he only allowed two of his most intimate associates to be present. After his usual custom, he mixed up a dozen other subjects with the one business he really cared for. He talked long and loud about certain English merchants on whose persons injurious letters concerning himself and his Government had been found, and, after endless circumlocutions, came to the real fact: what about the 'secret business' of which he had spoken to Jenkinson, and in regard to which Randolph had given a positive undertaking? This was Jenkinson's reply: 'I informed Her Majesty, word for word, of the proposals addressed to her through me, and Her Majesty, having accepted them, commanded Randolph to treat concerning them, but Randolph denies having given any undertaking about them. There must have been a misunderstanding, attributable, no doubt, to some interpreter’s blunder.' In support of his assertion the envoy produced a letter from Elizabeth.
Ivan was agreeably surprised, no doubt, to find it contained no reply to his own insolent remarks. The Queen contented herself with saying, in very dignified fashion, that her own subjects gave her no reason for such displeasure or alarm as would lead her to seek refuge in any foreign country whatever. But for all that, she continued to have the most friendly feelings for the Tsar, and, provided he would consent to forget his legitimate complaints against the British merchants, and restore them their privileges, she declared herself ready to afford him the most convincing proofs of her regard. Thanks to Jenkinson's cleverness, doubtless, Ivan took what was really a proof of scorn for a mark of deference; as Elizabeth's reply contained no strong language, he considered his honour satisfied, and was mollified. After hesitating for awhile, he gave Jenkinson another audience at Staritsa, and appeared inclined to restore the company and its principal member, William Garret, to unconditional favour. He would give up all idea of a secret understanding for the time being, and when Jenkinson asked for the names of the British subjects of whom he had had reason to complain, he replied, with a dignity that equalled Elizabeth's, 'What matter? If I pardon them, it is not so that you may have them punished by their Queen!'
What secret thought he had in his mind at this moment we cannot tell, but Jenkinson's success was certainly as fleeting as it had been personal. In July, 1572, the gifted diplomatist quitted the shores of Russia for the last time, and in the following year Sylvester, sent back by the Russian company, bore evil tidings to London. Ivan, on the score of relations with the Polish King, of which the English merchants were accused, had imposed fines on them in the shape of taxes—
