Fuller says that, “having prodigally misspent his Patrimony, he entered on several projects (the issue-general of all decaied estates), and first pitched on the peopling of Florida, then newly found in the West Indies. So confident his ambition, that he blushed not to tell Queen Elizabeth ‘that he preferred rather to be sovereign of a Mole-hill than the highest Subject to the greatest King in Christendom’; adding, moreover, ‘that he was assured he should be a Prince before his death.’ ‘I hope,’ said Queen Elizabeth, ‘I shall hear from you, when you are seated in your Principality.’ ‘I will write to you,’ quoth Stucley. ‘In what languidge?’ said the Queen. He returned, ‘In the style of Princes, To our dear Sister.’”
He took leave of the Queen on 25 June, 1563. Cecil wrote in her name to the Earl of Sussex, Lord Deputy of Ireland: “Our servant Thomas Stucley, associated with sundry of our subjects, hath prepared a number of good ships well armed and manned to pass to discover certain lands to the West towards Florida, and by our licence hath taken the same voyage.” But in the event of stormy winds or accidents he was to be well received, should he put into a port in Ireland.
So he sailed, but Stucley had no real intention of going to Florida: his squadron lived by piracy on the high seas for two years. He made his head-quarters at Kinsale, where he resumed acquaintance with Shan O’Neil, chief of Tyrone, who aspired to be king of Ulster, and was repeatedly in arms against the English. Shan had offered Ireland as a fief to Philip II of Spain. And now Stucley from Kinsale swept the seas, and made prizes of Spanish galleons, and of French and Portuguese merchantmen. Complaints were made by the foreign courts, and the English Ambassador at Madrid confessed that “he hung his head for shame.” Stucley filled his cellars with sherry from Cadiz, and amused Shan O’Neil with his boastful speech, his flattery, and his utterance of what he would do for him; and Shan had the impertinence to write to Elizabeth in favour of “his so dearly loved friend, and her Majesty’s worthy subject.”
In June, 1563, Stucley took a Zealand ship with £3000 worth of linen and tapestry, and then, joining a small fleet of West-countrymen, fourteen sail in all, he lay off Ushant, watching for the wine fleet from Bordeaux professedly, but picking up gratefully whatever the gods might send. No less a person than the Mayor of Dover himself was the owner of one of these sea-hawks. Wretched Spaniards flying from their talons were dashed to pieces upon the granite cliffs of Finisterre.
At length the remonstrances of foreign ambassadors took effect, and Elizabeth disowned Stucley, and took measures for his apprehension. Some ships were sent out with this object, and he was caught in Cork harbour, in 1565, put under arrest, and sent to London, where he was consigned to the Tower.
Stucley was all the while playing a double game. While professing loyalty to the Queen he was in correspondence with Philip of Spain. Shan O’Neil proposed to Elizabeth that she should divide all Ireland between himself and Stucley, when they would make of it a paradise. Stucley had purchased a good deal of land in Cork, and he hoped to have more granted him and to share with St. Leger and Carew in the partition of Munster. He had a plausible tongue, put on an air of great frankness, and soon obtained his release, and was actually sent back to Ireland with a letter of recommendation from Cecil. There he bought of Sir Nicholas Bagnal for £300 down his office of Marshal of Ireland and all Bagnal’s estate in the island. Elizabeth, however, refused to sanction the transaction; she mistrusted him, and with reason, for he was engaged in constant treasonable correspondence with the Spanish Ambassador, and he was in receipt of a pension from Philip. She heard reports of murders, robberies, and other outrages committed by him, and ordered him back to England. He obeyed, cleared himself, and in 1567 was allowed to return to Ireland, where he purchased of Sir Nicholas Heron the offices of seneschal and constable of Wexford and captainship of the Kavanaghs, together with many estates. Again Elizabeth interfered, and Stucley was turned out of his offices. Nicholas White, Heron’s successor, now accused Stucley of felony and high treason, and in June, 1569, he was imprisoned in Dublin Castle. It was high time; he had in that same month proposed to Philip the invasion of Ireland, and had demanded twenty fully armed ships for the purpose. As sufficient evidence to convict him was not forthcoming, he was discharged, but felt that he could no longer rely on Elizabeth’s forbearance. With treachery in his heart he pretended to Sidney, the Queen’s deputy in Ireland, that after such misinterpretation of his acts and doubts of his fidelity, he desired to go in person to his royal mistress and clear his reputation with her; and Sidney, instead of sending him over under a guard, was contented with his parole—Stucley’s parole!
Stucley informed him that for his defence he needed a certain number of Irish gentlemen to serve as witnesses to his conduct. The deputy permitted him to purchase and fit out a ship at Waterford to transport them and himself. He took with him some Irish cavaliers, along with their servants and horses, and a miscellaneous crew of adventurers. They embarked as for London, but when clear of the harbour made for the ocean. A few days after they sailed for Galicia, and sent messengers to Philip to announce their arrival.
The Archbishop of Cashel, then at Madrid, not knowing much of Stucley, recommended Philip to receive the party. The King accordingly sent for him to Court, knighted him, loaded him with presents, granted him five hundred reales a day and a residence at Las Rozas, nine miles from Madrid, where he lived in great state, with thirty gentlemen about him. He made great brag of the vast estates of which the Queen had deprived him—Wexford, Kinsale, the Kavanagh country, Carlow, and the whole kingdom of Leinster, and an income of £2200 per diem—and was believed. He assumed the title of Duke of Ireland, but Philip only allowed him to be received as Duke of Leinster. He represented himself as of vast influence in Ireland, and Philip was completely taken in by his boasting. But the Archbishop of Cashel soon received tidings of his real position in the island. He had robbed churches, despoiled abbeys, was detested by the native Irish whom he had cruelly maltreated, and was of no influence at all. Thenceforth two parties were formed in the Spanish Court, one denouncing Stucley as an adventurer and so unprincipled that if he thought it would suit his purpose would betray everything to Elizabeth. The other party believed in his professions and encouraged the King to trust him; and his assumption, his audacious and enormous lies, his perfect self-assurance bore down all opposition, and under Stucley’s auspices the Spanish Government began serious preparations for the invasion and conquest of Ireland. Ships were collected at Vigo with arms and stores. Ten thousand men were to be raised, and Julian Romero was to be recalled from Flanders to command.
Meanwhile he amused the Spaniards with scandalous stories about Elizabeth and her Court, and his fool’s boast of what he was about to achieve.
“Master Stukely said to the King’s Council that the Queen’s Majesty will beat Secretary Cecil about the ears when he discontenteth her, and he will weep like a child. The Spaniards asking him why the Queen’s Highness did not marry, he said she would never marry, for she cannot abide a woman with child, for she saith those women be worse than a sow. He also said, ‘What hurt I can do her I will do it and will make her vilely afraid.’”[13]