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Title: The Great Lord Burghley: A study in Elizabethan statecraft

Author: Martin A. S. Hume

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT
LORD BURGHLEY: A STUDY IN ELIZABETHAN STATECRAFT ***

THE GREAT LORD BURGHLEY

Walker & Boutall, photo. McQueen, Sc.

The Great
Lord Burghley
A STUDY IN ELIZABETHAN
STATECRAFT BY
MARTIN A. S. HUME
Author of “The Courtships of Queen Elizabeth,” Editor of the Calendars of
Spanish State Papers (Public Record Office)

“He can never be a good statesman who respecteth not the
public more than his own private advantage.”—Lord
Burghley

London
JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED
21 BERNERS STREET
1898

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press

TO THE MOST HONOURABLE

Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, K.G.
THIRD MARQUIS OF SALISBURY
PRIME MINISTER OF QUEEN VICTORIA,

THIS ATTEMPT AT A POLITICAL BIOGRAPHY OF HIS
ILLUSTRIOUS ANCESTOR, THE PRIME MINISTER OF QUEEN
ELIZABETH,
is respectfully dedicated by

MARTIN A. S. HUME.

INTRODUCTION
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 Mediæval 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:[1] “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.”[2]
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.

THE GREAT LORD BURGHLEY

CHAPTER I
1520-1549

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, “13ᵒ Sep. Ego Gulielm. Cecill natˢ sū, apud Burne in Com̄
Lincoln̄ 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: “13ᵗʰ 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: “6ᵗʰ 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 parchmᵗ,” 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,[3] 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.”[4]
(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[5] 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,[6] 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.[7] 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 2ᵃ nocte,”[8] 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,[9] 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.”[10] 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.[11]

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,[12] 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[13] 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.[14]
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,[15] 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.[16] 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,[17] 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,[18] 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,”[19] 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.[20]
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 ofᵐ
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,[21] 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.”[22]
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.[23]
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[24] (13th October 1549). Warwick was apparently an
old friend of his father,[25] 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,”[26] 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 aₒ 3ᵒ 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.

CHAPTER II
1550-1553

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;[27] 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,[28] 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 secr̄ 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”;
[29]
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.[30] 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;[31] 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.”[32] 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,[33] though it was one of his favourite maxims
that “the realm cannot be rich whose coin is base,”[34] 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.”[35] 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;[36] 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,[37] 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).[38] 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.”[39] 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.”[40]
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.[41]

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.[42] 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:[43] “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.[44] 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[45] 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”;[46] 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.[47] But Cecil’s illness, real or

feigned,[48] 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;[49] 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.[50]
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.”[51] 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.[52] 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.[53]
“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.”[54]

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.[55]
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.’”[56]
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.”[57]
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.[58] 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.[59] 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,[60] 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.[61] 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,[62]
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.”[63]
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[64] 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,[65] 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.”

CHAPTER III
1553-1558

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.[66]
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;[67]
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.[68] 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;”[69] 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.[70] 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,[71] 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.[72] Cecil’s voyage was a short
one. The entry in his journal runs thus: “1554. viᵒ Novembris (ii. Mariæ)
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 24ᵒ 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.[73] 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,[74] 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.[75] 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.”[76] 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.[77]
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;[78] 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.[79] 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;”[80] 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.[81] 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,[82] 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)[83] 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.”[84] 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 Guînes 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.”[85] 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;[86] 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:[87] “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;”[88] 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[89] 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,[90] 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,[91] 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,[92] 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.

CHAPTER IV
1559-1560

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.”[93]
But no trick was meant which should divide England from the House of
Burgundy. The instructions carried by Cobham[94] 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 Guînes, 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[95] 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.[96] 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.”[97]
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.[98] 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.”[99]
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.[100]
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;[101] 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);[102] for they are not at all good friends, and I have done
what I can to make them worse.”[103] 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: François de Montmorenci and a splendid French
embassy were entertained at Elizabeth’s court,[104] 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.”[105] 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.[106] 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.”[107] 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.’”[108] 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.”[109] 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.[110] In disguise he was conveyed by Randolph to Zurich, and
thence to England, and subsequently into Scotland,[111] 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[112] 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[113] 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.”[114]
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.[115] 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.[116] 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.”[117] 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.[118]
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,[119] 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’Elbœuf
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 12ᵃ nocte 23 Dec. 1559.”[120]
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
Elbœuf 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.[121] 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.”[122] 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.[123] 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.[124]
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[125] 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.[126] 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,”[127] 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.

CHAPTER V
1560-1561

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[128] 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.[129] 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.”[130] 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[131] 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.”[132] 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.[133] 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,[134] 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.[135]
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.[136] 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 Vendôme,
[137]
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.[138]
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.
[139]

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.[140] 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.[141] 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.[142] Mundt, in Germany, had
drawn the league closer between England and the Princes; Bedford in
France had completed a cordial arrangement with Vendôme, 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,
[143]
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.
[144]
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;[145] the Lord Mayor was ordered to
suppress the prints which had been scattered by the Protestants,
representing Elizabeth and Eric XIV. together (July 1561),[146] 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;[147] 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[148] 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)[149]
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.[150] 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.”[151] 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,[152] 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.[153] “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.[154] 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.[155] 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).[156] 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.”[157]
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.”[158] 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,”[159] 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,[160] 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[161] 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.[162] 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.

CHAPTER VI
1562-1564

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’Elbœuf
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,[163] 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,[164] and encourage
Condé and Coligny in France.[165]
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.[166]
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.[167] 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.”[168]
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,”[169] 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,[170] 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,[171] 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.[172] 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.[173] 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.[174]
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,[175] 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;[176] 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.[177] 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[178] there stood a portrait of Count
Egmont,[179] 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.[180] 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.[181] 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,[182] 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.[183] 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[184] (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.[185]
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.[186] 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.”[187] 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.[188]
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.[189] 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.[190]
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[191] 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[192] 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.”[193]
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,[194] 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.”[195] 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.

CHAPTER VII
1564-1566

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.[196] 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.[197]
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.[198] 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.”[199] 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.[200]
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.”[201]
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.”[202] 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.[203] 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.”[204]
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.”[205]
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.[206]
“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.”[207] 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.”[208]
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.”[209]
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,[210] 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.[211]
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.[212] 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,[213] 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.[214]
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[215] 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[216] 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.”[217] 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.[218] 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.[219]
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,[220] 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.[221]
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.”[222] 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;[223] and he told the Council that Mary had sent Darnley’s
secretary, Yaxley,[224] 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.”[225]
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;[226] 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.

CHAPTER VIII
1566-1567

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,[227] 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.[228] 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,[229] 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.”[230] 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;[231] 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.[232]
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.”[233]
Cecil might well be vigilant, for Mary Stuart’s plots went on unceasingly.
[234]
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.[235] 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
horæ 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.”[236] 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.”[237]
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.[238]
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, Bôchetel 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.”[239] 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.[240] 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.[241]

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.”[242] 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,”[243] 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.”[244] 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
Scotiæ 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,[245] denouncing the crime.[246] 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.
[247]
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.[248]… 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).[249] 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;[250] 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.”[251]
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,[252] 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.[253] 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,[254] 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,[255] 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.[256] 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.[257]
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.[258] 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.”[259] 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,[260] 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.”[261] 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 Bôchetel, 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. Bôchetel 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,[262]
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.[263] 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.

CHAPTER IX
1568-1569

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.”[264]
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.[265]
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.”[266] 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.[267] 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.”[268] 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,[269] 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[270]—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,[271] 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.[272]
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;[273] 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.”[274]
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.”[275]
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 sœur, 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.”[276] 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.[277] 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,[278] 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.[279] 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[280] 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.[281] 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[282] 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.”[283]
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.”[284] 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,[285] 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.”[286]
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.’”[287]
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.[288] 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.”[289]
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.[290] 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;[291] 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.”[292] 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.”[293] 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.[294] “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.[295] 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.”[296] 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.[297] 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,[298] 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.[299] 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[300] 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[301] 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;[302] 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.[303] 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.”[304]
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;[305] yet this is how he wrote to the Queen just before
Norfolk was sent to the Tower[306] (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,[307] 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.[308] 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.[309]
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,[310] 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.[311] 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.”[312]
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.

CHAPTER X
1570-1572

At no time since her accession had Elizabeth and her government been in
so much danger as immediately after the suppression of the rebellion of the
north. Cecil had known that the Catholic English and Scottish nobles and
Mary were in constant communication with Spain and the Pope, but even he
was not aware how widespread was the conspiracy.[313] Orange in the
Netherlands, and Coligny in France, had for a time been crushed; Condé
had been killed in battle; and everywhere the Catholic cause was
triumphant. This was the eventuality which alone England had to fear; and
although Spanish aid to the English Catholics was neither so active nor so
abundant as has usually been assumed, unquestionably the hopes and
promises held out both by Philip and the Pope had raised the spirits of the
Catholics in England and Scotland higher than they had been for many
years. Spanish money and support under papal auspices kept Ireland in a
state of discord, as we have seen; Mary appealed to King Philip as a vassal
to her suzerain; the Guisan agents were busy plotting with the Hamiltons
and Murray’s enemies on the Border, and the whole north of England was
riddled with religious discontent. Cecil wrote at the beginning of 1570 to
Norris: “We have discovered some tokens, and we hear of some words
uttered by the Earl of Northumberland, that maketh us think this rebellion
had more branches, both of our own and strangers, than did appear, and I
trust the same will be found out, though perchance when all are known in
secret manner, all may not be notified.”
The truth of Cecil’s forebodings came soon afterwards. On the 22nd
February 1570, Murray was shot by a Hamilton in the streets of Linlithgow,
and in the anarchy which followed, the friends of Mary Stuart on the
Scottish Border invaded England. Maitland of Lethington and others who
had hitherto stood firmly by Murray, now turned to the side of the
Hamiltons and the French party; whilst a special French Guisan envoy
boldly demanded of Elizabeth, in the name of the King of France, Mary
Stuart’s release, permission for himself to pass into Scotland, and a pledge

from the English Queen that in future she would refrain from supporting the
Huguenots. Papal emissaries whispered at first that the Pope had
excommunicated “the flagitious pretended Queen of England”; and then
one Catholic, bolder than the rest (Felton), dared publicly to post the bull on
the Bishop of London’s door. The Bishop of Ross was tireless in spreading
the view of Mary’s innocence and unmerited sufferings,[314] and many
Englishmen who were opposed to her in everything were scandalised at her
continued captivity. So strong a Protestant as Sir Henry Norris, the English
Ambassador in Paris—for ever the butt of French remonstrance against
Mary’s imprisonment—advised Cecil to have her released. But Sir William
knew better the risk of such a step now, and replied, “Surely few here
amongst us conceive it feasible with surety,” and he was right. Stories, too,
came from Flanders of plans to assassinate Elizabeth; but she was never so
strong or wise as when the circumstances were difficult and dangerous. “I
know not,” writes Cecil, “by what means, but her Majesty is not much
troubled with the opinion of danger; nevertheless I and others cannot be but
greatly fearful for her, and do, and will do, all that in us may lie to
understand by God’s assistance the attempts.”
It was not long before Cecil had once more triumphed over his enemies
on the Council and in England: the danger that then threatened was from
without. Again, the policy of disabling the foreign Catholics by aiding the
Protestants was resorted to. Killigrew was kept busy in Germany arranging
with Hans Casimir and other mercenary leaders, to raise large forces for the
purpose of entering France and enabling the Huguenots to avenge their
disasters.[315] Cardinal Chatillon was still a welcome guest at the English
court. The privateers in the Channel were stronger and bolder than ever, and
had practically swept Spanish shipping from the narrow seas. The Flemings
were encouraged with promises of help and support when Orange had once
more organised a force to cope with Alba. Sussex and Hunsdon in the
meanwhile did not let the grass grow under their feet, but harried both sides
of the Border, stamping out the last embers of rebellion, and striking terror
into the Catholic fugitives, whilst Morton and the Protestant party were
consolidating their position, momentarily shaken by the murder of Murray.
[316]
De Spes was ceaselessly clamouring to the King and Alba for armed
intervention in England before it was too late. Mary might be captured by a
coup de main, as she herself suggested, and carried to Spain; a few troops

sent to Scotland now, said the Bishop of Ross, might overturn the new
Regency; a small force in Ireland would easily expel the heretics; “and the
whole nation will rise as soon as they see your Majesty’s standard floating
over ships on their coast.”
But Alba distrusted both French and English, Protestants and Catholics
alike. He knew that the conflagration in the Netherlands was still all aglow
beneath the surface, and he dared not plunge into war with England. His
slow master pondered and plotted, beset with cares and poverty, and unable
to wreak his vengeance upon England until he had the certainty of Mary
Stuart’s exclusive devotion to his interests. But the extent and complexity of
Philip’s difficulties were only known to himself, and the danger appeared to
Cecil even greater than it was.
The plague had raged in London for the whole of the summer of 1569,
and a recrudescence of it in the following June gave Cecil a good
opportunity for advocating Norfolk’s partial enlargement. The Duke made a
most solemn renunciation of his proposed marriage with Mary, and craved
Elizabeth’s forgiveness; and at length in August was allowed to retire to his
own house. That he owed his liberation to Cecil is clear from his letters. At
the beginning of July, apparently, some person—probably Leicester—had
told the Duke that Cecil was against him, and the Secretary showed him
how false this was, and proposed to take action against his slanderers. The
Duke in reply thanked him for his friendly dealing and his frank
explanation, “which have sufficiently purged him (Cecil) and laid the fault
on those who deserved it.” But he begged him to refrain from further action,
as it might cause mischief.[317] When Norfolk at length was “rid of yonder
pestylent infectyous hows” (the Tower), he unhesitatingly attributed his
release to Cecil. How busy the slanderers of the Secretary were, and how
deeply he felt the wounds they dealt him, may be seen in another statement
in his own hand of the same period[318] (July 1570), which contains an
indignant denial of the reports that had been spread with regard to his
alleged dishonest dealing with the property of his ward the Earl of Oxford.
During the whole of Norfolk’s stay in the Tower and afterwards, the love-
letters between him and Mary continued, the Queen signing her letters
“your own faithful to death,” and using many similar terms of endearment;
[319]
and Cecil could hardly have been entirely ignorant of the Duke’s bad

faith. But for political reasons it was considered necessary, not only to
conciliate him, but Mary and the Spaniards as well. Concurrently, therefore,
with the negotiations for Norfolk’s release, a show of willingness was made
to come to terms with Mary. Her presence in England was an
embarrassment and a danger, and now that Murray was dead, the principal
personal obstacle to her return had disappeared. If she could be so tied
down as to be used as a means for pacifying Scotland, whilst depending for
the future entirely upon England, her return to her country would relieve
Elizabeth of a difficulty. The first basis of negotiation was the surrender of
the English rebel Lords in exchange for her, and the delivery to England of
four or six of the principal Scottish nobles and the young Prince as
hostages. But these terms were by no means acceptable to Mary’s agents or
to herself. She feared that the Scots would kill her, and the English her son,
and so secure the joint kingdoms to a nominee of Elizabeth or Cecil.
The main reason for Elizabeth’s change of attitude must be sought in the
panic which seized upon England in the early summer of 1570. A powerful
Spanish fleet was in the Channel, ostensibly to convey Philip’s fourth wife,
Anne of Austria, from Flanders to Spain; but rumours came that the dreaded
Duke of Alba was ready now for the invasion of England. The Guises in
Normandy, too, were said to have an army of harquebussiers waiting to
embark for Scotland; the Irish rebels were being helped both by Philip and
the Guises. The Pope’s bull absolving Englishmen from their oaths of
allegiance was the talk everywhere, and English merchants in despair cried
that at last they and their country were to pay for the depredations of the
pirates. The French were demanding haughtily that the English troops
should evacuate the Border Scottish fortresses held by them, and the
Protestants in France and Flanders were not yet prepared to furnish the
diversion upon which the English usually depended for their own safety.
The position was very grave in appearance, though not so great in reality,
and it alarmed Elizabeth out of her equanimity. De Guaras says that she
shut herself up for three days, and railed against Cecil for bringing her to
such a pass; and the same observer reports that when Cecil one day in the
middle of July left the Queen and retired to his own apartment, he cried to
his wife in deep distress, “O wife! if God do not help us we shall be lost and
undone. Get together all the jewels and money you can, that you may
follow me when the time comes; for surely trouble is in store for us.”[320]

This may or may not be true in detail, and also Guaras’ assertion that Cecil
had sent large private funds to Germany, whither he would retire in case of
trouble; but it is certain that panic reigned supreme for a few weeks in the
summer, accentuated, doubtless, by the plague which was devastating the
country. But fright did not paralyse the minister for long, if at all. Twenty-
five ships were hastily armed, two fresh armies were raised of five thousand
men each, ostensibly for Scotland. Mary was prompted to send Livingston
to Scotland to negotiate an arrangement with the Regent Lennox, and Cecil
himself, with Sir Walter Mildmay, was induced to go and confer with Mary
at Chatsworth; but, says De Spes, “all these things are simply tricks of
Cecil’s, who thinks thereby to cheat every one, in which to a certain extent
he succeeds.” The Secretary had by this time discovered that in any case
neither Philip nor Alba would raise a finger to avenge a slight upon De
Spes, for he had imprisoned him and distressed him in a thousand ways
already without retaliation. At the same time, a blow at such a notorious
conspirator as he was could not fail to produce a great effect upon the
English Catholics who plotted with him and looked to Spain alone for
support. Cecil therefore sent Fitzwilliams to Flanders about the seizures,
and instructed him to complain to Alba of De Spes’ communications with
the rebels. “His object,” wrote the Ambassador, “is to expel me, now that
they think I understand the affairs of this country; and Cecil thinks that I,
with others, might make such representations to the Queen as would
diminish his great authority.… Cecil is a crafty fox, a mortal enemy of the
Catholics and to our King, and it is necessary to watch his designs very
closely, because he proceeds with the greatest caution and dissimulation.
There is nothing in his power he does not attempt to injure us. The Queen’s
own opinion is of little importance, and that of Leicester less; so that Cecil
unrestrainedly and arrogantly governs all.… Your worship may be certain
that if Cecil is allowed to have his way he will disturb the Netherlands.”[321]
De Spes’ information was correct on the latter point, as well it might be, for
in addition to Cecil’s own secretary, Allington, he had in his pay Sir James
Crofts, a member of the Council, and the Secretary of the Council, Bernard
Hampton, who between them brought him news of everything that passed
in the Council or in Cecil House.
The Secretary’s efforts to get rid of so troublesome a guest as De Spes,
and to offer an object-lesson to the English Catholics at the same time, were
persistent, and in the end successful. De Spes was refused the treatment of

an ambassador, threatened with the Tower, flouted, slighted, and insulted at
every turn; but he could only futilely storm and fret, for neither his King nor
Alba was pleased with the difficult position which his violence had created
for them in England. It was all the fault of Cecil personally, insisted De
Spes. He wished to afflict the Catholic cause without witnesses, and would
stick at nothing, even poison, to get rid of the Spaniard.
Cecil would have liked to avoid his mission to Mary Stuart, for he was
almost crippled with constant gout, and he was fully aware of the
hollowness of the negotiations in hand. The interviews with Mary could
hardly have been agreeable, although they were carried out with great
formality and politeness on both sides. Cecil charged her with a knowledge
of the northern rebellion, which she only partly denied, saying, however,
that she did not encourage it. Mary seems to have been alternately
passionate and tearful; but her bad adviser, the Bishop of Ross, was by her
side, and though she argued her case shrewdly, she could not refrain from
unwisely and unnecessarily wounding Elizabeth at the outset.[322] In the
second article of the proposed treaty, where Elizabeth’s issue were to be
preferred in the succession, Mary altered the words to “lawful issue,” to
which Elizabeth, although acceding to it, replied that Mary “measured other
folk’s disposition by her own actions.” After some acrimony on the subject
of other alterations on behalf of Mary, an arrangement was arrived at,
which, however, was afterwards vetoed by the Scottish Government,[323] at
the instance of Morton, who was the Commissioner in London.
Whilst the negotiations with Mary had been progressing, peace had been
signed between the Huguenots and Charles IX. at St. Germains (August
1570), and the fears of Elizabeth and Cecil were consequently aggravated at
the plans which were known to be promoted by Cardinal Lorraine for the
marriage of the Duke of Anjou, next brother to the French King, with the
Queen of Scots. Now that the Montmorencis and the “politicians” had
reconciled parties in France, the danger of such a match became serious
both to England and the sincere Huguenots. Anjou posed as the figurehead
of the extreme Catholic party, but was known to be vaguely ambitious and
unstable. Cardinal Chatillon therefore thought it would be a good move to
disarm him by yoking him under Huguenot auspices to Elizabeth. The first
approach was made by the Vidame de Chartres to Cecil, who privately
discussed it with the Queen. They must have regarded it with favour, for it

was exactly the instrument they needed for splitting the league, and
arousing jealousy between France and Spain. The Emperor had just given a
severe rebuff to attempts to revive the Archduke’s match with Elizabeth, but
the negotiation for making a French Catholic prince King-consort of
England under Huguenot control was a master-stroke which sufficed to
overturn all international combinations, set France and Spain by the ears,
turned the Guises, as relatives of Mary Stuart, against their principal
supporter in France, and reduced the Queen of Scots herself to quite a
secondary element in the problem. The idea was just as welcome to
Catharine de Medici, who hated Mary Stuart as much as she dreaded the
Guises. Both she and the young King would have been glad to be quit of the
ambitious Anjou, who always threw in his weight on the Catholic side, and
made it more difficult for the Queen-mother to hold the balance. So, very
soon Guido Cavalcanti was speeding backwards and forwards between
England and France, secretly preparing the way for the more formal
negotiations between the official Ambassadors.
So far as the Queen of England was concerned, the negotiation was
purely political and insincere, for the reasons just stated, but the comedy
was well played by all parties. Leicester of course was favourable, for it
meant bribes to him, and there was no danger. La Mothe Fénélon, the
Ambassador, gently broached the matter to the Queen at Hampton Court in
January 1571. As usual she was coy and coquettish. She was too old for
Anjou, she objected, but still she said the princes of the House of France
had the reputation of being good husbands.[324] Cardinal Chatillon shortly
afterwards was blunter than the Ambassador. Would the Queen marry Anjou
if he proposed? he asked, to which Elizabeth replied, that on certain
conditions she would; and the next day she submitted the subject to her
Council, who, as in duty bound, threw the whole of the responsibility on to
the Queen.
Walsingham had just replaced Norris as Ambassador to France. He was a
friend of Leicester, a strict Protestant, who had been indoctrinated in the
political methods of Cecil, with whom and with Leicester he kept up a close
confidential correspondence.[325] One of his first letters to Leicester gives a
personal description of the young Prince, in which a desire to tell the truth
struggles with his duty not to say anything which may hamper the
negotiation. The Guises and the Spanish party in Paris exhorted Anjou to

avoid being drawn into the net, and the Duke himself at one time openly
used insulting expressions towards Elizabeth; but such was the position in
England that it was absolutely necessary that an appearance of reality
should be given to the affair. Prudent Cecil, as usual, avoided pledging
himself personally more than necessary, and wrote from Greenwich to
Walsingham on the 3rd March, that he had wished the Queen herself to
write her instructions, but as she had declined to do so, he merely repeated
her words in a postscript—namely, that if he (Walsingham) were
approached on the matter of the marriage, he might say that before he left
England he had heard “that the Queen, upon consideration of the benefit of
her realm, and to content her subjects, had resolved to marry if she should
find a fit husband, who must be of princely rank.” To this Cecil himself
adds as his private opinion, to be told to no one, “I am not able to discern
what is best, but surely I see no continuance of her quietness without a
marriage.”[326] Matters were indeed critical at this juncture, and Cecil,
Leicester, and even Walsingham, repeatedly, and apparently with sincerity,
stated their opinion that Elizabeth would be forced to wed Anjou, or he
would marry Mary Stuart, as it was necessary for Catharine de Medici and
the Huguenots to get rid of this fanatical figurehead of the extreme Catholic
party.[327]
In his letter to Walsingham of 1st March, Cecil signs his name thus, “By
your assured (as I was wont) William Cecil;” and then underneath, “And as
I am now ordered to write, William Burleigh.”[328] That the title was not of
his own seeking is almost certain. The Spanish Ambassador, De Spes, says
that the Queen ennobled him in order that he might be more useful in
Parliament and in the matter of the Queen of Scots; and the new Lord
himself, in a letter to Nicholas White, speaks thus slightingly of his new
honour: “My style is Lord of Burghley if you mean to know it for your
writing, and if you list to write truly, the poorest Lord in England. Yours,
not changed in friendship, though in name, William Burghley.” To
Walsingham again he wrote on the 25th March, “My style of my poor
degree is Lord of Burghley;” and on the 14th April in a letter to the same
correspondent he signs, “William Cecill—I forgot my new word, William
Burleigh.”
At the time of his elevation the new Lord was suffering from one of his
constantly recurring fits of gout, and his letters are mostly written, with pain

and difficulty, which he frequently mentions, “from my bed in my house at
Westminster.” And yet, withal, the amount of work he got through at the
time was nothing short of marvellous. Every matter, great and small,
seemed to be dealt with by him. He was a Member of Parliament for the
two counties of Lincoln and Northampton;[329] as Chancellor of the
University of Cambridge he was deeply interested in the interminable
disputes there with regard to ritual, vestments, and scholastic questions; as
President of the Court of Wards he attended personally to an immense
number of estates and private interests;[330] and acquaintances, high and
low, from Greys, Howards, Clintons, and Dudleys, down to poor students or
alien refugees, still by common accord addressed their petitions for aid and
advice to him. To judge by their grateful acknowledgments, they seem
rarely to have appealed to him in vain, and it is evident by the hundreds of
such letters at Hatfield, that even when petitions could not be granted, they
were assured of impartial and just consideration from Lord Burghley. His
own great establishments, too, at Burghley, Theobalds, and London, must
have claimed much of his attention, for all accounts passed under his own
eyes, and in such small matters as the rotation of crops, the sale of produce,
the breeding of stock, and the replenishment of gardens, nothing was done
without consultation with the master. His hospitality was very great; for we
are told by his domestic biographer that “he kept open house everywhere,
and his steward kept a standing table for gentlemen, besides two other long
tables, often twice set out, one for the clerk of the kitchen, and the other for
yeomen.” He personally can have had but little enjoyment from his splendid
houses and stately living. He must have been almost constantly at court, or
hard at work at his house in Cannon Row, Westminster, handy for
Whitehall, rather than at his new palace in the Strand, where his wife and
family lodged. He seems to have had no hobby but books and gardens, and
to have taken no exercise except on his rare visits to Theobalds or Burghley,
when he would jog round his garden paths on an ambling mule.
This was the man, vigilant, prudent, moderate, cautious and untiring in
his industry, who in the spring and summer of 1571 by his consummate
statecraft once more brought England out of the coil of perils which
surrounded her on all sides. His counter-move to Spanish support to the
rebels in England and Ireland, and to Guisan plots in Scotland, was to
supply arms, munitions, and money to the Protestants of Rochelle and the

Dutch privateers, and to fit out a strong English fleet. The pacification of
France and the crushing of reform in Flanders were answered by
remittances of money to Germany to raise mercenaries for Orange, and the
welcoming of Louis of Nassau and Cardinal Chatillon in England; whilst
the marriage of Charles IX. to an Austrian Princess, and the closer relations
between France and the Catholic league, were counteracted by the marriage
negotiations between Elizabeth and Anjou, and the treaty with Mary Stuart
for her restoration.
But as the effect of Cecil’s diplomacy gradually became apparent, the
more reckless of his opponents resorted to desperate devices to frustrate
him. Already, by February 1571, Mary Stuart had convinced herself that the
treaty for her liberation was fallacious, and she wrote an important letter to
the Bishop of Ross, from which great events sprang.[331] She refers to plans
for her escape, and announces her decision to go to Spain, throwing herself
in future entirely upon Philip as her protector; and she urges that Ridolfi
should be sent to Spain and Rome to explain her situation and resolve, and
to beg for help. Norfolk was to be asked to pledge himself finally to become
a Catholic; doubt as to his religion, she says, having been the principal
reason for Philip’s lukewarmness. The Bishop sent a copy of the letter to
Norfolk, who was still nominally under arrest. The Duke gave his consent,
and Ridolfi started from England at the end of March. It has been frequently
denied that Norfolk connived at this proposal for the invasion of England
by a foreign power; but, in addition to the depositions of Ross and Barker,
[332]
the following letter from De Spes introducing Ridolfi to Philip appears
to settle the question against the Duke:[333] “The Queen of Scots, and the
Duke of Norfolk on behalf of many other lords and gentlemen who are
attached to your Majesty’s interests, and the promotion of the Catholic
religion, are sending Rodolfo Ridolfi, a Florentine gentleman, to offer their
services to your Majesty, and to represent to you that the time is now ripe to
take a step of great benefit to Christianity, as in detail Ridolfi will set forth
to your Majesty. The letter of credence from the Duke of Norfolk is written
in the cipher that I have sent to Zayas, for fear it should be taken. London,
25th March, 1571.” The exact proposal to be made verbally by Ridolfi is
not stated, but De Spes refers to it in his next letter as “the real remedy” for
Lord Burghley’s activity. It is probable that not only the support of Mary
and Norfolk was intended, but also the assassination of Elizabeth and her

minister.[334] Cecil had been put upon the alert by the kidnapping in
Flanders and bringing to England of the notorious Dr. Storey, who, under
torture in the Tower, had divulged the dealings of the northern Lords with
Alba through Ridolfi and the Bishop of Ross. This caused Cecil to keep a
watch upon the doings of both the agents; and Lord Cobham, in Dover, was
instructed to intercept any cipher letters which might be brought by a
Flemish secretary of the Bishop of Ross, one Charles Bailly, who was with
Ridolfi in Flanders. The man was stopped and his papers captured, with
some copies of the Bishop of Ross’s book in favour of Mary’s claims. The
Cobhams were never to be trusted; and Thomas Cobham surreptitiously
obtained the cipher keys, and had them conveyed to De Spes, substituting
for them a dummy packet, which was sent to Cecil. But Bailly himself, who
had written the papers at Ridolfi’s dictation, was promptly put on the rack
in the Tower, and confessed that the letters were written to two persons,
designated by numbers, under cover to the Bishop, and conveyed the Duke
of Alba’s approval of the plan for invading England, and his readiness, if
authorised by his King, to co-operate with the persons indicated.
Letters sent by the Bishop to Bailly after his arrest, urging him to
firmness, threatening the traitor who had betrayed him, and in a hundred
ways proving his own complicity, were all intercepted and read. The
tortured wretch swore to the Bishop that he would tell nothing, even if they
tore him into a hundred pieces; begged that his trunk containing drafts of
letters from Mary to Cardinal Lorraine and Hamilton might be rescued from
his lodging. But Burghley forestalled them all. The whole of the letters were
taken, and every day, in the Tower, fresh rackings, and threats to cut off his
ears or his head, were used by Burghley to the frightened lad, to force him
to give a key of the cipher. One morning at five o’clock he was carried by
the Lieutenant of the Tower to Lord Burghley, and was told that, unless he
immediately confessed all, he would be racked till the truth was torn from
him. The lad, half distraught, day by day unfolded as much as he knew,
notwithstanding the Bishop’s frantic assurances that Burghley would not
dare to harm him much, as he was a foreigner and a servant of the Queen of
Scots.[335] And so, piece by piece, the whole conspiracy was unravelled so
far as regarded the main object, and the complicity of Alba, the Spaniards
and the Bishop of Ross proved beyond doubt; but still the persons indicated
by the cipher numbers “30” and “40” could only be surmised, for Bailly

himself did not know them. Gradually the names of Mary Stuart and
Norfolk crept into the depositions of those examined, but without sufficient
definiteness yet for open proceedings against them to be commenced.
Whilst Lord Burghley, with inexhaustible patience, was tracking the plot
to its source, the most elaborate pretence of agreement with the French on
the subject of the Anjou match was kept up both in Paris and London;
though more sincere on the part of the former than the latter, for Catharine
and Charles IX. were in mortal fear of the Guises, the League, and the heir-
presumptive to the crown. Cavalcanti and officers of the King’s household
ran backwards and forwards to England with loving messages; and the
Huguenots worked their best to bring the matter to a successful issue, or, in
default of it, for a close alliance. Henry Cobham was sent to Madrid
ostensibly to treat on the matter of the seizures, but really to learn, if
possible, how far Philip was pledged to the plans against England; but the
Spaniards were forewarned and ready for him, and he learned nothing.
Lord Burghley had, however, a better plan than this. Fitzwilliam, a
relative of the English Duchess of Feria, had been sent to Spain by him for
the purpose of negotiating for the release of the men and hostages who had
been captured from Hawkins at San Juan de Ulloa. He professed in Spain to
be strongly Catholic and in favour of Mary Stuart, and came back to
England in 1571, with presents, pledges, and promises to the captive Queen
and her friends. Hawkins lay with a strong auxiliary fleet at the mouth of
the Channel, and it was agreed with Lord Burghley that Fitzwilliam and
Hawkins should hoodwink the Spaniards, obtain a good haul for
themselves, and at the same time trace the ramifications of the great
international plot against England. De Spes jumped at the bait, with but a
mere qualm of misgiving, when Fitzwilliam went and offered, on behalf of
Hawkins, to desert with all his fleet to Spain, and take part, if necessary, in
an attack upon England. When he wrote to the King he said, “My only fear
is lest Burghley himself may have set the matter afoot to discover your
Majesty’s feelings, though I have seen nothing to make me think this.”
But it was exactly the case, nevertheless, and the ruse succeeded beyond
expectation. By the end of August all Hawkins’ men had been released in
Spain and sent back to England, with ten dollars each in their pockets, and
Hawkins himself was the better off by £40,000 of Spanish money. But more
than this: Burghley had obtained through Fitzwilliam full knowledge of the

aims of the Ridolfi conspiracy. It was clear now to demonstration that the
Pope,[336] Philip, and the Catholic party in France were pledged to a vast
crusade against England, for crushing Protestantism, destroying Elizabeth,
[337]
and raising Mary Stuart to the thrones of Great Britain. Burghley and
the Queen had practically known it for months, as we have seen, and
already the diplomatic measures they had taken to counteract it were
producing their effects. But now that the evidence was sufficient, the blow
against the conspirators could be struck openly. All unsuspecting still, De
Spes was comforting himself with the reflection that the capture of Bailly
was an unimportant incident; he urged Alba and the King to immediate
action, fumed at the instructions he received to hold back Philip’s letters to
Mary and Norfolk until he had orders to deliver them, and sneered at the
timid delay. “As all of Lord Burghley’s jests have turned out well for him
hitherto, he is ready to undertake anything, and has no fear of danger. They
and the French together make great fun of our meekness.” “It is a pity to
lose time, for Lord Burghley is continuing to oppress the Catholics. If the
opportunity is lost this year, I fear the false religion will prevail in this
island in a way which will make it a harsh neighbour for the Netherlands.”
The opportunity, though he did not know it, had been lost already, for all
the threads were now in Burghley’s hands, and he was master of the
situation. In August was intercepted the bag of money (£600) with a cipher
letter[338] being sent secretly to Herries and Kirkaldy of Grange, Mary’s
friends in Scotland, by the Duke of Norfolk’s secretary, and in a day or two
the net swept into the Tower the Duke and all the underlings who had
served as intermediaries. Burghley lost no time now. Almost every day,
threats or the rack wrung some fresh admission from the instruments—
secretaries, messengers, and the like. Norfolk at first, with extreme
effrontery, denied everything;[339] but he was a weak man, and soon broke
down. Even then De Spes did not see that all was lost. “The Catholics,” he
said, “are many, though their leaders be few, and Lord Burghley, with his
terrible fury, has greatly harassed and dismayed them, for they are afraid
even of speaking to each other. The whole affair depends upon getting
weapons into their hands, and giving them some one to direct them.”[340] It
was too late. Mary Stuart’s prison was made closer; her correspondence was
intercepted and read; there was no more concealment necessary or possible.
One Catholic noble after the other was isolated and imprisoned; Dr.

Storey’s dreadful fate was held up as a warning to traitors, and London and
the country was flooded with broadsheets calculated to arouse English and
Protestant sentiment to fever heat at the dastardly conspiracy which was
laid bare.
On the 14th December a message reached De Spes summoning him to
the Council at Whitehall. When he arrived there he found them awaiting
him, with Lord Burghley as spokesman. There was no mincing matters. The
Ambassador was told that he had plotted with traitors against the Queen’s
life and the peace of the country, and he would be expelled, as Dr. Man had
been from Spain with far less reason.[341] De Spes tried to brazen it out, but
ineffectually. Burghley was on firm ground: no delay, he said, could be
allowed, excepting the time absolutely necessary for the preparations for the
voyage, which time was to be passed out of London.[342] Speechless,
almost, with indignation, in pretended fear that Burghley would have him
killed, De Spes was hustled out of the country he had sought to ruin, and a
week afterwards (16th January 1572) the Duke of Norfolk was tried by his
peers and found guilty of the capital crime of high treason.
De Spes left England with bitter resentment at the triumph of Burghley’s
diplomacy. “They will now,” he says, “make themselves masters of the
Channel, and with one blow, with their practices in Flanders, will plunge
that country into a dreadful war. It is of no use now to speak of our lost
opportunities. They have gone; but … steps may still be taken to make these
people weep in their own country.” When he arrived in Flanders he made a
long report of his embassy, containing the following interesting
appreciation of Burghley as he appeared to his greatest enemy: “The
principal person in the Council is William Cecil, now Lord Burghley, a
Knight of the Garter. He is a man of mean sort, but very astute, false, lying,
and full of artifice. He is a great heretic, and such a clownish Englishman as
to believe that all the Christian princes joined together are not able to injure
the sovereign of his country, and he therefore treats their ministers with
great arrogance. This man manages the bulk of the business, and by means
of his vigilance and craftiness, together with his utter unscrupulousness of
word and deed, thinks to outwit the ministers of other princes, which to
some extent he has hitherto succeeded in doing.”
Before De Spes was expelled, the efforts of Burghley, Walsingham, and
De Foix had been successful in arranging the terms of a close political

alliance between France and England. Elizabeth swore to Cavalcanti that
she would never trust Spaniards again, and he might see how little she cared
for the King of Spain by the way she had treated his Ambassador. She
could, indeed, afford now to slight the most powerful monarch in the world;
for one of the counter-strokes to the Spanish-Papal plot had been the
concentration in the Channel of a great fleet of Flemish and Huguenot
privateers under the Count de la Mark, and during the winter a plan had
been perfected for the seizure by the “beggars” of Brille, the key to
Zeeland. The imposition in Flanders of the tax which ruined Spain had been
the last straw,[343] and the whole country was ripe for revolt. For some time
an arrangement had been in progress with Louis of Nassau, by which the
Huguenots should invade Flanders over the French frontier, in the interest
of the Flemish Protestants. However friendly Elizabeth might be with
France, this was a proceeding which was sure to be looked upon by English
statesmen with profound distrust; and Walsingham, writing to Cecil on the
last day of 1571,[344] says that he has been asked whether, in the event of
the French entering Flanders, the Queen of England will take Zeeland, as
the Flemings fear that the French may not be contented with Flanders.
Some time before this, in September, Walsingham had urged Cecil to
promote this invasion of Flanders by the French, as a means of keeping the
Huguenots in power, as well as embarrassing Spain. “If not,” he says, “the
Guises will bear sway, who will be so forward in preferring the conquest of
Ireland, and the advancement of their niece to the crown of England, as the
other side (i.e. the Huguenots) is contrariwise bent to prefer the conquest of
Flanders.” When the immediate danger from the Guises was over, however,
the idea of a French invasion of Flanders could not be calmly endured
without some corresponding move in English interests, and joint action in
the Netherlands was suggested. It is assumed by Motley and most other
historians that the capture of Brille by the “beggars” under La Mark early in
April was quite unpremeditated, but De Spes warned Alba that the affair
was being planned in England at least six months before;[345] and the
sending away from Dover of La Mark’s fleet did not, as Motley surmises,
arise alone from Elizabeth’s fear of offending Spain—for that she had
already done—but from the complaints of the Easterling merchants that
their trade with England had become impossible whilst these freebooters of
the seas lay off the coast. In any case, the surprise and seizure of Brille by

the “beggars” once more gave Alba plenty to think about on his own side of
the Straits; and England might, for the present, breathe freely again.
It had been as necessary for Catharine de Medici as for Elizabeth to
provide against the complete domination of England and Scotland by a
Spanish-Papal conspiracy in favour of Mary Stuart, and she had seconded
Walsingham strenuously in endeavouring to overcome Anjou’s religious
scruples against marrying Elizabeth. Anjou shifted like the wind, as he fell
under the influence of the Guises and his mother alternately. Sometimes the
match looked certain, and Catharine was effusive in her thanks to Burghley;
the next week it appeared hopeless. But the intrigue served its purpose, and
kept the French Government friendly with Elizabeth during the critical time
of the Spanish-Guisan conspiracy against her—a conspiracy which also
threatened Catharine’s influence in France. Burghley himself seems to have
been at a loss to understand Elizabeth’s real intentions at the time; but it
would appear that both he and Walsingham were in earnest in wishing for
the Anjou match, of course with the safeguards laid down in Cecil’s several
minutes on the matter; but “the conferences,” wrote the Secretary, “have as
many variations as there are days.”
When at length it was seen that Anjou would no longer act as a party to
the game, but was looking to the possibility of a marriage with Mary Stuart
or with a Polish princess, the idea of the marriage of Elizabeth with his
youngest brother, the Duke of Alençon, was again very cautiously brought
up by Sir Thomas Smith and Killigrew, who were acting as English
Ambassadors in France during Walsingham’s illness. Alençon was only a
lad as yet, and could be used without loss of dignity as a stalking-horse until
the treaty of close alliance was finally agreed upon between the two
countries. The inevitable Guido Cavalcanti broached the matter to Burghley
in January, as he was coming away from an interview with Elizabeth, and
after some conference Burghley himself discussed the matter with the
Queen. She was thirty-nine, and the suggested bridegroom was barely
seventeen; but she was full of curiosity as to the looks of the suitor, and
distrustful about their respective ages. She asked Burghley how tall Alençon
was. “About as tall as I am,” replied the Secretary. “About as tall as your
grandson, you mean,” snapped her Majesty,[346] and so the colloquy ended
for a time. On the 19th April 1572 the draft treaty between England and
France was signed at Blois. It provided that aid was to be given unofficially

by both nations to the revolted Hollanders; the fleet of Protestant privateers
was to be sheltered and encouraged, and Huguenot Henry of Navarre was to
marry the King’s sister Margaret. The Protestants and politicians of France
had thus for the moment triumphed all along the line; the connection
between England and France was closer than it had been for many years,
and Elizabeth and Burghley could look back upon a great peril to their
nation and their faith manfully met and astutely overcome.
The Catholic party in England was now utterly prostrate. The Duke of
Norfolk, condemned to death for treason, was respited again and again by
the Queen, whilst he abjectly prevaricated, and threw the blame upon
others. The Bishop of Ross and Barker, he said, had forsworn him: he never
meant to bring a foreign force to England to depose the Queen, and so forth.
From the first, Burghley, who had always been Norfolk’s friend, urged the
Queen to let the law take its course.[347] He has been bitterly blamed for
doing so; but seeing the danger to which Norfolk’s treason had reduced the
realm, he would have failed in his duty as a First Minister if he had allowed
any weakness or personal consideration to stand in the way of the just
punishment for a great crime. Norfolk, though he was the most popular man
and greatest noble in the realm, and still has many apologists, had plotted
with the enemies of England to bring the country again under foreign
tutelage for his own ambition, and it was right that he should suffer.
That Burghley did not flinch in the case of a man with so many friends, is
a proof of his rectitude and his courage. Though Norfolk himself must have
known what his attitude was, his esteem for him was evidently not lessened.
In the first letter he wrote to the Queen after his condemnation, 21st January
1572, he prays for “her Majesty’s forgiveness for his manifold offences,
that he may leave this vale of misery with a lighter heart and quieter
conscience. He desires that Lord Burghley should act as guardian to his
poor orphans,” and he signs his letter, “Written by the woeful hand of a
dead man, your Majesty’s unworthy subject, Thomas Howard”;[348] and
when this prayer was granted, he again wrote to the Queen expressing “his
comfort at hearing of her Majesty’s intended goodness to his unfortunate
brats, and that she had christened them with such an adopted father as Lord
Burghley.”[349] At length, when Parliament had added its pressure to that of
her minister’s, the Queen’s real or pretended reluctance to execute her near
kinsman was overcome, and the Duke’s head fell on Tower Hill, 2nd June,

before the lamentations of a great populace, who loved him above any
subject of the Queen.
Less than a week afterwards Marshal Montmorenci, Paul de Foix, and a
splendid embassy arrived in England for the purpose of formally ratifying
the treaty of alliance between England and France, a corresponding
embassy from England under Lord Lincoln being in France for a similar
purpose. The courts vied with each other in their splendid entertainments.
The Frenchmen with forty followers were lodged in Somerset House. At
Whitehall, at Windsor (where Montmorenci received the Garter), at
Leicester House, and at Cecil House, sumptuous banquets were given,
followed by masques, balls, and tourneys. There was much talk about the
Duke of Alençon, but no decided answer given by Elizabeth to the hints of
marriage, which, indeed, was not now so pressing a matter for her as it had
been. When the Frenchmen had taken leave, Burghley sent to Walsingham
an interesting letter giving some account of the embassy, by which it is
clear that the Queen still desired to keep up the talk of the marriage, in view
of a possible need to draw still closer to the French. “I am willed,” he
writes, “to require you to use all good means to understand what you can of
the Duke of Alençon, his age in certainty, of his stature, his conditions, his
inclination in religion, his devotion this way, his followers and servitors:
hereof her Majesty seeketh speedily to be advertised, that she may resolve
before the month.” He says, that for his part, he can see no great dislike of
the idea, except in the matter of age, and hints at getting Calais as the young
Prince’s dower. “If somewhat be not advised to recompense the opinion that
her Majesty conceiveth, as that she should be misliked to make choice of so
young a prince, I doubt the end.”[350] When, however, Lincoln came back
from France loaded with plate and jewels, and full of praise of the gallantry
of Alençon, the Queen became somewhat warmer, and Walsingham for
weeks to come was bombarded with minute questions as to the personal
qualities, and particularly as to the pock-marked visage, of the suitor.
There was but one more of the great conspirators against England to deal
with. Norfolk had deservedly died the death of a traitor, and those who had
supported him were either dead or lingering sufferers in prison, the disloyal
Catholics were despairing, Spain had received its answer by the expulsion
of De Spes and the renewal of the war in the Netherlands, whilst Coligny
and the Huguenots rode rough-shod over the Guises and their friends. But

the very spring-head of the conspiracy remained untouched. A commission
was appointed in June to formulate charges against Mary Stuart herself,[351]
and in Parliament it was resolved that she was unworthy to succeed to the
English crown. But Elizabeth again allowed her personal feeling to stand in
the way of her patriotic duty, or, as some would prefer to say, desired to fix
upon others the responsibility of a grave act against her own order and kin.
Burghley, in his letter already quoted, written at the end of June to
Walsingham, says: “Now for Parliament: I cannot write patiently: all that
we laboured for, and with full consent brought to fashion, I mean a law to
make the Scottish Queen unable and unworthy of succession of the crown,
was by her Majesty neither assented to nor rejected, but deferred until the
feast of All Saints; but what all other good and wise men think thereof, you
may guess. Some here have, as it seemeth, abused their favour about her
Majesty, to make herself her most enemy. God amend them.”[352]
A fortnight after this letter was written Burghley was made Lord
Treasurer of England in place of the Marquis of Winchester, who had
recently died. The work and strain of the Secretaryship had gravely affected
Burghley’s health, and early in the previous April he had been so ill that his
life was despaired of. De Guaras, the merchant who acted informally as
Spanish agent, says that the Queen and most of the Councillors visited him,
in the belief that his state was desperate.[353] For some time he had been
begging for permission to rest, but until the great matters in hand were
settled, this was impossible. The sky over England had once more become
cleared, and the great minister could hand over to his old friend Sir Thomas
Smith the Secretaryship, in which he had done such signal service to the
State.
The day after the elevation of Burghley to the Treasurership, the Queen
started on one of the stately progresses which caused so much delight and
enthusiasm to all her subjects but those who had to entertain her, except
perhaps Burghley and his rival Leicester, who were both honoured during
this summer with a visit from the sovereign. Burghley’s entry of the great
event comes curtly enough in his diary after the memorandum of his new
appointment, thus:—
“1572. July 15. Lord Burghley made Lord Treasurer of England.”
“July 22. The Queen’s Majesty at Theobalds.”[354]

Elizabeth had visited Theobalds in 1564 and 1571. On this occasion her
stay extended over three days, and the domestic biographer of Burghley
thus refers to this amongst other visits: “His Lordship’s extraordinary
chardg in enterteynment of the Quene was greater to him than to anie of her
subjects, for he enterteyned her at his house twelve several tymes, which
cost him two or three thousand pounds each tyme.… But his love for his
Sovereign, and joy to enterteyn her and her traine, was so greate, as he
thought no troble, care, nor cost too much, and all too little.”
Whilst Elizabeth slowly made her way from one great house to another,
by Gorhambury,[355] Dunstable, Woburn,[356] and so to Kenilworth, the
correspondence on the negotiations for the Alençon match became warmer
and warmer. Agents and messengers speeded backwards and forwards with
portraits and amiable trifles, particularly from the side of England.
There was a good reason for this. Before even the treaty of alliance was
signed, Burghley had deplored that Charles IX. and his mother were cooling
in the agreement for France and England jointly to aid the Flemish rebels.
The Pope and the Emperor were trying their hardest to withdraw Charles
and his mother from the compromise into which he had entered with
Elizabeth; and already the young King and Catharine de Medici were
discovering that Coligny and the Huguenots, when they had the upper hand,
could be as domineering and tyrannical as the Guises themselves. Paris was
in seething discontent that the beloved Guises were in disgrace, and Charles
found his throne tottering. To add to his fears from the Catholics, the
Huguenot force that had entered Flanders under Genlis had been routed and
destroyed by the Spaniards (19th July), and it was clear to Catharine and
her son, that if they did not promptly cut themselves free from Elizabeth’s
attack on Spanish interests, they would be dragged down when the
Huguenots fell. The very day that the news of Genlis’ defeat arrived in
Paris, a young noble named La Mole was sent flying to England, ostensibly
to confer with the Queen on the Alençon match. There was no particular
reason for roughly breaking off that, and so offending Elizabeth; but the
sending of a mere schoolboy like La Mole with only vague instructions
about the proposed joint action in Flanders would show that Charles IX. did
not intend to take any further responsibility in that direction.
La Mole arrived in London on 27th July, and had a long midnight
interview with Burghley at the French Embassy. He ostensibly only came

from Alençon—not from the King—and when, a few days afterwards, he
saw the Queen privately at Kenilworth, though he was full of fine lovelorn
compliments from Alençon, he could only say from the King that the latter
could not openly declare himself in the matter of Flanders. He suggested
prudence, and fears of a league of Catholic powers against him. He talked
about the strength of Portugal and Savoy, and generally cried off from his
bargain. This was ill news for Elizabeth, for there were hundreds of
Englishmen in arms in Holland, and brave Sir Humphrey Gilbert and his
band were besieging Ter Goes. But the English Queen made the best of it,
and sought to redress matters by pushing the Alençon match more warmly
than ever, and petting and caressing La Mole, who accompanied her on her
progress towards Windsor. Burghley and the experienced Smith seem to
have been as firmly convinced as young La Mole himself, that the Queen
was in earnest, and would really, at last, make up her mind to marry
Alençon. In her conversations with La Mole and Fénélon she smoothed
away all difficulties. Walsingham had made a great mistake, she said, in
declaring that Alençon’s youth was an insuperable difficulty; and much
more to the same effect. But it is curious that all this artless prattle, all this
coy coquetry of the Queen, so spontaneous in appearance, had in substance
been carefully previously drafted by Burghley, and the drafts are still at
Hatfield. Whilst Charles IX. was hesitating and looking askance at the
dominant Huguenots, the latter were assuring Burghley and Walsingham
that all would be well directly. Henry of Navarre was to be married to the
Princess Margaret, and this would give them a pretext for gathering so
strong a force of their party that they could make the King do as they
pleased.[357]
But Elizabeth and the Huguenots had no monopoly of cunning, and
whilst the billing and cooing with La Mole went on, the massacre of St.
Bartholomew was being secretly planned, and every effort was being made
by the French King to draw England into a position of overt hostility to
Spain, whilst he remained unpledged. The Ambassador, Fénélon, and young
La Mole, left the Queen, and returned to London on the 27th August. On the
same day there arrived at Rye two couriers from Paris, one from
Walsingham to the Queen and Burghley, the other to the French
Ambassador. The French courier was detained, and his papers sent forward
with Walsingham’s despatches to the Queen. The news of the great crime of
St. Bartholomew fell upon Elizabeth and her court like a death-knell; for it

seemed that at last the threatened crusade against Protestantism had begun,
and that England was struck at as well as the Huguenots. All rejoicings
were stopped, mourning garb was assumed, and the gay devices of masques
and mummeries gave way to anxious conferences and plans for defence.
Affrighted Protestants by the thousand came flying across the Channel in
any craft that would sail; from mouth to mouth in England ran the dreadful
story of unprovoked and wanton slaughter, and on every side the old
English feeling of hatred and distrust of the false Frenchmen came
uppermost again. On the 7th September, La Mothe Fénélon was received by
the Queen at Woodstock in dead silence, and surrounded by all the signs of
mourning. He made the best of a bad matter: talked of a plot of Coligny and
the Huguenots to seize the Louvre, urged that the massacre was
unpremeditated, and hoped that the friendship between France and England
would continue uninterrupted. But Elizabeth knew that such a friendship
could only be a snare for her whilst the Guises were paramount, and she
dismissed the Ambassador with a plain indication of her opinion.
Two days afterwards Burghley penned a long letter from the Council to
Walsingham, dictating the steps to be taken for the protection of English
interests; and he accompanied it by a private note, in which the Lord
Treasurer’s own view is frankly set forth. “I see,” he says, “the devil is
suffered by Almighty God for our sins to be strong in following the
persecution of Christ’s members, and therefore we are not only vigilant of
our own defence against such trayterous attempts as lately have been put in
use there in France, but also to call ourselves to repentance.… The King
assures her Majesty that the navy prepared by Strozzi shall not in any way
endamage her Majestie; but we have great cause in these times to doubt all
fair speeches, and therefore we do presently put all the sea-coasts in
defence, and mean to send her Majesty’s navy to sea with speed, and so to
continue until we see further whereunto to trust.”[358]
Not many days after the massacre, Catharine de Medici saw the mistake
she had made in allowing the Guises a free hand, and she and the King did
their best by protestations to Walsingham, and through Fénélon and
Castelnau de la Mauvissière, to draw closer to Elizabeth again. Alençon did
much more. He went to Walsingham, swore vengeance upon the murderers,
and expressed his intention of escaping from court and secretly flying to
England. By an emissary of his own he sent an extravagant love-letter to the

Queen, and ostentatiously took the Huguenot side, whilst Anjou was on the
side of the League. Elizabeth did not wish to break with France, for her
safety once more depended upon avoiding isolation; but she was still deeply
distrustful. Smith, in sending the Queen’s answer to Walsingham, quaintly
defines her attitude towards the French: “You may perceive by her
Majesty’s answer, that she will not refuse the interview nor marriage, but
yet she cometh near to them tam timido et suspenso pede, that they may
have good cause to doubt. The answer to De la Mothe is addulced so much
as may, for she would have it so. You have a busie piece of work to
decypher that which in words is designed to the extremitie, in deeds is more
than manifest; neither you shall open the one, nor shall they cloak the other.
The best is, thank God, we stand upon our guard, nor I trust shall be taken
and killed asleep, as Coligny was. The greatest matter for her Majestie, and
our safety and defence, is earnestly of us attempted, nor yet achieved, nor
utterly in despair, but rather in hope.”[359]
For the next few months this firm attitude of watchfulness was
maintained, whilst the outward demonstrations of friendship between
Catharine and Elizabeth became gradually more cordial, thanks largely to
the influence in the English court of the special envoy Castelnau de la
Mauvissière. Elizabeth consented to act as sponsor for the French King’s
infant daughter; Alençon’s envoy, Maisonfleur, with the knowledge of
Burghley, sent to his master a plan for his escape to England with Navarre
and Condé, and assured him that the Queen would marry him if he came.
But all this diplomatic finesse did not for a moment stay the grim
determination of the Queen and her Council to provide against treachery,
from whatever quarter it might come. All along the coast the country stood
on guard. Portsmouth, Plymouth, the Thames, and Harwich were swarming
with shipping, armed to the teeth for the succour of stern Protestant
Rochelle against the Catholics, and to aid the Netherlanders in their
struggle.[360] The Huguenots of Guienne, Languedoc, and Gascony had
recovered somewhat from the shock of St. Bartholomew, and were arming
for their defence; and to them also went English money, arms, and
encouragement. At Elizabeth’s court the Vidame de Chartres and the Count
de Montgomerie were honoured guests and busy agents, whilst in France
the young Princes of Navarre and Condé were daily being pledged deeper
to the cause of Protestantism and England. The German princes, too, as

profoundly shocked at the treacherous massacre as Elizabeth herself, drew
nearer to the Queen, who was now regarded throughout Europe as the head
of the Protestant confederacy.
It was soon seen that, though St. Bartholomew had given more power to
the Guises, it had also strengthened and consolidated the reformers rather
than destroyed them. Month after month Anjou, at the head of the Catholic
royal army, cast his men fruitlessly against the impregnable walls of
Rochelle, well supplied as the town was with stores by Montgomerie’s fleet
from England, until at last in the spring of 1573 it was seen by Catharine
and her sons that they had failed to crush the reformers of France, and they
were glad to make terms with the heroic Rochellais, where the besiegers,
plague-stricken, starving, and disheartened, were in far worse case than the
beleaguered. Anjou, to his brothers’ and mother’s delight, was elected to the
vacant throne of Poland, and a full amnesty was signed for the Huguenots
(June 1573); complete religious liberty being accorded in the towns of
Rochelle, Montauban, and Nismes, whilst private Protestant worship was
allowed throughout France.

CHAPTER XI
1572-1576

One of the first effects of the massacre of St. Bartholomew was an
approach on the part of Burghley to the Spanish agent in England. The
object probably was to keep in touch and to learn what was going on, whilst
arousing the jealousy of the French, and, above all, to reopen English trade
with Flanders and Spain. In any case, the cordiality of so great a personage
as the Lord Treasurer quite turned the head of simple-minded, vain Antonio
de Guaras, who suddenly found himself treated as an important diplomatist,
and for the rest of his life tried, but disastrously, to live up to the character.
[361]
Soon after the expulsion of De Spes, one of Burghley’s agents had
opened up communications with De Guaras, which resulted in an interview
between the latter and the Lord Treasurer. The minister was graciousness
itself, and quite dazzled the merchant. There was nothing, he assured him,
that he desired more than an agreement with Spain on all points; and though
it all came to nothing at the time, and shortly afterwards the Flemish
Commissioners were curtly dismissed, a letter was handed to Guaras late in
August 1572 to be sent to Alba, making professions of willingness to
negotiate for a reopening of trade, and to withdraw the English troops from
Flanders. Before the reply came in October the massacre of St.
Bartholomew had taken place, and when De Guaras went to Burghley at
Hampton Court with a letter from Alba he found him all smiles. “The
Queen was only remarking yesterday,” said he, “that she wondered Antonio
de Guaras did not come to court with a reply to the message offering to
withdraw the Englishmen who were helping the rebels.” They were only
sent there, said Burghley, to prevent Frenchmen from gaining a footing. He
was overjoyed to receive Alba’s kind letter, and took it to the Queen at
once, though she had already sickened with the smallpox, which a day or
two afterwards declared itself. He hoped, he said, that God would pardon
those who had caused the dissension between the two countries; and the
Queen was most willing to come to terms. He expressed delight at the
reported successes of Alba. He compared Spaniards with Frenchmen,
greatly to the disadvantage of the latter, and “he said more against the

French than I did, speaking with great reverence of our King, and of so
courageous a Prince, which were the words he applied to your Excellency”
(Alba).
The delighted merchant was pressed to stay to supper to meet such great
personages as the Earl of Sussex, the Lord Chamberlain, and others; and the
next day he was in conference with Burghley for hours, with the result that
the latter consented to draw up a new draft treaty for the reopening of trade,
one of the clauses of which was to touch upon the tender subject of the
treatment extended by the Inquisition to English merchants and mariners in
Spain. Burghley hinted to De Guaras that some of the Council were against
an accord, but he persuaded him that his own feelings were all in favour of
a renewal of the close understanding with the House of Burgundy. De
Guaras was backwards and forwards to court for weeks, more charmed than
ever with the Lord Treasurer’s amiability. “It is,” he says, “undoubted that a
great amount of dissension exists in the Council, some being friendly to our
side, and others to the French; but the best Councillor of all of them is Lord
Burghley, as he follows the tendency of the Queen, which is towards
concord. As he is supreme in the country and in the Queen’s estimation, in
all the important Councils which were held during the days that I was at
court, he, with his great eloquence, having right on his side, was able to
persuade those who were opposed to him. He assured me privately that he
had gained over the great majority of his opponents, and especially the Earl
of Leicester, who has always been on the side of the French.”[362] Burghley
could be very persuasive and talkative when it suited him, as it very rarely
did. The French, he said, were most anxious for a close alliance, but the
Queen and himself set but small store on “these noisy French and Italians.”
A Spanish spy in London, unknown to De Guaras, scornfully wrote to
Alba that Lord Burghley was playing with De Guaras; and before many
weeks had passed, the latter himself had begun to doubt. Burghley passed
him in his ante-room three times without so much as noticing him. “Some
great plot against the Spaniards in Flanders” was hatching, he was sure;
“and in one moment they decided that their false news was of more
importance than our friendship.” “Whilst this Government exists, no good
arrangement will be made, as the Queen only desires it from fear, and the
rest will oppose it on religious grounds.” When De Guaras saw the Lord
Treasurer later in November (1572), grave doubts were expressed about the

bona fides of Philip, much to the Spaniard’s indignation. Burghley said he
was still strongly in favour of an arrangement, because the French, who
wished the English wool trade to go to France instead of Flanders, were so
shifty, and could not be trusted. The Queen would be glad, too, to mediate
between Spain and the Prince of Orange. Thus Burghley played on the
hopes and fears of Spain; but through the whole negotiation it was clear that
the objects were—first, if possible, to reopen the ports for English trade on
profitable terms;[363] and, secondly, to keep Spain in hand, pending the
development of events in France, and the strengthening of Orange for his
forthcoming campaign.
In the meanwhile Sir Humphrey Gilbert and his 800 Englishmen were
recalled from Flanders, and the elaborate pretence made that he was in
disgrace for having gone thither at all against the Queen’s wish; and other
demonstrations were made, especially by Burghley, of a desire to agree on
friendly conditions with Spain. As weeks passed without any reply coming
from Alba to the draft treaty, Burghley grew distrustful, and, as De Guaras
complains, coldly passed him without recognising him. At last, late in
December, he sent for the Spaniard and made a speech, which, De Guaras
says, sounded as if it had been studied. “He hoped,” he said, “that the good-
will of himself and his friends would be recognised. Some of the
Councillors thought that De Guaras had been playing them false,[364] and
his (Burghley’s) party was much annoyed that no answer had come,
especially about the simultaneous opening of the ports.” All the while the
vigorous support of Orange’s preparations went on; money, men, and arms
flowed over in abundance (early in 1573); and the Dutch agents were in
England urging Elizabeth openly to take Holland and Zeeland under her
protection, and to lend national countenance to the struggle against Spain.
She was not prepared for this yet, for France was under the influence of the
Guises, and their intrigues in Scotland left her no rest. But Alba was afraid
of the bare possibility of a great Protestant league of English, Germans, and
Huguenots, in favour of Orange; and his pride was humbled more by this
than by professions of friendship. The result of Burghley’s negotiations
through De Guaras, and the aiding of Orange, was that in the summer of
1573 the Flemish and Spanish ports were once more opened to English
trade, on terms immensely favourable to England,[365] since she obtained a
free market for her cloth, whilst she kept the great bulk of the enormous

amount of Spanish property which Elizabeth had seized five years
previously. This was a greater exemplification of the impotence of Philip,
even than the expulsion of De Spes. All the world could see now that, much
as his Inquisition might harry individual Englishmen, the King could
neither defend nor avenge the injuries done to himself; and was obliged to
overlook the presence of armed English regiments on the side of his
rebellious subjects, for the sake of retaining the profit brought to his
dominions by English commerce. Burghley had at all events established one
fact, namely, that, for the present, Philip alone could do no harm.
The struggles between the Protestants and Catholics in Scotland had
continued almost without interruption since the death of Murray. Mary’s
friends were still numerous and strong amongst the aristocratic and landed
classes, and were supported, as we have seen, by Spanish and papal money,
as well as by Guisan intrigue. The Regent Lennox had been murdered by
the Hamiltons (September 1571), and his successor (Mar) had died of
poison or a broken heart (November 1572); but with the advent of Morton,
a man of stronger fibre, the Protestant cause became more aggressive, and
the English influence over Scotland more decided. Shortly before this
happened, when the effects of St. Bartholomew were still weighing on the
English court, and it was known that Catharine de Medici and her son were
as busy with the Archbishop of Glasgow in supporting the Hamiltons and
Gordons as was Cardinal Lorraine himself, secret instructions were given to
Killigrew, the English Ambassador in Scotland, to take a step which under
any other circumstances would have been inexcusable. The secret
instructions are drafted in Burghley’s hand, and more obloquy has been
piled upon his memory in consequence of them than for any other action in
his career; even his thick-and-thin apologist, Dr. Nares, confessing that he
could only look upon Killigrew’s orders “with feelings of disgust and
horror.” Killigrew’s open mission was to reconcile the King’s party with
those who championed the cause of his mother, and especially with
Kirkaldy of Grange and Lethington, who still held Edinburgh Castle; but his
secret instructions were to a different effect. He was to warn the Protestants
that a second St. Bartholomew might be intended in Scotland—not by any
means an improbable suggestion, considering who were the promoters of
the original massacre. “But you are also chosen to deal in a third matter of
far greater moment.” The continuance of the Queen of Scots in England, he
is told, is considered dangerous, and it is deemed desirable that she should

be sent to Scotland and delivered to the Regent (Mar), “if it might be
wrought that they themselves should secretly require it, with good
assurance to deal with her by way of justice, that she should receive that
which she hath deserved, whereby no further peril should ensue from her
escaping, or by setting her up again. Otherwise the Council of England will
never assent to deliver her out of the realm; and for assurance, none can
suffice but hostages of good value—that is, some children of the Regent
and the Earl of Morton.”[366] The suggestion was not a chivalrous or a
generous one. It meant nothing less than handing over the unfortunate Mary
to her enemies to be executed, and so to rid Elizabeth of her troublesome
guest without responsibility. Killigrew was Burghley’s brother-in-law, and
the two, with Leicester and the Queen, were the only persons acquainted
with the intention.
On his arrival in Edinburgh the new envoy found the Protestants
profoundly moved by the news of the massacre in Paris; Knox, paralysed
and on the brink of the grave, used his last remaining spark of life to
denounce the Guises and the Papists who had forged the murder plot against
the people of God. Killigrew found Morton ready and eager to help in the
sacrifice of Mary, but Mar held back; and Burghley and Leicester wrote,
urging speed in the matter.[367] When the terms of the Scots at last were sent
to Burghley, it was seen that, though they were willing to have Mary killed,
they would not relieve Elizabeth of the responsibility.[368] The death of Mar
put an end for a time to the negotiation, which was never seriously
undertaken again, as it was clear that the Scots would drive too hard a
bargain to suit Elizabeth.
It is my province to explain facts rather than to apologise for them, and
the explanation of the plan to cause Mary to be judicially murdered in
Scotland must be sought in the panic which seized upon the Protestants
after St. Bartholomew. The massacre was generally believed to be only a
part of a plan for the universal extirpation of the reformers, in which it was
known that Mary Stuart’s friends and relatives were the prime movers, and
one of the main objects was represented to be the raising of Mary to the
throne of a Catholic Great Britain. So long as this belief existed, no step
was inexcusable that aimed at frustrating so diabolical and widespread a
conspiracy. That Burghley himself was not sensible of any turpitude in the
matter may be seen from a letter written by him to Walsingham on the 14th

January 1573, begging him to discover the author of a book printed in Paris,
in which he and Bacon are scurrilously accused of plans against Norfolk
and Mary. “God amend his spirit,” he says, referring to the author, “and
confound his malice. As for my part, if I have any such malicious or
malignant spirit, God presently so confound my body to ashes and my soul
to perpetual torment in hell.”[369]
How soon Catharine de Medici and her son regretted the false step of St.
Bartholomew is seen by their attitude towards England early in the
following year (1573). The Archbishop of Glasgow was plainly told that no
more help could be given to his mistress, Cardinal Lorraine failed
ignominiously to draw France into renewed activity on behalf of the
League, and Charles IX. considered it necessary to apologise to Elizabeth
for the presence in his court of the special papal envoy already referred to.
It was seen also that the blood and iron policy of Alba had ended in failure:
the revolt in the Netherlands was stronger than ever, Holland was entirely in
the hands of Orange, and most of the Catholic provinces of Flanders even
had broken from their Spanish allegiance. Under these circumstances it
seemed possible that the secular dream of Frenchmen might eventually
come to pass, and the fine harbours and busy towns of Belgium might fall
to the share of France. But this could only be if she had a close
understanding and made common cause with England. So once more the
Alençon marriage was vigorously pushed to the front by Catharine. In
February the French Ambassador saw Elizabeth, and formally prayed her to
give an answer whether she would marry the Prince or not. If she would
only let them know her pleasure now, the King and Queen-mother would
trouble her no more. It was a good opportunity, and Elizabeth made the
most of it. Fair terms must be given to the Huguenots in Rochelle, she said,
and on condition that this was done, she would give an answer about
Alençon through Lord Burghley. On the 18th February the Lord Treasurer
made his formal speech. The Queen would never marry a man she had
never seen. If the Prince liked to come over, even secretly, he would be
welcome; but in any case an interview had better precede the discussion of
religion, because if the lovers did not fancy each other, the question of
conscience would be a convenient pretext for breaking off the negotiation;
but still no public exercise of Catholic worship must be expected. When
Burghley sent to Walsingham a copy of his speech, he added for his private
information: “I see the imminent perils to this State, and … the success (i.e.

the succession) of the crown manifestly uncertain, or rather so manifestly
prejudicial to the state of religion, that I cannot but still persist in seeking
marriage for her Majesty, and finding no way that is liking to her but this of
the Duke, I do force myself to pursue it with desire, and do fancy myself
with imaginations that if he do come hither her Majesty would not refuse
him.… If I am deceived, yet for the time it easeth me to imagine that such a
sequel may follow.”[370] This was uncertain enough; but Walsingham was
even less encouraging. He was sick of the whole hollow business;
profoundly distrustful of the French; and, moreover, was a friend of
Leicester, who constantly plied him with letters deprecating the match.
This, then, is how he managed cleverly to stand in with Burghley whilst
serving Leicester. “Touching my private opinion of the marriage, the great
impediment that I find in the same is the contentment of the eye. The
gentleman, sure, is void of any good favour, besides the blemish of the
small pocks. Now, when I weigh the same with the delicateness of her
Majesty’s eye, and considering also that there are some about her in credit,
who in respect of their particular interests, have neither regard for her
Majesty, nor to the preservation of our country from ruine, and will rather
increase the misliking by defacing him than by dutifully laying before her
the necessity of marriage … I hardly think there will ever grow any
liking.… Whether this marriage be sincerely meant here or not is a hard
point to judge … in my opinion I think rather no than yea.”[371] This was
almost the last letter written by Walsingham as Ambassador. He was
recalled, to be shortly afterwards appointed joint-Secretary of State with Sir
Thomas Smith, with the intention of still further relieving Burghley from
routine labour; and Dr. Dale, as Ambassador in Paris, kept alive the
ridiculous, and frequently insincere, discussion of the marriage of Elizabeth
and Alençon.[372]
Burghley’s labours and anxieties were not confined to foreign affairs. His
interest in the uniformity and discipline of the Anglican Church was
unceasing, and especially in connection with his Chancellorship of
Cambridge University, gave him endless anxiety. The vestments
controversy had now widened and deepened. The famous tract called “An
Admonition to Parliament” had been presented to the Parliament of 1572 by
Cartwright; and its violence in a Puritan direction had provoked a
controversy, which, at the period now under consideration (1573), had

developed on one side into a bitter antagonism to prelacy, and even
sacerdotalism in all its forms. Both parties appealed to Burghley. He made a
speech in the Star Chamber which left no doubt as to his attitude, if any
such ever existed, on the point. The Queen, he said, was determined to have
the laws obeyed. No innovation of ritual or practice would be permitted. If
any of the “novelists” were under the impression that departures from the
rules laid down would remain unpunished, he disabused their minds. A
Fellow of Peterhouse, Cambridge, named Chark, violently attacked the
hierarchy from the University pulpits, and was admonished. He persisted,
and was ejected from his Fellowship. Another Cambridge man, Edward
Dering, Lecturer at St. Paul’s Cathedral, acted similarly, and was
summoned before the Privy Council, and was suspended from his
preferment. At the instance of Bishop Sandys[373] he was restored, but again
brought before the Star Chamber when he addressed a long letter to
Burghley advocating his views. Whilst Leicester always favoured the
Puritans, the Lord Treasurer was thus on the side of the law and the
prelates; and though he was constantly chosen as arbiter, even by those with
whom he disagreed, he never wavered in his insistence on the maintenance
of uniformity, and obedience to the prescriptions laid down by Parliament
and the rulers of the Church.[374]
Notwithstanding the appointment of two Secretaries of State, which
somewhat relieved him from writing despatches, almost every matter, great
and small, was still referred to Burghley. We have given instances of his
activity in foreign and ecclesiastical affairs; but, as Ellis[375] truly says,
“from a question of peace or war, down to a regulation for the lining of slop
hose; from quarrels at court to the bickering between a schoolmaster and his
scholar; from the arrest of a peer to the punishment of a cutpurse—all was
reported to him, and by all parties in turn his favour was craved.”
It must have been difficult for him to keep clear of court factions and
scandal; but though it was notorious that Leicester always opposed him,
they still remained outwardly friendly, and their letters to each other are full
of civil expressions. Sussex and Hatton were for ever at feud with Leicester.
Alençon’s amorous agents scandalised all beholders by their open flirting
with the Queen, to which Leicester retorted by making violent love to two
sisters, Lady Sheffield and Frances Howard; and the light-hearted and light-
heeled young Earl of Oxford, Burghley’s son-in-law at this time (1573), had

danced himself into the good graces of the erotic Queen, which he soon lost
by his folly. Stern Lady Burghley openly and imprudently condemned this
philandering, and the Queen fell into a rage with her; yet “my Lord
Treasurer, even after his old manner, dealeth with matters of the State only,
and beareth himself very uprightly.… At all these love matters my Lord
Treasurer winketh, and will not meddle any way.”[376]
Burghley’s private correspondence with his steward, Kemp, at Burghley,
at this period, shows that his care for detail in his household management
was as unwearied as ever. One letter written in June 1573 by Kemp is very
curious. Burghley’s mother was still alive, but, of course, very aged. She
appears to have become unduly penurious as to her garb, and her son had
ordered a dress for the old lady. The steward writes: “Mr. Thomas Cecil
came home well, and my mistress, your mother, came to Burghley two
hours before him. The gown that you would make, it must be for every day,
and yet because it comes from you (except you write to her to the contrary)
she will make it her holiday gown; whereof she hath great store already,
both of silk and cloth. But I think, sir, if you make her one of cloth, with
some velvet on it, with your letter to desire her for your sake to wear it
daily, she would accustom herself to it; so as she would forget to go any
longer in such base apparel as she hath used to have a delight in, which is
too mean for one of a lower estate than she is.” The old lady also desired a
chaplain for service twice a day; and by Burghley’s endorsement on the
letter, it is evident that the gown and the chaplain were sent to her.
During the Queen’s great progress through Kent and Sussex in the
autumn, Burghley attended her; and whilst the court was at Eridge, the
Treasurer, not without difficulty, persuaded the Queen to accede to Mary
Stuart’s request, through the Earl of Shrewsbury, that she should be allowed
to visit the baths of Buxton, whither shortly afterwards Burghley himself
went for his own malady,[377] and saw the unhappy Queen, whom on this
occasion, at all events, he impressed not unfavourably.[378] During the
Queen’s progress, which was on a more lavish scale even than usual,[379] a
determined attempt was made—and, according to one of Mary Stuart’s
letters from Buxton, not quite unsuccessfully—to arouse Elizabeth’s distrust
of Burghley. Simultaneously there were sent to the Queen, to Burghley, to
Bacon, and the principal courtiers and ecclesiastics, another violent book
printed in France against Burghley and the Lord Keeper. A copy was sent to

the Queen by Lord Windsor, a refugee on the Continent, with great
professions of attachment, and hints evidently directed against Burghley,
“although for my part, in mine opinion, I suppose he is too wise to be
overtaken in many of those things which he is touched withal.”[380]
Burghley received his copy from an unknown hand in Canterbury Cathedral
precincts, where he was lodged, and it appears quite to have upset his
equanimity. He wrote (11th September 1573) to the Archbishop (Parker)
bitterly resenting the attack at such a time “by some domestic hidden
scorpion.” “If God and our consciences were not our defence and
consolation against these pestilential darts, we might well be weary of our
lives.” Parker returned “the mad book, so outrageously penned that malice
hath made him blind. I judge it not worth an answer.” Bacon was less
disturbed with the matter than his brother-in-law, and summarises the
contents of the book as follows: “It consisteth of three points. Chiefly it is
to change the religion that now is; 2nd, to establish the Scottish Queen’s
party; and, 3rd, is an invective against us two. I like the conjunction of the
matter, though I mislike the impudent lies of the author to maintain it.”
The accession of Morton to the Regency of Scotland had been followed
by the complete collapse of Mary’s cause there. Killigrew was ready with
English bribes, and the Hamiltons and the Gordons were induced to
abandon a hopeless struggle and lay down their arms. Only Kirkaldy of
Grange held out, hoping against hope that the promised Guisan help would
reach him in Edinburgh Castle. Once a large sum of French money for him
was withheld by the treachery of Sir James Balfour, corrupt almost to the
point of grotesqueness; and thenceforward Kirkaldy, Lord Hume, and the
rest of the party simply held out in the castle to save their lives. But when
Drury with English troops crossed the Border and reinforced Morton,
Kirkaldy surrendered to the English general, on promise of fair treatment.
Morton insisted upon the prisoners being delivered to him, for whilst they
lived, he said, there would be no safety for him or the State; and though
Drury held out, Elizabeth at last gave way to Morton’s importunity, and
brave Kirkaldy and the rest of Mary’s staunch friends lost their heads.
Thenceforward Mary Stuart’s cause was dead, so far as the Scottish people
themselves were concerned. Morton nearly obtained the Bishop of Ross,
too, from Elizabeth, but he was after all a sovereign’s Ambassador, and her
Council dissuaded her from surrendering him. On his abject submission and

solemn promise never again to take part in public affairs,[381] he was
allowed to go to France, to break his pledge at once, and become
thenceforward an untiring agent for the furtherance of Spanish aims in
England. Thus Scotland for a time, under so firm an English ally as Morton,
ceased to cause active anxiety to Elizabeth and her minister.
Alba, sick of his sanguinary failure, was replaced in Flanders by a more
diplomatic Governor (Requesens) late in 1573. Though De Guaras in
London continued humbly to imitate De Spes, and immersed himself in
intrigues, such as that of the English captains who proposed to betray
Flushing, the plans of those who offered to kill the Prince of Orange, to
kidnap the young King of Scotland, and the like, many of these plans were
merely traps set by Burghley to learn how far the Spaniards were willing to
go; and they came to nothing, for of all things Philip needed peace the most.
Alba and the war party in Spain were in disgrace, the commerce of the
country was almost destroyed by the privateers, and friendly relations with
England were once more the great object of Philip’s policy. Burghley also
renewed his efforts to draw the countries closer together, for reasons which
will presently be stated. A great delivery of Catholics from prison was made
mainly at his instance, and drew upon him remonstrances and attacks, both
on the part of some of the Bishops themselves, in a guarded fashion, and
more violently from the Puritans, now openly patronised by Leicester.
Arising out of this, a great conspiracy was said to have been discovered
against the lives of Archbishop Parker and Lord Burghley, on the part of
one Undertree. The depositions of the accused, which are in the Hatfield
Papers, are, as usual in such cases, full to the extent of diffuseness; but
though Parker was much alarmed, and the affair gave Burghley an infinity
of trouble, there does not appear to have been much importance really
attached to it.
The key to Burghley’s milder attitude towards the Catholics—apart from
the disappearance of Mary Stuart’s party in Scotland—was the position of
affairs in France. The talk of Elizabeth’s marriage with Alençon had
continued uninterruptedly, drawn out with a thousand banalities as to the
possibility of secret meetings between the lovers, the depth and number of
pock holes on the suitor’s face, his personal qualities, his religious
elasticity, and the like. His brother, Charles IX., was only twenty-four, but it
was known that he could not live long; the heir, Anjou, now King of

Poland, was a furious and fanatical Catholic. With the knowledge of
Elizabeth and her minister, all France was enveloped in a vast conspiracy, in
which the Montmorencis and the “politicians” were making common cause
with the Huguenots, of which combination Alençon was the figurehead. But
Catharine de Medici was fully aware of the fact, and was determined to
frustrate it. With Anjou for King she might still be supreme in France;
whereas the rise of Alençon, under the tutelage of the Huguenots and the
Queen of England, would have meant extinction for her. Several times
before Charles died, Alençon and the Princes of Navarre and Condé had
tried to escape to England, but Catharine held them tight, and never left
them. Montgomerie was waiting for the signal, with a strong fleet in the
Channel, to swoop down upon Normandy, and all the Protestants and anti-
Guisans in France were under arms. The mine was to burst in April, the
Princes were to be rescued forcibly from Catharine, and St. Bartholomew
was to be avenged. But the Queen-mother was on the alert. Just before the
day fixed she hurried away from St. Germains to Catholic Paris, clapped
Alençon and Navarre, Montmorenci, De Cossé, and all the chiefs into
prison, and then crushed the Protestant armies piecemeal, for they were
leaderless and far apart. When, therefore, Charles IX. died (30th May
1574), Catharine was mistress of the situation, and held France in her hand
until the new King, Henry III., arrived, to take possession of the throne.
With such a sovereign as this in France, led by Catharine, who had her
grudge to satisfy against Elizabeth for the encouragement she had given to
the Princes, it was natural that Burghley should again smile somewhat upon
the Catholics, and say civil words to Spain; especially as panic-stricken
rumours came—though they were untrue—that Philip was fitting out a
great navy to send with a powerful force to Flanders.[382] Catholic Flanders,
moreover, had mostly been brought back to Spanish allegiance by the
mildness of Requesens; and Elizabeth was growing less willing to continue
to provide large sums of money to uphold Orange in what now appeared to
be a well-nigh desperate cause, if it had to be supported entirely from
England. So when Requesens’ envoys came to see her about the regulation
of trade, and the exclusion of the privateers from her ports, she was all
smiles; and although upon being appealed to, to allow English mercenaries
to serve the Spaniards in Flanders as they served Orange, she refused,
though not very firmly, she expressed her desire to bring Orange to submit
to the King of Spain. Once more, therefore, an unrestrained Catholic regime

in France inevitably drew England and Spain closer together. It was only
when the Huguenots were paramount, who would not join Philip against
England, or help the Catholics of Scotland, that Elizabeth and Burghley
could afford to disregard the friendship of the King of Spain.
The behaviour of the young sovereign of France—no longer a king, but a
besotted monk, sunk into the deepest abyss of debauchery and superstition
—kept alive the discontent of the Huguenots and “politicians,” who had
regarded his accession with horror. Alençon and the King held rival courts
in Paris, the one surrounded by reformers, the other by all that was
retrograde and vicious. Cardinal Lorraine was dead, and the King’s advisers
were no longer statesmen, but mendicant friars and the Italian time-servers
of the Queen-mother: Henry of Guise was just entering into the arena, and
was already a popular idol; and all seemed to portend a renewal of French
activity in favour of Mary Stuart.[383] Elizabeth therefore went out of her
way to dazzle poor foolish De Guaras again. Seeing him walking in
Richmond Park, she called him to her, and exerted all her witchery upon
him (March 1575). “You understand,” she said, “full well, old wine, old
bread, and old friends should be prized the most, and if only for the sake of
showing these Frenchmen who are wrangling as to whether our friendship
is firm or not, there is good reason to prove outwardly the kind feeling
which inwardly exists.”[384] She accused the poor man, quite coquettishly,
of having received a token from the Queen of Scots—which he had not—
but ended by quite winning him over by her prattle. Almost simultaneously
with this, strict orders were given to the Warden of the Cinque Ports “to
prevent the landing of the Prince of Orange, or any of his aiders or abettors
in the conspiracy against the King of Spain, and also to prevent their
receiving any aid, succour, or relief, in men, armour, or victuals.”[385]
Considering that the revolt in Holland had been mainly kept up from
England, this was indeed a complete change of policy; but more was behind
it even than appeared. Many of the Catholic refugees on the Continent were
spies in the service of Lord Burghley, to whom nearly all of them appealed
as their only hope and protector, and one of them particularly, named
Woodshaw,[386] who was deep in the confidence of La Motte, the Spanish
Governor of Gravelines. The latter suggested that, as war between France
and England was in the air, it would be a good plan for the English to seize
Calais or Boulogne, with the aid of the Spaniards, and come to terms with

Philip to prevent any aid or food reaching the French from Flanders or
Artois. This was conveyed to Burghley, and soon Sir William Drury,
Colonel Chester, and several of the officers who had come from Holland,
were in close conference daily with him and the other Councillors
remaining in London when the Queen went upon her summer progress. De
Guaras, whilst reporting their movements, was in the dark as to their object.
“During the last three days,” he says, “at night or at unsuspected hours, they
have taken from the Tower sixty waggons and gun carriages, which have
been shipped to Dover.” Guns, battery-trains, culverins, fieldpieces, and
ammunition were being shipped on four of the Queen’s ships at Rochester.
Mariners were being pressed, commanders were leaving secretly for the
coast, Burghley’s son-in-law the Earl of Oxford, with Ralph Hopton and
young Montmorenci, hurried off to Germany, and the Huguenot agents were
closeted with Burghley almost day and night. We know now what it all
meant, by a letter from the Earl of Sussex to Lord Burghley,[387] in which he
deplores the projected war with Catholic France, which, he says, is only
brought about by those who wish to prevent the Queen’s marriage with
Alençon. “It will bring her into war with all Europe, and she and the realm
will smart for the pleasing of these men’s humours.” The cost of the war, he
says, was to be defrayed equally by the King of Navarre (Henry), the
German princes, and the Queen; “but he fears her Majesty in the end must
pay for all, or let all fall when she hath put her foot in.”
Wilkes, the Clerk of the Council, was sent with a large sum of money to
young Montmorenci (Meru) in Strasbourg, and then over the Rhine to the
Duke Hans Casimir, the great mercenary; and Meru was able to write to
Burghley in October, “Thanks to the Queen’s favour by your means, we are
now on the point of succeeding. One of the finest armies that for twenty
years hath issued from Germany, ready to march, is coming just in time to
succour the King’s brother.”[388] All through the summer De Guaras was at
fault as to the meaning of the preparations, which he thought might be a
joint expedition against the Spaniards in Flanders. As we have seen, the
very opposite really was the case. Some of the principal English officers,
indeed, who had been with Orange were full of plots with De Guaras for
poisoning the Prince, for betraying Flushing into Spanish hands, and so
forth. For the moment there were certainly no smiles from Elizabeth for the
Netherlanders; for Orange had taken a masterly step, such as she herself

might have conceived. When he saw that English help was slackening, he
boldly made approaches to France for help. So long as it was Huguenot
help under her control, Elizabeth did not mind; but when it was a question
of marrying Orange’s daughter to Alençon or some other French prince, and
obtaining French national patronage, it was quite another matter—that
Elizabeth would never allow. So England and Spain grew closer and closer.
Sir Henry Cobham was sent as an envoy to Philip, ostensibly on the
question of the English prisoners of the Inquisition, but really to propose a
friendship between the two countries, and inform the King of the Prince of
Orange’s intrigues with the French.[389] A Spanish flotilla on its way to the
Netherlands, under Don Pedro de Valdés, was, moreover, welcomed in the
English ports, and an envoy from Requesens took part, as the Queen’s
guest, in the memorable festivities at Kenilworth.
A renewed appeal was made to the Council by Orange in August, through
Colonel Chester. He offered the island of Zeeland to Elizabeth, if she would
hold it, and begged permission to raise two thousand fresh men in England.
The reply given by Burghley was to the effect that “if the Queen allowed
such a thing, the King of Spain would have a good cause for introducing
schism and fire into her country through Ireland. If Orange carried out his
threat to hand over the territory to the French, the Queen would oppose it.”
Every day some fresh proof of friendship with Spain was given. Frobisher
proposed to place his fleet at the disposal of the King of Spain,
proclamations were issued forbidding all British subjects from taking
service with Orange, and offers of mediation were frequent. In September
1575, Alençon managed to escape the vigilance of his brother and his
mother, fled to Dreux, adopted the Huguenot cause, and headed the revolt
with Henry of Navarre. This was the eventuality in which the English
preparations were to have been employed. But, again, Catharine de Medici
was too clever to be caught. She suddenly released Montmorenci and the
rest of the “politicians” from the Bastile, attached them to the King’s cause,
and through them patched up a six months’ truce between the two brothers
(November). The terms were hard for Henry. Alençon was bribed with
100,000 livres, and the three rich duchies of Anjou, Berri, and Touraine;
Hans Casimir got 300,000 crowns, and a pension of 40,000 livres; the
German mercenaries were handsomely paid to go home; Condé was
promised the governorship of Picardy; the Montmorencis, De Cossé, the
Chatillons, and the rest of the malcontents were bought; the crown jewels of

France were pawned, and the country plunged deeply in debt to pay for the
famous truce.
Then Elizabeth and her advisers found themselves confronted with
increased difficulties, as they usually did when the Catholics in France had
a free hand. Catharine and the King saw that France was not big enough to
hold at the same time the sovereign and the heir presumptive, and cast
about for means to get rid of him profitably. The best suggestion for them
came from the Walloon nobles in favour of Spain. Why should not Alençon
marry a daughter of the Spanish King and be made Viceroy of Spanish
Flanders? The mere whisper of such an arrangement drove Elizabeth into a
new course. She might hint, as she did pretty broadly many times, at the
marriage of the young Prince with herself, but Alençon thought he saw
more advantage elsewhere. For the next three years he was held tightly in
the leading-strings of his mother and brother—no longer a Huguenot, but an
ostentatiously devout Catholic, hating the King and his surroundings
bitterly; jealous, vengeful, and turbulent, but looking for his future to the
Catholics and the League rather than to the Queen of England, with whom
he kept up just a sufficient pretence of love-making to prevent her from
opposing him in Flanders. It was doubly necessary now for Elizabeth to be
friendly with Spain; but she could not afford to see Orange utterly crushed,
for with the Huguenots and Protestant Holland both subdued, there was no
barrier between her and Catholic vengeance. The position was a perplexing
one for her. Orange sent over prayers almost daily for help, or he must
abandon the struggle. At one time, in December, when the Queen learned
that a great deputation of Dutch Protestant nobles were on the way to offer
her Holland and Zeeland in exchange for English support,[390] “she entered
her chamber alone, slamming the door after her, and crying out that they
were ruining her over this business. She declared loudly that she would
have no forces sent openly to Holland. She was in such grief that her ladies
threatened to burst her door open if she would not admit them, as they could
not bear her to be alone in such trouble.”[391] But loudly as she might
protest, especially in the hearing of the friends of Spain, and roughly as she
might use St. Aldegonde, Paul Buiz, and the rest of the Netherlanders who
prayed for aid, she took care, with Burghley’s help, to look fixedly in
another direction when men and arms, munitions and money, were sent over
to Orange in violation of her own orders.

What Lord Burghley’s action in the matter was is seen by his letters.
Beale, one of the clerks of the Council, was sent over to Zeeland to report
on Orange’s position, and to insist upon the suppression of piracy. Burghley
thus writes to Walsingham (16th April 1576): “I have perused all the letters
and memorandum of Mr. Beale’s concerning his voyage into Zeeland, and
so well allow of the whole course therein taken by the Lords, that both with
heart and hand I sign them.”[392] The Flushing pirates appear to have
offered some insult to the Earl of Oxford, Burghley’s son-in-law, on his way
to England, at which the Treasurer was extremely angry,[393] an unusual
thing with him. In the same letter he writes: “I find it hard to make a good
distinction between anger and judgment for Lord Oxford’s misusage, and
especially when I look into the universal barbarism of the Prince’s (Orange)
force of Flushingers, who are only a rabble of common pirates, or worse,
who make no difference whom they outrage, I mistrust any good issue of
the cause, though of itself it should be favoured.” He almost violently urges
that Beale should ask the Prince of Orange to avenge such an insult “by
hanging some of the principals.” “Such an outrage cannot be condoned
without five or six of such thieves being hanged. If the Prince were rid of a
hundred of them it would be better for the cause. You see my anger leadeth
my judgment. But I am not truly more moved hereto for particular causes
than for the public.”[394] The same day a very strong remonstrance from the
English Council was written to Orange, saying that the piracy of the
Flushing men was rendering his cause odious to all Christendom, and
would ruin his enterprise.
The Netherlanders, especially Paul Buiz, who lodged with Burghley’s
servant, Herll, in Redcross Street, did their best to excuse the Flushingers,
and begged that “these rough men be not roughly dealt with.” It is evident
that they looked upon Leicester and the Puritans as their champions rather
than moderate Burghley, whose approaches to Spain at the time were, of
course, well known. Herll writes (14th March 1576): “It is given out by
those of good sort who profess the religion, that your Lordship has been the
only obstacle to this Holland service, by dissuading her Majesty from the
enterprise, when the Earl of Leicester and several earnest friends were
furtherers thereof. They complain that these poor men who were sent to the
Queen have been, contrary to promise, kept by indirect dealing so long
here, to their utter undoing at home and abroad. They say that Sir F.

Walsingham dealt honestly with them from the first. He said they would get
nothing, and lose their time. They say these unworthy proceedings with
foreign nations make the English the most hated men in the world, and to be
contemned for mere abusers, as those who put on religion and piety and
justice for a cloak to serve humours withal. Your Lordship’s enemies,
however, are compelled to say that you are more subject to evil judgment
for your good service than for evil itself.” When Herll spoke to Paul Buiz
about Burghley’s anger at the outrage on Lord Oxford, the Netherlander
“struck his breast, and said your Lordship was the only man who had dealt
sincerely with them, and truly favoured their cause, and yet was forced to
give them hard words, according to the alterations of the time, parties, and
occasion, which kind of free proceeding he preferred of all others.”[395]
A few months later (August) Herll was made the means of conveying to
Colonel Chester, then with Orange, Lord Burghley’s view of the situation.
“Her Majesty,” he says, “is so moved by those insolent delinges of the
Prynce and his Zeelanders, as none dare move her to ani consideratyon
towards theme, butt all is sett uppon revenge of their lewd acts and worse
speche, and to extermynate them owt of the world, rather than endure it ani
longer. And where the Prynce pretends aid owt of France, he dawnceth in a
nett. If he se not that, her Majesty knows the contrary, and that herein he is
greatly abused, or seeketh to abuse others, with small credit to hymselfe and
less assurans to his estate when this maske is taken away.”[396] The great
indignation about the pirates may or may not have been sincere; but it is
unquestionable that it was the fear expressed of an arrangement between
Orange and the French that really caused the disquietude.[397] The remedy
to be proposed to Orange by Chester was simply that he, Orange, should
prevent any repetition of the piratical outrages of the Flushing men, and
apologise for them, and his friends in England will move the Queen “to
help him underhand; but to say that her Majesty will be forced to do
anything, maugre her will, is a great absurdity.” But if Orange will open his
eyes and see things as they are, “somewhat (yea, some round portion) will
be voluntarily given to the assistance of the cause, and to aid both Zeeland
and Holland, especially the latter, to which country the Queen and her
Council are greatly inclined.” Orange was a diplomatist as keen as Burghley
himself, and he well knew that, as a last resource, he could always force the
hands of the English Government by negotiating for aid from France.

Elizabeth might swear at his envoys, make friends with his enemies the
Spaniards, threaten to expend the last man and the last shilling she had to
turn the French out of Flanders, if ever they entered; but she always ended
in sending aid “underhand” to Orange to prevent his union with the French;
unless, as happened later, the French were Huguenots disowned by their
own King, and going as her humble servants.
Leicester was for ever clamouring for open help to be sent to Orange; the
Puritans, who took their cue from him, were more aggressive than ever in
the country;[398] but ready as the Queen might be to dally Leicester, she
took care to make no serious move in the knotty question of the Netherlands
without the advice of her “spirit,” as she nicknamed the great Lord
Treasurer.[399] In spite of his almost continual illness, she summoned him to
her, wherever she might be; and at about the period when the letters just
quoted were written, the Earl of Sussex writes saying that the Queen has
just received intelligence from beyond the seas which she must discuss with
him at once. When Burghley had seen the Queen, either on that occasion or
soon after, and returned home, Sussex writes thus: “Her Majesty spoke
honourably of your Lordship’s deserts, and of her affection for you, and of
your sound, deep judgment and counsel; using these words, ‘that no prince
in Europe had such a councillor as she had of him.’ If your Lordship had
heard her speeches, they must needs have been to your great contentment.
The end of her Majesty’s speeches was that she prayed your Lordship to
come to Nonsuch, as soon as you conveniently might.”
Burghley, indeed, was the only one of her ministers whom she treated
with anything approaching respect, for he always respected himself.
Walsingham, especially, was the object of her vulgar abuse. “Scurvy knave”
and “rogue” were the terms she frequently applied to him; and it was
apparently not at all an uncommon thing for her, in moments of impatience
with him, to pluck off her high-heeled shoe and fling it in his face. Leicester
she alternately petted and insulted. After a squabble he used to sulk at
Wanstead for a few days, till she softened and commanded him to return,
and then the comedy recommenced. Hatton and Heneage were treated in
similar fashion, but with even less consideration. Only towards the Lord
Treasurer, except for occasional fits of distrust caused by his enemies, the
Queen usually behaved with decorum. How careful he was to avoid all
cause for doubt is seen by his answer to Lord Shrewsbury’s offer of his son

as a husband for one of Burghley’s daughters.[400] It will be recollected that
Lord Shrewsbury had the custody of the Queen of Scots, and that Burghley
had fallen into semi-disgrace shortly before, because he had visited Buxton
at the same time as Mary and her keeper. The match proposed was a good
one, and the Lord Treasurer—a new noble—was flattered and pleased at the
offer, but declined it, mainly because his enemies had put into the Queen’s
head that he had gone to Buxton at the instance of the Shrewsburys, to plot
in favour of Mary; “and hereof at my return to her Majesty’s presence, I had
very sharp reproofs … with plain charging of me for favouring the Queen
of Scots, and that in so earnest sort, as I never looked for, knowing my
integrity to her Majesty, but specially knowing how contrariously the Queen
of Scots conceived of me for many things.” He continues his letter with an
evidently sincere protest of his loyalty and disinterestedness, and the
absence in him of any personal feeling against Mary, but declares his
determination to do his best, at all costs, to frustrate any attempted injury
against his mistress or her realm.
Notwithstanding this small cloud, Burghley went again to Buxton in
1577. A somewhat curious letter from Leicester, who went to Buxton before
him in June, shows that the Lord Treasurer’s mode of life was not always
prudent. Leicester says that he and his brother are benefiting greatly from
the water. “We observe our physician’s orders diligently, and find great
pleasure both in drinking and bathing in the water. I think it would be good
for your Lordship, but not if you do as we hear your Lordship did last time:
taking great journeys abroad ten or twelve miles a day, and using liberal
diet with company dinners and suppers. We take another way, dining two or
three together, having but one dish of meat at most, and taking the air afoot
or on horseback moderately.”[401] In July (1577) Burghley started from
Theobalds for his Lincolnshire estates, and thence to Buxton. Leicester
wrote to him there that the Queen was desirous of receiving a “tun of
Buxton water in hogsheads;” but when in due time the water arrived, “her
Majesty seemeth not to make any great account of it. And yet she more than
twice or thrice commanded me earnestly to write to you for it, and … asked
me sundry times whether I had remembered it or not: but it seems her
Majesty doth mistrust it will not be of the goodness here it is there; besides,
somebody told her there was some bruit of it about, as though her Majesty
had had some sore leg. Such like devices made her half angry with me now

for sending to you for it.”[402] This hint of her sore leg was enough to make
Elizabeth sacrifice a river of Buxton water if necessary. She, like her father
before her, really had an issue in one of her legs, and there was no point
upon which she was more sensitive.

CHAPTER XII
1576-1580

We have seen that from the accession of Henry III. of France in the
autumn of 1574 it suited English policy to draw closer to Spain. An event
happened, however, late in 1576 which once more changed the entire
position. Requesens, the Spanish Viceroy of Flanders, had died in March
1576, before his mission of pacification was complete. It is true that
Catholic Flanders and Brabant had been won back again, but Holland and
Zeeland still stood out. The fierce Spanish infantry cared for no distinction
between Fleming and Hollander, Catholic or Protestant, and were openly
discontented at the conciliatory policy which Philip’s penury rendered
needful. They were unpaid, for there was no money in the treasury to pay
them, and soon mutiny, pillage, and murder became the order of the day.
Philip was in despair, and ordered his brother Don Juan to hurry to Flanders
from Italy to pacify and withdraw the troops, and to conciliate the indignant
Catholic Flemings at any cost. Don Juan scorned and hated the task—which
he said a woman could do better than a soldier. He was full of a secret plan
to dash over to England with the Spanish infantry from Flanders; and
instead of obeying orders and going direct to his new government, he
hurried to Spain for the purpose of persuading his brother to allow him to
have his way.
The time thus wasted was fatal. Peace with England was absolutely
necessary for Philip, and he refused to countenance Don Juan’s plans. But
Orange had spies everywhere; Burghley’s secretary, Herll, was in Flanders,
and long before Don Juan arrived on the Flemish frontier the hopes of the
murderous rabble of soldiery that the young Prince would lead them to
England were well known to the Lord Treasurer and his mistress. Early in
November 1576 the Spanish fury burst upon Antwerp. The Council of
Regency consisted mostly of Flemish Catholic nobles, and they fought as
well as they might against the blood lust of the King’s soldiers. When all
hope was gone, and the fairest cities of Flanders had been devastated and
ruined, and their populations massacred, without distinction of age, sex, or

creed, then Catholic Flanders turned against the wreckers of their homes,
and shoulder to shoulder with Orange and his Protestants, stood at bay.
When Don Juan arrived at Luxemburg he was informed that the States
would only allow him to take up his governorship on terms to be dictated
by them in union with Orange; the first condition of which was that the
Spanish troops must leave the Netherlands forthwith, and by land, in order
that they might not invade England. Don Juan was mad with fury and
disappointment; but chafe as he might, he had to give way, and in the end
was forced to enter Brussels only as Governor on sufferance of the States in
the spring of 1577.
To England there came now to beg for aid and support, not rough
Zeelanders alone, not beggars of the sea, not boorish burghers, but the very
nobles who had often come before as Philip’s representatives—De Croys,
Montmorencis, De Granvelles, Zweveghems, and the like; Catholics of
bluest blood, but ready to claim any help against the Spanish oppressor. Dr.
Wilson was sent as English envoy to the States, and Sir John Smith went to
Madrid with a formal offer from Elizabeth to mediate.[403] Philip’s only
course was to accept any terms which left him even a nominal sovereignty
of his Netherlands dominions, and this he did, rather than allow Elizabeth to
pose as mediatrix between him and his subjects. But the altered position in
Flanders completely changed the attitude of England towards Spain,
especially when in the summer of 1577 Don Juan lost patience, broke faith
with the Flemings, threw himself into the fortress of Namur, and defied the
States. England’s traditional alliance had not been with the crown of Spain,
but with the House of Burgundy as possessor of the Netherlands; and now
that Flanders and Brabant were at one with Holland and Zeeland in
upholding their rights against Spain, England was naturally on their side
against the foreigner, quite independently of the question of creed. There
was no longer any concealment about it.[404] The Duke of Arschot’s brother
was at the English court in September with the acquiescence of Orange,
planning an arrangement which seemed to offer a means by which all
parties might be satisfied. The young Austrian Archduke Mathias, Philip’s
nephew, was suddenly spirited away from Vienna and installed by the
Flemings as sovereign of Flanders, with Orange as his guide and mentor.
An English army under Leicester or his brother was to be raised to support
him against Don Juan, who was rallying a Catholic force, crying to the

Duke of Guise for help, and making a last appeal to his brother to save his
honour, if not his sovereignty. The outbreak of the Protestants in Ghent,
encouraged by the proximity of Orange, the capture and imprisonment of
Arschot and the Catholic nobles, and the desecration of Catholic shrines
(end of October), forced Philip’s hands. The Archduke Mathias as a
tributary sovereign, with the Catholic Flemings paramount over Orange,
might have been tolerated; but if the Protestants and Orange were going to
predominate, Spain must fight to the end. So with a heavy heart Philip bent
to the inevitable, and sent Alexander Farnese and a Spanish army from Italy
once more to reconquer the Netherlands.
The invariable excuse given by Elizabeth for her help to the States was,
that it was to keep the French out of Flanders; Don Juan’s appeal to the
Guises being especially distasteful to her. “The present support desired of
her,” she declared, “is only in consideration of the extreme necessity of the
States by reason of the great preparations in France and elsewhere to
overrun them, and bring utter ruin upon them; and it not disagreeing with
the ancient treaties between the crown of England and the House of
Burgundy … the purpose of the States being no other than by these
succours to keep themselves in due obedience to the King their sovereign,
her Majesty is content to grant the aid desired.”[405] The plausible reasons
advanced, however, made no difference to Philip. It was only evident to him
that the Queen of England was subsidising rebellion against him, and that
her subjects held fortresses in his dominions as a pledge for the money she
had advanced. He could not afford to declare war with England at the time,
but he did what he could. The Irish malcontents were encouraged with the
aid of Papal money; and Catholic plots, with Spanish and Guisan aid, for
the rescue of Mary Stuart, the assassination of Elizabeth, and the like, kept
the English court in alarm,[406] and pointed the moral for ever on the lips of
Philip’s many paid agents and friends in Elizabeth’s counsels.
During most of the period when the arrangements with the States were
being concluded in 1577, Burghley was absent from court, and it may be
fairly assumed that the less cautious attitude adopted towards Spain was
owing to the unchecked influence of Leicester; but with Burghley’s return
late in the autumn the astute balancing diplomacy of the master-hand
becomes once more apparent, both in the declaration quoted above, and the
letter drafted by the Treasurer taken by Wilkes, Clerk of the Council, to

Madrid. In it Elizabeth prays Philip to have compassion upon his Flemish
subjects and to grant their just demands, and again explains her support of
them. Moderate and deferential, however, as the tone of the letter was, it did
not alter prior facts, and Philip was indignant and wrathful at what he called
an attempt of Elizabeth to lay down the law for him. “Send this man off,”
he says, “before his fortnight is up, and before he commits some
impertinence which will oblige us to burn him.” Philip might well be angry,
for he was impotent: he had to reconquer his own Flemings, Catholics and
Protestants too, thanks to the aid they had obtained from Elizabeth. To make
matters more galling, Antonio de Guaras had suddenly been arrested at dead
of night, all his papers captured, his property sequestrated, and the poor
man himself accused of consorting and plotting with the Queen’s enemies.
[407]
Lord Burghley, his former friend, was daily threatening him with the
rack in the Tower; and for eighteen months he was treated with calculating
contumely and harshness, only at last to be released, old, broken, and
penniless, and sent to Spain scornfully to die.
In January 1578, Don Juan and Farnese defeated the States troops at
Gemblours, and it seemed as if once more Flanders and Brabant would fall
a prey to Spanish soldiery. Elizabeth’s aid had become less liberal with the
return of Burghley, who had no objection at all to Spanish predominance in
Catholic Flanders; his only interest there was to keep the French out.[408]
But the Flemings naturally regarded the position from another point of
view. What they wanted was to preserve their autonomous rights against
Spain. Mathias had turned out a broken reed: he had no money, no
followers, no friends, and no ability; and the really dominant man in the
Government was Protestant Orange. This did not please the Catholic nobles,
and they cast about for another prince with a greater following than
Mathias, who should at once be a Catholic and yet acceptable to Orange
and the Protestants. Catharine had for some time past anticipated the
position, and had been busy, but secretly, pushing the claims of her son
Alençon; but for her purpose it was necessary to manage warily, in order to
avoid giving Philip open offence. Alençon, however, was bound by no such
considerations. Nothing would have suited him better than to draw France
into war with Spain. He was under arrest and strictly guarded, but he
contrived, on the 14th February 1578, to escape out of a second-floor
window in the Louvre. All France was in a turmoil. Huguenots and

malcontents flocked to the Flemish frontier, and Catharine raced half over
France to beg her errant son to return. Henry III. assured Mendoza, the new
Spanish Ambassador on his way to England, that his brother was obedient,
and he was sure he would do nothing against Philip in Flanders. But all the
world knew that he would if he could; and that whatever he might do with a
French force there would be against English as well as Spanish interests.
Once more, therefore, it was necessary for Elizabeth to change her policy
somewhat, and Lord Burghley resumed his favourite character of a friend to
the ancient Spanish alliance.
The new Spanish Ambassador saw Elizabeth on the 16th March 1578,
and gave her all sorts of reassuring messages from Philip. He was the most
clement of sovereigns. A successor to Don Juan should be appointed who
should please everybody, and all would soon be settled. A few days
afterwards Mendoza had a long conversation with Burghley, in the presence
of other Councillors. As Philip had, said the Treasurer, practically accepted
the various concessions to the Flemings recommended by the Queen; “if the
terms offered were not accepted by the States, she herself would take up
arms against them.” This was probably too strong for Leicester and
Walsingham, Puritans both, and Mendoza says they seemed to be urging
something upon Burghley very forcibly, which he thought was the question
of the withdrawal of the Spanish troops from Flanders; but it ended in
Burghley again pointedly offering the Queen’s mediation.
A few days later the Duke of Arschot’s brother, the Marquis d’Havrey,
Leicester’s great friend, arrived in England to counteract Mendoza’s efforts,
and to beg that the troops that had been promised should be sent to the
States. He was made much of by the English nobles and the Queen, who
was now greatly influenced by Leicester, and Burghley at the moment
seems to have stood almost alone in his resistance of open aid being sent to
the States.[409] It did not take Mendoza many days to discover how things
really lay. “I have found the Queen,” he writes, “much opposed to your
Majesty’s interests, and most of her ministers are quite alienated from us,
particularly those who are most important, as although there are seventeen
Councillors … the bulk of the business really depends upon the Queen,
Leicester, Walsingham, and Cecil, the latter of whom, although by virtue of
his office he takes part in the resolutions, absents himself from the Council
on many occasions, as he is opposed to the Queen’s helping the rebels so

effectively, and thus weakening her own position. He does not wish,
however, to break with Leicester and Walsingham on the matter, they being
very much wedded to the States and extremely self-seeking. I am assured
that they are keeping the interest of the money lent to the States, besides the
presents they have received out of the principal. They urge the business
under the cloak of religion, which Cecil cannot well oppose.”[410]
This, indeed, was one of the periods when Burghley’s moderating
influence was overborne by Leicester, Walsingham, and the Puritans. The
Lord Treasurer still did his best—constantly ill though he was—to stem the
violence of the tide, befriending the bishops who were being bitterly
attacked,[411] and counselling caution in aiding the Flemings against Spain;
but, as we have seen, he was somewhat in the background, and absented
himself from court as much as possible. It is curious, however, to see, even
under these circumstances, how he was still appealed to by all parties. He
was very ill in April at Theobalds, and the Queen happened to be suffering
from toothache. Of course Hatton must write to the Lord Treasurer, begging
him to come to court and give his advice as to what should be done. The
reply is very characteristic. Notwithstanding his own pain he would come
up at once, he wrote, if by so doing he could relieve the Queen; but as the
physicians advised that the tooth should be extracted, though they dared not
tell the Queen so, all he could do would be to urge her Majesty to have it
done.[412] Hatton did not care to incur the responsibility of saying so
himself, and simply showed the Queen Burghley’s letter. Doubtless
Elizabeth took the good advice tendered; for it was only a day or two
afterwards that young Gilbert Talbot, Lord Shrewsbury’s son, was walking
in the Tilt Yard, Whitehall, one morning, under the Queen’s windows, when
her maiden Majesty herself came to the casement in her night-dress, in full
view of Talbot, who wrote: “My eye fell towards her, and she showed to be
greatly ashamed thereof, for that she was unready and in her night-stuff; so
when she saw me after dinner as she went to walk, she gave me a great
fillip on the forehead, and told the Lord Chamberlain how I had seen her
that morning, and how ashamed she was.” Talbot, in writing this to his
father (1st May 1578) ends his letter by saying that the Queen was that
week to stay three or four days with Burghley at Theobalds. It is plain to see
that the renewed severity against the Catholics in England, and the almost
ostentatious aiding of the States against Spain, did not meet with the

approval of Burghley. He was much more concerned for the moment at the
large levies of French troops being collected on the Flemish frontier; and
his ordinary policy would have been either to side with the Spaniards
against them, or to have disarmed their figurehead Alençon (or Anjou as he
was now called) by holding out hopes of his marriage with the Queen, if the
earnest attempts of the English to mediate between the States and Don Juan
were fruitless. But he had to reckon with Leicester and Walsingham, and the
Queen’s policy wavered almost daily between her two sets of counsellors.
[413]

To the Queen’s visit to Theobalds is doubtless due the entry in Burghley’s
diary of 15th May, recording the despatch of Edward Stafford to inspect and
report upon the French forces on the Flemish frontier. Alençon himself used
every effort to convince the Queen of his desire to look to her, rather than to
his brother, as his guide and support. On the 19th May he sent her a letter
by one of his friends, informing her of his intention of relieving the
Netherlands; “of which intention,” he says, “she already knows so much
that he will not tire her by explaining it further.” On the 7th July he crossed
the frontier, and threw himself into Mons for the purpose, as he declared,
“of helping this oppressed people, and humiliating the pride of Spain;” and
at the same time he sent his chamberlain to offer marriage to Elizabeth, and
assure her of his complete dependence upon her. It was unwelcome news
for Elizabeth, for she could never trust the French. Alençon, after all, was a
Catholic, and she was uncertain whether Henry III. was not really behind
his brother. Gondi, one of the leaders of Catharine’s counsels, had recently
come to England with a request to be allowed to see Mary Stuart;[414]
Catholic intrigues in Scotland had succeeded in putting an end to Morton’s
regency (March 1578); and on all sides there were indications that, if
Elizabeth could only be dragged into open hostility to Spain, and so
rendered powerless, an attempt would be made on the part of France to
recover its lost influence over Scotland. Mendoza carefully fanned the
flame of Elizabeth’s distrust against the French; and the effect of
Walsingham’s absence in Flanders, whilst Leicester was away at Buxton, is
noticeable at once. “The Queen,” writes Mendoza (19th July), “is now
turning her eyes more to your Majesty; and her ministers have begun to get
friendly with me. If your Majesty wishes to retain them, I see a way of
doing it.”[415]