I
WALSINGHAM’S CHARACTER
Of the many Englishmen, who, by loyal service to the nation in the
reign of the Virgin Queen, deserved well of the State, there is perhaps
not one whose claim stands higher than that of Walsingham. For twenty
years, or near it, Elizabeth trusted him more completely than any of
her council, except Burghley, relied on his ability and his fidelity
to carry out every task of exceptional difficulty, profited by his
devotion, his penetration, and his resourcefulness, rejected his
advice on the cardinal question of policy till she was compelled by
circumstances in some measure to adopt it, suffered him to ruin his
fortunes in her service, and finally permitted him to die the poorest
of all her Ministers. It was said, in the study of Burghley, that she
was loyal to him; she was so, in the sense that nothing would induce
her to part from him. Unlike many other princes, when she found a good
servant, she never let him go from personal pique, or on account of
differences; her loyalty was the loyalty of a very acute woman, but one
wholly devoid of generosity. His loyalty she left to be its own reward.
Walsingham won his position by sheer force of ability and character;
qualities in him which were probably discovered by the penetration
of William Cecil, with whom he was always on the most cordial terms,
although himself the advocate of a much bolder policy than was favoured
by the cautious Lord Treasurer. None could say of Walsingham, as his
enemies have said of Cecil, that he was in any degree a time-server;
he was not only as incorruptible, but it could never be hinted that in
affairs of State his line of action was deflected by a hair’s-breadth
by any considerations of personal advantage or advancement. He indulged
in none of those arts of courtiership which not only a Leicester, a
Hatton, or an Essex, but even a Raleigh, took no shame in employing to
extravagance. Not Knollys nor Hunsdon, her own outspoken kinsmen, could
be more blunt and outspoken to their royal mistress than he. It would
be difficult to find in the long roll of English statesmen one more
resolutely disinterested, or one whose services, being admittedly so
great, were rewarded so meagrely.
[Illustration: _SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM_
_From an Engraving by_ G. VERTUE, _after the picture by Holbein, in the
British Museum_]
There are diversities of conscientiousness. Henry VIII. referred most
questions to his conscience, after he had made up his mind about the
answer; and his conscience always endorsed his judgment. Cromwell
ignored conscience altogether; with More, it overruled every other
consideration. Burghley’s was tolerably active, but perhaps somewhat
obtuse. Walsingham, if we read him aright, was as rigidly conscientious
as More himself; but his moral standard requires to be understood
before it can be appreciated. It was derived, not from the New
Testament, but from the Old. It assumed that the Protestants were in
the position of the ancient Hebrews; that they were the Chosen People,
and their enemies, the enemies of the Lord of Sabaoth. It justified the
spoiling of the Egyptians. It was sufficiently tempered to disapprove
the extermination of the Canaanite, but it hardly condemned Ehud and
Jael. Broadly speaking it applied different moral codes in dealing with
the foes of the Faith and in other relations. Identifying the foes
of the Faith with the enemies of the State, it authorised the use,
in self-defence, of every weapon and every artifice employed on the
other side. It was not with him as with those to whom the law serves
for conscience; who will do with a light heart anything that the law
permits, and shrink in horror from anything that it condemns. Nor did
he act on the principle that the right must give way to the expedient.
With him, conscience positively approved in one group of relations the
adoption of practices which in other relations it would have sternly
denounced. That type of conscience is absolutely genuine and sincere;
but it permits actions which are, to say the least, censurable from a
more enlightened point of view.
II
WALSINGHAM’S RISE
The records of Walsingham’s early years are somewhat scanty. An uncle
was Lieutenant of the Tower during the latter part of the reign of
Henry VIII.; of whom it is reported that when Anne Askew was on
the rack, he refused to strain the torture to the point desired
by Wriothesly. His father was a considerable landed proprietor at
Chiselhurst, and filled sundry minor legal offices. He died in 1533,
leaving several daughters and one son, Francis, an infant, born not
earlier than 1530, and so ten years younger than William Cecil. Young
Walsingham was up at King’s College, Cambridge, from 1548 to 1550, and
entered Gray’s Inn in 1552.
Being of the advanced Reformation party, young Walsingham quitted the
country on Mary’s accession, remained abroad during the five years of
her rule, and returned when Elizabeth succeeded, to take his place in
the House of Commons. His sojourn abroad emphasised his Protestantism;
he utilised it also to acquire a very extensive knowledge of foreign
affairs, though he omitted to make himself a master of the Spanish
tongue. He does not appear to have taken prominent part in the
affairs of Parliament when he came back to England; but he attracted
Cecil’s notice, and was employed by the Secretary in procuring secret
intelligence, of which the earliest definite record is a report of
August 1568, giving a “descriptive list of suspicious persons arriving
in Italy during the space of three months,” obtained from “Franchiotto
the Italian.” On November 20 of the same year, he writes to Cecil to
say that, if the evidence of Mary’s complicity in Darnley’s murder
is insufficient, “my friend is able to discover certain that should
have been employed in the said murder, who are here to be produced.”
Incidentally, it may be remarked that this, of course, means no more
than that Walsingham knew where to lay his hand on some one who
professed to have information; which Mr. Froude renders by a phrase
implying that he actually had information, known to be valuable, ready
to be brought forward. What it really shows is, that Walsingham was
engaged in looking out for anything which offered a chance of being
turned to account.
In the autumn of the following year, just before the rising of the
northern earls, when it was practically certain that some kind of
Catholic plot was afoot and that the Spanish ambassador, Don Guerau
de Espes was mixed up in it, circumstances brought the Florentine
banker Ridolfi under suspicion. The position to which Walsingham
was now attaining is shown by the Italian being assigned to his
surveillance--with the result that Ridolfi’s house and papers were
thoroughly searched without his knowledge, but also without the
discovery of anything incriminating. Whether honestly or with the
object of deceiving him, Ridolfi was thereupon treated as if no
vestige of suspicion attached to him. In the modern phrase, it was
an integral part of Walsingham’s system in dealing with persons on
whom he expected to pounce when his own time came, to give them every
inch of rope he could afford: but a year later Walsingham wrote about
the man to Cecil in terms which imply that the belief in his honesty
was genuine. When the whole of the Ridolfi plot was revealed in 1571,
Walsingham was in France. The secret service was Cecil’s creation,
not Walsingham’s, though doubtless the latter had a considerable
share in organising it, and a little later became mainly responsible
for controlling it. Valuable as he was already rendering himself, he
only emerges definitely into the front rank on his appointment as a
special envoy to the French Court in August 1570; followed immediately
thereafter by his selection for the post of Ambassador Resident.
The situation at this time was exceedingly critical. At home, the
northern insurrection had just been suppressed, Norfolk and others of
the peers were very much subjects of suspicion, and the Papal Bull
of deposition had increased the sense of nervousness. The Spanish
representative in England was the hot-headed and intriguing Don Guerau
de Espes; in the Netherlands, Alva had made the world in general
believe--though he knew better himself--that the revolt was crushed.
In France the Huguenots, despite defeat in the field, had just shown
themselves strong enough to obtain, through the balancing party of the
Politiques, terms which placed them fairly on a level with the Guise
faction; but a marriage was being planned between Henry of Anjou, the
king’s next brother and heir presumptive, and the imprisoned Queen of
Scots. In Scotland itself, the assassination of Moray had revived the
confusion which the sombre regent had been struggling to allay. Thus,
there was danger to Elizabeth’s throne from her own Catholic subjects;
danger from France, since Anjou was regarded as of the Guise party; and
danger, imagined at least, from Spain, where that surprising charlatan,
Stukely, had almost, if not quite, persuaded Philip that at his
call--with some armed assistance--all Ireland would rise, fling off the
English yoke, and offer itself to Spain. As a matter of fact, Philip
was much too heavily hampered to take openly aggressive action against
England at the time--but that was known to very few people besides
himself and Alva.
These difficulties of Philip’s were the first redeeming feature in
the situation. The second was that on which Cecil always relied, that
the national interests of France and Spain were too antagonistic to
permit of any cordial alliance between them. Mary Stewart on the
English throne as Philip’s _protégée_ would not suit France; as Anjou’s
wife she would not suit Philip. France might at any time see her own
interest in fostering the revolt in the Netherlands and intriguing for
their Protectorate. The third point was that in France itself, the
Politiques were at one with the Huguenots in wishing to avoid the union
of Anjou with Mary, which would be a great victory for the Guises; so
that the balance of forces in France would turn definitely in favour of
England if she could offer anything in the way of a make-weight.
Such were the conditions under which Walsingham was sent to France as a
special envoy in August 1570--to congratulate the French Government on
the pacification just concluded; to urge the necessity of maintaining
it loyally; and to dissuade the Court from espousing the cause of the
Scots Queen. Within a month, he received official intimation that the
resident Ambassador, Sir Henry Norris, was about to be recalled, and he
was himself to succeed to the post; which arrangement took effect in
January.
III
AMBASSADOR AT PARIS
In the interval, an ingenious solution of several problems had
suggested itself to the Huguenot leaders, and found favour with the
Queen-Mother. This was that Anjou should drop the idea of marrying
Mary and should instead marry Elizabeth herself. He was her junior
by seventeen years, but that was a small matter. If he wedded the
Protestant Queen, he would be definitely detached from the Guises,
toleration for both religions would be assured both in England and
France, and the two countries could join in the liberation of the
Netherlands. The problem would be to arrange the marriage on terms
which would give the parties who were favourably disposed to it
security for the carrying out of those parts of the programme which
were from their several points of view essential.
_Prima facie_ the plan was acceptable to the Huguenots, to the
Politiques, to the English Council, and to Walsingham himself. To the
Guises, it was very much the reverse, and they tried, with a degree
of success, to frighten the Duke with the old scandals about the
Virgin Queen and Leicester. The Spaniards were much perturbed. Their
Ambassador first tried to draw the French into engagements with them
against Orange; and, failing in that attempt, began making overtures
to Walsingham which he appreciated at their true value. He knew all
about the overtures to France--to which, as the Englishman wrote drily
to Cecil, “the answers falling not out to his contentment, maketh
him, as I suppose, to think that the friendship of England is worth
the having.” The same letter notes information that the Pope has a
“practice in hand for England, which would not be long before it brake
forth”--no doubt in connexion with the Ridolfi plot, which was now
maturing.
Side by side with the business of the Anjou marriage, Walsingham was
much engaged in gathering information as to the suspected Spanish
expedition to Ireland; in respect of which he held much diplomatic
conversation with the ex-Archbishop of Cashel and heard many tales of
Stukely’s doings and sayings. Walsingham suspected his good faith,
and remarked significantly to Cecil--who had just been “ordered to
write William Burleigh” instead of William Cecil, but had still some
difficulty in remembering the new signature--“I have placed some
especially about him, to whom he repaireth, as also who repairs unto
him.” The suspicions were not dissipated as time went on.
The Ambassador’s situation was one of singular difficulty. For a dozen
years past, Elizabeth had played fast and loose with so many suitors
that any lack of straightforwardness on her part was certain to be
construed as meaning that she intended to play with Anjou in the same
way; while she was absolutely incapable of being straightforward. As
a matter of fact, she was probably merely playing her usual game. So
long as the match was on the _tapis_, but only on the _tapis_, Philip
would be afraid to move lest he should precipitate it. Meantime, Orange
was making ready to renew the struggle in the Netherlands, and she
might presently find that she could afford to manœuvre herself out
of the marriage, and would have skill enough to make the rupture of
negotiations come from the other side. Burghley and Leicester both
wanted the match--the former being satisfied that it would result in
the Burgundian dominions being separated from Spain without being
absorbed by France, while Protestantism would be generally much
strengthened. But in his private correspondence with Walsingham, he
warned the Ambassador very plainly that neither he nor Leicester knew
what the Queen meant to do--it was as likely as not that she wished in
the long run to get the match broken off by Anjou on the score of the
English stipulations for his conforming to the English law in matters
of religion. Walsingham, who was a Protestant with his heart and soul
as well as his head, and believed that the Protestant cause was the
national cause much more uncompromisingly than Burghley, was more
zealous on behalf of the marriage than the Secretary himself, being
convinced that it would bring about the victory of Protestantism, in
alliance with England, both in France and the Netherlands.
It was not Burghley nor Walsingham, but Elizabeth, who controlled the
situation; and however strongly the ministers might express their
private feelings to each other, they had to do as she told them. Her
trickery met with its usual success. In due course, Henry of Anjou
found that he could not accede to the demand for conformity, and in
spite of his mother’s entreaties withdrew his suit; yet the business
was so successfully managed that the French court, instead of being
offended, very soon began to hint that the French king had yet another
brother, the Duke of Alençon, whose hand and heart were not yet
disposed of. So the play began again.
Meantime the complete revelation of the Ridolfi conspiracy brought
conclusive proofs of the real hostility of Spain to Elizabeth. In the
following spring (1572) the Netherlands were set ablaze once more by
La Marck’s capture of Brille, and Alva found his hands full; a timely
occurrence, since the crushing defeat of the Turks at Lepanto by Don
John in October had greatly strengthened the hands of Philip. In the
summer of 1572 Walsingham was more than ever convinced that a French
marriage, and support on the most liberal scale to Orange, composed
the policy which it was imperative for England to adopt. Everything
was pointing to a Huguenot ascendency in France; Marguerite of Valois
was on the point of marrying young Henry of Navarre, head of the
Bourbons, and next in succession to the throne after the reigning
king’s brothers. To play fast and loose with the Alençon marriage would
alienate France; to play fast and loose with Orange would be to throw
him into the arms of France alienated from England. That Philip, seeing
England thus isolated, would cheerfully forgive and forget all that he
had suffered, for the sake of an unstable union with her, was almost
unthinkable. Yet the months went by, and the Ambassador could get no
guidance even from the sympathetic Burghley, who was as much in the
dark as ever as to Elizabeth’s real intentions.
But there was a factor in the situation of which on one had taken
full account; not Walsingham, nor Burghley, nor Elizabeth; not the
Huguenots; not Philip nor Alva. This was Catherine de Medici’s
overwhelming lust of personal power, and the passion of jealousy
accompanying it. She saw her ascendency over her son Charles IX.
slipping away and passing into the hands of Coligny and his associates.
For victory and vengeance, she prepared to commit, perhaps, the most
appalling crime in the annals of Christian Europe. Paris was crowded
with Huguenots gathered to celebrate the pact of amity, to be sealed
by the wedding of the Béarnais and the sister of the king. Stealthily
and swiftly the plans were laid, the plot organised, the preparations
completed. The wedding took place on August 18: three days later, an
unsuccessful attempt was made to murder Coligny. It may be that if the
assassin had killed the Admiral, the huge tragedy which followed would
have been averted; as it was, hours before the sun of St. Bartholomew’s
day (August 24) had risen, the floodgates had been opened, and the
streets of Paris were running red with rivers of Huguenot blood.
During the following days, like scenes were being enacted through the
provinces.
For a moment Europe stood breathless, aghast. Whatever this appalling
thing meant, it seemed at least an assured portent of developments
undreamed of; probably a vast, all-embracing, Catholic conspiracy.
England sprang to arms, ready to stand at bay against the united forces
of France and Spain. If there was to be a life-and-death struggle
between the religions, she would fight to the last gasp. The Englishmen
in the French capital had been safeguarded on the night of the
massacre, but it was some little time before they could be sure that
their turn was not still to come. Yet Walsingham in Paris bore himself
with the same lofty sternness that the English Queen and her Council
displayed to the French Ambassador in London. It soon became evident
that Catherine was frightened at what she had done; that her one desire
was to minimise it, to declare that matters had never been intended
to go so far, to shelter behind the plea that the victims had been on
the verge of effecting a bloody _coup d’état_ and the counter-stroke
had only been dealt in self-defence. Walsingham’s reply was in terms
of courteous but scathing incredulity. The Queen-Mother tried to
win him over by declaring that Coligny had warned Anjou against the
machinations of England; he answered that the Admiral had acted therein
as a loyal Frenchman.
The diplomatic fabric had collapsed, but at least there was no question
of France holding Elizabeth to blame for the rupture; nor was there any
question of Catherine turning to a junction with Spain. The Huguenots
now were at bay; there would be work enough before they were either
crushed or pacified; while the slaughter of their leaders had made
the Guises more dangerous than ever. On the other hand, there could
be no joint action on behalf of Orange. France had ruled herself out.
Walsingham would still have stood boldly for “the Religion,” but
the Queen and Burghley were not equally ready to fling themselves
single-handed into the struggle on behalf of the Netherlands. The
Spaniards deemed the opportunity a good one for seeking reconciliation
with England. A more politic and less bloodthirsty Governor was
dispatched to the Low Countries to take the place of Alva, who by his
own desire was recalled. Walsingham went back to England, and for some
time to come Philip and Elizabeth were engaged in an elaborate if
insincere ostentation of amicable intentions.
IV
ENTANGLEMENTS
Burghley as Secretary had been so heavily worked that he was in
danger of breaking down; to prevent such a catastrophe, he was made
Lord Treasurer, Walsingham on his return to England being appointed
joint Secretary of State with Sir Thomas Smith. Leicester continued
to be Burghley’s chief rival with Elizabeth on the Council, owing to
his personal favour with her; and his political line was the same as
Walsingham’s, though the Secretary supplied the brains. Walsingham was
neither the rival nor the follower of either; it was never in his mind
to supplant Burghley either himself or by Leicester; but his counsels
and those of the Lord Treasurer were often in disagreement in so far as
his Protestantism was more energetic, and as he had no sympathy with
the idea of amity with Spain, being thoroughly convinced of Philip’s
fundamental hostility to England as a Protestant Power.
For some years the Protestant policy was out of court so far as Spain
and the Netherlands were concerned; the comparative moderation of the
new Governor, Requesens, giving plausibility to the hope that a _modus
vivendi_ might be arrived at--that Philip’s maximum of concession
and Orange’s minimum of demand might prove capable of adjustment.
In Scotland, however, Walsingham and Burghley both recognised the
necessity of maintaining friendly relations with the capable but
sinister Regent, the Earl of Morton. It was impossible to ignore
the danger of a reconstruction of parties there, which might again
result in French intervention being invited; a consummation equally
abhorrent to the Treasurer and the Secretary. Elizabeth’s parsimony
here proved too strong for her policy. Burghley and Walsingham both
believed that liberal but judicious expenditure would prove economical
in the long run. But the Queen would not relax the purse-strings; the
unrest of Scotland continued to be a thorn in her side, and to be also
a perpetual strain on the anxiety of her ministers and a drain on her
Exchequer.