FOREIGN RELATIONS: 1559-1563
The successful wars waged by Edward III. and Henry V. are apt to cause
an exaggerated estimate of the strength of England under the Tudors. The
population--Wales included--was probably not much more than four
millions. That of France was perhaps four times as large, and the
superiority in wealth was even greater.[1] Before the reign of Louis
XI., France, weakened by feudal disunion, had been an easy prey to her
smaller but better-organised neighbour. The work of concentration
effected by the greatest of French kings towards the close of the
fifteenth century, and the simultaneous rise of the great Spanish
empire, caused England to fall at once into the rank of a second-rate
power. Such she really was under Henry VIII., notwithstanding the rather
showy figure he managed to make by adhering alternately to Charles V.
and Francis I. Under the bad government of Edward and Mary the fighting
strength of England declined not only relatively, but absolutely, until
in the last year of Mary it touched the lowest point in our history.
Although we were at war with France, there were no soldiers, no
officers, no arms, no fortresses that could resist artillery, few ships,
a heavy debt, and deep discouragement. The loss of Calais, which had
been held for 200 years, was the simple and natural consequence of this
prostration. Justice will not be done to the great recovery under
Elizabeth unless we understand how low the country had sunk when she
came to the throne.
During the early years of her reign, it was the universal opinion at
home and abroad that without Spanish protection she could not preserve
her throne against a French invasion in the interests of Mary Stuart.
Henry II. meant that, by the marriage of the Dauphin Francis with Mary,
the kingdoms of England and Scotland should be united to one another and
eventually to France. Philip would thus lose the command of the sea
route to the Netherlands, and the hereditary duel with the House of
Austria would be decided. This scheme could not seem fantastic in a
century which had seen such immense agglomerations of territory effected
by political marriages. Philip, on the other hand, made sure that the
danger from France must necessarily throw Elizabeth and England into his
arms. Notwithstanding the warnings he received from his ambassador Feria
that Elizabeth was a heretic, he felt certain that she would not venture
to alter religion at the risk of offending him. The only question with
him was whether he should marry her himself or bestow her on some sure
friend of his house. That she would refuse both himself and his nominee
was a contingency he never contemplated.
Elizabeth, from the first, made up her mind that the cards in her hand
could be played to more advantage than Philip supposed. England, no
doubt, needed his protection for the present. But could he please
himself about granting it? Her bold calculation was that his own
interests would compel him, in any case, to prevent the execution of the
Stuart-Valois scheme, and that consequently she might settle religion
without reference to his wishes.
The offer of marriage came in January 1559. In his letter to Feria,
Philip spoke as if Elizabeth would of course jump at it. After dwelling
on its many inconveniences, he said he had decided to make the sacrifice
on condition that Elizabeth would uphold the Catholic religion; but she
must not expect him to remain long with her; he would visit England
occasionally. Feria foolishly allowed this letter to be seen, and the
contents were reported to Elizabeth. She was as much amused as piqued.
Their ages were not unsuitable. Philip was thirty-two, and Elizabeth was
twenty-five. But she was as fastidious about men as her father was about
women; and for no political consideration would she have tied herself to
her ugly, disagreeable, little brother-in-law. After some fencing, she
replied that she did not mean to marry, and that she was not afraid of
France.
Before the death of Mary, negotiations for a peace between France,
Spain, and England had already begun. Calais was almost the only
difficulty remaining to be settled. Our countrymen have never been able
to understand how their possession of a fortress within the natural
boundaries of another country can be disagreeable to its inhabitants.
Elizabeth shared the national feeling, and she wanted Philip to insist
on the restitution of Calais. He would have done so if she had pleased
him as to other matters. Even as it was, the presence of a French
garrison in Calais was so inconvenient to the master of the Netherlands
that he was ready to fight on if England would do her part. But
Elizabeth would only promise to fight Scotland--a very indirect and,
indeed, useless way of supporting Philip. When once this point was made
clear, peace was soon concluded between the three powers at Câteau, near
Cambray (March 1559); appearances being saved by a stipulation that
Calais should be restored in eight years, or half a million of crowns be
forfeited.
In thus giving way Elizabeth showed her good sense. To have fought on
would have meant deeper debt, terrible exhaustion, and, what was worse,
dependence on Philip. Moreover, Calais could only have been recovered by
reducing France to helplessness, which would have been fatal to the
balance of power on which Elizabeth relied to make herself independent
of both her great neighbours. The peace of Câteau Cambresis was attended
with a secret compact between Philip II. and Henry II., that each
monarch should suppress heresy in his own dominions and not encourage it
in those of his neighbour. By the accession of Elizabeth, and the Scotch
Reformation which immediately followed, Protestantism reached its
high-water mark in Europe. The long wars of Charles V. with France had
enabled it to spread. Francis I. had intrigued with the Protestant
princes of the Empire, and Charles had been obliged to humour them.
Protestantism was victorious in Britain, Scandinavia, North Germany, the
Palatinate, and Swabia. It had spread widely in Poland, Hungary, the
Netherlands, and France. This rapid growth was now about to be checked.
In some of these countries the new religion was destined to succumb; in
some entirely to disappear. Men who could remember the first preachings
of Luther lived to see not only the high-water, but the ebb, of the
Protestant tide. The revolutionary tendencies inherent in Protestantism
began to alarm the sovereigns; and all the more because the Church in
Catholic, hardly less than in Protestant, countries was becoming a
department of the State. Kings had been jealous of the spiritual power
when it belonged to the Popes. They became jealous for it when it was
annexed to the throne.
Notwithstanding its secret stipulations, the peace of Câteau Cambresis
relieved England from the most pressing and immediate perils by which
she was threatened. Neither French nor Spanish troops had made their
appearance on our soil. A breathing-time at least had been gained,
during which something might be done towards putting the country in a
state of defence, and restoring the finances.
But the danger from France was by no means at an end. In the treaty with
England, the title of Elizabeth had been acknowledged. But in that with
Spain, the Dauphin had styled himself “King of Scotland, England, and
Ireland.” He and Mary had also assumed the English arms. If a French
army invaded England, it would come by way of Scotland. The English
Catholics, who had for the most part frankly accepted the succession of
Elizabeth, were disappointed and irritated by the change of religion. If
Mary should go to Scotland with a French force, it was to be apprehended
that a rebellion would immediately break out in the northern counties.
Philip, no doubt, would land in the south to drive out the Dauphiness.
But the remedy would be worse than the disease. For he was deeply
discontented with the conduct of Elizabeth, and would probably take the
opportunity of deposing her. To establish, therefore, her independence
of both her powerful neighbours, Elizabeth had to begin by destroying
French influence in Scotland.
The wisest heads in Scotland had long seen the advantage of uniting
their country to England by marriage. The blundering and bullying policy
of the Protector Somerset had driven the Scotch to renew their ancient
alliance with France. But the attempts of the Regent Mary of Guise to
increase French influence, and to establish a small standing army, in
order at once to strengthen her authority, and to serve the designs of
Henry II. against England, had again made the French connection
unpopular, and caused a corresponding revival of friendly feeling
towards England.
Nowhere was the Church so wealthy, relatively to the other estates, as
in Scotland. It was supposed to possess half the property of the
country. Nowhere were the clergy so immoral. Nowhere was superstition
so gross. But the doctrines of the Reformation were spreading among the
common people, and in 1557 some of the nobles, hungering for the wealth
of the Church, put themselves at the head of the Protestant movement.
They were known as the “Lords of the Congregation.”
The Scotch Reformation began not from the Government, as in England, but
from the people. Hence, while change of supremacy was the main question
in England, change of doctrine and worship took the lead in Scotland.
The two parties were about equal in numbers, the Protestants being
strongest in the Lowlands. But, with the exception of the murder of
Beaton in 1546, there had, as yet, been no appeal to force, nor any
attempt to procure a public change of religion. The accession of
Elizabeth emboldened the Protestants. At Perth they took possession of
the churches and burnt a monastery. On the other hand, after the peace
of Câteau Cambresis, Henry II. directed the Regent to put down
Protestantism, both in pursuance of the agreement with Philip, and in
order to prepare for the Franco-Scottish invasion of England. The result
was that the Protestants rose in open rebellion (June 1559). The Lords
of the Congregation occupied Perth, Stirling, and Edinburgh. All over
the Lowlands abbeys were wrecked, monks harried, churches cleared of
images, the Mass abolished, and King Edward’s service established in its
place. In England the various changes of religion in the last thirty
years had always been effected legally by King and Parliament. In
Scotland the Catholic Church was overthrown by a simultaneous popular
outbreak. The catastrophe came later than in England; but popular
feeling was more prepared for it; and what was now cast down was never
set up again.
It seemed at first as if the Regent and her handful of regular troops,
commanded by d’Oysel, would be swept away. But d’Oysel had fortified
Leith, and was even able to take the field. A French army was expected.
The tumultuary forces of the needy Scotch nobles could not be kept
together long, and it became clear that, unless supported by Elizabeth,
the rebellion would be crushed as soon as the French reinforcements
should arrive, if not sooner.
Thus early did Elizabeth find herself confronted by the Scottish
difficulty, which was to cause her so much anxiety throughout the
greater part of her reign. The problem, though varying in minor details,
was always essentially the same. There was a Protestant faction looking
for support to England, and a Catholic faction looking to France. Two or
three of the Protestant leaders--Moray, Glencairn, Kirkaldy--did really
care something about a religious reformation. The rest thought more of
getting hold of Church lands and pursuing old family feuds. In the
experience of Elizabeth, they were a needy, greedy, treacherous crew,
always sponging on her treasury, and giving her very little service in
return for her money. Besides, the whole Scotch nation was so touchy in
its patriotism, so jealous of foreign interference, that foreign
soldiers present on its soil were sure to be regarded with an evil eye,
no matter for what purpose they had come, or by whom they had been
invited.
The Lords of the Congregation invoked the protection of Elizabeth. They
suggested that she should marry the Earl of Arran, and that he and she
should be King and Queen of Great Britain. Arran was the eldest son of
the Duke of Chatelherault, who, Mary being as yet childless, was
heir-presumptive to the Scottish crown. There were many reasons why
Elizabeth should decline interference. It was throwing down the glove to
France. Interference in Scotland had always been disastrous. It might
drive the English Catholics to despair, as cutting off the hope of
Mary’s succession to the English crown. To make a Protestant match would
irritate Philip. He might invade England to forestall the French. Almost
all her Council--even Bacon--advised her to leave Scotland alone, marry
the Archduke Charles, and trust to the Spanish alliance for the defence
of England.
These were serious considerations; and to them was to be joined another
which with Elizabeth always had great weight--more, naturally, than it
had with any of her advisers. She shrank from doing anything which might
have the practical effect of weakening the common cause of monarchs. She
felt instinctively that with Protestants reverence for the religious
basis of kingship must tend to become weaker than with Catholics. She
did not desire to encourage this tendency or to familiarise her own
subjects with it. Knox’s _First Blast of the Trumpet against the
Monstrous Regimen of Women_ had been directed against Mary. The Blasts
that were to follow had been dropped; but the first could not be treated
as unblown. And the arrogant preacher did not mend matters by writing to
Elizabeth that she was to consider her case as an exception “contrary
to nature,” allowed by God “for the comfort of His kirk,” but that if
she based her title on her birth or on law, “her felicity would be
short.”
Nevertheless Elizabeth adopted the bolder course. The Lords of the
Congregation were assured that England would not see them crushed by
French arms. A small supply of money was sent to them. As to the
marriage with Arran, no positive answer was given; but he was sent for
to be looked at. When he came, he was found to be even a poorer creature
than his father; at times, indeed, not quite right in his mind. It was
hard upon the Hamiltons, among whom were so many able and daring men,
that, with the crown almost in their grasp, their chiefs should be such
incapables. To Elizabeth it was no doubt a relief to find that Arran was
an impossible husband.
In the meantime 2000 French had arrived, and the Lords were urgent in
their demands for help. But Elizabeth determined, and rightly, that they
must do their own work if they could. She was willing to give them such
pecuniary help as was necessary. But the demand for troops was
unreasonable. Fighting men abounded in Scotland. Why should English
troops be sent to do their fighting for them, with the certainty of
earning black looks rather than thanks? If a large army was despatched
from France, she would attack it with her fleet. If it landed, she would
send an English army. But if the Lords of the Congregation did not beat
the handful of Frenchmen at Leith it must be because they were either
weak or treacherous. In either case Elizabeth might have to give up the
policy she preferred, leave Scotland alone, and fall back upon an
alliance with Philip.
In order therefore to preserve this second string to her bow, and to let
the Scotch Anglophiles see that she possessed it, she reopened
negotiations for the Austrian marriage. Charles, in his turn, was
invited to come and be looked at. Much as she disliked the idea of
marriage, she knew that political reasons might make it necessary. But,
come what would, she would never marry a man who was not to her fancy as
a man. She would take no one on the strength of his picture. She had
heard that Charles was not over-wise, and that he had an extraordinarily
big head, “bigger than the Earl of Bedford’s.”
The Scotch Lords, finding that Elizabeth was determined to have some
solid return for her money, went to work with more vigour. They
proclaimed the deposition of the Regent, drove her from Edinburgh, and
besieged her and her French garrison in Leith. But this burst of energy
was soon over. The Protestants were more ready to pull down images and
harry monks than make campaigns. Leith was not to be taken. In three
weeks their army dwindled away, and the little disciplined force of
Frenchmen re-entered Edinburgh.
The position had become very critical for Elizabeth. A French army of
15,000 men was daily expected at Leith. If once it landed, the
Congregation would be crushed; the Hamiltons would make their peace; and
the disciplined army of d’Elbœuf, swelled by hordes of hungry
Scotchmen, would pour over the Border and proclaim Mary in the midst of
the Catholic population which ten years later rose in rebellion under
the northern Earls.
In this difficulty the Spanish Ministers in the Netherlands were
consulted. If Elizabeth expelled the garrison at Leith, and so brought
upon herself a war with France, could she depend on Philip’s assistance?
The reply was menacing. Their master, for his own interest, could not
allow the Queen of France and Scotland to enforce her title to the
throne of England. But he would oppose it in his own way. If a French
army entered England from the north, a Spanish army would land on the
south coast. Turning to her own Council for advice, Elizabeth found no
encouragement. They recommended her to take Philip’s advice, and even to
retrace some of her steps in the matter of religion in order to
propitiate him. She made a personal appeal to the Duke of Norfolk to
take the command of the forces on the Border. But he declined to be the
instrument of a policy which he disapproved.
We need not wonder if Elizabeth hesitated for a while. Some of these
councillors were not too well affected to her. But most of them were
thoroughly loyal, and there was really much to be said for the more
cautious policy. She herself was an eminently cautious politician,
inclined by nature to shrink from risky courses. Never, therefore, in
her whole career did she give greater proof of her large-minded
comprehension of the main lines of policy which it behoved her to follow
than when she determined to override the opinions of so many prudent
advisers, and expel the French force from the northern kingdom.
England was not quite in the helpless, disabled position that it pleased
the Spaniards to believe. Twelve months of careful and energetic
administration had already done wonders. There had been wise economy and
wise expenditure. Money had been scraped together, and, though there was
still a heavy debt, the legacy of three wasteful reigns, the confidence
of the Antwerp money-lenders had revived, and they were willing to
advance considerable sums. A fleet had been equipped and manned;
shiploads of arms had been imported; forces had been collected on the
south coasts. The Border garrisons had been quietly raised in strength
till they were able to furnish an expeditionary force at a moment’s
notice.
The smallest energy on the part of the Congregation might have finished
the war without the presence of an English force. Elizabeth had a right
to be angry. The Scotch Protestants expected to have the hardest part of
the work done for them, and to be paid for executing their own share of
it. Lord James and a few of the leaders were in earnest, but others were
selfish time-servers. As for the lower class, their Calvinism was still
new. It had not yet bred that fierce spirit of independence which before
long was to outweigh the force of nobles and gentry. But if the weakness
of the Anglophile party was disappointing, it had at all events shown
that Elizabeth must depend upon herself to ward off danger on that side;
and after some reasonable hesitation she decided to put through the work
she had begun.
It says much for the patriotism of Elizabeth’s Council that when they
found she had made up her mind they did not stand sulkily aloof, but
co-operated heartily and vigorously in carrying out the policy they had
opposed. Norfolk himself accepted the command of the Border army, and
acted throughout the affair with fidelity and diligence. He was not a
man distinguished by ability of any kind, and the actual fighting was to
be done by Lord Grey, a firm and experienced, though not brilliant,
commander. But that the natural leader of the Conservative nobility
should be seen at the head of Elizabeth’s army was a useful lesson to
traitors at home and enemies abroad, who were telling each other that
her throne was insecure.
An agreement between the English Queen and the Lords of the Congregation
was drawn up (February 27), with scrupulous care to avoid the appearance
of dictation and encroachment which had gathered all Scotland to Pinkie
Cleugh eleven years before. It set forth that the English troops were
entering Scotland for no other object than to assist the Duke of
Chatelherault, the heir-presumptive to the throne, and the other nobles,
to drive out the foreign invaders. They would build no fortress. There
was no intention to prejudice Mary’s lawful authority. Cecil appears to
have wanted to add something about “Christ’s true religion;” but
Elizabeth struck it out. Circumstances might compel her to be the
protector of foreign Protestants; but neither then nor at any other time
did she desire to pose in that character.
A month later (March 28th) Lord Grey crossed the Border, and marched to
Leith. The siege of that place proved to be tedious. The Lords of the
Congregation gave very insufficient assistance; and, when an assault
had been repulsed with heavy loss, the citizens of Edinburgh would not
receive the wounded into their houses. At last, when food was running
short in the town, an envoy from France arrived with power to treat on
behalf of the Queen of Scots. Her mother, the Regent, had died during
the siege. After much haggling a treaty was signed. No French troops
were in future to be kept in Scotland. Offices of State were to be held
only by natives. The government during Mary’s absence was to be vested
in a Council of twelve noblemen; seven nominated by her and five by the
Estates. Elizabeth’s title to the kingdoms of England and Ireland was
recognised (July 1560).
Such was the Treaty of Edinburgh, or of Leith, as it is sometimes
called, one of the most successful achievements of a successful reign.
It was gained by wise counsel and bold resolve; and its fruits, though
not completely fulfilling its promise, were solid and valuable. It was
not ratified by Mary. But her non-ratification in the long-run injured
no one but herself, besides putting her in the wrong, and giving
Elizabeth a standing excuse for treating her as an enemy. England was
permanently free from the menace of a disciplined French army in the
northern kingdom. Nothing was settled in the treaty about religion. But
this was equivalent to a confirmation of the violent change that had
recently taken place; in itself a guarantee of security to England.
The moral effect of this success was even greater than its more tangible
results. It had been very generally believed, at all events abroad, that
Elizabeth was tottering on her throne; that the large majority were on
the point of rising to depose her; that, wriggle as she might, she would
find she was a mere _protégée_ of Philip, with no option but to follow
his directions and square her policy to his. Whatever small basis of
fact underlay this delusive estimate had been ridiculously exaggerated
in the reports sent to Philip by his ambassador De Quadra, a man who
evidently paid more attention to hole-and-corner tattle than to the
broad forces of English politics.
All these imaginings were now proved to be vain. Elizabeth had shown
that she could protect herself by her own strength and in her own way.
She had civilly ignored Philip’s advice, or rather his injunctions. She
had thrown down the glove to France, and France had not taken it up. She
had placed in command of her armies the very man whom she was supposed
to fear, and he had done her bidding, and done it well. England once
more stood before Europe as an independent power, able to take care of
itself, aid its friends, and annoy its enemies.
It is true that, as far as Elizabeth personally is concerned, her Scotch
policy had not always in its execution been as prompt and firm as could
be desired. Those who follow it in greater detail than is possible here
will find much in it that is irresolute and even vacillating. This
defect appears throughout Elizabeth’s career, though it will always be
ignored, as it ought to be ignored, by those who reserve their attention
for what is worth observing in the course of human affairs.
In her intellectual grasp of European politics as a whole, and of the
interests of her own kingdom, Elizabeth was probably superior to any of
her counsellors. No one could better than she think out the general
idea of a political campaign. But theoretical and practical
qualifications are seldom, if ever, combined in equal excellence. Not
only are the qualities themselves naturally opposed, but the constant
exercise of either increases the disparity. Her sex obliged Elizabeth to
leave the large field of execution to others. Her practical gifts
therefore, whatever they were, deteriorated rather than advanced as she
grew older. In men, who every day and every hour of the day are engaged
in action, the habit of prompt decision and persistence in a course once
adopted, even if it be not quite the best, is naturally formed and
strengthened. It is a habit so valuable, so indispensable to continued
success, that in practice it largely compensates for some inferiority in
conception and design. Elizabeth’s irresolution and vacillation were
therefore a consequence of her position--that of an extremely able and
well-informed woman called upon to conduct a government in which so much
had to be decided by the sovereign at her own discretion. The abler she
was, the more disposed to make her will felt, the less steadiness and
consistency in action were to be expected from her. As the wife of a
king, upon whom the final responsibility would have rested--her inferior
perhaps in intellect and knowledge, but with the masculine habit of
making up his mind once for all, and then steering a straight
course--she would have been a wise and enlightened adviser, not afraid
of consistently maintaining principles, when the time, mode, and degree
of their application rested with another. As it was, Cecil and other
able statesmen who served her had not only to take their general course
of policy from their mistress--a wise course upon the whole, wiser
sometimes than they would have selected for themselves--but they were
embarrassed, in their loyal attempts to steer in the direction she had
prescribed, by her nervous habit of catching at the rudder-lines
whenever a new doubt occurred to her ingenious mind, or some private
feeling of the woman perverted the clear insight of the sovereign.
The rivalry between France and Spain had hitherto been the safety of
England. Nothing but reasons of religion could bring those two powers to
suspend their political quarrel. This danger seemed to be averted for
the moment by the temporary ascendant of the Politiques after the death
of Francis II. But the fanaticism of both Catholics and Huguenots was
too bitter, and the nobles on both sides were too ambitious, to listen
to the dictates of reason and patriotism. The immense majority of the
nation, except in some districts of the south and south-west, was
profoundly Catholic. The Huguenots, strongest amongst the aristocracy
and the upper bourgeoisie, daring and intolerant like the Calvinists
everywhere, had no sooner received some countenance from Catherine than
they began to preach against the mass, to demand the spoliation of the
Church, the suppression of monasteries, the destruction of images, and
the expulsion of the Guises. Where they were strong enough they began to
carry out their programme. The Guises, on the other hand, forgetting the
glory they had won in the wars against Spain, were soliciting the
patronage of Philip, and urging him to put himself at the head of a
crusade against the heretics of all countries. To this appeal he
replied by formally summoning Catherine to put down heresy in France. An
accidental collision at Vassy, in which a number of Huguenots were
slain, brought on the first of those wars of religion which were to
desolate France for the next thirty years (March 1562). Both factions,
equally dead to patriotism, opened their country to foreigners. The
Guises called in the forces of Spain and the Pope. Condé applied to
Elizabeth and the Protestant princes of Germany.
It was necessary to give the Huguenots just so much help as would
prevent them from being crushed. Aggressive in appearance, such
interference was in reality legitimate self-defence. But unfortunately
neither Elizabeth nor her Council had forgotten Calais, and they
extorted from Condé the surrender of Havre as a pledge for its
restoration. In the case of Scotland they had come, as we have seen, to
recognise that to establish a permanent war by holding fortified posts
on the territory of another nation is poor statesmanship. The possession
of Calais was of little military value as against France. It is true
that it would enable England to make sea communication between Spain and
the Netherlands very insecure, and would thus give Philip a powerful
motive for desiring to stand well with this country. But such a
calculation had less weight with Englishmen at that moment than pure
Jingoism--the longing to be again able to crow over their French enemy.
The occupation of Havre (October 1562) gave to the Huguenot cause the
minimum of assistance, and brought upon it the maximum of odium. A
hollow reconciliation was soon patched up between the rival factions
(March 1563), and Elizabeth was summoned to evacuate Havre. She refused,
loudly complaining of the Huguenots for deserting her. She “had come to
the quiet possession of Havre without force or any other unlawful means,
and she had good reason to keep it.” Up to this time the fiction of
peace between the two nations had been maintained. It was now open war.
It is only fair to Elizabeth to say that all her Council and the whole
nation were even hotter than she was. The garrison of Havre, with their
commander Warwick, were eager for the fray. They would “make the French
cock cry Cuck,” they would “spend the last drop of their blood before
the French should fasten a foot in the town.” The inhabitants were all
expelled, and the siege began, Condé as well as the Catholics appearing
in the Queen-mother’s army. After a valiant defence the English, reduced
to a handful of men by typhus, sailed away (July 28, 1563). Peace was
concluded early in the next year (April 1564). Elizabeth did not repeat
her mistake. Thenceforward to the end of her reign we shall find her
carefully cultivating friendly relations with every ruler of France.