1588-1593
Whilst the tedious negotiations with Parma were dragging on, no slackness
was visible in the preparations for resisting the attack on England.
Drake was sent to the mouth of the Channel with a fine squadron of ships,
whilst the Lord Admiral’s fleet was being put in readiness in the Thames
with all haste; and Ralegh in Devonshire, Hunsdon in the north, and Lord
Grey and Sir John Norris in the home counties, were busily organising
the land forces. As usual, upon Lord Burghley rested much of the labour
and responsibility, and to him matters great and small were referred for
decision.[550] The English preparations met with many difficulties. The
Queen was fractious and fickle, one day hectoring and threatening, and
the next cursing Walsingham and his gang, who had drawn her into this
strait, and were for ever pestering her for money, which she doled out as
sparingly as possible. There was, moreover, no great alacrity shown at
first by the people at large in providing special funds to meet the great
national emergency, and the trading classes were grumbling at Leicester
and the greedy gentlemen whose piracy was largely responsible for the
coming war.
The sending of Peace Commissioners to Parma was, as usual, the subject
of division in the Council, Burghley naturally advocating the pacific
policy, and Leicester, Walsingham, and Paulet violently opposing the
negotiations except on impossible terms. The Queen wavered constantly,
but was more frequently on the side of peace. Soon after Leicester
returned from Holland (January 1588) he opposed in the Council the
sending of Commissioners. A comedy was played the same night before the
Queen and court, and as the company rose, Elizabeth turned upon Leicester
in a great rage and told him she _must_ make peace with Spain at any
cost. “If my ships are lost,” she said, “nothing can save me.” Leicester
tried to tranquillise her by talking about Drake; but she replied that
all he did was to irritate the enemy to her detriment.[551]
The instructions to the Peace Commissioners, as drafted by Burghley,[552]
seem to be an honest attempt to come to terms. England was to pledge
herself not to send aid of any sort, to the prejudice of Philip, to
any of the dominions he had inherited (thus excluding Portugal), and
Philip was asked, at least, to bind himself to prevent the molestation
by the Inquisition of English mariners on board their ships in Spanish
ports. But side by side with this there is reason to believe that Lord
Burghley, probably through Crofts, endeavoured to gain the Duke of Parma
personally to the side of peace.[553] He had been badly treated by Philip
in the matter of Portugal, and was still in the dark as to the King’s
real intentions. He was liable to dismissal at any moment; he was short
of money, and chafing at the inexplicable delay of the Armada. It was
suggested that a condition of the peace might be to give him fixity of
tenure of his government of Flanders for life. How far these approaches
may have influenced him it is at present difficult to say, but he
certainly appealed to Philip earnestly and solemnly to allow him to make
peace,[554] and when the Armada finally appeared in the Channel he did
nothing to falsify his own prediction of the disaster which awaited it.
The English Commissioners[555] embarked for Ostend (a town in
English-Dutch occupation) in March, but one of them, Crofts, a Spanish
agent, made no hesitation of landing in Philip’s town of Dunkirk and
proceeding overland to Ostend. After infinite bickering as to the place
of meeting, the preliminary conferences were held in a tent between
Ostend and Nieuport; but on questions of procedure and powers the
negotiations were delayed until the Armada had sailed from Lisbon, and
Philip’s pretence could be kept up no longer, when the Commissioners
hurriedly returned. Crofts’ desire to serve his Spanish paymasters,
and to obtain peace at any price, caused him to go beyond his public
instructions in making concessions, and at the instance of Leicester he
was cast into the Tower on his return; but the rest of the Commissioners
acknowledged that they had been tricked, and that Philip had never
intended peace. Many persons had thought so from the first, though the
delay had been advantageous for England. The Lord Admiral, writing to
Walsingham before the Commissioners left England, says: “There never
was since England was England such a stratagem and mask made to deceive
England, withal, as this is of the treaty of peace. I pray God we have
not cause to remember one thing that was made of the Scots by the
Englishmen; that we do not curse for this a long grey beard with a white
head, witless, that will make all the world think us heartless. You know
whom I mean.”[556]
Though Burghley had struggled for thirty years to maintain peace with
Spain, when war was inevitable he took far more than his share of the
labour of organising it. As usual, he worked early and late, sometimes
almost in despair at the Queen’s penuriousness and irritability, and
himself suffering incessantly. Whilst he was still striving for peace
(10th April) he thus writes to Walsingham: “I cannot express my pain,
newly increased in all my left arm. My spirits are even now so extenuated
as I have no mind towards anything but to groan with my pain.… Surely,
sir, as God will be best pleased with peace, so in nothing can her
Majesty content her realm better than in procuring it.… So forced
with pain, even from my arm to my heart, I end.”[557] In the midst of
the preparations, when Howard, Winter, Drake, and Hawkins were daily
writing reports or requests to the over-burdened Lord Treasurer, his
favourite but unfortunate daughter, Lady Oxford, died. In his diary he
simply records the fact in the words, “Anna Comitissa Oxoniæ, filia mia
charissima, obiit in Do. Greenwici et 25, Sepult. Westminster;”[558] but
the bereaved father was in a few days hard at work again, though still
confined to his bed.[559]
At length, on the 30th July (N.S.), the long looked for Armada appeared
in the Channel. The story of how the sceptre of the sea passed to England
during the next week has often been told elsewhere, and need not be
here repeated; but Burghley’s share of the glory at least must not go
unrecorded. We have seen how the details of organisation were largely
left in his hands; but, in addition to this, like other great nobles,
he raised a special force, clothed in his colours, and maintained at
his expense,[560] and visited the army encamped at Tilbury, “where,”
says Leicester, “I made a fair show for my Lord Treasurer, who came
from London to see us.” It is usually asserted also that his two sons,
Sir Thomas and Sir Robert, joined the English fleet, like so many other
gentlemen of rank; and although this may be true, for certainly Sir
Robert was at Dover,[561] and might perhaps have gone on board one of the
ships, it is questionable, and their names do not appear in any of the
records as being present.
It was hardly to be supposed that the Spaniards would so readily submit
to defeat as not to renew the attack, for Englishmen had not yet gauged
the paralysing effect of Philip’s system upon his subjects, and, like the
rest of the world, took Spain largely on trust; but Burghley was right in
his forecast that the Armada itself was so broken and weak that it would
run round Ireland and return no more. When the heroics in England were
over and matters were settling down, there was still no cessation in the
work of the Lord Treasurer. There were intricate victualling accounts to
be laboriously calculated in perplexing Roman numerals;[562] there were
wages to be paid; captains and admirals to be brought to book for every
item of their expenditure, for the Queen would have no slackness in that
respect, even though the country and herself had been rescued from a
great peril; there were prisoners to interrogate, and plans to be made
for future defence, and, as usual, Puritans and prelates to be appeased
and reconciled. The lion’s share of all this fell to the gouty, crippled
old man with the bright eyes, the grave face, and the snowy hair—to Lord
Treasurer Burghley.
Shortly after the disappearance of the Armada, Leicester died (4th
September), on his way to Kenilworth, and Burghley lost the political
rival who had continued to thwart him for nearly thirty years. Nothing
proves more clearly Burghley’s consummate prudence and tact than the
fact that, to the very last, his relations with the Earl were always
outwardly polite, and even friendly.[563] That this was not owing to the
forbearance of Leicester is seen by his violent quarrels with Sussex,
Arundel, Ormonde, Heneage, Ralegh, and others who crossed his path.
The death of Leicester, together with that of Sir Walter Mildmay, which
happened shortly afterwards, changed the balance of Elizabeth’s Council.
The old ministers were dropping off one by one and giving place to
younger men, who could not expect to exercise over the experienced and
mature ruler the same influence as that of her earlier advisers. In
order to strengthen his party Lord Burghley had patronised Ralegh; but
Leicester had retorted by bringing forward his young stepson Essex, whom
his dying father had left as a solemn charge to Burghley. Essex was a
mere lad of twenty-two when Leicester died, and as yet too young to head
a party against the aged minister; but he had absorbed all the traditions
of the dead favourite, and henceforward thwarted the Cecils to the best
of his power with all the persistence of Leicester, but with a haughty
incautiousness which belonged to himself alone, and ultimately led him to
his tragic death.
Notwithstanding the crushing blow that Spanish power had received,
English public feeling continued apprehensive and nervous. Spies abroad
still sent alarmist reports of Philip’s future plans, and few Englishmen
had yet realised how completely their foe was disabled. When Parliament
met, therefore, in February (1589), the largest subsidies ever voted were
granted for the defence of the country, and the Houses petitioned her
Majesty “to denounce open war against the King of Spain.”
There were, however, other ways of crippling the foe more acceptable both
to the Queen and her principal minister. Since 1581 Elizabeth had been
playing fast and loose with Don Antonio, the claimant to the crown of
Portugal. Leicester and Walsingham had more than once encouraged him to
spend large sums of money in England—raised on the sale or security of
his jewels—in fitting out naval expeditions in his favour, but nothing
effectual had been done for his cause. Catharine de Medici, on the other
hand, had countenanced the despatch of two fine expeditions from France
to the Azores, both of which had been disastrously defeated; and in
the Armada year Antonio again came to England to seek for aid against
the common enemy. He was sanguine, and ready to promise anything for
immediate aid. Just before the Armada arrived, the plan of diverting
Philip’s forces by an attack on Portugal had been broached by the Lord
Admiral in a letter to Walsingham, but the Queen would not then hear of
any of her ships being sent away.
In September, however, circumstances had changed. It was useless to
ask the Queen to accept the whole expense and responsibility of an
expedition; but in September 1588, Antonio saw Lord Burghley, who wrote
down the plans and offers he made. If, said the pretender, he could once
land in Portugal with a sufficient force, all the country would rise in
his favour; and his suggestion, supported by Sir John Norris and Sir
Francis Drake, was to form a joint-stock undertaking with the countenance
and help of the Queen and the Dutch, for the purpose of invading and
capturing Portugal in his interest. In exchange he promised to pay the
soldiers, and handsomely; to allow them to loot Spanish property in
Lisbon; and, above all, to burn Philip’s ships in Lisbon and Seville, and
recoup the adventurers their expenditure with a large bonus.[564] If war
were to be made at all, this was a method of making it likely to find
favour in the eyes of the Queen and Burghley; and in February 1589[565] a
warrant was issued authorising the expedition, and appointing rules for
its government. Drake was to command at sea, and Norris by land, and the
objects are carefully set forth in Burghley’s words: “first, to distress
the King of Spain’s ships; second, to obtain possession of the Azores in
order to intercept the treasure ships; and third, to assist Don Antonio
to recover the kingdom of Portugal if it shall be found that the public
voice be favourable to him.”
The Queen contributed £20,000 and seven ships of the navy, and strict
conditions were made that her money should not be wasted. But the
affair was mismanaged from the first. Most of the men who went were
idle vagabonds, the scum of the towns and the sweepings of the jails.
The Dutch contingent fell away, the promises of support in England were
not kept, money ran short, and the victuals went bad. The Queen lost
her temper and began to frown upon the expedition when Drake’s constant
demands for further help became too pressing; but finally, after weeks
of galling delay, through bad weather and other causes, the expedition
put to sea (13th April), nearly 200 sail of all sorts, with 20,000
men. Shortly before it left, the Earl of Essex, with his brother and
other gentlemen, had fled to Plymouth in disguise, shipped on board the
_Swiftsure_ and put to sea.[566] The Queen had specially refused him
permission to accompany the expedition; and when she found that her
favourite had disobeyed her, her fury knew no bounds.
From that hour the expedition and commanders got nothing but ill words
from her. Not content simply to burn the few ships in Coruña, the
commanders lost a precious fortnight, in direct violation to orders, in
besieging the place and burning the lower town. Wine was found in plenty,
and excess incapacitated the greater part of the Englishmen; pestilence
and desertion worked havoc in their ranks, and subsequently, as a
crowning disaster, Norris, persuaded by Antonio against Drake’s advice,
marched overland from Peniche to Lisbon, instead of forcing the Tagus.
But Antonio had been deceived. None but a few country people joined him;
the Portuguese in Lisbon were utterly cowed by the firmness and severity
of the Archduke Albert and his few Spaniards, and Norris had no siege
artillery. After a few days of useless heroism, in which young Essex
showed himself the brave, rash, generous lad he was, the attempt was
abandoned; and harassed by enemies in flank and rear, beset by famine,
sickness, and panic, Norris, and what was left of his army, beat a
retreat to Cascaes, where Drake and the ships awaited them. The Azores
were never approached, and the ships in Lisbon and Seville were not
burned, and the inglorious expedition slunk back again to England with a
loss of two-thirds of its number of men.
Although Burghley had drawn up the conditions of the Queen’s aid to
the expedition, he took no active part in its subsequent organisation,
for a great sorrow was impending, which fell upon him ten days before
the expedition sailed. He had lived in harmony and affection with
his wife for forty-three years, and her death on the 4th April cast
him for a time into the deepest sorrow.[567] But even in the midst of
his grief, his passion for placing everything on record led him to
write a most interesting series of meditations on his loss, which is
still extant.[568] Commencing by a reflection on the fruitlessness of
wishing his “dear wife alive again in her mortal body,” he proceeds at
great length to lay down the direction his thoughts should take for
consolation, such as gratitude to God for “His favour in permitting her
to have lived so many years together with me, and to have given her grace
to have the true knowledge of her salvation.” But most of the curious
document is occupied by a statement of the liberal anonymous charities
of Lady Burghley, which during her life she had kept inviolably secret,
even from her husband; and as some indication of the reality of Lord
Burghley’s grief, it may be mentioned that he signs the paper “April 9,
1588.[569] Written at Colling’s Lodge by me in sorrow.”
Through the whole course of his life we have seen William Cecil pursuing
the traditional policy of suspicion of France and Scotland, and a desire
to draw closer to the rulers of the Netherlands. But in his old age a
series of circumstances which were impossible to have been foreseen,
entirely revolutionised the political balance of Europe, and for a time
led even Lord Burghley to reverse his main policy. The heavy yoke of the
Guises, doubly heavy now that they had the power of Spain behind them,
had at last galled to desperation the vicious Valois who ruled France.
The long-foretold and carefully-planned blow which had murdered the Duke
of Guise and his brother, and rid Henry of his hard taskmaster, had been
followed by a combination of all French Catholicism against the royal
murderer. The subjects were declared to be absolved from their allegiance
to the King, Paris flew to arms, the Church thundered denunciations,
and the erstwhile royal bigot and monk, the figurehead of the Catholic
League, the sleepless persecutor of Protestants, found himself driven
into the arms of the only subjects he had who were not ready to tear him
to pieces, namely, the Huguenots and excommunicated Henry of Navarre,
the legitimate heir to the throne. Together they advanced upon Paris to
crush the Guisan Catholics, and wreak vengeance upon the citizens who had
deposed their sovereign. Henry of Navarre had often sought and obtained
Elizabeth’s help against the Catholics, and looked to her again in this
supreme struggle which was to decide, as it seemed, the fate of France.
For the first time, however, on this occasion English aid took the form
of supporting the sovereign against rebels, instead of the reverse.
In Scotland also the Catholic nobles had been busy intriguing for the
landing of a Spanish force, which should coerce or depose James, and
finally crush Protestantism there.[570] The plan had been discovered,
and Elizabeth, who had again made sure of James, had urged him to
severity, and offered him support if necessary against his Catholic
nobles. So that in Scotland, as in France, it was Catholicism that
represented rebellion, and Protestantism in both countries looked to
England to uphold legality. That the position struck Lord Burghley as
curious is seen in a letter from him to Lord Shrewsbury[571] (16th June).
“The world,” he says, “is become very strange! We Englishmen now daily
desire the prosperity of a King of France and a King of Scots. We were
wont to aid the subjects oppressed against both these Kings; now we are
moved to aid both these Kings against their rebellious subjects; and
though these are contrary effects, yet on our part they proceed from
one cause, for that we do is to weaken our enemies.” In another letter
he says, “Seeing both Kings are enemies to our enemies we have cause to
join with them.” In fact, once more for a time religious union had become
stronger than national divisions. It was the Protestantism of England,
France, Scotland, and Holland, led by Elizabeth, against militant
Catholicism everywhere, championed by the Spanish King.
Six weeks after the above letter was written the changed position towards
France was further accentuated by the murder of Henry III. at the hands
of a fanatic monk in the interests of the Catholics. With the Huguenot
Henry of Navarre as King of France, and with Spain as the power behind
the League, England and France were pledged to the same cause. The main
sources of distrust in England against France always had been the fear
that the latter power might dominate Flanders or gain a footing in
Scotland. James’s adhesion to the Protestant party, his alliance with
England, and his growing hopes of the English succession, had made
the latter contingency one which might now be disregarded, whilst the
possession of strong places in the Netherlands in English hands, the
religion of the new King of France, and his need to depend upon England
for support, rendered it in the highest degree improbable that he would
dream of conquering and holding Spanish Flanders against the wish of
Elizabeth.
For the last three years Elizabeth had continued to supply Henry of
Navarre with large sums of money to pay mercenaries; but if Henry was to
reign over France he must now fight the League and Spain; and to enable
him to do this, England would have to subscribe more handsomely than
ever. Henry accordingly sent Beauvoir la Nocle to London to push his
master’s cause. Great quantities of ammunition were shipped to the coast
of Normandy, whither Henry had retired with his army; but men were wanted
too, and on the 17th August Beauvoir dined with the Lord Treasurer at
Cecil House, and concluded an arrangement by which Elizabeth was to lend
300,000 crowns to pay for German reiters in the spring, and to make a
cash advance to Henry of 70,000 crowns.
By a letter from Beauvoir in the following year (16th June 1590) it is
clear that Burghley’s old distrust of the French had not been overcome
without difficulty. “At last,” he says, “I have conquered the Lord
Treasurer! Now it must be borne in mind that if the Queen says ‘Do this,’
and Burghley says ‘Do it not,’ it is he who will be obeyed. Still I find
him easier and more tractable than he was; these are humours that come
and go, like the wind blows. Nevertheless he does well, though he is not
one of those who act up to the proverb ‘Quis cito dat, bis dat.’” In the
same despatch Beauvoir fervently urges the King to keep his promise with
regard to the payment for the ammunition, &c., supplied to him. He says
that the failure to meet such engagements is called in England “to play
the Vidame.”[572] “For God’s sake,” he continues, “make provision for
payment, or abandon all hope of getting anything else here except on good
security.”[573]
Henry’s first attack on Paris failed, and he was forced to retire
(November 1589); but he sent the gallant old hero La Noue to Picardy
to withstand the League there. When young Essex heard of his proximity
he was anxious to join him.[574] From the first he had been trying to
persuade the Queen to send national forces under his command to aid the
Huguenots, but cautious Burghley was always at hand to hint at expense
and responsibility, and the auxiliary English troops under Willoughby,
now in Henry’s service, were complaining bitterly of the hardships and
penury they were undergoing. A great fleet also was being fitted out in
Spain, the destination of which was kept secret, but rumours ran that it
was coming to England, or what was almost as bad, to capture a French
port in the Channel as a naval base from which the invasion of England
could be effected. Brittany was held by the Duke de Mercœur for the
League by Spanish aid, and already (January) overtures had been made by
him to Philip to occupy a port on the coast.
But whether England was to be attacked direct or a Brittany port first
taken possession of, it behoved Elizabeth to stand on her guard, and on
the 15th March a great plan for the muster and mobilisation of troops all
over England was issued by the Lord Treasurer.[575] On the day before
the order was made in England the Huguenot King had gained the great
battle of Ivry, crushing Mayenne’s army and rapidly beleaguering Paris
again. For the moment, therefore, Henry was able to hold his own, and
the apprehension of the English Government was mainly directed towards
Brittany, where a Spanish force of 4000 men were supporting the Duke de
Mercœur; and the claim of Philip’s daughter to the duchy, if not to the
crown of France, was being advanced.
Burghley’s age was now telling upon him greatly. He had become very deaf,
and almost constant gout kept him crippled; but still he remained, as
ever, the resource of every one with an appeal to make, a question to
be decided, or an end to be served.[576] The recent death of Walsingham
(April 1590) left him the only one of the Queen’s early Councillors,
except Crofts, who died soon afterwards, and Sir Francis Knollys, whose
fanatical Puritanism and anti-Prelatism still gave much trouble to the
Treasurer. The latter had evidently marked out his brilliant younger
son Robert Cecil for Walsingham’s successor; and certainly no better
choice could have been made, for he had for some time past relieved
his father of some of his most laborious work, and had imbibed much of
his policy and method. The mere hint of such an intention, however,
was sufficient to arouse the opposition of Essex, who, either out of
generosity or in a mere spirit of contradiction of “the Cecils,” took up
the cause of Davison, and endeavoured to bring him back to office.[577]
The Lord Treasurer was powerful enough to prevent that; but did not
push the matter to extremes by obtaining the appointment of his own son
until some years afterwards, although Robert Cecil was knighted (May
1591) and was sworn a Member of the Privy Council shortly afterwards
(August 1591), and thereafter practically discharged much of the duty of
Secretary of State.[578] Burghley has frequently been blamed for a want
of generosity towards Davison at this juncture. He was, as we have had
occasion to notice more than once, not a generous man; but this was a
crucial trial of strength between him and young Essex, and if Davison
had been reappointed Secretary of State the influence of Burghley would
have suffered irreparably. It was obvious now that Essex was determined,
if possible, to force Elizabeth into an aggressive policy, especially
against Spain, and it was exactly this policy which Burghley still
devoted his life to opposing. But it is clear that the Treasurer did not
gain his point with regard to Davison without some little trouble. Whilst
the matter was in dispute he pleaded his age and infirmities as a reason
for his complete retirement from office;[579] and such a hint always
brought the Queen to her bearings.
He, however, absented himself from court and stayed in dudgeon at
Theobalds, where the Queen, to pacify him, paid him a stately visit in
May, and the notes at Hatfield in the Lord Treasurer’s writing show that
on this occasion, as usual, the smallest details of the Queen’s reception
were arranged by him. Whilst there the Queen appears to have written the
extraordinary jocose letter to “The disconsolate and retired spryte,
the hermite of Tyboll,” in which, with tedious and affected jocularity,
Hatton, in her name, exhorts him to return to the world and his duty. He
must have done so promptly, for he was with the court at Greenwich again
as busy as ever in a fortnight, writing to Mr. Grimstone, the agent in
France, a letter (June), which shows that already the old distrust of
French methods was reasserting itself. “In truth, her Majesty findeth
some lack that the King doth not advertise her more frequently of his
actions and intentions; and especially she findeth it strange that there
is no more care had for the state of Brittany, in that the King sendeth
no greater forces thither to encounter the Spaniards’ new descents, or to
recover such port towns as be of most moment. And her Majesty is truly
comforted with certain successes that have happened in Brittany since
the arrival (there) of Sir John Norreys.”[580] The letter ends with an
emphatic reminder of Henry’s obligations to Elizabeth, and a somewhat
doubting hope that he will be properly grateful.
Henry naturally was for winning Paris, the headquarters of the League and
the capital of his realm, and he was already giving pause to Elizabeth
and Burghley by his willingness to “receive instruction” from priests,
with a view to his conversion. What from the English point of view was
most to be feared was that he might at last be forced or cajoled into
consenting to a partition of France, in which the Infanta’s claim to the
Duchy of Brittany, which was a very strong one, should be acknowledged.
This would have brought the Spaniards into the Channel opposite England,
and have completely altered the balance of power. Already Don Juan
del Aguila had a firm grip upon the port of Blavet, and Elizabeth’s
Government were pressing Henry to direct his attention to the north of
France, where the League had occupied most of the principal ports,
except Dieppe. Henry himself was reducing Chartres and other places near
Paris, whilst his officers in the north, with inadequate forces, were
doing their best to recover the coast towns.
At the urgent desire of Elizabeth, Henry promised to come to
Normandy,[581] and Essex prevailed upon the Queen to give him command
of a considerable English force to besiege Rouen[582] (July). The young
Earl was in semi-disgrace in consequence of his recent marriage with
Walsingham’s daughter (Sir Philip Sidney’s widow), but the Queen gave
him strict orders not to expose himself to danger. Henry, however, did
not keep his word to meet Essex on the coast, and as soon as Essex
landed, made an attempt to utilise the English force elsewhere. Essex was
indignant, and rushed off to Noyon to remonstrate with Henry.[583] When,
however, Rouen was at last besieged, he violated the Queen’s commands and
took an active part in the siege.[584]
At length Elizabeth declared that she would be played with no longer
by him, and he was forced to return to his infuriated mistress,[585]
whilst the siege of Rouen dragged on for months longer, sometimes in the
presence of Henry himself, until the arrival of Parma and Mayenne caused
it to be abandoned (May 1592). The anger of the Queen with Essex and the
war-party was increased by the ill success in the autumn (1591) of the
attempt to intercept the Spanish treasure fleet off the Azores;[586] and
for a time “the Cecils” had their way, which was to administer just so
much aid, and no more, as should prevent Maurice of Nassau in Holland and
Henry of Navarre in France from succumbing to the power of Spain, whilst
the Queen in the meanwhile railed at Navarre for his shiftiness, and at
Essex for his disobedience. Her Englishmen, she said, had been badly
treated and exposed to undue hardships, her advances were unpaid, nobody
was grateful to her; and in future she declared, that though Henry might
have her prayers he should have no more of her money.
The determined efforts of Essex and his party, and more especially of
the two Bacons, Francis and Antony, to wound and discredit the Cecils,
stopped at no inconsistency. From their earliest childhood the Earl and
the Bacons had been attached to the Puritan party, and still posed as its
champions; and yet they were the first to endeavour to cast upon Burghley
the odium of the severe proclamation and fresh persecution of the
seminary priests that had been considered necessary.[587] From the action
of Allen, Persons, and their friends at the time of the Armada, from the
letters intercepted by Burghley disclosing the Jesuit plot in Scotland,
and from the continued bitter writings of Person’s directed against
Elizabeth and her minister, it was beyond question now, that whatever may
have been the case at the beginning of their propaganda, the aim of the
seminarists was simply to undermine and overturn the political government
of the country.[588] And yet the Bacons, nephews of Burghley and sons of
a fiercely Puritan mother, prompted by the double spy Standen and men of
the same evil class, almost violently took up the cause of the persecuted
Catholics when they thought it would injure the kinsman to whom they owed
so much, and his son, of whom they were jealous.[589]
The renewed severity against the seminarists at this time was certainly
not without justification. The shifty James Stuart was again listening
to the charming of his Catholic nobles and the agents of Spain, though
doubtless with the intention of outwitting them, and from all sides came
the news of a powerful fleet being prepared in the Spanish ports either
for England, Scotland, or Ireland. For a time in the autumn of 1592,
whilst Lord Burghley was accompanying Elizabeth through the southern
counties,[590] a perfect panic of apprehension fell upon the people;
partly, it must be confessed, caused by the fear of reprisals for the
ceaseless ravages of the English upon Spanish shipping. Burghley himself
had always been opposed to these ravages,[591] and had steadily refused
to accept any share in the profits of them; but when the prizes were
brought back he took care that the Queen’s share was not forgotten. A
good instance of this occurred in 1592. Ralegh and the Earl of Cumberland
with some associates fitted out a powerful expedition to intercept
the treasure galleons, and, if possible, to raid some of the Spanish
settlements. When the squadron had sailed, Ralegh was suddenly recalled
by the angry Queen and thrown into the Tower (May) for having married.
The _Roebuck_, Ralegh’s own ship, captured off Flores amongst other
prizes the great carrack _Madre de Dios_, which reached Dartmouth on
the 8th September. The riches she contained were beyond calculation;
pearls, amber, musk, and precious stones, tapestries, silks, spices, and
gold formed her cargo. Plunder began long before she reached England,
and when the news came of the capture the great road to the west was
crowded by Jew dealers, London tradesmen and fine ladies and gentlemen
on their way to buy bargains. Ralegh’s sailors were already sulky at the
imprisonment of their beloved master, and when attempts were made by the
shore authorities to recover some of the plunder and prevent further
peculation, they became unmanageable. Sir John Hawkins wrote to Lord
Burghley that Ralegh was the only man who could bring them to order.[592]
But Ralegh was in the Tower, “the Queen’s poor prisoner”; and it needed
all the Lord Treasurer’s influence, working on Elizabeth’s greed, to
obtain permission for Sir Walter, still under guard, to go down to
Devonshire and set matters straight.[593] Preceding him by a few hours on
the same errand went Sir Robert Cecil, whose letters to his father on his
journey, detailing the measures he had adopted on the way to intercept
the plunder, are extremely graphic and interesting.[594]
Such depredations upon Spanish shipping as this—and they were of constant
occurrence—although they might enrich the adventurers, and to some extent
even the Queen, were a means of keeping the English people generally
in a constant state of apprehension, and rendering legitimate commerce
dangerous and difficult. As we have seen, Lord Burghley had steadily set
his face against piracy of all sorts, and Sir Robert Cecil followed his
lead. Ralegh had from his first appearance at court been a friend of the
Cecils, as against Leicester and Essex, and he still remained on their
side; but he was greedy and unscrupulous, and certainly from the time of
the capture of the great carrack the cordiality between the Cecil party
and himself diminished.[595] The talk of the court generally was that
Burghley was jealous of the rise of all men who might compete with his
beloved son Robert; and Ralegh’s friend Spenser puts the thought in verse
(“The Ruins of Time”) thus:—
“O grief of griefs! O gall of all good hearts!
To see that virtue should despisèd be
Of him that first was raised for virtuous parts,
And now broad spreading like an agèd tree,
Lets none shoot up that nigh him planted be.”
That Lord Burghley in his failing age should desire to continue his
policy through his son was perfectly natural, especially as in his case
the son was in every way worthy to succeed him; and it is not fair to
blame him for mean filial jealousy to the detriment of Ralegh, as Spenser
does, for Ralegh, although nominally his adherent, was in the matter
of the Puritans and aggressive action against Spain, acting rather on
the side of Essex. It is to this fact that Ralegh owed his lifelong
disappointment at being excluded from the Privy Council.
That Essex and his party were sleepless in their attempts to undermine
the influence of the Cecils there is abundant evidence to prove.
Amongst many others, an interesting letter from Ralph Lane to Lord
Burghley (March 1592) may be quoted.[596] Sir Thomas Cecil and his
more brilliant younger brother had quarrelled whilst their father was
staying in retirement at Theobalds, sick and sorry. “The world speaks
of your Lordship’s grief,” writes Lane, “and thinks it proceeds from
the differences between your two sons. The matter is not great, but
the humours short. That which grieves your well-wishers, who are the
true well-wishers of her Majesty and the State, is that it has been
misrepresented to her Majesty so as to injure you for credit and wisdom,
and that these hard constructions made against you to her are the
principal cause of your own grief. Good men moan that her Majesty is
sought to be deprived in this dangerous time of so wise and approved
a Councillor. I hope that no envy will make her Majesty disconceit a
personage the choice of whom in the beginning of her reign prognosticated
her future greatness.”
But Elizabeth, though she might listen to the youngsters who sought to
contemn her aged Councillor, knew his worth better than they, and much
as he desired rest, when it came to the pinch, she always refused to let
him go. Only a few days after the above letter was written, indeed, Lord
Burghley received a life-grant of Rockingham Forest, part of the lands of
the deceased Lord Chancellor Bromley, as if in answer to the detractions
of his enemies. Another instance of the dependence of the Queen upon him
and of his devotion to his duty happened in June. He had gone to Bath to
seek alleviation from the gout which had afflicted him all the spring,
and writes from there to the Queen, who was on her progress, enclosing
her an important letter from her Ambassador in France. “I would,” he
says, “have attended your Majesty myself with it, but I am in the midst
of my cure and may not break off without special harm and frustrating my
recovery, which is promised in a few days. But still I will risk all, and
come if your Majesty desires it.”[597]
The persistent attacks upon Burghley and his policy were not confined to
Essex and the Puritans. The Spanish Jesuit party in Flanders, which in
former years had often looked upon him with sympathy and sometimes with
hope, now cast upon him the responsibility of everything that happened
in England, even when the policy was dictated by Burghley’s opponents.
In all the plots of Holt, Yorke, Archer, Cahill, and the rest of the
desperadoes in Flanders, Burghley was one of the principal objects of
attack. “He was but a blood-sucker,” said Yorke; and the latter swore
he would lay a poisoned glowing coal in his way and kill him.[598]
Burghley, he said, had poisoned the young Earl of Derby in order to marry
his grand-daughter to the Earl’s brother. “England was governed by the
Machivellian policy of those who would be kings, and whom it is time were
cut off;”[599] and much more of the same sort. These grosser calumnies
and accusations of corruption[600] were in most cases obviously false,
and could hardly have caused Lord Burghley very deep concern; but the
most artful of his enemies, Father Persons, well knew the weak point
in his armour, and wounded him to the quick in his books, in which he
pretended to show that the Lord Treasurer was of base origin, his father
a tavern-keeper, and he himself a bell-ringer.[601] We have seen in a
former similar case that attacks upon his ancestry almost alone aroused
Lord Burghley’s anger; and an anti-Spanish Catholic writing at the time
(January 1593) records how deeply he was pained by the books of Persons
and Verstegen just published, “which,” he says, “will do the Catholics no
good.”
The division, indeed, between the two parties of Catholics was now
well defined. Those who adhered to Spain and the Jesuits were of
course bitterly inimical to moderate statesmen like the Cecils, whose
efforts would naturally tend to bring about a compromise with James
or Arabella Stuart for the Queen’s successor, peace with Spain, and
toleration for Catholics. The Vatican, the French, the Venetians, and
many of the English and Scottish Catholics abroad were in favour of this
solution;[602] and the English Catholic secular clergy were enlisted
almost entirely on the same side. The extreme parties, however, were
naturally violently opposed to compromise of any sort; so that the
Cecils, as leaders of the peaceful and moderate party, were the target
for envenomed attacks at the same time both of Spanish Jesuits, who
wished for a purely Catholic England under Spanish auspices, and the
militant Protestant party led by Essex, who aimed at a purely Protestant
England and an aggressive war with Spain.
The bitterness of party feeling was promptly demonstrated at the meeting
of Parliament in February. Intelligence of continued armaments in Spain,
and the recent revelations of informers as to the anti-English plots
hatched in Flanders, had rendered necessary the employment of large sums
for the national defence. A statement of the apprehensions entertained
was made in the House of Lords by the Lord Keeper Puckering, and in
the Commons by Sir Robert Cecil, the substance of both speeches having
been previously drafted by Lord Burghley. The patriotism of the members
was appealed to in fervent terms to provide funds for maintaining the
national independence. The Puritan party, aided by Ralegh, fanned the
flame and sought to pledge the Houses to an offensive war; and with but
little dissent a treble subsidy was voted, payable in four years. Francis
Bacon[603] struck a discordant note by asking that the payments should
extend over six years. The people were poor, he said, and hard pressed;
do not arouse their discontent “and set an evil precedent against
ourselves and our posterity.” Sir Robert Cecil somewhat indignantly
answered his cousin’s speech, and the Queen and Lord Treasurer soon made
their displeasure felt, and Francis Bacon could only protest his loyalty
and sorrow for his offence. If only he could wound the Cecils and bring
himself into the good graces of Essex, he seemed to care but little.
The House of Commons, as usual, had a strongly Puritan leaven, and the
indefatigable Peter Wentworth once more incurred the Queen’s anger by
bringing forward the succession question. Whilst the Puritan leaders in
the Commons were being sent to the Tower and the Fleet,[604] the bishops
were preparing a blow which should demolish for good all attempts at
attacks against the Establishment. A new extreme sect called Independents
or Brownists had gained considerable popularity. Other Nonconformists
resisted the orders of the Church, and opposed the authority of
prelates, but the Brownists were for disestablishment altogether. Their
leaders, Barrow and Greenwood, and several others, were in prison; but
their followers were many, and growing in number, and the prelates
were determined to stamp out this new danger to the Church, come what
might. Several Brownists were arraigned for sedition, on the ground
that attacks upon the Establishment were attacks upon the Queen. Barrow
and Greenwood were found guilty, and condemned to death. During the
prosecution the prelates in the Lords had passed a severe bill against
recusancy, designed to press more hardly against Brownists than even
against Catholics. On the 31st March the condemned men were dragged to
Tyburn, with all the hideous formalities usual in executions for felony;
and when the ropes were already around their necks, a reprieve suddenly
arrived. Lord Burghley himself, though seriously ill, had insisted upon
a suspension of the sentence. “No Papist,” he said, “had suffered for
religion, and Protestants’ blood should not be the first shed, at least
before an attempt was made to convince them.” We are told also that he
spoke sharply to the Archbishop (Whitgift). The recusants bill went
to the lower House on the 4th April, and Ralegh amongst others made
a vigorous speech against it. The opposition in the Commons, we are
told,[605] hardened the prelates’ hearts, and both Barrow and Greenwood
suffered the last penalty two days afterwards, to be followed in their
martyrdom for Protestant Nonconformity by many others all over the
country.
This case has been stated here somewhat at length, because it has become
usual to cast upon Lord Burghley the odium for cruel persecution both
of Catholics and Protestants, in disregard of the fact that there were
in England two extreme parties struggling with each other, he being, so
far as religion was concerned, a moderator between the two. He was, of
course, the most prominent man in the Government, but he only maintained
his influence by avoiding the extremes of both parties, and in order
to do this he was obliged to refrain from running strongly counter to
either. It may be said that in this case of the Brownists, as well as
that of the Catholics, he might have firmly put his foot down and have
prevented the sacrifice; but in that event he would not have been William
Cecil, Lord Burghley, and he would not have held the tiller of the State
for forty years.
In the summer, Essex received a strange and powerful coadjutor in his
policy of aggressive war against Spain. He and his friends the Bacons,
much to the Puritan Lady Bacon’s concern, were already deep in confidence
with Standen, and other double spies and professed Catholics, the object
apparently being to organise, for the benefit of Essex, a separate spy
system, independent of the universal network controlled by the Cecils.
The new recruit to Essex was a man of a very different calibre to the
other instruments. Antonio Perez, the former all-powerful minister of
Philip II., was at deadly feud with his master, and had been welcomed at
the court of France as the bitterest enemy of his native country. He was
one of the most brilliant and fascinating scoundrels that ever lived,
and soon won the good graces of the jolly Béarnais, who was already
meditating what he called the “mortal leap” of going to Mass, and turning
the Huguenot Navarre into the Catholic King of France, eldest son of the
Church. He had depended much upon Elizabeth’s help; although of late that
had been slackening as Essex’s influence waned, and he knew that the step
he was about to take would turn her full fury upon him. Who could so
plausibly plead his cause and inflame the hearts in England against Spain
as this mordant foe of Philip, who knew every weakness, every secret,
of his former master? So in June, Perez went to England with Henry’s
blessing, and with the cold permission of Elizabeth, for she had no love
for traitors, and Burghley knew Perez’s errand.
When he arrived he found Elizabeth already fuming at Henry’s apostasy,
and complaining bitterly to Beauvoir de Nocle of his master’s
ingratitude.[606] She refused absolutely to receive the “Spanish
traitor,” and the cautious Cecils gave him a wide berth. Essex in some
notes to Phillips, soon after Perez’s arrival, directs him to set
informers to work to discover the real reason of the Spaniard’s coming.
Lord Burghley, he says, has seen him once, and the Earl of Essex twice.
“Burghley only wished to compare his judgment with his own experience;
but he (Essex) wished to found upon Perez some action, for all his plots
are to make war offensive rather than defensive.”[607] Essex soon got
over his doubts, and plausible Perez stood with Bacon[608] ever at his
right hand, living at his cost, writing his biting gibes, weaving his
plots against Philip, and with his matchless ability and experience
advising the young Earl how best to drag England into war with Spain,
even though Henry was a Catholic, and so to outwit the watchful Cecils.
It was not long, too, before he flattered and wormed himself into the
good graces of the Queen, who gave him a handsome pension; and so
gradually the war-party gained ground in Elizabeth’s councils, for in
this Ralegh too was on the side of Essex, and the ceaseless talk of the
intrigues of the Jesuits kept the English war feeling at fever heat.
Most of the routine work formerly falling upon Lord Burghley was
now undertaken by his son. Letters from all quarters, and upon all
subjects, came to Sir Robert, whose diligence must have been almost
as indefatigable as that of his father; but apparently only those of
special importance and touching foreign affairs were submitted to the
Lord Treasurer. But though Sir Robert might be diligent, he certainly
lacked the high sense of dignity which had always been characteristic of
his father. At a time when courtiers vied with each other in addressing
almost blasphemous flattery to the Queen, when all the firmament was
ransacked to provide comparisons favourable to her Majesty’s beauty and
wisdom, Lord Burghley, although always respectful and deferential to the
Queen, never sacrificed his dignity to please her.
That his son was more of a supple courtier than he, is seen by the
address penned by him to be delivered to the Queen by a man dressed as
a hermit on her entrance to Theobalds, where she passed some days on
a visit to the Lord Treasurer, in October. For turgid affectation and
grovelling humility this production could hardly be excelled by the
egregious Simier, or Hatton himself. The subject evidently has reference
to the Queen’s previous visit to the house when Lord Burghley was in
deep trouble and living in retirement. On that occasion there was much
affected verbosity about the Lord Treasurer as a hermit, and in October
1593, when the pretended hermit addressed her Majesty, he reminded her
that the last time she came, “his founder, upon a strange conceit to
feed his own humour, had placed the hermit, contrary to his profession,
in his house, whilst he (Burghley) had retired to the hermit’s poor
cell.” Whilst his founder (Burghley) lived he was assured that he would
not again dispossess him (as he never turned out tenants) “Only this
perplexeth my soul, and causeth cold blood in every vein, to see the life
of my founder so often in peril, nay, his desire as hasty as his age to
inherit his tomb. But this I hear (which is his greatest comfort), that
when his body, being laden with years, oppressed with sickness, having
spent his strength in the public service, desireth to be rid of worldly
cares, even when he is grievously sick and lowest brought, what holds
him back and ransometh him, is the fear that my young master may wish to
use my cell. And therefore, hearing of all the country folks I meet, that
your Majesty doth use him in your service, as in former time you have
done his father, my founder, and that though his experience and judgment
be not comparable, yet as report goeth he hath something in him like the
child of such a parent,” he (the hermit) begs the Queen, whose will is
law, to bid Robert Cecil to continue in active life, and leave to the
hermit the cell granted to him by his father.[609]
This was doubtless considered at the time a highly ingenious device for
asking the Queen for a reversion of the fathers’ offices for the son,
and is certainly not lacking in the worldly wisdom which looks ahead;
but surely never was any man’s coming death talked about so much in his
lifetime, and with so little constraint, as that of Lord Burghley.[610]