Spain and the Archduke Charles--Swetkowitz’s mission--
Leicester’s continued intrigues--The French suit dropped--
Eric IV. again--Heneage--Renewed negotiations with the
Emperor--The French patronise Leicester’s suit--Dissensions
in the English Court respecting the Austrian match--Mission
of Sussex to Vienna--End of the Austrian negotiations--
Marriage of Charles IX.
In the meanwhile Guzman was more at fault than ever, and was quite
persuaded that the matter being discussed was the marriage of Mary
of Scotland with Leicester, with the connivance of the Guises; but
gradually the coil began to unwind before his eyes. First he received
news from Vienna that secret negotiations had been going on ever since
the Emperor Ferdinand’s death for the marriage of the Queen with the
Archduke Charles; and that Adam Swetkowitz, Baron Mitterburg, was on
his way to England, ostensibly to return Ferdinand’s insignia of the
Garter, but really with a mission about the marriage; then came the
news of the marriage, or immediately impending marriage, of Mary with
Darnley, which, however much Elizabeth may have pretended otherwise,
must have relieved her from much anxiety and cleared the situation.
News came to him also of the proposals for betrothing Charles IX. to
a daughter of the Emperor, and Leicester’s many enemies were again
strongly urging the Queen’s marriage with the Archduke. Guzman by this
time had become highly sceptical of the Queen’s intention to marry at
all, and was not apparently anxious to help forward the Archduke’s suit
until the new Emperor’s attitude in religion was well established. He
therefore tried to face both ways. He received Swetkowitz cordially
and promised him support, but before doing anything sounded Leicester
again. The Earl, whilst hunting with the Queen, had met with an
accident, and was confined to his bed. This gave Guzman an opportunity
of calling upon him. Maitland, Cecil, and Throgmorton were already
there when he entered, but stood aside whilst he conversed with the
Earl. He whispered to him that his affection prompted him to say how
sorry he was that he (Leicester) was losing so much time in bringing
about his marriage with the Queen, and that he had better act promptly
now or he would regret it. Guzman reminded him that he had always done
his best for him with the Queen and assured him of Philip’s attachment
to him. Leicester protested his abject gratitude, but said sorrowfully
that the Queen would never marry him, as she was bent on wedding a
great prince; but there was none she could marry but Don Carlos or
the Archduke. Guzman passed this over by saying he understood that
there had formerly been some talk about the Archduke, and then again
reverted to Leicester’s own suit. Leicester’s spirits rose at this, as
it seemed to betoken a coolness towards the Archduke’s advances, and
said that if Guzman would speak to the Queen now about marrying him he
thought she would be more favourable than formerly as her reasons for
rejecting him before was the fear that Mary of Scotland would marry a
powerful prince; “whereas now that this marriage with Darnley had taken
place my business will be more easily arranged. I have not cared to
press the point upon her hitherto, although the Council has done so. I
think, therefore, that this is a good juncture for my business.” The
Spanish ambassador told him to leave the matter to him, and adds in
his letter to Philip: “I thought well to approach the matter and have
the road thus prepared before the Emperor’s envoy arrived, so that
if he does not tell me what he is arranging I can still find out and
proceed in the business.”[43] It appeared that for once Leicester and
Throgmorton had been co-operating with Cecil and others to bring the
Archduke forward again, the Earl having taken up this new position no
doubt as soon as he thought the French match was looking serious; but,
withal, Guzman did not believe in the sincerity of the new Austrian
negotiations, which he looked upon as a “mere diversion,” and, after
his conversation with Leicester, wrote: “Lord Robert is more confident
now and said ... he could not contemplate the Queen’s marriage with any
one but himself without great repugnance.” It is probable that at this
time the Queen seriously leant again towards a marriage with Leicester.
The proposals for a match with the French king were never anything
but a feint, with the objects which have been mentioned, and the new
negotiations with the Archduke were undertaken, not only to disarm
Spain at the Bayonne meetings, but also to clear the ground and deceive
Cecil, Sussex, and Norfolk, by an apparently sincere attempt to
bring about the marriage, which could subsequently be wrecked on some
religious scruple. The general desire for the Queen’s marriage might
then be pleaded, even to Leicester’s enemies, as a reason why the Queen
should marry him, the only remaining possible suitor. For the first
time in her reign the Queen now might do it, as she had nothing to
fear from “her dear sister” Mary of Scotland. There is ample reason to
believe that this was the key to the present attitude of the Queen and
Leicester; and Guzman makes no secret of his opinion that it was so. In
the meanwhile Cecil was proceeding in good faith with Swetkowitz; and
de Foix was still pressing the Queen daily for some decision respecting
Charles IX., to whom she grew colder and colder. Swetkowitz was being
beguiled, as others had been, with dinners and masques at Greenwich,
and was made much of by the Queen; but when, after many fruitless
attempts, de Foix got to close quarters with her, she assured him that
she had held out no hopes to the Archduke, and then turned the tables
upon him and complained that Charles IX. was seeking a bride elsewhere
before he had received her answer. But at last the comedy could be
carried on no longer, and the Queen referred de Foix to her Council for
his reply. The interview took place on June 12, 1565, and although the
principal difficulty raised was again the King’s youth, yet de Foix
saw now plainly that the affair was at an end. He and the other honest
instruments had been deceived from the first. It suited Catharine and
Elizabeth equally to play the game for their own ends, and when the
need for it had disappeared it was dropped.
Swetkowitz was a Lutheran, and on Whit Sunday attended Protestant
service with the Queen, who after dinner had an interesting
conversation with him, in which he promised that the new Emperor would
not stand so much upon his dignity as his father had done, and would
let the Archduke come and see her as he (the Archduke) greatly wished
to do. She blushed with pleasure at this, and said that if they liked
one another the matter could soon be settled. What was uppermost in
her mind, however, was seen in her next remark: “I pray you tell me,
have you heard from any one that the Earl of Leicester is not dealing
favourably with this affair or is opposing it in any way?” He replied
that on the contrary Leicester had been most favourable, and had even
himself written to the Emperor urging the match. He pointed out to
her that it was not surprising that the public considered the match
probable, as if she married out of England there was no other prince
of suitable age whom she could marry. “But,” she said, “I have never
said yet that I would not marry the Earl of Leicester.” This rather
damped Swetkowitz, and Guzman was further confirmed in his opinion that
the whole negotiation was dishonest and for the benefit of Leicester,
who was now leaning more towards French interests at Court. Guzman
distrusted and disliked him, but thought necessary to feign approval of
his suit, in order to have a claim upon his gratitude; and Swetkowitz,
who was duly informed of this, consequently had great doubts of the
sincerity of Spanish support in the Archduke’s pretensions. This
caused a coolness between the two ambassadors, and somewhat paralysed
the action of Swetkowitz, who said that as soon as he was satisfied
that the King of Spain really favoured the match he, Swetkowitz, had
means for bringing it about. At an interview Guzman had with the Queen
she expressed her doubts about the _bona fides_ of Philip’s approval
and tried to draw the Spanish ambassador into some clear expression of
it. He told her that if she decided to marry one of her own subjects
he, Guzman, could not forget the interests of his friend (_i.e._,
Leicester), but if she chose a foreign prince he begged her not to
overlook the house of Austria, as he had said before. “That is true,”
she replied, “but you said the house of Spain.” He told her she was
mistaken. He had no reason for saying Spain, as his master was head
of the house of Austria, and he did not particularise or exclude any
member of his house. This was sufficiently indefinite, and conveyed
to the Queen the impression which was intended; namely, that either
match could only be effected by her coming to an arrangement with
Spain. She replied that she thanked the ambassador for his kind remark
about his friend, and left Philip to thank him for the rest. “This
makes it evident to me,” he wrote to the King, “that Lord Robert’s
affair is not off, and I have many reasons for being doubtful about
the Archduke.” Leicester’s enemies, particularly Sussex, were busy
trying to animate Swetkowitz, and persuade Guzman to take a more active
share in the negotiations. But the new Emperor’s religious attitude
was still undefined, and Guzman at this time believed that the Queen
and Leicester were already married.[44] He looked, moreover, upon
the promotion of the Archduke’s suit by Sussex as a Court intrigue.
“Throgmorton,” he says, “is for ever coming here to ask questions of
the Emperor’s envoy, who tells them that the Archduke is coming; and
they (Leicester’s friends) have devised some other scheme to stop
the business.” What the scheme was soon appeared. A day or two after
Guzman’s interview with the Queen, in June, 1565, the French ambassador
saw the Council ostensibly to again press the marriage of the Queen
with Charles IX. He was once more told that the King’s youth made such
a match impossible, and replied that as she refused his master it
was evident that she did not intend to marry a foreigner, and warned
the Council that the chosen consort must be a person who was well
affected towards French interests, or trouble would ensue. He was asked
what person would best please his master, and he replied the Earl of
Leicester. With the more or less overt support of the ambassadors of
the two great powers, Leicester’s chance was now sufficiently good to
alarm Cecil and Sussex, who saw the necessity of doing something to
better the Archduke’s position. Cecil therefore approached Leicester
through his friend Throgmorton, and suggested that if the Queen married
the Archduke, Leicester might be provided with a wife and his position
secured by his wedding some relative of the Emperor, such as the young
Princess of Cleves, who was then fifteen. Throgmorton was quite in love
with the idea, and approached the Emperor’s envoy with suggestions
of Leicester’s marriage with a sister of the Emperor or some other
princess of the house of Austria. The proposal was of course received
very coldly. Guzman thought the object of it was perhaps only to
couple Leicester’s name with those of great marriageable princesses,
in order that the people might gradually be brought to consider him
a fit husband for the Queen, who had always told the ambassador that
she would marry him (Leicester) if he were a king’s son, but the
real purpose was to buy off Leicester’s opposition to the Archduke.
The sham proposals for the marriage of the Queen with Charles IX.
having served their purpose were now quite at an end, and the Queen
of Scots’ determination to take Darnley had further simplified the
situation, so that Leicester’s chance was better than ever it had
been, supported as he was, for interested reasons, both by France and
Spain, the promotion of the Archduke’s suit being mainly pushed in the
English Court by those who were Leicester’s declared enemies, whilst
the Spanish ambassador was only giving it half-hearted countenance.
Norfolk and Sussex, however, continued to talk to the Queen about the
Archduke, and in a conversation with Sussex on the subject she told
him that “Robert pressed her so that he does not leave her a moment’s
peace.” When Leicester urged his suit she was just as ready to say
that she was never free from the importunities of Sussex on behalf
of the Archduke. Matters were in this position in July, 1565, when,
doubtless at the instance of the English Protestant party, inimical to
Leicester, King Eric made another attempt. First came an envoy with a
present of magnificent sables for the Queen, and news that the King’s
sister Princess Cecilia, who had married the Margrave of Baden, was
awaiting a ship at Embden to sail for England, and Elizabeth lost no
time in sending two of her own vessels to convey her royal visitor
to her capital. Early in September the Margravine arrived at Dover
with her husband and a large suite, and a few days afterwards came by
boat from Gravesend to Durham House, where she was to be the guest
of the Queen. She was dressed, we are told, in a black velvet robe
and a mantle of cloth of silver, her fair hair being surmounted by a
golden crown. The Queen could not do too much, apparently, to honour
the first royal visitor she had received since her accession. Lord and
Lady Cobham had awaited her at Dover, the Queen’s cousin. Hunsdon,
with six of the Queen’s gentlemen, attended her from Gravesend, and
at the water gate of Durham House she was welcomed by the Countess
of Sussex, with Lady Bacon, and Lady Cecil, who were leading members
of the Puritan party. The Queen herself visited the Margravine a few
days afterwards, and was prodigal of her marks of affection to her.
Shortly afterwards the Princess gave birth to a son and heir, to whom
Elizabeth stood sponsor, and for a time Durham House and Whitehall vied
with each other in the splendour of their reciprocal entertainments,
although Eric’s vicarious wooing prospered no better than before,
notwithstanding the efforts in its favour made by the Bacons, the
Cecils, and their friends. They had, indeed, been checkmated even
before the Swedish princess’s arrival. The Spanish ambassador, with
the connivance of Sussex, Norfolk, and Arundel, at once became much
warmer in his apparent support of the Archduke’s pretensions,
whilst at the same time privately assuring Leicester of his master’s
good-will towards him. He pressed the Queen to look favourably upon the
Emperor’s brother, gave hopes that the Archduke might be allowed to
have his way and visit her, and congratulated her upon having avoided
so unequal a match as that projected with the King of France, who,
the Queen herself said, might be her grandson. The Emperor’s answer
about his brother’s coming was hardly as cordial as was wished, but
as it contained full particulars of the conditions demanded, both as
to religion, finances, and position of the consort, the match was now
brought seriously and officially under consideration. The terms were so
hard, and the tone of the Emperor’s communication so dry, that it was
decided not to show the letter to the Queen, and to conceal the text of
the conditions from her, by saying merely that the Emperor was willing
for his brother to come, but desired first that commissioners should
meet and decide upon some bases for negotiation, in case she should
be favourably impressed by him. It was seen at once by the friends of
the match that the Emperor’s terms were impossible. The Archduke was
to have the title of king and to govern jointly with his wife; in case
of her death without heirs he was to remain in the government of the
country, and was to exercise the Catholic religion without hindrance.
Cecil, Sussex, and others privately met Swetkowitz, and agreed that,
if the matter were to go on, the conditions must be softened to the
Queen, and by some means the Archduke be brought to England, in the
hope that his coming would so far pledge her that she could not well
recede. But withal, the answer given by the Queen and Council was not
very encouraging. The main question, that of religion, was slurred
over and left for future discussion, but a decided negative was
given to the claim that the consort should be called king, or that a
permanent income should be settled upon him. As soon as the Emperor’s
hard terms were received a decided change took place in the attitude
of Leicester and his friends towards the match. It was evident to him
that it could always be prevented by raising difficulties with regard
to religion, and Leicester had therefore no hesitation in pretending
to favour and forward it in order to choke off the Swedish suit. He
even entered into a regular treaty with the Spanish ambassador by
which he agreed to help the Archduke’s affair on condition that he
was to receive Spanish support in case the Austrian marriage came to
nothing, as he meant it to do. Still further to beguile people into the
belief that he himself was entirely out of the running, and that the
Archduke’s suit was now really in a fair way, an elaborate comedy was
concocted, by which the Queen was to flirt with Heneage--a married
man--whilst the Earl was to make love to Viscountess Hereford,
afterwards Countess of Essex, whom he subsequently married. This he
probably did too realistically, and a quarrel, real or pretended,
ending in tears on all sides, consequently took place between him,
Heneage, and the Queen, whereupon the favourite went to his rooms and
sulked for a few days, until he was recalled, and Heneage, who had
been sent away, was also allowed to return. In the meanwhile Sussex
was straining every nerve to pledge the Queen to the Archduke; and
Guzman was really doing his best to forward the match, although he
never was for a moment deceived by Leicester, whom he now saw through.
“I keep Leicester in hand,” he said, “in the best way I can, as I am
still firm in my opinion that if any marriage at all is to result from
all this it will be his.” Swetkowitz hurried back to Vienna with the
English reply, and to explain to his master the only method by which
success was possible. Lutheran as he was, he would have given way upon
the vital point of religion, although he confessed his fear that the
Emperor would not do so; “but,” said he, “you must put up with a good
deal to gain such a kingdom as this.” To have given up on the point
of religion, however, would have made the match useless to Philip,
and there was never any chance of the marriage being effected on such
terms. Leicester, of course, did not know how pliable the Emperor might
prove, but Swetkowitz’s hopefulness and conciliatory attitude seems
in August to have alarmed both him and the French ambassador into the
belief that perhaps, after all, the marriage would be effected. At all
events, Leicester and the French again began to push his suit warmly,
as soon as Swetkowitz left, and the Queen, with just an occasional
smile to Heneage, was kinder to him than ever. Philip II., who knew
Elizabeth as well as any one, thus writes in October to his ambassador:
“The Archduke’s suit is now quite at an end, as I am informed by the
Emperor that he is undeceived, and withdraws altogether from the
business. You will, therefore, say no more about it unless he writes
to the contrary, which I do not think he will.... Let me know the
result of the Swedish negotiations, although no doubt they will end
like the rest; and, after all, she will either not marry or else marry
Robert, to whom she has always been so much attached. You did well in
writing to me fully about the quarrel with Heneage, because the whole
affair and its sequel clearly show that the Queen is in love with
Robert, and for this reason, and in case at last that she may take him
for her husband, it will be very expedient to keep him in hand.”[45]
Maximilian, however, was not playing quite fairly with Philip when
he told him he had abandoned the idea of marrying his brother to the
Queen of England. The interference of the Spanish king in the affair
was, in fact, a great hindrance to its success, as, dependent as the
Emperor partly was upon the German Protestant princes, he could not
bind himself hard and fast to the extreme Catholic militant party; and
to saddle an Austrian match with impracticable Spanish conditions,
was to make it impossible. Early in 1566, therefore, the Emperor
sent back a temporising reply to England, saying that the wording of
the clause about religion appeared somewhat harsh, and begging that
it might be modified. The Emperor’s tone was so conciliatory, as a
result of Swetkowitz’s representations, that the hopes of Suffolk and
Norfolk again rose high for a time. But as the Emperor advanced the
Queen receded. She complained to the Spanish ambassador of the delay
in the sending of the reply, and was petulant about the Emperor’s
objections. “How could she marry,” she asked, “a man whom she had
to feed, and let the world say she had taken a husband who could not
afford to keep himself! The Emperor must think they (the English) lived
like Turks, whereas they had the Holy Sacrament the same as he had;”
and then she began to talk about Leicester in a way which convinced
the ambassador that his chance was better than ever. She said that
she had promised the Earl no answer--in fact, he had never had the
presumption to ask her to marry him, but the Council had done so, and
it was for them to ask for a reply, and not Leicester; “but the Earl
had good parts and great merits, and if she had to marry a subject she
had a great liking for him.” Referring to Mary of Scotland’s recent
marriage with Darnley, she said that if she married Leicester two
neighbouring queens would be wedded in the same way. “She is so nimble
in her dealing and threads in and out of this business in such a way
that her most intimate favourites fail to understand her, and her
intentions are, therefore, variously interpreted.” In the meanwhile
both the Archduke’s and Leicester’s friends were confident that their
respective suits were prospering, although Leicester either was, or
feigned to be, bitterly jealous of the Queen’s new flame, his erstwhile
bosom friend Heneage, with whom he had another noisy quarrel, nearly
ending in bloodshed, in February, 1566.[46] Cecil, Sussex, and Bacon,
in the meanwhile, were constantly praying Guzman to exert his influence
with the Queen in favour of the Archduke; and the Duke of Norfolk
was induced to speak to her on the subject. He told the Queen that
the former recommendation of the Council to her to marry Leicester
was only adopted because they thought her own desires lay that way,
and not because they approved of it. The Duke himself strongly urged
her to marry the Archduke and rescue the country from the evils of a
disputed succession. After leaving the Queen Norfolk saw Leicester
and taxed him with breaking faith with them, as he had promised not
to press his own suit, the Queen having distinctly announced that she
would not marry him. On the strength of this negotiations were being
conducted with the Emperor, and yet, said Norfolk, no sooner was the
imperial ambassador gone than Leicester pushed his own courtship more
strongly than ever. He was told plainly that if he did not desist evil
would befall him, as all the nobility were against him; whereupon
Leicester went off in a huff and sulked for a fortnight, until the
Queen recalled him and petted him more than ever, upon which Norfolk
in turn took umbrage and went home, leaving the Archduke’s interests
in the hands of Sussex. For months this game of cross purposes went
on. One afternoon in February, 1566, Guzman saw the Queen walking with
Leicester in the lower gallery overlooking the gardens of Whitehall. In
conversation with the ambassador she praised her favourite to his face,
and said that he was just trying to persuade her to marry, for the
sake of herself, the country, and even on his (Leicester’s) account,
as every one believed that he was the cause of her remaining single,
and his life was in danger if he remained at Court. She again said that
“if he were a prince she would marry him to-morrow.”[47] With the
Emperor’s cool dilatoriness and Leicester’s constant efforts, the cause
of the latter was distinctly in the ascendant during the spring of
1566. Norfolk and Sussex were too evidently biased by personal enmity
towards the favourite to be good negotiators for his rival, whilst
Cecil and Bacon on the one hand, and Guzman on the other, did not care
to be hasty in concluding the Archduke’s marriage until the religious
conditions were clearly understood. It was finally determined that
an envoy should be sent to the Emperor with the Queen’s reply to the
objections he had raised, and at first Francis Bertie, the Duchess of
Suffolk’s husband, was chosen. He was, however, a strong Protestant,
and a friend of Leicester’s, and the Spanish ambassador privately
urged Cecil to have the appointment cancelled. This was done, and the
Queen’s kinsman, Sir Thomas Sackville, was then selected. When this
appointment was made Leicester was, in one of his periodical sulking
fits, driven away by the remonstrances of Cecil and Sussex and by
the Queen’s flirting with the Earl of Ormond. The French ambassador,
de Foix, says that Elizabeth had positively promised to marry the
favourite during the winter, and at Christmas had begged him to wait
till Candlemas, in order that Catharine de Medici’s approval might be
sent. Leicester found that his best weapon was to deprive the Queen of
his presence, as she generally came round in a few days so far as to
promise him anything to bring him back. Between her promises and their
fulfilment, however, there was usually a great gap, and Leicester felt
that he was powerless to get beyond a certain point. His influence
was always strong enough to prevent the success of another suitor,
but not powerful enough to ensure his own. His sulking bouts, indeed,
were often feigned, in concert with the Queen, to appease Cecil, or
to prevent the entire cessation of the Archduke’s negotiations. This
probably was the case when the appointment of Bertie as ambassador to
the Emperor had aroused suspicion, as, after an apparent tiff with the
Queen, Leicester went to Pembroke House, where the Queen, disguised,
joined him in a friendly dinner before he left the Court.[48] On the
representations of Cecil she consented to appoint Sackville instead
of Bertie; but she had quietly agreed with Leicester beforehand that
her complaisance should not go beyond appearance, and before the
favourite returned to Court Sackville’s departure had been indefinitely
postponed. During Leicester’s absence from Court Cecil and Sussex
were more hopeful about the Archduke, although as we now see with
very little reason. The Austrians were lethargic, the Spaniards
coldly cautious, whilst the French were determined and unceasing in
their efforts to thwart the Archduke’s suit. De Foix spent large
sums in Leicester’s interest, and Catharine de Medici showered gifts
and favours upon him constantly. The moment that he was in disgrace,
however, or when the Archduke’s match seemed really progressing, they
played their trump card in bringing forward Charles IX. again. When
Rambouillet, the French envoy to Scotland, saw Elizabeth in February
he had enlarged, by the Queen-mother’s orders, upon the vigour and
comeliness of the young King. The Queen was always ready to listen to
talk like this, and sighed that she would like to meet him, “but,” she
said, “do you think it would be a good match for the King to marry an
old woman like me?” De Foix, before his departure in May, 1566, again
and again referred to the matter lightly, with the evident intention
of keeping it alive, to the detriment of the Archduke’s match and for
the benefit of Leicester. The manœuvre was easily seen through, of
course, and Guzman, in an interview with Cecil on the 18th of May,
said to him, “These Frenchmen are in a fine taking when they see the
Archduke’s match progressing, and at once bring forward their own king
to embarrass the Queen. When they see that this trick has hindered the
negotiations they take up with Leicester again, and think we do not
see through them.” Cecil was of the same opinion, and said the French
thought they could do as they liked when they had Robert on their side.
Instead of Sackville, a Kentish gentleman named Danett was sent to
the Emperor, merely as an accredited messenger, with a reply to his
letter and the offer of the Garter. The letters from Danett arrived
in London in June, 1566, and were of so encouraging a nature that the
advocates of the Austrian match again became confident that their
man would win the prize. This gave rise as usual to fresh activity
on the part of the French. Catharine de Medici, in her instructions
to the new ambassador, Bôchetel de la Forest, directed him to help
forward Leicester’s pretensions with all his might, and thwart those
of the Archduke, and Elizabeth had an interesting conversation with
the ambassador’s nephew Vulcob on the subject during her progress
in the autumn of 1566. The Queen was staying at Stamford, and Vulcob
was charged with his uncle’s excuses for not attending her. He met
Leicester at the door of the chamber, to whom he conveyed the regard
and sympathy of the King and Queen-mother of France. The Earl replied
that the Queen was more undecided about marrying him than ever, and
he did not know what to think. He had known the Queen, he said, since
they were children together, and she had always announced her intention
to remain single, but if by any chance she did marry, he was sure she
would marry no one but him. Vulcob was then summoned by the Queen, who
at once began to dwell upon the physical qualities of Charles IX., and
the Frenchman, nothing loath, launched into high-flown panegyrics of
her own perfections and his master’s manliness. A day or two afterwards
he got into talk with the Queen’s physician, who suggested that the
best way to cement the alliance between England and France would be
to bring about a marriage between the King and Queen. Vulcob objected
that their ages were so different, and the unlikelihood of issue; to
which the physician replied: “Your King is seventeen, and the Queen
only thirty-two. Take no notice of what she says in that respect, it is
only her passing fancies. If the King marries her, I will answer for
her having ten children, and no one in the world knows her temperament
better than I do. If you like, you and I will secretly manage this
business. Your King is young and vigorous and accustomed to travel;
let him come to Boulogne to see this fair lady.”[49] The hint was
faithfully conveyed to Catharine de Medici, but she was not deceived by
it. Both she and her ambassador clearly saw the drift, and talked of
the affair only when necessary to thwart the Austrian match, or when
Leicester himself was not strong enough to stand alone against his
enemies.
This position continued during the summer and autumn of 1566: Elizabeth
bitterly jealous of the birth of Mary of Scotland’s child, apprehensive
of the secret aid in money being sent by Alba to Mary for the promotion
of her cause, and yet afraid to offend the house of Austria, which
might arm her own Catholic subjects against her; Leicester alternately
hopeful and despairing; the Archduke’s friends minimising points of
difference and smoothing over difficulties in the hope of getting their
man to England at any cost; and the French party sleepless in their
efforts to prevent Elizabeth’s marriage with any nominee of Spain.
More than once the quarrel between Leicester and his enemies nearly
flamed out into open hostility. The Queen peremptorily insisted upon
his making friends with Sussex, and even forced him to an appearance
of reconciliation with his rival Ormond. Both the Spanish and French
ambassadors give numberless instances of the rancour existing at Court,
and profess themselves shocked at the Queen’s lightness and giddiness
of conduct in connection with the marriage question. The nation itself,
so far as public opinion could be said to exist at the time, was also
disturbed, and when Parliament met in October, all Cecil’s efforts were
unavailing to prevent the discussion of the Queen’s marriage and the
succession. A joint committee of both Houses was appointed to draw up
an address to the Queen on the subject, and the resentment of Elizabeth
against the majority for dealing with the matter of the succession
particularly, against her wish, was cunningly fanned by Guzman, who
pointed out that they were nearly all extreme Protestants. “I do not
know what the devils want,” said the Queen. “O! your Majesty,” replied
the ambassador, “what they want is simply liberty; and if monarchs
do not look out for themselves and combine, it is easy to see how
it will end.”[50] So the irate Queen sent for the leaders of both
Houses to have it out with them. First came the Duke of Norfolk, her
kinsman and most distinguished subject, himself almost a sovereign in
his own county, and received the full torrent of her vituperation.
He was a traitor, a conspirator, and much else, and the poor man,
overwhelmed, stammered out that he never thought to ask her pardon for
having offended her thus. Next came the turn of Leicester, Pembroke,
Northampton, and Howard, who remonstrated with her upon her treatment
of Norfolk. She told Pembroke he talked like a swaggering soldier;
said that Northampton was a nice fellow to prate about marriage--
he had better look after his own matrimonial difficulties than mince
words with her. Then softening somewhat she turned to Leicester and
said that, even if all the world had abandoned her, she did not think
he would have done so. He said something about his willingness to die
at her feet, to which she replied that that was not the purpose. When
the interview was at an end, the lords met in conclave and sent Sussex
to beg Guzman again to exert his influence in favour of the Archduke.
The next day the ambassador saw the Queen for the purpose, when she
again broke out in denunciation of her councillors for putting this
pressure upon her, and was particularly bitter about Leicester. “What
did Guzman think,” she asked, “of such ingratitude after she had shown
him so much kindness and favour that even her honour had suffered for
his sake. She was glad, however, of so good an opportunity of sending
him away, and the Archduke might now be quite free from suspicion.” Her
anger of course was mostly directed against the attempt to force her
hand in the matter of the succession; and, by the advice of Guzman, she
saw the leaders separately in a calmer mood and put them off with vague
assurances that she would marry shortly, and would summon a Parliament
if anything prevented her from doing so. Once only she lost her temper
again in her long speech to the joint committee, and that was when
she addressed the Bishops of London and Durham, whom she turned upon
and rent for their inconsistency. By dint of alternate bullying and
cajolery she reduced both Houses of Parliament to a condition of
pliability, and having got her supplies voted, dissolved Parliament
early in January, 1567, and was again free to do as she liked without
interference. Her indignation against Leicester was short-lived. Only a
month after she had rejoiced in sending him away, she told Guzman that
she thought he had acted for the best and was deceived by the others.
“She was quite certain,” she said, “that he would lay down his life
for hers, and that if one of them had to die he would willingly be the
one.”
To satisfy the powerful combination which was determined to press the
Archduke’s cause, it was decided that the Earl of Sussex should be
sent with the Garter to the Emperor, with powers to discuss the terms
of marriage; but Leicester and the French managed, by casting doubts
and raising difficulties, to delay his departure. Norfolk was brought
up to London to exert his influence, and for several months again the
Court was a hot-bed of intrigue, in which Norfolk, Sussex, and the
Conservative party, aided by Guzman, and cautiously supported by Cecil
and Bacon, were pitted against Leicester and the French ambassador.
From day to day the fickle Queen changed. First Sussex was to be
hurried off at once, then he was to go after Shrovetide; then when he
had prepared for his journey Elizabeth told him he would not leave so
quickly as he thought. With Leicester, too, she was equally changeable,
one day turning her back upon him, and the next begging the Spanish
ambassador to be friendly with him. On one occasion in February, 1567,
when the Council had progressed very far in the settlement of Sussex’s
instructions, Leicester’s Puritan friends again brought up the matter
of the succession in order to embroil matters and embarrass the Queen;
but she put her foot down firmly then, and they dropped the subject
in a fright. This having failed, they renewed their agitation for an
inquiry into the conduct of Sussex as Viceroy of Ireland; but out of
this honest Ratcliff emerged triumphant, to the sorrow of his enemies.
At last Sussex got tired of the constant quarrelling, and begged for
leave to go home, which was refused, and some sort of reconciliation
was patched up between him and Leicester. In view of almost hourly
changes in the Queen’s matrimonial attitude, and the certainty that the
Leicester party would after all try to wreck the Archduke’s suit on the
religious conditions, Sussex firmly refused to undertake the embassy
to the Emperor, unless he had precise orders signed by the Queen as to
the terms he might accept, “as he was determined not to deceive the
Emperor.” At last, after infinite trouble, Sussex was despatched at the
end of June, 1567, bearing full instructions to negotiate the marriage.
He was to raise no great difficulty except on two points: first the
question of the Archduke’s income, and secondly that of religion. He
was to say that “the Queen will take care that he wants for nothing,
but she does not wish her people to think she had married a man too
poor to keep himself.” The Archduke might privately hear Mass in his
own chamber, but must conform outwardly to the law of England and
accompany the Queen to Protestant service publicly.
It was felt by all those who favoured the match that the Spanish
ambassadors in London and Vienna might have been more cordial in their
support of it than they were; and both the Queen and Sussex were for
ever trying to get at Philip’s real desires in the matter. With the
papers now before us, we see that if the Emperor was to be induced
to give way on the question of religion, and England was to remain
Protestant, the marriage would injure rather than benefit Philip’s
plans; whilst a thoroughly Catholic match, by which Elizabeth would
have submitted to the Pope, would have cut the ground from under her
feet and made her the humble servant of Spain. This she knew better
than any one, and however much Philip may have again deceived himself
in the matter, there was never a shadow of a chance of such a match
being made by her or consented to by her wisest councillors. Upon this
rock the matrimonial hopes of the Archduke again split. Sussex remained
with the Emperor until February, 1568, probably the only prominent
English statesman who was sincere or honest in the negotiations, but
was at last himself undeceived, and begged for his recall in deep
disappointment and resentment against Leicester and his party, upon
whom he laid the blame of the failure of his mission. A decent pretence
was assumed on both sides that the project was still pending; and the
Emperor was invested with the Garter with great pomp; but the matter
was practically at an end on the departure of Sussex from Vienna: not
altogether to Philip’s displeasure, as he had lost all belief in the
Queen’s matrimonial professions, and was daily becoming more convinced
of the impossibility of her humbling herself to the extent of accepting
the Catholic conditions by which alone a marriage with his kinsman
would be advantageous to him. Elizabeth, too, was in a better position
now than she had been to drop the hollow negotiations, since the
civil war in France, and Philip’s own difficulties in the Netherlands
and the South of Europe, secured her from present danger from either
power, whilst the standing menace of Scotland had disappeared for the
first time for years, as Mary was a prisoner with a cloud of doubt and
disgrace hanging over her head.
Under these circumstances Elizabeth could rest somewhat from the long
comedy of mystification about her matrimonial affairs, continuing,
however, to keep her hand in by dallying with Leicester and
occasionally smiling upon Heneage. An attempt was made nearly three
years later, in December, 1570, to revive the negotiations for the
Archduke’s match by sending young Henry Cobham to the Emperor; but the
device had at last grown too stale to deceive, and a cold refusal to
entertain the matter was given, much to the indignation of Elizabeth,
who now found that both her royal suitors had deserted her, Charles IX.
having recently married a daughter of the Emperor.
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