IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.
[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
REBELLION OF JAMES FITZMAURICE, 1579.
Papal designs against Ireland. Stukeley.
Sidney’s departure had been partly delayed by a report that Stukeley’s long-threatened invasion was at last coming. The adventurer had been knighted in Spain, and Philip had said something about the Duchy of Leinster. The Duke of Feria and his party were willing to make him Duke of Ireland, and he seems to have taken that title. At Paris Walsingham remonstrated with Olivares, who carelessly, and no doubt falsely, replied that he had never heard of Stukeley, but that the king habitually honoured those who offered him service. Walsingham knew no Spanish, and Olivares would speak nothing else, so that the conversation could scarcely have serious results. But the remonstrances of Archbishop Fitzgibbon and other genuine Irish refugees gradually told upon Philip, and the means of living luxuriously and making a show were withheld. ‘The practices of Stukeley,’ wrote Burghley to Walsingham, ‘are abated in Spain by discovery of his lewdness and insufficiency;’ and he went to Rome, where the Countess of Northumberland had secured him a good reception. ‘He left Florida kingdom,’ said Fitzwilliam sarcastically, ‘only for holiness’ sake, and to have a red hat;’ adding that he was thought holy at Waterford for going barefooted about streets and churches. ‘It is incredible,’ says Fuller, ‘how quickly he wrought himself through the notice into the favour, through the court into the chamber, yea, closet and bosom, of Pope Pius Quintus.’ An able seaman, Stukeley was in some degree fitted to advance the Pontiff’s darling plan for crushing the Turks. The old pirate did find his way to Don John of Austria’s fleet, and seems to have been present at Lepanto. His prowess in the Levant restored him to Philip’s favour, and he was soon again in Spain, in company with a Doria and in receipt of 1,000 ducats a week.[1]
Thomas Stukeley on the Continent.
There was much movement at the time among the Irish in Spain, and the air was filled with rumours. Irish friars showed letters from Philip ordering all captains to be punished who refused them passages to Ireland, and the Inquisition was very active. One Frenchman was nevertheless bold enough to say that he would rather burn than have a friar on board, and those who sought a passage from him had to bestow themselves on a Portuguese ship. In 1575 Stukeley was again at Rome, and in as high favour with Gregory XIII. as he had been with his predecessor. The Pope employed him in Flanders, where he had dealings with Egremont Radcliffe. That luckless rebel had bitterly repented; but when he returned and offered his services to the queen, she spurned them and bade him depart the realm. From very want, perhaps, he entered Don John’s service, and when that prince died he was executed on a trumped-up charge of poisoning him. Stukeley was more fortunate, for he had then left the Netherlands, and Don John took credit with the English agent for sending him away. Wilson was equal to the occasion, and said the gain was the king’s, for Stukeley was a vain ‘nebulo’ and all the treasures of the Indies too little for his prodigal expenditure. It would be interesting to know what passed between the two adventurers, the bastard of Austria and the Devonshire renegade; between the man who tried to found a kingdom at Tunis, and talked of marrying Mary Stuart, conquering England, and obtaining the crown matrimonial, and the man who, having dreamed of addressing his dear sister Elizabeth from the throne of Florida, now sought to deprive her of the Duchy of Ireland. Like so many who had to deal with this strange being, perhaps the governor of the Netherlands was imposed upon by his vapourings and treated him as a serious political agent. After leaving Brussels he went to Rome, well supplied with money and spending it in his old style everywhere. At Sienna Mr. Henry Cheek thought him so dangerous that he moved to Ferrara to be out of his way. At Florence the Duke honoured Stukeley greatly, ‘as did the other dukes of Italy, esteeming him as their companion.’ But he was without honour among his own countrymen, and they refused a dinner to which he invited all the English at Sienna except Cheek.[2]
Fitzmaurice on the Continent.
James Fitzmaurice was already at Rome. He had spent the best part of two years in France, where he was well entertained, but where he found no real help. He received supplies of money occasionally. The Parisians daily addressed him as King of Ireland, but nothing was done towards the realisation of the title. Sir William Drury’s secret agent was in communication with one of Fitzmaurice’s most trusted companions, and his hopes and fears were well known in Ireland. At one time he was sure of 1,200 Frenchmen, at another he was likely to get 4,000; and De la Roche, who was no stranger in Munster, was to have at least six tall ships for transport. De la Roche did nothing but convey the exile’s eldest son, Maurice, to Portugal, where he entered the University of Coimbra. Sir Amyas Paulet had instructions to remonstrate with the French Court, and the old Puritan seems to have been quite a match for Catherine de Medici; but there was little sincerity on either side. The Queen-mother’s confidential agent confessed that all was in disorder, and that the French harbours were full of pirates and thieves, but she herself told Paulet that De la Roche had strict orders to attempt nothing against England. Having little hope of France, Fitzmaurice himself went to Spain, where his reception was equally barren of result. The Catholic King was perhaps offended at the Most Christian King having been first applied to, and at all events he was not yet anxious to break openly with his sister-in-law.[3]