CHAPTER 62
ON APRIL 23, 1557, SIR THOMAS STAFFORD, AN ENGLISH PROTESTANT exile, landed on the Yorkshire coast at Scarborough with two French ships and a force of up to a hundred English and French rebels and seized Scarborough Castle.1 His aim was to depose Mary, an “unrightful and unworthy Queen” who had “forfeited the right by her marriage with a Spaniard.”2
Styling himself “protector of the realm,” he came, he said, to deliver his countrymen of the tyranny of strangers and warned of an influx of Spaniards who would enslave the people. He would “defeat the most devilish device of Mary,” who “most justly deserved to be deprived from the Crown, because she being naturally born half Spanish and half English, beareth not herself indifferently towards both nations, but showing herself a whole Spaniard, and no English Woman, in loving Spaniards, and hating Englishmen.” For the defense of the country, he promised that the crown would revert “to the true English blood of our own natural Country.”3
The government reacted quickly. Within five days, the earl of Westmoreland had retaken the castle, and on April 30 a proclamation was issued in London announcing Stafford’s capture. He was tried, condemned, and executed for treason at Tyburn a month later.
The rebellion provided the catalyst for the declaration of war with France. Writing to Emmanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, from London on April 28, the Spanish commander, Don Bernardino de Mendoza, declared, “As for the breach of the truce, the French have spared us the trouble.”4And in London, on June 7, 1557, the queen’s heralds formally proclaimed war with France:
Although we, the Queen, when we first came to the throne, understood that the Duke of Northumberland’s abominable treason had been abetted by Henry, the French King, and that since then his ministers had secretly favoured Wyatt’s rebellion … we attributed these doings to the French King’s ministers rather than to his own will, hoping thus patiently to induce him to adopt a truly friendly attitude towards us … the other day he sent Stafford with ships and supplies to seize our castle of Scarborough … for the above reasons, and because he has sent an army to invade Flanders which we are under obligation to defend, we have seen fit to proclaim to our subjects that they are to consider the King of France as a public enemy to ourselves and our nation, rather than to suffer him to continue to deceive us under colour of friendship.5
When the English herald conveyed England’s declaration of war to Henry II, he made clear who he believed was the real instigator of the conflict between England and France: “The Queen … did what she has done against me under compulsion, her husband having given her to understand that unless she declared herself he would depart that kingdom, and never return hither to see her … she was forced to do what she has done.” He declared that as the herald had come in the name of a woman it was unnecessary for him to listen any further, “as he would done had he come in the name of a man.” Laughing, he asked his ambassadors to “consider how I stand when a woman sends [a declaration] to defy me to war, but I doubt not that God will assist me.”6
WITHIN WEEKS OF England’s entry into the war, Philip left England. Mary accompanied him to Dover, from which he set sail, and at three in the morning of July 6, the king and queen parted company at the quayside. They would never see each other again.
Several days later, an English force of more than 1,000 led by the earl of Pembroke followed the king across the Channel. Many of the officers were former rebels and plotters, including Sir Peter Carew, Lord Robert Dudley, the son of the duke of Northumberland, Sir James Croft, and Sir Nicholas Throckmorton. War provided opportunities for service and honor and allowed those involved with sedition and rebellion to make their peace with the government. Initially the English army had some success. On August 10, a French force advancing to raise the siege at Saint-Quentin was heavily routed. Although the English missed the battle, men under the earl of Pembroke took part in the capture of the city some weeks later. “Both sides fought most choicely,” wrote one Spanish officer, “and the English best of all.”7 The news was greeted in England with widespread celebrations.8 It looked to have been a successful end to the campaigning season, but the French were intent on quick revenge and believed that the winter would be the best time to attack the garrison at Calais, the last English territory in France, as the marshes would be frozen.
ON NEW YEAR’S DAY 1558, 27,000 French troops attacked Calais. On the third, Thomas, Lord Wentworth, now lord deputy of Calais, described the dire situation in a letter to Philip:
Sire: I have received your Majesty’s letter informing me that the French are moving against Calais. Indeed they have been camping before this town for three days. They have set their batteries in position, and have stormed the castle at the entrance to the port, and also the other castle on the road leading to France. Thus they have occupied all our territory, and nothing remains for them to do except to take this town. If it is lost, your Majesty knows what great facility it would give them to invade your territories of Flanders.9
By the seventh, the French had entered the castle and Wentworth surrendered. The diarist Henry Machyn recorded the loss:
The x day of January, heavy news came to England, and to London, that the Fre[nch had won] Calais, the which was the heaviest tidings to London and to England that ever was heard of, for like a traitor it was sold and d[elivered unto] them the [blank] day of January.10
The garrison was ill prepared and undermanned. French forces led by Francis, duke of Guise, had been able to take it by surprise by launching their attack in midwinter.11 The garrisons of Guisnes and Hammes held out until January 21, when forces under William, Lord Grey, short of ammunition and food, also surrendered. Just a few months after the victory at Saint-Quentin, the French had inflicted a catastrophic defeat on the English.
The recriminations began almost immediately. Lord Wentworth, it was claimed, was a heretic and had intrigued with others within and outside of Calais. Many Englishmen believed that Philip had done less than he could to assist the garrison, while the Spanish argued that the fortress had been lost through English incompetence. As the last remnant of the English claim to the continental monarchy, Calais had a highly symbolic value, arguably outweighing its economic and military importance. Calais had been captured by Edward III in 1347 and was the sole remnant of the Anglo-French empire that had endured from the Normans to the Wars of the Roses.
But neither the Council nor Parliament was prepared to sanction the granting of funds to send forces to recover Calais. “We feel compelled to urge you,” Philip wrote to the Privy Council, “to be swayed by no private interests or passions, but only by your care for the welfare of the kingdom, lest its reputation for power and greatness, earned the world over in former times, be lost now through your own neglect and indifference.”12 Yet it was less English pride than Habsburg strategic interests that dictated Philip’s concerns. As he wrote to Pole of the loss of Calais, “that sorrow was indeed unspeakable, for reasons which you may well imagine and because the event was an extremely grave one for these states.”13