But a change came in the attitude of the latter in December. It seemed then impossible for the Queen to withdraw her pledges to Alençon without a breach with France, whilst she could hardly help him without a war with Spain. Scottish affairs, moreover, were a subject of deep anxiety. D’Aubigny was now master, and Morton, to Elizabeth’s indignation, had been executed. Catholic priests and Jesuits were known to be flitting backwards and forwards; and worst of all, Mary Stuart had, for the first time since her flight, opened up friendly negotiations with her son’s Government, and had formally joined James with herself in her sovereignty. She had moreover written confidently asking for many fresh concessions which Elizabeth was loath to grant her.[462]

Any appearance of an approach of the French and Scots always drew England and Spain together, and with the added dangers already cited, this was quite sufficient to change Lord Burghley’s tone. Mendoza accordingly reports (25th December 1581) that, at a meeting of the Council held to consider the situation, Burghley suggested that an alliance should be made with Spain, and an agreement arrived at with regard to the Low Countries. This was approved of by the Lord Chancellor (Bromley), the Lord Admiral (Lincoln), and Crofts. Sussex held aloof, wavering between his enmity to France and Leicester, and his attachment to Protestantism; whilst Leicester, Walsingham, Hatton, and Knollys were strenuously opposed to any approach to Spain, as they were, even more violently, to Burghley’s proposal that Drake’s plunder, or what was left of it, should be restored. A few days afterwards Burghley had some business with a Spanish merchant established in London, and to him he expressed a desire that negotiations should be opened for an agreement between the two countries. When the merchant carried the message to Mendoza, the latter attributed the suggestion entirely to the fear which he had aroused by his firmness, and he made no response. Mendoza himself, indeed, one of the warlike Alba school, had now no hope or desire for peace. The rise of D’Aubigny in Scotland and the coming of the Jesuits had quite altered the position during the last year, and Mendoza had in his hands a plot that seemed to promise the triumph of the Catholics.

As early as April 1581, Mary Stuart had renewed her approaches to Spain through the Archbishop of Glasgow in Paris. “Things were now,” she said, “better disposed than ever in Scotland for a return to its former condition … and English affairs could be dealt with subsequently. The King, her son, was quite determined to return to the Catholic religion, and much inclined to an open rupture with the Queen of England.” She begged for armed aid from Philip, to be landed first in Ireland, and to enter Scotland at a given signal after the alliance between Scotland and Spain had been signed. Nothing came of this at the time; and after several other attempts on the part of Mary to get into touch with the Spaniards, she became distrustful of her Ambassador (Archbishop Beton) and other intermediaries, and contrived in November to communicate with Mendoza direct. She had heard that all the priests who flocked into Scotland and England looked to him for guidance, and that through them he had sent a message to the Scottish Catholics, saying that everything now depended upon Scotland’s reverting to the old faith. The English Catholic nobles then at liberty had, at Mendoza’s instance, formed a society with this object, and secretly sent two priests to sound James and D’Aubigny, and to promise that they would raise the north of England, release Mary, and secure the English succession to James. They brought back a favourable reply, which the ambassador at once conveyed to Allen and Persons on the continent. This was late in the autumn of 1581, and Mendoza looked coldly upon Burghley’s new advances, for he was now the centre of the plot to overthrow Elizabeth by means of the Scottish Catholics, a plot in which, against his will, he was obliged to make use of the Jesuit missionaries, who themselves at first had no idea of the Spanish political aims that underlay the conversion of Scotland to Catholicism.

Side by side with the Jesuits, Creighton, Persons, and Holt, who were employed in the political movement, were others who had been sent to England and were intended purely for spiritual work. They had been extremely successful in their propaganda, and had once more infused spirit into the English Catholic party. This could not be done without the printing and dissemination of books, as well as preaching, and the spies of the Council were directed to track to earth the priests who were at the bottom of the movement. Nearly every writer upon the subject has taken for granted that Lord Burghley was at the bottom of the persecution which followed. Such, however, does not appear to have been the case. As we have seen, the Lord Treasurer insisted upon some uniformity in the practice of the Anglican Church, but he must have known that many of his closest friends, and the colleagues upon whom he depended in the Council, were Catholics, and his lifelong tendency was to a political union with Spain, the champion of Catholic Christendom. He was determined, it is true, to crush treason to the Queen and the institutions of the country, no matter who suffered; and when Catholicism meant revolution he harried it fiercely; but he was no persecutor for the sake of religion itself,[463] and the cruel torture and execution of Campion, Sherwin, and Briant,[464] during Alençon’s visit to England (1st December 1581), for denying the Queen’s supremacy, were almost certainly prompted in the main by Walsingham, Knollys, and the Puritans, who were in a fever of apprehension lest the marriage with Alençon would lead to toleration of the Catholic faith. The men actually executed were not in fact employed in the political portion of the propaganda at all, but were honest religious missionaries; but they, and the scores of other Catholics who were swept into prison at the time, were useful object lessons for Walsingham and Leicester, whose aims, as we have seen, were in direct opposition to those of Burghley.[465] The latter, indeed, was at the very time of the execution approaching Mendoza with suggestions for an alliance with Spain, which were coldly received for the reasons already explained.

During Alençon’s stay in England, the Queen, who was playing her own game, which was to reduce the Prince to utter dependence upon her and to distrust of his brother, had been constantly thwarted by the jealousy of Leicester and Hatton. They were for granting enormous sums to the suitor to get rid of him at any cost, which was no part of the Queen’s plan. Lord Burghley alone of the Councillors never displeased her in the matter; whenever it was a question of large expenditure, he always had a convenient attack of gout, and thus never openly thwarted the Queen. The difficulty was to get Alençon out of the country without ruinous expense or further pledges, and when it was found that all the Queen’s persuasions were unavailing she had to employ Burghley’s diplomacy. He began by inflaming the young Prince’s ambition, and enlarging upon the splendid destiny awaiting him in his new sovereignty, which was now clamouring for his presence. Promises were made never meant to be literally fulfilled, of the vast sums the Queen would contribute to his support, and at last, after infinite trouble, he was induced to promise to sail for Flanders. He wished to stay until the new year; but when Burghley pointed out to him the large amount of money he would have to spend in presents he seemed to give way, for money he had none. But when the time came he still stayed on. The Queen told Burghley after supper on Christmas night that she would not marry the lad to be empress of the world, and that he must get rid of him somehow. Catharine de Medici, the Prince of Orange, the German princes, and the French Ambassador all added their pressure to that of the Queen and Burghley to get Alençon out of England. Leicester and Hatton fumed and threatened. Burghley at last frankly told the Queen that the only way to get rid of her suitor was to provide a sum of ready money for him, and promise that he should come back to England as soon as he was crowned. The Queen did not like the alternative, and said she must wait for the King of France’s answer to her last demands. This time Catharine de Medici beat her with her own weapons. The answer was a full acceptance of everything required by the English; and to make it more complete, Alençon said he was willing to become a Protestant.

This was indeed alarming, and the Queen sent hurriedly to Burghley to get her out of the scrape. His suggestion this time was that she should demand Calais and Havre as security for the fulfilment of the King’s promises, which was a device after her own heart. But still Alençon would not go, and the Queen became seriously alarmed. She promised him £60,000; but Burghley was opposed to any such sum as that being paid, or indeed more than was necessary for the Prince’s voyage. The Queen said that she did not mean to pay it, but only to promise it, which was quite another matter. It is evident that Burghley was now quite undeceived, and against both the pretence of marriage and any large support being given to Alençon. He dreaded the revenge of France for the insult put upon it; and of Spain, for aiding the Frenchman’s usurpation of Philip’s sovereignty under English protection. His remedy, as usual, was a friendship with Spain. Walsingham, on the other hand, was all in favour of vigorous help to Orange and a war with Spain. The Queen usually leant to the side of Burghley, but was swayed hither and thither by her fears of France, by Pinart’s threats, Alençon’s tears, Leicester’s jealousy, and her own greed and vanity.

At last after infinite trouble Alençon sailed with fifteen ships, attended by Leicester (sorely against his will), Hunsdon, Sidney, Willoughby, Howard, and Norris, to take upon himself the sovereignty of Holland and Flanders. The Queen after all had to provide a large sum of money, but it was sent to the States, and not entrusted to Alençon, except a personal present of £25,000 from the Queen. Leicester escaped from the new sovereign’s side on the very day he was crowned, and hurried back to his mistress’s side. He reported that Alençon and the French were hated by the Protestant Dutchmen, who had only admitted him because the Queen of England was behind him. The English Ambassador in Paris at the same time sent word that Henry III. had repudiated his brother’s action, and had denounced as traitors all those who aided him.

This was exactly what Elizabeth feared. She had offended both the great powers, and was alone. She swore at Leicester for sanctioning, by his presence, the investiture of Alençon; she railed at Walsingham as a knave for dragging her into such a business; and she insisted upon Burghley, who was ill with fever in London, getting up and coming to Windsor to tell her what to do. When he appeared, she asked him whether it would not be better for her at once to become friendly with Spain. Thus, though the sagacious Lord Treasurer had let her go her own way, she had at last been brought by circumstances to propose his policy again. “He replied that nothing would suit her better, especially if peace could be arranged in the Netherlands by the concession of liberty of conscience.”[466] Sussex was of the same opinion, but distrusted both the Queen and Burghley, who, he said, had spoken coolly on the subject on the Council. There is, however, no reason to doubt that the Treasurer was sincere in his desire for such an arrangement, which indeed was the only one which seemed to promise peace to England.

In the meanwhile the Spanish and Jesuit plot in Scotland was progressing. Guise had drifted further and further away from Henry III. and his mother, from whom he saw he could get no aid for Mary Stuart or his own ambitious plans. When, therefore, the Queen of Scots had offered her submission and the sending of her son to Spain, he had separated himself from French interests, and tendered his own humble services to Philip. This made all the difference. If the Holy League and this undertaking made the Guises Catholics and Spaniards before they were Frenchmen, Philip need have no hesitation in helping their niece to the crowns of Scotland and England; and the Jesuits were set to work to secure James and D’Aubigny, whilst Mary Stuart’s spirits rose high. The Scottish Catholic nobles were ready to rise, and even, if necessary, to kill or deport the King if he would not be a Catholic. All they asked was a force of two thousand foreign troops. D’Aubigny entered eagerly into the affair, and by the spring of 1582 all was arranged, when the Jesuit emissaries and D’Aubigny between them mismanaged it. Guise was foolishly brought into the plan by D’Aubigny, and he wanted to invade the south of England with his troops at the same time. D’Aubigny made exaggerated claims for himself, and the Scottish Catholic nobles followed suit. Philip recognised that Guise was still playing for his own hand, though not for France. If Mary was to be Queen of Great Britain and his humble servant, she must owe her crown to him, and not to Guise. Philip therefore grew cool, and the raid of Ruthven and the banishment of D’Aubigny, by which young James fell into the hands of the Protestants (August 1582), effectually put an end to the projects of invasion for a time.

On the 18th March 1582, Alençon in Antwerp was giving an entertainment on the occasion of his birthday, when the Prince of Orange was stabbed, it was thought mortally, by a young Spaniard hired by those greater than himself. The one cry, both in Holland and in England, was, that Alençon and his false Frenchmen were at the bottom of the crime, and, but for the fortitude of Orange, every Frenchman in the Netherlands would have been massacred. Elizabeth was beside herself with fear. Her first impulse was to get Alençon out of Flanders, even if she brought him to England; but Walsingham gravely warned her that if the Prince came again she would certainly have to marry him.

Whilst Orange lay between life and death, Leicester, Hatton, Knollys, and Walsingham were for ever urging the Queen boldly to take Flanders and Holland under her own protection, whilst Burghley, aided by Sussex and Crofts, again advocated an arrangement with Spain. But the latter were in a minority; the Protestant feeling of the country was thoroughly aroused at the attempted murder of Orange, and Burghley was obliged to be cautious. Mendoza was instructed by Philip, March 1582, to use his influence with the Council to prevent aid being given to Alençon. “I have,” writes Mendoza, “tried every artifice to get on good terms with some of them, but they all turn their faces against me, particularly the Lord Treasurer, whom I formerly used to see, the rest of them being openly inimical. Only lately I sought an opportunity of approaching him again, and asked him to see me. He replied that his colleagues looked upon him as being very Spanish in his sympathies, and therefore he could not venture to see me alone, except by the Queen’s orders. I had, he said, better communicate my business through Secretary Walsingham, in the ordinary course.”[467]

Walsingham, on the other hand, lost no opportunity of widening the breach, in order to force the Queen to more vigorous action in favour of the Dutch Protestants. In May he sent an insulting message to Mendoza, to the effect that the Queen would not receive him until some satisfaction was given about Ireland. The Ambassador at once complained to Burghley. War, he said, might well result from this treatment of him. Burghley endeavoured to minimise the slight. It was a mistake of the messenger, he said, and Mendoza had better write to the Queen. He did so, but with no result but to confirm Walsingham’s message, though Elizabeth softened it somewhat by saying, “God forbid that she should ever break with your Majesty, to whom she bore nothing but good-will.”[468] When, in July, Alençon demanded more money, Walsingham, Leicester, and Hatton were for sending him £50,000 at once—anything to prevent his coming to England again—but Cecil opposed it vigorously. There was but £80,000 in the Treasury, he said, and so only £30,000 was sent to Flanders.

By the death of Bacon, the fatal illness of Sussex, and the defection of Hatton, Lord Burghley was at this time almost alone in the Council; for Crofts, the Controller, a regular pensioner of Spain and a Catholic, was a man of no influence; and, according to Mendoza, the Lord Treasurer in November told the Queen plainly that she must appoint two more Councillors of his way of thinking, “to oppose Leicester and his gang.” It was probably in pursuance of this policy that Burghley cast about for some counterbalancing influence to be used against Leicester.

At the end of 1581 a young captain named Walter Ralegh, whose company in Ireland had been disbanded on the suppression of the Desmond rebellion, had been sent over to England with despatches. He was clever and brilliant, and full of schemes for governing Ireland more cheaply than the Viceroy, Lord Grey, had done. Grey rebuked him for his presumption, and sent him home in semi-disgrace. Leicester was a bitter enemy of Grey’s, and was glad to welcome the young captain who impeached his government, and that of Leicester’s rival Ormond.[469] Ralegh was invited to the Council-table to explain his plans to Lord Burghley. His recommendations were approved, and submitted to the Queen, who gave him audience. Before many weeks passed (May 1582), favours began to shower upon him; and by the autumn, Leicester and Hatton had taken fright, and were bitterly jealous of him, whilst the Lord Treasurer had cleverly enlisted the new favourite under his banner. He was never a member of the Council, but he had the Queen’s ear, and kept it for years; for Leicester was elderly and scorbutic, and Hatton was an affected fribble, whilst Ralegh was young, handsome, and manly, and as wise as he was ambitious.

During the autumn of 1582 the plague raged in London, and Burghley took refuge at Theobalds, where, in November, his recently married young son-in-law, the eldest son of Lord Wentworth died. The letters written on this occasion from Walsingham[470] and Hatton[471] prove that the political opposition in the Council did not degenerate into personal enmity; indeed, nothing is more remarkable than the affectionate regard, and even reverence, which are constantly expressed by Lord Burghley’s correspondents towards him. An especially kind thought seems to have occurred to Walsingham. He suggests to Hatton that “it would be some comfort to his lady (i.e. Elizabeth Wentworth), if it might please you so to work with her Majesty, as his (Burghley’s) other son-in-law (Lord Oxford), who hath long dwelt in her Majesty’s displeasure, might be restored to her Highness’s good favour.”[472]

The Earl of Oxford had constantly been a source of trouble to Lord Burghley. He was extravagant, eccentric, and quarrelsome, and only by the exercise of great forbearance on the part of his father-in-law had any semblance of friendship been kept up. If on this occasion, as is probable, Hatton acceded to Walsingham’s suggestion, and persuaded the Queen once more to receive Oxford at court, it was not long before the intractable Earl again misbehaved himself; for on May of the following year (1583) his long-suffering father-in-law appealed to the new favourite, Ralegh, to exert his influence with the Queen to forgive him again. Ralegh’s answer,[473] giving a long account of his efforts to move the Queen, shows that Oxford had injured him also. “I am content,” he writes, “for your sake to lay the serpent before the fire, as much as in me lieth, that having recovered strength, myself may be most in danger of his poison and sting.”

As we have seen, Mary Stuart had never ceased, since the triumph of D’Aubigny, to negotiate through Mendoza for her release and restoration, and the subsequent invasion of England over the Scottish Border. The raid of Ruthven and the fall of D’Aubigny did not at first discourage her. She still believed that the expected arrival of foreign troops, and her son’s secret favour of the Catholics, would enable the plot to be carried through,[474] and under this belief it was that she wrote her violent letter of denunciation and complaint to Elizabeth (8th November).[475]

Almost simultaneously with the receipt of this letter in London there arrived the Guisan, La Mothe Fénélon, on his way to Scotland, for the purpose of inquiring into the treatment of D’Aubigny by the Protestant lords, uniting Mary and her son on the throne, and, if possible, to mediate with Elizabeth in favour of the captive Queen; whilst, at the same time, another envoy (De Maineville) was sent by sea with secret instructions to plan a fresh rising of the Catholic nobles in union with James. Castelnau, the regular Ambassador, might protest untruly to Elizabeth, as he did, that it was “une chose du tout contraire à la verité de dire que le Sieur De Maineville eut une seconde et particulière secrete instruction;” but the embassy was quite terrifying enough to Elizabeth, coming after the plots that she knew had been hatching between the Spaniards, the Jesuits, and D’Aubigny. Walsingham hurried from his country house to court the moment he heard of La Mothe Fénélon’s arrival, for all the official French plans for helping James and D’Aubigny had purposely been allowed to leak out. We know now that they were merely a trick of the Queen-mother’s to frighten Elizabeth into helping poor Alençon in the Netherlands, the only really serious part of them being De Maineville’s secret mission, which depended entirely upon Guise.[476] The Queen kept La Mothe dallying for weeks before she would give him a passport, whilst she tried to dazzle him anew with the talk of marrying Alençon and supporting him in Flanders. Before he left for Scotland, D’Aubigny had passed through London on his way to France, where he died shortly afterwards; and when La Mothe proceeded on his mission it was already too late, if ever it was intended to be effectual.

It is one of the standing reproaches to Lord Burghley’s memory that he was the constant enemy of Mary. In former chapters I have shown that this was not the case. That he was inflexible in tracing and punishing treason against his mistress and her Government is obvious, for it was his first duty as a minister; but how far he was from any personal enmity against the unfortunate Mary, may be seen in his many letters to Lord Shrewsbury at Hatfield and elsewhere. On the receipt of Mary’s imprudent letter to the Queen and the arrival of La Mothe in England, a Council was called to consider the removal of the Queen of Scots from the care of Shrewsbury. Mendoza says that “the Treasurer was greatly opposed to her being removed from the Earl’s house, where she had remained for fifteen years, especially as Shrewsbury had not failed fully to carry out his instructions. He said her removal would scandalise the country.”[477]

Burghley’s relative William Davison, in conjunction with Robert Bowes, was sent to Scotland at the same the time as La Mothe, to dissuade James from acceding to French suggestion of associating his mother with himself in his sovereignty; and Walsingham’s brother-in-law, Beale, was deputed to proceed to Sheffield for the purpose of negotiating with Mary with regard to her future.[478] Mary from the first had seen that the interference of Henry III. and his mother was a feint in favour of Alençon, and sent Fontenay to Mendoza whilst Beale was with her, to ask for his guidance in the negotiation.[479] Elizabeth had secretly authorised Beale, under certain circumstances, to offer Mary her release. This, Mendoza understood, was unfavourable to Spanish ends, because she would almost infallibly fall in such case into the hands of the French, or be compelled, if she stayed in England, to make such renunciations and compromises as would render her useless as an instrument with which to raise the Catholics. The Spaniard therefore naturally advised her to stay where she was, and the unhappy woman followed his interested advice. She gave Beale a somewhat unyielding answer, and her last chance of liberation fled.[480]

In the meanwhile Alençon continued to clamour for money, and repeated his vows of everlasting love and slavish submission; anything if Elizabeth would only send money to save him from becoming the laughing-stock of Europe. The Protestant Dutchmen were tired of him; Orange saw that he was a useless burden, and prayed Elizabeth to take her bad bargain back again. Seeing that he could expect but little from England, he obtained the help of his mother. Marshal Biron crossed the frontier into Flanders, and in January 1583 the false Valois endeavoured to seize and garrison with Frenchmen the strong places of the Netherlands. The affair failed, and Alençon fled from Antwerp detested and distrusted. The States disowned him, and Norris, the English general, refused to obey him; and though Elizabeth pretended to be angry with Sir John Norris and the Englishmen, she thought better of it when Alençon asked her to withdraw them and let his Frenchmen deal with the Flemings, for it was now clear that she could never trust him in Flanders alone.

With the invidious position into which Elizabeth’s tortuous policy had led her; almost hopeless as she was now of conciliating Spain, and conscious of having insulted France beyond forgiveness by her treatment of Alençon; with Orange discontented, and Scotland in a ferment, it is not strange that division existed in the Queen’s counsels. Burghley himself at this time was tired of the struggle. The fresh Councillors had not been appointed, and he had to contend with infinite diplomacy for every point that he carried. The general tendency of the Queen’s policy was opposed to his view of what was wise; he was now old and almost constantly ill, and either the Queen’s obduracy with regard to his unworthy son-in-law Oxford, or the opposition he constantly met with, led him to seek release from his offices, and to desire to pass the rest of his life in retirement. His complaint would rather seem to have been against the Queen herself, to judge from her very curious letter turning his desire to ridicule. On the 8th May 1583 she wrote:—

The duplicity of the young King of Scots and the intrigues of the Guisan envoy were successful in June in withdrawing James from the power of the lords of the English faction, and once more the Scottish Catholics held up their heads.[483] Thus encouraged, Mary at once informed Elizabeth that the conditional promises she had made to Beale and Mildmay in the negotiations for her release, were to be considered void unless she were at once liberated,[484] her attitude being no doubt to some extent the result of the strenuous efforts of the Spaniards through Mendoza to keep her in England, and to prevent her from entering into any compromise as to religion.

This new phase of affairs profoundly disquieted Elizabeth.[485] Her Ambassador in France, Henry Cobham, continued to send alarming news of Guise’s designs,[486] and it is certain that Walsingham, at all events, was aware of the constant communications between Mary and Mendoza. It was therefore decided to send Walsingham himself to Edinburgh, to obtain from James some assurance that English interests should not suffer by his change of ministers, and to offer him a subsidy in consideration of his acceptance of the terms proposed by Elizabeth. That the mission was an unwelcome one to Walsingham, who foresaw its failure, is proved by Mendoza’s statement (19th August): “He strenuously refused to go, and went so far as to throw himself at the Queen’s feet, and pronounce the following terrible blasphemy: he swore by the soul, body, and blood of God, that he would not go to Scotland, even if she ordered him to be hanged for it, as he would rather be hanged in England than elsewhere.… Walsingham says that he saw that no good could come of the mission, and that the Queen would lay upon his shoulders the whole of the responsibility for the evils that would occur. He said she was very stingy already, and the Scots more greedy than ever, quite disillusioned now as to the promises made to them; so that it was impossible that any good should be done.”[487] But Walsingham went nevertheless, and came home safely, though, as he foretold, his embassy was fruitless, for the Catholics had entirely captured James.

Alençon, in despair of obtaining sufficient help from Elizabeth, now that he had shown his falseness, had retired to France, leaving his forces under Marshal Biron. Lovelorn epistles and frantic protestations continued to pass between him and Elizabeth; but it was acknowledged now that his cause was hopeless, and he fell henceforward entirely under the influence of his mother. The States and Orange again and again urged Elizabeth to take the provinces into her own hands and carry on the war openly. Leicester, Walsingham, Bedford, Knollys, and the Puritans urged her seriously to do so; but she refused on the advice of Burghley, “who told her that she had not sufficient strength to struggle with your Majesty, particularly with so small a contribution as that offered by the States. Leicester and the rest of them are trying to persuade her to send five or six thousand men thither.”[488]

Events were irresistibly nearing a crisis which made it necessary for Elizabeth to take an open course on one side or the other; and Lord Burghley had again been overborne by the zealous Protestants in the Council until a breach with Spain had become unavoidable sooner or later. Walsingham had never lost touch of Mary Stuart’s proceedings,[489] or of her French cousin’s various plans for the murder of Elizabeth, and the invasion of England. Guise had submitted to Philip in 1583 a regular proposal for the Queen’s assassination, and in the autumn had sent his pensioner Charles Paget (Mopo) to England to negotiate for the rising of the English Catholics. One of the results of this was that young Francis Throgmorton, a correspondent of Mary Stuart, and one of her intermediaries with Mendoza, was arrested with others and charged with a plot to assassinate the Queen. How far this accusation was true it is at this moment difficult to say, but there is no doubt that the Throgmortons, with the Earl of Northumberland, who was imprisoned, Lord Paget, who fled, and many other Catholics, were in league with Charles Paget for a rising, in conjunction with Guise.

It is to be noted that Lord Burghley took no part in the prosecution of Throgmorton, which was mainly forwarded by Leicester, who was always suspected of having poisoned Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, the uncle of the accused man. The apprehension of the conspirators and the consequent expulsion of Mendoza (January 1584) certainly served the purposes of the strong Protestant majority led by Leicester[490] and Walsingham in the Council, and aided them in forcing the hands of the Queen and Burghley. The death of Alençon in June, and the murder of Orange by an agent of the Spaniards in July, still further acted in the same direction. It was no longer possible for England to hold a non-committal position. Either Spain must be permitted to crush Protestantism in the Netherlands, or the head of the Protestant confederacy must cast aside the mask and boldly fight the Catholic powers. There were reasons why this course might now be taken with much more safety than previously. The Queen-mother of France was frantic with rage against Spain for the loss of her favourite son. The King was childless, and the Guises were already plotting to grasp the crown, or partition France on Henry’s death, rather than he should be succeeded by the Huguenot Henry of Navarre. Elizabeth had therefore the certainty, for the first time since her accession, that France nationally would not coalesce with Spain against her, and that any attempt of Guise to injure her would be counteracted by Catharine, Navarre and the Huguenots.

The question of the future policy to be pursued by England under the changed circumstances was, as usual, submitted to the judicial examination of Lord Burghley, whose minutes[491] set forth the whole case pro and contra. The question propounded was, “Shall the Queen defend and help the Low Countries to recover from the tyranny of Spain and the Inquisition; and if not, what shall she do to protect England when he shall have subdued Holland?” After stating the advantages and disadvantages of each course, it is evident that the judgment is in favour of aiding the States, on certain conditions of security, which Burghley himself notes in the margin. The aid is to cost as little as possible; some of the best noblemen of Zeeland are to be held as hostages in the hands of the English; the chief military commands to be held by English officers; the King of Scots to be secured to the English interest; the King of Navarre to embarrass Spain on her frontiers, and a Parliament to be called in England for the purpose of sanctioning the course proposed. But, continues the document, if it is decided that England shall not help the States, then she must be put into a condition of defence, the navy increased, a large sum of money collected, some German mercenaries engaged to watch the Scottish Border, and the English Catholics “put in surety.” “Finally, that ought to be Alpha and Omega, to cause her people to be better taught to serve God, and to see justice duly administered, whereby they may serve God, and love her Majesty; and that if it may be concluded, Si Deus nobiscum, quis contra nos?”

Lord Burghley was thus, after a quarter of a century of striving to keep on friendly relations with Spain, forced by the policy of Leicester, Walsingham, and the strong Protestants, into the contest which he had hoped to avoid. Circumstances had been stronger than individual predilections, and Mary Stuart’s ceaseless designs against the crown and faith of England, and especially her submission to Spain, had given the Protestant party an impetus which swept aside the cautious moderation of Burghley’s policy, and proved even to him the necessity for war.

CHAPTER XIV
1584-1587

The militant Protestants were now paramount in Elizabeth’s Council, and soon made their influence felt, not only in foreign relations, but in home affairs as well. They were in favour of an aggressive policy in aid of Protestantism abroad, and doubtless thought that the best way to strengthen their hands would be to strike at Prelacy at home, and to discredit the last vestiges of the old faith, against the foreign champions of which they were ready to do national battle.

The appointment of Whitgift to the Archbishopric of Canterbury had been avowedly made by the Queen (September 1583) for the purpose of repairing the effects of Grindal’s leniency, and bringing the Nonconformists to obedience; “to hold a strait rein, to press the discipline of his Church, and recover his province to uniformity.” He had set about his work with a thoroughness which brought upon him a storm of reproach from ministers, and greatly embittered the controversies within the Church.[492] Burghley felt strongly on the question of uniformity, as involving obedience to the law; but Whitgift’s methods were too severe even for him, and produced from him more than one rebuke. He was the referee of all parties—Puritans, Churchmen, and Catholics appealed to him as their friend—and he strove to hold the balance fairly, whilst deprecating extreme views on each side. Leicester and Knollys were ceaseless in the attacks upon the prelates, and Whitgift’s violence made it difficult for Burghley to defend him. In one of his letters to the Archbishop he says, “I am sorry to trouble your Grace, but I am more troubled myself, not only with many private petitions of ministers recommended by persons of credit as being peaceable persons in their ministry, but yet more with complaints to your Grace and colleagues, greatly troubled; but also I am now daily charged by Councillors and public persons to neglect my duty in not staying your Grace’s proceedings, so vehement and general against ministers and preachers, as the Papists are thereby encouraged, and ill-disposed subjects animated, and her Majesty’s safety endangered.”

Now that the Puritan party had the upper hand, Burghley’s proverbial middle course was not strong enough for his colleagues, and they determined to deal with Prelacy and Papacy at the same time. The first thing was to pack the new Parliament, and in this Leicester laboured unblushingly. Sir Simon D’Ewes’ Journal sets forth the great number of blank proxies sent to the Earl; and if his letter to the electors of Andover is typical, this is not to be wondered at. He boldly asks them to send him “your election in blank, and I will put in the names.” Another letter from the Privy Council to Lord Cobham[493] directs him to obtain the nomination of all the members for the Cinque Ports. Parliament met at the end of November, and a formal complaint of the Puritan and Nonconformist ministers was presented to the House of Commons, which, after reducing the number of its articles from thirty-four to sixteen, it adopted and laid before the House of Lords. Whitgift and his colleagues fought hard, cautiously aided by Burghley and the Queen, who, when she afterwards dismissed Parliament, roundly scolded the members for interfering with her religious prerogative; and the only effect of the complaints was to enable Burghley to exert pressure upon the prelates to allay their zeal.

The attack of the militant Protestants against the Catholics, however, was more effectual, although even that was somewhat palliated by Lord Burghley’s moderation. It was evident now that the Catholic League abroad and its instruments would stick at nothing. Father Creighton, the priest who had played so prominent a part in the abortive plans of D’Aubigny, Mendoza, and the Jesuits, had been captured with some of his brother seminarists, and the rack had torn from them confirmation of the desperate plans of which the Throgmorton conspiracy had given an inkling. Leicester and his party had aroused Protestant horror of such projects to fever heat. At his instance an association had been formed, pledged by oath to defend the Queen’s life or to avenge it, and to exclude for ever from the throne any person who might benefit by the Queen’s removal. Mary Stuart somewhat naturally regarded the last clause as directed against herself, and endeavoured to take the sting from it by offering her own qualified adhesion to the association, which, however, was declined.

When the association was legalised by a bill in Parliament, the Queen (Elizabeth), under Burghley’s influence, sent a message to the House, abating some of the objectionable features, and reconciling it with the rules of English equity. No penalties were to accrue before the persons accused had been found guilty by a regular commission, and Mary and her heirs were excused from forfeiture, unless Elizabeth were assassinated.

The new bill against Catholics was easily passed, under feelings such as those prevailing in the House and the country, and the enactment was regarded as a natural retort to the promulgation of the Papal bulls in favour of revolution in England. All native Jesuits and seminarists found in England after forty days were to be treated as traitors, and it was felony to shelter or harbour them. English students or priests abroad were to be forced to return within six months and take the oath of supremacy, or incur the penalty for high treason; and many similar provisions were made, by which the world could see that the militant Protestants of England had picked up the gage thrown down by Philip and the Pope. Henceforward it was to be war to the knife until one side or the other was vanquished, and Lord Burghley’s astute policy of balance and compromise was cast into the background after a quarter of a century of almost unbroken success.[494]

Almost the only dissenting voice in the House of Commons against the penal bill was that of Dr. William Parry, member for Queenborough. In a violent and abusive speech, he said that the House was so evidently biassed that it was useless to give it the special reasons he had for opposing the bill, but would state them to the Queen alone. This was considered insulting to the House, and he was committed to the charge of the sergeant-at-arms, but was released by the Queen and Council the following day. The events which followed form one of the unsolved riddles of history. Parry was a man of bad character, who for years had been one of Burghley’s many spies upon the English refugees on the Continent. He appears, however, to have been esteemed more highly by the Treasurer than such instruments usually are.

When young Anthony Bacon was sent on his travels to France, his uncle, Burghley, specially instructed him to cultivate the acquaintance of Dr. Parry. Leicester complained to the Queen of this, and the Lord Treasurer undertook that his nephew should not be shaken either in loyalty or religion by his acquaintanceship with Parry.[495] After the latter returned to England in 1583 he was elected member of the Parliament of the following year, after having persistently but unsuccessfully begged a sinecure office from Burghley. From his first arrival he had been full of real or pretended plots for the assassination of the Queen, which he professed to have discovered on the Continent. He was, like all men of his profession, an unprincipled scamp, and made these secret disclosures the ground for ceaseless demands for reward. He was disappointed and discontented, as well as vain and boastful, and overshot the mark. In one of his interviews with the Queen he produced a somewhat doubtfully worded letter of approval from the Papal Secretary of State, Cardinal Como,[496] which, he said, referred to a pretended project undertaken by him (Parry) for the murder of the Queen. He talked loosely to Charles Neville and other Catholics of this plot as a real one, and six weeks after his escapade in Parliament was arrested and lodged in jail. At first he would admit nothing, but the fear of the rack, or some other motive, produced from him a full and complete confession of a regular plan—once, he said, nearly executed—for killing Elizabeth; but before sentence he vehemently retracted, and appealed to the knowledge of the Queen, Burghley, and Walsingham that he was innocent. But if they possessed this knowledge they never revealed it, and Parry died the revolting death of a traitor, clamouring to the last that Elizabeth herself was responsible for his sacrifice.

It cannot be doubted that Parry was an agent provocateur, and great question arises as to the reality of the crime for which he was punished. I have found no trace in the Spanish correspondence of his having been a tool of Mendoza or Philip, such as exists in the cases of Throgmorton, Babington, and others; and I consider that the evidence generally favours the idea that he was deliberately caught in his own lure, and sacrificed in order to aggravate the anti-Catholic fervour in the country, and secure the passage of the penal enactments. In one particular I dissent from nearly every historian who has written on the subject. All fingers point at Lord Burghley as the author of the plan. I look upon it as being the work of Leicester, Knollys, and Walsingham. It was they, and not Burghley, who were anxious to strengthen the fervent Protestant party. It was they, and not Burghley, who were forcing the penal enactments through the Parliament they had packed. The Treasurer could hardly have been blind to what was going on, but he could not afford to champion Parry. The latter, a venal scoundrel known to be in Burghley’s pay, but discontented with his patron, was doubtless bought by Leicester to play his part in Parliament, and afterwards to confess the Catholic plot on the assurance of pardon, with the object of blackening the Catholics, and perhaps, by implication, Burghley as well.

That Leicester’s friends were at the time seeking to represent the Lord Treasurer as against the Protestant cause is clear from several indignant letters written by Burghley himself. “If they cannot,” he says, “prove all their lies, let them make use of any one proof wherewith to prove me guilty of falsehood, injustice, bribery or dissimulation or double-dealing in Council, either with her Majesty or with her Councillors. Let them charge me on any point that I have not dealt as earnestly with the Queen to aid the afflicted in the Low Countries to withstand the increasing power of the King of Spain, the assurance of the King of Scots to be tied to her Majesty with reward, yea, with the greatest pension that any other hath. If in any of these I am proved to be behind or slower than any in a discreet manner, I will yield myself worthy of perpetual reproach as though I were guilty of all they use to bluster against me. They that say in rash and malicious mockery that England is become Regnum Cecilianum may use their own cankered humour.” In July of the same year he writes in similar strain to Sir Thomas Edmunds:[497] “If you knew how earnest a course I hold with her Majesty, both privately and openly, for her to retain the King of Scots with friendship and liberality, yea, and to retain the Master of Gray and Justice-Clerk, with rewards to continue their offices, which indeed are well known to me to be very good, you would think there could be no more shameful lies made by Satan himself than these be; and finding myself thus maliciously bitten with the tongues and pens of courtiers here, if God did not comfort me, I had cause to fear murdering hands or poisoning points; but God is my keeper.”

The more or less hollow negotiations for the liberation of Mary, and for the association of her son with herself in her sovereign rights, had dragged on intermittently for years. Burghley himself has set forth the reasons for the successive failures;[498] in each case the discovery of some fresh plot in her favour. The serious set of conspiracies brought to light in 1584 had caused her removal from the mild custody of Burghley’s friend, Lord Shrewsbury, to that of the rigid Puritan, Sir Amyas Paulet, at Tutbury. In her troubles the captive Queen, like every one else, appealed to Burghley, and especially in the matter of the reckless accusations of immorality brought by the Countess of Shrewsbury and her Cavendish sons against her husband and Mary.[499]

Burghley’s kindness in this matter, and his attempts to soften the fresh severity of the Queen’s captivity, had not only persuaded Mary’s agents that he was her friend,[500] but had given to Leicester and his party an excuse for spreading rumours to the Treasurer’s detriment. At an inopportune time, Nau, Mary’s French secretary, had gone to London with new plans of associated sovereignty; but almost simultaneously the Master of Gray had arrived as James’s Ambassador. He was easily bought by the English Government, as we have seen, with the full approval of Burghley;[501] and on his return to Scotland promptly caused the rejection by the Lords of Nau’s project in favour of Mary. It was never on the question of securing the Scots by bribery to the English interest that Burghley was remiss. It was open war with Spain that he always opposed.

In the meanwhile the toils were closing round the unhappy Mary. She had now thrown herself entirely into the arms of Spain; and the Guises were being gradually but steadily forced into the background by Philip, as being likely to frustrate his plans, by claiming for their kinsman, James Stuart, the succession of England after his mother. Every letter to and from Tutbury was intercepted by Paulet. Morgan, Charles Paget, Robert Bruce, and others, in their communications with Mary, laid bare her hopes and their intrigues.[502] If any doubts had previously existed as to the intentions of Spain and the Queen of Scots, they could exist no longer. The only question for England was how best to withstand the combination against her. Here, as usual, Burghley was at issue with the now dominant party of militant Protestants; and equally, as usual, his opposition was cautious and indirect. Leicester and his friends were for open operations against Spain both in the Netherlands and on the high seas, and for helping Henry III. to withstand the Guises; whilst the Treasurer preferred to stand on the defensive, and keep as much money in hand as possible.[503] Elizabeth rarely required urging to parsimony, and by appealing to her weakness Burghley was able for a time to moderate the plans of the other party.

But events were too strong for him. Mainly by his influence Leicester had been restrained since 1580 from subsidising a great expedition against Philip in favour of the Portuguese Pretender, Don Antonio; but in the spring of 1585 the treacherous seizure of English ships in Spain had aroused the English to fury. Drake’s great expedition of twenty-nine ships was fitted out, and general reprisals authorised. Never was an expedition more popular than this, for the English sailors were aching for a fight with foes they knew they could beat, and Burghley’s cautions were scouted. Drake’s fleet sailed in September, doubtful to the last moment whether the Queen would not be prevailed upon to stay it;[504] and by sacking Santo Domingo and ravaging Santiago and Cartagena almost without hindrance, demonstrated the ineffective clumsiness of Philip’s methods. Leicester and the war-party were now almost unrestrained; for the Lord Treasurer made the best of it, and confined his efforts to minimising the cost of the new policy as much as possible, and suggesting caution to the Queen.

The Commissioners from the States continued to urge the Queen to assume the sovereignty of the Netherlands, and to govern the country, either directly or through a nominee; but this was a responsibility which neither she nor Burghley cared to accept. At length, after much hesitation on the part of the Queen, Sir John Norris was sent with an English force of 5000 men to take possession of the strong cautionary places offered by the Hollanders, and Leicester was designated to follow as Lieutenant-General of the Queen’s forces (September 1585).

Elizabeth approached the business with fear and trembling. It was a departure from Burghley’s safe and tried policy, and was involving her in large expenditure. She distrusted rebels and popular governments; she did not like to send away her best troops in a time of danger, and she railed often and loudly at Leicester and Walsingham for dragging her into such a pass. Only a day after Leicester’s appointment she changed her mind and bade him suspend his preparations. “Her pleasure is,” wrote Walsingham, “that you proceed no further until you speak with her. How this cometh about I know not. The matter is to be kept secret. These changes here may work some such changes in the Low Countries as may prove irreparable. God give her Majesty another mind, … or it will work both hers and her best affected subjects’ ruin.”[505] To this Leicester wrote one letter of submission to be shown to the Queen, and the other for Walsingham’s own eye, full of indignation. “This,” he says, “is the strangest dealing in the world.… What must be thought of such an alteration? I am weary of life and all.”

Elizabeth had, however, gone too far now to retire, and Leicester’s journey went forward. But it is plain to see that whilst he was making his preparations to act as sovereign on his own account, the Queen, influenced by Burghley, was drafting his instructions in a way that strictly limited his power for harm, and minimised her responsibility towards Spain. Leicester was directed to “let the States understand that whereby their Commissioners made offer unto her Majesty, first of the sovereignty of those countries, which for sundry respects she did not accept; secondly, under her protection to be governed absolutely by such as her Majesty would appoint and send over as her Lieutenant. That her Majesty, although she would not take so much upon her as to command them in such absolute sort, yet unless they should show themselves forward to use the advice of her Majesty … she would think her favours unworthily bestowed upon them.”

This must have been gall and wormwood for Leicester, for in his own notes he lays down as his guiding principles, “First, that he have as much authoryte as the Prince of Orange had; or any other Captain-General hath had heretofore: second, that there be as much allowance by the States for the said Governor as the Prince had, with all offices apportenaunt.”[506] He had infinite trouble in getting money from the Queen, and went so far as to offer to pledge his own lands to her as security; but at last, in December, all was ready, and Leicester foolishly went to Holland with his vague ambitions, leaving Burghley in possession at home. It is plain from his beseeching letter of farewell to the Lord Treasurer that he recognised the danger. He prays him earnestly not to have any change made in the plans agreed upon, and to provide sufficient resources for the sake of the cause involved and for the Queen’s honour. “Hir Majesty, I se, my lord, often tymes doth fall into myslyke of this cause, and sondry opinions yt may brede in hir withal, but I trust in the Lord, seeing hir Highness hath thus far resolved, and gone also to this far executyon as she hath, and that myne and other menne’s poor lives are adventured for hir sake, that she will fortify and mainteyn her own action to the full performance that she hath agreed on.”[507] Burghley was very ill at the time, unable to rise from his couch, but in answer to the Earl’s appeal he assured him that he would consider himself “accursed in the sight of God” if he did not strive earnestly to promote the success of the expedition.

The Lord Treasurer was, of course, sincere in his desire to prevent the collapse of the Protestant cause in the Netherlands, for he had never ceased for years to insist that the quietude of England mainly depended upon it. Where he differed from Leicester was in his determination, if possible, to avoid such action as would lead to an open breach with Spain. Before even Leicester landed at Flushing he had begun to quarrel with the Dutchmen, and in a fortnight was intriguing to obtain an offer of the sovereignty of the States for himself. The offer was made, and modestly refused at first; but on further pressure Leicester accepted the sovereignty, as he had intended to do from the first (January 1586). The rage of Elizabeth knew no bounds. This would make her infamous, she said, to all the world. Leicester was timid at the consequences of the step he had taken, and made matters worse by delaying for weeks to write explanations to the angry Queen. Walsingham and Hatton did their best, but very ineffectually, to appease her. Burghley in a letter to Leicester (7th February) assured him that he too had done so, and that he himself approved of his action, and hoped to “move her Majesty to alter her hard opinion.” As we have seen, Burghley’s opposition was seldom direct, and it may be accepted as probable that he mildly deprecated the Queen’s anger against her favourite; but a remark in a letter (17th February) from Davison, who was sent by Leicester to explain and extenuate his act to the Queen,[508] seems to show that the Lord Treasurer’s advocacy had not been so earnest as he would have had Leicester to believe.

The Queen had ordered Heneage to go to Holland post-haste, to command Leicester openly to abandon his new title; but from the 7th February till the 14th, whilst Heneage’s harsh instructions were being drafted, Burghley was diplomatically absent from court, and the pleading of Walsingham and Hatton had no softening effect upon the Queen. On the 13th February, Davison at length arrived with Leicester’s excuses. The Queen railed and stormed until he was reduced to tears. She refused at first to receive Leicester’s letter or to delay Heneage’s departure. Burghley arrived the next day, and Davison writes on the 17th that he “had successfully exerted himself to convince the Lord Treasurer that the measures adopted were necessary, and that his Lordship had urged the Queen on the subject.”

The only effect of Burghley’s persuasion, however, was to obtain for Heneage discretion to withhold, if he considered necessary, the Queen’s letter to the States, and to save Leicester from the degradation of a public renunciation. Burghley had thus done his best to preserve Leicester’s friendship and gratitude; but, after all, it was his policy, and not that of Leicester, that was triumphant. Heneage was a friend of the Earl’s, and on his arrival in Holland delayed action; but the Queen was not to be appeased. She had, she said, been slighted, and her commission exceeded, and would send no money till her instructions were fulfilled. Confusion and danger naturally resulted, and Leicester’s friends redoubled their efforts to save him. Burghley himself assured Leicester (31st March) that he had threatened to resign his office unless she changed her course. “I used boldly such language in this matter, as I found her doubtful whether to charge me with presumption, which partly she did, or with some astonishment of my round speech, which truly was no other than my conscience did move me, even in amaritudine anima. And then her Majesty began to be more calm than before, and, as I conceived, readier to qualify her displeasure.”[509]

When the Queen saw that Heneage and Leicester were construing her leniency into acquiescence of the Earl’s action, she blazed out again; and when Burghley begged her to allow Heneage to return and explain the circumstances, “she grew so passionate in the matter that she forbade me to argue more;” and herself wrote a letter to Heneage containing these words: “Do as you are bidden, and leave your considerations for your own affairs; for in some things you had clear commandment, which you did not do, and in others none, which you did.” At the urgent prayer of the States, however, representing the danger to the cause which a public deposition of Leicester would bring about, the Queen finally allowed matters to rest until they could devise some harmless way out of the difficulty.

Throughout the whole business Burghley almost ostentatiously acted the part of Leicester’s friend. It was a safe course for him to take, for the Queen was so angry that he could keep the good-will of Leicester and the Protestants, and yet be certain of the ultimate failure of his opponent. As soon as the States understood Leicester’s position, and had realised his incompetence, they were only too anxious to be rid of him; and throughout his inglorious government Burghley could well speak in his favour, for it must have been evident that the Earl was working his own ruin, and that his position was untenable. One curious feature in the matter is that both Burghley and Walsingham hinted to Leicester that the Queen was being influenced by some one underhand. “Surely,” writes the Secretary, “there is some treachery amongst ourselves, for I cannot think she would do this out of her own head;” and the gossip of the court pointed at Ralegh, who wrote to Leicester[510] vigorously protesting against the calumny.

There were, however, wheels within wheels in Elizabeth’s court. Two of her Councillors were Spanish spies, Ralegh was Burghley’s partisan, the Conservative party in favour of friendship with the House of Burgundy was not dead, and, notwithstanding all that has been written, it may be fairly assumed that the decadence of Leicester and the militant Protestant party during the Earl’s absence in Holland did not take place without some secret prompting from Lord Burghley.

In the meanwhile the plans for the invasion of England were gradually maturing in Philip’s slow mind. The raid of Drake’s fleet upon his colonies, and Leicester’s assumption of the sovereignty of the Netherlands, had at last convinced Philip, after nearly thirty years of hesitancy, that England must be coerced into Catholicism, or Spain must descend from its high estate. So long as the elevation of Mary Stuart meant a Guisan domination of England, with shifty James as his mother’s heir, it had not suited Philip to squander his much needed resources upon the overthrow of Elizabeth; but by this time Guise was pledged to vast ambitions in France, which could only be realised by Philip’s help. The Jesuits and English Catholics had persuaded the Spaniard that he would be welcomed in England, whilst a Scot or a Frenchman would be resisted to the death. Most of Mary’s agents, too, had been bribed to the same side, and Mendoza in Paris was her prime adviser and mainstay. Various attempts were made by the Scottish Catholics and Guise’s friends to manage the subjugation of England over the Scottish Border; but though Philip affected to listen to their approaches, and used them as a diversion, his plan was already fixed—England must be won by Spaniards in Mary’s name, and be held thenceforward in Spanish hands. Mary was ready to agree to anything, and at the prompting of Philip’s agents she disinherited her son (June 1586) in favour of the King of Spain. Morgan, Paget, and others had at last succeeded in reopening communication with Mary, who had now lost all hope of release except by force. A close alliance between England and James VI. had been agreed to: she knew that no help would come from her son or his Government; and her many letters to Charles Paget, to Mendoza, and to Philip himself, leave no doubt whatever that she was fully cognisant of the plans for the overthrow, and perhaps murder, of Elizabeth, in order that she, Mary, might be raised by Spanish pikes to the English throne.[511]

In May 1586 the priest Ballard had seen Mendoza in Paris, and had sought the countenance of Spain for the assassination of Elizabeth; and in August the matter had so far progressed as to enable Gifford to give to Mendoza full particulars of the vile plan. There was, according to his account, hardly a Catholic or schismatic gentleman in England who was not in favour of the plot; and though Philip always distrusted a conspiracy known to many, he promised armed help from Flanders if the Queen were killed. Mendoza, when he saw Gifford, recommended that Don Antonio, Burghley, Walsingham, Hunsdon, Knollys, and Beale should be killed; but the King wrote on the margin of the letter, “It does not matter so much about Cecil, although he is a great heretic, but he is very old, and it was he who advised the understandings with the Prince of Parma, and he has done no harm. It would be advisable to do as he [i.e. Mendoza] says with the others.”[512]

The folly of Babington and his friends almost passes belief. They seem to have been prodigal of their confidences, and to have had no apprehension of treachery. Babington’s own letter to Mary setting forth in full all the plans in favour of “his dear sovereign” (6th July) was handed immediately by the false agent Gifford to Walsingham. No move was made by Walsingham, except to send the clever clerk Phillips to Chartley to decipher all intercepted letters on the spot, and so to avoid delay in their delivery, which might arouse the suspicion of the conspirators. Surrounded by spies and traitors, but in fancied security, the unhappy Queen involved herself daily deeper in the traps laid for her; approved of Babington’s wild plans, and made provision for her own release, whilst Walsingham watched and waited. When the proofs were incontestable, and all in the Secretary’s hands, the blow fell. On the 4th August Ballard was arrested, Babington and the intended murderer Savage a day or so afterwards, and Mary Stuart’s doom was sealed. She was hurried off temporarily to Tixhall; Nau and Curll were placed under arrest, the Queen’s papers seized, and her rooms closely examined. Amias Paulet was a faithful jailer, and he did his work well. “Amyas, my most faithful, careful servant,” wrote Elizabeth, “God reward thee treblefold for the most troublesome charge so well discharged. If you knew, my Amyas, how kindly, besides most dutifully, my grateful heart accepts and prizes your spotless endeavours and faultless actions, your wise orders and safe regard, performed in so dangerous and crafty a charge, it would ease your travail and rejoice your heart.… Let your wicked murderess know how with hearty sorrow her vile deserts compel these orders, and bid her from me ask God’s forgiveness for her treacherous dealing.” Elizabeth and her ministers rightly appreciated the great peril which she had escaped, and from the first it was recognised by most of them that Mary had forfeited all claim to consideration at their hands.[513]

It is usually assumed by a certain class of writers that Mary was unjustly hounded to her death, mainly by the personal enmity of Lord Burghley. Nothing, in reality, is more distant from the truth. A most dangerous conspiracy against the government and religion of England had been discovered, in which she was a prime mover. Her accomplices rightly suffered the penalty of their crime,[514] and it was due to justice and to the safety of the country that the mainspring of the conspiracy should be disabled for further harm. But still the matter was a delicate and dangerous one, for Catholics were numerous in England, and the great Catholic confederacy abroad was ready to take any advantage which a false step on the part of Elizabeth might give them. As we have seen, moreover, the feelings of the Queen of England herself with regard to the sacredness of anointed sovereigns was strong, and no more difficult problem had ever faced the Government than how to dispose of their troublesome guest in a way that should in future safeguard England from her machinations, whilst respecting the many susceptibilities involved. As usual in moments of difficulty, Elizabeth turned to her aged minister,[515] and as a result of a long private conference with him the question was submitted to the Privy Council. The Catholic members advocated only a further stringency in Mary’s imprisonment. Leicester was in favour of solving the difficulty by the aid of poison,[516] whilst Burghley, followed by Walsingham and others, proposed a regular judicial inquiry, which was now legally possible by virtue of the Act of Association passed by Parliament in the previous year. A commission was consequently issued on the 6th October for the trial of Mary, containing the names of forty-six of the principal peers and judges, and all the Councillors, but only after some bickering between the Queen and Burghley with regard to the style to be given to Mary and other details.[517]