Introduction
The papers in this Calendar covering the years 1609—May, 1612,
unlike those calendared in previous volumes, throw little light on
domestic or international events of major importance. To be informed
of the English Government's foreign policy during this period, one must
have recourse of necessity to other documentary sources. On internal
issues the information is unfortunately meagre. For instance, references
to the turbulent sessions of the 1610 Parliament are tantalizingly few
and far between; while the passions and partisan feelings of the Balmerino affair and trial in 1609 are barely hinted at. Routine administrative affairs account for much of the material here calendared, and
make for repetition of subject matter, although useful facts may be
drawn from them touching upon the financial and economic problems
of the time. These three years, however, did not pass unmarked by
notable events at home and abroad, of which some are worth describing
in some detail because of their particular relevance to the attitude and
behaviour of James I and English officialdom at this time.
(1) The Twelve Years' Truce
1609 began, as the previous year had ended, with the final negotiations for the cessation of hostilities in the Low Countries still hanging
fire. The alleged offer of the King of England to procure an unconditional truce for Spain was a sufficient pretext for some of the parties
concerned to prevaricate at the last moment. Philip III used it as an
excuse to postpone his official renunciation of sovereignty over the
United Provinces. Spinola and Richardot, two of the Flemish Commissioners in the peace talks, exploited it to sow mistrust of English
motives in the minds of Dutch and French alike. This, in turn, gave
rise to rumours in Madrid that Henry IV of France had hinted that it
would be James's fault if the treaty failed to materialise, a rumour
which the English Ambassador there, Sir Charles Cornwallis, hotly
resented. It showed, he wrote, 'that the French King plays not his
balles with either of the Kings [of England and Spain] above the lyne.' (fn. 1)
Amid all the dark suspicions and defamatory rumours, the only person
who refused to be deflected from his policy was the Governor of the
Spanish provinces, Archduke Albert. To obtain a truce of appreciable
duration remained his one cardinal objective, and to that end he applied
his diplomatic ingenuity and a resoluteness which sometimes verged on
obstinacy.
The Archduke was relying on two factors to achieve his purpose. One
was his sincere belief that the United Provinces were not only as
desirous of ending the war as he was, but needed peace as much as the
exhausted and war-worn inhabitants of Flanders. In this he was deluding himself, for his assessment of Dutch responsiveness to the
prospects of peace was based on their readiness to agree to short periods
of truce prior to the finalisation of the treaty. It was obvious that a
suspension of hostilities, however intermittent and indeterminate,
would be advantageous to a nation of merchants and traders into which
the Dutch were rapidly developing, and that they would agree to any
sort of truce which reduced interference with their commercial enterprises. What the Archduke momentarily forgot or ignored was that the
United Provinces still had the means to prosecute the war if they so
decided; and that it lay in their power, not in that of Brussels or Madrid,
to refuse a truce if they felt that the circumstances justified a resumption of hostilities rather than a continuation of negotiations as the best
way of gaining their ends.
The second factor in the Archduke's calculations was more substantial and promising. It was the persuasive arguments of his confessor whom he had dispatched to Madrid to confront Philip III and his
Council with an irrefutable case for the adherence of Spain to the
proposed treaty. The confessor had, indeed, managed to split the
Council on this issue—the Constable of Castile and the Cardinal of
Toledo opposing further negotiations, and the all-powerful Duke of
Lerma and others equally adamant in favour of them. The debates
were protracted and fluctuating, but it was evident that the debilitated
state of Spain herself would bring a sense of realism into the deliberations as the weeks went by. By February 9th, 1609, the English Ambassador in Brussels, Sir Thomas Edmondes, could confidently predict
in a despatch that, 'the tyme doth now discover that all this long
marchandising which hath been used, hath ben onely in stryving to
cover the shame of their great necessities, and that in the end (seeing no
other remedie) they have ben forced to submitt themselves to the Lawe
thereof, and are now resolved to swallowe the pill which went so much
against their stomaches, commission being geiven (as is reported) to the
Archeduke to proceed to the fynall concluding of the busynes.' (fn. 2)
Edmondes does not specify which pill was particularly indigestible to
the Spanish Council, but it may have been the thorny question of the
East Indies trade, which the Dutch demanded for their merchants. All
other hindrances had been removed by this time, including the mystery
of the King of England's alleged intervention to obtain a simple truce
for Spain. An investigation in London, Madrid and Brussels had uncovered a trail which led to Richardot as the source of that confusing
piece of information. Richardot tried to cast the blame on Cuniga, the
Spanish Ambassador in London; Cuniga vehemently protested his
innocence; the Earl of Salisbury opined that it was merely a device in
Brussels to save those engaged in the treaty talks on behalf of Spain
from being disavowed in their proceedings; and in Madrid the Spanish
Secretary of State, Andreas de Prada, gladdened the heart of Sir
Charles Cornwallis by calling Richardot an unmitigated liar. James's
name being cleared in this manner, all efforts were bent to satisfy the
parties, in particular the Dutch, on the issue of the East Indies. The
Treaty Commissioners conveyed a serious warning to the Archduke on
March 11, 1609, in which they stated that if the concessions made by
Spain were not written down in terms satisfactory to the United
Provinces, there would be a reaction against peace amongst the Dutch,
and an opportunity to achieve it might be irretrievably lost. This was
enough to dispel any further reluctance in Brussels and Madrid.
Analysing the Spanish attitude towards the whole question of the East
Indies, Edmondes wrote to the Earl of Salisbury that, 'I fynde there is
an opinyon entertayned that howsoever necessitie hath forced them in
Spain to yeeld that the States shall peaceably trade to such places in
the Indias as they doe there possesse, yet that they make their reckonning it wilbe much more to the States' disadvantage then formerly it
hath ben, not only because the States are more restrayned for makinge
any further conqueste in those Countryes, but also for that the States
men made their proffitt more by the rich prizes which they tooke from
the Spanyards and Portugalls in those parts then by the use of their
trade with them of the country. Some doe adde thereunto also a third
consideration, that where it is lykely the States shippes will nowe in
confidence of the Truce goe more weakly armed and provyded, that
the Spanyards shall have the better meanes upon any advantage and
pretences to destroy their shipping in those parts from whence there
can hardly come any complaint thereof, and so by tyme to make them
weary of that trade, especially when enjoyinge that of Spayne they
shall fynde that the same wilbe of more ease and less perill unto them.' (fn. 3)
These and other arguments may have finally persuaded the Spanish
monarch and Government to accept the treaty. But delay and evasion
in Madrid were not the only impediments with which the Treaty
Commissioners had to contend. The two English members, Sir Ralph
Winwood and Sir Richard Spencer, had often been frustrated and
exasperated by the attitude of the Dutch, and if it had not been for the
mutterings of discontent with their behaviour from the Kings of
England and France, the more refractory and belligerent elements
amongst the Dutch, which included Prince Maurice and the supporters
of the House of Orange, might conceivably have held up the treaty.
The English Commissioners gave vent to their feelings in a despatch
after the signing of the Truce. The demands of the States, they wrote,
had been met in full, 'which easiness in the Archducs deputyes, whether
proceeding from the extreame necessityes of Spaine or from the desire
theis Princes beare to quiett and repose, did so puffe up the States
deputyes into that conceyted humor for some dayes together that not
only did they thincke that nothing they did require should be refused
them, though never so unjust or so voyd of reason, but that wee and the
French Commissioners were bound to second them and support them
in all their impertinent and unreasonable demands.' (fn. 4) And Winwood
wrote personally to John Chamberlain that, 'never was there treaty so
advantageous as thys is to the States; yet I may tell you . . . they are
nothing contented with yt, thincking we have done them wrong not to
procure them all the unjust and unworthy demands.' (fn. 5)
By the end of March, 1609, the ultimate formalities for the signing of
the treaty had been arranged, and on the 29th of the month the Twelve
Years' Truce ended the forty years' struggle between Spain and her
rebellious Dutch provinces. There was undoubtedly a greater sigh of
relief in Spain and Flanders than in Holland or Zeeland. Cornwallis
wrote to the Earl of Salisbury that the treaty was most welcome in
Madrid because, 'ease and securitie are thinges that are for the present
in best fashion and most desired.' (fn. 6) Edmondes, in Brussels, summed up
the reaction there in a despatch. 'If the benefitts of this Truce should
be measured by the joye which these Princes doe expresse for the making
of the same, it would swaye the opinion that they have the greatest
advantage therein, the contentment being exceeding great which they
shewe that matters are brought to this issue. And that they have
reason so to doe, it is said that they were best privie that the King of
Spayne was not able to furnish longer the meanes for the mainteyning
of those chargeable warres, being growne so infinitely behind hand as he
is and his creditt therewith reduced to so lowe an ebbe since the making
of the last decrett, as he is generally refused to be furnished with anie
monie unless he doe deliver the same beforehand; so that in case the
warre had continued, the extremitie of his necessities, which would
more and more have appeared, would have made a great alteration in
his affaires.' (fn. 7)
It was not only a respite from war with its dangers, privations and
exactions, that commended the treaty to the peoples of Spain and
Flanders. In the case of the latter, it was also the chance of reviving
their trade, not least with England, which had been stagnating over the
years. No time was lost in Antwerp, which had suffered more than most
cities from the war. There was an intense discussion whether the city
authorities should redeem with a large sum of money the imposition
laid by the Archduke on English cloth. And while this discussion was
proceeding, it was decided to exempt English merchants from paying
excise in the hope of attracting trade back to Antwerp before the Dutch
enticed it with more glittering rewards. (fn. 8) There were obvious difficulties
ahead, but the hopes of the inhabitants of Antwerp and other commercial centres were sanguine enough for Edmondes to comment in the
same despatch: 'In the point of Trade chiefly they thincke that they
shall wynne a great advantage uppon the States, for that they hope they
shall drawe the same out of those partes [restored by the Treaty to the
rule of Brussels] hither, and so consequently engage towards them the
affections of that people who wilbe alwayes willing to followe the best
markett. And if those of Zeeland should refuse to come to reason for
the opening of the river of Antwerpe, they alleage that they have
meanes to force them thereunto by raysing the impositions uppon them
in their trade in Spayne, and hindring the passage of marchandise by
the rivers of the Meuse and the Rhyne; and also by settling the course
of the trade in the ports of Fflaunders.' (fn. 9)
The merchants of Antwerp had certainly not reckoned with the
prejudicial schemes of their rivals at the mouth of the Scheldt, and had
overestimated their ability to deal with them. It was now that the
United Provinces, particularly Zeeland, displayed that unreasonable
frame of mind and narrow outlook of which Spencer and Winwood had
complained. (fn. 10) They virtually proposed a stranglehold on all trade to
Antwerp by insisting that all ships proceeding to that city should discharge their cargoes at Middelburg, where Dutch lighters would be
waiting to transport them up river to Antwerp. A counterproposal that
a fair toll should be levied on this trade for the benefit of Zeeland was
firmly rejected, neither was that province perturbed by the threat that
Brussels would retaliate by heavily taxing Dutch trade along the Rhine
and the Meuse. Blind obstinacy made the Zeelanders impervious to any
argument that such arbitrary behaviour would be harmful to their own
trade in the long run.
Faced by the ruin of their river trade, the Flemish Government
thought up many remedies to circumvent the Dutch blockade. Not the
least ambitious was the project to build a canal between Ostend and
Bruges, which would turn the flank of the main line of Zeeland's
resistance on the Scheldt and allow the entry of English and other
foreign commodities. (fn. 11) There were high hopes too that the increasing
troubles in Germany would help to rehabilitate Flemish trade and reestablish the staple of English cloth in some part of the country. But
eventually the dispute resolved itself into a tariff war, in which the
commercial jealousies of both parties were given full rein, and Flemish
stubbornness showed itself as insuperable as that of the Zeelanders.
For this and other reasons the Twelve Years' Truce was an uneasy one
from the very beginning, and mutual resentment and suspicions
flickered from one end of the frontier to the other. Within a few months
after the ratification of the treaty, the Hague was pointing an accusing
finger towards the Archduke, charging him with the non-fulfilment, if
not the actual violation, of the terms. In May, 1610, upon expostulations from a Dutch Ambassador Extraordinary, King James made a
direct appeal to the Archduke to enforce compliance with the conditions of the Truce. James may have felt that after exerting pressure
on the Dutch to agree to the treaty, he was morally bound to see that it
was being implemented. But what concerned him more was the fact
that, in view of the increasing tension over the question of the Cleves
succession, any deterioration in the relations between the Hague and
Brussels might inflame still further the apprehension of a continental
war which only the assassination of Henry IV had prevented. The Earl
of Salisbury was less perturbed by that possibility than the King. He
believed that the Archduke's shuffling with his treaty obligations was
merely a manoeuvre to force the United Provinces into allowing more
unrestricted trade on the Scheldt from which Antwerp and other
Flemish towns would benefit. (fn. 12)
In the midst of this conflict of political and commercial interests,
there was one government which had attempted to bring about equitable conditions of peace, but received little gratitude or satisfaction for
its mediation. On the surface, Brussels would seem to have shown more
appreciation of its relations with England than the Hague and Madrid.
When Edmondes was recalled in August, 1609, the Archduke paid a
handsome tribute to his qualities as Ambassador. But in matters of
mutual interest and advantage, such as the renewal and promotion of
trade, the Flemish Government, unlike some of its subjects, was somewhat slow to move. For instance, nothing was done to permit the
Merchant Adventurers the free exercise of their religion in their house
in Antwerp. It was a small concession, but it might well have tipped the
scales in favour of their re-establishment in that city. As it was, they
contented themselves with residing in Middelburg and certain Hanseatic
towns. In fact, religious differences were again allowed to interfere with
business, and inoffensive English merchants found themselves liable to
imprisonment at the hands of ultra-Catholic officials. Neither did the
Archduke make much effort to relieve the perennial anxiety of the King
of England about the activities of English Jesuits and conspirators on
Flemish soil. Still nursing his memories of the Gunpowder Plot, and
with the murder of Henry IV as an example of what could happen when
regicide became an instrument of practical politics. James feared the
ground where Jesuits and their friends trod with impunity. His fears
were exaggerated, but on two occasions he had some justification for
them.
(2) The King's Book
One of the consequences of the Gunpowder Plot was the general
assumption in England that the English Catholics, abetted by their
Jesuit friends abroad, had not entirely renounced their hopes of engineering political and dynastic instability by violent means. It led to an
intensification of anti-Catholic feeling, which found expression in
parliamentary legislation and the coercion of English recusants. James
himself disliked persecution, being enough of a theologian to appreciate
that doctrinal differences, even heresies, were fundamentally spiritual
matters. But he had to admit the necessity of curbing dangerous subversive tendencies if the country was not to relapse into extremes of
confessional and political passions. With this in view, he approved of a
new Oath of Allegiance which allowed Catholics to recognise the
spiritual authority of the Pope, but denied him any power to depose the
King or release his subjects from their allegiance. It also condemned in
forthright language the doctrine that monarchs excommunicated by the
Pope could be deposed or murdered by their peoples or anyone else. In
the circumstances, the Oath was not objectionable nor unreasonable; it
was moderate enough for the generality of English Catholics to subscribe to it. Nevertheless, they were made rather uncomfortable by the
open literary warfare which broke out over the Oath between James and
one of the greatest intellects of the Catholic Church, Cardinal Robert
Bellarmine.
In a letter to the English Catholics Bellarmine had supported the
Pope's ban on the Oath, and stigmatised the latter as an attempt to
invest James with the authority of the head of the Church in England. (fn. 13)
The King's sharp attack on his letter, in some respects a personal one,
under the title Apologie for the Oath of Allegiance brought a quick retort
from the Cardinal in the form of his Responsio, which he discreetly
published under the name of his chaplain Matthew Turtius. The next
move by James was the antithesis of discretion. He brought out a new
edition of his Apologie accompanied by an introduction, A Premonition
of all Christian Monarchies, Free Princes and States, in which he warned
the whole fraternity of European rulers and heads of States, without
distinction of religion, of the insidious manner in which the Popes had
attempted to extend their temporal power at their expense, and were
still seeking means of surreptitious encroachment. What is more, James
carried the assault into the enemy's camp. He dispatched copies of the
book to Madrid and Brussels, as well as to Paris, Venice and Cracow,
where he hoped to find allies for his campaign, and to various Protestant
monarchs and princes upon whose support he could confidently rely.
Since the King had entrusted his ambassadors with the presentation
of the copies, and expected them to do so with the maximum of publicity and ceremoniousness, some of them must have regarded it as one
of the most invidious tasks that had ever come their way. It was all very
well for the Earl of Salisbury to write to Edmondes in Brussels: 'I
conclude you will neither look for many words from me to praise that
which praises itself, nor that I should use persuasion to you to give it all
circumstances of advantage in the presentation.' (fn. 14) Edmondes knew
better than the Secretary of State of the inevitable reaction that the
appearance of the book would produce at the Flemish Court. Two hours
before he was due to be received in audience, he was unequivocally
warned by Richardot that if it was his intention to present the book, the
audience would be cancelled. The Archduke, he was told, was not prepared to put up with a work which was patently offensive to the Pope
and the Catholic Church. To which Edmondes tartly replied that,
'though I ever found the Archduke to be very zealously affected in his
courses, yet that I did not thincke him so much transported with the
passion thereof as that it should make him in such sort to wrong his
judgement and his amitie with his Matie. That it was true there were
some thinges handled in the said Booke by accident, which perhaps
might not stand with the Archduke's beleefe to approve, as that of the
comparing of the Pope to be anti-Christ, which therefore he might have
passed over as he should have thought fitt, if his scrupulous conscience
would not have geiven him leave to consider and examine his arguments
thereof. But for the other points they were such as ought to geive him
great contentment, because they shewe what wrong is sought to be donne
to the authoritie of Princes (wherein himself hath a common interest) by
the unjust and irreligious usurpation of the Pope.' (fn. 15)
It was no use. The appeal to the Archduke's political judgment over
the head of any possible revulsions of his conscience, and a reminder
that it was not in the best of taste to refuse a book specially sent to him
by its distinguished author, fell flat. Words flared between Edmondes
and Richardot. 'I tould the President that I thought he would have
geiven his Master better counsell, and to have represented unto him how
unworthily he should acquitt himself for his fresh obligations towards
his Matie. He was not willing to entertaine further discourse with me.'
To the relief of the Archduke, Edmondes refused to attend the audience.
Upon a little reflection, the English Ambassador might have realised
that since the Spanish Ambassador in London had refused James's
book outright, the Archduke could hardly do less than follow his
example, if it were only to demonstrate his loyalty to his own Church and
to his patron, his most Catholic Majesty in Madrid.
In the Spanish capital, the English Ambassador, Sir Charles Cornwallis, had received his long solicited letters of revocation and was preparing to leave for England when he was given the order to present the
book to Philip III. Cornwallis had not the slightest doubt that James
had been inspired in the writing of it, and was confirmed in that impression by gossip in Madrid. 'I protest unto your Lordships,' he wrote
to the Privy Council, 'it hath much joyed mine harte to heare generallie
the comendation of his Maties excellent partes, the greatest enemies
to his faythe, out of force of truth, beinge compelled to confesse the
booke to be the rarest worke of a kinge that in anie age hath come to
light. Onlie they say he fayles in the foundation, the rest of the buyldinge they acknowledge to be adorned with all the beauties and singularities that by the invention of man can be putt into it. The verie Jesuites
(as I am enformed) doe approve his great zeale and wishe that the
Kinges of their affection would encline themselves to the like in enablinge them to defende the truthe.' (fn. 16)
All the same he was dubious whether he would succeed in persuading
the King of Spain to accept the book, or any of his officials for that
matter, despite his resolution to 'give it the best sauce I can to breede
appetite, at least to tast it in their mouthes, though they suffer it not to
descende to their stomaches.' (fn. 17) There may have been a sneaking admiration for James's open attack on the Pope, but the official attitude was
defined by the public prohibition, upon pain of excommunication, of
the private possession of any printed works derogatory to or critical of
the Catholic faith. Moreover Cornwallis was subjected to the same kind
of probing of his intentions as Edmondes had undergone in Brussels.
Prior to his farewell audience with Philip III, during which he proposed
to present the book, he was summoned to meet the Duke of Lerma, who
warned him sternly not to do so if he hoped to avoid a most unpleasant
scene at Court.
If Richardot's remonstrance had fired Edmondes's indignation,
Cornwallis positively hurled himself at Lerma's head with an exuberant
defence of James's views. 'Kings were to be understoode to be bodies
politique, and absolute and perfect within their own kingdomes and
governments,' he harangued the Duke who, recalling his career of selfadvancement and what he owed to an absolutist monarch, could not
have agreed more with him, 'and therefore not subjecte to the inhibitions or restraintes of the Pope or anie forraine power, as other men
particular. That that which at this daye is the case of the Kinge my
mayster with the Pope may in times to come become that of the Kinge
of Spain . . . That in the King's booke are handeled two princypal
pointes, the one howe farre the jurisdiction of the Pope is to be extended
in the dominions of secular princes (a thinge most necessarie for all
princes to knowe); the other the difference betweene the faythe he
professed and that which the Pope enjoynes to those of his obedience,
and in both these he foundeth himself uppon the authoritie of the holy
scriptures, uppon that of the foure first generall counsayles, the sayenges
of the anncyent fathers, and examples of the first Emperors and Popes
themselves.' (fn. 18)
Having then suggested that Philip III would derive much benefit
from tasting this particular fruit of James's superlative erudition, without damaging his piety, Cornwallis added for good measure that Henry
IV of France and the Signory of Venice had set a laudable example by
accepting the book. It was one of those diplomatic infelicities which
sometimes grated on the Duke of Lerma's nerves in his conversations
with the English Ambassador. 'The Duke with a smile and shrinkinge
uppe of his shoulders spake somewhat betweene the teeth of the French
kinge and the Venetians that I neither well hearde nor understoode, and
therefore will not take uppon me to deliver.' But there was no mistaking
what the Duke did say in a concise and articulate manner before
Cornwallis left his chamber. And at his farewell audience with the
Spanish King, he contented himself with saying that he was precluded
from presenting a certain matter after a conversation with the Duke,
who had informed him of Philip's resolution concerning it. Philip
ignored the allusion, offered the usual courtesies extended to ambassadors
on their leave-taking and dismissed him. As could have been expected
Madrid, like Brussels, could not afford to allow James to create a breach
between Rome and the Catholic powers upon which depended any
revival of Catholicism, spiritually or politically, in the future.
In France James could count on a more receptive and appreciative
circle of readers, which would not be confined to the powerful Huguenot
minority in that country. A strong Gallican sentiment amongst
Catholics, clerical and lay, a hearty dislike of the Jesuits, a growing
spirit of nationalism affecting all classes in France, and a detestation of
the Habsburg and Spanish Powers, combined to ensure that the King's
anti-Papal criticism, at least in its temporal content, would find its
protagonists and defenders in France. In Paris the view was that the
book would stimulate the gentry of England to enter into a more
serious and a greatly needed study of theology, and gradually evolve
propitious conditions for an agreement between the Churches of the
West leading to their reformation.
There was no difficulty in presenting the book to Henry IV. There
were no preliminary admonitions and wrangling as in Madrid and
Brussels. When Sir George Carew, the English Ambassador in Paris,
met Henry in special audience he found him in an affable mood, although
slightly uneasy in his mind. He remarked that, 'he wished his Matie
had not written at all for that in a long worke there must be mistaking
of allegations when divers men collected them, and that would give
advantage to those who should answere the book.' Carew replied that
James had preferred to resist provocations and physical threats in this
manner, although if it came to war he had the means 'to make the Pope
and all his Cardinalls tremble in Rome.' As for answering the book—
and here Carew's insistence on the proprieties may have struck Henry as
naive, 'if any of these woulde answere it to whom it was directed, his
Matie would gladly reade that which they should write; if others, they
should use no good maners to answere before they were spoken to.'
Later on the French King confessed that he read few books written in
Latin; he much preferred to have them read to him. By this time he
was obviously getting bored by the whole conversation, and Carew may
then have recalled to mind that he had been kept waiting two hours
for the audience while Henry was playing tennis. 'I perceaved he was
willing to break of mine audience somewhat the sooner upon a desire he
had to see the booke, and as soone as I was gone I understande he fell
to turning of it. I thinke his thanks he will send by his own Ambassador,
for I doe not remember that he required me to deliver any.' (fn. 19)
Henry may eventually have found time to read the Premonition. He
did acknowledge later, rather vaguely perhaps, that there were some
good things in it. But since he brusquely brushed off Carew's importunate requests for his considered opinion of its merits by observing that
James should know who his true friend was, inasmuch as he had
accepted the book while the Archduke and Philip III had not, it may be
surmised that other matters were occupying the King's mind. Amongst
these were the likelihood of a clash with Spain and the Emperor over
the Jülich-Cleves inheritance; and, not least, his infatuation with, and
persistent chase of, the Princess of Condé whose charms would explain
Henry's unresponsiveness to theological considerations of any kind at
this time.
Nevertheless, James could find compensation in the expressions of
sympathy and admiration offered by people who were engaged in more
serious pursuits than Henry. Secretary of State Villeroy deprecated the
fact that his countrymen were not so subtle in religious matters as the
English, and suffered the penalties of being 'Chrestiens plus grossiers.'
But they agreed, he assured Carew, that the Pope had no power to
depose James. The eminent Cardinal du Perron also saw much in the
Apologie, as distinct from the Premonition, that could contribute towards the settlement of spiritual controversies in a general council, if
one were held. Isaac Casauban, the French King's Protestant librarian,
extolled the book as a meritorious work, although he too regretted
James's digressions touching the Pope's alleged attributes as antiChrist. (fn. 20) Neither would the King of England perhaps have been displeased altogether with the consequences of a dispute over the book
between the brother of Lord Haddington and a Frenchman. Ramsay
had taken him to task and beaten him with a cudgel. It had led to
consternation at the French Court and disturbances near the English
embassy. Nevertheless, when all was said and done, it was a countryman of James's who had preserved the King's honour with a club.
What is more, he had managed to do so without violating the edict
against duelling in France, a method of solving personal disputes which
James also frowned upon.
It was true that an epidemic of answers to the King's book broke out
in France which neither James nor the punctilious Carew could have
anticipated. Some were calumnious enough to move the Earl of
Salisbury to protest and demand their suppression. But since the laws
of censorship were more flexible in France than in most other Western
countries, his expostulations fell on deaf ears. In any case they would
have made little impression on the French King or his officials who
were aware, for instance, that the publisher of a counterblast to the
Apologie by Pelletier, an apostate, was a member of the Reformed
religion who had chosen to be excommunicated by his own Church
rather than halt the profitable circulation of Pelletier's book. To
enforce a stringent censorship in these conditions would have led, in all
probability, to the expansion of a black market in suppressed books
greater than that in Venice, where copies of the King's book, officially
prohibited, were procurable in an Italian version in bookshops owned
or patronised by supporters of the Jesuits.
On the whole James could rest satisfied with the interest and discussion caused by his book in France. And if it were ever brought to
his attention, his vanity and inordinate craving for recognition and
adulation would have been much gratified by a heavy-handed attempt
of an admirer in France to enlist the French Muse in the English King's
service:
'Un seul peintre jadis pouvoit peindre Alexandre,
Mais ce soin curieux ne trouble ce grand Roy,
Roy qui dans ses escrits seul Apelle de soy,
S'est bien mieux peint au vif qu'un peintre l'ust peu rendre.' (fn. 21)
(3) 'The King in Danger'
The murder of Henry IV on May 14th, 1610, oppressed the people of
France with a sense of personal loss and with considerable anxiety
about the stability of their government. Its effect on the English
people was to induce a similar alarm, but they were primarily concerned
about the safety of their King. 'This unfortunate accident of the late
French King,' wrote the Earl of Dunbar to the Earl of Salisbury,
'cannot but bring fear to the hearts of all who truly love our most
gracious King. Therefore I do not doubt but in your accustomed care
of his Maties surety, you will do all that is possible for preventing that
most frightful misfortune that might fall to all honest men.' (fn. 22)
Despite the denial, even under torture, of the assassin that he had
any accomplices in killing the French King, the English Parliament and
nation only too readily assumed that the Jesuits, with the active or
passive connivance of Catholics, were at the bottom of the crime.
Memories of the Gunpowder Plot again lay heavy on men's opinions, (fn. 23)
and its shades hovered round the members of the House of Commons as
they met to discuss measures for the greater protection of James. They
incontinently passed an Act ordering all English subjects without
exception to take the Oath of Allegiance, and imposing for the first
time a penalty on women who were recusants. James approved of the
Act without reservation. The murder of the French monarch had filled
him with horror, and reminded him unpleasantly of dangerous experiences in Scotland during his youth. It is not surprising that he
made inquiries as to the identity and functions of the courtiers who
were accompanying Henry in the royal coach when he was knifed by
Ravaillac. (fn. 24)
But persecuting recusants and providing the King with a stronger
escort when he travelled or went hunting, were not sufficient to dissipate
the fears of those responsible for James's security. It was unlikely that
an attempt on his life would be made by discontented elements in
England itself, although it could not, of course, be entirely ruled out.
The real danger came from the groups of political conspirators across
the Channel, who had been a thorn in the side of the English Government and a close object of study to its intelligence service for the last
thirty years or so. Their ranks had been thinned by the passage of time,
but there still remained a core of uncompromising militants to whom
plot and intrigue against the Protestant regime of England was a duty
imposed by religious convictions and sanctified by the blood of those
who had tried but failed to overthrow it. What now made the situation
more menacing and insecure was the resounding success of Ravaillac in
disposing of so powerful and popular a king as Henry, without the
assistance of a well organised conspiracy, and without its risk of detection and internal obstructions as well. A premium was placed on
individual initiative and a total insensibility to whatever dreadful
consequences might follow. English officialdom did not doubt that a
number of Jesuits and Catholics abroad, English and foreign alike,
would be happy to demonstrate just these qualities if given the opportunity. And in a short time the feeling of anxiety in London had so
strongly communicated itself to English diplomatic circles on the
Continent that some ambassadors were inclined to see potential Ravaillacs in every corner.
This nervousness first revealed itself in France, where it was thought
that the design resulting in the murder of Henry had also been directed
against James, 'for otherwise whoever were the Authors of so damned an
enterprise may well conceave that his Matie will never suffer such a
deede unavenged both for his own interest and the conjunction of theyre
affaires during his life' (fn. 25) The refrain was taken up more positively by
William Trumbull, who had succeeded Edmondes at the Archduke's
Court. 'As the untymelie death of the French King hath losed the
reynes of mens tongues and presented them an opportunity of shewing
their affections, so the passionate and Jesuitted people of these partes
doe not spare to make demonstration of their ill tallent both towards
his Matie and your Lordship, there having of late been some speech
among them (as I have understood by a friend) whether it were more
convenyent to take away his Maties sacred person or your Lordships
for the good of their affaires.' (fn. 26)
There followed more sinister news. In Holland, Sir William Browne,
Lieutenant-General of Flushing, was informed by letter that 'the old
traytor [Hugh] Owen with others his complices were now in England or
uppon their waye to effect the death of our King.' (fn. 27) In Flanders it was
not Owen but Baldwin and Gerrard who had left for England with this
nefarious purpose in mind. 'So much bouldness in these branded
traytors cannot proceed from any other cause then from an assured
hope which they have of effecting some treason upon the sacred person
of his Matie or nursing some unexpected rebellion in his dominyons.' (fn. 28)
With such ominous reports flowing into England, there was a general
expectancy on the Continent of some dreadful calamity in that country.
Within a few weeks after the murder of Henry IV, rumour obligingly
provided Europe with a sensational story. 'If the reporte which was
sent hether in great dilligence on Wednesday laste by the Governor of
Dunkerk had proved true, that his Matie should have ben murthered
by the hands of a carpenter as he was walking in a chamber to looke
upon certayne newe buyldings, it would have afflicted his true allyes
with as much sorrowe and lamentation as it could have comforted his
fained friends with joy and contentment. But thanks be to God that
this false alarme may serve us for a warning to be carefull of his safety
at home and discovery abrode how much his heroycall vertues are
esteemed, which even among this people (where the Jesuitts his capitall
enemyes doe reigne) were able to cause his supposed death to be exceeding much deplored.' (fn. 29)
The news of the alleged assassination of the King of England spread
far and wide. (fn. 30) In Venice Sir Henry Wotton, the English Ambassador,
mentioned reports from Antwerp that James had been shot through one
of his shoulders with an arquebus by a carpenter who was working at
Court. (fn. 31) The English Consul in Lisbon, Hugh Lee, wrote of the current
rumour there that the King was dead either of disease or of 'bloody
action.' (fn. 32) He also added the unpleasant information that amongst the
inhabitants of that city, 'bets have been made that he would die on a
certain day.'
The alarm passed. James was alive, the relief of his subjects inexpressible. But one thing remained unaltered—the alertness of the
English ambassadors to any whiff of rumour or suspicion that assassins
thirsting for the King's life were on the prowl. They had some reason
to exercise whatever powers of detection they possessed, for James's
enemies, disappointed that the attack on him had been imaginary, still
nourished hopes that he would meet the same fate as Henry IV. At
least the Rector of the English College in Rome had done his best to
revive their optimism by predicting that the King of England, like
Queen Elizabeth before him, might be predestined to be announced
dead prematurely in the actual year that would see him positively in
his grave. (fn. 33)
From time to time the Earl of Salisbury, and even James himself,
received solemn warnings to be on their guard. 'The Jesuitts of this
Towne,' wrote Trumbull from Brussels, 'make incessant prayers for the
prosperity of some great plott which they have upon the frame for the
benefit of the Rom Religion. I cannott tell whether they meane their
invincible league or the murthering of some other Christian Princes, but
their particular spleene against his Matie is sufficiently expressed in
their daylie invectyves and sermons which they fulminate against his
proceedings. And to prevent the fury of these raveing woolfs, the good
patriotts of this country doe hope his Matie will stand upon his guarde
for the preserving of his sacred person from the danger of their conspiracyes.' (fn. 34) From Naples Edward Rich sent a message in great haste
to the King to forewarn him of a plot to kill him with, 'a russett sattine
dublett and hose or jerkine and hose, which if he touches or receives he
dies by poison.' (fn. 35) In Paris, Sir Thomas Edmondes, now ambassador
there instead of Carew, caused an Italian to be arrested for allegedly
claiming to be engaged in a murderous design against James. The fact
that he had just returned from a pilgrimage to St. Iago de Compostello
made him more suspect to Edmondes, as well as the fact that amongst
his papers, 'there were found certaine Caracters to the which they doe
ascribe the vertue of exempting those which weare them from perill in
anie enterprizes.' (fn. 36) The French, who had lost a king by murder, were
inclined to regard the man as a simpleton and a harmless bigot, but the
English Ambassador was not quite happy with this verdict.
It was inevitable, of course, that there should be some unsavoury
characters about who would snap up the chance of making a profitable
business out of the tender solicitude of James's subjects for their King.
One such, Claude de Joubert, approached Sir Henry Wotton in Venice
and told him confidentially that he had met a young English Jesuit 'of
a desperat countenance', who had divulged to him his plan of returning
to England to kill the King, and had shown him the dagger with which
he hoped to dispatch James. Wotton pondered over the disclosure and
finally decided to consult the French Ambassador, who promptly told
him that the fellow was an impenitent scoundrel, living on his wits and
on other people's gullibility. On this occasion his reward was to be
thrown out of Wotton's house when he called with a request for money. (fn. 37)
(4) The Crisis in the King's Finances
When Lord Harrington wrote to the Earl of Salisbury that, 'I know
the King's occasions may urge your Lordship greatly to make money of
anything fit to be sold,' (fn. 38) he was addressing his observation to a Lord
High Treasurer whose resourcefulness in salesmanship of this kind was
being severely tested. Since May, 1608, when he had assumed the
additional burden of running the country's finances, Cecil had been
battling against the extravagance of the King and his Court which his
predecessor, the Earl of Dorset, had made little effort to control. That
year had seen some improvement in the situation; at least, the King
had been partially converted to his Lord Treasurer's point of view that
the Crown's debts should not be allowed to accumulate beyond reparation.
The difficulty was to restrain James from intermittent lapses into
prodigality. For one thing, he was particularly sensitive to what he
considered to be his obligations towards associates and old friends, as
well as to those who fortuitously, by word or deed, earned his commendation. To reward them was the most natural thing in the world.
It was the duty of a king to do so; in fact, it almost amounted to a
matter of honour to show his approval and appreciation in this manner.
And James's concern for his honour was a positive obsession with him.
It was shrewdly exploited by men like Lord Hay and Sir Robert Carr,
who pushed the claims of their intimates and partisans on the King's
bounty, and were rarely rebuffed. For the Lord Treasurer, on the other
hand, it required delicate handling to effect a compromise between
what James felt he owed to his friends and servants and what he unquestionably owed to his creditors.
The King was sufficiently alive to the danger and disgrace of insolvency, not only to place Cecil in a position of authority to deal with
the problem, but to abide by his advice. To relieve James of the unpleasant necessity of turning down appeals to his generosity, the Lord
Treasurer made the thoughtful suggestion that tougher men than his
Majesty should undertake that task for him. Some such action was
imperative, for an intensive drive to recover money due to the Crown
was encouraging a horde of claimants and suitors to believe that
another happy era of royal indulgence was just round the corner. In
February, 1609, a number of Commissioners, including the Chancellor
of the Exchequer, Sir Julius Caesar, who supported Cecil's policy of
financial restraint, were appointed to examine critically all suits; and it
was made perfectly plain that until the King's considerable loans from
the City of London and other quarters had been liquidated, any ill-timed
or unjustifiable claims would receive a poor reception at their hands. (fn. 39)
In the following year, as a reminder that the King's hand was still kept
on the plough of financial stringency, he was persuaded by the Lord
Treasurer to publish a special declaration on the subject of his bounty,
which was calculated to depress still further the hopes of those who
looked to James for reward or remuneration. (fn. 40)
The Earl of Salisbury, however, saw no reason why the property and
perquisites of the Crown, once they had been salvaged from the greed of
courtiers and their dependants, should not be utilised to the best advantage of the King. To place them on the market would bring them
within reach of the wealthier rural and urban classes, the very people
who had the desire and the means to acquire them, and who resented
their wasteful exploitation and spoliation. There were arguments, of
course, against such a disposal of Crown lands. Any substantial diminution in their extent might result in a corresponding decline of Crown
revenue, at a time when the King was still expected to live on and within
his income. On the other hand, England's expanding trade, with a
proportionate increase in Customs dues, might more than cover this loss.
The Lord Treasurer took a hard look at the financial prospects on land
and sea, and came to the decision that the determining factor in these
calculations was the overriding necessity to stop the drift towards royal
bankruptcy at all costs and by all means.
In 1608 he had ordered a general survey of Crown lands, and the two
succeeding years saw a fair amount of them transferred to private
hands. Not the least important to exchange ownership in this way
were the King's woods which were sometimes sold indiscriminately and
with little consideration for aesthetic ill-effects and personal inconvenience. (fn. 41) Where local customs impinged on the King's ownership
Cecil proceeded with moderation, (fn. 42) but it was not possible to avoid
abuses of one kind or another, (fn. 43) and there were always local difficulties
to impede the work of the Commissioners entrusted with the sale of
woods. Nevertheless, when the Lord Treasurer reviewed the situation
in January, 1610, he could congratulate himself on having cut by these
means the King's debts from £597,337 to £300,000. (fn. 44)
In the matter of staking a claim for the Crown to a bigger share of
Customs receipts, the Lord Treasurer found the farmers of the Customs
quite amenable to proposals that they should pay higher rents. It was
the least they could do in return for a governmental policy that shunned
foreign entanglements as far as possible, and set a high priority on the
peaceful development of trade relations with other countries. Despite
depredations by pirates—their proliferation was a pointer to a steady
increase in overseas trade—and the hazardous nature of some operations
in certain states where religious bigotry was allowed to interfere sometimes with normal commercial intercourse, English ships and factors
were active from the Baltic to the Mediterranean. The wealth that
poured into London from their multifarious activities reflected itself
in the swollen Customs receipts and enriched the city enormously,
although the monopoly which the capital gradually exercised over trade
could be harmful to some other towns up and down the country. (fn. 45) Cecil
tried to curb it a little by the foundation of his 'Burse' or Exchange in
the Strand, which was designed to stimulate private enterprise in the
city of Westminster. But as Lord Treasurer, he could not but welcome
the circumstances which canalised overseas trade to London, thus
bringing the bulk of the Customs within the reach and control of Whitehall. By increasing the rents of the farmers of Customs and introducing
new import and export duties, Cecil was able to divert some of the
enhanced mercantile wealth of the country into the King's treasury.
It was partly to ensure the availability of money for the King's needs
(in the form of loans or taxation) that the Lord Treasurer revived
former legislation which prohibited the export of English gold and
silver coins beyond the seas. He had every justification for doing so,
since speculation in them had become rife across the Channel. In
Flanders, there was such an influx through Lille that even the peasants
were able to pay their rents and dues in 'Jacobus peeces' of twenty
shillings which had almost become the legal currency of that country. (fn. 46)
The circulation of English gold coin in France was quite as profitable
to those who illegally conveyed it there, and, as in Flanders, it was
employed in all sorts of payments and transactions. (fn. 47) In both cases, the
gold and silver content of English coins was less adulterated than that
of the local currency, and enjoyed a higher value. English prestige did
not suffer by it, but English stocks of bullion did, and Cecil struck at the
practice with his proclamation decrying, 'the industries and devices in
the ordering of the mints of other States . . . as an artificial engine to
attract as well the gold as the silver of this realm into foreign parts in
respect of the assured gain by the re-coinage.' (fn. 48) The only exception made
to a general interdiction of export of gold was the limited transfer of
money to Ireland, to furnish the plantation of Ulster with provisions and
the means of defence. (fn. 49)
The Lord Treasurer's success in reducing the Crown's debts did not
conceal the fact that the expenses of the King's government and his
household were still running at too high a level. It was not entirely
James's fault. If he had been able to recover the substantial loans
advanced by Queen Elizabeth to the United Provinces and France
during the 'troubles' in those countries, the Exchequer might well have
been able to cope with the situation. But the assassination of Henry IV,
and the reckless bribery of the French Princes of the Blood and nobility
by the Queen Regent, had brought the French Treasury almost to the
same point of exhaustion as the English Exchequer. As for the United
Provinces' debts, estimated at over £800,000 in 1608, only a third or so
of the £40,000 due to be repaid annually ever reached the King's
pocket. (fn. 50) And yet his commitments were increasing and his revenues
proving inadequate to meet them. Some of these were inevitable.
When, in 1610, Henry, James's eldest son, was created Prince of Wales,
it was not only the costs of the attendant festivities that the King had to
to defray, but the establishment which the Prince was expected to
maintain with dignity and patronage. By the time James had allotted
various sources of revenue for this purpose, he had curtailed his own
income to the extent of £28,000 a year. Some counter-measures had to
be initiated to rectify the imbalance, and it was in these circumstances
that the Lord Treasurer thought of a scheme to stabilise the Crown
revenues.
What it amounted to was the convocation of Parliament and a
proposal that, in view of the Crown's necessities and the economic
difficulties it had to face, the nation through its elected members should
be prepared to shoulder part of the burden by making an annual and
permanent payment to the Exchequer. How the motion was submitted
and the reaction it produced are described in a letter to Sir Ralph
Winwood, then English Ambassador at the Hague. It was originally
proposed that Parliament should grant an immediate supply of £600,000
and an annual payment of £200,000, 'without which yt was made
apparant the Crowne could not be supported. But how to raise soe
large a contribution could not well be conceyved, without somewhat
were offered againe by waye of retribution. Whereupon were proposed
the taking away of parveyance, the remytting of old debts from 7 of H.7.
to 30 of the late Q, the release of penall statutes, confirmation of
defectyve tytles and 6 others of this nature to treat of, and all this came
from the Lords. The lower house seeing they were to furnish the money
thought they might the better make choice of their merchandise, and
therefore proposed to the Lords a desire they had to treat with the
Kinge for dissolution of tenures and wardshipp by way of Contract,
which was somewhat stood upon in regard of the profytt which out of
that Court comes yerely to the Crowne, of honor which comes to the
Crown by knights service and soe antient a tenure, of conscience which
should tye the King to much caution in removing infants from the
justice and protection of the Court to the discretion or indiscretion of
prochain amy, and many more reasons pour encherir la merchandise, but
was at last freely assented unto by his Matie, for which yt was thought
fytt by the Lower house presently to acknowledge thanks by the
Speaker to the King accompanied with the body of the house, which
was accordingly performed in the banqueting house at Whitehall.' (fn. 51)
So it seemed that what were undoubtedly public grievances would be
eliminated to the profit of both parties, and be followed by a more
desirable and better understanding between James and his Parliament.
What in fact ensued were protracted and tortuous negotiations, which
taxed Cecil's patience and skill to the utmost, and which revolved
around the final sum to be agreed upon. The King felt that haggling
was not consistent with his 'honour,' particularly as, in his opinion, the
Commons were reluctant to pay an equitable compensation for the
concessions which they themselves had stipulated, and which he was
willing to yield. Finally agreement was reached and an annual
parliamentary grant of £200,000 accepted as a fair and just indemnification. (fn. 52) But the whole plan miscarried at the last moment when,
upon further reflection, both James and the Commons concluded that
the other side had somehow got the better of the bargain. This and
other demonstrations of refractoriness in the Commons led the King to
dissolve Parliament, and the 'Great Contract' with its promise of
financial and political equilibrium fell through.
But it was not only James's finances that were affected by this
failure. A shadow had also fallen on his relations with the Earl of
Salisbury during the final session of Parliament. The Lord Treasurer,
loath to see King and Commons at loggerheads over the 'Contract' and
other controversial matters, had urged moderation and opposed a
precipitate dissolution of Parliament, much to James's impatience.
This had been the signal for some backstairs intrigues by those most
economical in their appreciation of the Lord Treasurer, and who would
have liked to foment suspicions in the King's mind as to the motives
behind his policy. Cecil had felt impelled to write to the King to protest
the sincerity of his purpose, and to comment aciduously in other letters
on the attitude of some of James's officials towards him. James had
replied in a conciliatory manner and reaffirmed his confidence in him.
But there were also an implicit criticism of Cecil's handling of the House
of Commons and its more unruly members, an open condemnation of
his trust in Parliament, and an equally overt hint that since the Commons had rejected the Lord Treasurer's scheme of a mutual contract,
it was up to him to extricate the King from the financial bog into which
he was bound, as a consequence, to sink deeper. In a further letter to
the Privy Council, also aimed at Cecil, the King used more vehement
language in his fulminations against the Commons whose behaviour, he
declared, had been tantamount to an assault on his regal honour. He
castigated the councillors who had permitted an unprecedented effusion
of bold and villainous speeches in order not to forfeit all hopes of a
parliamentary grant. Since they too had failed to extract money from
the Commons, the 'repairing' of the King's honour and of his finances
was a concomitant task which they were expected to undertake without
delay. (fn. 53)
Without hope of national assistance the problem of wrestling successfully with a debt, which was gathering its strength to soar still higher
from its present peak of £300,000, seemed insoluble. But the Lord
Treasurer was already devising other schemes to replace the discredited
'Contract', which he launched as expeditiously as possible in 1611.
However even he failed sometimes to conceal the anxieties which were
oppressing him, and nothing can better illustrate his frame of mind than
the marginal comment he wrote on a despatch from Sir Thomas
Edmondes in Paris. Edmondes had expatiated on the gloomy financial
situation in France, and had described the despair of the Duke of Sully
on his realising that expenditure was exceeding revenue by £400,000 or
so. Knowing full well the potential wealth of France, Cecil scribbled
reflectively (a sigh is almost audible!): 'If fowre hundred make a
Treasurer in France startle, what may two do in England.' (fn. 54)