes of his gowt.” It is, at all events, certain that he threw himself with avidity into the studies which were then especially claiming the attention of scholars, and in a very short time became remarkable for his wide knowledge of Greek especially, and for his extraordinary general aptitude and application. It is said, indeed, that he gratuitously read the Greek lecture at St. John’s before he was nineteen years of age. By good fortune it happened that the University was at the time of his residence the centre of a new intellectual movement, the young leaders of which at once became Cecil’s chosen friends. Already the new learning had taken fast hold of the brighter spirits, and although Luther’s works were openly forbidden, they were secretly read by a little company of students who met for the purpose at a tavern in Cambridge called the White Horse; Erasmus had left memories of his teaching behind him at Queen’s, and Melancthon’s books were eagerly studied. A brilliant young King’s scholar, named Thomas Smith, read the Greek lectures at Queen’s College, and assembled under him a band of scholars, such as have rarely been united at one time. Cheke, Ascham, Matthew Parker, Nicholas Bacon, Bill, Watson, and Haddon, amongst many others, who afterwards achieved fame, were Cecil’s intimate companions; and Cheke especially, who belonged to the same college, and was somewhat older, systematically helped him, doubtless for a consideration. Cheke’s capacity was almost as remarkable as that of his fellow King’s scholar, Smith. He was poor, but of ancient family, the son of a college-beadle whose widow on his death had to maintain her children by keeping a wine-shop in the town; although he subsequently became the Regius Professor of Greek, and tutor to Edward VI., and, by the aid of Smith, reformed the vicious pronunciation of Latin and Greek upon which the Churchmen had insisted. Humble John Cheke was Cecil’s bosom friend, and to his mother’s wine-shop the rich courtier’s son must often have been a welcome visitor.
Details of his daily life are wanting, but he must have been a well-conducted youth, for the amount of study he got through was prodigious. Catharine de Medici, years afterwards (1563), spitefully told Smith—then Sir Thomas, and an ambassador—that Cecil had had a son at the age of fifteen or sixteen, to which Smith, who must have known whether it was true or not, made no reply; but she probably spoke at random, and referred to Cecil’s early marriage. He left the University after six years’ residence, without taking his degree. Whether his father withdrew him because of his close intimacy with the family of the wine-shop keeper, is not known, but is probable. In his own hand he states that he was entered a student of Gray’s Inn, in May 1541, and that on the 8th August of the same year he married Mary Cheke, of Cambridge, the sister of his friend. The next entry in the diary records, under date of 5th May 1542, the birth of his eldest son, Thomas Cecil, his own age at the time being twenty-two (Natus est mihi Thomas Cecil filius; cum essem natus annos xxii.). In the Perpetual Calendar at Hatfield it is mentioned that the child was born at Cambridge, so that it may be assumed that Cecil’s wife still lived with her own people. The next entry to that relating the birth of the future Lord Exeter, records the death of his young mother thus: “22 Feb. 1543, Maria uxor mortua est in Domine, hora 2? nocte,” and with this bare statement the story of Cecil’s first marriage ends, though he never lost touch with or interest in the Cheke family, who appear to have been equally attached to him.
It may be questioned whether Cecil went deeply into the study of law at Gray’s Inn. It was usual to enter young gentlemen at one of the inns of court to give them some definite standing or pursuit in London, rather than with a view of their becoming practising lawyers. It is almost certain from a statement of his household biographer, that such was the case with Cecil. “He alwaies praised the study of the common law above all other learning: saying ‘that if he shoulde begyene againe he would follow that studie.’” He probably passed much of his time about the court; and his domestic tells a story of him in this connection, which may well be true, but which rests upon his authority alone. He was, he says, in the presence-chamber, where he met two chaplains of O’Neil, who was then (1542) on a visit to the King; “and talking long with them in Lattin, he fell in disputation with the priests, wherein he showed so great learning and witt, as he proved the poore priests to have neither, who weare so putt down as they had not a word to saie, but flung away no less discontented than ashamed to be foiled in such a place by so younge a berdless yewth.” The chronicler goes on to say that the King being told of this, Cecil was summoned to the royal presence, and delighted Henry with his answers; Richard Cecil, the father, being directed by the King to seek out some office or favour which might be bestowed upon his clever son. The Yeoman of the Robes, we may be sure, was nothing loath, and petitioned in William Cecil’s name for the reversion of the office of custos brevium in the Court of Common Pleas, which was duly granted, and was the first of the future great statesman’s many offices of profit received from the Crown.
At about the same time, or shortly afterwards (1544), Cecil’s connection with the court was made closer by the appointment of his brother-in-law, John Cheke, to be tutor to the young Prince Edward, and of his friend, Roger Ascham, to a similar position to the Princess Elizabeth. A general supervision over the studies of Prince Edward was entrusted to his governor, Sir Anthony Cooke, who was one of the pioneers of the new learning, and a member of the Protestant party in Henry’s court led by Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, Prince Edward’s uncle. The secular educational movement, which was now in full swing, had spread to the training of girls of the upper classes. The working of tapestry and the cares of a household were no longer regarded as the sole ends and aims of a lady’s life, and it was a fashion at court for Greek and Latin, as well as modern languages, to be imparted to the daughters of gentlemen of the newer school. Amongst the first of the ladies to be thus highly educated were the four daughters of Sir Anthony Cooke, who were afterwards to be celebrated as the most learned women in England, at a time when education had become a feminine fad under the learned Elizabeth. To the eldest of these paragons of learning, Mildred Cooke, aged twenty, William Cecil was married on the 21st December 1545, and thus bound himself by another link to the rising progressive party at court.
Already the struggle of the Reformation on the Continent had begun. The Emperor, alarmed at the firm stand made by the Protestant princes of the empire, had hastily made peace with Francis I., and had left his ally the King of England in the lurch. The spectre of Lutheranism had drawn together the lifelong rivals with the secret object of crushing religious dissent, which struck at the root of their temporal authority. The ambition of Maurice of Saxony, and disunion in the Protestant ranks, enabled Charles to destroy the Smalkaldic league, and in April 1547, after the battle of Muhlberg, to impose his will upon the empire. Henry VIII. had deeply resented the desertion of his ally Charles V., when in December 1544 he had been left to fight Francis alone, and during the closing years of his life the Protestant influence in his Councils grew stronger than ever. The old King died on the 28th January 1547. Parliament was sitting at the time, but the King’s death was kept secret for nearly three days, and it was Monday, 31st January, before Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, his voice broken by sobs, informed the Houses of Parliament that King Edward VI. had ascended the throne, under the regency, during his minority, of the Council nominated in King Henry’s will. The star of Seymour and the Protestants had risen, and soon those papistically inclined, like Wriothesley, and Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, shed tears indeed for the master they had lost, schismatic though he was.
With such friends in the dominant party as Cooke, Cheke, Cranmer, and Seymour, it is not surprising that William Cecil’s career emerged from obscurity and uncertainty almost as soon as the new Government was established. For a young man of twenty-seven he had already not done badly. His father was still alive, but in the first year of Edward VI. the office of custos brevium, of which the old King had given him the reversion five years before, fell in, and this brought him, in salary and fees, ￡240 per annum (￡6, 13s. 4d. salary and rest fees at the four law terms), and in addition to this, according to his household biographer, the Lord Protector appointed him his Master of Requests soon after assuming power. That he held some such office from the summer of 1547 is certain, as from that date forward great numbers of letters exist written to him in relation to suits and petitions addressed to the Protector. The office, as then constituted, appears to have been an innovation, as being attached to Somerset’s personal household, and intended to relieve him from the trouble of himself examining petitions and suits. In any case Cecil’s assiduity and patience appear thus early to have been acknowledged, to judge by the tone of most of his correspondents, many of whom belonged to a much more exalted social position than himself. In June 1547 Sir Thomas Darcy informs him that (evidently by order) he had inquired into the love affair between “Mistress Dorothy” and the young Earl of Oxford—who was a ward—and desires to know whether the Protector wishes the match to be prevented or not; and in the following month Lady Browne wrote to him in terms of intimate friendship, begging him to use his influence with Somerset to appoint her brother to the coming expedition to Scotland.
The master and fellows of his old college, St. John’s, too, were anxious to propitiate the rising official and to bespeak his interest in favour of their foundation, and the widowed Duchess of Suffolk (Lady Willoughby) consulted him in all her difficulties. The war with France was suspended, though the English forces holding Boulogne were closely beleaguered, and Somerset’s greed was diverting the money which should have been spent in war preparations; but in pursuance of the traditional policy of England, it became a question almost of national existence when it was seen that the French intrigues for the marriage of the child Queen of Scots and the final suppression of the rising reform party in Scotland were likely to succeed. Arran had signed the treaty with Henry for the marriage of Edward and Mary; but he, and especially the Queen-mother, Mary of Lorraine, had resisted the deportation of the infant Queen to England. It is possible that some arrangement might have been arrived at had not the ill-advised murder of Cardinal Beaton and the subsequent anarchy given to the new King of France, Henry II., an excuse for armed interference in protection of the Catholic party. Then it became incumbent upon the Protector to fight the Scots at all hazards, or French influence over the Border threatened to become permanent; a double danger, now that the religious question tended to alienate England from her secular alliance with the House of Burgundy. When Somerset made his rapid march upon Scotland with an army of 18,000 men, supported by a powerful fleet, in September 1547, his trusted Cecil attended him in the capacity apparently of provost-marshal, in conjunction with the chronicler of the campaign, William Patten. The decisive battle of Pinkie was fought on the 10th September 1547, and was in a great measure won by the dash, at a critical moment, of the Spanish and Italian auxiliaries whom Somerset had enlisted. According to the “household” historian so often quoted, Cecil narrowly escaped death from a cannon shot at Pinkie, but no other mention of the fact is to be found. It has been doubted whether at this time he held still the office of Master of Requests, in which he is said to have been succeeded by his old college friend Sir Thomas Smith, but there was no break in his close connection in some capacity with the Protector. About five months after Pinkie, in a letter to Lord Cobham, Somerset calls him “my servant William Cecill,” and refers to letters written to him on his behalf; and in June 1548 the powerful Earl of Warwick, who was soon to supplant Somerset, writes to Cecil, almost humbly thanking him for forwarding some request of his to the Protector.
Cecil’s position, however, shortly after this becomes clearly defined, and his personality emerges into full daylight. Against the year 1548 in his journal, the only entry is as follows: “Mes. Sep. co-optatus sū in of? Secretarij.” This has often given rise to confusion as to the date of his first appointment as Secretary of State, but there is now no room for doubt that the office to which this entry refers is that of Secretary to Somerset; and the appointment, like that of Master of Requests, was part of the Protector’s system of surrounding himself with a household as near as possible modelled on that of the King.
Thenceforward everything that did not strictly appertain to the official Secretaries of State went through the hands of Cecil, who in the meanwhile was imbibing the traditions of statecraft which were to guide him through life. Already the cabal against Somerset had been in progress before he went to Scotland, and had caused him to hurry back before he gained the full fruits of his victory at Pinkie. Mary of Lorraine and the Scottish nobles had almost unanimously rallied now to the French side, and had agreed to give the young Queen in marriage to the Dauphin, whilst strong reinforcements were sent to Scotland from France. Bound though he was to the extreme Protestant party, Somerset was therefore obliged to turn to the arch-enemy of Protestantism, the Emperor, for support and assistance. Charles had his hands full with his vast new projects of universal domination for his son, and was postponing the inevitable war with France as long as possible, and consequently turned a deaf ear to Somerset’s approaches. Public discontent, artfully encouraged by the Protector’s enemies, grew daily more dangerous. His brother, the Lord Admiral, had sought to depose him, and fell a victim to his own foolishness and ambition (20th March 1549). The attempt to interfere with the religious service in the house of the Princess Mary made Somerset even more unpopular, alienated the Emperor still further, and enraged those who yet clung to the remnants of the old faith. Then came the great rising in the West, the revolt of the commons throughout Eastern and Central England against the enclosures carried out by the land-grabbing crew that surrounded Somerset. In April 1549 Cecil was trying to obtain a grant of the rectory and manor of Wimbledon, in which he eventually succeeded, and he appears to have purchased at the same time some fen lands near Spalding; but although he was in the midst of affairs, and must have been the Protector’s right hand in most things, he was sagacious enough at so dangerous a time to keep to the routine work of his office, and avoided all responsibility on his own account.
When Warwick came back from his ruthless campaign against the peasants of Norfolk, flushed with an easy victory, the idol of a discontented and partly foreign soldiery, the time was ripe for him to strike his blow. Gardiner and Bonner were in the Tower, the Catholic party were being harried and persecuted throughout the country, the French and Scots in Scotland were now strong and invincible, the French fleet dominated the Channel, the town of Boulogne was known to be untenable; and, above all, an unpaid victorious soldiery looked to Warwick as their champion. Warwick himself laid the blame for all troubles and shortcomings upon the Protector, and summoning the officers of his army to Ely Place, constituted himself their spokesman for obtaining their pay. Through Wriothesley—now Southampton—Somerset’s enemy, he persuaded the Catholics that he disapproved of the religious pressure that was being exercised. The first step taken openly for the overthrow of the Protector appears to be a letter written by Warwick to Cecil, on the 14th September 1549, which shows, amongst other things, the high esteem in which the secretary was held. “To my very loving friend, Mr Cecille,” it runs,—“These shall be to desire you to be an intercessor to my Lord’s Grace that this bearer, Thomas Drury, captain of nine-score footmen, serving the King’s Majesty in Norfolk, should receive for them his pay for the space of two months.” Warwick knew full well that no money would be forthcoming for these men’s pay, and that the Protector was already being deserted by the councillors, who were finding excuses for meeting with Warwick at Ely Place rather than with Somerset at Hampton Court. At length the Protector could shut his eyes no longer to the desertion. The only councillors who were at Hampton Court with him were Cranmer, Sir William Paget, Sir William Petre, and Sir Thomas Smith, Secretaries of State, and his own secretary, William Cecil. The meetings at Ely Place and the growing storm against him found Somerset unprotected and unprepared. On the 1st October he issued a proclamation calling upon the lieges to muster and defend the King; but most of his advisers near him deprecated the use of force, which they knew would be fruitless against Warwick and the troops, and his divided councils only resulted in the dissemination of anonymous handbills and circulars stating that the King’s person was in danger from Warwick, and the summoning of such nobles as were thought most likely to be favourable to the Protector’s cause. Secretary Petre, who had advocated an agreement, was on the 7th October sent to London to confer with Warwick, but he betrayed his trust and returned no more. The King and the Protector had in the meanwhile removed to Windsor for greater security; but Warwick had gained the Tower and had conciliated the city of London, and it was clear to all now, that Somerset’s power was gone. All fell away from him, except only Sir Thomas Smith. The two principal generals in arms, Lords Russell and Herbert, rallied to Warwick. Cranmer and Paget, it is true, remained by the side of the Protector, but, like Petre, they played him false. No word or sign is given of Cecil, though he too remained with his master; but it is significant that all the letters to Warwick at the time are in the handwriting of Sir Thomas Smith, and at this moment of difficulty and danger sagacious Cecil recedes into the position of a private secretary, sheltered behind the responsibility of his master.
In vain Somerset, at the prompting of Cranmer and Paget, sought to make terms with Warwick. Finding that Petre did not return to Windsor, but that the Lords in London demanded unconditional submission, the Protector, in the name of the King, sent Sir Philip Hoby on the 8th October with an appeal ad misericordiam to Warwick. “Marry,” says the letter, “to put himself simply into your hands, having heard as he and we have, without knowing upon what conditions, is not reasonable. Life is sweet, my Lords, and they say you do seek his blood and his death.… Wherefore, good my Lords, we beseech you again and again, if you have conceived any such determination, to put it out of your heads, and incline your hearts to kindness and humanity, remembering that he hath never been cruel to any of you, and why should you be cruelly minded to him.”
This appeal was supported by a passionate prayer from Smith to Petre for clemency to the Protector. But Hoby also played false, and delayed his return until Warwick had secured the formal adhesion of Russell and Herbert. He then returned to Windsor with Warwick’s secret ultimatum to Cranmer, Smith, and Paget, warning them to desert the Protector, or be prepared to share his fate. Cranmer and Paget gave way, and washed their hands of the betrayal; Smith stood firm, and faced the consequence; whilst Cecil discreetly retired into the background, and apparently did nothing, though he was certainly present when Hoby delivered his official message, solemnly promising that no harm was intended, or would be done, to Somerset or his friends; “upon this all the aforenamed there present wept for joy, and prayed for the Lords. Mr. Comptroller (Paget) fell down on his knees, and clasped the Duke about the knees, and weeping said, ‘O! my Lord, ye see now what my Lords be.’” Paget’s crocodile tears were hardly dry before he sent a servant post-haste to London, saying that the Protector was now off his guard, and might easily be seized. The next day Somerset was a prisoner, and three days afterwards was in the Tower. Smith, Cecil, Thynne, and Stanhope were placed under arrest in their own apartments, whilst Cranmer, Paget, and Petre reaped the reward of their apostasy.
When the Protector was sent to the Tower, all of his friends were made his fellow-prisoners except Cecil. Smith was dismissed from his offices, and threatened with the extreme penalty for treason; but Cecil, the Protector’s right hand, through whom all his patronage had passed, escaped punishment at the time (13th October 1549). Warwick was apparently an old friend of his father, and had unquestionably a great opinion of Cecil’s own application and sagacity. This may have inclined him to leniency in his case, but for some reason not disclosed he was certainly a prisoner in the Tower in the following month. In a letter from his friend the Duchess of Suffolk, dated 16th November 1549 (Lansdowne MSS., 2, 24), she condoles with him for “the loss of his place in the Duke of Somerset’s family,” but says nothing to lead to the idea that he is in prison. But in the holograph journal already quoted, there is an entry—although, curiously enough, out of its proper position, and opposite the year 1547, saying, “Mēse Novēb a? 3? E vi. fui in Turre;” and his household biographer also records the fact as follows: “In the second year of K. Edward VI. he (Cecil) was committed to the Tower about the Duke of Somerset’s first calling in question, remaining there a quarter of a year, and was then enlarged;” but, as has already been explained, this life was written in the minister’s old age, and as he certainly was not in the Tower as a prisoner twice, the imprisonment referred to must have been that of November 1549 (3rd Edward VI.). There is, in any case, a gap in all known records with regard to Cecil for several months after Somerset’s disgrace, and he evidently had no share in public affairs for nearly a year after Warwick’s (now Northumberland’s) rise, during which time Sir William Petre and Dr. Wotton—who succeeded Smith—were joint Secretaries of State.
The Catholic party soon found that Northumberland had used them only as a cat’s-paw to satisfy his ambition; and that where mild Somerset had scourged them with whips, he would scourge them with scorpions. Gardiner and Bonner were made closer prisoners than ever. Princess Mary, who had practically defied Somerset about her Mass, was more sternly dealt with by Northumberland, her chaplains imprisoned, and her household placed under strict observation; Latin service was strictly forbidden throughout the realm, altars were abolished, and uniformity enforced; whilst Southampton, who had been largely instrumental in the overthrow of Somerset, found, to his dismay, that he had laboured in vain so far as he and his co-religionists were concerned. There is no reason to doubt that, even thus early, Northumberland’s ambitious plans were already formed. For their success two things were absolutely necessary: first, the unanimous support of the Protestant party; and next, a close understanding with France, which meant a reversal of the traditional foreign policy of this country. The attempt to supersede Mary on the death of the King, who was seen to be of short life, would be certain to meet with opposition on the part of the Emperor, and would necessitate the support of France to be successful. Much as Northumberland had denounced the idea of the surrender of Boulogne in the time of Somerset, he lost no time in concluding a peace by which the town was given up, the necessity for doing so being still laid to the charge of his predecessor; and the alliance between France and England, which included Scotland, was nominally made the closer by the betrothal of Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of the King of France to Edward VI. Soon Somerset, who still had many friends amongst Protestants, was released from prison, and in more humble guise readmitted to the Council. On every hand Northumberland courted popularity from all but the extreme Catholics, from whom he had nothing but opposition to expect.
Under the circumstances it was necessary to have by his side an experienced Secretary of State of Protestant leanings, as well as of assiduity and ability. Petre and Wotton were known to be more than doubtful with regard to religion; Smith had made himself impossible by the active part he took against Northumberland at the time of Somerset’s imprisonment. No man was more fitted to the post than Cecil, and on the 5th September 1550 he was made for the first time Secretary of State. In the “perpetual calendar” at Hatfield the entry runs, “5 Sep. 4 Ed. VI., apud Oatlands Guil. Cecill admisus secr? in loco D. Wotton,” and the Privy Council book confirms this, though the King in his journal gives the date of the appointment as the 6th September. Again William Cecil emerges from obscurity, and henceforward his position is unequivocal. As before, everything seemed to pass through his hands. No matter was too small or too large to claim his attention. His household biographer says of him that he worked incessantly, except at meal times, when he unbent and chatted wittily to his friends, but never of business. He could, he says, never play any sort of game, took no interest in sport or pastimes, his only exercise being riding round his garden walks on a little mule. “He was rather meanly statured, but well proportioned, very straight and upright, active and hardy, until crippled by constant gout.” His hair and beard were brown, before they became silver-white, as they did early in life; and his carriage and conversation were always grave and circumspect.
If his own conduct was ruled—as some of his actions certainly were—by the maxims which in middle age he laid down for his favourite son, he must have been a marvel of prudence and wisdom. Like the usual recommendations of age to youth, many of these precepts simply inculcate moderation, religion, virtue, and other obviously good qualities; but here and there Cecil’s own philosophy of life peeps out, and some of the reasons of his success are exhibited. “Let thy hospitality be moderate, … rather plentiful than sparing, for I never knew any man grow poor by keeping an orderly table.… Beware thou spendest not more than three of four parts of thy revenue, and not above a third part of that in thy house.” “That gentleman who sells an acre of land sells an ounce of credit, for gentility is nothing else but ancient riches.” “Suffer not thy sons to cross the Alps, for they shall learn nothing there but pride, blasphemy, and atheism; and if by travel they get a few broken languages, they shall profit them nothing more than to have one meat served up in divers dishes. Neither train them up in wars, for he that sets up to live by that profession can hardly be an honest man or a good Christian.” “Beware of being surety for thy best friends; he that payeth another man’s debts seeketh his own decay.” “Be sure to keep some great man thy friend, but trouble him not with trifles; compliment him often with many, yet small, gifts.” “Towards thy superiors be humble, yet generous; with thine equals familiar, yet respectful; towards thine inferiors show much humanity, and some familiarity, as to bow the body, stretch forth the hand, and to uncover the head.” “Trust not any man with thy life, credit, or estate, for it is mere folly for a man to enthral himself to his friend.” Such maxims as these evidently enshrine much of his own temper, and throughout his career he rarely seems to have violated them. His was a selfish and ungenerous gospel, but a prudent and circumspect one.
From the first days of his appointment as Secretary of State, the Duchess of Suffolk was again his constant correspondent. As she was one of the first to condole with him on his misfortune, she was early to congratulate him on “the good exchanges he had made, and on having come to a good market”; and thenceforward all the Lincolnshire gossip from Grimsthorpe and Tattershall reached the Secretary regularly, with many Lincolnshire petitions, and much business in the buying and leasing of land by Cecil in the county, although his father lived until the following year, 1552. His erudite wife, of whom he always speaks with tender regard, seems to have kept up a correspondence in Greek with their friend, Sir Thomas Morysine, the English Ambassador to the Emperor, and with the learned Joannes Sturmius, to which several references are made in Morysine’s eccentric and affected letters to Cecil in the State Papers, Foreign.
The letters of Morysine and Mason, the Ambassador to France, to Cecil are of more importance as giving a just idea of Northumberland’s policy abroad than are their despatches to the Council. The Protestant princes were already recovering their spirits after the defeat of Muhlberg, and the Emperor was again faced by persistent opposition in the Diet. Henry II., having now made sure of Northumberland’s necessary adhesion to him, once more launched against the empire the forces of the Turks in the Mediterranean, whilst French armies invaded Italy and threatened Flanders. To the old-fashioned English diplomatists, this driving of the Emperor into a corner was a subject of alarm. Wotton, in a letter to Cecil (2nd January 1551), expresses the opinion that an attack upon the English at Calais would be the next move of the French King, and that Frenchmen generally are not to be trusted; and Mason, the Ambassador in France (November 1550) writes also to Cecil: “The French profess much, but I doubt their sincerity; I fear they know too well our estate, and thereby think to ride upon our backs.” But, withal, though as yet they knew it not, Northumberland’s plans depended upon a close understanding with France, and during the rest of his rule this was his guiding principle. Mason had to be withdrawn from France, and Pickering, another friend of Cecil’s, more favourable to the French interest, was appointed; whilst Wotton was sent to calm the susceptibilities of the Emperor, who was growing fractious at the close alliance between Northumberland and the French, which was being cemented by one of the most splendid embassies that ever left England (March 1551). Prudent Cecil through it all gives in his correspondence no inkling of his own feeling towards Northumberland’s new departure in foreign policy, though the letters of his many friends to him are a sure indication that they knew he was not really in favour of it.
In home affairs he was just as discreet. His view of the duty of a Secretary of State was to carry out the orders of the Council without seeking to impose his own opinion unduly, and to the last days of his life his methods were conciliatory and diplomatic rather than forcible. He bent before insistence; but he usually had his way, if indirectly, in the end, as will be seen in the course of his career. For instance, one of the first measures which he had to carry out under Northumberland was the debasement of the coinage, though it was one of his favourite maxims that “the realm cannot be rich whose coin is base,” and his persistent efforts to reform the coinage under Elizabeth contributed much to the renewed prosperity of England. It would appear to have been his system to make his opinion known frankly in the Council, but when it was overborne by a majority, to carry out the opposite policy loyally. As will be seen, this mode of proceeding probably saved his head on the fall of Northumberland.
He was, indeed, not of the stuff from which martyrs are made, and when his first patron and friend, Somerset, finally fell, to the sorrow of all England, and lost his head on Tower Hill, Cecil’s own position remained unassailed. This is not the place to enter fully upon the vexed question of the guilt of Somerset in the alleged plan to murder Warwick and his friends, but a glance at Cecil’s attitude at the time will be useful. According to the young King’s journal, the first revelation of the conspiracy was made on the 7th October 1551 by Sir Thomas Palmer, who on the following days amplified his information and implicated many of Somerset’s friends. On the 14th, Somerset had got wind of the affair, and sent for his friend Secretary Cecil to tell him he was afraid there was some mischief brewing. Cecil answered coldly, “that if he were not guilty he might be of good courage; if he were, he had nothing to say but to lament him.” In two days Somerset and his friends were in the Tower, and thenceforward through all the shameful trial, until the sacrifice was finally consummated, Cecil appeared to be prudently wrapped up in foreign affairs; for to him had been referred the appeal of the Protestant princes brought by his friend A’Lasco, for help against their suzerain the Emperor, and to others fell the main task of removing the King’s uncle from the path of Northumberland.
Cecil’s position as a Protestant Secretary of State was one that required all his tact and discretion. Somerset was his first friend and “master”; and although it is not well established that the Duke personally was guilty of the particular crime for which he suffered, it is unquestionable that he had been for several months coquetting with the Catholic party, had agitated for the release of Gardiner from the Tower, and that his friends were busy, almost certainly with his own connivance, to obtain for him in the coming Parliament the renewal of his office of Protector. Light is thrown upon Cecil’s share in bringing about the Duke’s downfall, by the letters to him of his friend Whalley, who had been officiously pushing Somerset’s interests early in 1551, and had been imprisoned for it. In June he had been released, and was apparently made use of by Cecil to convey letters from the latter in London to Northumberland in the country, complaining of Somerset’s efforts in favour of Gardiner, and his intrigues with the Catholics. That Cecil should resent, as Secretary of State, any movement that threatened Northumberland and the Protestant cause at the time was natural. It will be recollected that he did not become Northumberland’s Secretary of State until the former had thrown over the Catholics—but it was perhaps an ungenerous excess of zeal to be the first to denounce his former patron. At all events, Northumberland was delighted with the Secretary’s action in the matter, and told Whalley so—“He declared in the end his good opinion of you in such sort, as I may well say he is your very singular good lord, and resolved that he would write at length his opinion unto you … for he plainly said ye had shown yourself therein such a faithful servant, and by that, most witty councillor unto the King’s Majesty and his proceedings, as was scarce the like within his realm.” Whalley concludes his letter by urging Cecil to remonstrate with Somerset. Whether he did so or not is unknown; but certainly for the next three months there is no hint of any serious renewal of the quarrel: the interminable proceedings against Gardiner continued, under Cecil’s direction, without a word from Somerset, and the measures against the Princess Mary’s mass continued unchecked.
The French alliance was now in full flush. All through the autumn the stately embassy from Henry II. confirming the treaty, and bringing the Order of St. Michael to Edward, was splendidly entertained at court; the Emperor’s troubles were closing in around him; Northumberland could afford to flout his remonstrance about the treatment of the Princess Mary; and by the beginning of October, Northumberland’s power was at its height. On the 4th October he assumed his dukedom, Dorset was made Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Wiltshire was created Marquis of Winchester, and Cheke and Cecil were dubbed knights (although several of the latter’s friends had insisted upon calling him Sir William months before). Then it was that the blow fell upon Somerset. We have seen how Cecil bore himself to his former master at the first hint of danger on the 14th October; and though we have no letters of his own to indicate his subsequent attitude, a few words in the confidential letters of his correspondents allow us to surmise what it was.
Somerset was imprisoned on the 16th October (1551). On the 27th, Pickering, the Ambassador in Paris, writes that “he is glad Cecil is found to be undefiled with the folly of this unfortunate Duke of Somerset.” But Morysine, Cecil’s old Lincolnshire friend, the Ambassador in Germany, reflects, evidently with exactitude, the tone which Cecil must have adopted. He speaks of Somerset as the Secretary’s old friend, and congratulates Cecil that he has not been dragged down with him. “For it were a way to make an end of amity, if, when men fall, their friends should forthwith therefore be troubled.” He plainly sees, he says, that the mark Cecil shoots at is their master’s service; “A God’s blessing! let the Duke bear his own burden, or cast it where he can.” Morysine might have saved his wisdom; Cecil would certainly bear no other man’s burden if he could help it.
Through all this critical time Sir William was indefatigable. His wife lived usually retired from the court, at their home at Wimbledon; but Cecil’s town house at Cannon Row, Westminster, was the scene of ceaseless business, for Petre, the joint-Secretary, was ill disposed, and did little. The Duchess of Suffolk, Lord Clinton, and all the Lincolnshire folk used Cecil unsparingly in all their suits and troubles, and they had many. Cecil’s own properties were now very extensive, and were constantly augmented by purchases and grants. He had been appointed Recorder of Boston in the previous year (May 1551). Northumberland consulted and deferred to him at every point; Cranmer sent to him the host of Protestant refugees from Germany and France: no matter what business was in hand, or whose it was, it inevitably found its way into Sir William Cecil’s study, and by him was dealt with moderately, patiently, and wisely.
In the war of faiths he was the universal arbitrator, and his task was not an easy one. The clergy had sunk to the lowest depth of degradation, and cures of souls had been given by patrons to domestic servants, and often to persons unable to read. The returned refugees from Switzerland had many of them brought back Calvinistic methods and beliefs, and between their rigidity and the English Catholicism of Henry VIII. all grades of ritual were practised. Cranmer was at the head of a commission to settle a form of liturgy and the Articles for the Church, Cecil, of course, being a member. After immense labour, forty-two Articles were agreed upon—reduced to thirty-nine ten years afterwards—but before finally submitting them to Parliament and Convocation for adoption, Cranmer referred them absolutely to Cecil and Cheke, “the two great patrons of the Reformation at court.”
In foreign affairs, also, Cecil arranged everything but the main line of policy which Northumberland’s plans dictated. We have seen how the question of aid to the Protestant princes of Germany was referred to his consideration, and the help refused. The subject was shortly made a much larger one by the utter defeat of the Emperor by his former henchman, Maurice of Saxony, and the invasion of Luxembourg by the French (July 1552). The tables were now turned indeed. By the peace of Passau the Protestant princes extorted the religious liberty they had in vain prayed for, and it was seen that for a time Charles’s power was broken. A considerable party in England, faithful to old traditions, were in a fever of alarm at the growth of the power of France, and Stukeley told the King that Henry II. had confided to him his intention to capture Calais.
The Emperor, ready to snatch at any straw, sent an ambassador to England in September 1552 to claim the aid to which, under the treaty of 1542, he was entitled from England if France invaded his territory. The whole question was referred to Cecil; and, as a specimen of his patient, judicial style, his report, as given in the King’s Journal, is reproduced here. It will be seen that he affects impartially to weigh both sides, but his fear of French aggression is made as clear as was prudent, considering Northumberland’s leanings. Throughout the whole of his official life this was the way in which he dealt with all really important questions referred to him, and his leading principle was to strike a middle course, which would allow England to remain openly friendly with the House of Burgundy without breaking with France, and to keep the latter power out of Flanders, while still defending Protestantism, which the ruler of Flanders was pledged to destroy.
How his actions usually squared with his axioms is seen, amongst other things, from his constant efforts to extend the commerce and wealth of England. Amongst the apophthegms which he most affected are the following: “A realm can never be rich that hath not an intercourse and trade of merchandise with other nations,” and “A realm must needs be poor that carryeth not out more (merchandise) than it bringeth in.” In consequence of the privileges granted to the Hanse merchants, nearly the whole of the export trade of England had been concentrated into the hands of foreigners, and in the year that Cecil was appointed Secretary of State, the Steelyard Corporation is said to have exported 44,000 lengths of English cloth, whereas all the other London merchants together had not shipped more than 1100 lengths. Cecil was in favour of establishing privileged cloth markets at Southampton and Hull, and of placing impediments on the exportation of cloths first-hand by foreigners, until the new markets had succeeded in attracting customers from abroad, so that the merchants’ profits would remain in England as well as the money spent here by the foreign buyers. Although this particular project ultimately fell through, owing to the King’s death and other causes, Cecil throughout his life laboured incessantly to increase English trade and navigation, by favouring the establishment of foreign weavers in various parts of the country, by laws for the protection of fisheries, by the promotion of trading corporations, like the Russian Company, of which he was one of the founders, by the rehabilitation of the coinage, and by a host of other measures, to some of which reference will be made in their chronological order.
The position of affairs during the last months of Edward’s life was broadly this: Protestant uniformity was being imposed upon the country with a severity unknown under the rule of Somerset; Northumberland’s plans for the elevation of Jane Grey to the throne were maturing; Southampton, Paget, Arundel, Beaumont, and the Catholics were in disgrace or exile; and De Noailles, the new French Ambassador, was working his hardest to help Northumberland, when the time should come, to exclude from the throne the half-Spanish Princess Mary. But though Sir William Cecil was the channel through which most of the business passed, he avoided as much as possible personal identification with Northumberland’s plans. It must have needed all his tact, for Northumberland consulted and deferred to him in everything, and as the time approached for him to act, was evidently apprehensive, and stayed away from the Council. This was resented by his colleagues, as will be seen from his letter to Cecil of 3rd January 1553 from Chelsea, saying that “he has never absented himself from the King’s service but through ill-health. The Italian proverb is true: a faithful servant will become a perpetual ass. He wishes to retire and end his days in tranquillity, as he fears he is going to be very ill.” When it came to illness, diplomatic or otherwise, Cecil was a match for his master. He had been, according to his diary, in imminent danger of death in the previous year, at his house at Wimbledon; and in the spring of 1553 he again fell seriously sick. During May, Secretary Petre constantly wrote to him hoping he would soon recover and be back again at court. Lord Audley comforted him by sending several curious remedies for his malady, amongst which is “a stewed sowe pygge of ix dayes olde”; and the Marquis of Winchester was equally solicitous to see the Secretary back to the Council again. Northumberland evidently tried to keep him satisfied by grants and favours, for he conferred upon him a lease of Combe Park, Surrey, part of Somerset’s lands; the lands in Northampton held for life by Richard Cecil, his father, were regranted to Sir William on his death, and during the Secretary’s illness and absence from court he received the office of Chancellor of the Order of the Garter, with an income of 100 marks a year and fees. But Cecil’s illness, real or feigned, made him in no hurry to return and take a prominent part in Northumberland’s dangerous game, which was now patent. During his absence his brother-in-law, Sir John Cheke, was appointed as an additional Secretary of State to help Petre (June 1553), and his fervent Protestantism and weakness of will made him a less wary instrument than Sir William in the final stages of the intrigue.
It was during Cecil’s absence from court in May that Lady Jane Grey was married to Northumberland’s son Guildford Dudley; but by the time the plot was ready for consummation, Sir William could stay away no longer, and was at work again in his office. The letter, dated 11th June 1553, addressed to the Lord Chief-Justice and other judges, summoning them to the royal presence, was signed by Cecil, as well as by Cheke and Petre. When the young King handed to the Chief-Justice a memorandum of his intention to set aside King Henry’s will, and leave the crown to the descendants of Henry’s youngest sister Mary, to the deprivation of his daughters, the Chief-Justice told him that such a settlement would be illegal. The King insisted that a new deed of settlement must be drawn up. The next day at Ely Place, when Northumberland threatened Chief-Justice Montagu as a traitor, Petre was present, but not Cecil; but he must have been at the remarkable Council meeting on the 14th June, when the Chief-Justice and the other judges with tears in their eyes were hectored into drawing up the fateful will disinheriting Mary and Elizabeth; for upon Northumberland insisting that every one present should sign the document, he, Cecil, like the rest of them—with the honourable exception of Sir John Hales—dared not refuse, and appended his name to it. He was probably sorry that his illness did not delay him a little longer at Wimbledon, for shortly before he had, in a conversation with Roger Alford, one of the confidential members of his household, expressed an intention to be no party to a change in the order of the succession. Alford relates the story. He was walking in Greenwich Park with Cecil, when the latter told him that he knew some such plan was in contemplation, “but that he would never be a partaker in that device.” If Alford is to be believed, Northumberland was from the first suspicious of Cecil’s absence. He says that the Secretary feared assassination, and went armed, against his usual practice, visiting London secretly at night only, and concealed his valuables. His household biographer also says that he incurred the particular displeasure of Northumberland “for mislyking or not consenting to the Duke’s purpose touching the Lady Jane.” And Alford, in his testimony in Cecil’s favour, asserted that the latter told him that he had refused to sign the settlement as a Councillor, but only did so as a witness, which the paper itself disproves. The position of Cecil was indeed a most difficult one. He was not a brave or heroic man, he hated extreme courses, and this was a juncture where his usual non-committal via media was of no avail. Of the two evils he chose the lesser, and not only signed the settlement like the rest of the Councillors, but also the instrument by which certain members pledged themselves on oath to carry it out. But though he, like others, was terrorised into bending to Northumberland’s will, it is certain that he disliked the business, made no secret of his unwillingness to acquiesce in it, and separated himself from it at the earliest possible moment that he could do so with safety. There is in the Lansdowne MSS. a paper in Cecil’s hand, written after the accession of Mary, in which is contained his exculpation. As it throws much light on the matter, and upon Cecil’s own character, it will be useful to quote it at length. It is headed “A briefe note of my submission and of my doings.
“1. My submission with all lowliness that any heart can conceive.
“2. My misliking of the matter when I heard it secretly; whereupon I made conveyance away of my lands, part of my goods, my leases, and my raiment.
“3. I determined to suffer for saving my conscience; whereof the witnesses, Sir Anthony Cooke, Nicholas Bacon, Esq., Laurence D’Eresby of Louth; two of my suite, Roger Alford and William Cawood.
“4. Of my purpose to stand against the matter, be also witness Mr. Petre and Mr. Cheke.
“5. I did refuse to subscribe the book when none of the Council did refuse: in what peril I refer it to be considered by them who know the Duke.
“6. I refused to make a proclamation, and turned the labour to Mr. Throckmorton, whose conscience, I saw, was troubled therewith, misliking the matter.
“7. I eschewed writing the Queen’s highness bastard, and therefore the Duke wrote the letter himself, which was sent abroad in the realm.
“8. I eschewed to be at the drawing of the proclamation for the publishing of the usurper’s title, being specially appointed thereto.
“9. I avoided the answer of the Queen’s highness’ letter.
“10. I avoided also the writing of all the public letters of the realm.
“11. I wrote no letter to Lord La Warr as I was commanded.
“12. I dissembled the taking of my horse and the raising of Lincolnshire and Northamptonshire, and avowed the pardonable lie where it was suspected to my danger.
“13. I practised with the Lord Treasurer to win the Lord Privy Seal, that I might by Lord Russell’s means cause Windsor Castle to serve the Queen, and they two to levy the west parts for the Queen’s service. I have the Lord Treasurer’s letter to Lord St. John for to keep me safe if I could not prevail in the enterprise of Windsor Castle, and my name was feigned to be Harding.
“14. I did open myself to the Earl of Arundel, whom I found thereto disposed; and likewise I did the like to Lord Darcy, who heard me with good contentation, whereof I did immediately tell Mr. Petre, for both our comfort.
“15. I did also determine to flee from them if the consultation had not taken effect, as Mr. Petre can tell, who meant the like.
“16. I purposed to have stolen down to the Queen’s highness, as Mr. Gosnold can tell, who offered to lead me thither, as I knew not the way.
“17. I had my horses ready at Lambeth for the purpose.
“18. I procured a letter from the Lords that the Queen’s tenants of Wimbledon should not go with Sir Thomas Caverden; and yet I never gave one man warning so much as to be in readiness, and yet they sent to me for the purpose, and I willed them to be quiet. I might as steward there make for the Queen’s service a hundred men to serve.
“19. When I sent into Lincolnshire for my horses, I sent but for five horses and eight servants, and charged that none of my tenants should be stirred.
“20. I caused my horses, being indeed but four, to be taken up in Northamptonshire; and the next day following I countermanded them again by my letters, remaining in the country and notoriously there known.
“21. When this conspiracy was first opened to me, I did fully set me to flee the realm, and was dissuaded by Mr. Cheke, who willed me for my satisfaction to read a dialogue of Plato where Socrates, being in prison, was offered to escape and flee, and yet he would not. I read the dialogue, whose reasons, indeed, did stay me.
“Finally, I beseech her Highness that in her grace I may feel some difference from others that have more plainly offended and yet be partakers of her Highness’ bountifulness and grace; if difference may be made I do differ from them whom I served, and also them that had liberty after their enforcement to depart, by means whereof they did, both like noblemen and true subjects, show their duties to their sovereign lady. The like whereof was my devotion to have done if I might have had the like liberty, as knoweth God, the searcher of all hearts, whose indignation I call upon me if it be not true.
“‘Justus adjutorius meus Dominus qui salvos facit rectos corde’—‘God save the Queen in all felicity,’
“W. Cecill.”
The document shows us the real William Cecil. It is probably quite true: he had taken care, whilst remaining a member of Northumberland’s Council, and openly acquiescing in his acts, to make himself safe in either case. Throgmorton and Cheke might be made scapegoats—as Davison was years afterwards—but Jane or Mary, Protestant or Catholic, the first consideration for William Cecil was not unnaturally William Cecil’s own head. He was probably not worse than the other members of the Council, for most of them acted in a similar manner, and when at length they turned against Northumberland, and openly declared for Mary, Sir William was safe to choose the winning side.
King Edward died at Greenwich on the 6th July 1553, and on the 10th, Lady Jane was proclaimed Queen by virtue of his settlement by patent. Two days afterwards the Council in the Tower learnt that the Lady Mary was rallying powerful friends about her in Kenninghall Castle, Norfolk, and it was agreed that Queen Jane’s father, the Duke of Suffolk, should lead a force to capture and bring her to London. But the girl Queen begged so hard that her father might remain by her side that her tears prevailed; “whereupon the Councell perswaded the Duke of Northumberland to take that voyage upon him, saying that no man was so fit therefor, because he had atchieved the victorie in Norfolk once already, … besides that, he was the best man of war in the realm.… ‘Well,’ quoth the Duke then, ‘since ye think it good I and mine will goe, not doubting of your fidelity to the Quene’s Majesty, which I leave in your custody.’”
Northumberland hurriedly completed his preparations at Durham Place, and urged the Council to send powers and directions after him to reach him at Newmarket. He insisted upon having the warrant of the Council for every step he took in order to pledge them all; but at the farewell dinner-party with them it is clear that his mind was ill at ease, and his heart already sinking. He appealed humbly to his colleagues not to betray him. “If,” he said, “we thought you wolde through malice, conspiracie, or discentyon, leave us your frendes in the breers (briars) and betray us, we could as well sondery (sundry) ways foresee and provide for our own safeguards as any of you by betraying us can do for yours.” He reminds them of their oath of allegiance to Queen Jane, made freely to her, “who by your and our enticement is rather of force placed therein than by hir owne seking;” again points out that they are as deeply pledged on each point as he himself. “But if ye meane deceat, though not furthwith, God will revenge the same. I can say no more, but in this troblesome tyme wishe you to use constaunte hartes, abandoning all malice, envy, and privat affections.” Some of the Council protested their good faith. “I pray God yt be so,” quod the Duke; “let us go to dyner.”
Cecil must have been present at this scene, and when Northumberland left London on his way to Cambridge, “none,” as he himself remarked, “not one, saying God spede us,” Sir William must have known as well, or better, than any of them that the house of cards was falling, and that Northumberland was a doomed man. The moment he was gone, Cecil, like the rest of them, strove to betray him. The ships on the east coast declared for Mary, the people of London were almost in revolt already, the nobles in the country flocked to the rightful Queen. On the 19th July, Mary was proclaimed by the Council at Baynard’s Castle, and the joy was general: “the Earle of Pembroke threwe awaye his cape full of angeletes. I saw money throwne out at windowes for joy, and the bonfires weare without nomber,” says an eye-witness. Sir John Cheke was present at this stirring scene, upon which he must have looked with a wry face; but, as we have seen by his submission, Cecil had already been busy trimming and facing both ways. He first sent his wife’s sister, Lady Bacon, to meet the new Queen, whom she knew, and as soon as might be himself started for the eastern counties, to greet the rising sun. Lady Bacon had paved the way, and, to make quite sure, Cecil sent his henchman Alford ahead to see her at Ipswich, and learn what sort of reception her brother-in-law might expect. Her message was “that the Queen thought well of her brother Cecil, and said he was a very honest man.” Then Sir William went on, and met Mary at Newhall, Essex, where he explained matters as best he could. When he was reproached with arming his four horsemen to oppose Queen Mary, he explained, as we have seen, that he himself had secretly caused them to be detained. No doubt the sardonic disillusioned Queen must have smiled grimly as she read the shifty, ungenerous “submission,” already quoted in full; and however “honest” she may have considered Lady Bacon’s brother-in-law, she knew he was not a bold man or a thorough partisan of hers, and when her ministry was formed, Cecil was no longer Secretary—but he did not, like poor Sir John Cheke, find himself a prisoner in the Tower.
Sir William’s entry in his journal on the occasion of the King’s death is a curious one, and seems to indicate his general dislike of his position under Northumberland, whose home and foreign policy, as we have seen, were both diametrically opposite to those dictated by the training and character of Cecil. The only point upon which there could have been a real community of aims between them was that of religion, and on that point Northumberland, who subsequently avowed himself a Catholic, was false to his own convictions.
During the whole of the reign of Edward, Cecil had continued to enrich himself by grants, stewardships, reversions, and offices; not of course to the same extent as Somerset, Northumberland, Clinton, or Winchester, for he was a moderate man and loved safety, but on the accession of Mary he must have been very rich. During his mother’s life, which was a long one, he always looked upon Burghley House as hers, although he spent large sums of his own money upon buildings and improvements; but he inherited from his father large estates in Northamptonshire, Rutland, Lincolnshire, and elsewhere. We have already noticed that he obtained the Crown manor of Wimbledon and other grants; but, in addition to those already noted, he obtained, in October 1551, the period of Somerset’s sacrifice, grants of the manor of Berchamstow and Deeping, in Lincolnshire; the manor and hall of Thetford, in the same county; the reversion of the manor of Wrangdike, Rutland; the manor of Liddington, Rutland, and a moiety of the rectory of Godstow. He was a large purchaser of land also in the county of Lincoln; so that although his household historian asserts that his lands never brought him in more than ￡4000 a year, his expenses were on a very lavish scale, and he had, as his friend the Duchess of Suffolk says in one of her letters to him, brought his wares to a good market. By his embroiderer’s account, already quoted, we see that at this period of his life he maintained thirty-six servitors wearing his badge and livery; but in the time of Elizabeth his establishments were on a truly princely footing. He had eighty servants wearing his livery, and we are told that the best gentlemen in England competed to enter his service; “I have nombered in his howse attending at table twenty gentlemen of his retayners of ￡1000 per annum a peece, in possession or reversion, and of his ordinarie men, as many more, some worth ￡1000, some worth 3, 5, 10, yea, ￡20,000, daily attending his service.”
But though acquisitive and fond of surrounding himself with the accessories of wealth and great standing, he had few of the tastes of the territorial aristocracy, whom he imitated. Arms, sport, athletic exercises, did not appeal to him. From his youth he dressed gravely and soberly; and at a time, subsequently, when splendour and extravagance in attire were the rule, he still kept to his fur-trimmed gown and staid raiment. He was an insatiable book buyer and collector of heraldic and genealogical manuscripts. Sir William Pickering in Paris, and Sir John Mason, had orders to buy for him all the attractive new books published in France; and Chamberlain in Brussels had a similar commission. The former mentions in one letter (15th Dec. 1551, State Papers, Foreign) having purchased Euclid with the figures, Machiavelli, Le Long, the New Testament in Greek, L’Horloge des Princes, Discours de la Guerre, Notes on Aristotle in Italian, and others; and the Hatfield Papers contain very numerous memoranda of books and genealogies bought by Cecil, or sent to him as presents from his friends and suitors. Wotton, for instance, when he was abroad and wished to oblige his friend, says: “If I knew anye kind of bookes heere (Poissy) which yow like, I wold bye them for yow, and bring them home with some of myne owne. Here is Clemens Alexandrinus and Theodoretus in Epistolas Pauli, turned into Latin. But because I heere that yow have Clemens Alexandrinus in Greek already, I suppose yow care not for him in Latin.”
His love of study, too, extended to interest in others. He was a constant benefactor to Cambridge University, and St. John’s particularly, and influenced the King to bequeath ￡100 per annum to the foundation in his will. Shortly before the young King’s death, also, he appears to have granted to Cecil’s own town of Stamford—almost certainly at his instance—funds for the foundation of a grammar school there, of which Sir William was to be the life governor, and there is ample evidence that the establishment of the large number of educational benefactions with which the young King signalised his reign—primarily at the instance of Bishop Hooper—was powerfully promoted by Cecil; who seems also, on his own account, to have always maintained a certain number of scholars, and to have been the universal resource of students, teachers, and colleges, in their troubles and difficulties. The accession of Mary, which threw Cecil out of office, or, as he puts it, gave him his liberty, did not deprive him of his large means, or limit his enlightened activity in other directions. But for a time after the death of Edward, he remained, so far as so prominent and able a man could do so, simply a private citizen. His household biographer asserts “that Mary had a good liking for him as a Councillor, and would have appointed him if he had changed his religion.” Although he puts a grandiloquent speech in Cecil’s mouth, refusing office, saying much about preferring God’s service before that of the Queen, it is extremely doubtful whether Mary ever offered to call him to her Council. Towards the end of her reign, when Elizabeth’s early accession was inevitable, however, the Council itself was desirous of conciliating him. Lloyd (“State Worthies”) says of him: “When he was out of place he was not out of service in Queen Mary’s days, his abilities being as necessary in those times as his inclinations, and that Queen’s Council being as ready to advance him at last as they were to use him all her reign.”
During the trial and execution of Northumberland and his accomplices, Cecil remained prudently in the background. Gardiner, Norfolk, Courtney, Bonner, and the other prisoners in the Tower were released. Home and foreign policy changed, the Catholics were buoyed with hope, and the Emperor’s Ambassador was in full favour, whilst the Protestants were timorous and apprehensive, and the French Ambassador ill at ease, for his King was at war with the Emperor, and had from the first endeavoured to minimise the claims of Mary.
On the 3rd August the new Queen entered London with her sister near her, and preparations were at once set afoot for her coronation (1st October). Cecil was no longer in office, and was commanded by the Queen to send her the seals and register of the Garter on the 21st September; but he appears to have gone to the expense of new liveries for his servants in honour of the occasion. Twelve of his servants were given garments of the best cloth with badges, eleven received one and a quarter yards of the best cloth each, with second-class cognisances, and nine more had cloth of second quality, one coat being left with Lady Cecil to bestow as she pleased. On the same document Sir William himself has made numerous notes as to the price of these materials, which, if we did not already know it by many other testimonies, would prove that, though his expenditure was great, he was careful of the items of it. His father, the Yeoman of the Robes, had died in the previous year (1552), and apparently the office had remained in abeyance, being temporarily administered by Sir William. His neighbour Sir Edward Dymoke, of Scrivelsby, Lincolnshire, had, in accordance with his tenure, to act as champion at the Queen’s coronation, and was entitled to his equipment out of the office of robes. A few days before the coronation ceremony Dymoke applied for his outfit. Some of the articles were not on hand and had to be bought of one Lenthal; and the champion begged Cecil to vouch for the purchase, consisting of “a shrowd, a girdle, a scabbard of velvett, two gilt partizans, a pole axe, a chasing staff and a pair of gilt spurs, the value in all being ￡6, 2s. 8d.” Apparently Cecil took no notice of the application, and in an amusing letter at Hatfield, the champion complains bitterly, nearly two months after the coronation, that he could never get his outfit. Cecil insisted upon a warrant from the Queen; but, said Dymoke, he had received all his equipment without warrant at the previous coronation, and he prays Cecil not to be “more straytor” than his father was. He had his cup of gold, his horse, and trappings, and crimson satin, without warrant then, and why, he asks, should one be required now. “I do not pass so much of the value of the allowance as I do for the precedent to hinder those who do come after me, if I do lose it this time.”
Cecil does not seem to have absented himself from court, though he passed more of his time than hitherto at Wimbledon. Wyatt rose and fell; Elizabeth and Courtney suffered under the Queen’s displeasure; Cheke and Cooke went to exile; Cecil’s old friend the Duchess of Suffolk and her husband Mr. Bertie fled to Germany; Carews, Staffords, Tremaynes, Killigrews, Fitzwilliams, the ex-Ambassador Pickering, and hundreds like them, took refuge abroad from the country over which a Spanish King, with his half-Spanish Queen, were soon to be supreme. Cranmer, Cecil’s friend from boyhood, and other Protestant Churchmen, filled the rooms in the Tower vacated by those whom Cecil had been active in prosecuting, but Cecil himself lived rich and influential, if no longer politically powerful, and no hand was raised against him. That he was a conforming Catholic is certain, quite apart from Father Persons’ spiteful description of his exaggerated devotion; “frequenting masses, said litanies with the priest, laboured a pair of great beads which he continually carried, preached to his parishioners in Stamford, and asked pardon for his errors in King Edward’s time.” This statement of itself would not suffice were it not supported by better evidence; but although there is a dearth of such evidence at the beginning of Mary’s reign, there is abundance of it later. At the Record Office, among other papers of the same sort, there exists the Easter book for 1556, headed, “The names of them that dwelleth in the pariche of Vembletoun that was confessed and received the Sacrament of the altar;” the first entry being, “My master Sir Wilyem Cecell, and my lady Myldread his wyff;” and Cecil’s accounts for this period contain many entries of the cost of his oblations and gifts to the altar. He retained, moreover, the benefices of Putney and Mortlake, of which he kept strict account; and in August 1557 the Dean and Chapter of Worcester addressed a letter of thanks to him for his annual contribution to his two churches, and assured him of their willingness to accede to his wishes and increase the stipends of the curates there. There is therefore no doubt that, like Princess Elizabeth and most of those who afterwards became her ministers, Cecil was quite ready, in outward seeming at least, to adopt the ritual decreed by the Court and Parliament.
Renard, the Emperor’s Ambassador, had broached the idea of a marriage between Mary and Philip, the Prince of Spain, less than a week after the Queen’s entry into London; and thenceforward the arrangements for the match went forward apace. The people generally were in an agony of fear; Gardiner himself, the Queen’s Chancellor, and most of her wisest Councillors, looked coldly upon the idea; they would rather she had married Courtney, and formed a close political alliance with the House of Spain. But the Queen was a daughter of Catharine of Aragon, and the exalted religious ideas of her race had caused her to look upon herself as the divinely-appointed being who was to bring to pass the salvation of her people, and this she knew could only be done by the power and money that Spain could bring to her. The connection would enable her, too, to be revenged upon France, which had befriended her mother’s supplanter, and was still subsidising revolution against her. Those who were Catholics first and Englishmen afterwards, applauded her determination to wed her Spanish cousin; and the priests in Rome watched, from the moment of her advent, for the possibility of the restoration of England to the faith, and the disgorging of the plunder of the Church by those who had swallowed it. Most of these saw in the Spanish match the probable realisation of their hopes.
Immediately after Mary’s accession the Pope had appointed Cardinal Pole to negotiate with these ends. He was an Englishman of the blood royal, who had no special Spanish ends to serve: his one wish was to bring back England into the fold of the Church. But before he started on his journey to England, Charles V. took fright. His views were quite different. He and his son wanted to get political control over England for their own dynastic interests. So long as the religious element helped them in this, they were glad to use it; but if the priests went too fast and too far, and caused disgust and reaction in England, their plans would fail. So, as usual when it was a choice between religion and politics by statesmen of that age, they chose politics. The difficulty was that the Churchmen had expected that the return of England to the fold would necessarily mean the restitution of all ecclesiastical property. Pole himself was full of this idea, and his first powers from the Pope gave him little or no discretion to abate the claim for entire and unconditional surrender of the Church plunder. But at the instance of the Emperor, the Pope was induced to grant to Pole full discretionary powers. Then he was persuaded to send the Legate to France and Brussels on his way to England, with the ostensible purpose of mediating a peace between France and the Emperor, but really in order that he might be influenced in the Spanish interest, and his departure for England was thus delayed until it was considered prudent to let him go. It was not until he had promised that he would only act in accordance with the advice of the new King-consort, Philip, that he was permitted to proceed on his mission, with the certainty now, that the restitution of the Church property would go no further than was dictated by the political interests which the Emperor had nearest his heart. This happened in November 1554, four months after the Queen’s marriage, and the somewhat curious choice of Paget (Lord Privy Seal), Sir Edward Hastings, and Sir William Cecil, was made to go and meet the Legate at Brussels, and bring him to England. Their instructions, evidently inspired by Philip, who was still in England, entirely confirm the above view of the subject. The envoys are to seek the Cardinal, and “to declare that the greatest, and almost the only, means to procure the agreement of the noblemen and others of our Council (to the re-entry of England into the Church) was our promise that the Pope would, at our suit, dispense with all possessors of any lands or goods of monasteries, colleges, or other ecclesiastical houses, to hold and enjoy quietly the same, without trouble or scruple.” Herein the influence of the politicians is clearly visible; and the Churchmen for fifty years afterwards attributed the failure of Catholic attempts in England to God’s anger at this paltering with the plunder of His property. Cecil’s voyage was a short one. The entry in his journal runs thus: “1554. vi? Novembris (ii. Mari?) capi iter cum Domino Paget et Magistro Hastings versus Casarem pro reducendo Cardinale;” but in the little Perpetual Calendar at Hatfield the voyage is noted in English. The journal continues: “Venimus Bruxelles 11 Novēbris;” and then, “Redivimus 24? Westmonsterij cū Card. Polo.”
No more is said of the events of the journey, or of Cecil’s negotiations with the Cardinal; but it may be surmised that Pole at first would not look very favourably upon Sir William, as during the correspondence with Somerset, in which Pole exhorted the Protector to desist from troubling Catholics, a somewhat rude communication was sent to him, which in his reply he attributed, not to the Protector himself, but to Cecil. It is probable that Cecil was chosen, because, though outwardly a Catholic, his views were known to be extremely moderate, and at the moment it was these views which were most in accordance with the interests of England and Spain from the point of view of the Emperor and his son. It may be assumed that a similar reason accounts for Cecil’s appointment in the following May, 1555, to accompany the Cardinal to Calais, for the purpose of negotiating for a peace between France and the Emperor. Pole had offered the mediation of England to Noailles some months before, but the lukewarmness of the Emperor, the delay in the appointment of his envoys, and the French military successes in Piedmont, had dragged the matter out whilst an infinity of questions of procedure and personality were being slowly settled. The French Ambassador protested against the appointment of the Earl of Pembroke or the Earl of Arundel, especially the latter, a vain, giddy man, and a friend of Spain, to accompany the embassy. Gardiner, he said, would be sufficient to represent English interests, with Pole as Papal Legate; and the addition of either of the Earls or of Paget was looked upon as an indication of a desire rather to pick a fresh quarrel with France than to negotiate a peace.
Cecil would appear to have occupied quite a secondary position in the embassy, as he is never mentioned in the correspondence between the French envoys Constable Montmorenci and Cardinal Lorraine and Noailles describing the meetings. In any case, the negotiations, which took place at Marcq, equidistant from Calais, Ardres, and Gravelines, speedily fell through, and by the 26th June the attempt was abandoned; in consequence mainly of the insistence of the Emperor in the restoration of the Duke of Savoy to his dominions then occupied by the French. The apprehensions of the French Ambassador had not been entirely unfounded. It had been Philip’s intention to ask the Parliament of 1554 for England’s armed aid in favour of the Emperor, but the indiscreet zeal of the Churchmen had already brought about reaction, and the Parliament was hastily dissolved. In the new Parliament of 1555, Cecil was elected, as he insinuates not by his own desire, Knight of the Shire for Lincoln. In the previous year (February 1554) he had requested the aldermen of the borough of Grantham to elect a nominee of his their member. What would, no doubt, have been a command when he was Secretary of State in the previous reign, could be disregarded under Mary, and the aldermen politely informed him that they had already made other arrangements. It is quite understandable that to so prudent a man as Cecil it would have been much more agreeable to have been represented by a nominee than to have sat personally in the Parliament of 1555.
The Queen’s pregnancy had turned out a delusion. It was seen by the Spaniards now that the Queen herself was but a puppet in the hands of the Council, and that Philip would never be allowed to rule England, as had been intended, solely for the benefit of Spanish interests. The imperial plot had failed; and on the 26th August 1555, the King-consort took leave of his heartbroken wife, and went to his duties elsewhere. As soon as he had gone, as Renard had wisely foretold, all barriers of prudence which had hitherto, to some extent, restrained the persecution of Protestants, were broken down. Philip left with the Queen strict instructions for the administration of affairs, and notes of all Council meetings were sent to him, in order that he might still keep some control. But Cranmer was arraigned, Ridley and Latimer were martyred, the restitution of alienated tithes, first-fruits, and tenths was proposed, the Protestant exiles abroad were recalled, under pain of confiscation of their property, the bishops were deprived, and throughout England the flames of persecution soon spread unchecked.
What King Philip wanted were English arms and money, to aid his father in the war, not the fires of Smithfield, or the blind zeal of the priests to set men’s hearts against the cause of Rome, which was his main instrument. But the Parliament of 1555 and the Queen’s Council were determined to withhold aid to the Emperor’s war as long as they could. Money there was none, the English ships were rotting and unmanned in port, men-at-arms were sulky at the idea of fighting for the Spaniard; but burning Protestants and confiscating recusants’ property cost nothing, and so the game went on in despite of absent Philip. Amongst the threatened exiles in Germany were many of Cecil’s friends, especially the Duchess of Suffolk and Sir Anthony Cooke, who kept up a close correspondence with his son-in-law, but refused to conform and return to England. Whether it was the enactment against these friends, or some other of the confiscatory or extreme measures of the Government, that Cecil opposed in the Parliament of 1555, is not quite certain; but an entry in his diary shows that he was in extreme peril as a result of his action. The entry is, as usual, in Latin. “On the 21st October, Parliament was celebrated at Westminster, in which, although with danger to myself, I performed my duty; for although I did not wish it, yet being elected a Knight of the Shire for Lincoln, I spoke my opinion freely, and brought upon me some odium thereby; but it is better to obey God than man.” The household biographer gives a fuller account of what probably is the same matter: “In this Parliament (1555) Sir William Cecil was Knight for the County of Lincoln. In the House of Commons little was done to the liking of the court. The Lords passed a bill for confiscating the estates of such as had fled for religion. In the Lower House it was rejected with great indignation. Warm speeches were made on this, and other occasions, particularly in relation to a money bill, in all of which Sir William Cecil delivered himself frankly.” One day, especially, a measure was before the House which the Queen wished to pass, and Sir William Courtney, Sir John Pollard, Sir Anthony Kingston, with other men from the west, opposed. Sir William Cecil sided with them and spoke effectively, and after the House rose they came to him and invited themselves to dine with them. He told them they would be welcome “so long as they did not speak of any matter of Parliament.” Some, however, did so, and their host reminded them of the condition. The matter was conveyed to the Council, and the whole of the company was sent for and committed to custody. Sir William himself was brought before his late colleagues and friends, Lord Paget and Sir William Petre. He said he desired they would not do with him as with the rest, which was somewhat hard, namely, to commit him first, and then hear him afterwards, but prayed them first to hear him, and then commit him if he were guilty; whereupon Paget replied, “You spake like a man of experience;” and Cecil, as usual, cleared himself from blame.
During this period Cecil divided his time between Cannon Row, Wimbledon, and Burghley, occupying himself much whilst in the country with farming and horticulture. His accounts are very voluminous, and are frequently annotated in his own hand. Every payment is stated under its proper head—kitchen, cellar, buttery, garden, and so forth; and the whole of the household supplies, whether, as was usual, taken from his own farm, or purchased, are duly accounted for at current prices. The dinner-hour of the family was 11 A.M., before which prayer was read in the chapel, and the supper was served at 6 P.M.; these rules being observed at all his houses, whether he was in residence or not. His charities were always large, and in his later years reached an average of ￡500 a year; and wherever he had property there was a regular system of distribution of relief to the needy in the neighbourhood. His most intimate friends were still some of the first people in England. As a moderate man he had now commended himself to Pole; Lord Admiral Clinton, a great Lincolnshire magnate, was evidently by his letters on terms of familiarity with him; the Earl of Sussex, the Viceroy of Ireland, expressed himself anxious to do him service; Sir Philip Hoby and Lord Cobham vied with each other in inducing him and Lady Cecil to visit them at their respective Kentish seats; and Lord John Grey, on the occasion of his wife being delivered of a “gholly boye,” begs Cecil to stand godfather to the infant. Cecil’s wife had already given birth to a daughter, and in the Calendar Diary at Hatfield an entry against 5th December 1556 records, “Natus est Anna Cecil,” which event somewhat disappointed both Cecil and his father-in-law, Cooke, in his exile, as they had earnestly looked for a son. Cecil must have been a devoted husband, though probably an undemonstrative one, as the letters of Sir Anthony Cooke always praise him for his goodness, both to his daughter and to himself in his poverty and banishment. Sir Philip Hoby, in one of his hearty letters during Lady Cecil’s confinement, expresses sorrow that Sir William cannot visit him. “You should have been welcome if my Lady might have spared you, to whom you have been as good a nurse as you would have her be to you;” and seven weeks later he writes again (21st February), advising Cecil “to come abroad, and not tarry so long with my Lady, and in such a stinking city, the filthiest of the world.” Sir Nicholas Bacon and his wife, Lady Cecil’s sister, were also frequent and kindly correspondents; and the Countess of Bedford, who with her children were left by her husband to Cecil’s care on the Earl’s departure in command of the English contingent to aid the Emperor, referred all her business to him. Cecil’s life, indeed, at this period was that of a noble of great wealth and influence, surrounded by friends, occupied with the details of large estates and with studious pursuits, in great request as trustee and intermediary for other people’s affairs, openly conforming in religion, but of acknowledged moderate views, and keeping on fairly good terms with the party in power, as did Sir Nicholas Bacon, Sir Thomas Smith, Roger Ascham, and others in similar case.
But there was one element of Cecil’s activity to which no undue prominence was given, although it was great and continuous—namely, his communications with the Princess Elizabeth and his prudent efforts in her favour. From his first official employment at court, he had been appealed to by the Princess in questions requiring discretion. When he was Secretary to the Protector (25th September 1549), Parry, the cofferer and factotum of Elizabeth, wrote to him the letter which has often been quoted, in which he gives an account of the visit of the Venetian Ambassador to Ashridge: “Hereof her Grace hath, with all haste, commanded me to send unto you, and to advertise you, to the intent forthwith it may please you, at her earnest request, either to move my Lord’s Grace, and to declare unto him yourself, or else forthwith to send word in writing, that her Grace may know thereby, whether she shall herself write thereof … and in case ye shall advise her Grace to write, then so forthwith to advertise her Grace.… Herein she desires you to use her trust as in the rest.” It will be seen by this that Cecil was then considered by Elizabeth as her friend. Another letter from Parry (September 1551) is still more cordial: “I have enclosed herein her Grace’s letters, for so is her Grace’s commandment, which she desires you, according to her trust, to deliver from her unto my Lord’s Grace, taking such opportunity therein by your wisdom as thereby she may … hear from his Grace.… Her Grace commanded me to write this. ‘Write my commendations in your letters to Mr. Cecil that I am well assured, though I send not daily to him, that he doth not, for all that, daily forget me; say, indeed, I assure myself thereof.’… I had forgotten to say to you that her Grace commanded me to say to you for the excuse of her hand, that it is not now as good as she trusts it shall be; her Grace’s unhealth hath made it weaker and so unsteady, and that this is the cause.”
Elizabeth, in common with most other people, was also very anxious to put her business affairs into Cecil’s hands, and in such matters as leases, sales of timber of her manors, and the like, Sir William’s services and advice were often requisitioned by her. In April 1553 she had serious complaints to make of extortion and malversation on the part of the steward (Keys) of certain of her manors which had been dedicated to the support of the hospital of Ewelme; and she appointed Cecil as the principal member of a committee to examine closely into the whole matter, “as her Grace is determined to remove the violence and oppression, and to have the poor thoroughly considered.” At the time that Northumberland was casting about for a foreign husband for Elizabeth, some prince who, though of Protestant leanings, should not be powerful enough to force her claims to the crown, Cecil seems to have suggested the Duke of Ferrara’s son Francesco, but the proposal came to nothing. It may, however, be accepted as certain that the intrigues of Noailles on the one hand to pledge Elizabeth to marry Courtney, as proposed by Paget, and the persistent attempts of the Spanish party to pledge her to Emmanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy, found no support from Cecil, since one marriage would have played into the hands of France, and the other would have rendered the Catholics permanently supreme in England; and, as has already been seen, Cecil’s great principle was to keep his country as far as possible free, both from Rome and from France. The consummate dexterity exhibited by Elizabeth during the troubled reign of Mary was exactly of a piece with Cecil’s own management of his affairs at the same period; and although there is no proof that he in any way guided her action, it is in evidence that she kept up communication with him on many subjects, and it is in the highest degree probable that she asked his advice on the vital points, upon which on several occasions her very life depended. Camden expressly says that she did so, and he is confirmed by Cecil’s household biographer; but if it be true, it must have been done with great caution and care, for Cecil to have escaped, as he did, all suspicion when Elizabeth herself was deeply suspected after Wyatt’s rising. Cecil’s advice to the Princess, if given at all, was probably to do as he himself endeavoured to do; namely, to conform as much as might be necessary for her safety, and to avoid entanglements or engagements of every description. This at all events was the course they both successfully followed.
Philip had at last dragged England into war against the wish of the whole of the Council except Paget, though the King had reluctantly to come and exert his personal influence on his wife before it could be done. At the beginning of July 1557 he left her for the last time, and in a month the victory of St. Quentin gave him the great chance of his life. He hesitated, dallied, and missed it; the English contingent sulky, unpaid, and discontented—the Spaniards said cowardly—clamoured to go home, and Philip, not daring to add to his unpopularity in England, let them go. Calais and Gu?nes fell before the vigour of Francis of Guise (January 1558), for the fortresses had been neglected both by Northumberland and Mary. When it was already too late, the King had urged the English Council to send reinforcements; but his envoy, Feria, crossed the Channel at the same time as the news that the last foothold of England on the Continent had gone.
Thenceforward it was evident that Mary’s days were numbered, and eyes were already looking towards her successor. The war, never popular in England, became perfectly hateful. The people growled that waggon-loads of English money were being sent to Philip, and the Council, almost to a man, resisted as much and as long as they dared, Philip’s constant requests for English aid. When Parliament and the Council had been cajoled and squeezed to the utmost, Feria left in July 1558 to join his master; but before doing so, he thought it prudent to pay a visit to Madame Elizabeth at Hatfield, with many significant hints of favour from his King in the time to come; none of which the Princess affected to understand. A few weeks before the Queen died, peace negotiations were opened between England, France, and Spain; the foolish Earl of Arundel, Dr. Thirlby (Bishop of Ely), and Cecil’s friend Dr. Wotton being sent to represent England. On the 7th November the Queen was known to be dying, and the Council prevailed upon her to send a message to her sister confirming her right to succeed. Feria arrived a few days before unhappy Mary breathed her last, and already he found that “the people were beginning to act disrespectfully towards the images and religious persons.” From the 7th November until the Queen died, on the 17th, matters were in the utmost confusion. All the bonds were breaking, and no man knew what would come next. The Council had for months been drifting away from Philip, and during the Queen’s last days were openly turning to her Protestant successor.
But their duty kept them mostly at court; whereas Cecil, being free from office, went backwards and forwards between Cannon Row and Hatfield, making arrangements for the formation of a new Government when the sovereign should die. Feria writes that on the day the new Queen was proclaimed (17th November 1558), the Council decided that Archbishop Heath, Lord Admiral Clinton, the Earls of Shrewsbury, Pembroke, and Derby, and Lord William Howard should proceed to Hatfield, whilst the rest stayed behind; “but every one wanted to be the first to get out.” When they arrived at the residence of the young Queen, Cecil was already there and the appointments decided upon. Cecil was the first Councillor sworn, and was appointed Secretary of State; the others mentioned above, with Paget and Bedford, being subsequently admitted; and the faithful Parry, her cofferer, elevated to the post of Controller of the Household; whilst Lord Robert Dudley, the son of Northumberland, Cecil’s former patron, was made Master of the Horse.
The Catholics, and especially the Spanish party, were in dismay. Changes met them at every turn. The Councillors who had fattened on Philip’s bribes, turned against him openly, although some few, like Lord William Howard (the Lord Chamberlain), Clinton, and Paget, secretly offered their services for a renewed consideration. But it soon became evident that the two men who would have the predominant influence were Cecil and Parry, and they had never yet been bought by Spanish money. 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 does not favour a single man … who served her sister.… The old people and the Catholics are dissatisfied, but dare not open their lips. She seems to me incomparably more feared than her sister, and gives her orders, and has her way, as absolutely as her father did. Her present Controller, Parry, and Secretary Cecil, govern the kingdom, and they tell me the Earl of Bedford has a good deal to say.”
Before entering London from Hatfield, the Queen stayed for a day or two at the Charterhouse, then in the occupation of Lord North. All London turned out to do her honour, and she immediately made it clear to onlookers that she meant to bid for popularity and to depend upon the good-will of her subjects. On the 26th or 27th November the Spanish Ambassador went to the Charterhouse to salute her. He had been under Mary practically the master of the Council; but the new Queen promptly made him understand that everything was changed. Instead of, as before, having right of access to the sovereign when he pleased, he found that in future he and his affairs would be relegated to two members of the Council, and when he asked which two, the Queen replied, Parry and Cecil. Feria did his best to conciliate her—gave her some jewels he had belonging to the late Queen, and so forth; but when he mentioned that a suspension of hostilities had been arranged between the French and Spanish, she thought it was a trap to isolate her, and she dismissed the Ambassador coldly. When she had retired, Feria called Cecil and asked him to go in at once and explain matters to her, “as he is the man who does everything.” The effects of Cecil’s diplomacy were soon evident. The Queen smiled and chatted with Feria, took with avidity all the jewels he could give her, coyly looked down when marriage was mentioned, but would pledge herself to nothing. “She was full of fine words, however, and told me that when people said she was ‘French,’ I was not to believe it;” but when the Ambassador treated such a notion as absurd, and endeavoured to lead her on to say that her sympathies were with Spain and against France, she cleverly changed the subject. Her sister, she said, had been at war with France, but she was not.
As has already been said, when the deputation of the Council arrived at Hatfield, Cecil was there before them, and had conveyed the news of her accession to the Queen. Naunton says that when she heard it she fell on her knees and uttered the words, “A Domino factum est illud, et est mirabile in oculis nostris.” But whether this be true or not, it is certain that the intelligence did not come upon her as a surprise; for Cecil had already drawn up for her guidance a document which still exists, providing for the minutest details of her accession. Some of these provisions were rendered unnecessary by the universal and peaceful acceptance of the new sovereign; but they exhibit the care and foresight which we always associate with the writer. The note runs as follows: 1. To consider the proclamation and to proclaim it, and to send the same to all manner of places and sheriffs with speed, and to print it. 2. To prepare the Tower and to appoint the custody thereof to trusty persons, and to write to all the keepers of forts and castles in the Queen’s name. 3. To consider for the removing to the Tower, and the Queen there to settle her officers and Council. 4. To make a stay of passages to all the ports until a certain day, and to consider the situation of all places dangerous towards France and Scotland, especially in this change. 5. To send special messengers to the Pope, Emperor, Kings of Spain and Denmark, and the State of Venice. 6. To send new commissioners (commissions?) to the Earl of Arundel and Bishop of Ely (the peace envoys), and to send one into Ireland with a new commission; the letters under the Queen’s hand to all ambassadors with foreign princes to authorise them therein. 7. To appoint commissioners for the interment of the late Queen. 8. To appoint commissioners for the coronation and the day. 9. To make continuance of the term with patents to the Chief-Justice, Justices of each Bench, Barons, and Masters of the Rolls, with inhibition. Quod non conferant aliquod officium. 10. To appoint new sheriffs under the Great Seal. 11. To inhibit by proclamation the making over of any money by exchange without knowledge of the Queen’s Majesty, and to charge all manner of persons that have made, or been privy to any exchange made, by the space of one month before the 17th of this month. 12. To consider the preacher of St. Paul’s Cross, that no occasion be given by him to stir any dispute touching the governance of the realm.
It will be seen that every necessary measure for carrying on peaceably the government and business of the country is here provided for. Within a week of the Queen’s accession the religious persecutions all over the country had ceased, and a few days later all persons who were in prison in London as offenders against religion had been released on their own recognisances. The Queen had already foreshadowed her dislike to the harrying of Protestants by refusing her countenance to Bonner, the Bishop of London, when, with the other bishops, he met her on her approach to London. The English refugees were flocking back home from Germany and Switzerland; and though, for the most part, the religious services were continued without marked change, the Catholics saw that the day of their tribulation was coming, and were filled with indignation and fear. The measures suggested by Cecil as to the appointment of the preacher at Paul’s Cross were doubtless adopted, for there was no violent ecclesiastical pronouncement against the tendency of the new Government until the funeral of the late Queen, on the 13th December. White, Bishop of Winchester, preached the sermon, in which he attacked the Protestants in the most inflammatory language, quoting the words of Trajan: “If my commands are just, use this sword for me; if unjust, use it against me.” It was not Elizabeth’s or prudent Cecil’s line, however, to adopt extreme measures at first, and the prelate was only kept secluded for a month in his own house. This is a fair specimen of the cautious policy adopted by Elizabeth. All of Mary’s Council had been Catholics, many of them bigoted Catholics, and yet eleven of them were admitted to the Council of the new Queen; the principal change being the addition to them of seven known Protestants, who had, like Cecil, conformed in the previous reign—namely, Parr (Marquis of Northampton), Cecil’s friend the Earl of Bedford, Sir Thomas Parry, Edward Rogers, Sir Ambrose Cave, Francis Knollys (the Queen’s cousin), and Sir William Cecil; Sir Nicholas Bacon, Cecil’s brother-in-law, another Protestant conformer, being shortly afterwards also appointed a Councillor and Lord Keeper, but not yet Chancellor, in the place of Heath, Archbishop of York.
We are told by his household biographer that two of Cecil’s favourite aphorisms were: “That war is the curse, and peace the blessing of God upon a nation,” and “That a realm gaineth more by one year’s peace than by ten years’ war.” He and his mistress plainly saw that the first task for them to perform was to put an end to the disastrous and inglorious war into which for his own ends Philip had dragged England. Here, on the very threshold of Elizabeth’s reign, Cecil’s influence upon her policy was apparent and eminently successful. Cecil came from the Charterhouse to see Feria at Durham Place on the 24th November, saying that the Queen was sending Lord Cobham to inform Philip in Flanders officially of Queen Mary’s death; but two days afterwards, one of Feria’s spies at court, probably Lord William Howard, sent him word that this was not Cobham’s only mission. He was to turn aside to Cercamp, on the French frontier, where the peace commissioners were assembled, except Arundel, who had hurried back as soon as he learnt of the Queen’s death, in order to take fresh commissions from Elizabeth to Dr. Thirlby, Arundel, and Wotton. Feria, on this news, sent post-haste to Philip’s Secretary of State, telling him to advise the Spanish “commissioners to keep their eyes on these Englishmen, in case this should be some trick to our detriment, as I was told nothing about his going to Cercamp till he (Cobham) had gone.”
But no trick was meant which should divide England from the House of Burgundy. The instructions carried by Cobham were drafted by Cecil, and made the restitution of Calais the main point of the English demand; and Wotton was instructed to accompany Cobham to Philip, to persuade the latter to support the English in their demand. The commissioners, moreover, were instructed to insert in the treaty an article reserving all former treaties between England and the House of Burgundy. Before these instructions reached the hands of the commissioners, the suspension of hostilities for two months, which had so much disquieted the Queen when Feria told her of it, had been arranged. There is no doubt that the willingness of the French to agree to this suspension had been occasioned by their desire to enter into separate negotiations with the new Queen and her ministers, with the object of causing distrust between Spain and England; and here it was that Cecil had his first opportunity of proving his ability. Lord Grey had been captured by the French at Gu?nes, and early in January 1559 was allowed to return to England on parole, for the purpose, ostensibly, of arranging an exchange. He brought with him a message from the Dukes of Guise and Montpessart, proposing a secret arrangement between England and France. This was not the first intimation of such a desire; for some weeks before, a similar but less authoritative message was brought by the Protestant Florentine, Guido Cavalcanti, from the Vidame de Chartres; and Cavalcanti had gone back to France with kind but vague expressions of good-will from Elizabeth. When Lord Grey’s message arrived, Cecil considered it in all its bearings, and drew up one of his judicial reports in which Grey’s answer to Guise is dictated. With much circumlocution the Queen’s willingness to make peace is expressed, “if all things done in her sister’s time be revoked”; or, in other words, that Calais should be restored. But what Grey was not told was Cecil’s recommendation to the Queen: “It seemeth necessary to allow this overture of peace, so as neither so to lyke of it, nor so to follow it, as thereby any jelusy shall arise in the hart of the King of Spain, but that principally that that amyty be preserved and this not refused.”
At the same time Dr. Wotton was to be instructed to go to Philip, and assure him emphatically, that the Queen was determined to remain friendly with him, and to let the whole world see it. She had had some hints that the French would like to approach her separately, but Philip “shal be most assured that nothyng shal be doone that maye in any respect either directly or indirectly prejudice this amyté betwixt their two Majesties, or anything doone but that his Majesty shal be made privy thereto; and thereof his Majesty shal be as well assured as he was of his late wyffe’s proceedings here.” Guido Cavalcanti arrived in France before Lord Grey’s answer to Guise, and the Florentine came posting back to England with an affectionate letter from the King of France to Elizabeth. Cecil’s draft answer to this is just as judicious as the previous one. The King of France suggested that French and English commissioners might be mutually appointed to meet. This would never do, said Cecil; secrecy was of the first importance, and a meeting of Englishmen and Frenchmen of rank would be noticed immediately. The negotiations had better be carried on directly by correspondence, and this was the course accepted by the French. Whilst the matter was thus being drawn out, the disposition of Philip was being sounded. Later in the reign, Elizabeth and Cecil had taken his measure, and could foresee his action, but in these first negotiations they were groping their way. Elizabeth had practically refused Philip’s own suggestion of marriage made by Feria, and was now fencing with the proposals of his cousins the Archdukes; but she was careful not to drive Philip too far away. Reassuring letters came from Wotton. Much, he said, as Philip wished for peace, he did not believe he would make it alone, and leave both England and Scotland at the mercy of France, as “what woulde ensew thereof, a blynde manne can see.”
It was well that Cecil’s caution disarmed Philip about the French advances; for Cavalcanti’s movements and mission were soon conveyed to the Spanish King by his spies, and when, at the expiration of the two months’ truce, the peace commissioners again met at Cateau-Cambresis, the King did his best to support the English commissioners in their demand for the restitution of Calais. His own agreement with France was easily made, for Henry II. was seriously alarmed now at the growth of the reform party, and gave way to Philip on nearly every point; whilst Philip himself was in great want of money, he hated war, and, above all, was burning to get back to the Spain he loved so much. But when, week after week, he saw that the English commissioners stood firm about Calais, he was obliged to speak out and assure Elizabeth that he could not plunge his country into war again for the purpose of restoring to England a fortress she had lost by her own laxity. At length, after infinite discussion, the English were forced to conclude a peace based upon the restitution of Calais in eight years, the demolition of the fortifications of Eyemouth, and a truce, to be followed by a peace, between England and Scotland.
In the meanwhile, before the peace of Cateau-Cambresis was signed, matters were growing more acrimonious in tone between England and Spain, owing to the ecclesiastical measures to which reference will be made presently, and also to the haughtiness and want of tact displayed by Feria in England. When, therefore, news came hither that amongst the conditions of the general peace was one providing for the marriage of Philip with Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of the French King, and the establishment of a close community of interests between France and Spain, a gust of apprehension passed over the English that they had been outwitted, and would have to face a combination of the two great rivals.
Paget—a thorough Spanish partisan and a Catholic—had foretold such a possibility as this in February, and had entreated Cecil to cling closely to Spain and continue the war with France. But Cecil was wiser than Paget. He knew that by fighting for Calais we should lose both friendships, and he accepted the best terms of peace he could get. But when it was a question of the brotherhood between Spain and France, and whispers came from French reformers of the secret international league to crush Protestantism, then the only course to pursue was to disarm Philip and sow discord between Spain and France. When Feria saw the Queen on the 7th April 1559, the day on which the news of the signing of peace arrived in London, he found her pouting and coquettish that Philip should have married any one but her. “Your Majesty, she said, could not have been so much in love with her as I had represented, if you could not wait four months for her.” But in the antechamber the Ambassador had a conversation with Cecil, “who is a pestilent knave, as your Majesty knows. He told me they had heard that your Majesty was very shortly going to Spain, and, amongst other things, he said that if your Majesty wished to keep up the war with France, they for their part would be glad of it. I told him he could tell that to people who did not understand the state of affairs in England so well as I did. What they wanted was something very different from that. They were blind to their own advantage, and would now begin to understand that I had advised what was best for the interests of the Queen and the welfare of the country; and I left them that day as bitter as gall.”
Paget wailed that the country was ruined; Alba, Ruy Gomez, and young De Granvelle tried to impress upon the English peace commissioners that England’s only chance of salvation now lay in Philip’s countenance. Feria tried to frighten the Queen by assuring her that her religious policy was hurrying her and her country to perdition, and complained that certain comedies insulting to Philip which had been acted at court, had been suggested by Cecil, her chief minister. But she outwitted him at every point. “She was,” he said, “a daughter of the devil, and her chief ministers the greatest scoundrels and heretics in the land.” She disarmed him and his master by pretending that she would marry one of the Austrian Archdukes, who would depend entirely upon Spain; and Spanish agents were still fain to be civil to her, in hope of bringing that about; though hot-headed Feria soon found his place intolerable, and relinquished it to a more smooth-tongued successor. The reason why Feria was so especially bitter against Cecil, was that to him was attributed the principal blame for forcing through Parliament, at the same time as the conclusion of the treaty of peace, the Act of Supremacy, recognising the Queen as Governor of the Anglican Church, and the Act of Uniformity, imposing the second prayer-book of Edward VI., but with some alterations of importance for the purpose of conciliating the Catholics. The oath of supremacy, however, was only compulsory on servants of the Crown; and the general tendency of the Council, and especially of the Queen, was to avoid offending unnecessarily the Catholic majority in the country. The Queen personally preferred a ceremonious worship, and several times assured the Spanish Ambassador that her opinions were similar to those of her father—that she was practically a Catholic, except for her acknowledgment of the papal supremacy.
Cecil’s interests at this period were somewhat different from those of the Queen. Her great object was to consolidate her position by gaining the good-will of as many of her subjects as possible, apart from the question of religion. It was necessary for her to pass the Act of Supremacy, in order to establish the legality of her right to reign, and some sort of uniformity was necessary in the interests of peace and good government; but beyond that she was not anxious to push religious reform, for she disliked the Calvinists much more than she did the Catholics. But Cecil saw that if the Protestant Church were not established legally and strongly before Elizabeth died—and of course she might die at any time—the accession of Catholic Mary Stuart with French power at her back would mean the end of his ministry, and probably of his life. He and Sir Nicholas Bacon, his brother-in-law, with Bedford, were consequently regarded by the Spaniards as the principal promoters of religious changes. They tried hard to divert him, and in the list of Councillors who were to receive pensions from Spain he is down for a thousand crowns; but though he treated the Spaniards with great courtesy and conciliation, they do not appear to have influenced his policy by a hair’s-breadth. Parry, the Controller, now Treasurer of the Household, was a man of inferior talent, and was apparently jealous of Cecil. Feria, despairing of moving Cecil, consequently endeavoured to influence the Queen by fear through Parry. On the 6th March, during the passage of the ecclesiastical bills through Parliament, the Ambassador, with the Queen’s knowledge, arranged to meet Parry in St. James’s Park; but at the instance of Elizabeth, who did not desire the rest of her Council to see her confidential man in conference with Feria, the meeting-place was changed to Hyde Park, “near the execution place.” The Ambassador urged upon Parry that the proposed religious measures would certainly bring about the Queen’s downfall. Parry promised that the Queen would not assume the title of Supreme Head of the Church, but would call herself Governor. But this was all Feria could get; for a week after, when he saw the Queen, he “found her resolved about what was passed in Parliament yesterday, which Cecil and Vice-Chamberlain Knollys and their followers have managed to bring about for their own ends.” The Queen was excited and hysterical. She was a heretic, she said, and could not marry a Catholic like Philip. Feria endeavoured to calm and flatter her; but he assured her that if she gave her consent to the bills she would be utterly ruined. She promised him that she would not assume the title of Supreme Head; but she said that so much money was taken out of the country for the Pope that she must put an end to it, and the bishops were lazy poltroons, whereupon Feria retorted angrily, and Knollys purposely put an end to the conversation by announcing supper. Parry’s influence was small and decreasing. “Although,” says Feria, “he is a favourite of the Queen, he is not at all discreet, nor is he a good Catholic, but, still, he behaves better than the others. Cecil is very clever, but a mischievous man, and a heretic, and governs the Queen in spite of the Treasurer (Parry); for they are not at all good friends, and I have done what I can to make them worse.” Cecil, of course, had his way, and the Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity received the royal assent within a few weeks of this time (April 1559).
In the meanwhile both Cecil and the Queen worked hard to divert or mollify the irritation of the Spaniards caused by the religious measures. The pretence of a desire on the part of the Queen to marry an Austrian Archduke was elaborately carried on. Envoys from the Emperor went backwards and forwards. The sly, silky old Bishop of Aquila, the new Spanish Ambassador, tried to draw the Queen into a position from which she could not recede. She was coy, interesting, unsophisticated, and cunning by turns, but never compromised herself too far. The object was simply to keep the Spaniards from breaking away whilst pursuing her own course, and this object was effected.
The treaty of Cateau-Cambresis was ratified with great ceremony in London at the end of May: Fran?ois de Montmorenci and a splendid French embassy were entertained at Elizabeth’s court, the Emperor’s envoy being present at the same time to push the Archduke’s suit. It was Cecil’s cue to pretend to the Spaniards that the French were now very affectionate, and one day after some vicarious love-making with the Queen on behalf of the Archduke, the Bishop had a long conversation with the Secretary. The latter hinted that a French match had been offered to the Queen, and asked his opinion of it. If it had not been for the dispensatory power of the Pope being necessary, the Queen, said Cecil, would have married Philip; “but the proposal involved religious questions which it would be fruitless now to discuss, as the matter had fallen through.” The object of this, of course, was to attract the Spaniards, first by jealousy of the French, and next by a show of sympathy with Spain. For reasons already set forth with regard to English succession, Philip was just as anxious as Cecil to avoid a quarrel. “I was glad,” writes the Bishop, “to have the opportunity of talking over these matters with him, to dissipate the suspicion which I think he and his friends entertain, that they have incurred your Majesty’s anger by their change of religion. I therefore answered him without any reproach or complaint, and only said that what had been done in the kingdom certainly seemed to me very grave, severe, and ill-timed, but that I hoped in God; and if He would some day give us a council of bishops, or a good Pope, who would reform the customs of the clergy, and the abuses of the court of Rome, which had scandalised the provinces, all the evil would be remedied; and God would not allow so noble and Christian a nation as this to be separated in faith from the rest of Christendom.” Thus the Catholic Bishop met the Protestant Cecil more than half-way; and no more triumphant instance can be found than this of the policy of the first few months of Elizabeth’s reign. The faith of England had been revolutionised in six months without serious discontent in the country itself. Instead of hectoring Feria flouting and threatening, the bland Churchman sought to minimise differences of religion to the “pestilent knave” who had been principally instrumental in making the great change. From master of England, Philip had changed to an equal anxious to avoid its enmity. The altered position had been brought about partly by Philip’s dread of half-French Mary Stuart succeeding to the English throne if Elizabeth should disappear, partly by the studious moderation of the English ecclesiastical measures, and partly by the care taken by Cecil and the Queen to keep alive the idea that the French were courting their friendship, whilst they themselves preferred the old connection with the House of Burgundy.
How vital it was for England to conciliate Philip at this juncture was evident to those who, like Cecil, were behind the scenes, although the extreme Protestants in the country were somewhat restive about it. Before the treaty of peace with France was negotiated, at the very beginning of the year 1559, Cecil drew up an important state paper for the consideration of the Council, discussing the probability of an immediate French attack upon England over the Scottish border in the interests of Mary Stuart. The religious disturbances in Scotland had necessitated the sending of a considerable French force to the aid of the Queen Regent, and Cecil says that a large army of French and German mercenaries was already collected, which it was doubtful whether the English could resist. The questions he propounded to the Council were whether it would be better to seize the Scottish ports at once before the French fleet arrived, or to place England in a state of defence and await events. The latter course was adopted, conjointly with endeavours to draw Philip to the side of England, and the sending of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton to France to remonstrate with the King. The occasion given for this alarm is stated in Cecil’s diary as follows: “January 16th, 1559. The Dolphin of France and his wife Queen of Scotts, did, by style of King and Queen of Scotland, England, and Ireland, graunt unto the Lord Fleming certain things.”
Throgmorton arrived in Paris on the 23rd May, and on the 7th June wrote to Cecil that the Guises and Mary Stuart were bribing and pensioning Englishmen there, and that Cardinal Lorraine was busy intriguing for the sending of a force to Scotland, and for promoting his niece’s claim to the English crown. He was “inquisitive to know of such Englishmen as he hath offered to interteigne, how many shippes the Queen’s Majesty hath in redeness, and whether the same be layed up in dock at Gillingham, and how many of them be on the narrow seas, and whether the new great ships be already made and furnished with takling and ordnance.” On the 21st of the same month the news was still more alarming. Throgmorton informed Cecil that a suggestion had been made to him for a marriage between Queen Elizabeth and Guise’s brother, the Duke de Nemours, to which he had replied that he could not say anything about it unless the King of France or his Council officially mentioned it. Throgmorton now heard that Constable Montmorenci had reproached Nemours for making such a suggestion, “adding further these words, ‘What! do yow not know that the Queen Dauphin hath right and title to England.’” They only waited for an opportunity, said Throgmorton, to say, “Have at you.” Great preparations were being made in Paris for the celebration of the peace with Spain, and the betrothal of the King’s daughter to King Philip by proxy, and watchful Throgmorton soon discovered that on all escutcheons, banners, and trophies in which the Dauphin’s and his wife’s arms were represented, the arms of England were quartered, and almost daily thereafter in his letters to Cecil the Ambassador sounds the alarm. Cecil himself in his diary thus marks the progress of events, 28th June 1559: “the justs at Paris, wherein the King-Dolphin’s two heralds were apparelled with the arms of England.” On the 29th June, at the great tournament to celebrate his child’s betrothal to Philip, Henry II. was accidentally thrust in the eye by Montgomerie, and in a moment the political crisis became acute.
Mary Stuart was now Queen Consort of France. Her clever, ambitious uncles, Guise and the Cardinal, were practically rulers of France, and she herself, as Throgmorton says, “took everything upon her,” and according to Cecil’s diary (16th July), “the ushers going before the Queen of Scotts (now French Queen) to Chappell cry, ‘Place pour la Reine d’Angleterre.’” As soon as the pretensions of Mary were known, Cecil’s counter move was to send help to the reform party in Scotland, and to revive the talk of a marriage between Elizabeth and the Earl of Arran, the heir-apparent to the Scottish crown. Arran was in France; and on the first suspicion against him of intriguing with the English, the King had ordered his capture, dead or alive. Randolph and Killigrew were successively sent by Cecil to Throgmorton with orders to aid the Earl, and, at any risk, smuggle him to England. In disguise he was conveyed by Randolph to Zurich, and thence to England, and subsequently into Scotland, to head the Protestant party against the French, from his father’s castles of Hamilton and Dumbarton. Whilst Arran was in hiding in England, Cecil was apparently the only minister who saw him, and when he left, it was with full instructions and pecuniary help from the Secretary. Cecil was a man of peace; but the main point of his policy was the keeping of the French out of Flanders and Scotland. Now that Guise ambition openly struck at England through the northern kingdom active measures were needed, and they were taken.
As usual, Cecil’s report on the whole question to the Queen judiciously summed up all the possibilities. The document sets forth the desirability of an enduring peace between Scotland and England, and the impossibility of it whilst the former country is governed by a foreign nation like the French in the absence of its native sovereign; that the land should be “freed from idolatry like as England”; and that the nobility should be banded together with the next heir to the crown (Arran) to remedy all abuses. “If the Queen (Mary) shall be unwilling to this, as is likely, … then it is apparent that Almighty God is pleased to transfer from her the rule of the kingdom for the weale of it. And in this time great circumspection is to be used to avoid the deceits and trumperies of the French.” Sir William’s decision, after infinite discussion, is that the cheapest and only possible way will be at once to send strong reinforcements to the Scottish reformers, and at the same time that Sadler and Crofts on the Border should be sleepless, as they were, in their efforts in favour of the Protestant Scots.
There was no matter which concerned Cecil so much as this, as will be seen by his many interesting letters about it to Sir Ralph Sadler in the Sadler Papers. He had gone to Burghley in September 1559, and thence wrote to Sadler his anxiety to hear of Arran’s safe arrival in Scotland. “Th’erle of Arrayn borrowed of me at his being at London 200 crowns, which he promised should be paid to you, Mr. Sadler, for me. After some tyme passed, I praye you aske it of hym.” The next day Cecil wrote that he had ordered Sadler “to lende the Protestants money, as of your selve, taking secretly the bonds of them to rendre the same; so as the Quene should not be partie thereto.” Thenceforward money was secretly sent in plenty by Sir William to maintain the Scottish reformers who were besieging Leith, but Knox and the rigid Calvinists, with their republican and anti-feminine ideas, were hated by the Queen, and made matters difficult. “Knox’s name,” says Cecil, “is the most odious here. I wish no mention of it hither.” “Surely I like not Knox’s audacitie.… His writings do no good here, and therefore I do rather suppress them.”
But it became evident that the Lords of the Congregation would be unable much longer to hold their own without powerful armed assistance from England. This would of course mean a renewal of the war with France, and before it could be undertaken it was necessary to make quite sure of the attitude of Philip, who was about to marry the French Princess. On this occasion, for the first time, Cecil was met and hampered in his action by a counter intrigue within the English court, such as for the next twenty years continually faced him.
When the Queen rode through the city from the Charterhouse to the Tower on her white jennet, she was followed closely by a handsome young man of her own age, who attracted general attention. She had appointed Lord Robert Dudley, the son of Cecil’s old patron, Northumberland, Master of the Horse at Hatfield on the day that Mary died. In less than six months the tongue of scandal was busy with the doings of the Queen and her favourite, and the Spanish agents were calculating the chances of his being made an instrument for their ends. Gradually the English competitors for the Queen’s hand sank into the background, whilst Dudley, a married man, grew in favour daily. He was made a Knight of the Garter, to the openly expressed annoyance of other older and worthier nobles; money grants and favours of all sorts were showered upon him, and the Queen would hardly let him out of her sight. So long as the talk of the match with the Archduke Charles only dragged on its interminable length, Dudley was mildly approving and claiming rewards and bribes from the Spaniards in consequence; for he knew perfectly well that the negotiation was a feint, and that the religious obstacles were unsurmountable. But when, as has been seen, national interests led Cecil to play his master-move and checkmate Mary Stuart and the French connection in Scotland with Arran and the English marriage, Dudley saw that the affair was serious, and at once set about frustrating Cecil’s national policy for his personal advantage. In order to obstruct the marriage with Arran, the first step was for Dudley to profess himself hotly in favour of the Austrian match.
His sister, Lady Sidney, was sent to the Bishop of Aquila, with the assurance that the Queen would consent to marry the Archduke at once if she were asked (September 1559). Dudley and Parry both came and assured the Bishop of their devotion, body and soul, to Spanish interests. There was, they said, a plot to kill the Queen, and she had now made up her mind to concede the religious points at issue and marry the Archduke at once. The Queen herself avoided going so far as that in words, but by looks and hints she confirmed what Lady Sidney and Dudley had said. Between them they hoodwinked the Churchman, and he urged upon Philip and the Emperor the coming of the bridegroom. After his long talk at Whitehall with the Queen at the end of September, the Bishop saw Cecil, who by this time was fully aware of what was going on, and adroitly turned it to the advantage of his policy. War with the French in Scotland was practically adopted, if Philip could be depended upon to stand aloof. When, accordingly, the Bishop approached Cecil, the latter, although he avoided pledging himself to the Queen’s marrying the Archduke, spoke sympathetically about it. But his tone was different from Dudley’s. “I saw,” says the Bishop, “that he was beating about the bush, and begged that we might speak plainly to one another. I was not blind or deaf, and could easily perceive that the Queen was not taking this step to refuse her consent after all. He swore he did not know, and could not assure me.” But then Cecil shot his bolt. The French, he said, were striving to impede the Archduke’s match, and had offered great things to the Swedes if they could bring about the marriage of Elizabeth with the Prince of Sweden. “They (the English) well understood that this was only to alienate the Queen from her connection and friendship with Philip, and thus to enable the French to invade this country more easily.” Cecil then consented, but vaguely, to help forward “our affair,” and was promised all Philip’s favour if he did so. All Cecil asked for and wanted was an assurance of the help or neutrality of Spain, in the event of a French invasion, and this he unhesitatingly got—“if the Queen will marry the Archduke,” a condition which Cecil, at least, must have known would not be fulfilled.
For the next week or two the Queen surpassed herself in vivacity, in pretended anticipation of the coming of her Imperial lover. She became outwardly more Catholic than ever. Candles and crucifixes were again put up on the altars of her chapels, priests wore their vestments, and the Spanish Bishop was in the best of spirits. All this was going too far for Cecil, and was forcing his hand. He wanted to ensure Philip’s countenance by arousing jealousy of the French, whilst keeping the Archduke’s marriage gently simmering. But if Dudley and the Queen carried it too far, it would either end in mortally offending Philip, or in introducing a strong Catholic influence in England, which would have been the end of Cecil as a minister. Feria, in Flanders, saw this clearly enough, and wrote to the Bishop to tell Dudley that Cecil would really be against the Archduke’s business. Dudley’s intrigue to prevent the Scottish match, not only hampered Cecil, but set the whole court by the ears. The Duke of Norfolk and the thorough-going Spanish Catholic party formed a plot to kill Dudley, as they knew he was not sincere, and would prevent the marriage with the Archduke, perhaps, at the last moment; whilst Cecil’s own Protestant friends, Bedford especially, who did not understand his cautious manner of dealing with difficulties, quarrelled with him about his apparent acquiescence in fresh Popish innovations.
Dudley’s bubble soon burst of itself. The Emperor, not under the sway of Elizabeth’s charm, was cool. The Bishop, as a feeler, fostered the idea that the Archduke was already on the way, and then the Queen, Dudley, and Lady Sidney took fright and began to cry off; and the Bishop saw he had been deceived (November 1559). But Arran’s suit had still to be combated, and Dudley warmly took up the Swedish match; whilst the gossips whispered that he had decided to poison his wife, and marry the Queen himself. Matters had reached this stage, when the Bishop’s agents began plotting with the Duke of Norfolk for the open coming of the Archduke, his marriage with Catharine Grey, and the murder of Elizabeth and Dudley; but this required bolder hands than Norfolk or Philip, and nothing came of it but open quarrels between Dudley and those who he knew were planning his ruin. Gradually prudent Cecil worked the Archduke’s negotiations back again into the stage in which they had been when Dudley interfered. The Bishop was courted, an envoy was sent to Vienna, care was taken to keep alive Philip’s jealousy of the French—more than ever to be feared by the Spanish King, now that his own Netherlands were seething with disaffection; and then, at last, Cecil was able to accede to the prayer of the Scottish reformers, and send an English force to their aid.
On the 23rd December 1559, Cecil could write to Sadler, saying that the Duke of Norfolk and Lord Grey were on their way north to take command of the army. “Our shippes be on the sea, God spede them! William Winter is appointed, as he commeth nigh, to learn of you the state of the French navy within the Firth. And it is thought good that ye should cause some small vessell to goo to hym with your intelligence before he come very nigh that towne, lest by tarryeng for your answer his voyage be hindered. The French are much amased at this our sodden going to sea, so as the Marq d’Elb?uf being come to Callise is retorned to Parriss in great hast. We lack intelligence from you and be ignorant of what ye do in Scotland. We be afrayd of the loss of Edinburgh Castle. God gyve ye both good night, for I am almost a slepe. At Westminster, hora 12? nocte 23 Dec. 1559.”
The fleet of thirty-two sail, with 8000 infantry and 2000 cavalry, sailed up the Forth exactly a month after this letter was written, to the dismay of the French and the Queen Regent, who shortly afterwards learnt that Elb?uf and his army had been storm-beaten back to France. The French and Catholic Scots were now cooped up in Leith, with no possibility of receiving aid from France; whilst the English on the Border, and the Lords of the Congregation, were organising a strong land force to invade Scotland.
There was nothing more to be dreaded by Philip—as Cecil well knew—than a war between England and France for the cause of the Scottish Protestants. The Spanish alliance with France had aroused the distrust of the powerful reform party in the latter country; and on the accession of Francis II. and the Guises to power, the Queen-mother, Catharine de Medici, whose chance had at last come after years of insult and neglect, at once threw her influence into the scale of their opponents, the Montmorencis and the reformers. Throgmorton had been sent to France to form a union between the Protestant and anti-Guisan elements in France and Elizabeth, and in this he had been entirely successful, to the unfeigned dismay of Philip and his agents. This combination of Protestants in England, Scotland, and France, and probably also in Germany, was a most threatening one for Philip’s objects, especially in view of the condition of his own Netherlands; and yet his hands were tied. He dared not raise a hand to make French Mary Stuart Queen of Great Britain, although the triumph of reform in Scotland and this combination of Protestants struck at the very root of his objects and his policy. To the cautious planning of Cecil almost exclusively was owing the fact that in one year Philip had been disarmed, and rendered impotent to injure a Protestant England. The Spanish Bishop’s only remedy for it all was to plot with the extreme English Catholics to kill Elizabeth, Dudley, and Cecil, and place Catharine Grey or Darnley on the throne under Spanish tutelage; and he conspired ceaselessly with that object. But his master knew better than he. The French, he was aware, would fight to prevent such a result, as well as the English, and neither he nor his coffers were in a mood for fighting them then; so he had to stoop to peaceful diplomacy, and tried to beat Cecil at his own game. The Secretary had continued to answer firmly all the Bishop’s remonstrances and veiled threats, for he knew Philip could not move; and when it was decided to send a special Flemish envoy to England to dissuade the Queen from aiding the Scottish Protestants, the Bishop almost scornfully told Feria that, if talking had been of any good, he would have done it already. “They would do more harm than good if they were only coming to talk, for the English Catholics expect much more than that.” “Cecil,” he says, “is the heart of the business, and is determined to carry it through, until they are ruined, as they will be.” In the meanwhile (April 1560) the siege of Leith went on, notwithstanding the attempts of the French to settle terms of peace in London. Elizabeth would have nothing to do with any peace that left a French man-at-arms in Scotland.
Philip’s Flemish envoy, De Glajon, arrived in London on the 5th April 1560, and was very coolly received by Elizabeth. In Philip’s name he exhorted her to abstain from helping the Scottish rebels, and then threatened that if she did not come to terms with the French, Spanish troops would be sent to reinforce the latter. She was dignified, but alarmed at this, and sent Cecil on the following day to discuss the question with De Glajon. After a conference, lasting five hours, in which Cecil recited all the English complaints against France, and pointed out the danger to Philip that would ensue upon the French becoming masters of Scotland, he positively assured the envoy that the English troops would not be withdrawn from Scotland until their objects were attained. The French Ambassador tried hard to draw Philip’s envoy into a joint hostile protest to Elizabeth; but the Spaniards knew that their master really did not mean to fight, and declined to compromise him. They, indeed, assured Cecil privately, that if Philip helped the French, it would only be in the interests of Elizabeth herself.
Through all the negotiation Cecil’s management was most masterly. He had taken Philip’s measure now, and knew the powerless position in which English diplomacy, aided by circumstances, had placed him. The Guises had taken his measure too. As week followed week, and hope of help from him disappeared, they saw that they must make such terms as they might with Elizabeth. The French in Leith were heroically holding out, though starving and hopeless; no reinforcements could be sent from France, for England held the sea, and the Queen-mother and the reform party would give no help to purely Guisan objects. So at last, in May, Monluc, the Bishop of Valence, came humbly to London and sued Elizabeth for peace, and Cecil and Wotton, with Sir Henry Percy, Sir Ralph Sadler, and Peter Carew, travelled to Scotland to meet the French commissioners and settle the terms. Cecil started on the 30th May, and at the different stages of his journey he wrote letters to Sir William Petre. On the 31st he writes from Royston: “in no apparent doubt of health, yet by foulness of weather afraid to ride to Huntingdon till to-morrow.” On the 2nd June his letter comes from his own house at Burghley, “rubbing on between health and sickness, yet my heart serveth me to get the mastery.”
His energy, his command of detail, and his foresight are remarkably shown in these letters. He spurs Petre to do as evidently he himself would have done—to expedite everything necessary for the prosecution of the war, though peace was in prospect; “to quicken the Lord Treasurer for money,” and so forth. From Stamford he went to Doncaster, Boroughbridge, Northallerton, Newcastle, and so to Scotland, always vigilant, observant, suggestive; but in nearly every letter expressing deep distrust of the French, whom he suspected of treachery at every point. When they met in Edinburgh his complaints are constant of their “cavilations” and hairsplitting. “They may contend, however, about a word,” he says, “but I mean to have the victory.” Before the negotiations commenced, the Queen Regent, Mary of Lorraine, died (11th June), and this, by perplexing the French, somewhat facilitated an arrangement. The most difficult point was the use of the English arms by Mary Stuart, and, on the 1st July, Cecil wrote to the Queen that the negotiations had been broken off on that point alone. After this was written, but before it was despatched, Cecil proposed a “device,” by the insertion of a “few fair words”; and an arrangement was the result, which stands a triumphant vindication of Cecil’s policy.
The French troops were all to be withdrawn, Leith and Dunbar to be razed, Mary abandoned her claim to the English crown, and acknowledged Elizabeth; and, above all, Mary granted a constitution to her subjects, which well-nigh annihilated the prerogative of her throne. A Parliament was to be forthwith summoned, which should have the power to declare or veto war or peace; during the sovereign’s absence the country was to be governed by a council of twelve persons to be chosen out of twenty-four elected by Parliament, seven of the twelve being chosen by the Queen, and five by Parliament; no foreigner was to hold any place of trust, nor was an ecclesiastic to control the revenues; a complete indemnity was given for all past acts, civil and ecclesiastical, and the question of religious toleration was to be finally decided by Parliament.
Thus the Scottish-French question, which had been a standing menace to England for centuries, was settled by the statesmanship of Cecil; and perhaps through the whole of his great career no achievement shows more clearly than this the consummate tact, patience, firmness, moderation, and foresight that characterised his policy. Less than two years before England under the patronage of Philip was forced to accept a humiliating peace from France, and Spanish and French agents had intrigued against each other as to which of their two sovereigns should use prostrate, exhausted England for his own objects. In two short years of dexterous statesmanship England had turned the tables. Not only had she with comparative ease effected a vast domestic revolution, but she was conscious of the fact that both of the great Continental rivals were impotent to injure her, out of jealousy of each other, whilst her own power for offence and defence had enormously increased, and the knitting together of the reformers throughout Europe had placed her at the head of a confederacy which she could use as a balance against her enemies.
The results achieved in so short a time after Elizabeth’s accession were due in a large measure to the moderation and prudence of Cecil’s methods. The changes which had been made attacked many interests, and ran counter to many prejudices; and the policy of Elizabeth in retaining most of her sister’s Councillors had surrounded her with men who still clung to the old faith and the traditions of the past. From the first the Spanish and French Ambassadors had begun to bribe the Councillors, and had respectively formed their parties amongst those who immediately surrounded the Queen. Elizabeth herself was fickle and unstable, yet obstinate in the opinion of the moment. Her vanity often led her into false and dangerous positions, and already scandal was busy with her doings. She was easily swayed by the opinions of others, yet fiercely resented any attempt at dictation. Her feelings, moreover, towards the French were by no means so antagonistic as those of Cecil, and the cost of the war in Scotland had caused her great annoyance. It will be seen, therefore, that the task of her principal minister in carrying out with safety a consistent national policy was an extremely difficult one. More than once during the Scotch war the French-Guisan party in Elizabeth’s court had, to Cecil’s dismay, nearly persuaded the Queen to suspend hostilities, whilst Philip’s paid agents in her Council were for ever whispering distrust of Cecil and his religious reforms. Whilst the Howards, Arundel, Paget, Mason, and the rest of the Philipians—as the puritan Lord John Grey called them—were denouncing the minister for his Protestant measures, the hot zealots who had hurried back from Germany and Switzerland, dreaming of the violent establishment of an Anglican Church on the Genevan pattern, were discontented at the slowness and tentative character of the religious reforms adopted; and Cecil’s own friends, like the Earl of Bedford, the Duchess of Suffolk, and the Lord Admiral Clinton, were often impatient at his moderation. To this must be added the unprincipled influence of Dudley, who was ready to swear allegiance to any cause, to serve his purpose of dominating the Queen, a purpose which was naturally opposed by Cecil as being dangerous to the national welfare. It will thus be seen that the patient, strong minister was surrounded by difficulties on every side; and but for the fact that none of his rivals were comparable with him in ability and energy, Cecil must have shared the usual fate of ministers, and have fallen before the attacks of his enemies.
He returned from Scotland at the end of July, after an absence of sixty-three days and from a letter of the Lord Treasurer (Winchester) to him soon afterwards (24th August 1560), it is evident that his detractors had been at work in his absence. The old Marquis loved to stand well with all men, but his tendencies we know now to have been “Philipian,” and he wrote to the Secretary: “In the meantime all good Councillors shall have labor and dolor without reward; wherein your part is most of all mens; for your charge and paynes be farre above all oder mens, and your thanks and rewards least and worst considered, and specially for that you spend wholly of yourself, without your ordinary fee, land, patent, gift, or ony thing, which must nedes discomfort you. And yett when your counsell is most for her Majesties honour and profitt, the same hath got hinderance by her weke creditt of you, and by back councells; and so long as that matter shall continue it must needs be dangerous service and unthankful.”
Less than three weeks after this letter was written, the Bishop of Aquila went to Greenwich about the Austrian match, which still dragged on, when, to his surprise, the Queen told him flatly she had altered her mind, and would not marry at all. The Bishop then sought out Cecil, who, he knew, was now in semi-disgrace, owing to the efforts of Dudley in his absence. The Secretary was not in the habit of wearing his heart upon his sleeve, and if he did so on this occasion to Philip’s minister, it may be concluded that it was from motives of policy, which are not very far to seek. “After exacting many pledges of strict secrecy, he said that the Queen was conducting herself in such a way that he thought of retiring. He said it was a bad sailor who did not enter port if he could when he saw a storm coming on, and he clearly foresaw the ruin of the realm through Robert’s intimacy with the Queen, who surrendered all affairs to him and meant to marry him. He said he did not know how the country put up with it, and he should ask leave to go home, though he thought they would cast him into the Tower first. He ended by begging me in God’s name to point out to the Queen the effect of her misconduct, and persuade her not to abandon business entirely, but to look to her realm; and then he repeated to me twice over that Lord Robert would be better in Paradise than here.” After this Cecil told the Ambassador that Dudley “was thinking of killing his wife,” which on the following day the Queen partly confirmed by mentioning to the Bishop that she was “dead or nearly so.” The Bishop’s comment upon this is, that “Cecil’s disgrace must have great effect, as he has many companions in discontent, especially the Duke of Norfolk.… Their quarrels cannot injure public business, as nobody worse than Cecil can be at the head of affairs, but the outcome of it all might be the imprisonment of the Queen, and the proclamation of the Earl of Huntingdon as King. He is a great heretic, and the French forces might be used for him. Cecil says he is the real heir of England, and all the heretics want him. I do not like Cecil’s great friendship with the Bishop of Valence.”
Shortly after this was written, the tragic fate of Amy Robsart was announced. For months past there had been rumours of the intention of Dudley to have his wife killed, in order that he might marry the Queen, and as the date of Cecil’s conversation with the Bishop is not quite certain, it is possible that he may have spoken with the knowledge that she was already dead. In any case, however, it is certain that, at this time, Cecil feared that the Queen’s passion for Dudley would bring about the downfall of the edifice he had so laboriously built, and he sought if possible to lay the foundation for his future action. The friendship with the Guisan Bishop, Monluc, was clearly a feint, as was also the idea that the French would help Huntingdon to the detriment of their own Queen Mary Stuart, but it would serve to arouse the jealousy of the Spaniards, and would incline them to Cecil’s side to prevent it. Dudley had in Cecil’s absence gained most of the advanced Protestant party to his side by his open championship of their ideas, and the Secretary, finding himself distrusted by his friends, was obliged to endeavour to discredit Dudley, to gain the sympathy of the Spanish Bishop, and, through him, of the “Philipians,” who were already opposed to Dudley as an upstart and a friend of France. Regarded in this light, Cecil’s unwonted frankness to the Spanish Ambassador is intelligible enough. If things went well with the Queen, the “Philipians” could keep him in office, and if disaster befell her, he dissociated himself from her before the catastrophe, and made common cause with the party which in such case would certainly be uppermost.
The danger, however, soon blew over, for Amy Robsart’s death caused so much scandal as to cover Dudley with obloquy, and render him powerless for a time, during which Cecil regained his influence. How completely he did so is seen in Dudley’s enigmatical letter to him at the time when he was first feeling the effect of the odium of his wife’s death. The real meaning of the letter is not intelligible. Dudley had retired from court, probably to Wanstead, and had been visited by Cecil, who was having close inquiry made into the death of Lady Robert. He appears to have made some friendly promise to Dudley, who is effusively grateful. “The great frendshipp you have shewyd towards me I shall not forgett. I pray you lett me hear from you what you think best for me to doe; if you doubt, I pray you ask the question (of the Queen?), for the sooner you can advyse me the more I shall thank you. I am sorry so sodden a chaunce shuld brede me so great a change, for methinks I am here all this while as it were in a dream.” Dudley’s retirement and pretended disgrace, to save appearances, did not last long; and when he came back to court he found Cecil in full favour again. Whilst Lord Robert was away Cecil had extracted a positive assurance from the Queen direct, that she would not marry Dudley. Cecil had thereupon made another attempt to revive the Archduke’s negotiation, and at the same time had sounded the Spanish Ambassador about marrying Catharine Grey to a nominee of Philip; this being a prudent attempt to obtain a second connecting link with Spain, now that the negotiations with the Archduke had been worn nearly threadbare.
But the Spanish-Austrian family were not responsive. They had been fooled more than once, and were determined that Elizabeth should not lead them into a position compromising to their dignity; but it was necessary for those who had the welfare of England at heart to take some steps which should render Dudley’s hopes unrealisable. The Protestant party in the Council, with Cecil’s acquiescence, again brought up the proposal of the new King of Sweden, Eric XIV. He was an eager suitor, and had been trying to gain a hearing at intervals since before Mary’s death; and in answer to private messages from England, intimated his intention of coming himself to win his bride. The Protestants were overjoyed; for this would have been an ideal solution for them, especially now that the situation had been unexpectedly changed by the death of the young King of France, Mary Stuart’s husband (5th December 1560). This event, which took away much of the Guises’ power, and weakened Mary’s connection with France, now governed by her mother-in-law, Catharine de Medici, who hated her, banished in a large measure Philip’s dread of her accession to the English throne; and the Catholics in England thought they saw daylight ahead, if the Queen died childless.
It was natural, therefore, that the Protestants should make a counter move, and actively revive the idea of the Swedish match. It was equally to be expected that when Dudley thus found himself without any party at all but his personal friends, he should seek support in a fresh quarter. He was without shame, scruple, or conscience. He had betrayed, or was ready to betray, every person or cause that trusted him; his sole object was to force or cajole the Queen into marrying him, and he grasped at any aid towards it. In January 1561 his brother-in-law, Sir Henry Sidney, a Catholic, and a friend of Spain, came to the Bishop of Aquila, and assured him that Dudley was innocent of his wife’s death, though public opinion was universally against him. Sidney then went on to say that, as Elizabeth’s desire to marry Dudley was evident, it was surprising that the Spanish party had not helped him in his object, and thus gained his gratitude, in return for which “he would hereafter serve and obey your Majesty like one of your own vassals.” The Bishop was not eager, for he had been tricked before when the Sidneys were the intermediaries; but when Sidney promised that if Dudley were aided to marry the Queen, he would restore the Catholic religion in England, the Churchman listened. He could be no party, of course, he said, to a bargain about religion; but if Dudley really wished to repent in this way, he should be delighted. The Queen acquiesced in the intrigue, and eagerly listened to the Spaniard’s advocacy of Dudley’s suit, though doubtless she did not know that her English suitor had promised, in the event of his marriage, to hand over the whole government to the King of Spain, and fully restore the Catholic faith.
As some earnest of the Queen’s and Dudley’s chastened hearts, the Bishop had urged that English plenipotentiaries should be sent to the Council of Trent, and the English bishops released who were imprisoned for refusing the oath of supremacy. Dudley was willing to promise that or anything else; but in so important a matter of State as the recognition of the Pope’s Council, the co-operation of Cecil was needed. He was, of course, opposed to Dudley’s suit, but had not interfered openly to stop these negotiations, the Bishop says, in consequence of his having been bribed by the grant of some emoluments enjoyed by Parry, who had recently died, but more probably because he may really have been at the bottom of these negotiations, and he knew that he could checkmate Dudley more effectually, if necessary, at a later stage. As we have seen, his opposition to strong forces was rarely direct. He knew in this case that the Queen would resent open thwarting from him; and that it would also have the effect of offending the Catholics, and renewing the quarrel with Dudley and his friends. So when he was consulted, he feigned to welcome the project of sending English representatives to the Council of Trent, and at once proceeded to kill it with kindness.
The situation in England was an extremely critical one. Much public dissatisfaction existed at the Queen’s questionable behaviour, and the Catholics, especially, were greatly disturbed in consequence of the attitude of Mary Stuart. The treaty of Edinburgh, the result of so much thought and labour, had not been ratified by Mary and her husband when the latter died; and in answer to requests on the part of the English Government, through Throgmorton and Sir Peter Mewtys, that she would ratify it, Mary declined until she had by her side some of her Scottish Councillors. The Scottish Parliament had been summoned in accordance with the treaty, before the latter had been accepted by the sovereign, and consequently her refusal to ratify the treaty raised a host of difficulties on all sides. It was felt universally that Mary might well expect now the countenance of Philip in her pretensions to the English crown, whilst all that was Catholic in France looked to her uncles, the Guises, as leaders. The combination was too strong for Cecil to face directly, in addition to the Queen’s caprice and the factions of the English court, and his method of dealing with the matter was characteristically prudent. During the progress of Dudley’s negotiations with the Spaniard to bring back England to Catholicism, the puritan Earl of Bedford was sent to France, ostensibly to ask Mary again to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, and to condole with her for the loss of her husband; but his real object was to bring about an understanding with the Duke of Vend?me, Coligny, and the French Protestants. At the same time Randolph was entrusted with an important message to the Protestant nobles of Scotland. He was to tell them that the Protestant princes of Germany were firmly united; that the French reformers were now the stronger party; that the Queen of England would stand by the Scots; and to exhort them to be true to the Protestant faith, no matter what efforts might be made to move them. Randolph was also to approach even Scottish Catholics, and point out what a favourable opportunity now occurred, the Queen of Scots being free of her French connection, to form a close union between England and Scotland.
But whilst this seed was germinating it was necessary for Cecil to dally with the Catholics and “Philipians” in England. He accordingly went (March 1561) to the Spanish Ambassador with a message—secretly purporting to come from the Queen, but ostensibly from himself—to the effect that it would be a great favour to the Queen “and a help to this business” if Philip would write her a letter as soon as possible, “urging her, in the interests of her country, to marry at once; and, as she is disinclined to marry a foreigner, he advises her to choose one of her own subjects, who, in such case, would receive Philip’s friendship and support.” Cecil affected to urge this course very warmly upon the Bishop, who, however, was wary, and insisted upon knowing definitely whether the Queen herself had sent the message. The only answer that Cecil would give was that it was not fair to drive a modest maiden like the Queen up in a corner, and make her personally responsible for steps leading to her own marriage. But he told the Bishop that the reason Philip’s letter was necessary, was that the Queen should submit it to a packed deputation of both Houses of Parliament, so that her marriage with Dudley might, in appearance, have the sanction of her people. No course so likely as this to frustrate the match could have been devised, as Dudley himself saw, for he fell ill of vexation; but, as the Bishop says, he was faint-hearted, and lacked ability and courage to break through the snares that Cecil had spread for him. The Bishop divined the plan very soon. “The deputation is being arranged,” he says, “to suit him and the heretics, who have entire control of the Queen.… She dares not go against Cecil’s advice, because she thinks that both sides would then rise up against her.”
Cecil, “who,” he says, “is entirely pledged to these unhappy heresies, and is the leader of the business,” tried on more than one occasion to draw the Spanish Bishop into religious controversy—the Bishop thought, with the object of discovering whether Dudley or the Queen had gone further in their pledges than he had been told. He suggested that the Pope should send theologians to England to discuss religion with English divines, but the Bishop would not hear of it. Then he proposed that the Bishop himself should secretly meet the Archbishop of Canterbury (Parker) and endeavour to bring about a religious modus vivendi; to which the Spaniard replied, that if they were sincere in their desire to agree, they had better begin with the main points of difference, instead of discussing secondary points of dogma.
Cecil assured him that the Queen would send representatives to the Pope’s Council, on condition that it was held in a place satisfactory to other princes; that the Pope or his legate should preside over the Council, not so as to infer that he was the ruler of it, but only the president of its deliberations; that questions of faith might be decided by Holy Scripture, the consensus of divines, and the decisions of early councils; that the English bishops should be recognised as equals of the rest; and other conditions of the same sort, which obviously frustrated—as they were meant to do—all hope of the religious compact, upon which Dudley’s hopes were ostensibly built. In the court, we are told, Cecil went about saying that the Queen wished to send her envoys to the Council, but that a Council could not judge questions of faith, nor could the Pope, as of right, claim to preside. On the one hand, he reprehended the Bishop of Winchester (Horn) for preaching against the authority of the Councils, and caused a meeting of bishops to be called at Lambeth, to settle a profession of faith to be sent to the Council; whilst, on the other, he told the Spaniard that if when the Pope wrote to the Queen he did not give her her full titles of Queen of England and Defender of the Faith, she would not receive his letters. Well might Quadra say: “I do not know what to think of it all: these people are in such a confusion that they confound me as well. Cecil is a very great heretic, but he is neither foolish nor false, and he professes to treat me very frankly. He has conceded to me these three points, which I consider of the utmost importance, however much he may twist them to the other side.” Whoever else may have been confused, we may be certain that Cecil knew what he was about, for he completely hoodwinked and conciliated the Spanish Bishop and the Catholics until his new combination was consolidated. The English Catholics were more leniently treated; and the Queen and court were almost inconveniently friendly with Quadra, who was obliged to whisper to his friends that it was all make-believe. He said more truly than he thought at the time. At the end of April, Cecil’s arrangements were complete, and the mask could be dropped safely.
At the instance of Randolph the Scottish Lords of the Congregation had commissioned James Stuart, Mary’s natural brother, afterwards Earl of Murray, who was already in English pay, to visit his sister in France, and influence her to return to Scotland pledged to the treaty of Edinburgh, and to place herself in the hands of the Protestant party. For the moment the Guises in France were in disgrace, and plotting for their own advancement, so that it suited them to appear to acquiesce in an arrangement which promised that their niece should take possession of her kingdom without disturbance. James Stuart, carefully coached by Throgmorton, went back to London with the assurance that all was well. Mundt, in Germany, had drawn the league closer between England and the Princes; Bedford in France had completed a cordial arrangement with Vend?me, Coligny, and the Protestants; Philip’s Netherlands were in seething discontent, his coffers were empty and he was in a death grapple with the Turk for the mastery of the Mediterranean. There was nothing for England to fear, therefore. Circumstances and Cecil’s diplomacy had placed once more all the cards into his hands, and again he could go forward on a straight course.
The pretext for a change was given by the secret presence of a papal nuncio in Ireland. English Catholics were suddenly proceeded against all over the country for attending mass. Sir Edward Waldegrave and other ex-members of Mary’s Council were thrown into the Tower; the Pope’s legate, who was hurrying with all sorts of concessions, and an invitation to Elizabeth to send envoys to the Council of Trent, was refused admittance into England; and the old Bishop of Aquila found once more that Cecil had outwitted him. There were no more conciliatory religious discussions or amiable attentions; on the contrary, the Ambassador, to his intense indignation, was accused of taking part in plots against the Queen, and found himself slighted on all sides. A great outcry took place that a conspiracy of Catholics had been discovered to poison the Queen, the rumour in all probability being part of the general plan to weaken and discredit the Catholic party; and Cecil himself drew up a paper, still extant, urging her Majesty not to place any apparel next her skin until it had been carefully examined, that no perfume should be inhaled by her which came from a stranger, that no food should be consumed by her unless it was dressed by her own cooks, that twice a week she should take some contra pestum, that the back doors of her apartments should be strictly guarded, and so forth. Whether Cecil was really apprehensive of danger to the Queen at the time is uncertain; but this general change of attitude towards the Catholics in less than four months suspiciously coincided with the successful consolidation of the Protestants throughout Europe, and the paralysation for harm both of Spain and France in the matter of Mary Stuart.
How far Dudley was sincere in his approaches to the Catholics on this occasion may be doubted. He would have been willing, of course, to have paid any price—or rather have made his country pay any price—for his marriage with the Queen; but there are circumstances which tend to the belief that he and Cecil, for once, had joined their forces, Cecil probably promising his support to Dudley’s suit in exchange for this clever “entertaining” of Spain and the Catholics until the Protestant coalition was formed. In any case, Dudley was in nowise cast down at the rupture of the negotiations, but remained on excellent terms with Cecil, and flirted with the Queen more furiously than ever. In the meanwhile the King of Sweden had made all preparations for visiting England. The extreme Protestant party had continued to encourage him during the time that the Queen, Cecil, and Dudley were lulling the Catholics; but now that the Catholic mask had been dropped, Eric’s visit was very inconvenient to the Queen. Mary Stuart was a widow, and every court in Europe was intriguing for her marriage. Elizabeth knew that if she was forced into a marriage with the King of Sweden, Mary would immediately be wedded to a nominee of Philip, for which object Cardinal Lorraine was already planning. Eric was therefore refused a passport into England; the Lord Mayor was ordered to suppress the prints which had been scattered by the Protestants, representing Elizabeth and Eric XIV. together (July 1561), and the embarrassment of the Swede’s advances was postponed until a more convenient season.
The English Catholics were naturally losing heart. They had looked in vain for help from Philip ever since the Queen’s accession. The war party in the Spanish King’s councils had ceaselessly urged him to overturn Elizabeth and the “heretics” before their power was consolidated. Feria and his successor the Bishop had done their best to keep alive the hopes of Elizabeth’s enemies in England; but as year followed year and leaden-footed Philip moved not the English Catholics began to cast their eyes elsewhere. Mary Stuart arrived in Scotland (19th August 1561) surrounded by her Lorraine kinsmen. Elizabeth now thoroughly distrusted her, for she saw that she was her match in dissimulation, at all events, and made some show of intercepting her on the voyage; but her Scottish subjects of all faiths were ready to welcome the young half-foreign Queen from whom they hoped so much. The country was practically in a condition of anarchy; but the administration, such as it was, was in the hands of the reform party under Maitland and James Stuart. Although herself devoutly following the Catholic faith—to the disgust of the predominant party—the Queen soon after her arrival confirmed the free exercise of the Protestant worship, and for a time both she and her ministers were popular. To the north, therefore, the English Catholic party now cast their eyes. Catharine Grey had recently contracted a doubtful marriage with the eldest son (Hertford) of the Protector Somerset, and was out of the question as a Catholic candidate; but Mary Stuart’s claim to the English throne was in many respects better than that of Elizabeth herself. Lady Margaret Lennox, too, was busy in the north of England, where the population was mainly Catholic, plotting for the marriage of her son and the subsequent raising of the country in the interests of Mary and a Catholic England.
In the meanwhile Elizabeth was somewhat roughly demanding to know why Mary delayed the ratification of the treaty of Edinburgh, and jealously watching for any signs of matrimonial negotiations to her detriment. The Earl of Arran, Elizabeth’s candidate for Mary Stuart’s hand, was extremely unpopular with the Scottish people, and soon became impossible as a consort for the Queen; and the carefully laid plans of Elizabeth and Cecil in Scotland were seen to be at the mercy of a secret matrimonial intrigue, which might be sprung upon them at any moment. Maitland of Lethington, Mary’s Secretary of State, ostensibly a Protestant, went to London and saw Cecil in September, in the hope of arranging matters. He professed to be sanguine about the Arran marriage; but though bound to the English interest, he protested more than once on his return, in letters to Cecil, upon the pressure exerted upon his mistress to renounce her English birthright, and even begged the Secretary to furnish him with a draft of a reply for Mary to send which he thought might satisfy Elizabeth. Whilst Lord James, Maitland, and Cecil were trying to conciliate and calm matters, the zealot Knox and his like were clamouring for extreme measures and embittering spirits on both sides. Cecil in vain counselled Knox to be moderate; the reply reproaches him for “swimming betwixt two waters,” and throws all the blame for the troubles on moderate statesmen like Lord James and Lethington, “whose mistaken forbearance and gentleness” he denounces. The young Queen, he says, will never be of “our opinion, and in very deed her whole proceedings do declare that the Cardinal’s lessons are so deeply imprinted on her heart, that they … are like to perish together.… In communication with her I espied such craft as I have not found in such age.”
This opinion must only be accepted as that of a bitterly severe man on one whose position was as difficult as can well be conceived. English Catholics, Mary knew, now looked to her as their only hope. She was a daughter of kings, brought up in a deep school of statecraft, and was determined to resist the demanded renunciation of her birthright in England at the bidding of a rival. Her letter to Elizabeth (5th January 1562) explains why she declined to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, pathetically pleads that the clause in the treaty renouncing her rights to the English succession was agreed to without her authority, and she appeals to the generosity of so near a cousin not to make her a stranger to her own blood. She will, she says, make a new treaty on Elizabeth’s own terms, if her rights to succeed, failing Elizabeth’s issue, are not prejudiced. But on this point Elizabeth would never give way. As we have seen, it was the keynote of Cecil’s policy all his life to secure England from the presence of a probable enemy on the Scottish border, and this question of Mary’s claim to the English succession, especially with her marriage still undecided, touched the heart of the whole matter. It was evident, moreover, that at this juncture the great trial of arms between the Catholics and Protestants throughout Europe was at hand. The war of religion was already looming near in France and Flanders, papal emissaries had incited armed revolt in Ireland against the Queen’s Protestant measures, and English Catholics were in a dangerous state of ferment. It was therefore of the most vital interest, not only to England and Elizabeth, but to the reform party throughout Europe, that no advantage should be given in Scotland to vigilant enemies, who, by the control of that country, would have been enabled to ruin the acknowledged head of the Protestant confederacy. It is the fashion to accuse Elizabeth and Cecil of unprincipled rancour against Mary Stuart. Generosity and magnanimity, it may be conceded, were not conspicuous characteristics of either of them. But before judging too harshly, it should be considered that their lives, the freedom and independence of England, and the fate of the reformed religion depended almost inevitably upon the course of events in Scotland, and both Elizabeth and her minister would have been false to their trust if they had not availed themselves of all the means which circumstances and the feeling of the times placed in their hands to prevent Mary Stuart and her country from precipitating their downfall.
Cecil’s position in London also was surrounded with difficulties. The Catholics, even those about the Queen, were busy, and reports of plans for poisoning Elizabeth continued without cessation. Everything, great and small, had to be done by Cecil. “He has,” writes the Bishop of Aquila, “absolutely taken possession of the Queen and Council, but he is so perplexed and unpopular that I do not know how he will be able to stand if there are any disturbances.” The Queen, moreover, fell ill: “she is falling away and is extremely thin, and the colour of a corpse.” The sorely tried Secretary, bearing upon his shoulders everybody’s burden, frequently sick himself, but working early and late, endeavouring to keep a middle course whilst holding to his policy, naturally aroused no enthusiasm. Extreme men of all parties cavilled at his methods; only the Queen grew in her trust of him, for she at least understood, as perhaps no other person did, that he was almost the only person near her who was not bribed. The city and the trading classes, however, by this time had seen the good results of his commercial and fiscal policy. From the first days of the reign he had set about reforming the currency, and he enters in his diary for 29th May of this year (1561) a statement which shows that his labours at last bore fruit. “Base monies decried and fine silver coined,” he writes; and in November a proclamation was issued that Spanish gold and silver money, which during the debasement of English coin had been a favourite form of currency, should no longer be allowed, but should be taken to the Queen’s mint for exchange into English coin. “The Queen,” grumbles the Spanish Ambassador, “makes a profit on it, as she did with the other money she called in.” No doubt she did, but the new pure coinage placed English merchants at an immense advantage in trading abroad, and they thanked Cecil for it. “There hath,” says Camden, “been better and purer money in England than was seen in two hundred years before, or hath been elsewhere in use throughout Europe.” Nor was this all. Shipbuilding under subsidy had progressed very rapidly, and English commerce was penetrating into regions hitherto unapproached. The Hawkinses had already shown the way to the West Coast of Africa, but the Portuguese had so far successfully resisted the establishment of a regular trade. English ships, however, now found their way down to Elmina, on the Gold Coast, with frequency distressing to the Portuguese; whilst English and Scotch privateers, and pirates who called themselves such, preyed almost unchecked upon Spanish and Flemish small craft about the Channel. Against both of these grievances the Spanish and Portuguese ministers complained often and bitterly. Throughout his life Cecil set his face against piracy in all its forms, as being inimical to legitimate trade, and at his instance five of the Queen’s ships were fitted out (1561) for the purpose of suppressing the corsairs; but to the other complaint he turned a very different face.
A syndicate had been formed, in which Dudley, Wynter (Master of the Ordnance), Gonson (Controller of the Navy), Sir William Garrard, and probably the Queen herself, had shares, to send out a strong expedition to establish a permanent trading-station on the Gold Coast. There were to be at least four ships, one of which, the Mignon, belonged to the Queen. Protests and remonstrances from Portuguese and Spaniards were freely made to Cecil, who replied they could not prevent merchants from going to trade where they thought fit. When the Bishop of Aquila pressed him further, he answered, “that the Pope had no right to partition the world and to give and take kingdoms.… This idea is the real reason which moved them to oppose the legality of our denunciation of these expeditions much more than any profit they expect to get.… They think this navigation business will be a good pretext for breaking the peace, as your Majesty must needs uphold the Pope’s authority, against which, both here and in Germany, all will join. I feigned not to understand Cecil’s meaning, and treated the matter as concerning the King of Portugal only” (27th November 1561). A draft reply in Cecil’s hand to similar remonstrances from the Portuguese Ambassador in April of the same year, is still more dignified: “The Queen does not acknowledge the right of the King of Portugal to forbid the subjects of another prince from trading where they like, and she will take care that her subjects are not worse treated in the King of Portugal’s dominions than his are in hers.”
Amidst his manifold public anxieties Cecil had to bear his share of private trouble. His notes in the Perpetual Calendar at Hatfield record the successive births and deaths of two infant William Cecils, one at Cannon Row in 1559, and the other at Wimbledon in 1561; but at this period he had a daughter and a son living, by his second wife. Thomas, his only son by his first marriage with Mary Cheke, was now a young man of twenty, and in order that he might receive the polish fitting to the heir of a great personage, his father consulted Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, the Ambassador in Paris, in the spring of 1561, with regard to sending him thither. Cecil’s own idea was to place him in the household of Coligny, the Admiral of France, now one of the acknowledged leaders of the Protestant party; but Throgmorton, who foresaw, doubtless, the rapidly approaching civil war, dissuaded him from this. “Though you have made the best choice of any man in France, yet for some respects I think the matter should be deferred.” His advice was that lodgings should be taken for young Cecil near the embassy, where he might share the Ambassador’s table. The youth, he thought, should be “taught to ride, play the lute, dance, play tennis, and use such exercises as are noted ornaments of courtiers.” A subsequent recommendation of Thomas Windebank, the young man’s governor, to the effect that it would be well to accept Throgmorton’s offer, although Sir William Cecil was loth to trespass on his friend’s hospitality, in order that the youth “might learn to behave himself, not only at table, but otherwise, according to his estate,” leads us to the conclusion that Thomas Cecil had thitherto not been an apt scholar. Some of the details of Thomas’s journey are curious. In addition to Windebank he was accompanied by two servants, and three geldings, which, Throgmorton thought, might as well be sold, as he could obtain others in Paris. The lodgings in Paris for the party and horses would cost about ten sun-crowns a month, and in addition to the money they brought they should have a letter of credit for three hundred crowns. Young Thomas had been to France before by way of Calais, and on this occasion, that he might see fresh country, he went by Rye, Dieppe, and Rouen; and the intention was that he should stay in or near Paris for a year, and then proceed to Italy. Windebank appears to have been unequal to his task, and to have had no control over Thomas. In vain Sir William pressed both his son and Windebank to send him an account of their expenses, and from the first it is seen that the father was misgiving and anxious. Cecil was a reserved man, full of public affairs; but this correspondence proves that he was also a man of deep family affection, and, above all, that he regarded with horror the idea that any scandal should attach to his honoured name. In his first letter to his son, 14th July 1561, after the arrival of the latter in Paris, he strikes the note of distrust. “He wishes him God’s blessing, but how he inclines himself to deserve it he knows not.” None of his son’s three letters, he complains, makes any mention of the expense he is incurring. He urges him at once to begin to translate French; and then says, “Fare ye well. Write every time somewhat to my wife.” To Windebank the anxious father is more outspoken. How are they spending their time, he asks, and heartily prays that Thomas may serve God with fear and reverence. But Thomas seems to have done nothing of the sort; for, in nearly every letter, Windebank urges Sir William to repeat his injunctions about prayer to his son. But the scapegrace paid little heed.
As soon as they arrived in Paris, Thomas sold his horse for forty crowns, and kept the money for his own spending. Throgmorton was soon tired of him, and advised that he should be sent to Orleans or elsewhere, away from the heat and distractions of Paris; but Thomas was well satisfied where he was. “Of study there is little or nothing yet,” he coolly writes to his father, after he had been in Paris for a month. They were still sight-seeing, and he grows almost eloquent in his description of a fight he had seen at court between a lion and three dogs, in which the latter were victorious. They lodged in the house of a gentleman, “a courtier and learned, but of indifferent good religion,” to whom they paid three hundred crowns a month for board and lodging; but this was not by any means all the expense. The heir spent ￡20 for his winter clothes; he must have a fashionable footcloth for his riding nag. The horses, too, were expensive, and Sir William complained. All gentlemen of estimation here ride, writes Windebank, and if he follow not the manner of the country, he will be less considered: “if all gentlemen ride, it is not meet for Mr. Thomas to go afoot.”
The father was accompanying the Queen during the autumn on her progress through Essex, and writes from various country-houses to his son and Windebank, begging the former to study, to pray, to avoid ill company, to take heed of surfeits, late suppers, prodigality, and the like; but apparently to no effect. Thomas wrote rarely and badly, his French did not improve, and he still failed to write to his learned step-mother, greatly to his father’s anger. At length he fell seriously ill, and promised amendment, which for a time seemed hopeful.
Through all the father’s anxiety his master passions for books, heraldry, and gardening are discernible, as well as his pride of race. He constantly orders Windebank to send him stated books, and to keep on the look-out for new plants, or good gardeners, that may be sent to England. In September he requests that some booksellers’ catalogues may be forwarded, that he may select some books to “garnish” his library. He was anxious that his son should study the genealogy and alliances of noble French families, and prays that a herald may be engaged to instruct him. But Thomas soon relapsed, and rumour of his ill-behaviour reached Sir William, not at first from Windebank. In March 1562 an angry and indignant letter went from Cecil to his son, reproaching him for his bad conduct. There was no amendment, he said, and all who came from Paris gave him the character of “a dissolute, slothful, negligent, and careless young man,” and the letter is signed, “Your father of an unworthy son.” A week later, 2nd April, Cecil wrote a characteristic and affecting letter to Windebank, which deserves to be quoted nearly in full, for it shows us the man more clearly than reams of State papers. “Windebank,” it runs, “I am here used to pains and troubles, but none creep so near my heart as doth this of my lewd son. I am perplexed what to think. The shame that I shall receive to have so unruled a son grieveth me more than if I had lost him in honest death. Good Windebank, consult my dear friend Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, to whom I have referred the whole. I could be best content that he would commit him secretly to some sharp prison. If this shall not seem good, yet would I rather have him sent away to Strasburg if possible, or to Lorraine, for my grief will grow double to see him before some sort of amends. If none of these will serve, then bring him home and I shall receive that which it pleaseth God to lay on my shoulders; that is, in the midst of my business, for comfort a daily torment. If ye shall come home with him, to cover the shame, let it appear to be by reason of the troubles there. I rather desire to have this summer spent, though it were but to be absent from my sight. I am so troubled as well, what to write I know not.”
Windebank had been protesting for some time his own unfitness—which was obvious—and sending hints of the ill-conduct of his charge, who had borrowed money on the credit of others, and scandalised his friends by his dissoluteness; but at last the long-suffering tutor rebelled, and wrote, 26th April, to Cecil, “I have forborne to write plainly, but now I am clean out of hope, and am forced to do so. Sir, I see that Mr. Thomas has utterly no mind nor disposition to apply to any learning; being carried away by other affections that rule him, so that it maketh him forget his duty in all things;” and with this Windebank resigns his charge, for Thomas had openly defied him; advocates his immediate recall if the war in France will allow him to come, or otherwise that he should be sent to Flanders. But Windebank himself had had enough of Thomas Cecil, and refused to accompany him further.
This instructive correspondence helps us to see that, beyond even his wounded paternal affection, Sir William Cecil’s deepest feeling was sensitiveness to the opinion of the world about him. That his son should be unworthy touched him to the quick; but that the world should see any shame or reproach resting upon the heir of his house and name, was unendurable agony to one whose main social aims were to trace an ancient ancestry and head a noble posterity.
The abortive conspiracy of the Hamiltons in the spring of 1562, and Arran’s madness, finally proved the hopelessness of his suit for Mary’s hand, and Lord James and Maitland had now abandoned him. Both of those statesmen, in union with Cecil, still strove to hold the balance evenly, and to avoid religious strife in the country, in the hope that if the Scottish Queen married a nominee of England, Elizabeth would eventually recognise her as the heiress to the English throne. But the agitation of the English Catholics, and the attempts of Darnley’s mother to force matters, had rendered the position extremely difficult, and Cecil was busy unravelling plots real and imaginary. The visit of a Swedish Ambassador to Scotland on a matrimonial mission had caused a sudden scare in London; but Mary’s prompt dismissal of him, and her continued amiable letters to Elizabeth, had somewhat disarmed suspicion against her personally. Her uncle the Marquis d’Elb?uf was splendidly entertained in the English court on his way home to France, and negotiations were set on foot for a visit of Mary to the north of England in the summer, for the purpose of an interview with the English Queen. But withal Cecil was ill at ease, for the Guises and the Catholics of France were now in arms, and it was impossible to see how the great struggle of the faith would end. If the Guises finally captured the government of France, then England must accept Philip’s terms for a Spanish alliance, or be inevitably ruined. But for the present it was the policy of Elizabeth and Cecil to keep a tight rein on the Catholics in England, and encourage Condé and Coligny in France.
The Bishop of Aquila had been growing more and more discontented in his palace in the Strand (Durham Place). He had no counsels to give to his master now but those of violence, for he had been outwitted too often to believe in the interested professions of any party in Elizabeth’s court. But the emissaries of the discontented Catholics, the servants of turbulent Lady Margaret Lennox, Shan O’Neil, and his train of wild gallowglasses—all those who hated Elizabeth and Protestantism—found in the old Bishop an eager listener to their whispered treason. Cecil knew all this, for his spies were everywhere. That the Bishop was up to mischief was clear; but yet Cecil did not know whether he was hatching any plot in connection with Mary Stuart’s marriage; and that was the main point of danger for the present. The Queen of Scots, it is true, had more than once expressed to Randolph, the English Ambassador, her disapproval of the attitude of her uncles in France. If she wished to keep friendly with her own ministers and the English Queen, indeed, it was necessary for her to do so; but her powers of dissimulation were known; the religious struggle had drawn the Guises nearer to Philip; and the Queen-mother, herself alarmed at the rising power and warlike attitude of princes of the blood, like Navarre and Condé, was once more turning to her Spanish son-in-law and the Catholics. A Catholic plot combining the Guises, Philip, Mary Stuart, and Catharine de Medici, would be threatening indeed, and it behoved Cecil to be watchful.
As Durham House had only been lent to the Spanish Ambassador by the Queen, Cecil had appointed the English gatekeeper at the gate in the Strand, and from him learnt of those who went in and out, even by the river stairs. But this was not enough. At the end of April he contrived to buy over an Italian secretary of the Bishop, a man named Borghese Venturini, from whom he obtained particulars of the Ambassador’s letters. They abounded with treasonable suggestions, dark hints at conspiracy, and vituperation of the Queen and Cecil, but they disclosed no deep-laid plot of Spain. Cecil nevertheless was not satisfied, and kept on the watch.
The Prince of Condé and the Protestants were now in array against the Guises, and Catharine de Medici was in the power of the latter. Both sides had striven to obtain the help of the German Protestant princes, but, in a great measure due to Cecil’s foresight, their sympathies were on the side of Condé. Cecil laboured incessantly, but against many difficulties, for the Queen was anxious to avoid the cost and risk of pledging herself too deeply. In an important letter to Throgmorton, 16th July 1562, he thus lays bare his plans and his obstacles: “Our thynges here depend so upon those matters ther (i.e. in France) that yow shall well ynough judg thereof without advertisement. This hardness here will indanger all, I feare. Sir Thomas Wroth, I trust, shall into Germany with spede: my device is to sollicite them, and to offer a contribution for an army to enter France.… Good Mr. Throgmorton, omitt not now to advertise us from time to time, for this Bishop of Aquila letteth not weekly to forge new devices.… Continue your wryting to putt the Quene’s Majesty in remembrance of her peril if the Guisans prosper. And so, being overweryed with care, I end.”
There is another document of the same period in Cecil’s hand, which also shows how earnestly he tried to combat the peril, and make the Queen and Council understand it. It is a memorial setting forth “the perills growing uppon the overthrow of the Prince of Condé’s cause,” and points out that if Condé be allowed to fall, the Guises would be supreme in France, “and to maynteane their faction they will pleasure the King of Spayne all that they maye. Hereupon shall follow a complott betwixt them twoo … the King of Spayne to unhable the house of Navarre for ever clayming the Kingdom of Navarre; and the house of Guise to promote their niece the Queen of Scotts to the crown of England. For doing thereof twoo thyngs principally will be attempted: the marriage of the sayd Queen with the Prince of Spayne, and the realme of Ireland to be given in a paye to the King of Spayne.” All English Catholics, he continues, will be told to make ready, and at a given moment rise; the Council of Trent will condemn all Protestants; the Guises, Spain, and the Pope will unite England and Scotland under Mary, and Protestantism will be undone. It will be, he says, too late then to withstand it, “for it shall be lyke a great rock of stone that is fallyng downe from the topp of a mountayn, which when it is comming no force can stey.”
Cecil’s own efforts were unwearied and ubiquitous. Randolph in Scotland, Throgmorton in France, Mundt with the German princes, and Sir Peter Mewtys, and afterwards Throgmorton with Condé, seconded him manfully. Spies, and secret agents paid by him, were in every court and every camp; the prisons were crammed with recusants; the Earl of Lennox, Darnley’s father, was in the Tower; his wife, Lady Margaret, was in durance at Shene; whilst her questionable words and treasonable practices were being slowly unravelled by informers, the English Catholic nobles were closely watched, and for a month every line the Spanish Ambassador wrote was secretly conveyed to Cecil by Borghese. Once, early in May, the Bishop’s courier, with important letters for the Duchess of Parma, was stopped two miles beyond Gravesend by pretended highwaymen, who were really gentlemen (the brothers Cobham) in Cecil’s pay, and the man was detained whilst the letters were sent to the Secretary to be deciphered and copied. At last things came to a crisis, the old Ambassador discovered that Borghese was the traitor, and the latter in fear of his life, having fought with a fellow-servant, fled to Cecil. The Bishop was in a towering rage, and complained bitterly to the Queen. She told him that if she suspected that anything was being written in her country to her detriment, she should stop posts and examine what she pleased; and when he pleaded privilege, she retorted, that he was not privileged to plot injury to her in her own realm. In vain the Bishop protested that he had not plotted, and railed against Cecil. He only had Dudley on his side, and Dudley did not count for much in a great emergency like this. The next day (23rd May) Cecil wrote a dignified letter to the Ambassador. He honours him as the King’s Ambassador, he says, reverences him as a bishop, and esteems him as a nobleman; and he wishes to know in which capacity he complains of his acts. He, Cecil, is ready, as a son of no mean ancestry, to justify himself to the Bishop in either character; but if the Bishop has “any evil opinion of him, he will thank him to address him personally, and not complain to others.” The Bishop’s reply was equally stiff. He cannot approve of his, Cecil’s, advice on public matters, which has great weight with the Queen, but that does not diminish his respect for him in his private capacity. In vain the Bishop prayed his master to recall him if he could not protect him against the insults to which he was exposed; in vain he tried to move Elizabeth, by alternate flattery and threats, to restore Borghese to him; in vain he endeavoured to bribe his servant back again, or to have him killed; Cecil was ready for him at every turn, and he could do no more than plot and pray for vengeance in his private rooms at Durham Place, whilst Cecil was examining informers against him and the Queen was threatening him with expulsion.
In the meanwhile Mary Stuart was still on her good behaviour, in the hope that the statesmen’s plan for an agreement with Elizabeth on the basis of the recognition by the latter of Mary’s claim to the English succession might eventually be adopted. Secretary Maitland of Lethington was in London in the summer in the interests of this plan, and for the purpose of arranging the much talked-of meeting between the Queens. Mary was eager for the interview, from which she expected much, and Elizabeth, supported by Dudley, was also in favour of it. But Cecil from the first looked coldly upon it, although, as usual, his opposition to it was indirect and covert. The whole of his policy at present turned upon supporting the French Huguenots in arms, and ruining the Guises; and it is obvious that too close a friendship between the Queens would have paralysed him in this direction. The matter of the interview was dragged out and talked about until the season became too late for it to be held that year, and, greatly to Mary’s disappointment, it was postponed nominally until the following summer. The intrigue to marry Mary to Darnley had unquestionably gone far. It was warmly supported by Catharine de Medici, who was, of course, against a Spanish marriage; by Lord James, as offering the best prospect of peace and the English succession to his sister; and by Dudley, because it might furnish a precedent for his own marriage with Elizabeth. The latter affected to approve of it for a time; but she dreaded the union of the two strongest claimants to her succession, and was never really in favour of it.
Slowly, but surely, Cecil’s policy gained ground. To cripple the Catholic party in France and destroy the influence of the Guises, would render impossible that which of all things he dreaded most, namely, a French domination of Scotland in the interest of Catholicism. With the ostensible object of suppressing piracy in the Channel, a considerable fleet was fitted out in the mouth of the Humber, but with the real aim of carrying aid to the Huguenots when an opportune moment arrived. Protestant Germans and Switzers had flocked to Condé, Dandelot and Coligny. Montgomerie held Rouen against the Guises, and the Vidame de Chartres seized Havre de Grace. An emissary came from the Vidame in July, to offer this important port to the Queen of England as a base from which to help the reformers. The offer was a tempting one, for it might enable her to insist later upon the restoration of Calais; but Elizabeth was distrustful.
Philip’s sister, the Governess of the Netherlands, sent a remonstrance, shocked at the very idea that a Queen should send aid to rebels against their sovereign; Catharine de Medici despatched Marshal Vielleville to threaten Elizabeth with a national war both with France and Spain if she sent assistance to Condé and those who were in arms against the Government. But Philip’s Netherlands were now in almost open revolt, and though he made a show of sending troops to help the French Catholics, it was evident that he could not do much, and for the present Elizabeth and Cecil could disregard him, knowing that if the worst came to the worst, he would never allow the French influence in England to become dominant. On the 20th September, Elizabeth signed the treaty by which she agreed to send a large sum of money and 6000 troops to France to aid Condé; 3000 of which were to hold Havre, and the rest to reinforce the Huguenots in Dieppe and Rouen. Elizabeth, in a proclamation drawn up by Cecil, swore that she took this step for the defence of the French King, and sent all sorts of reassuring messages to Catharine and her son; but the pregnant fact still remained, that civil war in France was to be promoted by an English army, and that the Queen of England had for the first time openly assumed the position of leader of the Protestant faith throughout the world, in defiance of the Governments both of France and Spain.
How great was the Queen’s hesitation to the last at assuming this vast responsibility is seen in a letter from Cecil to his old friend, Sir Thomas Smith, who was sent to replace Throgmorton as Ambassador to France (Sir Nicholas remaining with Condé) only a week before the English force actually sailed (22nd September 1562). “When our men shall goo,” he writes, “or whether they shall goo or not, I cannot mak certain. I mean to send yow as soon as the fact is enterprised.… We begyn to hear of towardness to accord, and then we shall lose much labour.” The troops sailed under Sir Adrian Poynings on the 27th September, and were subsequently commanded by the Earl of Warwick, Dudley’s brother. Suddenly, a few days afterwards, the Queen fell ill of smallpox at Hampton Court, and for a time was like to die. The confusion of the court was great, for the succession was still undecided. Dudley and a considerable party of his friends were openly, almost violently, in favour of the Earl of Huntingdon; whilst others headed by Cecil were strongly desirous of following the will of Henry VIII., and adopting Catharine Grey. The Catholics were divided, and advised the examination of the question from a legal point of view; but whilst the dissensions were in progress, the Queen unexpectedly rallied and the danger passed. During her peril she had expressed the most extravagant affection for Dudley, and begged the Council to appoint him Protector; but with her recovery affairs assumed their normal course, the only outcome of the illness being the great strengthening of Dudley’s influence, and his appointment to the Council with the Duke of Norfolk. The effect of Dudley’s rise, which meant the temporary decline of Cecil, was soon seen. The fall of Rouen and Dieppe to the King caused the English contingent to be concentrated at Havre, where a reinforcement of 2000 more men was reported to be required to hold the place. The Queen began to look with alarm at her responsibility, and the Council was prompt in throwing the blame upon Cecil, who absented himself from the meetings on the pretext of illness. Secret attempts were made also to bring about a pacification between Condé, the Guises, the Queen-mother and England, greatly to the disgust of Throgmorton, who dreaded a close friendship with the French as much as Cecil himself.
The negotiations with Catharine de Medici were conducted by Smith, and were based upon the restoration of Calais to Elizabeth, the toleration of Protestantism in France, and the assurance of the Guises that they would not interfere in Scotland; but whilst they were in progress the war followed its course. The King of Navarre fell fighting before Rouen against his former friends, the Protestants; at the great battle of Dreux (19th December 1562), Condé, the Protestant chief, and Constable Montmorenci on the Catholic side, were taken prisoners, and Coligny, with a mere remnant of his Protestants, alone kept the field. At the siege of Orleans (18th February 1563), Guise was assassinated, and a pacification then became possible. Condé, away from honest Coligny and La Noue, was but a weak vessel, as his brother Navarre had been, and Catharine well knew how to manage such men. All of Cecil’s distrust of the French was justified, and the shameful treaty of Amboise was signed (19th March), leaving Elizabeth and the English in the lurch. The moment that English policy escaped from the capable hands of Cecil, to pass temporarily under the lamentable influence of Dudley, disaster and failure were the inevitable result.
The Queen could do no more than rail at Condé’s envoy, Briquemault, and call his master a lying scamp; pestilence and famine decimated the English garrison at Havre, closely beleaguered by the French; and in the autumn of 1563 the force had to be withdrawn without glory or material satisfaction. Before this happened, however, cautious Cecil was gradually working affairs into his own groove again. Dudley had continued to send amiable messages to the Spanish Ambassador, whilst promoting an agreement with the French Government, and had exercised his influence in favour of the release of Lennox from the Tower; the object being in both cases to curry favour with the Catholics, and so to diminish Cecil’s power. As usual the Secretary’s opposition was an indirect one. His spies had kept him informed of the old Spanish Bishop’s continued correspondence with Shan O’Neil; of his having received and encouraged foolish Arthur Pole in his treason, and having allowed English people, against the law, to attend the embassy mass; and he watched and waited for an opportunity to demonstrate to the Catholics the powerlessness of both the Bishop and his master. He had not to wait long. One evening at the beginning of January 1563, as the light was failing, a knot of idle hangers-on of the Bishop’s household were lounging at the great gate of Durham Place opening to the Strand. An Italian Protestant captain, in the service of the Vidame de Chartres, swaggered down the street on his way to Whitehall, and from the Bishop’s gateway a lad shot a harquebuss at him, and missed him. The captain whipped out his long rapier and pursued the would-be murderer to the outer courtyard. The Bishop’s servants closed the gates against the pursuers, and the assassin ran up shouting to the door of the chamber where the Ambassador was playing cards with the French Ambassador and a Guisan hostage, Nantouillet, Provost of Paris. A few hurried words of explanation at the door—for the Guisan had paid the boy to do the act—and the assassin was hurried down to the water gate, where a boat was in waiting, and he was allowed to escape, whilst his pursuers were thundering at the solid gates of the inner court.
This was enough for Cecil. New locks were put on the house gates, and the keys held by the “heretic English gatekeeper.” The Bishop could obtain no interview with the Queen, but was obliged to see Cecil instead. Send me to jail, he indignantly pleaded, if I have offended; but if nothing is proved against me, as nothing can be, at least let me have free ingress and egress from my own house. Cecil’s reply was a long indictment of the Bishop’s whole proceedings. The Ambassador, he said, was by the Queen’s kindness living in one of her houses, which had been turned into a hotbed of conspiracies against her and a refuge for malefactors. The law of the land had been openly defied, and the Queen desired the Ambassador to quit her house. In vain the Bishop protested. One indignity after another was placed upon him. The folks going to mass in the embassy were haled off to prison as they came out; all the most private conversations between the Ambassador and the English rebels were repeated to him by Cecil; he was confronted with the text of his most secret despatches; he was turned out of Durham House with ignominy, and all he could do was to weep tears of rage, and pray Philip to avenge him. But Philip’s hands were more than full in the Netherlands now, as Cecil knew, for before the writing-table in the Secretary’s room in Cecil House there stood a portrait of Count Egmont, and Gresham’s agents in Antwerp, Bruges, and Brussels left no event unreported. The blow to the Spanish Ambassador was cleverly planned by Cecil. That the former had been futilely plotting, was known, and it served as a good pretext for his disgrace; but the real reason for it was the need to prove to Dudley and his friends, and to the discontented Catholics, that they were leaning on a broken reed when they depended upon Spain to help them against the Secretary. The bankrupt, heartbroken old Bishop was a good object-lesson. If his master could not pay his debts or defend him from deliberate indignity, much less could he help discontented Englishmen who only had their own ends to serve.
Almost simultaneously with the Bishop’s disgrace, and also partly explaining it, another important move was made. The second Parliament of Elizabeth was opened on the 12th January 1563 by the Queen herself, in great state. The speech of Lord Keeper Bacon dwelt at length on the want of order and discipline in the Anglican Church, the incompetency of many of the ministers, and the want of uniformity in the services. Cecil himself was offered and refused the Speakership, but to him has been attributed the authorship of the harangue which the Speaker (Williams) addressed to the Queen. The decay of schools and the poverty of benefices through lay impropriations is dwelt on at length in this speech, and the completion of the reform of religion and learning in the Queen’s dominions advocated. Cecil followed this with a speech denouncing the Queen’s enemies, the Guises and the Catholics, supported by the countenance of Spain. The penalties for refusing the oath of supremacy were greatly increased, the oath was rendered obligatory upon every person holding any sort of office, and other acts for insuring the progress of Protestantism were made, as well as large subsidies granted. The Catholic lords, even the Lord Treasurer (Winchester), were uneasy and apprehensive; but they dared not move, for Cecil and the Protestants had now a firm grasp of affairs, and the Secretary was vehement in Parliament in favour of the proposed ecclesiastical measures. The Queen’s embarrassments, he said, arose entirely from her determination to resist the authority of the Pope, who had bribed Spain, the Austrian and German princes. She now stood alone, with the Catholic world against her, but he exhorted all faithful subjects to defend her with laws, life, and property. At the same time, as the Parliament was sitting, Convocation assembled to settle the ritual and doctrine of the Church. The articles were reformed and altered to thirty-nine, the catechism and the homilies were adopted, and other measures tending to uniformity of doctrine were agreed upon, but in a way which, although it did not satisfy the Puritan minority, was intended to include as large a number as possible of those who were not irreconcilably pledged to the Roman faith.
Cecil’s hand can be traced clearly in all these activities, for they struck indirectly at his enemies; but a bolder step in the same direction taken by Parliament itself can only be surmised as being prompted by him. Dudley had for months been gaining friends for the candidature of the Earl of Huntingdon as heir to the crown, whilst the Catholics were divided on the claims of Mary Stuart and Darnley. Cecil was determined, if possible, to prevent the success of either of them, and desired to adhere to the Parliamentary title of Lady Catharine (Countess of Hertford). The House of Commons was mainly Protestant, and under the influence of Cecil; and it was agreed that deputations of both Houses should petition the Queen either to fix the succession or else to marry, the latter alternative being probably added out of politeness. The Queen received the deputations very ungraciously. She turned her back on the Commons, and for a long time sent no answer at all. On an address being presented to the Council begging them to remind her, she sent an answer by Cecil and Rogers to the effect that “she doubted not the grave heads of this House did right well consider that she forgot not the suit of this House for the succession, the matter being so weighty; nor could forget it; but she willed the young heads to take example of their elders.” To the Lords she was more outspoken. She asked them whether they thought what they saw on her face were wrinkles. They were nothing of the sort, but pockmarks, and she was not so old yet that she had lost hope of having children of her own to succeed her. This was a rebuff to Cecil’s policy; but only what might have been expected from the Queen, whose principal care was to sustain herself without concerning herself greatly as to what came after her; whereas the Secretary was doubtless thinking of what would become of himself and the Protestant party if she died. For Mary Stuart, and even her Protestant Councillors, he knew, were busy intriguing for the succession, and her claims were powerfully supported, even in England.
Maitland of Lethington came to London during the sitting of Parliament to forward his mistress’s claims. He found Cecil now against the solution which he had formerly favoured, namely, the abandonment of Mary’s present claims in exchange for the reversion, failing Elizabeth and her descendants. Cecil was more distrustful of the French than ever; for the defection of Condé had turned all arms against the English in Havre, and he knew that Cardinal Lorraine was still untiring in his planning of the Austrian match for Mary, whilst the Protestants of France and Germany watched unmoved the isolation and embarrassment of England. Maitland therefore soon persuaded himself that his mistress had not much more to hope for now from the dominant party in England than from Elizabeth herself. Mary was convinced that both Catharine de Medici and the English Queen wished to force her into an unworthy Protestant marriage with a subject, in order to injure her prestige with English Catholics and decrease the power of the Guises. Maitland consequently cast his eyes to another quarter. Mary was determined to fight for the English succession, if she could not get it by fair means; and with this end she wanted a consort strong enough to force her claims, which her uncle’s candidate, the Archduke Charles, could not do. She and Maitland accordingly threw over the Guises, who did not wish their niece to marry a prince strong enough to exclude them, and boldly proposed a marriage with Philip’s heir, Don Carlos. Maitland went one night secretly to the Bishop of Aquila in London, and cautiously opened the negotiation. The Queen of Scots, he said, was determined never to marry a Protestant, even if he owned half the world, nor would she accept a husband from the hands of the Queen of England. The French and English Queens were almost equally against her, the Duke of Guise was dead, the Archduke Charles was not strong enough to help her; would Philip consent to a marriage with his son?
Whilst this matter was being discussed by Maitland and the Bishop and the Spanish partisans in England, the news of the untoward adventure of Mary Stuart with Chastelard arrived in London. Mary said it was a plot of the Queen-mother to discredit her; but the old Bishop was no less anxious than before to urge his master to seize such an opportunity as that offered by the proposed marriage. But Philip was slow. His hands were full and his coffers were empty as usual, and whilst he was asking for pledges and guarantees from the Scots and the English Catholics, the opportunity passed. Philip, in appearance at all events, accepted the suggestion, in alarm lest a refusal might lead to a marriage between Mary and the boy-King of France; for, as he says, “I well bear in mind the anxiety I underwent from King Francis when he was married to this Queen, and I am sure that if he had lived we could not have avoided war, on the ground of my protection of the Queen of England, whose country he would have invaded.” But whilst Philip was pondering—and it must be conceded that this time he had much reason for hesitation—others were acting. When Lethington came back from France, on his way through London to Scotland, he saw the Spanish Bishop again. He found that matters had not progressed, and was disheartened. Elizabeth threatened his mistress with her undying enmity if she married a member of the House of Austria, and Cecil persuaded him that the Queen might yet appoint Mary her heir if she married to her liking. Lady Margaret, also, was now ostentatiously favoured by the Queen, and Maitland returned to Scotland convinced that it would be unsafe to look elsewhere than to England for support, and that, after all, the best solution of his country’s difficulties would be the marriage of Mary and Darnley under Elizabeth’s patronage. This certainly was the impression that the English Government wished him to convey, for whilst it lasted it would check more ambitious schemes which would be dangerous to England.
So far Cecil’s policy, though often thwarted by the Queen’s waywardness and Dudley’s ambition, had been in the main successful. The French had been kept out of Scotland, the Catholics in England had been divided and discouraged, whilst waverers were conciliated; the Anglican Church was more firmly established, and Philip had been kept more or less friendly, out of fear of a league of Protestants on the one hand and of French influence in England on the other. Nor was the indefatigable Secretary’s effort confined to foreign affairs. The strengthening of the Queen’s navy and the building of merchantmen continued without intermission. Camden says that in consequence of this activity there were now (1562) 20,000 fighting men ready for sea service alone. All the fortresses were put into order for defence, and the shortcomings of material and system demonstrated in the Scottish campaign were remedied. The ample correspondence on these points in the Hatfield Papers are all endorsed, annotated, or drafted in Sir William Cecil’s own hand, and no detail seems to have escaped him.
Notwithstanding his frequent illness, as recorded in his journals, his work must have been incessant. In addition to his vast administrative duties, he had, on Sir Thomas Parry’s death, been appointed to the important post of Master of the Court of Wards, which assumed the guardianship of the estates of minors; and Camden speaks of him as “managing this place, as he did all his others, very providentially for the service of his prince and the wards, for his own profit moderately, and for the benefit of his followers and retainers, yet without offence, and with great commendations for his integrity.” His interest, too, in the universities, and particularly that of Cambridge, was constant. He had been appointed Chancellor of the University in the first year of Elizabeth’s reign, and had worked manfully to introduce order and reform into the institution. In June 1562, Cecil endeavoured to resign his Chancellorship, his pretexts being his unfitness for the post, his want of leisure, and the serious contentions which existed in the University; but the real reason was that which he cited last, namely, the tendency to laxity with regard to uniform worship manifested by a large number of the masters and students. “Lastly,” he says, “which most of all I lament, I cannot find such care in the heads of houses there to supply my lack as I hoped for, to the ruling of inordinate youth, to the observation of good order, and increase of learning and knowledge of God. For I see that if the wiser sort that have authority will not join earnestly together to overrule the licentious part of youth in breaking orders, and the stubbornness of others that malign and deprave the ecclesiastical orders established by law in this realm, I shall shortly hear no good or comfortable report from thence. And to keep an office of authority by which these disorders may be remedied, and not to use it, is to betray the safety of the same, whereof I have some conscience.… And so I end, praying you all to accept this, my perplexed writing and complaint, to proceed of a careful mind that I bear to that honourable and dear University; whereof, although I was once but a simple, small, unlearned, low member, I love,” &c., &c. Only on the promise of complete amendment on the part of heads of houses, and at the intercession of Archbishop Parker, Sir William withdrew his resignation and continued his labours in favour of the University.
In the autumn of the following year (1564) the Queen in her progress was splendidly entertained at the University. Upon Cecil as Chancellor, as well as Secretary of State, fell the responsibility of making the arrangements; and the letters which relate to the visit, as usual exhibit his perfect mastery of detail. From the avoidance of contagion of plague (which had devastated London in the previous year) to the supply of lodgings for the visitors, everything seems to have been settled with him. He was specially anxious, he said, that the University he loved should make a good figure before the Queen; he himself would lodge “with my olde nurse in St. John’s College,” but the rest of the University was to be turned inside out for the entertainment of the court. The choristers’ school was made into a buttery, the pantry and ewery were at King’s, Gonville and Caius was sacred to the Maids of Honour, rushes strewed the roadways, the houses were hung with arras; the scholars were drilled to kneel as the Queen passed and cry Vivat Regina, “and after that quietly and orderly to depart home to their colleges, and in no wise to come to the court.” Sir William Cecil with his wife arrived the day before the Queen (4th August 1564). “I am in great anxiety,” he wrote a few days previously, “for the well-doing of things there; and I find myself much troubled with other business, and with an unhappy grief in my foote.” But notwithstanding his gout, he was received with great ceremony and a Latin oration, and was presented with two pairs of gloves, a marchpain, and two sugar loaves. His great anxiety, expressed to the authorities, was that “uniformity should be shown in apparel and religion, and especially in the setting of the communion table.”
Of the endless orations, the presents, and pedantry with which the Queen was received, of her own coyness about her Latin, of the solemn disputations and entertainments, this is no place to speak; but the official accounts represent the Queen as being agreeably surprised at her reception. After the first service at King’s she “thanked God that had sent her to this University, where she, altogether against her expectation, was so received that she thought could not be better.” This was the first day; but a Catholic friend of the new Spanish Ambassador told him that the Queen’s commendations had so elated the authorities that they besought her to witness one more entertainment. As she was unable to delay her departure, the actors followed her to the first stopping-place, where the proposed comedy was represented before her. “The actors came in,” writes Guzman, “dressed as some of the imprisoned bishops. First came the Bishop of London (i.e. Bonner), carrying a lamb in his hands as if he were eating it, … and then others with different devices, one being in the figure of a dog with the Host in his mouth. They write that the Queen was so angry that she at once entered her chamber, using strong language, and the men who held the torches, it being night, left them in the dark, and so ended this thoughtless and scandalous representation.”
Amongst the long list of honorary Masters of Arts made on the occasion, Sir William Cecil was one, and on the journey to Cambridge he was honoured for the first of many times with a visit from the Queen to his house at Waltham, Theobalds, which at this time was a small house he had recently built as a country retreat, not so remote as Burghley, or so near town as Wimbledon. It was his intention, even then, to leave this estate to his younger son; but, as will be shown later, it was not meant to be the magnificent place it afterwards became. The Queen’s frequent visits, says his household biographer, forced him “to enlarge it, rather for the Queen and her great train, and to set the poor in order, than for pomp or glory, for he ever said it would be too big for the small living he could leave his son. He greatly delighted in making gardens, fountains, and walks; which at Theobalds were perfected most costly, beautifully, and pleasantly, where one might walk two miles in the walk before he came to the end.” We are told that throughout the year at Theobalds, even in his absence, Cecil kept an establishment of twenty-six to thirty persons, at a cost of ￡12 a week. Every day twenty to thirty poor people were relieved at the gates, and “the weekly charge of setting the poor to work there, weeding, labouring in the gardens, &c., was ￡10”; whilst for many years 20s. every week was paid to the Vicar of Cheshunt, in which parish Theobalds stands, for the succour of the distressed parishioners.
Cecil was simple and sober in his own living and attire, but by his every act he demonstrates his ambition to be well regarded by the world, and his determination to fulfil what he considered decorous in a great personage who owed a duty to his ancestry, to his position, and to those who should inherit his honours. His letter of advice to the Earl of Bedford when the latter was appointed governor of Berwick (1564) sets forth in a few words his ideal of a grand seigneur, which might represent a portrait of himself. “Think of some great nobleman whom you can take as your pattern.… Weigh well what comes before you. Let your household be an example of order. Allow no excess of apparel, no disputes on Princes’ affairs at table. Be hospitable, but avoid excess. Be impartial and easy of access. Do not favour lawyers without honesty.… Try to make country gentlemen agree: take their sons as your servants, and train them in warlike and manly exercises, such as artillery, wrestling, &c.”
The picture which Cecil presents of his own mind in his writings is consistently that of a judicious, cautious, acquisitive, and intensely proud and self-conscious man; a man eminently fair, especially to his inferiors, to whom it would be undignified to be otherwise; not wanting in courage, but by temperament more inclined to reduce an enemy’s stronghold by sap and mine than by a storming attack; determined that he would stand, no matter who might fall, and yet not greedy or selfish for personal gratification; his mind monopolised by two main ideas, the greatness and prosperity of England, and the decorous dignity of his own house.
To attribute to him modern ideas with regard to liberty, as we now understand it, would be absurd. He was a man of great enlightenment, a lover of learning; but he was a statesman of his own age, not of ours. That England should be governed by nobles, and that he should help the Queen to guide the governors, was in the divine order of things. He would do, and did, according to his lights, the best he could for all men; but that the ordinary citizen should claim a voice in deciding what was best for himself would have appeared to Cecil Utopian nonsense to be punished as treason. He would be rigidly just, charitable, and forbearing to all; but if any but those on the same plane as himself should dream of claiming rights of equality, then impious blasphemy could hardly be too strong a term to apply to such insolence. With opinions such as those he undoubtedly held respecting the exclusive right of an aristocracy to govern, his own position would have been inconsistent if he had not claimed, as he did with almost suspicious vehemence, to belong by birth and descent to an ancient and noble race.
The efforts that had been made by the English Council to benefit native commerce had caused much apprehension amongst the Flemish merchants, who had for many years practically monopolised the English export trade. The English Company of Merchant-Adventurers had agitated and petitioned the Queen and Council to discountenance the foreign merchants; and as a result, a series of enactments was passed which gave considerable trade advantages to Englishmen. Differential duties, compulsory priority given to English bottoms for the export trade, the imposition of harassing disabilities and penalties on foreign merchants established in London, together with the great increase of piracy owing to the extensive shipbuilding of recent years in England, had greatly disorganised Flemish trade. During 1563 and early in 1564, several envoys had been sent from Spanish Flanders to endeavour to obtain a reversal of the new commercial policy, but without effect. This caused reprisals on the part of the Spanish Government, which prohibited the introduction of English cloth into Flanders and the exportation of raw material from Flanders to England, as well as the employment of English ships for Flemish exports. In retaliation, a more stringent order was issued in England forbidding trade with Flanders altogether, and the establishment of a new staple at Embden. The seizure of English goods and subjects in Spain itself was the answer to this. Naturally, people on both sides suffered severely by this commercial warfare. Emissaries went backwards and forwards between Flanders and England, partial relaxations were temporarily arranged, conferences were held; but the main difficulty continued until Antwerp was well-nigh ruined, and the Spaniards were obliged to humble themselves in order to prevent a commercial catastrophe. The day, indeed, had gone by now for hectoring England. The old Bishop of Aquila had died bankrupt, abandoned, and broken-hearted—Cecil’s object-lesson of the impotence of Spain—and a very different Ambassador had been sent, whose main duty it was to keep Elizabeth friendly, and to end, at almost any cost, the commercial war which was ruining Flanders.
Guzman de Silva arrived in London in June 1564. He was amiable and courtly, flattered the Queen to the top of her bent, and was soon a prime favourite. At his first interview at Richmond she showed off her Latin and Italian, coyly led the talk to her personal appearance, blushingly hinted at love and marriage in general, Cecil being all the while close to her side. As soon as the compliments and embraces were ended and Guzman was alone, a great friend of Dudley’s sought him out with a message from the favourite, informing him “of the great enmity that exists between Cecil and Lord Robert, even before this book about the succession was published; but now very much more, as he believes Cecil to be the author of the book; and the Queen is extremely angry about it, although she signifies that there are so many accomplices in the offence that they must overlook it, and has begun to slacken in the matter. The person has asked me with great secrecy to take an opportunity of speaking to the Queen (or to make such an opportunity), to urge her without fail to adopt strong measures in this business; because if Cecil were out of the way, the affairs of your Majesty would be more favourably dealt with, and religious questions as well; for this Cecil and his friends are those who persecute the Catholics and dislike your Majesty, whereas the other man (i.e. Dudley) is looked upon as faithful, and the rest of the Catholics so consider him, and have adopted him as their weapon. If the Queen would consent to disgrace Cecil, it would be a great good to them, and this man tried to persuade me to make use of Robert.” Guzman was cautious, for he knew what had happened to his predecessor; but this will show that Dudley was determined to stick at nothing to destroy, if possible, the man who, almost alone, was the obstacle to his ambition. He was liberal in his professions and promises to the Spaniard, whom he urged to ask for audience as much as possible through him, instead of through Cecil. His friends assured Guzman that he still expected to marry the Queen, and had an understanding with the Pope; that the Catholic religion would be restored in England if the marriage were brought about, and much more to the same effect.
The reason for this new move on the part of Dudley is not very far to seek. The defection of Condé and the collapse of the Protestants in France had been seized upon by Cardinal Lorraine and the dominant Catholics to force Catharine de Medici into a renewal of the negotiations for a league with Philip to extirpate Protestantism. Already the meeting had been arranged between Catharine and her daughter, the Queen of Spain, at Bayonne, which was to cement the close alliance. Catholicism was everywhere in the ascendant, and the clouds appeared to be gathering over England; for there was no combination so threatening for her as this. Hitherto Cecil had always counted upon the jealousy between France and Spain to prevent the domination of England by either power; but with the French Protestants prostrate and a close union between a Guisan France and Catholic Spain, all safeguards would disappear, and Mary Stuart would be able to count upon the support of the whole Catholic world, in which case the position of Elizabeth and the Anglican Church was, indeed, a critical one.
As we have seen, Dudley cared nothing for all this, even if he was able to appreciate its gravity. If he could only force or cajole the Queen to marry him, the religion of England might be anything his supporters chose. He knew well that Cecil, with his broad and moderate views, would try to conjure away the danger and disarm Catholic Spain, whilst safeguarding religion, by again bringing forward the Archduke with some sort of compact founded on the Lutheran compromise in Germany. But Spain and the Catholics, though they might have accepted such a solution, were not enthusiastic about it; and Dudley, by going the whole length and promising Spain everything, thought to outbid Cecil and spoil the Archduke’s chance, whilst diverting Spanish support from Mary Stuart to himself.
In the autumn of 1563 the Duke of Wurtemburg, at the prompting of the English agent, had approached the Emperor to propose a renewal of the Archduke’s negotiation. Ferdinand was cool: nominally the first monarch in Christendom, and a son of the proud House of Austria, he did not relish being taken up and dropped again as often as suited English politics, and he demanded all sorts of assurances before he would act. The Duke of Wurtemburg secretly sent an agent to see Cecil early in 1564 without the Emperor’s knowledge, and satisfied himself that Elizabeth was neither a Calvinist nor a Zwinglian, and would accept the confession of Augsburg. This was satisfactory; but before anything more could be done, Ferdinand died (July 1564). When he conveyed the news to Cecil, Mundt, the English agent, proposed that he should be allowed to reopen the question of marriage with the new Emperor Maximilian, through the Duke of Wurtemburg. “He” (Mundt) “knows,” he says, “that the Queen is so modest and virtuous that she will not do anything that shall seem like seeking a husband. But as the matter is most vital to the whole Christian world, he thinks that Cecil should not be restrained by any narrow and untimely modesty; for he, holding the administration of the kingdom, ought to strive to preserve the tranquillity thereof by insuring a perpetual succession.”
Cecil and Mundt understood each other thoroughly; but the Secretary’s answer was intended for the eyes of others, and was cautious. “With regard to her Majesty’s inclinations on the subject of her marriage, he can with certainty say nothing; than that he perceives that she would rather marry a foreign than a native prince, and that the more distinguished the suitor is by birth, power, and personal attractions, the better hope he will have of success. Moreover, he cannot deny that the nobleman who, with them, excites considerable expectation, to wit Lord Robert, is worthy to become the husband of the Queen. The fact of his being her Majesty’s subject, however, will prove a serious objection to him in her estimation. Nevertheless, his virtues and his excellent and heroic gifts of mind and body have so endeared him to the Queen, that she could not regard her own brother with greater affection. From which they who do not know the Queen intimately, conjecture that he will be her future husband. He, however, sees and understands that she merely takes delight in his virtues and rare qualities, and that nothing is more discussed in their conversation than that which is most consistent with virtue, and furthest removed from all unworthy sentiments.” It is not surprising that Cecil has endorsed the draft of this letter, “written to Mr. Mundt by the Queen’s command.”
Mundt worked hard, but there were many obstacles in the way. Wurtemburg was in no hurry. The mourning for the late Emperor, and the plague which raged in Germany, delayed matters for months. Once in the interval Cecil wrote to ask Mundt whether it was true that the Archduke’s neck was awry. Mundt could not deny the impeachment, but softened it like a courtier. “Alexander the Great had his neck bent towards the left side; would that our man may be his imitator in magnanimity and bravery. His body is elegant and middle size, more well grown and robust than the Spanish Prince.”
In the autumn Elizabeth sent an envoy to condole with the new Emperor on the death of his father, and simultaneously lost no opportunity of drawing closer to Spain. She coquetted with Guzman, ostentatiously in the face of the French Ambassador. She spoke sentimentally of old times, when her brother-in-law Philip was in England. She was curious to know whether Don Carlos was grown, and manly; and then apparently to force the Ambassador’s hand, she sighed that every one disdained her, and that she heard Don Carlos was to marry the Queen of Scots. Guzman earnestly said that the Prince had been ill, and that such a thing was quite out of the question; which was perfectly true. The Queen’s real object then came out. “Why,” she said, “the gossips in London were saying that the Ambassador had been sent by the King of Spain to offer his son Don Carlos to me!” All this rather undignified courting of Spain succeeded very soon in arousing the jealousy of France, as it was intended to do.
De Foix, the French Ambassador, had kept Catharine de Medici well informed of affairs in England. Catharine was already getting alarmed at being bound hand and foot to the Guises, the Catholics, and Philip. The plan of marrying Mary Stuart to Don Carlos, or his cousin, the Archduke, and the rallying of Leicester to Spain and the Catholics, threatened to dwarf the influence of France, and make Spain irresistible. So the Queen-mother began to hint to Sir Thomas Smith, the Ambassador, that a marriage would be desirable between her son Charles IX., aged fifteen, and Queen Elizabeth, aged thirty-one. Some such suggestion had been made by Condé to Smith during the negotiations which preceded the evacuation of Havre, but it had not been regarded seriously. It was probably no more serious now, but it was the trump card of both Queens, and it served its purpose.
In the meanwhile the plot of Leicester and the Catholics against Cecil went on. The English Catholics came to Guzman, and represented to him that it would be better not to come to any arrangement with the Government about the commercial question, in order that public discontent in England might ripen and an overturn of the present regime be made the easier. But the Flemings were suffering even more than the English from the interruption of trade, and Guzman had strict orders to obtain a settlement of the dispute. So he told the Catholics that the Queen had been obliged to hold her hand, and refrain from punishing Cecil and Bacon, until she had come to an understanding with Philip, and with the English Catholics, through him. She would cling to Cecil and his gang, said Guzman, so long as she thought she had anything to fear from Spain. “All people think 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.” Dudley was flattered and encouraged with messages and promises from Philip, and laboured incessantly to get rid of Cecil, even for a short time.
In order, apparently, to forward Dudley’s chances of success as a suitor for the hand of Mary Stuart, for which at this time Elizabeth pretended to be anxious, she created him Earl of Leicester and Baron Denbeigh, on Michaelmas day 1564. De Foix, the French Ambassador, intimated two days previously his intention of being present at the splendid festivities which accompanied the ceremony. This was a good opportunity for Cecil to arouse suspicion of the new Earl, and distrust of the French. On the 28th September, accordingly, the Secretary called upon Guzman, and telling him that the French Ambassador would be present at the feast, hinted that Dudley was very friendly with the French; to which the Spaniard replied, that he had always understood that such was the case, and that Dudley’s father was known to be much attached to them. Then “Cecil told me that the Queen had commanded him to visit the Emperor with Throgmorton, and although he had done all in his power to excuse himself from the journey, he had not succeeded. I understand that the artfulness of his rivals has procured this commission for him, in order, in the meantime, to put some one else in his place, which certainly would be a good thing. His wife has petitioned the Queen to let her husband stay at home, as he is weak and delicate. They tell me that this has made the business doubtful, and I do not know for certain what will be done; nor indeed is anything sure here from one hour to another, except the hatching of falsehoods, which always goes on.” Needless to say, Cecil had his way and did not go.
Before many days had passed Leicester sent to Guzman disclaiming any particular friendship with the French, “and said, after his own Queen, there was no prince in the world whom he was so greatly obliged to serve as your Majesty, whose servant he had been, and to whom he owed his life and all he had.” De Foix, he said, had only been present at his feast, because he brought him the Order of St. Michael from the King of France, which he (Leicester) did not wish to accept. Guzman was rather tart about the business, and reminded Leicester’s friend (Spinola) that on the same day that the Queen had invited him (Guzman) to supper, De Foix had dined with her; and when Spinola hinted that Philip might send Leicester the Golden Fleece, Guzman was quite scandalised at the idea of conferring the order on any one not a “publicly professed Catholic.” Altogether it is clear that the Queen’s and Cecil’s clever management was already setting the French and Spanish by the ears; and when they could do that and make them rivals for England’s favour, she was safe.
The next day Guzman was entertained at dinner by Leicester, the Earl of Warwick, Cecil, and others being present; and the Secretary in the course of conversation assured the Spaniard that he was taking vigorous measures to suppress the depredations on shipping, and to restore as much as possible of the merchandise stolen. Already, indeed, Cecil’s diplomacy was righting matters. An active correspondence was going on about the Archduke’s match; the Queen assured Guzman that she had to conceal her real feelings about religion, but that God knew her heart; and even Cecil tried to soften the asperity of the Catholics towards him. “Cecil,” writes Guzman to his King, “tells these heretical bishops to look after their clergy, as the Queen is determined to reform them in their customs, and even in their dress, as the diversity that exists in everything cannot be tolerated. He directs that they should be careful how they treat those of the old faith: to avoid calumniating them or persecuting or harrying them.” The result of this action was that in October 1564, Guzman could write: “I have advised previously that Cecil’s favour had been wavering, but he knows how to please, and avoids saying things the Queen does not wish to hear; and, above all, as I am told, can flatter her, so he has kept his place, and things are now in the same condition as formerly. Robert makes the best of it. The outward demonstrations are fair, but the inner feelings the same as before. I do not know how long they will last. They dissemble; but Cecil has more wit than all of them. Their envy of him is very great.”
Sir James Melvil, a Scotsman brought up in France, was directed to go to London in the autumn of 1564, to watch his mistress’s interests. To him Elizabeth again suggested a marriage between Dudley and “her good sister”; and in reply to his remark that Mary thought that a conference between English and Scottish statesmen should discuss the question first, at which conference the Earl of Bedford and Lord Robert could represent England, Elizabeth told Melvil that he seemed to make a small account of Lord Robert. He should, she said, see him made a far greater Earl than Bedford before he left court. When Dudley was on his knees, shortly afterwards, receiving the investiture of his Earldom, the Queen tickled his neck, and asked Melvil what he thought of him. Melvil gave a courtly answer, whereupon the Queen retorted that he liked that “long lad” (Darnley) better. Melvil scoffed at such an idea, but his main object in coming to England was to intrigue for the “long lad’s” permission to go to Scotland. A few days after this, Leicester took Melvil in his barge from Hampton Court to London, and on the way asked him what Mary thought of the marriage with him, which Randolph had proposed to her. Melvil answered coldly, as his mistress had instructed him to do. “Then he began to purge himself of so proud a pretence as to marry so great a Queen, declaring he did not esteem himself worthy to wipe her shoes; declaring that the invention of that proposition of marriage proceeded from Mr. Cecil, his secret enemy. For if I, says he, should have appeared desirous of that marriage, I should have offended both the Queens and lost their favour.”
Melvil went back to Scotland with all manner of kind messages for his mistress; and Cecil especially was gracious to him, placing a fine gold chain around his neck as he bade him farewell. But when Mary asked her envoy if he thought Elizabeth “meant truly towards her inwardly in her heart, as she appeared to do outwardly in her speech,” he replied that in his judgment “there was neither plain dealing nor upright meaning; but great dissimulation, emulation, envy, and fear lest her princely qualities should chase her from the kingdom, as having already hindered her marriage with the Archduke. It appeared likewise to me, by her offering unto her, with great apparent earnestness, my Lord of Leicester.” Melvil says that Leicester’s humble and artful letters to Mary, and the consequent kindness of the latter, aroused Elizabeth’s fear that after all Mary might marry her favourite, and caused her to consent to Darnley’s visit to Scotland. “Which licence,” he says, “was procured by means of Secretary Cecil, not that he was minded that any of the marriages should take effect, but with such shifts to hold the Queen (Mary) unmarried as long as he could, persuading himself that Lord Darnley durst not proceed in the marriage without consent of the Queen of England first obtained.” Cecil’s task was again an extremely difficult one. He had to keep up an appearance of leaning to the Catholics and the House of Austria, and encourage the idea of Elizabeth’s marriage with the Archduke, in order to prevent the alliance of Mary Stuart with so powerful an interest; he was obliged to keep his own restive Protestant friends in hand; to counteract at every step the intrigues of Leicester against him, and to be ready at any moment to cause a diversion if Leicester’s suit to the Queen looked too serious to be safe.
The replies and recommendations of the bishops to the Council’s circular, referred to in a previous note (page 160), had caused much apprehension amongst Catholics; and the Queen herself, as well as Cecil, assured Guzman that the bishops should do the Catholics no harm; whilst, on the other hand, Cecil’s Protestant friends were urging him to adopt strong measures to prevent the growth of the “Papists.” Cecil’s reply to one such recommendation shows that he was just as ready to wound Leicester underhand as Leicester was him. “He replied that he was doing what he could, but he did not know who was at the Queen’s ear to soften her so, and render her less zealous in this than she ought to be.”
Cecil’s greatest difficulty, indeed, at this time, was from Leicester, who had now quite enlisted Sir Nicholas Throgmorton against his former friend. In order to enable Leicester with some decency to accept the Order of St. Michael, Throgmorton suggested that the Queen might ask for another Cross of the Order to be given to the Duke of Norfolk. When Cecil learned this, he was obliged to remonstrate with the Queen, and point out how undesirable it was in the present state of affairs to place two of her most powerful nobles under an obligation to France. At a time when Cecil was straining every nerve to keep on good terms with the House of Austria, and conciliating the Catholics, in order to checkmate Mary Stuart, Leicester had agents running backwards and forwards to France, in the hope of bringing forward in an official form the farcical offer of Charles IX.’s hand for the Queen, which offer he knew would come to nothing, whilst rendering abortive the Archduke’s suit, upon which Cecil depended to so great an extent.
The dexterity and cleverness of Cecil under these circumstances is shown very markedly in the manner in which he changed in a very few months the opinion of the Spanish Ambassador about him, as soon as his policy rendered it necessary to gain his good opinion. “When I first arrived here,” writes Guzman, January 2, 1565, “I imagined Secretary Cecil … to be very different from what I have found him in your Majesty’s affairs. He is well disposed towards them, truthful, lucid, modest, and just; and although he is zealous in serving his Queen, which is one of his best traits, yet he is amenable to reason. He knows the French, and, like an Englishman, is their enemy. He assured me on his oath … that the French have always made great efforts to attract to their country the Flanders trade (i.e. with England). With regard to his religion I say nothing, except that I wish he were a Catholic … but he is straightforward, and shows himself well affected towards your Majesty … for he alone it is who makes or mars business here.”
Having thus gained the good-will of the Spaniard, Cecil was soon able to persuade him that the Queen would never really marry Leicester, and the relations between the latter and the Spaniards became cooler. The Queen herself could not do enough to show her kindness to Guzman, and at joust, tournament, and ball, chatted with him in preference to the French Ambassador. By January 1565, Leicester, seeing that Cecil’s diplomacy had gained the good-will of Spain, and that the Catholics were turning to the side of the Archduke, unblushingly veered round to the French interest.
Guzman was obliged then to write that he was not at all satisfied with him. He wished, he said, to please everybody; but was getting very friendly with the French, who were making much of him. But there was more even than this. The Queen and Cecil were trying their best to please the Catholics. The Queen openly and rudely rebuked Dean Nowell at his sermon on Ash Wednesday for attacking Catholic practices; whilst Cecil was pushing the Vestments Order to the very verge of safety. Some of the bishops invited him to a conference, and remonstrated with him on the severity of the new regulations, which they openly stigmatised as papistical. He told them sternly that the Queen’s order must be obeyed, or worse would befall them. The churchmen of the Geneva school railed and resisted, as far as they might, what they called the Secretary’s backsliding; whilst Leicester, ever willing to change sides, if he could only checkmate Cecil, vigorously took the part of the Puritans, and did his best to hamper the execution of the Vestments Order, and to prevent the use of the cross on the altars.
In February 1565, De Foix, the French Ambassador, shot the bolt that had long been forging. He saw Elizabeth in her presence-chamber, and, after much exaggerated compliment, read a letter of Catharine de Medici, saying she would be the happiest of mothers if her dearly beloved sister Queen Elizabeth would marry her son, and become a daughter to her. “She would find in the young King,” she said, “both bodily and mentally, that which would please her.” This was very sweet incense to Elizabeth, and she sentimentally deplored that she was not ten years younger. De Foix flattered her, and tranquillised her fears that she would be neglected or abandoned, and the Queen agreed with him to keep the matter secret for the present, and promised him a speedy reply. As usual, Cecil drew up for the Queen’s guidance a judicial examination of the advantages and disadvantages which might be expected from the marriage. He is careful in this lucid document not to commit himself to an individual opinion, but the formidable list of objections far outweigh the advantages; and when the Queen the next day repeated Cecil’s arguments as her own, De Foix lost patience, hinted that his mistress had been deceived, and would withdraw the offer. Elizabeth petted the ruffled diplomatist into a good humour again, and said she would send Cecil to talk the matter over with him.
Leicester had been bribed heavily by the French, and pretended to be strongly in favour of the match, which he knew would never take place, but might choke off the Archduke. But with Cecil it was very different. He had no objection to the French suit being talked about: that might make Spain and the Austrians more tractable; but if it was allowed to go too far, the Emperor would take umbrage, and the Spaniards would balance matters by marrying Mary Stuart to some nominee of their own. When, consequently, Cecil saw De Foix, he was cool and argumentative, talked much of the difficulties of the match; and on De Foix suggesting that such a union with France would preserve England from danger, he replied that England could defend herself, and had nothing to fear. By these tactics he avoided a direct negative, delayed and procrastinated, whilst his agents were busy in Germany smoothing the way for the Archduke. The French matter was a strict secret, but the Queen could not avoid giving some very broad hints about it to her friend Guzman. When he objected that the young King would be a very little husband for her, she angled dexterously but ineffectually to extort an offer of marriage from Don Carlos. Catharine de Medici was just as eager as Elizabeth that the negotiations for the marriage with Charles IX. should not be dropped, for she was getting seriously afraid now of the Catholic combination into which she had been drawn, and industriously plied Smith with arguments in favour of the match. But Smith knew as well as Cecil himself that the whole matter was a feint, and dexterously avoided giving a favourable opinion. The Huguenots, however, were in deadly earnest about it, and Elizabeth and Catharine contrived to carry on the farce intermittently until eventually Charles IX. was betrothed to a daughter of the Emperor.
Elizabeth was barely off with the old love than Adam Swetkowitz, Baron Mitterburg, came on behalf of the new. Ostensibly his mission was to return the late Emperor’s insignia of the Garter, but really every step to be taken by him had been previously agreed upon through Throgmorton, Roger Le Strange, Baron Preyner, Mundt, and the Duke of Wurtemburg. The Spanish Ambassador, however, had been studiously kept in the dark until shortly before Swetkowitz’s arrival, and was not in a hurry to pledge his master in the Archduke’s favour, until he learned what arrangements had been made about religion. On the contrary, he first approached Leicester, who was ill in consequence of an accident, and secretly urged him to press his suit before the Emperor’s envoy appeared. Leicester was doubtful, but still not quite without hope. When Swetkowitz actually arrived, Leicester understood that the current was too powerful for him to oppose at first, and he became strongly and ostentatiously in favour of the Austrian match. Swetkowitz first saw the Queen at the beginning of June. Her people, she said, were urging her to marry, and she was anxious to hear whether the King of Spain would favour the Archduke’s suit for her hand. This Swetkowitz could not tell her; and he was referred to Cecil for further discussion of details.
The conditions as laid down by Cecil were prudent and moderate, but certainly not likely to commend themselves to the King of Spain, or even to the Emperor; for no power was to be given to the Consort, and the question of religion was jealously safeguarded. It is evident that the German thought that Leicester might be made instrumental in modifying these conditions. He writes to the Emperor, “Since the principal promoter of this transaction will be the illustrious Earl of Leicester, who is most devoted to the Archduke, and is loved by the Queen with a sincere and most chaste and honest love, I think your Majesty and the Archduke would aid the business by addressing fraternal letters to the Earl.” But Leicester’s momentary adhesion to the policy of Cecil, Sussex, and Norfolk, was only for the purpose of deceiving the Secretary, and putting him off his guard. Whilst Cecil was proceeding in good faith with Swetkowitz, and the latter, a Lutheran, was just as earnest in his efforts to bring about the marriage, both the Queen and Leicester were playing a double game. Probably Elizabeth’s marriage with her favourite was never nearer than at this juncture, when she was carrying on a serious negotiation with the Austrian, and was still making an appearance of dallying with De Foix. The circumstances, indeed, were for the moment all in favour of Leicester. Guzman was very cool about the Archduke and the Lutheran envoy. The Queen was for ever trying to ascertain Philip’s feeling about the Archduke, and at the same time dragging Leicester’s name into her complicated conversational puzzles with the Spaniard. The latter on one occasion, disbelieving her sincerity about the Archduke, urged her to marry his friend Leicester, if she married a subject; and only a day or two afterwards De Foix, who had by this time lost all hope of success for Charles IX., and wished to checkmate the Austrian, also went and pleaded Leicester’s suit. The Earl, thus having the good word both of the Spanish and French Ambassadors, could afford to grow cool on the Austrian match. Cecil, and Sussex particularly, were scandalised and apprehensive at this new instance of Leicester’s falseness, and laboured desperately to bring the Archduke to England to force the Queen’s hand. But the Emperor was slow and doubtful about the religious conditions, and would not risk a loss of dignity.
Matters thus dragged on month after month, whilst Leicester’s chances looked brighter and brighter. Among the principal reasons for the rising hopes of Leicester were the events which had happened in Scotland during the previous few months. After much apparent hesitation, Elizabeth had in February granted to Darnley permission to join his father in Scotland for three months. A few weeks later a messenger came from Mary Stuart to the Spanish Ambassador in London, asking him whether he had any reply to send to her. Guzman was cautious, for he did not quite know the meaning of this; but said he would speak to Maitland of Lethington, who was then on the way to London from the Border. Simultaneously with this, Lady Margaret Lennox also approached Guzman. “She told me the kind treatment her son had received at the hands of the Queen of Scots, and that the French Ambassador had sent to her secretly offering all his support for the marriage of her son. But she knows the French way of dealing … and repeats that she and her children have no other refuge but your Majesty (Philip), and begs me to address your Majesty in their favour, in case the Queen of Scotland should choose to negotiate about her son, Darnley, or in the event of the death of this Queen, that they may look to your Majesty.” When Maitland arrived in London in April, he saw Guzman in secret, and after some fencing and feigned ignorance, offered his mistress’s adhesion and submission to Spain. His mistress, he said, had waited for Philip’s answer about Don Carlos for two years, but had now listened to some proposals for a marriage with Darnley, as neither Elizabeth nor her own subjects wished her to marry a foreigner. But before concluding the affair she wished to know if there was still any hope of her obtaining Don Carlos, in which case she still preferred that alliance. Guzman replied that, as Cardinal Lorraine had gone so far in his negotiations for the marriage with the Archduke Charles, Philip had abandoned all idea of opposing him by bringing forward his own son Carlos. Maitland assured him that the negotiations of Cardinal Lorraine were carried on against Mary’s wish, and in the interests of France; but Guzman knew now that the match with Don Carlos was hopeless, and said so. Maitland then spoke of the Darnley marriage, which, however, he feared would be very dangerous if Elizabeth took it badly. All would be well, he said, if the King of Spain would take Mary and Darnley under his protection; but beyond bland banalities he could get nothing from Guzman.
Darnley’s demeanour in Scotland, and Mary’s behaviour towards him, together with the rising hopes of the Catholics there, had alarmed Murray and his friends; and Elizabeth and her Council were now also alive to their danger. Cecil drew up one of his pro and contra reports with regard to the influence that such a marriage would have on England, which was submitted to the Council, and a unanimous condemnation of the match was adopted, and Throgmorton was sent in May post-haste to Scotland to dissuade Mary from taking a step so threatening to Elizabeth. Randolph’s letters to Cecil at the time showed that the danger was a real one. Darnley, he says, is a furious fool, and Mary was infatuated with him. To the Pope, to Philip, to Cardinal de Granvelle, and to Guzman, Mary made no secret that her object was to unite the Catholics and claim the crown of England; and Lady Margaret had from the first admitted that this was her aim in promoting the marriage of her son. When Elizabeth’s eyes were opened to the imminence of the peril, she did what she could to stay the match. She, De Foix, and Throgmorton again pressed Leicester’s marriage with Mary, Murray and his Protestant friends were encouraged to resist, Lady Margaret was placed under arrest in the Tower, Darnley was ordered to return to England, and the Queen promised Maitland that if his mistress would marry to her liking she would acknowledge her right of succession to the English crown. Meanwhile rumours came thickly from Scotland that Mary was already married, Philip promised all his support to Mary and Darnley if they would be his faithful servants, Murray and Lethington were thrust into the background, Rizzio was ever at Mary’s side, and her foolish young English lover, hated and contemned for his arrogance, urged his infatuated bride to the religious intolerance that led to her ruin.
The remonstrances of Throgmorton and Randolph, and the letters of the Queen and Cecil, were as powerless to move Mary now as was the threatening attitude of her nobles and people, for she had decided to depend entirely upon Philip, and to defy the Queen of England. In July, a few days before her marriage, she sent a special messenger to Guzman with letters for Philip, “begging for help and favour against the Queen of England, who has raised her subjects against her, to force her to forsake the Catholic religion.” Murray, Argyll, and the Hamiltons, she says, are in revolt, and if aid do not come from Spain she will be lost.
When Mary’s marriage was known for certain in London, the Archduke’s suit was being laboriously discussed; but almost immediately afterwards, the renewed hopes of Leicester already referred to were noticed. It was felt that, now that Mary’s marriage to a subject had taken place, one of Elizabeth’s principal reasons for contracting an alliance with a son of the House of Austria disappeared, and a precedent had been set for her marriage with a man not belonging to a sovereign house.
Swetkowitz therefore found that he had to encounter all manner of new conditions and demands from the Queen, which drove him to despair, and Guzman looked upon the Austrian’s chance as a very poor one indeed. The Earl of Sussex and Cecil did their best to keep the matter afoot, whilst Leicester and Throgmorton openly proclaimed the hollowness of the whole negotiation. The old Earl of Arundel asked Guzman to dinner at Nonsuch early in August, apparently for the purpose of dissociating the English Catholics from the intrigues of both parties. He assured the Spaniard “that the men who surrounded the Queen did not wish her to marry. I said it was quite possible that some of them who thought they might get the prize for themselves might wish to hinder it; but as for Secretary Cecil, I thought that his disagreement with Robert (Leicester) might well lead him to support the Archduke, if it were not for the question of religion. He (Arundel) told me not to believe that Cecil wanted the Queen to marry. He was ambitious and fond of ruling, and liked everything to pass through his hands, and if the Queen had a husband he would have to obey him.” This view of the matter is not improbable; but it is certain that Cecil, in any case, would resist to the last the marriage of the Queen with Leicester, under the patronage of either France or Spain. Such a marriage would have imperilled the results of his strenuous labour, and would have thrown England back into the slough from which the Queen and he had rescued it.
When Leicester’s star was seen to be in the ascendant, and the Archduke’s chance waned, Cecil and his friends once more revived the suit of the King of Sweden. Splendid presents of sables and valuable plate came to the Queen and her court; and Eric’s romantic sister Cecilia, Margravine of Baden, again made ready for her much-desired visit to England, where she arrived early in September. At the water-gate of Durham House, where she lodged as the Queen’s guest, Leicester’s opponents were assembled in force to bid her welcome. The Countess of Sussex, Lady Bacon, Lady Cecil, and Cecil himself, all did honour to the Swedish King’s sister, and Elizabeth was overwhelming in her cordiality for the first royal visitor she had entertained since her accession; but the Princess wore out her welcome, and nothing came of her visit, though it served its purpose of again spoiling the appearance of Leicester’s chances for a time.
In the meanwhile, English money and men were supporting Murray and the Protestant Lords against Mary and Darnley, who were sending emissaries to the Pope, to Cardinal Lorraine, to Flanders, and to Philip, begging for help for the faith. When Elizabeth was remonstrated with by Guzman, De Foix, and Mauvissière, for helping rebels against their Queen, and for her harsh treatment of Lady Margaret, she replied that she had been shamefully deceived, but what she was doing was to endeavour to rescue Mary from the hands of her enemies, into which she had fallen, and she blamed Darnley and his Catholic friends more than Mary. The same excuse, said Guzman, which she used when she helped the French rebel Huguenots. At the end of September a special meeting of the full Council was held, at which Cecil set forth the position with regard to Scotland, and the policy it was proposed to adopt. He pointed out the many reasons that existed for distrusting the French, who were very busy in Scottish affairs since Mary’s marriage; and he told the Council that Mary had sent Darnley’s secretary, Yaxley, to beg aid of Philip, in addition to the letters sent through Guzman, and to the Pope. The interference of the Catholic powers in Scotland, he said, was a menace to England; and it was decided that all preparations should be made for war upon the Border, as a measure of precaution, whilst an embassy was sent from England to endeavour to effect a reconciliation between Mary and the Protestant Lords.
Before any decided steps could be taken, however, Murray retired into England, and arrived in London on the 22nd October. The Queen affected anger, and received him sternly in the presence of her Council and of the French Ambassador. Murray was dressed in deep mourning, and entered humbly. Kneeling, he addressed the Queen in Scots. She told him to speak in French, which he said he understood but imperfectly. Notwithstanding this, she addressed to him a long harangue in French, for the edification of De Foix and Mauvissière. “God preserve her,” she said, “from helping rebels, especially against one whom she had regarded as a sister.” She understood that their rising was in consequence of the Queen’s marriage without the consent of Parliament, and of fear that their religious liberty would be infringed. But if she thought he, Murray, had planned anything against his sovereign, she would at once arrest and punish him. Murray justified himself, and threw himself upon her generosity, and Elizabeth replied that she would refer the whole matter to her Council. All this scene was for the purpose of putting herself right with France and Spain, and had been arranged on the previous night, when Murray was closeted with the Queen and Cecil. Cecil’s own minute of the interview agrees closely with that of Guzman, just quoted. “Her Majesty asked him (Murray), in the presence of several persons, if he had ever undertaken anything against the person of his Queen. He denied it firmly and solemnly, saying, if it might be proved that he was either consenting or privy to any such intent, he besought her Majesty to cause his head to be struck off and sent to Scotland … he testified before God that in all his counsels he had no other meaning but principally the honour of Almighty God, by conserving the state of His religion in Scotland.… And, to conclude, her Majesty spoke very roundly to him … that she would by her actions let it appear that she would not for the price of a world maintain any subject in disobedience against his prince.”
Cecil’s characteristic policy is plainly seen in the Queen’s treatment of Murray. He invariably endeavoured to keep Elizabeth legally in the right, and usually with success. But still Murray and the Scottish Protestants were now his main instruments for preventing the danger approaching England over the Scottish Border. The old national lines of division had grown fainter with the international league of Catholics facing a league of Protestants. Mary Stuart had definitely thrown in her lot with the former, in the hope of satisfying her ambition; and the Scottish spectre was perhaps more threatening to England at this moment than ever it had been before. The obvious course was that which Cecil followed—namely, to avoid an excuse for a national war or for foreign interference, and to encourage the Scottish Protestants to stand for the liberties they had won; whilst assuming as indisputable that they were not in arms against their sovereign, but against their enemies and hers, who had interposed between the Queen and her loving subjects.
Through the spring of 1566 the unfortunate Mary Stuart hurried to her destruction. Her dislike of her husband increased as Bothwell obtained more influence over her; all prudence with regard to the overt favouring of Catholicism was cast aside, Murray and the “rebels” were sternly forbidden to return to Scotland, and the breach between Mary and “her good sister” grew wider every day. Nor is this to be wondered at. Randolph was busy in supporting the Protestants, and had been warned away from Mary’s court. His letters to Cecil are full of dread foreboding of disaster to come, foreboding which most historians interpret as foreknowledge. Cecil’s enemies have sought industriously to connect him with the sanguinary scenes which were shortly afterwards enacted in Scotland; but they have always reasoned from the information contained in Randolph’s letters to him, which in no case can be considered as evidence against him. That he was aware before Rizzio’s murder that some sort of plot existed, and that Murray and his friends were parties to it, is certain; but that he himself had any share in its concoction, so far as the killing of Rizzio is concerned, has never been proved, and is most improbable. As has been seen, his remedy for the Scottish danger was not murder; for so far-seeing a man must have known that the killing of a favourite secretary could not divert Mary from the league of Catholic sovereigns, or alter her policy towards England whilst Huntly, Bothwell, and Athol were at her side, and papal emissaries in her close confidence. The killing of Rizzio satisfied Darnley’s spite, and served Murray’s and Argyll’s personal ends, but was more likely to injure than benefit English national objects.
What Cecil was personally doing during the first three months of 1566 was to strengthen the Protestant party in Scotland by money and promises of support, whilst dividing the Catholic sovereigns upon whom Mary Stuart depended, by working desperately to bring the Archduke’s match to a successful issue. With him now, in addition to the Earl of Sussex, were the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel, and many others who usually leant to the Catholic side; for Leicester was openly under French influence, always suspicious in the eyes of old-fashioned Englishmen, and now more than ever distrusted, for Cardinal Lorraine’s agents were around Mary, and the Guisan Rambouillet was carrying the Order of St. Michael to Darnley, with loving messages to the Queen of Scots.
On the last day of January 1566, Cecil and other Councillors went to Guzman’s house to discuss the eternal question of the trade regulations and the suppression of piracy. When their conference was finished, Cecil took the Ambassador aside and urgently besought him to use his great influence with the Queen in favour of the Archduke’s suit. The next day the request was pressed even more warmly by Sussex, who told Guzman that the majority of the Council had decided to address a joint note on the subject to the Queen. The Spaniard was not enthusiastic, for he did not wish to break entirely with Leicester in view of possibilities; but on the 2nd February he broached the subject to the Queen and discussed it at length. She was, as usual, diplomatic and shifty; but whenever she was uncomfortably pressed, began to talk of her marriage with Leicester as a possibility; and two days afterwards Guzman saw her walking in the gallery at Whitehall with Leicester, who, she said, was just persuading her to marry him, “as she would do if he were a king’s son.” People thought, she continued, that it was Leicester’s fault she was unmarried, and it had made him so unpopular that he would have to leave court.
Almost daily Cecil or Sussex urged the Ambassador to favour the Archduke with the Queen, and were untiring in their attempts to induce the Archduke himself to come to England, in the hope of forcing the Queen’s hand. As a means to the same end they continued to sow jealousy between the Catholic sovereigns. “Cecil tells me,” writes Guzman (2nd March), “that so great and constant are the attempts of the French to hinder this marriage, and to perturb the peace and friendship between your Majesty and this country, that they leave no stone unturned with that object. They are gaining over Lord Robert with gifts and favours, and are even doing the same with Throgmorton. It is true that Cecil is not friendly with them, but I think he tells me the truth with regard to it.” Again, when Sir Robert Melvil, who had come from Mary to pray Elizabeth to release Lady Margaret, was leaving London on his return, Cecil begged him to see Guzman before his departure, “as no person had done so much as he had to bring about concord between the two Queens, and he (Cecil) thought that if the differences could be referred to him (Guzman) for arbitration, they might easily be settled.” Guzman thought so too, and wrote by Melvil to Mary to that effect, advising her to abandon arrogant pretensions, and accept such honourable terms as should satisfy Elizabeth; and, as a preliminary, he exhorted her to live on good terms with her husband. Before Melvil left Cecil, the latter told him that they had news of Rizzio’s murder (this was written on the 18th March), and at the same time there came a messenger from Murray, saying that he had returned into Scotland (from Newcastle) on a letter of assurance from Darnley. The Earl of Murray had entered Edinburgh in triumph the day after the murder, and the Queen and Darnley had together started for Dunbar.
Another opportunity for Cecil to breed dissensions between Spain and France came when the news arrived of Pero Melendez’s massacre of the French settlement in Florida, on the ground that the territory belonged to the King of Spain. The Queen professed herself to Guzman delighted at such good news; but was surprised that Florida was claimed by Spain, as she always thought that the Frenchman Ribault had discovered it; indeed she had seriously thought of conquering it herself. Guzman saw Cecil when he left the Queen (30th March), and the Secretary had nothing but reprobation for Coligny, who had sent out the French Florida expedition. “He said your Majesty should proclaim your rights with regard to Florida, that they might be known everywhere.” Cecil, shortly before this, whilst discussing the question of Hawkins’ voyages to Guinea and South America, said that he himself had been offered a share in the enterprise, but that he did not care to have anything to do with such adventures. By all this it will be seen that Cecil’s strenuous efforts to combat the Catholic league, which might lend to Mary Stuart a united support against England, took the traditional form of drawing the House of Austria to the side of England, and causing jealousy between France and Spain. He knew that in the long-run national antipathies were stronger than religious affinities, and that the Catholic league, which had been ineffectual after the peace of Cateau-Cambresis (1559), could with time and industry be broken again.
But while Cecil approached Spain in order to divide her from France, he never forgot that Philip was the champion of the Catholics throughout the world, and kept his eyes on every movement which might forebode ill to England. His spies in Flanders were daily sending reports of the rumours there of King Philip’s attitude towards the resistance of the Flemish nobles to the Inquisition; indeed, as Guzman writes to his master (29th April): “These people have intelligence from everywhere, and are watching religious affairs closely; but it is difficult to understand what they are about, and with whom they correspond, as Cecil does it all himself, and does not trust even his own secretary.”
Cecil might well be vigilant, for Mary Stuart’s plots went on unceasingly. Sir Robert Melvil arrived in London in May, again to discuss the question of the succession, and to ask Elizabeth to stand sponsor for Mary’s expected child; but, greatly to Elizabeth’s indignation, he brought amiable letters from the Scottish Queen to the Earl of Northumberland and other English Catholic nobles; and whilst he was in London, an emissary from Mary Stuart to the Pope passed through on his return to Scotland with 20,000 crowns from the Pontiff, and a promise of 4000 crowns a month to pay a thousand soldiers for her (Mary’s) defence. An envoy, too, of the rebel Shan O’Neil was at the same time lurking in Edinburgh, conferring with the Queen.
All this was known to Cecil and Elizabeth, and drove them ever nearer to Spain and to the Archduke’s match, Leicester himself, probably out of jealousy of Ormonde, who was vigorously flirting with the Queen, now openly siding with the Austrian. Even Throgmorton was reconciled with Cecil by the Earls of Pembroke and Leicester, who promised the Secretary that Throgmorton should no longer thwart his policy.
On the 23rd June, Sir James Melvil arrived with breakneck speed in London from Edinburgh, with news of the birth of Mary Stuart’s heir. It was late, but Sir Robert Melvil, the Ambassador, lost no time in conveying the tidings to Cecil, whose own entry of the event in the Perpetual Calendar at Hatfield runs thus: “1566, 19 June, was borne James at Edinburgh inter hor? 10 et 11 matutino.” Cecil promised to keep the news secret from the court until Mary’s own messenger could convey it officially to the Queen. Elizabeth was at Greenwich at the time, and when Cecil arrived she was “in great mirth dancing after supper.” Cecil approached the Queen and whispered in her ear, and in a moment the secret was out and all joy vanished. With a burst of envy, Elizabeth, almost in tears, told her ladies that the Queen of Scots was mother of a fair boy, whilst she, Elizabeth, was but a “barren stock.” When the Melvils saw her the next day she had recovered her composure, and promised to send Cecil to Scotland to be present at the christening, which embassy the Secretary with some difficulty evaded, “as there were so many suspicions on both sides.”
The Queen had suffered a serious illness early in the summer, which, with the anxiety of her position, had reduced her to a very low condition. It was decided that a progress should be undertaken for her health, in which the University of Oxford could be visited, and Cecil be specially honoured by a stay of the Queen at his house of Burghley. She left London in July, and underwent an ordeal at Oxford similar to that which she had experienced two years before at Cambridge. The vestments controversy was raging with great bitterness, clergymen were deprived and punished for contumacy, pulpit and press were silenced, and the Protestants resentful. Cecil was firm, but diplomatic, and the Queen indignant that her laws should be called into question. Under the circumstances it required great tact on both sides to avoid any untoward event during the Queen’s visit to Oxford, where the Puritan party was very strong. Leicester and Cecil were both with the Queen, the former strongly favouring the Puritans, the latter taking his stand on the Queen’s order for the discipline of the Church. On the Queen’s reception, the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Humphreys, one of the leaders of the anti-vestment party, approached to kiss the Queen’s hand. “Mr. Doctor,” said the Queen, smiling, “that loose gown becomes you mighty well; I wonder your notions should be so narrow.” Once, during the speech of the public orator, tender ground was touched, but the visit passed over without further embittering an already bitter controversy, and Leicester and Cecil, Puritan Knollys, Catholic Howard of Effingham, and many others received the honorary degree of Master of Arts.
Cecil’s own entries in his journal of the period are meagre enough:—
“1566. June. Fulsharst, a foole, was suborned to speak slanderously of me at Greenwich to the Queen’s Majesty; for which he was committed to Bridewell.
“June 16. A discord inter Com. Sussex et Leicester at Greenwych, ther appeased by Her Majesty.
“August 3. The Queen’s Majesty was at Colly Weston, in Northamptonshire.
“August 5. The Queen’s Majesty at my house in Stamford.
“August 31. The Queen in progress went from Woodstock to Oxford.”
During the progress a disagreement between Cecil and Leicester took place, as well as that mentioned between the latter and Sussex. The communications between the Earl and the French were constant, and had caused much heart-burning. The existence of a strong and active party in the English court ostentatiously leaning to the French side, at a time when Cecil’s whole policy depended upon keeping the good-will of Spain, hampered him at every turn, and he wrote a letter to Sir Thomas Hoby, privately instructing him to give out in France that Leicester’s influence over the Queen had decreased, and that the French need not court him so much as they did. When the letter arrived, Hoby, the Ambassador, was dead, and it fell into other hands. Leicester heard of it, and taxed Cecil, who retorted angrily.
Even in Cecil’s own house the intrigues against his policy continued. He had sent Danett to the Emperor with the draft clauses of the proposed marriage treaty with the Archduke, and the news from Vienna seemed to confirm the best hopes of those who favoured the Austrian match. This, of course, did not suit Leicester. Vulcob, the nephew of the new French Ambassador, B?chetel de la Forest, went to Stamford to carry his uncle’s excuses for not coming earlier to see the Queen. As he was entering the presence-chamber at Burghley, Leicester stopped him, and began talking about the marriage. He hardly knew what to think, he said, but he was sure that if the Queen ever did marry, she would choose no one but himself for a husband. The Frenchman, no doubt, understood him. The Archduke’s match was getting too promising, and must be checked by the usual French move. So Vulcob took care when he saw the Queen to dwell mainly upon the attractive physical qualities of the young King Charles IX. Elizabeth was never tired of such a subject, and very soon the French Ambassador was warmly intriguing to bring forward his master’s suit again, as a counterpoise to the Austrian hopes, but really in Leicester’s interests, whilst presents and loving messages came thick and fast from France to Leicester and Throgmorton. The Emperor’s reply by Danett was, after all, not so encouraging as Cecil and Sussex had been led to expect, and Leicester’s hopes rose higher than ever. During the Queen’s progress he arranged with his friends a scheme which seemed as if it would stop the Archduke’s chances for ever. Parliament was to meet in October, and the plan was to influence both Houses to press the Queen on the questions of the succession and her marriage, “so that by this means the Archduke’s business may be upset … and then he (Leicester) may treat of his own affair at his leisure.” It was clear that any attempt on the part of the Puritans and Leicester to force the Queen’s hands with regard to the marriage whilst the delicate religious question was under discussion with the Emperor, would put an end to the negotiations, and Cecil and his friends strove their utmost to avoid such a result. They urged Guzman again to persuade the Queen to the match; the Duke of Norfolk came purposely to court with the same object, and for once Cecil himself was willing, in appearance, to place the religious question in the background. “Cecil,” writes Guzman, “desires this business so greatly, that he does not speak about the religious point; but this may be deceit, as his wife is of a contrary opinion, and thinks that great trouble may be caused to the peace of the country through it. She has great influence with her husband, and no doubt discusses the matter with him; but she appears a much more furious heretic than he is.” Well might the Queen and Cecil be apparently more anxious to sink religious differences than Lady Cecil, for they probably knew how imminent the danger was better than she.
The Protestants in Flanders and Holland were in open revolt; and slow Philip was collecting in Spain and Italy an overwhelming force by land and sea, with which he himself was to come as the avenger of his injured kingship, and crush the rising spirit of religious reform. If such an army as his swept over and desolated his Netherlands, whither next might it turn? For six years Elizabeth had kept Spain from harming her, out of jealousy of France; but France was now more than half Guisan, and in favour of Mary Stuart, and the Huguenots themselves had deserted England when she was fighting their battle at Havre. No help, then, could be expected from France if Spain attacked Elizabeth for her “heresy”; and the Queen and her wise minister were fain to conciliate a foe they were not powerful enough to face in the open. Elizabeth went beyond the Spaniard himself in her violent denunciation of the insurgents in the Netherlands. Their only aim, she said, was liberty against God and princes. They had neither reason, virtue, nor religion. She excused herself for having helped the French Huguenots, which she only did, she said, to recover Calais. If the Netherlands rebels came to her for help, she would show them how dearly she held the interests of her good brother King Philip; “and she cursed subjects who did not recognise the mercy that God had shown them in sending them a prince so clement and humane as your Majesty.” Cecil was not quite so extravagant as this, but he missed no opportunity at so critical a juncture of drawing nearer to Spain, and was even more compliant than ever before on the vexed subject of the English right to trade in the Spanish Indies. “Cecil is well disposed in this matter,” writes Guzman, “and I am not surprised that the others are not, as they are interested. Cecil assures me that he has always stood aloof from similar enterprises.”
In the meanwhile Leicester’s persistent efforts to hamper Cecil’s policy were bearing fruit. With great difficulty Cecil persuaded the House of Commons to vote the supplies before the question of the succession was dealt with, but a free fight on the floor of the House preceded the vote. The Queen was irritated beyond measure at the inopportune activity of the extreme party about the succession. Sussex, the Spanish Ambassador, and others of Catholic leanings, pointed out to her that if she married the Archduke there would be an end of the trouble, and she need not then think of any successor other than her own children. At length a joint meeting of the two Houses adopted an address to the Queen, urging her to appoint a successor if she did not intend to marry. When the address was presented, her rage passed all decency. The Duke of Norfolk, her own kinsman, and the first subject of the realm, was insulted with vulgar abuse, which well-nigh reduced him to tears. Leicester, Pembroke, Northampton, and Howard were railed at and scolded in turn; only once did she soften somewhat towards Leicester. She had thought, she said, that if all the world had abandoned her, he would never do so. What do the devils want? she asked Guzman. Oh! your Majesty, replied the Ambassador, what they want is liberty, and if monarchs do not combine against it, it is easy to see how it will all end. She would send the ungrateful fellow Leicester away, she said, and the Archduke might now be without suspicion. Gradually, as she calmed, her diplomacy asserted itself, and cleverly, by alternations of threats and cajolery, she reduced Parliament to the required condition of invertebrate dependence upon her will.
All this, we may be sure, did not decrease the ill-feeling in the court, which for the next six months became a hotbed of intrigue. On the one side were Norfolk, Sussex, the Conservatives, and the Catholics, aided by Guzman, and cautiously supported by Cecil and Bacon; whilst on the other, Leicester, Throgmorton, Pembroke, Knollys, and the Puritans, backed by the French Ambassador, ceaselessly endeavoured to check the Austrian-Spanish friendship, and if possible, above all, to ruin Sussex and prevent his embassy to the Emperor. That Leicester would stick at no inconsistency is seen by the curious fact that, whilst he was nominally heading the Puritan party, he, according to Melvil, was strenuously favouring the claims of the Queen of Scots to the succession. He assured Elizabeth that this would be her best safeguard, or “Cecil would undo all,” the reason for this being that Cecil was known to be in favour of Catharine Grey.
On the 14th February 1567, Cecil sent word to his friend Guzman that he had just received secret advice of the murder of Darnley, of which he gave some hasty particulars. The intelligence could hardly have come as a surprise to the Spaniard, for a month previously he had informed Philip that some such act was contemplated. Within a few hours of the reception of the news in London, Leicester sent his brother, the Earl of Warwick, to Catharine Grey’s husband, to offer him his services in the matter of the succession. Five days afterwards Sir James Melvil came with full particulars of the foul deed at Kirk o’ Field, and at once rumour was busy with the name of Mary Stuart as an accomplice in her husband’s death. Elizabeth expressed sorrow and compassion on the day she heard the news, but rather doubtfully told Guzman “that she could not believe that the Queen of Scots could be to blame for so dreadful a thing, notwithstanding the murmurs of the people.” When Guzman, however, pointed out to her how dangerous it would be for the opposite party (Catharine Grey’s friends) to make capital out of the accusation, the Queen agreed that it would be wise to discountenance it, and to keep friendly with Mary Stuart, in order to prevent her from falling under French influence again.
In a letter from Cecil to Norris (20th February) he says: “The Queen sent yesterday my Lady Howard and my wife to Lady Lennox, in the Tower, to open this matter to her, who could not by any means be kept from such passions of mind as the horribleness of the fact did require.… I hope her Majesty will show some favourable compassion of the said lady, whom any humane nature must needs pity.… The most suspicion that I can hear is of Earl Bothwell, yet I would not be thought the author of any such report.” Lady Margaret, in her agony of grief, made no scruple at first in accusing her daughter-in-law of complicity in the murder; but the bereaved mother left the Tower on the following day, doubtless warned of the unwisdom of saying what she thought. At least, when she saw Sir James Melvil she told him, “She did not believe that Mary had been a party to the death of her son, but she could not help complaining of her bad treatment of him.” But whatever she might say, the spirits of the Catholic party in England sank to zero at the black cloud which hovered over their candidate. “Every day it becomes clearer that the Queen of Scotland must take some step to prove that she had no hand in the death of her husband if she is to prosper in her claims to the succession here,” wrote Guzman. Fortunately this book is not the place in which to discuss the vexed question of Mary’s complicity in Darnley’s death, but her contemporaries both in England and Scotland, as well as abroad, certainly thought her guilty. Cecil, writing to Sir Henry Norris in March, mentions the suspicions against Bothwell, Balfour, &c., and says, “There are words added, which I am loth to report, that touch the Queen of Scots, which I hold best to be suppressed. Further, such persons anointed are not to be thought ill of without manifest proof.” And again, a few days afterwards, he says, “The Queen of Scots is not well spoken of.” The entry of the event in Cecil’s journal makes no mention of Mary. It runs thus: “Feb. 9. The L. Darnley, K. of Scots, was killed and murdered near Edenburgh;” and on the following day the news is amplified thus: “Feb. 10. Hora secunda post mediam noctem Hen. Rex Scoti? interfectus fuit, per Jac Co. Bothwell, Jac Ormeston de Ormeston, Hob Ormeston patrem dicti Jac Ormeston, Tho Hepbourn.”
Morette, the Duke of Savoy’s special envoy to Scotland, had left Edinburgh the day after the murder, and on his way through London saw Guzman. The Queen of Scots had assured Morette that she would avenge her husband’s death, and punish the murderers, but he made no secret of his belief that she had prior knowledge of the plan. Whilst Morette was dining with Guzman and the French Ambassador, a French messenger named Clerivault arrived at the house, bringing a letter from Mary to the Queen of England, claiming her pity, and similar letters for Catharine de Medici, the Archbishop of Glasgow, and others, denouncing the crime. Mary, indeed, lost no time in endeavouring to put herself right before the world. She offered rewards for the discovery of the murderers; but when all fingers are pointed at Bothwell and his creatures, when public placards were posted in the capital accusing them and hinting at the Queen’s complicity, Mary still kept the principals at her side, and made no move against their subaltern instruments. In vain, for a time, the bereaved father Lennox demanded vengeance; in vain Elizabeth, by Killigrew, sent indignant letters to Mary; in vain the Catholic Archbishop of Glasgow exhorted her to prove her own innocence by pursuing the offenders without mercy. Bothwell stood ever by her side, and his clansmen cowed the murmuring citizens who looked with aversion now upon their beautiful young Queen. At length, goaded to take some action by the danger of losing the Catholic support, upon which alone she had depended, she held the sham trial in the Edinburgh Tolbooth two months after the crime. Lennox refused to attend the travesty of justice, and Bothwell was unanimously acquitted. Murray had left the court before the murder, and fled to France when the result of the trial was known. Bothwell, loaded with favours, insolent with success, seemed to hold Scotland and the Queen in the hollow of his hand. The nobles were mostly bought or threatened into shameful compliance, and only the “preachers” and the townsfolk kept alive the growing horror of the Queen. No longer, even, did the humble peasant women hesitate, before Mary’s face, to make their loyal blessing conditional upon her innocence. What was horrified doubt before became indignant reprobation when, only three months after Darnley’s death, Mary married the hastily divorced Bothwell. Then came the hurried flight in disguise towards Dunbar, the gathering of the nobles, the flight of Bothwell at Carbery Hill, and the conveyance of the disgraced Queen to Edinburgh. When nothing but vows of defiance and vengeance against Bothwell’s enemies could be obtained from her, and it was clear that the unfortunate woman was deaf to reason and decency, came the crowning degradation of Lochleven, and Mary Stuart’s sun set to rise no more.
To a short life of turbulent pleasure succeeded twenty years of plotting against the peace and independence of England and the cause of religious liberty. During that twenty years Cecil and his mistress were pitted against one of the cleverest women in Europe, supported by all that was discontented in England and Scotland, and all that was distinctively Catholic abroad. In the critical position caused by the rising of the Protestant Lords against Bothwell and the Queen, Cecil’s view diverged somewhat from that of Elizabeth. The latter was naturally first concerned at the want of respect shown on all sides to an anointed sovereign, which subject was always a tender one with her; whereas the Secretary was still anxious, before all else, to exclude French influence from Scotland. Writing to Norris in France (26th June), he conveys the news of Mary’s restraint, and at the same time encloses letters from Scotland recalling Murray (then at Lyons), “the sending of which letters requireth great haste, whereof you must not make the Scottish Ambassador privy.… The best part of the (Scots) nobility hath confederated themselves to follow, by way of justice, the condemnation of Bothwell and his complices in the murder of the King. Bothwell defends himself by the Queen’s maintenance and the Hamiltons, so he hath some party, though it be not great. The 15th of this month he brought the Queen into the field with her power, which was so small, as he escaped himself without fighting and left the Queen in the field; and she yielded herself to the Lords, flatly denying to grant justice against Bothwell, so as they have restrained her in Lochleven until they come unto the end of their pursuit against Bothwell.… Murray’s return into Scotland is much desired by them, and for the weal both of England and Scotland I wish he were here. For his manner of returning and safety, I pray require Mr. Stewart to have good care.… The French Ambassador, and Villeroy, who is there (in Scotland), pretend favour to the Lords, with great offers; and it may be that they may do as much on the other side” (i.e. in France). It was this last possibility which so much disturbed Cecil, and it was to avert it that Murray’s return was so ardently desired, for he was known always to be opposed to the French influence in his country. In August, after Murray had returned to Scotland (visiting Elizabeth at Windsor on his way home at the end of July), Cecil wrote again to Norris: “You shall perceive by the Queen’s letter to you herewith how earnestly she is bent in the favour of the Queen of Scots; and truly since the beginning she hath been greatly offended with the Lords in this action; yet no counsel can stay her Majesty from manifesting of her misliking of them; so as, indeed, I think thereby the French may, and will, easily catch them, and make their present profit of them, to the damage of England. In this behalf her Majesty had no small misliking of that book which you sent me written in French, whose (author’s) name yet I know not; but, howsoever, I think him of great wit and acquaintance in the affairs of the world. It is not in my power to procure any reward, and therefore you must so use the matter as he neither be discouraged nor think unkindness in me.”
How much Cecil dreaded renewed French interference in Scotland is seen at this time by his ever-growing cordiality towards Spain. An acrimonious discussion was going on, both in London and in Paris, with regard to the restoration of Calais to England, which was now due by the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis. Cecil and the Queen were both emphatic in their condemnation of the Protestant risings in the Spanish Netherlands, though French agents kept whispering to Guzman that help was being sent thither by England. The union between Cecil and the Spaniard was nevertheless closer than ever. The latter, in March, secretly told Cecil that the King of France was sending De Croc to Scotland, and that there seemed to be some mystery brewing in that quarter. The Secretary replied that he knew it; they had a plot to steal the Prince of Scotland and take him to France, but that steps had been taken to prevent such a thing. Guzman thereupon urged the Queen of England to have the infant Prince brought to England, Mary having told Killigrew that she was willing that this should be done. Indeed, at this time Cecil’s perseverance had quite won Spanish sympathy, and had widened the rift in the Catholic league, as was necessary for England’s safety, Guzman being if anything more eager than Cecil to checkmate the intrigues of the French in Scotland.
The efforts on the other side were just as incessant to divide Spain from England, and more than once at this period caused temporary estrangement between them. In June a somewhat unexpected embassy came from the Emperor, with the object of asking Elizabeth for monetary aid against the Turk. The principal Ambassador, Stolberg, was a Protestant, and the Queen immediately jumped at the incorrect conclusion that he had come to arrange for the wedding of the Archduke. Before even he arrived in London, Stolberg had been persuaded that a great Catholic league had been formed, including his own sovereign the Emperor, with the object of crushing Elizabeth and rooting out Protestantism from Europe; and when, at his formal reception at Richmond, the Queen gave Stolberg an unfavourable reply to his request for aid against the Turk, Cecil took Guzman, who accompanied him, aside and told him that the Queen and Council had learned the particulars of a league of the Catholic powers against Elizabeth and the Protestants, in favour of the Queen of Scots. The better to effect the object, he said, the Emperor had made a disadvantageous truce with the Turk, whereat the English Council was much scandalised, and was determined to make all necessary preparations, this being the reason why the Queen had answered the Ambassador so unfavourably. Guzman was shocked that so sensible a person as Cecil should believe such nonsense. Probably Cecil knew as well as Guzman that the league was dead, so far as united action against England was concerned; but such attempts as this, to serve French ends by arousing jealousy between Spain and England, were constant, and occasionally, as in this instance, aroused some distrust on one side or the other.
As soon as the detention of Mary Stuart was known by the French Government an attempt was made to gain Murray to the side of France, in order to obtain possession of the infant Prince. Murray delayed pledging himself until he received the letters from the Lords and from Cecil, already referred to. He then started with all haste for Scotland, taking London on the way. Whilst in London at the end of July he saw Guzman, and told him as a secret that he had not even communicated to Elizabeth, that a letter existed which proved conclusively the guilt of his sister in the murder of her husband. It was evident thus early that Murray, whilst expressing sympathy for his sister, and deprecating generally any derogation of the dignity of a sovereign, was determined that Mary Stuart should do no more harm to Protestantism or the relationship between Scotland and England, if he could help it. “He said he would do his best to find some means by which she should remain Queen, but without sufficient liberty to do them any harm, or marry against the will of her Council and Parliament.” It is evident, from a letter from Cecil to Norris, that Murray arranged with the former when in England to assume the Regency of Scotland on his arrival, although not without misgiving on the part of Elizabeth, even if she personally was a consenting party to the arrangement. Murray, writing a friendly letter to Cecil early in 1568 (Hatfield Papers), mentions that a report had reached him that Cecil had been told that he (Murray) was offended because Sir William in his first letter had not addressed him as Regent. Murray assures him that this was not the case, and begs him not to allow any such thought to disturb their friendship, “the amity of the two countries being the great object of both … although the Queen, your mistress, outwardly seems not altogether to allow the present state here, yet I doubt not but her Highness in heart liketh it well enough.” Elizabeth was at the time divided between two feelings: that of indignation at any restraint being placed upon a sovereign by subjects, and the knowledge that the imprisonment of Mary meant the disablement of the only individual whom England had to fear. Cecil was fully alive to the latter fact, whilst the former was to him of quite secondary importance when compared with the national issues involved.
When the news came of Mary’s renunciation and the crowning of the infant James, the Lords wrote to Elizabeth, saying that either she must protect them, or they must accept a French alliance; and she was then obliged to prefer the interests of England to her reverence for the sacredness of a sovereign. Guzman thus tells the story: “The Queen told me she did not know what was best to be done, and asked my opinion, pointing out to me the inexpediency of showing favour to so bad an example, and, on the other hand, the danger to her of a new alliance of these people with the French … I think I see more inclination on her part to aid them (the Scots) than the case at present demands, as I gave her many reasons for delay, whilst she still insisted that it was necessary to act at once.” The next day (August 9) the tone of the Queen had somewhat changed. She would, she said, recall Throgmorton from Scotland, as it was beneath her dignity to have an Ambassador accredited to a sovereign in duress, and she would refuse her protection and aid to the Lords. The reason for this perhaps was that “the letter she writes to Throgmorton is very short. I have seen it, though I could not read it. It was in the hands of Lord Robert (i.e. Leicester), who dictated it, and he carried it to the Queen for signature in my presence, Cecil not being present.” Cecil, indeed, at this juncture had to proceed with great caution, and, as usual, by indirect and devious ways. Leicester, Pembroke, and their friends had now (August), as Guzman says, “no rivals, as Secretary Cecil proceeds respectfully, and the rest who might support him are absent. He knows well, however, that he is more diligent than they, and so keeps his footing.”
In the meanwhile the Catholics in England were allowed almost perfect immunity, whilst, on the other hand, strong land and sea forces were mustered, as a counterbalance to the great army to be led into Flanders by Alba. The closest friendship existed between the Spaniards and Cecil, who was never tired of assuring Guzman that Hawkins’ great expedition, then on the coast bound for Guinea, should under no circumstances do anything prejudicial in any of the territories of the King of Spain; notwithstanding which, and the fact that Philip’s Flemish fleet had just been effusively welcomed at Dover, John Hawkins himself, when the same fleet put into Plymouth, fired a few cannon shots at the flagship, and banged away until the Spanish flag was hauled down, to the unspeakable indignation of the Flemish admiral.
Things were in this condition in the autumn of 1567, all Europe being on the alert watching the gathering of the storm over the Netherlands. So long as there was any danger of French interference in Scotland, or of the Catholic powers taking up the cause of Mary Stuart, Elizabeth, and more especially Cecil, drew closer to Spain and the Catholic party in England. But events moved quickly, and the whole aspect changed within a few weeks. Almost simultaneously, in September 1567, came from different quarters two preliminary thunderclaps that announced the tempest. The advent of Alba in the Netherlands on his mission of vengeance had sent affrighted fugitives flying in swarms across the narrow seas to England; but when, on the 9th September, after the treacherous dinner-party in Brussels, the two highest heads in Flanders, Egmont and Horn, were struck at, and the bearers lodged in jail, all the world knew that the great struggle had begun between liberty and Protestantism on the one side, and tyranny and Catholicism on the other. Thanks mainly to Elizabeth and Cecil, it was not to be fought out on British soil. Only a few weeks afterwards came the news of Condé’s attempt to seize the young King of France and his mother, and to rescue them from the influence of Cardinal Lorraine. The attempt failed, but soon all France was ablaze with civil war, for the Protestant worm at last had turned. Betrayed, as they had been before, and face to face now with foreign mercenaries hurried into France to suppress them, the convinced Huguenots decided to stand by their faith, and fight to the death for liberty to exercise it, let the “politicians” do what they might. The two events happening almost together, whilst Mary Stuart was in prison under a cloud, and the rebel Shan O’Neil in Ireland had finally fallen, at once relieved England of all danger from without, unless the Catholic party was irresistibly triumphant both in France and Flanders. The best way to prevent that was to support those who were in arms against it, and the policy of Elizabeth and Cecil was again cautiously changed accordingly.
As soon as the Queen received from Norris news of Condé’s rising, she sent for B?chetel, the French Ambassador, and ostentatiously condoled with him for the disrespect shown to his sovereign. She rather overdid the pity, and suggested that she should arbitrate between the King and the Huguenots, but would take care that no help was given to the latter from England. B?chetel dryly thanked her for the assurance that she would not help rebels again, but said that his King was quite able to deal with his subjects without her assistance. Here, as in the case of Mary Stuart, Elizabeth’s first feeling was indignation at any disrespect being shown to a sovereign; but Cecil’s letter to Norris at the time (November 3, 1567) shows that he and his friends looked at the matter from another point of view, which Elizabeth herself shortly afterwards adopted, as she had done in the case of the Queen of Scots. In the meanwhile the Council became daily more outspoken in favour of the Huguenots. Messages of encouragement went speeding across the Channel to Coligny, to Montgomerie, and the rest of the Huguenot leaders. Cecil himself took Archbishop Parker to task for his leniency to Bishop Thirlby and Dr. Boxall, who were in his custody for recusancy; and at the end of November the official blindness as to people attending mass in London came to an end. The English people who had worshipped undisturbed in the Spanish Ambassador’s chapel were suddenly arrested, and many of them sent to prison. On the same day Cecil complained to Guzman that he had promoted the breaking of the law by persuading Englishmen to attend mass, and repeated other sinister reports about him. The Spaniard denied the charges, and warned Cecil that, although his present attitude might be prompted by patriotic motives, it was a dangerous one, “and that some people were casting the responsibility upon him (Cecil), for the purpose of making him unpopular.” Cecil, apparently, was not afraid of this, for he had strained the loyalty of his friends almost to breaking limits lately by the severity exercised against the anti-vestment divines and his approaches to Spain, and doubtless welcomed the change in the political position which allowed him to enforce uniformity upon Catholics as well as upon his own co-religionists. There was a talk of expelling all Catholics from the Queen’s household, and Bacon, the Chancellor, made a speech in the Star Chamber directing the judges and officials to put into renewed force and press vigorously, the laws against the possession of books attacking the Protestant faith. “What most troubles the Catholics, however,” writes Guzman, “is to see that Leicester has become much more confirmed in his heresy, and is followed by the Earl of Pembroke, who had been considered a Catholic. There is nobody now on the Catholic side in the Council.”
The hollow negotiations, too, for the Archduke’s marriage, carried on by honest Sussex in Vienna, were politely shelved; and the political pretence which Elizabeth and Cecil had kept up for so long, of a leaning towards the Catholic side, could safely be discarded until the renewed liability of England to attack from without might again call for its resumption. So far the Queen and her minister had dissembled to good purpose, for the great struggle for the faith had been diverted from England to the Continent, and the monarchs of France and Spain were both busy in suppressing the religious revolts of their own subjects.
Norris in France, and Cecil’s agents in Spain and Flanders, continued to send home alarming news of the intentions of Philip and the Guises against England. The stories were untrue, but coming from so many quarters at the same time, were evidently not invented by the senders. They were in fact set afloat by Philip, as a means of keeping England in a state of apprehension, and so preventing her from sending overt aid to the Protestants in Flanders and France. To some extent they were successful in frightening Elizabeth, evidently to Cecil’s annoyance, for the Secretary at least had taken Philip’s measure, and knew that his hands were full. In a letter to Lord Cobham, written in April 1568, Cecil gives expression to this feeling in the figurative language which he was in the habit of employing. Cobham, as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, had forwarded a secret proposal of some Frenchmen in Calais to seize that citadel and deliver it to the Huguenots to be held for Elizabeth. The Queen was alarmed at the boldness of the plan, but promised that she would consider it if the King of France refused her offered mediation between him and the Huguenots. Cecil writes thereupon: “It grieveth me to hold and follow the plough where the owner of the ground forbears to cast in the seed in seasonable time, and I am all the more grieved that your Lordship is in like manner discouraged. ‘Moremus sepe sed nihil promoremus.’ But besides the plough your Lordship follows, we are occupied with another, meaning to join both together for surety, but still I despair of seed.”
In the meanwhile, though Elizabeth herself was still overshadowed by the traditional might of Spain, the English Catholics were feeling, by the increased severity exercised towards them, the changed political situation. The English minister, and in her stronger moments the English Queen, were speaking more firmly now than ever they had dared to do since Elizabeth’s accession. For the first time the position was becoming defined. It was no longer France or Spain nationally that was the enemy of England: it was Catholic against Protestant the world over. Philip was as nervously anxious to avoid war as Elizabeth herself, and his need to do so much greater than hers; but if Protestantism was allowed to become strong, then his great empire must crumble, and the basis of his system disappear. His own slow stolidity had been in a great measure the cause of his finding himself in so unfavourable a tactical position, for he had allowed the champions of the autonomous rights of his Flemish dominions—rights which at first he might easily have conciliated with his own sovereignty—to obtain for their cause the immense added impetus of religious reform. It was this fact which had changed the situation; and it was accentuated in England by the activity of the Pope (Pius V.) in establishing English seminaries abroad, and by means of money and busy agents in England itself, raising the spirits of those who clung to the old faith.
The answer to the effervescence thus caused amongst the Catholics was the renewed harshness against them by the English ministers and the rising aggressiveness of the Protestants. Late in February 1568, Cecil sent word to Guzman, with whom he was still ostensibly on friendly terms, to say that the Queen had learnt casually that the English Ambassador in Madrid (Dr. Man) was not allowed to hold Protestant service in the embassy. She was surprised at this, and had sent to the Ambassador orders to demand the same rights as were accorded to Guzman in England; if these were denied she would recall him. Cecil himself was more outspoken and indignant than usual, and much more so than the Queen. “They think, no doubt, that the present troubles in France and elsewhere,” writes Guzman, “give them a good opportunity of gaining ground, their own affairs being favourable; so they have begun to look out more keenly, and to trouble the Catholics, summoning some and arresting others, and warning them to obey the present laws … they (the Council) soon change her (the Queen), and all their efforts are directed at making her shy of me.” Guzman’s messenger to Madrid travelled more quickly than Cecil’s, and before Dr. Man could demand his right to enjoy Protestant service, he was unceremoniously hustled out of Madrid, without obtaining audience of the King, the pretext being that he had in public conversation at his own table insulted the Catholic faith. Though Philip took this strong course, he was as anxious as ever to avoid an open quarrel with England about that or anything else, and sent all sorts of conciliatory messages to the Queen. Dr. Man, he said, had behaved himself so outrageously that his further stay in Spain was impossible; but if another Ambassador were sent who would act as English Ambassadors always had done, he should be received with open arms.
The news arrived in London at a bad time. A Portuguese Ambassador had just come (May 1568) to complain—“brawling,” as Cecil calls it—of the Hawkins expeditions to Guinea. He went to the audience with Guzman, and found the Queen in a towering rage about a scurrilous letter referring to her, written by the Cardinal Prince Dom Henrique. Cecil had obtained possession of the letter somehow, and produced it, saying that the presumption of the Portuguese was insufferable and made them hated by all nations. The matter of the letter quite overshadowed the grievance about trade, as it no doubt was intended to do, and the Portuguese got no redress. On the contrary, Cecil called to him some Spanish residents in London who accompanied the Ambassador to Whitehall, and warned them that they might not attend mass at the embassy. What! not foreigners? asked Antonio de Guaras. No, retorted Cecil, and turned his back upon them to rejoin the Queen. The next day when Cecil saw Guzman, he complained of Alba’s severity in Flanders, and of some insulting reference to Elizabeth in the “Pontifical History” of Dr. Illescas, so that when Dr. Man’s letter arrived immediately afterwards announcing his practical expulsion from Spain, everything was prepared for an explosion. The Queen received the news with some alarm as to what it might portend, and was at first inclined to be conciliatory; but when Guzman visited Cecil in the Strand two or three days afterwards, he found the Secretary in a fit of anger unusual with him. Such treatment of an Ambassador, he said, was an unheard-of insult to his mistress, unless it was meant as a provocation to war. After storming for some time, he stopped for want of breath; and it needed all Guzman’s suavity to calm him. “I waited a little for him to recover from his rage, and then went up to him, laughing, and embraced him, saying that I was amused to see him fly into such a passion over what I had told him, because I knew that he understood differently. The affair, I said, might be made good or bad as the Queen liked to make it.” But Cecil was not easily appeased. He told Guzman that the Council regarded him with suspicion, that Englishmen were treated harshly in Spain, and much more to the same effect, all of which was very surprising to the Spaniard, who was unused to such plain speaking from him. But in the ten years that Elizabeth had sat upon the throne, things had radically changed. Cecil could afford to speak boldly to Spain now; for whilst England had grown enormously in wealth, commerce, industry, and shipping, under a prudent, patriotic Government, both the great rivals she formerly feared were rent by the religious schism which the folly or ambition of their rulers had precipitated upon them, and England at any given moment could paralyse either of them for harm by smiling upon their Protestant subjects.
Whilst Mary was in Lochleven Castle, Murray’s enemies, the Hamiltons and the Catholics, were busy. Murray had tried his best by severity to reduce the country to something approaching order, and the turbulent chiefs who profited by anarchy resented it. The compromising papers which implicated the ruling powers in the late deeds of murder and violence were burnt, though not those that implicated the Queen, and the whole of the responsibility was cast upon the Queen and Bothwell. Religious uniformity was passed by Parliament, and the exercise of Catholic worship abolished. All this violent action, too rapid and too partial to be readily assimilated by a country so profoundly divided as Scotland was, naturally caused reaction in favour of Mary, and when after one unsuccessful attempt she escaped from prison (2nd May), there were friends in plenty to flock to her banner. The day before her flight she had written the fervent prayer to Elizabeth, swearing unchanging fidelity to her if she would send her help—help for which she had besought Catharine de Medici in vain; for France wanted the alliance of Scotland, not that of Mary Stuart personally. The day after, when Mary, surrounded by Hamiltons, was free again, the possibilities were all changed. Mary Stuart turned in a few hours from the humble suppliant to the haughty sovereign. Her abdication was revoked, Murray’s regency declared illegal, and all his acts annulled. Beton was sent off post-haste to London and Paris to demand for his mistress a thousand harquebussiers and a sum of money. Beton’s instructions were to tell the English Government that if they would not send the help, he was to demand it from the French. Cecil writes to Norris, 16th May, that under these circumstances the Queen had promised all that Mary demanded; but he was to keep his eye on Beton, and if he asked for French aid, Catharine was to be told the message he brought from Mary to London. Before Beton left London he went to see Guzman with a verbal message from Mary. Now that she was free, she said, she would show the world how innocent she was, and begged for the advice and help of Guzman and his master. She was a firmer Catholic than ever, she averred; nearly all the people and nobles of Scotland were on her side; but she complained that she was in the field without proper garb or adornments, and begged Guzman to send a request to the Duke of Alba to seize her jewels and restore them to her, if Murray sent them to Flanders for sale.
This was on the 11th May. Two days afterwards the result of the battle of Langside once more cast the unhappy Mary Stuart into the chasm of irredeemable misfortune, and on the 16th she fled across the Solway a fugitive to England, to see her country no more in life. Such a step as this was tempting fate. It is true that Elizabeth had constantly professed sympathy for her in her captivity; but whilst the English Queen’s words were fair, the acts of her Government, dictated not by personal motives, such as the friends of Mary have absurdly tried to fix upon Cecil, but by high national policy, had been uniformly in favour of Murray and the Protestants. Mary’s attitude, moreover, had from the first, and not unnaturally, been favourable to the French alliance, upon which for centuries Scotland had depended for the preservation of its independence; and to place herself thus unconditionally at the mercy of the English, whose policy she had opposed and whose interests she sought to subvert, was little short of an act of madness. Mary had no excuse for trusting to a Quixotic generosity, of which Elizabeth had never given her the slightest indication beyond conventional fine words, such as would hardly deceive Mary. It was not so much that she overrated her generosity as she underrated her boldness.
Drury in Berwick had kept Cecil informed almost from hour to hour of the course of events in Scotland; and a few hours only after Mary landed at Workington she wrote her famous and oft-quoted letter to the English Queen. In it she recites her sorrows, and begs Elizabeth to aid her in her just quarrel; but, above all, to send for her as soon as possible, “for I am in a pitiable condition, not only for a Queen but a gentlewoman.” The position was a difficult one for the English Queen and Council. Guzman says they were much perplexed, “as the Queen has always shown good-will to the Queen of Scots, and the majority of the Council has been opposed to her, and favourable to the Regent and his government. If this Queen has her way, they will have to treat Mary as a sovereign, which will offend those who forced her to abdicate; so that although these folks are glad enough to have her in their hands, they have many things to consider … if she remain free, and able to communicate with her friends, great suspicions will arise. In any case it is certain that the two women will not agree very long together.”
When Mary had arrived at Carlisle a few days afterwards, she sent Lord Herries to London with a letter for Cecil, which may be given in full. Mary’s letters were always clever, unless she lost her temper, as she did sometimes, and here it will be seen that she appeals to positively the only feeling which it was probable would move Cecil to favour her, namely, her kinship to his mistress and her regal status. “Mester Ceciles,” runs the letter, “L’équité, dont vous avvez le nom d’estre amateur, et la fidelle et sincère servitude que portez a la Royne, Madame ma bonne s?ur, et par consequent a toutes celles qui sont de son sang, et en pareille dignité, me fayt en ma juste querele, par sur tous autres m’adresser a vous en ce temps de mon trouble pour etre avancée par votre bon conseille, que j’ai commandé Lord Heris, presant porteur vous fayre entandre au long.… De Karlile ce xxviii Mey. Votre bien bonne amye Marie R.” With this letter Herries brought others for the Pope and Guzman. He demanded aid for his mistress on a pledge sent to her by Elizabeth through Throgmorton in the form of a ring, and when some hesitation was shown, he imprudently blurted out that if Elizabeth did not keep her word his mistress would appeal to France, Spain, the Emperor, and the Pope. “The Pope!” exclaimed puritan Bedford, shocked at the idea. “Yes, the Pope,” replied Herries, “or the Grand Turk, or the Sophi, or any one else who will help her.” This sort of talk was sufficient to decide Mary’s removal to Bolton as a measure of precaution.
Before this took place, however, Lord Scrope and Sir Francis Knollys had been deputed by Elizabeth to visit and confer with Mary at Carlisle. Herries on that occasion had said that if the English would not help his Queen, she wished to go to France; “whereupon,” writes Knollys, we “answered that your Highness could in no wise lyke hyr sekyng aide in France, therbie to bring Frenchmen into Skotland;” and, continued the envoys, the Queen of England could not receive her personally until she was satisfied of her innocence in the murder of her husband. Mary was just as imprudent as Herries in her interview with the English envoys; but what frightened Knollys most was the large number of her English sympathisers in the north of England. In his letter to Elizabeth he points out the danger of the situation, and suggests that Mary should have the choice of freely returning to Scotland, if she chose, or of remaining in England; but not of going to France, as she evidently wished to do. “She was so agile and spirited,” says Knollys, that she could only be kept a prisoner so near the Border by very rigorous means, such as “devices of towels and toyes at her chamber window”; whereas to carry her farther inland might cause “serious sedition.”
Elizabeth and her Council decided to run the latter risk rather than that Mary should go to France to be a permanent thorn in the flesh of England, and the Queen of Scots’ long imprisonment commenced. Even in the first few weeks of her stay she was busy endeavouring to subvert English ends; appointing Chatelherault, Argyll, and Huntly to the supreme government of the kingdom against Murray; Chatelherault being strongly in the French interest, and daily clamouring through his brother in Paris for French armed support. All this was known to the Queen and Cecil; and Mary’s intemperate letters of protest against her removal from Carlisle, and her constant threats to appeal to France and Spain if Elizabeth would not help her, made it altogether inconsistent with prudence to allow the misguided woman her liberty. The investigation into Mary’s guilt or innocence seems to have originated with Cecil. Left to herself, Elizabeth, as we have seen, was mainly influenced by the personal feeling of reverence for a sovereign: Cecil could not oppose this, and as usual took an indirect means of reaching his end. When Mary complained to Knollys at Carlisle of the subjects who had dethroned her, he had told her that as it was lawful for subjects to depose mad sovereigns, it was also lawful for them to depose those who had lost their wits to the extent of conniving at murder. Mary wept at this, and Knollys softened the blow; but Knollys had certainly seen Cecil’s report, and took the line suggested by it. If Mary could be shown to have connived at Darnley’s death—and Cecil must have known of the damning proofs against her when he proposed the negotiation—the regal immunity fell from her like a loosened garment, and Elizabeth’s personal desire to consider the sacredness of the monarch before the interests of the country lost its principal resting point.
In the meanwhile the state of civil war in Scotland continued, and news came daily of French armaments preparing to aid Mary’s party. Cecil ceaselessly urged an armistice, and at last (1st September) was successful, though imprudent Herries continued to threaten that if Elizabeth did not restore the Queen of Scots to the throne in two months, she and her friends would appeal only to France for armed aid. Elizabeth clearly could not force Mary upon the Scottish people, and for her interference to be effective she must be recognised as a mediator, not by Mary alone, but also by Murray and his party. This was difficult; for Murray knew that if the final result was to restore Mary with any power at all, he and his party sooner or later were doomed. Thanks mainly to the efforts of Cecil, Murray at last gave way, and the commissions of Scotch and English Councillors were sent to York, ostensibly to mediate between the Queen of Scots and her subjects. But Mary found herself no longer, as she had hoped to be, the accuser of Murray, but practically on her own trial for murder. By a remark in a letter from Cecil to Norris at the time, he seems again with some difficulty to have avoided being appointed a commissioner himself.
Whilst the intricate and obscure proceedings in York were progressing, Cecil’s hands were full in London. Protestant zeal was fairly aflame now at Alba’s proceedings in the Netherlands. All eastern England swarmed with Flemish fugitives, many of whom found their way back home again well armed with weapons bought in England, and even more with messages of indignant sympathy from English Protestants. Guzman protested to Cecil again and again, but could get no more than vague half promises, and once a proclamation, which the Spaniards described as a “compliment rather than a remedy.”
In September the mild and diplomatic Guzman was withdrawn, much to Elizabeth’s apprehension, and Cecil’s regret, and an Ambassador of very different calibre was sent. For many years the warlike party in Philip’s councils, led by Alba, had been urging him to active hostility towards England, but the peace party of Ruy Gomez had prevented the advice from being adopted. Now that Alba was supreme in the Netherlands, and reported that the Protestant revolt was mainly fed from England, Philip seems to have decided to alarm Elizabeth into neutrality by sending a rough-tongued representative. He had felt his ground first by his contemptuous treatment of Dr. Man, and seeing that Elizabeth had taken it quietly, he sent as his new Ambassador a turbulent bigoted Catalan, named Gerau de Spes, to endeavour by truculence to do what the suavity of Guzman had failed to effect. Dutch, Huguenot, and English privateers were preying upon Spanish shipping, to an extent which well-nigh cut off communication by sea between Spain and northern Europe. Money and arms, unchecked, found their way from England to the brave “beggars” in Holland; and though Philip did not wish to fight England, it was vital for him to paralyse her for harm. Mary Stuart had written to Philip from Carlisle, begging him for help against Elizabeth, and the chance seemed to Philip a good one to disturb England for his own ends, without war. He accordingly wrote cautiously to Alba (15th September), saying that he was willing to help Mary, but desired Alba to report upon what might be done to that end, whilst sending reassuring promises to the Queen of Scots. From the first hour that De Spes set foot in England, he went beyond his instructions and conspired actively against the Government to which he was accredited.
There was more even than this untoward change to occupy the thoughts and hands of Elizabeth’s first minister. The war had raged in France between the Huguenots and the Catholics from September 1567 till the clever management of Catharine had beguiled the Protestants to accept the hollow peace of Longjumeau (March 1568). Hans Casimir and his mercenary Germans went home; the Huguenots laid down their arms; and then again the Catholic pulpits thundered forth that it was godly to break faith with heretics, and that the blood shed of unbelievers sent up sweet incense to heaven. Nearly 10,000 Huguenots were treacherously slain in three months, and no punishment could be obtained against the murderers. Condé and Coligny fled to the stronghold of La Rochelle, there to be joined by the Queen of Navarre with 4000 men-at-arms, and all that was strong and warlike on the side of the Huguenots. Elizabeth in the autumn was making a progress through the valley of the Thames when she heard that Cardinal Chatillon had escaped from Tréport, and had arrived in England and desired an audience. Lord Cobham, Warden of the Cinque Ports, made much of him when he landed; Gresham entertained him; the French Ambassador, himself inclined to be a Huguenot, honoured him as if he were a prince; and as soon as the Queen’s answer was received, Chatillon hurried down to Newbury to prefer his request to the Queen. He looked little of a cardinal or a churchman, for he dressed in cape, hat, and sword, and his wife joined him, but that perhaps made him all the more welcome. Throgmorton voices the general idea in a letter to Cecil. “I think,” he says, “with you, that it is a special favour of God to preserve this realm from calamities by their neighbours’ troubles.… If her Majesty suffer the Low Countries and France to be weeded of the members of the Church whereof England is also a portion, I see no other thing can happen but a more grievous accident to us than to those whom we have suffered to be destroyed.”
But it is quite clear that neither the Queen nor Cecil intended to allow the Huguenots to be destroyed. The Cardinal was received with open arms, munitions were brought from the Tower in hot haste, and a strong fleet was fitted out to carry aid to Huguenots in Rochelle. The French Ambassador might be half a Huguenot, but his brother the Bishop of Rennes was not, and he came and protested strongly in the name of Catharine against Chatillon’s reception in England. Cecil tells Norris in Paris that he got a very short answer. “I told him,” says Cecil, “we had more cause to favour him (Chatillon) and all such, because the said Cardinal Lorraine was known to be an open enemy of our sovereign. So he departed with no small misliking, and I well contented to utter some round speeches.” But, prudent as usual, Cecil was a stickler for legality, and took care that appearances were kept up. The Cardinal, he insisted, was a faithful subject of his King; it was the Guises who were the enemies. Norris is directed to tell Catharine that the fleet is “to protect our Burdeaux fleet from pyrats”; and if any complaint is made about money and munitions of war being provided for Chatillon, he is to say that the Queen would never do anything against the French King, but if English merchants made bargains with the Huguenots, he (Cecil) knew of no way to stop it. He certainly made no attempt to do so; for with a great civil war on hand it was clear that France could not resort to arms for the cause of Mary Stuart; and whilst mediatory proceedings were dragging on in England, the Protestant cause in Scotland was being consolidated.
The unhappy Queen of Scots herself, persuaded that no help could just now reach her from her French kinsmen, seems to have depended almost entirely upon the aid to be given by the King of Spain and Alba to the Scottish Catholics. No messenger came from her to London without beseeching secret letters in cipher to the Spanish Ambassador; and whilst the trial dragged on, she left no stone unturned to arouse indignation against Murray and the English. They wished to kill her child, she said, and force the reformed faith upon her and Scotland. In an intercepted letter to one of the Hamiltons, which fell into Cecil’s hands, she says that Dumbarton, with Murray’s consent, was to be seized by the English. Elizabeth had, she averred, promised to sustain Murray, to recognise his legitimacy, and raise him to the throne as her vassal; both of these being accusations which were likely to move the Hamiltons to fury. But, above all, she accused Cecil of a deeper plot still. He had arranged, she said, to marry one of his daughters to the Earl of Hertford, father of Catharine Grey’s young heir, and thus, by mutual support, Hertford’s son and Murray might occupy respectively the English and Scottish thrones under Cecil’s tutelage. “So they will both be bent on my son’s death.” There was no truth in it; but it was an excellent invention to arouse the ire of the Scottish Catholics. Before even this was written (December), Cecil knew how bitter was Mary’s feeling against him. When Beton came to London from Mary in October, with secret messages for De Spes, suggesting her escape, “which will not be difficult, or even to raise a revolt against this Queen,” Cecil guessed his real errand, and, says De Spes, “Cecil is so much against the Queen of Scotland, and so jealous in the matter, that as soon as he saw Beton he asked him whether he had been with his complaints to the Spanish Ambassador, and whether he came to see me often; to which Beton replied that he had no dealings whatever with me.”
But Cecil’s spies were everywhere, and he knew that De Spes was working ceaselessly in Mary’s interests to bring disaster upon England, in union with his chief, the Duke of Alba, in Flanders. The great difficulty in the way of the Spaniards was the extreme penury of the treasury. Spain was in the very depths of poverty, its commerce well-nigh killed by unwise fiscal arrangements and the depredations of the privateers, against whom De Spes inveighed to Cecil constantly, but in vain, though the Secretary was strongly against piracy on principle. Flanders desolated with war, Holland and Zeeland in revolt, were no longer the milch-cows for the Spaniards that they had been, and Alba, with an unpaid and rebellious soldiery, was in despair of subduing Orange, much less of crushing England, unless large sums of money were forthcoming. Philip made a great effort in the autumn of 1568, and borrowed a large sum of money from the Genoese bankers to supply Alba with the sinews of war. The money was to be conveyed by sea to Flanders at the risk of the bankers. Three of the vessels duly arrived in Antwerp, after having been chased by Huguenot privateers; but several others put into Southampton, Plymouth, and Falmouth, to escape from their pursuers. The representative in England of the bankers was the Genoese Benedict Spinola, who requested De Spes to ask the Queen to allow the money to be discharged and brought overland to Dover, where it could be transhipped under convoy for the Duke of Alba. De Spes saw the Queen on the 29th November, and she consented to this course being adopted.
In the meanwhile the privateers, in crowds, were clustered outside the harbours where the rich treasure lay, and nearly every Spanish ship that entered the Channel fell into their hands. De Spes had not been sent by Philip to provoke war, but in the few months that he had been in England his violence, insolence, and bigotry had brought war nearer than ever it had been before. Norris in Paris had just been warned, and had sent the warning to Cecil, that a plot was formed to kill the Queen, and that the papal banker Ridolfi, De Spes, and the English Catholic nobility, headed by the Earl of Arundel, had agreed to place Mary Stuart on the English throne. De Spes was closeted day and night with Mary’s agents. “The Bishop of Ross came at midnight to offer me the good-will of his mistress and many gentlemen of this country.… 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 all over the country.’”
Condé’s agents, too, were for ever telling the Queen and Cecil of the plans against England of the Guises and Alba, as soon as the Protestants in France and Flanders had been subjugated; and Knollys wrote almost despairingly from Bolton of Mary’s haughty disbelief in Elizabeth’s power to harm her. There need, therefore, be no surprise that the English Council began to question the wisdom of allowing the treasure that had fallen into their power to be used against the tranquillity and independence of their own country. When De Spes asked Cecil for the safe conducts for the money, he was put off with vague evasions, whilst the main question was being discussed. After much pressing, Cecil gave the safe conducts, and sent orders to Plymouth and Falmouth (13th December, N.S.) that the shore authorities were to defend the treasure-ships, which were being threatened by pirates, even in port. “These orders are now being sent off,” writes De Spes, “but in all things Cecil showed himself an enemy to the Catholic cause, and desirous on every opportunity of opposing the interests of your Majesty.… He has to be dealt with by prayers and gentle threats.” “The Council is sitting night and day about the Queen of Scotland’s affairs. Cecil and the Chancellor (Bacon) would like to see her dead, as they have a King of their own choosing, one of Hertford’s children.”
After deliberation, Cecil had sent for Bernard Spinola, and ascertained from him that the money was being conveyed at the bankers’ risk, and could not legally be called King Philip’s property. This seems to have decided the question. The money on the cutter in Southampton harbour was discharged, on the pretext of protecting it from pirates; and as soon as De Spes got the news, on the 20th December, he went to the Queen in a violent rage to demand its return. He only saw Cecil, who said the money was safe, but hinted that it did not belong to the King. De Spes then gave the bad advice to Alba to retaliate by seizing all English property in the Netherlands, which was done, and Cecil was provided with a pretext which gave him what he always needed, a good legal position to justify his acts. The Queen had not hitherto plainly said that she would keep the money; but as soon as she heard that Alba had seized English property, it gave her the required excuse for doing so. Her credit was as good as Philip’s, she said, and she would borrow it herself. Not only 400,000 crowns in gold, but every scrap of Spanish property in England was seized, enormously in excess of all English property in Flanders. In vain De Spes hectored and stormed, in vain Alba alternately threatened and implored, in vain Philip made seizures of Englishmen and goods in Spain; the Queen was in an unassailable position. Alba had openly declared the seizures of English property first, and all Elizabeth had done was to adopt reprisals afterwards. But it crippled Alba and Philip almost to exhaustion, and well-nigh ruined Spanish commerce and killed Spanish credit.
For years open and secret negotiations went on to obtain some restoration of the enormous amount of Spanish property seized. Cajolery, bribery, and appeals to English honour were resorted to without effect; private negotiations were opened by the owners of the property to get partial restitution on any terms; envoy after envoy was sent, and returned home empty-handed. The Queen refused to acknowledge Alba or his agents in any form, and Cecil was immovable in his determination that no arrangement should be made that did not bring into account all the confiscations and persecutions that had ever been suffered by English in Spain at the hands of the Inquisition, which he knew was impossible. In the meanwhile the property dwindled and was jobbed away, and little, if any, ever eventually reached its proper owners.
Early in January the Queen refused to receive De Spes, and sent Cecil and the Lord Admiral, attended by a large train, and the aldermen of the city, to see him at his house. Cecil, as usual, was the spokesman. He was angry and severe: upbraided the Ambassador for his bad offices; condemned the cruelty of the Duke of Alba, and his insolence in seizing English property; and ended by placing De Spes and all his household under arrest, in the custody of Henry Knollys, Arthur Carew, and Sir Henry Knyvett. The reason of this was that a violent letter from De Spes to Alba had been intercepted by Cecil’s orders. To make matters worse, the foolish Ambassador, whilst under arrest, wrote an insolent letter to Alba complaining of his treatment, and sent it open to the Council. In it he says that “Cecil is harsh and arrogant; that he vapoured about religion, dragged up the matter of John Man and about Bishop Quadra’s affairs, and, in short, did and said a thousand impertinent things. He thinks he is dealing with Englishmen, who all tremble before him.… The question of the money does not suit him. I beg your Excellency not to refrain on my account from doing everything that the interests and dignity of the King demand; for whilst Cecil rules, I do not believe there will ever be lasting peace. It is a pity so excellent a Queen should give credit to so scandalous a person as this. God send a remedy; for in this country, people great and small are discontented with the Government.… Cecil is having a proclamation drawn up, from which he leaves out what is most important, and misstates the case. He refused to return my packet, and is getting one Somers to decipher my letters. If he succeeds I will pardon him.” The transmission of this insolent letter, open to the Council, to be sent to Alba, produced the effect that might have been expected. De Spes was asked to explain what he meant by such offensive expressions against the Government, and by some scurrilous references employed in another intercepted letter towards the Queen. He tried to attenuate his insolence towards the Queen, and the Council as a whole, but not that towards Cecil personally.
And so affairs drifted from bad to worse. Every letter from De Spes to Alba and the King was full of abuse of Cecil, and statements of the determination of the English Catholics to shake off his tyranny and raise Mary Stuart to the throne. The people are all discontented, he says, and the slightest show of countenance from Philip will enable Elizabeth and the detested Cecil to be overthrown. Philip did not know what to think of it, and sent to Alba orders to inquire independently whether De Spes’ representations were true. If it is so easy, he says, he is willing to give the aid required, as after his duty to maintain the holy faith in his own dominions, it is incumbent upon him to re-establish it in England. “If you think the chance will be lost by again waiting to consult me, you may at once take the steps you consider advisable.” Alba soon undeceived the King. He had his hands full in the Netherlands; he was almost without money; rash and foolish De Spes, he knew, was not to be depended upon, and he told Philip plainly that he must temporise and make friends with Elizabeth, leaving vengeance until later. De Spes, he thought, was being deceived, perhaps betrayed, by Ridolfi and the Catholics, and open war with England must be avoided at any cost. Cecil, indeed, had accurately gauged the situation, and knew far better than De Spes that Philip dared not fight, now that the Prince of Orange was holding Holland and Zeeland against him. England’s traditional alliance was not with the House of Spain, but with the possessor of the Netherlands, and in the same proportion as Spain lost control over the Low Countries, the need for a close union with her shifted.
Late in February the Duke of Norfolk, and his father-in-law, the Earl of Arundel, to whom the changed situation was not so clear as to Cecil, sent Ridolfi to De Spes with a cipher communication to tell him that the money and Spanish property should be returned. “They had only consented to my detention and Cecil’s other impertinences, because they were not yet strong enough to resist him. But they were gathering friends, and were letting the public know what was going on, in the hope and belief that they will be able to turn out the present accursed Government and raise up another Catholic one, bringing the Queen to consent thereto. They think your Excellency (Alba) will support them in this, and that the country will not lose the friendship of our King. They say they will return to the Catholic religion, and they think a better opportunity never existed than now. Although Cecil thinks he has them all under his heel, he will find few or none of them stand by him. I have encouraged them.… In the meanwhile Cecil is bravely harrying the Catholics, imprisoning many, for nearly all the prisons are full. The Spaniards (i.e. from the arrested ships) are in Bridewell to the number of over 150, and a minister is sent to preach to them.” This gives us a clue to the real origin of the plot against Cecil, which his domestic biographer absurdly ascribes to a noble member of the Council having seen upon his table a book attacking aristocracy. Rapin is nearer in guessing the cause of the conspiracy in ascribing it to Norfolk, Winchester, Pembroke, Leicester, Northumberland, Westmoreland, and Arundel, in favour of Mary Stuart’s claim, at least to the succession, in opposition to Cecil’s candidate, Catharine Grey’s son, Lord Beauchamp. Camden records that Throgmorton, Leicester’s henchman, advocated the lodging of Cecil in the Tower first. “If he were once shut up, men would open their mouths to speak freely against him.” As will be seen, however, Cecil was more than a match for his jealous enemies, who were also the enemies of England; and the Queen, to her honour, stood bravely up for her great minister. The plan agreed upon was for Norfolk, a cat’s-paw of Leicester, to denounce Cecil for his supposed intention of forcing the succession of Beauchamp, and provoking war with Spain by advocating the seizure of Philip’s treasure; but Leicester, too unstable, even, to keep the counsel of his own plot, dropped a hint to the Queen, who warned Cecil, and the whole nefarious conspiracy was unveiled. The excuse given by Norfolk and Arundel to De Spes for their failure was that so many Councillors were interested in the plunder that they could not get them to move against Cecil. “For my part,” says De Spes, “I believe that they have very little courage, and in the usual English way wish things to be so far advanced that they can with but little trouble win your Majesty’s rewards and favours.”
On the strength of their intentions against Cecil, Arundel, with his sons-in-law, Norfolk and Lumley, tried their hardest to get some money from De Spes, but without effect until the northern rebellion was in preparation. Their intermediary was a Florentine banker, whose brother-in-law, Cavalcanti, was one of Cecil’s agents, and through him every step was known to the Secretary. Spies were everywhere. Whilst Cecil’s most confidential private secretary, Allington, carried all his secrets to De Spes for a consideration, no visitor went to the Spanish Embassy whose name and business was not at once reported to Cecil, who, says De Spes, was suspicious even of the birds of the air. Though Mary was in captivity, she contrived to write constant cipher letters through De Spes to the Pope, to Alba, and to Philip. The Bishop of Ross, her indefatigable but imprudent agent, took no step in Mary’s cause without consultation with the Spaniard. She would, he said, have been released already but for Cecil, her great enemy in the Council. If he could be got rid of, all would be well. The Bishop of Ross went so far as to solicit another husband for Mary to be chosen by Philip, and offered her abject submission both for England and Scotland, in return for aid to the coming rising in her favour. It will be seen by this that a more dangerous and widespread plot even than that against Cecil was being planned by the Catholic nobility.
At what period the first suggestion was made for a marriage between the Duke of Norfolk and Mary Stuart is not certain, but the Bishop of Ross afterwards deposed that the Duke had sent his offer to the Queen before the meeting of the Commission of York (October 1568), of which he was president; and as Lady Scrope, in whose husband’s house, Bolton Castle, Mary was kept, was Norfolk’s sister, it is probable that the plan was hatched during her stay at Bolton. From Murray’s statement it appears that Norfolk had a private conference with him during the sitting of the Commission at York, when the Duke proposed to suppress the papers which incriminated Mary, in order to save the scandal of a conviction. Murray placed the evidence before the English Commissioners, and agreed to abide by Elizabeth’s decision, and Norfolk at once wrote a private letter to Cecil conveying his strong impression of the Queen’s guilt, but advocating the suppression of the evidence. Norfolk’s conference with Murray, and probably Cecil’s knowledge of the marriage plan, appears to have been the reason for the removal of the Commission to London, and the employment of Norfolk elsewhere, as well as of the removal of Mary to Tutbury. When Norfolk returned to court, Elizabeth received him coldly, for the talk about his marriage with Mary was now public, and the Duke assured the Queen of the untruth of the rumours. After Murray, with real or pretended reluctance, had laid the whole of his evidence against Mary before the Commission, and the sittings had come to an end with the sole result of leaving the cloud over her head, Norfolk’s plan for a time was shelved; but the conspiracy of the nobles against Cecil in favour of Mary again revived the idea of the marriage; and Guzman in June 1569 says that the new Lord Dacre had mentioned the matter to him, and professed his willingness to hold in readiness 15,000 men in the north, to rise in favour of Mary if he were assured of Philip’s support. De Spes asserts that Cecil had proposed to marry his widowed sister-in-law, Lady Hoby, to the Duke, a proposal which the Duke had rejected with scorn, “as his eyes were fixed upon the Queen of Scots.”
By this time matters had so far advanced that a large sum of money (6000 crowns) was sent by Alba to the Catholic nobles, through Lumley and Arundel, as well as 10,000 to Mary, and the rising in the north was in principle decided upon; but Alba, whilst ready to supply money secretly, strictly enjoined De Spes to turn a deaf ear to any suggestions for overt aid against the Queen’s Government. His great care for the moment was to repair the effects of his mistake, and obtain some sort of restitution of the Spanish property seized in England. Agents were sent backwards and forwards, supple cosmopolitan Florentines mostly. Ridolfi, Fiesco, the Cavalcantis, and several others tried by bribery and other means to induce Cecil to consent to an arrangement. It suited him to pretend a willingness to do so. Ridolfi dined and conferred with him more than once on the subject at Cecil House. De Spes was released from his captivity in Paget House (on the site of the present Essex Street, Strand), and allowed to take the Bishop of Winchester’s house instead; but on various pretexts, invented, as he says, by Cecil, the interminable negotiations about the restitution dragged on without much result, as Cecil evidently intended them to do. “We must have patience,” De Spes writes to Alba, “but the affair is greatly injured by Cecil’s having again got the upper hand in the government, without fear now that the other members may overthrow him, for he knows that they could not agree together for the purpose.”
Whilst Cecil was temporising about the restitution, and dallying with the Spanish agents, he kept his hand on the pulse of the Catholic Lords. Arundel and his party had arranged that De Spes should once more be admitted to the Queen’s presence at Guildford, and then go to a meeting of the conspirators at Nonsuch; but Cecil raised difficulties, and himself came to town specially to tell De Spes that the Queen could not receive him until he obtained fresh credentials direct from Spain. Cecil had apparently by this time (August 1569) won over the Earl of Pembroke; and Leicester himself had taken fright at the probable result of his plotting. His accomplices had gone beyond him. The rise of Norfolk and Mary under a Catholic regime would of course have meant extinction for Leicester, and though he was ready enough to ruin Cecil, he had no wish to be dragged down in his fall. “The Duke’s party,” writes De Spes, “and those who favour the Queen of Scotland, are incomparably the greater number.… I believe there will be some great event soon, as the people are much dissatisfied and distressed by want of trade, and these gentlemen of Nonsuch have some new imaginations in their heads.”
A few days after this was written, Norfolk received the ominous warning from the Queen at Titchfield, to “beware on what pillow he rested his head.” The Duke was a poor, weak creature, and instead of accompanying the Queen to Windsor, he fled into Norfolk, and from there wrote an apology to the Queen. Elizabeth’s answer was a peremptory summons for him to come to court, ill or well. He delayed, and the Queen, in a rage, sent and arrested him, confining him first at Burnham, near Windsor, and shortly afterwards in the Tower. How wise and moderate Cecil was under the circumstances, may be seen in his own letters. He knew better than any one that the conspiracy was primarily directed against him, as one of the conditions imposed upon Mary was stated to be that nothing should be done against Elizabeth; yet this is how he wrote to the Queen just before Norfolk was sent to the Tower (9th October): “If the Duke shall be charged with the crime of treason, and shall not thereof be convicted, he shall not only save his credit, but increase it. And surely, without the facts may appear manifest within the compass of treason (which I cannot see how they can), he shall be acquitted of that charge; and better it were in the beginning to foresee the matter, than attempt it with discredit, and not without suspicion of evil will and malice. Wherefore I am bold to wish that your Majesty would show your intention only to inquire of the facts and circumstances, and not by any speech to note the same as treason. And if your Majesty would yourself consider the words of the statute evidencing treasons, I think you would so consider it.”
In a letter written by Cecil to Norris a few days before this, he says that he had answered to the Queen, who was very angry with Norfolk, for the latter’s return; and he gives an account of the Duke’s plight and reported willingness to obey the Queen’s summons: “whereof I am glad; first, for the respect of the State, and next for the Duke himself, whom of all subjects I honoured and loved above the rest, and surely found in him always matter so deserving. Whilst this matter hath been passing, you must not think but that the Queen of Scots was nearer looked to than before; and though evil willers of our State would gladly have seen some troublesome issue of this matter, yet, God be thanked, I trust they shall be deceived. The Queen hath willed Lord Arundel and Lord Pembroke to keep their lodgings here, for that they were privy to this marriage intended, and did not reveal it to her Majesty; but I think none of them did so with any evil meaning. Of Lord Pembroke’s intent herein, I can witness that he meant nothing but well to the Queen’s Majesty. Lord Lumley is also restrained, and the Queen hath also been grievously offended with Lord Leicester, but considering that he hath revealed all that he sayeth he knoweth of himself, her Majesty spareth her displeasure more towards him. Some disquiets must arise, but I trust not hurtful, for that her Majesty sayeth she will know the truth, so as every one shall see his own fault, and so stay.” But for all Cecil’s diplomatic pleading, Norfolk went to the Tower, where, with feigned submission and lying protestations, he continued to plot with Mary Stuart and the enemies of England. The Catholics and Norfolk’s friends, of course, threw the whole blame upon Cecil.
Shortly before Norfolk’s arrest, De Spes, who was still in close communication with the northern Lords and the Duke’s friends, wrote to the King, anticipating a favourable result of the movement; “although, on the other hand, I observe that Cecil and his fellow-Protestants on the Council are still very much deluding themselves. Even now, with the peril before them, they will not come to reason, so firmly persuaded are they that their religion will prevail.” As soon as Arundel and his friends were placed under arrest, De Spes says that “every one cast the blame on Secretary Cecil, who conducts these affairs with great astuteness.” All would be lost, he said, by the Duke’s cowardice, and the Queen of Scots had sent to urge him to behave valiantly. But valour was no part of wretched Norfolk’s nature. A few days before the Duke was lodged in the Tower, an envoy of the northern Earls, headed by Northumberland, came to De Spes, promising to raise and capture the north country, release Mary, restore the Catholic religion, and return unconditionally all the Spanish property seized. They only asked in return that a few Spanish harquebussiers should be sent; and they dropped Norfolk out of their programme, looking to the Spaniards to provide a fit husband for Mary. “Whilst Cecil governs here, no good course can be expected, and the Duke of Norfolk says that he wished to get him out of the government and change the guard of the Queen of Scotland before taking up arms. It is thought they will not dare to take the Duke to the Tower, though in this they may be deceived, because they who now rule are Protestants, and most of them creatures of Cecil.” The Secretary’s attitude in this matter has been treated somewhat at length, because it happens that material exists which shows conclusively how bitter and unjust were his enemies towards him, and how impossible it is to accept, without full examination, statements to his detriment, made even by men who were in daily communication with him.
In the middle of October the Catholic ferment in the north reached its height. The Queen had summoned Northumberland and Westmoreland, and they refused to obey. Without waiting for the Spanish aid for which they had stipulated, they entered Durham with 5000 foot and 1000 horse, and proclaimed the restoration of the Catholic faith. Cecil himself, giving an account of the rising to Norris, says, “They have in their company priests of their faction, who, to please the people thereabouts, give them masses, and some such trash as the spoils and wastes where they have been.” Smashing communion-tables and devastating Protestant houses as they went, they advanced to Doncaster; but the Government had long foreseen the affair, and were ready to cope with it. Mary was hurried off, strongly guarded, to Coventry, out of the reach of the rebels. Lord Darcy repulsed one band; the Earl of Sussex, president of the north, held York against the main body; the wardens of the marches were well prepared and provided by Cecil’s foresight, and the country people in the great towns of the north were intimidated into quietude. On the 24th December, Cecil could write: “Thank God, our northern rebellion is fallen flat to the ground and scattered away. The Earls are fled into Northumberland, seeking all ways to escape, but they are roundly pursued, by Sir John Forster and Sir Henry Percy in one company, and Lord Sussex in another. The 16th December they broke up their sorry army, the 18th entered Northumberland, the 19th into the mountains; they scattered all their footmen, willing them to shift for themselves; and of a thousand horsemen there are left but five hundred. By this time they must be fewer, and, I trust, either taken or fled into Scotland, where the Earl of Murray is in good readiness to chase them to their ruin.”
So ended, ignominiously, the only important armed revolt against Elizabeth in England, but the first of a long series of plots against the peace and independence of the nation, by which Mary Stuart from her captivity, English Catholics who prized their faith more than their country, and Spain and the Guises, for their own national or dynastic ends, sought to bend the neck of England once again to the yoke which the statecraft of Elizabeth and her great minister had enabled her to shake off.