Secret Treaty between Queen and Parma--Excitement and Alarm in the
States--Religious Persecution in England--Queen's Sincerity toward
Spain--Language and Letters of Parma--Negotiations of De Loo--
English Commissioners appointed--Parma's affectionate Letter to the
Queen--Philip at his Writing-Table--His Plots with Parma against
England--Parma's secret Letters to the King--Philip's Letters to
Parma Wonderful Duplicity of Philip--His sanguine Views as to
England--He is reluctant to hear of the Obstacles--and imagines
Parma in England--But Alexander's Difficulties are great--He
denounces Philip's wild Schemes--Walsingham aware of the Spanish
Plot--which the States well understand--Leicester's great
Unpopularity--The Queen warned against Treating--Leicester's Schemes
against Barneveld--Leicestrian Conspiracy at Leyden--The Plot to
seize the City discovered--Three Ringleaders sentenced to Death--
Civil War in France--Victory gained by Navarre, and one by Guise--
Queen recalls Leicester--Who retires on ill Terms with the States--
Queen warned as to Spanish Designs--Result's of Leicester's
Administration.
The course of Elizabeth towards the Provinces, in the matter of the
peace, was certainly not ingenuous, but it was not absolutely deceitful.
She concealed and denied the negotiations, when the Netherland statesmen
were perfectly aware of their existence, if not of their tenour; but she
was not prepared, as they suspected, to sacrifice their liberties and
their religion, as the price of her own reconciliation with Spain.
Her attitude towards the States was imperious, over-bearing, and abusive.
She had allowed the Earl of Leicester to return, she said, because of her
love for the poor and oppressed people, but in many of her official and
in all her private communications, she denounced the men who governed
that people as ungrateful wretches and impudent liars!
These were the corrosives and vinegar which she thought suitable for the
case; and the Earl was never weary in depicting the same statesmen as
seditious, pestilent, self-seeking, mischief-making traitors. These
secret, informal negotiations, had been carried on during most of the
year 1587. It was the "comptroller's peace;", as Walsingham
contemptuously designated the attempted treaty; for it will be
recollected that Sir James Croft, a personage of very mediocre abilities,
had always been more busy than any other English politician in these
transactions. He acted; however, on the inspiration of Burghley, who
drew his own from the fountainhead.
But it was in vain for the Queen to affect concealment. The States knew
everything which was passing, before Leicester knew. His own secret
instructions reached the Netherlands before he did. His secretary,
Junius, was thrown into prison, and his master's letter taken from him,
before there had been any time to act upon its treacherous suggestions.
When the Earl wrote letters with, his own hand to his sovereign, of so
secret a nature that he did not even retain a single copy for himself,
for fear of discovery, he found, to his infinite disgust, that the States
were at once provided with an authentic transcript of every line that he
had written. It was therefore useless, almost puerile, to deny facts
which were quite as much within the knowledge of the Netherlanders as of
himself. The worst consequence of the concealment was, that a deeper
treachery was thought possible than actually existed. "The fellow they
call Barneveld," as Leicester was in the habit of designating one of the
first statesmen in Europe, was perhaps justified, knowing what he did, in
suspecting more. Being furnished with a list of commissioners, already
secretly agreed upon between the English and Spanish governments, to
treat for peace, while at the same time the Earl was beating his breast,
and flatly denying that there was any intention of treating with Parma at
all, it was not unnatural that he should imagine a still wider and deeper
scheme than really existed, against the best interests of his country.
He may have expressed, in private conversation, some suspicions of this
nature, but there is direct evidence that he never stated in public
anything which was not afterwards proved to be matter of fact, or of
legitimate inference from the secret document which had come into his
hands. The Queen exhausted herself in opprobious language against those
who dared to impute to her a design to obtain possession of the cities
and strong places of the Netherlands, in order to secure a position in
which to compel the Provinces into obedience to her policy. She urged,
with much logic, that as she had refused the sovereignty of the whole
country when offered to her, she was not likely to form surreptitious
schemes to make herself mistress of a portion of it. On the other hand,
it was very obvious, that to accept the sovereignty of Philip's
rebellious Provinces, was to declare war upon Philip; whereas, had she
been pacifically inclined towards that sovereign, and treacherously
disposed towards the Netherlands, it would be a decided advantage to her
to have those strong places in her power. But the suspicions as to her
good faith were exaggerated. As to the intentions of Leicester, the
States were justified in their almost unlimited distrust. It is very
certain that both in 1586, and again, at this very moment, when Elizabeth
was most vehement in denouncing such aspersions on her government, he had
unequivocally declared to her his intention of getting possession, if
possible, of several cities, and of the whole Island of Walcheren, which,
together with the cautionary towns already in his power, would enable the
Queen to make good terms for herself with Spain, "if the worst came to
the, worst." It will also soon be shown that he did his best to carry
these schemes into execution. There is no evidence, however, and no
probability, that he had received the royal commands to perpetrate such a
crime.
The States believed also, that in those secret negotiations with Parma
the Queen was disposed to sacrifice the religious interests of the
Netherlands. In this they were mistaken. But they had reason for their
mistake, because the negotiator De Loo, had expressly said, that, in her
overtures to Farnese, she had abandoned that point altogether. If this
had been so, it would have simply been a consent on the part of
Elizabeth, that the Catholic religion and the inquisition should be
re-established in the Provinces, to the exclusion of every other form of
worship or polity. In truth, however, the position taken by her Majesty
on the subject was as fair as could be reasonably expected. Certainly
she was no advocate for religious liberty. She chose that her own
subjects should be Protestants, because she had chosen to be a Protestant
herself, and because it was an incident of her supremacy, to dictate
uniformity of creed to all beneath her sceptre. No more than her father,
who sent to the stake or gallows heretics to transubstantiation as well
as believers in the Pope, had Elizabeth the faintest idea of religious
freedom. Heretics to the English Church were persecuted, fined,
imprisoned, mutilated, and murdered, by sword, rope, and fire. In some
respects, the practice towards those who dissented from Elizabeth was
more immoral and illogical, even if less cruel, than that to which those
were subjected who rebelled against Sixtus. The Act of Uniformity
required Papists to assist at the Protestant worship, but wealthy Papists
could obtain immunity by an enormous fine. The Roman excuse to destroy
bodies in order to save souls, could scarcely be alleged by a Church
which might be bribed into connivance at heresy, and which derived a
revenue from the very nonconformity for which humbler victims were sent
to the gallows. It would, however, be unjust in the extreme to overlook
the enormous difference in the amount of persecution, exercised
respectively by the Protestant and the Roman Church. It is probable that
not many more than two hundred Catholics were executed as such, in
Elizabeth's reign, and this was ten score too many. But what was this
against eight hundred heretics burned, hanged, and drowned, in one Easter
week by Alva, against the eighteen thousand two hundred went to stake and
scaffold, as he boasted during his administration, against the vast
numbers of Protestants, whether they be counted by tens or by hundreds of
thousands, who perished by the edicts of Charles V., in the Netherlands,
or in the single Saint Bartholomew Massacre in France? Moreover, it
should never be forgotten--from undue anxiety for impartiality--that most
of the Catholics who were executed in England, suffered as conspirators
rather than as heretics. No foreign potentate, claiming to be vicegerent
of Christ, had denounced Philip as a bastard and, usurper, or had, by
means of a blasphemous fiction, which then was a terrible reality,
severed the bonds of allegiance by which his subjects were held, cut him
off from all communion with his fellow-creatures, and promised temporal
rewards and a crown of glory in heaven to those who should succeed in
depriving him of throne and life. Yet this was the position of
Elizabeth. It was war to the knife between her and Rome, declared by
Rome itself; nor was there any doubt whatever that the Seminary Priests
--seedlings transplanted from foreign nurseries, which were as watered
gardens for the growth of treason--were a perpetually organized band of
conspirators and assassins, with whom it was hardly an act of excessive
barbarity to deal in somewhat summary fashion. Doubtless it would have
been a more lofty policy, and a far more intelligent one, to extend
towards the Catholics of England, who as a body were loyal to their
country, an ample toleration. But it could scarcely be expected that
Elizabeth Tudor, as imperious and absolute by temperament as her father
had ever been, would be capable of embodying that great principle.
When, in the preliminaries to the negotiations of 1587, therefore, it was
urged on the part of Spain, that the Queen was demanding a concession of
religious liberty from Philip to the Netherlanders which she refused to
English heretics, and that he only claimed the same right of dictating a
creed to his subjects which she exercised in regard to her own, Lord
Burghley replied that the statement was correct. The Queen permitted--
it was true--no man to profess any religion but the one which she
professed. At the same time it was declared to be unjust, that those
persons in the Netherlands who had been for years in the habit of
practising Protestant rites, should be suddenly compelled, without
instruction, to abandon that form of worship. It was well known that
many would rather die than submit to such oppression, and it was affirmed
that the exercise of this cruelty would be resisted by her to the
uttermost. There was no hint of the propriety--on any logical basis--
of leaving the question of creed as a matter between man and his Maker,
with which any dictation on the part of crown or state was an act of
odious tyranny. There was not even a suggestion that the Protestant
doctrines were true, and the Catholic doctrines false. The matter was
merely taken up on the 'uti possidetis' principle, that they who had
acquired the fact of Protestant worship had a right to retain it, and
could not justly be deprived of it, except by instruction and persuasion.
It was also affirmed that it was not the English practice to inquire into
men's consciences. It would have been difficult, however, to make that
very clear to Philip's comprehension, because, if men, women, and
children, were scourged with rods, imprisoned and hanged, if they refused
to conform publicly to a ceremony at which their consciences revolted-
unless they had money enough to purchase non-conformity--it seemed to be
the practice to inquire very effectively into their consciences.
But if there was a certain degree of disingenuousness on the part of
Elizabeth towards the States, her attitude towards Parma was one of
perfect sincerity. A perusal of the secret correspondence leaves no
doubt whatever on that point. She was seriously and fervently desirous
of peace with Spain. On the part of Farnese and his master, there was
the most unscrupulous mendacity, while the confiding simplicity and
truthfulness of the Queen in these negotiations was almost pathetic.
Especially she declared her trust in the loyal and upright character of
Parma, in which she was sure of never being disappointed. It is only
doing justice to Alexander to say that he was as much deceived by her
frankness as she by his falsehood. It never entered his head that a
royal personage and the trusted counsellors of a great kingdom could be
telling the truth in a secret international transaction, and he justified
the industry with which his master and himself piled fiction upon
fiction, by their utter disbelief in every word which came to them from
England.
The private negotiations had been commenced, or rather had been renewed,
very early in February of this year. During the whole critical period
which preceded and followed the execution of Mary, in the course of which
the language of Elizabeth towards the States had been so shrewish, there
had been the gentlest diplomatic cooing between Farnese and herself. It
was--Dear Cousin, you know how truly I confide in your sincerity, how
anxious I am that this most desirable peace should be arranged; and it
was--Sacred Majesty, you know how much joy I feel in your desire for the
repose of the world, and for a solid peace between your Highness and the
King my master; how much I delight in concord--how incapable I am by
ambiguous words of spinning out these transactions, or of deceiving your
Majesty, and what a hatred I feel for steel, fire, and blood.'
Four or five months rolled on, during which Leicester had been wasting
time in England, Farnese wasting none before Sluys, and the States doing
their best to counteract the schemes both of their enemy and of their
ally. De Loo made a visit, in July, to the camp of the Duke of Parma,
and received the warmest assurances of his pacific dispositions. "I am
much pained," said Alexander, "with this procrastination. I am so full
of sincerity myself, that it seems to me a very strange matter, this
hostile descent by Drake upon the coasts of Spain. The result of such
courses will be, that the King will end by being exasperated, and I shall
be touched in my honour--so great is the hopes I have held out of being
able to secure a peace. I have ever been and I still am most anxious for
concord, from the affection I bear to her sacred Majesty. I have been
obliged, much against my will, to take the field again. I could wish now
that our negotiations might terminate before the arrival of my fresh
troops, namely, 9000 Spaniards and 9000 Italians, which, with Walloons,
Germans, and Lorrainers, will give me an effective total of 30,000
soldiers. Of this I give you my word as a gentleman. Go, then, Andrew
de Loo," continued the Duke, "write to her sacred Majesty, that I desire
to make peace; and to serve her faithfully; and that I shall not change
my mind, even in case of any great success, for I like to proceed rather
by the ways of love than of rigour and effusion of bleed."
"I can assure you, oh, most serene Duke," replied Andrew, "that the most
serene Queen is in the very same dispositions with yourself."
"Excellent well then," said the Duke, "we shall come to an agreement
at once, and the sooner the deputies on both sides are appointed the
better."
A feeble proposition was then made, on the part of the peace-loving
Andrew, that the hostile operations against Sluy's should be at once
terminated. But this did not seem so clear to the most serene Duke. He
had gone to great expense in that business; and he had not built bridges,
erected forts, and dug mines, only to abandon them for a few fine words,
Fine words were plenty, but they raised no sieges. Meantime these
pacific and gentle murmurings from Farnese's camp had lulled the Queen
into forgetfulness of Roger Williams and Arnold Groenevelt and their men,
fighting day and night in trench and mine during that critical midsummer.
The wily tongue of the Duke had been more effective than his batteries in
obtaining the much-coveted city. The Queen obstinately held back her men
and money, confident of effecting a treaty, whether Sluys fell or not.
Was it strange that the States should be distrustful of her intentions,
and, in their turn, become neglectful of their duty?
And thus summer wore into autumn, Sluys fell, the States and their
governor-general were at daggers-drawn, the Netherlanders were full of
distrust with regard to England, Alexander hinted doubts as to the
Queen's sincerity; the secret negotiations, though fertile in suspicions,
jealousies, delays, and such foul weeds, had produced no wholesome fruit,
and the excellent De Loo became very much depressed. At last a letter
from Burghley relieved his drooping spirits. From the most disturbed and
melancholy man in the world, he protested, he had now become merry and
quiet. He straightway went off to the Duke of Parma, with the letter in
his pocket, and translated it to him by candlelight, as he was careful to
state, as an important point in his narrative. And Farnese was fuller of
fine phrases than ever.
"There is no cause whatever," said he, in a most loving manner, "to doubt
my sincerity. Yet the Lord-Treasurer intimates that the most serene
Queen is disposed so to do. But if I had not the very best intentions,
and desires for peace, I should never have made the first overtures. If
I did not wish a pacific solution, what in the world forced me to do what
I have done? On the contrary, it is I that have reason to suspect the
other parties with their long delays, by which they have made me lose the
best part of the summer."
He then commented on the strong expressions in the English letters, as to
the continuance of her Majesty in her pious resolutions; observed that he
was thoroughly advised of the disputes between the Earl of Leicester and
the States; and added that it was very important for the time indicated
by the Queen.
"Whatever is to be done," said he, in conclusion, "let it be done
quickly;" and with that he said he would go and eat a bit of supper.
"And may I communicate Lord Burghley's letter to any one else?" asked De
Loo.
"Yes, yes, to the Seigneur de Champagny, and to my secretary Cosimo,"
answered his Highness.
So the merchant negotiator proceeded at once to the mansion of Champagny,
in company with the secretary Cosimo. There was a long conference, in
which De Loo was informed of many things which he thoroughly believed,
and faithfully transmitted to the court of Elizabeth. Alexander had done
his best, they said, to delay the arrival of his fresh troops. He had
withdrawn from the field, on various pretexts, hoping, day after day,
that the English commissioners would arrive, and that a firm and
perpetual peace would succeed to the miseries of war. But as time wore
away, and there came no commissioners, the Duke had come to the painful
conclusion that he had been trifled with. His forces would now be sent
into Holland to find something to eat; and this would ensure the total
destruction of all that territory. He had also written to command all
the officers of the coming troops to hasten their march, in order that
he might avoid incurring still deeper censure. He was much ashamed,
in truth, to have been wheedled into passing the whole fine season in
idleness. He had been sacrificing himself for her sacred Majesty, and
to, serve her best interests; and now he found himself the object of her
mirth. Those who ought to be well informed had assured him that the
Queen was only waiting to see how the King of Navarre was getting on with
the auxiliary force just, going to him from Germany, that she had no
intention whatever to make peace, and that, before long, he might expect
all these German mercenaries upon his shoulders in the Netherlands.
Nevertheless he was prepared to receive them with 40,000 good infantry,
a splendid cavalry force, and plenty of money.'
All this and more did the credulous Andrew greedily devour; and he lost
no time in communicating the important intelligence to her Majesty and
the Lord-Treasurer. He implored her, he said, upon his bare knees,
prostrate on the ground, and from the most profound and veritable centre
of his heart and with all his soul and all his strength, to believe in
the truth of the matters thus confided to him. He would pledge his
immortal soul, which was of more value to him--as he correctly observed
--than even the crown of Spain, that the King, the Duke, and his
counsellors, were most sincerely desirous of peace, and actuated by the
most loving and benevolent motives. Alexander Farnese was "the antidote
to the Duke of Alva," kindly sent by heaven, 'ut contraria contrariis
curenter,' and if the entire security of the sacred Queen were not now
obtained, together with a perfect reintegration of love between her
Majesty and the King of Spain, and with the assured tranquillity and
perpetual prosperity of the Netherlands, it would be the fault of
England; not of Spain.
And no doubt the merchant believed all that was told him, and--what was
worse--that he fully impressed his own convictions upon her Majesty and
Lord Burghley, to say nothing of the comptroller, who, poor man, had
great facility in believing anything that came from the court of the
most Catholic King: yet it is painful to reflect, that in all these
communications of Alexander and his agents, there was not one single
word of truth.--It was all false from beginning to end, as to the
countermanding of the troops,--as to the pacific intentions of the King
and Duke, and as to the proposed campaign in Friesland, in case of
rupture; and all the rest. But this will be conclusively proved a little
later.
Meantime the conference had been most amicable and satisfactory. And
when business was over, Champagny--not a whit the worse for the severe
jilting which he had so recently sustained from the widow De Bours, now
Mrs. Aristotle Patton--invited De Loo and Secretary Cosimo to supper.
And the three made a night of it, sitting up late, and draining such huge
bumpers to the health of the Queen of England, that--as the excellent
Andrew subsequently informed Lord Burghley--his head ached most bravely
next morning.
And so, amid the din of hostile preparation not only in Cadiz and Lisbon,
but in Ghent and Sluys and Antwerp, the import of which it seemed
difficult to mistake, the comedy of, negotiation was still rehearsing,
and the principal actors were already familiar with their respective
parts. There were the Earl of Derby, knight of the garter, and my Lord
Cobham; and puzzling James Croft, and other Englishmen, actually
believing that the farce was a solemn reality. There was Alexander of
Parma thoroughly aware of the contrary. There was Andrew de Loo, more
talkative, more credulous, more busy than ever, and more fully impressed
with the importance of his mission, and there was the white-bearded
Lord-Treasurer turning complicated paragraphs; shaking his head and
waving his wand across the water, as if, by such expedients, the storm
about to burst over England could, be dispersed.
The commissioners should come, if only the Duke of Parma would declare
on his word of honour, that these hostile preparations with which all
Christendom was ringing; were not intended against England; or if that
really were the case--if he would request his master to abandon all such
schemes, and if Philip in consequence would promise on the honour of a
prince, to make no hostile attempts against that country.
There would really seem an almost Arcadian simplicity in such demands,
coming from so practised a statesman as the Lord-Treasurer, and from a
woman of such brilliant intellect as Elizabeth unquestionably possessed.
But we read the history of 1587, not only by the light of subsequent
events, but by the almost microscopic revelations of sentiments and
motives, which a full perusal of the secret documents in those ancient
cabinets afford. At that moment it was not ignorance nor dulness which
was leading England towards the pitfall so artfully dug by Spain. There
was trust in the plighted word of a chivalrous soldier like Alexander
Farnese, of a most religious and anointed monarch like Philip II.
English frankness, playing cards upon the table, was no match for Italian
and Spanish legerdemain, a system according to which, to defraud the
antagonist by every kind of falsehood and trickery was the legitimate end
of diplomacy and statesmanship. It was well known that there were great
preparations in Spain, Portugal, and the obedient Netherlands, by land
and sea. But Sir Robert Sidney was persuaded that the expedition was
intended for Africa; even the Pope was completely mystified--to the
intense delight of Philip--and Burghley, enlightened by the sagacious
De Loo, was convinced, that even in case of a rupture, the whole strength
of the Spanish arms was to be exerted in reducing Friesland and
Overyssel. But Walsingham was never deceived; for he had learned from
Demosthenes a lesson with which William the Silent, in his famous
Apology, had made the world familiar, that the only citadel against a
tyrant and a conqueror was distrust.
Alexander, much grieved that doubts should still be felt as to his
sincerity, renewed the most exuberant expressions of that sentiment,
together with gentle complaints against the dilatoriness which had
proceeded from the doubt. Her Majesty had long been aware, he said,
of his anxiety to bring about a perfect reconciliation; but he had
waited, month after month, for her commissioners, and had waited in vain.
His hopes had been dashed to the ground. The affair had been
indefinitely spun out, and he could not resist the conviction that her
Majesty had changed her mind. Nevertheless, as Andrew de Loo was again
proceeding to England, the Duke seized the opportunity once more to kiss
her hand, and--although he had well nigh resolved to think no more on the
subject--to renew his declarations, that, if the much-coveted peace were
not concluded, the blame could not be imputed to him, and that he should
stand guiltless before God and the world. He had done, and was still
ready to do, all which became a Christian and a man desirous of the
public welfare and tranquillity.
When Burghley read these fine phrases, he was much impressed;
and they were pronounced at the English court to be "very princely and
Christianly." An elaborate comment too was drawn up by the comptroller
on every line of the letter. "These be very good words," said the
comptroller.
But the Queen was even more pleased with the last proof of the Duke's
sincerity, than even Burghley and Croft had been. Disregarding all the
warnings of Walsingham, she renewed her expressions of boundless
confidence in the wily Italian. "We do assure you," wrote the Lords,
"and so you shall do well to avow it to the Duke upon our honours,
that her Majesty saith she thinketh both their minds to accord upon one
good and Christian meaning, though their ministers may perchance sound
upon a discord." And she repeated her resolution to send over her
commissioners, so soon as the Duke had satisfied her as to the hostile
preparations.
We have now seen the good faith of the English Queen towards the Spanish
government. We have seen her boundless trust in the sincerity of Farnese
and his master. We have heard the exuberant professions of an honest
intention to bring about a firm and lasting peace, which fell from the
lips of Farnese and of his confidential agents. It is now necessary to
glide for a moment into the secret cabinet of Philip, in order to satisfy
ourselves as to the value of all those professions. The attention of the
reader is solicited to these investigations, because the year 1587 was a
most critical period in the history of English, Dutch, and European
liberty. The coming year 1588 had been long spoken of in prophecy, as
the year of doom, perhaps of the destruction of the world, but it was in
1587, the year of expectation and preparation, that the materials were
slowly combining out of which that year's history was to be formed.
And there sat the patient letter-writer in his cabinet, busy with his
schemes. His grey head was whitening fast. He was sixty years of age.
His frame was slight, his figure stooping, his digestion very weak, his
manner more glacial and sepulchral than ever; but if there were a hard-
working man in Europe, that man was Philip II. And there he sat at his
table, scrawling his apostilles. The fine innumerable threads which
stretched across the surface of Christendom, and covered it as with a
net, all converged in that silent cheerless cell. France was kept in a
state of perpetual civil war; the Netherlands had been converted into a
shambles; Ireland was maintained in a state of chronic rebellion;
Scotland was torn with internal feuds, regularly organized and paid for
by Philip; and its young monarch--"that lying King of Scots," as
Leicester called him--was kept in a leash ready to be slipped upon
England, when his master should give the word; and England herself was
palpitating with the daily expectation of seeing a disciplined horde of
brigands let loose upon her shores; and all this misery, past, present,
and future, was almost wholly due to the exertions of that grey-haired
letter-writer at his peaceful library-table.
At the very beginning of the year the King of Denmark had made an offer
to Philip of mediation. The letter, entrusted to a young Count de
Rantzan, had been intercepted by the States--the envoy not having availed
himself, in time, of his diplomatic capacity, and having in consequence
been treated, for a moment, like a prisoner of war. The States had
immediately addressed earnest letters of protest to Queen Elizabeth,
declaring that nothing which the enemy could do in war was half so
horrible to them as the mere mention of peace. Life, honour, religion,
liberty, their all, were at stake, they said, and would go down in one
universal shipwreck, if peace should be concluded; and they implored her
Majesty to avert the proposed intercession of the Danish King. Wilkes
wrote to Walsingham denouncing that monarch and his ministers as
stipendiaries of Spain, while, on the other hand, the Duke of Parma,
after courteously thanking the King for his offer of mediation, described
him to Philip as such a dogged heretic, that no good was to be derived
from him, except by meeting his fraudulent offers with an equally
fraudulent response. There will be nothing lost, said Alexander, by
affecting to listen to his proposals, and meantime your Majesty must
proceed with the preparations against England. This was in the first
week of the year 1587.
In February, and almost on the very day when Parma was writing those
affectionate letters to Elizabeth, breathing nothing but peace, he was
carefully conning Philip's directions in regard to the all-important
business of the invasion. He was informed by his master, that one
hundred vessels, forty of them of largest size, were quite ready,
together with 12,000 Spanish infantry, including 3000 of the old legion,
and that there were volunteers more than enough. Philip had also taken
note, he said, of Alexander's advice as to choosing the season when the
crops in England had just been got in, as the harvest of so fertile a
country would easily support an invading force; but he advised
nevertheless that the army should be thoroughly victualled at starting.
Finding that Alexander did not quite approve of the Irish part of the
plan, he would reconsider the point, and think more of the Isle of Wight;
but perhaps still some other place might be discovered, a descent upon
which might inspire that enemy with still greater terror and confusion.
It would be difficult for him, he said, to grant the 6000 men asked for
by the Scotch malcontents, without seriously weakening his armada; but
there must be no positive refusal, for a concerted action with the Scotch
lords and their adherents was indispensable. The secret, said the King,
had been profoundly kept, and neither in Spain nor in Rome had anything
been allowed to transpire. Alexander was warned therefore to do his best
to maintain the mystery, for the enemy was trying very hard to penetrate
their actions and their thoughts.
And certainly Alexander did his best. He replied to his master, by
transmitting copies of the letters he had been writing with his own hand
to the Queen, and of the, pacific messages he had sent her through
Champagny. and De Loo. She is just now somewhat confused, said he, and
those of her counsellors who desire peace, are more eager, than ever for
negotiation. She is very much afflicted with the loss of Deventer, and
is quarrelling with the French ambassador about the new conspiracy for
her assassination. The opportunity is a good one, and if she writes an
answer to my letter, said Alexander, we can keep the negotiation, alive,
while, if she does not, 'twill be a proof that she has contracted leagues
with other parties. But, in any event, the Duke fervently implored
Philip not to pause in his preparations for the great enterprise which he
had conceived in his royal breast. So urgent for the invasion was the
peace-loving general.
He alluded also to the supposition that the quarrel between her Majesty
and the French envoy was a mere fetch, and only one of the results of
Bellievre's mission. Whether that diplomatist had been sent to censure,
or in reality to approve, in the name of his master, of the Scottish
Queen's execution, Alexander would leave to be discussed by Don
Bernardino de Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador in Paris; but he was of
opinion that the anger of the Queen with France was a fiction, and her
supposed league with France and Germany against Spain a fact. Upon this
point, as it appears from Secretary Walsingham's lamentations, the astute
Farnese was mistaken.
In truth he was frequently, led into error to the English policy the same
serpentine movement and venomous purpose which characterized his own; and
we have already seen; that Elizabeth was ready, on the contrary, to
quarrel with the States, with France, with all the world, if she could
only secure the good-will of Philip.
The French-matter, indissolubly connected in that monarch's schemes, with
his designs upon England and Holland, was causing Alexander much anxiety.
He foresaw great difficulty in maintaining that, indispensable civil war
in France, and thought that a peace might, some fine day, be declared
between Henry III. and the Huguenots, when least expected. In
consequence, the Duke of Guise was becoming very importunate for Philip's
subsidies. "Mucio comes begging to me," said Parma, "with the very
greatest earnestness, and utters nothing but lamentations and cries of
misery. He asked for 25,000 of the 150,000 ducats promised him. I gave
them. Soon afterwards he writes, with just as much anxiety, for 25,000
more. These I did not give; firstly, because I had them not," (which
would seem a sufficient reason) "and secondly, because I wished to
protract matters as much as possible. He is constantly reminding me of
your Majesty's promise of 300,000 ducats, in case he comes to a rupture
with the King of France, and I always assure him that your Majesty will
keep all promises."
Philip, on his part, through the months of spring, continued to assure
his generalissimo of his steady preparations--by sea and land. He had
ordered Mendoza to pay the Scotch lords the sum demanded by them, but not
till after they had done the deed as agreed upon; and as to the 6000 men,
he felt obliged, he said, to defer that matter for the moment; and to
leave the decision upon it to the Duke. Farnese kept his sovereign
minutely informed of the negociations carried on through Champagny and De
Loo, and expressed his constant opinion that the Queen was influenced by
motives as hypocritical as his own. She was only seeking, he said, to
deceive, to defraud, to put him to sleep, by those feigned negotiations,
while, she was making her combinations with France and Germany, for the
ruin of Spain. There was no virtue to be expected from her, except she
was compelled thereto by pure necessity. The English, he said, were
hated and abhorred by the natives of Holland and Zeeland, and it behoved
Philip to seize so favourable an opportunity for urging on his great plan
with all the speed in the world. It might be that the Queen, seeing
these mighty preparations, even although not suspecting that she herself
was to be invaded, would tremble for her safety, if the Netherlands
should be crushed. But if she succeeded in deceiving Spain, and putting
Philip and Parma to sleep, she might well boast of having made fools of
them all. The negotiations for peace and the preparations for the
invasion should go simultaneously forward therefore, and the money would,
in consequence, come more sparingly to the Provinces from the English
coffers, and the disputes between England and the States would be
multiplied. The Duke also begged to be informed whether any terms could
be laid down, upon which the King really would conclude peace; in order
that he might make no mistake for want of instructions or requisite
powers. The condition of France was becoming more alarming every day, he
said. In other words, there was an ever-growing chance of peace for that
distracted country. The Queen of England was cementing a strong league
between herself, the French King, and the Huguenots; and matters were
looking very serious. The impending peace in France would never do, and
Philip should prevent it in time, by giving Mucio his money. Unless the
French are entangled and at war among themselves, it is quite clear, said
Alexander, that we can never think of carrying out our great scheme of
invading England.
The King thoroughly concurred in all that was said and done by his
faithful governor and general. He had no intention of concluding a peace
on any terms whatever, and therefore could name no conditions; but he
quite approved of a continuance of the negotiations. The English,
he was convinced, were utterly false on their part, and the King of
Denmark's proposition to-mediate was part and parcel of the same general
fiction. He was quite sensible of the necessity of giving Mucio the
money to prevent a pacification in France, and would send letters of
exchange on Agostino Spinola for the 300,000 ducats. Meantime Farnese
was to go on steadily with his preparations for the invasion.
The secretary-of-state, Don Juan de Idiaquez, also wrote most earnestly
on the great subject to the Duke. "It is not to be exaggerated", he
said, "how set his Majesty is in the all-important business. If you wish
to manifest towards him the most flattering obedience on earth, and to
oblige him as much as you could wish, give him this great satisfaction
this year. Since you have money, prepare everything out there, conquer
all difficulties, and do the deed so soon as the forces of Spain and
Italy arrive, according to the plan laid down by your Excellency last
year. Make use of the negotiations for peace for this one purpose, and
no more, and do the business like the man you are. Attribute the liberty
of this advice to my desire to serve you more than any other, to my
knowledge of how much you will thereby gratify his Majesty, and to my
fear of his resentment towards you, in the contrary case."
And, on the same day, in order that there might be no doubt of the royal
sentiments, Philip expressed himself at length on the whole subject. The
dealings of Farnese with the English, and his feeding them with hopes of
peace, would have given him more satisfaction, he observed, if it had
caused their preparations to slacken; but, on the contrary, their
boldness had increased. They had perpetrated the inhuman murder of the
Queen of Scots, and moreover, not content with their piracies at sea and
in the Indies, they had dared to invade the ports of Spain, as would
appear in the narrative transmitted to Farnese of the late events at
Cadiz. And although that damage was small, said Philip; there resulted a
very great obligation to take them 'seriously in hand.' He declined
sending fill powers for treating; but in order to make use of the same
arts employed by the English, he preferred that Alexander should not
undeceive them, but desired him to express, as out of his own head; to
the negotiators, his astonishment that while they were holding such
language they should commit such actions. Even their want of prudence in
thus provoking the King; when their strength was compared to his, should
be spoken of by Farnese as--wonderful, and he was to express the opinion
that his Majesty would think him much wanting in circumspection, should
he go on negotiating while they were playing such tricks. "You must show
yourself very sensitive, about this event," continued Philip, "and you
must give them to understand that I am quite as angry as you. You must
try to draw from them some offer of satisfaction--however false it will
be in reality--such as a proposal to recall the fleet, or an, assertion
that the deeds of Drake in Cadiz were without the knowledge and contrary
to the will of the Queen, and that she very much regrets them, or
something of that sort."
It has already been shown that Farnese was very successful in eliciting
from the Queen, through the mouth of Lord' Burghley, as ample a disavowal
and repudiation of Sir Francis Drake as the King could possibly desire.
Whether it would have the desired effect--of allaying the wrath of
Philip; might have been better foretold, could the letter, with which we
are now occupied, have been laid upon the Greenwich council-board.
"When you have got, such a disavowal," continued his Majesty, "you are to
act as if entirely taken in and imposed upon by them, and, pretending to
believe everything they tell you, you must renew the negotiations,
proceed to name commissioners, and propose a meeting upon neutral
territory. As for powers; say that you, as my governor-general, will
entrust them to your deputies, in regard to the Netherlands. For all
other matters, say that you have had full powers for many months, but
that you cannot exhibit them until conditions worthy of my acceptance
have been offered.--Say this only for the sake of appearance. This is
the true way to take them in, and so the peace-commissioners may meet.
But to you only do I declare that my intention is that this shall never
lead to any result, whatever conditions maybe offered by them. On the
contrary, all this is done--just as they do--to deceive them, and to cool
them in their preparations for defence, by inducing them to believe that
such preparations will be unnecessary. You are well aware that the
reverse of all this is the truth, and that on our part there is to be no
slackness, but the greatest diligence in our efforts for the invasion of
England, for which we have already made the most abundant provision in
men, ships, and money, of which you are well aware."
Is it strange that the Queen of England was deceived? Is it matter of
surprise, censure, or shame, that no English statesman was astute enough
or base enough to contend with such diplomacy, which seemed inspired only
by the very father of lies?
"Although we thus enter into negotiations," continued the King--unveiling
himself, with a solemn indecency, not agreeable to contemplate--"without
any intention of concluding them, you can always get out of them with
great honour, by taking umbrage about the point of religion and about
some other of the outrageous propositions which they are like to propose,
and of which there are plenty, in the letters of Andrew de Loo. Your
commissioners must be instructed; to refer all important matters to your
personal decision. The English will be asking for damages for money,
spent in assisting my rebels; your commissioners will contend that
damages are rather due to me. Thus, and in other ways, time will be
agent. Your own envoys are not to know the secret any more than the
English themselves. I tell it to you only. Thus you will proceed with
the negotiations, now, yielding on one point, and now insisting on
another, but directing all to the same object--to gain time while
proceeding with the preparation for the invasion, according to the plan
already agreed upon."
Certainly the most Catholic King seemed, in this remarkable letter to
have outdone himself; and Farnese--that sincere Farnese, in whose loyal,
truth-telling, chivalrous character, the Queen and her counsellors placed
such implicit reliance--could thenceforward no longer be embarrassed as
to the course he was to adopt. To lie daily, through, thick, and thin,
and with every variety of circumstance and detail which; a genius fertile
in fiction could suggest, such was the simple rule prescribed by his
sovereign. And the rule was implicitly obeyed, and the English sovereign
thoroughly deceived. The secret confided only, to the faithful breast of
Alexander was religiously kept. Even the Pope was outwitted. His
Holiness proposed to, Philip the invasion of England, and offered a
million to further the plan. He was most desirous to be informed if the
project was, resolved upon, and, if so, when it was to be accomplished.
The King took the Pope's million, but refused the desired information.
He answered evasively. He had a very good will to invade the country, he
said, but there were great difficulties in the way. After a time, the
Pope again tried to pry into the matter, and again offered the million
which Philip had only accepted for the time when it might be wanted;
giving him at the same time, to understand that it was not necessary at
that time, because there were then great impediments. "Thus he is
pledged to give me the subsidy, and I am not pledged for the time," said
Philip, "and I keep my secret, which is the most important of all."
Yet after all, Farnese did not see his way clear towards the consummation
of the plan. His army had wofully dwindled, and before he could
seriously set about ulterior matters, it would be necessary to take
the city of Sluys. This was to prove--as already seen--a most arduous
enterprise. He complained to Philip' of his inadequate supplies both in
men and money. The project conceived in the royal breast was worth
spending millions for, he said, and although by zeal and devotion he
could accomplish something, yet after all he was no more than a man,
and without the necessary means the scheme could not succeed. But
Philip, on the contrary, was in the highest possible spirits. He had
collected more money, he declared than had ever been seen before in the
world. He had two million ducats in reserve, besides the Pope's million;
the French were in a most excellent state of division, and the invasion
should be made this year without fail. The fleet would arrive in the
English channel by the end of the summer; which would be exactly in
conformity with Alexander's ideas. The invasion was to be threefold:
from Scotland, under the Scotch earls and their followers, with the money
and troops furnished by Philip; from the Netherlands, under Parma; and by
the great Spanish armada itself, upon the Isle of Wight. Alexander must
recommend himself to God, in whose cause he was acting, and then do his
duty; which lay very plain before him. If he ever wished to give his
sovereign satisfaction in his life; he was to do the deed that year,
whatever might betide. Never could there be so fortunate a conjunction
of circumstances again. France was in a state of revolution, the German
levies were weak, the Turk was fully occupied in Persia, an enormous mass
of money, over and above the Pope's million, had been got together, and
although the season was somewhat advanced, it was certain that the Duke
would conquer all impediments, and be the instrument by which his royal
master might render to God that service which he was so anxious to
perform. Enthusiastic, though gouty, Philip grasped the pen in order to
scrawl a few words with his own royal hand. "This business is of such
importance," he said, "and it is so necessary that it should not be
delayed, that I cannot refrain from urging it upon you as much as I can.
I should do it even more amply; if this hand would allow me, which has
been crippled with gout these several days, and my feet as well, and
although it is unattended with pain, yet it is an impediment to writing."
Struggling thus against his own difficulties, and triumphantly,
accomplishing a whole paragraph with disabled hand, it was natural that
the King should expect Alexander, then deep in the siege of Sluy's, to
vanquish all his obstacles as successfully; and to effect the conquest of
England so soon as the harvests of that kingdom should be garnered.
Sluy's was surrendered at last, and the great enterprise seemed opening
from hour to hour. During the months of autumn; upon the very days when
those loving messages, mixed with gentle reproaches, were sent by
Alexander to Elizabeth, and almost at the self-same hours in which honest
Andrew de Loo was getting such head-aches by drinking the Queen's health
with Cosimo, and Champagny, the Duke and Philip were interchanging
detailed information as to the progress of the invasion. The King
calculated that by the middle of September Alexander would have 30,000
men in the Netherlands ready for embarcation.--Marquis Santa Cruz was
announced as nearly ready to, sail for the English channel with 22,000
more, among whom were to be 16,000 seasoned Spanish infantry. The
Marquis was then to extend the hand to Parma, and protect that passage to
England which the Duke was at once to effect. The danger might be great
for so large a fleet to navigate the seas at so late a season of the
year; but Philip was sure that God, whose cause it was, would be pleased
to give good weather. The Duke was to send, with infinite precautions of
secrecy, information which the Marquis would expect off Ushant, and be
quite ready to act so soon as Santa Cruz should arrive. Most earnestly
and anxiously did the King deprecate any, thought of deferring the
expedition to another year. If delayed, the obstacles of the following
summer--a peace in France, a peace between the Turk and Persia, and other
contingencies--would cause the whole project to fail, and Philip
declared, with much iteration, that money; reputation, honour, his
own character and that of Farnese, and God's service, were all at stake.
He was impatient at suggestions of difficulties occasionally, ventured by
the Duke, who was reminded that he had been appointed chief of the great
enterprise by the spontaneous choice of his master, and that all his
plans had been minutely followed. "You are the author of the whole
scheme," said Philip, "and if it, is all to vanish into space, what kind
of a figure shall we cut the coming year?" Again and again he referred
to the immense sum collected--such as never before had been seen since
the world was made--4,800,000 ducats with 2,000,000 in reserve, of which
he was authorized to draw for 500,000 in advance, to say nothing of the
Pope's million.
But Alexander, while straining every nerve to obey his master's
wishes about the invasion, and to blind the English by the fictitious
negotiations, was not so sanguine as his sovereign. In truth, there was
something puerile in the eagerness which Philip manifested. He had made
up his mind that England was to be conquered that autumn, and had
endeavoured--as well as he could--to comprehend, the plans which his
illustrious general had laid down for accomplishing that purpose. Of,
course; to any man of average intellect, or, in truth, to any man outside
a madhouse; it would seem an essential part of the conquest that the
Armada should arrive. Yet--wonderful to relate-Philip, in his
impatience, absolutely suggested that the Duke might take possession of
England without waiting for Santa Cruz and his Armada. As the autumn had
been wearing away, and there had been unavoidable delays about the
shipping in Spanish ports, the King thought it best not to defer matters
till, the winter. "You are, doubtless, ready," he said to Farnese.
"If you think you can make the passage to England before the fleet from
Spain arrives, go at once. You maybe sure that it will come ere long to
support, you. But if, you prefer, to wait, wait. The dangers of winter,
to the fleet and to your own person are to be regretted; but God, whose
cause it is; will protect you."
It was, easy to sit quite out of harm's way, and to make such excellent,
arrangements for smooth weather in the wintry channel, and for the.
conquest of a maritime and martial kingdom by a few flat bottoms. Philip
had little difficulty on that score, but the affairs of France were not
quite to his mind. The battle of Coutras, and the entrance of the German
and Swiss mercenaries into that country, were somewhat perplexing.
Either those auxiliaries of the Huguenots would be defeated, or they
would be victorious, or both parties would come to an agreement. In the
first event, the Duke, after sending a little assistance to Mucio, was to
effect his passage to England at once. In the second case, those troops,
even though successful, would doubtless be so much disorganized that it
might be still safe for Farnese to go on. In the third contingency--that
of an accord--it would be necessary for him to wait till the foreign
troops had disbanded and left France. He was to maintain all his forces
in perfect readiness, on pretext of the threatening aspect of French
matters and, so soon as the Swiss and Germane were dispersed, he was to
proceed to business without delay. The fleet would be ready in Spain in
all November, but as sea-affairs were so doubtful, particularly in
winter, and as the Armada could not reach the channel till mid-winter;
the Duke was not to wait for its arrival. "Whenever you see a favourable
opportunity," said Philip, "you must take care not to lose it, even if
the fleet has not made its appearance. For you may be sure that it will
soon come to give you assistance, in one way or another."
Farnese had also been strictly enjoined to deal gently with the English,
after the conquest, so that they would have cause to love their new
master. His troops were not to forget discipline after victory. There
was to be no pillage or rapine. The Catholics were to be handsomely
rewarded and all the inhabitants were to be treated with so much
indulgence that, instead of abhorring Parma and his soldiers, they would
conceive a strong affection for them all, as the source of so many
benefits. Again the Duke was warmly commended for the skill with which
he had handled the peace negotiation. It was quite right to appoint
commissioners, but it was never for an instant to be forgotten that the
sole object of treating was to take the English unawares. "And therefore
do you guide them to this end," said the King with pious unction, "which
is what you owe to God, in whose service I have engaged in this
enterprise, and to whom I have dedicated the whole." The King of France,
too--that unfortunate Henry III., against whose throne and life Philip
maintained in constant pay an organized band of conspirators--was
affectionately adjured, through the Spanish envoy in Paris, Mendoza,--to
reflect upon the advantages to France of a Catholic king and kingdom of
England, in place of the heretics now in power.
But Philip, growing more and more sanguine, as those visions of fresh
crowns and conquered kingdoms rose before him in his solitary cell, had
even persuaded himself that the deed was already done. In the early days
of December, he expressed a doubt whether his 14th November letter had
reached the Duke, who by that time was probably in England. One would
have thought the King addressing a tourist just starting on a little
pleasure-excursion. And this was precisely the moment when Alexander had
been writing those affectionate phrases to the Queen which had been
considered by the counsellors at Greenwich so "princely and Christianly,"
and which Croft had pronounced such "very good words."
If there had been no hostile, fleet to prevent, it was to be hoped, said
Philip, that, in the name of God, the passage had been made. "Once
landed there," continued the King, "I am persuaded that you will give me
a good account of yourself, and, with the help of our Lord, that you will
do that service which I desire to render to Him, and that He will guide
our cause, which is His own, and of such great importance to His Church."
A part of the fleet would soon after arrive and bring six thousand
Spaniards, the Pope's million, and other good things, which might prove
useful to Parma, presupposing that they would find him established on the
enemy's territory.
This conviction that the enterprise had been already accomplished grew
stronger in the King's breast every day. He was only a little disturbed
lest Farnese should have misunderstood that 14th November letter.
Philip--as his wont was--had gone into so many petty and puzzling
details, and had laid down rules of action suitable for various
contingencies, so easy to put comfortably upon paper, but which might
become perplexing in action, that it was no wonder he should be a little
anxious. The third contingency suggested by him had really occurred.
There had been a composition between the foreign mercenaries and the
French King. Nevertheless they had also been once or twice defeated, and
this was contingency number two. Now which of the events would the Duke
consider as having really occurred. It was to be hoped that he would
have not seen cause for delay, for in truth number three was not exactly
the contingency which existed. France was still in a very satisfactory
state of discord and rebellion. The civil war was by no means over.
There was small fear of peace that winter. Give Mucio his pittance with
frugal hand, and that dangerous personage would ensure tranquillity for
Philip's project, and misery for Henry III. and his subjects for an
indefinite period longer. The King thought it improbable that Farnese
could have made any mistake. He expressed therefore a little anxiety at
having received no intelligence from him, but had great confidence that,
with the aid of the Lord and of with his own courage he had accomplished
the great exploit. Philip had only, recommended delay in event of a
general peace in France--Huguenots, Royalists, Leaguers, and all.
This had not happened. "Therefore, I trust," said the King; "that you--
perceiving that this is not contingency number three which was to justify
a pause--will have already executed the enterprise, and fulfilled my
desire. I am confident that the deed is done, and that God has blessed
it, and I am now expecting the news from hour to hour."
But Alexander had not yet arrived in England. The preliminaries for the
conquest caused him more perplexity than the whole enterprise occasioned
to Philip. He was very short of funds. The five millions were not to be
touched, except for the expenses of the invasion. But as England was to
be subjugated, in order that rebellious Holland might be recovered, it
was hardly reasonable to go away leaving such inadequate forces in the
Netherlands as to ensure not only independence to the new republic, but
to hold out temptation for revolt to the obedient Provinces. Yet this
was the dilemma in which the Duke was placed. So much money had been set
aside for the grand project that there was scarcely anything for the
regular military business. The customary supplies had not been sent.
Parma had leave to draw for six hundred thousand ducats, and he was able
to get that draft discounted on the Antwerp Exchange by consenting to
receive five hundred thousand, or sacrificing sixteen per cent. of the
sum. A good number of transports, and scows had been collected, but
there had been a deficiency of money for their proper equipment, as the
five millions had been very slow in coming, and were still upon the road.
The whole enterprise was on the point of being sacrificed, according to
Farnese, for want of funds. The time for doing the deed had arrived, and
he declared himself incapacitated by poverty. He expressed his disgust
and resentment in language more energetic than courtly; and protested
that he was not to blame. "I always thought," said he bitterly, "that
your Majesty would provide all that was necessary even in superfluity,
and not limit me beneath the ordinary. I did not suppose, when it was
most important to have ready money, that I should be kept short, and not
allowed to draw certain sums by anticipation, which I should have done
had you not forbidden."
This was, through life, a striking characteristic of Philip. Enormous
schemes were laid out with utterly inadequate provision for their
accomplishment, and a confident expectation entertained that wild,
visions were; in some indefinite way, to be converted into substantial
realities, without fatigue or personal exertion on his part, and with a
very trifling outlay of ready money.