Major Martin Andrew Hume, born in London on December 8, 1847,
and educated at Madrid, comes of an English family, the
members of which have resided in Spain for a hundred years. He
began life in the British Army, from which he retired with the
rank of major. Major Hume was appointed editor of the Spanish
state papers published by the Record Office; he is also
lecturer in Spanish History and Literature at Cambridge, and
examiner and lecturer in Spanish at the Birmingham University.
He has written numerous works on the history of Spain; but
perhaps he is best known for his historical studies of the
Tudor period, of which may be mentioned "The Courtships of
Queen Elizabeth," "The Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots,"
and "The Wives of Henry VIII." In the first-named work,
published in 1896, Major Hume has presented an exceedingly
interesting human document, and classified a tangled mass of
material. The epitome here presented has been prepared for THE
WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS by the author himself.
_I.--Foreign Philandering_
The greatest diplomatic game ever played on the world's chessboard was
that consummate succession of intrigues which, for nearly half a
century, was carried on by Queen Elizabeth and her ministers with the
object of playing off one great Continental power against another for
the benefit of England and Protestantism, with which the interests of
the queen were inextricably involved. Those in the midst of the strife
worked mostly for immediate aims, and neither saw, nor cared, for the
ultimate results; but we, looking back, see that out of that tangle of
duplicity there emerged a new era of civilisation and a host of vigorous
impulses which move us to this hour.
The victory of England in that struggle meant the dominance of modern
ideas of liberty and of the imperial destiny of our race, and it seems
as if the result could only have been attained in the peculiar
combination of circumstances and persons then existing. Elizabeth
triumphed as much by her weakness as by her strength. Honest Cecil kept
his hand upon the helm so long because the only alternative to him was
the greedy crew of councillors eager for foreign bribes. Without
Leicester as a permanent matrimonial possibility, the queen could never
have held the balance between her foreign suitors; and, but for the
follies of Mary Stuart, the English Catholics would not have been
subjected so easily, whilst the religious dissensions in France and the
character of Philip II. aided Elizabeth's diplomacy. Elizabeth was more
than once betrothed in her childhood to aid her father's policy, but
when Henry died, in 1547, his younger daughter was unbetrothed.
During her residence with the Queen-Dowager, Catharine Parr, who soon
married Thomas, Lord Seymour, the fourteen-year-old girl was exposed to
peril from the designs of the ambitious Seymour. The indecorous romping,
perhaps innocent at first, that took place between her and her married
host provided grave scandal which touched even the honour of the girl,
and her keen wits alone saved her on this occasion from disgrace. Her
crafty reticence served her well, when the intrigues of Wyat, Courtenay,
and the French party threatened Mary's throne; but when Mary was
married, the Spanish party at once became interested in securing
Elizabeth to their side by her marriage. Mary's jealousy, and
Elizabeth's own determination not to be made a tool, frustrated Philip's
attempt to marry the princess to his cousin, the Duke of Savoy; and when
the Protestant Swedes clandestinely offered her the hand of Prince Eric,
her discreet wariness again protected her from the dangerous proposal.
When Mary lay dying, Feria, the Spanish ambassador, hurried to Hatfield
to salute the rising sun, and hinted even thus early that Elizabeth
might marry her powerful Spanish brother-in-law. But she resented his
patronage, and though she coquetted, as usual, with the proposal of
marriage, she took care not to pledge herself or submit England to
foreign dictation. To Spain it was vital that England should be at her
bidding. If the queen could not marry Philip, surely she could only wed
one of his Austrian cousins; or, if not, then England must be conquered
by the sword. All that Elizabeth wanted was time, and tardy Philip
played into her hands. One English noble after the other was taken up
and dropped, in the intervals of foreign philandering. Lord Arundel,
foolish, old, and vain, had high hopes; Sir William Pickering's chances
looked bright, and France and Spain sought to patronise each English
candidate in his turn, especially Lord Robert Dudley, the queen's friend
from childhood, though he was already married to Amy Robsart.
At length, after many days of dallying, great Philip decided to
sacrifice himself for Spain and marry his enigmatical sister-in-law. She
must, of course, renounce Protestantism and all the laws that made her
legally a queen; which was absurd, as Feria soon saw, and frankly told
his master. So then Philip half-heartedly patronised the suit of his
Austrian cousin, the Archduke Charles. If the latter would be an
obedient Spanish instrument he could have Philip's support; but German
Lutherans and English Protestants had also to be considered, and
Elizabeth's court was divided into those who feared any consort not
wholly Protestant and those who were eager for any marriage that
shielded England from Spanish attack.
Elizabeth thought she could avoid the latter danger without marriage at
all, so she dexterously played with all her suitors, English and
foreign, while strengthening her position and gaining popularity.
Sometimes she swore she would never marry, and the next day would grow
sentimental over the archduke, or flirted with Dudley--keeping them all
in suspense and afraid of offending her. The French, having no
marriageable prince of their own, supported Dudley, or any other English
candidate whom they could use against Spain; whilst Dudley himself
pretended to favour the archduke, till matters looked serious, and then
found means of frustrating him, often to Elizabeth's rage, for she
wished to play her own deep game unhampered. She knew she could always
choke off the Austrian when she wished by making fresh religious
demands. The English nobles were furious at Dudley's selfish manoeuvres
to keep the queen unwed till he was free, and they planned to marry the
queen to Arran, the next heir of Scotland. This looked promising for
months, but Dudley and his sister, Lady Sidney, checked the plan.
_II.--The Nine Years' Comedy_
In September, 1559, Dudley and his sister warmly took up the archduke's
cause, and assured Quadra, the Spanish ambassador, that if the suitor
would flatter the queen by coming to England on chance, she would marry
him. But Elizabeth and Cecil, though they hinted much, would not clearly
confirm Dudley's promise, and Philip and the emperor dared not expose
the archduke to the risk of being repulsed. The English nobles, in good
faith, urged the archduke's suit, and said that Dudley was plotting to
kill his wife and marry the queen; but they and the Spanish ambassador
were outwitted at every point by Elizabeth's diplomacy, and through 1559
and 1560 all the rivals were kept between hope and fear.
Then, in September 1560, the long-predicted murder of Amy Robsart set
Dudley free, and made the nobles and Cecil more anxious than ever that
the archduke should be bold, take the risk, and come to England. The
queen, to weaken the new friendship between France and Spain, herself
again pretended eagerness for the Austrian's coming; but the trick was
stale now, and neither Philip nor the emperor believed her. To checkmate
Dudley the Protestants were actively urging the suit of Eric of Sweden,
when, in January 1561, the former made a bold bid for Spanish support.
He was, he said, quite innocent of his wife's death, and he promised
Quadra that if the King of Spain would urge his (Dudley's) suit upon the
queen, England should send envoys to the Council of Trent, receive a
papal legate, and become practically Catholic. He might promise, but
such a thing was impossible, and Cecil, when he learnt of the intrigue,
promptly embroiled matters and spoilt the plan.
Elizabeth, too, saw whither she was drifting, and by pretended levity
turned it into a joke. At one time she invited the old Spanish bishop to
marry her to Dudley, and next day said she would never marry at all. But
she never ceased to flirt with Dudley, who, when his intrigue with Spain
fell through, cynically appealed to the French Protestants for support.
They were in no position to help him, and by January 1562, he was
cringing to Spain, and pretending to be Catholic. But English Catholics
hated him, and he was now no fit instrument for Philip.
In her own court it was firmly believed that Elizabeth was secretly
married to Dudley--it was high time, said the gossips; but in truth the
international importance of her marriage was now (1562-63) partially
obscured by that of the widowed Mary Queen of Scots. Before the latter
were dangled Eric of Sweden, the Archduke Charles, the Earl of Arran,
and Darnley; but the match which Mary most wished for, and the most
threatening to Elizabeth, was that with the vicious young lunatic, Don
Carlos, the heir of Philip of Spain. The match with Darnley, too, as he
was in the English succession, was distasteful to Elizabeth; but in
order to divert the Spanish match--which, really, though she knew it
not, was out of the question--she pretended to favour Darnley's suit at
first.
In order still more to avert the Catholic alliance, Elizabeth sent
active help to the French Huguenots, and drew closer to the Protestants
of Germany and Holland, where distrust of their Spanish sovereign was
already brewing. In these circumstances, Elizabeth for the first time
could defy Spain, and Quadra, accused of conspiring against the queen,
was expelled the country. When the Darnley match for Mary Stuart looked
too serious, Elizabeth diverted it for a time by proposing that
Dudley--now Earl of Leicester--should marry Mary. It was, of course, but
a trick, through which the Scottish queen saw, with the object of
preventing the Darnley marriage and discrediting Mary in the eyes of
foreign princes; but it served its turn for a time.
In July 1564, when the league of France and Spain again menaced her,
Elizabeth set her cap at the boy Don Carlos, and even swore to the
Spanish ambassador that she was really a Catholic.
The further to alienate the Catholic powers from each other, she
simultaneously approached the emperor to revive the proposal of marriage
with the Archduke Charles, and to Catherine de Medici to drop a hint
that she--Elizabeth--might marry the young King of France, Charles IX.,
a youth barely half her age--anything to prevent a combination against
her and the marriage of Don Carlos with Mary Stuart. Catherine de Medici
had her own reasons at the time for smiling upon Elizabeth's suggestion.
She did not wish to be bound too tightly to Spain and the Catholics, for
fear of the Huguenots; and in February 1565, she wrote to Elizabeth,
saying that she would be the happiest of mothers if she could see her
dearly beloved sister of England married to her son, Charles IX.
Elizabeth was full of maidenly hesitation. She was too old for him;
perhaps he would not think her beautiful, and so on; but she took care
to say that there was no one else she could marry, as she would not wed
a subject. The Huguenots actively pushed the proposal, and Leicester
pretended to favour it, though Cecil was against it on many grounds. But
it was never seriously meant. It brought the Huguenots to Catherine's
side on the eve of her voyage to renew the Catholic league with Philip,
and it brought the Archduke Charles once more forward as a suitor for
Elizabeth's hand. When it had thus served its purpose, the idea of the
mature English queen marrying the boy Charles IX. was dropped.
The Austrian's new advances were looked upon somewhat askance by Spain,
until his attitude towards religion was assured, and, to have a second
string, the Spanish ambassador, Guzman, affected to favour Leicester's
suit. Cecil and the conservative nobles were sincere now in their
advocacy of the archduke, and between the two parties Elizabeth steered
coquettishly and diplomatically, modestly urging the archduke's coming,
and yet flirting desperately with Leicester. The breach between the
English nobles was profound, as all but Leicester wished the question of
the queen's marriage and succession to be settled; and Leicester's
chances were stronger than ever when it became clear, late in 1565, that
the archduke would not come to England without a firm pledge. The French
played off Leicester, too, against the archduke; sometimes even again
suggesting their own king when Leicester's star waxed pale.
Later, in 1566, the Lords and Commons urged the queen to marry, even
Leicester joining in the remonstrance. But Elizabeth wished to play the
game in her own way, and soundly scolded them. She did not mean to marry
the archduke, or perhaps anyone, but whilst she kept him dangling, she
knew she need not fear the Catholic combination. Soon all danger from
that quarter disappeared for a time. Philip was in death struggle with
his Protestant subjects in Holland; civil war was again raging in
France, and Mary Stuart was a disgraced prisoner in the hands of her
enemies. In the nine years that Elizabeth had carried on the marriage
comedy she had kept the balance whilst England was growing stronger.
Now, in 1568, she could afford to rest from her labours until danger
from abroad again loomed.
_III.--Catholics and Heretics_
The peace of St. Germain in 1570 ended the long religious war in France,
and the Guises and Catholics there, free from the strife, planned the
rescue of the imprisoned Mary Stuart by force, and her marriage with the
Duke of Anjou, the heir and brother of Charles IX. This was a danger
both to Elizabeth and to the Huguenots, and was at once counteracted by
their bringing forward the suggestion that the Queen of England might
marry Anjou. He was, it is true, a fanatical Catholic, but the Huguenots
thought that with England as a bait, and the powerful mind of Elizabeth
to guide him, the youth might change his views. Leicester offered his
help--for he knew the match was unlikely--and soon Catherine de Medici's
agents were busy by Elizabeth's side. Elizabeth, as usual, was coy and
maidenly. She was too old, she said, the thought of marriage was
shocking to her; but, withal, the courtship went on actively. Anjou's
charms and rumoured gallantries were the staple gossip at her court, and
Elizabeth never tired of hearing praises of her young suitor.
But soon the Guises and the Catholic League took fright, and urged Anjou
not to be drawn into a match with a heretic too old for him. Better,
said they, win England by force and marry Mary. To England the marriage,
or a similar one, seemed really necessary. The Catholics at home and
abroad were busily plotting against Elizabeth. Philip and Alba were
ready to connive at her murder; the Protestants in Holland and France
were powerless, and this match with Anjou seemed the only way to meet
the danger. Anjou, under Catholic influence, was scornful, whilst
Catherine, anxious for the greatness of her favourite son, was in
despair at his "assottedness."
Lord Buckhurst went, as ambassador to Paris, to forward the match in
March 1571; but it soon became evident that Elizabeth could never
concede the terms demanded by the French on religion. For many months
the Huguenots, and Walsingham, as Elizabeth's ambassador, tried to
reconcile the differences; and Catherine's agents in England laboured
hard in the same cause. Elizabeth herself was ambiguous, though loving,
and sometimes even Anjou was almost persuaded by his mother to accept
the English crown matrimonial at the price demanded. For Elizabeth it
was necessary to keep up the pretence at all costs, for the Spaniards
were plotting her murder; and to split the Catholic party whilst
secretly aiding the rebel Netherlanders seemed her only chance of
safety. On one occasion, when Spain and France drew together, Elizabeth
professed to be willing to marry Anjou on his own terms; but the prince
grew ever more opposed to the match, and in January 1572, Catherine
suddenly suggested that, as Anjou was so bigoted on religion, her
youngest son, Alençon, might marry Elizabeth on any conditions she
liked.
The lad was but seventeen--a swarthy, pock-marked youth--and Elizabeth
was inclined at first to resent the way in which Anjou had flouted her.
She was thirty-nine, and her vanity was wounded; but yet the friendship
or neutrality of France was vital to her. "How tall is he?" she asked
Cecil. "About as tall as I am," replied the elderly minister. "As tall
as your grandson, you mean!" snapped the queen. But Walsingham, Smith,
and the French envoys plied her busily with descriptions of Alençon's
manly charms, and a treaty between France and England was settled by
which the Huguenots for a time became paramount in France conjointly
with the marriage of the Huguenot Henry of Navarre with Margaret, the
king's sister. Feasts and cordiality were the rules on both sides of the
Channel now, and the Huguenot leaders urged the Alençon match with
Elizabeth with all their force. In reply to all these offers, Elizabeth
replied that, though the discrepancy of age was a great drawback, yet
the pock-marks on the suitor's face were a greater objection still; yet
if he would let her see him, without a pledge, she might like him. She
would never, she said, marry a man she had not seen.
But already Charles IX. and his mother were chafing under the Huguenot
yoke and cooling towards England. They were determined not to be drawn
by their new treaty with England into war with Spain; so, under the
pretence of keeping up the negotiations for the Alençon match, they sent
the youth La Mole to England in the autumn of 1572, really for the
purpose of dissociating France from the Huguenot-English aid to the
Protestant Netherlanders. La Mole was a gallant young lover, with whom
Elizabeth was charmed, and when he played the vicarious wooer for
Alençon, she could not make enough of him. But whilst he was
philandering with her at Kenilworth, and she was losing patience at his
political mission, there fell like a thunderbolt the awful news of the
massacre of St. Bartholomew at Navarre's fatal wedding. At once the
scene changed. La Mole and the French envoy hurried away amidst curses
upon all false Frenchmen. Elizabeth, in a panic, smiled upon Spaniards
again, and, for a time, the project of a French consort for her slept.
But not for long. Alençon had no part in the massacre, and was known to
favour Huguenots. He wrote a fervent love-letter to Elizabeth, and
proposed to escape to England; whilst his agent Maisonfleur joined with
Mauvissière, the official French ambassador, in wooing Elizabeth anew
for Alençon and for France. Gradually the parties drew together again,
for Catherine was already alarmed at the effect of St. Bartholomew. All
the Protestant world was arming, the English ports were full of
privateers to attack Catholic shipping, and aid in plenty was being sent
from England to the Huguenots of Rochelle and the rebel Dutchmen.
France could therefore not afford to quarrel with England, but Anjou and
Charles IX. took care to hold Alençon tight, that he might not escape
and strengthen the Protestant cause in union with Elizabeth, whilst they
still kept up the appearance of marriage negotiations. Elizabeth was
ever on the alert to serve her cause, and in March 1573, said she would
go no further in the Alençon match unless the Protestants in Rochelle
were allowed fair terms and the siege raised. Anjou, already tired of
the war, consented, and soon afterwards Catherine asked whether
Elizabeth would now proceed with the Alençon plan. The lad had grown
much, she said, and his budding beard covered some of his facial
imperfections. It was settled that the prince should make a flying visit
to Dover, but soon Catherine began to make fresh conditions. It would be
such a shame to them, she said, if her son went and returned unmarried.
_IV.--The Lovelorn Alençon_
In the meanwhile, Alençon's love-letters to his mature flame grew
warmer; but much as Elizabeth liked such attentions, she dreaded to go
too far. Charles IX. was sinking fast, and the next heir was Anjou. With
Alençon for heir-presumptive of France, the position would be changed;
and once more the queen began to get doubtful about those unfortunate
pock-marks on her lover's face. Once Alençon planned with Henry of
Navarre to escape from his mother's custody and make a dash for England
on his own account, but Catherine held him firmly.
Both the Huguenots and the French king wished for the marriage, but each
party frustrated the other because their objects were different. When
the French ambassador, therefore, asked Elizabeth when Alençon might
come to see her, she refused to name a time, because she knew secretly
that a great Huguenot movement in France was pending, and she wished
Alençon to be there as figurehead at the time--the very thing that the
official French Government wished to avoid. The projected movement was
betrayed and suppressed, and Alençon's life was for a time in danger;
but when Henry III. (Anjou) was seated on the throne, Alençon kept
openly a rival court to that of his brother, and the Huguenots around
the prince were at deadly feud with the minions of the king.
At last the crisis came. Alençon escaped from Paris in disguise, pursued
by his mother, and, joining the Huguenots in arms, defied the king and
the Guises. France was not big enough to hold both brothers in peace,
and Catherine told Alençon that as Elizabeth seemed so ready to help him
and his Huguenots, he ought to reopen the marriage negotiations. But
Alençon was useless to England as a counterbalance to Spain unless
France herself could be pledged as well, and Elizabeth considered it
safest for the time, since that could not be done, to feign a new
cordiality with Philip.
The Catholic party in France was again paramount, and by bribery and
Catherine's diplomacy, Alençon and his friends were bought over. For the
next three years the young prince held aloof from affairs, but in 1578
the hollow truce ended; he was suspected and placed under arrest, all
his friends being cast into the Bastille. In February, 1578, Alençon
broke his prison and fled, and all France was plunged into turmoil.
Elizabeth was profoundly moved. The keynote of English policy was the
exclusion of France from Flanders, and if Alençon was secretly supported
in his action by his brother, then Elizabeth must oppose to the death
any interference in Flanders.
And so began the long and clever juggle by which she used Alençon's
ambition to wed her as a means to compass her ends without marrying him.
Huguenots flocked to Alençon's standard, whilst he sent by every post
love-lorn epistles to Elizabeth, praying her to aid him to free Flanders
from the bloodthirsty Spaniards. On July 7, 1578, Alençon entered
Flanders with his army, and Elizabeth, still full of distrust of
Frenchmen, feigned to Spaniards her deep disapproval, whilst she took
care that many English and Germans in her pay slipped into Flanders at
the same time, to prevent any French national domination. Presently,
persuaded that Alençon had no secret pact with his brother, Elizabeth
took Alençon and the Flemish revolt into her own hands, and effusively
welcomed Alençon's envoys who came to promote his love suit.
He chose for his emissary one Jehan Simier, an experienced gallant, who
soon wooed Elizabeth to such good purpose that she fell violently in
love with the messenger, as well as with his absent master. Protestant
England took fright at the pending marriage of the queen with a papist
of half her age. Simier, whom she called her "monkey," had bewitched
her, said the courtiers, and remonstrances from all sides came to the
queen.
_V.--The Battle of Wits_
Alençon's demands were high, but Elizabeth seems really for once to have
lost her head, and but for the strong opposition of her Council, might
have been drawn into the marriage. Simier, seeing the deadlock, decided
to bring Alençon over at all risks. Leicester, deadly jealous, tried to
assassinate Simier, who revenged himself by divulging to the queen
Leicester's secret marriage. Elizabeth was beside herself with rage, and
more in love than ever with Alençon and his envoy. At length, in August
1579, the young French prince, in disguise, suddenly appeared at
Greenwich. The queen's vanity was flattered, and though the visit was
supposed to be secret, she hardly left her young lover, whilst he, to
judge by his letters, was as badly smitten as she. But though she
promised him marriage, he had to return with little else, and as soon as
he had gone she found many good reasons for delay and hesitation.
In October 1580, a new Catholic combination forced Elizabeth's hands,
and she promised greater help to Alençon's project, whilst trying to
draw France also into open war with Spain. The combat of wits was keen
and cynical, each party trying to pledge the other and to keep free
himself. A great French embassy came to England in April 1581, to
negotiate an alliance and the queen's marriage with Alençon, who had now
re-entered Flanders and was immersed in the struggle against the
Spaniards. The discussions in England were becoming interminable, for
the French ambassadors asked hard terms, when Alençon, in June 1581,
losing patience, suddenly rushed over to England to plead his own cause
independently of his brother's envoys, whom he distrusted with good
reason. This suited Elizabeth, for it made Alençon more dependent upon
her, and again she sent her lover back full of great promises to help
him.
In August Alençon again entered Flanders, depending entirely upon
Elizabeth for support, and thenceforward he looked alone to his marriage
with her for his salvation. She was sparing, and the poor prince retired
to France in September. In desperation he came to England again to press
for money and marriage in November 1581; and for months the love-making
was fast and furious. Frantic prayers, sighs, and tears on his part were
answered by kisses and promises on hers, but she gave as little money as
would serve to get rid of him. On February 1, 1582, Alençon sailed for
Holland to Elizabeth's professed grief and real joy; and thenceforward
the prince, first in Flanders as sovereign, and afterwards in France a
fugitive, supplicated and threatened his betrothed for money, and ever
more money. But Elizabeth had now taken the Netherlands revolt into her
own hands, and thenceforward her French lover was useless to her there.
So, though she still kept up the pretence of her willingness to marry
him on impossible conditions, and drove the poor creature to love-lorn
despair, Alençon had served his matrimonial purpose before he died, in
1584, and Elizabeth's courtships with a political object came to an end.
She and England were strong enough now to face her possible foes without
fear.
* * * * *