Drake’s raid upon Nombre-de-Dios, 1573, had been robbery pure and simple, carried out swiftly and secretly, so that the authorities at home had no opportunity, even if they had the will, to prevent it; and Drake kept out of the way for nearly three years afterwards, to escape punishment. But in 1577 he was introduced by Walsingham or Hatton to the Queen,[439] who told him that she wished to be revenged upon the King of Spain, and that he, Drake, was the man to do it. When Drake explained his plan for a great piratical raid into the Pacific, the Queen swore by her crown that she would have any man’s head who informed the King of Spain of it; and, says Drake, “her Majesty gave me special commandment that of all men my Lord Treasurer should not know it.” But the preparations for the voyage could not be kept secret entirely from Burghley, who was well served by spies, and had many means of winning men. He could not prohibit the expedition, of course; but, as usual, he sought to render it as innocuous as possible. Thomas Doughty, presumably a barrister, certainly a man of questionable character, had become Hatton’s secretary, and was deep with Drake in the plans for the expedition. The whole business is somewhat obscure, but Lord Burghley appears to have bought this man to his interests, and, according to Doughty himself, to have offered him the post of his private secretary, which, however, is unlikely. In any case, he learned from him all that there was to know about Drake’s intentions, and when, in November 1577, Drake’s expedition sailed, Doughty accompanied it as Burghley’s secret agent, and, it may charitably be surmised, for the express purpose of moderating if not frustrating its action. First he tried to desert with his ship, and was duly chased and brought back by Drake. Then he was accused of attempting to sow discord, discouragement, and mutiny amongst the men, and Drake hanged him with his own hands on the coast of Patagonia.[440] Winter, the other captain, drifted back to England again from Tierra del Fuego, whilst Drake in the little Pelican went on his great voyage of plunder round the world. All Europe rang with the news of his ravages in the South Seas, and the shareholders, says Mendoza, “are beside themselves with joy.” But the feelings of peaceful English merchants, and of Burghley himself, were far different. They saw that Spain had been attacked wantonly, her mariners hanged, her treasure stolen without legal excuse, her sacred edifices ransacked, and it was felt that a war of retaliation was inevitable, in which all England would suffer for the dishonest profit of a few.
One day towards the end of September 1580, after an absence of nearly three years, when most people had given up Drake for lost, the Pelican sailed quietly into Plymouth Sound, bringing in her hold plundered riches incalculable. Drake posted up to London, hoping doubtless that Elizabeth’s greed would overcome her fears of war. He was closeted for six hours with the Queen; but when he was summoned to the Council not one of his own backers was there, but only Burghley, Sussex, Crofts—a Spanish agent—and Secretary Wilson. They ordered all his treasure to be brought to the Tower, and a precise inventory made of it, preliminary to its restitution. When the order was taken to Leicester, Walsingham, and Hatton, they refused to sign, and exerted their influence with the Queen to get it suspended. Mendoza raged and threatened. The Queen was in mortal fear of war, and had promised that Drake should be punished if he came back. But she loved money, and was not blind to the injury that had been done to her probable foe by Drake’s boldness. So she temporised as usual, accepted Drake’s presents graciously, and gradually came round to making a hero of the great seaman, in spite of Mendoza’s talk of war and vengeance. She must have proofs against Drake before she punished him, she said. Besides, what were the Spanish troops doing in Ireland? When the last Spanish-Papal soldier was withdrawn, she would talk about the restitution of Drake’s plunder—not before.[441] At present she was the aggrieved party. Gifts and bribes showered from Drake upon the Councillors; but when Burghley was offered 3000 crowns’ worth of fine gold, he refused it, saying he could not receive a present from a man who had stolen all he had,[442] and Sussex also declined any portion of the booty. Once more it was Burghley’s task to avert or provide against the war with Spain, which the ineptitude and cupidity of others had brought within measurable distance.
CHAPTER XIII
1581-1584
Alençon had nominally accepted the sovereignty of Flanders offered to him by the States of Ghent in the autumn of 1580; but whilst the Huguenots were in arms against his brother, he had no force of men to enable him to enter and assume the government of his new dominion. He had industriously striven to draw Elizabeth into a marriage, or into aiding him in Flanders as a price for her jilting him; but she had always been too clever for him, and kept on the right side of a positive compromise. When the fears of war with Spain engendered in England by Drake’s depredations became acute, and the Spanish aid to the Irish rebels could no longer be concealed, it was necessary once more for England to draw close to France. A request was accordingly sent for a special French embassy to come to England empowered to settle the details of the Alençon marriage and a national alliance. Elizabeth’s letters to Alençon became more affectionate than ever: she promised him 200,000 crowns of Drake’s plunder to pay German mercenaries to support him in Flanders, she sent the lovelorn Prince a wedding-ring, she petted and bribed his agent until her own courtiers were all jealous; and under the influence of Burghley and Sussex, once more the marriage negotiations assumed a serious aspect, whilst Leicester and Hatton chafed in the background.
The activity of the seminary priests and missionaries, in conjunction with the Papal invasion of Ireland, had been answered in England by fresh severity against the Catholics. The gaols were all full to overflowing with English recusants; fresh proclamations were issued against harbouring priests; and spies at home and abroad were following the ubiquitous movements of the zealous young members of the Society of Jesus, who yearned for the crown of martyrdom. There is no doubt that to some extent the new persecution of the Catholics was for the purpose of reconciling the Puritans to the Alençon match, but it was still more owing to the genuine alarm of a war against Spain and the Pope.
Parliament opened on the 16th January 1581, after twenty-four prorogations, this only being its third session, although it was elected in 1572. We have already seen that the Puritan party was strong in the House of Commons, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Walter Mildmay, in his speech, voiced the general feeling of the country at the dangers that seemed impending. “Our enemies sleep not,” he said, “and it behoveth us not to be careless, as though all were past; but rather to think that there is but a piece of the storm over, and that the greater part of the tempest remaineth behind, and is like to fall upon us by the malice of the Pope, the most capital enemy of the Queen and this State.”[443] He denounced the “absolutions, dispensations, reconciliations, and such other things of Rome. You see how lately he (the Pope) hath sent hither a sort of hypocrites, naming themselves Jesuits, a rabble of vagrant friars, newly sprung up, running through the world to trouble the Church of God.” The aim of the oration, of course, was to lead the House to vote liberal supplies for the defence of the country, and in this it was successful; though, when the Puritan majority endeavoured to appoint days of fasting and humiliation by Parliamentary vote, they were rapped over the knuckles by the Queen, as they had been in the previous session, for interfering with her prerogative.[444]
The country, in fact, was now thoroughly alive to the danger into which it had drifted, and Lord Burghley’s hand once more took the tiller, to remedy, so far as he might, the evils which had resulted from the temporary abandonment of his cautious policy.[445] His task was not an easy one to settle the preliminaries of the pompous embassy which was to come from France. There were a host of questions to be considered. The Queen would insist upon the Ambassadors being of the highest rank, and having full powers. Leicester and Hatton objected to their coming at all; Alençon insisted that they should be only empowered to negotiate a marriage, and not an alliance; whilst Cobham, the English Ambassador, endeavoured ineffectually to draw Henry III. into a pledge to break with Spain about Portugal before the embassy left France. At last all was arranged, and in April the Ambassadors, with a suite of two hundred persons, arrived in London.[446] Drake’s silver was drawn upon liberally for presents; a new gallery was built at Whitehall for the entertainment of the envoys; Philip Sidney wrote a masque, and played the fool for once for their delectation; and joust and tourney, ball and banquet, succeeded each other hourly, to the exclusion of more serious business.