Simier and his former master--Alençon’s altercation with the
Queen--The Queen appeals to Sussex--Unpopularity of the
match in England--Catharine de Medici plays Elizabeth
with her own game--Cecil suggests a loophole of escape--
Elizabeth demands French strongholds as security--Alençon
undeceived--Vows vengeance against Elizabeth and his brother
for the failure of his suit--Collapse of his resolution--
Pinart threatens Elizabeth--Alençon’s departure for Flushing
--Extraordinary demonstration on the part of Elizabeth--
Alençon still doubtful.
As may be imagined, it was not very long before matters came to a
crisis between Simier and his former master. The Prince urged Elizabeth
again and again, as she loved him, to expel Simier from England; but
she was shocked at such an idea. He had only come to justify himself,
and she could testify that he had conducted the marriage negotiations
better than any one else before or since, and she could not be so
unjust as to expel him even to gratify her “chère grenouille.” Then
Alençon began to hector and threaten Simier, and ordered him to return.
Simier replied that he was no longer in his service, and would not
budge until it suited him; and against this Alençon could only chafe
fruitlessly and continue his complaints to the Queen. All that she, and
indeed the whole country, wanted was to see her too persistent suitor
himself across the sea Cecil pointed out to him that if he stayed
over New Year’s Day it would cost him a very large sum in presents,
which he might save if he left before; but still he would not go, and
Elizabeth began to get angry. She told Cecil on Christmas night that
she would not marry Alençon to be empress of the world, and the next
day the Lord Treasurer made another strenuous attempt to get him away,
but he found him more obstinate than ever. He said he had been drawn
into this Flemish adventure by the English on the bait of a marriage
with the Queen, and until she had married him he would stir no further,
whatever might happen. If the Queen contemned and threw him over he
would arouse Catholic Christendom to avenge him. This alarmed her, and
she again sought to bend him to her will by tears, cajoleries, and
blandishments. It was not her fault, she said; would he not accept her
as a dear friend and sister instead of as a wife? No, he replied; he
had suffered, risked, and lost too much to give up the quest now. He
would rather die than leave here unmarried to her. Did he, the Queen
asked, mean to threaten a poor old woman in her own country? Was this
the only result of all his boasted love for her? If she did not think
that his violence was inspired by the strength of his affection for her
she would surely think him crazy, and she warned him not to sacrifice
his best friends by such words. He melted at this, poor, overwrought,
sorely-beset lad as he was, burst into tears, and swore he would rather
be torn into a thousand bits than lose the hope of marrying her, and
thus become the laughing-stock of the whole world. In this mood the
Queen could deal with him; she mingled her tears with his, wiped his
wet cheeks with her own handkerchief, and “consoled him with words
more tender even than the occasion demanded.”[152] As soon as Alençon
had left her she sent for Sussex, and told him what had passed. She
would rather, she said, succeed in getting Alençon gone without offence
than possess another kingdom. She was much disturbed, especially that
Alençon had sent an account to France, as he said he had, of the giving
of the pledge and ring. For his own dignity’s sake she thought he ought
not to have done so, as her pledge was purely conditional, and the King
had not seen fit to accede to her conditions. Besides, she could not
bring herself to the idea of marriage, which had always been repugnant
to her; “and she hated it more every day, for reasons which she would
not divulge to a twin soul if she had one, much less to any living
creature.” She entered into a very complete defence of her action in
the matter to Sussex, and wound up with, “And now, by God! what living
man in future will ever dare to throw the blame on me, seeing that they
want to pin me down to a contract that was only conditional?” Poor,
honest, consumptive Sussex was certainly not the man to disagree with
her, and promised to do his best to get Alençon away in a good humour.
There was an excellent reason why the Queen should prime Sussex with
arguments in her justification, because he was the only councillor
who was a hard-and-fast advocate of the match, and she knew that all
she said to him would be repeated both to Castelnau and to Alençon’s
friends. But Sussex could no more get rid of him than could Cecil.
The Queen, seeing the possibility of her terms being accepted by Henry
III., tried on one occasion to raise the religious difficulty again.
Look how difficult it would be, she said to Alençon, for them to live
together if one were a Protestant and the other a Catholic; but he soon
met this objection by swearing that he would be a Protestant for her
sake, and she dropped the subject.
On New Year’s Day a grand tournament was given in his honour, where he
made a determined attempt to revive the idea of a romantic affection
for the Queen. When he had to appear in the jousts he entered mounted
on a chariot fashioned in the form of a rock, to which he was bound
by heavy fetters. He was drawn by figures representing Love and Fate
to the Queen’s feet; and Fate addressed to her Majesty some couplets
beseeching her to restore the prisoner to his cherished liberty, and
then to forget her vow of chastity and let Hymen bind their hearts
together. The Duke acquitted himself well in the tourney, and the
Queen, before all the company, embraced him again and again for his
gallantry. At night she accompanied him to the door of his apartment,
and came to visit him before he was out of bed the next morning.[153]
This was all very fine and quite raised poor Alençon’s spirits for the
time; but our present knowledge enables us to see quite clearly that
all these cajoleries were only with the object of getting him away with
a good grace.
But if Alençon failed to understand this his astute mother had no doubt
about it, and wrote sharply, reproaching him for his sacrifice of
dignity and his interests in submitting to be played with in this way.
A marriage with an infanta of Spain was once more held out to him, but
he knew that his return to France without an alliance and without money
would have reduced him to impotence and to the scorn and derision of
his brother’s Catholic subjects; and he obstinately held on and refused
to go. At last matters began to look serious in England. The murmurs at
Alençon’s continued stay became deeper and deeper. Leicester and Hatton
secretly fanned the flame of discontent at the dreaded match until it
was ready to burst out at any time; and Cecil went to the Queen and
told her that since promises were ineffectual she had better give her
suitor a large sum of ready money to induce him to go to the aid of the
States, which were now in desperate straits. They had sent a deputation
to urge Alençon to give them a definite answer as to whether he would
accept their offer of sovereignty and come over at once or not. He
replied that they must do the best they could with the small aid he
had already sent them, as he was determined not to go until the Queen
had married him, convinced as he was that he would not be supported
in the war by her and his brother unless he was married. But when it
came to giving ready money frugal Elizabeth was on her guard, and told
Cecil that the King of France had not yet sent her an answer to her
last conditions, and she was informed that Lansac was on the way with
it. She must wait until he arrived. It was clear that if the reply was
negative the responsibility for breaking off the marriage would not be
hers, and she was not bound to give more money than she felt inclined.
But Simier knew what he was talking about when he warned her that
the King would accept any terms in the end for the sake of getting
quit of his troublesome brother, and although Lansac did not come with
the reply, the son of Secretary Pinart arrived in London on the 11th
of January bringing with him a complete acceptance by the King, the
Queen-mother, and the leading Huguenots, of all Elizabeth’s conditions.
This was a facer indeed. Catharine de Medici had beaten her at her
own game. But the answer did not find her unprepared: Simier had
some days before informed her of its purport, and she had privately
summoned Cecil to a conference to devise a way out of the difficulty.
He pointed out that as no one could bring the King of France to book
if he failed to fulfil the conditions after the marriage had been
effected, and Elizabeth was running all the risk in marrying, whilst
the King of France incurred none at all, it was only reasonable that he
should place the town of Calais into her hands as a security for the
due execution of the treaty. This was a device after Elizabeth’s own
heart and she adopted it with effusion, pledging Cecil to secrecy and
at the same time beguiling Sussex with the hope that the marriage would
now really take place, all difficulties being overcome. This latter
view was, as was intended, immediately conveyed to Alençon, and when
young Pinart came with his message, the Prince burst into tears at his
brother’s love and goodness to him, and bitterly denounced those who
had so long estranged them by lies and intrigues. As soon as the Queen
was alone he flew to her, bursting with the great news, and said that
all her conditions being complied with she had only to say yes and the
marriage would be concluded. She was kindly, but cool and collected,
and told him she would settle the matter with him in a couple of days.
The next morning Alençon sent Marchaumont to implore the good offices
of Cecil, but the old minister said that the matter was entirely in
the Queen’s hands, and he was powerless to do anything but express his
opinion if the Council was consulted. Sussex was then appealed to,
but it happened that he was sulking just then because Marchaumont had
persuaded Alençon to make much of Leicester; and he replied that they
had better get the support of their new friend as they appeared to have
forgotten their old one, who had done so much for them. This rather
damped the young Prince’s hopes, and when he saw the Queen in the
evening he pressed her very warmly for an answer. She coolly answered
that the King’s communication would be duly considered in Council and
a reply given in ordinary course--until then she could say no more.
Alençon lost his temper at this, and they wrangled until they parted.
Elizabeth had to thank her “faithful ape” for the fix in which she
found herself. She had opened her inmost heart to him, and he had
understood that she would really never marry, but proposed unacceptable
conditions in order that the King’s rejection of them might relieve her
of the responsibility of the failure whilst binding Alençon personally
to her and raising discord between him and his brother. Simier, as I
have said, was now in the King’s pay and faithfully transmitted his
knowledge to France. It was perfectly safe, therefore, for Henry III.
to promise on paper to accept any conditions, and thus at one stroke
to earn the gratitude of his brother and cast all responsibility
upon the Queen of England. Elizabeth must have had some suspicion
of her “ape’s” falsity, because a day or so after young Pinart
arrived, Alençon, who looked upon Simier as the author of all his
disappointment, entered the Queen’s chamber and implored her to send
him away. She was apparently hesitating when the Prince whipped out
his dagger and pressed it against his own breast, swearing by God that
he would drive it home and die at her feet if she would not promise
him on the spot to dismiss Simier. She replied that he had no need to
go to such extremes as that, and that although it was hardly fair to
send him away until he had obtained justification, she would do so to
please Alençon. Simier was therefore sent off with letters to the Duke
of Montpensier, who, within a given time, was to exonerate him from
the charges against him in Alençon’s name. Before he left, however,
he asked the Queen what she was going to do for Alençon to recompense
him for his expenditure in England; to which she replied that she had
already done three things for him. She had sent £30,000 in cash to help
him in the Cambrai affair, she had maintained him in England for a long
time, whereby he saved his usual outlay and could employ the money in
Flanders, and she had been no party to his going there at all. She said
she was very sorry she had carried the marriage negotiations so far,
but it was all Simier’s fault, “because the first time Alençon came he,
Simier, insisted upon his having another interview with her before he
left.”[154]
In the meanwhile the sudden complaisance of the King of France aroused
all sorts of suspicion in the Queen’s mind. It might be a plan for
her ruin, she thought, to induce her to entrust large English forces
to Alençon who might at once turn round and make terms with the
Spaniards to her detriment, and she was more loath than ever to be
over-liberal with him or to allow him to obtain uncontrolled power in
the Netherlands. Orange kept writing to Alençon, showing him how badly
he was acting in breaking his promise to the States and lingering in
England, but Elizabeth and St. Aldegonde in England were at the same
time putting their heads together and planning that if he did go,
Orange and his Protestants should always be the stronger power.
In order to ascertain whether anything was being arranged between the
French and the Spaniards the Queen took the opportunity, on the night
of the 21st of January, as she was walking in the gallery at Whitehall
with Alençon, to say that she had decided to come to terms with Philip.
Poor Alençon was thunderstruck at this specious piece of news, and told
Marchaumont afterwards that he could only suppose the Queen meant to
leave him floundering in the morass into which she had led him. But
this was not her only shot at the same interview. She had already fully
primed Simier, who was still lingering here, with similar intelligence,
and had arranged that he should enter the gallery by a private door,
of which he had the key, as soon as she had fired her shot. Directly
he entered she discreetly said it would not become her to stand
between master and servant, and retired, leaving Alençon and the “ape”
together. The Prince turned upon his former favourite, and sneeringly
asked why he was still staying in England. Was he afraid that he,
Alençon, would have him killed if he went to France? “No,” said Simier,
“I do not think you would have me killed, but I do fear that I should
be murdered by some of my enemies.” Then Alençon opened the floodgates
of his anger and piled reproach upon reproach on the devoted head of
poor Simier. He had sold and betrayed his master, he told him; it was
through him alone that the marriage had fallen through, and he had been
the means of frustrating his hopes of intervening in the Netherlands.
As soon as he could get in a word, Simier asked the Prince to tell him
what he had done to cause all this. “You have discredited and defamed
the best friend I have in England, the Earl of Leicester,” replied the
irate Prince, “and he has consequently been unable to influence the
Queen in my favour as he would otherwise have done.”
Simier was not long in conveying this to the Queen, and took care to
have another fling at his enemy, Leicester, at the same time. He was
surprised, he said, as all the world was, that she should still favour
a man who had deceived her as Leicester had done by telling her he was
not married when he was. But Elizabeth’s object was not to quarrel
with Leicester, but to learn by the hasty words of Alençon whether he
was intriguing with the King of Spain, and she turned the subject by
saying that Leicester was too powerful to be disgraced all at once.
The consideration of the King of France’s reply was undertaken the
next day by the Council, but no decision was arrived at, as the Queen
and Cecil alone really knew what her plans were. Cecil said something
to the Queen before the Council about three masses being celebrated
every morning in London now, _i.e._, those of Alençon, the Dauphin,
and Marchaumont, whereas by the marriage treaty one only could take
place even after the marriage. She told him to have a little patience
and leave it to her. They and their masses would soon be across the
sea. The same night at her customary walk in the gallery with Alençon
she opened her batteries. She pointed out to him that it would be much
better to abandon the Netherlands enterprise; nothing but danger and
trouble could come to him from it. If she did not marry him she was
sure the King of France would not help him, and she alone was unable
to sustain the whole cost, particularly now that the States themselves
were exhausted and wavering; whereas, on the other hand, if she did
marry him, it was equally certain that her ministers and people would
not consent to be brought into conflict with so powerful a state as
Spain. She was more inclined at present to come to terms and bring
about peace. He might see by this, she said, that he was not likely
to benefit whether he married her or not. Alençon quite broke down
at this, and as soon as he could get away flew to his false friend
Leicester to ask him what was the meaning of it. It was all, said
Leicester, the fault of Sussex, who had continued to advise the Queen
to make friends with the King of Spain. So the next morning after
dinner the young Prince made a formal complaint against Sussex, who he
said had accepted Spanish bribes to frustrate the marriage--which
was not true--and not only that, but he had undertaken to serve
Philip even against his own mistress, as he was informed by the French
ambassador in Madrid. Elizabeth stoutly defended honest Sussex against
this calumny, but she took care to repeat it all to him as soon as
Alençon was gone, and told him that she would never trust the Prince
again after he had so defamed in this way those who were his oldest and
best friends. Sussex, for his part, could only swear with tears in his
eyes to be avenged upon the authors of such a falsehood. Everything
that Alençon did and said, therefore, was turned to his disadvantage.
At last, after all this preparation, the Queen gave him her final
reply. Calais and Havre must both be garrisoned with Englishmen as a
security for her that the King of France would fulfil all his promises.
Alençon could hardly believe his ears. Was she in earnest, he asked,
and was this the final reply? Certainly, replied the Queen, and she
could give no other: and Alençon, thunderstruck, flung out of the room
in a rage, now thoroughly undeceived. He at once called a council of
his friends, and told them how he had been betrayed. His honour must
be avenged at all costs, but for the present he must dissemble with
the Queen, as her help was necessary to enable him first to wreak his
vengeance upon the prime author of his downfall, his false brother
the King, who had sent Simier hither, knowing he could do as he liked
with the Queen, in order to frustrate the marriage. The sinister
tyrant his brother, and his evil-minded mother had plotted against his
welfare, and he would be even with them. His mother’s only object was
to keep him under her thumb in France in order to hold his brother the
better in her thraldom. There were two courses open to him, he said:
first, to carry on the war in Flanders; and secondly, to raise civil
war in France. The first he could not do without the English Queen’s
help, which he probably could not get, as she was in treaty with the
Spaniards, and he was certain his brother would not aid him; but the
Queen would willingly support him in a Huguenot war in France, as she
had promised the King of Navarre to do so. After much of this heated
talk and denunciation of the proud Guises, in which Marchaumont and
de Quincy added fuel to the fire, the Prince Dauphin, old beyond his
years, who had hitherto remained silent, being urged by Alençon to
give his opinion, turned a cold stream of good sense on the inflated
balderdash of Alençon and his friends. He would have nothing to do
with treason, he said, and warned them to take care they did not lose
their heads for such talk. This fairly frightened them all, and Alençon
took him apart in a window recess and prayed him earnestly not to
desert him. But the Dauphin was obdurate; he would leave for France
at once, and consort no more with the enemies of his King. He and the
spies behind the arras soon told everything to cautious old Pinart,
who had brought the King’s reply, and he flew to the Queen to urge
her not to help Alençon against his brother. She had not heard a word
about such a project, she truly said, but Pinart did not quite know
whether to believe her, and warned her in almost threatening words of
her danger if she listened to talk which would bring all Christendom
down upon her. Then he went and rated Alençon soundly, who began to
whimper, protesting that he did not mean anything wrong, and collapsed
completely.
Elizabeth had now quite satisfied herself that there was no arrangement
between Alençon, his brother, and Spain; and at the same time had
brought the poor creature to a sufficiently chastened and humble frame
of mind, so she could without misgiving send him off to the Netherlands
on her own terms. Seeing him in his barge on the river, she ordered her
own and joined him, and persuaded him that it was at all events his
duty to keep his word and accede to the invitation of the States to go
to Flanders, and when he had been there he might retire or stay as he
thought best. She would give him £30,000 in cash for his expenses and a
regular subsidy for the war, with some ships to take him to Flushing.
Alençon was glum and tearful, but had no alternative. The ships were
waiting for him, the money ready in the exchequer, and the deputation
from the States with St. Aldegonde pressing for his departure. Events
and Elizabeth were too strong for him, and he consented to sail next
day for Protestant Zeeland, instead of first to Catholic Flanders,
where he and his Frenchmen might have caused trouble to the Queen of
England. All was settled for the Prince to sail on the next morning,
the 25th of January. Sussex was sent to say that the Queen desired
that all future correspondence between them should be carried on
through Simier, but this Alençon refused point blank, said he would
have no more to do with him, and complained to Sussex bitterly of the
Queen’s demand for Calais and Havre, and of his brother for refusing
them. But before the morning came another change occurred. A courier
came post-haste to Pinart from France urging him, as he loved his
King and country to keep Alençon in England at any cost rather than
allow him to drag his brother into trouble with Spain by going to the
Netherlands. Alençon thereupon feigned illness, and Pinart went to the
Queen and threatened that if she were too exacting France might join
with Spain and put Mary Stuart on the throne. Although the King could
not give her Calais and Havre as security, he would send such hostages
as should satisfy her. This thoroughly alarmed the Queen, who kept
Lady Stafford awake all night with her lamentations, and was in a high
fever in the morning. She was still in bed after dinner, when she sent
for Sussex in great trouble, and told him she must marry Alençon after
all. Pinart threatened her with all sorts of dangers, and besides that
she must have a companion in the government to enable her to curb her
insolent favourites, which she, a lone woman, could not do. She knew
this was the way to appeal to Sussex, who hated Leicester with all his
heart, but these changes from hour to hour had completely obfuscated
him, and he could only beseech her to do as she thought best, and not
to ask his opinion until he knew hers. She begged him at least to say
what he thought about the proposal to give hostages, and he gave it as
his opinion that she ought to insist upon her demand for the ports.
Immediately afterwards a Council was called, when, the marriage now
appearing again possible, Leicester and Hatton, who had been loaded
with French bribes, showed in their true colours. They both opposed
the match strenuously. It was a danger, they said, to England and to
religion, and no words were strong enough to condemn it. Sussex, of
course, was in favour of it, and he and Leicester were about to come
to fisticuffs when Cecil stepped between them, and told them that the
question of marriage or no marriage was in the hands of the Queen--
all they had to consider was what security should be exacted if the
marriage took place. They broke up in confusion, without coming to any
decision, and Cecil alone remained afterwards in conclave with the
Queen, the result of their conference being that the ships were again
ordered to make ready to sail with Alençon.
When Pinart found that his threats to Elizabeth had produced no
permanent result, he fell back upon his alternative instructions, to
threaten Alençon that if he went to the Netherlands under English
auspices he and his followers should be treated as rebels and the
enemies of France. This again alarmed the Queen, who next tried her
cajoleries on Pinart. What were his final instructions, she asked,
with all her battery of fascinations; but he said he would not tell
her until he received her decided reply about the marriage, and only
warned her to desist from helping Alençon in the Netherlands, or evil
would come of it both to him and to her. She said she had not urged him
to it, and had only helped him after he began, whilst she now thought
it was better for him to retire and have done with the business. All
this fickleness left poor Alençon in a chaotic condition of mind from
day to day. First the Queen would give him £30,000, then a mere trifle
of 20,000 crowns, then nothing, then £70,000, and so on, Cecil being
strongly of opinion that no large sum should be furnished to him; but
withal every effort was made to get him gone in a good humour. He was
tardy and unwilling, afraid of Pinart’s threats, and full of sulky
vows of vengeance against the Queen for sending him away unmarried. He
was only dissembling, he told his friends; they should all see what
he would do before he went. Poor creature! he could do nothing but
impotently grumble and vapour, mere twig as he was on the torrent of
events, borne hither and thither by stronger minds than his own.
The Queen on one occasion told him that he would only be away three
weeks, and should then come back and marry her; the castle of Dover was
already, she said, being prepared for his reception when he returned;
and although he smiled at this, and feigned pleasure, he was no sooner
alone with Marchaumont than he burst into an agony of tears, swore
that he would only live to be revenged on her, if he had to make
friends with his brother for the sake of doing it. But still from that
day he hung back on one pretext or another. Marchaumont and most of
his friends had been bribed by the Queen to persuade him to go, and
they used every artifice with that object. How would he like, they
asked him, to go back to France, and dance attendance on La Valette
and d’Arques, his brother’s mignons? Better surely, they said, suffer
any hardship in Flanders than put up with such an indignity as that!
As soon as they had persuaded him, Pinart would come and threaten
all manner of terrible things if he trusted to rebels and heretics.
At last, on the 1st of February, on the arrival of a new deputation
from the States, the Queen prevailed upon him to start for Dover with
her by his side. Leicester, Hunsdon, and Howard were to accompany
him, and the Queen told the Prince that if he did not like to stay
he could come back with the Earl in three weeks, and she would then
have decided about the marriage. Sussex took the opportunity of urging
Alençon secretly to keep Leicester in Flanders when he arrived, but he
was powerless to do anything, for the money, except 20,000 crowns for
his expenses, was handed to Hunsdon and Leicester to be laid out for
the benefit of the States; and it was well understood that the French
prince was to be a mere figurehead to beguile the Catholic Flemings.
Every demonstration the Queen could make was made. She went with him as
far as Canterbury, weeping copiously all the way. On taking leave of
him she cast herself about his neck and asked him not to go until they
learnt whether there was any danger from the Spaniards at Antwerp as
was reported. The Flushing deputation had urged him somewhat roughly to
set out; and she flared up at their disrespect, called them heretical
cobblers and tinkers to dare to talk like that to a prince. It was all
make-believe of course, though she swore to her own ministers that she
would not live an hour but for the hope of her lover’s prompt return,
for she was determined to marry him in spite of everything.[155]
She gave him a personal present of £25,000 when she left him, and told
him that a wound on his little finger would pierce her heart. Amongst
all these blandishments the real object appears when we learn that she
urged him above all things to obtain help from his brother. If she
could only bring France and Spain to loggerheads she would be safe.
Leicester, by means of Hatton, tried at the last moment to shirk the
voyage, but the Queen threatened them both with all sorts of penalties
if such disrespect were “shown to the person she loved best in the
world,” but the real reason why she was so anxious for Leicester to
go was that he bore secret instructions to Orange to detain Alençon
in Holland at any cost, and never let him come back to England,
notwithstanding that the Queen had given him her word at parting
that if he would only return to her in six weeks she would marry him
on the conditions that Pinart had propounded. The scales, however,
were gradually falling from the Prince’s eyes, for before he went
Marchaumont, who stayed in England, was instructed to make approaches
for his marriage with the wealthy daughter of the Duke of Florence.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]