Marriage with the Duke of Anjou suggested—Guido Cavalcanti and La Mothe’s negotiations—Walsingham’s description of Anjou—Anjou’s religious scruples—His objections overcome—Lord Buckhurst’s mission to Paris—Anjou’s conditions—Religious difficulties—The Ridolfi plot—Anjou obstinate again—Smith’s mission to France—Marriage with the Duke of AlenÇon suggested—Great disparity of age.

The treaty of St. Germain between Charles IX. and the Huguenots, signed in August, 1570, brought to an end the long civil war in France. It had for some time been a favourite project of the Guises and the Catholic party in France to rescue Mary of Scotland by force, with the help of the Pope, marry her to the Duke of Anjou, and place her on the throne of England. Charles IX. was bitterly jealous of his brother Anjou, the hope of the Catholic league, and was desirous of providing for him somewhere out of France. Such a proposal, therefore, as that made for his union with Mary Stuart, met with some countenance from the King and his mother. Elizabeth and her ministers were not aware to what extent support would be given by Spain to such a project, which, whilst on the one hand strengthening the league, would on the other have given the French a footing in Great Britain; but with France at peace Elizabeth was always apprehensive, and a counter-move had to be made. The two great Huguenot nobles who had resided in England during the war, the Vidame de Chartres and Cardinal Chatillon—Coligny’s brother—were permitted to re-enter France by the peace of St. Germain; and to them and their party it appeared a desirable thing to disarm the weak, fanatical Catholic figurehead Anjou by yoking him, under their auspices, to strong-minded Protestant Elizabeth, and so remove him from active interference in French politics. Such a proposal, moreover, was a welcome one to Elizabeth and her friends, because it effectually checkmated the intrigues of the Guises and the league in favour of Mary Stuart, which for the moment were founded on the suggested marriage of the latter with Anjou. In the autumn of 1570, therefore, both Chatillon and Chartres, before they left England, separately broached the idea. Before doing so, however, Chartres wrote asking the opinion of Marshal Montmorenci, and Chatillon sought guidance direct from the Queen-mother. The replies apparently being favourable Chartres mentioned the matter to Cecil, who discussed it privately with the Queen, whilst at the end of November Chatillon opened his approach by asking the new French ambassador, La Mothe FÉnÉlon, how Anjou’s suit with the Princess of Portugal was prospering, as he had reason to believe that if the Duke became a suitor for the Queen of England’s hand he would be welcomed. La Mothe, who doubtless had already received his instructions from France, replied that he had always understood that the Queen had no intention of marrying, but if she would accept the Duke for her consort greater peace and tranquillity to France and the world would result than from anything else. He promised to write to the Queen-mother on the subject, which he did at once.51 But Catharine always preferred to negotiate through one of the many crafty Florentines who were personally devoted to her, rather than through the leaders of either French political party, so an excuse was invented for sending her trusty Guido Cavalcanti to England. La Mothe was ill when Guido arrived in London, and the latter called to ask after his convalescence. In conversation with the ambassador he mentioned Elizabeth’s great indignation at the rebuff she had received through young Cobham from the Archduke Charles, who, to make matters worse, had since married a Bavarian princess. He then asked the ambassador whether he thought this would not be a good opportunity to bring Anjou forward. La Mothe’s reply being favourable, Cavalcanti next approached Leicester, who was equally encouraging, and promised to revert to the subject when he returned from Hampton Court, whither he was then going to see the Queen. When La Mothe was told this by Cavalcanti, he thought it time to assert himself as the accredited ambassador, and at once went to Hampton Court personally. Before seeing the Queen he visited Leicester, and hinted that approaches had been made to him for a marriage between the Queen and Anjou, but as Leicester was regarded by the French as their best friend, he, the ambassador, had decided to carry the matter no further without his co-operation, so that he might have the credit of the negotiation. Leicester replied that he was always against an Austrian alliance, and as the Queen was determined not to marry a subject, he would sacrifice his own chance in favour of Anjou’s suit. The matter, he said, could be discussed fully when the Court returned to London, but in the meanwhile it would be well for La Mothe to say a word or two to the Queen about it. When Leicester introduced him into the presence, Elizabeth was awaiting him in her smartest clothes. After the usual coy fencing she said she was growing old, and but for the idea of leaving heirs, would be ashamed to speak about marriage, as she was one of those women whom men seek for their possessions and not for their persons. The princes of the house of France, she said, had the reputation of being good husbands, and to pay all honour to their wives, but not to love them. This was enough for the present, and La Mothe sent off post-haste to Catharine a full account of the interview, with no great confidence, as he said, of a successful termination of the affair; but the chance was so great a one that it should not be missed, and the Duke of Anjou should be carefully prepared. Catharine replied in the same strain. She had considered, she said, that this might be one of Elizabeth’s intrigues with the intention of prolonging the negotiations and making use of the French in the meanwhile, and if the Queen of England had a daughter or heiress she would be a more fitting match for Anjou than the Queen herself. But still he (La Mothe) was to keep the matter alive on every opportunity, and push it forward as if of his own action. Catharine urged La Mothe that the greatest secrecy should be observed, but Elizabeth could not refrain from gossiping about it, and it soon became common talk, much to the annoyance of La Mothe, who blamed the indiscretion of Chartres and Chatillon, who blamed each other. In conversation with the ambassador Elizabeth appeared entirely favourable to the match, but objected that although Anjou had reached manhood—he was just twenty—he was still much younger than she. “So much the better for your Majesty,” replied he, laughingly. On another occasion he extolled the happiness of his young King Charles IX. with his bride, and advised all princesses in search of happy matrimony to mate with princes of the house of France. The Queen thereupon cited some rather conspicuous instances to the contrary, and said that it would not satisfy her to be honoured as a Queen, she must be loved for herself; and La Mothe duly gave the expected gallant reply. Chatillon was then announced and the ambassador retired. The Cardinal put the question point blank—would she accept the Duke if he proposed? To which she replied that on certain conditions she would. To his request that she would at once submit the proposal to the Council she at first demured, but the next day she did so.52 “One of the members only said that the Duke would be rather young, and that it would be well to consider deeply before they broke entirely with the house of Burgundy. The other members were silent, surprised to see her so set upon this marriage, which they have hitherto thought was merely a fiction. The Earl of Leicester is greatly dismayed at having been the instigator of it, but the Cardinal promises him grand estate and honours, and says he shall go to France to conclude it. The fickleness of the Queen makes it impossible to say whether the marriage will go forward or not. She has assured the Cardinal that she is free from any pledge elsewhere, and that she is determined to marry a prince and not a subject, whilst she has a good opinion of the character of Anjou.”53 This was in the third week of January, 1571; and on the 31st of the month La Mothe was entertained at a grand banquet, where he was seated next to the Queen. She was as usual sentimental, and afraid that she would not be loved for herself alone, but the ambassador assured her that the Prince would both love and honour her, and would in due time make her the mother of a fine boy. This being an aspect of the case upon which she liked to dwell, the Queen became more talkative but pledged herself no further. She was indeed so full of the subject that she could speak of nothing else. She consulted Lady Clinton and Lady Cobham, she discussed it with her other ladies, and the Court was filled with feminine tittle-tattle about Anjou’s personal charms and supposed gallantries. With regard to the latter we may reserve our opinion; but of the former we are in good position to judge from contemporary portraits and descriptions of him. When the match had begun to look serious Walsingham was sent as ambassador to France, and before he went he had a long conversation with Leicester in his closet at Hampton Court, when the Earl asked him to send a description of the Prince to him as soon as possible after his arrival. On the 16th of January Leicester wrote to ask him for this description, and was evidently even then not very enthusiastic for the match. “I confesse our estate requireth a match, but God send us a good one and meet for all parties.”

Walsingham, replying on the 28th, says he has had a good opportunity of seeing the prince, and describes him as being three inches taller than himself (Walsingham), somewhat sallow, “his body verie good shape, his legs long and thin but reasonably well proportioned. What helps he had to supply any defects of nature I know not. Touching the health of his person I find the opinion diverse and I know not what to credit, but for my part I forbeare to be over curious in the search thereof, for divers respects. If all be as well as outwardly it showeth he is of bodie sound enough. And yet at this present I do not find him so well coloured as when I was last here.”54 He goes on to describe him as being haughty at first approach, but really more affable than either of his brothers. It will be seen that Walsingham, Puritan and ally of Leicester, was not very favourable to the match, and he was indeed regarded as opposed to it in the French Court.

Jean Correro, the Venetian ambassador, describes Anjou as being stronger built, of better colour, and more agreeable appearance than his brother, Charles IX., and says he was very fond of playing with the ladies of the palace; but Michaeli, another Venetian envoy, paints him in colours more familiar to us. “He is completely dominated,” he says, “by voluptuousness; covered with perfumes and essences. He wears a double row of rings, and pendants at his ears, and spends vast sums on shirts and clothes. He charms and beguiles women by lavishing upon them the most costly jewels and toys.”55 Walsingham says that a portrait could not be sent to England, as it was forbidden to paint pictures of the King or his brothers, but a great French Catholic courtier56 wrote to Walsingham, in the hope that he would transmit it to Elizabeth, the following glowing but insidious account of the young prince: “It is his misfortune that his portraits do not do him justice. Janet himself has not succeeded in depicting that certain something which nature has given him. His eyes, that gracious turn of the mouth when he speaks, that sweetness which wins over all who approach him, cannot be reproduced by pen or pencil. His hand is so beautiful that if it were turned it could not be more perfectly modelled. Do not ask me whether he has inspired the passion of love! He has conquered wherever he has cast his eyes, and yet is ignorant of one-hundredth part of his conquests. You have been persuaded that he has a leaning to the new religion, and might be brought to adopt it. Undeceive yourself. He was born a Catholic, he has lived the declared champion of Catholicism, and, believe me, he will live and die in the faith. I have, it is true, seen in his hands the psalms of Marot and other books of that sort, but he only had them to please a great Huguenot lady with whom he was in love. If the Queen, your mistress, be not satisfied with so worthy a person she will never marry. Henceforward the only thing for her to do is to vow perpetual celibacy.”

Things went smoothly for the first few weeks, although the French, warned by past experience, were determined not to be drawn too far unless Elizabeth showed signs of sincerity. But soon the Guises and the nobles of the league took fright, and the Pope’s Nuncio personally exhorted Anjou not to be driven into such a match with a heretic woman who was too old to hope for issue by him. He told him that “England, which he was well assured was the mark he chiefly shot at, might be achieved, and that right easily too, by the sword, to his great honour, and less inconvenience than by making so unfit a match.”57 Walsingham, on the other hand, was not very active in pushing the suit. He evidently disbelieved in the Queen’s sincerity, and he was probably right in doing so, notwithstanding her professions to him of her desire for the match. Whatever may have been in the Queen’s own mind, the Walsingham Correspondence proves beyond question that the marriage was looked upon by Cecil as necessary at the time, and it would seem as if even Leicester and Walsingham were reluctantly drawn to the same opinion. Matters were indeed in a critical condition for England. The Ridolfi plot was brewing, the English Catholic nobles in a ferment, and the Pope, Philip, the league, and the Guises, ready to turn their whole power to the destruction of Elizabeth. Scotland was in revolt against the English faction, Alba was reported to be preparing for the invasion of England, and Thomas Stukeley was planning with Philip and the Pope his descent upon Ireland. It was a desperate, forlorn hope to think that the painted puppet in the hands of the Catholic party in France would change his religion for the sake of marrying Elizabeth, but for the moment there seemed no other chance of salvation for Protestant England. The Duke himself spoke slightingly of the Queen and the match. The Guises and the Spanish ambassador, says Walsingham, “do not stick to use dishonourable arguments to dissuade him from the same. They urge rather the conquest of England.” Cecil, on the 3rd of March, told Walsingham from the Queen that if he were approached on the subject he was to say that the Queen was convinced of the necessity of marriage for the welfare of her realm, and would only marry a prince. And then in a private note Cecil adds: “If God should order this marriage or any other to take place no time shall be wasted otherwise than honour should require. I am not able to discern what is best, but surely I see no continuance of her quietness without a marriage.” Leicester, even, seems to have believed in the match taking place. He says he was so anxious for a personal description of the Duke because he finds that matter is likely to come into question, “and I do perceive her Majesty more bent upon marrying than heretofore she has been. God make her fortunate therein.” Walsingham, in a letter to Leicester (March 9th) in reply, says the opinion is that “unless Anjou marries the Queen it will be most dangerous, as he will then turn to the Queen of Scots, since he must be provided for somewhere out of France.” This, indeed, was almost the only hopeful element in the situation, the absolute need for the young King and his mother to deprive the French Catholic nobles of their royal figurehead. Charles IX. and his mother tried their hardest to persuade Anjou to the marriage, but for a time without success. The Duke grew more and more scornful of the match under the influence of the monks by whom he was surrounded. The Huguenots, to whom it was a matter of life or death to get rid of the King’s brother as chief of their enemies, sent TÉligny to Charles IX. to complain of the Duke’s attitude. The King replied that he was sufficient master of his brother to overcome every obstacle to the match unless it were that of religion. He said he would send his brother away from the Court so as to destroy the influence of the monks over him. Catharine at last despaired, and wrote to La Mothe deploring that Anjou spoke disparagingly of Elizabeth’s honour, and refused absolutely to marry her, notwithstanding all her prayers. “So, M. de La Mothe,” she adds, “you are on the point of losing such a kingdom as that for my children.” But a few days afterwards, by the aid of Cavalcanti, she apparently overcame her son’s scruples, and on the 18th of February she wrote more cheerfully to La Mothe, saying that Anjou had consented to marry the Queen if he were asked.

Two days after this Lord Buckhurst, with a brilliant suite, arrived in Paris, ostensibly to congratulate Charles IX. on his marriage, but with secret instructions from the Queen to negotiate with Catharine again about the Anjou match. FÊtes and banquets, masques and coursing, kept Buckhurst brilliantly busy until the eve of his departure, when Cavalcanti came and asked him whether he would not like to see the new gardens of the Tuilleries, of which Catharine was extremely proud. Buckhurst went, and of course found there the Queen-mother, who expressed pleasurable astonishment at the unexpected meeting. She was glad, she said, to have the opportunity before he left of expressing to him the friendship of the King and herself towards his mistress, and their desire to strengthen it when opportunity offered. Time was short, and Buckhurst did not beat about the bush. “Your Majesty doubtless refers to the marriage of the Queen and the Duke of Anjou,” he said. Catharine replied that if she and the King could feel sure that Elizabeth was not playing with them as she had done with others, they would be pleased with the match, always on condition that their honour did not suffer thereby. Buckhurst assured her that the Queen had instructed him to say that she was determined to marry a foreign prince, but as it was not becoming for a maiden to seek a husband, she could only say that when she was sought she would prove to them that no mockery need be feared. Buckhurst tried very hard to draw Catharine into a direct offer of her son’s hand, but she would only say that if the Queen really wished to marry they were quite ready to enter into negotiations. Before Buckhurst left the next day, however, she sent him a written offer of her son’s hand to the Queen, on certain conditions to be arranged. Elizabeth’s attitude when she received this offer by Buckhurst convinces us that, however earnest some of her councillors may have been to bring about the marriage, she herself was playing her usual trick. On the 24th of March she wrote to Walsingham, telling him of the offer made to her through Buckhurst. It was her wish, she said, that only Walsingham and de Foix should deal with the matter. It was her intention to marry some person of royal blood, and Walsingham was to tell the Queen-mother that his mistress knew full well that it had been reported that she did not intend to marry, but only to hear offers and “bruits of marriage from persons of great estate and then reject them.” She was grieved to be so misunderstood. It is true that at the beginning of her reign she desired to live single, but the Queen-mother must recollect whom it was she rejected and how inconvenient such a marriage would have been. This, of course, referred to Philip II.’s offer, and was a very adroit turn, considering Catharine’s own feelings towards her erstwhile son-in-law. Walsingham was, indeed, instructed to take credit for his mistress’s abnegation and nobleness in refusing such a match. She was now resolved to marry, he was to say; but through all the instructions she cleverly avoided giving any specific pledge or encouragement to Anjou personally. Her language, indeed, is almost the same as that which she had employed eleven years before with the Austrian suitors. Amongst the characteristic passages in her letter is one in which she says that the Queen-mother’s experience in marriage affairs would enable her to do all that was fitting in the case without pressing Elizabeth to take too direct a part: “Pray the Queen-mother not to be over curious as desiring so precise an answer until the matter may be further treated of and explained, and not to think it any touch to the honour of her son to be named as a suitor to us, as others of as great degree have been, though the motions took no effect, rather for other impediments than for any mislike of their persons.”58 He was not to say more than needful about the conditions; but if he were pressed he was to suggest those adopted on Mary Tudor’s marriage with Philip II. There was no desire, said Elizabeth, to urge Anjou to any change of conscience, but he could not be allowed to exercise in England a religion prohibited by the law, and must attend the Anglican Church for form’s sake. Above all, the Queen-mother was to be assured that, whatever might be said to the contrary, Leicester was “ready to allow of any marriage that we shall like.”

When Walsingham received this ambiguous letter things in Paris were looking less favourable. Unstable Anjou had again veered round to the Catholic side, and Spanish intrigues were active all over Europe to prevent the marriage. Anjou had just told de Foix that he knew it was “all dalliance,” and reproached him for drawing him so far in the match. “I will take no step forward,” said the prince, “unless a decisive reply is sent from England.” When Walsingham learnt this from de Foix he saw that it would be unwise to repeat his mistress’s words about religion, and simply told the Queen-mother that Elizabeth was disposed to accept the hand of the Duke of Anjou. But this was too dry an answer for Catharine, who well knew that affairs could not be arranged so easily, and told Walsingham as much. He replied that as Elizabeth did not wish La Mothe in London to deal with the affair, all points at issue might be settled by sending de Foix thither, which Catharine promised should be done shortly, but at present she preferred to send a “neutre,” as she called Cavalcanti, upon whose penetration and faithfulness to her she knew she could depend. It is clear that she still distrusted Elizabeth’s sincerity, and she was undoubtedly correct in doing so. Leicester’s letters to Walsingham59 at the same time show that his mind ran in the same groove as that of the Queen. The Queen, he said, was determined to marry, but “wished to deal privately, for less reproach to both parties if nothing came of it.” “The person of Monsieur is well liked of, but his conversation is harder to know.” There was no difficulty about Anjou’s person or estate, he said, but the Queen was firm about religion; whereat he, Leicester, rejoiced, and hoped that God would always keep her firm therein. He well knew that upon that rock he could always split the marriage barque when it looked too much like entering port.

Cavalcanti, who had only just returned from London and who could better than any man fathom the inner feelings of the English Court, doubtless made his mistress acquainted with the true state of affairs; and was again sent back to England with a draft of the conditions proposed on behalf of Anjou, which shows clearly the determination of Catharine that there should be no ambiguity in her son’s position. Cavalcanti arrived in London on the 11th of April, 1571, but did not present his conditions until La Mothe had made a formal offer, in the name of the King of France, of his brother’s hand. The Duke, he said, had long felt great admiration and affection for her, to which the Queen replied that the matter had already been mentioned to her by others. She then elaborately excused herself for the delay that had attended her other marriage negotiations, promised that no cause for complaint in this respect should exist in the present instance, and hoped that the French would not be too exacting on the point of religion. The next day they came to business. Cecil and Leicester were deputed to examine the draft contract; and Cecil’s copy thereof is still at Hatfield and is printed by the Historical MSS. Commission in the Hatfield Papers, part 2.

The proposals, which are evidently such as Elizabeth could never have accepted, may be summarised as follows: (1) No ceremonies were to be used at the marriage but those in accordance with the religion of Monseigneur. (2) That he and his household should be allowed the free exercise of their religion. (3) That immediately after the marriage he should receive the title of king and govern and administer the country jointly with the Queen. (4) That he should be crowned after the consummation of the marriage. (5) That he should receive from the English revenues a life pension of £60,000 sterling a year. (6) That the issue of the marriage should succeed to the paternal and maternal properties in conformity with the laws of the countries where such property may be situate. (7) That in the event of the Queen’s predeceasing her husband and leaving issue he was to govern the country as king on their behalf. (8) In case there were no issue Anjou was to still be paid his pension of £60,000 for life.

On the 14th Cecil submitted to the Queen the draft answer to be sent to these proposals, and after some alterations were made in it, Cavalcanti started for France with the English terms on the 17th of April. This able State paper will also be found entire in part 2 of the Hatfield Papers (Hist. MSS. Com.), and appears to be a sincere attempt on the part of Cecil to compromise matters, although there are two or three points upon which the Queen probably depended to raise further difficulties if necessary to prevent the match. The marriage was to be celebrated according to the English rites, but Anjou’s ministers might attend as witnesses, so far as might be necessary to legalise the marriage from his point of view. The Duke, however, was not required to act against his conscience if any of the ceremonies were openly offensive to the Catholic religion. Neither he nor his household were to be compelled against their conscience to attend Anglican worship, but the Queen’s consort was expected to accompany her to church at suitable and accustomed times. He was forbidden to attempt to change any of the ecclesiastical laws or customs of England, or to favour those who violated them. He was not to allow, so far as he could help, the ceremonies of the English Church to be despised. He was to have the title of king and his status was to be fixed by the precedent of Philip and Mary, but he was not to be crowned. The Queen would undertake to supply him with such sums from the Treasury as she might consider necessary for the proper maintenance of his position. The French demands with regard to the issue of the marriage were practically conceded, but the demand for a life pension to continue even after the death of the Queen was refused.

Matters, however, were not brought even to this point without a great deal of finesse and wrangling between La Mothe and the Queen and many long interviews with Cecil and Leicester. When Cavalcanti was about to depart La Mothe begged the Queen to write a letter to Anjou in answer to one he had sent to her. She, of course, was shocked; she had never done such a thing, the pen would fall from her hand, she would not know what to say, and so on. But the letter was written nevertheless, and a very curious production it is, full of worldly wisdom about the marriage proposals, but with plenty of fulsome flattery of Anjou’s beauty, of his lovely hand, and his gifts of mind and body. She apparently thought herself entitled to a little flattery from La Mothe in return, and sighed that whilst in seven or eight years the Duke would be better looking than ever, she would have grown old. She then asked whether any one had spoken to the Duke about her foot, her arm, “and other things she did not mention,” and said she thought the Duke very desirable, to which La Mothe replied, nothing loath, that they were both “very desirable,” and it was a pity they were so long debarred from enjoying each other’s perfections.60

All this was looked upon with dismay by the Spaniards and the league. Gerau de Spes, the Spanish ambassador in England, writes to his master61 an assurance that the marriage will take place, and that the English are treating him more arrogantly than ever in consequence. “The real remedy,” he says, “is that with which Ridolfi is charged.” Nor were the ultra-Catholics in Paris less desperate. In vain Charles IX. assured TÉligny that he would have his brother “away from the superstitious friars, and would in a few days work him, as he will yield to anything that he, the King, might require.” The King said that his brother was every day growing less superstitious, but his Catholic courtiers left no stone unturned to make the match impossible. Soon after Cavalcanti had left London La Mothe went to see the Queen, and instead of smiles was received with frowns. She had just heard that a great gentleman in the French Court had openly stated that she had an incurable malady in one of her legs—this was a sore point with Elizabeth, who really suffered from an issue in the leg—and had said that this would be a good reason for Anjou to give her a “French potion” after he married her, and then marry the Queen of Scots. She was in a great rage, and threatened to make friends with the Spaniards again, but would not mention the name of the peccant courtier, which, indeed, she did not know. She afterwards told La Mothe she was sorry he had not seen her dance at the Marquis of Northampton’s ball, so that he might be able to assure the Duke that he ran no risk of marrying a cripple. Cavalcanti arrived in Paris on the 24th of April, but Walsingham was unable to see the Queen-mother until the 27th, when an interview took place at St. Cloud. Catharine professed to be discontented with the religious conditions proposed by the English, and said that if her son submitted to them the Queen might blame herself for accepting as a husband a man so ready to change his religion as to prove himself without piety or conscience. Walsingham replied that the Queen did not wish him to change his religion suddenly, or that he or his people should be forced to conform to the Anglican Church, but it would be a violation of the laws of her realm to allow him the exercise of his own faith. Troubles such as had recently afflicted France indeed might result therefrom. This did not please Catharine. Her son, she said, could never accept such a condition, which in effect was tantamount to a change of religion. If any troubles arose in England such as those feared, the support of France would be the best safeguard. When she saw that Puritan Walsingham was not to be gained in this way, she hinted that her son might more easily be brought to change his views by the influence of the Queen after his marriage, so that probably the objections they feared would not last long. The Catholics, she said, were afraid of the marriage, which they thought might cause a change of religion throughout Europe. Instructions at the same time were sent to La Mothe, who told Cecil that if the religious conditions were insisted upon the negotiation might be regarded as at an end. But this by no means suited the English Court. Cecil had been assured by the Huguenot partisans of the match that the French would give way on the crucial point of religion if Elizabeth stood firm; but when this appeared doubtful, Cecil himself moderated his tone, and a pretence of great cordiality and agreement between the French and English was carefully assumed in order to deceive the Spaniards. In this they were successful, and Spes writes to his king constantly that the match is practically settled and that Anjou was to turn Protestant. How necessary it was for Elizabeth to foster this belief at the time (May, 1571) is clear when we recollect that Bailly, the Bishop of Ross’ servant, had just confessed under the rack the heads of the Ridolfi plot. Step by step the clue was being followed up, and the vast conspiracy of Norfolk and the Catholic English nobles, with Mary of Scotland, Spain, the Pope, and the league, was being gradually divulged in all its ramifications. There was no room for doubt any longer. Spain and the Catholics were determined to crush Elizabeth, and henceforward it must be war to the knife between them. In such a struggle England, unaided, would have been at the mercy of the Catholic powers, and it was vital both for Elizabeth and Catharine de Medici that they should hold together for mutual support. It was necessary, therefore, that the negotiations should not be ostensibly dropped, and the Queen-mother requested that Elizabeth should submit her amended propositions. La Mothe had assured her that Elizabeth would yield on the point of religion if she only stood firm, and she, knowing the English Queen’s extremity, was evidently determined to extort conditions equally favourable with those formerly granted by Elizabeth in the case of the Archduke Charles. As a somewhat disingenuous device Leicester suggested that the article of religion should be omitted altogether from the draft treaty, and to this Catharine consented. But as a point of honour she insisted that Elizabeth should at once send her counter-propositions as promised, and Walsingham plaintively begs over and over again that she should avoid “jealousy” by sending them without delay.

On the 20th of May Walsingham saw the Queen-mother at Gaillon and laid before her the strong arguments which Elizabeth had for insisting upon the law of England being respected in the matter of the celebration of the Catholic religion. Catharine was forced to admit their weight, and said that she must consult the King and Anjou about them. Walsingham then went to see the Duke himself. He exerted on the young prince all his powers of persuasion; palliating and minimising points of difference, and suggesting compromise, but all to no purpose. “The Queen,” said Anjou, “is, I am told, the rarest creature that was in Europe these 500 years.” But this was a matter that touched his soul and conscience, and he could not forsake his faith even for such a prize.62

The next day Walsingham saw the King and his mother to beg them to exert pressure on Anjou. Let the Queen of England send her amended demands as promised, said they, and all reasonable concessions shall be made. De Foix and Montmorenci should be sent to England to conclude the treaty when the heads were agreed upon, and in the meanwhile efforts should be made to win over Anjou somewhat. De Foix himself was hardly so hopeful. He had done, he said, all that mortal man could do to persuade the Duke; but the constant influence of the Guises and their friends rendered the matter more and more difficult: “Monsieur being by them persuaded that it would be his hap to march with the forsaken.” If, said de Foix, the Queen persisted in forbidding her husband the exercise of his faith the matter was at an end. But withal Walsingham thought this was simply bluff, and was assured by some great Huguenot noble whom he does not name, but who was probably Coligny, that if the Queen stood firm she would have her way.

Some days afterwards Walsingham was still further encouraged by learning that Anjou was seeking advice and guidance about English affairs, and how to become popular with the people. At the beginning of June Anjou was ill in bed, and Cavalcanti went to visit him. He found the Duke in appearance almost eager for the match; but always on condition that his honour should be regarded in religion; and the King and Queen-mother were most enthusiastic and hopeful. This change of feeling was brought about by the receipt, after long delay, of the propositions from Elizabeth dated June 4, 1571, which will be found printed entire in the Hatfield State Papers, part 2. MSS. Com. The articles are mainly identical with the marriage treaty of Philip and Mary, and not a word is mentioned about religion at all. Cavalcanti was sent off post-haste to England almost as soon as the paper was received, to express the King’s thanks to Elizabeth for her moderation. He would never forget her friendship, he said, and would also send at once M. L’Archant, the captain of Anjou’s guard to England to formally announce the coming of de Foix and Montmorenci as plenipotentiaries to complete the contract. Still Catharine knew Elizabeth of old, and sent word privately to Cecil beseeching him not to let de Foix and Montmorenci come unless the Queen really meant business.63 What Cavalcanti, or rather his mistress, thought is reflected in a remark he made to the Venetian ambassador in Paris a day or two before he left for England. The match, he said, would create a weight to balance the great power of the King of Spain, by uniting England and France in one interest, and he had now great hopes that it would take place.64 Whilst Cavalcanti and L’Archant were awaiting the finishing of some portraits of Anjou they were to take with them, Catharine again saw Walsingham. She begged him as a private gentleman to tell her the best way to bring about the match. He said there were two things he wished—first, that they (the French) would not stand out stiffly about religion, and next “that there should be a more honourable sort of wooing.” Her reply with regard to religion discloses a curious and artful intrigue by which Cardinal Lorraine, through Throgmorton, sought to catch Elizabeth. A form of English prayer, she said, had been handed to de Foix, which the Pope offered to authorise if the Queen would acknowledge to have received it from him, and this would obviate all difficulty. With regard to a “more honourable wooing,” she must think, she said, of her son’s dignity if the match were broken off. This distrust, Walsingham thought, arose from La Mothe’s report of the Queen’s indignant outburst about her rumoured lameness. De Foix sought to reassure Walsingham by telling him that Anjou would within a year be as forward in religion as any man in England, and related a story of the Duke’s visit to Madame Carnavalet. Turning to her husband he said, “Carnavalet, thou and I were once Huguenots, and are now again become good Catholics.” “Aye,” says she, “and if you proceed in the matter you wot of you will be so again.” Anjou put his finger on his lips and replied, “Not a word of that, good Carnavalet.”65 The lady herself told Walsingham that Anjou was not really against the reformed religion, but Sir Francis seems to have had as poor an opinion of his consistency, as of his mother’s sincerity. He tells Cecil, June 20, 1571, that Anjou’s religion depends entirely on his mother. It was she, he says, that made him so superstitious last Lent, so as not to lose her hold on the Catholics if this falls through. “What her religion is your lordship can partly guess.”

In the meanwhile the Guises were moving heaven and earth to stop, or at least delay, the match, and that between Henry of Navarre and the King’s sister Margaret. Better marriages both for brother and sister were promised. Hopes of the crown of Poland were held out to Anjou, detraction of Elizabeth was spread broadcast, plots in favour of Mary Stuart and plans to marry her went on unceasingly. Poor weak Anjou was wafted from side to side like a straw upon the wind. When Cavalcanti took the Duke’s portrait to England he carried with him also that of the Princess of Cleves, to whom it was suggested Leicester might be married as a consolation. Marshal Tavannes thereupon told Anjou that since he was going to marry Leicester’s mistress he had better return the compliment by marrying Leicester to his, Anjou’s, mistress, Mdlle. Chateauneuf.66

L’Archant and Cavalcanti arrived in London towards the end of June, but Elizabeth had one of her diplomatic illnesses and they could not see her for a week. Their mission was only to thank her for the moderation of her proposals, and to request passports for the special ambassadors. The Queen evidently thought that matters were looking too much like business to please her. The sincerity of Cecil, and even of Walsingham, now, in their desire to bring about the match is undoubted; but it is equally certain that Elizabeth, as usual, wished to play off France against Spain, Protestant against Catholic, without burdening herself with a husband. So she once more harked back to the religious difficulty, and said it would be useless for the formal embassy to come until that point was settled. She was very amiable and gracious, coyly charmed at Anjou’s portrait, full of protestations of friendship and affection, but on the vital point of allowing her consort the exercise of his faith, even privately, she would not budge an inch. With her own hands she wrote letters by L’Archant to the King, his mother, and Anjou. She had given, as was her wont, she said, a very straightforward answer. She was most anxious to banish all suspicion, and hoped they would take her answer in good part. To Anjou she wrote one of her usual ambiguous love-letters, saying that, although her rank caused her to doubt whether her kingdom is not sought after more than herself, yet she understands that he has found other graces in her. She is sorry she cannot come up to the opinion which L’Archant tells her the Duke has formed of her; but whatever she may lack she will never fail in her fraternal amity towards him.67 With this cold comfort L’Archant had to go back. The Spanish ambassador in England, detected in his complicity in the Ridolfi plots, was fuming impotently, almost a prisoner in his own house, and in daily fear of expulsion, but he managed to send a courier who passed L’Archant on the road, and arrived in Paris two days before him. The false news he spread, to the delight of the Guises, was that L’Archant had been treated off-handedly, and the match might now be considered at an end. Some one told this to young Charles IX., who burst out that if any one dared to oppose the match in his presence he should forthwith be hanged. L’Archant and Cavalcanti were back in Paris on the 16th of July, and by some mischance saw the Duke first, when the latter was offended at the Queen’s persistence in the matter of religion, and coldly sent the envoys to his mother. It did not suit Catharine to have the negotiations broken off, for she was now really alarmed at Philip’s open support of the Guises and the league in France, and she was determined at all risks to cripple the Catholic power for harm against her. With her full connivance Navarre and Huguenots were arming privateers by the score at Rochelle and elsewhere, to aid the revolted Netherlands and prey on Spanish commerce, and she could not afford to fall away from the English friendship. So, discontented though she was with Elizabeth’s persistence, both she and the King made the best of it, and affected to believe that all was going well. But they reckoned without Anjou. Neither his mother’s tears nor his brother’s threats could move him, for Cardinal Lorraine now had him in the hollow of his hand. The Guises, the Nuncio, and the Spaniards were untiring. They had surrounded Anjou with their friends, who could lead him as they liked, and Catharine said she suspected that “Villequier, Lignerolles, and Sarret were the authors of all these fancies. It we were only certain, I can assure you they should repent it.” One of them, Lignerolles, at all events, was soon after put out of the world by murder. The King came to high words more than once with Anjou himself. He had insulted the Queen of England, he told him, by his foolishness. Conscience, he was sure, had nothing to do with it, and Anjou was only moved by greed through a pension given to him by the Catholic clergy to be their champion. “I will let you know,” cried the young King, “that I will have no champions here but myself.” Anjou shut himself up in his rooms all day bathed in tears, but he would not yield. The Queen-mother herself sometimes pretended to take Anjou’s part, and made a show of standing out about religion, but on this occasion no one was deceived by her, and Walsingham writes to Cecil, July 30, 1571, that she and the King are most anxious to be friendly with Elizabeth, and are sending de Foix to London with all sorts of offers and protestations to secure an alliance, even if the match fall through. They are growing, he says, daily more suspicious of Spain; and the King will not have Anjou here. Even Walsingham pitied poor abject Anjou, torn, as he says, from one side to the other. De Foix left for London on August 1st, but although a pretence of marriage negotiation was still kept up, it was acknowledged by all those who were interested that the affair was at an end, and that de Foix’s real mission was to sound Elizabeth as to a new offensive and defensive alliance against Spain.

The envoy, who was a persona grata in England, where he had long resided as ambassador, was received with marked distinction, and had eight audiences of the Queen. All the old arguments and hair-splittings about the observance of religion were gone over again. Sometimes the Queen appeared to give way, but the next day she would be obdurate again. Cecil himself was puzzled at her nimble gyrations, and wrote to Walsingham that “the conferences have had as many variations as there have been days.” The Queen was withal gracious and full of protestations of friendship, and at the last audience the real hint was given which justified de Foix’s mission. After finally satisfying him that if Anjou came he must conform to the Anglican Church, Cecil asked whether his instructions extended beyond the marriage negotiations. De Foix said they did not, but this was enough, and he posted back to Paris with the hint, leaving Cavalcanti behind him. Before leaving, on September 6th, he suggested to Cecil that it might be well to send Sir Thomas Smith, who was well known in France, or some one else, to discuss the marriage, or a treaty, with the Queen-mother.

In the meanwhile, a somewhat curious change had taken place in Paris. Charles IX. had been informed, probably at the instance of the Catholic party, that the Huguenots, seeing Anjou so bigoted, were now opposing Elizabeth’s marriage with him, and were proposing to her a match with Henry of Navarre, who was engaged to the King’s sister Margaret. There was little or no foundation for this, but it served its purpose and frightened the King into distrust of the Huguenots; and when de Foix arrived in Paris he found Charles IX. coolly acquiescent in the Queen’s refusal, and on the watch for signs of treachery from the Protestant party. Walsingham, in Paris, soon felt the effect; and on the 26th of September he wrote to Cecil that the Anjou marriage was absolutely at an end, and he was in great alarm to see that France and Spain were growing friendly. The smallest demonstration of this was sufficient to bring Elizabeth to her knees, and she at once sent Walsingham instructions to revive the marriage negotiations on any terms. He was even to give way on the crucial point of religion.68 The very day upon which he received this letter, namely the 8th of October, his great confidant (probably Coligny) had told him how anxious the Queen-mother was for her son, the King, not to break with Elizabeth, and had asked him how she could bring about a match between the English Queen and her youngest son, the Duke of AlenÇon. Her interlocutor had scouted the idea, he said, but the seed was sown, which was probably all that Catharine wanted. Anjou had now openly stated that under no circumstances would he marry Elizabeth, even if she gave way on all points, so that he was no longer of any use as a piece in the game. Walsingham accordingly wrote back to Elizabeth saying that he would do his best to revive the negotiations, but he was not hopeful, and would keep his mistress’s tardy surrender to himself until he “saw a better disposition here.”

There is no doubt that Walsingham and Cecil were now thoroughly alarmed. The Queen-mother and the King were almost ostentatiously tending to the side of Spain. The Churchmen were busy promoting a marriage between Anjou and Mary Stuart, whilst the Queen-mother, for her part, was plotting with Cosmo de Medici for the wedding of her favourite son—“her idol,” as her daughter called Anjou—to a Polish princess. The full discovery of Norfolk’s plot in England, with its extensive ramifications abroad, the troubles in Scotland and Ireland, and the final rupture of diplomatic relations between England and Spain, were so many more black clouds gathering from all quarters over Elizabeth; and Cecil’s letters to Walsingham at the time were almost despairing. The marriage, he said, was the only chance for the Queen’s safety, and he thought now she was resolved to accept the King of France’s conditions. But the French were now cold. Walsingham did his best to renew the talk of the marriage, but with little success, and earnestly urged upon the Queen to hold firm to the French friendship. But though Coligny was restored to high favour, and the murderers of the Guisan Lignerolles were immediately pardoned and favoured, the murmurs of the coming St. Bartholomew were already in the air, and Cecil was warned long beforehand of Coligny’s danger. In October Walsingham fell ill, and went to England to recruit and discuss the perilous situation, Henry Killigrew being appointed temporarily to replace him. In the middle of December Sir Thomas Smith was despatched on a special mission to revive, at all costs, the talk of the Anjou match, or to negotiate the bases of a treaty. He was well fitted for the task; one of the first scholars in England who had been maintained by Henry VIII. at foreign Courts in order that his experience might afterwards be useful. He had on more than one occasion been instrumental in settling treaties of peace between England and France, his witty, jocose method evidently suiting the temper of the Queen-mother and her advisers. His letters, some printed in the Hatfield Papers and the Foreign Calendar, and some in the “Compleat ambassador,” are extremely graphic and amusing, in contrast with those of Walsingham, in which penetration and perspicuity are the salient characteristics.

Sir Thomas Smith and Killigrew arrived at Amboise, where the Court was, on January 1, 1572. His first interview was with de Foix, who assured him that Anjou was still firm on the question of religion. Smith said he did not think the last word had been said on that matter, but refrained from appearing anxious for an audience of the Queen-mother or the King until Coligny and Montmorenci had been sounded as to the best mode of procedure. De Foix went so far as to say that Anjou was religious mad, whereupon Smith replied that if he thought the Duke was really obstinate about it he “would soon turn tail,” and thus save his mistress’s honour. It is very evident that Smith had no belief in Anjou’s devotion, for he tells Cecil that his “religion was really fixed on Mdlle. Chateauneuf, and now in another place.”

Smith had his first audience with the Queen-mother on the 6th of January. The King and the rest of them, he says, were busy dancing, when the Queen-mother took him apart into her chamber and opened the colloquy by saying that the only obstacle to the match was still the question of religion, as Anjou was so bigoted as to think that he would be damned if he yielded the point. Smith then asked whether, in the event of Elizabeth giving way on this, the match would be carried through. “Well,” replied Catharine, “that is the principal point, but still there are other questions which will have to be settled touching the honour and dignity of the Prince. Yet she assured the English envoy there was nothing they ever desired so much in their lives as the marriage, and they had not the slightest desire to break off. To this Smith replied that if they did want to break off the religious question would be the most honourable point of difference. Catharine assured him again of their sincerity, but deplored that Anjou was so “assotted.” What more can he desire, asked Smith, than that which the Queen was now willing to concede; namely, that he should have free exercise of his religion, “only excepting such parts of the mass as were against God’s words”? If he did not have full mass he thought he would inevitably be damned, said Catharine. The English envoy only gave way step by step. Suppose, he asked, the Duke were allowed to hear private mass in his own little chapel, would that do for him? No, replied the Queen-mother, he must have full, open, public mass; he was so devout that he heard three or four masses a day, and fasted so rigidly at Lent that “he began to look lean and evil-coloured,” whereupon, she said, she was angry with him, and told him she would rather he were a Huguenot than thus hurt his health. No, she continued, he will not have mass in a corner, but “with all the ceremonies of the Romish Church, with priests and singers and the rest.” “Why, Madame,” quoth Smith, “then he may require also the four orders of friars, monks, canons, pilgrimages, pardons, oil, cream, relics, and all such trumperies—that in nowise could be agreed to.” He told Catharine of the cruel persecutions in England in the time of Mary, and the present disaffection of the English Catholics, “all of whom had their hands in the pasty of the late treason,” and pointed out the danger of allowing them again to raise head in England. This touched the Queen of England’s extremity, and Catharine diplomatically added fuel to the fire by saying that Alba had hired two Italian assassins to murder Elizabeth. Killigrew interposed here, thinking perhaps that Smith had made a faux pas, and said that the same party had not scrupled to use their arts against Catharine’s own blood, and hinted that the flower of her flock, the beautiful Elizabeth of Valois, Philip’s third wife, had been sacrificed by them. But Killigrew’s French was weak, and instead of saying “Votre fille perdue,” he said “Votre fille perdrie,” which made the Queen-mother laugh whilst her eyes filled with tears at the thought of her gentle daughter lying dead in the convent of barefooted Carmelites in far-away Madrid. At this point de Foix was summoned to the conference, and Smith called him to witness that whereas the Queen of England had always refused to concede the exercise of the mass at all, the Queen-mother now demanded “high mass, with all the public ceremonies of the Church, with priest, deacon, sub-deacon, chalice, altar, bells, candlesticks, paten, singing-men, the four mendicant orders, and all the thousand devils.”69 They laughed at Smith’s vehemence, but they understood as well as he the dire straits in which his mistress was, and stood firm. The next day de Foix and the Bishop of Limoges had another conversation with the English envoys, whom they told that Anjou “would nothing relent,” and that the King was very angry with him for his obstinacy. Smith said he would rather die than lead his Queen to consent; whereupon de Foix appears to have hinted again at AlenÇon, of an alliance without a marriage, but of this Smith would say nothing, and closed the interview. As a matter of fact Elizabeth was deeply mortified at the cool dilatoriness with which her advances were being received. It was almost a new experience for her. Hitherto, with one exception, she had only had to soften somewhat to bring her suitor to her feet again, but now Anjou was openly scorning her and his mother and brother receding as the English Queen advanced. It was mainly a game of brag on the part of Catharine, who was really as anxious as Elizabeth at the time to maintain a close connection between England and France. AlenÇon and his brother Anjou were, says Smith, like Guelph and Ghibelline, the former surrounded only by those of “the religion,” whilst the latter’s suite and courtiers were all “Papists.” Catharine had not apparently yet been won over to the view that her own interests would be served by allowing the Catholic party complete domination, and their opponents to be massacred; and when she was so persuaded, and the St. Bartholomew had been perpetrated, she soon found out her mistake and took up her old policy again. The day following the interview just mentioned, Cavalcanti came to Smith with a formal copy of Anjou’s demand; namely, that he should have full religious liberty in England. Smith writes to Cecil on the 9th of January, giving an account of his reception of the document. He affected to be perfectly shocked at the terms, and said he dared not send them to his mistress, which really meant that before being quite off with the old love he wished to have some advance from the new. He asked Cavalcanti to suggest to the Queen-mother whether she could not think of some salve to accompany this bitter pill. Cavalcanti knew what he meant, and said something about AlenÇon, but Smith says he pretended to be too much perturbed to hear, “for I will have it from the Queen-mother’s own mouth.” Catharine sent word that she was grieved that the paper had disturbed Smith so much, and would be glad to see him. The next day she sent a coach for him and Killigrew, and they were accompanied to the Court by Castelnau de la MauvissiÈre and Cavalcanti. She hoped, she said, that his mistress would not break amity with them on this matter, as she and the King were very earnest, and trusted the Queen of England would have pity upon them. She had another son who, if the Queen would consent to “phantasy him,” would make no scruple about religion. She also hinted at a national alliance, and asked Smith whether he had powers to negotiate. He told her he must await further instructions, but as to the Duke of AlenÇon, if the Queen were as much astonished at Anjou’s demand as he was, she would not lend ear to any other proposition from them of the sort. He could not, he said, write to the Queen about it, but would sound Cecil; and himself would meet any French statesman the Queen-mother might appoint to “rough hew” a treaty. Smith’s firmness had its reward, and the Queen-mother softened considerably. She had the envoys assured that in order to pacify Elizabeth AlenÇon should be sent to England unconditionally. Their evident anxiety inspired Smith with high hopes. “Never,” he said, “was there a better time than now for a marriage or a league,” and he begs Cecil to urge the Queen to lose no time nor to procrastinate, “as is commonly her wont.” Killigrew, for his part, was just as hopeful, and wrote to the Queen that “Papists and Huguenots alike all wish AlenÇon to go to England, and he is very willing, although Anjou is against it. AlenÇon,” he says, “is not so tall or fair as his brother, but that is as is fantasied. Then he is not so obstinate, papistical, and restive like a mule, as his brother is. As for getting children, I cannot tell why, but they assure me he is more apt than the other.”70

In the meanwhile the “rough hewing” of the treaty of alliance went on, but to all attempts to draw him about the AlenÇon proposals Smith was dumb until he could receive instructions from England, which did not come; so the indispensable Cavalcanti was sent over to broach the matter there. La Mothe FÉnÉlon, the French ambassador in England, had some months before looked coldly upon the suggestion of a match between AlenÇon and the Queen, and had told Catharine that he feared such a proposal would cause offence; but, urged by the Queen-mother and her emissary, Cavalcanti, he broached the matter to Cecil one day at the end of January as he was coming from a long interview with the Queen. Have you spoken to the Queen about it? said Cecil. La Mothe said he had not, and Cecil told him to keep it secret until they two had put themselves in accord on the subject. Smith’s repeated letters in favour of the idea, and La Mothe’s advances, at last decided him to open the suggestion to the Queen. She naturally at once objected to the great disparity of ages—she was nearly thirty-nine and AlenÇon was not seventeen—and then she asked Cecil what was AlenÇon’s exact height. He is about as tall as I am, replied the lord treasurer. “You mean as tall as your grandson,” snapped the Queen, and closed the conversation.71 Elizabeth’s vanity had been wounded by the way in which the French had played fast and loose with her about Anjou, and she was somewhat restive; but Cecil and most of the English ministers were better pleased with AlenÇon than with his brother, first because he had been always attached to the Huguenots by his diplomatic mother, and would make no difficulty about religion; and secondly, as he was not the next heir to the French crown, the danger which might arise in the event of his succession was more remote.

On Sunday, the 9th of February, a grand masque and tourney were given by Catharine de Medici, apparently for the purpose of showing off her youngest son to the English envoys. He and his brother the King, splendidly dressed and mounted, with six followers aside, tilted at the ring, the Queen-mother the meanwhile pointing out the perfections of the younger, who, she told Killigrew, was rather richer than his brother Anjou.