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.