CHAPTER VIII

1578-1584

Mendoza and Elizabeth—His haughty behaviour—The French in

Flanders—Elizabeth’s approaches to Philip—The Spanish designs

on Portugal—Renewed plots of Mary Stuart—Appeals to Philip

to aid her in England—Philip’s attitude towards Guisan

co-operation with him in Britain—The Jesuit mission—Mendoza

and the Catholic plot in Scotland—Elizabeth aids the

Portuguese pretender—Anger of Mendoza—His altercation with

Elizabeth—Progress of the plots—Collapse of Lennox—The

interference of Guise in the plans—The jealousy between English

Catholic exiles and the Scots—Development of the Anglo-Spanish

plans and intended exclusion of Guise—Arrest of Francis

Throckmorton—Discovery of the plot—Expulsion of Mendoza—Philip

faces the inevitable and slowly prepares for a war of invasion

On the 16th March, 1578, Mendoza sat on a low stool by Elizabeth’s side,

under the canopy in the Palace of Greenwich. He was a man already of

mature age, of stately port, strong and masterful as became a dashing

cavalry leader, but he spoke on this occasion, his first formal audience

of Elizabeth, in silken tones, as he tried his best to excuse Don Juan’s

breach of faith with the States. The Queen, on her side, had nothing

but complaints and protests. Her aim was to be made a party to the new

pacification, either as arbitrator or mediator, because, she said, that

she would have to provide the financial guarantee offered by the States.

But it was not Philip’s intention to allow her thus to come between him

and his subjects, and this point was always evaded, cleverly as she

urged it. But upon the main point she and Mendoza soon agreed. If Philip

would make the concessions to the States that he now promised, and they

refused to submit, she herself would help to punish them; and as for the

French, she would take care they were never masters of Flanders, with or

without Don Juan. It was noticed that as soon as the Queen said that she

would help to punish the States if they did not accept the terms promised

by Philip, Leicester hurriedly left the chamber, it was whispered to

write by special courier to Flanders that Havrey should at once return to

England and represent the rebel view of the situation.

“I am glad to see you again,”[224] said the Queen, after the business

talk was finished, “although I have been told that the real object of

your coming is to plan many things to my injury; but even if you were

not a minister of my good brother, I do not think that you would do me

much harm.” Needless to say, Mendoza loudly proclaimed his devotion to

her, and for a time all went harmoniously between them. Alençon from

the frontier sent to Elizabeth lovelorn epistles of devotion, which she

looked at for a time with some distrust, believing that this might be a

trap whereby the French, as a nation, were endeavouring to gain a footing

in Flanders to her prejudice. Of one thing she was quite determined,

namely, that for every Frenchman who entered Flanders an Englishman

should enter too; and to all Mendoza’s remonstrances at the aid in men

and money that constantly flowed over to the Netherlands, Elizabeth

had the answer ready that they went as much in Philip’s interest as her

own, to prevent the country from falling into the hands of the French.

To Orange, whom she constantly upbraided for welcoming French aid, her

scolding reproaches meant little, for, as he said, he cared not whence

came the help by means of which he could fight the Spaniards, and if he

obtained, as he did, forces from Alençon and from Elizabeth too, he was

willing to put up with the Englishwoman’s hard words.

She did not mince matters with Mendoza, either. “By God!” she shouted,

“if the edict of toleration is not re-granted to the States I will help

them against you whilst I have a man left in England.” Mendoza drily

remarked that she was helping them pretty effectually already, “and

that, grateful as I was for her kindness to me, I could not help telling

her that your Majesty had very long arms, and that if need arose their

strength would be felt in any country upon which they were placed. She

swallowed this,” says Mendoza, “with rather a wry face, and said she did

not consider these people to be rebels, as they were satisfied with what

your Majesty had granted to them before, and she would not allow either

the French to set foot in the States nor the Spaniards to oppress them.”

Thus surely but slowly Elizabeth worked her way; but with the inevitable

consequence of convincing Mendoza, as all other Spanish ambassadors in

turn had been convinced, that force against Elizabeth was their only

remedy, since in diplomacy she was more than a match for the cast-iron

methods of their master.

To Mendoza’s intercession for the unhappy Guaras, with whom the new

ambassador had little sympathy as a plebeian and bungler in State

affairs, Elizabeth replied angrily that if he had been a subject of any

other King but Philip she would have hanged him long ago, as he had been

plotting against her with the Queen of Scots and English rebels. She

would get rid of him, she said, by and by, when she had squeezed some

more information from him. Once, in June, 1578, Guaras was brought out of

prison and told by the Council that he would have to leave the country

in ten days; but, instead of accepting the decision humbly, he raised an

altercation, again claiming diplomatic privilege, with the result that he

was promptly sent to solitary confinement in the Tower again, though both

Mendoza and Don Juan had received money from Spain to be spent in bribes

for his help and defence.[225]

Generally speaking, the parties in Elizabeth’s Court were now sharply

divided in policy, and Mendoza promptly found who were his friends and

who his foes. Cecil and Sussex, particularly, with Controller Crofts

in a humbler way, were opposed to the open provocation of Spain by the

support of the Flemish rebels; Leicester and Walsingham, whom Mendoza

rarely mentions without the epithet “devilish heretic,” being determined,

if possible, to bring matters to a crisis between Elizabeth and Philip

whilst the war in the Netherlands paralysed the latter. Elizabeth herself

leant now to one side, now to another, always balancing counsel against

counsel. How suddenly and convincingly she could change is seen in her

attitude towards Mendoza directly she heard that Alençon and his French

force, mainly Huguenots, had crossed the frontier into Flanders early in

July, 1578, at the request of the States, and had thrown themselves into

Mons. Alençon had long been trying to convince the Queen that upon her

alone, and not upon his brother the King of France, would he depend in

everything, and his professions of love for her were unabated, but this

alarmed her.

To some extent her distrust of Alençon had been overcome of late,

particularly as a large number of English troops and Germans in her pay

were in Flanders as an antidote to him; but only a few days after the

startling news of Alençon’s invasion reached England, Mendoza writes

(19th July, 1578): “The Queen has been very suspicious of me hitherto,

as she has been assured that I had come to perform I know not what, nor

what bad office; but she is beginning to be undeceived, and is turning

her eyes now more towards his Majesty. Some of the ministers, too, have

begun to get friendly with me, and I can assure you [Zayas] that if his

Majesty wishes to retain their goodwill, I see a way of doing it.... God

knows the trouble I have had in getting her and her ministers so far,

as they always want to see something substantial beforehand,[226] this

being the natural character of the people. I am told by a person in the

Palace that, even in the matter of giving me audience readily, the Queen

has been considerably influenced by the presents of gloves and perfumes I

gave her when I arrived.”

It is true that Elizabeth was a glutton for presents, and her Councillors

had itching palms for Spanish gold, but there were other reasons just

then besides self-interest that made them smile upon Philip’s ambassador.

Not only was there a French army on Flemish soil, but from all sides

there came to England alarming news of some great Catholic combination

against Elizabeth; the Spaniards were known to be supporting the Desmond

rebellion in Ireland;[227] and at a day’s notice, until she had got

Alençon completely under her thumb by the farcical marriage negotiations

with him personally, she thought fit to smile upon Mendoza, and treat the

moderate English Catholics with unwonted mildness. “I never see the Queen

now,” writes Mendoza in September, 1578, “without her telling me how glad

she is for me to be here. She gives me audience freely, and, thank God! I

have her now in an excellent humour, whilst the Englishmen in general are

not bad friends with me, as they think I shall not do anything against

them in case of a disturbance.”

On another occasion in September, 1578, when Elizabeth was sounding

Mendoza about sending an English ambassador to Spain, she said to him:

“If you were a knave, you should not have stayed here so long; ... if you

had been here years ago, things would not have reached such a condition

as they did, by reason of Don Gerau de Spes”; and when he went to see

her at Richmond on her return from an autumn progress, she became quite

coquettish with him. She thought, she said, he must have run away and

left her it was so long since she had seen him; and, though she was

somewhat aggrieved that she was to have no part in the pending peace

negotiations between Philip and the Flemings, she told him that “she

liked his manner of procedure.” “I did not inspire her with suspicion;

and if a favourable peace was made in the Netherlands by any means, she

was quite content not to have been a mediator, being quite satisfied with

my explanations.” Then, turning to him, she broached the subject really

uppermost in her mind, namely, her much-talked-of marriage with the young

French Prince. Did Mendoza think she ought to marry him? The courtly

ambassador was sure she would act wisely in any case; but he knew, as

she did, that all the French wished was to prevent her prosperity and

quietude. “I hope when you see the end you will approve of it,” said

Elizabeth, doubtless smiling in her sleeve; for she alone knew what she

intended the end to be, though Philip himself shrewdly guessed that “it

was all pastime, and she would never marry any man.”

But through all this amiability to the Spaniard, English aid still

found its way abundantly across the North Sea to the Protestants in

arms; and Hans Casinir, with 20,000 soldiers, was in Elizabeth’s pay in

the States. Philip, much as his ambassador might humour Elizabeth and

bribe her ministers, was no nearer than before to the complete control

of English policy, which alone would serve his purpose. Don Juan had

died brokenhearted at his miserable failure on 1st October, and this

made matters somewhat easier for his brother Philip, as it removed the

principal obstacle to the reconciliation of the Catholic Flemings to the

Spanish rule. The absolute dissociation of the King of France from his

brother Alençon’s eccentric vagaries in Flanders, and Elizabeth’s clever

beguilement of the young man, also satisfied the King of Spain that once

more affairs were reverting to the old groove, in which he would have

against him not Catholics, but only the Protestant elements of which

Elizabeth was the main supporter.

Again, therefore, he was able to face the problem of his “good sister’s”

overthrow. All his attempts previously in this direction had been

disastrous for his instruments and discomfiting for himself. He had

subsidised Mary Stuart, before and since her incarceration; he had

ineffectively supported the English Catholics to rebel; he had consented

to Elizabeth’s murder preparatory to his armed intervention in England;

he had countenanced Stukeley’s wild plans to capture Ireland, and

supported the Desmond disaffection in Munster; he had tried to bring

Elizabeth to her knees by stopping trade, with the result of nearly

ruining his own subjects—but all these means had failed. Philip’s

advisers for twenty years had never ceased to assure him that he must

boldly carry the war into his enemy’s camp if he would succeed—that to

win all he must risk something; but he had gone on still believing in the

infallibility of his own methods, which always aimed at binding others

whilst himself remaining vaguely pledged or not pledged at all. Philip

would only play when he held all the winning cards, and, much as his

ambassadors urged upon him a policy of force towards his sister-in-law,

he was determined to wait until Fate had dealt them to him.

In August, 1578, only a few weeks before the death of Don Juan relieved

him from his worst dilemma in Catholic Flanders, his rash young nephew,

King Sebastian of Portugal, was killed in battle in Morocco. His heir

was the old childless Cardinal Don Henrique, and amongst the many

subsequent claimants Philip was the strongest. With the added power and

great wealth of Portugal, the King of Spain might conquer heresy yet

by force, and defy both England and France if needs be, for, with the

harbours of Spain, Portugal, and the Islands closed to them, French and

English ships would be unable to sail far from their own shores. The

danger at once drew Catharine and Elizabeth together, but they could

do nothing effectual yet, and all Philip’s plans were laid carefully

to seize the throne of Portugal when the aged king should die. It was

necessary, amongst other things, for him to provide that both Elizabeth

and Catharine, when that event happened, should have their hands full at

home, and the effect of his manœuvres is noticeable almost immediately.

Mendoza had been instructed to use the greatest caution in all approaches

to him on behalf of the imprisoned Mary Stuart; but in January, 1579,

Zayas wrote to him, saying that negotiations had been opened by Beton,

Archbishop of Glasgow, Mary’s ambassador in Paris, and the Spanish

ambassador there. “If,” he said, “Philip would provide enough money to

raise four thousand troops, great things might be done for her and for

the Catholic religion. His Majesty is very well disposed towards it; but

nothing, as yet, has been decided, because, in good truth, the matter

could only be undertaken on very safe grounds, and with the assurance

that the effect would be produced, as otherwise it would be _oleum et

operam perdere_. Send us your opinion on it.”[228] The French intrigues

in Scotland at this period (1579) had somewhat aroused the apprehensions

both of Philip and Elizabeth, for Guise had sent young Lennox d’Aubigny,

the Franco-Scot Stuart, to woo his cousin James, and he had succeeded

beyond the wildest expectations. Philip was willing enough to foster

Guise’s ambitions to the extent of setting him against Catharine and

the Huguenots; but any attempt at Guisan interference in Great Britain

without his direction always alarmed him, so Mendoza lost no opportunity

of whispering to Elizabeth distrust of French aims in Scotland.

At the same time, still further to divert Elizabeth from interfering

with his Portuguese plans, Philip allowed himself to be persuaded to

help James Fitzmaurice and the Pope’s Nuncio, Dr. Sanders, to land a

small Spanish and Italian force in Ireland in the summer of 1579. The

expedition was routed and pursued, Dr. Sanders dying miserably of want

and exposure; but when heartrending appeals from the Irish were sent to

Philip for further aid, he dared not make open war upon England for their

sake—that was no part of his plan yet. All he could consent to do was to

join with the Pope in defraying the expenses of a formidable expedition,

not under the Spanish but the Papal flag, sailing from a Spanish port,

with eight thousand soldiers to invade Ireland, and hold the Catholic

West for the Desmonds. The affair was mismanaged, and all the invaders

were slaughtered at Smerwick, Dingle Bay (November, 1580); but Mendoza

never heard the last of it from Elizabeth, who in future excused all

her interference in Flanders by pointing to this kind act of her “good

brother.” It was a hint to Elizabeth that she was vulnerable, not only in

Scotland by French intrigue, but in Ireland also, and that it behoved her

to look to her own safety before attacking others.

Mendoza had much cold water to throw upon the suggestion of Beton and

the Spanish ambassador in Paris (with whom he was at feud) as to the

subsidising of a rising of Catholics in favour of Mary Stuart. He, true

Spaniard as he was, looked askance at any plan of the sort in which a

Frenchman had a part. But early in 1580 the matter entered a new phase.

Elizabeth, for the first time in her reign, found herself unpopular, in

consequence of the general belief that she really intended to marry the

young French Prince; the great Jesuit propaganda was busily making ready

to spread through England the young missionaries, who in the true spirit

of martyrdom had pledged their lives to bring back England and Scotland

to the Faith; the power of Morton in Scotland was waning fast, and Lennox

was in the ascendant. Everywhere the Catholic cause had taken new hope,

thanks in great measure to the encouragement of Philip, in order that

when the time came he might have a free hand in Portugal.

But whilst the King of Spain was quite ready to utilise these priestly

and other auxiliaries for his ends, though most of them had no idea that

politics had any part in their propaganda, he himself would make no move

to capture England until he knew that he, and no one else, would enjoy

the benefit of success if success were attained. So long as the Pope and

Guise were the leaders of the movement, Philip gave it his blessing but

no more, and on the 11th February, 1580, the old Archbishop of Glasgow,

in Paris, seeing this, visited Vargas Mexia, the Spanish ambassador, and

made a distinct step in advance. The Duke of Guise and he, he said, had

persuaded Mary Stuart to place herself without reserve in the hands of

his Catholic Majesty; and the Archbishop produced a letter from Mary to

that effect, saying that she had arranged for her son to be captured and

sent to Spain, that Philip might marry him to his liking. Guise himself

came secretly to Vargas Mexia soon afterwards, and told him that he had

everything arranged now by the aid of the Scottish Catholics to overthrow

Elizabeth, and if Philip would subsidise the affair, he (Guise) would

undertake to prevent any French national interference.[229] As for Mary

herself, said the Archbishop, “she was determined not to leave her prison

until she left it to be Queen of England.” Philips attitude changed at

once on hearing this; and when a Catholic Scot, Fernihurst, was sent to

Madrid by the party, he gave him a cordial reply, leaving in Mary’s hands

the arrangement for the capture and deportation of James. But before

anything could be done, the overthrow of Morton in Scotland and the rise

of Catholic Lennox d’Aubigny to supreme power gave a far wider scope to

the plan.

The great conspiracy of 1569-70 against Elizabeth had failed, owing

to lack of complete co-operation of the various Catholic elements:

the present attempt seemed to promise an organisation of greater

ramifications and more intimate combination. This was owing in great part

to a new feature now first introduced. Those who watched the debarkation

at Dover of the passengers from a skiff that had arrived from Calais

on the 12th June, 1580, saw leap upon the shore a swashbuckling young

captain, such as many who came from the Flemish war. He was a man of

five-and-thirty, clad in a buff military coat covered with gold lace, and

had a great, clanking rapier hung upon his hip, whilst a fine feather

flaunted in his wide-brimmed hat. With him came a soldier-servant of

humbler mien, and, after being duly searched and coming through the

ordeal successfully, the two travellers swaggered upon their way.[230]

The captain told the searcher who kindly procured him a horse that a

friend of his, an English jeweller living at St. Omer, would follow him

to England in a day or two. The jeweller, Mr. Edmunds, duly came, and

also went on his road to Gravesend, and so by tilt-boat to London, there

to be lost like his military forerunner in the crowds of the capital.

The captain came not to rest from the wars against the Spaniards in

Flanders, but to conquer England again for the Faith, for he was Father

Robert Parsons the Jesuit, and the jeweller Edmunds, who followed, sold,

not jewels alone, but his own life for the task to which he had been

dedicated by the Church, for he was Edmund Campion.

These three young men were but the advance guard of an army of Jesuit

missionaries who soon flocked over from the seminaries of Rheims and

Rome to strengthen the resistance of the sorely tried Catholics of

England and Scotland. Wherever these zealous clerics reached, the power

of Elizabeth over her subjects was weakened. There were many Catholics

who had grown tired of persecution, and were willing to purchase peace

by open compliance with the Queen’s laws. More there were who would have

been fully content with even limited toleration for their observance.

But to these fiery young spirits toleration was a more deadly blow than

persecution, and although up to this time the secular priests had been

willing to concede to Catholics some appearance of outward conformity,

the attendance at Protestant service was now forbidden to those of

the old Faith. The result was almost at once a recrudescence of the

persecutions against Catholics in a crueller form than ever, with the

inevitable result of raising a stronger and more fanatical religious

spirit than had existed amongst the Catholics in England since the early

days of Elizabeth’s reign.

[Illustration: ROBERT PARSONS, S.J.

1546-1610]

Needless to say, Mendoza soon got into touch with the new fighting

element in the struggle against Elizabeth. The ambassador’s feigned

politeness towards Elizabeth had been strained almost to breaking point

by the news of Drake’s terrible depredations in the Pacific; and he

had already fallen in his correspondence with his master into the same

heated tone of indignation as his predecessors had done, urging the King

to prompt reprisals upon these “insolent heretics.” When Drake himself

arrived with his vast booty, and was effusively received by the Queen,

Mendoza’s angry violence of word, and his open threats, earned for him

exclusion from the Queen’s presence. He was offered, indeed, a bribe

of 50,000 crowns to moderate his tone, but he replied in a rage, “that

he would pay more than that sum himself to punish so great a thief as

Drake.”[231]

Almost daily Mendoza’s indignation with Elizabeth became more heated.

Amongst other causes of complaint was one that for the first time

brought him into an acrimonious squabble with Elizabeth herself, though

the occasion was a small one. The ambassador had been trapped into one

of the usual bogus plots, ostensibly to betray Flushing, but really

to cheat and betray him, and he had paid a large sum of money and

given much information to certain Dutchmen for the purpose. One of the

conspirators had left his son, a child, in Mendoza’s hands as a hostage,

and when the fraud was complete, on the 4th June, 1581, during the

ambassador’s absence, his house in the Strand was forcibly entered by

London constables accompanied by the Secretary of the Prince of Orange,

and the young hostage was taken from the custody of the Spaniards. The

household drew their swords and attacked the authorities, but before the

affray had proceeded far the ambassador himself appeared. Learning that

the officers were acting under the authority of the Council, he ordered

his servants to put up their weapons and angrily protested against this

violation of his domicile.

Mendoza had avoided appearing at Court during the warm philandering with

Alençon and the French that was going on, fearing that Elizabeth might,

with her usual artfulness, get better terms from the French by pretending

that the Spaniards were seeking her. But this new insult overcame all

other considerations. In a violent temper Mendoza demanded immediate

reparation from the Queen. She must receive him at once, he said, and

apologise, or he would leave the country and lay the matter before his

master for redress. Elizabeth was anxious not to have an altercation with

him whilst the special French embassy as well as Alençon’s _mignons_

filled her Court, and by flattery and cajolery she managed to defer the

unpleasant interview until the French embassy had gone. On the 17th June,

Elizabeth stood in the gallery of Whitehall overlooking the river, when

Mendoza, who had landed at the private stairs, was led to her by Hatton,

the captain of the guard. Fearing that the Spaniard might use angry

words, she took him into a window embrasure out of earshot of the only

two persons in the gallery, Sussex and Hatton, and at once anticipated

him by complaining bitterly that King Philip had helped these knaves

of Irish rebels by sending a large body of soldiers to them. Mendoza

said he must leave that subject for another time, and launched into

angry invective of the treatment to which he had been subjected. He

had, he said, been denied rights recognised even amongst savages to the

ambassadors of kings. He had expected to hear that she had hanged the

constables the next morning; but as she had not done so, he supposed they

had told the truth when they said they acted in her name.

Calling Sussex and Leicester to her, she ordered that inquiry should be

made in the matter, and then once more started her Irish grievance, again

forcing Mendoza to take the defensive. He made the best of matters, and

retorted with Drake’s plunder and her constant aid to the Netherlanders,

ending by a scarcely veiled threat that unless she mended her behaviour

towards his master, especially in her attitude towards Portugal, his

vengeance would fall upon her. Elizabeth was rather cowed at this, and

said she did not want to quarrel with her good brother; the King of

France had done more harm in the matter of Portugal than she had. To this

Mendoza retorted curtly that if the King of France did evil that was no

reason why she should. Mendoza afterwards snubbed and hectored Cecil and

the Council, and left the Palace in no very pacific frame of mind. “If I

had not shown spirit,” he wrote to the King, in giving him an account of

the interview, “which is the thing that moves the Queen and her ministers

most, such is their insolence that probably I should never have been able

to get conference with them. This attitude alone has enabled me to hold

my own with them until now, thus gaining time for matters to develop

themselves.”[232] Notwithstanding his self-satisfaction, it is clear

that Mendoza got the worst of the interview with the Queen, for although

she was compliant on the unimportant point of the violation of domicile,

the boy was never restored, and she assumed the position of the injured

party about Ireland, as well as preventing Mendoza from making a formal

reclamation about Drake’s plunder.

But soon there came a new grievance to exacerbate the irritation of the

Spaniards. Alba had been summoned from his retirement to conquer Portugal

for Philip on the death of the old Cardinal King. The many claimants

to the Crown were mostly timid and unready, whilst Philip’s power was

irresistible, and Alba marched through Portugal, with the King in his

wake, brushing aside such slight attempts as were made to stay him in the

interests of the only Portuguese claimant who showed fight at all—the

doubtfully legitimate Don Antonio, Prior of Ocrato, who had at first

been accepted by his countrymen as their Sovereign. He had fled before

Alba’s advance, and had been a fugitive for months past—some said in

Brazil, some in Azores, and some in France. Wherever he was, he carried

with him jewels of inestimable value, and such a man in the hands of

Philip’s enemies might be made a powerful weapon against the King of

Spain. Rumour was busy as to Don Antonio’s movements, and Mendoza’s spies

had much to tell, most of which was untrue. But it was noticed at the

end of June, 1581, that Elizabeth’s Portuguese-Jew physician, Lopez,

was very busy and important, posting backwards and forwards between

London and Dover, and soon Mendoza learnt that a party of Portuguese

had landed there, amongst whom one was treated with marked respect and

consideration. He was described as being “under the middle height, very

dark and thin, with a spare face, a grizzled beard, and greenish-grey

eyes.”

This man Mendoza, from the description, at once recognised as Don

Antonio, the so-called King of Portugal, proclaimed by Philip a rebel

with a heavy price upon his head. Before even he had had time to verify

his suspicions, Mendoza peremptorily demanded audience of Elizabeth to

complain of her thus sheltering the Pretender. The Queen’s ministers,

through the Earl of Sussex, flatly refused him access to their mistress

for any such purpose unless he brought fresh special letters from Philip;

and as, he says, he was determined to have no more _pros_ and _cons_ with

intermediaries who simply talk nonsense and then repudiate what they say,

blaming the messengers, he wrote a haughty letter to Elizabeth herself,

threatening to leave England instantly unless audience was accorded to

him. Elizabeth was hunting at Eltham when the letter was handed to her,

and as she read it she changed countenance. Through Hatton, who was by

her side, she replied to the bearer, “that if the ambassador, for reasons

of health or other private causes, wished for his passports he could have

them; but that the Queen had not the slightest desire that he should

leave her Court, or that she should break with the King of Spain.”

Two or three days afterwards, however, thanks to Cecil, Mendoza was led

up a secret stair into the Queen’s private chamber, where she was with

Leicester, Sussex, Hatton, and Walsingham. “I suppose,” began Elizabeth

as soon as she saw him, “you have come to give me some satisfaction about

Ireland.” “That, your Majesty,” he replied, “as I told you before, is

a matter concerning the Pope, not my master.” She had, he continued,

refused to receive him for nearly a year, pending her investigation of

the case. Elizabeth angrily swore that she had never sent him such a

message. Until he could bring her a fresh letter from Philip excusing

this Irish business, she would have no more to say to him; and she

thought that he had done his master a poor service in giving her the

answer he had done. “If I have done ill to my master, madam,” he replied,

“I have a head to pay for it; and although as the King’s minister I am

bound to render an account to him of my acts, I thank God that He has

granted me such a noble ancestry as alone would prevent me from failing

in my duty to my Sovereign, if for no other reason but to leave unsullied

the scutcheon of Mendoza.”[233] “She screamed out louder than before

at this, saying that I was to blame for everything that had happened,

to which I replied smilingly that she was speaking as a lady, those of

her sex usually displaying most annoyance at the things that were done

in their interest. It was no small service I had done her, I said, in

patiently awaiting her pleasure so long.”

In the heated altercation that ensued, Mendoza seized an opportunity

of mentioning the real object of his visit, namely, the arrival of Don

Antonio. She prevaricated for a long time, and finally retorted that if

Don Antonio was in England, the rebel Earl of Westmorland was not only in

King Philip’s dominions but enjoyed a pension from him. She had not made

up her mind yet, she said, whether she should help the Portuguese or not,

but she was determined not to surrender any one to be killed; and if she

did not choose to give him up it would not be she, but Philip, who had

first violated the old treaties. Upon this Mendoza made a formal demand

for the surrender of Don Antonio in accordance with the international

agreement, and was curtly refused.

Thus every day the breach between Elizabeth and her brother-in-law grew

wider, and Mendoza followed in the footsteps of de Spes and Guaras. Don

Antonio was welcomed at Court with royal honours, and was very soon

borrowing money on his jewels to fit out expeditions to the Azores, which

still held out in his favour. The Queen herself blew hot and cold. If

Antonio succeeded in capturing the throne of Portugal again, she wished

him to be beholden to her for it and not to the French, whilst she was

determined not to be drawn into open war with Philip for him unless she

could manœuvre the King of France into the same position. Philip wrote to

Elizabeth himself, begging her to expel or surrender the rebel Pretender,

and Mendoza continued to press her, often intemperately, on the subject;

but she always countered with Ireland, the refugee Desmonds, Ridolfi, and

the Earl of Westmorland; and usually succeeded in getting up a wrangle

with the heated ambassador, which placed him at a disadvantage. To

prevent Philip from proceeding to extremities against her, and to keep

the King of France from breaking away, the marriage dealings with Alençon

were carried by her to a point from which all observers believed she

could never extricate herself. But her tactics, risky as they really were

at this time, were successful in their main object, namely, in weakening

Philip’s power on every hand, and making it impracticable for him to

avenge himself by force.

The English Catholic party had already felt the cruel consequences of

the renewed Jesuit activity. Campion, the most fearless of the young

missionaries, with two brethren, suffered cruel martyrdom with unshaken

constancy in December, 1581, and scores of other priests and laymen were

under sentence of death,[234] whilst throughout the country recusants

were hunted with merciless vigour, not, of course, for religion, said

Elizabeth’s officers, but as disobedient and disloyal subjects. Most of

the active Catholic nobles were now in exile, and it was clear that no

armed rising in England against the Queen’s Government was now possible,

except with very powerful help from abroad. But in Scotland matters

were entirely different. Morton had fallen, and the half-French Lennox

d’Aubigny, a Catholic, was the most powerful force in the country. His

French ancestry had caused the Spaniards to look askance at him for a

time; but the declaration of Guise to the Spanish ambassador in Paris,

that Mary Stuart in future would look alone to Philip for direction,

somewhat disarmed Mendoza, and, despairing of striking at Elizabeth by

other means, the ambassador turned to this quarter to aid him in his

vengeance.

Philip had commanded him to continue to console and encourage the

imprisoned Mary, and in September, 1581, referring to his correspondence

with her, the ambassador opens a new chapter in his activities in

England. He has, he says, been trying in every way—of course, through

the Jesuit missionaries mainly—to convince the Scots how advantageous

it would be for King James if Scotland were formally to return to the

Catholic Church; but for fear of driving Elizabeth into the arms of the

French, if she knew it, he has had, he says, to work very cautiously and

secretly. He then goes on to say that he had just held a private meeting

with some leading English Catholics, especially the brothers Tresham,

and had urged upon them that the best way to cause trouble to Elizabeth

would be for Scotland to submit to the Holy See. Even if Philip’s other

cares allowed of his sending a large force to England, such a course

would be impossible owing to French jealousy. Yes, admitted the Treshams

sorrowfully, the English Catholics were now so downhearted and crushed

that a rising in England was impossible unless King Philip sent a great

fleet and army fit to conquer the country, which they saw he could not

do. The Irish, too, were not to be depended upon, and they agreed that

the only way to gain England now was by winning Scotland first for the

Church.

The idea took root, and a meeting of six English Catholic peers and

several gentlemen thereupon took a joint oath of fidelity to devote all

their means and energies to this end. The confederates, with Mendoza’s

approval, despatched one of the senior Jesuit missioners, Father

Creighton, to Scotland to broach the matter to Lennox d’Aubigny, saying

that if James would embrace the Church the English Catholics would

rise, have him proclaimed heir of England, and release his mother, but

if he refused they promised to adopt another candidate as Elizabeth’s

successor. D’Aubigny was to be entertained with the notion that help

would be forthcoming from France and the Pope, as well as from Philip;

but this was only intended to be a blind, for Mendoza specially warned

the plotters that nothing should be said to Frenchmen about it, “in order

to prevent it from being hindered by the fear that it is a plan of your

Majesty alone.” “They agree with me in this, as they are all Spanish and

Catholic at heart, and do not wish to have anything to do with France.”

Creighton went on his way to Scotland in disguise, and in the meanwhile

the relations between Elizabeth and Mendoza became more strained than

ever. Philip had instructed him in October to address the Queen strongly

about the unconcealed encouragement she was giving to Don Antonio. For

some time Mendoza asked for audience in vain. Elizabeth was at Nonsuch,

and all sorts of excuses were given for her declining to receive him.

Mendoza, chafing under what he calls “her insolent and outrageous”

treatment of him, at last sent a servant of his to Burghley, positively

to demand audience of the Queen when she arrived at Richmond. The reply

brought back in Burghley’s words was ominous. “Sir, I must tell you the

truth; the Queen is at present alone, unattended by Councillors, and as

Don Bernardino is to bring letters to the Queen from so great an enemy of

hers as his master, it is meet that he should be received accordingly.”

They kept Mendoza fuming for several days longer before he was received;

and when he entered the presence chamber at Richmond, boiling over with

wounded pride, he found the Queen no longer the smiling coquette she

had formerly been with him. Seated upon a tabouret under the canopy,

with Sussex and Lord Admiral Clinton standing by her, she refrained from

rising and advancing to receive him, as was her wont, and welcoming him

with a greeting in Italian. Instead of that she sat frowning as he bowed

low before her, the first words she said being to complain that she was

suffering from a pain in her hip. Mendoza expressed his sorrow that he

should have to trouble her with business in such circumstances, but she

made no reply, and left him standing uncovered. “How about the letter

you say you have from the King?” she snapped at last, and he handed her

the King’s demand for Don Antonio’s surrender, which she read with a

clouded brow. “You know very well,” she said, “that Don Antonio has left

England; but I can tell you that if I had chosen to help him your King’s

fleets from the Indies would not be where they are now, and Portugal,

perchance, would not be so tranquil”—all this, as Mendoza says, with much

browbeating and vociferation.

“What else have you to say?” asked the Queen tartly; and in answer

Mendoza, in high and mighty strain, began to talk about the power of

his master’s fleets, and how those who dared to attack them would get

well trounced. She had helped the rebel Antonio, he said, she had called

him “King,” she had let him sail from the Thames with English ships and

arms from the Tower to attack his sovereign, the London merchants had

lent him money on his jewels, and much more to the same effect. His

King, already offended by the way she had helped the Flemish rebels, was

doubly resentful now. What more could she do, asked Mendoza, even if she

were at open war? To all of which Elizabeth replied boldly. As for Don

Antonio, she had helped him and still would do so; but she knew not what

the ambassador meant by his other complaints. “This was said,” continues

Mendoza, “with the most terrible insolence; and as I saw her evil intent,

I replied that I had been here for over three and a half years; but as

it appears she had heard nothing in all this time of the complaints I

had constantly been making, and would find no remedy for them, it would

be necessary to see whether cannon would not make her hear better.” In

answer to this Elizabeth, for a wonder, replied calmly and in a low voice

that he need not think to threaten or frighten her, or she would put him

into a place where he could not say a word. In future he might negotiate

with her Council, but as she had no ambassador in Spain she would not

receive him herself.

Mendoza thought probably that he had gone too far, as he certainly had;

for Philip, as we shall see later, had no intention, or indeed ability,

at this time (October, 1581) to attempt the conquest of England. He did

not desire to threaten, Mendoza said; he was in her power and of course

she could do as she liked with him, but whatever she did, thank God!

King Philip would avenge him. Elizabeth then ordered every one out of

the room but the two Councillors, to whom in angry tones she repeated

Mendoza’s threat about cannon, and her reply. “I smiled to hear her

relate this with so much fury and agitation, and remarked that I would

not waste time on that point. Monarchs, I knew, were never afraid of

private individuals, and above all she, who was a lady so beautiful that

even lions would crouch before her. She is so vain and flighty that her

anger was at once soothed on hearing this, and she began to relate how

thankful your Majesty ought to be to her for having refused help to the

Flemish rebels. All she had done was to prevent the French from taking

possession of your territory.” Thenceforward to the end of the long

interview Elizabeth played off the Spanish support of the Irish rebels,

the subsidising of the northern rebellion, and the intrigues of de Spes,

against Mendoza’s complaints of her help to Orange, the depredations of

Drake, and the reception of Don Antonio; and the exchange of grievances

ended by Elizabeth coldly saying that she would receive the ambassador

no more until the King sent her some satisfaction, to which he retorted

by saying that he would prefer to do business with the Council. As he

turned to go and was already some paces from the Queen he heard her

heave a deep sigh, and say in Italian, evidently intended to reach his

ear, “I would to God that each one had his own and was at peace.”[235]

Mendoza, humiliated and embittered at the course of events, which he

ascribed entirely to Leicester and Hatton, thenceforward became a more

virulent enemy of Elizabeth than ever de Spes had been. In the next

letter after the interview just described he prayed Philip to avenge

himself by seizing all English property in his dominions; but the King

had tried that game before to his cost, and dared not run the risk again,

nor would he listen to Mendoza’s earnest prayers to anticipate the

intrigues of Leicester to have him expelled from England by recalling him

himself.

When, therefore, Father Creighton returned, in October, 1581, from his

mission to Scotland, Mendoza was ripe for any plan which promised injury

to Elizabeth. The Jesuit told him how he had been secretly conveyed

across the Scottish border, and had conferred with Lennox, Eglinton,

Huntly, Caithness, and Seton, who had warmly consented to Catholic

missioners being sent—“on condition that they brought money for their

own maintenance.” They would have King James approached, too, and told

that his one hope of obtaining the English succession would be for him to

embrace Catholicism and make friends with Spain. Neither Lennox nor the

King was to be frightened with the suggestion that the French were to be

thrown over: but Seton, who appears to have known James’s character well,

proposed that his greed and ambition might be worked upon by his being

shown how much more effectual a friend Spain would be to him than France.

Father Parsons was in London when Creighton arrived, and he and his

colleague Heywood were long closeted with Mendoza to discuss who should

be the pioneer missioners to Scotland. Creighton thought that Father

Parsons, himself, and Heywood should go, “as they would need to be very

learned and virtuous men.” Parsons, still in his captain’s garb, ran over

to Rheims to consult the Principal of the English Seminary, Dr. Allen;

and at Mendoza’s instance it was agreed that Parsons could not well be

spared from England, and that Dr. Allen should appoint fresh men for the

Scottish mission.

The six English Catholic lords who had first arranged the matter with

Mendoza were now in prison: Catholics were being savagely persecuted

everywhere, and it was evident that the scheme for upsetting Elizabeth

by means of a Catholic movement in Scotland must be managed by Spanish

agents in France and Dr. Allen, “as the Queen and her heretics are served

here by such a multitude of spies that the Queen of Scots herself is in

great alarm.” But above all, says Mendoza, though the affair must be

managed in France, “the French must have no suspicion that your Majesty

has anything to do with it.” As may be supposed, Mary Stuart was a keen

participant in the scheme. In April, 1581, six months previously, she had

sent a message through Archbishop Beton to the new Spanish ambassador in

Paris, Tassis. “Things,” she said, “were never in better form in Scotland

than now for a return to ancient conditions, so that English affairs

could be dealt with afterwards from there. Her son was determined to

be a Catholic, and inclined to break with Elizabeth as soon as he could

be sure of substantial help.” This help Mary earnestly begged of Philip

through Tassis, and asked that it should be landed first in Ireland,

ready to cross to Scotland as soon as the treaty was signed.

For some reason or another Mary conceived some distrust of Tassis, the

Spanish ambassador in Paris, and of Beton; and as soon as she heard of

the result of Father Creighton’s mission to Scotland, she wrote direct

to Mendoza to tell him that she had partly consented to join her son

with herself in the sovereignty of Scotland, which course had been

urged upon her by the French, but that she was still determined in all

things to follow the direction of the King of Spain in her affairs.

She had understood from the first that from France, divided as it was,

she had nothing effective to hope for. Her son and the Catholic Scots

might desire to keep alive the ancient alliance with France, but Mary

wanted more than that: she needed rescue from England, and this could

only be effected by a Power that was willing to go to war with England

if necessary for her sake, which she knew France, with its powerful

Huguenot element and Catharine de Medici at the helm, would never do.

Mary was suspicious, and grew even more so, of Guise’s interference in

her affairs, which she saw was not occasioned by the desire to benefit

her personally, but to increase his power by keeping hold of Scotland.

Mendoza, of course, threw cold water upon the suggestion that Mary should

recognise James as King on the recommendation of France, and by gaining

Mary’s entire confidence, gradually worked her affairs into his own hands.

The priests sent to Scotland were meeting with great success; and James

himself told Creighton that, though out of policy he was obliged to

appear in favour of the French, in his heart he would rather be Spanish.

Parsons, whilst, fortunately for himself, he was abroad, though just

about to embark for England, had been proclaimed a traitor and a price

set upon his head; so that in future his sphere of activity was in

Scotland and on the Continent, where he continued to direct English

affairs with ever-increasing violence against the Queen and her faith.

It is characteristic of Spanish methods that, though even Mary protested

against it, all the priests sent by Dr. Allen to Scotland were to be

Englishmen, because it was feared that Scotsmen might have other ends

and incline to France. Above all, it was provided that the French should

have no idea that Spain was behind this purely religious propaganda.

Elizabeth’s Government, suspicious already of the Catholic _régime_ in

Scotland, was well aware that something was going on in which Mendoza was

concerned,[236] and keen vigilance was kept upon the Border. “So far as

can be seen, this business is proceeding most hopefully,” writes Mendoza

in December, 1581, “and is under God’s protection; for, whilst these

two priests were on the English Border one night, a great search was

made in every house in the neighbourhood, as the Queen had been informed

that some English priests would endeavour to go to Scotland, but God

ordained that they should escape almost by a miracle.”[237] Tresham was

in prison, but priests carried messages backwards and forwards between

him and Mendoza, so that the plot was kept going; and the fortitude of

the Catholic prisoners under torture in refusing to divulge the names

of their associates had drawn into the new combination a large number

of sympathisers, whilst Mary herself, gaining ever more confidence in

Mendoza personally, was urging him to assure King Philip that the time

was propitious for him to take some bold and decided action in her favour

in Scotland.

This was the hopeful condition of affairs when Father Holt, a young

Jesuit sent by Parsons and Creighton from Scotland, arrived in London.

Tresham and the other English leaders being in prison, he had been

directed to a disguised English priest in London, who would take him to

the person who was to receive his message. Holt, like the rest of the

rank and file of the Jesuit missioners, had no suspicion that a political

object was behind their Scottish propaganda, and was astounded when

he was led to the house of the Spanish ambassador to give his report.

What he had to say was important. Everything, he reported, was going

excellently in Scotland. The lords were trying by every means to convert

the King; but they wished to obtain Queen Mary’s permission, if he

remained obstinate, “to force the King to open his eyes and to see the

truth.” Failing this, they would, if the Queen authorised them, depose

or transport James until Mary’s arrival in her realm. But, continued

Holt, they considered it necessary, if they were to succeed in their aim,

to be able to count positively upon foreign armed assistance to subdue

the heretics and provide against any interference from England. If they

had two thousand soldiers from abroad they would be sufficient for the

purpose. Where could they look, he asked, for such assistance? Not to

France or to the Guises, for several reasons, and they hoped that Queen

Mary would prevail upon the Pope and the King of Spain to send Spaniards

or Italians. He begged that Mendoza would convey this to Mary and to

Philip, and to have more English priests sent into Scotland for the

propaganda, “only they must bring money for their own maintenance.”

To Mary Mendoza sent the message of the Scottish Catholics in a somewhat

softened form, in order not to arouse her maternal solicitude for James;

but to his own Sovereign, Philip, he wrote almost vehemently, praying him

to seize the opportunity for striking a fatal blow at Elizabeth. “With

the two thousand soldiers they ask for, he says, the Scots might defy

this Queen ... and the whole North of England would be disturbed, the

Catholics there being in a majority, and the opportunity would be taken

by the Catholics in other parts of the country to rise when they knew

that they had on their side the forces of a more powerful Prince than

the King of Scotland.”[238] There was no more concealment of Mendoza’s

opinion beneath a veil of assumed humility: he not only urged Philip to

ensure the victory of Scottish orthodoxy by force, but to aid a rising

of English Catholics over the Scottish Border. The opportunity looked a

tempting one, for it provided for the removal of the doubtful James, and

the plan might be carried out (if the Scottish lords were to be depended

upon) without giving to Elizabeth the legal right to interfere.

The experienced Cardinal de Granvelle, who was governing Spain in

Philips absence in Portugal, was almost as enthusiastic in its advocacy

as Mendoza himself. “The affair is so important,” he wrote to Philip,

“both for the sake of religion and to restrain England, that no other

can equal it. By keeping the Queen of England busy we shall be ensured

against her helping Alençon (in Flanders) or daring to obstruct us

elsewhere.”[239] Mary Stuart was just as eager, but had wider views than

Granvelle, seeing clearly with her great penetration, if she was to be

Queen of Britain, the absolute need for organising the English Catholics,

whilst keeping the French out of the affair and not arousing unduly the

suspicions of Elizabeth. “In the event,” she wrote, “of the Scots having

the support requested, and the Queen of England attempting to interfere,

which might give an occasion for the English Catholics to rise, it

would be necessary to have this latter part of the business arranged

beforehand, but in such a way that they should not understand what is

intended, or have any idea until everything was ready to burst forth.”

Holt went back to Scotland with a promise from Mendoza, which he

certainly was not authorised by Philip to give, that the two thousand

men asked for should be sent to their aid, and the English Catholics, or

such of them as were still at liberty, were conciliated by means of Lord

Henry Howard, who was very heavily bribed by Philip, and thenceforward

became the principal Spanish agent at Elizabeth’s Court. The plot looked,

indeed, a promising one under the sole guidance of Mendoza; and all were

in high hopes that Mary Stuart’s fortune was at last to take a turn,

when Father Creighton arrived in Paris directed to Tassis, the Spanish

ambassador, with a letter from the Duke of Lennox. “Understanding,” he

says, “from the missioners that the Pope and the King of Spain desire to

make use of him for the design they have in hand to restore the Catholic

faith in Scotland and release the Queen ... he is prepared to employ

his life and estate in carrying out the same, on condition that he is

supplied with all things set forth in the statement taken by Father

Creighton.” This letter was dated early in March, 1582, and reached

Tassis in May, having been brought to him by Creighton and Parsons.[240]

The plan was a perfectly new one to Tassis, as Mendoza in London had been

the sole intermediary purposely chosen by Mary and the originators of the

plot, in order to exclude any probability of French participation; and

Philip, to his surprise, was now informed of the affair by his ambassador

in Paris, as if for the first time. Why Lennox should have chosen to send

his adhesion to Paris instead of to Mendoza is not quite clear; but,

being naturally attached to Guisan interests, it is probable that he

wished to ensure that his French patrons should not be excluded.

In any case, it does not need much knowledge of Philip’s character

to foresee that such inept management as this would upset the whole

business as far as he was concerned. The demands of Lennox, as stated

by Creighton, were ridiculous. The Scottish Lords had promised Mendoza

through Holt that if two thousand foreign troops landed they would be

able to effect the revolution, and this was a number that Philip could

have provided; but here was Lennox demanding twenty thousand men paid

for eighteen months and a large quantity of munitions of war of all

sorts. He must have, he says, twenty thousand crowns in money sent to

Scotland immediately for fortifications, &c., and a further subsidy to

raise Scottish troops; he asks that the troops should be of various

nationalities and placed under his command, and if the attempt failed and

he lost his Scottish estate in consequence, he wanted a guarantee from

the Pope and Philip that an estate of equal value should be given to him

elsewhere. He proposes himself to leave Scotland at the most critical

juncture, and to go to Paris to make final arrangements, as soon as he

hears that the Pope and the King of Spain are pledged to the enterprise.

Tassis, not unnaturally, remarked to the priests that Lennox was asking

for a good deal, and he learned from them that the Duke of Guise had

been consulted, and thought that fewer men would do. Parsons then took

up the story, and was quite sure that the Catholics of England would

rise immediately the Scottish affair began; and it was soon evident,

even to Tassis, who had been previously quite in the dark about it, that

not only Guise but many other people, clerical and lay, had been drawn

into the business, since one of the Jesuits was to go to Madrid, others

to Rouen and to Rome; and the Nuncio, Archbishop Beton, and Dr. Allen

were also parties to the proposals. The idea that Lennox should be in

supreme command, and that French troops were to be included, alone would

have sufficed to render the plan abortive, apart from the other quite

extravagant conditions he imposed. Lennox wrote a somewhat similarly

foolish letter to Mary Stuart, saying that the Jesuit Creighton had

promised him fifteen thousand men; and that he, Lennox, was to go to

France to raise a large force of Frenchmen. Mary was furious at such

impracticable nonsense, and wrote to Mendoza begging him to restrain

the bungling priests, as she was trying to do, and once more to get

the matter into his own hands. “I am advising Lennox,” she writes, “to

stay in Scotland, and I disapprove entirely of his plan to raise men in

France. You may inform these Jesuits, too, that I will not on any account

allow anything concerning this matter to be done in my name ... and I do

not approve of sending any one on my behalf to negotiate direct with the

Pope and King Philip.”

Mendoza also was full of scorn for such muddling, and the whole scheme

was thrown into confusion. Guise, as soon as he was informed by Lennox’s

letter brought by Creighton, travelled from Eu to Paris and met

Tassis secretly at Beton’s house. He, too, was full of far-reaching,

ill-digested plans, his main object evidently being to prevent Spanish

troops from being sent to Scotland, in order to avoid, as he says, French

jealousy, but really because he feared Philip’s power. His plan was to

raise a large mixed force to be sent by the Pope to Scotland, whilst

he, Guise, was to make a descent upon the coast of Sussex with a French

force. Philip met the new situation in his characteristic way. So far as

he was concerned, the plan became impossible the moment that Guise and

the French interest were included in it, and he wrote to Tassis, with

vague sanctimonious sympathy, deprecating overzeal and ordering that

nothing more should be done in the matter until further orders.[241]

Father Parsons, by far the cleverest of the Jesuits, went to Madrid and

submitted Lennox’s foolish conditions to Cardinal de Granvelle and Sir

Francis Englefield, Philip’s English secretary. They both agreed that

the bases laid down by Mendoza and Mary were the only practical ones,

and Granvelle incidentally in his report on the matter throws rather

a curious light upon the diversity of views that we see now existed,

although he probably did not know it, between Philip’s views with regard

to England and his own. We shall see presently what was in Philip’s mind;

but that of Granvelle is sufficiently revealed when, speaking of the fear

of the Scots that the landing of foreign troops might endanger their

liberties, he says: “This is not what his Majesty wants, nor do I approve

of it; but that we should loyally help the King of Scots and his mother

to maintain their rights, and, by promoting armed disturbance, keep

the Queen of England and the French busy at small cost to ourselves in

comparison with what she will have to spend, and so enable us to settle

our own affairs better. If it had no other result this should suffice,

but much more when we consider that it may lead to the re-establishment

of the Catholic religion in those parts. When we strike there the Irish

will pluck up courage; and it is advantageous that the matter should be

taken in hand by the Duke of Guise, as it will ensure us from French

obstruction. Since we cannot hope to hold the island for ourselves, Guise

will not hand it over to the King of France to the detriment of his own

kinswoman.” He also hints at the possibility of Elizabeth’s coming to

terms with Spain and renewing the old alliance.

This was certainly not Philip’s view at this time (1582). He had now lost

hope of conciliating England whilst Elizabeth was on the throne, and he

was gradually being convinced that nothing but a great national conquest

with purely Spanish arms would serve his turn. The policy of “loyally

helping the King of Scots,” and, above all, with the co-operation of

the French, would have been useless to him except as a means of gaining

for him uncontrolled command of English foreign policy, which, with

James an unknown factor and Guise as a confederate, was uncertain. The

idea of attacking England through Scotland, which some of his advisers

favoured, was one that never appealed very strongly to him after this

first fiasco of Lennox, and it introduced an element in the situation

which subsequently influenced him greatly, finally, indeed, deciding

his policy. This was the jealousy felt by Englishmen of Scots, and a

determination that nothing like a domination of England by a people whom

they considered inferior should be allowed. Scotland and France, it must

be recollected, had for centuries been looked upon by Englishmen as

their joint enemies, whilst Spain and Flanders had been their friends,

and it soon became a common saying amongst the English Catholics, of

whom Parsons was the mouthpiece, that England would welcome a thousand

times more a Spanish sovereign than a Scottish one. The first note of the

feeling is struck in Granvelle’s memorandum quoted above, where he says

that Englefield is very distrustful of the Archbishop of Glasgow, with

whom he has ceased to correspond, and he wishes that he (Beton) should

not be made cognisant with this business, “which he would immediately

divulge to the French.”

Whilst these events were passing in France, the causes for irritation

between Elizabeth and Philip were becoming daily more grave. The Queen,

almost at her wits’ end, had managed to get rid of her importunate

suitor Alençon, in February, 1582, by means of a solemn promise to marry

which she never intended for a moment to keep. She had insisted upon

Leicester accompanying him to Antwerp, where the Prince was to join

Orange as the obedient servant of Elizabeth. To the Queen’s dismay, a

few days afterwards she learnt that Leicester had sanctioned by his

presence the investiture of the French Prince with Philip’s Crown of Duke

of Brabant, and it seemed now, even to her, that the cup was full and

that nothing could save her from the vengeance of the outraged Spaniard,

especially as she found that the King of France ostentatiously disavowed

her and his brother’s action. Elizabeth railed at Walsingham and

Leicester like a very fury, summoned Burghley from a sick bed to counsel

her, and ended by leaving her French lover in the lurch.

Far from seeking immediate vengeance, however, Philip’s own perplexity

was such, in the face of this new dilemma, that he contemplated a step

which up to that time he had always repudiated with scorn. Writing

to Mendoza in May, 1582, he orders him to endeavour to exacerbate

Elizabeth’s jealousy of the French in Flanders for the purpose of

enlisting her aid as a mediator between his rebellious subjects

and himself. Orange had just been dangerously wounded by a Spanish

agent,[242] and it may have appeared to Philip that the moment was a

favourable one to bring about some settlement which, at all events,

might save his sovereignty. “It will be well,” he writes, “for you to

discover whether it is possible for the Queen herself to intervene

for the purpose of reconciling me with my subjects.” He is not very

sanguine, he says, of such an intermediary; “and she is much more likely

to continue her usual arts to incense my subjects against me, but it is

worth trying”; and to show how urgent was Philip’s need of a peaceful

settlement, he sent the large sum of 40,000 crowns to Mendoza to bribe

Elizabeth’s ministers to propose her mediation.[243]

The presence of Alençon in Flanders as sovereign, even under her own

auspices, made Elizabeth anxious to learn at first hand what the

Spaniards thought of this new provocation, and a hint was sent to

Mendoza that she would receive him again with Philip’s Portuguese envoy,

who had come to announce his accession to the Crown. She was, during

the interview, very emphatic as to her perfect neutrality with regard

to Portugal, “just,” says Mendoza, “as if it were true, instead of an

evident lie.” Mendoza interposed by saying that no doubt that was her

intention, but there were, at that moment, perhaps unknown to her,

several ships being fitted and armed in the Thames for Don Antonio.

What did he mean? Elizabeth asked, and the ambassador gave her full

particulars. Up to this point Elizabeth had been polite, but when she

found that no complaint was made about Alençon, she plucked up courage,

and Hatton, a special enemy of Mendoza’s, who was behind him, seems to

have made some sign to the Queen, for her tone suddenly changed. “This

is no time to deal with that matter,” she cried angrily, and Mendoza

retired more wrathful than ever, and more determined to work his revenge.

He had been praying for his recall for some time, for he was nearly

blind with cataract, and his soul rebelled against the humiliations he

had to suffer; but Philip had pressed him to stay on, for nobody could

manage the great conspiracy against Elizabeth so wisely and stealthily

as he. He would not abandon his post, moreover, until Mary Stuart had

consented to deal with a fresh ambassador, and he urged Philip to send

a special envoy, on the pretext of claiming the restoration of Drake’s

plunder, but really to succeed him if Mary would show confidence in the

new man. “If it be profitable that I should remain here I will willingly

sacrifice myself for a matter so closely touching the service of God

and the increase of His Church, as well as serving your Majesty, since

two hundred priests are risking their lives in the same cause, in face

of great hardships, hunger and poverty.” His stay in England, indeed,

was a true martyrdom, only endured because of his hope that in union

with Mary of Scotland he might be instrumental in overthrowing Elizabeth

and her Protestant ministers. They, for their part, repaid his hatred

with enmity as bitter. Leicester, Hatton, and Walsingham left no stone

unturned to make his post in England untenable. There was no English

ambassador in Spain, they said, and should be no Spanish ambassador in

England: the man was only a spy and a conspirator. It was he, said his

detractors, who had planned the assassination of the Prince of Orange,

and was the abettor and provider of the flock of black Jesuit crows who

were infesting England with their presence. Even the street boys in

London pelted and hooted him as he passed,[244] and he was practically

excluded from Elizabeth’s Court. But for every fresh slight offered to

him he became more ardent in his determination to make Mary Stuart Queen

of Catholic Britain. The correspondence between them was close, for Mary

refused to trust any other intermediary, and until the raid of Ruthven

and the flight and death of Lennox finally upset the Catholic _régime_

in Scotland, the hope of bringing back again into workable shape the

plot that the priests and Lennox had embroiled was never abandoned by

them.[245]

The fact of their correspondence was, of course, well known to

Elizabeth’s Government, and this made the ambassador’s treatment the

harder. Once, in May, 1582, he was driven, by orders from the anxious

King, to demand audience of the Queen, who replied that she would receive

him as a private person if he liked, but would see him no more as

ambassador until he brought an apology from Philip for aiding the Irish

rebels. To this he replied haughtily in a letter, threatening to leave

England at once and let muskets speak for him. When Elizabeth read the

letter she was perturbed, and softened somewhat. “God forbid,” she said,

“that she should ever break with the King of Spain, to whom she bore

nothing but goodwill, ... She hoped that Don Bernardino would not leave;

he could communicate with her in writing until the King’s explanation

of the Irish affair came.” Writing to Philip in November, 1582, Mendoza

says: “I have tried every means, overt and covert, to get into relations

with the Queen’s ministers, but they fly from me as if I were a rebel

subject of hers, and things have reached such a point that no one will

speak to me or even to my servants.” Even his heavily paid Court spies,

Lord Henry Howard and Sir James Crofts, avoided communication with him,

except when they needed money.

The efforts of Guise and Beton to keep the Scottish Catholic intrigue in

their own hands also tended to isolate Mendoza. Both he and Philip, when

the news of the raid of Ruthven and the flight of Lennox reached them,

recognised that the enterprise through Scotland was hopeless for a time,

and endeavoured to confine Guise’s energies in future to France. He was

told how dangerous it would be for him to leave France with his enemies

the Huguenots in possession, and was flattered and encouraged by Philip

with the suggestion that the Crown of France might be his by Spanish aid,

if Henry and his brother Alençon died childless, as seemed probable: “for

it would be a public infamy if the most Christian Crown should fall, as

may be feared, into the hands of a man who was not a Catholic [_i.e._,

Henry of Navarre], besides the danger of this, it will be a standing

disgrace to a true Catholic like Guise himself.” Guise was proud and

delighted that so much deference was being paid him, but he could hardly

be expected to look at Scottish affairs entirely from Philip’s point of

view; and, whilst not losing sight of his vast ambitions in France, he

still endeavoured through Beton, Tassis, and Parsons, to keep his hand on

the realm of his cousin.

When Lennox passed through London in January, 1583, on his way to exile

in France he sent his secretary to Mendoza—not daring to come himself—to

give him an explanatory account of Lennox’s ignominious collapse, and

to inform him of his plans to return to Scotland, with James’s full

connivance, and for an invasion by foreign troops in the Catholic

interest. In such plans both Mendoza and his master had now lost hope,

and though Lennox soon afterwards died, Guise himself, undeterred by

Philip’s flattering attempts at diversion, became the central pivot of

the intrigue, abetted by Beton, Tassis, and the Jesuits, who were still

curiously blind to the real trend of affairs. A new French ambassador, La

Mothe, was sent to remonstrate with Ruthven and the Scottish Protestants

for keeping their King in durance, and to warn Elizabeth not to interfere

in Scotland; and with him went young de Maineville on a separate mission

from Guise to the Scottish Catholics, for the purpose of reviving the

plot for landing a foreign force in Scotland. Beton and Tassis were,

of course, parties to the arrangement, much to the annoyance of Mary

and Mendoza, who thus saw all their carefully planned schemes thrown

into confusion. James in Scotland, as usual, lied to everybody, and

the Scottish Catholic party was disunited, so that Guise’s agent, de

Maineville, promptly saw that any present attempt to invade Scotland in

Mary’s interest would end in failure, and Guise changed all his plans.

[Illustration: HENRI, DUC DE GUISE

FROM AN ENGRAVING]

On the 4th May, 1583, Tassis wrote to Philip that Guise, in view of the

changed position in Scotland, had decided to negotiate with the English

Catholics for a rising in England. “He has already carried the matter

so far that he expects to have it put into execution very shortly, and

intends to be present in person.” He asked for 100,000 crowns from the

Pope and Philip, to be ready in Paris when he wanted it, though Tassis

says that he does not expect that his Holiness will send much. He needed

this large sum, it appears, principally “for one object which I dare

not venture to mention here, but which, if it be effected, will make

a noise in the world.” This object was no other than the murder of

Elizabeth, which was to be the prelude of the revolution to place Mary

on the throne. Two days before this letter to Philip was written by

Tassis the Nuncio in Paris wrote to the Papal Secretary of State, the

Cardinal of Como, much more plainly. Guise and his brother Mayenne, he

says, had arranged for the murder of the Queen by one of her courtiers,

secretly a Catholic, who owed her a grudge for executing certain of his

relations. This man had made the proposal to Mary, and she had refused to

entertain it, but the Duke of Guise was less scrupulous and had promised

the assassin 100,000 francs for the work. He did not ask the Pope’s aid

for this, but for the invasion of the South of England, which he, Guise,

intended to effect immediately after the Queen had been killed. Neither

the Nuncio nor the Cardinal, nor even his Holiness, had anything but

praise for this saintly plan, and readily promised one-quarter of the sum

needed if Philip would find the other three-quarters.

Guise’s ideas, as usual, were vague and scattered. Simultaneously

with this plan for murdering Elizabeth and invading Sussex, with the

connivance of the English Catholics, an utterly impracticable scheme,

he tried to keep the Scottish Catholics in hand by heavy bribes and to

convert James. All this sinister activity could not be quite hidden from

Elizabeth, who made a counter move by proposing terms for Mary’s release,

which in future would render her harmless. Mary at once asked the advice

of Mendoza, who was quite shocked at the idea, and wrote to her, as he

says, “with all possible artifice,” by all means to refuse her liberty;

but he tells Philip his real reason: “Nothing could be more injurious to

your Majesty’s interest and hopes of converting this island than that

the French should get their fingers into the matter through the Queen of

Scotland and turn it to their own ends.”[246] Philip agreed that it would

be best to keep Mary where they could lay hands upon her at any moment;

but, perhaps influenced by the opinion of Granvelle, quoted in an earlier

page, he asks for Mendoza’s further opinion on the association of Guise

in the contemplated revolution. Since he was a near relation of Mary’s,

and had the confidence of the Scottish Catholics and the Pope, would his

co-operation, in the opinion of Mendoza, be open to the same objections

as that of Frenchmen generally? To this Mendoza gave a cautious,

sagacious reply. There was no objection to Guise pulling the chestnuts

out of the fire, if he depended entirely upon Spain, but above all Mary

Stuart must be kept in England.

Philip professed himself willing to provide a part of the money required

for Guise’s murderous attempt, but bargained for a larger contribution

from the Pope.[247] Before anything could be decided, however, the

ill-knit plan fell to pieces. Father Allen and most of the English

Catholic exiles were in deadly earnest, and thought that “all this talk

and intricacy was mere fencing.” The feeling, also, of national jealousy

of the Scots began to manifest itself strongly amongst them. “They

suspected a tendency on the part of the Scots to claim a controlling

influence in the new Empire, and, as the Scots are naturally inclined

to the French, they would rather see the affair carried through with

but a few Spaniards, whilst the English hate this idea, as their

country is the principal one, and they say that it should not lose its

predominance.”[248] This tendency of the English exiles gradually worked

upon Philip and his ministers, until French co-operation in the plans to

subjugate Britain, even under the auspices of the Guises, was eliminated

from the schemes, so far as Spain and the English exiles could influence

them.

Not many weeks elapsed before this vague plot of Guise to murder

Elizabeth simultaneously with an invasion of Sussex had fallen through.

On the 30th May, 1583, the Nuncio in Paris wrote to the Cardinal of Como,

“I believe that the design upon the person of the Queen of England will

come to nothing”; and three weeks later Tassis wrote to Philip that the

murder plot “is, I see, for the present, quite at an end, and nothing

more is being said about it, so the funds referred to will therefore

not be required.”[249] The English Catholic exiles, led by Dr. Allen

and Father Parsons, soon tired of such an unbusinesslike conspirator

as Guise, and they came to Tassis, in Paris, with a scheme of their

own. They were already jealous of French and Scottish intervention in

English affairs. “They have received so much favour from your Majesty,

that they would rather have the help of Spaniards.” Dr. Allen and his

followers therefore stood aloof somewhat now from the Guise proposals,

and “convinced that they must look for a remedy only to the feeling of

England, they have made up their minds that they are simply wasting time

in depending upon what is arranged here in France, and they have decided

to lay the real condition of England before your Majesty, and beg you to

extend your pity to the poor, afflicted, distressed Catholics there.”

Tassis was much impressed by Dr. Allen’s earnestness. Scotland was in no

condition, he said, to co-operate at present, even if it were advisable

for her to do so, which the English thought it was not. The King was

a mere boy, notably unstable and in the hands of heretics, though he

pretended to be secretly favourable to Guise’s plans; and the Catholics

of the North of England were ready to rise on their own account if Philip

would aid them with money and a few troops to be landed in Yorkshire or

Lancashire. “They are so confident of success, with the blessing of God,

in whose service the attempt will be made, that it is impossible for any

one to hear them without being convinced.” In this scheme the exiled

Earl of Westmorland and Lord Dacre were to join, and Dr. Allen was to

accompany the expedition as Bishop of Durham. The time fixed by Allen

and his friends for the attempt was in September or October of that year,

1583, in the hope that Philip’s fleet would by that time have defeated

Don Antonio’s expedition off the Azores, and be free to co-operate with

an English Catholic rising. Even an extreme Catholic party in Scotland

were desirous of working independently of France and the Guises, and

sent Lord Seton’s brother to Spain to appeal to Philip, avoiding all

communication with Guise and Beton.

The Duke of Guise, determined not to lose hold of the business if

he could help it, tried to graft a plan of his own upon that of the

English Catholics, who were in such dead earnest and had no object in

view but the conversion of England. He was willing to abate his demands

considerably, and Tassis thought that if he were flattered enough he

would agree to whatever Philip ordered. Guise eventually managed to

upset the businesslike plans of Dr. Allen and his friends by forcing

upon them his undesired and impractical co-operation. Father Parsons,

who had recently returned from Spain, was to go to Madrid (July, 1583)

to represent to Philip the English view of the case and to crave Spanish

support; but before he left Paris in August, Guise managed to enlist him

as an advocate of his new combined plan, which he was to submit, not to

Philip, but to the Pope. Parsons travelled under the name of Melino—one

of his many aliases—and was instructed by Guise to say that if Philip

would send 4,000 good soldiers and contribute money to raise and pay

10,000 more, with arms for 5,000 Englishmen, the affair could be carried

through successfully. Parsons was to go to Rome first and earnestly beg

the Pope in Guise’s name to provide money liberally, and to leave the

whole management of the affair to the King of Spain. Ports, he was to

assure the Pope, had already been secured, especially that of Fouldrey,

on the Lancashire coast, and troops could be sent from Flanders to join

Guise’s force of 6,000 men to land in the South of England. The whole of

the North of England and Catholic Scotland was ready to rise, the nobles

prepared, and even James of Scotland had now freed himself from the

custody of the Ruthvens and smiled upon the enterprise. The Pope was to

be asked to issue a Bull approving of the expedition, giving indulgences

to all who aided it, and to appoint Dr. Allen Nuncio and Bishop of Durham.

This was the message that Parsons, under the name of Melino, took to

Rome; and to any one who knows Philip’s methods it spells failure on the

face of it. When the King heard that Parsons had in Guise’s name settled

with the Pope what Rome’s contribution was to be, without reference

to him, he expressed his annoyance with unwonted energy, for he had

no intention of allowing his hands to be forced by priestly meddling

or French interference. He had, indeed, by this time, as we shall see

presently, gradually allowed himself to entertain the vast project for

the conquest and domination of England on his own account, towards which

he intended the Pope to contribute, not the comparative trifle demanded

by Guise, but the lion’s share of the expense.

At the same time as Parsons went on his way to Rome, Guise despatched to

England Charles Paget, who, with Thomas Morgan, had been sent by Mary

Stuart to serve as assistants or secretaries to Beton, his mission being

to ascertain from the English Catholics what force they could join to

Guise’s invading army. Paget, although an Englishman, was ostensibly a

devout Guisan, but in strong opposition to the interference of Parsons

and the Jesuits in political affairs.[250] From the first he had been

a spy in Walsingham’s pay, and to him was owing the perfect knowledge

possessed by Elizabeth’s Government of the whole of the present intrigue.

The instructions given to him by Guise display more clearly than any

other document the utter incompatibility of the views respectively of

Philip and Guise with regard to England, and of themselves are sufficient

to account for the subsequent exclusion of Guise from all the Spanish

plans relating to it. Paget is instructed to discover which port will

be most convenient for Guise’s landing, and what strength will join him

there. Guise would come with 4,000 or 6,000 men, and desired a port

within fifty leagues of Dover. He wished to know what provisions and

arms would be ready for him, and much other information was sought. To

all of this Philip scattered on the margin when he read the dispatch

satirical exclamations at the unreadiness and uncertainty that these

inquiries demonstrated; but what finally convinced Philip that Guise

was no fit confederate for him was the concluding portion of Paget’s

instructions. “Assure the English Catholics, on the faith and honour

of Hercules [_i.e._, Guise], that the enterprise is being undertaken

with no other object or intention than to re-establish the Catholic

religion in England, and to place the Queen of Scotland peacefully on

the English throne, which of right belongs to her. When this is effected

the foreigners will immediately retire from the country, and if anyone

attempts to frustrate this intention, Hercules [Guise] promises that

he and his forces will join the people of the country to compel the

foreigners to withdraw.”[251] No wonder that Philip underscored these

lines, and that he thenceforward found the whole plan insufficiently

matured. Once more he primly deprecated undue haste, and gently put the

plan aside with vague professions of sympathy.

Mendoza in England was less cautious than his master. His position,

as we have seen, was a humiliating one, as Elizabeth persisted in her

refusal to receive him as ambassador, and he was exposed to daily

slights from those who took their tone from the Queen. When Charles

Paget went to England on Guise’s errand in August-September, 1583, he

was directed to Francis Throckmorton for the purpose of obtaining the

information he sought; this man being probably the person referred to

in the correspondence already quoted, as having been willing to kill

Elizabeth a few months previously at Guise’s bidding. However that may

be, Throckmorton was an intimate of Mendoza, who had been informed of

all that had been discussed in Paris, and both he and Charles Paget,

whilst he was in England, were closely watched. Through his numerous

spies Walsingham was perfectly aware of all that had been so incautiously

handled by Guise; the whole of the invasion project had been known to

Elizabeth’s Government for months, and though Charles Paget, who was a

spy, was allowed to get clear away to France, no sooner was he gone than

the blow fell upon those in England with whom he had conferred.

Francis Throckmorton was arrested, as was the new Earl of Northumberland

and his son, whilst the Earl of Arundel was summoned before the Privy

Council, and Lord Paget and Charles Arundell (of Wardour) fled to France.

Mendoza was deeply concerned at the arrest of his friend Throckmorton,

and wrote to Philip an account of it, cautiously worded, but sufficiently

inculpatory: “The Catholics are quite cowed.... Only one paper was

found upon Throckmorton, containing a list of the principal ports in

England, and particulars with regard to them, and the chief gentlemen

and Catholics resident in them. For this they carried him at once to the

Tower, and it is feared that his life is in danger, although he informed

me by a cipher note, written on a playing-card and thrown out of the

window, that he denies that the document is in his handwriting, the hand

being a disguised one. He told them that some person had thrown it into

his house for the purpose of injuring him, and he assures me that he

will endure a thousand deaths rather than accuse any one, which message

he begs me to convey to his Catholic friends.... I have written to the

lady in prison [_i.e._, Mary Stuart], encouraging her, and begging her

not to grieve over the matter to the detriment of her health, but the

business, it may be feared, may imperil her life if the negotiations in

France are entirely discovered.”[252]

Tassis in Paris was even more despondent, and he feared, what proved to

be true, that the rack would soon draw from the prisoner all he knew.

Time after time Throckmorton was tormented, as were his brother-in-law

and two other relatives, and sufficient was torn from them, together with

the known correspondence, to furnish a good pretext at last for expelling

Mendoza from England with ignominy. On the 19th January, 1584, a formal

summons for him to appear before the Council was handed to him. “If these

gentlemen wish to see me in my private capacity,” he replied to Beal,

the Secretary, “let them come to my house as I went to theirs when I

wanted to see them. But if they are sitting in Council, I would wait upon

them, as an ambassador should; but I warn them that if I open my ears to

what they have to say, I shall not shut my mouth to answer them, as the

service of my master may demand.” He says he gave this answer because he

knew the intention was to expel him, and on the Councillors answering

that they wished to see him officially, he went to the Lord Chancellor’s

house to meet them.

Walsingham spoke Italian better than the rest, and formulated the

Queen’s complaint. Mendoza, he said, had conspired with Guise to liberate

the Queen of Scots; he was known to be in communication with Mary, with

the French plotters, and with Throckmorton, and he must leave the country

within fifteen days. “It is strange,” sneered Mendoza, “that the Queen

should have summoned them and himself for such a trifle as this. What

you tell me are mere dreams, hardly worthy of an answer. These general

accusations are absurd, mainly extorted by the rack, and unsupported by

details.” Very different were the charges he brought against the Queen of

trying to injure his master, King Philip: and he launched out his usual

string of complaints, from the seizure of the Spanish treasure fifteen

years before to the present helping of Don Antonio against his rightful

sovereign. As for his leaving England, that, as his hearers well knew,

would delight him, and he would go the moment his master instructed him

to do so in answer to a despatch sent by the Queen requesting his recall.

The Councillors rose angrily at this and said that nothing of the sort

would be done: he must leave England at once: “and they explained their

past acts with impertinences that I dare not repeat to your Majesty, the

least of them being that I ought to be very thankful that the Queen had

not ordered me to be punished for what I had done.”

The blood of the proud Mendozas, the noblest family in Spain, flared out

at this: “To my King alone in the world belongs the right of correcting

me, and to him alone under heaven am I responsible: so, say no more

on that point, unless ye are prepared to fight.” As for the Queen of

England punishing him, he laughed at the idea. He would be overjoyed to

be gone as soon as a passport was sent to him. She was a lady, and, as

such, the least grateful to those who served her best; but, as he had

failed to satisfy her as a minister of peace she would in future force

him to try whether he would succeed better as a minister of war. Thus

Mendoza flung down the gage to England and the Reformation. He had been

unpopular in London before, but now the rumour spread through England

that he had plotted to kill the Queen, and his life was in the greatest

danger from the popular indignation against him. He himself, seeing that

the Government refused him the aid of English ships to get away, and the

Dutch privateers still swarmed in the narrow seas, was convinced that

mischief was meant to him. But he held his head high and boasted more

than ever, as slight followed slight from Elizabeth’s ministers, of the

overwhelming greatness and power of his master, King Philip, who would

avenge with interest all the injuries inflicted upon him and Spain. “Don

Bernardino de Mendoza was not born to disturb countries, but to conquer

them,” he said in one of his messages to Elizabeth; whilst to Philip

himself he passionately wrote with a back-handed reproach: “All their

behaviour is on a par with this; and if God had not made you so clement

and God-fearing a prince, surely no vassal of yours would consent to

serve you in England, seeing the way in which the English treat us: for

so powerful an empire as that which God has granted to your Majesty

cannot endure such ill-treatment as this for any earthly reward.”[253]

To add to his trouble, he was almost without money, for Philip was

the worst paymaster in the world, and he had to bring away with him

from England, not only his own great household but the English spies

and intermediaries who had served him. “The insolence of these people

[_i.e._, Elizabeth’s Government] has brought me to a state, in which my

only desire to live is for the purpose of revenging myself upon them;

and I pray that God may let it be soon, and will give me grace to be His

instrument of wrath, even though I have to walk barefoot across the world

to beg for it. I am sure his Majesty will give such an answer as their

insolence merits.”[254]

And so, cursing and reviled, the proud ambassador, with rage in his

heart, was hustled out of England, and once more King Philip was face

to face with the apparently unsolvable problem of how to gain control

of English policy. Five ministers of his had begun hopefully with

methods of suave diplomacy, and one after the other had become dangerous

conspirators and promoters of treason. Elizabeth and her Government,

timidly at first and with many gyrations, had through a long series of

years injured with impunity the dearest interests of Spain. The seizure

of the treasure had caused the failure of Alba; the constant aid of

the Netherlands revolt had prevented the pacification of Flanders; the

sheltering of the pirates and privateers in English ports had almost cut

off communication between Spain and the Flemish dominions by sea; the

depredations of Drake, afloat and ashore, had well-nigh ruined Spain and

demonstrated her impotence to the world; whilst the assistance and asylum

given to the Portuguese Pretender had rendered incomplete Philip’s hold

over the new conquest upon which he based such great hopes.

For five-and-twenty years Philip, against the impatient advice of

many of his ministers, had persisted in the belief that his own slow,

cautious, diplomatic methods would succeed in conciliating Elizabeth or

in substituting for her an instrument more amenable to his hand. The

expulsion of Mendoza, in January, 1584, marks the conclusion of the era

of peaceful effort. The ambassador left England breathing threats of war

and vengeance, and when Philip received the reports of his doings he had

no words but those of praise and approbation for them. “You have acted

with the same good sense and courage in the manner of your departure

as in all else that has happened during your stay in the country. I am

entirely satisfied with you, and with your good services, and will take

care that they are duly remembered.”

Philip at last had made up his mind: henceforward it must be war to

the knife between himself and Elizabeth, and no keener instrument to

work the destruction of his enemy could be found than Mendoza, with a

bitter personal injury of his own to avenge. From his new post in Paris

the ambassador worked incessantly to compass the ruin of the _régime_

in England that had wounded his pride; and for the rest of his active

life, until, blind and heartbroken with failure, the brilliant soldier,

diplomatist, and historian was shrouded in a monk’s gabardine, Elizabeth

had no enemy so indefatigable and rancorous as Don Bernardino de Mendoza.

Plans and plots for revolution in England, for the murder of Elizabeth,

and for the overthrow by treachery of the Protestant power in favour of

Mary Stuart, were the means upon which Mendoza mainly depended.

Philip was willing, in his cool, cautious way, to smile upon such

attempts, when he could do so without committing himself prematurely

or too far. They might turn out well by chance, and he might reap the

harvest where others had sown the grain and nourished it with their

blood. But through it all thenceforward there was slowly maturing in

Philip’s mind, and preparing in his chancelleries, the great enterprise

to which he had been forced by the logic of events—the conquest and

domination of England by his own arms and for his own benefit. Such

a scheme necessitated patient plotting in every capital in Europe

before the material preparations could be even commenced. Of the secret

preliminaries, the laborious concentration, and the final disaster of the

great Armada in which Philip’s ambitions were wrecked the next chapter

will tell.