By the beginning of 1579, however, the aspect of European politics had become so threatening that the practised hand of the Lord Treasurer was needed at the helm, and thenceforward his influence was again in the ascendant. Simier was making violent vicarious love to the Queen, and letters of the most extravagant description were exchanged between the young Prince and Elizabeth, whilst really sincere and earnest efforts were being made in favour of the match by Henry III. and Catharine de Medici. Commissioners and ambassadors went backwards and forwards, and the conditions, not only of the Queen’s marriage, but of a national offensive and defensive alliance between France and England, were under discussion. Henry III. was ready, he said, to submit to any conditions desired by Elizabeth, and Alençon was almost blasphemous in his praising of the charms of his elderly flame. There were two main reasons for this drawing together of England and France. Don Juan was dead, and the military genius and diplomacy of Alexander Farnese had once more separated Catholic Belgium from Protestant Holland (Treaty of Arras, January 1579). Orange himself still clung to the hope of consolidating a united Flemish nation, including north and south, and desired to use Alençon, with the Queen of England’s support, for that purpose but there was no enthusiasm in Holland for the idea; and in the meanwhile Alençon was isolated in Catholic Flanders, with his own brother raging at the compromising position in which he placed him, and ordering him to return to France. It was evident to Henry that the only way in which his turbulent brother could be established in Flanders, without causing both Spanish and English arms to be used against him, was to let him depend solely upon Elizabeth and Orange, whilst France stood aloof. This was one of the reasons for the closer relations desired by Catharine and her son. The other was more important still. The young King of Portugal had fallen in battle in Morocco, and the new King was an aged, childless Cardinal. Philip of Spain was already intriguing for the succession, which he claimed. The possession of the fine harbours and Atlantic seaboard of Portugal by Spain would enormously increase her maritime potency, to the detriment of England and France; and it was felt that these powers must unite to resist the common danger. That Lord Burghley was early alive to its importance is proved by a genealogical statement of his relating to the Portuguese succession immediately after the death of the King Don Sebastian[422] (August 1578), and several memoranda of subsequent date on the subject.
Under these circumstances the Alençon approaches again became to all appearance serious. The Prince, ceding to the pressure placed upon him, consented to retire from Flanders early in the year, and was reconciled to his brother; and then the arrangements for effective action in the Netherlands and a visit of Alençon to England were actively proceeded with. How busy Lord Burghley was in the matter will be seen by the very voluminous minutes in his own hand of the discussions in Council on the subject (Hatfield Papers). In all probability the Queen was not even now sincere in the matter of the marriage, especially as Leicester and Hatton pretended to be warmly in favour of it, until they became personally jealous of Simier; but Burghley was evidently doubtful. In his balancing papers he gives much more space to the “perils” than to the advantages of the match, and his own final judgment is, that “except that her Majesty would of her own mind incline to marriage he would never advise thereto.” In the meanwhile, all England was in a veritable panic at the idea of the marriage of the Queen to a Papist. Puritan pulpits rang with denunciations; Stubbs’ famous book, “The Discovery of a Gaping Gulph,” which cost the author his right hand and deeply offended the Queen, was read widely; and the Queen herself was obliged to warn her eager suitor of the hatred of her people to the idea of his proposed visit. But the preparations went on, and the court was ordered to make itself as fine as money would make it, Leicester alone sending to Flanders for twelve hundred pounds’ worth of silks, velvets, and cloth of gold. Simier in the meanwhile was daily becoming more clamorous for a definite answer to his master’s proposal. Large bribes were paid by the French Ambassador and Mendoza respectively to the Councillors to forward or impede the match, and the probabilities shifted from day to day.[423]
When the Queen seemed really bent upon the match, Burghley did not attempt to oppose her; he simply placed before her the arguments for and against it, and left the decision to her. This is exactly what Elizabeth did not wish. Simier and her own imprudence had drawn her into an extremely dangerous position, and she wished her Council to assume the responsibility of extricating her from it. Her first object in resuming the negotiations had been to get Alençon and the French out of Flanders, whilst preventing the despair and collapse of Orange; her present aim was to secure the King of France to her side, and weaken Spain without herself being drawn into open hostility. The talk of marriage helped her in this; but if once she fell into the trap, and was married indeed, her power of balance would be gone. Driven into a corner, late in April she took Simier and the French Ambassador, with Burghley, Leicester, Sussex, and Walsingham, to Wanstead, where she desired the Councillors to give her in writing their individual opinions, in order that she might show them to the Frenchmen. They refused to do so, and once more laid before her the “perils and advantages” of each course, leaving her to decide. The Councillors mentioned sat in conference almost day and night during their three days’ stay at Wanstead, but, after all, returned as they came. Simier was furious, and threatened to go back to France; and a full Council sat at Whitehall on the 3rd May, from two o’clock in the day till two the next morning, finally to discuss the question. It was found that the only man really in favour of the marriage was Sussex, and Simier was called in and informed that his master’s conditions were unacceptable. The envoy roared out that he had been played with, and flung out of the room to make his complaint to the Queen. She was all sympathy. She wanted to get married—she must get married. It was all the fault of her Councillors, and so forth, until her ruffled “ape,” as she called him, was pacified. Alençon was not lightly put off. He announced his intention of coming to see his goddess, no matter what the consequences might be. The Queen was for refusing him leave, but Lord Burghley pointed out to her the danger of this open affront to a French prince. She had gone too far to refuse, and she was obliged to give a passport. Simier rarely left the Queen’s side now, and she seems quite to have lost her head. Mendoza worked hard to spread the sinister murmurs of her behaviour through the country. Leicester grew violently jealous, and twice hired an assassin to kill Simier, which he nearly did once in the Queen’s own barge. The Queen was beside herself with rage, and Simier, to revenge himself upon Leicester, told the Queen, as no one else had dared to do, of the marriage of Leicester with Lady Essex. It was a master-stroke. The Queen’s fury was boundless, and she swore like a trooper at Leicester and the she-wolf he had married. For a time Leicester’s influence was gone, and Simier lived in the palace of Greenwich, to the open disgust of the English people. In August, Alençon rushed over to England in disguise. His coming was an open secret, but the Queen kept him hid in the palace of Greenwich.[424] She posed before him, showed off all her charms, dined and supped with him in private, fell desperately in love with him, or pretended to do so, and sent him off after a week’s stay as secretly as he came, with expressions of affection on both sides, even too fervid to be sincere, and long afterwards continued by correspondence.
Whatever might be the final result of the marriage negotiations—and Burghley himself was as much in the dark as any one on that point—a close alliance between France and England was of growing importance to both countries. The English Council under Burghley sat at Greenwich almost continuously from the 2nd to the 8th October discussing, weighing, and reporting upon the whole question of alliance and marriage. The final result was that the marriage would be undesirable, Burghley and Sussex being the only Councillors who were not strongly opposed to it.[425] The message to the Queen was delivered by Burghley. It was ambiguous and moderate, begged the Queen to tell the Council her own mind, and so on; but there was no doubt of the meaning of it to the Queen. The Council was against the match, unless some guarantee could be found that the Protestant religion should not be imperilled. Burghley’s minute sets forth the Queen’s answer. “She shed many tears to find that her Councillors, by their long disputations, should make it doubtful whether it would be safe for her to marry and have a child.” She was a simpleton, she said, to have referred the question to them. She expected they would have unanimously begged her to marry, instead of raising doubts about it. When they saw her again later in the day she was more angry still. She railed at those who would think of “surety” before her happiness, “and that any should think so slenderly of her” as to doubt that she would take care that religion was properly safeguarded if she married. She managed, as usual, to reduce the Council to a state of confusion with her tears and reproaches; and a hasty meeting was called, at which a resolution was passed to the effect, that as the Queen seemed so much bent upon the marriage, the Councillors all offered their services to promote it. When this message was taken to her, Lord Burghley records that “her Majesty’s answers were very sharp in reprehending all such as she thought would make arguments against her marriage, and though she thought it not meet to declare to them whether she would marry with Monsieur or no, yet she looked from their hands that they should with one accord have made a special suit to her for the same.”[426]
No wonder that with such a change on the part of the Queen from morning to afternoon, the Councillors were at their wits’ end to know what she really meant; but it is evident that she intended to have her own way, whatever it was, and lay the responsibility upon others. Burghley and Sussex had avoided open opposition, and were favourably regarded by the Queen in consequence; whilst Leicester, Walsingham, Knollys, and even her poor “sheep” Hatton, came in for a share of her vituperation and abuse; and the Puritans who were leading the outcry against the match received harder measure than ever.
Early in November she summoned the Council again, and told them that she had decided to marry. It was only for them now to consider the means. Let them, she said, individually put their opinions in writing. It was evident that this course would again bring forward the dissensions on the subject, and render it more difficult, which was perhaps her intention. Simier went and told her so, whereupon she asked him angrily how he knew what orders she had given to her Council. He replied that Lord Burghley had told him. “Surely,” she cried, “it is possible for my Councillors to keep a secret. I will see to this.” Then she sent orders to the Council to write a letter to Alençon, asking him to come to England quickly, which they refused to do. He was, they said, coming to marry her, not them, and she ought to write herself. They openly quarrelled with Simier, who was finding England too hot for him, and who left late in November, taking with him a hastily patched draft agreement for the marriage, in which the Queen characteristically introduced at the last hour an additional loophole of escape, by stipulating that the articles should remain in suspense for two months, “during which time the Queen hopes to have brought her people to consent. If before that time she did not write consenting to receive ambassadors for the conclusion of the treaty, the whole of the conditions would be void.”[427]
The year 1580 opened full of anxiety for Elizabeth. The ostentatious fitting out of the Spanish fleet, and the active support by Spain and the Pope of the Desmond rebellion, the success of Parma, and the desperate attempts of Orange to reunite Flanders with Holland under Alençon in the national cause, were all so many dangers to England. If Elizabeth offended France or alienated Alençon himself, Flemish affairs might be settled without her participation, and to her detriment, and she would have to face Spain alone. This was the more to be feared, as religious affairs in England were in a worse condition than before, and for the first time since her accession the Queen herself was unpopular. Her light conduct with Simier, and, above all, her seeming determination in favour of the Alençon marriage, had aroused all the old hatred against the French, and had embittered the widespread Puritan distrust of the “Papists.” The country was being flooded with seminary priests, specially trained for the propaganda to which they devoted their lives,[428] and the great Catholic party in England, having recovered somewhat from the blow of the Norfolk conspiracy, were once more holding up their heads. Elizabeth had allowed Leicester and her own passions to lead her too far, and she struggled to free herself from the toils. When she tried in January to withdraw gently from the Alençon negotiations, and suggested to Henry III. that some fresh conditions were necessary, she found it difficult. The King was determined to throw the responsibility of breaking upon her, and it still suited him to keep up an appearance of friendship. She could, he replied, make her own stipulations; he would accept them. As for religion, that was his brother’s affair. Alençon himself also said that he would come over at once to England and leave everything to her. He hoped she was not reviving the religious question for the purpose of deceiving him again, as some people said; but he would risk everything for his love. He went so far as to beg her to forgive Leicester for his sake, and blamed Simier for quarrelling with the Earl.
But Leicester, Hatton, and Walsingham were quite determined now to stop the marriage, which looked too serious to please them; and a cloud of questions about religion, rank of ambassadors, &c., soon threw the matter into obscurity again. How completely affairs had changed in this respect in a few weeks is seen in the long draft of a letter to the Queen at Hatfield, dated at end of January 1580, in the handwriting of Sir Thomas Cecil, although it can hardly have been really written by him to the Queen, but certainly represents the views of his father. Burghley had struggled during all his ministry, and often against great difficulties, to preserve peace with Spain, whilst holding high England’s honour and prosperity; but now that Leicester and the extreme Protestant party, together with Philip’s seizure of Portugal, had forced the Queen into a position which sooner or later must end in hostility to Spain, and perhaps with France also, Burghley urged the need for a close understanding with France, on the safest terms possible for his country.
The course now taken by the Queen seemed to render inevitable that which Burghley had all his life endeavoured to avoid, namely, the isolation of England with both of the great powers against her. The address above referred to lays down that, so long as the Queen was favourable to the Alençon marriage, the writer was willing to sacrifice his life for it. He still maintains that it is the only safe course, and one which should enable the Queen to “rule the sternes of the shippes of Europe with more fame than ever came to any Quene of the Worelld.” But finding her Majesty utterly against it, he proposes such remedies as are necessary, at least for comparative safety. He points out that she cannot expect that France and Alençon will sit down patiently under the slight, though they may dissemble for a time; and he suggests that Alençon should be diverted from allying himself with Spain, by encouraging his enterprise in the Netherlands, dangerous though such a course was to England. All Papists should be dismissed from positions of trust; the army, navy, and fortifications should be placed on a war-footing; mercenary Germans should be bespoken; fresh vents for English commerce should be sought;[429] the Irish should be conciliated, and their just grievances remedied, and “certain private disorders in Ireland winked at.” The Queen of Scots should be brought to a safer place farther south, and repressive precautions taken against her friends in England. Whoever may have given this remarkable state paper to Elizabeth,[430] it is certain that the advice contained in it was followed. Orders were given to bring Mary Stuart to Ashby-de-la-Zouch,[431] the mild and lenient Lord Shrewsbury being reinforced in his guard by Sir Ralph Sadler and two other known Protestants;[432] a general muster of militia was summoned, 90,000 men in all; London was called upon for 4000 armed men; the Queen’s navy, seventeen ships, was mobilised;[433] and negotiations were opened for Condé and a Huguenot force, with a number of mercenary German Protestants, to enter Flanders.[434] It was considered rightly that if a large body of Huguenots depending entirely upon England were by Alençon’s side, it would not only prevent his brother from supporting him, but would render his enterprise in Flanders less dangerous to England.
Concurrently with these precautions, the Queen renewed her extravagant love correspondence with Alençon. There is no more remarkable instance than this of the consummate statesmanship of Burghley. The country had been driven out of the straight course in which he had held it so long, and was rapidly nearing the breakers. The document now under consideration laid before the Queen the only course which could avert destruction, and this course, as we see, she wisely took. If Burghley had openly opposed Leicester and Walsingham from the first, he would probably have fallen into disgrace, and have lost his influence entirely; but by holding aloof and tempering their policy only, he was able, when catastrophe impended, to lead the ship of state into a harbour of comparative safety. Under the influence of fear and Burghley, the Queen at the same time became most amiable to the Spaniards again. She assured Mendoza (20th February) that “she would never make war upon your Majesty, unless you began it first, which she could not believe by any means you would do.” She was, she said, a sister to Philip. “She had always done her best for the tranquillity of the Netherlands, and to prevent the French from getting a footing there.” Mendoza spoke some hard truths to her, but she was very humble.