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                    EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY
                   EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS


                         HISTORY


                         FROUDE'S
                    HISTORY OF ENGLAND

                 MARY TUDOR · INTRODUCTION
                  BY W. LLEWELYN WILLIAMS
                       M.P., B.C.L.




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                    THE REIGN _of_ MARY TUDOR
                              _by_
                      JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE


                       LONDON: PUBLISHED
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                      BY E. P. DUTTON & CO




{p.vii} INTRODUCTION


The memory of no English sovereign has been so execrated as that of
Mary Tudor. For generations after her death her name, with its horrid
epithet clinging round it like the shirt of Nessus, was a bugbear in
thousands of Protestant homes. It is true that nearly 300 persons were
burnt at the stake in her short reign. But she herself was more
inclined to mercy than almost any of her predecessors on the throne.
Stubbs speaks of her father's "holocausts" of victims. The persecution
of Papists under Edward was not less rigorous than that of Protestants
under Mary. When her record is compared with that of Philip of Spain,
with his Council of Blood in the Netherlands, or of Charles IX. in
France, she appears as an apostle of toleration. Why, then, has her
memory been covered through centuries with scorn and obloquy?

Froude will have it that it was due to a national detestation of the
crimes which were committed in the name of religion. Those who take a
more detached view of history can find little evidence to support the
assumption. The nation as a whole seemed to acquiesce in the
persecution. The government was weak, there was no standing army, and
Mary, like all the Tudors, rested her authority on popular sanction.
Plots against her were few, and they were all easily suppressed.
Parliament met regularly. It was not the submissive parliament of
Henry VIII. It thwarted some of Mary's dearest projects. For some time
it offered opposition to, if it did not actively resist, the Spanish
marriage. It was inexorably opposed to the restitution of church
property. It refused to alter the succession to the Crown as Mary
wished. But it never remonstrated against the persecution of
Protestants. It cheerfully revived the old acts for the burning of
Lollard heretics. Froude suggests that Englishmen were aghast at the
use to which they were afterwards put. But though parliament after
parliament was summoned after the Smithfield fires had been lit, there
was no sign of disapproval or of condemnation. When Edward died, there
was an instantaneous return to Catholicism. When Mary died, Elizabeth
{p.viii} had to walk warily in bringing about innovations in
religion. Mary was crowned with the ceremonies of the Catholic Church.
When Elizabeth was crowned, nearly all the bishops, including the
"bloody" Bonner, attended, and the service of the mass was used.
Harpsfield, the notorious Archdeacon of Canterbury, the last man to
condemn heretics to the stake in England, publicly stated, weeks after
the accession of Elizabeth, that there should be no change in
religion. Later generations, judging events and characters by their
own standard, have pitilessly condemned the Marian persecutions. The
Englishmen of those days were not so squeamish or so indifferent.

There can be no doubt that Mary was unpopular among her own
contemporaries. Two reasons probably account for it. The first was her
marriage with Philip of Spain. There is no nation in Europe which has
shown itself more tolerant of alien sovereigns than the English. They
submitted to William of Normandy almost without a struggle after
Senlac. They adopted the Plantagenet as their national line of kings.
The Tudors were Welsh; the Stuarts Scotch; William III. was a
Dutchman; the Hanoverian dynasty was German. But though tolerant of
foreign dynasties, the English have, since the days of John, been
excessively jealous of foreign influences. One of the main causes of
Henry III.'s unpopularity was the overweening influence of his foreign
favourites. From Edward I. downwards the Plantagenets ruled as English
sovereigns. Henry VII., though he was crowned on the field of battle
and claimed the throne by right of conquest, was too discreet to
maintain his power, as Mary was once tempted to do, by the aid of
Welsh guards. The fiercest hostility was evoked by James I., William
III., and the first two Georges, because they surrounded themselves
with favourites from their own countries. Foreigners might sit on the
throne of England, but they had to rule as English sovereigns and rest
their power on the support of the English people. This intense
national jealousy was unhappily aroused by Mary. The strict
limitations which were placed on her husband's powers should have
warned her of her danger. Philip was allowed the empty title of king,
but from the realities of power he was studiously excluded. Philip was
careful to maintain the spirit as well as the letter of his
obligations. He made no attempt to encroach upon the sovereignty of
Mary. He advised her, as it was his duty to do, but he did not
interfere with the government of the country. No {p.ix} Spanish
troops were landed in England, even when war had broken out with
France, and the coasts of England were unguarded. Yet the morbid
suspicions of the people were not allayed. The Dudley plot and the
Stafford invasion were justified by their authors, not on the ground
of Mary's bloody persecutions, but because it was feared that Philip
was planning a _coup d'état_. Mary's popularity began to wane with her
marriage; it sunk lower and lower till it almost disappeared when
England was dragged into a war with France in the interests of Spain.
St. Quintin and Gravelines for a time roused a feeble enthusiasm for
the war, but the loss of Calais finally extinguished the Queens
popularity. Mary is reported to have said that if her body were opened
Calais would be found written on her heart. Froude disbelieves the
report. But whether the story be apocryphal or not, there is no doubt
that the loss of Calais was accountable, if not for the death of the
Queen, for the permanent destruction of her fame.

Calais was called the "brightest jewel in the English crown." It was
the last relic of the French possessions of the Plantagenets. It was
the Gibraltar of the sixteenth century. It helped to make of the
narrow seas an English channel. It was a mart for English goods. It
afforded a foothold for Continental enterprises. To some extent it
linked England with her traditional allies, the old Burgundian
possessions in the Netherlands. By us, looking back over the chequered
story of the last three centuries, the loss of Calais is seen to have
been a blessing in disguise. England gained by it as she did by the
loss of Normandy under John, and of Hanover at the accession of Queen
Victoria. But to Mary's subjects it was a corroding humiliation.

"If Spain should rise suddenly into her ancient strength," Froude
truly remarks, "and tear Gibraltar from us, our mortification would be
faint, compared to the anguish of humiliated pride with which the loss
of Calais distracted the subjects of Mary."

It was the galling reflection that Calais was lost to the French in a
Spanish quarrel that crowned the poor Queen's obloquy. She had lost it
through wanton neglect. Had the warnings of Wentworth and Grey been
heeded, Calais might have been saved. Calais need never have been
imperilled had the Queen thought more of English interests and less of
the needs of her Spanish husband.

{p.x} The odium in which Mary's memory was held was turned to account
by the friends of the new religion. Early in the next reign there
appeared one of the most remarkable books ever written--Foxe's _Book
of Martyrs_. The authenticity of its narrative has been impugned by
Lingard and other Catholic historians; Froude bears testimony to its
trustworthiness wherever it can be tested, except when it deals with
purely hearsay evidence. When Foxe's narrative of the horrible
Guernsey case was challenged by a Catholic controversialist in the
reign of Elizabeth, the matter was inquired into, and the account was
found to be absolutely true. No one will be found, however, in these
days to assert that a book, written by an avowed partisan, in an
uncritical age, recording transactions of which from the very nature
of things he could have had no personal knowledge, was not too highly
coloured in parts and in others absolutely untrustworthy. Few books,
nevertheless, have exercised a more abiding influence on the course of
our national life. Its simplicity, its directness, its poignant style,
and its dramatic power combined to make it an English classic. If it
loaded Bonner and Gardiner with shame and hatred, it fixed for three
centuries the popular estimate of Mary Tudor. Froude used it with
extraordinary skill. His relation of the death of a young Protestant
martyr, an apprentice from Essex, taken as it is almost bodily from
Foxe, must thrill even yet the least emotional of his readers. The
permanence of Mary's hideous title and her abiding unpopularity are
more due to the compelling power of a work of genius than to any
outstanding demerits, as judged by contemporary standards, in the
Catholic Queen.

Instead of being condemned to eternal infamy, poor Mary Tudor might
well have expected a juster as well as a more charitable verdict from
posterity. From her girlhood to her grave her story was tragic in its
sadness. When she was in the first bloom of maidenhood, she was taken
by her father to hold her Court of the Welsh Marches at Ludlow in
1525. The title of Princess of Wales was not conferred upon her, but
she was surrounded by all the pomps and emblems of sovereignty. The
Court was the Princess's Court, as it had been Prince Henry's Court in
her father's youth. Three years later she was degraded from her high
estate, and deprived of her Court. Henceforth, throughout her father's
reign, she was known as the Lady, not the Princess, Mary. She was old
{p.xi} enough to feel all the bitterness of her mother's tragedy.
She remembered to her dying day the humiliation of the Boleyn
marriage. She never ceased to resent the birth of her sister
Elizabeth. Her brother Edward was born in lawful wedlock after Queen
Catherine's death, and Mary was always perfectly loyal and obedient to
him as she was to her father. But she looked with cold disfavour,
mingled with morbid jealousy, on the budding promise of Elizabeth. Her
very existence was an insult to Mary's mother and a menace to Mary's
religion. If Elizabeth was legitimate, Catherine of Arragon was
rightly divorced, and Mary herself had no claim to the throne other
than by her father's will. Elizabeth could never be reconciled to Rome
without casting an aspersion on Anne Boleyn's honour.

No woman was ever more lonely or loveless than the ill-starred and
ill-favoured Queen Mary. She had no near relatives in England except
Elizabeth, and Elizabeth, by the irony of fate, was worse than a
stranger to her. The awful solitude of a throne excluded her, even
more than her own ill-health and brooding temper, from the joys of
friendship. Philip of Spain was at once her nearest relation on her
mother's side, and the only man she ever confided in except Cardinal
Pole. She lavished all the pent-up affection of an unloved existence
on her husband. She was repaid by cold neglect, studied indifference,
and open and vulgar infidelity. Philip made no pretence to care for
his wife. She was older in years, she was ungainly in person, she
possessed no charm of manner or grace of speech, her very voice was
the deep bass of a man. In the days of her joyous entrance into
London, amid the acclamations of the populace, her high spirit, her
kind heart, and the excitement of adventure lent a passing glow to her
sallow cheeks. But ill-health and disillusion followed. She became
morbid and sullen, sometimes remaining for days in a dull stupor, at
other times giving way to gusts of hysterical passion. But beneath her
forbidding exterior there beat a warm, tender, womanly heart, which
yearned for some one to love and to cherish. Her mother had died when
she was yet young, her father never encouraged her to display her
affection for him, and she was verging on middle age before she saw
Philip. He became her hero, her master. Wifely obedience became to her
the greatest of virtues; she held herself and England at his service.
She longed for a son who would bind her husband more closely to
herself and who {p.xii} would save England from the hated Elizabeth,
and still more from Elizabeth's hated religion. When old and ill, and
on the brink of the grave, she still cherished the vain dream of
giving birth to the saviour of England and the champion of the faith.

But Froude dwells with malicious irony on the frustration of the poor
woman's hopes. He covers the incident with a ridicule which must jar
on all sensitive minds. The fact that Cardinal Pole encouraged her
belief adds zest to Froude's satisfaction. No purer soul ever set
himself to right the world than Reginald Pole; no one failed more
completely in his cherished plans. He and Mary died on the same day;
the bells that tolled their knell rang out the order for which they
stood. But the utter failure of their hopes roused no emotion save
that of bitter contempt in Froude. He saw no merit in the "hysterical
dreamer" who had sacrificed his all for his religion; he saw no pathos
in the life of that lone woman who was condemned, almost from her
cradle, to a loveless existence and a forlorn death. His final epitaph
on her is that "she had reigned little more than five years, and she
descended into the grave amidst curses deeper than the acclamations
which had welcomed her accession." The only excuse he can find for her
is that she was suffering from "hysterical derangement" akin to
insanity, which placed her absolutely under the domination of Gardiner
and Pole. When we remember her magnanimity towards Lady Jane Grey at
her accession, when we contrast her conduct towards the formidable
Elizabeth with Elizabeth's subsequent conduct towards Mary Queen of
Scots, her generosity to the causes she had at heart with Elizabeth's
unfailing parsimony, and her open and straightforward dealings both in
matters of Church and of State with her sister's mean and tortuous
subterfuges, we may well extend not only our pity to the woman, but
some tribute of admiration to the Queen. At least we may agree with
Froude that "few men or women have lived less capable of doing
knowingly a wrong thing."

                                        W. LLEWELYN WILLIAMS.
  _February 3, 1910._


{p.xiii} Bibliography

The following is a list of the published works of J. A. Froude--

     Life of St. Neot (Lives of the English Saints, edited by J.
     H. Newman), 1844; Shadows of the Clouds (Tales), by Zeta
     (_pseud._), 1847; A Sermon (on 2 Cor. vii. 10) preached at
     St. Mary's Church on the Death of the Rev. George May
     Coleridge, 1847; Article on Spinoza (_Oxford and Cambridge
     Review_), 1847; The Nemesis of Faith (Tale), 1849; England's
     Forgotten Worthies (_Westminster Review_), 1852; Book of Job
     (_Westminster Review_), 1853; Poems of Matthew Arnold
     (_Westminster Review_), 1854; Suggestions on the Best Means
     of Teaching English History (Oxford Essays, etc.), 1855;
     History of England, 12 vols., 1856-70; The Influence of the
     Reformation on the Scottish Character. 1865; Inaugural
     Address delivered to the University of St. Andrews, March
     19, 1869, 1869; Short Studies on Great Subjects, 1867, 2
     vols., series 2-4, 1871-83 (articles from _Fraser's
     Magazine_, _Westminster Review_, etc.); The Cat's
     Pilgrimage, 1870; Calvinism: Address at St. Andrews, 1871;
     The English in Ireland, 3 vols., 1872-74; Bunyan (English
     Men of Letters), 1878; Cæsar: a Sketch, 1879; Two Lectures
     on South Africa, 1880; Thomas Carlyle (a history of the
     first forty years of his life, etc.), 2 vols., 1882; Luther:
     a Short Biography, 1883; Thomas Carlyle (a history of his
     life in London, 1834-81), 2 vols., 1884; Oceana, 1886; The
     English in the West Indies, 1888; Liberty and Property: an
     Address [1888]; The Two Chiefs of Dunboy, 1889; Lord
     Beaconsfield (a Biography), 1890; The Divorce of Catherine
     of Arragon, 1891; The Spanish Story of the Armada, 1892;
     Life and Letters of Erasmus, 1894; English Seamen in the
     Sixteenth Century, 1895; Lectures on the Council of Trent,
     1896; My Relations with Carlyle, 1903.

     Edited:--Carlyle's Reminiscences, 1881; Mrs. Carlyle's
     Letters, 1883.




{p.xv} CONTENTS


  Chapter                                                Page

    I. Queen Jane and Queen Mary                            1

   II. The Spanish Marriage                                79

  III. Reconciliation With Rome                           147

   IV. The Martyrs                                        201

    V. Calais                                             260

   VI. Death of Mary                                      305

       Index                                              321




{p.001} MARY TUDOR




CHAPTER I.

QUEEN JANE AND QUEEN MARY.


On the 7th of July the death of Edward VI. was ushered in with signs
and wonders, as if heaven and earth were in labour with revolution.
The hail lay upon the grass in the London gardens as red as blood. At
Middleton Stony in Oxfordshire, anxious lips reported that a child had
been born with one body, two heads, four feet and hands.[1] About the
time when the letters patent were signed there came a storm such as no
living Englishman remembered. The summer evening grew black as night.
Cataracts of water flooded the houses in the city and turned the
streets into rivers; trees were torn up by the roots and whirled
through the air, and a more awful omen--the forked lightning--struck
down the steeple of the church where the heretic service had been read
for the first time.[2]

                   [Footnote 1: _Grey Friars' Chronicle_: Machyn.]

                   [Footnote 2: Baoardo's _History of the Revolution
                   in England on the Death of Edward VI._, printed at
                   Venice, 1558. A copy of this rare book is in the
                   Bodleian Library at Oxford.]

The king died a little before nine o'clock on Thursday evening. His
death was made a secret; but in the same hour a courier was galloping
through the twilight to Hunsdon to bid Mary mount and fly. Her plans
had been for some days prepared. She had been directed to remain
quiet, but to hold herself ready to be up and away at a moment's
warning. The lords who were to close her in would not be at their
posts, and for a few hours the roads would be open. The Howards were
looking for her in Norfolk; and thither she was to ride at her best
speed, proclaiming her accession as she went along, and sending out
her letters calling loyal Englishmen to rise in her defence.

So Mary's secret friends had instructed her to act as her one chance.
Mary, who, like all the Tudors, was most herself in the moments of
greatest danger, followed a counsel boldly which agreed with her own
opinion; and when Lord Robert Dudley {p.002} came in the morning
with a company of horse to look for her, she was far away. Relays of
horses along the road, and such other precautions as could be taken
without exciting suspicion, had doubtless not been overlooked.

Far different advice had been sent to her by the new ambassadors of
the emperor. Scheyfne, who understood England and English habits, and
who was sanguine of her success, had agreed to a course which had
probably been arranged in concert with him; but on the 6th, the day of
Edward's death, Renard and M. de Courières arrived from Brussels. To
Renard, accustomed to countries where governments were everything and
peoples nothing, for a single woman to proclaim herself queen in the
face of those who had the armed force of the kingdom in their hands,
appeared like madness. Little confidence could be placed in her
supposed friends, since they had wanted resolution to refuse their
signatures to the instrument of her deposition. The emperor could not
move; although he might wish well to her cause, the alliance of
England was of vital importance to him, and he would not compromise
himself with the faction whose success, notwithstanding Scheyfne's
assurance, he looked upon as certain. Renard, therefore, lost not a
moment in entreating the princess not to venture upon a course from
which he anticipated inevitable ruin. If the nobility or the people
desired to have her for queen, they would make her queen. There was no
need for her to stir.[3] The remonstrance agreed {p.003} fully with
the opinion of Charles himself, who replied to Renard's account of his
conduct with complete approval of it.[4] The emperor's power was no
longer equal to an attitude of menace; he had been taught, by the
repeated blunders of Reginald Pole, to distrust accounts of popular
English sentiment; and he disbelieved entirely in the ability of Mary
and her friends to cope with a conspiracy so broadly contrived, and
supported by the countenance of France.[5] But Mary was probably gone
from Hunsdon before advice arrived, to which she had been lost if she
had listened. She had ridden night and day without a halt for a
hundred miles to Keninghal, a castle of the Howards on the Waveney
river. There, in safe hands, she would try the effect of an appeal to
her country. If the nation was mute, she would then escape to the Low
Countries.[6]

                   [Footnote 3: Avant nostre arrivée elle mist en
                   delibération avec aulcungs de ses plus confidens ce
                   qu'elle debvroit faire, advenant la dicte morte; la
                   quelle treuva, que incontinant la dicte morte
                   decouverte, elle se debvoit publier royne par
                   lettres et escriptz, et qu'en ce faisant, elle
                   conciteroit plusieurs à se déclairer pour la
                   maintenir telle, (et aussy que y a quelque
                   observance par de çà que celuy ou celle qui est
                   appelé à la couronne se doit incontinent tel
                   déclairer et publier) pour la haine qu'ilz portent
                   audict duc, le tenant tiran et indigne; s'estant
                   absolument resolue qu'elle debvoit suyvre ceste
                   conclusion et conseil, aultrement elle tomberoit en
                   danger de sa personne plus grand qu'elle n'est et
                   perdroit l'espoir de parvenir à la couronne. La
                   quelle conclusion avons treuvé estrange, difficile,
                   et dangereuse, pour les raisons soubzcriptes: pour
                   aultant que toutes les forces du pays sont ès mains
                   dudict duc: que la dicte dame n'a espoir de
                   contraires forces ny d'assistance pour donner pied
                   à ceulx qu'ilz adhérer luy vouldroient; que se
                   publiant royne, le roy et royne désignés par le
                   dict testament (encores qu'il soit mal) prendroient
                   fondement, de l'invahir par la force et que n'y
                   aura moien d'y résister si vostre majesté ne s'en
                   empesche; ce que avons pesé pour les grands
                   affaires et empeschemens qu'elle a contre les
                   Françoys et en divers lieux, que ne semble convenir
                   que l'on concite en ceste saison les Angloys contre
                   vostre Majesté et ses pays.

                   Comme n'avons peu communiquer verbalement avec
                   elle, l'avons advertie desdicts difficultés.... Que
                   si la noblesse ses adhérens, ou le peuple la
                   desiroit et maintenoit pour royne, il le pourroit
                   démonstrer par l'effect; que la question estoit
                   grande mêsme entre barbares et gens de telle
                   condition que les Angloys ... luy touchant ces
                   difficultez pour le respect de sa personne et pour
                   suyvre la fin de la dicte instruction qu'est de non
                   troubler le royaulme au désadvantaige de vostre
                   Majesté--The Ambassadors in England to the Emperor:
                   _Papiers d'État du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv.
                   pp. 19, 20.]

                   [Footnote 4: Nous avons veu par vos lectres
                   l'advertissement qu'avez donné soubz main à Madame
                   la princesse nostre cousine, affin qu'elle ne se
                   laisse forcompter par ceulx qui luy persuadent
                   qu'elle se haste de se déclairer pour royne, que
                   nous a semblé tres bien pour les raisons et
                   considerations touschez en vosdictes lectres.--The
                   Emperor to the Ambassadors: Ibid. pp. 24, 25.]

                   [Footnote 5: Ne se pouvoient faire grand fondement
                   sur la faveur et affection que aulcuns particuliers
                   et le peuple peuvent porter à nostredicte cousine,
                   ne fust que y en y eust plus grant nombre ou des
                   principaulx, n'estant cela souffisant pour
                   contreminer la negociation si fondée et de si
                   longue main que le dict duc de Northumberland a
                   empris avec l'assistance que doubtez de
                   France.--Ibid. pp. 25, 26.]

                   [Footnote 6: Baoardo.]

In London, during Friday and Saturday, the death of Edward was known
and unknown. Every one talked of it as certain. Yet the Duke of
Northumberland still spoke of him as living, and public business was
carried on in his name. On the 8th of July the mayor and aldermen were
sent for to Greenwich to sign the letters patent. From them the truth
could not be concealed, but they were sworn to secrecy before they
were allowed to leave the palace. The conspirators desired to have
Mary under safe custody in the Tower before the mystery was published
to the world, and another difficulty was not yet got over.

The novelty of a female sovereign, and the supposed constitutional
objection to it, were points in favour of the alteration which
Northumberland was unwilling to relinquish. The "device" had been
changed in favour of Lady Jane; but Lady Jane was not to reign alone:
Northumberland intended to hold {p.004} the reins tight-grasped in
his own hands, to keep the power in his own family, and to urge the
sex of Mary as among the prominent occasions of her incapacity.[7]
England was still to have a king, and that king was to be Guilford
Dudley.

                   [Footnote 7: In the explanation given on the
                   following Tuesday to the Emperor's ambassadors,
                   Madame Marie was said--"N'estre capable dudict
                   royaulme pour le divorce faict entre le feu Roy
                   Henry et la Royne Katherine; se référant aux causes
                   aians meu ledict divorce; _et mesme n'estre
                   suffisante pour l'administration d'icelluy comme
                   estant femme_, et pour la religion."--_Papiers
                   d'État du Cardinal de Granvelle_, p. 28. Noailles
                   was instructed to inform the King of France of the
                   good affection of "the new King" ("le nouveaulx
                   Roy"). He had notice of the approaching coronation
                   of "the King;" and in the first communication of
                   Edward's death to Hoby and Morryson in the
                   Netherlands, a "king," and not a "queen," was
                   described as on the throne in his place.]

Jane Grey, eldest daughter of the Duke of Suffolk, was nearly of the
same age with Edward. Edward had been precocious to a disease; the
activity of his mind had been a symptom, or a cause, of the weakness
of his body. Jane Grey's accomplishments were as extensive as
Edward's; she had acquired a degree of learning rare in matured men,
which she could use gracefully, and could permit to be seen by others
without vanity or consciousness. Her character had developed with
their talents. At fifteen she was learning Hebrew and could write
Greek; at sixteen she corresponded with Bullinger in Latin at least
equal to his own; but the matter of her letters is more striking than
the language, and speaks more for her than the most elaborate
panegyrics of admiring courtiers. She has left a portrait of herself
drawn by her own hand; a portrait of piety, purity, and free, noble
innocence, uncoloured, even to a fault, with the emotional weaknesses
of humanity.[8] While the effects of the Reformation of England had
been chiefly visible in the outward dominion of scoundrels and in the
eclipse of the hereditary virtues of the national character, Lady Jane
Grey had lived to show that the defect was not in the reformed faith,
but in the absence of all faith--that the graces of a St. Elizabeth
could be rivalled by the pupil of Cranmer and Ridley. The Catholic
saint had no excellence of which Jane Grey was without the promise;
the distinction was in the freedom of the Protestant from the
hysterical ambition for an unearthly nature, and in the presence,
through a more intelligent creed, of a vigorous and practical
understanding.

                   [Footnote 8: Letters of Lady Jane Grey to
                   Bullinger: _Epistolæ Tigurinæ_, pp. 3-7.]

When married to Guilford Dudley, Jane Lady had entreated that, being
herself so young, and her husband scarcely older, {p.005} she might
continue to reside with her mother.[9] Lady Northumberland had
consented; and the new-made bride remained at home till a rumour went
abroad that Edward was on the point of death, when she was told that
she must remove to her father-in-law's house, till "God should call
the king to his mercy;" her presence would then be required at the
Tower, the king having appointed her to be the heir to the crown.

                   [Footnote 9: Baoardo--who tells the story as it was
                   told by Lady Jane herself to Abbot Feckenham.]

This was the first hint which she had received of the fortune which
was in store for her. She believed it to be a jest, and took no notice
of the order to change her residence, till the Duchess of
Northumberland came herself to fetch her. A violent scene ensued with
Lady Suffolk. At last the duchess brought in Guilford Dudley, who
commanded Lady Jane, on her allegiance as a wife, to return with him;
and, "not choosing to be disobedient to her husband," she consented.
The duchess carried her off, and kept her for three or four days a
prisoner. Afterwards she was taken to a house of the duke's at
Chelsea, where she remained till Sunday, the 9th of July, when a
message was brought that she was wanted immediately at Sion House, to
receive an order from the king.

She went alone. There was no one at the palace when she arrived; but
immediately after Northumberland came, attended by Pembroke,
Northampton, Huntingdon, and Arundel. The Earl of Pembroke, as he
approached, knelt to kiss her hand. Lady Northumberland and Lady
Northampton entered, and the duke, as President of the Council, rose
to speak.

"The king," he said, "was no more. A godly life had been followed, as
a consolation to their sorrows, by a godly end, and in leaving the
world he had not forgotten his duty to his subjects. His majesty had
prayed on his death-bed that Almighty God would protect the realm from
false opinions, and especially from his unworthy sister; he had
reflected that both the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth had been cut
off by act of parliament from the succession as illegitimate;[10] the
Lady Mary had been disobedient to her father; she had been again
disobedient to her brother; she was a capital and principal enemy of
God's word; and both she and her sister were bastards born; King Henry
did not intend that the crown should be worn by either of them; King
Edward, therefore, had, before his death, bequeathed {p.006} it to
his cousin the Lady Jane; and, should the Lady Jane die without
children, to her younger sister; and he had entreated the council, for
their honours' sake and for the sake of the realm, to see that his
will was observed."

                   [Footnote 10: La detta maestà haveva ben
                   considerato un atto di Parliamento nel quale fu già
                   deliberato che qualunque volesse riconoscere Maria
                   overo Elizabetha sorelle per heredi della corona
                   fusse tenuto traditore.--Baoardo.]

Northumberland, as he concluded, dropped on his knees; the four lords
knelt with him, and, doing homage to the Lady Jane as queen, they
swore that they would keep their faith or lose their lives in her
defence.

Lady Jane shook, covered her face with her hands, and fell fainting to
the ground. Her first simple grief was for Edward's death; she felt it
as the loss of a dearly loved brother. The weight of her own fortune
was still more agitating; when she came to herself, she cried that it
could not be; the crown was not for her, she could not bear it--she
was not fit for it. Then, knowing nothing of the falsehoods which
Northumberland had told her, she clasped her hands, and, in a
revulsion of feeling, she prayed God that if the great place to which
she was called was indeed justly hers, He would give her grace to
govern for his service and for the welfare of his people.[11]

                   [Footnote 11: Mr. John Gough Nichols, the
                   accomplished editor of so many of the best
                   publications of the Camden Society, throws a doubt
                   on the authenticity of this scene, being unable to
                   find contemporary authority for it. It comes to us,
                   through Baoardo, from Lady Jane herself.]

So passed Sunday, the 9th of July, at Sion House. In London, the hope
of first securing Mary being disappointed, the king's death had been
publicly acknowledged; circulars were sent out to the sheriffs,
mayors, and magistrates in the usual style, announcing the accession
of Queen Jane, and the troops were sworn man by man to the new
sovereign. Sir William Petre and Sir John Cheke waited on the
emperor's ambassador to express a hope that the alteration in the
succession would not affect the good understanding between the courts
of England and Flanders. The preachers were set to work to pacify the
citizens; and, if Scheyfne is to be believed, a blood cement was
designed to strengthen the new throne; and Gardiner, the Duke of
Norfolk, and Lord Courtenay[12] were directed to prepare for death in
three days.[13] But Northumberland would scarcely have risked an act
of gratuitous tyranny. Norfolk, being under attainder, might have been
put to death {p.007} without violation of the _forms_ of law, by
warrant from the crown; but, Gardiner was uncondemned, and Courtenay
had never been accused of crime.

                   [Footnote 12: Edward Lord Courtenay was son of the
                   executed Marquis of Exeter and great grandson of
                   Edward IV. He was thrown into the Tower with his
                   father when a little boy, and in that confinement,
                   in fifteen years, he had grown to manhood. Of him
                   and his fortunes all that need be said will unfold
                   itself.]

                   [Footnote 13: Scheyfne to Charles V., July 10: _MS.
                   Rolls House_.]

The next day, Monday, the 10th of July, the royal barges came down the
Thames from Richmond; and at three o'clock in the afternoon Lady Jane
landed at the broad staircase at the Tower, as queen, in undesired
splendour. A few scattered groups of spectators stood to watch the
arrival; but it appeared, from their silence, that they had been
brought together chiefly by curiosity. As the gates closed, the
heralds-at-arms, with a company of the archers of the guard, rode into
the city, and at the cross in Cheapside, Paul's Cross, and Fleet
Street they proclaimed "that the Lady Mary was unlawfully begotten,
and that the Lady Jane Grey was queen." The ill-humour of London was
no secret, and some demonstration had been looked for in Mary's
favour;[14] but here, again, there was only silence. The heralds cried
"God save the queen!" The archers waved their caps and cheered, but
the crowd looked on impassively. One youth only, Gilbert Potter, whose
name for those few days passed into fame's trumpet, ventured to
exclaim, "The Lady Mary has the better title." Gilbert's master, one
"Ninian Sanders," denounced the boy to the guard, and he was seized.
Yet a misfortune, thought to be providential, in a few hours befell
Ninian Sanders. Going home to his house down the river, in the July
evening, he was overturned and drowned as he was shooting London
Bridge in his wherry; the boatmen, who were the instruments of
Providence, escaped.

                   [Footnote 14: Noailles.]

Nor did the party in the Tower rest their first night there with
perfect satisfaction. In the evening messengers came in from the
eastern counties with news of the Lady Mary, and with letters from
herself. She had written to Renard and Scheyfne to tell them that she
was in good hands, and for the moment was safe. She had proclaimed
herself queen. She had sent addresses to the peers, commanding them on
their allegiance to come to her; and she begged the ambassadors to
tell her instantly whether she might look for assistance from
Flanders; on the active support of the emperor, so far as she could
judge, the movements of her friends would depend.

The ambassadors sent a courier to Brussels for instructions; but,
pending Charles's judgment to the contrary, they thought they had
better leave Mary's appeal unanswered till they could see how events
would turn. There was one rumour current {p.008} indeed that she had
from ten to fifteen thousand men with her; but this they could ill
believe. For themselves, they expected every hour to hear that she had
been taken by Lord Warwick and Lord Robert Dudley, who were gone in
pursuit of her, and had been put to death.[15]

                   [Footnote 15: Renard to Charles V.: _Papiers d'État
                   du Cardinal Granvelle_, vol. iv.]

The lords who were with the new queen were not so confident. They were
in late consultation with the Duchess of Northumberland and the
Duchess of Suffolk, when, after nightfall, a letter was brought in to
them from Mary. The lords ordered the messenger into arrest. The seal
of the packet was broken, and the letter read aloud. It was dated the
day before, Sunday, July 9:--

"My lords," wrote Mary, "we greet you well, and have received sure
advertisement that our deceased brother the king, our late Sovereign
Lord, is departed to God's mercy; which news how they be woeful to our
heart He only knoweth to whose will and pleasure we must and do submit
us and all our wills. But in this so lamentable a case that is, to
wit, now, after his majesty's departure and death, concerning the
crown and governance of this realm of England, that which hath been
provided by act of parliament and the testament and last will of our
dearest father, you know--the realm and the whole world knoweth. The
rolls and records appear, by the authority of the king our said
father, and the king our said brother, and the subjects of this realm;
so that we verily trust there is no true subject that can pretend to
be ignorant thereof; and of our part we have ourselves caused, and as
God shall aid and strengthen us, shall cause, our right and title in
this behalf to be published and proclaimed accordingly.

"And, albeit, in this so weighty a matter, it seemeth strange that the
dying of our said brother upon Thursday at night last past, we
hitherto had no knowledge from you thereof; yet we consider your
wisdom and prudence to be such, that having eftsoons amongst you
debated, pondered, and well-weighed the present case, with our estate,
with your own estate, the commonwealth, and all our honours, we shall
and may conceive great hope and trust, with much assurance in your
loyalty and service; and therefore, for the time, we interpret and
take things not for the worst; and that ye yet will, like noblemen,
work the best. Nevertheless, we are not ignorant of your consultation
to undo the provisions made for our preferment, nor of the great
banded provisions forcible whereunto ye be assembled {p.009} and
prepared, by whom and to what end God and you know; and nature can
fear some evil. But be it that some consideration politic, or
whatsoever thing else, hath moved you thereunto; yet doubt ye not, my
lords, but we can take all these your doings in gracious part, being
also right ready to remit and also pardon the same, with that freely
to eschew bloodshed and vengeance against all those that can or will
intend the same; trusting also assuredly you will take and accept this
grace and virtue in good part as appertaineth, and that we shall not
be enforced to use the service of other our true subjects and friends
which, in this our just and rightful cause, God, in whom our whole
affiance is, shall send us.

"Whereupon, my lords, we require and charge you, and every of you, on
your allegiance, which you owe to God and us, and to none other, that
for our honour and the surety of our realm, only you will employ
yourselves; and forthwith, upon receipt hereof, cause our right and
title to the crown and government of this realm to be proclaimed in
our city of London, and such other places as to your wisdom shall seem
good, and as to this cause appertaineth, not failing hereof, as our
very trust is in you; and this our letter, signed with our own hand,
shall be your sufficient warrant."[16]

                   [Footnote 16: Holinshed.]

The lords, when the letter was read to the end, looked uneasily in
each other's faces. The ladies screamed, sobbed, and were carried off
in hysterics. There was yet time to turn back; and had the Reformation
been, as he pretended, the true concern of the Duke of Northumberland,
he would have brought Mary back himself, bound by conditions which, in
her present danger, she would have accepted. But Northumberland cared
as little for religion as for any other good thing. He was a great
criminal, throwing a stake for a crown; and treason is too conscious
of its guilt to believe retreat from the first step to be possible.

Another blow was in store for him that night, before he laid his head
upon his pillow. Lady Jane, knowing nothing of the letter from Mary,
had retired to her apartment, when the Marquis of Winchester came in
to wish her joy. He had brought the crown with him, which she had not
sent for; he desired her to put it on, and see if it required
alteration. She said it would do very well as it was. He then told her
that, before her coronation, another crown was to be made for her
husband. Lady Jane started; and it seemed as if for the first time the
dreary {p.010} suspicion crossed her mind that she was, after all,
but the puppet of the ambition of the duke to raise his family to the
throne. Winchester retired, and she sat indignant[17] till Guilford
Dudley appeared, when she told him that, young as she was, she knew
that the crown of England was not a thing to be trifled with. There
was no Dudley in Edward's will, and, before he could be crowned, the
consent of Parliament must be first asked and obtained. The
boy-husband went whining to his mother, while Jane sent for Arundel
and Pembroke, and told them that it was not for her to appoint kings.
She would make her husband a duke if he desired it; that was within
her prerogative; but king she would not make him. As she was speaking,
the Duchess of Northumberland rushed in with her son, fresh from the
agitation of Mary's letter. The mother stormed; Guilford cried like a
spoilt child that he would be no duke, he would be a king: and, when
Jane stood firm, the duchess bade him come away, and not share the bed
of an ungrateful and disobedient wife.[18]

                   [Footnote 17: Le quale parole io senti con mio gran
                   dispiacere.--Baoardo.]

                   [Footnote 18: Baoardo.]

The first experience of royalty had brought small pleasure with it.
Dudley's kingship was set aside for the moment, and was soon forgotten
in more alarming matters. To please his mother, or to pacify his
vanity, he was called "Your Grace." He was allowed to preside in the
council, so long as a council remained, and he dined alone[19]--tinsel
distinctions, for which the poor wretch had to pay dearly.

                   [Footnote 19: Se faisoit servir de mesme.--Renard
                   to Charles V.: _MS. Rolls House_.]

The next day (July 11) restored the conspirators to their courage. No
authentic accounts came in of disturbances. London was still quiet; so
quiet, that it was thought safe to nail Gilbert Potter by the ears in
the pillory, and after sufficient suffering, to slice them off with a
knife. Lord Warwick and Lord Robert were still absent, and no news had
come from them--a proof that they were still in pursuit. The duke made
up his mind that Mary was watching only for an opportunity to escape
to Flanders; and the ships in the river, with a thousand men-at-arms
on board them, were sent to watch the Essex coast, and to seize her,
could they find opportunity. Meanwhile he himself penned a reply to
her letter. "The Lady Jane," he said, "by the antient laws of the
realm," and "by letters patent of the late king," signed by himself,
and countersigned by the nobility, was rightful queen of England. The
divorce of Catherine of Arragon from Henry VIII. had been prescribed
by {p.011} the laws of God, pronounced by the Church of England, and
confirmed by act of parliament; the daughter of Catherine was,
therefore, illegitimate, and could not inherit; and the duke warned
her to forbear, at her peril, from molesting her lawful sovereign, or
turning her people from their allegiance. If she would submit and
accept the position of a subject, she should receive every reasonable
attention which it was in the power of the queen to show to her.

During the day rumours of all kinds were flying, but Mary's friends in
London saw no reasonable grounds for hope. Lord Robert was supposed by
Renard[20] to be on his way to the Tower with the princess as his
prisoner; and if she was once within the Tower walls, all hope was
over. It was not till Wednesday morning (July 12) that the duke became
really alarmed. Then at once, from all sides, messengers came in with
unwelcome tidings. The Dudleys had come up with Mary the day before,
as she was on her way from Keninghal to Framlingham. They had dashed
forward upon her escort, but their own men turned sharp round,
declared for the princess, and attempted to seize them; they had been
saved only by the speed of their horses.[21] In the false calm of the
two preceding days, Lord Bath had stolen across the country into
Norfolk. Lord Mordaunt and Lord Wharton had sent their sons; Sir
William Drury, Sir John Skelton, Sir Henry Bedingfield, and many more,
had gone in the same direction. Lord Sussex had declared also for
Mary; and, worse than all, Lord Derby had risen in Cheshire, and was
reported to be marching south with twenty thousand men.[22] Scarcely
were these news digested, when Sir Edmund Peckham, cofferer of the
household, was found to have gone off with the treasure under his
charge. Sir Edward Hastings, Lord Huntingdon's brother, had called out
the musters of Buckinghamshire in Mary's name, and Peckham had joined
him; while Sir Peter Carew, the very hope and stay of the western
Protestants, had proclaimed Mary in the towns of Devonshire.

                   [Footnote 20: Renard to Charles V.: _MS. Rolls
                   House_.]

                   [Footnote 21: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 22: _Queen Jane and Queen Mary._ Renard
                   to Charles V.]

Now, when too late, it was seen how large an error had been committed
in permitting the princess's escape. But it was vain to waste time in
regrets. Her hasty levies, at best, could be but rudely armed; the
duke had trained troops and cannon, and, had he been free to act, with
no enemies but those in the field against him, he had still the best
of the game. But Suffolk and {p.012} Northampton, the least able of
the council, were, nevertheless, the only members of it on whom he
could rely. To whom but to himself could he trust the army which must
meet Mary in the field? If he led the army in person, whom could he
leave in charge of London, the Tower, and Lady Jane? Winchester and
Arundel knew his dilemma, and deliberately took advantage of it. The
guard, when first informed that they were to take the field, refused
to march. After a communication with the Marquis of Winchester, they
withdrew their objections, and professed themselves willing to go.
Northumberland, uneasy at their conduct, or requiring a larger force,
issued a proclamation offering tenpence a day to volunteers who would
go to bring in the Lady Mary.[23] The lists were soon filled, but
filled with the retainers and servants of his secret enemies.[24]

                   [Footnote 23: _Grey Friars' Chronicle._]

                   [Footnote 24: "Ille impigre quidem, utpote cujus
                   res agebatur, proponit magna stipendia; conducit
                   militem partim invitum partim perfidum; constabant
                   enim majori ex parte satellitia nobilium qui
                   secreto Mariæ favebant."--Julius Terentianus to
                   John 'ab Ulmis: _Epistolæ Tigurinæ_, p. 243.]

The men being thus collected, Suffolk was first thought of to lead
them, or else Lord Grey de Wilton;[25] but Suffolk was inefficient,
and his daughter could not bring herself to part with him; Grey was a
good soldier, but he had been a friend of Somerset, and the duke had
tried hard to involve him with Arundel and Paget in Somerset's
ruin.[26] Northampton's truth could have been depended upon, but
Northampton four years before had been defeated by a mob of Norfolk
peasants. Northumberland, the council said, must go himself--"there
was no remedy." No man, on all accounts, could be so fit as he; "he
had achieved the victory in Norfolk once already, and was so feared,
that none durst lift their weapons against him:"[27] Suffolk in his
absence should command the Tower. Had the duke dared, he would have
delayed; but every moment that he remained inactive added to Mary's
strength, and whatever he did he must risk something. He resolved to
go, and as the plot was thickening, he sent Sir Henry Dudley to Paris
to entreat the king to protect Calais against Charles, should the
latter move upon it in his cousin's interest.

                   [Footnote 25: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 26: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 27: _Chronicle of Queen Jane._]

Noailles had assured him that this and larger favours would be granted
without difficulty; while, as neither Renard nor his companions had as
yet acknowledged Lady Jane, and were notoriously in correspondence
with Mary, the French ambassador {p.013} suggested also that he
would do wisely to take the initiative himself, to send Renard his
passports, and commit the country to war with the emperor.[28]
Northumberland would not venture the full length to which Noailles
invited him; but he sent Sir John Mason and Lord Cobham to Renard,
with an intimation that the English treason laws were not to be
trifled with. If he and his companions dared to meddle in matters
which did not concern them, their privileges as ambassadors should not
protect them from extremity of punishment.[29]

                   [Footnote 28: Noailles, vol. ii.]

                   [Footnote 29: Ajoutant menace de la rigeur de leurs
                   lois barbares.--Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

Newmarket was chosen for the rendezvous of the army. The men were to
go down in companies, in whatever way they could travel most
expeditiously, with the guns and ammunition waggons. The duke himself
intended to set out on Friday at dawn. In his calculations of the
chances, hope still predominated--his cannon would give him the
advantage in the field, and he trusted to the Protestant spirit in
London to prevent a revolution in his absence. But he took the
precaution of making the council entangle themselves more completely
by taking out a commission under the Great Seal, as general of the
army, which they were forced to sign; and before he left the Tower, he
made a parting appeal to their good faith. If he believed they would
betray him, he said, he could still provide for his own safety; but,
as they were well aware that Lady Jane was on the throne by no will of
her own, but through his influence and theirs, so he trusted her to
their honours to keep the oaths which they had sworn. "They were all
in the same guilt," one of them answered; "none could excuse
themselves." Arundel especially wished the duke God speed upon his
way, and regretted only that he was not to accompany him to the
field.[30]

                   [Footnote 30: _Chronicle of Queen Jane._]

This was on Thursday evening. Northumberland slept that night at
Whitehall. The following morning he rode out of London, accompanied by
his four sons, Northampton, Grey, and about six hundred men. The
streets were thronged with spectators, but all observed the same
ominous silence with which they had received the heralds'
proclamation. "The people press to see us," the duke said, "but not
one saith God speed us."[31]

                   [Footnote 31: Ibid.]

The principal conspirator was now out of the way; his own particular
creatures--Sir Thomas and Sir Henry Palmer, and {p.014} Sir John
Gates, who had commanded the Tower guard, had gone with him.
Northampton was gone. The young Dudleys were gone all but Guilford.
Suffolk alone remained of the faction definitely attached to the duke;
and the duke was marching to the destruction which they had prepared
for him. But prudence still warned those who were loyal to Mary to
wait before they declared themselves; the event was still uncertain;
and the disposition of the Earl of Pembroke might not yet, perhaps,
have been perfectly ascertained.

Pembroke, in the black volume of appropriations, was the most deeply
compromised. Pembroke, in Wilts and Somerset, where his new lands lay,
was hated for his oppression of the poor, and had much to fear from a
Catholic sovereign, could a Catholic sovereign obtain the reality as
well as the name of power; Pembroke, so said Northumberland, had been
the first to propose the conspiracy to him, while his eldest son had
married Catherine Grey. But, as Northumberland's designs began to
ripen, he had endeavoured to steal from the court; he was a
distinguished soldier, yet he was never named to command the army
which was to go against Mary; Lord Herbert's marriage was outward and
nominal merely--a form, which had not yet become a reality, and never
did. Although Pembroke was the first of the council to do homage to
Jane, Northumberland evidently doubted him. He was acting and would
continue to act for his own personal interests only. With his vast
estates and vast hereditary influence in South Wales and on the
Border, he could bring a larger force into the field than any other
single nobleman in England; and he could purchase the secure
possession of his acquisitions by a well-timed assistance to Mary as
readily as by lending his strength to buttress the throne of her
rival.

Of the rest of the council, Winchester and Arundel had signed the
letters patent with a deliberate intention of deserting or betraying
Northumberland, whenever a chance should present itself, and of
carrying on their secret measures in Mary's favour[32] {p.015} with
greater security. The other noblemen in the Tower perhaps imperfectly
understood each other. Cranmer had taken part unwillingly with Lady
Jane; but he meant to keep his promise, having once given it. Bedford
had opposed the duke up to the signature, and might be supposed to
adhere to his original opinion; but he was most likely hesitating,
while Lord Russell had been trusted with the command of the garrison
at Windsor. Sir Thomas Cheyne and Shrewsbury might be counted among
Mary's friends; the latter certainly. Of the three secretaries,
Cecil's opposition had put his life in jeopardy; Petre was the friend
and confidant of Paget, and would act as Paget should advise; Cheke, a
feeble enthusiast, was committed to the duke.

                   [Footnote 32: "Aliqui subscripserunt, id quod
                   postea compertum est, ut facilius fallerent
                   Northumbrum, cujus consilio hæc omnia videbant
                   fieri et tegerent conspirationem quam adornabant in
                   auxilium Mariæ."--Julius Terentianus to John ab
                   Ulmis: _Epistolæ Tigurinæ_, p. 242. John Knox
                   allowed his vehemence to carry him too far against
                   the Marquis of Winchester, who unquestionably was
                   not one of those who advised the scheme of
                   Northumberland. In the "aliqui" of Julius
                   Terentianus, the letters of Renard, of Scheyfne,
                   enable us to identify both him and Arundel; but
                   there must have been many more, in the council or
                   out of it, who were acting in concert with them.]

The task of bringing the council together was undertaken by Cecil.
Cecil and Winchester worked on Bedford; and Bedford made himself
responsible for his son, for the troops at Windsor, and generally for
the western counties. The first important step was to readmit Paget to
the council. Fresh risings were reported in Northamptonshire and
Lincolnshire;[33] Sir John Williams was proclaiming Mary round Oxford;
and on Friday night or Saturday morning (July 15) news came from the
fleet which might be considered decisive as to the duke's prospects.
The vessels, so carefully equipped, which left the Thames on the 12th,
had been driven into Yarmouth Harbour by stress of weather. Sir Henry
Jerningham was in the town raising men for Mary; and knowing that the
crews had been pressed, and that there had been desertions among the
troops before they were embarked,[34] he ventured boldly among the
ships. "Do you want our captains?" some one said to him. "Yea, marry,"
was the answer. "Then they shall go with you," the men shouted, "or
they shall go to the bottom." Officers, sailors, troops, all declared
for Queen Mary, and landed with their arms and artillery. The report
was borne upon the winds; it was known in a few hours in London; it
was known in the duke's army, which was now close to Cambridge, and
was the signal for the premeditated mutiny. "The noblemen's tenants
refused to serve their lords against Queen Mary."[35] Northumberland
sent a courier at full speed to the council for reinforcements. The
courier returned "with but a slender answer."[36]

                   [Footnote 33: Cecil's Submission, printed by
                   Tytler, vol. ii.]

                   [Footnote 34: Scheyfne to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 35: _Chronicle of Queen Jane._]

                   [Footnote 36: Ibid.]

The lords in London, however, were still under the eyes of the Tower
garrison, who watched them narrowly. Their first {p.016} meeting to
form their plans was within the Tower walls, and Arundel said "he
liked not the air."[37] Pembroke and Cheyne attempted to escape, but
failed to evade the guard; Winchester made an excuse to go to his own
house, but he was sent for and brought back at midnight. Though Mary
might succeed, they might still lose their own lives, which they were
inclined to value.

                   [Footnote 37: Cecil's Submission: Tytler, vol. ii.]

On Sunday, the 16th, the preachers again exerted themselves. Ridley
shrieked against Mary at Paul's Cross;[38] John Knox, more wisely, at
Amersham, in Buckinghamshire, foretold the approaching retribution
from the giddy ways of the past years; Buckinghamshire, Catholic and
Protestant, was arming to the teeth; and he was speaking at the peril
of his life among the troopers of Sir Edward Hastings.

                   [Footnote 38: Stow.]

"Oh England!" cried the saddened Reformer, "now is God's wrath kindled
against thee--now hath he begun to punish as he hath threatened by his
true prophets and messengers. He hath taken from thee the crown of thy
glory, and hath left thee without honour, and this appeareth to be
only the beginning of sorrows. The heart, the tongue, the hand of one
Englishman is bent against another, and division is in the realm,
which is a sign of desolation to come. Oh, England, England! if thy
mariners and thy governors shall consume one another, shalt not thou
suffer shipwreck? Oh England, alas! these plagues are poured upon thee
because thou wouldst not know the time of thy most gentle
visitation."[39]

                   [Footnote 39: Account of a Sermon at Amersham:
                   _Admonition to the Faithful in England_, by John
                   Knox.]

At Cambridge, on the same day, another notable man preached--Edwin
Sandys, then Protestant Vice-Chancellor of the University, and
afterwards Archbishop of York. Northumberland the preceding evening
brought his mutinous troops into the town. He sent for Parker, Lever,
Bill, and Sandys to sup with him, and told them he required their
prayers, or he and his friends were like to be "made deacons of."[40]
Sandys, the vice-chancellor, must address the university the next
morning from the pulpit.

                   [Footnote 40: Some jest, perhaps, upon a shorn
                   crown; at any rate, a euphemism for decapitation;
                   for Foxe, who tells the story, says, "and even so
                   it came to pass, for he and Sir John Gates, who was
                   then at table, were made deacons ere it was long
                   after on the Tower Hill."--Foxe, vol. viii. p.
                   590.]

Sandys rose at three o'clock in the summer twilight, took his Bible,
and prayed with closed eyes that he might open at a {p.017} fitting
text. His eyes, when he lifted them, were resting on the 16th of the
1st of Joshua: "The people answered Joshua, saying, All thou
commandest us we will do; and whithersoever thou sendest us we will
go; according as we hearkened unto Moses, so will we hearken unto
thee, only the Lord thy God be with thee as he was with Moses."

The application was obvious. Edward was Moses, the duke was Joshua;
and if a sermon could have saved the cause, Lady Jane would have been
secure upon her throne.[41]

                   [Footnote 41: Foxe, vol. viii. p. 590.]

But the comparison, if it held at all, held only in its least
agreeable features. The deliverers of England from the Egyptian
bondage of the Papacy had led the people out into a wilderness where
the manna had been stolen by the leaders, and there were no tokens of
a promised land. To the universities the Reformation had brought with
it desolation. To the people of England it had brought misery and
want. The once open hand was closed; the once open heart was hardened;
the ancient loyalty of man to man was exchanged for the scuffling of
selfishness; the change of faith had brought with it no increase of
freedom, and less of charity. The prisons were crowded, as before,
with sufferers for opinion, and the creed of a thousand years was made
a crime by a doctrine of yesterday; monks and nuns wandered by hedge
and highway, as missionaries of discontent, and pointed with bitter
effect to the fruits of the new belief, which had been crimsoned in
the blood of thousands of English peasants. The English people were
not yet so much in love with wretchedness that they would set aside
for the sake of it a princess whose injuries pleaded for her, whose
title was affirmed by act of parliament. In the tyranny under which
the nation was groaning, the moderate men of all creeds looked to the
accession of Mary as to the rolling away of some bad black nightmare.

On Monday Northumberland made another effort to move forward. His
troops followed him as far as Bury, and then informed him decisively
that they would not bear arms against their lawful sovereign. He fell
back on Cambridge, and again wrote to London for help. As a last
resource, Sir Andrew Dudley, instructed, it is likely, by his brother,
gathered up a hundred thousand crowns' worth of plate and jewels from
the treasury in the Tower, and started for France to interest
Henry--to bribe him, it was said, by a promise of Guisnes and
Calais--to send an army into England.[42] The duke foresaw, and dared
{p.018} the indignation of the people; but he had left himself no
choice except between treason to the country or now inevitable
destruction.[43] When he called in the help of France he must have
known well that his ally, with a successful army in England, would
prevent indeed the accession of Mary Tudor, but as surely would tear
in pieces the paper title of the present queen and snatch the crown
for his own Mary, the Queen of Scots, and the bride of the Dauphin.

                   [Footnote 42: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 43: La peine où se retreuve ledict due
                   est qu'il ne se ose fier en personne, pour n'avoir
                   faict où donné occasion à personne de l'aimer,--que
                   a meu envoyer en France le Millor Dudley son frère,
                   pour l'assurer du secours que luy a esté promis par
                   le roy de France, et le prier en faire
                   demonstration pour intimider ceulx de par deça. Car
                   encores qu'il entende qu'il dégoustera davantage
                   ceulx du pays pour y amener François, si est ce
                   craignant d'estre rebouté de son emprinse, et
                   d'estre massacré du peuple et sa generation, et que
                   ma dicte dame Marie ne parvienne à la couronne, il
                   ne respectera chose quelconque: plustôt donnera il
                   pied aux François ou peys: tel est le couraige
                   d'ung homme tiran, obstiné, et resolu, signamment
                   quant il est question de se démesurer pour
                   regner.--Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle Papers_,
                   vol. iv. p. 38.]

But the council was too quick for Dudley. A secret messenger followed
or attended him to Calais, where he was arrested, the treasure
recovered, and his despatches taken from him.

The counter-revolution could now be accomplished without bloodshed and
without longer delay. On Wednesday the 19th July word came that the
Earl of Oxford had joined Mary. A letter was written to Lord Rich
admonishing him not to follow Oxford's example, but to remain true to
Queen Jane, which the council were required to sign. Had they refused,
they would probably have been massacred.[44] Towards the middle of the
day, Winchester, Arundel, Pembroke, Shrewsbury, Bedford, Cheyne,
Paget, Mason, and Petre found means of passing the gates, and made
their way to Baynard's Castle,[45] where they sent for the mayor, the
aldermen, and other great persons of the city. When they were all
assembled, Arundel was the first to speak.

                   [Footnote 44: The letter is among the _Lansdowne
                   MSS._ It is in the hand of Sir John Cheke, and
                   dated July 19. The signatures are Cranmer,
                   Goodrich, Winchester, Bedford, Suffolk, Arundel,
                   Shrewsbury, Pembroke, Darcy, Paget, Cheyne, Cotton,
                   Petre, Cheke, Baker, Bowes.]

                   [Footnote 45: Fronting the river, about
                   three-quarters of a mile above London Bridge. The
                   original castle of Baynard the Norman had fallen
                   into ruins at the end of the fifteenth century.
                   Henry VII. built a palace on the site of it, which
                   retained the name.]

The country, he said, was on the brink of civil war, and if they
continued to support the pretensions of Lady Jane Grey to the crown,
civil war would inevitably break out. In a few more days or weeks the
child would be in arms against the {p.019} father, the brother
against the brother; the quarrels of religion would add fury to the
struggle; the French would interfere on one side, the Spaniards on the
other, and in such a conflict the triumph of either party would be
almost equally injurious to the honour, unity, freedom, and happiness
of England. The friends of the commonwealth, in the face of so
tremendous a danger, would not obstinately persist in encouraging the
pretensions of a faction. It was for them where they sate to decide if
there should be peace or war, and he implored them, for the sake of
the country, to restore the crown to her who was their lawful
sovereign.

Pembroke rose next. The words of Lord Arundel, he said, were true and
good, and not to be gainsaid. What others thought he knew not; for
himself, he was so convinced, that he would fight in the quarrel with
any man; and if words are not enough, he cried, flashing his sword out
of the scabbard, "this blade shall make Mary Queen, or I will lose my
life."[46]

                   [Footnote 46: E quando le persuasioni del conte
                   d'Arundel non habiano luogo appresso di voi, o
                   questa spada farà Reina Maria, o perderò io la
                   vita.--Baoardo.]

Not a voice was raised for the Twelfth-day Queen, as Lady Jane was
termed, in scornful pity, by Noailles. Some few persons thought that,
before they took a decisive step, they should send notice to
Northumberland, and give him time to secure his pardon. But it was
held to be a needless stretch of consideration; Shrewsbury and Mason
hastened off to communicate with Renard;[47] while a hundred and fifty
men were marched directly to the Tower gates, and the keys were
demanded in the queen's name.

                   [Footnote 47: Renard had been prepared, by a
                   singular notice, to expect their coming, and to
                   suspect their good faith. Ce matin, he wrote,
                   relating the counter-revolution to the Emperor; ce
                   matin, à bonne heure, il y a venu une vieille femme
                   de soixante ans en nostre logis pour nous advertir
                   que l'on deust faire sçavoir à madicte dame Marie
                   qu'elle se donna garde de ceulx de conseil car its
                   la vouloient tromper soubz couleur de luy monstrer
                   affection.--_Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

It is said that Suffolk was unprepared: but the goodness of his heart
and the weakness of his mind alike saved him from attempting a useless
resistance: the gates were opened, and the unhappy father rushed to
his daughter's room. He clutched at the canopy under which she was
sitting, and tore it down; she was no longer queen, he said, and such
distinctions were not for one of her station. He then told her briefly
of the revolt of the council. She replied that his present words were
more welcome to her than those in which he had advised her to accept
{p.020} the crown;[48] her reign being at an end, she asked
innocently if she might leave the Tower and go home.[49] But the Tower
was a place not easy to leave, save by one route too often travelled.

                   [Footnote 48: Baoardo to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 49: Narrative of Edward Underhill:
                   _Harleian MSS._ 425.]

Meanwhile the lords, with the mayor and the heralds, went to the Cross
at Cheapside to proclaim Mary Queen. Pembroke himself stood out to
read; and this time there was no reason to complain of a silent
audience. He could utter but one sentence before his voice was lost in
the shout of joy which thundered into the air. "God save the queen,"
"God save the queen," rung out from tens of thousands of throats. "God
save the queen," cried Pembroke himself, when he had done, and flung
up his jewelled cap and tossed his purse among the crowd. The glad
news spread like lightning through London, and the pent-up hearts of
the citizens poured themselves out in a torrent of exultation. Above
the human cries, the long-silent church-bells clashed again into life;
first began St. Paul's, where happy chance had saved them from
destruction; then, one by one, every peal which had been spared caught
up the sound; and through the summer evening and the summer night, and
all the next day, the metal tongues from tower and steeple gave voice
to England's gladness. The lords, surrounded by the shouting
multitude, walked in state to St. Paul's, where the choir again sang a
Te Deum, and the unused organ rolled out once more its mighty volume
of music. As they came out again, at the close of the service, the
apprentices were heaping piles of wood for bonfires at the cross-ways.
The citizens were spreading tables in the streets, which their wives
were loading with fattest capons and choicest wines; there was free
feasting for all comers; and social jealousies, religious hatreds,
were forgotten for the moment in the ecstasy of the common delight.
Even the retainers of the Dudleys, in fear or joy, tore their badges
out of their caps, and trampled on them.[50]

                   [Footnote 50: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ All authorities agree in the general
                   description of the state of London. Renard,
                   Noailles, and Baoardo are the most explicit and
                   interesting.]

At a night session of the council, a letter was written to
Northumberland, which Cranmer, Suffolk, and Sir John Cheke consented
to sign, ordering him in the name of Queen Mary to lay down his arms.
If he complied, the lords undertook to intercede for his pardon. If he
refused, they said that they {p.021} would hold him as a traitor, and
spend their lives in the field against him.[51]

                   [Footnote 51: This letter is among the _Tanner
                   MSS._ in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. It was
                   printed by Stowe.]

While a pursuivant bore the commands of the council to the duke,
Arundel and Paget undertook to carry to Mary at Framlingham their
petition for forgiveness, in which they declared that they had been
innocent at heart of any share in the conspiracy,[52] and had only
delayed coming forward in her favour from a desire to prevent
bloodshed.

                   [Footnote 52: "Our bounden duties most humbly
                   remembered to your excellent Majesty. It may like
                   the same to understand, that we, your most humble,
                   faithful, and obedient subjects, having always, God
                   we take to witness, remained your Highness's true
                   and humble subjects in our hearts, ever since the
                   death of our late Sovereign Lord and master your
                   Highness's brother, whom God pardon, and seeing
                   hitherto no possibility to utter our determination
                   without great destruction and bloodshed, both of
                   ourselves and others, till this time, have this day
                   proclaimed in your city of London your Majesty to
                   be our true natural sovereign liege Lady and Queen;
                   most humbly beseeching your Majesty to pardon and
                   remit our former infirmities, and most graciously
                   to accept our meanings, which have been ever to
                   serve your Highness truly, and so shall remain with
                   all our power and force, to the effusion of our
                   blood, as these bearers, our very good Lords, the
                   Earls of Arundel and Paget, can, and be ready more
                   particularly to declare--to whom it may please your
                   excellent Majesty to give firm credence; and thus
                   we do and shall daily pray to Almighty God for the
                   preservation of your most royal person long to
                   reign over us."--_Lansdowne MSS._ 3. Endorsed, in
                   Cecil's hand, "Copy of the Letter of the Lords to
                   the Queen Mary from Baynard's Castle." The
                   signatures are, unfortunately, wanting.]

The two lords immediately mounted and galloped off into the darkness,
followed by thirty horse, leaving the lights of illuminated London
gleaming behind them.

The duke's position was already desperate: on the 18th, before the
proclamation in London, Mary had felt herself strong enough to send
orders to the Mayor of Cambridge for his arrest;[53] and, although he
had as yet been personally unmolested, he was powerless in the midst
of an army which was virtually in Mary's service. The news of the
revolution in London first reached him by a private hand. He at once
sent for Sandys, and, going with him to the market cross, he declared,
after one violent clutch at his beard, that he had acted under orders
from the council; the council, he understood, had changed their minds,
and he would change his mind also; therefore he cried, "God save Queen
Mary," and with a strained effort at a show of satisfaction, he, too,
like Pembroke, threw up his cap. The queen, he said to Sandys, was a
merciful woman, and there would be a general pardon. "Though the queen
grant you a {p.022} pardon," Sandys answered, "the lords never will;
you can hope nothing from those who now rule."[54]

                   [Footnote 53: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 54: Foxe, vol. viii.]

It was true that he could hope nothing--the hatred of the whole
nation, which before his late treasons he had brought upon himself,
would clamour to the very heavens for judgment against him. An hour
after the proclamation of Mary (July 20), Rouge-cross herald arrived
with the lords' letter from London. An order at the same time was read
to the troops informing them that they were no longer under the duke's
command, and an alderman of the town then ventured to execute the
queen's warrant for his arrest. Northumberland was given in charge to
a guard of his own soldiers; he protested, however, that the council
had sent no instructions for his detention; and in some uncertainty,
or perhaps in compassion for his fate, the soldiers obeyed him once
more, and let him go. It was then night. He intended to fly; but he
put it off till the morning, and in the morning his chance was gone.
Before he could leave his room he found himself face to face with
Arundel, who, after delivering the council's letter to the queen, had
hastened to Cambridge to secure him.

Northumberland, who, while innocent of crime, had faced death on land
and sea like a soldier and a gentleman, flung himself at the earl's
feet. "Be good to me, for the love of God," he cried; "consider I have
done nothing but by the consent of you and the council." He knew what
kind of consent he had extorted from the council. "My lord," said
Arundel, "I am sent thither by the Queen's Majesty; and in her name I
do arrest you."--"I obey, my lord," the duke replied; "yet show me
mercy, knowing the case as it is."--"My lord," was the cold answer,
"you should have sought for mercy sooner; I must do according to my
commandment."[55]

                   [Footnote 55: Holinshed.]

At the same moment Sandys was paying the penalty for his sermon. The
university, in haste to purge itself of its heretical elements, met
soon after sunrise to depose their vice-chancellor. Dr. Sandys, who
had gone for an early stroll among the meadows to meditate on his
position, hearing the congregation-bell ringing, resolved, like a
brave man, to front his fortune; he walked to the senate-house,
entered, and took his seat. "A rabble of Papists" instantly surrounded
him. He tried to speak, but the masters of arts shouted "Traitor;"
rough hands shook or dragged him from his chair: and the impatient
theologian, in sudden heat, drew his dagger, and "would have done a
mischief {p.023} with it," had not some of his friends disarmed
him.[56] He, too, was handed over to a guard, lashed to the back of a
lame horse, and carried to London.

                   [Footnote 56: Foxe, vol. viii. pp. 591-2.]

Mary, meanwhile, notwithstanding the revolution in her favour,
remained a few more days at Framlingham, either suspicious of
treachery or uncertain whether there might not be another change. But
she was assured rapidly that the danger was at an end by the haste
with which the lords and gentlemen who were compromised sought their
pardon at her feet. On the 21st and 22nd Clinton, Grey, Fitzgerald,
Ormond, Fitzwarren, Sir Henry Sidney, and Sir James Crofts presented
themselves and received forgiveness. Cecil wrote, explaining his
secret services, and was taken into favour. Lord Robert and Lord
Ambrose Dudley, Northampton and a hundred other gentlemen--Sir Thomas
Wyatt among them--who had accompanied the duke to Bury, were not so
fortunate. The queen would not see them, and they were left under
arrest. Ridley set out for Norfolk, also, to confess his offences;
but, before he arrived at the court, he was met by a warrant for his
capture, and carried back a prisoner to the Tower.

The conspiracy was crushed, and crushed, happily, without bloodshed.
The inquiry into its origin, and the punishment of the guilty, could
be carried out at leisure. There was one matter, however, which
admitted of no delay. Mary's first anxiety, on feeling her crown
secure, was the burial of her dead brother, who, through all these
scenes, was still lying in his bed in his room at Greenwich. In her
first letter to the Imperial ambassadors, the day after the arrival of
Arundel and Paget at the court, she spoke of this as her greatest
care; to their infinite alarm, she announced her intention of
inaugurating her reign with Requiem and Dirige, and a mass for the
repose of his soul.

Their uneasiness requires explanation.

While on matters of religion there was in England almost every variety
of opinion, there was a very general consent that the queen should not
marry a foreigner. The dread that Mary might form a connection with
some continental prince, had formed the strongest element in
Northumberland's cause; all the Catholics, except the insignificant
faction who desired the restoration of the Papal authority,[57] all
the moderate Protestants, {p.024} wished well to her, but wished to
see her married to some English nobleman; and, while her accession was
still uncertain, the general opinion had already fixed upon a husband
for her in the person of her cousin Edward Courtenay, the imprisoned
son of the Marquis of Exeter. The interest of the public in the long
confinement of this young nobleman had invested him with all imaginary
graces of mind and body. He was the grandchild of a Plantagenet, and a
representative of the White Rose. He had suffered from the tyranny,
and was supposed to have narrowly escaped murder at the hands of the
man whom all England most hated. Nature, birth, circumstances, all
seemed to point to him as the king-consort of the realm.[58] The
emperor had thought of Mary for his son; and it has been seen that the
fear of such an alliance induced the French to support Northumberland.
To prevent the injury which the report, if credited in England, would
have done to her cause, Mary, on her first flight to Keninghal,
empowered Renard to assure the council that she had no thought at all
of marrying a stranger. The emperor and the bishop of Arras, in
assuring Sir Philip Hoby that the French intended to strike for the
Queen of Scots, declared that, for themselves they wished only to see
the queen settled in her own realm, as her subjects desired; and
especially they would prevent her either from attempting innovations
in religion without their consent, or from marrying against their
approbation.[59]

                   [Footnote 57: I must again remind my readers of the
                   distinction between Catholic and Papist.
                   Three-quarters of the English people were
                   Catholics; that is, they were attached to the
                   hereditary and traditionary doctrines of the
                   Church. They detested, as cordially as the
                   Protestants, the interference of a foreign power,
                   whether secular or spiritual, with English
                   liberty.]

                   [Footnote 58: "Adversity is a good thing. I trust
                   in the Lord to live to see the day her Grace to
                   marry such an one as knoweth what adversity
                   meaneth; so shall we have both a merciful queen and
                   king to their subjects; and would to God I might
                   live to have another virtuous Edward."--Epistle of
                   Poor Pratt to Gilbert Potter, written July 13:
                   _Queen Jane and Queen Mary_, Appendix, p. 116. The
                   occasion of this curious epistle was the punishment
                   of Gilbert on the pillory. The writer was a
                   Protestant, and evidently thought the Reformation
                   in greater danger from Northumberland than Mary.
                   "We have had many prophets and true preachers," he
                   said, "which did declare that our king shall be
                   taken away from us, and a tyrant shall reign. The
                   gospel shall be plucked away, and the right heir
                   shall be dispossessed; and all for our
                   unthankfulness. And, thinkest thou not, Gilbert,
                   this world is now come? Yea! truly! and what shall
                   follow, if we repent not in time? The same God will
                   take from us the virtuous Lady Mary our lawful
                   Queen, and send such a cruel Pharaoh as the Ragged
                   Bear to rule us, which shall pull and poll us, and
                   utterly destroy us, and bring us in great
                   calamities and miseries."]

                   [Footnote 59: _MS. Harleian_, 523.]

But the emperor's disinterestedness was only the result of his
despondency. While the crisis lasted, neither Charles nor Henry of
France saw their way to a distinct course of action. Charles, on the
20th of July, ignorant of the events in London, {p.025} had written
to Renard, despairing of Mary's success. Jane Grey he would not
recognise; the Queen of Scots, he thought, would shortly be on the
English throne. Henry, considering, at any rate, that he might catch
something in troubled waters, volunteered to Lord William Howard,[60]
in professed compliance with the demands of Northumberland, to
garrison Guisnes and Calais for him. Howard replied that the French
might come to Calais if they desired, but their reception might not be
to their taste.[61] The revolution of the 19th altered the aspect of
the situation both at the courts of Paris and of Brussels. The
accession of Mary would be no injury to France, provided she could be
married in England; and Henry at once instructed Noailles to
congratulate the council on her accession. Noailles himself indeed
considered, that, should she take Courtenay for a husband, the change
might, after all, be to their advantage. The emperor, on the other
hand, began to think again of his original scheme. Knowing that the
English were sincere in their detestation of the Papacy, and
imperfectly comprehending the insular distinction between general
attachment to Catholic tradition and indifference to Catholic unity,
he supposed that the country really was, on the whole, determined in
its adherence to the reformed opinions. But the political alliance was
still of infinite importance to him; and therefore he was anxious
beyond everything that the princess whom he intended to persuade to
break her word about her marriage should be discreet and conciliatory
about religion. He lost not a moment, after hearing that she was
proclaimed queen, in sending her his congratulations; but he sent with
them an earnest admonition to be cautious; to be content with the free
exercise for herself of her own creed, to take no step whatever
without the sanction of parliament, and to listen to no one who would
advise her, of her own authority, to set aside the Act of Uniformity.
Her first duty was to provide for the quiet of the realm; and she must
endeavour, by prudence and moderation, to give reasonable satisfaction
to her subjects of all opinions. Above all things, let her remember to
be a good Englishwoman (_bonne Anglaise_).[62]

                   [Footnote 60: Governor of Calais.]

                   [Footnote 61: Noailles.]

                   [Footnote 62: Charles V. to Renard, July 22:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

It was, in consequence, with no light anxiety that Renard learnt from
Mary her intention of commencing her reign with an act which was so
far at variance with the emperor's advice, and which would at once
display the colours of a party. To give the late king a public funeral
with a ceremonial forbidden {p.026} by the law, would be a strain of
the prerogative which could not fail to create jealousy even among
those to whom the difference between a Latin mass and an English
service was not absolutely vital; and the judicious latitudinarianism
to which the lay statesmen of the better sort were inclining, would
make them dread the appearance of a disposition that would encourage
the revolutionists. She owed her crown to the Protestants as well as
to the Catholics. If she broke the law to please the prejudices of the
latter, Renard was warned that her present popularity would not be of
long continuance.[63]

                   [Footnote 63: Elle sera odieuse, suspecte, et
                   dangereuse.--Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Yet, as the ambassador trembled to know, a carelessness of
consequences and an obstinate perseverance in a course which she
believed to be right were the principal features in Mary's character.
He wrote to her while she was still at Framlingham, using every
argument which ought, as he considered, to prevail. He reminded her of
the long and unavailing struggle of the emperor to bring back Germany
out of heresy, where the obstinacy of the Romanists had been as
mischievous to him as the fanaticism of the Lutherans. "Her duty to
God was of course the first thing to be considered; but at such a time
prudence was a part of that duty. The Protestant heresies had taken a
hold deep and powerful upon her subjects. In London alone there were
fifteen thousand French, Flemish, and German refugees, most of them
headstrong and ungovernable enthusiasts. The country dreaded any fresh
convulsions, and her majesty should remember that she had instructed
him to tell the council that she was suspected unjustly, and had no
thought of interfering with the existing settlement of the realm."[64]

                   [Footnote 64: Renard to Queen Mary, copy enclosed
                   to Charles V.: _Rolls House MSS._]

With all his efforts, however, Renard could but bring the queen to
consent to a few days' delay; and fearing that she would return to her
purpose, he sent to the emperor a copy of his letter, which he urged
him to follow up. Charles on the 29th replied again, lauding the
ambassador's caution, and suggesting an argument more likely to weigh
with his cousin than the soundest considerations of public policy.
Edward had lived and died in heresy, and the Catholic services were
intended only for the faithful sons of the Church.[65] He desired
{p.027} Renard to remind her that those who had been her most
valuable friends were known to hold opinions far from orthodox; and he
once more implored her to be guided by parliament, and to take care
that the parliament was free. She had asked whether she should imitate
Northumberland and nominate the members of the House of Commons. He
cautioned her against so dangerous an example; he advised her to let
the counties and towns send deputies of their own choice; and if the
writs were sent into Cornwall and the northern counties, which had
remained most constant to the Catholic religion, these places might be
expected to return persons who would support her own sentiments.[66]

                   [Footnote 65: Vous avez tres bien faict de
                   desconseillier à la dicte Royne qu'elle fist les
                   obsèques du feu Roy, ce qu'elle peult tant plus
                   delaisser avecque le repos de sa conscience,
                   puisque comme escripvez il est décedé soustenant
                   jusques à la fin, selon, qu'il avoit esté persuadé
                   de depuis sa jeunesse, les opinions de desvoyez de
                   nostre ancienne religion: par ou l'on ne peult sans
                   scrupule luy faire l'enterrement et obsèques
                   accoustumez en nostre dicte religion. Et est bien
                   que l'ayez persuadé par vostre dicte lettre à la
                   dicte dilation.--Charles V. to Renard, July 29:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

                   [Footnote 66: Et il seroit a esperer que y
                   appellant ceulx du Noort et de Cornuailles avec les
                   autres comme ce sont ceulx qui sont demeurez plus
                   ferme en la religion, et qui ont démonstré plus
                   d'affection en son endroit qu'elle trouveroit
                   envers iceulx pour tout ce qu'elle vouldroit
                   ordonner plus de faveur.--Ibid.]

If the emperor had been equally earnest in urging Mary to consult the
wishes of her subjects on her marriage, he would have been a truer
friend to her than he proved to be. But prudential arguments produced
no effect on the eager queen; Renard had warned her not to resist
Northumberland; she had acted on her own judgment, and Northumberland
was a prisoner, and she was on the throne. By her own will she was
confident that she could equally well restore the mass, and in good
time the pope's authority. The religious objection to the funeral was
more telling, and on this point she hesitated. Meantime she began to
move slowly towards London, and at the end of the month the reached
her old house of Newhall in Essex, where she rested till the
preparations were complete for her entry into the city.

The first point on which she had now to make up her mind concerned the
persons with whom she was to carry on the government. The emperor was
again clear in his advice, which here she found herself obliged to
follow. She was forced to leave undisturbed in their authorities such
of her brother's late ministers as had contributed to the revolution
in her favour. Derby, Sussex, Bath, Oxford, who had hurried to her
support at Framlingham, were her loyal subjects, whom she could afford
to neglect, because she could depend upon their fidelity. Pembroke and
Winchester, Arundel and Shrewsbury, Bedford, {p.028} Cobham, Cheyne,
Petre, too powerful to affront, too uncertain to be trusted as
subjects, she could only attach to herself by maintaining in their
offices and emoluments. She would restore the Duke of Norfolk to the
council; Gardiner should hold office again; and she could rely on the
good faith of Paget, the ablest, as well as the most honest, of all
the professional statesmen. But Norfolk was old, and the
latitudinarian Paget and the bigoted Gardiner bore each other no good
will; so that, when the queen had leisure to contemplate her position,
it did not promise to be an easy one. She would have to govern with
the assistance of men who were gorged with the spoils of the church,
suspected of heresy, and at best indifferent to religion.

In Mary's absence, the lords in London carried on the government as
they could on their own responsibility. On the 21st Courtenay was
released from the Tower. Gardiner was offered liberty, but he waited
to accept it from the queen's own hand. He rejoined the council,
however, and on the first or second day of his return to the board, he
agitated their deliberations by requiring the restoration of his house
in Southwark, which had been appropriated to the Marquis of
Northampton, and by reminding Pembroke that he was in possession of
estates which had been stolen from the See of Winchester.

On the 25th Northumberland and Lord Ambrose Dudley were brought in
from Cambridge, escorted by Grey and Arundel, with four hundred of the
guard. Detachments of troops were posted all along the streets from
Bishopsgate, where the duke would enter, to the Tower, to prevent the
mob from tearing him in pieces. It was but twelve days since he had
ridden out from that gate in the splendour of his power; he was now
assailed from all sides with yells and execrations; bareheaded, with
cap in hand, he bowed to the crowd as he rode on, as if to win some
compassion from them; but so recent a humility could find no favour.
His scarlet cloak was plucked from his back; the only sounds which
greeted his ears were, "Traitor, traitor, death to the traitor!" He
hid his face, sick at heart with shame, and Lord Ambrose, at the gate
of the Tower, was seen to burst into tears.[67] Edwin Sandys,
Northampton, Ridley, Lord Robert Dudley, the offending judges Cholmley
and Montague, with many others, followed in the few next days.
Montague had protested to the queen that he had acted only under
compulsion, but his excuses were not fully received. Lady
Northumberland {p.029} went to Newhall to beg for mercy for her
sons, but Mary refused to admit her.[68]

                   [Footnote 67: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ Baoardo. _Grey Friars' Chronicle._]

                   [Footnote 68: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

In general, however, there was no desire to press hard upon the
prisoners. Few had been guilty in the first degree; in the second
degree so many were guilty, that all could not be punished, and to
make exceptions would be unjust and invidious. The emperor recommended
a general pardon, from which the principal offenders only should be
excluded, and Mary herself was as little inclined to harshness. Her
present desire was to forget all that had passed, and take possession
of her power for the objects nearest to her heart. Her chief
embarrassment for the moment was from the overloyalty of her subjects.
The old-fashioned lords and country gentlemen who had attended her
with their retainers from Norfolk, remained encamped round Newhall,
unable to persuade themselves that they could leave her with safety in
the midst of the men who had been the ministers of the usurpation.[69]

                   [Footnote 69: Ibid.]

Her closest confidence the queen reserved for Renard. On the 28th of
July she sent for him at midnight. On the 2nd of August he was again
with her, and the chief subject of her thoughts was still the funeral.
"She could not have her brother committed to the ground like a dog,"
she said. While her fortunes were uncertain, she allowed Renard to
promise for her that she would make no changes in religion, but "she
had now told the lords distinctly that she would not recognise any of
the laws which had been passed in the minority,[70] and she intended
to act boldly; timidity would only encourage the people to be
insolent;" "the lords were all quarrelling among themselves, and
accusing one another; she could not learn the truth on any point of
the late conspiracy; she did not know who were guilty or who were
innocent; and, amidst the distracted advices which were urged upon
her, she could not tell whether she could safely venture to London or
not; but outward acquiescence in {p.030} the course which she chose
to follow she believed that she could compel, and she would govern as
God should direct her. The emperor, she added, had written to her
about her marriage, not specifying any particular person, but desiring
her to think upon the subject. She had never desired to marry while
princess, nor did she desire it now; but if it were for the interests
of the church, she would do whatever he might advise."

                   [Footnote 70: She, perhaps, imagined that she was
                   not exceeding her statutable right in the refusal.
                   The 17th of the 28th of Henry VIII. empowered any
                   one of the heirs to the crown named in the king's
                   will, on arriving at the age of twenty-four, to
                   repeal laws passed not only in his or her own
                   minority; but under circumstances such as those
                   which had actually occurred, where the first heir
                   had died before coming of age. The 11th of the 1st
                   of Edward VI. modified the act of Henry, limiting
                   the power of repeal to the sovereign in whose own
                   reign the law to be repealed had been passed. But
                   this act of Edward's was, itself, passed in a
                   minority, and Mary might urge that she might repeal
                   that as well as any other statute passed in his
                   reign in virtue of the act of her father.]

On this last point Renard knew more of the emperor's intentions than
Mary, and was discreetly silent; on other point he used his influence
wisely. He constrained her, with Charles's arguments, to relinquish
her burial scheme. "Edward, as a heretic, should have a heretic
funeral at Westminster Abbey; she need not be present, and might
herself have a mass said for him in the Tower. As to removing to
London, in his opinion she had better go thither at once, take
possession of her throne, and send Northumberland to trial. Her
brother's body ought to be examined also, that it might be ascertained
whether he had been poisoned; and if poisoned, by whom and for what
purpose."[71]

                   [Footnote 71: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Mary rarely paused upon a resolution. Making up her mind that, as
Renard said, it would be better for her to go to London, she set out
thither the following day, Thursday, the 3rd of August. Excitement
lent to her hard features an expression almost of beauty,[72] as she
rode in the midst of a splendid cavalcade of knights and nobles.
Elizabeth, escorted by two thousand horse and a retinue of ladies, was
waiting to receive her outside the gates. The first in her
congratulations, after the proclamation, yet fearful of giving
offence, Elizabeth had written to ask if it was the queen's pleasure
that she should appear in mourning; but the queen would have no
mourning, nor would have others wear it in her presence. The sombre
colours which of late years had clouded the court were to be banished
at once and for ever; and with the dark colours, it seemed for a time
as if old dislikes and suspicions were at the same time to pass away.
The sisters embraced; the queen was warm and affectionate, kissing all
the ladies in Elizabeth's train; and side by side the daughters of
Henry VIII. rode through Aldgate at seven in the evening, amidst the
shouts of the people, the thunder of cannon, and pealing of church
bells.[73] At the Tower gates the old Duke of Norfolk, Gardiner,
Courtenay, and the Duchess of Somerset {p.031} were seen kneeling as
Mary approached. "These are my prisoners," she said as she alighted
from her horse, and stooped and kissed them. Charmed by the
enthusiastic reception and by the pleasant disappointment of her
anxieties, she could find no room for hard thoughts of any one; so far
was she softened, Renard wrote, that she could hardly be brought to
consent to the necessary execution of justice. Against Northumberland
himself she had no feeling of vindictiveness, and was chiefly anxious
that he should be attended by a confessor; Northampton was certainly
to be pardoned; Suffolk was already free; Northumberland should be
spared, if possible; and, as to Lady Jane, justice forbade, she said,
that an innocent girl should suffer for the crimes of others.[74]

                   [Footnote 72: "La beauté de visage plus que
                   médiocre," are Renard's words to Charles.]

                   [Footnote 73: Renard; Noailles; Machyn; _Grey
                   Friars' Chronicle_.]

                   [Footnote 74: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

The emperor had recommended mercy; but he had not advised a general
indemnity, as Renard made haste to urge. The imperialist conception of
clemency differed from the queen's; and the same timidity which had
first made the ambassadors too prudent, now took the form of measured
cruelty. Renard entreated that Lady Jane should not be spared;
"conspirators required to be taught that for the principals in treason
there was but one punishment; the duke must die, and the rival queen
and her husband must die with him." "We set before her"--Renard's own
hand is the witness against him--"the examples of Maximus and his son
Victor, both executed by the Emperor Theodosius; Maximus, because he
had usurped the purple; Victor, because, as the intended heir of his
father, he might have been an occasion of danger had he lived."[75]

                   [Footnote 75: Et luy fust proposé l'exemple de
                   Maximus et Victor son filz que Theodose l'Empereur
                   feit mourir pour s'estre attribué le nom d'Empereur
                   par tyrannie et l'avoir voulu continuer en son diet
                   filz Victor, escripvant l'histoire que l'on feit
                   mourir le filz pour le scandale et danger qu'en
                   eust peu advenir.--Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls
                   House MSS._ For the story, see Gibbon, cap. xxvii.]

Looking also, as Renard was already doing, on the scenes which were
around him, chiefly or solely as they might affect the interests of
his master's son, he had been nervously struck by the entourage which
surrounded Elizabeth and the popularity which she, as well as the
queen, was evidently enjoying.

Elizabeth, now passing into womanhood, was the person to whom the
affections of the liberal party in England most definitely tended. She
was the heir-presumptive to the crown; in matters of religion she was
opposed to the mass, and opposed as decidedly to factious and dogmatic
Protestantism; while {p.032} from the caution with which she had
kept aloof from political entanglements, it was clear that her
brilliant intellectual abilities were not her only or her most
formidable gifts. Already she shared the favour of the people with the
queen. Let Mary offend them (and in the intended marriage offence
would unquestionably have to be given), their entire hearts might be
transferred to her. The public finger had pointed to Courtenay as the
husband which England desired for the queen. When Courtenay should be
set aside by Mary, he might be accepted by Elizabeth; and Elizabeth,
it was rumoured, looked upon him with an eye of favour.[76] On all
accounts, therefore, Elizabeth was dangerous. She was a figure on the
stage whom Renard would gladly see removed; and a week or two later he
bid Mary look to her, watch her, and catch her tripping if good
fortune would so permit: "it was better to prevent than to be
prevented."[77]

                   [Footnote 76: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 77: Signantment sembleroit que vostre
                   majesté ne se deust confier en Madame Elizabeth que
                   bien a point, et discouvrir sur ce qu'elle ne se
                   voit en espoir d'entrer en règne, ne avoir voulu
                   fleschir quant au point de la religion ny ouyr la
                   messe; ce que l'on jugeoit elle deust faire pour la
                   respect de vostre majesté, et pour les courtoysies
                   dont elle use en son endroit encores qu'elle ny
                   eust faict sinon l'assister et l'accompaigner. Et
                   davantage l'on peult discouvrir comme elle se
                   maintient en la nouvelle religion par practique,
                   pour attirer et gaigner a sa dévotion ceulx quilz
                   sont de la dicte religion en s'en aider, si elle
                   avoit intention de maligner; et jaçois l'on se
                   pourroit fourcompter quant à son intention, si est
                   en ce commencement, qu'il est plus sure prévenir
                   que d'estre prévenu et penser a ce que peult
                   advenir; actendu que les objects sont evidens.--Les
                   Ambassadeurs de l'Empereur à Marie, Reine
                   d'Angleterre: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. ii. pp.
                   64-69.]

The queen did not close her ears to these evil whispers; but for the
first few days after she came to the Tower her thoughts were chiefly
occupied with religion, and her first active step was to release and
to restore to their sees the deprived and imprisoned bishops. The
first week in August, Ponet, by royal order, was ejected from
Winchester, Ridley from London, and Scory from Chichester. The See of
Durham was reconstituted. Tunstal, Day, and Heath were set at liberty,
and returned to their dioceses. The Bishop of Ely was deposed from the
chancellorship, and the seals were given to Gardiner. "On the 5th of
August," says the _Grey Friars' Chronicle_, "at seven o'clock at
night, Edmond Bonner came home from the Marshalsea like a bishop, and
all the people by the wayside bade him welcome home, both man and
woman, and as many of the women as might kissed him; and so he came to
Paul's, and knelt on the {p.033} steps, and said his prayers, and
the people rang the bells for joy."[78]

                   [Footnote 78: _Chronicle of the Grey Friars of
                   London_, p. 82.]

While Mary was repairing acts of injustice, Gardiner, with Sir William
Petre, was looking into the public accounts. The debts of the late
government had been reduced, the currency unconsidered, to
£190,000.[79] A doubt had been raised whether, after the attempt to
set aside the succession, the queen was bound to take the
responsibility of these obligations, but Mary preferred honour to
convenience; she promised to pay everything as soon as possible.
Further, there remain, partly in Gardiner's hand, a number of hasty
notes, written evidently in these same first weeks of Mary's reign,
which speak nobly for the intentions with which both Mary and himself
were setting generally to work. The expenses of the household were to
be reduced to the scale of Henry VII., or the early years of Henry
VIII.; the garrisons at Berwick and Calais were to be placed on a more
economical footing, the navy reduced, the irregular guard dismissed or
diminished. Bribery was to be put an end to in the courts of
Westminster, at quarter sessions, and among justices of the peace;
"the laws were to be restored to their authority without suffering any
matters to be ordered otherwise than as the laws should appoint."[80]
These first essentials having been attended to, the famous or infamous
book of sales, grants, and exchanges of the crown lands was to be
looked into; the impropriation of benefices was to cease, and decency
to be restored to the parish churches, where the grooms and
gamekeepers should give way to competent ministers; economy, order,
justice, and reverence were to heal the canker of profligate profanity
which had eaten too long into the moral life of England.

                   [Footnote 79: August 1553. Debts of the crown.
                   Irish debt, £36,094 18s. Household debts, £14,574
                   16s. Further household debts, £7450 5s. Berwick
                   debt, with the wages of the officers, £16,639 18s.
                   Calais debt, beside £17,000 of loans and other
                   things, £21,184 10s. Ordnance Office, £3134 7s.
                   Public works, £3200. Admiralty debt, £3923 4s.
                   Debts in the Office of the Chamber, £17,968. Debts
                   beyond the seas by Sir Thomas Gresham's particular
                   bill, £61,068. Alderney's debt, £3028. Scilly debt,
                   £3071.--_MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. i. State Paper
                   Office.]

                   [Footnote 80: Note of things to be attended to:
                   _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. i.]

In happier times Mary might have been a worthy queen, and Gardiner an
illustrious minister;[81] but the fatal superstition {p.034} which
confounded religion with orthodox opinion was too strong for both of
them.

                   [Footnote 81: Another natural feature of these
                   curious days was the arrest of suspected persons;
                   one of whom, Edward Underhill, the Hot Gospeller,
                   has left behind him, in the account of his own
                   adventures, a very vivid picture of the time.
                   Underhill was a yeoman of the guard. He had seen
                   service in the French wars, but had been noted
                   chiefly for the zeal which he had shown in the late
                   reign in hunting Catholics into gaol. He had thus
                   worked his way into Court favour. During the brief
                   royalty of Jane Grey, his wife was confined. His
                   child was christened at the Tower church, and
                   Suffolk and Pembroke were "gossips," and Jane
                   herself was godmother. The day that Mary was
                   proclaimed, he put out a ballad, which, as he
                   expected, brought him into trouble. "The next day,"
                   he is telling his own story, "after the queen was
                   come to the Tower, the foresaid ballad came into
                   the hands of Secretary Bourne, who straightway made
                   inquiry for the said Edward, who dwelt in
                   Lymehurst; which he having intelligence of, sent
                   the sheriff of Middlesex with a company of bills
                   and glaives, who came into my house, being in my
                   bed, and my wife newly laid in childbed. The high
                   constable, whose name is Thomas Joy, dwelled at the
                   house next to me, whom the sheriff brought also
                   with him. He being my very friend, desired the
                   sheriff and his company to stay without for
                   frighting of my wife, and he would go fetch me unto
                   him; who knocked at the door, saying, he must speak
                   with me. I, lying so near that I might hear him,
                   called unto him, willing him to come unto me, for
                   that he was always my very friend and earnest in
                   the gospel, who declared unto me that the sheriff
                   and a great company was sent for me. Whereupon I
                   rose and made me ready to come unto him.

                   "Sir, said he, I have commandment from the council
                   to apprehend you and bring you unto them.

                   "Why, said I, it is now ten of the clock at night;
                   you cannot now carry me unto them.

                   "No, sir, said he, you shall go with me to my house
                   in London, where you shall have a bed, and
                   to-morrow I will bring you unto them in the Tower.

                   "In the name of God, quoth I, and so went with him,
                   requiring him if I might understand the cause. He
                   said he knew none."

                   Underhill, however, conjectured that it was the
                   ballad. He "was nothing dismayed;" and in the
                   morning went readily to the Tower, where he waited
                   in the presence chamber talking to the pensioners.

                   Sir Edward Hastings passed through, and as he saw
                   him, "frowned earnestly." "Are you come?" said
                   Hastings, "we will talk with you ere you part, I
                   warrant you." They were old acquaintances.
                   Underhill had been controller of the ordnance at
                   Calais when Lord Huntingdon was in command there.
                   The earl being in bad health, his brother Sir
                   Edward was with him, assisting in the duties of the
                   office; and Underhill, being able to play and sing,
                   had been a frequent visitor at the Government
                   House. The earl, moreover, "took great delight to
                   hear him reason" with Sir Edward, on points of
                   controversy--chiefly on the real presence--where
                   the controller of the ordnance (according to his
                   own account) would quote Scripture, and Sir Edward
                   would "swear great oaths," "especially by the
                   Lord's foot;" on which Underhill would say, "Nay,
                   then, it must needs be so, and you prove it with
                   such oaths," and the earl would laugh and exclaim,
                   "Brother, give him over, Underhill is too good for
                   you."

                   Hastings, it seemed, could not forgive these
                   passages of wit, and Underhill was too smart for
                   them. While he stood waiting, Secretary Bourne came
                   in, "looking as the wolf at the lamb," and seeing
                   the man that he had sent for, carried him off into
                   the council room. Hastings was gone, Bedford sat as
                   President, "and Bedford," says Underhill, "was my
                   friend, for that my chance was to be at the
                   recovery of his son, my Lord Russell, when he was
                   cast into the Thames by Lymehurst, whom I received
                   into my house, and gate him to bed, who was in
                   great peril of his life, the weather being very
                   cold."

                   Bedford, however, made no sign of recognition.
                   Bourne read the ballad; on which Underhill
                   protested that there was no attack on the queen's
                   title in it. No! Bourne said, but it maintains the
                   queen's title with the help of an arrant heretic,
                   Tyndal. Underhill used the word Papist. Sir John
                   Mason asked what he meant by that: "Sir," he says
                   that he replied, "I think, if you look among the
                   priests in Paul's, you shall find some old
                   mumpsimusses there.

                   "Mumpsimusses, knave, said he, mumpsimusses! Thou
                   art an heretic knave, by God's blood!

                   "Yea! by the mass, said the Earl of Bath, I warrant
                   him an heretic knave indeed.

                   "I beseech your honours," Underhill said, "speaking
                   to the Lords that sat at the table (for those
                   others stood by and were not of the council), be my
                   good Lords. I have offended no laws. I have served
                   the Queen's Majesty's father and brother long time,
                   and spent and consumed my living therein. I went
                   not forth against her Majesty, notwithstanding I
                   was commanded."

                   He was interrupted by Arundel, who said that, "by
                   his writing," "he wished to set them all by the
                   ears." Hastings re-entered at the moment, telling
                   the council that they must repair to the queen, and
                   the Hot Gospeller was promptly ordered to Newgate.

                   The sheriff led him through the streets, his friend
                   Joy "following afar off, as Peter followed Christ."
                   He wrote a few words to his wife at the door of
                   Newgate, asking her to send him "his nightgown, his
                   Bible, and his lute;" and then entered the prison,
                   his life in which he goes on to describe.

                   In the centre of Newgate was "a great open hall."
                   "As soon as it was supper time," the board was
                   covered in the same hall. The keeper, whose name
                   was "Alisander," with his wife, came and sat down,
                   and half a dozen prisoners that were there for
                   felony, Underhill "being the first that for
                   religion was sent unto that prison." One of the
                   felons had served with him in France. "After
                   supper," the story continues, "this good fellow,
                   whose name was Bristow, procured me to have a bed
                   in his chamber, who could play well upon a rebeck.
                   He was a tall fellow, and after one of Queen Mary's
                   guard; yet a Protestant, which he kept secret, for
                   else, he said, he should not have found such favour
                   as he did at the keeper's hands and his wife's, for
                   to such as loved the gospel they were very cruel.
                   Well, said Underhill, I have sent for my Bible,
                   and, by God's grace, therein shall be my daily
                   exercise; I will not hide it from them. Sir, said
                   he, I am poor; but they will bear with you, for
                   they see your estate is to pay well; and I will
                   shew you the nature and manner of them; for I have
                   been here a good while. They both do love music
                   very well. Wherefore you with your lute, and I to
                   play with you on my rebeck, will please them
                   greatly. He loveth to be merry, and to drink wine,
                   and she also. If you will bestow upon them, every
                   dinner and supper, a quart of wine and some music,
                   you shall be their white son, and have all the
                   favour they can shew you."

                   The honour of being "white son" to the governor and
                   governess of Newgate was worth aspiring after.
                   Underhill duly provided the desired entertainments.
                   The governor gave him the best room in the prison,
                   with all other admissible indulgences.

                   "At last," however, "the evil savours, great
                   unquietness, with over many drafts of air," threw
                   the poor gentleman into a burning ague. He shifted
                   "his lodgings," but to no purpose; the "evil
                   savours" followed him. The keeper offered him his
                   own parlour, where he escaped from the noise of the
                   prison; but it was near the kitchen, and the smell
                   of the meat was disagreeable. Finally, the wife put
                   him away in her store-closet, amidst her best
                   plate, crockery, and clothes, and there he
                   continued to survive till the middle of September,
                   when he was released on bail through the
                   interference of the Earl of Bedford.--Underhill's
                   Narrative: _Harleian MSS._ 425.]

{p.035} Edward's body was meanwhile examined. The physicians
{p.036} reported that without doubt he had died of poison, and there
was a thought of indicting the Duke of Northumberland for his murder:
but it was relinquished on further inquiry; the poison, if the
physicians were right, must have been administered by negligence or
accident. The corpse was then buried (August 6) with the forms of the
Church of England at Westminster Abbey; the Archbishop of Canterbury,
who had so far been left at liberty, read the service; it was the last
and saddest function of his public ministry which he was destined to
perform. Simultaneously, as Mary had determined, requiems were chanted
in the Tower Chapel; and Gardiner, in the presence of the queen and
four hundred persons, sung the mass for the dead with much solemnity.
The ceremony was, however, injured by a misfortune; after the gospel
the incense was carried round, and the chaplain who bore it was
married; Doctor Weston, who was afterwards deprived of the deanery of
Windsor for adultery, darted forward and snatched the censer out of
the chaplain's hand. "Shamest thou not to do thine office," he said,
"having a wife, as thou hast? The queen will not be censed by such as
thou."[82] Nor was scandal the worst part of it. Elizabeth had been
requested to attend, and had refused; angry murmurs and curses against
the Bishop of Winchester were heard among the yeomen of the guard;
while the queen made no secret of her desire that the example which
she had set should be imitated. Renard trembled for the consequences;
Noailles anticipated a civil war; twenty thousand men, the latter
said, would lose their lives before England would be cured of
heresy;[83] yet Mary had made a beginning, and as she had begun she
was resolved that others should continue.

                   [Footnote 82: Strype.]

                   [Footnote 83: Noailles, vol. ii. p. 111.]

In the Tower she felt her actions under restraint. She was still
surrounded by thousands of armed men, the levies of Derby and
Hastings, the retainers of Pembroke and Arundel and Bedford; the
council were spies upon her actions; the sentinels at the gates were a
check upon her visitors. She could receive no one whose business with
her was not made public to the lords, and whose reception they were
not pleased to sanction; even Renard was for a time excluded from her,
and in her anxiety to see him she suggested that he might come to her
in disguise.[84] {p.037} Such a thraldom was irksome and
inconvenient. She had broken the promise which Renard had been allowed
to make for her about religion; she had been troubled, it is easy to
believe, with remonstrances, to which she was not likely to have
answered with temper; Pembroke absented himself from the presence; he
was required to retire and to reduce the number of his followers; the
quarrels which began while the queen was at Newhall broke out with
worse violence than ever; Lord Derby complained to Renard that those
who had saved her crown were treated with neglect, while men like
Arundel, Bedford, and Pembroke, who had been parties to the treasons
against her, remained in power; Lord Russell was soon after placed
under arrest; Pembroke and Winchester were ordered to keep their
houses, and the court was distracted with suspicion, discord, and
uncertainty.[85]

                   [Footnote 84: Monseigneur, je n'ay sceu trouver
                   moien jusques à ceste heure de communiquer avec la
                   royne, ce que je deliberois faire avec l'occasion
                   des lectres de sa Majesté, si sans suspicion,
                   j'eusse pen avoir accès, que n'a esté possible pour
                   estre les portes en la Tour de Londres où elle este
                   logée, si gardées que n'est possible y entrer que
                   l'on ne soit congneu; elle m'avoit faict dire si je
                   me pouvoys desguiser et prendre ung manteau, mais
                   il m'a semblé pour le mieux et plus seur d'attendre
                   qu'elle soit a Richemont.--Renard to Charles V.:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. pp. 71, 72.]

                   [Footnote 85: Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS. Queen Jane and Queen Mary_, p. 15.]

From such a scene Mary desired to escape to some place where she could
be at least mistress of her own movements; her impatience was
quickened by a riot at St. Bartholomew's, where a priest attempted to
say mass; and on Saturday, the 12th of August, she removed to
Richmond. Her absence encouraged the insubordination of the people. On
Sunday, the 13th, another priest was attacked at the altar; the
vestments were torn from his back, and the chalice snatched from his
hands. Bourne, whom the queen had appointed her chaplain, preached at
Paul's Cross. A crowd of refugees and English fanatics had collected
round the pulpit; and when he spoke something in praise of Bonner, and
said that he had been unjustly imprisoned,[86] yells rose of "Papist,
Papist! Tear him down!" A dagger was hurled at the preacher, swords
were drawn, the mayor attempted to interfere, but he could not make
his way through the dense mass of the rioters; and Bourne would have
paid for his rashness with his life had not Courtenay, who was a
popular favourite, with his mother, the Marchioness of Exeter, thrown
themselves on the pulpit steps, while Bradford sprung to his side, and
kept the people back till he could be carried off.

                   [Footnote 86: Renard says it was at these words
                   that the exasperation broke out.]

But the danger did not end there. The Protestant orators sounded the
alarm through London. Meetings were held, and inflammatory placards
were scattered about the streets. If {p.038} religion was to be
tampered with, men were heard to say, it was better at once to fetch
Northumberland from the Tower.

Uncertain on whom she could rely, Mary sent for Renard (August 16),
who could only repeat his former cautions, and appeal to what had
occurred in justification of them. He undertook to pacify Lord Derby;
but in the necessity to which she was so soon reduced of appealing to
him, a foreigner, in her emergencies, he made her feel that she could
not carry things with so high a hand. She had a rival in the Queen of
Scots, beyond her domestic enemies, whom her wisdom ought to fear; she
would ruin herself if she flew in the face of her subjects; and he
prevailed so far with her that she promised to take no further steps
till the meeting of parliament. After a consultation with the mayor,
she drew up a hasty proclamation, granting universal toleration till
further orders, forbidding her Protestant and Catholic subjects to
interrupt each other's services, and prohibiting at the same time all
preaching on either side without licence from herself.

Being on the spot, the ambassador took the opportunity of again trying
Mary's disposition upon the marriage question. His hopes had waned
since her arrival in London; he had spoken to Paget, who agreed that
an alliance with the Prince of Spain was the most splendid which the
queen could hope for; but the time was inopportune, and the people
were intensely hostile. The exigencies of the position, he thought,
might oblige the queen to yield to wishes which she could not oppose,
and accept Lord Courtenay; or possibly her own inclination might set
in the same direction; or, again, she might wish to renew her early
engagement with the emperor himself. The same uncertainty had been
felt at Brussels; the Bishop of Arras, therefore, had charged Renard
to feel his way carefully and make no blunder. If the queen inclined
to the emperor, he might speak of Philip as more eligible; if she
fancied Courtenay, it would be useless to interfere--she would only
resent his opposition.[87] Renard obeyed his instructions, and the
result was reassuring. When the ambassador mentioned the word
"marriage," the queen began to smile significantly, not once, but many
times; she plainly liked the topic: plainly, also, her thoughts were
not turning in the direction of any English husband; she spoke of her
rank, and of her unwillingness to {p.039} condescend to a subject;
Courtenay, the sole remaining representative of the White Rose except
the Poles, was the only Englishman who could in any way be thought
suitable for her; but she said that she expected the emperor to
provide a consort for her, and that, being a woman, she could not make
the first advances. Renard satisfied himself from her manner that, if
the Prince of Spain was proposed, the offer would be most entirely
welcome.[88]

                   [Footnote 87: Car si elle y avoit fantasie, elle ne
                   laisseroit, si elle este du naturel des autres
                   femmes, de passer oultre, et si se ressentiroit à
                   jamais de ce que vous en pourriez avoir dit.--Arras
                   to Renard: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 77.]

                   [Footnote 88: Renard to the Bishop of Arras:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 79. Renard to
                   Charles V., August 16: _Rolls House MSS._]

The trials of the conspirators were now resolved upon. The queen was
determined to spare Lady Jane Grey, in spite of all which Renard could
urge; but the state of London showed that the punishment of the really
guilty could no longer be safely delayed. On this point all parties in
the council were agreed. On Friday, the 18th of August, therefore, a
court of peers was formed in Westminster Hall, with the aged Duke of
Norfolk for High Steward, to try John Dudley Duke of Northumberland,
the Earl of Warwick, and the Marquis of Northampton for high treason.
Forty-four years before, as the curious remarked, the father of
Norfolk had sat on the commission which tried the father of
Northumberland for the same crime.

The indictments charged the prisoners with levying war against their
lawful sovereign. Northumberland, who was called first to the bar,
pleaded guilty of the acts which were laid against him, but he
submitted two points to the consideration of the court.

1. Whether, having taken the field with a warrant under the Great
Seal, he could be lawfully accused of treason.

2. Whether those peers from whom he had received his commission, and
by whose letters he had been directed in what he had done, could sit
upon his trial as his judges.

The Great Seal, he was answered briefly, was the seal of a usurper,
and could convey no warrant to him. If the lords were as guilty as he
said, yet, "so long as no attainder was on record against them, they
were persons able in law to pass upon any trial, and not to be
challenged but at the prince's pleasure."[89]

                   [Footnote 89: _Queen Jane and Queen Mary._ The
                   anomaly in the constitution of the Court amused
                   Renard, who commented upon it to the Emperor, as an
                   illustration of England and the English
                   character.--_Rolls House MSS._]

The duke bowed and was silent.

Northampton and Warwick came next, and, like Northumberland, confessed
to the indictment. Northampton, however, pleaded in his defence, that
he had held no public office {p.040} during the crisis; that he had
not been present at the making of Edward's device, and had been
amusing himself hunting in the country.[90] Warwick, with proud
sadness, said merely, that he had followed his father, and would share
his father's fortunes; if his property was confiscated, he hoped that
his debts would be paid.[91]

                   [Footnote 90: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ _Queen Jane and Queen Mary_, Appendix.
                   Baoardo says, Northampton pleaded--Ch' egli non si
                   era mai messo in governo et che sempre attese alla
                   caccia.]

                   [Footnote 91: Ibid.]

But Northampton had indisputably been in the field with the army, and,
as his judges perfectly well knew, had been, with Suffolk, the Duke's
uniform supporter in his most extreme measures; the queen had resolved
to pardon him; but the court could not recognise his excuse. Norfolk
rose, in a few words pronounced the usual sentence, and broke his
wand; the cold glimmering edge of the Tower axe was turned towards the
prisoners, and the peers rose. Northumberland, before he was led away,
fell upon his knees; his children were young, he said, and had acted
under orders from himself; to them let the queen show mercy; for
himself he had his peace to make with Heaven; he entreated for a few
days of life, and the assistance of a confessor; if two of the council
would come to confer with him, he had important secrets of state to
communicate; and, finally, he begged that he might die by the axe like
a nobleman.[92]

                   [Footnote 92: _Queen Jane and Queen Mary_, p 17,
                   Renard says that he asked the council to intercede
                   for his life.]

On the 19th, Sir John and Sir Henry Gates, Sir Andrew Dudley, and Sir
Thomas Palmer were tried before a special commission. Dudley had gone
with the treasonable message to France; the three others were the
boldest and most unscrupulous of the Duke's partisans, while Palmer
was also especially hated for his share in the death of Somerset.
These four also pleaded guilty, and were sentenced, Palmer only
scornfully telling the commissioners that they were traitors as well
as he, and worse than he.[93]

                   [Footnote 93: So Renard states. The author of the
                   _Chronicle of Queen Mary_ says merely that he
                   denied that he had borne arms against the queen,
                   but admitted that he had been with the army.]

Seven had been condemned; three only, the duke, Sir John Gates, and
Palmer, were to suffer.

Crime alone makes death terrible: in the long list of victims whose
bloody end, at stake or scaffold, the historian of England in the
sixteenth century has to relate, two only showed signs of cowardice,
and one of those was a soldier and a nobleman, who, {p.041} in a
moment of extreme peril, four years before, had kissed swords with his
comrades, and had sworn to conquer the insurgents at Norwich, or die
with honour.

The Duke of Northumberland, who since that time had lived very
emphatically without God in the world, had not lived without religion.
He had affected religion, talked about religion, played with religion,
till fools and flatterers had told him that he was a saint; and now,
in his extreme need, he found that he had trifled with forms and
words, till they had grown into a hideous hypocrisy. The Infinite of
death was opening at his feet, and he had no faith, no hope, no
conviction, but only a blank and awful horror, and perhaps he felt
that there was nothing left for him but to fling himself back in agony
into the open arms of superstition. He had asked to speak with some
member of the council; he had asked for a confessor. In Gardiner,
Bishop of Winchester, he found both.

After the sentence Gardiner visited him in the Tower, where he poured
out his miserable story; he was a Catholic, he said, he always had
been a Catholic; he had believed nothing of all the doctrines for
which he had pretended to be so zealous under Edward. "Alas!" he
cried, "is there no help for me?" "Let me live but a little longer to
do penance for my many sins." Gardiner's heart was softened at the
humiliating spectacle; he would speak to the queen, he said, and he
did speak, not wholly without success; he may have judged rightly,
that the living penitence of the Joshua of the Protestants would have
been more useful to the church than his death.[94] Already Mary had
expressed a wish that, if possible, the wretched man should be spared;
and he would have been allowed to live, except for the reiterated
protests of Renard in his own name and in the emperor's.

                   [Footnote 94: The authority for this story is
                   Parsons the Jesuit, who learnt it from one of the
                   council who was present at the interview. Parsons
                   says, indeed, that Mary would have spared the duke;
                   but that some one wrote to the emperor, and that
                   the emperor insisted that he should be put to
                   death. This could not be, because there was no time
                   for letters to pass and repass between Brussels and
                   London, in the interval between the sentence and
                   the execution; but Renard says distinctly that Mary
                   did desire to pardon him, and that he was himself
                   obliged to exert his influence to prevent it.]

It was decided at last that he should die; and a priest was assigned
him to prepare his soul. Doctor Watts or Watson, the same man whom
Cranmer long ago had set in the stocks at Canterbury, took charge of
Palmer and the rest--to them, {p.042} as rough soldiers, spiritual
consolation from a priest of any decent creed was welcome.

The executions were fixed originally for Monday, the 21st; but the
duke's conversion was a triumph to the Catholic cause too important
not to be dwelt upon a little longer. Neither Northampton, Warwick,
Andrew Dudley, or Sir Henry Gates were aware that they were to be
respited, and, as all alike availed themselves of the services of a
confessor and the forms of the Catholic faith, their compliance could
be made an instrument of a public and edifying lesson. The lives of
those who were to suffer were prolonged for twenty-four hours. On
Monday morning "certain of the citizens of London" were requested to
be in attendance at the Tower chapel, where Northumberland,
Northampton, Dudley, Henry Gates, and Palmer were brought in; and,
"first kneeling down, every one of them, upon his knees, they heard
mass, saying devoutedly, with the bishop,[95] every one of them,
_Confiteor_."

                   [Footnote 95: Gardiner.]

"After the mass was done, the duke rose up, and looked back upon my
lord marquis, and came unto him, asking them all forgiveness, the one
after the other, upon their knees, one to another; and the one did
heartily forgive the other. And then they came, every one of them,
before the altar, every one of them kneeling, and confessing to the
bishop that they were the same men in the faith according as they had
confessed to him before, and that they all would die in the Catholic
faith." When they had all received the sacrament, they rose and turned
to the people, and the duke said:--

"Truly, good people, I profess here before you all, that I have
received the sacrament according to the true Catholic faith: and the
plague that is upon the realm and upon us now is that we have erred
from the faith these sixteen years; and this I protest unto you all
from the bottom of my heart."

Northampton, with the rest, "did affirm the same with weeping
tears."[96]

                   [Footnote 96: _Harleian MSS._ 284. Compare the
                   account of the chronicler, _Queen Jane and Queen
                   Mary_, pp. 18, 19.]

Among the spectators were observed the sons of the Duke of Somerset.

In exhibiting to the world the humiliation of the professors of the
gospel, the Catholic party enjoyed a pardonable triumph.
Northumberland, in playing a part in the pageant, was hoping to save
his wretched life. When it was over he wrote (August 22) a passionate
appeal to Arundel.

{p.043} "Alas, my lord," he said, "is my crime so heinous as no
redemption but my blood can wash away the spots thereof? An old
proverb there is, and that most true--A living dog is better than a
dead lion; oh that it would please her good grace to give me life,
yea, the life of a dog, if I might but live and kiss her feet, and
spend both life and all in her honourable service."

But Arundel could not save him--would not have saved him, perhaps, had
he been able--and he had only to face the end with such resolution as
he could command.

The next morning, at nine o'clock, Warwick and Sir John Gates heard
mass in the Tower chapel; the two Seymours were again present with
Courtenay: and before Gates received the sacrament, he said a few
words of regret to the latter for his long imprisonment, of which he
admitted himself in part the cause.[97] On leaving the chapel Warwick
was taken back to his room, and learned that he was respited. Gates
joined Palmer, who was walking with Watson in the garden, and talking
with the groups of gentlemen who were collected there. Immediately
after, the duke was brought out. "Sir John," he said to Gates, "God
have mercy on us; forgive me as I forgive you, although you and your
council have brought us hither." "I forgive you, my lord," Gates
answered, "as I would be forgiven; yet it was you and your authority
that was the only original cause of all." They bowed each. The duke
passed on, and the procession moved forward to Tower Hill.

                   [Footnote 97: "Not for any hatred towards you," he
                   added, "but for fear that harm might come thereby
                   to my late young master."--_Queen Jane and Queen
                   Mary_, p. 20.]

The last words of a worthless man are in themselves of little moment;
but the effect of the dying speech of Northumberland lends to it an
artificial importance. Whether to the latest moment he hoped for his
life, or whether, divided between atheism and superstition, he
thought, if any religion was true, Romanism was true, and it was
prudent not to throw away a chance, who can tell? At all events, he
mounted the scaffold with Heath, the Bishop of Worcester, at his side;
and then deliberately said to the crowd, that his rebellion and his
present fall were owing to the false preachers who had led him to err
from the Catholic faith of Christ; the fathers and the saints had ever
agreed in one doctrine; the present generation were the first that had
dared to follow their private opinions; and in England and in Germany,
where error had taken deepest root, there had followed war, famine,
rebellion, misery, tokens {p.044} all of them of God's displeasure.
Therefore, as they loved their country, as they valued their souls, he
implored his hearers to turn, all of them, and turn at once, to the
church which they had left; in which church he, from the bottom of his
heart, avowed his own steadfast belief. For himself he called them all
to witness that he died in the one true Catholic faith; to which, if
he had been brought sooner, he would not have been in his present
calamity.

He then knelt; "I beseech you all," he said again, "to believe that I
die in the Catholic faith." He repeated the _Miserere_ psalm, the
psalm _De Profundis_, and the _Paternoster_. The executioner, as
usual, begged his pardon. "I have deserved a thousand deaths," he
muttered. He made the sign of the cross upon the saw-dust, and kissed
it, then laid down his head, and perished.

The shame of the apostasy shook down the frail edifice of the
Protestant constitution, to be raised again in suffering, as the first
foundations of it had been laid, by purer hands and nobler
spirits.[98] In his better years Northumberland had been a faithful
subject and a fearless soldier, and, with a master's hand over him, he
might have lived with integrity, and died with honour. Opportunity
tempted his ambition--ambition betrayed him {p.045} into crime--and,
given over to his lower nature, he climbed to the highest round of the
political ladder, to fall and perish like a craven. He was one of
those many men who can follow worthily, yet cannot lead; and the
virtue of the beginning was not less real than the ignominy of the
end.

                   [Footnote 98: Lady Jane Grey spoke a few memorable
                   words on the duke's conduct at the scaffold. "On
                   Tuesday, the 29th of August," says the writer of
                   the _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, "I dined at
                   Partridge's house (in the Tower) with my Lady Jane,
                   she sitting at the board's-end, Partridge, his
                   wife, and my lady's gentlewoman. We fell in
                   discourse of religion. I pray you, quoth she, have
                   they mass in London. Yea, forsooth, quoth I, in
                   some places. It may so be, quoth she. It is not so
                   strange as the sudden conversion of the late duke;
                   for who could have thought, said she, he would have
                   so done? It was answered her, perchance he thereby
                   hoped to have had his pardon. Pardon! quoth she,
                   woe worth him! He hath brought me and our stock in
                   most miserable calamity by his exceeding ambition;
                   but for the answering that he hoped for life by his
                   turning, though other men be of that opinion, I
                   utterly am not. For what man is there living, I
                   pray you, although he had been innocent, that would
                   hope of life in that case, being in the field in
                   person against the queen, as general, and after his
                   taking so hated and evil spoken of by the Commons;
                   and at his coming into prison, so wondered at as
                   the like was never heard by any man's time. Who can
                   judge that he should hope for pardon whose life was
                   odious to all men? But what will ye more? Like as
                   his life was wicked and full of dissimulation, so
                   was his end thereafter. I pray God I view no friend
                   of mine die so. Should I, who am young and in my
                   few years, forsake my faith for the love of life?
                   Nay, God forbid! Much more he should not, whose
                   fatal course, although he had lived his just number
                   of years, could not have long continued. But life
                   was sweet, it appeared. So he might have lived, you
                   will say, he did not care how; indeed the reason is
                   good; for he that would have lived in chains to
                   have had his life, by like would leave no other
                   means unattempted. But God be merciful to us, for
                   he saith, whoso denyeth him before men, he will not
                   know him in his Father's kingdom."--_Queen Jane and
                   Queen Mary_, p. 24.]

Gates was the second sufferer. He, too, spoke in the same key. He had
been a great reader of Scripture, he said, but he had not read it to
be edified, but to be seditious--to dispute, to interpret it after his
private affection; to him, therefore, the honey had been poison, and
he warned all men how they followed his ill example; God's holy
mysteries were no safe things to toy or play with. Gates, in dying,
had three strokes of an axe;--"Whether," says an eye-witness,[99] "it
was by his own request or no was doubtful"--remarkable words: as if
the everlasting fate of the soul depended on its latest emotion, and
repentance could be intensified by the conscious realisation of death.

                   [Footnote 99: _Harleian MSS._ 284.]

Last came Sir Thomas Palmer, in whom, to judge by his method of taking
leave of life, there was some kind of nobleness. It was he who led the
cavalry forlorn hope, at Haddington, when the supplies were thrown in
for the garrison.

He leapt upon the scaffold, red with the blood of his companions.
"Good morning to you all, good people," he said, looking round him
with a smile; "ye come hither to see me die, and to see what news I
have; marry, I will tell you; I have seen more in yonder terrible
place [he pointed towards the Tower] than ever I saw before throughout
all the realms that ever I wandered in; for there I have seen God, I
have seen the world, and I have seen myself; and when I beheld my
life, I saw nothing but slime and clay, full of corruption; I saw the
world nothing else but vanity, and all the pleasures and treasures
thereof nought worth; I saw God omnipotent, his power infinite, his
mercy incomprehensible; and when I saw this, I most humbly submitted
myself unto him, beseeching him of mercy and pardon, and I trust he
hath forgiven me; for he called me once or twice before, but I would
not turn to him, but even now by this sharp kind of death he hath
called me unto him. I trust the wings of his mercy shall spread over
me and save me; and I do here confess, before you all, Christ to be
the very Son of God the Father, born of the Virgin Mary, which came
into the world to fulfil the law for us, and to bear our offences on
his back, and suffered his passion for our redemption, by the which I
trust to be saved."

{p.046} Like his fellow-sufferers, Palmer then said a few prayers,
asked the queen's forgiveness, knelt, and died.

Stunned by the apostasy on the scaffold of the man whom they had
worshipped as a prophet, the ultra-faction among the Protestants
became now powerless. The central multitude, whose belief was
undefined, yielded to the apparent sentence of Heaven upon a cause
weakened by unsuccessful treason, and disavowed in his death by its
champion. Edward had died on the anniversary of the execution of More;
God, men said, had visited his people, and "the Virgin Mary" had been
set upon the throne for their redemption.[100] Dr. Watson, on the 20th
of August, preached at Paul's Cross under a guard of soldiers; on the
24th, two days after the scene on Tower Hill, so little was a guard
necessary, that mass was said in St. Paul's Church in Latin, with
matins and vespers. The crucifix was replaced in the roodloft, the
high altar was re-decorated, the real presence was defended from the
pulpit, and, except from the refugees, not a murmur was heard.[101]
Catching this favourable opportunity, the queen charmed the country
with the announcement that the second portion of the last subsidy
granted by Parliament should not be collected; she gave her word that
the currency at the earliest moment should be thoroughly restored;
while she gained credit on all sides for the very moderate vengeance
with which she appeared to be contenting herself. Ridley only, Renard
wrote, on the 9th of September, would now be executed; the other
prisoners were to be all pardoned. The enthusiasm was slightly abated,
indeed, when it was announced that their forgiveness would not be
wholly free. Montague and Bromley, on their release from the Tower,
were fined £7000 a-piece; Suffolk, Northampton, and other noblemen and
gentlemen, as their estates would bear. But, to relieve the burdens of
the people at the expense of those who had reaped the harvest of the
late spoliations was, on the whole, a legitimate retribution; the
moneyed men were pleased with the recognition of Edward's debts, and
provided a loan of 25,000 crowns for the present necessities of the
government. London streets rang again with shouts of "God Save the
Queen;" and Mary recovered a fresh instalment of popularity to carry
her a few steps further.[102]

                   [Footnote 100: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 101: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 102: Noailles; Renard.]

The refugees were the first difficulty. They were too numerous to
imprison; and the most influential among them--men like Peter
Martyr--having come to England on the invitation {p.047} of the late
government, it was neither just nor honourable to hand them over to
their own sovereigns. But both Mary and her Flemish adviser were
anxious to see them leave the country as quickly as possible. The
emperor recommended a general intimation to be given out, that
criminals of all kinds taking refuge in England would be liable to
seizure, offences against religion being neither specially mentioned
nor specially excepted.[103] The foreign preachers were ordered to
depart by proclamation; and Peter Martyr, who had left Oxford, and was
staying with Cranmer at Lambeth, expecting an arrest, received,
instead of it, a safe-conduct, of which he instantly availed himself.
The movements of others were quickened with indirect menaces; while
Gardiner told Renard, with much self-satisfaction, that a few messages
desiring some of them to call upon him at his house had given them
wings.[104]

                   [Footnote 103: Renard to Queen Mary: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 65.]

                   [Footnote 104: Renard to Charles V., September 9:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

Finding her measures no longer opposed, the queen refused next to
recognise the legality of the marriage of the clergy. Married priests
should either leave their wives or leave their benefices; and on the
29th of August, Gardiner, Bonner, Day, and Tunstal, late prisoners in
the Tower, were appointed commissioners to examine into the conditions
of their episcopal brethren. Convocation was about to meet, and must
undergo a preliminary purification. Unhappy Convocation! So lately the
supreme legislative body in the country, it was now patched, clipped,
mended, repaired, or altered, as the secular government put on its
alternate hues. The Protestant bishops had accepted their offices on
Protestant terms--_Quamdiu se bene gesserint_, on their good
behaviour; and, with the assistance of so pliant a clause, a swift
clearance was effected. Barlow, to avoid expulsion, resigned Bath.
Paul Bush retreated from Bristol. Hooper, ejected from Worcester by
the restoration of Heath, was deprived of Gloucester for heresy and
marriage, and, being a dangerous person, was committed on the 1st of
September to the Fleet. Ferrars, of St. David's, left in prison by
Northumberland for other pretended offences, was deprived on the same
grounds, but remained in confinement. Bird, having a wife, was turned
out of Chester; Archbishop Holgate out of York. Coverdale, Ridley,
Scory, and Ponet had been already disposed of. The bench was
wholesomely swept.[105]

                   [Footnote 105: Some of the Protestant bishops
                   (Cranmer, Hooper, Ridley, and Ferrars were
                   admirable exceptions) had taken care of themselves
                   in the seven years of plenty. At the time of the
                   deposition of the Archbishop of York an inventory
                   was taken of the personal property which was then
                   in his possession. He had five houses, three very
                   well provided, two meetly well. At his house at
                   Battersea he had, of coined gold, £300; plate gilt
                   and parcel gilt, 1600 oz. Mitre, gold, with two
                   pendants set with very fine diamonds, sapphires,
                   and balists, and other stones and pearls, weight
                   125 oz.; six great gold rings, with very fine
                   sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, turquoises. "At
                   Cawood he had of money £900; mitres, 2. Plate gilt
                   and parcel gilt, 770 oz; broken cross of silver
                   gilt, 46 oz.; two thousand five hundred sheep; two
                   Turkey carpets, as big and as good as any subject
                   had; a chest full of copes and vestments. Household
                   stores: wheat, 200 quarters; malt, 500 quarters;
                   oats, 60 quarters; wine, five or six tuns; fish and
                   ling, six or seven hundred; horses at Cawood, four
                   or five score; harness and artillery sufficient for
                   seven score men."--Strype's _Crammer_, vol. i. p.
                   440.]

{p.048} The English Protestant preachers seeing that priests
everywhere held themselves licensed _ex officio_ to speak as they
pleased from the pulpit, began themselves also, in many places, to
disobey the queen's proclamation. They were made immediately to feel
their mistake, and were brought to London to the Tower, the
Marshalsea, or the Fleet, to the cells left vacant by their opponents.
Among the rest came one who had borne no share in the late misdoings,
but had long foreseen the fate to which those doings would bring him
and many more. When Latimer was sent for, he was at Stamford. On the
4th of September six hours' notice was given him of his intended
arrest; and so obviously his escape was desired, that the pursuivant
who brought the warrant left him to obey it at his leisure; his
orders, he said, were not to wait. But Latimer had business in
England. While the fanatics who had provoked the catastrophe were
slinking across the Channel from its consequences, Latimer determined
to stay at home, and help to pay the debts which they had incurred. He
went quietly to London, appeared before the council, where his
"demeanour" was what they were pleased to term "seditious,"[106] and
was committed to the Tower. "What, my friend," he said to a warder who
was an old acquaintance there, "how do you? I am come to be your
neighbour again." Sir Thomas Palmer's rooms in the garden were
assigned for his lodging. In the winter he was left without a fire,
and, growing infirm, he sent a message to the Lieutenant of the Tower
to look better after him, or he should give him the slip yet.[107]

                   [Footnote 106: _Privy Council Register, MS. Mary._]

                   [Footnote 107: Foxe.]

And there was another besides Latimer who would not fly when the
chance was left open to him. Archbishop Cranmer had continued at
Lambeth unmolested, yet unpardoned; his conduct with respect to the
letters patent had been more upright than the conduct of any other
member of the council by {p.049} whom they had been signed; and on
this ground, therefore, an exception could not easily be made in his
disfavour. But his friends had interceded vainly to obtain the queen's
definite forgiveness for him; treason might be forgotten; the divorce
of Catherine of Arragon could never be forgotten. So he waited on,
watching the reaction gathering strength, and knowing well the point
to which it tended. In the country the English service was set aside
and the mass restored with but little disturbance. No force had been
used or needed; the Catholic majorities among the parishioners had
made the change for themselves. The archbishop's friends came to him
for advice; he recommended them to go abroad; he was urged to go
himself while there was time; he said, "it would be in no ways fitting
for him to go away, considering the post in which he was; and to show
that he was not afraid to own all the changes that were by his means
made in religion in the last reign."[108]

                   [Footnote 108: Strype's _Cranmer_.]

Neither was it fitting for him to sit by in silence. The world,
misconstruing his inaction, believed him false like Northumberland;
the world reported that he had restored mass at Canterbury; the world
professed to have ascertained that he had offered to sing a requiem at
Edward's funeral. In the second week of September, therefore, he made
a public offer, in the form of a letter to a friend, to defend the
communion service, and all the alterations for which he was
responsible, against any one who desired to impugn them; he answered
the stories against himself with a calm denial; and, though the letter
was not printed, copies in manuscript were circulated through London
so numerously that the press, said Renard, would not have sent out
more.[109]

                   [Footnote 109: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ In these late times, when men whose temper
                   has not been tried by danger, feel themselves
                   entitled, nevertheless, by their own innocence of
                   large errors, to sit in judgment on the greatest of
                   their forefathers, Cranmer has received no tender
                   treatment. Because, in the near prospect of a death
                   of agony, his heart for a moment failed him, the
                   passing weakness has been accepted as the key to
                   his life, and he has been railed at as a coward and
                   a sycophant. Considering the position of the
                   writer, and the circumstances under which it was
                   issued, I regard the publication of this letter as
                   one of the bravest actions ever deliberately
                   ventured by man.

                   Let it be read, and speak for itself.

                   "As the devil, Christ's antient adversary, is a
                   liar and the father of lying, even so hath he
                   stirred his servants and members to persecute
                   Christ and his true word and religion, which he
                   ceaseth not to do most earnestly at this present.
                   For whereas the most noble prince, of famous
                   memory, King Henry VIII., seeing the great abuses
                   of the Latin masses, reformed some things therein
                   in his time, and also our late sovereign lord King
                   Edward VI. took the same wholly away, for the
                   manifold errours and abuses thereof, and restored
                   in the place thereof Christ's holy supper,
                   according to Christ's own institution, and as the
                   Apostles in the primitive Church used the same in
                   the beginning, the devil goeth about by lying to
                   overthrow the Lord's holy supper, and to restore
                   the Latin satisfactory masses, a thing of his own
                   invention and device. And to bring the same more
                   clearly to pass, some have abused the name of me,
                   Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, bruiting abroad
                   that I have set up the mass at Canterbury, and that
                   I offered to say mass before the Queen's Highness
                   at Paul's Cross and I wot not where. I have been
                   well exercised these twenty years, to suffer and to
                   bear evil reports and lies, and have not been much
                   grieved thereat, and have borne all things quietly;
                   yet where untrue reports and lies turn to the
                   hindrance of God's truth, they be in no ways to be
                   tolerated and suffered. Wherefore these be to
                   signify to the world that it was not I that did set
                   up the mass at Canterbury, but a false, flattering,
                   lying, and dissembling monk, which caused the mass
                   to be set up there without my advice and counsel:
                   and as for offering myself to say mass before the
                   Queen's Highness, or in any other place, I never
                   did, as her Grace knoweth well. But if her Grace
                   will give me leave, I shall be ready to prove
                   against all that will say the contrary, that the
                   Communion-book, set forth by the most innocent and
                   godly prince King Edward VI., in his High Court of
                   Parliament, is conformable to the order which our
                   Saviour Christ did both observe and command to be
                   observed, which his Apostles and primitive Church
                   used many years; whereas the mass in many things
                   not only hath no foundation of Christ, his
                   Apostles, nor the primitive Church, but also is
                   contrary to the same, and containeth many horrible
                   blasphemies."]

{p.050} The challenge was answered by an immediate summons before the
council; the archbishop was accused of attempting to excite sedition
among the people, and was forthwith committed to the Tower to wait,
with Ridley and Latimer, there, till his fate should be decided on.
Meantime the eagerness with which the country generally availed itself
of the permission to restore the Catholic ritual, proved beyond a
doubt that, except in London and a few large towns, the popular
feeling was with the queen. The English people had no affection for
the Papacy. They did not wish for the re-establishment of the
religious orders, or the odious domination of the clergy. But the
numerical majority among them did desire a celibate priesthood, the
ceremonies which the customs of centuries had sanctified, and the
ancient faith of their fathers, as reformed by Henry VIII. The rights
of conscience had found no more consideration from the Protestant
doctrinalists than from the most bigoted of the persecuting prelates;
and the facility with which the professors of the gospel had yielded
to moral temptations, had for the time inspired moderate men with much
distrust for them and for their opinions.

Could Mary have been contented to pursue her victory no further, she
would have preserved the hearts of her subjects; and the reaction,
left to complete its own tendencies, would in {p.051} a few years,
perhaps, have accomplished in some measure her larger desires. But few
sovereigns have understood less the effects of time and forbearance.
She was deceived by the rapidity of her first success; she flattered
herself that, difficult though it might be, she could build up again
the ruined hierarchy, could compel the holders of church property to
open their hands, and could reunite the country to Rome. Before she
had been three weeks on the throne, she had received, as will be
presently mentioned, a secret messenger from the Vatican; and she had
opened a correspondence with the pope, entreating him, as an act of
justice to herself and to those who had remained true to their
Catholic allegiance, to remove the interdict.[110]

                   [Footnote 110: Renard to Charles V., September 9:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

Other actors in the great drama which was approaching were already
commencing their parts.

Reginald Pole having attempted in vain to recover a footing in England
on the accession of Edward, having seen his passionate expectations
from the Council of Trent melt into vapour, and Germany confirmed in
heresy by the Peace of Passau, was engaged, in the summer of 1553, at
a convent on the Lago di Garda, in re-editing his book against Henry
VIII., with an intended dedication to Edward, of whose illness he was
ignorant. The first edition, on the failure of his attempt to raise a
Catholic crusade against his country, had been withdrawn from
circulation; the world had not received it favourably, and there was a
mystery about the publication which it is difficult to unravel. In the
interval between the first despatch of the book into England as a
private letter in the summer of 1536, and the appearance of it in
print at Rome in the winter of 1538-9, it was re-written, as I have
already stated, enlarged, and divided into parts. In a letter of
apology which Pole wrote to Charles V., in the summer or early autumn
of 1538,[111] he spoke of that division as having been executed by
himself;[112] he said that he had kept his book secret till the church
had spoken; but Paul having excommunicated Henry, he could no longer
remain silent; he dwelt at length on the history of the work which he
was then editing,[113] and he sent a copy at the same time with a
letter, or he {p.052} wrote a letter with the intention of sending a
copy, to James V. of Scotland.[114]

                   [Footnote 111: Before his embassy to Spain.]

                   [Footnote 112: Opus in quatuor libros sum
                   partitus.]

                   [Footnote 113: "Scripta quæ nunc edo," are his own
                   words in the apology, and therefore, in an earlier
                   part of this work, I said that he published his
                   book himself. There is no doubt, from the context,
                   that in the word _scripta_ he referred to that book
                   and to no other.]

                   [Footnote 114: "Eum ad te librum Catholice princeps
                   nunc mitto, et sub nominis tui auspiciis cujus te
                   strenuum pietatis ministrum præbes in lucem exire
                   volo."--Epistola ad Regem Scotiæ: _Poli Epistolæ_,
                   vol. i. p. 174.]

But Charles had refused to move; the book injured Henry not at all,
and injured fatally those who were dear to Pole; he checked the
circulation of the copies, and he declared to the Cardinal of Naples
that it had been published only at the command of the pope--that his
own anxiety had been for the suppression of it.[115] Thirteen years
after this, however, writing to Edward VI., he forgot that he had
described himself to Charles as being himself engaged in the
publication; and he assured the young king that he had never thought
of publishing the book, that he had abhorred the very thought of
publishing it; that it was prepared, edited, and printed by his
friends at Rome during his own absence;[116] now, at length, he found
himself obliged in his own person to give it forth, because an edition
was in preparation elsewhere from one of the earlier copies; and he
selected the son of Henry as the person to whom he could most
becomingly dedicate the libel against his father's memory.

                   [Footnote 115: "Qui si postea editus fuit magis id
                   aliorum voluntate et illius qui mihi imperare
                   potuit quam meâ est factum, mea vero fuit ut
                   impressus supprimeretur."--Ibid. vol. iv. p. 85.]

                   [Footnote 116: "Nam cum ad urbem ex Hispaniâ
                   rediens libros injussu meo typis excusos
                   reperissem, _toto volumine amicorum studio et operâ
                   non sine ejus auctoritate qui jus imperandi haberet
                   in plures libros disposito quod ego non feceram_
                   quippe qui de ejus editione nunquam cogitâssem,"
                   etc.

                   "Quid aliud hoc significavit nisi me ab his libris
                   divulgandis penitus abhorruisse ut certe
                   abhorrui."--Epistola ad Edwardum Sextum: Poli
                   _Epistolæ_. The book being the sole authority for
                   some of the darkest charges against Henry VIII.,
                   the history of it is of some importance.

                   This was not the only instance in which his
                   recollection of his own conduct was something
                   treacherous. In the apology to Charles V., speaking
                   of a war against Henry, he had said: "Tempus
                   venisse video, ad te primum missus, deinde ad Regem
                   Christianissimum, ut hujus scelera per se quidem
                   minime obscura detegam, et te Cæsar a bello Turcico
                   abducere coner et quantum possum suadeam ut arma
                   tua eo convertas si huic tanto malo aliter mederi
                   non possis." For thus, "levying war against his
                   country," Pole had been attainted. The name of
                   traitor grated upon him. To Edward, therefore, he
                   wrote: "I invited the two sovereigns rather to win
                   back the king, by the ways of love and affection,
                   as a fallen friend and brother, than to assail him
                   with arms as an enemy. This I never desired nor did
                   I urge any such conduct upon them. _Hoc ego nunquam
                   profecto volui neque cum illis egi._"--Epistola ad
                   Edwardum Sextum; Ibid.]

Edward did not live to receive this evidence of Pole's good feeling.
He died before the edition was completed; and as soon as
Northumberland's failure and Mary's accession were known at Rome,
England was looked upon in the Consistory {p.053} as already
recovered to the faith, and Pole was chosen by the unanimous consent
of the cardinals as the instrument of the reconciliation. The account
of the proclamation of the queen was brought to the Vatican on the 6th
of August by a courier from Paris; the pope in tears of joy drew his
commission and despatched it on the instant to the Lago di Garda; and
on the 9th Pole himself wrote to Mary to say that he had been named
legate, and waited her orders to fly to England. He still clung to his
conviction that the revolution in all its parts had been the work of a
small faction, and that he had but himself to set his foot upon the
shore to be received with an ovation; his impulse was therefore to set
out without delay; but the recollection, among other things, that he
was attainted by act of parliament, forced him to delay unwillingly
till he received formal permission to present himself.

Anxious for authentic information as to the state of England and the
queen's disposition, Julius had before despatched also a secret agent,
Commendone, afterwards a cardinal, with instructions to make his way
to London to communicate with Mary, and if possible to learn her
intentions from her own lips. Rapid movement was possible in Europe
even with the roads of the sixteenth century. Commendone was probably
sent from Rome as soon as Edward was known to be dead; he was in
London, at all events, on the 8th of August,[117] disguised as an
Italian gentleman in search of property which he professed had been
bequeathed him by a kinsman. By the favour of Providence,[118] he fell
in with an acquaintance, a returned Catholic refugee, who had a place
in the household; and from this man he learnt that the queen was
virtually a prisoner in the Tower, and that the heretics on the
council allowed no one of whose business they disapproved to have
access to her. Mary, however, was made acquainted with his arrival; a
secret interview was managed, at which she promised to do her very
best in the interests of the church; but she had still, she said, to
conquer her kingdom, and Pole's coming, much as she desired it, was
for the moment out of the question; before she could draw the
spiritual sword she must have the temporal sword more firmly in her
grasp, and she looked to marriage as the best means of strengthening
herself. If she married abroad, she thought at that time of the
emperor; if she accepted one of her subjects, {p.054} she
doubted--in her dislike of Courtenay--whether Pole might not return in
a less odious capacity than that of Apostolic Legate; as the queen's
intended husband the country might receive him; he had not yet been
ordained priest, and deacon's orders, on a sufficient occasion, could
perhaps be dispensed with.[119] The visit, or visits, were concealed
even from Renard. Commendone was forbidden, under the strictest
injunctions, to reveal what the queen might say to him, except to the
pope or to Pole; and it is the more likely that she was serious in her
expressions about the latter, from the care with which she left Renard
in ignorance of Commendone's presence.

                   [Footnote 117: He remained fifteen days, and he
                   left for Rome the day after the execution of
                   Northumberland.--Pallavicino.]

                   [Footnote 118: Cælitum ductu.]

                   [Footnote 119: "Nec destiterat regina id ipsum
                   Commendono indicare, eum percontata an existimaret
                   Pontificem ad id legem Polo relaxaturum, cum is
                   nondum sacerdos sed diaconus esset, extarentque
                   hujusmodi relaxionum exempla ingentis alicujus
                   emolumenti gratiâ."--Pallavicino.]

The papal messenger remained long enough to witness a rapid change in
her position; he saw the restoration of the mass; he was in London at
the execution, and he learnt the apostasy, of Northumberland; and he
carried letters from Mary to the pope with assurances of fidelity, and
entreaties for the absolution of the kingdom. But Mary was obliged to
say, notwithstanding, that for the present she was in the power of the
people, of whom the majority mortally detested the Holy See; that the
lords of the council were in possession of vast estates which had been
alienated from the church, and they feared their titles might be
called in question;[120] and, although she agreed herself in all which
Pole had urged (she had received his letter before Commendone left
England), yet that, nevertheless, necessity acknowledged no law. Her
heretical sister was in every one's mouth, and might at any moment
take her place on the throne, and for the present, she said, to her
deep regret, she could not, with prudence or safety, allow the legate
to come to her.

                   [Footnote 120: Mary described her throne as,
                   "acquistato per benevolenze di quei popoli, che per
                   la maggior parte odiano a morte questa sancta sede,
                   oltre gl' interessi dei beni ecclesiastici occupati
                   da molti signori, che sono del suo
                   consiglio."--Julius III. to Pole: _Poli Epistolæ_,
                   vol. iv.]

The queen's letters were confirmed by Commendone himself; he had been
permitted to confer in private with more than one good Catholic in the
realm; and every one had given him the same assurances,[121] although
he had urged upon them the opposite opinion entertained by Pole:[122]
he had himself witnessed the {p.055} disposition with which the
people regarded Elizabeth, and he was satisfied that the queen's alarm
on this head was not exaggerated.[123]

                   [Footnote 121: "Le parole che haveva inteso da lei
                   disse di haver inteso da persone Catholice et digne
                   di fede in quel paese."--Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 122: "Et similmente espose l' opinione
                   vostra con le ragioni che vi movano."--Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 123: Julius III. to Pole: _Poli
                   Epistolæ_, vol. iv.]

In opinions so emphatically given, the pope was obliged to acquiesce,
and the same view was enforced upon him equally strongly by the
emperor. Charles knew England tolerably well; he was acquainted
perfectly well with the moral and intellectual unfitness of the
intended legate for any office which required discretion; and Julius,
therefore, was obliged to communicate to the eager cardinal the
necessity of delay, and to express his fear that, by excess of zeal,
he might injure the cause and alienate the well-affected queen.[124]
Though Pole might not go to England, however, he might go, as he went
before, to the immediate neighbourhood; he might repair to Flanders,
with a nominal commission to mediate in the peace which was still
hoped for. In Flanders, though the pope forbore to tell him so, he
would be under the emperor's eyes and under the emperor's control,
till the vital question of the queen's marriage had been disposed of,
or till England was in a calmer humour.

                   [Footnote 124: "Onde se per questa molta diligenza
                   nostra, le avvenisse qualche caso sinistro, si
                   rovinarebbe forse (il che Dio non voglie) ogni
                   speranza della reduttione di quella patria, levando
                   se le forze a questa buona e Catholica regina,
                   overo alienando la de noi par offesa
                   ricevuta."--Ibid.]

About the marriage Charles was more anxious than ever; Pole was
understood to have declined the honour of being a competitor;[125]
Renard had informed the emperor of the present direction of the
queen's own inclinations; and treating himself, therefore, as out of
the question on the score of age and infirmities, he instructed his
minister to propose the Prince of Spain as a person whom the religious
and the political interests of the world alike recommended to her as a
husband. The alliance of England, Spain, and Flanders would command a
European supremacy; their united fleets would sweep the seas, and
Scotland, deprived of support from France, must become an English
province; while sufficient guarantees could be provided easily for the
security of English liberties. These, in themselves, were powerful
reasons; Renard was permitted to increase their cogency by promises of
pensions, lands, and titles, or by hard money in hand, in whatever
direction such liberality could be usefully employed.[126]

                   [Footnote 125: "Ayant le Cardinal Pole si
                   expressement declairé qu'il n'a nul désir de soy
                   marier, et que nous tenons, que pour avoir si
                   longuement suivi l'état ecclesiastique, et
                   s'accommodé aux choses duysant a icelluy et estant
                   diacre."--Charles V. to Renard: _Granvelle Papers_,
                   vol. iv.]

                   [Footnote 126: Ibid.]

{p.056} The external advantages of the connection were obvious; it
recommended itself to the queen from the Spanish sympathies which she
had contracted in her blood, and from the assistance which it promised
to afford her in the great pursuit of her life. The proposal was first
suggested informally. Mary affected to find difficulties; yet, if she
raised objections, it was only to prolong the conversation upon a
subject which delighted her. She spoke of her age; Philip was
twenty-seven, she ten years older; she called him "boy;" she feared
she might not be enough for him; she was unsusceptible; she had no
experience in love;[127] with such other phrases, which Renard
interpreted at their true importance. With the queen there would be no
difficulty; with the council it was far otherwise. Lord Paget was the
only English statesman who listened with any show of favour.

                   [Footnote 127: "Elle jura que jamais elle n'avoit
                   senti esquillon de ce que l'on appelle amour, ny
                   entre en pensement de volupté, etc."--Renard to the
                   Bishop of Arras: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

The complication of parties is not to be easily disentangled. Some
attempt, however, may be partially successful.

The council, the peers, the Commons, the entire lay voices of England,
liberal and conservative alike, were opposed to Rome; Gardiner was the
only statesman in the country who thought a return to Catholic union
practicable or desirable; while there was scarcely an influential
family, titled or untitled, which was not, by grant or purchase, in
possession of confiscated church property.

There was an equal unanimity in the dread that if Mary became the wife
of a Spanish sovereign England would, like the Low Countries, sink
into a provincial dependency; while, again, there was the utmost
unwillingness to be again entangled in the European war; the French
ambassador insisted that the emperor only desired the marriage to
secure English assistance; and the council believed that, whatever
promises might be made, whatever stipulations insisted on, such a
marriage, sooner or later, would implicate them. The country was
exhausted, the currency ruined, the people in a state of unexampled
suffering, and the only remedy was to be looked for in quiet and
public economy; there were attractions in the offer of a powerful
alliance, but the very greatness of it added to their reluctance; they
desired to isolate England from European quarrels, and marry their
queen at home. With these opinions Paget alone disagreed, while
Gardiner was loudly national.

{p.057} On the other hand, though Gardiner held the restoration of
the papal authority to be tolerable, yet he dreaded the return of
Pole, as being likely to supersede him in the direction of the English
Church;[128] the party who agreed with the chancellor about the
marriage, and about Pole, disagreed with him about the pope; while
Paget, who was in favour of the marriage, was with the lords on the
supremacy, and, as the Romanising views of the queen became notorious,
was inclining, with Arundel and Pembroke, towards the Protestants.

                   [Footnote 128: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

No wonder, therefore, that the whole council were in confusion and at
cross purposes. No sooner were Charles's proposals definitely known
than the entire machinery of the government was dislocated. Mary
represented herself to Renard as without a friend whom she could
trust; and the letters, both of Renard and Noailles, contain little
else but reports how the lords were either quarrelling, or had, one
after the other, withdrawn in disgust to their country houses. Now it
was Pembroke that was gone, now Mason, now Paget; then Courtenay was a
prisoner in his house; then Lord Winchester was forbidden to appear at
court: the ministers were in distrust of each other and of their
mistress; the queen was condemned to keep them in their offices
because she durst not make them enemies; while the Stanleys, Howards,
Talbots, and Nevilles were glooming apart, indignant at the neglect of
their own claims.

The queen herself was alternately angry and miserable; by the middle
of September Renard congratulated Charles on her growing ill-humour;
the five Dudleys and Lady Jane, he hoped, would be now disposed of,
and Elizabeth would soon follow.

Elizabeth's danger was great, and proceeded as much from her friend's
indiscretion as from the hatred of her enemies. Every one who disliked
the queen's measures, used Elizabeth's name. Renard was for ever
hissing his suspicions in the queen's ear, and, unfortunately, she was
a too willing listener--not, indeed, that Renard hated Elizabeth for
her own sake, for he rather admired her--or for religion's sake, for
he had a most statesmanlike indifference to religion; but he saw in
her the queen's successful rival in the favour of the people, the
heir-presumptive to the crown, whose influence would increase the
further the queen travelled on the road on which he was leading her,
and, therefore, an enemy who, if possible, should be destroyed. An
opportunity of creating a collision between the sisters was not long
wanting. The lords of the council were {p.058} now generally present
at mass in the royal chapel. Elizabeth, with Anne of Cleves, had as
yet refused to appear. Her resistance was held to imply a sinister
intention; and on the 2nd and 3rd of September the council were
instructed to bring her to compliance.[129] Yet the days passed, the
priest sang, and the heir to the crown continued absent. Gardiner,
indeed, told Renard that she was not obdurate; he had spoken to her,
and she had seemed to say that, if he could convince her, her
objections would cease;[130] but they had not ceased so far; she did
not attend. In the happiness of her first triumph Mary had treated
Elizabeth like a sister, but her manner had relapsed into coldness;
and the princess, at length, knowing how her name was made use of,
requested a private interview, which, with difficulty, was granted.
The sisters, each accompanied by a single lady, met in a gallery with
a half-door between them. Elizabeth threw herself on her knees. She
said that she perceived her majesty was displeased with her; she could
not tell what the cause might be, unless it was religion; and for
this, she said, she might be reasonably forgiven; she had been
educated, as the queen was aware, in the modern belief, and she
understood no other; if her majesty would send her books and teachers,
she would read; she would listen; she could say no more.

                   [Footnote 129: Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. ii. p. 147.]

                   [Footnote 130: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Mary, at the moment, was delighted. Like a true Catholic, however, she
insisted that obedience must precede faith; come to the mass, she
said, and belief will be the reward of your submission; make your
first trial on the mass of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin.[131]

                   [Footnote 131: Ibid.]

Elizabeth consented. She was present, but present reluctantly;
pretending, as Renard said, to be ill; the next Sunday she was again
absent. The queen, knowing the effect which her conduct would produce,
again sent for her, and asked her earnestly what she really believed;
the world said that, although she had complied once, her compliance
was feigned, and that she had submitted out of fear; she desired to
hear the truth. Elizabeth could reply merely that she had done as the
queen had required her to do, with no ulterior purpose; if her majesty
wished she would make a public declaration to that effect.[132] The
queen was obliged to receive her answer; but she told Renard that her
sister trembled as she spoke, and well, Renard said, he understood her
agitation; she was the hope of the {p.059} heretics, and the
heretics were raising their heads; the Papists, they said, had had
their day, but it was waning; if Elizabeth lived, England would again
apostatise.

                   [Footnote 132: Renard to Charles V., September 23:
                   Ibid.]

There was no difficulty in keeping the queen's jealousy alive against
her sister. Courtenay was another offence in the eye of the
ambassador, as the rival to Philip, who found favour with the English
council. The queen affected to treat Courtenay as a child; she
commanded him to keep to his house; she forbade him to dine abroad
without special permission; the title of Earl of Devon was given to
him, and he had a dress made for him to take his seat in, of velvet
and gold, but the queen would not allow him to wear it:[133] and yet,
to her own and the ambassador's mortification, she learnt that he
affected the state of a prince; that he spoke of his marriage with her
as certain; that certain prelates, Gardiner especially, encouraged his
expectation, and one or more of them had knelt in his presence.[134]
The danger had been felt from the first that, if she persisted in her
fancy for the Prince of Spain, Courtenay might turn his addresses to
Elizabeth; the lords would in that case fall off to his support, and
the crown would fall from her head as easily as it had settled there.

                   [Footnote 133: Noailles.]

                   [Footnote 134: Renard to Charles V., September 19:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

More afflicting to Mary than these personal grievances was the
pertinacity with which the council continued, in their public
documents, to describe her as Head of the Church, the execrable title
which was the central root of the apostasy. In vain she protested; the
hateful form--indispensable till it was taken away by parliament--was
thrust under her eyes in every paper which was brought to her for
signature, and she was obliged to acknowledge the designation with her
own hand and pen.

Amidst these anxieties, September wore away. Parliament was to open on
the fifth of October, and either before or after the meeting the queen
was to be crowned. The ceremony was an occasion of considerable
agitation; Mary herself was alarmed lest the holy oil should have lost
its efficacy through the interdict; and she entreated Renard to
procure her a fresh supply from Flanders, blessed by the excellent
hands of the Bishop of Arras. But the oil was not the gravest
difficulty. As the rumour spread of the intended Spanish marriage,
libellous handbills were scattered about London; the people said it
should not be till they had fought for it. A disturbance at Greenwich,
on the 25th of September, extended to Southwark, {p.060} where
Gardiner's house was attacked,[135] and a plot was discovered to
murder him: in the day he wore a shirt of mail under his robes, and he
slept with a guard of a hundred men. Threatening notices were even
found on the floor of the queen's bed-room, left there by unknown
hands. Noailles assured the lords that his own government would regard
the marriage as little short of a declaration of war, so inevitably
would war be the result of it; and Gardiner, who was unjustly
suspected of being in the Spanish interest, desired to delay the
coronation till parliament should have met; intending that the first
act of the assembly should be to tie Mary's hands with a memorial
which she could not set aside. She inherited under her father's will,
by which her accession was made conditional on her marrying not
without the consent of the council; parliament might remind her both
of her own obligation to obey her father's injunctions, and of theirs
to see that they were obeyed.

                   [Footnote 135: Noailles; Renard.]

With the same object, though not with the same object only, the lords
of the council supported the Bishop of Winchester. They proposed to
alter the form of the coronation oath, and to bind the queen by an
especial clause to maintain the independence of the English Church--a
precaution, as it proved, not unnecessary--for the existing form was
already inconvenient, and Mary was meditating how, when called on to
swear to observe the laws and constitutions of the realm, she could
introduce an adjective _sub silentio_; she intended to swear only that
she would observe the JUST laws and constitutions.[136] But she looked
with the gravest alarm to the introduction of more awkward phrases; if
words were added which would be equivalent (as she would understand
them) to a denial of Christ and his Church, she had resolved to refuse
at all hazards.[137]

                   [Footnote 136: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 137: Ibid.]

But her courage was not put to the test. The true grounds on which the
delay of the coronation was desired could not be avowed. The queen was
told that her passage through the streets would be unsafe until her
accession had been sanctioned by parliament, and the act repealed by
which she was illegitimatised. With Paget's help she faced down these
objections, and declared that she would be crowned at once; she
appointed the 1st of October for the ceremony; on the 28th of
September she sent for the council to attempt an appeal to their
generosity. She spoke to them at length of her past life and
sufferings, of the conspiracy to set her aside, and of the wonderful
Providence {p.061} which had preserved her and raised her to the
throne; her only desire, she said, was to do her duty to God and to
her subjects; and she hoped, turning as she spoke, pointedly to
Gardiner, that they would not forget their loyalty, and would stand by
her in her extreme necessity. Observing them hesitate, she cried, "My
lords, on my knees I implore you"--and flung herself on the ground at
their feet.[138]

                   [Footnote 138: "Devant les quelz elle se mist à
                   genoulx."--Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

The most skilful acting could not have served Mary's purpose better
than this outburst of natural emotion; the spectacle of their kneeling
sovereign overcame for a time the scheming passions of her ministers;
they were affected, burst into tears, and withdrew their opposition to
her wishes.[139]

                   [Footnote 139: Ibid.]

On the 30th, the procession from the Tower to Westminster through the
streets was safely accomplished. The retinues of the lords protected
the queen from insult, and London put on its usual outward signs of
rejoicing; St. Paul's spire was rigged with yards like a ship's mast,
an adventurous sailor sitting astride on the weathercock five hundred
feet in the air:[140] there was no interruption; and the next day
(October 1), Arras having sent the necessary unction,[141] the
ceremony was performed at the Abbey without fresh burdens being laid
on Mary's conscience.

                   [Footnote 140: The Hot Gospeller, half-recovered
                   from his gaol fever, got out of bed to see the
                   spectacle, and took his station at the west end of
                   St. Paul's. The procession passed so close as
                   almost to touch him, and one of the train seeing
                   him muffled up, and looking more dead than alive,
                   said, There is one that loveth her majesty well, to
                   come out in such condition. The queen turned her
                   head and looked at him. To hear that any one of her
                   subjects loved her just then was too welcome to be
                   overlooked.--Underhill's Narrative: _MS. Harleian_,
                   425.]

                   [Footnote 141: Arras to Renard: _Granvelle Papers_,
                   vol. iv. p. 105.]

The banquet in the great hall passed off with equal success; Sir
Edward Dymocke, the champion, rode in and flung down his gage, and was
listened to with becoming silence: on the whole, Mary's friends were
agreeably disappointed; only Renard observed that, between the French
ambassador and the Lady Elizabeth there seemed to be some secret
understanding; the princess saluted Noailles as he passed her; Renard
she would neither address nor look at--and Renard was told that she
complained to Noailles of the weight of her coronet, and that Noailles
"bade her have patience, and before long she would exchange it for a
crown."[142]

                   [Footnote 142: Renard to the Regent Mary: _Rolls
                   House MSS._]

{p.062} The coronation was a step gained; it was one more victory,
yet it produced no material alteration. Rome, and the Spanish
marriage, remained as before, insoluble elements of difficulty; the
queen, to her misfortune, was driven to rely more and more on Renard;
and at this time she was so desperate and so ill-advised as to think
of surrounding herself with an Irish bodyguard; she went so far as to
send a commission to Sir George Stanley for their transport.[143]

                   [Footnote 143: "Mary, by the grace of God, Queen of
                   England, etc.... to all mayors, sheriffs, justices
                   of the peace, and other our subjects, these our
                   letters, hearing or seeing: whereas we have
                   appointed a certain number of able men to be
                   presently levied for our service within our realm
                   of Ireland, and to be transported hither with
                   diligence, we let you wit that for that purpose we
                   have authorised our trusty Sir George Stanley,
                   Knight," etc.--October 5, 1553. From the original
                   Commission: _Tanner MSS._ 90, Bodleian Library.]

The scheme was abandoned, but not because her relations with her own
people were improved. Before parliament met, an anonymous pamphlet
appeared by some English nobleman on the encroachments of the House of
Austria, and on the treatment of other countries which had fallen
through marriages into Austrian hands. In Lombardy and Naples every
office of trust was described as held by a Spaniard; the Prince of
Salerno was banished, the Prince of Benevento was a prisoner in
Flanders, the Duke of Calabria a prisoner in Spain. Treating Mary's
hopes of children as ridiculous, the writer pictured England, bound
hand and foot, at the mercy of the insolent Philip, whose first step,
on entering the country, would be to seize the Tower and the fleet,
the next, to introduce a Spanish army and suppress the parliament. The
free, glorious England of the Plantagenets would then be converted
into a prostrate appanage of the dominions of Don Carlos. The pamphlet
was but the expression of the universal feeling. Gardiner, indeed,
perplexed between his religion and his country, for a few days
wavered. Gardiner had a long debt to pay off against the Protestants,
and a Spanish force, divided into garrisons for London and other
towns, would assist him materially.[144] Partly, however, from
attachment to Courtenay, partly from loyalty to his country, he shook
off the temptation and continued to support the opposition.[145]

                   [Footnote 144: "J'estime qu'il desire presentment y
                   veoir une bonne partie de l'Espaigne et Allemaigne,
                   y tenir grosses et fortes garnisons, pour mortifier
                   ce peuple, et s'en venger," etc.--Noailles to the
                   King of France: _Ambassades_, vol. ii. p. 169.]

                   [Footnote 145: A look at Gardiner, at this time,
                   through contemporary eyes, assists much towards the
                   understanding him. Thomas Mountain, parson of St.
                   Michael's by the Tower, an ultra-Reformer, had been
                   out with Northumberland at Cambridge. The following
                   story is related by himself.

                   "Sunday, October 8," Mountain says, "I ministered
                   service, according to the godly order set forth by
                   that blessed prince King Edward, the parish
                   communicating at the Holy Supper. Now, while I was
                   even a breaking of bread at the table, saying to
                   the communicants, Take and eat this, Drink this,
                   there were standing by several serving-men, to see
                   and hear, belonging to the Bishop of Winchester;
                   among whom one of them most shamefully blasphemed
                   God, saying:

                   "Yea, by God's blood, standest thou there yet,
                   saying--Take and eat, Take and drink; will not this
                   gear be left yet? You shall be made to sing another
                   song within these few days, I trow, or else I have
                   lost my mark."

                   A day or two after came an order for Mountain to
                   appear before Gardiner at Winchester House.
                   Mountain said he would appear after morning
                   prayers; but the messenger's orders were not to
                   leave him, and he was obliged to obey on the
                   instant.

                   The bishop was standing when he entered, "in a bay
                   window, with a great company about him; among them
                   Sir Anthony St. Leger, reappointed Lord Deputy of
                   Ireland."

                   "Thou heretic," the Bishop began; "how darest thou
                   be so bold as to use that schismatical service
                   still, seeing God hath sent us a Catholic queen.
                   There is such an abominable company of you, as is
                   able to poison a whole realm with heresies."

                   "My lord," Mountain replied, "I am no heretic, for
                   in that way you count heresy, so worship we the
                   living God."

                   "God's passion," said the Bishop, "did I not tell
                   you, my Lord Deputy, how you should know a heretic.
                   He is up with his living God as though there was a
                   dead God. They have nothing in their mouths, these
                   heretics, but the Lord liveth; the living God; the
                   Lord! the Lord! and nothing but the Lord."

                   "Here," says Mountain, "he chafed like a bishop;
                   and as his manner was, many times he put off his
                   cap, and rubbed to and fro up and down the forepart
                   of his head, where a lock of hair was always
                   standing up."

                   "My good Lord Chancellor," St. Leger said to him,
                   "trouble not yourself with this heretic; I think
                   all the world is full of them; God bless me from
                   them. But, as your Lordship said, having a
                   Christian queen reigning over us, I trust there
                   will shortly be a reformation and an order taken
                   with these heretics." "Submit yourself unto my
                   lord," he said to Mountain, "and you shall find
                   favour."

                   "Thank you, sir," Mountain answered, "ply your own
                   suit, and let me alone."

                   A bystander then put in that the parson of St.
                   Michael's was a traitor as well as a heretic. He
                   had been in the field with the duke against the
                   queen.

                   "Is it even so?" cried Gardiner; "these be always
                   linked together, treason and heresy. Off with him
                   to the Marshalsea; this is one of our new broached
                   brethren that speaketh against good works; your
                   fraternity was, is, and ever will be unprofitable
                   in all ages, and good for nothing but the
                   fire."--Troubles of Thomas Mountain: printed by
                   Strype.

                   The portraits of Gardiner represent a fine,
                   vehement-looking man. The following description of
                   him, by Ponet, his rival in the See of Winchester,
                   gives the image as it was reflected in Ponet's
                   antipathies.

                   "The doctor hath a swart colour, hanging look,
                   frowning brows, eyes an inch within his head, a
                   nose, hooked like a buzzard's, nostrils like a
                   horse, ever snuffing in the wind; a sparrow mouth,
                   great paws like the devil, talons on his feet like
                   a gripe, two inches longer than the natural toes,
                   and so tied with sinews that he cannot abide to be
                   touched."]

{p.063} Mary, except for the cautious support of Paget, stood
otherwise alone coquetting with her fancy, and played upon by the
skilful Renard. The queen and the ambassador were incessantly
together, and Philip was the never-tiring subject of conversation
between them. She talked of his disposition. She had heard, {p.064}
she said, that he was proud; that he was inferior to his father in
point of ability; and then he was young, and she had been told sad
stories about him; if he was of warm temperament, he would not suit
her at all, she said, considering the age at which she had
arrived.[146] Moreover, when she was married, she must obey as God
commanded; her husband, perhaps, might wish to place Spaniards in
authority in England, and she would have to refuse; and that he would
not like. To all of which, being the fluttering of the caught fly,
Renard would answer that his highness was more like an angel than a
man; his youth was in his favour, for he might live to see his child
of age, and England had had too much experience of minorities. Life,
he added remarkably, was shorter than it used to be; sixty was now a
great age for a king; and as the world was, men were as mature at
thirty as in the days of his grandfather they were considered at
forty.[147] Then touching the constant sore--"her majesty," he said,
"had four enemies, who would never rest till they had destroyed her or
were themselves destroyed--the heretics, the friends of the late Duke
of Northumberland, the courts of France and Scotland, and, lastly, her
sister Elizabeth. Her subjects were restless, turbulent, and
changeable as the ocean of which they were so fond;[148] the
sovereigns of England had been only able to rule with a hand of iron,
and with severities which had earned them the name of tyrants;[149]
they had not spared the blood royal in order to secure their thrones,
and she too must act as they had acted, leaning for support,
meanwhile, on the arm of a powerful prince."

                   [Footnote 146: "Que s'il vouloit estre voluptueux
                   ce n'est ce quelle desire pour estre de telle
                   eaige."--Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 147: Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 148: "Vostre Majesté seit les humeurs des
                   Angloys et leur voluntez estre forte discordantes,
                   désireux de nouvelleté, de mutation, et
                   vindicatifz, soit pour estre insulaires, ou pour
                   tenir ce natural de la marine."--Renard to Mary:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 129.]

                   [Footnote 149: "Les roys du passé on esté forcés de
                   traicter en rigueur de justice et effusion de sang
                   par l'execution de plusieurs du royaulme, voir du
                   sang royal, pour s'asseurer et maintenir leur
                   royaulme, dont ils out acquis le renom de tyrans et
                   cruelz."--Ibid.]

To these dark hints Mary ever listened eagerly--meantime she was
harassed painfully from another quarter.

{p.065} Reginald Pole, as might have been expected from his
temperament, could ill endure the delay of his return to England. The
hesitation of the queen and the objections of the emperor were
grounded upon arguments which he assured himself were fallacious; the
English nation, he continued to insist, were devoted to the Holy See;
so far from being himself unpopular, the _Cornish_ in the rebellion
under Edward had petitioned for his recall, and had even designated
him by the forbidden name of cardinal; they loved him and they longed
for him; and, regarding himself as the chosen instrument of Providence
to repair the iniquities of Henry VIII., he held the obstructions to
his return not only to be mistaken, but to be impious. The duty of the
returning prodigal was to submit; to lay aside all earthly
considerations--to obey God, God's vicegerent the pope, and himself
the pope's representative.

Mendoza had been sent by Charles to meet Pole on his way to Flanders,
and reason him into moderation. In return the legate wrote himself to
Charles's confessor, commanding him to explain to his master the sin
which he was committing. "The objection to his going to England," as
Pole understood, "was the supposed danger of an outbreak". Were the
truth as the emperor feared, the queen's first duty would be,
nevertheless, to God, her own soul, and the souls of the millions of
her subjects who were perishing in separation from the church; for no
worldly policy or carnal respect ought she to defer for a moment to
apply a remedy to so monstrous a calamity.[150] But the danger was
imaginary--or, rather, such danger as there was, arose from the
opposite cause. The right of the queen to the throne did not rest on
an act of parliament; it rested on her birth as the lawful child of
the lawful marriage between Henry and Catherine of Arragon.
Parliament, he was informed, would affirm the marriage legitimate, if
nothing was said about the pope; but, unless the pope's authority was
first recognised, parliament would only stultify itself; the papal
dispensation alone made valid a connection which, if the pope had no
power to dispense, was incestuous, and the offspring of it
illegitimate. God had made the peaceful settlement of the kingdom
dependent {p.066} on submission to the Holy See,[151] and for
parliament to interfere and give an opinion upon the subject would be
but a fresh act of schism and disobedience.

                   [Footnote 150: "Quanto grave peccato et irreparabil
                   danno sia il differir cosa che pertenga alle salute
                   di tante anime, le quale mentre quel regno sta
                   disunito dalla Chiesa, si trovano in manifesto
                   pericolo della loro dannatione."--Pole to the
                   Emperor's Confessor: _MS. Germany_, bundle 16,
                   State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 151: God, he said, had joined the title
                   to the Crown, "con l'obedientia della Sede
                   Apostolica, che levata questa viene a cader in
                   tutto, quella non essendo ella legitime herede del
                   regno, se non per la legitimation del matrimonio
                   della regina sua madre, et questa non valendo senon
                   per l'autorita et dispensa del Papa."--Pole to the
                   Emperor's Confessor: _MS. Germany_, bundle 16,
                   State Paper office.]

The original letter, being in our own State Paper Office, was probably
given by the confessor to Charles, and by Charles sent over to
England. Most logical it was; so logical that it quite outwitted the
intention of the writer. While it added to the queen's distress, it
removed, nevertheless, all objections which might have been raised by
the anti-papal party against the act to legitimatise her. So long as
there was a fear that, by a repeal of the Act of Divorce between her
father and mother, the pope's authority might indirectly be admitted,
some difficulty was to be anticipated; as a new assertion of English
independence, it could be carried with unanimous alacrity.

What parliament would or would not consent to, however, would soon
cease to be a mystery. The advice of the emperor on the elections had
been, for the most part, followed. It was obvious, indeed, that a
sovereign who was unable to control her council was in no position to
dictate to constituencies. There were no circulars to the
lords-lieutenant of counties, such as Northumberland had issued, or
such as Mary herself, a year later, was able to issue; while the
unusual number of members returned to the Lower House--four hundred
and thirty, it will be seen, voted on one great occasion--shows that
the issue of writs had been on the widest scale. On the whole, it was,
perhaps, the fairest election which had taken place for many years. In
the House of Lords the ejection of the Reforming bishops and the
restoration of their opponents--the death, imprisonment, or disgrace
of three noblemen on the Reforming side, and the return to public life
of the peers who, in the late reign, had habitually absented
themselves, had restored a conservative majority. How the
representatives of the people would conduct themselves was the anxious
and all-agitating question. The queen, however, could console herself
with knowing that Protestantism, as a system of belief, had made its
way chiefly among the young; the votes were with the middle-aged and
the old.

The session opened on the 5th of October with the ancient {p.067}
form, so long omitted, of the mass of the Holy Ghost. Two Protestant
bishops, Taylor of Lincoln and Harley of Hereford, who had been left
as yet undisturbed in their sees, on the service commencing, rose and
went out; they were not allowed to return. Two prebends, Alexander
Nowel and Doctor Tregonwell had been returned to the Lower House;
Nowel as a member of Convocation was declared ineligible;[152]
Tregonwell, being a layman, was on consideration allowed to retain his
seat. These were the only ejections which can be specifically traced,
and the silence of those who were interested in making the worst of
Mary's conduct, may be taken to prove that they did not know of any
more.[153] The Houses, purged of these elements, then settled to their
work; and, plunging at once into the great question of the time, the
Commons came to an instant understanding that the lay owners of church
lands should not be disturbed in their tenures under any pretext
whatsoever.

                   [Footnote 152: "Friday, October 13, it was declared
                   by the commissioners that Alex. Nowel, being
                   prebendary in Westminster, and thereby having a
                   voice in the Convocation House, cannot be a member
                   of this House, and so agreed by the
                   House."--_Commons Journal_, 1 Mary.]

                   [Footnote 153: Burnet and other Protestant writers
                   are loud-voiced with eloquent generalities on the
                   interference with the elections, and the
                   ill-treatment of the Reforming members; but of
                   interference with the elections they can produce no
                   evidence, and of members ejected they name no more
                   than the two bishops and the two prebends.
                   Noailles, indeed, who had opportunities of knowing,
                   says something on both points. "Ne fault douter,
                   sire," he wrote to the King of France, "que la
                   dicte dame n'obtienne presque tout ce qu'elle
                   vouldra en ce parlement, de tant qu'elle a faict
                   faire election de ceulx qui pourront estre en sa
                   faveur, et jetter quelques uns à elle suspectz."
                   The queen had probably done what she could; but the
                   influence which she could exercise must obviously
                   have been extremely small, and the event showed
                   that the ambassador was entirely wrong in his
                   expectations.]

Commendone, on returning to Rome, had disregarded his obligations to
secrecy, and had related all that the queen had said to him in the
open consistory; from the consistory the account travelled back to
England, and arrived inopportunely at the opening of parliament. The
fatal subject of the lands had been spoken of, and the queen had
expressed to Commendone her intention to restore them, if possible, to
the church. The council cross-questioned her, and she could neither
deny her words nor explain them away; the Commons first, the Lords
immediately after, showed her that, whatever might be her own hopes or
wishes, their minds on that point were irrevocably fixed.[154]

                   [Footnote 154: Renard to Charles V., October 19:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

No less distinct were the opinions expressed in the Lower House on the
Papacy. The authority of the pope, as understood {p.068} in England,
was not a question of doctrine, nor was the opposition to it of recent
origin. It had been thrown off after a struggle which had lasted for
centuries, and a victory[155] so hardly won was not to be lightly
parted with. Lord Paget warned the queen that Pole's name must not be
so much as mentioned, or some unwelcome resolution about him would be
immediately passed;[156] and she was in hourly dread that before they
would consent to anything, they would question her whether she would
or would not maintain the royal supremacy.[157] On the other hand, if
no difficulties were raised about the pope or the church lands, the
preliminary discussion, both among Lords and Commons, showed a general
disposition to re-establish religion in the condition in which Henry
left it--provided, that is to say, no penalties were to attach to
nonconformity; and the Houses were ready also to take the step so much
deprecated by Pole, and pass a measure legitimatising the queen,
provided no mention was to be made of the papal dispensation. Some
difference of opinion on the last point had shown itself in the House
of Commons,[158] but the legate's ingenuity had removed all serious
obstacles.

                   [Footnote 155: Even the most reactionary clergy,
                   men like Abbot Feckenham and Doctor Bourne, had no
                   desire, as yet, to be re-united to Rome. In a
                   discussion with Ridley in the Tower, on the real
                   presence, Feckenham argued that "forty years before
                   all the world was agreed about it. Forty years ago,
                   said Ridley, all held that the Bishop of Rome was
                   supreme head of the Universal Church. What then?
                   was Master Feckenham beginning to say; but Master
                   Secretary (Bourne) took the tale, and said that was
                   a positive law. A positive law, quoth Ridley; he
                   would not have it so; he challenged it by Christ's
                   own word, by the words, 'Thou art Peter; thou art
                   Cephas,' Tush, quoth Master Secretary, it was not
                   counted an article of our faith."--Foxe, vol. vi.]

                   [Footnote 156: Renard to Charles V., October 28:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 157: Ibid. October 15: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 158: Ibid.]

Again parliament seemed determined that the Act of Succession, and the
will of Henry VIII., should not be tampered with, to the disfavour of
Elizabeth. It is singular that Renard, and probably, therefore, Mary,
were unaware of the position in which Elizabeth was placed towards the
crown. They imagined that her only title was as a presumptively
legitimate child; that if the Act of Divorce between Catherine of
Arragon and Henry was repealed, she must then, as a bastard, be cut
off from her expectations. Had Elizabeth's prospects been liable to be
affected by the legitimisation of her sister, the queen would have
sued as vainly for it as she sued afterwards in favour of her husband.
With unmixed mortification Renard learnt that Elizabeth, in the eye of
the law, had been as illegitimate as Mary, and that her {p.069}
place in the order of succession rested on her father's will. He
flattered himself, at first, that Henry's dispositions could be set
aside;[159] but he very soon found that there was no present hope of
it.

                   [Footnote 159: Renard to Charles V., October 21:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

These general features of the temper of parliament were elicited in
conversation in the first few days of the session. The Marchioness of
Exeter, during the same days, was released from her attainder,
Courtenay was restored in blood, and a law, similar to that with which
Somerset commenced his Protectorate, repealed all late treason acts,
restricted the definition of treason within the limits of the statute
of Edward III., and relieved the clergy of the recent extensions of
the Premunire. The queen gave her assent to these three measures on
the 21st of October; and there was then an interval of three days,
during which the bishops were consulted on the view taken by
parliament of the queen's legitimacy. Renard told the Bishop of
Norwich, Thirlby, that they must bend to the times, and leave the pope
to his fortunes. They acted on the ambassador's advice. An act was
passed, in which the marriage from which the queen was sprung, was
declared valid, and the pope's name was not mentioned; but the
essential point being secured, the framers of the statute were willing
to gratify their mistress by the intensity of the bitterness with
which the history of the divorce was related.[160] The bishops must
have been glad to escape from so mortifying a subject, and to apply
themselves to the more congenial subject of religion.

                   [Footnote 160: 1 Mary, cap. 1.]

As soon as the disposition of parliament had been generally
ascertained, the restoration of the mass was first formally submitted,
for the sake of decency, to the clergy of Convocation.

The bench had been purged of dangerous elements. The Lower House
contained a small fraction of Protestants just large enough to permit
a controversy, and to insure a triumph to their antagonists. The
proceedings opened with a sermon from Harpsfeld, then chaplain of the
Bishop of London, in which, in a series of ascending antitheses,
Northumberland was described as Holofernes, and Mary as Judith;
Northumberland was Haman, and Mary was Esther; Northumberland was
Sisera, and Mary was the mother in Israel. Mary was the sister who had
chosen the better part: religion ceased and slept until Mary arose a
virgin in Israel, and with the mother of God Mary might sing, "Behold,
from henceforth all generations shall call {p.070} me blessed." The
trumpet having thus sounded, the lists were drawn for the combat; the
bishops sat in their robes, the clergy stood bareheaded, and the
champions appeared. Hugh Weston, Dean of Windsor, Dean of Westminster
afterwards, Dr. Watson, Dr. Moreman, and the preacher Harpsfeld
undertook to defend the real presence against Phillips Dean of
Rochester, Philpot, Cheny, Aylmer, and Young.

The engagement lasted for a week. The reforming theologians fought for
their dangerous cause bravely and temperately; and Weston, who was at
once advocate and prolocutor, threw down his truncheon at last, and
told Philpot that he was meeter for Bethlehem than for a company of
grave and learned men, and that he should come no more into their
house.[161] The orthodox thus ruled themselves the victors: but beyond
the doors of the Convocation House they did not benefit their cause.
The dispute, according to Renard, resolved itself, in the opinion of
the laity, into scandalous railing and recrimination;[162] the people
were indignant; and the Houses of Parliament, disgusted and
dissatisfied, resumed the discussion among themselves, as more
competent to conduct it with decency. In eight days the various
changes introduced by Edward VI. were argued in the House of Commons,
and points were treated of there, said Renard, which a general council
could scarcely resolve. At length, by a majority, which exceeded
Gardiner's most sanguine hopes, of 350 against 80, the mass was
restored, and the clergy were required to return to celibacy.[163]

                   [Footnote 161: Report of the Disputation in the
                   Convocation House.--Foxe, vol. v. p. 395.]

                   [Footnote 162: Renard to Charles V., October 28:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 163: Ibid. November 8: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

The precipitation with which Somerset, Cranmer, and Northumberland had
attempted to carry out the Reformation, was thus followed by a natural
recoil. Protestant theology had erected itself into a system of
intolerant dogmatism, and had crowded the gaols with prisoners who
were guilty of no crime but Nonconformity; it had now to reap the
fruits of its injustice, and was superseded till its teachers had
grown wiser. The first parliament of Mary was indeed more Protestant,
in the best sense of that word, than the statesmen and divines of
Edward. While the House of Commons re-established the Catholic
services, they decided, after long consideration, that no punishment
should be inflicted on those who declined to attend those
services.[164] There was to be no pope, no persecution, no restoration
of the abbey {p.071} lands--resolutions, all of them disagreeable to
a reactionary court. On the Spanish marriage both Lords and Commons
were equally impracticable. The Catholic noblemen--the Earls of Derby,
Shrewsbury, Bath, and Sussex were in the interest of Courtenay. The
chancellor had become attached to him in the Tower when they were
fellow-prisoners there; and Sir Robert Rochester, Sir Francis
Englefield, Sir Edward Waldegrave, the queen's tried and faithful
officers of the household, went with the chancellor. Never, on any
subject, was there greater unanimity in England than in the
disapproval of Philip as a husband for the queen, and, on the 29th of
October, the Lower House had a petition in preparation to entreat her
to choose from among her subjects.

                   [Footnote 164: Ibid. December 8.]

To Courtenay, indeed, Mary might legitimately object. Since his
emancipation from the Tower he had wandered into folly and debauchery;
he was vain and inexperienced, and his insolence was kept in check
only by the quality so rare in an Englishman of personal timidity. But
to refuse Courtenay was one thing, to fasten her choice on the heir of
a foreign kingdom was another. Paget insisted, indeed, that, as the
Queen of Scots was contracted to the Dauphin, unless England could
strengthen herself with a connection of corresponding strength, the
union of the French and Scottish crowns was a menace to her
liberties.[165] But the argument, though important in itself, was
powerless against the universal dread of the introduction of a foreign
sovereign, and it availed only to provide Mary with an answer to the
protests and entreaties of her other ministers.

                   [Footnote 165: Renard.]

Perhaps, too, it confirmed her in her obstinacy, and allowed her to
persuade herself that, in following her own inclination, she was
consulting the interests of her subjects. Obstinate, at any rate, she
was beyond all reach of persuasion. Once only she wavered, after her
resolution was first taken. Some one had told her that, if she married
Philip, she would find herself the step-mother of a large family of
children who had come into the world irregularly. A moral objection
she was always willing to recognise. She sent for Renard, and conjured
him to tell her whether the prince was really the good man which he
had described him; Renard assured her that he was the very paragon of
the world.

She caught the ambassador's hand.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "do you speak as a subject whose duty is to
praise his sovereign, or do you speak as a man?"

{p.072} "Your majesty may take my life," he answered, "if you find
him other than I have told you."

"Oh that I could but see him!" she said.

She dismissed Renard gratefully. A few days after she sent for him
again, when she was expecting the petition of the House of Commons.
"Lady Clarence," one of the queen's attendants, was the only other
person present. The holy wafer was in the room on an altar, which she
called her protector, her guide, her adviser.[166] Mary told them that
she spent her days and nights in tears and prayers before it,
imploring God to direct her; and as she was speaking her emotions
overcame her; she flung herself on her knees with Renard and Lady
Clarence at her side, and the three together before the altar sang the
_Veni Creator_. The invocation was heard in the breasts from which it
was uttered. As the chant died into silence, Mary rose from the ground
as if inspired, and announced the divine message. The Prince of Spain
was the chosen of Heaven for the virgin queen; if miracles were
required to give him to her, there was a stronger than man who would
work them; the malice of the world should not keep him from her; she
would cherish him and love him, and him alone; and never
thenceforward, by a wavering thought, would she give him cause for
jealousy.[167]

                   [Footnote 166: "Elle l'avoit toujours invoqué comme
                   son protecteur, conducteur, et
                   conseilleur."--Renard to Charles V., October 31:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 167: Renard to Charles V., October 31:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

It was true that she had deliberately promised not to do what she was
now resolved on doing, but that was no matter.

The Commons' petition was by this time (November) ready, but the
agitation of the last scene brought on a palpitation of the heart
which for the time enabled the queen to decline to receive it; while
Renard assailed the different ministers, and extracted from them their
general views on the state of the country, and the measures which
should be pursued.

The Bishop of Winchester he found relaxing in his zeal for Rome, and
desiring a solid independent English government, the re-enactment of
the Six Articles, and an Anglican religious tyranny supported by the
lords of the old blood. Nobles and people were against the pope,
Gardiner said, and against foreign interference of all sorts; Mary
could not marry Philip without a papal dispensation, which must be
kept secret; the country would not tolerate it;[168] the French would
play into the hands of {p.073} the heretics, and the Spanish
alliance would give them the game; there would be a cry raised that
Spanish troops would be introduced to inflict the pope upon the people
by force. If the emperor desired the friendship of England, he would
succeed best by not pressing the connection too close. Political
marriages were dangerous. Cromwell tied Henry VIII. to Anne of Cleves;
the marriage lasted a night, and destroyed him and his policy. Let the
queen accept the choice of her people, marry Courtenay, send Elizabeth
to the Tower, and extirpate heresy with fire and sword.

                   [Footnote 168: "Il fauldra obtenir dispense du
                   Pape, pour le parentage, qui ne pourra estre
                   publique ains secrete, autrement le peuple se
                   revolteroit, pour l'auctorité du Pape qu'il ne
                   veult admettre et revoir."--Renard to Charles V.,
                   November 9: _Rolls House MSS._]

These were the views of Gardiner, from whom Renard turned next to
Paget.

If the queen sent Elizabeth to the Tower, Lord Paget said, her life
would not be safe for a day. Paget wished her to be allowed to choose
her own husband; but she must first satisfy parliament that she had no
intention of tampering with the succession. Should she die without
children, the country must not be left exposed to claims from Spain on
behalf of Philip, or from France on behalf of the Queen of Scots. His
own advice, therefore, was, that Mary should frankly acknowledge her
sister as her presumptive successor; Elizabeth might be married to
Courtenay, and, in default of heirs of her own body, it might be
avowed and understood that those two should be king and queen. Could
she make up her mind to this course, could she relinquish her dreams
of restoring the authority of the pope, of meddling with the church
lands, and interfering with the liberties of her people, she might
rely on the loyalty of the country, and her personal inclinations
would not be interfered with.[169]

                   [Footnote 169: Renard to Charles V., November 4:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

Both the lines of conduct thus sketched were consistent and
intelligible, and either might have been successfully followed. But
neither the one nor the other satisfied Mary. She would have Philip,
she would have the pope, and she would not recognise her sister. If
she insisted on choosing a husband for herself, she felt it would be
difficult to refuse her; her object was to surprise the council into
committing themselves, and she succeeded. On the 8th of November, when
they were in session in a room in the palace, Renard presented Mary in
the emperor's name with a formal offer of Philip's hand, and requested
a distinct answer, Yes or no. The queen said she would consult her
ministers, and repaired in agitation to the council-room.[170]
Distrusting {p.074} one another, unprepared for the sudden demand,
and unable to consult in her presence, the lords made some answer,
which she interpreted into acquiescence: Mary returned radiant with
joy, and told the ambassador that his proposal was accepted.

                   [Footnote 170: "Visage intimidé et gestes
                   tremblans."--Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

A momentary lull followed, during which Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of
Canterbury, Lady Jane Grey, Lord Guilford, Lord Ambrose, and Lord
Henry Dudley were taken from the Tower on foot to the Guildhall, and
were there tried, found guilty of high treason, and sentenced to die.
Lady Jane the queen still intended to spare; the Dudleys she meant to
pause upon. Cranmer, in a grave, mild letter, explained what his
conduct had been with respect to his so-called treason; but his story,
creditable to him as it was, produced no effect; Cranmer was
immediately to be put to death. That was the first intention, though
it was found necessary to postpone his fate through a superstitious
scruple. The archbishop had received the pallium from Rome, and, until
degraded by apostolic authority, he could not, according to Catholic
rule, be condemned by a secular tribunal. But there was no intention
of sparing him at the time of his trial; in a few days, Renard wrote
on the 17th of November, "the archbishop" will be executed; and Mary,
triumphant, as she believed herself, on the question nearest to her
heart, had told him that the melancholy which had weighed upon her
from childhood was rolling away; she had never yet known the meaning
of happiness, and she was about to be rewarded at last.[171]

                   [Footnote 171: Renard to Charles V., November 17:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

The struggle had told upon her. She was looking aged and worn,[172]
and her hopes of children, if she married, were thought extremely
small. But she considered that she had won the day, and was now ready
to face the Commons; the House had chafed at the delay: they had
talked largely of their intentions; if the queen's answer was
unsatisfactory, they would dissolve themselves, they said, and return
to their counties. On the 16th of November a message was brought that
the Speaker would at last be admitted to the presence. The interview
which followed, Mary thus herself described to Renard. The council
were present; the Speaker was introduced, and the queen received him
standing.

                   [Footnote 172: "Fort envieillie et
                   agée."--Noailles.]

In an oration, she said, replete to weariness with fine phrases and
historic precedents, the Speaker requested her, in the name of the
commonwealth, to marry. The succession was perplexed; the Queen of
Scots made pretensions to the crown; and, in the {p.075} event of
her death, a civil war was imminent. Let her majesty take a husband,
therefore, and with God's grace the kingdom would not be long without
an heir whose title none would dispute. Yet, in taking a husband, the
Speaker said, her majesty's faithful Commons trusted she would not
choose from abroad. A foreign prince had interests of his own which
might not be English interests; he would have command of English
armies, fleets, and fortresses, and he might betray his trust; he
might involve the country in wars; he might make promises and break
them; he might carry her highness away out of the realm; or he might
bring up her children in foreign courts and in foreign habits. Let her
marry, therefore, one of her own subjects.

The Speaker was so prolix, so tedious, so confused, the queen
said--his sentences were so long drawn and so little to the
purpose--that she sate down before he had half-finished. When he came
to the words "Marry a subject," she could remain silent no longer.

Replies to addresses of the House of Commons were usually read by the
chancellor; but, careless of forms, she again started to her feet, and
spoke:--[173]

                   [Footnote 173: Renard is the only authority for
                   this speech, which he heard from the queen.
                   Translated by him into French, and retranslated by
                   myself into English, it has, doubtless, suffered
                   much in the process.]

"For your desire to see us married we thank you; your desire to
dictate to us the consort whom we shall choose we consider somewhat
superfluous; the English parliament has not been wont to use such
language to their sovereigns, and where private persons in such cases
follow their private tastes, sovereigns may reasonably challenge an
equal liberty. If you, our Commons, force upon us a husband whom we
dislike, it may occasion the inconvenience of our death;[174] if we
marry where we do not love, we shall be in our grave in three months,
and the heir of whom you speak will not have been brought into being.
We have heard much from you of the incommodities which may attend our
marriage; we have not heard from you of the commodities thereof--one
of which is of some weight with us, the commodity, namely, of our
private inclination. We have not forgotten our coronation oath. We
shall marry as God shall direct our choice, to his honour and to our
country's good."

                   [Footnote 174: "Ce seroit procurer l'inconvenient
                   de sa mort."]

She would hear no reply. The Speaker was led out, and as he left the
room Arundel whispered to Gardiner that he had lost his office; the
queen had usurped it. At the same moment the {p.076} queen herself
turned to the chancellor--"I have to thank you, my lord, for this
business," she said.

The chancellor swore in tears that he was innocent; the Commons had
drawn their petition themselves; for himself it was true he was well
inclined towards Courtenay; he had known him in the Tower.

"And is your having known him in the Tower," she cried, "a reason that
you should think him a fitting husband for me? I will never, never
marry him--that I promise you--and I am a woman of my word; what I say
I do."

"Choose where you will," Gardiner answered, "your majesty's consort
shall find in me the most obedient of his subjects."

Mary had now the bit between her teeth, and, resisting all efforts to
check or guide her, was making her own way with obstinate resolution.

The next point was the succession, which, notwithstanding the humour
of parliament, should be re-arranged, if force or skill could do it.
There were four possible claimants after herself, she told Renard, and
in her own opinion the best title was that of the Queen of Scots. But
the country objected, and the emperor would not have the English crown
fall to France. The Greys were out of the question, but their mother,
the Duchess of Suffolk, was eligible; and there was Lady Lennox, also,
Darnley's mother, who perhaps, after all, would be the best choice
that could be made.[175] Elizabeth, she was determined, should never,
never succeed. She had spoken to Paget about it, she said, and Paget
had remonstrated; Paget had said marry her to Courtenay, recognise her
as presumptive heir, and add a stipulation, if necessary, that she
become a Catholic; but, Catholic or no Catholic, she said, her sister
should never reign in England with consent of hers; she was a heretic,
a hypocrite, and a bastard, and her infamous mother had been the cause
of all the calamities which had befallen the realm.

                   [Footnote 175: Renard to Charles V., November 28:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

Even Renard was alarmed at this burst of passion. He had fed Mary's
suspicions till they were beyond either his control or her own; and
the attitude of parliament had lately shown him that, if any step were
taken against Elizabeth without provocation on her part, it would
infinitely increase the difficulty of concluding the marriage. He was
beginning to believe, and he ventured to hint to the queen, that
Paget's advice might be worth consideration; but on this subject she
would listen to nothing.

{p.077} Elizabeth had hitherto, when at court, taken precedence of
all other ladies. The queen now compelled her to walk behind Lady
Lennox and the Duchess of Suffolk, as a sign of the meditated
change;[176] and the ladies of the court were afraid to be seen
speaking to her. But in reply to Mary's derogatory treatment, the
young lords, knights, and gentlemen gathered ostentatiously round the
princess when she rode abroad, or thronged the levees at her house;
old-established statesmen said, in Renard's ear, that, let the queen
decide as she would, no foreigner should reign in England; and Lord
Arundel believed that Elizabeth's foot was already on the steps of the
throne. A large and fast-growing party, which included more than one
member of the Privy Council, were now beginning to consider, as the
best escape from Philip, that Courtenay had better fly from the court,
taking Elizabeth with him--call round him in their joint names all who
would strike with him for English independence, and proclaim the queen
deposed.

                   [Footnote 176: "Elle l'a faict quelquefois aller
                   apres la Comtesse de Lennox, que l'on appelle icy
                   Madame Marguerite, et Madame Françoise, qu'est la
                   susdicte Duchesse de Suffolk."--Noailles to the
                   King of France, November 30.]

There was uncertainty about Elizabeth herself; both Noailles and
Renard believed that she would consent to this dangerous proposal; but
she had shown Courtenay, hitherto, no sign of favour; while Courtenay,
on his side, complained that he was frightened by her haughty ways.
Again there was a serious difficulty in Courtenay's character; he was
too cowardly for a dangerous enterprise, too incapable for an
intricate one, and his weak humour made men afraid to trust themselves
to a person who, to save himself, might at any moment betray them.
Noailles, however, said emphatically that, were Courtenay anything but
what he was, his success would be certain.[177]

                   [Footnote 177: Noailles to the King of France,
                   December 6.]

The plot grew steadily into definite form. Devonshire and Cornwall
were prepared for insurrection, and thither, as to the stronghold of
the Courtenay family, Elizabeth was to be first carried. Meantime the
ferment of popular feeling showed in alarming symptoms through the
surface. The council were in continual quarrel. Parliament, since the
rebuff of the Speaker, had not grown more tractable, and awkward
questions began to be asked about a provision for the married clergy.
All had been already gained which could be hoped for from the present
House of Commons; and, on the 6th of December, the session ended in a
dissolution. The same day a dead dog was thrown {p.078} through the
window of the presence chamber with ears cropped, a halter about its
neck, and a label saying that all the priests in England should be
hanged.

Renard, who, though not admitted, like Noailles, into the confidence
of the conspirators, yet knew the drift of public feeling, and knew
also Arundel's opinion of the queen's prospects, insisted that Mary
should place some restraint upon herself, and treat her sister at
least with outward courtesy; Philip was expected at Christmas, should
nothing untoward happen in the interval; and the ambassador prevailed
on her, at last, to pretend that her suspicions were at an end. His
own desire, he said, was as great as Mary's that Elizabeth should be
detected in some treasonable correspondence; but harshness only placed
her on her guard; she would be less careful, if she believed that she
was no longer distrusted. The princess, alarmed perhaps at finding
herself the unconsenting object of dangerous schemes, had asked
permission to retire to her country house. It was agreed that she
should go; persons in her household were bribed to watch her; and the
queen, yielding to Renard's entreaties, received her when she came to
take leave with an appearance of affection so well counterfeited, that
it called out the ambassador's applause.[178] She made her a present
of pearls, with a head-dress of sable; and the princess, on her side,
implored the queen to give no more credit to slanders against her.
They embraced; Elizabeth left the court; and, as she went out of
London, five hundred gentlemen formed about her as a voluntary
escort.[179] There were not wanting fools, says Renard, who would
persuade the queen that her sister's last words were honestly spoken;
but she remembers too acutely the injuries which her mother and
herself suffered at Anne Boleyn's hands; and she has a fixed
conviction that Elizabeth, unless she can be first disposed of, will
be a cause of infinite calamities to the realm.[180]

                   [Footnote 178: "La Reine a tres bien dissimulée, en
                   son endroict."--Renard to Charles V., December 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 179: Noailles.]

                   [Footnote 180: Renard to Charles V., December 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]




{p.079} CHAPTER II.

THE SPANISH MARRIAGE.


The fears of Renard and the hopes of Noailles were occasioned by the
unanimity of Catholics and heretics in the opposition to the marriage;
yet, so singular was the position of parties, that this very unanimity
was the condition which made the marriage possible. The Catholic lords
and gentlemen were jealous of English independence, and, had they
stood alone, they would have coerced the queen into an abandonment of
her intentions: but, if they dreaded a Spanish sovereign, they hated
unorthodoxy more, and if they permitted, or assisted in the schemes of
the Reformers, they feared that they might lose the control of the
situation when the immediate object was obtained. Those who were under
the influence of Gardiner desired to restore persecution; and
persecution, which was difficult with Mary on the throne, would be
impossible under a sovereign brought in by a revolution. They made a
favourite of Courtenay, but they desired to marry him to the queen,
not to Elizabeth: Gardiner told the young earl that he would sooner
see him the husband of the vilest drab who could be picked out of the
London kennels.[181]

                   [Footnote 181: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Thus, from their murmurs, they seemed to be on the edge of rebellion;
yet, when the point of action came, they halted, uncertain what to do,
unwilling to acquiesce, yet without resolution to resist. From a
modern point of view the wisest policy was that recommended by Paget.
The claim of the Queen of Scots on the throne unquestionably made it
prudent for England to strengthen herself by some powerful foreign
alliance; sufficient precautions could be devised for the security of
the national independence; and, so far from England being in danger of
being drawn into the war on the continent, Lord Paget said that, if
England would accept Philip heartily, the war would be at an end.
Elizabeth of France might marry Don Carlos, taking with her the French
pretensions to Naples and Milan as a dowry. Another French princess
might be given to the expatriated Philibert, and Savoy and Piedmont
restored with her. "You," {p.080} Paget said to Noailles, "by your
Dauphin's marriage forced us to be friends with the Scots; we, by our
queen's marriage, will force you to be friends with the emperor."[182]

                   [Footnote 182: "Le dict Paget me respondict qu'il
                   n'estoit ja besoing d'entrer en si grande jalousie,
                   et que tout ainsi que nous les avions faicts amys
                   avecques les Escossoys, ce marriage seroit aussy
                   cause que nous serions amys avecques
                   l'Empereur."--Noailles to the King of France,
                   December 26. Compare also the letter of December
                   23, _Ambassades_, vol. ii. pp. 334-356.]

Paget, however, was detested as an upstart, and detested still more as
a latitudinarian; he could form no party, and the queen made use of
him only to support her in her choice of the Prince of Spain, as in
turn she would use Gardiner to destroy the Protestants; and thus the
two great factions in the state neutralised each other's action in a
matter in which both were equally anxious; and Mary, although with no
remarkable capacity, without friends and ruined, if at any moment she
lost courage, was able to go her own way in spite of her subjects.

The uncertainty was, how long so anomalous a state of things would
continue. The marriage, being once decided on, Mary could think of
nothing else, and even religion sank into the second place. Reginald
Pole, chafing the imperial bridle between his lips, vexed her, so
Renard said, from day to day, with his untimely importunities;[183]
the restoration of the mass gave him no pleasure so long as the papal
legate was an exile; and in vain the queen laboured to draw from him
some kind of approval. He saw her only preferring carnal pleasures to
her duty to Heaven; and, indifferent himself to all interests save
those of the See of Rome, he was irritated with the emperor, irritated
with the worldly schemes to which he believed that his mission had
been sacrificed. He talked angrily of the marriage. The queen heard,
through Wotton the ambassador at Paris, that he had said openly, it
should never take place;[184] while Peto, the Greenwich friar, who was
in his train, wrote to her, reflecting impolitely on her age, and
adding Scripture commendations of celibacy as the more perfect
state.[185] It was even feared {p.081} that the impatient legate had
advised the pope to withhold the dispensations.

                   [Footnote 183: Renard to Charles V.: November 14,
                   November 28, December 3, December 8, December 11:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 184: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ The queen wrote to Wotton to learn his
                   authority. The Venetian ambassador, Wotton said,
                   was the person who had told him; but the quarter
                   from which the information originally came, he
                   believed, might be relied on.--Wotton to the Queen
                   and Council: _MS. State Paper Office_.]

                   [Footnote 185: "Un des principaulx qu'il a avec luy
                   que se nomme William Peto, theologien, luy a
                   escript luy donnant conseil de non se marrier, et
                   vivre en celibat; meslant en ses lettres plusieurs
                   allegations du Vieux et Nouveau Testament, repetant
                   x ou xii fois qu'elle tombera en la puissance et
                   servitude du mari, qu'elle n'aura enfans, sinon
                   soubz danger de sa vie pour l'âge dont elle
                   est."--Renard to Charles V.: Tytler, vol. ii. p.
                   303.]

Mary, beyond measure afflicted, wrote to Pole at last, asking what in
his opinion she ought to do. He sent his answer through a priest, by
whom it could be conveyed with the greatest emphasis. First, he said,
she must pray to God for a spirit of counsel and fortitude: next, she
must, at all hazards, relinquish the name of Head of the Church; and,
since she could trust neither peer nor prelate, she must recall
parliament, go in person to the House of Commons, and demand
permission with her own mouth for himself to return to England. The
holy see was represented in his person, and was freshly insulted in
the refusal to receive him; the pope's vast clemency had volunteered
unasked to pardon the crimes of England; if the gracious offer was not
accepted, the legacy would be cancelled, the national guilt would be
infinitely enhanced. The emperor talked of prudence; in the service of
God prudence was madness; and, so long as the schism continued, her
attempts at reform were vanity, and her seat upon the throne was
usurpation. Let her tell the truth to the House of Commons, and the
House of Commons would hear.[186]

                   [Footnote 186: Instructions of Cardinal Pole to
                   Thomas Goldwell: _Cotton MSS. Titus_, B. 11.]

"Your majesty will see," wrote Renard, enclosing to Charles a copy of
these advices, "the extent of the cardinal's discretion, and how
necessary it is that for the present he be kept at a distance." The
pope was not likely to reject the submission of England at any moment,
late or early, when England might be pleased to offer it, and could
well afford to wait. Julius was wiser than his legate. Pole was not
recalled, but exhorted to patience, and a letter or message from Rome
cooled Mary's anxieties. Meanwhile the marriage was to be expedited
with as much speed as possible; the longer the agitation continued,
the greater the danger; while the winter was unfavourable to
revolutionary movements, and armed resistance to the prince's landing
would be unlikely so long as the season prevented large bodies of men
from keeping the field.[187]

                   [Footnote 187: Renard dwelt much on this point as a
                   reason for haste.]

The emperor, therefore, in the beginning of December, sent over the
draft of a marriage treaty; and if the security that the articles
would be observed had equalled the form in which they were conceived,
the English might have afforded to lay aside their alarms. Charles
seemed to have anticipated almost every {p.082} point on which the
insular jealousy would be sensitive. The Prince of Spain should bear
the title of King of England so long, but so long only as the queen
should be alive; and the queen should retain the disposal of all
affairs in the realm, and the administration of the revenues. The
queen, in return, should share Philip's titles, present and
prospective, with the large settlement of £60,000 a year upon her for
her life. Don Carlos, the prince's child by his first wife, would, if
he lived, inherit Spain, Sicily, the Italian provinces, and the
Indies. But Burgundy and the Low Countries should be settled on the
offspring of the English marriage, and be annexed to the English
crown; and this prospect, splendid in itself, was made more
magnificent by the possibility that Don Carlos might die. Under all
contingencies, the laws and liberties of the several countries should
be held inviolate and inviolable.

In such a treaty the emperor conferred everything, and in return
received nothing; and yet, to gain the alliance, a negotiation already
commenced for the hand of the Infanta of Portugal was relinquished.
The liberality of the proposals was suspicious, but they were
submitted to the council, who, unable to refuse to consider them, were
obliged to admit that they were reasonable. Five additional clauses
were added, however, to which it was insisted that Philip should swear
before the contract should be completed--

1. That no foreigner, under any circumstances, should be admitted to
any office in the royal household, in the army, the forts, or the
fleet.

2. That the queen should not be taken abroad without her own consent;
and that the children--should children be born--should not be carried
out of England without consent of parliament, even though among them
might be the heir of the Spanish empire.

3. Should the queen die childless, the prince's connection with the
realm should be at an end.

4. The jewel-house and treasury should be wholly under English
control, and the ships of war should not be removed into a foreign
port.

5. The prince should maintain the existing treaties between England
and France; and England should not be involved, directly or
indirectly, in the war between France and the empire.[188]

                   [Footnote 188: Marriage Treaty between Mary, Queen
                   of England, and Philip of Spain: Rymer, vol. vi.]

These demands were transmitted to Brussels, where they were {p.083}
accepted without difficulty, and further objection could not be
ventured unless constraint was laid upon the queen. The sketch of the
treaty, with the conditions attached to it, was submitted to such of
the Lords and Commons as remained in London after the dissolution of
parliament, and the result was a sullen acquiescence.

An embassy was immediately announced as to be sent from Flanders.
Count Egmont, M. de Courières, the Count de Lalaing, and M. de Nigry,
Chancellor of the Golden Fleece, were coming over as plenipotentiaries
of the emperor. Secret messengers went off to Rome to hasten the
dispensations--a dispensation for Mary to marry her cousin, and a
dispensation which also was found necessary permitting the ceremony to
be performed by a bishop in a state of schism. The marriage could be
solemnised at once on their arrival, the ambassadors standing as
Philip's representatives, while Sir Philip Hoby, Bonner, Bedford, and
Lord Derby would go to Spain to receive the prince's oaths, and escort
him to England. Again and again the queen pressed haste. Ash-Wednesday
fell on the 6th of February, and in Lent she might not marry. Renard
assured her that the prince should be in her arms before Septuagesima,
and all her trials would be over. The worst danger which he now
anticipated was from some unpleasant collision which might arise after
the prince's landing; and he had advised the emperor to have the
Spaniards who would form the retinue selected for their meekness. They
would meet with insolence from the English, which they would not
endure, if they had the spirit to resent it; their dispositions,
therefore, must be mild and forgiving.[189]

                   [Footnote 189: Renard to Charles V., December 11:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

And yet Renard could not hide from himself, and the lords did not hide
from Mary, that their consent was passive only; that their reluctance
was vehement as ever. Bedford said, if he went to Spain, he must go
without attendance, for no one would accompany him. Lord Derby refused
to be one of the ambassadors, and with Sir Edward Waldegrave and Sir
Edward Hastings told the queen that he would leave her service if she
persisted. The seditious pamphlets which were scattered everywhere
created a vague terror in the court, and the court ladies wept and
lamented in the queen's presence. The council in a body again urged
her to abandon her intention. The peers met again to consider the
marriage articles. Gardiner read them aloud, and Lord Windsor, a dull
Brutus, who till then had {p.084} never been known to utter a
reasonable word, exclaimed, amidst general applause, "You have told us
fine things of the queen, and the prince, and the emperor; what
security have we that words are more than words?" Corsairs from Brest
and Rochelle hovered in the mouth of the Channel to catch the couriers
going to and fro between Spain and London and Brussels, and to terrify
Philip with the danger of the passage. The Duke of Suffolk's brother
and the Marquis of Winchester had been heard to swear that they would
set upon him when he landed; and Renard began to doubt whether the
alliance, after all, was worth the risk attending it.[190] Mary,
however, brave in the midst of her perplexities, vowed that she would
relinquish her hopes of Philip only with her life. An army of spies
watched Elizabeth day and night, and the emperor, undeterred by Renard's
hesitation, encouraged the queen's resolution. There could be no
conspiracy as yet, Charles said, which could not be checked with
judicious firmness; and dangerous persons could be arrested and made
secure. A strong hand could do much in England, as was proved by the
success for a time of the late Duke of Northumberland.[191]

The advice fell in with Mary's own temperament; she had already been
acting in the spirit of it. A party of Protestants met in St.
Matthew's Church on the publication of the acts of the late session,
to determine how far they would obey them. Ten or twelve were seized
on the spot, and two were hanged out of hand.[192] The queen told
Hastings and Waldegrave that she would endure no opposition; they
should obey her or they should leave the council. She would raise a
few thousand men, she said, to keep her subjects in order, and she
would have a thousand Flemish horse among them. There was a difficulty
about ways and means; as fast as money came into the treasury she had
paid debts with it, and, as far as her means extended, she had
replaced chalices and roods in the parish churches. But, if she was
poor, five millions of gold had just arrived in Spain from the New
World; and, as the emperor suggested, her credit was good at Antwerp
from her honesty. Lazarus Tucker came again to the rescue. In
November, Lazarus provided £50,000 for her at fourteen per cent. In
January she required £100,000 more, and she ordered Gresham to find it
for her at low interest {p.085} or high.[193] Fortunately for Mary
the project of a standing army could not be carried out by herself
alone, and the passive resistance of the council saved her from
commencing the attempt. Neither Irish mercenaries, nor Flemish, nor
Welsh, as, two months after she was proposing to herself, were
permitted to irritate England into madness.

                   [Footnote 190: "The English," he said, "sont si
                   traictres, si inconstantes, si doubles, si
                   malicieux, et si faciles à esmover qu'il ne se
                   fault fier; et si l'alliance est grande, aussi est
                   elle hazardeuse pour la personne de son
                   Altesse."--Renard to Charles V., December 12:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 191: Charles V. to Renard, December 24:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 192: Renard to Charles V., December 20:
                   Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 193: The queen to Sir Thomas Gresham:
                   _Flanders MSS. Mary_, State Paper Office.]

While Mary was thus buffeting with the waves, on the 23rd, Count
Egmont and his three companions arrived at Calais. The French had
threatened to intercept the passage, and four English ships-of-war had
been ordered to be in waiting as their escort: these ships, however,
had not left the Thames, being detained either by weather, as the
admiral pretended, or by the ill-humour of the crews, who swore they
would give the French cruisers small trouble, should they present
themselves.[194] On Christmas-day ill-looking vessels were hanging in
mid-channel, off Calais harbour, but the ambassadors were resolved to
cross at all risks. They stole over in the darkness on the night of
the 26th, and were at Dover by nine in the morning. Their retinue, a
very large one, was sent on at once to London; snow was on the ground,
and the boys in the streets saluted the first comers with showers of
balls. The ambassadors followed the next day, and were received in
silence, but without active insult. The emperor's choice of persons
for his purpose had been judicious. The English ministers intended to
be offensive, but they were disarmed by the courtesy of Egmont, who
charmed every one. In ten days the business connected with the treaty
was concluded. The treaty itself was sent to Brussels to be ratified,
and the dispensations from Rome, and the necessary powers from the
Prince of Spain, were alone waited for that the marriage might be
concluded in public or in private, whichever way would be most
expeditious. The queen cared only for the completion of the
irrevocable ceremony, which would bring her husband to her side before
Lent.[195]

                   [Footnote 194: Noailles to the King of France,
                   December 6: _Ambassades_, vol. ii.]

                   [Footnote 195: The Bishop of Arras to the
                   Ambassadors in England: _Granvelle Papers_, vol.
                   iv. p. 181, etc.]

The interval of delay was consumed in hunting-parties[196] and dinners
at the palace, where the courtiers played off before the guests the
passions of their eager mistress.[197] The enemies of {p.086} the
marriage, French and English, had no time to lose, if they intended to
prevent the completion of it.

                   [Footnote 196: The 10th day of January the
                   ambassadors rode into Hampton Court, and there they
                   had as great cheer as could be had, and hunted and
                   killed, tag and rag, with hounds and
                   swords.--Machyn's _Diary_.]

                   [Footnote 197: After dinner Lord William Howard
                   entered, and, seeing the queen pensive, whispered
                   something to her in English; then turning to us, he
                   asked if we knew what he had said? The queen bade
                   him not tell, but he paid no attention to her. He
                   told us he had said he hoped soon to see somebody
                   sitting there, pointing to the chair next her
                   majesty. The queen blushed, and asked him how he
                   could say so. He answered that he knew very well
                   she liked it; whereat her majesty laughed, and the
                   court laughed, etc.--Egmont and Renard to Charles
                   V.: _Rolls House MSS._]

When the queen's design was first publicly announced, the King of
France directed Noailles to tell her frankly the alarm with which it
was regarded at Paris. Henry and Montmorency said the same repeatedly,
and at great length, to Dr. Wotton. The queen might have the best
intentions of remaining at peace, but events might be too strong for
her; and they suggested, at last, that she might give a proof of the
good-will which she professed by making a fresh treaty with them.[198]
That a country should be at peace while its titular king was at war,
was a situation without a precedent. Intricate questions were certain
to arise; for instance, if a mixed fleet of English and Spanish ships
should escort the prince, or convoy his transports or treasure, or if
the English ships having Spaniards on board, should enter French
harbours. A thousand difficulties such as these might occur, and it
would be wise to provide for them beforehand.

                   [Footnote 198: Noailles.]

The uneasiness of the court of Paris was not allayed when the queen
met this most reasonable proposal with a refusal.[199] A clause, she
replied, was added to the marriage articles for the maintenance of the
existing treaties with France, and with that and with her own promises
the French government ought to be content. In vain Noailles pointed
out that the existing treaties would not meet the new conditions; she
was obstinate, and both Noailles and the King of France placed the
worst interpretation upon her attitude. Philip, after his arrival,
would unquestionably drag or lead her into his quarrels; and they
determined, therefore, to employ all means, secret and open, to
prevent his coming, and to co-operate with the English opposition.

                   [Footnote 199: Ibid.]

The time to act had arrived. Rumours were industriously circulated
that the Prince of Spain was already on the seas, bringing with him
ten thousand Spaniards, who were to be landed at the Tower, and that
eight thousand Germans were to follow from the Low Countries. Noailles
and M. d'Oysel, then on his way through London to Scotland, had an
interview with a number of lords and gentlemen, who undertook to place
themselves at the head of an insurrection, and to depose the queen.
{p.087} The whole country was crying out against her, and the French
ministers believed that the opposition had but to declare itself in
arms to meet with universal sympathy. They regarded the persons with
whom they were dealing as the representatives of the national
discontent; but on this last point they were fatally mistaken.

Noailles spoke generally of lords and gentlemen; but those with whom
d'Oysel and himself had communicated were a party of ten or twelve of
the pardoned friends of the Duke of Northumberland, or of men
otherwise notorious among the ultra-Protestants; the Duke of Suffolk
and his three brothers, Lord Thomas, Lord John, and Lord Leonard Grey;
the Marquis of Northampton; Sir Thomas Wyatt, son of the poet; Sir
Nicholas Throgmorton; Sir Peter Carew; Sir Edmund Warner; Lord
Cobham's brother-in-law; and Sir James Crofts, the late deputy of
Ireland.[200] Courtenay, who had affected orthodoxy as long as he had
hopes of the queen, was admitted into the confederacy. Cornwall and
Devonshire were to be the first counties to rise, where Courtenay
would be all-powerful by his name. Wyatt undertook to raise Kent, Sir
James Crofts the Severn border, Suffolk and his brothers the midland
counties. Forces from these four points were to converge on London,
which would then stir for itself. The French Admiral Villegaignon
promised to keep a fleet on the seas, and to move from place to place
among the western English harbours, wherever his presence would be
most useful. Plymouth had been tampered with, and the mayor and
aldermen, either really, or as a ruse to gain information, affected a
desire to receive a French garrison.[201] For the sake of their cause
the Protestant party were prepared to give to France an influence in
England as objectionable in itself, and as offensive to the majority
of the people, as the influence of Spain; and the management of the
opposition to the queen was snatched from the hands of those who might
have brought it to some tolerable issue, by a set of men to whom the
Spanish marriage was but the stalking-horse for the reimposition of
their late {p.088} tyranny. If the Duke of Northumberland, instead
of setting up a rival to Mary, had loyally admitted her to the throne
which was her right, he might have tied her hands, and secured the
progress of moderate reform. Had the great patriotic anti-papal party
been now able to combine, with no disintegrating element, they could
have prevented the marriage or made it harmless. But the ultra-party
plunged again into treason, in which they would succeed only to
restore the dominion of a narrow and blighting sectarianism.[202]

                   [Footnote 200: Noailles and d'Oysel to the King of
                   France, January 15: _Ambassades_, vol. iii.]

                   [Footnote 201: "Sire, tout maintenant en achevant
                   cette lettre, les maire et aldermans de Plymouth,
                   m'ont envoyé prier de vous supplier les vouloir
                   prendre en votre protection, voulans et deliberans
                   mettre leur ville entre vos mains, et y recepvoir
                   dedans telle garrison qu'il vous plaira y envoyer;
                   s'estans resoubz de ne recevoir aulcunement le
                   Prince d'Espaigne, ne s'asservir en façon que ce
                   soit à ses commandemens, et s'asseurans que tous
                   les gentilz-hommes de l'entour d'icy en feroient de
                   mesme."--Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. ii. p. 342.]

                   [Footnote 202: One of the projects mooted was the
                   queen's murder; a scheme suggested by a man from
                   whom better things might have been expected,
                   William Thomas, the late Clerk of the Council.
                   Wyatt, however, would not stain the cause with dark
                   crimes of that kind, and threatened Thomas with
                   rough handling for his proposal.]

The conspirators remained in London till the second week in January.
Wyatt went into Kent, Peter Carew ran down the Channel to Exmouth in a
vessel of his own, and sent relays of horses as far as Andover for
Courtenay, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton undertaking to see the latter thus
far upon his way. The disaffection was already simmering in
Devonshire. There was a violent scene among the magistrates at the
Christmas quarter-sessions at Exeter. A countryman came in and
reported that he had been waylaid and searched by a party of strange
horsemen in steel saddles, "under the gallows at the hill top," at
Fair-mile, near Sir Peter Carew's house. His person had been mistaken,
it seemed, but questions were asked, inquiries made, and ugly language
had been used about the queen. On Carew's arrival the ferment
increased. One of his lacqueys, mistaking intention for fact,
whispered in Exeter that "my Lord of Devonshire was at Mohun's
Ottery."[203] Six horses heavily loaded passed in, at midnight,
through the city gates. The panniers were filled with harness and
hand-guns from Sir Peter's castle at Dartmouth.[204] Sir John
Chichester, Sir Arthur Champernowne, Peter and Gawen Carew, and Gybbes
of Silverton, had met in private, rumour said for no good purpose; and
the Exeter Catholics were anxious and agitated. They had been all
disarmed after the insurrection of 1549, the castle was in ruins, the
city walls were falling down. Should Courtenay come, the worst
consequences were anticipated.

                   [Footnote 203: The house of Sir Peter Carew.]

                   [Footnote 204: Miscellaneous Depositions on the
                   State of Devonshire: _MS. Domestic, Mary_, vol. ii.
                   State Paper Office.]

But Courtenay did not come. After Carew had left London, he became
nervous; when the horses were reported to be ready, he lingered about
the court; he flattered himself that the queen {p.089} had changed
her mind in his favour; and two nights before the completion of the
treaty he sate up, affecting to expect to be sent for to marry her on
the spot.[205] Finding the message did not arrive, he gave an order to
his tailor to prepare a splendid court costume, adding perhaps some
boasting words, which were carried to Gardiner. The chancellor's
regard for him was sincere, and went beyond a desire to make him
politically useful. He sent for him, cross-questioned him, and by the
influence of a strong mind over a weak one, drew out as much as
Courtenay knew of the secrets of the plot.[206]

                   [Footnote 205: Instructions to la Marque: Noailles,
                   vol. iii. p. 25, etc.]

                   [Footnote 206: Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iii. p. 31.]

The intention was to delay, if possible, an open declaration of
rebellion a few weeks longer--till the Prince of Spain's arrival
should raise the ferment to boiling point. Gardiner, who was
determined, at all events, to prevent the Protestants from making
head, informed the queen, without mentioning Courtenay's name, that he
had cause to suspect Sir Peter Carew. A summons was despatched to
Devonshire to require Sir Peter and his brother to return to London;
and thus either to compel them to rise prematurely, without
Courtenay's assistance, or, if they complied, to enable the court to
secure their persons. The desired effect was produced; Carew had waded
too deep in treason to trust himself in Gardiner's hands. He wrote an
excuse, yet protesting his loyalty; and he invited the inhabitants of
Exeter to join in a petition to the crown against the marriage, as a
first step towards a rising.

But the Carews were notorious and unpopular; the justices of the peace
at the sessions had been just occupied with a Protestant outrage
committed by one of their nearest friends,[207] and their true object
was suspected. The barns of Crediton were not forgotten, nor the
massacre of the prisoners at Clyst, and without Courtenay they were
powerless. Their invitation met with no response; and Chichester and
Champernowne, seeing how the tide was setting, washed their hands of
the {p.090} connection. Sir Thomas Dennys, a Catholic gentleman of
the county, took command of Exeter, sent express for the sheriff, Sir
Richard Edgecumbe, of Cotteyll, to come to his help, and as well as he
could he put the city in a state of defence.[208] Carew retired to
Mohun's Ottery, when an order came to Dennys from the court for his
arrest.

                   [Footnote 207: "On the morning of Christmas-day
                   came twelve neighbours of Silverton, being the
                   parish where Mr. Gybbes dwelleth, and they
                   complained to me of a cross of latten, and of an
                   altar-cloth stolen out of the church before that
                   time; and that the cross was set up upon a gate or
                   upon a hedge by the way, where the picture of
                   Christ was dressed with a paste or such like tyre,
                   and the picture of our Lady and St. John tied by
                   threads to the arms of the cross, like thieves."
                   "Mr. Gybbes" could not be actually convicted of
                   having been the perpetrator, but he was "vehemently
                   suspected," and, when examined, had used "vile
                   words."--Depositions of John Prideaux: MS. _Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. ii. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 208: Depositions of John Prideaux: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. ii. State Paper Office.]

Dennys, who desired Carew's escape more than his capture, replied that
for the moment he could not execute the order. Mohun's Ottery could
not be taken without cannon, and wet weather had made the roads
impassable. Meantime he gave Sir Peter notice of his danger; and Sir
Peter, disposing in haste of his farm stock to raise a supply of
money, crossed the country to Weymouth, embarked in a vessel which
"Mr. Walter Raleigh" had brought round to meet him, and sailed for
France.[209]

                   [Footnote 209: Ibid.]

One arm of the conspiracy was thus lopped off at the first blow. But,
although Courtenay's treachery was known, some days elapsed before the
ill success of Carew was heard of in London. Courtenay had been
trusted only so far as his intended share in the action had made it
necessary to trust him, and the confederates were chiefly anxious
that, having broken down, he should be incapacitated from doing
further mischief by being restored to the Tower. Courtenay, wrote
Noailles, has thrown away his chance of greatness, and will now
probably die miserably. Lord Thomas Grey was heard to say that, as
Courtenay had proved treacherous he would take his place, and run his
chance for the crown or the scaffold.[210]

                   [Footnote 210: Noailles.]

They would, perhaps, have still delayed till they had received
authentic accounts from Devonshire; but the arrest of Sir Edmund
Warner, and one or two others, assured them that too much of their
projects had transpired; and on the 22nd of January Sir Thomas Wyatt
called a meeting of his friends at Allingham Castle, on the Medway.
The commons of Kent were the same brave, violent, and inflammable
people whom John Cade, a century before, had led to London; the
country gentlemen were generally under Wyatt's influence. Sir R.
Southwell, the sheriff for the year, had been among the loudest
objectors in parliament to the marriage; and if Southwell joined in
the rising he would bring with him Lord Abergavenny.[211] Lord Cobham,
Wyatt's uncle, was known to wish him well. Sir {p.091} Thomas
Cheyne, the only other person of weight in the county, would be loyal
to the queen, but Wyatt had tampered with his tenants; Cheyne could
bring a thousand men into the field, but they would desert when led
out, and there was nothing to fear from them. Whether Southwell and
Cobham would act openly on Wyatt's side was the chief uncertainty; it
was feared that Southwell might desire to keep within the limits of
loyal opposition; Cobham offered to send his sons, but "the sending of
sons," some member of the meeting said, "was the casting away of the
Duke of Northumberland; their lives were as dear to them as my Lord
Cobham's was to him; let him come himself and set his foot by
them."[212] The result of the conference was a determination to make
the venture. Thursday the 25th was the day agreed on for the rising,
and the gentlemen present went in their several directions to prepare
the people.

                   [Footnote 211: Confession of Anthony Norton: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. iii. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 212: Confession of Anthony Norton: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. iii. State Paper Office.]

Meantime Gardiner was following the track which Courtenay had opened.
He knew generally the leaders of the conspiracy, yet uncertain, in the
universal perplexity, how any one would act, he knew not whom to
trust. To send Courtenay out of the way, he allowed a project to be
set on foot for despatching him on an embassy to Brussels (January
23); and anxious, perhaps, not to alarm Mary too much, he simply told
her what she and Renard knew already, that treasonable designs were on
foot to make Elizabeth queen. In a conversation about Elizabeth the
chancellor agreed with Renard that it would be well to arrest her
without delay. "Were but the emperor in England," Gardiner said, "she
would be disposed of with little difficulty."[213] Unfortunately, the
spies had as yet detected no cause for suspicion on which the
government could act legitimately.

                   [Footnote 213: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Mary, ignorant that she was in immediate danger, and only vaguely
uneasy, looked to Philip's coming as the cure of her discomforts. "Let
the prince come," she said to Renard, "and all will be well." She said
she would raise eight thousand men and keep them in London as his
guard and hers; she would send a fleet into the Channel and sweep the
French into their harbours; only let him come before Lent, which was
now but a fortnight distant: "give him my affectionate love," she
added; "tell him that I will be all to him that a wife ought to be;
and tell him, too [delightful message to an already hesitating
bridegroom], tell him to bring his own cook with him" for fear he
should be poisoned,[214] The ceremony, could it have been
accomplished, {p.092} would have been a support to her; but the
forms from Rome were long in coming. On the 24th of January the
emperor was at last able to send a brief, which, in the absence of the
bulls, he trusted might be enough to satisfy the queen's scruples.
Cuthbert Tunstal, who had been consecrated before the schism, might
officiate, and the pope would remove all irregularities
afterwards.[215] But when the letter and the brief arrived Mary was at
no leisure to be married.

                   [Footnote 214: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 215: Charles V. to the Ambassadors in
                   England, January 24 _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

Wyatt, having arranged the day for the rising, sent notice to the Duke
of Suffolk, who was still in London. On the morning of the 25th an
officer of the court appeared at the duke's house, with an intimation
that he was to repair to the queen's presence. Suffolk was in a riding
dress--"Marry!" he said, "I was coming to her grace; ye may see I am
booted and spurred; I will but break my fast and go."[216] The officer
retired. The duke collected as much money as he could lay hands
on--sent a servant to warn his brothers, and, though in bad health,
mounted his horse and rode without stopping to Lutterworth, where, on
the Sunday following, Lord John and Lord Thomas Grey joined him.

                   [Footnote 216: _Chronicle of Queen Mary._ Baoardo
                   says that Suffolk was sent for to take command of
                   the force which was to be sent against Wyatt. But
                   Wyatt's insurrection had not commenced, far less
                   was any resolution taken to send a force against
                   him. Noailles is, doubtless, right in saying that
                   he was to have been arrested.--_Ambassades_, vol.
                   iii. p. 48.]

The same morning of the 25th an alarm was rung on the church bells in
the towns and villages in all parts of Kent; and copies of a
proclamation were scattered abroad, signifying that the Spaniards were
coming to conquer the realm, and calling on loyal Englishmen to rise
and resist them. Wyatt's standard was raised at Rochester, the point
at which the insurgent forces were to unite; his friends had done
their work well, and in all directions the yeomen and the peasants
rose in arms. Cheyne threw himself into Dover Castle: Southwell and
Abergavenny held to the queen as had been feared; Abergavenny raised
two thousand men, and attacked and dispersed a party of insurgents
under Sir Henry Isly on Wrotham Heath; but Abergavenny's followers
deserted him immediately afterwards, and marched to Rochester to
Wyatt; Southwell could do nothing; he believed that the rebellion
would spread to London, and that Mary would be lost.[217]

                   [Footnote 217: Southwell to Sir William Petre: _MS.
                   Mary. Domestic_, State Paper Office.]

{p.093} On the 26th, Wyatt, being master of Rochester and the Medway,
seized the queen's ships that were in the river, took possession of
their guns and ammunition, proclaimed Abergavenny, Southwell, and
another gentleman traitors to the commonwealth,[218] and set himself
to organise the force which continued to pour in upon him. Messengers,
one after another, hurried to London with worse and worse news;
Northampton was arrested and sent to the Tower, but Suffolk and his
brothers were gone; and, after all which had been said of raising
troops, when the need came for them there were none beyond the
ordinary guard. The queen had to rely only on the musters of the city
and the personal retainers of the council and the other peers; both of
which resources she had but too much reason to distrust. In fact, the
council, dreading the use to which the queen might apply a body of
regular troops, had resisted all her endeavours to raise such a body;
Paget had laboured loyally for a fortnight, and at the end he assured
the queen on his knees that he had not been allowed to enlist a
man.[219] Divided on all other points, the motley group of ministers
agreed to keep Mary powerless; with the exception of Gardiner and
Paget, they were all, perhaps, unwilling to check too soon a
demonstration which, kept within bounds, might prove the justice of
their own objections.

                   [Footnote 218: "You shall understand that Henry
                   Lord of Abergavenny; Robert Southwell, knight, and
                   George Clarke, gentleman, have most traitorously,
                   to the disturbance of the commonwealth, stirred and
                   raised up the queen's most loving subjects of this
                   realm, to [maintain the] most wicked and devilish
                   enterprise of certain wicked and perverse
                   councillors, to the utter confusion of this her
                   Grace's realm, and the perpetual servitude of all
                   her most loving subjects. In consideration whereof,
                   we Sir Thos. Wyatt, knight, Sir George Harper,
                   knight, Anthony Knyvet, esq., with all the faithful
                   gentlemen of Kent, with the trusty commons of the
                   same, do pronounce and declare the said Henry Lord
                   of Abergavenny, Robert Southwell, and George Clarke
                   to be traitors to God, the Crown, and the
                   commonwealth."--_MS. Mary, Domestic_, State Paper
                   Office.]

                   [Footnote 219: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

The queen, however, applied to the corporation of the city (January
27), and obtained a promise of five hundred men; she gave the command
to the Duke of Norfolk, on whose integrity she knew that she could
rely; and, sending a herald to Rochester with a pardon, if the rebels
would disperse, she despatched Norfolk, Sir Henry Jerningham, and the
young Lord Ormond, to Gravesend, without waiting for an answer. The
city bands were to follow them immediately. Afraid that Elizabeth
would fly before she could be secured, the queen wrote a letter to her
studiously gracious, in which she told her that, in the disturbed
state of the country, she was uneasy for her safety, and recommended
{p.094} her to take shelter with herself in the palace.[220] Had
Elizabeth obeyed, she would have been instantly arrested; but she was
ill, and wrote that she was unable to move. The next day evidence came
into Gardiner's hands which he trusted would consign her at last to
the scaffold.

                   [Footnote 220: Strype, vol. v. p. 127. Mr. Tytler
                   appeals to this letter as an evidence of the good
                   feeling of the queen towards her sister; but many
                   and genuine as were Mary's good qualities, she may
                   not be credited with a regard for Elizabeth.
                   Renard's letters explain her real sentiments, and
                   account for her outward graciousness. She had
                   already consulted with Renard and Gardiner on the
                   necessity of sending her to the Tower; and, on the
                   29th of January, as the princess did not avail
                   herself of the queen's proposal, Renard describes
                   himself to the emperor as pressing her immediate
                   arrest.--_Rolls House MSS._]

The King of France had sent a message to the confederates that he had
eighty vessels in readiness, with eighteen companies of infantry, and
that he waited to learn on what part of the coast they should effect a
landing.[221] The dangerous communication had been made known to the
court. The French ambassador had been narrowly watched, and one of his
couriers who left London on the 26th with despatches for Paris was
followed to Rochester, where he saw, or attempted to see, Wyatt. The
courier, after leaving the town, was waylaid by a party of Lord
Cobham's servants in the disguise of insurgents; his despatches were
taken from him and sent to the chancellor, who found in the packet a
letter of Noailles to the king in cypher, and a copy of Elizabeth's
answer to the queen. Although in the latter there was no treason, yet
it indicated a suspicious correspondence. The cypher, could it be
read, might be expected to contain decisive evidence against her.[222]

                   [Footnote 221: Renard to Charles V., January 29:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 222: A letter from Gardiner to Sir
                   William Petre is in the State Paper Office, part of
                   which he wrote with the cypher open under his eyes
                   in the first heat of the discovery. The breadth and
                   depth of the pen-strokes express the very pulsation
                   of his passion:--

                   "As I was in hand with other matters," the
                   paragraph runs, "was delivered such letters as in
                   times past I durst not have opened; but now,
                   somewhat heated with these treasons, I waxed
                   bolder, wherein I trust I shall be borne with;
                   wherein hap helpeth me, for they be worth the
                   breaking up an I could wholly decypher them,
                   wherein I will spend somewhat of my leisure, if I
                   can have any. But this appeareth, that the letter
                   written from my Lady Elizabeth to the Queen's
                   Highness, now late in her excuse, is taken a matter
                   worthy to be sent into France; for I have the copy
                   of it in the French Ambassador's packet. I will
                   know what can be done in the decyphering, and
                   to-morrow remit that I cannot do unto
                   you."--Gardiner to Petre: _MS. Mary, Domestic_,
                   State Paper Office.]

Meantime the herald had not been admitted into Rochester. He had read
the queen's message on the bridge (January 27), and, being answered by
Wyatt's followers that they required no pardon, for they had done no
wrong, he retired. Sir George {p.095} Harper, who was joint
commander with Wyatt, stole away the same evening to Gravesend, and
presented himself to Norfolk. The rebels, he said, were discontented
and irresolute; for himself he desired to accept the queen's pardon,
which he was ready to earn by doing service against them; if the duke
would advance without delay, he would find no resistance, and Wyatt
would fall into his hands.

The London bands arrived the following afternoon (January 28), and
Norfolk determined to take Harper's advice. The weather was "very
terrible." On Monday morning it blew so hard that no boat could live;
Wyatt, therefore, would be unable to escape by the river, and an
immediate advance was resolved upon. Sir Thomas Cheyne was coming up
from Dover; Lord William Howard was looked for hourly, and Abergavenny
was again exerting himself: Lord Cobham had urged the duke to wait a
few days, and had told him that he had certain knowledge from Wyatt
himself that "the Londoners would not fight:"[223] but Norfolk was
confident; the men had assured him of their loyalty; and at four
o'clock on Monday afternoon he was on the sloping ground facing
towards Rochester, within cannon-shot of the bridge. The duke was
himself in front, with Ormond, Jerningham, and eight "field-pieces,"
which he had brought with him. A group of insurgents were in sight
across the water, a gun was placed in position to bear upon them; and
the gunner was blowing his match, when Sir Edward Bray galloped up,
crying out that the "white coats," as the London men were called, were
changing sides. The duke had fallen into a trap which Harper had laid
for him. Turning round, he saw Brett, the London captain, with all his
men, and with Harper at his side, advancing and shouting, "A Wyatt! a
Wyatt! we are all Englishmen!" The first impulse was to turn the gun
upon them; the second, and more prudent, was to spring on his horse,
and gallop with half a dozen others for his life. His whole force had
deserted, and guns, money, baggage, and five hundred of the best
troops in London fell into the insurgents' hands, and swelled their
ranks.

                   [Footnote 223: Norfolk to the Council from
                   Gravesend, Sunday, January 28, Monday, January 29:
                   _MS. Domestic, Mary_, State Paper Office.]

No sooner was the duke gone, than Wyatt in person came out over the
bridge. "As many as will tarry with us," he cried, "shall be welcome;
as many as will depart, let them go," Very few accepted the latter
offer. Three parts, even of Norfolk's private attendants, took service
with the rebel leader.

{p.096} The prestige of success decided all who were wavering in the
county. Abergavenny was wholly forsaken; Southwell escaped to the
court; Cheyne wrote to the council that he was no longer sure of any
one; "the abominable treason of those that came with the Duke of
Norfolk had infected the whole population."[224] Cobham continued to
hold off, but his sons came into Rochester the evening of the duke's
flight; and Wyatt sent a message to the father expressing his sorrow
that he had been hitherto backward; promising to forgive him, however,
and requiring him to be in the camp the next day, when the army would
march on London. Cobham still hesitating, two thousand men were at the
gates of his house[225] by daybreak the next morning (January 30). He
refused to lower the drawbridge, but the chains were cut with a
cannon-shot, the gates were blown open, and the rebels were storming
in when his servants forced him to surrender. The house was pillaged;
an oath was thrust on Cobham that he would join, which he took with
the intention of breaking it; and the rebels, perhaps seeing cause to
distrust him, carried him off to Wyatt as a prisoner.[226] That night
the insurgents rested at Gravesend. The next day (January 31) they
reached Dartford. Their actual numbers were insignificant, but their
strength was the disaffection of London, where the citizens were too
likely to follow the example which had been set at Rochester.

                   [Footnote 224: "It is a great deal more than
                   strange," he added, "to see the beastliness of the
                   people, to see how earnestly they be bent in this
                   their most devilish enterprise, and will by no
                   means be persuaded the contrary but that it is for
                   the commonweal of all the realm."--Cheyne to the
                   Council: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. iii.]

                   [Footnote 225: Cowling Castle, a place already
                   famous in English Reforming history as the
                   residence of Sir John Oldcastle.]

                   [Footnote 226: He contrived to send a letter to the
                   queen the evening of the day on which his house was
                   taken. After describing the scene, he added: "If
                   your Grace will assemble forces in convenient
                   numbers, they not being above 2000 men, and yet not
                   500 of them able and good armed men, but rascals
                   and rakehells such as live by spoil, I doubt not
                   but your Grace shall have the victory."--Cobham to
                   the Queen: _MS. State Paper Office_. But Cobham
                   under-estimated the numbers, and undervalued the
                   composition of Wyatt's forces, perhaps
                   intentionally. Renard, who is generally accurate,
                   says that the rebels at this time amounted to three
                   thousand; Noailles says, twelve or fifteen
                   thousand.]

Mary's situation was now really alarming: she was without money,
notwithstanding the Jews; she had no troops; of all her ministers
Paget alone was sincerely anxious to do her service; for Gardiner, on
the subject of the marriage, was as unwilling as ever. It was rumoured
that the King of Denmark intended to unite with the French in support
of the revolutionists, and Renard began calmly to calculate that,
should this report prove {p.097} true, the queen could not be saved.
Pembroke and Clinton offered to raise another force in the city and
fight Wyatt; but, so far as Mary could tell, they would be as likely
to turn against her as to fight in her defence; and she declined their
services. Renard offered Gardiner assistance from the Low
Countries--Gardiner replied with extreme coldness that he had no
desire to see Flemish soldiers in England--and the council generally
were "so strange" in their manner, and so languid in their action,
that the ambassador could not assure himself that they were not
Wyatt's real instigators. Not a man had been raised to protect the
queen, and part of her own guard had been among the deserters at
Rochester. She appealed to the honour of the lords to take measure for
her personal safety; but they did nothing, and, it seemed, would do
nothing; if London rose, they said merely, she must retire to Windsor.

The aspect of affairs was so threatening, that Renard believed that
the marriage at least would have to be relinquished. It seemed as if
it could be accomplished only with the help of an invading army; and
although Mary would agree to any measure which would secure Philip,
the presence of foreign troops, as the emperor himself was aware,
could only increase the exasperation.[227] The queen's resolution,
however, grew with her difficulties. If she could not fight she would
not yield; and, taking matters into her own hands, she sent Sir Thomas
Cornwallis and Sir Edward Hastings to Dartford, with directions to
speak with Wyatt, if possible, alone; to tell him that she "marvelled
at his demeanour," "rising as a subject to impeach her marriage;" she
was ready to believe, however, that he thought himself acting in the
interests of the commonwealth; she would appoint persons to talk over
the subject with him, and if it should appear that the marriage would
not, as she supposed, be beneficial to the realm, she would sacrifice
her wishes.[228]

                   [Footnote 227: Renard to the Emperor, January 29:
                   _Rolls House MSS._ The Emperor to Renard, February
                   4: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 204.]

                   [Footnote 228: Instructions to Sir Thomas
                   Cornwallis and Sir Edward Hastings: _MS. State
                   Paper Office_.]

The message was not strictly honest, for the queen had no real
intention of sacrificing anything. She desired merely to gain time;
and, should Wyatt refuse, as she expected, she wished to place herself
in a better position to appeal to her subjects for help.[229] But the
move under this aspect was skilful and successful; when Cornwallis and
Hastings discharged their commission, Wyatt replied that he would
rather be trusted than {p.098} trust; he would argue the marriage
with pleasure, but he required first the custody of the Tower, and of
the queen's person, and four of the council must place themselves in
his hands as hostages.[230]

                   [Footnote 229: Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 230: Holinshed; Noailles.]

Had Wyatt, said Noailles, been able to reach London simultaneously
with this answer, he would have found the gates open and the whole
population eager to give him welcome. To his misfortune he lingered on
the way, and the queen had time to use his words against him. The two
gentlemen returned indignant at his insolence. The next morning
(February 1), Count Egmont waited on Mary to say that he and his
companions were at her service, and would stand by her to their death.
Perplexed as she was, Egmont said he found her "marvellously firm."
The marriage, she felt, must, at all events, be postponed for the
present; the prince could not come till the insurrection was at an
end; and, while she was grateful for the offer, she not only thought
it best to decline the ambassadors' kindness, but she recommended
them, if possible, to leave London and the country without delay.
Their party was large enough to irritate the people, and too small to
be of use. She bade Egmont, therefore, tell the emperor that from the
first she had put her trust in God, and that she trusted in Him still;
and for themselves, she told them to go at once, taking her best
wishes with them. They obeyed. Six Antwerp merchant sloops were in the
river below the bridge, waiting to sail. They stole on board, dropped
down the tide, and were gone.

The afternoon of the same day the queen herself, with a studied air of
dejection,[231] rode through the streets to the Guildhall, attended by
Gardiner and the remnant of the guard. In St. Paul's Churchyard she
met Pembroke, and slightly bowed as she passed him. Gardiner was
observed to stoop to his saddle. The hall was crowded with citizens:
some brought there by hatred, some by respect, many by pity, but more
by curiosity. When the queen entered she stood forward on the steps,
above the throng, and, in her deep man's voice, she spoke to
them.[232]

                   [Footnote 231: Vous, asseurant, sire, comme celluy
                   qui l'a veu, que scaichant la dicte dame aller au
                   diet lieu, je me deliberay en cape de veoir de
                   quelle visaige elle et sa compaignie y alloient;
                   que je congneus estre aussy triste et desplorée
                   qu'il se peult penser.--Noailles to the King of
                   France, Feb. 1.]

                   [Footnote 232: La voce grossa et quasi di
                   huomo.--Giovanni Michele: Ellis, vol. ii.] series
                   ii.]

Her subjects had risen in rebellion against her, she said; she had
been told that the cause was her intended marriage with the {p.099}
Prince of Spain; and, believing that it was the real cause, she had
offered to hear and to respect their objections. Their leader had
betrayed in his answer his true motives; he had demanded possession of
the Tower of London and of her own person. She stood there, she said,
as lawful Queen of England, and she appealed to the loyalty of her
great city to save her from a presumptuous rebel, who, under specious
pretences, intended to "subdue the laws to his will, and to give scope
to rascals and forlorn persons to make general havoc and spoil." As to
her marriage, she had supposed that so magnificent an alliance could
not have failed to be agreeable to her people. To herself, and, she
was not afraid to say, to her council, it seemed to promise high
advantage to the commonwealth. Marriage, in itself, was indifferent to
her; she had been invited to think of it by the desire of the country
that she should have an heir; but she could continue happy in the
virgin state in which she had hitherto passed her life. She would call
a parliament and the subject should be considered in all its bearings;
if, on mature consideration, the Lords and Commons of England should
refuse to approve of the Prince of Spain as a fitting husband for her,
she promised, on the word of a queen, that she would think of him no
more.

The spectacle of her distress won the sympathy of her audience; the
boldness of her bearing commanded their respect; the promise of a
parliament satisfied, or seemed to satisfy, all reasonable demands:
and among the wealthy citizens there was no desire to see London in
possession of an armed mob, in whom the Anabaptist leaven was deeply
interfused. The speech, therefore, had remarkable success. The queen
returned to Westminster, leaving the corporation converted to the
prudence of supporting her. Twenty-five thousand men were enrolled the
next day for the protection of the crown and the capital; Lord William
Howard was associated with the mayor in the command; and Wyatt, who
had reached Greenwich on Thursday, and had wasted two days there,
uncertain whether he should not cross the river in boats to Blackwall,
arrived on Saturday morning at Southwark, to find the gates closed on
London Bridge, and the drawbridge flung down into the water.

Noailles, for the first time, believed now that the insurrection would
fail. Success or failure, in fact, would turn on the reception which
the midland counties had given to the Duke of Suffolk; and of Suffolk
authentic news had been brought to London that morning.

{p.100} On the flight of the duke being known at the court, it was
supposed immediately that he intended to proclaim his daughter and
Guilford Dudley. Rumour, indeed, turned the supposition into
fact,[233] and declared that he had called on the country to rise in
arms for Queen Jane. But Suffolk's plan was identical with Wyatt's; he
had carried with him a duplicate of Wyatt's proclamation, and,
accompanied by his brother, he presented himself in the market-place
at Leicester on the morning of Monday the 29th. Lord Huntingdon had
followed close upon his track from London; but he assured the Mayor of
Leicester that the Earl of Huntingdon was coming, not to oppose, but
to join with him. No harm was intended to the queen; he was ready to
die in her defence; his object was only to save England from the
dominion of foreigners.

                   [Footnote 233: "The Duke has raised evil-disposed
                   persons, minding her Grace's destruction, and to
                   advance the Lady Jane, his daughter, and Guilford
                   Dudley, her husband."--Royal Proclamation: _MS.
                   State Paper Office_. Printed in the additional
                   Notes to Mr. Nichols's _Chronicle of Queen Mary_.
                   Baoardo says that the duke actually proclaimed Lady
                   Jane.]

In consequence of these protestations, he was allowed to read his
proclamation; the people were indifferent; but he called about him a
few scores of his tenants and retainers from his own estates in the
country; and, on Tuesday morning, while the insurgents in Kent were
attacking Cowling Castle, Suffolk rode out of Leicester, in full
armour, at the head of his troops, intending first to move on
Coventry, then to take Kenilworth and Warwick, and so to advance on
London. The garrison at Warwick had been tampered with, and was
reported to be ready to rise. The gates of Coventry he expected to
find open. He had sent his proclamation thither the day before, by a
servant, and he had friends within the walls who had undertaken to
place the town at his disposal.

The state of Coventry was probably the state of most other towns in
England. The inhabitants were divided. The mayor and aldermen, the
fathers of families, and the men of property, were conservatives,
loyal to the queen, to the mass, and to "the cause of order." The
young and enthusiastic, supported by others who had good reasons for
being in opposition to established authorities, were those who had
placed themselves in correspondence with the Duke of Suffolk.

Suffolk's servant (his name was Thomas Rampton), on reaching the town,
on Monday evening, made a mistake in the first person to whom he
addressed himself, and received a cold answer. Two others of the
townsmen, however, immediately {p.101} welcomed him, and told him
that "the whole place was at his lord's commandment, except certain of
the town council, who feared that, if good fellows had the upper hand,
their extremities heretofore should be remembered."[234] They took
Rampton into a house, where, presently, another man entered of the
same way of thinking, and, in his own eyes, a man of importance. "My
lord's quarrel is right well known," this person said, "it is God's
quarrel, let him come; let him come, and make no stay, for this town
is his own. I say to you assuredly this town is his own. I am it."

                   [Footnote 234: Rampton's Confession: _MS. Domestic.
                   Mary_, vol. iii. State Paper Office.]

It was now night; no time was to be lost, the townsmen said. They
urged Rampton to return at once to Suffolk, and hasten his movements.
They would themselves read the proclamation at the market-cross
forthwith, and raise the people. Rampton, who had ridden far, and was
weary, wished to wait till the morning; if they were so confident of
success, a few hours could make no difference: but it appeared shortly
that the "good fellows" in Coventry were not exclusively under the
influence of piety and patriotism. If a rising commenced in the
darkness, it was admitted that "undoubted spoil and peradventure
destruction of many rich men would ensue," and with transactions of
this kind the duke's servant was unwilling to connect himself.

Thus the hours wore away, and no resolution was arrived at; and, in
the meantime, the town council had received a warning to be on their
guard. Before daybreak the constables were on the alert, the decent
citizens took possession of the gates, and the conspirators had lost
their opportunity. In the afternoon Suffolk arrived with a hundred
horse under the walls, but there was no admission for him. Whilst he
was hesitating what course to pursue, a messenger came in to say that
the Earl of Huntingdon was at Warwick. The plot for the revolt of the
garrison had been detected, and the whole country was on the alert.
The people had no desire to see the Spaniards in England; but sober,
quiet farmers and burgesses would not rise at the call of the friend
of Northumberland, and assist in bringing back the evil days of
anarchy.

The Greys had now only to provide for their personal safety.

Suffolk had an estate a few miles distant, called Astley Park, to
which the party retreated from Coventry. There the duke shared such
money as he had with him among his men, and bade them shift for
themselves. Lord Thomas Grey changed coats {p.102} with a servant,
and rode off to Wales to join Sir James Crofts. Suffolk himself, who
was ill, took refuge with his brother, Lord John, in the cottage of
one of his gamekeepers, where they hoped to remain hidden till the hue
and cry should be over, and they could escape abroad.

The cottage was considered insecure. Two bowshots south of Astley
Church there stood in the park an old decaying tree, in the hollow of
which the father of Lady Jane Grey concealed himself; and there, for
two winter days and a night, he was left without food. A proclamation
had been put out by Huntingdon for Suffolk's apprehension (January
30), and the keeper, either tempted by the reward, or frightened by
the menace against all who should give him shelter, broke his trust--a
rare example of disloyalty--and going to Warwick Castle, undertook to
betray his master's hiding-place. A party of troopers were despatched,
with the keeper for a guide; and, on arriving at Astley, they found
that the duke, unable to endure the cold and hunger longer, had
crawled out of the tree, and was warming himself by the cottage fire.
Lord John was discovered buried under some bundles of hay.[235] They
were carried off at once to the Tower, whither Lord Thomas Grey and
Sir James Crofts, who had failed as signally in Wales, soon after
followed them.[236]

                   [Footnote 235: Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 236: I follow Baoardo in the account of
                   the duke's capture. Renard says that he was found
                   in the tree by a little dog: "qu'a esté grand
                   commencement du miracle pour le succès prospere des
                   affaires de la dicte dame."--Renard to the Emperor,
                   February 8: _MS._]

The account of his confederates' failure saluted Wyatt on his arrival
in Southwark, on the 3rd of February. The intelligence was being
published, at the moment, in the streets of London; Wyatt himself, at
the same time, was proclaimed traitor, and a reward of a hundred
pounds was offered for his capture, dead or alive. The peril, however,
was far from over; Wyatt replied to the proclamation by wearing his
name, in large letters, upon his cap; the success of the queen's
speech in the city irritated the council, who did not choose to sit
still under the imputation of having approved of the Spanish marriage.
They declared everywhere, loudly and angrily, that they had not
approved of it, and did not approve; in the city itself public feeling
again wavered, and fresh parties of the train-bands crossed the water
and deserted. The behaviour of Wyatt's followers gave the lie to the
queen's charges against them: the prisons in Southwark were not
opened; property was respected scrupulously; the only attempt at
injury was at Winchester House, and there it {p.103} was instantly
repressed; the inhabitants of the Borough entertained them with warm
hospitality; and the queen, notwithstanding her efforts, found herself
as it were besieged, in her principal city, by a handful of commoners,
whom no one ventured, or no one could be trusted, to attack. So
matters continued through Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. The
lawyers at Westminster Hall pleaded in harness, the judges wore
harness under their robes; Doctor Weston sang mass in harness before
the queen; tradesmen attended in harness behind their counters. The
metropolis, on both sides of the water, was in an attitude of armed
expectation, yet there was no movement, no demonstration on either
side of popular feeling. The ominous strangeness of the situation
appalled even Mary herself.[237]

                   [Footnote 237: Noailles.]

By this time (February 5) the intercepted letter of Noailles had been
decyphered. It proved, if more proof was wanted, the correspondence
between the ambassador and the conspirators; it explained the object
of the rising--the queen was to be dethroned in favour of her sister;
and it was found, also, though names were not mentioned, that the plot
had spread far upwards among the noblemen by whom Mary was surrounded.
Evidence of Elizabeth's complicity it did not contain; while, to
Gardiner's mortification, it showed that Courtenay, in his confessions
to himself, had betrayed the guilt of others, but had concealed part
of his own. In an anxiety to shield him the chancellor pronounced the
cypher of Courtenay's name to be unintelligible. The queen placed the
letter in the hands of Renard, by whom it was instantly read, and the
chancellor's humour was not improved; Mary had the mortification of
feeling that she was herself the last object of anxiety either to him
or to any of her council; though Wyatt was at the gates of London, the
council could only spend the time in passionate recriminations; Paget
blamed Gardiner for his religious intolerance; Gardiner blamed Paget
for having advised the marriage; some exclaimed against Courtenay,
some against Elizabeth; but, of acting, all alike seemed incapable. If
the queen was in danger, the council said, she might fly to Windsor,
or to Calais, or she might go to the Tower. "Whatever happens," she
exclaimed to Renard, "I am the wife of the Prince of Spain; crown,
rank, life, all shall go before I will take any other husband."[238]

                   [Footnote 238: Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._ February 5.]

The position, however, could not be of long continuance. {p.104}
Could Wyatt once enter London, he assured himself of success; but the
gates on the bridge continued closed. Cheyne and Southwell had
collected a body of men on whom they could rely, and were coming up
behind from Rochester. Wyatt desired to return and fight them, and
then cross the water at Greenwich, as had been before proposed; but
his followers feared that he meant to escape; a backward movement
would not be permitted, and his next effort was to ascertain whether
the passage over the bridge could be forced.

London Bridge was then a long, narrow street. The gate was at the
Southwark extremity; the drawbridge was near the middle. On Sunday or
Monday night Wyatt scaled the leads of the gatehouse, climbed into a
window, and descended the stairs into the lodge. The porter and his
wife were nodding over the fire. The rebel leader bade them, on their
lives, be still, and stole along in the darkness to the chasm from
which the drawbridge had been cut away. There, looking across the
black gulf where the river was rolling below, he saw the dusky mouths
of four gaping cannon, and beyond them, in the torch-light, Lord
Howard himself, keeping watch with the guard: neither force nor skill
could make a way into the city by London Bridge.

The course which he should follow was determined for him. The
lieutenant of the Tower, Sir John Brydges, a soldier and a Catholic,
had looked over the water with angry eyes at the insurgents collected
within reach of his guns, and had asked the queen for permission to
fire upon them. The queen, afraid of provoking the people, had
hitherto refused; on the Monday, however, a Tower boat, passing the
Southwark side of the water, was hailed by Wyatt's sentries; the
watermen refused to stop, the sentries fired, and one of the men in
the boat was killed. The next morning (February 6) (whether permission
had been given at last, or not, was never known), the guns on the
White Tower, the Devil's Tower, and all the bastions, were loaded and
aimed, and notice was sent over that the fire was about to open. The
inhabitants addressed themselves, in agitation, to Wyatt; and Wyatt,
with a sudden resolution, half felt to be desperate, resolved to march
for Kingston Bridge, cross the Thames, and come back on London. His
friends in the city promised to receive him, could he reach Ludgate by
daybreak on Wednesday.

On Tuesday morning, therefore, Shrove Tuesday, which the queen had
hoped to spend more happily than in facing an army of insurgents,
Wyatt, accompanied by not more than fifteen hundred men, pushed out of
Southwark. He had cannon with {p.105} him, which delayed his march,
but at four in the afternoon he reached Kingston. Thirty feet of the
bridge were broken away, and a guard of three hundred men were on the
other side; but the guard fled after a few rounds from the guns, and
Wyatt, leaving his men to refresh themselves in the town, went to work
to repair the passage. A row of barges lay on the opposite bank; three
sailors swam across, attached ropes to them, and towed them over; and,
the barges being moored where the bridge was broken, beams and planks
were laid across them, and a road was made of sufficient strength to
bear the cannon and the waggons.

By eleven o'clock at night the river was crossed, and the march was
resumed. The weather was still wild, the roads miry and heavy, and
through the winter night the motley party plunged along. The Rochester
men had, most of them, gone home, and those who remained were the
London deserters, gentlemen who had compromised themselves too deeply
to hope for pardon, or fanatics, who believed they were fighting the
Lord's battle, and some of the Protestant clergy. Ponet, the late
Bishop of Winchester, was with them; William Thomas, the late clerk of
the council; Sir George Harper, Anthony Knyvet, Lord Cobham's sons,
Pelham, who had been a spy of Northumberland's on the continent,[239]
and others more or less conspicuous in the worst period of the late
reign.

                   [Footnote 239: The Regent Mary to the Ambassadors
                   in England: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

From the day that Wyatt came to Southwark the whole guard had been
under arms at Whitehall, and a number of them, to the agitation of the
court ladies, were stationed in the queen's ante-chamber. But the
guard was composed of dangerous elements. Sir Humfrey Radcliff, the
lieutenant, was a "favourer of the gospel;"[240] and the "Hot
Gospeller" himself, on his recovery from his fever, had returned to
his duties.[241] No {p.106} additional precautions had been taken,
nor does it seem that, on Wyatt's departure, his movements were
watched. Kingston Bridge having been broken, his immediate approach
was certainly unlooked for; nor was it till past midnight that
information came to the palace that the passage had been forced, and
that the insurgents were coming directly back upon London. Between two
and three in the morning the queen was called from her bed. Gardiner,
who had been, with others of the council, arguing with her in favour
of Courtenay the preceding day, was in waiting; he told her that her
barge was at the stairs to carry her up the river, and she must take
shelter instantly at Windsor.

                   [Footnote 240: Underhill's _Narrative_.]

                   [Footnote 241: Underhill, however, was too
                   notorious a person to be allowed to remain on duty
                   at such a time of danger.

                   "When Wyatt was come to Southwark," he says, "the
                   pensioners were commanded to watch in armour that
                   night at the Court.... After supper, I put on my
                   armour, as the rest did, for we were appointed to
                   watch all the night. So, being all armed, we came
                   up into the chamber of presence with our pole-axes
                   in our hands, wherewith the ladies were very
                   fearful. Some lamenting, crying, and wringing their
                   hands, said, Alas! there is some great mischief
                   toward: we shall all be destroyed this night. What
                   a sight is this, to see the Queen's chamber full of
                   armed men: the like was never seen nor heard of!
                   Mr. Norris, chief usher of Queen Mary's privy
                   chamber, was appointed to call the watch to see if
                   any were lacking; unto whom, Moore, the clerk of
                   our check, delivered the book of our names; and
                   when he came to my name, What, said he, what doth
                   he here? Sir, said the clerk, he is here ready to
                   serve as the rest be. Nay, by God's body, said he,
                   that heretic shall not watch here. Give me a pen.
                   So he struck my name out of the book."]

Without disturbing herself, the queen sent for Renard. Shall I go or
stay? she asked.

Unless your majesty desire to throw away your crown, Renard answered,
you will remain here till the last extremity; your flight will be
known, the city will rise, seize the Tower, and release the prisoners;
the heretics will massacre the priests, and Elizabeth will be
proclaimed queen.

The lords were divided. Gardiner insisted again that she must and
should go. The others were uncertain, or inclined to the opinion of
Renard. At last Mary said that she would be guided by Pembroke and
Clinton. If those two would undertake to stand by her, she would
remain and see out the struggle.[242]

                   [Footnote 242: Renard to Charles V., February 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

They were not present, and were sent for on the spot. Pembroke for
weeks past had certainly wavered; Lord Thomas Grey believed at one
time that he had gained him over, and to the last felt assured of his
neutrality. Happily for Mary, happily, it must be said, for
England--for the Reformation was not a cause to be won by such
enterprises as that of Sir Thomas Wyatt--he decided on supporting the
queen, and promised to defend her with his life. At four o'clock in
the morning drums went round the city, calling the train-bands to an
instant muster at Charing Cross. Pembroke's conduct determined the
young lords and gentlemen about the court, who with their servants
were swiftly mounted and under arms; and by eight, more than ten
thousand men were stationed along the ground, then an open field,
which slopes from Piccadilly to Pall Mall. The road or causeway on
which Wyatt was expected to advance ran nearly {p.107} on the site
of Piccadilly itself. An old cross stood near the head of St. James's
Street, where guns were placed; and that no awkward accident like that
at Rochester might happen on the first collision, the gentlemen, who
formed four squadrons of horse, were pushed forwards towards Hyde Park
Corner.

Wyatt, who ought to have been at the gate of the city two hours
before, had been delayed in the meantime by the breaking down of a gun
in the heavy road at Brentford. Brett, the captain of the city
deserters, Ponet, Harper, and others, urged Wyatt to leave the gun
where it lay and keep his appointment. Wyatt, however, insisted on
waiting till the carriage could be repaired, although in the eyes of
every one but himself the delay was obvious ruin. Harper, seeing him
obstinate, stole away a second time to gain favour for himself by
carrying news to the court. Ponet, unambitious of martyrdom, told him
he would pray God for his success, and, advising Brett to shift for
himself, made away with others towards the sea and Germany.[243] It
was nine o'clock before Wyatt brought the draggled remnant of his
force, wet, hungry, and faint with their night march, up the hill from
Knightsbridge. Near Hyde Park Corner a lane turned off; and here
Pembroke had placed a troop of cavalry. The insurgents straggled on
without order. When half of them had passed, the horse dashed out, and
cut them in two, and all who were behind were dispersed or captured.
Wyatt, caring now only to press forward, kept his immediate followers
together, and went straight on. The queen's guns opened, and killed
three of his men; but, lowering his head, he dashed at them and over
them; then, turning to the right, to avoid the train-bands, he struck
down towards St. James's, where his party again separated. Knyvet and
the young Cobhams, leaving St. James's to their left, crossed the park
to Westminster. Wyatt went right along the present Pall Mall, past the
line of the citizens. They had but to move a few steps to intercept
his passage, close in, and take him; but not a man advanced, not a
hand was lifted; where the way was narrow they drew aside to let him
pass. At Charing Cross Sir John Gage was stationed, with part of the
guard, some horse, and among them, Courtenay, who in the morning had
been heard to say he would not obey orders; he was as good a man as
Pembroke. As Wyatt came up Courtenay turned his horse towards
Whitehall, and began to move off, followed by Lord Worcester. "Fie! my
lord," Sir Thomas {p.108} Cornwallis cried to him, "is this the
action of a gentleman?"[244] But deaf, or heedless, or treacherous, he
galloped off, calling Lost, lost! all is lost! and carried panic to
the court. The guard had broken at his flight, and came hurrying
behind him. Some cried that Pembroke had played false. Shouts of
treason rung through the palace. The queen, who had been watching from
the palace gallery, alone retained her presence of mind. If others
durst not stand the trial against the traitors, she said, she herself
would go out into the field and try the quarrel, and die with those
that would serve her.[245]

                   [Footnote 243: Letter of William Markham: _Tanner
                   MSS._ Bodleian Library. Compare Stow.]

                   [Footnote 244: Renard to Charles V., February 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 245: Holinshed.]

At this moment Knyvet and the Cobhams, who had gone round by the old
palace, came by the gates as the fugitive guard were struggling in.
Infinite confusion followed. Gage was rolled in the dirt, and three of
the judges with him. The guard shrunk away into the offices and
kitchens to hide themselves. But Knyvet's men made no attempt to
enter. They contented themselves with shooting a few arrows, and then
hurried on to Charing Cross to rejoin Wyatt. At Charing Cross,
however, their way was now closed by a company of archers, who had
been sent back by Pembroke to protect the court. Sharp fighting
followed, and the cries rose so loud as to be heard on the leads of
the White Tower. At last the leaders forced their way up the Strand;
the rest of the party were cut up, dispersed, or taken.[246]

                   [Footnote 246: The dress of the Londoners who came
                   with Wyatt being the city uniform, they were
                   distinguished by the dirt upon their legs from
                   their night march. The cry of Pembroke's men in the
                   fight was "Down with the daggle-tails!"]

Wyatt himself, meanwhile, followed by three hundred men, had hurried
on through lines of men who still opened to give him passage. He
passed Temple Bar, along Fleet Street, and reached Ludgate. The gate
was open as he approached, when some one seeing a number of men coming
up, exclaimed, "These be Wyatt's antients." Muttered curses were heard
among the bystanders; but Lord Howard was on the spot; the gates,
notwithstanding the murmurs, were instantly closed; and, when Wyatt
knocked, Howard's voice answered, "Avaunt! traitor; thou shalt not
come in here." "I have kept touch," Wyatt exclaimed; but his
enterprise was hopeless now. He sat down upon a bench outside the
Belle Sauvage Yard. His followers scattered from him among the
by-lanes and streets; and, of the three hundred, twenty-four alone
remained, among {p.109} whom were now Knyvet and one of the young
Cobhams. With these few he turned at last, in the forlorn hope that
the train-bands would again open to let him pass. Some of Pembroke's
horse were coming up. He fought his way through them to Temple Bar,
where a herald cried, "Sir, ye were best to yield; the day is gone
against you; perchance ye may find the queen merciful." Sir Maurice
Berkeley was standing near him on horseback, to whom, feeling that
further resistance was useless, he surrendered his sword; and
Berkeley, to save him from being cut down in the tumult, took him up
upon his horse. Others in the same way took up Knyvet and Cobham,
Brett and two more. The six prisoners were carried through the Strand
back to Westminster, the passage through the city being thought
dangerous; and from Whitehall Stairs, Mary herself looking on from a
window of the palace, they were borne off in a barge to the Tower.

The queen had triumphed, triumphed through her own resolution, and
would now enjoy the fruits of victory.

Had Wyatt succeeded, Mary would have lost her husband and her crown;
and had the question been no more than a personal one, England could
have well dispensed both with her and Philip. But Elizabeth would have
ascended a throne under the shadow of treason. The Protestants would
have come back to power in the thoughtless vindictiveness of
exasperated and successful revolutionists; and the problem of the
Reformation would have been more hard than ever of a reasonable
solution. The fanatics had made their effort, and they had failed;
they had shaken the throne, but they had not overthrown it; the
queen's turn was come, and, as the danger had been great, so was the
resentment. She had Renard at one ear protesting that, while these
turbulent spirits were uncrushed, the precious person of the prince
could not be trusted to her. She had Gardiner, who, always pitiless
towards heretics, was savage at the frustration of his own schemes.
Renard in the closet, Gardiner in the pulpit, alike told her that she
must show no more mercy.[247] On Ash Wednesday evening, after Wyatt's
{p.110} surrender, a proclamation forbade all persons to shelter the
fugitive insurgents under pain of death. The "poor caitiffs" were
brought out of the houses where they had hidden themselves, and were
given up by hundreds. Huntingdon came in on Saturday with Suffolk and
his brothers. Sir James Crofts, Sir Henry Isly, and Sir Gawen Carew
followed. The common prisons overflowed into the churches, where
crowds of wretches were huddled together till the gibbets were ready
for their hanging; the Tower wards were so full that Cranmer, Ridley,
and Latimer were packed into a single cell; and all the living
representatives of the families of Grey and Dudley, except two young
girls, were now within the Tower walls, sentenced, or soon to be
sentenced, to death.

                   [Footnote 247: "On Sunday, the 11th of February,
                   the Bishop of Winchester preached in the chapel
                   before the queen." "The preachers for the seven
                   years last past, he said, by dividing of words and
                   other their own additions, had brought in many
                   errours detestable unto the Church of Christ." "He
                   axed a boon of the Queen's Highness, that, like as
                   she had beforetime extended her mercy particularly
                   and privately, [and] so through her lenity and
                   gentleness much conspiracy and open rebellion was
                   grown ... she would now be merciful to the body of
                   the commonwealth and conservation thereof, which
                   could not be unless the rotten and hurtful members
                   thereof were cut off and consumed."--_Chronicle of
                   Queen Mary_, p. 54.]

The queen's blood is up at last, Renard wrote exultingly to the
emperor on the 8th of February;[248] "the Duke of Suffolk, Lord Thomas
Grey, and Sir James Crofts have written to ask for mercy, but they
will find none; their heads will fall, and so will Courtenay's and
Elizabeth's. I have told the queen that she must be especially prompt
with these two. We have nothing now to hope for except that France
will break the peace, and then all will be well." On the 12th of
February the ambassador was still better satisfied. Elizabeth had been
sent for, and was on her way to London. A rupture with France seemed
inevitable, and as to clemency, there was no danger of it. "The
queen," he said, "had told him that Anne of Cleves was implicated;"
but for himself he was sure that the two centres of all past and all
possible conspiracies were Elizabeth and Courtenay, and that when
their heads, and the heads of the Greys, were once off their
shoulders, she would have nothing more to fear. The prisoners were
heretics to a man; she had a fair plea to despatch them, and she would
then settle the country as she pleased;[249] "The house of Suffolk
would soon be extinct."

                   [Footnote 248: _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 249: Renard to Charles V., February 12:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

The house of Suffolk would be extinct: that too, or almost that, had
been decided on. Jane Grey was guiltless of this last commotion; her
name had not been so much as mentioned among the insurgents; but she
was guilty of having been once called queen, and Mary, who before had
been generously deaf to the emperor's advice, and to Renard's
arguments, yielded in her present humour. Philip was beckoning in the
distance; and while Jane Grey lived, Philip, she was again and again
assured, must remain for ever separated from her arms.

{p.111} Jane Grey, therefore, was to die--her execution was resolved
upon the day after the victory; and the first intention was to put her
to death on the Friday immediately approaching. In killing her body,
however, Mary desired to have mercy on her soul; and she sent the
message of death (February 9) by the excellent Feckenham, afterwards
Abbot of Westminster, who was to bring her, if possible, to obedience
to the Catholic faith.

Feckenham, a man full of gentle and tender humanity, felt to the
bottom of his soul the errand on which he was despatched. He felt as a
Catholic priest--but he felt also as a man.

On admission to Lady Jane's room he told her that she was to die the
next morning, and he told her, also, for what reason the queen had
selected him to communicate the sentence.

She listened calmly. The time was short, she said; too short to be
spent in theological discussion; which, if Feckenham would permit, she
would decline.

Believing, or imagining that he ought to believe, that, if she died
unreconciled, she was lost, Feckenham hurried back to the queen to beg
for delay; and the queen, moved with his entreaties, respited the
execution till Monday, giving him three more days to pursue his
labour. But Lady Jane, when he returned to her, scarcely appreciated
the favour; she had not expected her words to be repeated, she said;
she had given up all thoughts of the world, and she would take her
death patiently whenever her majesty desired.[250]

                   [Footnote 250: Baoardo. The writer of the
                   _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, says, "She was appointed
                   to have been put to death on Friday, but was
                   stayed--for what cause is not known." Baoardo
                   supplies the explanation.]

Feckenham, however, still pressed his services, and courtesy to a kind
and anxious old man forbade her to refuse them. He remained with her
to the end; and certain arguments followed on faith and justification,
and the nature of sacraments; a record of which may be read by the
curious in Foxe.[251] Lady Jane was wearied without being convinced.
The tedium of the discussion was relieved, perhaps, by the now more
interesting account which she gave to her unsuccessful confessor of
the misfortune which was bringing her to her death.[252] The night
before she suffered she wrote a few sentences of advice to her sister
on the blank leaf of a New Testament. To her father, knowing his
weakness, and knowing, too, how he would be worked upon to imitate the
recantation of Northumberland, {p.112} she sent a letter of
exquisite beauty, in which the exhortations of a dying saint are
tempered with the reverence of a daughter for her father.[253]

                   [Footnote 251: Vol. vi. pp. 415-417.]

                   [Footnote 252: The story told by Baoardo, to whom,
                   it would seem, Feckenham related it.]

                   [Footnote 253: Foxe, vol. vi.]

The iron-hearted Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir John Brydges, had been
softened by the charms of his prisoner, and begged for some memorial
of her in writing. She wrote in a manual of English prayers the
following words:--

"Forasmuch as you have desired so simple a woman to write in so worthy
a book, good Master Lieutenant, therefore I shall, as a friend, desire
you, and as a Christian, require you, to call upon God to incline your
heart to his laws, to quicken you in his way, and not to take the word
of truth utterly out of your mouth. Live still to die, that by death
you may purchase eternal life, and remember how Methuselah, who, as we
read in the Scriptures, was the longest liver that was of a man, died
at the last; for, as the Preacher saith, there is a time to be born
and a time to die; and the day of death is better than the day of our
birth. Yours, as the Lord knoweth, as a friend, Jane Dudley."[254]

                   [Footnote 254: _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, p. 57,
                   note. In the same manual are a few words in
                   Guilford Dudley's hand, addressed to Suffolk, and a
                   few words also addressed to Suffolk by Lady Jane.
                   Mr. Nichols supposes that the book (it is still
                   extant among the _Harleian MSS._) was used as a
                   means of communicating with the duke when direct
                   intercourse was unpermitted. If this conjecture is
                   right, Lady Jane's letter, perhaps, never reached
                   her father at all. There is some difficulty about
                   the memorial which the Lieutenant of the Tower
                   obtained from her. Baoardo says, that she gave him
                   a book, in which she had written a few words in
                   Greek, Latin, and English.

                   "La Greca era tale. La morte dara la pena al mio
                   corpo del fallo ma la mia anima giustificara inanzi
                   al conspetto di Dio la innocenza mia.

                   "La Latina diceva. Se la giustitia ha luogo nel
                   corpo mio l'anima mia l'havera nella misericordia
                   di Dio.

                   "La Inglese. Il fallo e degno di morte ma il modo
                   della mia ignoranza doueva meritar pieta e
                   excusatione appresso il mondo e alle leggi."]

Her husband was also to die, and to die before her. The morning on
which they were to suffer he begged for a last interview and a last
embrace. It was left to herself to consent or refuse. If, she replied,
the meeting would benefit either of their souls, she would see him
with pleasure; but, in her own opinion, it would only increase their
trial. They would meet soon enough in the other world.

He died, therefore, without seeing her again. She saw him once alive
as he was led to the scaffold, and again as he returned a mutilated
corpse in the death-cart. It was not wilful cruelty. The officer in
command had forgotten that the ordinary road led past her window. But
the delicate girl of seventeen was as {p.113} masculine in her heart
as in her intellect. When her own turn arrived, Sir John Brydges led
her down to the green; her attendants were in an agony of tears, but
her own eyes were dry. She prayed quietly till she reached the foot of
the scaffold, when she turned to Feckenham, who still clung to her
side. "Go now," she said; "God grant you all your desires, and accept
my own warm thanks for your attentions to me; although, indeed, those
attentions have tried me more than death can now terrify me."[255] She
sprung up the steps, and said briefly that she had broken the law in
accepting the crown; but as to any guilt of intention, she wrung her
hands, and said she washed them clean of it in innocency before God
and man. She entreated her hearers to bear her witness that she died a
true Christian woman; that she looked to be saved only by the mercy of
God and the merits of his Son: and she begged for their prayers as
long as she was alive. Feckenham had still followed her,
notwithstanding his dismissal. "Shall I say the _Miserere_ psalm?" she
said to him.[256] When it was done, she let down her hair with her
attendants' help, and uncovered her neck. The rest may be told in the
words of the chronicler:--

                   [Footnote 255: Andate: che nostro Signore Dio vi
                   contenti d'ogni vostro desiderio, e siate sempre
                   infinitamente ringratiato della compagnia che
                   m'havete fatta avenga che da quella sia stata molto
                   piu noiata che hora non mi spaventa la
                   morte.--Baoardo.]

                   [Footnote 256: The 51st: "Have mercy on me, oh
                   Lord, after thy goodness."]

"The hangman kneeled down and asked her forgiveness, whom she forgave
most willingly. Then he willed her to stand upon the straw, which
doing, she saw the block. Then she said, I pray you despatch me
quickly. Then she kneeled down, saying, Will you take it off before I
lay me down? and the hangman answered No, Madam. She tied a kerchief
about her eyes; then, feeling for the block, she said, What shall I
do; where is it? One of the bystanders guiding her thereunto, she laid
her head down upon the block, and stretched forth her body, and said,
Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit. And so ended."[257]

                   [Footnote 257: _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, pp. 58,
                   59.]

The same day Courtenay was sent to the Tower, and a general slaughter
commenced of the common prisoners. To spread the impression, gibbets
were erected all over London, and by Thursday evening eighty or a
hundred bodies[258] were dangling {p.114} in St. Paul's Churchyard,
on London Bridge, in Fleet Street, and at Charing Cross, in Southwark
and Westminster. At all cross-ways and in all thoroughfares, says
Noailles, "the eye was met with the hideous spectacle of hanging men;"
while Brett and a fresh batch of unfortunates were sent to suffer at
Rochester and Maidstone. Day after day, week after week, commissioners
sat at Westminster or at the Guildhall trying prisoners, who passed
with a short shrift to the gallows. The Duke of Suffolk was sentenced
on the 17th; on the 23rd he followed his daughter, penitent for his
rebellion, but constant, as she had implored him to be, in his faith.
His two brothers and Lord Cobham's sons were condemned. William
Thomas, to escape torture, stabbed himself, but recovered to die at
Tyburn. Lord Cobham himself, who was arrested notwithstanding his
defence of his house, Wyatt, Sir James Crofts, Sir William St. Lowe,
Sir Nicholas Arnold, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, and, as the council
expressed it, "a world more," were in various prisons waiting their
trials. Those who were suspected of being in Elizabeth's confidence
were kept with their fate impending over them--to be tempted either
with hopes of pardon, or by the rack, to betray their secrets.[259]

                   [Footnote 258: Renard says: "A hundred were hanged
                   in London and a hundred in Kent." Stow says:
                   "Eighty in London and twenty-two in Kent." _The
                   Chronicle of Queen Mary_ does not mention the
                   number of executions in London, but agrees with
                   Stow on the number sent to Kent. The smaller
                   estimate, in these cases, is generally the right
                   one.]

                   [Footnote 259: On Sunday the 11th of February, the
                   day on which he exhorted the queen to severity from
                   the pulpit, Gardiner wrote to Sir William Petre,
                   "To-morrow, at your going to the Tower, it shall be
                   good ye be earnest with one little Wyatt there
                   prisoner, who by all likelihood can tell all. He is
                   but a bastard, and hath no substance; and it might
                   stand with the Queen's Highness's pleasure there
                   were no great account to be made whether ye pressed
                   him to say truth by sharp punishment or promise of
                   life."--_MS. Domestic, Mary_, vol. iii. State Paper
                   Office. I do not know to whom Gardiner referred in
                   the words "little Wyatt."]

But, sooner or later, the queen was determined that every one who
could be convicted should die,[260] and beyond, and above them all,
Elizabeth. Elizabeth's illness, which had been supposed to have been
assumed, was real, and as the feeling of the people towards her
compelled the observance of the forms of justice and decency,
physicians were sent from the court to attend upon her. On the 18th of
February they reported that she could be moved with safety; and,
escorted by Lord William Howard, Sir Edward Hastings, and Sir Thomas
Cornwallis, she was brought by slow stages, of six or seven miles a
day, to London.[261] Renard had described her to the emperor as
probably _enceinte_ through some vile intrigue, and crushed with
remorse and disappointment.[262]

                   [Footnote 260: Renard to the Emperor: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 261: The Order of my Lady Elizabeth's
                   Grace's Voyage to the Court: _MS. Mary, Domestic_
                   vol. iii. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 262: Renard to the Emperor: February 17:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

{p.115} To give the lie to all such slanders, when she entered the
city, the princess had the covering of her litter thrown back; she was
dressed in white, her face was pale from her illness, but the
expression was lofty, scornful, and magnificent.[263] Crowds followed
her along the streets to Westminster. The queen, when she arrived at
Whitehall, refused to see her; a suite of rooms was assigned for her
confinement in a corner of the palace, from which there was no egress
except by passing the guard, and there, with short attendance, she
waited the result of Gardiner's investigations. Wyatt, by vague
admissions, had already partially compromised her, and, on the
strength of his words, and the discovery of the copy of her letter in
the packet of Noailles, she would have gone direct to the Tower, had
the lords permitted. The emperor urged instant and summary justice
both on her and on Courtenay; the irritation, should irritation arise,
could be allayed afterwards by an amnesty.[264] The lords, however,
insisted obstinately on the forms of law, the necessity of witnesses,
and of a trial; and Renard watched their unreasonable humours with
angry misgivings. It was enough, he said, that the conspiracy was
undertaken in Elizabeth's interests; if she escaped now, the queen
would never be secure.[265] In fact, while Elizabeth lived, the prince
could not venture among the wild English spirits, and Charles was
determined that the marriage should not escape him.

                   [Footnote 263: "Pour desguyser le regret qu'elle
                   a," says Renard, unable to relinquish his first
                   conviction.]

                   [Footnote 264: Renard was instructed to exhort the
                   queen: "Que l'execution et chastoy de ceulx qui le
                   meritent se face tost; usant à l'endroit de Madame
                   Elizabeth et de Cortenay comme elle verra convenir
                   à sa seureté, pour après user de clémence en
                   l'endroit de ceulx qu'il luy semblera, afin de tost
                   reassurer le surplus."--The Emperor to Renard:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. pp. 224, 225.]

                   [Footnote 265: Il est certain l'enterprinse estoit
                   en sa faveur. Et certes, sire, si pendant que
                   l'occasion s'adonne elle ne la punyt et Cortenay,
                   elle ne sera jamais asseurée.--Renard to Charles
                   V.: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 311.]

As soon as the rebellion was crushed, Egmont, attended by Count Horn,
returned to complete his work. He brought with him the dispensations
in regular form. He brought also a fresh and pressing entreaty that
Elizabeth should be sacrificed. An opportunity had been placed in the
queen's hand, which her duty to the church required that she should
not neglect; and Egmont was directed to tell her that the emperor, in
trusting his son in a country where his own power could not protect
him, relied upon her honour not to neglect any step essential to his
security.[266] Egmont gave his message. The unhappy queen {p.116}
required no urging; she protested to Renard, that she could neither
rest nor sleep, so ardent was her desire for the prince's safe
arrival.[267] Courtenay, if necessary, she could kill; against him the
proofs were complete; as to Elizabeth, she knew her guilt; the
evidence was growing; and she would insist to the council that justice
should be done.

                   [Footnote 266: Renard to the Emperor, March 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 267: La quelle me respondit et afferme
                   qu'elle ne dort ny repose pour le soucy elle tient
                   de la seuré venue de son Altesse.--Renard to the
                   Emperor: Tytler, vol. ii.]

About the marriage itself, the lords had by this time agreed to yield.
Courtenay's pretensions could no longer be decently advanced, and
Gardiner, abandoning a hopeless cause, and turning his attention to
the restoration of the church, would consent to anything, if, on his
side, he might emancipate the clergy from the control of the civil
power, and re-establish persecution. Two factions, distinctly marked,
were now growing in the council--the party of the statesmen, composed
of Paget, Sussex, Arundel, Pembroke, Lord William Howard, the Marquis
of Winchester, Sir Edward Hastings, and Cornwallis: the party of the
church, composed of Gardiner, Petre, Rochester, Gage, Jerningham, and
Bourne. Divided on all other questions, the rival parties agreed only
no longer to oppose the coming of Philip. The wavering few had been
decided by the presents and promises which Egmont brought with him
from Charles. Pensions of two thousand crowns had been offered to, and
were probably accepted by the Earls of Pembroke, Arundel, Derby, and
Shrewsbury; pensions of a thousand crowns were given to Sussex, Darcy,
Winchester, Rochester, Petre, and Cheyne; pensions of five hundred
crowns to Southwell, Waldegrave, Inglefield, Wentworth, and Grey;[268]
ten thousand crowns were distributed among the officers and gentlemen
who had distinguished themselves against Wyatt. The pensions were
large, but, as Renard observed, when Charles seemed to hesitate,
several of the recipients were old, and would soon die; and, as to the
rest, things in England were changing from day to day, and means of
some kind would easily be found to put an early end to the
payments.[269]

                   [Footnote 268: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p.
                   267.]

                   [Footnote 269: Renard to Charles V., March 8:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

Unanimity having been thus secured, on the day of Egmont's arrival
Renard demanded an audience of the lords, and in the queen's presence
requested their opinion whether the condition of England allowed the
completion of the contract. The life of the prince of Spain was of
great importance to Europe; should {p.117} they believe in their
hearts that he would be in danger, there was still time to close the
negotiation. The rebellion having broken out and having failed, the
lords replied that there was no longer any likelihood of open
violence. Arundel hinted, again, that the prince must bring his own
cook and butler with him;[270] but he had nothing else to fear, if he
could escape the French cruisers.

                   [Footnote 270: Arundel nous dit qu'il convenoit que
                   son alteze amena ses cuyseniers, sommeliers du
                   cave, et autres officiers pour son bouche, que
                   quant aux autres luy y pourvoyeroit selon les
                   coustumes d'Angleterre.--Renard to Charles V.:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

These assurances, combined with the queen's secret promises about
Elizabeth, were held sufficient; and on the 6th of March, at three
o'clock in the afternoon, the ambassadors were conducted by Pembroke
into the presence chamber. The queen, kneeling before the sacrament,
called it to witness that, in consenting to the alliance with the
Prince of Spain, she was moved by no carnal concupiscence, but only by
her zeal for the welfare of her realm and subjects; and then, rising
up, with the bystanders all in tears, she gave her hand to Egmont as
Philip's representative. The blessing was pronounced by Gardiner, and
the proxy marriage was completed.[271] The prince was to be sent for
without delay, and Southampton was chosen as the port at which he
should disembark, "being in the country of the Bishop of Winchester,"
where the people were, for the most part, good Catholics.

                   [Footnote 271: Puis par la main de l'Évesque de
                   Winchester les promesses et paroles de præsenti,
                   furent dictes et prononcées intelligiblement par la
                   diet Egmont seul et la dicte Dame.--Ibid. Compare
                   Tytler, vol. ii. p. 327. The great value of Mr.
                   Tytler's work is diminished by the many omissions
                   which he has permitted himself to make in the
                   letters which he has edited.]

Parliament was expected to give its sanction without further
difficulty; the opposition of the country having been neutralised by
the same causes which had influenced the council. The queen, indeed,
in going through the ceremony before consulting parliament, though she
had broken the promise which she made in the Guildhall, had placed it
beyond their power to raise difficulties; but other questions were
likely to rise which would not be settled so easily. She herself was
longing to show her gratitude to Providence by restoring the authority
of the pope; and the pope intended, if possible, to recover his
first-fruits and Peter's pence, and to maintain the law of the church
which forbade the alienation of church property.[272] The English
laity {p.118} were resolute on their side to keep hold of what they
had got; and to set the subject at rest, and to prevent unpleasant
discussions on points of theology, Paget, with his friends, desired
that the session should last but a few days, and that two measures
only should be brought forward; the first for the confirmation of the
treaty of marriage, the second to reassert the validity of the titles
under which the church estates were held by their present owners. If
the queen consented to the last, her title of Head of the Church might
be dropped informally, and allowed to fall into abeyance.[273]

                   [Footnote 272: Pole's first commission granted him
                   powers only "concordandi et transigendi cum
                   possessoribus bonorum ecclesiasticorum, (restitutis
                   prius si expedire videtur immobilibus per eos
                   indebite detentis,) super fructibus male perceptis
                   ac bonis mobilibus consumptis."--Commission granted
                   to Reginald Pole: Wilkins's _Concilia_, vol. iv.
                   Cardinal Morone, writing to Pole as late as June,
                   1554, said that the pope was still unable to
                   resolve on giving his sanction to the
                   alienation.--Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 273: Paget to Renard: Tytler, vol. ii.]

Gardiner, however, saw in the failure of the insurrection an
opportunity of emancipating the church, and of extinguishing heresy
with fire and sword.[274] He was preparing a bill to restore the
ancient rigorous tyranny of the ecclesiastical courts; and by his own
authority he directed that, in the writs for the parliament, the
summons should be to meet at Oxford,[275] where the conservatism of
the country would be released from the dread of the London citizens.
The spirit which, thirteen years before, had passed the Six Articles
Bill by acclamation, continued to smoulder in the slow minds of the
country gentlemen, and was blazing freely among the lately persecuted
priests. The Bishop of Winchester had arranged in his imagination a
splendid melodrama. The session was to begin on the 2nd of April; and
the ecclesiastical bill was to be the first to be passed. On the 8th
of March, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were sent down to the
University to be tried before a committee of Convocation which had
already decided on its verdict; and the Fathers of the Reformation
were either to recant or to suffer the flaming penalties of heresy in
the presence of the legislature, as the first-fruits of a renovated
church discipline.

                   [Footnote 274: Par feug et sang.--Renard to Charles
                   V., March 14: _Rolls House MSS._; partially printed
                   by Tytler.]

                   [Footnote 275: Ibid.]

Vainly Renard protested. In the fiery obstinacy of his determination,
Gardiner was the incarnate expression of the fury of the
ecclesiastical faction, smarting, as they were, under their long
degradation, and under the irritating consciousness of those false
oaths of submission which they had sworn to a power which they
loathed. Once before, in the first reaction against Protestant
excesses, the Bishop of Winchester had seen the Six {p.119} Articles
Bill carried--but his prey had then been snatched from his grasp. Now,
embittered by fresh oppression, he saw his party once more in a
position to revenge their wrongs when there was no Henry any longer to
stand between them and their enemies. He would take the tide at the
flood, forge a weapon keener than the last, and establish the
Inquisition.[276] Paget swore it should not be.[277] Charles V.
himself, dreading a fresh interruption to the marriage, insisted that
this extravagant fervour should be checked;[278] and the Bishop of
Arras, the scourge of the Netherlands, interceded for moderation in
England. But Gardiner and the clergy were not to be turned from the
hope of their hearts by the private alarms of the Imperialists; and in
the heart of the queen religious orthodoxy was Philip's solitary
rival. Renard urged her to be prudent in religion and cruel to the
political prisoners. Gardiner, though eager as Renard to kill
Elizabeth, would buy the privilege of working his will upon the
Protestants by sparing Courtenay and Courtenay's friends. Mary
listened to the worst counsels of each, and her distempered humour
settled into a confused ferocity. So unwholesome appeared the aspect
of things in the middle of March that, notwithstanding the formal
contract, Renard almost advised the emperor to relinquish the thought
of committing his son among so wild a people.[279]

                   [Footnote 276: Establir forme d'Inquisition contre
                   les hérétiques.--Renard to Charles V.: _Rolls House
                   MSS._]

                   [Footnote 277: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 278: La chaleur exhorbitante.--Charles V.
                   to Renard: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 229.]

                   [Footnote 279: Pour estre la plus part des Angloys
                   sans foy, sans loy, confuz en la religion, doubles,
                   inconstans, et de nature jaloux et abhorrissans
                   estrangiers.--_Rolls House MSS._]

As opposition to extreme measures was anticipated in the House of
Lords, as well as among the Commons, it was important to strengthen
the bench of bishops. The pope had granted permission without
difficulty to fill the vacant sees; and on the 1st of April six new
prelates were consecrated at St. Mary Overies, while Sir John Brydges
and Sir John Williams of Thame were raised to the peerage.

The Protestants, it must be admitted, had exerted themselves to make
Gardiner's work easy to him. On the 14th of March the wall of a house
in Aldgate became suddenly vocal, and seventeen thousand persons were
collected to hear a message from Heaven pronounced by an angel. When
the people said "God save Queen Mary," the wall was silent; when they
said "God save Queen Elizabeth," the wall said "Amen!" When {p.120}
they asked, "What is the mass?" the wall said, "It is idolatry." As
the nation was holding its peace, the stones, it seemed, were crying
out against the reaction. But the angel, on examination, turned out to
be a girl concealed behind the plaster. Shortly after, the inhabitants
of Cheapside, on opening their shop windows in the morning, beheld on
a gallows, among the bodies of the hanged insurgents, a cat in
priestly robes, with crown shaven, the fore-paws tied over her head,
and a piece of paper clipped round between them, representing the
wafer.

More serious were the doings of a part of the late conspirators who
had escaped to France. Peter Carew, when he left Weymouth, promised
soon to return, and he was received at Paris with a cordiality that
answered his warmest hopes. Determined, if possible, to prevent Philip
from reaching England, the French had equipped every vessel which they
possessed available for sea, and Carew was sent again to the coast of
the Channel to tempt across into the French service all those who,
like himself, were compromised in the conspiracy, or whose blood was
hotter than their fathers'. Every day the queen was chafed with the
news of desertions to their dangerous rendezvous. Young men of
honourable families, Pickerings, Strangways's, Killegrews, Staffords,
Stauntons, Tremaynes, Courtenays, slipped over the water, carrying
with them hardy sailors from the western harbours. The French supplied
them with arms, ships, and money; and fast-sailing, heavily-armed
privateers, officered by these young adventurers in the cause of
freedom, were cruising on their own account, plundering Flemish and
Spanish ships, and swearing that the Prince of Spain should set no
foot on English shores.[280]

                   [Footnote 280: The French and Calais correspondence
                   in the State Paper Office contains a vast number of
                   letters on this subject. The following extracts are
                   specimens:--

                   On the 24th of March Thomas Corry writes to Lord
                   Grey that "two hundred vessels be in readiness" in
                   the French harbours. "There is lately arrived at
                   Caen in Normandy Sir Peter Carew, Sir William
                   Pickering, Sir Edward Courtenay, John Courtenay,
                   Brian Fitzwilliam, and divers other English
                   gentlemen. It is thought Sir Peter Carew shall have
                   charge of the fleet. There be three ships of
                   Englishmen, which be already gone to sea with
                   Killegrew, which do report that they serve the king
                   to prevent the coming of the King of
                   Spain."--_Calais MSS._

                   On the 28th of March, Edgar Hormolden writes from
                   Guisnes to Sir John Bourne: "The number of Sir
                   Peter Carew's retinue increaseth in France by the
                   confluence of such English _qui potius alicujus
                   præclari facinoris quam artis bonæ famam quærunt_;
                   and they be so entreated there as it cannot be
                   otherwise conjectured but that they practise with
                   France: insomuch I have heard credible intelligence
                   that the said Carew used this persuasion, of late,
                   to his companions: Are not we, said he, allianced
                   with Normandy; yea! what ancient house is either
                   there or in France, but we claim by them and they
                   by us? why should we not rather embrace their love
                   than submit ourselves to the servitude of
                   Spain?"--_Calais MSS._

                   April 17, Dr. Wotton writes in cypher from Paris to
                   the queen: "Yesterday, an Italian brought a letter
                   to my lodging, and delivered it to a servant of
                   mine, and went his way, so that I know not what he
                   is. The effect of his letter is, that for because
                   he taketh it to be the part of every good Christian
                   man to further your godly purpose and Catholic
                   doings, he hath thought good to advertise me that
                   those fugitives of England say to their friends
                   here that they have intelligence of great
                   importance in England with some of the chiefest on
                   the realm, which shall appear on the arrival of the
                   Prince of Spain. Within few days they go to
                   Normandy to embark themselves there, so strong,
                   that, if they do not let the Prince of Spain to
                   land, as they will attempt to do, yet they will not
                   fail, by the help of them that have intelligence
                   with them, to let him come to London."--_French
                   MSS._ bundle xi.]

{p.121} The queen indignantly demanded explanations of Noailles, and,
through her ambassador at Paris, she required the French government to
seize "her traitors," and deliver them to her. Noailles, alarmed,
perhaps, for his own security, suggested that it might be well to
conceal Carew, and to affect to make an attempt to arrest him. But
Henry, at once more sagacious and more bold, replied to the ambassador
that "he was not the queen's hangman:" "these men that you require,"
he said, "deny that they have conspired anything against the queen;
marry, they say they will not be oppressed by mine enemy, and that is
no just cause why I should owe them ill-will."[281] He desired
Noailles, with quiet irony, to tell her majesty "that there was
nothing in the existing treaties to forbid his accepting the services
of English volunteers in the war with the emperor: her majesty might
remember that he had invited her to make a new treaty, and that she
had refused:" "he would act by the just letter of his obligations."[282]

                   [Footnote 281: Wotton to the Queen: _French MSS._
                   bundle xi. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 282: Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iii.]

Would her subjects have permitted, the queen would have replied by a
declaration of war. As it was, she could only relieve herself with
indignant words.[283] But Carew and his friends might depend on
support so long as they would make themselves {p.122} useful to
France. Possessed of ships and arms, they were a constant menace to
the Channel, and a constant temptation to the disaffected; and,
growing bitter at last, and believing that Elizabeth's life was on the
point of being sacrificed, they were prepared to support Henry in a
second attempt to seize the Isle of Wight, and to accept the French
competitor for the English crown in the person of the Queen of
Scots.[284] Thus fatally the friends of the Reformation played into
the hands of its enemies. By the solid mass of Englishmen the armed
interference of France was more dreaded than even a Spanish sovereign;
and the heresy became doubly odious which was tampering with the
hereditary enemies of the realm. In London only the revolutionary
spirit continued vigorous, and broke out perpetually in unexpected
forms. At the beginning of March three hundred schoolboys met in a
meadow outside the city walls: half were for Wyatt and for France,
half for the Prince of Spain; and, not all in play (for evidently they
chose their sides by their sympathies), they joined battle, and fought
with the fierceness of grown men. The combat ended in the capture of
the representative of Philip, who was dragged to a gallows, and would
have been hanged upon it, had not the spectators interfered.[285] The
boys were laid hands upon. The youngest were whipped, the elder
imprisoned. It was said that the queen thought of gibbeting one of
these innocents in real fact, for an example; or, as Noailles put it,
as an expiation for the sins of the people.[286]

                   [Footnote 283: "When the Ambassador replied that
                   his master minded to do justly, her Grace
                   remembering how those traitors be there aided,
                   especially such of them as had conspired her death
                   and were in arms in the field against her; and
                   being not able to bear those words, so contrary to
                   their doings, told the Ambassador that, for her own
                   part, her Majesty minded simply and plainly to
                   perform as she had promised, and might with safe
                   conscience swear she ever meant so; but, for their
                   part, her Grace would not swear so, and being those
                   arrant traitors so entertained there as they be,
                   she could not have found in her heart to have used,
                   in like matter, the semblable part towards his
                   master for the gain of two realms, and with those
                   words she departed."--Gardiner to Wotton: _French
                   MSS._ bundle xi.]

                   [Footnote 284: On the 29th of April Wotton wrote in
                   a cypher to Mary; "Towards the end of the summer
                   the French king, by Peter Carew's provocation,
                   intendeth to land the rebels, with a number of
                   Scots, in Essex, and in the Isle of Wight, where
                   they mean to land easily, and either go on, if any
                   number of Englishmen resort unto them, as they say
                   many will, or else fortify themselves there. They
                   council the French king to make war against your
                   Highness in the right and title of the young Queen
                   of Scots."--_French MSS._ bundle xi.]

                   [Footnote 285: The execution was commenced in
                   earnest. The prince, says Noailles, "fust
                   souldainement mesné au gibet par ceulx de la part
                   du Roy et de M. Wyatt; et sans quelques hommes qui
                   tout à propoz y accoururent, ils l'eussent
                   estranglé; ce que se peult clairement juger par les
                   marques qu'il en a et aura encores d'icy à long
                   temps au col."--Noailles to Montmorency:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iii.]

                   [Footnote 286: Dict on qu'elle veult que l'ung
                   d'eulx soit sacrifié pour tout le peuple.--Ibid.]

Over Elizabeth, in the meantime, the fatal net appeared to be closing;
Lord Russell had received a letter for her from Wyatt, which, though
the princess declared that it had never been in her hands, he said
that he had forwarded; and Wyatt himself was flattered with hopes of
life if he would extend his confession. Renard carried his ingenuity
farther; he called {p.123} in the assistance of Lady Wyatt, and
promised her that her husband should be spared; he even urged the
queen to gain over, by judicious leniency, a man whose apostasy would
be a fresh disgrace to his cause, and who might be as useful as a
servant as he had been dangerous as a foe.[287] Wyatt, being a man
without solidity of heart, showed signs of yielding to what was
required of him; but his revelations came out slowly, and to quicken
his confession he was brought to his trial on the 15th of March. He
pleaded guilty to the indictment, and he then said that Courtenay had
been the instigator of the conspiracy; he had written to Elizabeth, he
said, to advise her to remove as far as possible from London, and
Elizabeth had returned him a verbal message of thanks. This being not
enough, he was sentenced to death; but he was made to feel that he
might still earn his pardon if he would implicate Elizabeth more
deeply; and though he said nothing definite, he allowed himself to
drop vague hints that he could tell more if he pleased.[288]

                   [Footnote 287: Ce qui faict juger à beaulcoup de
                   gens que Wyatt ne mourra point, mais que la dicte
                   dame le rendra tant son obligé par ceste grace de
                   luy rendre la vie qu'elle en pourra tirer beaulcoup
                   de bons et grandes services. Ce qui se faict par le
                   moyen dudict ambassadeur de l'Empereur par l'advis
                   duquel se conduisent aujourdhuy toutes les opinions
                   d'icelle dame, et lequele traice ceste composition
                   avecques la femme dudict Wyatt à laquelle comme
                   l'on diet il a asseuré la vie de son dict
                   mari.--Noailles to the Constable of France, March
                   31. Renard's secrets were betrayed to Noailles by
                   "a corrupt secretary" of the Flemish
                   embassy.--Wotton to the Queen: _French MSS._ bundle
                   xi. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 288: Noailles says: Wyatt a esté condamné
                   à mourir; toutesfois il n'est encores executé et
                   avant que luy prononçer sa sentence on luy avoit
                   promis tant de belles choses que vaincu par leur
                   doulces paroles oultre sa deliberation, il a accusé
                   beaulcoup de personnages et parlé au desadvantage
                   de mylord de Courtenay et de Madame
                   Elizabeth.--Noailles to d'Oysel, March 29. The
                   different parties were so much interested in
                   Wyatt's confession, that his very last words are so
                   wrapped round with contradictions, that one cannot
                   tell what they were. It is certain, however, that
                   he did implicate Elizabeth to some extent; it is
                   certain, also, that he did not say enough for the
                   purposes of the court, and that the court believed
                   he could say more if he would, for, on Easter
                   Sunday he communicated, and the queen was
                   distressed that he should have been allowed to
                   partake, while his confession was incomplete. As to
                   Courtenay, Renard said he had communicated enough,
                   "mais quant à Elizabeth l'on ne peult encores
                   tomber en preuves suffisantes pour les loys
                   d'Angleterre contre elle."--Renard to Charles V.:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

At all events, however, sufficient evidence had been obtained in the
opinion of the court for the committal of the princess to the Tower.
On the day of Wyatt's trial, the council met, but separated without a
resolution; on Friday, the 16th, Elizabeth was examined before them in
person; and when she withdrew, Gardiner required that she should be
sent to the Tower instantly. Paget, supported by Sussex, Hastings, and
Cornwallis, said that {p.124} there was no evidence to justify so
violent a measure.[289] Which of you, then, said Gardiner, with
dexterous ingenuity, will be responsible for the safe keeping of her
person?

                   [Footnote 289: Holinshed says that a certain lord
                   exclaimed that there would be no safety for the
                   realm until Elizabeth's head was off her shoulders;
                   and either Holinshed himself, or his editor, wrote
                   in the margin opposite, the words: "The wicked
                   advice of Lord Paget."--Renard describes so
                   distinctly the attitude of Paget, that there can be
                   no doubt whatever of the injustice of such a charge
                   against him.]

The guardian of Elizabeth would be exposed to a hundred dangers and a
thousand suspicions; the lords answered that Gardiner was conspiring
their destruction. No one could be found courageous enough to
undertake the charge, and they gave their reluctant consent to his
demand. The same night Elizabeth's attendants were removed, a hundred
soldiers were picketed in the garden below her window, and on Saturday
morning (March 17) the Marquis of Winchester and Lord Sussex waited on
her to communicate her destination, and to attend her to a barge.

The terrible name of the Tower was like a death-knell; the princess
entreated a short delay till she could write a few words to the queen;
the queen could not know the truth, she said, or else she was played
upon by Gardiner. Alas! she did not know the queen: Winchester
hesitated; Lord Sussex, more generous, accepted the risk, and
promised, on his knees, to place her letter in the queen's hands.

The very lines traced by Elizabeth in that bitter moment may still be
read in the State Paper Office,[290] and her hand was more than
usually firm.

                   [Footnote 290: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. iv.
                   Printed by Ellis, 2nd series, vol. ii. p. 255.]

"If ever any one," she wrote, "did try this old saying that a king's
word was more than another man's oath, I most humbly beseech your
majesty to verify it in me, and to remember your last promise, and my
last demand, that I be not condemned without answer and due proof,
which it seems that I now am: for that without cause proved I am by
your council from you commanded to go unto the Tower, a place more
wonted for a false traitor than a true subject: which, though I know I
deserve it not, yet in the face of all this realm appears that it is
proved; which I pray God that I may die the shamefullest death that
any died, afore I may mean any such thing: and to this present hour I
protest, afore God who shall judge my truth, whatsoever malice shall
devise, that I never practised, counselled, nor consented to anything
that might be prejudicial to your person any {p.125} way, or
dangerous to the state by any means. And I therefore humbly beseech
your majesty to let me answer afore yourself, and not suffer me to
trust to your councillors; yea, and that afore I go to the Tower, if
it is possible; if not, afore I be further condemned. Howbeit, I trust
assuredly your highness will give me leave to do it afore I go, for
that thus shamefully I may not be cried out on, as now I shall be,
yea, and without cause. Let conscience move your highness to take some
better way with me, than to make me be condemned in all men's sight,
afore my desert known. Also, I most humbly beseech your highness to
pardon this my boldness, which innocency procures me to do, together
with hope of your natural kindness, which I trust will not see me cast
away without desert: which what it is I would desire no more of God
than that you truly knew; which thing, I think and believe, you shall
never by report know, unless by yourself you hear. I have heard in my
time of many cast away for want of coming to the presence of their
prince; and in late days I heard my Lord of Somerset say that, if his
brother had been suffered to speak with him, he had never suffered;
but the persuasions were made to him so great, that he was brought in
belief that he could not live safely if the admiral lived, and that
made him give his consent to his death. Though these persons are not
to be compared to your majesty, yet I pray God as evil persuasions
persuade not one sister against the other, and all for that they have
heard false reports, and not hearken to the truth known; therefore,
once again kneeling with all humbleness of my heart, because I am not
suffered to bow the knees of my body, I humbly crave to speak with
your highness, which I would not be so bold to desire if I knew not
myself most clear, as I know myself most true. And as for the traitor
Wyatt, he might peradventure write me a letter, but on my faith I
never received any from him; and for the copy of my letter sent to the
French king, I pray God confound me eternally if ever I sent him word,
message, token, or letter by any means:[291] and to this my truth I
will stand to my death your highness's most faithful subject that hath
been from the beginning, and will be to the end." Elizabeth.

                   [Footnote 291: As soon as Noailles learnt that his
                   enclosure formed part of the case against
                   Elizabeth, he came forward to acquit her of having
                   furnished him with it; "jurant et blasphémant tous
                   les sermens du monde pour la justification de la
                   dicte Dame Elizabeth."--Renard to Charles V., April
                   3: _Rolls House MSS._]

"I humbly crave but one word of answer from yourself."

{p.126} Had Elizabeth known the history of those words of the queen
to her, to which she appealed, she would have spared herself the
trouble of writing this letter. Sussex fulfilled his promise, and
during the delay the tide turned, and the barge could not pass London
Bridge till the following day. The queen could not venture to send the
princess through the streets; and in dread lest, at the last moment,
her prey should be snatched from her, she answered the appeal only by
storming at the bearer, and at his friends in the council. "They were
going no good way," she said, "for their lives they durst not have
acted so in her father's time; she wished that he was alive and among
them but for a single month."[292]

                   [Footnote 292: Renard.]

At nine o'clock the next morning--it was Palm Sunday (March 18)--the
two lords returned to Elizabeth to tell her that her letter had
failed. As she crossed the garden to the water she threw up her eyes
to the queen's window, but there was no sign of recognition. What do
the lords mean, she said, that they suffer me thus to be led into
captivity? The barge was too deep to approach sufficiently near to the
landing-place at the Tower to enable her to step upon the causeway
without wetting her feet; it was raining too, and the petty
inconveniences, fretting against the dreadful associations of the
Traitors' Gate, shook her self-command. She refused to land; then
sharply rejecting an offer of assistance, she sprang out upon the mud.
"Are all those harnessed men there for me?" she said to Sir John Gage,
who was waiting with the Tower guard. "No, madam," Gage answered.
"Yes," she said, "I know it is so; it needed not for me, being but a
weak woman. I never thought to have come in here a prisoner," she went
on, turning to the soldiers; "I pray you all good fellows and friends,
bear me witness that I come in no traitor, but as true a woman to the
queen's majesty as any is now living, and thereon will I take my
death." She threw herself down upon a wet stone; Lord Chandos begged
her to come under shelter out of the rain: "better sitting here than
in a worse place," she cried; "I know not whither you will bring me."

But it was not in Elizabeth's nature to protract a vain resistance;
she rose, and passed on, and as she approached the room intended for
her, the heavy doors along the corridor were locked and barred behind
her. At the grating of the iron bolts the heart of Lord Sussex sank in
him: Sussex knew the queen's true feelings, and the efforts which were
made to lash her into {p.127} cruelty; "What mean ye, my lords," he
said to Chandos and Gage, "what will you do?" "she was a king's
daughter, and is the queen's sister; go no further than your
commission, which I know what it is."[293]

                   [Footnote 293: Contemporary Narrative: _Harleian
                   MSS._ 419. _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, p. 71.
                   Holinshed.]

The chief danger was of murder--of some swift desperate act which
could not be undone; the lords who had so reluctantly permitted
Elizabeth to be imprisoned would not allow her to be openly
sacrificed, or indeed permit the queen to continue in the career of
vengeance on which she had entered. The executions on account of the
rebellion had not ceased even yet. In Kent, London, and in the midland
counties, day after day, one, two, or more persons had been put to
death; six gentlemen were, at that very moment, on their way to
Maidstone and Rochester to suffer. The lords, on the day of
Elizabeth's committal, held a meeting while Gardiner was engaged
elsewhere; they determined to remonstrate, and, if necessary, to
insist on a change of course, and Paget undertook to be the bearer of
the message. He found Mary in her oratory after vespers; he told her
that the season might remind a sovereign of other duties besides
revenge; already too much blood had been shed; the noble house of
Suffolk was all but destroyed; and he said distinctly that if she
attempted any more executions, he and his friends would interfere; the
hideous scenes had lasted too long, and, as an earnest of a return to
mercy, he demanded the pardon of the six gentlemen.

Mary, as she lamented afterwards to Renard, was unprepared; she was
pressed in terms which showed that those who made the request did not
intend to be refused--and she consented.[294] The six gentlemen
escaped; and, following up this beginning, the council, in the course
of the week, extorted from her the release of Northampton, Cobham, and
one of his sons, with five others. In a report to the emperor, Renard
admitted that, if the queen attempted to continue her course of
justice, there would be resistance; and the party of the chancellor,
being the weakest, would in that case be overwhelmed. It was the more
necessary, therefore, that, by one means or another, Elizabeth should
be disposed of. The queen had condescended to apologise to him for her
second act of clemency, which she excused as being an Easter custom.
It was not for him to find fault, he said that he had replied, if her
majesty was pleased to {p.128} show mercy at the holy season; but it
was his duty to remind her that he doubted whether the prince could be
trusted with her.

                   [Footnote 294: Renard to Charles V., March 22;
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

This argument never failed to drive Mary to madness; and, on the other
side, Renard applied to Gardiner to urge despatch in bringing
Elizabeth to trial: as long as she lived, there was no security for
the queen, for the prince, or for religion. Gardiner echoed the same
opinion. If others, he said, would go to work as roundly as himself,
all would be well.[295]

                   [Footnote 295: Il me repliqua que vivant Elizabeth
                   il n'a espoir à la tranquillité du Royaulme, que
                   quant à luy si chascun alloit si rondement en
                   besoyn comme il fait, les choses se porteroient
                   mieux.--Renard to the Emperor, April 3: _Rolls
                   House MSS._ From these dark plotters, what might
                   not be feared? Holinshed says that while Elizabeth
                   was in the Tower, a writ was sent down for her
                   execution devised, as was believed, by Gardiner;
                   and that Lord Chandos (Sir John Brydges, the
                   Lieutenant of the Tower) refused to put it in
                   force. The story has been treated as a fable, and
                   in the form in which it is told by Holinshed, it
                   was very likely untrue: yet in the presence of
                   these infernal conversations, I think it highly
                   probable that, as the hope of a judicial conviction
                   grew fainter, schemes were talked of, and were
                   perhaps tried, for cutting the knot in a decisive
                   manner. In revolutionary times men feel that if
                   to-day is theirs, to-morrow may be their enemies';
                   and they are not particularly scrupulous. The
                   anxious words of Sussex did not refer to the merely
                   barring a prisoner's door.]

In this condition of the political atmosphere parliament assembled on
the 2nd of April. The Oxford scheme had been relinquished as
impracticable. The Lord Mayor informed the queen that he would not
answer for the peace of the city in the absence of the court; the
Tower might be surprised and the prisoners released; and to lose the
Tower would be to lose the crown. The queen said that she would not
leave London while her sister's fate was undetermined.[296] The Houses
met, therefore, as usual, as Westminster, and the speech from the
throne was read in Mary's presence by the chancellor.

                   [Footnote 296: Renard.]

Since the last parliament, Gardiner said, the people of England had
given proofs of unruly humour. The queen was their undoubted
sovereign, and a measure would be submitted to the Lords and Commons
to declare, in some emphatic manner, her claim to her subjects'
obedience.

Her majesty desiring, further, in compliance with her subjects'
wishes, to take a husband, she had fixed her choice on the Prince of
Spain, as a person agreeable to herself and likely to be a valuable
friend to the realm: the people, however, had insolently and
ignorantly presumed to mutiny against her intentions, and, in her
affection for the commonwealth, her majesty had consented to submit
the articles of the marriage to the approval of parliament.

{p.129} Again, her majesty would desire them to take into their
consideration the possible failure of the blood royal, and adopt
necessary precautions to secure an undisturbed succession to the
crown. It would be for the parliament to decide whether the privilege
which had been granted to Henry VIII. of bequeathing the crown by will
might not be, with propriety, extended to her present majesty.[297]

                   [Footnote 297: Noailles, vol. iii. p. 141.]

Finally, and at great length, the chancellor spoke of religion. The
late rebellion, he said, was properly a religious rebellion: it was
the work of men who despised the sacraments, and were the enemies of
truth, order, and godliness. A measure would be laid before the
legislature for the better restraint of irregular licence of opinion.

The marriage was to pass quietly. Those of the Lords and Commons who
persevered in their disapproval were a small minority, and did not
intend to appear.[298] The bill, therefore, passed both Houses by the
12th of April.[299] The marriage articles were those originally
offered by the emperor, with the English clauses attached, and some
explanatory paragraphs, that no room might be left for laxity of
interpretation.[300] Lord Bedford and Lord Fitzwalter had already gone
to Plymouth, where a ship was in readiness to carry them to Spain.
They waited only till the parliamentary forms were completed, and
immediately sailed. Lord William Howard would go to sea with the
fleet, at his earliest convenience, to protect the passage, and the
prince might be expected in England by the end of May. The bill for
the queen's authority was carried also without objection. The forms of
English law running only in the name of a king, it had been pretended
that a queen could not be a lawful sovereign. A declaratory statute
explained that the kingly prerogative was the same, whether vested in
male or female.[301] Here, however, unanimity was at an end. The
paragraph about the succession in the queen's speech being obviously
aimed at Elizabeth, produced such an irritation in the council, as
well as in parliament, that Renard expected it would end in actual
armed conflict.[302]

                   [Footnote 298: Renard to Charles V., April 7.]

                   [Footnote 299: 1 Mary, cap. ii.]

                   [Footnote 300: See the treaty of marriage between
                   Philip and Mary in Rymer.]

                   [Footnote 301: 1 Mary, cap. i.]

                   [Footnote 302: Y a telle confusion que l'on
                   n'attend sinon que la querelle se demesle par les
                   armes et tumults.--Renard to Charles V., April 22.]

From the day of Elizabeth's imprisonment Gardiner had laboured to
extort evidence against her by fair means or foul.[303] {p.130} She
had been followed to the Tower by her servants. Sir John Gage desired
that her food should be dressed by people of his own. The servants
refused to allow themselves to be displaced,[304] and, to the distress
of Renard, angry words had been addressed to Gage by Lord Howard, so
that they could not be removed by force.[305]

                   [Footnote 303: Holinshed says, Edmund Tremayne was
                   racked, and I have already quoted Gardiner's letter
                   to Petre, suggesting the racking of "little
                   Wyatt."]

                   [Footnote 304: Her grace's cook said to him, My
                   lord, I will never suffer any stranger to come
                   about her diet but her own sworn men as long as I
                   live.--_Harleian MSS._ 419, and see Holinshed.]

                   [Footnote 305: L'Admiral s'est coleré au grand
                   chamberlain de la Royne que a la garde de la dicte
                   Elizabeth et luy a dit qu'elle feroit encores
                   trancher tant de testes que luy et autres s'en
                   repentiroient.--Renard to Charles V., April 7:
                   _Rolls House MSS._]

The temptation of life having failed, after all, to induce Wyatt to
enlarge his confession beyond his first acknowledgments, it was
determined to execute him. On the 11th of April he was brought out of
his cell, and on his way to the scaffold he was confronted with
Courtenay, to whom he said something, but how much or what it is
impossible to ascertain.[306] Finding that his death was inevitable,
he determined to make the only reparation which was any longer in his
power to Elizabeth. When placed on the platform, after desiring the
people to pray for him, lamenting his crime, and expressing a hope
that he might be the last person to suffer for the rebellion, he
concluded thus:

                   [Footnote 306: Lord Chandos stated the same day in
                   the House of Lords that he threw himself at
                   Courtenay's feet and implored him to confess the
                   truth. The sheriffs of London, on the other hand,
                   said that he entreated Courtenay to forgive him for
                   the false charges which he had brought against him
                   and against Elizabeth.--Foxe, vol. vi. Compare
                   _Chronicle of Queen Mary_, p. 72, note.]

"Whereas it is said abroad that I should accuse my Lady Elizabeth's
Grace and my Lord Courtenay; it is not so, good people, for I assure
you neither they nor any other now yonder in hold or durance was privy
of my rising or commotion before I began."[307]

                   [Footnote 307: So far the _Chronicle of Queen
                   Mary_, Holinshed, Stow, and the narratives among
                   the _Harleian MSS._ essentially agree. But the
                   chronicle followed by Stow makes Wyatt add, "As I
                   have declared no less to the Queen's council;"
                   whereas Foxe says that he admitted that he had
                   spoken otherwise to the council, but had spoken
                   untruly. Noailles tells all that was really
                   important in a letter to d'Oysel: "M. Wyatt eust la
                   teste coupée, dischargeant advant que de mourir
                   Madame Elizabeth et Courtenay qu'il avoit
                   aulparavant chargé de s'estre entendus en son
                   entreprinse sur promesses que l'on luy avoit
                   faictes de luy saulver la vie."--Noailles, vol.
                   iii.]

The words, or the substance of them, were heard by every one. Weston,
who attended as confessor, shouted, "Believe him not, good people! he
confessed otherwise before the council." {p.131} "That which I said
then I said," answered Wyatt, "but that which I say now is true." The
executioner did his office, and Wyatt's work, for good or evil, was
ended.

All that the court had gained by his previous confessions was now more
than lost. London rang with the story that Wyatt, in dying, had
cleared Courtenay and Elizabeth.[308] Gardiner still thundered in the
Star Chamber on the certainty of their guilt, and pilloried two decent
citizens who had repeated Wyatt's words; but his efforts were vain,
and the hope of a legal conviction was at an end. The judges declared
that against Elizabeth there was now no evidence;[309] and, even if
there had been evidence, Renard wrote to his master, that the court
could not dare to proceed further against her, from fear of Lord
William Howard, who had the whole naval force of England at his
disposal, and, in indignation at Elizabeth's treatment, might join the
French and the exiles.[310] Perplexed to know how to dispose of her,
the ambassador and the chancellor thought of sending her off to
Pomfret Castle; doubtless, if once within Pomfret walls, to find the
fate of the second Richard there: but again the spectre of Lord Howard
terrified them.

                   [Footnote 308: Courtenay, however, certainly _was_
                   guilty; and had Wyatt acquitted Elizabeth without
                   naming Courtenay, his words would have been far
                   more effective than they were. This, however, it
                   was hard for Wyatt to do, as it would have been
                   equivalent to a repetition of his accusations.]

                   [Footnote 309: Les gens de loy ne treuvent matière
                   pour la condamner.--Renard to Charles V., April 22:
                   Tytler, vol. ii.]

                   [Footnote 310: Ibid. And see a passage in the MS.,
                   which Mr. Tytler has omitted.]

The threatened escape of her sister, too, was but the beginning of the
queen's sorrows. On the 17th of April Sir Nicholas Throgmorton was
tried at the Guildhall for having been a party to the conspiracy. The
confessions of many of the prisoners had more or less implicated
Throgmorton. Cuthbert Vaughan, who was out with Wyatt, swore in the
court that Throgmorton had discussed the plan of the insurrection with
him; and Throgmorton himself admitted that he had talked to Sir Peter
Carew and Wyatt about the probability of a rebellion. He it was, too,
who was to have conducted Courtenay to Andover on his flight into
Devonshire; and the evidence[311] leaves very little doubt that he was
concerned as deeply as any one who did not actually take up arms. Sir
Nicholas, however, defended himself with resolute pertinacity; he
fought through all the charges against him, and dissected the
depositions with the skill of a practised pleader; and in the end, the
jury returned the bold verdict of {p.132} "Not guilty." Sir Thomas
Bromley urged them to remember themselves. The foreman answered they
had found the verdict according to their consciences.

                   [Footnote 311: It is printed at length in
                   Holinshed.]

Their consciences probably found less difficulty in the facts charged
against Throgmorton than in the guilt to be attached to them. The
verdict was intended as a rebuke to the cruelty with which the
rebellion had been punished, and it was received as an insult to the
crown. The crowd, as Throgmorton left the court, threw up their caps
and shouted. The queen was ill for three days with mortification,[312]
and insisted that the jurors should be punished. They were arrested,
and kept as prisoners till the following winter, when they were
released on payment of the ruinous fine of £2000. Throgmorton himself
was seized again on some other pretext, and sent again to the Tower.
The council, or Paget's party there, remonstrated against the arrest;
they yielded, however, perhaps that they might make the firmer stand
on more important matters.

                   [Footnote 312: Que tant altère la dicte dame
                   qu'elle a esté trois jours malade, et n'est encore
                   bien d'elle.--Renard to Charles V.: Tytler, vol.
                   ii. p. 374.]

Since Elizabeth could not be executed, the court were the more anxious
to carry the Succession Bill. Gardiner's first desire was that
Elizabeth should be excluded by name; but Paget said that this was
impossible.[313] As little could a measure be passed empowering the
queen to leave the crown by will, for that would be but the same thing
under another form. Following up his purpose, notwithstanding,
Gardiner brought out in the House of Lords a pedigree, tracing
Philip's descent from John of Gaunt; and he introduced a bill to make
offences against his person high treason. But at the second reading
the important words were introduced, "during the queen's
lifetime;"[314] the bill was read a third time, and then disappeared;
and Paget had been the loudest of its opponents.[315]

                   [Footnote 313: He whom you wrote of comes to me
                   with a sudden and strange proposal, that, since
                   matters against Madame Elizabeth do not take the
                   turn which was wished, there should be an Act
                   brought into Parliament to disinherit her. I
                   replied that I would give no consent to such a
                   scheme.--Paget to Renard: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 382.]

                   [Footnote 314: _Lords Journals._]

                   [Footnote 315: Renard complains of Paget's conduct
                   bitterly.--Renard to Charles V., May 1: Tytler,
                   vol. ii.]

Beaten on the succession, the chancellor, in spite of Renard's
remonstrances, brought forward next his Religious Persecution Bills.
The House of Commons went with him to some extent; and, to secure
success in some form or other, he introduced three separate measures,
either of which would answer his purpose--{p.133} a bill for the
restoration of the Six Articles, a bill to re-enact the Lollard
Statute of Henry IV., _De Hæretico Comburendo_, and a bill to restore
(in more than its original vigour) the Episcopal Jurisdiction. The Six
Articles had so bad a name that the first bill was read once only, and
was dropped; the two others passed the Commons,[316] and, on the 26th
of April, the Bishops' Authority Bill came before the Lords. Lord
Paget was so far in advance of his time that he could not hope to
appeal with a chance of success to his own principles of judicious
latitudinarianism; but he determined, if possible, to prevent
Gardiner's intended cruelties from taking effect, and he spread an
alarm that, if the bishops were restored to their unrestricted powers,
under one form or other the holders of the abbey lands would be at
their mercy. To allay the suspicion, another bill was carried through
the Commons, providing expressly for the safety of the holders of
those lands; but the tyranny of the episcopal courts was so recent,
and the ecclesiastics had shown themselves uniformly so little capable
of distinguishing between right and wrong when the interests of
religion were at stake, that the jealousy, once aroused, could not be
checked. The irritation became so hot and so general as to threaten
again the most dangerous consequences; and Paget, pretending to be
alarmed at the excitement which he had raised, urged Renard to use his
influence with the queen to dissolve parliament.[317]

                   [Footnote 316: _Commons Journals._]

                   [Footnote 317: Paget to Renard; Tytler, vol. ii. p.
                   382. And compare Renard's correspondence with the
                   emperor during the month of April.--_Rolls House
                   MSS._]

Renard, who was only anxious that the marriage should go off quietly,
agreed in the desirableness of a dissolution. He told the queen that
the reform of religion must be left to a better opportunity; and the
prince could not, and should not, set his foot in a country where
parties were for ever on the edge of cutting each other's throats. It
was no time for her to be indulging Gardiner in humours which were
driving men mad, and shutting her ears to the advice of those who
could ruin her if they pleased; she must think first of her husband.
The queen protested that Gardiner was acting by no advice of hers;
Gardiner, she said, was obstinate, and would listen to no one; she
herself was helpless and miserable. But Renard was not to be moved by
misery. At all events, he said, the prince should not come till late
in the summer, perhaps not till autumn, not, in fact, till it could be
seen what form these wild humours would {p.134} assume; summer was
the dangerous time in England, when the people's blood was apt to
boil.[318]

                   [Footnote 318: Pour ce qui ordinairement les
                   humeurs des Angloys boulissent plus en l'esté que
                   en autre temps.]

Gardiner, however, was probably not acting without Mary's secret
approbation. Both the queen and the minister especially desired, at
that moment, the passing of the Heresy Bill, and Renard was obliged to
content himself with a promise that the dissolution should be as early
as possible. Though parliament could not meet at Oxford, a committee
of Convocation had been sitting there, with Dr. Weston, the adulterous
Dean of Windsor, for a president. Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer had
been called upon to defend their opinions, which had been pronounced
false and damnable. They had been required to recant, and, having
refused, they were sentenced (April 20), so far as the power of the
court extended, to the punishment of heretics.

Cranmer appealed from the judgment to God Almighty, in whose presence
he would soon stand.

Ridley said the sentence would but send them the sooner to the place
where else they hoped to go.

Latimer said, "I thank God that my life has been prolonged that I may
glorify God by this kind of death."

Hooper, Ferrars, Coverdale, Taylor, Philpot, and Sandars, who were in
the London prisons, were to have been simultaneously tried and
sentenced at Cambridge. These six, however, drew and signed a joint
refusal to discuss their faith in a court before which they were to be
brought as prisoners; and for some reason the proceedings against them
were suspended; but whether they refused or consented was of little
moment to the Bishop of Winchester; they were in his hands--he could
try them when he pleased. A holocaust of heresiarchs was waiting to be
offered up, and before a faggot could be lighted, the necessary powers
had to be obtained from parliament.

The bishop, therefore, was determined, if possible, to obtain those
powers. He had the entire bench of prelates on his side; and Lord
Howard, the Earl of Bedford, and others of the lay lords who would
have been on the side of humanity, were absent. The opposition had to
be conducted under the greatest difficulties. Paget, however, fought
the battle, and fought it on broad grounds: the bishops' bill was read
twice; on the third reading, on the 1st of May, he succeeded in
throwing it out: the Lollards' bill came on the day after, and here
his difficulty was far greater; for toleration was imperfectly
understood by {p.135} Catholic or Protestant, and many among the
peers, who hated the bishops, equally hated heresy. Paget, however,
spoke out his convictions, and protested against the iniquity of
putting men to death for their opinions.[319] The bill was read a
first time on the day on which it was introduced; on the 4th of May it
was read again,[320] but it went no further. The next day parliament
was dissolved. The peers assured the queen that they had no desire to
throw a shield over heresy; the common law existed independent of
statute, and the common law prescribed punishments which could still
be inflicted.[321] But, so long as heresy was undefined, Anabaptists,
Socinians, or professors of the more advanced forms of opinion, could
alone fall within the scope of punishments merely traditional.

                   [Footnote 319: Quant l'on a parlé de la peyne des
                   hérétiques, il a sollicité les sieurs pour non y
                   consentir, y donner lieu à peyne de mort.--Renard
                   to Charles V., May 1.]

                   [Footnote 320: _Lords Journals._]

                   [Footnote 321: There can, I think, be no doubt that
                   it was this which the peers said. The statute of
                   Henry IV. was not passed; yet the queen told
                   Renard, "que le peyne antienne contre les
                   hérétiques fut agrée par toute la noblesse, et
                   qu'ilz fairent dire expressement et publiquement
                   qu'ilz entendoient l'hérésie estre extirpée et
                   punie." The chancellor informed Renard that,
                   "Although the Heresy Bill was lost, there were
                   penalties of old standing against heretics which
                   had still the form of law, and could be put in
                   execution." And, on the 3rd of May, the privy
                   council directed the judges and the queen's learned
                   counsel to be called together, and their opinions
                   demanded, "what they think in law her highness may
                   do touching the cases of Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer,
                   being already, by both the Universities of Oxford
                   and Cambridge, judged to be obstinate heretics,
                   which matter is the rather to be consulted upon,
                   for that the said Cranmer is already
                   attainted."--_MS. Privy Council Register._ The
                   answer of the judges I have not found, but it must
                   have been unfavourable to the intentions of the
                   court. Joan Bocher was burnt under the common law,
                   for her opinions were condemned by all parties in
                   the church, and were looked upon in the same light
                   as witchcraft, or any other profession definitely
                   devilish. But it was difficult to treat as heresy,
                   under the common law, a form of belief which had so
                   recently been sanctioned by act of parliament.]

The tempers of men were never worse than at that moment, Renard wrote.
In the heat of the debate, on the 28th of April, Lord Thomas Grey was
executed as a defiance to the liberal party. Gardiner persuaded the
queen, perhaps not without reason, that he was himself in danger of
being arrested by Paget and Pembroke;[322] and an order was sent to
the Lieutenant of the Tower that if the chancellor was brought thither
under warrant of the council only, he was not to be received.[323]

                   [Footnote 322: Renard to Charles V., May 13: _Rolls
                   House MSS._]

                   [Footnote 323: Noailles.]

On the other hand, twelve noblemen and gentlemen undertook to stand by
Mary if she would arrest Paget and Pembroke. The chancellor, Sir
Robert Rochester, and the Marquis of Winchester {p.136} discussed
the feasibility of seizing them; but Lord Howard and the Channel fleet
were thought to present too formidable an obstacle. With the queen's
sanction, however, they armed in secret. It was agreed that, on one
pretence or another, Derby, Shrewsbury, Sussex, and Huntingdon should
be sent out of London to their counties. Elizabeth, if it could be
managed, should be sent to Pomfret, as Gardiner had before proposed;
Lord Howard should be kept at sea; and, if opportunity offered,
Arundel and Paget might, at least, be secured.[324]

                   [Footnote 324: Renard to Charles V., May 13:
                   Tytler, vol. ii.]

But Pomfret was impossible, and vexation thickened on vexation. Lord
Howard was becoming a bugbear at the court. Report now said that two
of the Staffords, whom he had named to command in the fleet, had
joined the exiles in France; and for Lord Howard himself the queen
could feel no security, if he was provoked too far. She was haunted by
a misgiving that, while the prince was under his convoy, he might
declare against her, and carry him prisoner to France; or if Howard
could himself be trusted, his fleet could not. On the eve of sailing
for the coast of Spain, a mutiny broke out at Plymouth. The sailors
swore that if they were forced on a service which they detested, both
the admiral and the prince should rue it. Lord Howard, in reporting to
the queen the men's misconduct, said that his own life was at her
majesty's disposal, but he advised her to reconsider the prudence of
placing the prince in their power. Howard's own conduct, too, was far
from reassuring. A few small vessels had been sent from Antwerp to
join the English fleet, under the Flemish admiral Chappelle. Chappelle
complained that Howard treated him with indifference, and insulted his
ships by "calling them cockle-shells." If the crews of the two fleets
were on land anywhere together, the English lost no opportunity of
making a quarrel, "hustling and pushing" the Flemish sailors;[325]
and, as if finally to complete the queen's vexation, Lord Bedford
wrote that the prince declined the protection of her subjects on his
voyage, and that his departure was postponed for a few weeks longer.

                   [Footnote 325: Les ont provoqué à debatz, les
                   cerrans et poulsans.--Renard to Charles V.: Tyler
                   vol. ii. p. 413.]

The fleet had to remain in the Channel; it could not be trusted
elsewhere; and the necessity of releasing Elizabeth from the Tower was
another annoyance to the queen. A confinement at Woodstock was the
furthest stretch of severity that the country would, for the present,
permit. On the 19th of May, {p.137} Elizabeth was taken up the
river. The princess believed herself that she was being carried off
_tanquam ovis_, as she said--as a sheep for the slaughter. But the
world thought that she was set at liberty, and as her barge passed
under the bridge Mary heard, with indignation, from the palace
windows, three salvoes of artillery fired from the Steelyard, as a
sign of the joy of the people.[326] A letter from Philip would have
been a consolation to her in the midst of the troubles which she had
encountered for his sake; but the languid lover had never written a
line to her; or, if he had written, not a line had reached her hand;
only a ship which contained despatches from him for Renard had been
taken, in the beginning of May, by a French cruiser, and the thought
that precious words of affection had, perhaps, been on their way to
her and were lost, was hard to bear.

                   [Footnote 326: Samedy dernier Elizabeth fut tirée
                   de la Tour et menée a Richmond; et dois ledict
                   Richmond l'on l'a conduit à Woodstock pour y estre
                   gardée surement jusques l'on la fasse aller à
                   Pomfret. Et s'est resjouy le peuple de sa departye,
                   pensant qu'elle fut en liberté, et passant par
                   devant la Maison des Stillyards ilz tirerent trois
                   coups d'artillerie en signe d'allegrie, que la
                   reyne et son conseil ont prins a desplaisir et
                   regret, et estimons que l'on en fera
                   demonstration.--Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

In vain she attempted to cheer her spirits with the revived
ceremonials of Whitsuntide. She marched day after day, in procession,
with canopies and banners, and bishops in gilt slippers, round St.
James's, round St. Martin's, round Westminster.[327] Sermons and
masses alternated now with religious feasts, now with _Diriges_ for
her father's soul. But all was to no purpose; she could not cast off
her anxieties, or escape from the shadow of her subjects' hatred,
which clung to her steps. Insolent pamphlets were dropped in her path
and in the offices of Whitehall; she trod upon them in the passages of
the palace; they were placed by mysterious hands in the sanctuary of
her bedroom. At length, chafed with a thousand irritations, and
craving for a husband who showed so small anxiety to come to her, she
fled from London, at the beginning of June, to Richmond.

                   [Footnote 327: Machyn's Diary; Strype's _Memorials
                   of the Reformation_.]

The trials of the last six months had begun to tell upon Mary's
understanding: she was ill with hysterical longings; ill with the
passions which Gardiner had kindled and Paget disappointed. A lady who
slept in her room told Noailles that she could speak to no one without
impatience, and that she believed the whole world was in league to
keep her husband from her. She found fault with every one--even with
the prince himself. Why had he not written? she asked again and again.
Why had she never {p.138} received one courteous word from him? If
she heard of merchants or sailors arriving from Spain, she would send
for them and question them; and some would tell her that the prince
was said to have little heart for his business in England; others
terrified her with tales of fearful fights upon the seas; and others
brought her news of the French squadrons that were on the watch in the
Channel.[328] She would start out of her sleep at night, picturing a
thousand terrors, and among them one to which all else were
insignificant, that her prince, who had taken such wild possession of
her imagination, had no answering feeling for herself--that, with her
growing years and wasted figure, she could never win him to love
her.[329]

                   [Footnote 328: Le doubte luy est souvent augmentée
                   par plusieurs marchants mariniers et aultres
                   malcontens de son marriage qui venans de France et
                   Espaign luy desguisent et luy controuvent un
                   infinité de nouvelles estranges, les ungs du peu de
                   volunté que le prince a de venir par deçà, les
                   aultres d'avoir ouy et entendus combats sur la mer,
                   et plusieurs d'avoir descouvert grand nombre de
                   voisles Françoises avec grand appareil.--Noailles
                   to the King of France: _Ambassades_, vol. iii. p.
                   253.]

                   [Footnote 329: L'on m'a dict que quelques heures de
                   la nuict elle entre en telle resverie de ses amours
                   et passions que bien souvent elle se met hors de
                   soy, et croy que la plus grande occasion de sa
                   douleur vient du desplaisir qu'elle a de veoir sa
                   personne si diminuée et ses ans multiplier en telle
                   nombre qu'ilz luy courent tous les jours à grande
                   interest.--Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iii. p. 252.]

"The unfortunate queen," wrote Henry of France, "will learn the truth
at last. She will wake too late, in misery and remorse, to know that
she has filled the realm with blood for an object which, when she has
gained it, will bring nothing but affliction to herself or to her
people."[330]

                   [Footnote 330: Ibid. p. 255.]

But the darkest season has its days of sunshine, and Mary's trials
were for the present over. If the statesmen were disloyal, the clergy
and the Universities appreciated her services to the church, and, in
the midst of her trouble, Oxford congratulated her on having been
raised up for the restoration of life and light to England.[331] More
pleasant than this pleasant flattery was the arrival, on the 19th of
June, of the Marquis delas Navas from Spain, with the news that by
that time the prince was on his way.

                   [Footnote 331: Nuper cum litterarum studia pene
                   extincta jacerent cum salus omnium exiguâ spe
                   dubiâque penderet quis non fortunæ incertos eventus
                   extimescebat? Quis non ingemuit et arsit dolore?
                   Pars studia deserere cogebantur; pars huc illucque
                   quovis momento rapiebantur; nec ulli certus ordo
                   suumve propositum diu constabat.--The happy change
                   of the last year was then contrasted with proper
                   point and prolixity.--The University of Oxford to
                   the Queen: _MS. Domestic, Mary_, vol. iv.]

It was even so. Philip had submitted to his unwelcome {p.139}
destiny, and six thousand troops being required pressingly by the
emperor in the Low Countries, they attended him for his escort. A
paper of advices was drawn for the prince's use by Renard, directing
him how to accommodate himself to his barbarous fortune. Neither
soldiers nor mariners would be allowed to land. The noblemen,
therefore, who formed his retinue, were advised to bring Spanish
musketeers, disguised in liveries, in the place of pages and lacqueys;
their arms could be concealed amidst the baggage. The war would be an
excuse for the noblemen being armed themselves, and the prince, on
landing, should have a shirt of mail under his doublet. As to manner,
he must endeavour to be affable: he would have to hunt with the young
lords, and to make presents to them; and, with whatever difficulty, he
must learn a few words of English, to exchange the ordinary
salutations. As a friend, Renard recommended Paget to him; he would
find Paget "a man of sense."[332]

                   [Footnote 332: "Homme d'esprit."--Instructions
                   données à Philippe, Prince d'Espagne: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 267.]

Philip, who was never remarkable for personal courage, may be pardoned
for having come reluctantly to a country where he had to bring
men-at-arms for servants, and his own cook for fear of being poisoned.
The sea, too, was hateful to him, for he suffered miserably from
sickness. Nevertheless, he was coming, and with him such a retinue of
gallant gentlemen as the world has rarely seen together. The Marquis
de los Valles, Gonzaga, d'Aguilar, Medina Celi, Antonio de Toledo,
Diego de Mendoza, the Count de Feria, the Duke of Alva, Count Egmont,
and Count Horn--men whose stories are written in the annals of two
worlds: some in letters of glorious light, some in letters of blood
which shall never be washed out while the history of mankind survives.
Whether for evil or good, they were not the meek innocents for whom
Renard had at one time asked so anxiously.

In company with these noblemen was Sir Thomas Gresham, charged with
half a million of money in bullion, out of the late arrivals from the
New World; which the emperor, after taking security from the London
merchants, had lent the queen, perhaps to enable her to make her
marriage palatable by the restoration of the currency.[333]

                   [Footnote 333: Gresham's Correspondence: _Flanders
                   MSS._ State Paper Office. The bullion was
                   afterwards drawn in procession in carts through the
                   London streets.]

Thus preciously freighted, the Spanish fleet, a hundred and fifty
ships, large and small, sailed from Corunna at the beginning {p.140}
of July. The voyage was weary and wretched. The sea-sickness
prostrated both the prince and the troops, and to the sea-sickness was
added the terror of the French--a terror, as it happened, needless,
for the English exiles, by whom the prince was to have been
intercepted, had, in the last few weeks, melted away from the French
service, with the exception of a few who were at Scilly. Sir Peter
Carew, for some unknown reason, had written to ask for his pardon, and
had gone to Italy;[334] but the change was recent and unknown, and the
ships stole along in silence, the orders of the prince being that not
a salute should be fired to catch the ear of an enemy.[335] At last,
on the 19th of July, the white cliffs of Freshwater were sighted; Lord
Howard lay at the Needles with the English fleet; and on Friday, the
20th, at three o'clock in the afternoon, the flotilla was safely
anchored in Southampton Water.

                   [Footnote 334: Wotton's Correspondence: _French
                   MSS._ State Paper Office. The title of the Queen of
                   Scots was, perhaps, the difficulty; or Carew may
                   have felt that he could do nothing of real
                   consequence, while he might increase the difficulty
                   of protecting Elizabeth.]

                   [Footnote 335: Noailles to the King of France, July
                   23: _Ambassades_, vol. iii.]

The queen was on her way to Winchester, where she arrived the next
morning, and either in attendance upon her, or waiting at Southampton,
was almost the entire peerage of England. Having made up their minds
to endure the marriage, the lords resolved to give Philip the welcome
which was due to the husband of their sovereign, and in the uncertain
temper of the people, their presence might be necessary to protect his
person from insult or from injury.

It was an age of glitter, pomp, and pageantry; the anchors were no
sooner down, than a barge was in readiness, with twenty rowers in the
queen's colours of green and white; and Arundel, Pembroke, Shrewsbury,
Derby, and other lords went off to the vessel which carried the royal
standard of Castile. Philip's natural manner was cold and stiff, but
he had been schooled into graciousness. Exhausted by his voyage, he
accepted delightedly the instant invitation to go on shore, and he
entered the barge accompanied by the Duke of Alva. A crowd of
gentlemen was waiting to receive him at the landing-place. As he
stepped out--not perhaps without some natural nervousness and sharp
glances round him--the whole assemblage knelt. A salute was fired from
the batteries, and Lord Shrewsbury presented him with the order of the
Garter.[336] An enthusiastic eye-witness thus describes Philip's
appearance:--

                   [Footnote 336: Antiquaries dispute whether Philip
                   received the Garter on board his own vessel or
                   after he came on shore. Lord Shrewsbury himself
                   settles the important point. "I, the Lord Steward,"
                   Shrewsbury wrote to Wotton, "at his coming to land,
                   presented the Garter to him."--_French MSS. Mary_,
                   State Paper Office.]

{p.141} "Of visage he is well favoured, with a broad forehead and
grey eyes, straight-nosed and manly countenance. From the forehead to
the point of his chin his face groweth small. His pace is princely,
and gait so straight and upright as he loseth no inch of his height;
with a yellow head and a yellow beard; and thus to conclude, he is so
well proportioned of body, arm, leg, and every other limb to the same,
as nature cannot work a more perfect pattern, and, as I have learned,
of the age of 28 years. His majesty I judge to be of a stout stomach,
pregnant-witted, and of most gentle nature."[337]

                   [Footnote 337: John Elder to the Bishop of
                   Caithness: _Queen Jane and Queen Mary_, appendix
                   10. Elder adds that his stature was about that of a
                   certain "John Hume, my Lord of Jedward's kinsman,"
                   which does not help our information. Philip,
                   however, was short.]

Sir Anthony Brown approached, leading a horse with a saddlecloth of
crimson velvet, embroidered with gold and pearls. He presented the
steed, with a Latin speech, signifying that he was his highness's
Master of the Horse; and Philip, mounting, went direct to Southampton
church, the English and Spanish noblemen attending bareheaded, to
offer thanks for his safe arrival. From the church he was conducted to
a house which had been furnished from the royal stores for his
reception. Everything was, of course, magnificent. Only there had been
one single oversight. Wrought upon the damask hangings, in conspicuous
letters, were observed the ominous words, "Henry, by the Grace of God,
King of England, France, and Ireland, and Supreme Head of the Church
of England."[338]

                   [Footnote 338: Baoardo.]

Here the prince was to remain till Monday to recover from his voyage;
perhaps to ascertain, before he left the neighbourhood of his own
fleet, the humour of the barbarians among whom he had arrived. In
Latin (he was unable to speak French) he addressed the lords on the
causes which had brought him to England, the chief among those causes
being the manifest will of God, to which he felt himself bound to
submit. It was noticed that he never lifted his cap in speaking to any
one,[339] but he evidently endeavoured to be courteous. With a stomach
unrecovered from the sea, and disdaining precautions, he sate down on
the night of his arrival to a public English supper; he even drained a
tankard of ale, as an example, he said, to his Spanish companions.[340]
The first evening passed off well, and he {p.142} retired to seek
such rest as the strange land and strange people, the altered diet,
and the firing of guns, which never ceased through the summer night,
would allow him.

                   [Footnote 339: Non havendo mai levato la berretta a
                   persona.--Baoardo.]

                   [Footnote 340: Noailles.]

Another feature of his new country awaited Philip in the morning (July
21); he had come from the sunny plains of Castile; from his window at
Southampton he looked out upon a steady downfall of July rain. Through
the cruel torrent[341] he made his way to the church again to mass,
and afterwards Gardiner came to him from the queen. In the afternoon
the sky cleared, and the Duchess of Alva, who had accompanied her
husband, was taken out in a barge upon Southampton Water. Both English
and Spaniards exerted themselves to be mutually pleasing; but the
situation was not of a kind which it was desirable to protract. Six
thousand Spanish troops were cooped in the close uneasy transports,
forbidden to land lest they should provoke the jealousy of the people;
and when, on Sunday (July 22), his highness had to undergo a public
dinner, in which English servants only were allowed to attend upon
him, the Castilian lords, many of whom believed that they had come to
England on a bootless errand, broke out into murmurs.[342]

                   [Footnote 341: Crudele pioggia.--Baoardo.]

                   [Footnote 342: La Dominica Mattina se n'ando a
                   messa et tornato a casa mangio in publico servito
                   da gli officiali che gli haveva data la Reina con
                   mala satisfattione degli Spagnuoli, i quali
                   dubitando che la cosa non andasse a lungo,
                   mormoravano assai tra di loro.--Baoardo.]

Monday came at last; the rain fell again, and the wind howled. The
baggage was sent forward in the morning in the midst of the tempest.
Philip lingered in hopes of a change; but no change came, and after an
early dinner the trumpet sounded to horse. Lords, knights, and
gentlemen had thronged into the town, from curiosity or interest, out
of all the counties round. Before the prince mounted it was reckoned,
with uneasiness, that as many as four thousand cavaliers, under no
command, were collected to join the procession.

A grey gelding was led up for Philip; he wrapped himself in a scarlet
cloak, and started to meet his bride--to complete a sacrifice the
least congenial, perhaps, which ever policy of state extracted from a
prince.

The train could move but slowly. Two miles beyond the gates a drenched
rider, spattered with chalk mud, was seen galloping towards them; on
reaching the prince he presented him with a ring from the queen, and
begged his highness, in her majesty's name, to come no further. The
messenger could not explain the cause, being unable to speak any
language which {p.143} Philip could understand, and visions of
commotion instantly presented themselves, mixed, it may be, with a
hope that the bitter duty might yet be escaped. Alva was immediately
at his master's side; they reined up, and were asking each other
anxiously what should next be done, when an English lord exclaimed in
French, with courteous irony, "Our queen, sire, loves your highness so
tenderly that she would not have you come to her in such wretched
weather."[343] The hope, if hope there had been, died in its birth;
before sunset, with drenched garments and draggled plume, the object
of so many anxieties arrived within the walls of Winchester.

                   [Footnote 343: "Sire, la Nostra Reina ama tanto
                   l'Altezza vostra ch'ella non vorebbe che pigliasse
                   disagio di caminar per tempi cosi
                   tristi."--Baoardo.]

To the cathedral he went first, wet as he was. Whatever Philip of
Spain was entering upon, whether it was a marriage or a massacre, a
state intrigue or a midnight murder, his opening step was ever to seek
a blessing from the holy wafer. He entered, kissed the crucifix, and
knelt and prayed before the altar; then taking his seat in the choir,
he remained while the choristers sang a _Te Deum laudamus_, till the
long aisles grew dim in the summer twilight, and he was conducted by
torch-light to the Deanery.

The queen was at the bishop's palace, but a few hundred yards distant.
Philip, doubtless, could have endured the postponement of an interview
till morning; but Mary could not wait, and the same night he was
conducted into the presence of his haggard bride, who now, after a
life of misery, believed herself at the open gate of Paradise. Let the
curtain fall over the meeting, let it close also over the wedding
solemnities which followed with due splendour two days later. There
are scenes in life which we regard with pity too deep for words. The
unhappy queen, unloved, unlovable, yet with her parched heart
thirsting for affection, was flinging herself upon a breast to which
an iceberg was warm; upon a man to whom love was an unmeaning word,
except as the most brutal of passions. For a few months she created
for herself an atmosphere of unreality. She saw in Philip the ideal of
her imagination, and in Philip's feelings the reflex of her own; but
the dream passed away--her love for her husband remained; but remained
only to be a torture to her. With a broken spirit and bewildered
understanding, she turned to Heaven for comfort, and, instead of
heaven, she saw only the false roof of her creed painted to imitate
and shut out the sky.

{p.144} The scene will change for a few pages to the Low Countries.
Charles V. more than any other person was responsible for this
marriage. He had desired it not for Mary's sake, not for Philip's
sake, not for religion's sake; but that he might be able to assert a
decisive preponderance over France; and, to gain his end, he had
already led the queen into a course which had forfeited the regard of
her subjects. She had murdered Lady Jane Grey at the instigation of
his ambassador, and under the same influence she had done her best to
destroy her sister. Yet Charles, notwithstanding, was one of nature's
gentlemen. If he was unscrupulous in the sacrifice of others to his
purposes, he never spared himself; and in the days of his successes he
showed to less advantage than now, when, amidst failing fortunes and
ruined health, his stormy career was closing.

In the spring he had been again supposed to be dying. His military
reputation had come out tarnished from his failure at Metz, and while
he was labouring with imperfect success to collect troops for a
summer's campaign, Henry of France, unable to prevent the English
marriage, was preparing to strike a blow so heavy, as should enable
him to dictate peace on his own terms before England was drawn into
the quarrel.

In June two French armies took the field. Pietro Strozzi advanced from
Piedmont into Tuscany. Henry himself, with Guise, Montmorency, and
half the peerage of France, entered the Low Countries, sweeping all
opposition before him. First Marienbourg fell, then Dinant fell,
stormed with especial gallantry. The young French nobles were taught
that they must conquer or die: a party of them flinched in the breach
at Dinant, and the next morning Henry sat in judgment upon them
sceptre in hand; some were hanged, the rest degraded from their rank:
"and whereas one privilege of the gentlemen of France was to be exempt
from taylles payable to the crown, they were made tayllable as any
other villains."[344]

                   [Footnote 344: Wotton to the Queen; cypher: _French
                   MSS. Mary_, bundle xi.]

From Dinant the French advanced to Namur. When Namur should have
fallen, Brussels was the next aim; and there was nothing, as it
seemed, which could stop them. The imperial army under the Prince of
Savoy could but hover, far outnumbered, on their skirts. The
reinforcements from Spain had not arrived, and a battle lost was the
loss of Belgium.

In the critical temper of England, a decisive superiority obtained by
France would be doubly dangerous; and Charles, seeing Philibert
perplexed into uncertain movements which {p.145} threatened
misfortune, disregarding the remonstrances of his physicians, his
ministers, and his generals, started from his sick bed, flew to the
head of his troops, and brought them to Namur, in the path of the
advancing French. Men said that he was rushing upon destruction. The
headstrong humour which had already worked him so heavy injury was
again dragging him into ruin.[345] But fortune had been disarmed by
the greatness with which Charles had borne up against calamity, or
else his supposed rashness was the highest military wisdom. Before
Henry came up he had seized a position at an angle of the Meuse, where
he could defend Namur, and could not be himself attacked, except at a
disadvantage. The French approached only to retire, and, feeling
themselves unable to force the imperial lines, fell back towards the
Boullonnois. Charles followed cautiously. An attack on Renty brought
on an action in which the French claimed the victory; but the emperor
held his ground, and the town could not be taken; and Henry's army,
from which such splendid results had been promised, fell back on the
frontier and dispersed. The voices which had exclaimed against the
emperor's rashness were now as loud in his praise, and the disasters
which he was accused of provoking, it was now found that he only had
averted.[346] Neither the {p.146} French nor the Imperialists, in
their long desperate struggle, can claim either approval or sympathy;
the sufferings which they inflicted upon mankind were not the less
real, the selfishness of their rivalry none the less reprehensible,
because the disunion of the Catholic powers permitted the Reformation
to establish itself. Yet, in this perplexed world the deeds of men may
be without excuse, while, nevertheless, in the men themselves there
may be something to love, and something more to admire.

                   [Footnote 345: "You shall understand that the
                   Emperor hath suddenly caused his army to march
                   towards Namur, and that himself is gone after in
                   person; the deliberation whereof, both of the one
                   and the other, is against the advice of his
                   council, and all other men to the staying of him.
                   Wherein Albert the Duke of Savoy, John Baptiste
                   Castaldo, Don Hernando de Gonzaga, and Andrea Doria
                   have done their best, as well by letter as by their
                   coming from the camp to this town, _vivâ voce_
                   alleging to him the puissance of his enemy, the
                   unableness as yet of his army to encounter with
                   them, the danger of the chopping of them between
                   him and this town, the hazard of himself, his
                   estate, and all these countries, in case, being
                   driven to fight, their army should have an
                   overthrow; in the preservation whereof standeth the
                   safety of the whole, and twenty other arguments.
                   Yet was there no remedy, but forth he would, and
                   commanded them that they should march _sans plus
                   répliquez_. His headiness hath often put him to
                   great hindrance, specially at Metz, and another
                   time at Algiers. This enterprise is more dangerous
                   than they both. God send him better fortune than
                   _multi ominantur_."--Mason to Petre, Brussels, July
                   10; _German MSS. Mary_, bundle 16, State Paper
                   Office.]

                   [Footnote 346: "The Emperor, in these nine or ten
                   days following of his enemy, hath showed a great
                   courage, and no less skilfulness in the war; but
                   much more notably showed the same when, with so
                   small an army as he then had, he entered into
                   Namur, a town of no strength, but commodious for
                   the letting of his enemy's purpose, against the
                   advice and persuasion of all his captains; which,
                   if he had not done, out of doubt first Liége, and
                   after, these countries, had had such a foil as
                   would long after have been remembered. By his own
                   wisdom and unconquered courage the enemy's meaning
                   that way was frustrated."--Mason to the Council,
                   Aug. 13: _German MSS. Mary_, bundle 16, State Paper
                   Office.]




{p.147} CHAPTER III.

RECONCILIATION WITH ROME.


Mary had restored Catholic orthodoxy, and her passion for Philip had
been gratified. To complete her work and her happiness, it remained to
bring back her subjects to the bosom of the Catholic Church. Reginald
Pole had by this time awoke from some part of his delusions. He had
persuaded himself that he had but to appear with a pardon in his hand
to be welcomed to his country with acclamation: he had ascertained
that the English people were very indifferent to the pardon, and that
his own past treasons had created especial objections to himself. Even
the queen herself had grown impatient with him. He had fretted her
with his importunities; his presence in Flanders had chafed the
parliament, and made her marriage more difficult; while he was
supposed to share with the English nobles their jealousy of a foreign
sovereign. So general was this last impression about him, that his
nephew, Lord Stafford's son, who was one of the refugees, went to seek
him in the expectation of countenance and sympathy: and, farther, he
had been in correspondence with Gardiner, and was believed to be at
the bottom of the chancellor's religious indiscretions.[347] Thus his
anxiety to be in England found nowhere any answering desire; and
Renard, who dreaded his want of wisdom, never missed an opportunity of
throwing difficulties in the way. In the spring of 1554 Pole had gone
to Paris, where, in an atmosphere of so violent opposition to the
marriage, he had not thought it necessary to speak in favour of it.
The words which Dr. Wotton heard that he had used were reported to the
emperor; and, at last, Renard went so far as to suggest that the
scheme of sending him to England had been set on foot at Rome by the
French party in the Consistory, with a view of provoking insurrection
and thwarting the Imperial policy.[348]

                   [Footnote 347: Renard.]

                   [Footnote 348: Que pourroit estre l'on auroit mis
                   en avant au consistoire cette commission par
                   affection particulière pour plustôt nuire, que
                   servir aux consciences; attendu qu'ilz sont
                   partiaulx pour les princes Chrestiens, et souvent
                   meslent les choses séculières et prophanes avec les
                   conseils divins et ecclésiastiques.--Renard to
                   Philip: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

{p.148} The emperor, taught by his old experiences of Pole,
acquiesced in the views of his ambassador. If England was to be
brought back to its allegiance, the negotiation would require a
delicacy of handling for which the present legate was wholly unfit;
and Charles wrote at last to the pope to suggest that the commission
should be transferred to a more competent person. Impatient language
had been heard of late from the legate's lips, contrasting the
vexations of the world with the charms of devotional retirement. To
soften the harshness of the blow, the emperor said that he understood
Pole was himself weary of his office, and wished to escape into
privacy.

The respect of Julius for the legate's understanding was not much
larger than the emperor's; but he would not pronounce the recall
without giving him an opportunity of explaining himself. Cardinal
Morone wrote to him to inquire whether it was true that he had thought
of retirement; he informed him of the emperor's complaints; and, to
place his resignation in the easiest light (while pointing, perhaps,
to the propriety of his offering it), he hinted at Pole's personal
unpopularity, and at the danger to which he would be exposed by going
to England.

But the legate could not relinquish the passionate desire of his life;
while, as to the marriage, he was, after all, unjustly suspected. He
requested Morone, in reply, to assure the pope that, much as he loved
retirement, he loved duty more. He appealed to the devotion of his
life to the church as an evidence of his zeal and sincerity; and,
although he knew, he said, that God could direct events at his will
and dispense with the service of men, yet, so long as he had strength
to be of use, he would spend it in his Master's cause. In going to
England he was venturing upon a stormy sea; he knew it well;[349] but,
whatever befell him, his life was in God's hands.

                   [Footnote 349: He begged Morone not to suppose him
                   ignorant, "quale sia il mare d'Inghilterra nel
                   quale io ho da navigare et che fortuna et travagli
                   potrei haver a sostinere per condurre la navi in
                   porto."--Pole to Morone: _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol.
                   iv. I have not seen Morone's first letter. The
                   contents are to be gathered, however, from Pole's
                   answer, and from a second letter of apology which
                   Morone wrote two months later.]

A fortnight after (May 25), he wrote again, replying more elaborately
to the emperor's charges. It was true, he admitted, that in his
letters to the queen he had dwelt more upon her religious duties than
upon her marriage: it was true that he had been backward in his
demonstrations of pleasure, because he was a person of few words. But,
so far from disapproving of that marriage, he looked upon it as the
distinct work of God; {p.149} and when his nephew had come with
complaints to him, he had forbidden him his presence. He had spoken of
the rule of a stranger in England as likely to be a lesson to the
people; but he had meant only that, as their disasters had befallen
them through their own king Henry, their deliverance would be wrought
for them by one who was not their own. When the late parliament had
broken up without consenting to the restoration of union, he had
consoled the queen with assuring her that he saw in it the hand of
Providence; the breach of a marriage between an English king and a
Spanish princess had caused the wound which a renewed marriage of a
Spanish king and an English queen was to heal.[350]

                   [Footnote 350: Scrissi alla Regina non la volendo
                   contristare condolermi di cio, che lo interpretava
                   et intendeva che questa tardita non venisse tanto
                   da lei quanto delle Providentia di Dio, il qual
                   habbia ordinato che si come per discordia
                   matrimoniale d'un Re Inglese et d'una Regina
                   Hispana fu levata l'obedientia della chiesa de quel
                   Regno cosi dalla concordia matrimoniale d'un Re
                   Hispano et d'una Regina Inglese ella vi doverse
                   ritornare.--Pole to Morone: _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol.
                   iv.]

The defence was elaborate, and, on the whole, may have been tolerably
true. The pope would not take the trouble to read it, or even to hear
it read;[351] but the substance, as related to him by Morone,
convinced him that the emperor's accusations were exaggerated: to
recall a legate at the instance of a secular sovereign was an
undesirable precedent;[352] and the commission was allowed to stand.
Julius wrote to Charles, assuring him that he was mistaken in the
legate's feelings, leaving the emperor at the same time, however, full
power to keep him in Flanders or to send him to England at his own
discretion.

                   [Footnote 351: E benchè S. Sanctità non havesse
                   patienza secundo l'ordinario suo di leggere o di
                   udir la lettera, nondimeno le dissi talmente la
                   summa che nostro restare satisfattissima, e disse
                   esser più che certa che quella non haveva dato
                   causa ne all' Imperatore ne ad altri d'usar con lei
                   termini cosi extravaganti.--Morone to Pole:
                   Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 352: Ibid.]

Pole was to continue the instrument of the reconciliation; the
conditions under which the reconciliation could take place were less
easy to settle. The popes, whose powers are unlimited where the
exercise of them is convenient for the interests of the Holy See, have
uniformly fallen back upon their inability where they have been called
on to make sacrifices. The canons of the church forbade, under any
pretext, the alienation of ecclesiastical property; and until Julius
could relinquish _ex animo_ all intention of disturbing the lay
holders of the English abbey lands, there was not a chance that the
question of his supremacy would be so much as entertained by either
Lords or Commons.

{p.150} The vague powers originally granted to the legate were not
satisfactory; and Pole himself, who was too sincere a believer in the
Roman doctrines to endure that worldly objections should stand in the
way of the salvation of souls, wrote himself to the Holy See,
entreating that his commission might be enlarged. The pope in
appearance consented. In a second brief, dated June 28th, he extended
the legate's dispensing powers to real property as well as personal,
and granted him general permission to determine any unforeseen
difficulties which might arise.[353] Ormaneto, a confidential agent,
carried the despatch to Flanders, and on Ormaneto's arrival, the
legate, believing that his embarrassments were at last at an end, sent
him on to the Bishop of Arras, to entreat that the perishing souls of
the English people might now be remembered. The pope had given way;
the queen was happily married, and the reasons for his detention were
at an end.[354]

                   [Footnote 353: Powers granted by the Pope to
                   Cardinal Pole: Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 354: Charles V. to Renard: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

Both Arras and the emperor, however, thought more of Philip's security
than of perishing souls. Arras, who understood the ways of the Vatican
better than the legate, desired that, before any steps were taken, he
might be favoured with a copy of these enlarged powers. He wished to
know whether the question of the property was fairly relinquished to
the secular powers in England, and whether the church had finally
washed its hands of it;[355] at all events, he must examine the brief.
On inspection, the new commission was found to contain an enabling
clause indeed, as extensive as words could make it; but the See of
Rome reserved to itself the right of sanctioning the settlement after
it had been made;[356] and the reservation had been purposely made, in
order to leave the pope free to act as he might please at a future
time. Morone, writing to Pole a fortnight after the date of the brief,
told him that his holiness was still unable to come to a
resolution;[357] while Ormaneto said openly to Arras, that, although
the pope would be as moderate as possible, yet his moderation must not
be carried so far as to {p.151} encourage the rest of Christendom in
an evil example. Catholics must not be allowed to believe that they
could appropriate church property without offence, nor must the Holy
See appear to be purchasing by concessions the submission of its
rebellious subjects.[358]

                   [Footnote 355: Che gran differenza sarebbe se fosse
                   stata commessa la cosa o al S. Cardinale, o alli
                   Serenissimi Principi.--Ormaneto to Priuli, July 31:
                   Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 356: Salvo tamen in his, in quibus
                   propter rerum magnitudinem et gravitatem hæc sancta
                   sedes merito tibi videretur consulenda, nostro et
                   præfatæ sedis beneplacito et confirmatione.--Powers
                   granted by the Pope to Cardinal Pole: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 357: Nondimeno non si risolveva in tutto,
                   com anco non si risolveva nella materia delli beni
                   ecclesiastici, sopra la qual sua Sanctità ha
                   parlato molte volte variamente.--Morone to Pole,
                   July 13: Ibid.]

                   [Footnote 358: Il sçauroit bien user de modération
                   quant aux biens occupez; mais que toutesfois il
                   fauldroit que se fust de sorte que la reste de la
                   Chrestienté n'en prînt malvais exemple; et
                   signamment que aucuns Catholiques qui tiennent
                   biens ecclésiastiques soubz leur main ne
                   voulsissent pretendre d'eulx approprier avec cest
                   exemple; et que de vouloir laisser les biens à
                   ceulx qui les occupent, il ne conviendroit pour ce
                   qu'il sembleroit que ce seroit racheter, comme à
                   deniers comptans l'auctorité du siége apostolique
                   en ce coustel-là. The Emperor to Renard: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. pp. 282, 283.]

This language was not even ambiguous; Pole was desired to wait till an
answer could be received from England; and the emperor wrote to Renard
(August 3), desiring him to lay the circumstances before the queen and
his son. He could believe, he said, that the legate himself meant
well, but he had not the same confidence in those who were urging him
forward, and the pope had given no authority for haste or precipitate
movements.[359]

                   [Footnote 359: Nous sçavons que le diet Cardinal
                   n'a commission de presser si chauldement en cette
                   affaire--ains avons heu soubz main advertissement
                   du nunce propre de sa Saincteté que la résolution
                   de la commission dudict Cardinal est que toutes
                   choses se traictent comm'il nous semblera pour le
                   mieulx et qu'il tienne cecy pour règle.--_Granv.
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

The emperor's letter was laid before a council of state at Windsor, on
the 6th of August; and the council agreed with Charles that the
legate's anxieties could not for the present be gratified. He was
himself attainted, and parliament had shown no anxiety that the
attainder should be removed. The reimposition of the pope's authority
was a far more ticklish matter than the restoration of orthodoxy,[360]
and the temper of the people was uncertain. The cardinal had, perhaps,
intelligence with persons in England of a suspicious and dangerous
kind, and the execution of his commission must depend on the pleasure
of the next parliament. He was not to suppose that he might introduce
changes in the constitution of the country by the authority of a papal
commission, or try experiments which might put in peril the sacred
person of the prince.[361]

                   [Footnote 360: Trop plus chastolleux que celuy de
                   la vraye religion.--Renard to the Emperor: Ibid. p.
                   287.]

                   [Footnote 361: Ibid.]

Once more the cup of hope was dashed to the ground, and Reginald Pole
was sent back to his monastery at Dhilinghen like a child unfit to be
trusted with a dangerous plaything. In times of trial his pen was his
refuge, and in an appeal to Philip he poured out his characteristic
protest.

{p.152} "For a whole year," he wrote, "I have been now knocking at
the door of that kingdom, and no person will answer, no person will
ask, Who is there? It is one who has endured twenty years of exile
that the partner of your throne should not be excluded from her
rights, and I come in the name of the vicar of the King of kings, the
Shepherd of mankind. Peter knocks at your door; Peter himself. The
door is open to all besides. Why is it closed to Peter? Why does not
that nation make haste now to do Peter reverence? Why does it leave
him escaped from Herod's prison, knocking?

"Strange, too, that this is the house of Mary. Can it be Mary that is
so slow to open? True, indeed, it is, that when Mary's damsel heard
the voice she opened not the door for joy; she ran and told Mary. But
Mary came with those that were with her in the house; and though at
first she doubted, yet, when Peter continued knocking, she opened the
door; she took him in, she regarded not the danger, although Herod was
yet alive and was king.

"Is it joy which now withholds Mary, or is it fear? She rejoices, that
I know, but she also fears. Yet why should Mary fear now when Herod is
dead? The providence of God permitted her to fear for awhile, because
God desired that you, sire, who are Peter's beloved child, should
share the great work with her. Do you, therefore, teach her now to
cast her fears away. It is not I only who stand here--it is not only
Peter--Christ is here--Christ waits with me till you will open and
take him in. You who are King of England, are defender of Christ's
faith; yet, while you have the ambassadors of all other princes at
your court, you will not have Christ's ambassador; you have rejected
your Christ.

"Go on upon your way. Build on the foundation of worldly policy, and I
tell you, in Christ's words, that the rain will fall, the floods will
rise, the winds will blow, and beat upon that house, and it will fall,
and great will be the fall thereof."[362]

                   [Footnote 362: Pole to Philip: _Epist._ Reg. Pol.
                   vol. iv.]

The pleading was powerful, yet it could bear no fruits--the door could
not open till the pope pronounced the magic words which held it
closed. Neither Philip nor Mary was in a position to use violence or
force the bars.

After the ceremony at Winchester, the king and queen had gone first to
Windsor, and thence the second week in August they went to Richmond.
The entry into London was fixed for the 18th; after which, should it
pass off without disturbance, {p.153} the Spanish fleet might sail
from Southampton Water. The prince himself had as yet met with no
discourtesy; but disputes had broken out early between the English and
Spanish retinues, and petty taunts and insolences had passed among
them.[363] The prince's luggage was plundered, and the property stolen
could not be recovered nor the thieves detected. The servants of Alva
and the other lords, who preceded their masters to London, were
insulted in the streets, and women and children called after them that
they need not have brought so many things, they would be soon gone
again. The citizens refused to give them lodgings in their houses, and
the friars who had accompanied Philip were advised to disguise
themselves, so intense was the hatred against the religious
orders.[364] The council soon provided for their ordinary comforts,
but increase of acquaintance produced no improvement of feeling.

                   [Footnote 363: Avecques d'aultres petits
                   depportements de mocquerie qui croissent tous les
                   jours d'ung cousté et d'aultre.--Noailles to the
                   King of France, August 1.]

                   [Footnote 364: Noailles, and compare Pole to
                   Miranda, Oct. 6: _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol. v.]

The entry passed off tolerably. Gog and Magog stood as warders on
London Bridge, and there were the usual pageants in the city. Renard
conceived that the impression produced by Philip had been rather
favourable than otherwise; for the people had been taught to expect
some monster but partially human, and they saw instead a well-dressed
cavalier, who had learnt by this time to carry his hand to his bonnet.
Yet, although there were no open signs of ill-feeling, the day did not
end without a disagreeable incident. The conduit in Gracechurch Street
had been newly decorated: "the nine Worthies" had been painted round
the winding turret, and among them were Henry VIII. and Edward. The
first seven carried maces, swords, or pole-axes. Henry held in one
hand a sceptre, in the other he was presenting a book to his son, on
which was written _Verbum Dei_. As the train went by, the unwelcome
figure caught the eye of Gardiner. The painter was summoned, called
"knave, traitor, heretic," an enemy to the queen's Catholic
proceedings. The offensive Bible was washed out, and a pair of gloves
inserted in its place.[365]

                   [Footnote 365: _Chronicle of Queen Mary._
                   Contemporary Narrative: _MS. Harleian_, 419.]

Nor did the irritation of the people abate. The Spaniards, being
without special occupation, were seen much in the streets; and a vague
fear so magnified their numbers that four of them, it was thought,
were to be met in London for one Englishman.[366] {p.154} The halls
of the city companies were given up for their use; a fresh provocation
to people who desired to be provoked. A Spanish friar was lodged at
Lambeth, and it was said at once he was to be Archbishop of
Canterbury; at the beginning of September twelve thousand Spanish
troops were reported to be coming to "fetch the crown." Rumour and
reality inflated each other. The peers, who had collected for the
marriage, dispersed to their counties; and on the 10th of September,
Pembroke, Shrewsbury, and Westmoreland were believed to have raised a
standard of revolt at York. Frays were continually breaking out in the
streets, and there was a scandalous brawl in the cloisters at
Westminster. Brief entries in diaries and council books tell
continually of Englishmen killed, and Spaniards hanged, hanged at
Tyburn, or hanged more conspicuously at Charing Cross; and on the
12th, Noailles reported that the feeling in all classes, high and low,
was as bad as possible.

                   [Footnote 366: _Chronicle of Queen Mary._]

There was dread, too, that Philip was bent on drawing England into the
war. The French ambassador had been invited to be present at the entry
into London; but the invitation had been sent informally by a common
messenger not more than half an hour before the royal party were to
appear. The brief notice was intended as an affront, and only after
some days Noailles appeared at court to offer his congratulations.
When he came at last, he expressed his master's hope to Philip that
the neutrality of England would continue to be observed. Philip
answered with cold significance, that he would keep his promise and
maintain the treaties, as long as by doing so he should consult the
interest of the realm.[367]

                   [Footnote 367: Tant et si longuement que se seroit
                   l'utilité et commodité de ce dict Royaulme
                   d'Angleterre.--Noailles to the King of France.]

Other menacing symptoms were also showing themselves: the claim for
the pensions was spoken of as likely to be revived; the English ships
in the Channel were making the neutrality one-sided, and protecting
the Spanish and Flemish traders; and Philip, already weary of his
bride, was urging on Renard the propriety of his hastening, like an
obedient son, to the assistance of his father. Under pretence of
escort he could take with him a few thousand English cavalry and
men-at-arms, who could be used as a menace to France, and whose
presence would show the attitude which England was about to assume.
Sick, in these brief weeks, of maintaining the show of an affection
which he did not feel, and sick of a country where his friends were
insulted if he was treated respectfully himself, he was {p.155}
already panting for freedom, and eager to utilise the instruments
which he had bought so dearly.[368]

                   [Footnote 368: Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 294.]

Happily for the queen's peace of mind, Renard was not a man to
encourage impatience. The factions in the council were again showing
themselves; Elizabeth lay undisposed of at Woodstock. Pomfret,
Belgium, even Hungary, had been thought of as a destination for her,
and had been laid aside one after the other, in dread of the people.
If she was released, she would again be dangerous, and it was
uncertain how long Lord Howard would endure her detention. A plan
suggested by Lord Paget seemed, after all, to promise the best--to
marry her to Philibert of Savoy, and thus make use of her as a second
link to connect England with the House of Austria. But here the
difficulty would be with the queen, who in that case would have to
recognise her sister's rank and expectations.

The question should be settled before Philip left England, and he must
have faced parliament too, and, if possible, have been crowned. If he
went now, he would never come back; let him court the people advised
the keen Renard; let him play off the people against the lords; there
was ill blood between the rich and poor, let him use the opportunity.

The state of public feeling did not improve when, at the end of
September, Bonner commenced an inquisition into the conduct and
opinions of the clergy of his diocese. In every parish he appointed a
person or persons to examine whether the minister was or ever had been
married; whether, if married and separated from his wife, he continued
in secret to visit her; whether his sermons were orthodox; whether he
was a "brawler, scolder, hawker, hunter, fornicator, adulterer,
drunkard, or blasphemer;" whether he duly exhorted his parishioners to
come to mass and confession; whether he associated with heretics, or
had been suspected of associating with them; his mind, his habits, his
society, even the dress that he wore, were to be made matter of close
scrutiny.

The points of inquiry were published in a series of articles which
created an instantaneous ferment. Among the merchants they were
attributed to the king, queen, and Gardiner, and were held to be
the first step of a conspiracy against their liberties. A report
was spread at the same time that the king meditated a seizure of
the Tower; barriers were forthwith erected in the great thoroughfares
leading into the city, and no one was allowed to pass unchallenged.[369]

                   [Footnote 369: Renard to the Bishop of Arras: Ibid.
                   p. 330.]

{p.156} The Bishop of London was called to account for having
ventured so rash a step without permission of crown or council. He
replied that he was but doing his duty; the council, had he
communicated with them, would have interfered with him, and in the
execution of his office he must be governed by his own conscience.[370]
But the attitude of the city was too decided even for the stubborn
Bonner, he gave way sullenly, and suspended the execution of his
order.

                   [Footnote 370: Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 321.]

Worse clouds than these nevertheless had many times gathered over the
court and dispersed again. It was easy to be discontented; but when
the discontent would pass into action, there was nothing definite to
be done; and between the leading statesmen there were such large
differences of opinion, that they could not co-operate.[371] The
court, as Renard saw, could accomplish everything which they desired
with caution and prudence. The humours of the people might flame out
on a sudden if too hastily irritated, but the opposite tendencies of
parties effectually balanced each other; and even the papal difficulty
might be managed, and Pole might in time be brought over, if only
there was no precipitation, and the pope was compelled to be
reasonable.

                   [Footnote 371: Entre les seigneurs et gens de la
                   noblesse et de credit et administration, il y a
                   telle partialité que l'un ne se fie de
                   l'autre.--Ibid.]

But prudence was the first and last essential; the legate must be
content to wait, and also Philip must wait. The winter was coming on,
and the court, Renard said, was giving balls; the English and Spanish
noblemen were learning to talk with one another, and were beginning to
dance with each other's wives and daughters. The ill-feeling was
gradually abating; and, in fact, it was not to be believed that God
Almighty would have brought about so considerable a marriage without
intending that good should come of it.[372] The queen believed herself
_enceinte_, and if her hopes were well founded, a thousand causes of
restlessness would be disposed of; but Philip must not be permitted to
harass her with his impatience to be gone. She had gathered something
of his intentions, and was already pretending more uncertainty than in
her heart she felt, lest he {p.157} should make the assurance of her
prospects an excuse for leaving her. In a remarkable passage, Renard
urged the emperor on no account to encourage him in a step so
eminently injudicious, from a problematic hope of embroiling England
and France. "Let parliament meet," he said, "and pass off quietly, and
in February his highness may safely go. Irreparable injury may and
will follow, however, should he leave England before. Religion will be
overthrown, the queen's person will be in danger, and parliament will
not meet. A door will be opened for the practices of France; the
country may throw itself in self-protection on the French alliance,
and an undying hatred will be engendered between England and Spain. As
things now are, prudence and moderation are more than ever necessary;
and we must allow neither the king nor the queen to be led astray by
unwise impatient advisers, who, for the advancement of their private
opinions, or because they cannot have all the liberty which they
desire, are ready to compromise the commonwealth."[373]

                   [Footnote 372: Les choses se vont accommoder à quoy
                   sert la saison de l'hiver et ce que en la court
                   l'on y danse souvent; que les Espaignolz et Angloys
                   commencent à converser les ungs avec les aultres
                   ... et n'y a personne qui puisse imaginer que Dieu
                   ait voulu ung si grand marriage et de telz princes,
                   pour en esperer sinon ung grand bien publique pour
                   la Chrestienté, et pour restablir et asseurer les
                   estatz de vostre majesté troublez par ses
                   ennemis.--Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 319.]

                   [Footnote 373: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p.
                   320.]

So matters stood at the beginning of October, when parliament was
about to be summoned, and the great experiment to be tried whether
England would consent to be re-united to Catholic Christendom. The
writs went out on the 6th, and circulars accompanied them, addressed
to those who would have the conduct of the elections, stating that,
whatever false reports might have been spread, no "alteration was
intended of any man's possessions." At the same time the queen
required the mayors of towns, the sheriffs, and other influential
persons to admonish the voters to choose from among themselves "such
as, being eligible by order of the laws, were of a wise, grave, and
Catholic sort; such as indeed meant the true honour of God and the
prosperity of the commonwealth."[374]These general directions were
copied from a form which had been in use under Henry VII., and the
citizens of London set the example of obedience in electing four
members who were in every way satisfactory to the court.[375] In the
country the decisive failure of Carew, Suffolk, and Crofts showed that
the weight of public feeling was still in favour of the queen
notwithstanding the {p.158} Spanish marriage; and the reaction
against the excesses of the Reformation had not yet reached its
limits. On the accession of Mary, the restoration of the mass had
appeared impossible, but it had been effected safely and completely
almost by the spontaneous will of the people. In the spring the pope's
name could not be mentioned in parliament; now, since the queen was
bent upon it, and as she gave her word that property was not to be
meddled with, even the pope seemed no longer absolutely intolerable.

                   [Footnote 374: Royal Circular; printed in Burnet's
                   _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 375: Les lettres de la convocation du
                   parlement sont esté pourjectées sur la vieille
                   forme dont l'on usoit au temps du Roy Henry
                   septième pour avoir en icelluy gens de bien
                   Catholiques: et à propos et selon ce ceulx de
                   Londre en publique assemblée ont choisiz quatre
                   personnaiges que l'on tient estre fort saiges et
                   modestes.--Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 324.]

The reports of the elections were everywhere favourable. In the Upper
House, except on very critical points, which would unite the small
body of the lay peers, the court was certain of a majority, being
supported of course by the bishops--and the question of Pole's coming
over, therefore, was once more seriously considered. The pope had been
given to understand that, however inconsistent with his dignity he
might consider it to appear to purchase English submission by setting
aside the canons of the church, he must consent to the English terms,
or there was no hope whatever that his supremacy would be recognised.
If in accepting these terms he would agree to a humiliating
reconciliation, only those who objected on doctrinal grounds to the
papal religion were inclined to persist in refusing a return of his
friendship. The dream of an independent orthodox Anglicanism which had
once found favour with Gardiner was fading away. The indifferent and
the orthodox alike desired to put an end to spiritual anarchy; and the
excommunication, though lying lightly on the people, and despised even
by the Catholic powers, had furnished, and might furnish, a pretext
for inconvenient combinations. Singularity of position, where there
was no especial cause for it, was always to be avoided.

These influences would have been insufficient to have brought the
English of themselves to seek for a reunion. They were enough to
induce them to accept it with indifference when offered them on their
own conditions, or to affect for a time an outward appearance of
acquiescence.

Philip, therefore, consulted Renard, and Charles invited Pole to
Brussels. Renard, to whom politics were all-important, and religion
useful in its place, but inconvenient when pushed into prominence,
adhered to his old opinion. He advised the "king to write privately to
the pope, telling him that he had already so many embarrassments on
his hands that he could not afford to increase them;" "the changes
already made were insincere, and the legatine authority was odious,
not only in England, {p.159} but throughout Europe;" "the queen, on
her accession, had promised a general toleration,[376] and it was
useless to provoke irritation, when not absolutely necessary." Yet
even Renard spoke less positively than before. "If the pope would make
no more reservations on the land question--if he would volunteer a
general absolution, and submit to conditions, while he exacted
none--if he would sanction every ecclesiastical act which had been
done during the schism, the marriages and baptisms, the ordinations of
the clergy, and the new creations of episcopal sees--above all, if he
would make no demand for money under any pretence, the venture might,
perhaps, be made." But, continued Renard, "his holiness, even then,
must be cautious in his words; he must dwell as lightly as possible on
his authority, as lightly as possible on his claims to be obeyed: in
offering absolution, he must talk merely of piety and love, of the
open arms of the church, of the example of the Saviour, and such other
generalities."[377] Finally, Renard still thought the legate had
better remain abroad. The reconciliation, if it could be effected at
all, could be managed better without his irritating presence.

                   [Footnote 376: Le mandement et declaration que
                   vostre Majesté a faict publier sur le point de la
                   religion, laissant la liberté à ung chacun pour
                   tenir quelle religion l'on vouldra.--Renard to
                   Philip and Mary: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p.
                   327.]

                   [Footnote 377: Et que sa Saincteté le fonde in
                   pietate Christianâ et ecclesiasticâ quia, nunquam
                   Ecclesia claudit gremium, semper indulget exemplo
                   Salvatoris, et Evangelium semper consolatur, semper
                   remittit, et sur plusieurs aultres fondemens
                   generaulx.--Ibid. p. 326.]

Pole himself had found the emperor more gracious. Charles professed
the greatest anxiety that the papal authority should be restored. He
doubted only if the difficulties could be surmounted. Pole replied
that the obstacles were chiefly two--one respecting doctrine, on which
no concession could be made at all; the other respecting the lands, on
which his holiness would make every concession. He would ask for
nothing, he would exact nothing; he would abandon every shadow of a
claim.

If this was the case, the emperor said, all would go well.
Nevertheless, there was the reservation in the brief, and the pope,
however generous he might wish to be, was uncertain of his power. The
doctrine was of no consequence. People in England believed one
doctrine as little as another;[378] but they {p.160} hated Rome,
they hated the religious orders, they hated cardinals; and, as to the
lands, _could_ the church relinquish them?[379] Pole might believe
that she could; but the world would be more suspicious, or less easy
to convince. At all events, the dispensing powers must be clogged with
no reservations; nor could he come to any decision till he heard again
from England.

                   [Footnote 378: Perciocche quanto alla Doctrina
                   disse che poco se ne curavano questo tali non
                   credendo ne all' una ne all' altra via.--Pole to
                   the Pope, October 13: Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 379: Disse anche che essendo stati questi
                   beni dedicati a Dio non era da concedere cosi ogna
                   cosa a quelli che la tenevano.--Burnet's
                   _Collectanea_.]

The legate was almost hopeless; yet his time of triumph--such triumph
as it was--had nearly arrived. The queen's supposed pregnancy had
increased her influence; and, constant herself in the midst of general
indecision, she was able to carry her point. She would not mortify the
legate, who had suffered for his constancy to the cause of her mother,
with listening to Renard's personal objections; and when the character
of the approaching House of Commons had been ascertained, she gained
the consent of the council, a week before the beginning of the
session, to send commissioners to Brussels to see Pole and inspect his
faculties. With a conclusive understanding on the central question,
they might tell him that the hope of his life might be realised, and
that he might return to his country. But the conditions were explicit.
He must bring adequate powers with him, or his coming would be worse
than fruitless. If those which he already possessed were insufficient,
he must send them to Rome to be enlarged;[380] and although the court
would receive him as legate _de latere_, he had better enter the
country only as a cardinal and ambassador, till he could judge of the
state of things for himself.[381] On these terms the commissioners
might conduct him to the queen's presence.

                   [Footnote 380: The greatest and only means to
                   procure the agreement of the noblemen and others of
                   our council was our promise that the Pope's
                   Holiness would, at our suit, dispense with all
                   possessors of any lands or goods of monasteries,
                   colleges, or other ecclesiastical houses, to hold
                   and enjoy their said lands and goods without any
                   trouble or scruple; without which promise it had
                   been impossible to have had their consent, and
                   shall be utterly impossible to have any fruit and
                   good concord ensue. For which purpose you shall
                   earnestly pray our said cousin to use all possible
                   diligence, and say that if he have not already, he
                   may so receive authority from the See Apostolic to
                   dispense in this manner as the same, being now in
                   good towardness, may so in this Parliament take the
                   desired effect; whereof we see no likelihood except
                   it may be therewithal provided for this matter of
                   the lands and goods of the Church.--Instructions to
                   Paget and Hastings, November 5; Tytler, vol. ii. p.
                   446.]

                   [Footnote 381: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 446.]

The bearers of this communication were Lord Paget and Sir {p.161}
Edward Hastings, accompanied, it is curious to observe, by Sir William
Cecil.[382]

                   [Footnote 382: Cecil had taken no formal part in
                   Mary's government, but his handwriting can be
                   traced in many papers of State, and in the Irish
                   department he seems to have given his assistance
                   throughout the reign. In religion Cecil, like
                   Paget, was a latitudinarian. His conformity under
                   Mary has been commented upon bitterly; but there is
                   no occasion to be surprised at his conduct--no
                   occasion, when one thinks seriously of his
                   position, to blame his conduct. There were many
                   things in the Catholic creed of which Cecil
                   disapproved; and when his opportunity came, he gave
                   his effectual assistance for the abolition of them;
                   but as long as that creed was the law of the land,
                   as a citizen he paid the law the respect of
                   external obedience.

                   At present religion is no longer under the control
                   of law, and is left to the conscience. To profess
                   openly, therefore, a faith which we do not believe
                   is justly condemned as hypocrisy. But wherever
                   public law extends, personal responsibility is
                   limited. A minority is not permitted to resist the
                   decisions of the legislature on subjects in which
                   the legislature is entitled to interfere; and in
                   the sixteenth century opinion was as entirely under
                   rule and prescription as actions or things. Men may
                   do their best to improve the laws which they
                   consider unjust. They are not, under ordinary
                   circumstances, to disobey them so long as they
                   exist. However wide the basis of a government,
                   questions will ever rise between the individual and
                   the state--questions, for instance, of peace or
                   war, in which the conscience has as much a voice as
                   any other subject; where, nevertheless,
                   individuals, if they are in the minority, must
                   sacrifice their own opinions; they must contribute
                   their war taxes without resistance; if they are
                   soldiers, they must take part as combatants for a
                   cause of which they are convinced of the injustice.
                   That is to say, they must do things which it would
                   be impious and wicked in them to do, were they as
                   free in their obligations as citizens as they are
                   _now_ free in the religion which they will profess.

                   This was the view in which the mass was regarded by
                   statesmen like Cecil, and generally by many men of
                   plain straightforward understanding, who believed
                   transubstantiation as little as he. In
                   Protestantism, as a constructive theology, they had
                   as little interest as in Popery; when the
                   alternative lay between the two, they saw no reason
                   to sacrifice themselves for either.

                   It was the view of common sense. It was not the
                   view of a saint. To Latimer, also, technical
                   theology was indifferent--indifferent in proportion
                   to his piety. But he hated lies--legalised or
                   unlegalised--he could not tolerate them, and he
                   died sooner than seem to tolerate them. The
                   counsels of perfection, however, lead to conduct
                   neither possible, nor, perhaps, desirable for
                   ordinary men.]

They presented themselves to the emperor, who, after the report which
they brought with them, made no more difficulty. The enlarged powers
had been sent for three weeks before; but there was no occasion to
wait for their arrival. They might be expected in ten days or a
fortnight, and could follow the legate to England.[383]

                   [Footnote 383: Charles was particular in his
                   inquiries of Mary's prospect of a family. He spoke
                   to Sir John Mason about it, who was then the
                   resident ambassador:--

                   "Sir, quoth I," so Mason reported the conversation,
                   "I have from herself nothing to say, for she will
                   not confess the matter till it be proved to her
                   face; but by others I understand, to my great joy,
                   that her garments wax very straight. I never
                   doubted, quoth he, of the matter, but that God,
                   that for her had wrought so many miracles, would
                   make the same perfect to the assisting of nature to
                   his good and most desired work: and I warrant it
                   shall be, quoth he, a man-child. Be it man, quoth
                   I, or be it woman, welcome it shall be; for by that
                   we shall be at the least come to some certainty to
                   whom God shall appoint by succession the government
                   of our estates."--Mason to the King and Queen,
                   November 9: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 444.]

{p.162} The effect on Pole of the commissioners' arrival "there
needed not," as they said themselves, "many words to declare."[384]
His eager temperament, for ever excited either with wild hopes or
equally wild despondency, was now about to be fooled to the top of its
bent. On the pope's behalf, he promised everything; for himself, he
would come as ambassador, he would come as a private person, come in
any fashion that might do good, so only that he might come.

                   [Footnote 384: Paget and Hastings to the Queen:
                   Ibid. p. 459]

Little time was lost in preparation. Parliament met on the 12th of
November. The opening speech was read, as usual, by Gardiner, and was
well received, although it announced that further measures would be
taken for the establishment of religion, and the meaning of these
words was known to every one. The first measure brought forward was
the repeal of Pole's attainder. It passed easily without a dissentient
voice, and no obstacle of any kind remained to delay his appearance.
Only the cautious Renard suggested that Courtenay should be sent out
of the country as soon as possible, for fear the legate should take a
fancy to him; and the Prince of Savoy had been invited over to see
whether anything could be done towards arranging the marriage with
Elizabeth. Elizabeth, indeed, had protested that she had no intention
of marrying; nevertheless, Renard said, she would be disposed of, as
the emperor had advised,[385] could the queen be induced to consent.

                   [Footnote 385: Neantmoins il sera necessaire
                   achever avec elle selon l'advis de vostre
                   Majesté.--Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

England was ready therefore, and the happy legate set out from
Brussels like a lover flying to his mistress. His emotions are
reflected in the journal of an Italian friend who attended him. The
journey commenced on Tuesday, the 13th; the retinues of Paget and
Hastings, with the cardinal's household, making in all a hundred and
twenty horse. The route was by Ghent, Bruges, and Dunkirk. On the 19th
the party reached Gravelines, where, on the stream which formed the
boundary of the Pale, they were received in state by Lord Wentworth,
the Governor of Calais. In the eyes of his enthusiastic admirers the
{p.163} apostle of the church moved in an atmosphere of marvel. The
Calais bells, which rang as they entered the town, were of
preternatural sweetness. The salutes fired by the ships in the harbour
were "wonderful." The cardinal's lodging was a palace, and as an
august omen, the watchword of the garrison for the night was "God long
lost is found."[386] The morning brought a miracle. A westerly gale
had blown for many days. All night long it had howled through the
narrow streets; the waves had lashed against the piers, and the
fishermen foretold a week of storms. At daybreak the wind went down,
the clouds broke, a light air from the eastward levelled the sea, and
filled the sails of the vessel which was to bear them to England. At
noon the party went on board, and their passage was a fresh surprise.
They crossed in three hours and a half, and the distance, as it
pictured itself to imagination, was forty miles.[387] At Dover the
legate slept. The next day Lord Montague came with the Bishop of Ely,
bringing letters of congratulation from the queen and Philip, and an
intimation that he was anxiously looked for. He was again on horseback
after breakfast; and as the news of his arrival spread, respect or
curiosity rapidly swelled his train. The Earl of Huntingdon, who had
married his sister, sent his son Lord Hastings, with his tenants and
servants, as an escort. But there was no danger. Whatever might be the
feelings of the people towards the papal legate, they gave to Reginald
Pole the welcome due to an English nobleman.

                   [Footnote 386: Dio gran tempo perduto e hora
                   ritrovato.--Descriptio Reductionis Angliæ: _Epist._
                   Reg. Pol. vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 387: Imbarcatosi adunque sua S. R. ad un
                   hora di giorno, passo a Doure nell' Isola in tre
                   hore et mezza che fu camino di quaranta miglia
                   fatto con extraordinaria prestezza.--_Epist._ Reg.
                   Pol. vol. v.]

The November evening had closed in when the cavalcade entered
Canterbury. The streets were thronged, and the legate made his way
through the crowd, amidst the cries of "God save your grace." At the
door of the house--probably the archbishop's palace--where he was to
pass the night, Harpsfeld, the archdeacon, was standing to receive
him, with a number of the clergy; and with the glare of torches
lighting up the scene, Harpsfeld commenced an oration as the legate
alighted, so beautiful, so affecting, says Pole's Italian friend, that
all the hearers were moved to tears. The archdeacon spoke of the
mercies of God, and the marvellous workings of his providence. He
dwelt upon the history of the cardinal, whom God had preserved through
a thousand dangers for the salvation of his country; and, firing up at
last in a blaze of enthusiasm, he {p.164} exclaimed, "Thou art Pole,
and thou art our Polar star, to light us to the kingdom of the
heavens. Sky, rivers, earth, these disfigured walls--all things--long
for thee. While thou wert absent from us all things were sad, all
things were in the power of the adversary. At thy coming all things
are smiling, all glad, all tranquil."[388] The legate listened so far,
and then checked the flood of the adoring eloquence. "I heard you with
pleasure," he said, "while you were praising God. My own praises I do
not desire to hear. Give the glory to Him."

                   [Footnote 388: "Tu es Polus, qui aperis nobis Polum
                   regni cælorum. Aer, flumina, terra, parietes ipsi,
                   omnia denique te desiderant. Quamdiu abfuisti omnia
                   fuerunt tristia et adversa. In adventu tuo, omnia
                   rident, omnia læta, omnia tranquilla." I have
                   endeavoured to preserve the play on the word Polus,
                   altering the meaning as little as the necessities
                   of translation would allow. It has been suggested
                   to me that the word "parietes" implies properly
                   _internal_ walls, and the allusion was to the
                   defacement of the cathedral.]

From Canterbury, Richard Pate, who, as titular Bishop of Worcester,
had sat at the council of Trent, was sent forward to the queen with an
answer to her letter, and a request for further directions. The legate
himself went on leisurely to Rochester, where he was entertained by
Lord Cobham, at Cowling Castle. So far he had observed the
instructions brought to him by Paget, and had travelled as an ordinary
ecclesiastic, without distinctive splendour. On the night of the 23rd,
however, Pate returned from the court with a message that the legatine
insignia might be displayed. A fleet of barges was in waiting at
Gravesend, where Pole appeared early on the 24th; and, as a further
augury of good fortune, he found there Lord Shrewsbury, with his early
friend the Bishop of Durham, who had come to meet him with the repeal
of his attainder, to which the queen had given her assent in
parliament the day before.

To the fluttered hearts of the priestly company the coincidence of the
repeal, the informality of an act of parliament receiving the royal
assent before the close of a session, were further causes of
admiration. They embarked; and the Italians, who had never seen a
tidal river, discovered, miracle of miracles, that they were ascending
from the sea, and yet the stream was with them. The distance to London
was soon accomplished. They passed under the bridge at one o'clock on
the top of the tide, the legate's barge distinguished splendidly by
the silver cross upon the bow. In a few minutes more they were at the
palace-stairs at Whitehall, where a pier was built on arches out into
the river, and on the pier stood the Bishop of Winchester, with the
lords of the council.

{p.165} The king and queen were at dinner, the arrival not being
expected till the afternoon. Philip rose instantly from the table,
hurried out, and caught the legate in his arms. The queen followed to
the head of the grand staircase; and when Pole reached her, she threw
herself on his breast, and kissed him, crying that his coming gave her
as much joy as the possession of her kingdom. The cardinal, in
corresponding ecstasy, exclaimed, in the words of the angel to the
Virgin, "Ave Maria gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in
mulieribus."[389] The first rapturous moments over, the king, queen,
and legate proceeded along the gallery, Philip and Pole supporting
Mary on either side, and the legate expatiating on the mysteries of
Providence.

                   [Footnote 389: "Cardinalis cum reginam salutaret,
                   nec ulla humana verba occurrerent tali muliere
                   digna, Sanctis Scripturarum verbis abuti non
                   verebatur, sed in primo congressu iisdem quibus
                   matrem Dei salutavit Angelus, Reginam Polus
                   alloquitur, Ave Maria," etc.--Salkyns to Bullinger:
                   _Epistolæ_ Tigurinæ, p. 169.]

"High thanks, indeed," he exclaimed, "your majesty owes to the favour
of the Almighty, seeing that, while he permits you to bring your godly
desires to perfection, he has united at this moment in your favour the
two mightiest powers upon earth--the majesty of the emperor
represented in the king your husband, and the pope's holiness
represented in myself." The queen, as she walked, replied "in words of
sweet humility," pouring out gentle excuses for past delays. The
legate, still speaking with ecstatic metaphor, answered that it was
the will of God; God waited till the time was mature, till he could
say to her highness, "Blessed be the fruit of thy womb."[390]

                   [Footnote 390: "Il Signor Legato rispose che Dio
                   havea voluto, che fusse tardato a tempo piú maturo,
                   perchè egli havesse potuto dire a sua Altezza come
                   diceva Benedictus fructus ventris tui."--Descriptio
                   Reductionis Angliæ.]

In the saloon they remained standing together for another quarter of
an hour. When the cardinal took his leave for the day, the king; in
spite of remonstrance, re-attended him to the gate. Alva and the
Bishop of Winchester were in waiting to conduct him to Lambeth Palace,
which had been assigned him for a residence. The See of Canterbury was
to follow as soon as Cranmer could be despatched.

Arrived at Lambeth, he was left to repose after his fatigues and
excitements. He had scarcely retired to his apartments when he was
disturbed again by a message from the queen. Lord Montague had hurried
over with the news that the angelic salutation had been already
answered. "The babe had leapt {p.166} in her womb."[391] Not a
moment was lost in communicating the miracle to the world. Letters of
council were drawn out for _Te Deums_ to be sung in every church in
London. The next day being Sunday, every pulpit was made to ring with
the testimony of heaven to the truth.

                   [Footnote 391: Descriptio Reductionis Angliæ.]

On Monday the 26th the cardinal went to the palace for an audience,
and again there was more matter for congratulation. As he was
approaching the king's cabinet, Philip met him with a packet of
despatches. The last courier sent to Rome had returned with unheard-of
expedition, and the briefs and commissions in which the pope
relinquished formally his last reservations, had arrived. Never,
exclaimed the Catholic enthusiast, in a fervour of devout
astonishment--never since the days of the apostles had so many tokens
of divine approbation been showered upon a human enterprise. The
moment of its consummation had arrived.[392] Since the thing was to
be, no one wished for delay. Three days sufficed for the few necessary
preparations, and the two Houses of Parliament were invited to be
present unofficially at Whitehall on the afternoon of Wednesday the
28th. In the morning there was a procession in the city and a _Te
Deum_ at St. Paul's. After dinner, the Great Chamber was thrown open,
and the Lords and Commons crowded in as they could find room. Philip
and Mary entered, and took their seats under the cloth of state; while
Pole had a chair assigned him on their right hand, beyond the edge of
the canopy. The queen was splendidly dressed, and it was observed that
she threw out her person to make her supposed condition as conspicuous
as possible.[393] When all were in their places, the chancellor rose.

                   [Footnote 392: The queen's assurances respecting
                   her child were so emphatic, that even Noailles
                   believed her. Profane persons were still
                   incredulous. On Sunday the 25th, the day after the
                   _Te Deums_, Noailles says, "S'est trouve ung
                   placard attaché à la porte de son palais, y estant
                   ces mots en substance: 'serons nous si bestes, oh
                   nobles Angloys, que croy renotre reyne estre
                   enciente si non d'un marmot ou d'un dogue?'"]

                   [Footnote 393: Contemporary Diary: _MS. Harleian_,
                   iv. 19.]

"My Lords of the Upper House," he said, "and you my masters of the
Nether House, here is present the Right Reverend Father in God the
Lord Cardinal Pole, come from the Apostolic See of Rome as ambassador
to the king's and queen's majesties, upon one of the weightiest causes
that ever happened in this realm, and which pertaineth to the glory of
God and your universal benefit; the which embassy it is their
majesties' {p.167} pleasure that it be signified unto you all by his
own mouth, trusting that you will accept it in as benevolent and
thankful wise as their highnesses have done, and that you will give an
attent and inclinable ear to him."

The legate then left his chair and came forward. He was now fifty-four
years old, and he had passed but little of his life in England; yet
his features had not wholly lost their English character. He had the
arched eye-brow, and the delicately-cut cheek, and prominent eye of
the beautiful Plantagenet face; a long, brown, curling beard flowed
down upon his chest, which it almost covered; the mouth was weak and
slightly open, the lips were full and pouting, the expression
difficult to read. In a low voice, audible only to those who were near
him, he spoke as follows:--"My Lords all, and you that are the Commons
of this present parliament assembled, as the cause of my repair hither
hath been wisely and gravely declared by my Lord Chancellor, so,
before I enter into the particulars of my commission, I have to say
somewhat touching myself, and to give most humble and hearty thanks to
the king's and queen's majesties, and after them to you all--which of
a man exiled and banished from this commonwealth, have restored me to
be a member of the same, and of a man having no place either here or
elsewhere within this realm, have admitted me to a place where to
speak and where to be heard. This I protest unto you all, that though
I was exiled my native country, without just cause, as God knoweth,
yet the ingratitude could not pull from me the affection and desire
that I had to your profit and to do you good.

"But, leaving the rehearsal hereof, and coming more near to the matter
of my commission, I signify unto you all, that my principal travail is
for the restitution of this noble realm to the antient nobility, and
to declare unto you that the See Apostolic, from whence I come, hath a
special respect to this realm above all others; and not without cause,
seeing that God himself, as it were, by providence hath given to this
realm prerogative of nobility above others, which, to make plain unto
you, it is to be considered that this island first of all islands
received the light of Christ's religion."

Going into history for a proof of this singular proposition, the
legate said that the Britons had been converted by the See Apostolic,
"not one by one, as in other countries, as clocks increase the hours
by distinction of times," "but altogether, at once, as it were, in a
moment." The Saxons had brought back heathenism, but had again been
soon converted; and the popes {p.168} had continued to heap benefit
upon benefit on the favoured people, even making them a present of
Ireland, "which pertained to the See of Rome." The country had
prospered, and the people had been happy down to the time of the late
schism; from that unhappy day they had been overwhelmed with
calamities.

The legate dwelt in some detail on the misfortunes of the preceding
years. He then went on: "But, when all light of true religion seemed
extinct, the churches defaced, the altars overthrown, the ministers
corrupted, even like as in a lamp, the light being covered yet it is
not quenched--even so in a few remained the confession of Christ's
faith, namely, in the breast of the queen's excellency, of whom to
speak without adulation, the saying of the prophet may be verified,
_ecce quasi derelicta_: and see how miraculously God of his goodness
preserved her highness contrary to the expectations of men, that when
numbers conspired against her, and policies were devised to disinherit
her, and armed power prepared to destroy her, yet she, being a virgin,
helpless, naked, and unarmed, prevailed, and had the victory of
tyrants. For all these practices and devices, here you see her grace
established in her estate, your lawful queen and governess, born among
you, whom God hath appointed to govern you for the restitution of true
religion and the extirpation of all errors and sects. And to confirm
her grace more strongly in this enterprise, lo how the providence of
God hath joined her in marriage with a prince of like religion, who,
being a king of great might, armour, and force, yet useth towards you
neither armour nor force, but seeketh you by way of love and amity;
and as it was a singular favour of God to conjoin them in marriage, so
it is not to be doubted but he shall send them issue for the comfort
and surety of this commonwealth.

"Of all princes in Europe the emperor hath travailed most in the cause
of religion, yet, haply by some secret judgment of God, he hath not
obtained the end. I can well compare him to David, which, though he
were a man elect of God, yet for that he was contaminate with blood
and wars, he could not build the temple of Jerusalem, but left the
finishing thereof to Solomon, who was _Rex pacificus_. So it may be
thought that the appeasing of controversies of religion in Christendom
is not appointed to this emperor, but rather to his son; who shall
perform the building that his father had begun, which church cannot be
builded unless universally in all realms we adhere to one head, and do
acknowledge him to be the vicar of God, and to have power from
above--for {p.169} all power is of God, according to the saying,
_non est potestas nisi in Deo_.

"All power being of God, he hath derived that power into two parts
here on earth, which is into the powers imperial and ecclesiastical;
and these two powers, as they be several and distinct, so have they
two several effects and operations. Secular princes be ministers of
God to execute vengeance upon transgressors and evil livers, and to
preserve the well-doers and innocents from injury and violence; and
this power is represented in these two most excellent persons the
king's and queen's majesties here present. The other power is of
ministration, which is the power of keys and orders in the
ecclesiastical state; which is by the authority of God's word and
example of the apostles, and of all holy fathers from Christ hitherto
attributed and given to the Apostolic See of Rome by special
prerogative: from which See I am here deputed legate and ambassador,
having full and ample commission from thence, and have the keys
committed to my hands. I confess to you that I have the keys--not as
mine own keys, but as the keys of Him that sent me; and yet cannot I
open, not for want of power in me to give, but for certain impediments
in you to receive, which must be taken away before my commission can
take effect. This I protest before you, my commission is not of
prejudice to any person. I am come not to destroy, but to build; I
come to reconcile, not to condemn; I am not come to compel, but to
call again; I am not come to call anything in question already done;
but my commission is of grace and clemency to such as will receive
it--for, touching all matters that be past, they shall be as things
cast into the sea of forgetfulness.

"But the mean whereby you shall receive this benefit is to revoke and
repeal those laws and statutes which be impediments, blocks, and bars
to the execution of my commission. For, like as I myself had neither
place nor voice to speak here amongst you, but was in all respects a
banished man, till such time as ye had repealed those laws that lay in
my way, even so cannot you receive the benefit and grace offered from
the Apostolic See until the abrogation of such laws whereby you had
disjoined and dissevered yourselves from the unity of Christ's Church.

"It remaineth, therefore, that you, like true Christians and provident
men, for the weal of your souls and bodies, ponder what is to be done
in this so weighty a cause, and so to frame your acts and proceedings
as they may first tend to the glory of {p.170} God, and, next, to
the conservation of your commonwealth, surety, and quietness."

The speech was listened to by such as could hear it with profound
attention, and several persons were observed to clasp their hands
again and again, and raise them convulsively before their faces. When
the legate sat down, Gardiner gave him the thanks of parliament, and
suggested that the two Houses should be left to themselves to consider
what they would do. Pole withdrew with the king and queen, and
Gardiner exclaimed: A prophet has "the Lord raised up among us from
among our brethren, and he shall save us." For the benefit of those
who had been at the further end of the hall, he then recapitulated the
substance of what had been said. He added a few words of exhortation,
and the meeting adjourned.

The next day, Thursday, Lords and Commons sat as usual at Westminster.
The repeal of all the acts which directly, or by implication, were
aimed at the papacy, would occupy, it was found, a considerable time;
but the impatient legate was ready to accept a promise as a pledge of
performance, and the general question was therefore put severally in
both Houses whether the country should return to obedience to the
Apostolic See. Among the Peers no difficulty was made at all. Among
the Commons, in a house of 360, there were two dissentients--one,
whose name is not mentioned, gave a silent negative vote; the other,
Sir Ralph Bagenall, stood up alone to protest. Twenty years, he said,
"that great and worthy prince, King Henry," laboured to expel the pope
from England. He for one had "sworn to King Henry's laws," and, "he
would keep his oath."[394]

                   [Footnote 394: The writer of the Italian
                   "Description" says that Bagenall gave way the next
                   day. The contemporary narrative among the _Harleian
                   MSS._ says that he persisted, and refused to kneel
                   at the absolution.]

But Bagenall was listened to with smiles. The resolution passed, the
very ease and unanimity betraying the hollow ground on which it
rested; and, again, devout Catholics beheld the evident work of
supernatural agency. Lords and Commons had received separately the
same proposition; they had discussed it, voted on it, and come to a
conclusion, each with closed doors, and the messengers of the two
Houses encountered each other on their way to communicate their
several decisions.[395] The chancellor arranged with Pole the forms
which should be {p.171} observed, and it was agreed that the Houses
should present a joint petition to the king and queen, acknowledging
their past misconduct, engaging to undo the anti-papal legislation,
and entreating their majesties, as undefiled with the offences which
tainted the body of the nation, to intercede for the removal of the
interdict. A committee of Lords and Commons sate to consider the words
in which the supplication should be expressed, and all preparations
were completed by the evening.

                   [Footnote 395: "Mentre la casa alta mandava a far
                   sapere la sua conclusione alla casa bassa, la casa
                   bassa mandava anch' ella per fare intendere il
                   medesimo alla casa alta, sicchè i messi s'
                   incontrarono per via; segno evidentissimo che lo
                   Spirito di Dio lavorava in amendue i luoghi in un
                   tempo i di una medesima conformita."--Descriptio
                   Reductionis Angliæ.]

And now St. Andrew's Day was come; a day, as was then hoped, which
would be remembered with awe and gratitude through all ages of English
history. Being the festival of the institution of the Order of the
Golden Fleece, high mass was sung in the morning in Westminster Abbey;
Philip, Alva, and Ruy Gomez attended in their robes, with six hundred
Spanish cavaliers. The Knights of the Garter were present in gorgeous
costume, and nave and transept were thronged with the blended chivalry
of England and Castile. It was two o'clock before the service was
concluded. Philip returned to the palace to dinner, and the brief
November afternoon was drawing in when the parliament reassembled at
the palace. At the upper end of the great hall a square platform had
now been raised several steps above the floor, on which three chairs
were placed as before; two under a canopy of cloth of gold, for the
king and queen; a third on the right, removed a little distance from
them, for the legate. Below the platform, benches were placed
longitudinally towards either wall. The bishops sat on the side of the
legate, the lay peers opposite them on the left. The Commons sat on
rows of cross benches in front, and beyond them were the miscellaneous
crowd of spectators, sitting or standing as they could find room. The
cardinal, who had passed the morning at Lambeth, was conducted across
the water in a state barge by Lord Arundel and six other peers. The
king received him at the gate, and, leaving his suite in the care of
the Duke of Alva, who was instructed to find them places, he
accompanied Philip into the room adjoining the hall, where Mary, whose
situation was supposed to prevent her from unnecessary exertion, was
waiting for them. The royal procession was formed. Arundel and the
Lords passed in to their places. The king and queen, with Pole in his
legate's robes, ascended the steps of the platform, and took their
seats.

When the stir which had been caused by their entrance was over,
Gardiner mounted a tribune; and in the now fast-waning light he bowed
to the king and queen, and declared the resolution {p.172} at which
the Houses had arrived. Then turning to the Lords and Commons, he
asked if they continued in the same mind. Four hundred voices
answered, "We do." "Will you then," he said, "that I proceed in your
names to supplicate for our absolution, that we may be received again
into the body of the Holy Catholic Church, under the pope, the supreme
head thereof?" Again the voices assented. The chancellor drew a scroll
from under his robe, ascended the platform, and presented it unfolded
on his knee to the queen. The queen looked through it, gave it to
Philip, who looked through it also, and returned it. The chancellor
then rose and read aloud as follows:--

"We, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons of the present
parliament assembled, representing the whole body of the realm of
England, and dominions of the same, in our own names particularly, and
also of the said body universally, in this our supplication directed
to your majesties--with most humble suit that it may by your gracious
intercession and means be exhibited to the Most Reverend Father in God
the Lord Cardinal Pole, Legate, sent specially hither from our Most
Holy Father Pope Julius the Third and the See Apostolic of Rome--do
declare ourselves very sorry and repentant for the schism and
disobedience committed in this realm and dominions of the same,
against the said See Apostolic, either by making, agreeing, or
executing any laws, ordinances, or commandments against the supremacy
of the said See, or otherwise doing or speaking what might impugn the
same; offering ourselves, and promising by this our supplication that,
for a token and knowledge of our said repentance, we be, and shall be
always, ready, under and with the authority of your majesties, to do
that which shall be in us for the abrogation and repealing of the said
laws and ordinances in this present parliament, as well for ourselves
as for the whole body whom we represent. Whereupon we most humbly
beseech your majesties, as persons undefiled in the offences of this
body towards the Holy See--which nevertheless God by his providence
hath made subject to your majesties--so to set forth this, our most
humble suit, that we may obtain from the See Apostolic, by the said
Most Reverend Father, as well particularly as universally, absolution,
release, and discharge from all danger of such censures and sentences
as by the laws of the church we be fallen in; and that we may, as
children repentant, be received into the bosom and unity of Christ's
Church; so as this noble realm, with all the members {p.173}
thereof, may, in unity and perfect obedience to the See Apostolic and
pope for the time being, serve God and your majesties, to the
furtherance and advancement of his honour and glory."[396]

                   [Footnote 396: Foxe, vol. vi. p. 571. The petition
                   was in Latin; but, as I have nowhere seen the
                   original, I have not ventured to interfere with
                   Foxe's translation. Foxe, who could translate very
                   idiomatically when he pleased, perhaps relieved his
                   indignation on the present occasion by translating
                   as awkwardly as possible.]

Having completed the reading, the chancellor again presented the
petition. The king and queen went through the forms of intercession,
and a secretary read aloud, first, the legate's original commission,
and, next, the all-important extended form of it.

Pole's share of the ceremony was now to begin.

He first spoke a few words from his seat: "Much indeed," he said, "the
English nation had to thank the Almighty for recalling them to his
fold. Once again God had given a token of his special favour to the
realm; for as this nation, in the time of the Primitive Church, was
the first to be called out of the darkness of heathenism, so now they
were the first to whom God had given grace to repent of their schism;
and if their repentance was sincere, how would the angels, who rejoice
at the conversion of a single sinner, triumph at the recovery of a
great and noble people."

He moved to rise; Mary and Philip, seeing that the crisis was
approaching, fell on their knees, and the assembly dropped at their
example; while, in dead silence, across the dimly-lighted hall, came
the low, awful words of the absolution.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ, which with his most precious blood hath
redeemed and washed us from all our sins and iniquities, that he might
purchase unto himself a glorious spouse without spot or wrinkle, whom
the Father hath appointed head over all his Church--he by his mercy
absolves you, and we, by apostolic authority given unto us by the Most
Holy Lord Pope Julius the Third, his vicegerent on earth, do absolve
and deliver you, and every of you, with this whole realm and the
dominions thereof, from all heresy and schism, and from all and every
judgment, censure, and pain for that cause incurred; and we do restore
you again into the unity of our Mother the Holy Church, in the name of
the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

Amidst the hushed breathing every tone was audible, and at the pauses
were heard the smothered sobs of the queen. "Amen, amen," rose in
answer from many voices. Some were really affected; some were caught
for the moment with a contagion which it was hard to resist; some
threw themselves weeping in {p.174} each other's arms. King, queen,
and parliament, rising from their knees, went immediately--the legate
leading--into the chapel of the palace, where the choir, with the
rolling organ, sang _Te Deum_; and Pole closed the scene with a
benediction from the altar.

"Blessed day for England," cries the Italian describer, in a rapture
of devotion. "The people exclaim in ecstasies, we are reconciled to
God, we are brought back to God: the king beholds his realm, so lately
torn by divisions, at the mercy of the first enemy who would seize
upon it, secured on a foundation which never can be shaken: and who
can express the joy--who can tell the exultation of the queen? She has
shown herself the handmaid of the Lord, and all generations shall call
her blessed: she has given her kingdom to God as a thank-offering for
those great mercies which He has bestowed upon her."[397]

                   [Footnote 397: Descriptio Reductionis Angliæ:
                   _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol. v.]

And the legate; but the legate has described his emotions in his own
inimitable manner. Pole went back to Lambeth, not to rest, but to pour
out his soul to the Holy Father.

In his last letter he said "he had told his holiness that he had hoped
that England would be recovered to the fold at last; yet he had then
some fears remaining, so far estranged were the minds of the people
from the Holy See, lest at the last moment some compromise might ruin
all."

But the godly forwardness of the king and queen had overcome every
difficulty; and on that evening, the day of St. Andrew--of Andrew who
first brought his brother Peter to Christ--the realm of England had
been brought back to its obedience to Peter's See, and through Peter
to Christ. The great act had been accomplished, accomplished by the
virtue and the labour of the inestimable sovereigns with whom God had
blessed the world.

"And oh," he said, "how many things, how great things, may the church
our mother, the bride of Christ, promise herself from these her
children? Oh piety! oh antient faith! Whoever looks on them will
repeat the words of the prophet of the church's early offspring; 'This
is the seed which the Lord hath blessed.' How earnestly, how lovingly,
did your holiness favour their marriage; a marriage formed after the
very pattern of that of our Most High King, who, being Heir of the
world, was sent down by his Father from his royal throne, to be at
once the Spouse and the Son of the Virgin Mary, and be made the
Comforter and the Saviour of mankind: and, in like manner, the
greatest {p.175} of all the princes upon earth, the heir of his
father's kingdom, departed from his own broad and happy realms, that
he might come hither into this land of trouble, he, too, to be spouse
and son of this virgin; for, indeed, though spouse he be, he so bears
himself towards her as if he were her son, to aid in the
reconciliation of this people to Christ and the church.[398]

                   [Footnote 398: This amazing comparison (for one
                   cannot forget what Philip had been, was, and was to
                   be) must be given in the original words of the
                   legate:

                   "Quam sancte sanctitas vestra omni auctoritate
                   studioque huic matrimonio favit; quod sane videtur
                   præ se ferre magnam summi illius regis
                   similitudinem, qui mundi hæres a regalibus sedibus
                   a patre demissus fuit, ut esset virginis sponsus et
                   filius, et hâc ratione universum genus humanum
                   consolaretur ac servaret. Sic enim hic rex maximus
                   omnium qui in terris sunt hæres, patriis relictis
                   regnis de illis quidem amplissimis ac felicissimis
                   in hoc turbulentum regnum de contulit, hujusque
                   virginis sponsus et filius est factus; ita enim
                   erga illam se gerit tanquam filius esset cum sit
                   sponsus, ut quod jam plane perfecit sequestrem se
                   atque adjutorem ad reconciliandos Christo et
                   Ecclesiæ hos populos præberet."--Pole to the Pope:
                   _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol. v.]

"When your holiness first chose me as your legate, the queen was
rising up as a rod of incense out of trees of myrrh, and as
frankincense out of the desert. And how does she now shine out in
loveliness? What a savour does she give forth unto her people. Yea,
even as the prophet saith of the mother of Christ, "before she was in
labour she brought forth, before she was delivered she hath borne a
man-child." Who ever yet hath seen it, who has heard of the similitude
of it? Shall the earth bring forth in a day, or shall a nation of men
be born together? but Mary has brought forth the nation of England
before the time of that delivery for which we all are hoping!"

Unable to exhaust itself in words, the Catholic enthusiasm flowed over
in processions, in sermons, masses, and _Te Deums_. Gardiner at Paul's
Cross, on the Sunday succeeding, confessed his sins in having borne a
part in bringing about the schism. Pole rode through the city between
the king and queen, with his legate's cross before him, blessing the
people. When the news reached Rome Julius first embraced the
messenger, then flung himself on his knees, and said a Paternoster.
The guns at St. Angelo roared in triumph. There were jubilees and
masses of the Holy Ghost, and bonfires, and illuminations, and
pardons, and indulgences. In the exuberance of his hopes, the pope
sent a nuncio to urge that, in the presence of this great mercy, peace
should be made with France, where the king was devoted to the church;
the Catholic powers would then have the command of Europe, and the
heretics could be destroyed.[399] One thing only {p.176} seemed
forgotten, that the transaction was a bargain. The papal pardon had
been thrust upon criminals, whose hearts were so culpably indifferent
that it was necessary to bribe them to accept it; and the conditions
of the compromise, even yet, were far from concluded.

                   [Footnote 399: Pallavicino.]

The sanction given to the secularisation of church property was a
cruel disappointment to the clergy, who cared little for Rome, but
cared much for wealth and power. Supported by a party in the House of
Commons who had not shared in the plunder, and who envied those who
had been more fortunate,[400] the ecclesiastical faction began to
agitate for a reconsideration of the question. Their friends in
parliament said that the dispensation was unnecessary. Every man's
conscience ought to be his guide whether to keep his lands or
surrender them. The queen was known to hold the same opinion, and
eager preachers began to sound the note of restitution.[401] Growing
bolder, the Lower House of Convocation presented the bishops
immediately after with a series of remarkable requests. The pope, in
the terms on which he was reinstated, was but an ornamental unreality;
and the practical English clergy desired substantial restorations
which their eyes could see and their hands could handle.

                   [Footnote 400: Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv.]

                   [Footnote 401: "It was this morning told me by one
                   of the Emperor's council, who misliked much the
                   matter, that a preacher of ours whose name he
                   rehearsed, beateth the pulpit jollily in England
                   for a restitution of abbey lands. It is a strange
                   thing in a well-ordered commonwealth that a subject
                   should be so hardy to cry unto the people openly
                   such learning, whereby your winter work may in the
                   summer be attempted with some storm. These
                   unbridled preachings were so much misliked in the
                   ill-governed time as men trusted in this good
                   governance it should have been amended; and so may
                   it be when it shall please my Lords of the Council
                   as diligently to consider it, as it is more than
                   necessary to be looked unto. The party methinketh
                   might well be put to silence, if he were asked now,
                   being a monk, and having professed and vowed
                   solemnly wilful poverty, he can with conscience
                   keep a deanery and three or four benefices."--Mason
                   to Petre: _MS. Germany_, bundle 16, _Mary_, State
                   Paper Office. It is not clear who the offender was.
                   Perhaps it was Weston, Dean of Westminster and
                   Prolocutor of Convocation.]

They demanded, therefore, first, that if a statute was brought into
parliament for the assurance of the church estates to the present
possessors, nothing should be allowed to pass prejudicial to their
claims "on lands, tenements, pensions, or tythe rents, which had
appertained to bishops, or other ecclesiastical persons."

They demanded, secondly, the repeal of the Statute of Mortmain, and
afterwards the abolition of lay impropriations, the {p.177}
punishment of heretics, the destruction of all the English
Prayer-books and Bibles, the revival of the act _De Hæretico
Comburendo_, the re-establishment of the episcopal courts, the
restoration of the legislative functions of Convocation, and the
exemption of the clergy from the authority of secular magistrates.

Finally, they required that the church should be restored absolutely
to its ancient rights, immunities, and privileges; that no Premunire
should issue against a bishop until he had first received notice and
warning; that the judges should define "a special doctrine of
Premunire," and that the Statutes of Provisors should not be wrested
from their meaning.[402]

                   [Footnote 402: Demands of the Lower House of
                   Convocation, December, 1554; printed in Wilkins's
                   _Concilia_.]

The petition expressed the views of Gardiner, and was probably drawn
under his direction. Had the alienated property been no more than the
estates of the suppressed abbeys, the secular clergy would have
acquiesced without difficulty in the existing disposition of it. But
the benefices impropriated to the abbeys which had been sold or
granted with the lands, they looked on as their own; the cathedral
chapters and the bishops' sees, which had suffered from the second
locust flight under Edward, formed part of the local Anglican Church:
and Gardiner and his brother prelates declared that, if the pope chose
to set aside the canons, and permit the robbing of the religious
orders, he might do as he pleased; but that he had neither right nor
powers to sanction the spoliation of the working bishops and clergy.
Thus the feast of reconciliation having been duly celebrated, both
Houses of Parliament became again the theatre of fierce and fiery
conflict.

There were wide varieties of opinion. The lawyers went beyond the
clergy in limiting the powers of the pope; the lawyers also said the
pope had no rights over the temporalities of bishops or abbots, deans,
or rectors; but they did not any more admit the rights of the clergy.
The English clergy, regular and secular, they said, had held their
estates from immemorial time under the English crown, and it was not
for any spiritual authority, domestic or foreign, to decide whether an
English king and an English parliament might interfere to alter the
disposition of those estates.

On other questions the clerical party were in the ascendant; They had
a decided majority in the House of Commons; in the Upper House there
was a compact body of twenty bishops; and Gardiner held the proxies of
Lord Rich, Lord Oxford, Lord {p.178} Westmoreland, and Lord
Abergavenny. The queen had created four new peers; three of whom, Lord
North, Lord Chandos, and Lord Williams, were bigoted Catholics; the
fourth, Lord Howard, was absent with the fleet, and was unrepresented.
Lord North held the proxy of Lord Worcester; and the Marquis of
Winchester, Lord Montague, and Lord Stourton acted generally with the
chancellor. Lord Russell was keeping out of the way, being suspected
of heresy; Wentworth was at Calais; Grey was at Guisnes; and the
proxies of the two last noblemen, which in the late parliament were
held by Arundel and Paget, were, for some unknown reason, now held by
no one. Thus, in a house of seventy-three members only, reduced to
sixty-nine by the absence of Howard, Russell, Wentworth, and Grey,
Gardiner had thirty-one votes whom he might count upon as certain; he
knew his power, and at once made fatal use of it.

For two parliaments the liberal party had prevented him from
recovering the power of persecution. He did not attempt to pass the
Inquisitorial Act on which he was defeated in the last session. But
the act to revive the Lollard Statutes was carried through the House
of Commons in the second week in December; on the 15th it was brought
up to the Lords; and although those who had before fought the battle
of humanity, struggled again bravely in the same cause, this time
their numbers were too small; they failed, and the lives of the
Protestants were in their enemies' hands.[403] Simultaneously Gardiner
obtained for the bishops' courts their long-coveted privilege of
arbitrary arrest and discretionary punishment, and the clergy
obtained, as they desired, the restoration of their legislative
powers. The property question alone disintegrated the phalanx of
orthodoxy, and left an opening for the principles of liberty to assert
themselves. The faithful and the faithless among the laity were alike
participators in church plunder, and were alike nervously sensitive
when the current of the reaction ran in the direction of a demand for
restitution.

                   [Footnote 403: "La chambre haulte y faict
                   difficulté pour ce que l'auctorité et jurisdiction
                   des evesques est autorizée et renouvellée, et que
                   le peine semble trop griefve. Mais l'on tient
                   qu'ilz s'accorderont par la pluralité."--Renard to
                   the Emperor, December 21: _Granvelle Papers_, vol.
                   iv.]

Here, therefore, Paget and his friends chose their ground to maintain
the fight.

It has been seen that Pole especially dreaded the appearance of any
sort of composition between the country and the papacy. The submission
had, in fact, been purchased, but the purchase ought to be disguised.
As soon, therefore, as the parliament {p.179} set themselves to the
fulfilment of their promise to undo the acts by which England had
separated itself from Rome, the legate required a simple statute of
repeal. The pope had granted a dispensation; it was enough, and it
should be accepted gratefully: the penitence of sinners ought not to
be mixed with questions of worldly interest; the returning prodigal,
when asking pardon at his father's feet, had made no conditions; the
English nation must not disfigure their obedience by alluding, in the
terms of it, to the pope's benevolence to them.

The holders of the property, on the other hand, thinking more of the
reality than the form, were determined that the Act of Repeal should
contain, as nearly as possible, a true statement of their case. They
_had_ made conditions, and those conditions had been reluctantly
complied with; and, to prevent future errors, the nature of the
compact ought to be explained with the utmost distinctness. They had
replaced the bishops in authority, and the bishops might be made use
of at some future time, indirectly or directly, to disturb the
settlement. A fresh pontiff might refuse to recognise the concessions
of his predecessors. The papal supremacy, the secularisation of the
church property, and the authority of the episcopal courts should,
therefore, be interwoven inextricably to stand or fall together; and
as the lawyers denied the authority of the Holy See to pronounce upon
the matter at all, the legal opinion might be embodied also as a
further security.

After a week of violent discussion, the lay interest in the House of
Lords found itself the strongest. Pole exclaimed that, if the
submission and the dispensation were tied together, it was a
simoniacal compact; the pope's holiness was bought and sold for a
price, he said, and he would sooner go back to Rome, and leave his
work unfinished, than consent to an act so derogatory to the Holy See.
But the protest was vain; if the legate was so anxious, his anxiety
was an additional reason why the opposition should persevere; if he
chose to go, his departure could be endured.[404]

                   [Footnote 404: "Le parlement faict instance que, en
                   statut de la dicte obedience la dicte dispense soit
                   inserée, ce que le dict cardinal ne veult admettre,
                   à ce que ne semble la dicte obedience avoir este
                   rachetée; et est passée si avant la dicte
                   difficulté que le dict cardinal a déclaré qu'il
                   retourneroit plutôt à Rome et delaisseront la chose
                   imparfaite que consentir à chose contre l'auctorité
                   dudict S. Siége, et de si grande
                   préjudice."--Renard to the Emperor, December:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

So keen was the debate that there was not so much as a Christmas
recess. Christmas Day was kept as a holyday. On {p.180} the 26th the
struggle began again, and, fortunately, clouds had risen between the
House of Commons and the court. Finding more difficulty than he
expected in embroiling England with France, Philip, to feel the temper
of the people, induced one of the peers to carry a note to the Lower
House to request an opinion whether it was not the duty of a son to
assist his father. An answer was instantly returned that the question
had been already disposed of by the late parliament in the marriage
treaty, and the further discussion of it was unnecessary.[405]
Secretary Bourne, at the instigation of Gardiner, proposed to revive
the claims on the pensions; but he met with no better reception. And
the court made a further blunder. Mary had become so accustomed to
success, that she assured herself she could obtain all that she
desired. The object of the court was to secure the regency for Philip,
with full sovereign powers, should she die leaving a child; should she
die childless, to make him her successor. The first step would be
Philip's coronation, which had been long talked of, and which the
House of Commons was now desired to sanction. The House of Commons
returned a unanimous refusal.[406]

                   [Footnote 405: "Ces jours passez, il y eust ung
                   personnaige de la haulte chambre, auquel il sembla
                   pour ne perdre temps debvoir porter, (comme il
                   fist) un billette à la basse par laquelle il
                   mettait en advant s'il n'estoit pas raisonnable que
                   le filz secourust le père, voullant dire de ce roy
                   a l'Empereur. Ce qui fut si bien recueilly du tiers
                   estat, si promptment et avecques grande raison
                   respondu, comme par le dernier parlement et le
                   traité de mariaige d'entre ce roy et royne cela
                   avoit esté et estoit tellement considéré, qu'il
                   n'estoit plus besoing mettre telles choses en
                   advant pour les faire entrer à la
                   guerre."--Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv. p. 76.]

                   [Footnote 406: "Je vous puis dire, Sire, que toutes
                   ces choses ont passé bien loing de l'espérance
                   qu'il avoit, puisqu'il s'attendoit de se faire
                   couronner, comme despuis six jours il en avoit
                   particulièrement faict rechercher ceulx de la basse
                   chambre dudict parlement qui luy out tous d'une
                   voix rejetté."--Noailles to the King of France:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv. p. 137.]

The effects of these cross influences on the papal statute, though
they cannot be traced in detail, must have been not inconsiderable. At
length, on the 4th of January, after passing backwards and forwards
for a fortnight between the two Houses, the Great Bill, as it was
called, emerged, finished, in the form of a petition to the crown:--

"Whereas," so runs the preamble,[407] "since the 20th year of King
Henry VIII., of famous memory, much false and erroneous doctrine hath
been taught, preached, and written, partly by divers natural-born
subjects of this realm, and partly being brought in hither from sundry
foreign countries, hath been sown {p.181} and spread abroad within
the same--by reason whereof as well the spiritualty as the temporalty
of your highness's realm and dominions have swerved from the obedience
of the See Apostolic, and declined from the unity of Christ's Church,
and so have continued until such time as--your majesty being first
raised up by God, and set in the seat royal over us, and then by his
divine and gracious Providence knit in marriage with the most noble
and virtuous prince the king our sovereign lord your husband--the
pope's holiness and the See Apostolic sent hither unto your majesties,
as unto persons undefiled, and by God's goodness preserved from the
common infection aforesaid, and to the whole realm, the Most Reverend
Father in God the Lord Cardinal Pole, Legate _de Latere_, to call us
again into the right way, from which we have all this long while
wandered and strayed; and we, after sundry and long plagues and
calamities, seeing, by the goodness of God, our own errours, have
knowledged the same unto the said Most Reverend Father, and by him
have been and are (the rather at the contemplation of your majesties)
received and embraced into the unity of Christ's Church, upon our
humble submission, and promise made for a declaration of our
repentance to repeal and abrogate such acts and statutes as had been
made in parliament since the said 20th year of the said King Henry
VIII., against the supremacy of the See Apostolic, as in our
submission exhibited to the said most Reverend Father in God, by your
majesties appeareth--it may like your majesty, for the accomplishment
of our promise, that all such laws be repealed. That is to say:--

                   [Footnote 407: 1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8.]

"The Act against obtaining Dispensations from Rome for Pluralities and
non-Residence.[408]

                   [Footnote 408: 21 Henry VIII. cap. 13.]

"The Act that no person shall be cited out of the Diocese where he or
she dwelleth.[409]

                   [Footnote 409: 23 Henry VIII. cap. 9.]

"The Act against Appeals to the See of Rome.[410]

                   [Footnote 410: 24 Henry VIII. cap. 12.]

"The Act against the Payment of Annates and First-fruits to the See of
Rome.[411]

                   [Footnote 411: 23 Henry VIII. cap. 20. The Act was
                   repealed, but the annates were not restored.]

"The Act for the Submission of the Clergy.[412]

                   [Footnote 412: 25 Henry VIII. cap. 19.]

"The Act for the Election and Consecration of Bishops.[413]

                   [Footnote 413: 25 Henry VIII. cap. 20.]

"The Act against Exactions from the See of Rome.[414]

                   [Footnote 414: 25 Henry VIII. cap. 21.]

"The Act of the Royal Supremacy.[415]

                   [Footnote 415: 26 Henry VIII. cap. 1.]

{p.182} "The Act for the Consecration of Suffragan Bishops.[416]

                   [Footnote 416: 26 Henry VIII. cap. 14.]

"The Act for the Reform of the Canon Law.[417]

                   [Footnote 417: 27 Henry VIII. cap. 15.]

"The Act against the Authority of the Pope.[418]

                   [Footnote 418: 28 Henry VIII. cap. 10.]

"The Act for the Release of those who had obtained Dispensations from
Rome.[419]

                   [Footnote 419: 28 Henry VIII. cap. 16.]

"The Act authorising the King to appoint Bishops by Letters
Patent.[420]

                   [Footnote 420: 31 Henry VIII. cap. 9.]

The Act of Precontracts and Degrees of Consanguinity.[421]

                   [Footnote 421: 33 Henry VIII. cap. 38.]

The Act for the King's Style.[422]

                   [Footnote 422: 35 Henry VIII. cap. 3.]

The Act permitting the Marriage of Doctors of Civil Law."[423]

                   [Footnote 423: 37 Henry VIII. cap. 17.]

In the repeal of these statutes the entire ecclesiastical legislation
of Henry VIII. was swept away; and, so far as a majority in a single
parliament could affect them, the work was done absolutely and with
clean completeness.

But there remained two other acts collaterally and accidentally
affecting the See of Rome; for the repeal of which the court was no
less anxious than for the repeal of the Act of Supremacy, where the
parliament were not so complaisant.

Throughout the whole reaction under Mary there was one point on which
the laity never wavered. Attempts such as that which has been just
mentioned were made incessantly, directly or indirectly, to alter the
succession and cut off Elizabeth. They were like the fretful and
profitless chafings of waves upon a rock. The two acts on which
Elizabeth's claims were rested[424] touched, in one or other of their
clauses, the papal prerogative, and were included in the list to be
condemned. But, of these acts, "so much only" as affected the See of
Rome was repealed. The rest was studiously declared to continue in
force.

                   [Footnote 424: 28 Henry VIII. cap. 7; 35 Henry
                   VIII. cap. 1.]

Yet, with this reservation, the parliament had gone far in their
concessions, and it remained for them to secure their equivalent.

They reinstated the bishops, but, in giving back a power which had
been so much abused, they took care to protect--not, alas! the
innocent lives which were about to be sacrificed--but their own
interests. The bishops and clergy of the Province of Canterbury having
been made to state their case and their claims, in a petition to the
crown, they were then compelled formally to relinquish those claims;
and the petition and the relinquishment were embodied in the act as
the condition of the {p.183} restoration of the authority of the
church courts.[425] In continuation, the Lords and Commons desired
that, for the removal "of all occasion of contention, suspicion, and
trouble, both outwardly and inwardly, in men's conscience," the pope's
holiness, as represented by the legate, "by dispensation, toleration,
or permission, as the case required," would recognise all such
foundations of colleges, hospitals, cathedrals, churches, schools, or
bishoprics as had been established during the schism, would confirm
the validity of all ecclesiastical acts which had been performed
during the same period; and, finally, would consent that all property,
of whatever kind, taken from the church, should remain to its present
possessors--"so as all persons having sufficient conveyance of the
said lands, goods, and chattels by the common laws, or acts, or
statutes of the realm, might, without scruple of conscience, enjoy
them without impeachment or trouble, by pretence of any general
council, canon, or ecclesiastical law, and clear from all dangers of
the censures of the church." The petitions, both of clergy and
parliament, the act went on to say, had been considered by the
cardinal; and the cardinal had acquiesced. He had undertaken, in the
pope's name, that the possessors of either lands or goods should never
be molested either then or in time to come, in virtue of any papal
decree, or canon, or council; that if any attempt should be made by
any bishop or other ecclesiastic to employ the spiritual weapons of
the church to extort restitution, such act or acts were declared vain
and of none effect. The dispensation was pronounced, nor could the
legate's protests avail to prevent it from appearing in the act. He
was permitted, only in consideration of the sacrifice, to interweave
amidst the legal technicalities some portion of his own feeling. The
impious detainers of holy things, while permitted to maintain their
iniquity, were reminded of the fate of Belshazzar, and were urged to
restore {p.184} the patines, chalices, and ornaments of the altars.
The impropriators of benefices were implored, in the mercy of Christ,
to remember the souls of the people, and provide for the decent
performance of the services of the churches.[426]

                   [Footnote 425: "Albeit, by the laws of the Church,
                   the bishops and clergy were the defenders and
                   protectors of all ecclesiastical rights, and would
                   therefore in nature be bound to use their best
                   endeavours for the recovery of the lands and goods
                   lost to the Church during the late schism, they,
                   nevertheless, perceiving the tenures of those lands
                   and goods were now complicated beyond power of
                   extrication, and that the attempt to recover them
                   might promote disaffection in the realm, and cause
                   the overthrow of the present happy settlement of
                   religion, preferring public peace to private
                   commodity, and the salvation of souls to worldly
                   possessions, did consent that the present
                   disposition of those lands and goods should remain
                   undisturbed. They besought their Majesties to
                   intercede with the legate for his consent, and, for
                   themselves, they requested, in return, that the
                   lawful jurisdiction of the Church might be
                   restored."--1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8, sec.
                   31.]

                   [Footnote 426: "Et licet omnes res mobiles
                   ecclesiarum indistincte iis qui eas tenent
                   relaxaverimus, eos tamen admonitos esse volumus ut
                   ante oculos habentes divini judicii severitatem
                   contra Balthazarem Regem Babylonis, qui vasa sacra
                   non a se sed a patre a templo ablata in profanos
                   usus convertit, ea propriis ecclesiis si extant vel
                   aliis restituant, hortantes etiam et per viscera
                   misericordiæ Jesu Christi obtestantes eos omnes
                   quos hæc res tangit, ut salutis suæ non omnino
                   immemores hoc saltem efficiant, ut ex bonis
                   ecclesiasticis maxime iis quæ ratione personatuum
                   et vicariatuum populi ministrorum sustentationi
                   fuerint specialiter destinata, seu aliis
                   cathedralibus et aliis quæ nunc extant inferioribus
                   ecclesiis curam animarum exercentibus, ita
                   provideatur, ut eorum pastores commode et honeste
                   juxta eorum qualitatem et statum sustentari
                   possint, et curam animarum laudabiliter
                   exercere."--1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8, sec.
                   31.]

Here the act might have been expected to end. The nature of the
transaction between the parliament and the pope had been made
sufficiently clear. Yet, had nothing more been said, the surrender of
their claims by the clergy would have implied that they had parted
with something which they might have legitimately required. Under the
inspiration of the lawyers, therefore, a series of clauses were
superadded, explaining that, notwithstanding the dispensation, "The
title of all lands, possessions, and hereditaments in their majesties'
realms and dominions was grounded in the laws, statutes, and customs
of the same, and by their high jurisdiction, authority royal, and
crown imperial, _and in their courts only_, might be impleaded,
ordered, tried, and judged, and none otherwise:" and, therefore,
"whosoever, by any process obtained out of any ecclesiastical court
within the realm or without, or by pretence of any spiritual
jurisdiction or otherwise, contrary to the laws of the realm, should
inquiet or molest any person or persons, or body politic, for any of
the said lands or things above specified, should incur the danger of
Premunire, and should suffer and incur the forfeitures and pains
contained in the same."[427]

                   [Footnote 427: Ibid.]

Vainly the clergy had entreated for a limitation or removal of
Premunire. That spectre remained unexorcised in all its shadowy
terror; and while it survived, the penitence of England went no deeper
than the lips, however fine the words and eloquent the phrases in
which it was expressed. As some compensation, the Mortmain Act was
suspended for twenty years. Yet, as if it were in reply to Pole's
appeal, a mischievous provision {p.185} closed the act, that,
notwithstanding anything contained in it, laymen entitled to tithes
might recover them with the same readiness as before the first day of
the present parliament.[428]

                   [Footnote 428: 1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8,
                   sec. 31.]

Such was the great statute of reconciliation with Rome, with which, in
the inability to obtain a better, the legate was compelled to be
satisfied, and to reconsider his threat of going back to Italy.

This first conflict was no sooner ended than another commenced. The
Commons would not consent that Philip should be crowned; but, as the
queen said she was _enceinte_, provision had to be made for a regency,
and a bill was introduced into the Upper House which has not survived,
but which, in spirit, was unfavourable to the king.[429] Gardiner, in
the course of the debate, attempted to put in a clause affecting
Elizabeth,[430] but the success was no better than usual. The act went
down to the Commons, where, however, it was immediately cancelled.
Though the Commons would give Philip no rights as king, they were
better disposed towards him than the Lords; and they drew another bill
of their own, in which they declared the father to be the natural and
fitting guardian of the child. The experience of protectorates, they
said, had been uniformly unfortunate, and should the queen die leaving
an heir, Philip should be regent of the realm during the minority; if
obliged to be absent on the Continent, he might himself nominate his
deputy;[431] and so long as it should be his pleasure to remain in
England, his person should be under the protection of the laws of high
treason.

                   [Footnote 429: "It was suspected," says Renard,
                   "que le dict act se proposoit à maulvais fin, qu'il
                   estoit contre les traictez et capitulation de
                   marriage pour hereder la couronne qui venoit de
                   maulvais auteurs quilz plustôt desiroient le mal
                   dudict S. roy et inquietude dudict royaulme que le
                   bien."--Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle Papers_,
                   vol. iv. p. 347.]

                   [Footnote 430: Ibid. vol. iv. p. 348.]

                   [Footnote 431: "Et que en son absence il y pourra
                   nommer qui luy plaira."--Ibid. vol. iv. p. 348.]

Taking courage from the apparent disposition of the House, the friends
of the court proposed that, should the queen die childless, the crown
should devolve absolutely upon him for his life.[432] But in this they
were going too far. The suggestion was listened to coldly; and Philip,
who had really calculated on obtaining from parliament, in some form
or other, a security for his succession, despatched Ruy Gomez to
Brussels, to consult the {p.186} emperor on the course which should
be pursued.[433] On the whole, however, could the bill of the House of
Commons be carried, Renard was disposed to be contented; the queen was
confident in her hopes of an heir, and it might not be worth while to
irritate the people unnecessarily about Elizabeth.[434] The clause
empowering Philip to govern by deputy in his absence was especially
satisfactory.[435]

                   [Footnote 432: "Aulcuns particuliers proposaient en
                   ladicte chambre basse que le dict S. roy deust
                   demeurer roy absolut dudict royaulme mourant
                   ladicte dame sans hoirs sa vie durant."--Ibid. vol.
                   iv. p. 348.]

                   [Footnote 433: "Ruy Gomez est allé vers l'Empereur
                   pour faire entendre les difficultez qu'ilz trouvent
                   de faire demeurer ceste couronne à son dict filz,
                   au cas que la royne sa femme allast de vie à
                   trespaz sans enfans, et d'aultant qu'ilz ont
                   congneu la volunté de ceulx cy estre bien loin de
                   leur intention; et pour ce scavoir par quelz moyens
                   il semblera bon audict Empereur qu'on puisse mettre
                   cela en termes devant la fin de ce
                   parlement."--Noailles.]

                   [Footnote 434: "Et quant à la declaration de
                   bastardise l'on n'est d'opinion qu'elle se doige
                   entamer aux dict parlement, puisque l'apparence
                   d'heretier est certaine et pour l'evident et
                   congneue contrarieté que seroit en toute le
                   royaulme."--Renard to the Emperor: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, p. 348.]

                   [Footnote 435: Ibid.]

But the peers, whom the Commons had refused to consult on the new form
of the measure, would not part so easily with their own opinions; they
adopted the phraseology of the Lower House, but this particular and
precious feature in it they pared away. The bill, as it eventually
passed, declared Philip regent till his child should be of age, and so
long as he continued in the realm; but, at the same time, fatally for
the objects at which he was aiming, it bound him again to observe all
the articles of the marriage treaty, "which, during the time that he
should hold the government, should remain and continue in as full
force and strength, as if they were newly inserted and rehearsed in
the present act."[436]

                   [Footnote 436: 1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 10.]

The disposition of the House of Lords was the more dangerous, because
the bishops, of course, voted with the government, and the strength of
the opposition, therefore, implied something like unanimity in the lay
peers. The persecuting act had been carried with difficulty, and in
the reconciliation with Rome the legate had been studiously mortified.
On the succession and the coronation the court had been wholly
baffled; and in the Regency Bill they had obtained but half of what
they had desired. At the least Mary had hoped to secure for the king
the free disposal of the army and the finances, and she had not been
able so much as to ask for it. Compelled to rest contented with such
advantages as had been secured, the court would not risk the results
of further controversy by prolonging the session; and on the 16th of
January, at four o'clock in the afternoon, the {p.187} king and
queen came to the House of Lords almost unattended, and with an
evident expression of dissatisfaction dissolved the parliament.[437]

                   [Footnote 437: "Ilz sont pour cejourdhuy bien
                   esloignez de ce qu'ilz pensoient faire il y a six
                   sepmaines en ce parlement, ou ilz faisoient compte
                   que ne pouvant couronner ce roy ou luy faire
                   succeder ce royaulme, à tout le moings de luy en
                   faire tumber l'administration, avecques tel pouvoir
                   sur les forces et finances qu'il en eust pen
                   disposer à sa volunté. Toutefois la chose a prins
                   telle issue que pour ce coup il fault qu'il se
                   contente à beaucoup moings qu'il ne s'attendoit.

                   "Ce qui a tellement despleu à cedict roy et royne,
                   que le 16 de ce mois ilz allerent par eau tous
                   deulx clorre et terminer ledict parlement, sur les
                   quatre heures du soir, assez petitement
                   accompaignez et sans aulcune ceremonie, monstrans
                   et faisans congnoistre à ung chascun avoir quelque
                   grand mescontentement contre l'assemblé
                   d'icelluy."--Noailles to the Constable:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv. p. 153.]

I have been particular in relating the proceedings of this parliament,
because it marks the point where the flood tide of reaction ceased to
ascend, and the ebb recommenced. From the beginning of the Reformation
in 1529, two distinct movements had gone on side by side--the
alteration of doctrines, and the emancipation of the laity from papal
and ecclesiastical domination. With the first, the contemporaries of
Henry VIII., the country gentlemen and the peers, who were the heads
of families at the period of Mary's accession, had never sympathised;
and the tyranny of the Protestants while they were in power had
converted a disapproval which time would have overcome, into active
and determined indignation. The papacy was a mixed question; the
Pilgrims of Grace in 1536, and the Cornish rebels in 1549, had
demanded the restoration of the spiritual primacy to the See of St.
Peter, and Henry himself, until Pole and Paul III. called on Europe to
unite in a crusade against him, had not determined wholly against some
degree of concession. In the pope, as a sovereign who claimed
reverence and tribute, who interfered with the laws of the land, and
maintained at Rome a supreme court of appeal--who pretended a right to
depose kings and absolve subjects from their allegiance--who held a
weapon in excommunication as terrible to the laity as Premunire was
terrible to ecclesiastics--in the pope under this aspect, only a few
insignificant fanatics entertained any kind of interest.

But experience had proved that to a nation cut off from the centre of
Catholic union, the maintenance of orthodoxy was impossible: the
supremacy of the pope, therefore, came back as a tolerated feature in
the return to the Catholic faith, and the ecclesiastical courts were
reinstated in authority to check unlicensed {p.188} extravagance of
opinion. Their restored power, however, was over opinion only;
wherever the pretensions of the church would come in collision with
the political constitution, wherever they menaced the independence of
the temporal magistrate or the tenure of property, there the progress
of restoration was checked by the rock, and could eat no further into
the soil. The pope and the clergy recovered their titular rank, and in
one direction unhappily they recovered the reality of power. But the
temporal spoils of the struggle remained with the laity, and if the
clergy lifted a hand to retake them, their weapons would be instantly
wrenched from their grasp.

If the genuine friends of human freedom had acquiesced without
resistance in this conclusion, if the nobility had contented
themselves with securing their worldly and political interests, and
had made no effort to restrain or modify the exercise of the authority
which they were giving back, they might be accused of having accepted
a dishonourable compromise. But they did what they could. They worked
with such legal means as were in their power, and for two parliaments
they succeeded in keeping persecution at bay; they failed in the
third, but failed only after a struggle. The Protestants themselves
had created, by their own misconduct, the difficulty of defending
them; and armed unconstitutional resistance was an expedient to be
resorted to, only when it had been seen how the clergy would conduct
themselves. English statesmen may be pardoned if they did not
anticipate the passions to which the guardians of orthodoxy were about
to abandon themselves. Parliament had maintained the independence of
the English courts of law. It had maintained the Premunire. It had
forbidden the succession to be tampered with. If this was not
everything, it was something--something which in the end would be the
undoing of all the rest.

The court and the bishops, however, were for the present absolute in
their own province. The persecuting acts were once more upon the
Statute Book; and when the realities of the debates in parliament had
disappeared, the cardinal and the queen could again give the rein to
their imagination. They had called up a phantom out of its grave, and
they persuaded themselves that they were witnessing the resurrection
of the spirit of truth, that heresy was about to vanish from off the
English soil, like an exhalation of the morning, at the brightness of
the papal return. The chancellor and the clergy were springing at the
leash like hounds with the game in view, fanaticism and revenge
{p.189} lashing them forward. If the temporal schemes of the court
were thwarted, it was, perhaps, because Heaven desired that exclusive
attention should be given first to the salvation of souls.

For all past political offences, therefore, there was now an amnesty,
and such prisoners as remained unexecuted for Wyatt's conspiracy were
released from the Tower on the 18th of January. On the 25th a hundred
and sixty priests walked in procession through the London streets,
chanting litanies, with eight bishops walking after them, and Bonner
carrying the host. On the 28th the cardinal issued his first general
instructions. The bishops were directed to call together their clergy
in every diocese in England, and to inform them of the benevolent love
of the Holy Father, and of the arrival of the legate with powers to
absolve them from their guilt. They were to relate the acts of the
late parliament, with the reconciliation and absolution of the Lords
and Commons; and they were to give general notice that authority had
been restored to the ecclesiastical courts, to proceed against the
enemies of the faith, and punish them according to law.

A day was then to be fixed on which the clergy should appear with
their confessions, and be received into the church. In the assignment
of their several penances, a distinction was to be made between those
who had taught heresy and those who had merely lapsed into it.

When the clergy had been reconciled, they were again in turn to exhort
the laity in all churches and cathedrals, to accept the grace which
was offered to them; and that they might understand that they were not
at liberty to refuse the invitation, a time was assigned to them
within which their submissions must be all completed. A book was to be
kept in every diocese, where the names of those who were received were
to be entered. A visitation was to be held throughout the country at
the end of the spring, and all who had not complied before Easter day,
or who, after compliance, "had returned to their vomit", would be
proceeded against with the utmost severity of the law.[438]

                   [Footnote 438: Instructions of Cardinal Pole to the
                   Bishops: Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

The introduction of the Register was the Inquisition under another
name. There was no limit, except in the humanity or the prudence of
the bishops, to the tyranny which they would be enabled to exercise.
The cardinal professed to desire that, before heretics were punished
with death, mild means should {p.190} first be tried with them;[439]
the meaning which he attached to the words was illustrated in an
instant example.

                   [Footnote 439: The opinion of Pole, on the
                   propriety of putting men to death for
                   nonconformity, was strictly orthodox. He regarded
                   heretics, he said, as rebellious children, with
                   whom persuasion and mild correction should first be
                   tried. "Nec tamen, negârim fieri posse," he
                   continued, "ut alicujus opiniones tam perniciosæ
                   existant, ipseque jam corruptus tam sit ad
                   corrumpendos alios promptus ac sedulus ut non
                   dubitârim dicere eum e vitâ tolli oportere et
                   tanquam putridum membrum e corpore exsecari. Neque
                   id tamen priusquam ejus sanandi causâ omnis leviter
                   medendi tentata sit ratio."--Pole to the Cardinal
                   of Augsburg: _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol. iv.]

The instructions were the signal for the bishops to commence business.
On the day of their appearance, Gardiner, Bonner, Tunstal, and three
other prelates, formed a court in St. Mary Overy's Church, in
Southwark; and Hooper, and Rogers, a canon of St. Paul's, were brought
up before them.

Rogers had been distinguished in the first bright days of
Protestantism. He had been a fellow-labourer with Tyndal and
Coverdale, at Antwerp, in the translation of the Bible. Afterwards,
taking a German wife, he lived for a time at Wittenberg, not unknown,
we may be sure, to Martin Luther. On the accession of Edward, he
returned to England, and worked among the London clergy till the end
of the reign; and on Mary's accession he was one of the preachers at
Paul's Cross who had dared to speak against the reaction. He had been
rebuked by the council, and his friends had urged him to fly; but,
like Cranmer, he thought that duty required him to stay at his post,
and, in due time, without, however, having given fresh provocation, he
was shut up in Newgate by Bonner.

Hooper, when the unfortunate garment controversy was brought to an
end, had shown by his conduct in his diocese that in one instance at
least doctrinal fanaticism was compatible with the loftiest
excellence. While the great world was scrambling for the church
property, Hooper was found petitioning the council for leave to
augment impoverished livings out of his own income.[440] In the hall
of his palace at Gloucester a profuse hospitality was offered daily to
those who were most in need of it. The poor of the city were invited
by relays to solid meat dinners, and the bishop with the courtesy of a
gentleman dined with them, and treated them with the same respect as
if they had been the highest in the land. He was one of the first
persons arrested after Mary's accession, and the cross of persecution
at once happily made his peace with Ridley. In an affectionate
interchange of letters, the two confessors exhorted each other
{p.191} to constancy in the end which both foresaw, determining "if
they could not overthrow, at least, to shake those high altitudes" of
spiritual tyranny.[441] The Fleet prison had now been Hooper's house
for eighteen months. At first, on payment of heavy fees to the warden,
he had lived in some degree of comfort; but as soon as his deprivation
was declared, Gardiner ordered that he should be confined in one of
the common prisoners' wards; where "with a wicked man and a wicked
woman" for his companions, with a bed of straw and a rotten
counterpane, the prison sink on one side of his cell and Fleet ditch
on the other, he waited till it would please parliament to permit the
dignitaries of the Church to murder him.[442]

                   [Footnote 440: _Privy Council Register_, Edward VI.
                   _MS._]

                   [Footnote 441: Correspondence between Hooper and
                   Ridley: Foxe, vol. vi.]

                   [Footnote 442: Account of Hooper's Imprisonment, by
                   himself: Foxe, vol. vi.]

These were the two persons with whom the Marian persecution opened. On
their appearance in the court, they were required briefly to make
their submission. They attempted to argue; but they were told that
when parliament had determined a thing, private men were not to call
it in question, and they were allowed twenty-four hours to make up
their minds. As they were leaving the church Hooper was heard to say,
"Come, brother Rogers, must we two take this matter first in hand and
fry these faggots?" "Yea, sir, with God's grace," Rogers answered.
"Doubt not," Hooper said, "but God will give us strength."

They were remanded to prison. The next morning they were brought again
before the court. "The queen's mercy" was offered them, if they would
recant; they refused, and they were sentenced to die. Rogers asked to
be allowed to take leave of his wife and children. Gardiner, with a
savage taunt, rejected the request. The day of execution was left
uncertain. They were sent to Newgate to wait the queen's pleasure. On
the 30th, Taylor of Hadley, Laurence Sandars, rector of All Hallows,
and the illustrious Bradford, were passed through the same forms with
the same results. Another, a notorious preacher, called Cardmaker,
flinched, and made his submission.

Rogers was to "break the ice," as Bradford described it.[443] On the
morning of the 4th of February the wife of the keeper of Newgate came
to his bedside. He was sleeping soundly, and she woke him with
difficulty to let him know that he was wanted. The Bishop of London
was waiting, she said, to degrade him from the priesthood, and he was
then to go out and die. Rubbing {p.192} his eyes, and collecting
himself, he hurried on his clothes. "If it be thus." he said, "I need
not tie my points." Hooper had been sent for also for the ceremony of
degradation. The vestments used in the mass were thrown over them, and
were then one by one removed. They were pronounced deposed from the
priestly office, incapable of offering further sacrifice--except,
indeed, the only acceptable sacrifice which man can ever offer, the
sacrifice of himself. Again Rogers entreated permission to see his
wife, and again he was refused.

                   [Footnote 443: Bradford to Cranmer, Ridley, and
                   Latimer: Foxe.]

The two friends were then parted. Hooper was to suffer at Gloucester,
and returned to his cell; Rogers was committed to the sheriff, and led
out to Smithfield. The Catholics had affected to sneer at the faith of
their rivals. There was a general conviction among them, which was
shared probably by Pole and Gardiner, that the Protestants would all
flinch at the last; that they had no "doctrine that would abide the
fire." When Rogers appeared, therefore, the exultation of the people
in his constancy overpowered the horror of his fate, and he was
received with rounds of cheers. His family, whom he was forbidden to
part with in private, were waiting on the way to see him--his wife
with nine little ones at her side and a tenth upon her breast--and
they, too, welcomed him with hysterical cries of joy, as if he were on
his way to a festival.[444] Sir Robert Rochester was in attendance at
the stake to report his behaviour. At the last moment he was offered
pardon if he would give way, but in vain. The fire was lighted. The
suffering seemed to be nothing. He bathed his hands in the flame as
"if it was cold water," raised his eyes to heaven, and died.

                   [Footnote 444: "Cejourdhuy a esté faicte la
                   confirmation de l'alliance entre le Pape et ce
                   Royaulme par ung sacrifice publique et solempnel
                   d'ung docteur predicant nommé Rogerus, lequel a
                   esté brulé tout vif pour estre Lutherien; mais il
                   est mort persistant en son opinion, à quoy la plus
                   grand part de ce peuple a prins tel plaisir qu'ilz
                   n'ont eu craincte de luy faire plusieurs
                   acclamations pour comforter son courage; et mesmes
                   ses enfans y ont assistés le consolantes de telle
                   façon qu'il sembloit qu'on le menast aux
                   nopces."--Noailles to Montmorency: _Ambassades_,
                   vol. iv.]

The same night a party of the royal guard took charge of Hooper, the
order of whose execution was arranged by a mandate from the crown. As
"an obstinate, false, and detestable heretic," he was to be burned in
the city "which he had infected with his pernicious doctrines;" and
"forasmuch as being a vainglorious person, and delighting in his
tongue," he "might persuade the people into agreement with him, had he
liberty to use it," care was to be taken that he should not speak
either at {p.193} the stake or on his way to it.[445] He was carried
down on horseback by easy stages; and on the forenoon of Thursday, the
7th, he dined at Cirencester, "at a woman's house who had always hated
the truth, and spoken all evil she could of him." This woman had
shared in the opinion that Protestants had no serious convictions, and
had often expressed her belief that Hooper, particularly, would fail
if brought to the trial. She found that both in him and in his creed
there was more than she had supposed; and "perceiving the cause of his
coming, she lamented his case with tears, and showed him all the
friendship she could."

                   [Footnote 445: Mandate for the execution of Hooper:
                   Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

At five in the evening he arrived at Gloucester. The road, for a mile
outside the town, was lined with people, and the mayor was in
attendance, with an escort, to prevent a rescue. But the feeling was
rather of awe and expectation, and those who loved Hooper best knew
that the highest service which he could render to his faith was to die
for it.

A day's interval of preparation was allowed him, with a private room.
He was in the custody of the sheriff; "and there was this difference
observed between the keepers of the bishops' prisons and the keepers
of the crown prisons, that the bishops' keepers were ever cruel; the
keepers of the crown prisons showed, for the most part, such favour as
they might."[446] After a sound night's rest, Hooper rose early, and
passed the morning in solitary prayer. In the course of the day, young
Sir Anthony Kingston, one of the commissioners appointed to
superintend the execution, expressed a wish to see him. Kingston was
an old acquaintance, Hooper having been the means of bringing him out
of evil ways. He entered the room unannounced. Hooper was on his
knees, and, looking round at the intruder, did not at first know him.
Kingston told him his name, and then, bursting into tears, said:--

                   [Footnote 446: Foxe.]

"Oh, consider; life is sweet and death is bitter; therefore, seeing
life may be had, desire to live, for life hereafter may do good."

Hooper answered:--

"I thank you for your counsel, yet it is not so friendly as I could
have wished it to be. True it is, alas! Master Kingston, that death is
bitter and life is sweet; therefore I have settled myself, through the
strength of God's Holy Spirit, patiently to pass through the fire
prepared for me, desiring you and others to commend me to God's mercy
in your prayers."

{p.194} "Well, my Lord," said Kingston, "then there is no remedy, and
I will take my leave. I thank God that ever I knew you, for God
appointed you to call me, being a lost child. I was both an adulterer
and a fornicator, and God, by your good instruction, brought me to the
forsaking of the same."

They parted, the tears on both their faces. Other friends were
admitted afterwards. The queen's orders were little thought of, for
Hooper had won the hearts of the guard on his way from London. In the
evening the mayor and aldermen came, with the sheriffs, to shake hands
with him. "It was a sign of their good will," he said, "and a proof
that they had not forgotten the lessons which he used to teach them."
He begged the sheriffs that there might be "a quick fire, to make an
end shortly;" and for himself he would be as obedient as they could
wish.

"If you think I do amiss in anything," he said, "hold up your fingers,
and I have done; for I am not come hither as one enforced or compelled
to die; I might have had my life, as is well known, with worldly gain,
if I would have accounted my doctrine falsehood and heresy."

In the evening, at his own request, he was left alone. He slept
undisturbed the early part of the night. From the time that he awoke
till the guard entered, he was on his knees.

The morning was windy and wet. The scene of the execution was an open
space opposite the college, near a large elm tree, where Hooper had
been accustomed to preach. Several thousand people were collected to
see him suffer; some had climbed the tree, and were seated in the
storm and rain among the leafless branches. A company of priests were
in a room over the college gates, looking out with pity or
satisfaction, as God or the devil was in their hearts.

"Alas!" said Hooper, when he was brought out, "why be all these people
assembled here, and speech is prohibited me?" He had suffered in
prison from sciatica, and was lame, but he limped cheerfully along
with a stick, and smiled when he saw the stake. At the foot of it he
knelt; and as he began to pray, a box was brought, and placed on a
stool before his eyes, which he was told contained his pardon if he
would recant.

"Away with it;" Hooper only cried; "away with it!"

"Despatch him, then," Lord Chandos said, "seeing there is no remedy."

He was undressed to his shirt, in the cold; a pound of gunpowder was
tied between his legs, and as much more under either {p.195} arm; he
was fastened with an iron hoop to the stake, and he assisted with his
own hands to arrange the faggots round him.

The fire was then brought, but the wood was green; the dry straw only
kindled, and burning for a few moments was blown away by the wind. A
violent flame paralysed the nerves at once, a slow one was torture.
More faggots were thrown in, and again lighted, and this time the
martyr's face was singed and scorched; but again the flames sank, and
the hot damp sticks smouldered round his legs. He wiped his eyes with
his hands, and cried, "For God's love, good people, let me have more
fire!" A third supply of dry fuel was laid about him, and this time
the powder exploded, but it had been ill placed, or was not enough.
"Lord Jesu, have mercy on me!" he exclaimed; "Lord Jesu, receive my
spirit!" These were his last articulate words; but his lips were long
seen to move, and he continued to beat his breast with his hands. It
was not till after three-quarters of an hour of torment that he at
last expired.

The same day, at the same hour, Rowland Taylor was burnt on Aldham
Common, in Suffolk. Laurance Sandars had been destroyed the day before
at Coventry, kissing the stake, and crying, "Welcome the cross of
Christ! welcome everlasting life!" The first-fruits of the Whitehall
pageant were gathered. By the side of the rhetoric of the hysterical
dreamer who presided in that vain melodrama, let me place a few words
addressed by the murdered Bishop of Gloucester to his friends, a week
before his sentence.

"The grace of God be with you, amen. I did write unto you of late, and
told you what extremity the parliament had concluded upon concerning
religion, suppressing the truth, and setting forth the untruth;
intending to cause all men, by extremity, to forswear themselves; and
to take again for the head of the church him that is neither head nor
member of it, but a very enemy, as the word of God and all ancient
writers do record. And for lack of law and authority they will use
force and extremity, which have been the arguments to defend the pope
and popery since their authority first began in the world. But now is
the time of trial, to see whether we fear more God or man. It was an
easy thing to hold with Christ whilst the prince and the world held
with him; but now the world hateth him, it is the true trial who be
his.

"Wherefore in the name, and in the virtue, strength, and power of his
Holy Spirit, prepare yourselves in any case to adversity and
constancy. Let us not run away when it is most {p.196} time to
fight. Remember, none shall be crowned but such as fight manfully; and
he that endureth to the end shall be saved. Ye must now turn your
cogitations from the perils you see, and mark the felicity that
followeth the peril--either victory in this world of your enemies, or
else a surrender of this life to inherit the everlasting kingdom.
Beware of beholding too much the felicity or misery of this world; for
the consideration and too earnest love or fear of either of them
draweth from God. Wherefore think with yourselves as touching the
felicity of the world, it is good; but none otherwise than it standeth
with the favour of God; it is to be kept, but yet so far forth as by
keeping it we lose not God. It is good abiding and tarrying still
among our friends here, but yet so that we tarry not therewithal in
God's displeasure, and hereafter dwell with the devils in fire
everlasting. There is nothing under God but may be kept, so that God,
being above all things we have, be not lost. Of adversity judge the
same. Imprisonment is painful, but yet liberty upon evil conditions is
more painful. The prisons stink; but yet not so much as sweet houses,
where the fear and true honour of God lack. I must be alone and
solitary; it is better so to be, and have God with me, than to be in
company with the wicked. Loss of goods is great, but loss of God's
grace and favour is greater. I am a poor simple creature, and cannot
tell how to answer before such a great sort of noble, learned, and
wise men. It is better to make answer before the pomp and pride of
wicked men, than to stand naked, in the sight of all heaven and earth,
before the just God at the latter day. I shall die by the hands of the
cruel men; but he is blessed that loseth this life full of miseries,
and findeth the life of eternal joys. It is pain and grief to depart
from goods and friends; but yet not so much as to depart from grace
and heaven itself. Wherefore there is neither felicity nor adversity
of this world that can appear to be great, if it be weighed with the
joys or pains in the world to come."[447]

                   [Footnote 447: Hooper to his friends: Foxe, vol.
                   vi.]

Of five who had been sentenced, four were thus despatched. Bradford,
the fifth, was respited, in the hope that the example might tell upon
him. Six more were waiting their condemnation in Bonner's prisons. The
enemies of the church were to submit or die. So said Gardiner, in the
name of the English priesthood, with the passion of a fierce revenge.
So said the legate and the queen, in the delirious belief that they
were chosen instruments of Providence.

So, however, did not say the English lay statesmen. The {p.197}
first and unexpected effect was to produce a difference of opinion in
the court itself. Philip, to whom Renard had insisted on the necessity
of more moderate measures, found it necessary to clear himself of
responsibility; and the day after Hooper suffered, Alphonso a Castro,
the king's chaplain, preached a sermon in the royal presence, in which
he denounced the execution, and inveighed against the tyranny of the
bishops. The Lords of the Council "talked strangely;" and so deep was
the indignation, that the Flemish ambassador again expected Gardiner's
destruction. Paget refused to act with him in the council any more,
and Philip himself talked more and more of going abroad. Renard, from
the tone of his correspondence, believed evidently at this moment that
the game of the church was played out and lost. He wrote to the
emperor to entreat that when the king went he might not himself be
left behind; he was held responsible by the people for the queen's
misdoings; and a party of the young nobility had sworn to kill
him.[448]

                   [Footnote 448: "L'évesque de Londres avec les
                   autres évesques assembléez en ce lieu pour
                   l'exécution du statut conclu en dernier Parlement
                   sur le faict de la religion, a fait brusler trois
                   hérétiques; l'ung en ce lieu et les deux autres en
                   pays; et sont après pour continuer contre les
                   obstinez: dont les nobles et le peuple hérétique
                   murmure et s'altère; selon que l'ay faict entendre
                   au roy par ung billet par escript duquel la copie
                   va avec les présentes; et la noblesse tousjours
                   désire d'avoir occasion d'attirer le peuple et le
                   faire joindre à révolte avec elle; et prévoys si
                   Dieu n'y remédie, ou que telle précipitation ne se
                   modère, les choses prendront dangereux succès, et
                   signamment les partiaulx, contre le chancelier ne
                   perdront ceste commodité de vengeance.... Les
                   dictes conseilliers se retirent de négoces. Paget
                   se voyant en la male grâce de la royne, et de la
                   pluspart du conseil, se trouve souvent au quartier
                   dudict Sieurroy ... le peuple parle contre la royne
                   estrangement.... Comme j'entendz que l'on parle
                   pour me faire demeurer, et séjourner par deçà après
                   le départ du roy, je n'ay pen délaisser de supplier
                   très humblement vostre majesté me excuser ... je
                   suys certain l'on me tueroit incontinant après
                   ledict parlement," etc.--Renard to Charles V.:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. pp. 400-402.]

Among the people the constancy of the martyrs had called out a burst
of admiration. It was rumoured that bystanders had endeavoured to
throw themselves into the fire to die at their side.[449] A prisoner,
on examination before Bonner, was asked if he thought he could bear
the flame. You may try me, if you will, he said. A candle was brought,
and he held his hand, without flinching, in the blaze.[450] With such
a humour abroad, {p.198} it seemed to Renard that the Lords had only
to give the signal, and the queen and the bishops would be
overwhelmed.

                   [Footnote 449: "Et a l'on dict que plusieurs ... se
                   sont voulu voluntairement mettre sur le bûche à
                   costé de ceulx que l'on brusloit."--Ibid. p. 404.]

                   [Footnote 450: "Un bourgeois estant interrougé par
                   ledict évesque de Londres se souffriroit bien le
                   feug, respondist qu'il en fist l'expérience: et
                   aiant fait apporter une chandelle allumée, il meit
                   la main dessus sans la retirer ny se
                   mouvoir."--Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. vi. p. 404. The man's name was
                   Tomkins. Foxe, who tells the story as an
                   illustration of Bonner's brutality, says that the
                   Bishop himself held the hand. But Renard's is
                   probably the truer version.]

He expected the movement in the spring. It is singular that, precisely
as in the preceding winter, the deliberate intentions of moderate and
competent persons were anticipated and defeated by a partial and
premature conspiracy. At the end of February a confederate revealed a
project for an insurrection, partly religious and partly agrarian.
Placards were to be issued simultaneously in all parts of the country,
declaring that the queen's pregnancy was a delusion, and that she
intended to pass upon the nation a supposititious child; the people
were, therefore, invited to rise in arms, drive out the Spaniards,
revolutionise religion, tear down the enclosures of the commons, and
proclaim Courtenay king under the title of Edward VII.[451] In such a
scheme the lords and country gentlemen could bear no part. They could
not risk a repetition of the popular rebellions of the late reign, and
they resolved to wait the issue of the queen's pregnancy, while they
watched over the safety of Elizabeth. The project of the court was now
to send her to Flanders, where she was to remain under charge of the
emperor; if possible, she was to be persuaded to go thither of her own
accord; if she could not be persuaded, she would be otherwise removed.
Lord William Howard, her constant guardian, requested permission to
see and speak with her, and learn her own feelings. He was refused;
but he went to her notwithstanding, and had a long private interview
with her; and the court could only talk bitterly of his treason among
themselves, make propositions to send him to the Tower which they
durst not execute, and devise some other method of dealing with their
difficulty.[452]

                   [Footnote 451: Renard to Charles V.: _Granvelle
                   Papers_, vol. iv. p. 403.]

                   [Footnote 452: Renard to Charles V.: Ibid. pp. 404,
                   405.]

Meantime, Philip, who had pined for freedom after six weeks'
experience of his bride, was becoming unmanageably impatient. A paper
of advice and exhortation survives, which was addressed on this
occasion by the ambassador to his master, with reflections on the
condition of England, and on the conduct which the king should pursue.

"Your majesty must remember," said Renard, "the purpose for which you
came to England. The French had secured the Queen of Scotland for the
Dauphin. They had afterwards made an alliance with the late king, and
spared no pains to secure the support of England. To counteract their
schemes, and to {p.199} obtain a counter advantage in the war, the
emperor, on the accession of the queen, resolved that your highness
should marry her. Your highness, it is true, might wish that she was
more agreeable;[453] but, on the other hand, she is infinitely
virtuous, and, things being as they are, your highness, like a
magnanimous prince, must remember her condition, and exert yourself,
so far as you conveniently may, to assist her in the management of the
kingdom.

                   [Footnote 453: "Et combien l'on pouvoit requérir
                   plus de civilité en la Reyne.--Renard to Philip:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 394.]

"Your highness must consider that your departure will be
misrepresented, your enemies will speak of it as a flight rather than
as a necessary absence. The French will be busy with their intrigues,
and the queen will not be pleased to lose you. The administration is
in confusion, the divisions in the council are more violent than ever.
Religion is unsettled; the heretics take advantage of these late
barbarous punishments to say, that they are to be converted by fire,
because their enemies are unable to convince them by reason or
example. The orthodox clergy are still unreformed, and their
scandalous conduct accords ill with the offices to which they are
called.[454]

                   [Footnote 454: "Les gens d'église ne sont
                   reformées, il y a plusieurs abuz qui donnent
                   scandale et maulvaise impression, et ilz ne
                   respondent aux offices auxquelz ilz sont
                   appellez."--Ibid. p. 395.]

"Further, your highness will do well to weigh the uncertainty of the
succession. Should the queen's pregnancy prove a mistake, the heretics
will place their hopes in Elizabeth: and here you are in a difficulty
whatever be done; for if Elizabeth be set aside, the crown will go to
the Queen of Scots; if she succeed, she will restore heresy, and
naturally attach herself to France. Some step must be taken about this
before you leave the country; and you must satisfy the queen that you
will assist her in her general difficulties, as a good lord and
husband ought to do.[455]

                   [Footnote 455: "Donner ce contentement à la royne
                   d'avoir intention de asseurer et establir ses
                   affaires et la secourir comme bon Seigneur et
                   mari."]

"The council must be reformed, if possible, and the number diminished;
those who remain must be invited to renew their oaths to your majesty.
Regard must be had to the navy, and especially to the admiral Lord
William Howard; and above all there must be no more of this barbarous
precipitancy in putting heretics to death. The people must be won from
their errors by gentleness and by better instruction. Except in cases
of especial scandal, the bishops must not be permitted to irritate
them by {p.200} cruelty, and the legate must see that a better
example is set by the clergy themselves.[456] The debts of the crown
must be attended to; and your majesty should endeavour to do something
which will give you popularity with the masses. Before all things,
attend to the succession.

                   [Footnote 456: "Que ès choses de la religion l'on
                   ne use de précipitation par punition cruelle, ains
                   avec la modération, et mansuétude requise, et dont
                   l'église a tousjours usé; retirant le peuple de
                   l'erreur par doctrine et prédication, et que si ce
                   n'est un acte scandaleux l'on ne passe oultre en
                   chastoy que puisse altérer le peuple et le
                   désgouter, que la reformation requise pour le bon
                   example, soit introduicte sur les gens de l'église
                   comme le légat advisera pour le mieulx."--Renard to
                   Philip: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv. p. 395.]

"You cannot set aside the dispositions of King Henry in favour of
Elizabeth without danger of rebellion. To recognise her as
heir-presumptive without providing her with a husband, who can control
her, will be perilous to the queen. The mean course between the
extremes, will be therefore, for your highness to bring about her
marriage with the Prince of Savoy. It will please the English,
provided that her rights of inheritance are not interfered with; and
although they will not go to war for our quarrel, they will not in
that case be unwilling to assist in expelling the French from
Piedmont.

"If your majesty approve, the thing can be done without delay. At all
events, before you leave the country, you should see the princess
yourself; give her your advice to be faithful to her sister, and, on
your part, promise that you will be her friend, and assist her where
you can find opportunity."




{p.201} CHAPTER IV.

THE MARTYRS.


The protests of Renard against the persecution received no attention.

The inquisition established by the legate was not to commence till
Easter; but the prisons were already abundantly supplied with persons
who had been arrested on various pretexts, and the material was ready
in hand to occupy the interval. The four persons who had first
suffered had been conspicuous among the leaders of the Reformation;
but the bishops were for the most part prudent in their selection of
victims, and chose them principally from among the poor and
unfriended.

On the 9th of February, a weaver named Tomkins (the man who had held
his hand in the candle), Pigot, a butcher, Knight, a barber, Hunter,
an apprentice boy of 19, Lawrence, a priest, and Hawkes, a gentleman,
were brought before Bonner in the Consistory at St. Paul's, where they
were charged with denying transubstantiation, and were condemned to
die. The indignation which had been excited by the first executions
caused a delay in carrying the sentence into effect; but as the menace
of insurrection died away the wolves came back to their prey. On the
9th of March, two more were condemned also, Thomas Causton and Thomas
Higbed, men of some small property in Essex. To disperse the effect,
these eight were scattered about the diocese. Tomkins died at
Smithfield on the 16th of March; Causton and Higbed, Pigot and Knight,
in different parts of Essex; Hawkes suffered later; Lawrence was burnt
at Colchester. The legs of the latter had been crushed by irons in one
of Bonner's prisons; he was unable to stand, and was placed at the
stake in a chair. "At his burning, he sitting in the fire, the young
children came about and cried, as well as young children could speak,
Lord strengthen thy servant, and keep thy promise--Lord, strengthen
thy servant, and keep thy promise."[457]

                   [Footnote 457: Foxe, vol. vi.]

Hunter's case deserves more particular mention. The London apprentices
had been affected deeply by the Reforming preachers. It was to them
that the servant of Anne Askew "made her {p.202} moan," and gathered
subscriptions for her mistress. William Hunter, who was one of them,
had been ordered to attend mass by a priest when it was
re-established; he had refused, and his master, fearing that he might
be brought into trouble, had sent him home to his family at Brentwood,
in Essex.[458] Another priest, going one day into Brentwood Church,
found Hunter reading the Bible there.

                   [Footnote 458: The story of Hunter was left in
                   writing by his brother, and was printed by Foxe. I
                   have already said that whenever Foxe prints
                   documents instead of relating hearsays, I have
                   found him uniformly trustworthy; so far, that is to
                   say, as there are means of testing him.]

Could he expound Scripture, that he read it thus to himself? the
priest asked. He was reading for his comfort, Hunter replied; he did
not take on himself to expound. The Bible taught him how to live, and
how to distinguish between right and wrong.

It was never merry world, the priest said, since the Bible came forth
in English. He saw what Hunter was--he was one of those who disliked
the queen's laws, and he and other heretics would broil for it before
all was over.

The boy's friends thought it prudent that he should fly to some place
where he was not known; but, as soon as he was gone, a Catholic
magistrate in the neighbourhood required his father to produce him, on
peril of being arrested in his place; and, after a struggle of
affection, in which the father offered to shield his son at his own
hazard, young Hunter returned and surrendered.

The magistrate sent him to the Bishop of London, who kept him in
prison three quarters of a year. When the persecution commenced, he
was called up for examination.

Bonner, though a bigot and a ruffian, had, at times, a coarse
good-nature in him, and often, in moments of pity, thrust an easy
recantation upon a hesitating prisoner. He tried with emphatic anxiety
to save this young apprentice. "If thou wilt recant," he said to him,
"I will make thee a freeman in the city, and give thee forty pounds in
money to set up thy occupation withal; or I will make thee steward of
mine house, and set thee in office, for I like thee well."

Hunter thanked him for his kindness; but it could not be, he said; he
must stand to the truth: he could not lie, or pretend to believe what
he did not believe. Bonner said, and probably with sincere conviction,
that if he persisted he would be damned for ever. Hunter said, that
God judged more righteously, and justified those whom man unjustly
condemned.

He was therefore to die with the rest; and on Saturday, the {p.203}
23rd of March, he was sent to suffer at his native village. Monday
being the feast of the Annunciation, the execution was postponed till
Tuesday. The intervening time he was allowed to spend with his friends
"in the parlour of the Swan Inn." His father prayed that he might
continue to the end in the way that he had begun. His mother said, she
was happy to bear a child who could find in his heart to lose his life
for Christ's sake. "Mother," he answered, "for my little pain which I
shall suffer, which is but a short braid, Christ hath promised me a
crown of joy. May you not be glad of that, mother?"

Amidst such words the days passed. Tuesday morning the sheriff's son
came and embraced him, "bade him not be afraid," and "could speak no
more for weeping." When the sheriff came himself for him, he took his
brother's arm and walked calmly to the place of execution, "at the
town's end, where the butts stood."

His father was at the roadside as he passed. "God be with thee, son
William!" the old man said. "God be with thee, good father," the son
answered, "and be of good comfort!"

When he was come to the stake, he took one of the faggots, knelt upon
it, and prayed for a few moments. The sheriff read the pardon with the
conditions. "I shall not recant," he said, and walked to the post, to
which he was chained.

"Pray for me, good people, while you see me alive," he said to the
crowd.

"Pray for thee!" said the magistrate who had committed him, "I will no
more pray for thee than I will pray for a dog."

"Son of God," Hunter exclaimed, "shine on me!" The sun broke out from
behind a cloud and blazed in glory on his face.

The faggots were set on fire.

"Look," shrieked a priest, "how thou burnest here, so shalt thou burn
in hell!"

The martyr had a Prayer-book in his hands, which he cast through the
flames to his brother.

"William," said the brother, "think on the holy passion of Christ, and
be not afraid of death."

"I am not afraid," were his last words. "Lord, Lord, Lord, receive my
spirit!"

Ten days later another victim was sacrificed at Carmarthen, whose fate
was peculiarly unprovoked and cruel.

Robert Ferrars, who twenty-seven years before carried a faggot with
Anthony Dalaber in High Street at Oxford, had been appointed by
Somerset Bishop of St. David's. He was a {p.204} man of large
humanity, justice, and uprightness--neither conspicuous as a
theologian nor prominent as a preacher, but remarkable chiefly for
good sense and a kindly imaginative tenderness. He had found his
diocese infected with the general disorders of the times. The Chapter
were indulging themselves to the utmost in questionable pleasures. The
church patronage was made the prey of a nest of Cathedral lawyers,
and, in an evil hour for himself, the bishop endeavoured to make
crooked things straight.

After three years of struggle, his unruly canons were unable to endure
him longer, and forwarded to the Duke of Northumberland an elaborate
series of complaints against him. He was charged with neglecting his
books and his preaching, and spending his time in surveying the lands
of the see, and opening mines. He kept no manner of hospitality, it
was said, but dined at the same table with his servants; and his talk
was "not of godliness," "but of worldly matters, as baking, brewing,
enclosing, ploughing, mining, millstones, discharging of tenants, and
such like."

"To declare his folly in riding (these are the literal words of the
accusation), he useth a bridle with white studs and snaffle, white
Scottish stirrups, white spurs; a Scottish pad, with a little staff of
three quarters [of a yard] long.

"He said he would go to parliament on foot; and to his friends that
dissuaded him, alleging that it was not meet for a man in his place,
he answered, I care not for that; it is no sin.

"Having a son, he went before the midwife to the church, presenting
the child to the priest; and giving the name Samuel with a solemn
interpretation of the name,[459] appointed two godfathers and two
godmothers contrary to the ordinance, making his son a monster and
himself a laughing-stock.

                   [Footnote 459: Wherefore it came to pass that
                   Hannah bare a son, and called his name Samuel,
                   saying, Because I have asked him of the Lord. 1
                   _Samuel_ i. 20.]

"He daily useth whistling of his child, and saith that he understood
his whistle when he was but three years old; and being advertised of
his friends that men laughed at his folly, he answered, They whistle
their horses and dogs: they might also be contented that I whistle my
child; and so whistleth him daily, friendly admonition neglected.

"In his visitation, among other his surveys, he surveyed Milford
Haven, where he espied a seal-fish tumbling, and he crept down to the
rocks by the water-side, and continued there {p.205} whistling by
the space of an hour, persuading the company that laughed fast at him,
he made the fish to tarry there.

"Speaking of the scarcity of herrings, he laid the fault to the
covetousness of fishers, who in time of plenty took so many that they
destroyed the breeders.

"Speaking of the alteration of the coin, he wished that what metal
soever it was made of, the penny should be in weight worth a penny of
the same metal."

Such were the charges against Ferrars, which, notwithstanding, were
considered serious enough to require an answer; and the bishop
consented to reply.

He dined with his servants, he said, because the hall of the palace
was in ruins, and for their comfort he allowed them to eat in his own
room. For his hospitality, he appealed to his neighbours; and for his
conversation, he said that he suited it to his hearers. He talked of
religion to religious men; to men of the world, he talked "of honest
worldly things with godly intent." He saw no folly in having his horse
decently appointed; and as to walking to parliament, it was
indifferent to him whether he walked or rode. God had given him a
child, after lawful prayer, begotten in honest marriage; he had
therefore named him Samuel, and presented him to the minister as a
poor member of Christ's Church; it was done openly in the cathedral,
without offending any one. The crime of whistling he admitted,
"thinking it better to bring up his son with loving entertainment," to
encourage him to receive afterwards more serious lessons. He had
whistled to the seal; and "such as meant folly might turn it to their
purpose." He had said that the destruction of the fry of fish
prevented fish from multiplying, because he believed it to be true.

Answered or unanswered, it is scarcely credible that such accusations
should have received attention; but the real offence behind, and is
indicated in a vague statement that he had supposed himself to a
premunire. The exquisite iniquity of the Northumberland administration
could not endure a bishop who had opposed the corrupt administration
of patronage; and the explanation being held as insufficient, Ferrars
was summoned to London and thrown into prison, where Mary's accession
found him.

Cut off in this way from the opportunities of escape which were long
open to others, the bishop remained in confinement till the opening of
the persecution. He was deposed from his see by Gardiner's first
commission, as having been married; otherwise, {p.206} however,
Ferrars was unobnoxious politically and personally. Being in prison,
he had been incapable of committing any fresh offence against the
queen, and might reasonably have been forgotten or passed over. But he
had been a bishop, and he was ready caught to the hands of the
authorities; and Mary had been compelled unwillingly to release a more
conspicuous offender, Miles Coverdale, at the intercession of the King
of Denmark. Ferrars was therefore brought before Gardiner on the 4th
of February. On the 14th he was sent into Wales to be tried by Morgan,
his successor at St. David's, and Constantine, the notary of the
diocese, who had been one of his accusers. By these judges, on the
11th of March, he was condemned and degraded; he appealed to the
legate, but the legate never listened to the prayer of heretics; the
legate's mission was to extirpate them. On Saturday the 30th of March,
Ferrars was brought to the stake in the market-place in
Carmarthen.[460]

                   [Footnote 460: Foxe, vol. vii.]

Rawlins White, an aged Cardiff fisherman, followed Ferrars. In the
course of April, George Marsh, a curate, was burnt at Chester; and on
the 20th of April, a man named William Flower, who had been once a
monk of Ely, was burnt in Palace-yard, at Westminster. Flower had
provoked his own fate. He appeared on Easter day in St. Margaret's
Church, while mass was being said; and provoked, as he persuaded
himself, by the Holy Spirit, he flew upon the officiating priest, and
stabbed him with a dagger in the hand; when to the horror of pious
Catholics, the blood spurted into the chalice, and was mixed with the
consecrated elements.

Sixteen persons had now been put to death, and there was again a pause
for the sharp surgery to produce its effects.

While Mary was destroying the enemies of the church, Julius the Third
had died at the end of March, and Reginald Pole was again a candidate
for the vacant chair. The courts of Paris and Brussels alike promised
him their support, but alike gave their support to another. They
flattered his virtues, but they permitted Marcellus Cervino, the
Cardinal of St. Cross, to be elected unanimously; and the English
legate was told that he must be contented with the event which God had
been pleased to send.[461] An opportunity, however, seemed to offer
itself to him of accomplishing a service to Europe.

                   [Footnote 461: Noailles to the King of France,
                   April 5 and April 17. Montmorency to Noailles,
                   April 21. Noailles to Montmorency, April 30:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv.]

{p.207} For thirty-five years the two great Catholic powers had been
wrestling with but brief interruption. The advantage to either had
been as trifling as the causes of their quarrel were insignificant.
Their revenues were anticipated, their credit was exhausted, yet year
after year languid armies struggled into collision. Across the Alps in
Italy, and along the frontiers of Burgundy and the Low Countries,
towns and villages, and homesteads were annually sacked, and peasants
and their families destroyed--for what it were vain to ask, except it
was for some poor shadow of imagined honour. Two mighty princes
believed themselves justified in the sight of Heaven in squandering
their subjects' treasure and their subjects' blood, because the pride
of each forbade him to be the first in volunteering insignificant
concessions. France had conquered Savoy and part of Piedmont, and had
pushed forward its northern frontier to Marienbourg and Metz: the
emperor held Lombardy, Parma, and Naples, and Navarre was annexed to
Spain. The quarrel might have easily been ended by mutual restitution;
yet the Peace of Cambray, the Treaty of Nice, and the Peace of Crêpy,
lasted only while the combatants were taking breath; and those who
would attribute the extravagances of human folly to supernatural
influence might imagine that the great discord between the orthodox
powers had been permitted to give time for the Reformation to strike
its roots into the soil of Europe. But a war which could be carried on
only by loans at sixteen per cent. was necessarily near its
conclusion. The apparent recovery of England to the church revived
hopes which the Peace of Passau and the dissolution of the Council of
Trent had almost extinguished; and, could a reconciliation be effected
at last, and could Philip obtain the disposal of the military strength
of England in the interests of the papacy, it might not even yet be
too late to lay the yoke of orthodoxy on the Germans, and, in a
Catholic interpretation of the Parable of the Supper, "compel them to
come in."

Mary, who had heard herself compared to the Virgin, and Pole, who
imagined the Prince of Spain to be the counterpart of the Redeemer of
mankind, indulged their fancy in large expectations. Philip was the
Solomon who was to raise up the temple of the Lord, which the emperor,
who was a man of war, had not been allowed to build: and France, at
the same time, was not unwilling to listen to proposals. The birth of
Mary's child was expected in a few weeks, when England would, as a
matter of course, become more decisively Imperialist, and Henry, whose
{p.208} invasion of the Netherlands had failed in the previous
summer, was ready now to close the struggle while it could be ended on
equal and honourable terms.

A conference was, therefore, agreed upon, in which England was to
mediate. A village in the Calais Pale was selected as the place of
assembly, and Pole, Gardiner, Paget, and Pembroke were chosen to
arrange the terms of a general peace, with the Bishop of Arras, the
Cardinal of Lorraine, and Montmorency. The time pitched upon was that
at which, so near as the queen could judge, she would herself bring
into the world the offspring which was to be the hope of England and
mankind; and the great event should, if possible, precede the first
meeting of the plenipotentiaries.

The queen herself commenced her preparations with infinite
earnestness, and, as a preliminary votive offering, she resolved to
give back to the church such of the abbey property as remained in the
hands of the crown. Her debts were now as high as ever. The Flanders
correspondence was repeating the heavy story of loans and bills.
Promises to pay were falling due, and there were no resources to meet
them, and the Israelite leeches were again fastened on the
commonwealth.[462] Nevertheless, the sacrifice should be made; the
more difficult it was, the more favourably it would be received; and,
on the 28th of March, she sent for the Lord Treasurer, and announced
her intention. "If he told her that her estate would not bear it, she
must reply," she said, "that she valued the salvation of her soul
beyond all earthly things."[463] As soon as parliament could meet and
give its sanction, she would restore the first-fruits also to the Holy
See. She must work for God as God had worked for her.

                   [Footnote 462: Letters to and from Sir Thomas
                   Gresham: _MS. Flanders, Mary_, State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 463: Strype's _Memorials_.]

About the 20th of April she withdrew to Hampton Court for entire
quiet. The rockers and the nurses were in readiness, and a cradle
stood open to receive the royal infant. Priests and bishops sang
Litanies through the London streets; a procession of ecclesiastics in
cloth of gold and tissue marched round Hampton Court Palace, headed by
Philip in person; Gardiner walked at his side, while Mary gazed from a
window.[464] Not only was the child assuredly coming, but its sex was
decided on, and circulars were drawn and signed both by the king and
queen, with blanks only for the month and day, announcing to ministers
{p.209} of state, to ambassadors, and to foreign sovereigns, the
birth of a prince.[465]

                   [Footnote 464: Machyn's _Diary_.]

                   [Footnote 465: These curious records of
                   disappointed expectations remain in large numbers
                   in the State Paper Office. The following is the
                   letter addressed to Pole:--

                   Philip.--Mary the Queen.--Most Reverend Father in
                   God, our right trusty and right entirely beloved
                   cousin, We greet you well: And whereas it hath
                   pleased Almighty God, of His infinite goodness, to
                   add unto the great number of other His benefits
                   bestowed upon us, the gladding of us with the happy
                   deliverance of a prince, for the which we do most
                   humbly thank Him; knowing your affections to be
                   such towards us as whatsoever shall fortunately
                   succeed unto us, the same cannot be but acceptable
                   unto you also; We have thought good to communicate
                   unto you these happy news of ours, to the intent
                   you may rejoice with us; and praying for us, give
                   God thanks for this his work accordingly. Given
                   under our signet, at our house of Hampton Court,
                   the ---- of ----, the 1st and 2nd year of our and
                   my Lord the King's reign.--_MS. Mary, Domestic_,
                   vol. v. State Paper Office.]

On the 30th, the happy moment was supposed to have arrived; a message
was sent off to London, announcing the commencement of the pains. The
bells were set ringing in all the churches; _Te Deum_ was sung in St.
Paul's; priests wrote sermons; bonfires were piled ready for lighting,
and tables were laid out in the streets.[466] The news crossed the
Channel to Antwerp, and had grown in the transit. The great bell of
the cathedral was rung for the actual birth. The vessels in the river
fired salutes. "The regent sent the English mariners a hundred crowns
to drink," and, "they made themselves in readiness to show some worthy
triumph upon the waters."[467]

                   [Footnote 466: Noailles to Montmorency, April 30:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv.]

                   [Footnote 467: Sir Thomas Gresham to the Council:
                   _MS. Flanders, Mary_, State Paper Office.]

But the pains passed off without result; and whispers began to be
heard, that there was, perhaps, a mistake of a more considerable kind.
Mary, however, had herself no sort of misgiving. She assured her
attendants that all was well, and that she felt the motion of her
child. The physicians professed to be satisfied, and the priests were
kept at work at the Litanies. Up and down the streets they marched,
through city and suburb, park and square; torches flared along
Cheapside at midnight behind the Holy Sacrament, and five hundred poor
men and women from the almshouses walked two and two, telling their
beads in their withered fingers: then all the boys of all the schools
were set in motion, and the ushers and the masters came after them;
clerks, canons, bishops, mayor, aldermen, officers of guilds.[468]
Such marching, such chanting, such praying was never seen or heard
before or since in London streets. A profane {p.210} person ran one
day out of the crowd, and hung about a priest's neck, where the beads
should be, a string of puddings; but they whipped him, and prayed on.
Surely, God would hear the cry of his people.

                   [Footnote 468: Machyn's _Diary_.]

In the midst of the suspense the papal chair fell vacant again. The
pontificate of Marcellus lasted three weeks, and Pole a third time
offered himself to the suffrages of the cardinals. The courts were
profuse of compliments as before. Noailles presented him with a note
from Montmorency, containing assurances of the infinite desire of the
King of France for the success of so holy a person.[469] Philip wrote
to Rome in his behalf, and Mary condescended to ask for the support of
the French cardinals.[470] But the fair speeches, as before, were but
trifling. The choice fell on Pole's personal enemy, Cardinal Caraffa,
who was French alike in heart and brain.

                   [Footnote 469: Noailles to Montmorency, May 15:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. iv.]

                   [Footnote 470: Philip and Mary to Gardiner,
                   Arundel, and Paget: Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

The choice of a pope, however, would signify little, if only the child
could be born; but where was the child? The queen put it off
strangely. The conference could be delayed no longer. It opened
without the intended makeweight, and the court of France was less
inclined to make concessions for a peace. The delay began to tell on
the bourse at Antwerp. The Fuggers and the Schertzes drew their
purse-strings, and made difficulties in lending more money to the
emperor.[471] The plenipotentiaries had to separate after a few
meetings, having effected nothing, to the especial mortification of
Philip and Mary, who looked to the pacification to enable them to cure
England of its unruly humours. The Duke of Alva (so rumour insisted)
was to bring across the Spanish troops which were in the Low
Countries, take possession of London, and force the parliament into
submission.[472] The English were to be punished, for the infinite
insolences in which they had indulged towards Philip's retinue, by
being compelled, whether they liked it or not, to bestow upon him the
crown.[473]

                   [Footnote 471: Noailles: _Ambassades_, vol. iv. p.
                   313.]

                   [Footnote 472: "Et là où ladicte paix ou trefve
                   adviendront ledict seigneur (l'Empereur) fera
                   bientost après repasser en ce royaulme le duc
                   d'Alva avecque la plus grande part de sesdictes
                   forces pour y fabvoriser les affaires de ce
                   roy."--Noailles, vol. iv. p. 330.]

                   [Footnote 473: "Il n'est rien que l'Empereur ne
                   fasse pour venir à la paix, tant il désire avant de
                   retourner en Espaigne de faire couronner son filz,
                   roy de ce pays. Et pensera par même moyen se saisir
                   des places fortes d'icelluy et chastier des Angloys
                   d'infinies injures qu'ilz out faict recepvoir aux
                   Espagnols, mettant grosses garnisons en ceste ville
                   de Londres, et aultres lieux, à quoy ces roy et
                   royne proposent ... s'y faire obéir absolument aux
                   parlemens, suyvant ce qu'ilz n'ont peu faire par
                   cydevant."--Noailles, vol. iv. pp. 332, 333.

                   In these reports the truth was anticipated but not
                   exceeded. It will be seen that such projects were
                   really formed at a later period.]

{p.211} But the peace could not be, nor could the child be born; and
the impression grew daily that the queen had not been pregnant at all.
Mary herself, who had been borne forward to this, the crisis of her
fortunes, on a tide of success, now suddenly found her exulting hopes
closing over. From confidence she fell into anxiety, from anxiety into
fear, from fear into wildness and despondency. She vowed that with the
restoration of the estates, she would rebuild the abbeys at her own
cost. In vain. Her women now understood her condition; she was sick of
a mortal disease; but they durst not tell her; and she whose career
had been painted out to her by the legate, as especial and supernatural,
looked only for supernatural causes of her present state. Throughout
May she remained in her apartments waiting--waiting--in passionate
restlessness. With stomach swollen, and features shrunk and haggard,
she would sit upon the floor, with her knees drawn up to her face, in
an agony of doubt; and in mockery of her wretchedness, letters were
again strewed about the place by an invisible agency, telling her that
she was loathed by her people. She imagined they would rise again in
her defence. But if they rose again, it would be to drive her and her
husband from the country.[474]

                   [Footnote 474: "Ladicte dame plusieurs fois de le
                   jour demeure longtemps assise à terre, les genoulx
                   aussy haultz que la teste.

                   "Se trouva hier fort malade et plus que de
                   coustume, et pour la soulager, fust trouvé à mesme
                   heure en sa court plusieurs lettres semées contre
                   son honneur," etc.--Noailles, vol. iv. p. 342.]

After the mysterious quickening on the legate's salutation, she could
not doubt that her hopes had been at one time well founded; but for
some fault, some error in herself, God had delayed the fulfilment of
his promise. And what could that crime be? The accursed thing was
still in the realm. She had been raised up, like the judges in Israel,
for the extermination of God's enemies; and she had smitten but a few
here and there, when, like the evil spirits, their name was
legion.[475] She had before sent orders round among the magistrates,
to have their eyes upon them. On the 24th of May, when her distraction
was at its height, she wrote a circular to quicken the over-languid
zeal of the bishops.

                   [Footnote 475: "The Queen said she could not be
                   safely and happily delivered, nor could anything
                   succeed prosperously with her, unless all the
                   heretics in prison were burnt _ad
                   unum_."--Burnet.]

{p.212} "Right Reverend Father in God," it ran, "We greet you well;
and where of late we addressed our letters unto the justices of the
peace, within every of the counties within this our realm, whereby,
amongst other good instructions given therein for the good order of
the country about, they are willed to have special regard to such
disordered persons as, forgetting their duty to Almighty God and us,
do lean to any erroneous and heretical opinions; whom, if they cannot
by good admonition and fair means reform, they are willed to deliver
unto the ordinary, to be by him charitably travelled withal, and
removed, if it may be, from their naughty opinions; or else, if they
continue obstinate, to be ordered according to the laws provided in
that behalf: understanding now, to our no little marvel, that divers
of the said misordered persons, being, by the justices of the peace,
for their contempt and obstinacy, brought to the ordinary, to be used
as is aforesaid, are either refused to be received at their hands, or,
if they be received, are neither so travelled with as Christian
charity requireth, nor yet proceeded withal according to the order of
justice, but are suffered to continue in their errors, to the
dishonour of Almighty God, and dangerous example of others; like as we
find this matter very strange, so have we thought convenient both to
signify this our knowledge, and therewithal also to admonish you to
have in this behalf such regard henceforth unto the office of a good
pastor and bishop, as where any such offenders shall be, by the said
justices of the peace, brought unto you, ye do use your good wisdom
and discretion in procuring to remove them from their errors if it may
be, or else in proceeding against them, if they continue obstinate,
according to the order of the laws, so as, through your good
furtherance, both God's glory may be the better advanced, and the
commonwealth more quietly governed."[476]

                   [Footnote 476: Burnet's _Collectanea_. This letter
                   is addressed to Bonner, and was taken from Bonner's
                   _Register_; but, from the form, it was evidently a
                   circular. The Bishop of London had not deserved to
                   be singled out to be especially admonished for want
                   of energy.]

Under the fresh impulse of this letter, fifty persons were put to
death at the stake in the three ensuing months,--in the diocese of
London, under Bonner; in the diocese of Rochester, under Maurice
Griffin; in the diocese of Canterbury, where Pole, the archbishop
designate, so soon as Cranmer should be despatched, governed through
Harpsfeld, the archdeacon, and Thornton, the suffragan bishop of
Dover. Of these sacrifices, which were distinguished all of them by a
uniformity of quiet heroism in the {p.213} sufferers, that of
Cardmaker, prebendary of Wells, calls most for notice.

The people, whom the cruelty of the Catholic party was reconverting to
the Reformation with a rapidity like that produced by the gift of
tongues on the day of Pentecost, looked on the martyrs as soldiers are
looked at who are called to accomplish, with the sacrifice of their
lives, some great service for their country. Cardmaker, on his first
examination, had turned his back and flinched. But the consciousness
of shame, and the example of others, gave him back his courage; he was
called up again under the queen's mandate, condemned, and brought out
on the 30th of May, to suffer at Smithfield, with an upholsterer named
Warne. The sheriffs produced the pardons. Warne, without looking at
them, undressed at once, and went to the stake; Cardmaker "remained
long talking;" "the people in a marvellous dump of sadness, thinking
he would recant." He turned away at last, and knelt, and prayed; but
he had still his clothes on; "there was no semblance of burning;" and
the crowd continued nervously agitated, till he rose and threw off his
cloak. "Then, seeing this, contrary to their fearful expectations, as
men delivered out of great doubt, they cried out for joy with so great
a shout as hath not been lightly heard a greater, God be praised; the
Lord strengthen thee, Cardmaker. The Lord Jesus receive thy
spirit."[477] Every martyr's trial was a battle; every constant death
was a defeat of the common enemy; and the instinctive consciousness
that truth was asserting itself in suffering, converted the natural
emotion of horror into admiring pride.

                   [Footnote 477: Foxe, vol. vii.]

Yet, for the great purpose of the court, the burnt-offerings were
ineffectual as the prayers of the priests. The queen was allowed to
persuade herself that she had mistaken her time by two months; and to
this hope she clung herself, so long as the hope could last: but among
all other persons concerned, scarcely one was any longer under a
delusion; and the clear-eyed Renard lost no time in laying the
position of affairs before his master.

The marriage of Elizabeth and Philibert had hung fire, from the
invincible unwillingness on the part of Mary to pardon or in any way
recognise her sister;[478] and as long as there was a hope of a child,
she had not perhaps been pressed about it; but {p.214} it was now
absolutely necessary to do something, and violent measures towards the
princess were more impossible than ever.

                   [Footnote 478: A letter of Mary's to Philip on the
                   subject will be given in the following chapter,
                   which reveals the disagreement which had arisen
                   between them about this marriage.]

"The entire future," wrote Renard to the emperor, on the 27th of June,
"turns on the accouchement of the queen; of which, however, there are
no signs. If all goes well, the state of feeling in the country will
improve. If she is in error, I foresee convulsions and disturbances
such as no pen can describe. The succession to the crown is so
unfortunately hampered, that it must fall to Elizabeth, and with
Elizabeth there will be a religious revolution. The clergy will be put
down, the Catholics persecuted, and there will be such revenge for the
present proceedings as the world has never seen. I know not whether
the king's person is safe; and the scandals and calumnies which the
heretics are spreading about the queen are beyond conception. Some say
that she has never been _enceinte_; some repeat that there will be a
supposititious child, and that there would have been less delay could
a child have been found that would answer the purpose.[479] The looks
of men are grown strange and impenetrable; those in whose loyalty I
had most dependence I have now most reason to doubt. Nothing is
certain, and I am more bewildered than ever at the things which I see
going on around me. There is neither government, nor justice, nor
order; nothing but audacity and malice."[480]

                   [Footnote 479: The impression was very generally
                   spread. Noailles mentions it, writing on the 20th
                   of June to the King of France; and Foxe mentions a
                   mysterious attempt of Lord North to obtain a
                   new-born child from its mother, as having happened
                   within his own knowledge. The existence of the
                   belief, however, proves nothing. At such a time it
                   was inevitable, nor was there any good evidence to
                   connect Lord North, supposing Foxe's story true,
                   with the court. The risk of discovery would have
                   been great, the consequences terrible, and few
                   people have been more incapable than Mary of
                   knowingly doing a wrong thing.]

                   [Footnote 480: Renard to the Emperor, June 27:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. vi.]

The faint hopes which Renard expressed speedily vanished, and every
one but the queen herself not only knew that she had no child at
present, but that she never could have a child--that her days were
numbered, and that if the Spaniards intended to secure the throne they
must obtain it by other means than the order of inheritance. Could the
war be brought to an end, Mary might live long enough to give her
husband an opportunity of attempting violence; but of peace there was
no immediate prospect, and it remained for the present to make the
most of Elizabeth. Setting her marriage aside, it was doubtful whether
the people would permit her longer confinement after the queen's
{p.215} disappointment; and, willingly or unwillingly, Mary must be
forced to receive her at court again.

The princess was still at Woodstock, where she had remained for a
year, under the harsh surveillance of Sir Henry Bedingfield. Lord
William Howard's visit may have consoled her with the knowledge that
she was not forgotten by the nobility; but her health had suffered
from her long imprisonment, and the first symptom of an approaching
change in her position was the appearance of the queen's physician to
take charge of her.

A last effort was made to betray her into an acknowledgment of guilt.
"A secret friend" entreated her to "submit herself to the queen's
mercy." Elizabeth saw the snare. She would not ask for mercy, she
said, where she had committed no offence; if she was guilty, she
desired justice, not mercy; and she knew well she would have found
none, could evidence have been produced against her: but she thanked
God she was in no danger of being proved guilty; she wished she was as
safe from secret enemies.

But the plots for despatching her, if they had ever existed, were laid
aside; she was informed that her presence was required at Hampton
Court. The rumour of her intended release spread abroad, and sixty
gentlemen, who had once belonged to her suite, met her on the way at
Colebrook, in the hope that they might return to attendance upon her;
but their coming was premature; she was still treated as a prisoner,
and they were ordered off in the queen's name.

On her arrival at Hampton Court, however, the princess felt that she
had recovered her freedom. She was received by Lord William Howard.
The courtiers hurried to her with their congratulations, and Howard
dared and provoked the resentment of the king and queen by making them
kneel and kiss her hand.[481] Mary could not bring herself at first to
endure an interview. The Bishop of Winchester came to her on the
queen's behalf, to repeat the advice which had been given to her at
Woodstock, and to promise pardon if she would ask for it.

                   [Footnote 481: Joanna of Castille, the emperor's
                   mad mother, dying soon after, masses were said for
                   her with some solemnity at St. Paul's. "Aux
                   obsèques que la royne commanda estre faictes à
                   Londres, l'admiral d'Angleterre démontra
                   ouvertement avoir quelque ressentment, de ce qu'il
                   disoit le roy ne luy faisoit si bonne chiere et
                   démonstration si favorable qu'il avoit accoustumé,
                   disant qu'il sçavoit bien pourquoy s'estoit,
                   inférant que ce fust pour ce qu'il avoit faict
                   baiser les mains de Elizabetz aux gentilhommes qui
                   l'avoient visitez."]

Elizabeth had been resolute when she was alone and friendless, she was
not more yielding now. She repeated that she had {p.216} committed
no offence, and therefore required no forgiveness; she had rather lie
in prison all her life than confess when there was nothing to be
confessed.

The answer was carried to Mary, and the day after the bishop came
again. "The queen marvelled," he said, "that she would so stoutly
stand to her innocence;" if she called herself innocent, she implied
that she had been "unjustly imprisoned;" if she expected her liberty
"she must tell another tale."

But the causes which had compelled the court to send for her, forbade
them equally to persist in an impotent persecution. They had desired
only to tempt her into admissions which they could plead in
justification for past or future severities. They had failed, and they
gave way.

A week later, on an evening in the beginning of July, Lady Clarence,
Mary's favourite attendant, brought a message, that the queen was
expecting her sister in her room. The princess was led across the
garden in the dusk, and introduced by a back staircase into the royal
apartments. Almost two years had elapsed since the sisters had last
met, when Mary hid the hatred which was in her heart behind a veil of
kindness. There was no improvement of feeling, but the necessity of
circumstances compelled the form of reconciliation.

Elizabeth dropped on her knees. "God preserve your majesty," she said;
"you will find me as true a subject to your majesty as any; whatever
has been reported of me, you shall not find it otherwise."

"You will not confess," the queen said; "you stand to your truth: I
pray God it may so fall out."

"If it does not," said Elizabeth, "I desire neither favour nor pardon
at your hands."

"Well," Mary bitterly answered, "you persevere in your truth stiffly;
belike you will not confess that you have been wrongly punished?"

"I must not say so, your majesty," Elizabeth replied.

"Belike you will to others?" said the queen.

"No, please your majesty," answered the princess. "I have borne the
burden, and I must bear it. I pray your majesty to have a good opinion
of me, and to think me your true subject, not only from the beginning
but while life lasteth."

The queen did not answer, she muttered only in Spanish, "_Sabe Dios_,"
"God knows," and Elizabeth withdrew.[482]

                   [Footnote 482: Foxe; Holinshed.]

It was said that, during the interview, Philip was concealed {p.217}
behind a curtain, anxious for a sight of the captive damsel whose
favour with the people was such a perplexity to him.

At this time, Elizabeth was beautiful; her haughty features were
softened by misfortune; and as it is certain that Philip, when he left
England, gave special directions for her good treatment, so it is
possible that he may have envied the fortune which he intended for the
Prince of Savoy; and the scheme which he afterwards attempted to
execute, of making her his own wife on the queen's death, may have
then suggested itself to him as a solution of the English difficulty.
The magnificent girl, who was already the idol of the country, must
have presented an emphatic contrast with the lean, childless, haggard,
forlorn Mary; and he may easily have allowed his fancy to play with a
pleasant temptation. If it was so, Philip was far too careless of the
queen's feelings to conceal his own. If it was not so, the queen's
haunting consciousness of her unattractiveness must have been
aggravated by the disappointment of her hopes, and she may have
tortured herself with jealousy and suspicion.

At all events, Mary could not overcome her aversion. Elizabeth was set
at liberty, but she was not allowed to remain at the court. She
returned to Ashridge, to be pursued, even there, with petty
annoyances. Her first step when she was again at home was to send for
her friend Mrs. Ashley; the queen instantly committed Mrs. Ashley to
the Fleet, and sent three other officers of her sister's household to
the Tower; while a number of gentlemen suspected of being her
adherents, who had remained in London beyond their usual time of
leaving for the country, were ordered imperiously to their
estates.[483]

                   [Footnote 483: Le dict conseil voyant que plusieurs
                   gentilhommes s'assembloient à Londres, et
                   communicquoient par ensemble, qu'ils se tenoient à
                   Londres, contre ce qu'est accoustumé en Angleterre,
                   qu'est que ceulx qu'ilz eu moien ne demeurent à
                   Londres en l'esté, ains au pays pour la chaleur et
                   maladies ordinaires qu'ilz y reignent, et que
                   toutes les dicts gentilhommes sont hérétiques, ains
                   esté pour le plus part rebelles, les autres parens
                   et adhérens de Elizabetz, leur a faict faire
                   commandement de se retirer chascun en sa maison et
                   se separer; qu'ilz ont prins mal et en out fait
                   grandes doleances, en prétendant qu'ilz estoient
                   gens de bien, qu'ilz n'estoient traistres.--Renard
                   to the Emperor: _Granvelle Papers_, vol. iv.]

But neither impatience nor violence could conceal the fatal change
which had passed over Mary's prospects. Not till the end of July could
she part finally from her hopes. Then, at last, the glittering dream
was lost for the waking truth; then at once from the imagination of
herself as the virgin bride who was to bear a child for the recovery
of a lost world, she was precipitated into the poor certainty that she
was a blighted and {p.218} a dying woman. Sorrow was heaped on
sorrow; Philip would stay with her no longer. His presence was
required on the continent, where his father was about to anticipate
the death which he knew to be near, and, after forty years of battling
with the stormy waters, to collect himself for the last great change
in the calm of a monastery in Spain.

It was no new intention. For years the emperor had been in the habit
of snatching intervals of retreat; for years he had made up his mind
to relinquish at some time the labours of life before relinquishing
life itself. The vanities of sovereignty had never any particular
charm for Charles V.; he was not a man who cared "to monarchise and
kill with looks," or who could feel a pang at parting with the bauble
of a crown; and when the wise world cried out in their surprise, and
strained their fancies for the cause of conduct which seemed so
strange to them, they forgot that princes who reign to labour, grow
weary like the peasant of the burden of daily toil.

Many influences combined to induce Charles to delay no longer in
putting his resolution in effect.

The Cortes were growing impatient at the prolonged absence both of
himself and Philip, and the presence of the emperor, although in
retirement, would give pleasure to the Spanish people. His health was
so shattered, that each winter had been long expected to be his last;
and although he would not flinch from work as long as he was required
at his post, there was nothing to detain Philip any more in England,
unless, or until, the succession could be placed on another footing.
To continue there the husband of a childless queen, with authority
limited to a form, and with no recognised interest beyond the term of
his wife's life, was no becoming position for the heir of the throne
of Spain, of Naples, the Indies, and the Low Countries.

Philip was therefore now going. He concealed his intention till it was
betrayed by the departure of one Spanish nobleman after another. The
queen became nervous and agitated, and at last he was forced to avow
part of the truth. He told her that his father wanted to see him, but
that his absence would not be extended beyond a fortnight or three
weeks; she should go with him to Dover, and, if she desired, she could
wait there for his return.[484] Her consent was obtained by the mild
deceit, and it was considered afterwards that the journey to Dover
might be too much for her, and the parting might take place at
Greenwich.

                   [Footnote 484: Noailles, vol. v. pp. 77-82.]

{p.219} On the 3rd of August, the king and queen removed for a few
days from Hampton Court to Oatlands; on the way Mary received
consolation from a poor man who met her on crutches, and was cured of
his lameness by looking on her.[485]

                   [Footnote 485: Machyn's _Diary_.]

On the 26th, the royal party came down the river in their barge,
attended by the legate; they dined at Westminster on their way to
Greenwich, and as rumour had said that Mary was dead, she was carried
through the city in an open litter, with the king and the cardinal at
her side. To please Philip, or to please the people, Elizabeth was
invited to the court before the king's departure; but she was sent by
water to prevent a demonstration, while the archers of the guard who
attended on the queen, were in corslet and morion.[486]

                   [Footnote 486: Noailles, vol. v. pp. 98, 99, 123.]

On the 28th, Philip went. Parliament was to sit again in October. It
would then be seen whether anything more could be done about the
succession. On the consent or refusal of the legislature his future
measures would depend. To the queen he left particular instructions,
which he afterwards repeated in writing, to show favour to Elizabeth;
and doubting how far he could rely upon Mary, he gave a similar charge
to such of his own suite as he left behind him.[487] Could he obtain
it, he would take the princess's crown for himself; should he fail, he
might marry her; or should this too be impossible, he would win her
gratitude, and support her title against the dangerous competition of
the Queen of Scots and Dauphiness of France.

                   [Footnote 487: Elle a bonne part en la grace dudict
                   Seigneur Roy, lequel par plusieurs lettres qu'il
                   escript à la royne sa femme la luy recommende,
                   comme aussy il a faict particulièrement et par
                   soubz main aux principaux seigneurs Espaignolz qui
                   sont demourez en ce lieu.--Ibid. p. 127.]

On these terms the pair who had been brought together with so much
difficulty separated after a little more than a year. The cardinal
composed a passionate prayer for the queen's use during her husband's
absence.[488] It is to be hoped that she was {p.220} spared the
sight of a packet of letters soon after intercepted by the French, in
which her husband and her husband's countrymen expressed their
opinions of the marriage and its consequences.[489] The truth,
however, became known in England, although in a form under which the
queen could turn from it as a calumny.

                   [Footnote 488: Domine Jesu Christe, qui es verus
                   sponsus animæ meæ, verus Rex ac Dominus meus qui me
                   ad Regni hujus gubernacula singulari tuâ
                   providentiâ ac benignitate vocatam, cum antea essem
                   derelicta et tanquam mulier ab adolescentiâ
                   abjecta, eum virum in matrimonium et regni
                   societatem expetere voluis ti, _qui plus cæteris
                   imaginem tuam quam in sanctitate et justitiâ mundo
                   ostendisti in suis meisque actionibus dirigendis
                   exprimeret, et expetitum dedisti_, cujus nunc
                   discessum moerens defleo--quæso per illum
                   pretiosissimum sanguinem quem pro me sponsâ tuâ
                   proque illo et omnibus in arâ crucis effudisti, ut
                   hunc meum dolorem ita lenias, ita purges, ita
                   temperes, ut quoties ille sanctis suis consiliis
                   mihi adest, quoties per litteras quæ ad salutem
                   hujus populi tui pertinent commendat, toties illum
                   præsentem esse, teque unicum consolatorem in medio
                   nostro adesse sentiam, utque in illo te semper amem
                   atque glorificem. Obsecro, Domine, ut in nobis tua
                   imago sic indies per tuam gratiam renovetur in
                   conspectu populi tui, quern nobis gubernandum
                   commisisti, ut cum is justitiæ tuæ severitatem, in
                   iis quæ amiserat dum hi regnarent qui a rectâ fide
                   declinantes sanctitatem et justitiam expulerunt,
                   jam pridem senserit, quæ nunc per tuam
                   misericordiam recuperaverit sub illorum Regno quos
                   nunquam a rectâ fide declinare es passus, cum
                   gratiarum actione lætus intelligat ut uno ore tarn
                   nos quam populus noster Deum patrem per te ejus
                   unicum filium in unitate Spiritûs glorificemus, ad
                   nostram ipsorum et piorum omnium salutem et
                   consolationem. Amen.--_Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 489: Il me fauldroit faire ung
                   merveilleux discours pour vous rendre compte de
                   tous les propoz qui font dans les dictes lettres.
                   Je vous diray seulment ce qui plus tousche et
                   regarde le lieu où vous estes. Et premièrement la
                   royne a tant enchanté et ensorcelé ce beau jeune
                   prince son mary que de luy avoir faict croyre ung
                   an entier qu'elle estoit grosse pour le retenir
                   près d'elle, dont il se trouve à présent si confus
                   et fasché qu'il n'a plus délibéré de retourner
                   habiter ceste terre, promettant à tous ses
                   serviteurs que s'il peult estre une fois en
                   Espaigne qu'il n'en sortira plus à si maulvaise
                   occasion, etc....--Le Protonotaire de Noailles à M.
                   de Noailles: _Ambassades_, vol. v. p. 136.]

Before the meeting of parliament, a letter was published, addressed to
the Lords of the Council, by a certain John Bradford.[490] The writer
accounted for his knowledge of the secrets which he had to tell, by
saying that he had lived in the household of one of the Spanish
noblemen who were in attendance on Philip; that he had learnt the
language unknown to his master, and had thus overheard unguarded
conversations. He had read letters addressed to Philip, and letters
written by him and by his confidential friends; and he was able to
say, as a thing heard with his own ears, and seen with his own eyes,
that the "Spaniards minded nothing less than the subversion of the
English commonwealth." In fact, he repeated the rumours of the summer,
only more circumstantially, and with fuller details. Under pretence of
improving the fortifications, Philip intended to obtain command of the
principal harbours and ports; he would lay cannon on the land side,
and gradually bring in Spanish troops, the queen playing into his
hands; and as soon as peace could be made with France, he would have
the command of the fleet and the sea, and could do what he
pleased.[491]

                   [Footnote 490: Not the martyr; he had been
                   despatched by Bonner among the victims of the
                   summer; but a person otherwise-known.]

                   [Footnote 491: "Ye will say, How could this fellow
                   know their counsel?--I was chamberlain to one of
                   the privy council, and with all diligence gave
                   myself to write and read Spanish, which thing once
                   obtained I kept secret from my master and my
                   fellow-servants, because I might be trusted in my
                   master's closet or study, where I might read such
                   writing as I saw daily brought into the council
                   chamber."--John Bradford to the Lords of the
                   Council: Strype's _Memorials of the Reformation_.]

{p.221} "I saw," the writer continued, "letters sent from the
emperor, wherein was contained these privities,--that the king should
make his excuse to the queen that he would go to see his father in
Flanders, and that immediately he would return--seeing the good simple
queen is so jealous over my son. (I term it," said Bradford, "as the
letter doth.") "We," said the emperor, "shall make her agree unto all
our requests before his return, or else keep him exercised in our
affairs till we may prevail with the council, who, doubtless, will be
won with fair promises and great gifts, politicly placed in time." "In
other letters I have read the cause disputed, that the queen is bound
by the laws of God to endue her husband in all her goods and
possessions, so far as in her lieth; and they think she will do it
indeed to the uttermost of her power. No man can think evil of the
queen, though she be somewhat moved when such things are beaten into
her head with gentlemen; but whether the crown belongs to the queen or
the realm, the Spaniards know not, nor care not, though the queen, to
her damnation, disherit the right heir apparent, or break her father's
entail, made by the whole consent of the realm, which neither she nor
the realm can justly alter."[492]

                   [Footnote 492: Elizabeth, when she came to the
                   throne, refused to admit that she was under any
                   real obligation to Philip. She was entirely right
                   in her refusal. The Spaniards had sworn, if
                   possible, to make away "with all those which by any
                   means might lay claim to the crown."

                   "I call God to record," Bradford continues, "I have
                   heard it with mine ears, and seen the said persons
                   with mine eyes, that have said, if ever the king
                   obtain the crown, he would make the Lady Elizabeth
                   safe from ever coming to the same, or any of our
                   cursed nation. For they say, that if they can find
                   the means to keep England in subjection, they would
                   do more with the land than with all the rest of his
                   kingdoms. I speak not of any fool's communication,
                   but of the wisest, and that no mean persons. Yea,
                   and they trust that there shall means be found
                   before that time to despatch the Lady Elizabeth
                   well enough by the help of assured traitors, as
                   they have already in England plenty, and then they
                   may the more easier destroy the others when she is
                   rid out of the way.

                   2. I speak not this, as some men would take it, to
                   move dissension; for that were the best way for the
                   Spaniards to come to their prey. Such a time they
                   look for, and such a time they say some nobleman
                   hath promised to provide for them.

                   3. God is my witness that my heart will not suffer
                   me for very shame to declare such vile reports as I
                   have heard them speak against the queen, and yet
                   her Grace taketh them for her faithful friends. The
                   Spaniards say, that if they obtain not the crown,
                   they may curse the time that ever the king was
                   married to a wife so unmeet for him by natural
                   course of years; but and if that may be brought to
                   pass that was meant in marriage-making, they shall
                   keep old rich robes for high festival days.

                   "Alas, for pity! Ye be yet in such good estate that
                   ye may, without loss of any man's life, keep the
                   crown and realm quietly. If ye will hear a fool's
                   counsel, keep still the crown to the right
                   succession in your hands, and give it to no foreign
                   princes. Peradventure her Grace thinketh the king
                   will keep her the more company and love her the
                   better, if she give him the crown. Ye will crown
                   him to make him chaste contrary to his nature. They
                   have a saying--'The baker's daughter is better in
                   her gown than Queen Mary without the crown.' They
                   say, 'Old wives must be cherished for their young
                   fair gifts.' 'Old wives,' they say, 'for fair words
                   will give all that they have.' But how be they used
                   afterwards? Doth the queen think the king will
                   remain in England with giving him the realm? The
                   council of Spain purposeth to establish other
                   matters; to appoint in England a viceroy with a
                   great army of Spanish soldiers, and let the queen
                   live at her beads like a good antient lady."--John
                   Bradford to the Earls of Arundel, Shrewsbury,
                   Derby, and Pembroke: Strype's _Memorials_, vol. vi.
                   p. 340, etc.]

Struggle as the queen might against such a representation of {p.222}
her husband's feelings towards her, it was true that he had left her
with a promise to return; and the weeks went, and he did not come, and
no longer spoke of coming. The abdication of the emperor would keep
him from her, at least, till the end of the winter. And news came soon
which was harder still to bear; news, that he, whom she had been
taught to regard as made in the image of our Saviour,[493] was
unfaithful to his marriage vows,[494] Bradford had spoken generally of
the king's vulgar amours; other accounts convinced her too surely that
he was consoling himself for his long purgatory in England, by
miscellaneous licentiousness. Philip was gross alike in all his
appetites; bacon fat was the favourite food with which he gorged
himself to illness;[495] his intrigues were on the same level of
indelicacy, and his unhappy wife was forced to know that he preferred
the society of abandoned women of the lowest class to hers.

                   [Footnote 493: Prayer written by Cardinal Pole for
                   Queen Mary: _supra_.]

                   [Footnote 494: Noailles to the King of France,
                   October 21: _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 495: Noailles to Montmorency, December 5:
                   Ibid.]

The French ambassador describes her as distracted with wretchedness,
speaking to no one except the legate. The legate was her only comfort;
the legate and the thing which she called religion.

Deep in the hearts of both queen and cardinal lay the conviction that
if she would please God, she must avoid the sin of Saul. Saul had
spared the Amalekites, and God had turned his face from him. God had
greater enemies in England than the Amalekites. Historians have
affected to exonerate Pole from the crime of the Marian persecution;
although, without the legate's sanction, not a bishop in England could
have raised a finger, not a bishop's court could have been opened
{p.223} to try a single heretic. If not with Pole, with whom did the
guilt rest? Gardiner was jointly responsible for the commencement, but
after the first executions, Gardiner interfered no further; he died,
and the bloody scenes continued. Philip's confessor protested; Philip
himself left the country; Renard and Charles were never weary of
advising moderation, except towards those who were politically
dangerous. Bonner was an instrument whose zeal more than once required
the goad; and Mary herself, when she came to the throne, was so little
cruel, that she would have spared even Northumberland himself. When
the persecution assumed its ferocious aspect, she was exclusively
under the direction of the dreamer who believed that he was born for
England's regeneration. All evidence concurs to show that, after
Philip's departure, Cardinal Pole was the single adviser on whom Mary
relied. Is it to be supposed that, in the horrible crusade which
thenceforward was the business of her life, the papal legate, the
sovereign director of the ecclesiastical administration of the realm,
was not consulted, or, if consulted, that he refused his sanction? But
it is not a question of conjecture or probability. From the legate
came the first edict for the episcopal inquisition; under the legate
every bishop held his judicial commission; while, if Smithfield is
excepted, the most frightful scenes in the entire frightful period
were witnessed under the shadow of his own metropolitan cathedral. His
apologists have thrown the blame on his archdeacon and his suffragan:
the guilt is not with the instrument, but with the hand which holds
it. An admiring biographer[496] has asserted that the cruelties at
Canterbury preceded the cardinal's consecration as archbishop, and the
biographer has been copied by Dr. Lingard. The historian and his
authority have exceeded the limits of permitted theological
misrepresentation. The administration of the see belonged to Pole as
much before his consecration as after it; but it will be seen that
eighteen men and women perished at the stake in the town of Canterbury
alone,--besides those who were put to death in other parts of the
diocese--and five were starved to death in the gaol there--after the
legate's installation. He was not cruel; but he believed that, in the
catalogue of human iniquities, there were none greater than the denial
of the Roman Catholic Faith, or the rejection of the Roman bishop's
supremacy; and that he himself was chosen by Providence for the
re-establishment of both. Mary was driven to madness by the
disappointment {p.224} of the grotesque imaginations with which he
had inflated her; and where two such persons were invested by the
circumstances of the time with irresponsible power, there is no
occasion to look further for the explanation of the dreadful events of
the three ensuing years.

                   [Footnote 496: Phillips.]

The victims of the summer were chiefly undistinguished persons:
Cardmaker and Bradford alone were in any way celebrated; and the
greater prisoners, the three bishops at Oxford, the court had paused
upon--not from mercy--their deaths had been long determined on; but
Philip, perhaps, was tender of his person; their execution might
occasion disturbances; and he and his suite might be the first objects
on which the popular indignation might expend itself. Philip, however,
had placed the sea between himself and danger, and if this was the
cause of the hesitation, the work could now go forward.

A commission was appointed by Pole in September, consisting of
Brookes, Bishop of Gloucester, Holyman, Bishop of Bristol, and White,
Bishop of Lincoln, to try Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, for obstinate
heresy. The first trial had been irregular; the country was then
unreconciled. The sentence which had been passed therefore was treated
as non-existent, and the tedious forms of the papacy continued still
to throw a shield round the archbishop.

On Saturday, the 7th of September,[497] the commissioners took their
places under the altar of St. Mary's Church, at Oxford. The Bishop of
Gloucester sat as president, Doctors Story and Martin appeared as
proctors for the queen, and Cranmer was brought in under the custody
of the city guard, in a black gown and leaning on a stick.

                   [Footnote 497: Foxe says the 12th; but this is
                   wrong.--See Cranmer's letter to the Queen: Jenkins,
                   vol. i. p. 369.]

"Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury," cried an officer of the court,
"appear here, and make answer to that which shall be laid to thy
charge; that is to say, for blasphemy, incontinency, and heresy; make
answer to the Bishop of Gloucester, representing his holiness the
pope."

The archbishop approached the bar, bent his head and uncovered to
Story and Martin, who were present in behalf of the crown, then drew
himself up, put on his cap again, and stood fronting Brookes. "My
lord," he said, "I mean no contempt to your person, which I could have
honoured as well as any of the others; but I have sworn never to admit
the authority of the Bishop of Rome in England, and I must keep my
oath."

{p.225} The president remonstrated, but without effect, and then
proceeded to address the archbishop, who remained covered:[498]--

                   [Footnote 498: Exhortation of the Bishop of
                   Gloucester to Thomas Cranmer: _Cotton MSS.,
                   Vespasian_, A. 25. A copy, more rounded and
                   finished, is given by Foxe, in his account of
                   Cranmer's trial: but the latter has the appearance
                   of having been touched up afterwards.]

"My lord, we are come hither at this present to you, not intruding
ourselves by our own authority, but sent by commission, as you know,
by the pope's holiness partly; partly from the king's and queen's most
excellent majesties; not utterly to your discomfort, but rather to
your comfort if you will yourself. For we are come not to judge you
immediately, but to put you in remembrance of that which you have been
partly judged of before, and shall be thoroughly judged of ere long.

"Neither our coming or commission is to dispute with you, but to
examine you in matters which you have already disputed in, taught, and
written; and of your resolute answers in those points and others, to
make relation to them that shall give sentence on you. If you, of your
part, be moved to come to a uniformity, then shall not only we take
joy of our examination, but also they that have sent us. Remember
yourself then, _unde excideris_, from whence you have fallen. You have
fallen from the unity of your mother, the Holy Catholic Church, and
that by open schism. You have fallen from the true and received faith
of the same Catholic Church, and that by open heresy. You have fallen
from your fidelity and promise towards God, in breaking your orders
and vow of chastity, and that by open apostasy. You have fallen from
your fidelity and promise towards God's vicar-general, the pope, in
breaking your oath made to his holiness at your consecration, and that
by open perjury. You have fallen from your fidelity and allegiance
towards God's magistrate, your prince and sovereign lady the queen,
and that by open treason, whereof you are already attainted and
convicted. Remember, _unde excideris_, from whence you have fallen,
and in what danger you have fallen.

"You were sometime, as I and other poor men, in mean estate. God hath
called you from better to better, from higher to higher, and never
gave you over till he made you, _legatum natum_, Metropolitan
Archbishop, Primate of England. Who was more earnest then in defence
of the real presence of Christ's body and blood in the sacrament of
the altar than ye were? Then was your candle shining to be a light to
all the world, set on high on a pinnacle. But after you began to fall
from the unity of the Catholic Church by open schism, and would no
{p.226} longer acknowledge the supremacy of the pope's holiness by
God's word and ordinance;--and that by occasion, that you, in whose
hands then rested the sum of all, being primate, as was aforesaid,
would not, according to your high vocation, stoutly withstand the most
ungodly and unlawful request of your prince touching his divorce, as
that blessed martyr, St. Thomas of Canterbury, sometime your
predecessor, did withstand the unlawful requests of the prince of his
time, but would still not only yield and bear with things not to be
borne withal, but also set a-flame the fire already kindled--then your
perfections diminished; then began you, for your own part, to fancy
unlawful liberty. Then decayed your conscience of your former faith,
your former promise, the vow of chastity and discipline after the
order of priesthood; and when good conscience was once cast off, then
followed after, as St. Paul noteth, a shipwreck in the faith. Then
fell you from the faith, and out of the Catholic Church, as out of a
sure ship, into a sea of dangerous desperation; for out of the church,
to say with St. Cyprian, there is no hope of salvation at all. To be
brief; when you had forsaken God, his Spouse, his faith, and fidelity
to them both, then God forsook you; and as the apostle writeth of the
ingrate philosophers, delivered you up _in reprobum sensum_, and
suffered you to fall from one inconvenience to another, as from
perjury into schism, from schism into a kind of apostasy, from
apostasy into heresy, from heresy into traitory, and so, in
conclusion, from traitory into the highest displeasure and worthiest
indignation of your most benign and gracious queen."[499]

                   [Footnote 499: The address concluded with a prolix
                   exhortation to repentance, which I omit. It may be
                   read in a form sufficiently accurate in Foxe.]

When the bishop ceased, the crown proctors rose, and demanded justice
against the prisoner in the names of the king and queen.

"My lord," Cranmer replied, "I do not acknowledge this session of
yours, nor yet yourself my mislawful judge; neither would I have
appeared this day before you, but that I was brought hither; and
therefore here I openly renounce you as my judge, protesting that my
meaning is not to make any answer as in a lawful judgment, for then I
would be silent; but only for that I am bound in conscience to answer
every man of that hope which I have in Jesus Christ."

He then knelt, and turning towards the west with his back to the court
and the altar, he said the Lord's Prayer. After which, he rose,
repeated the creed, and said--

{p.227} "This I do profess as touching my faith, and make my
protestation, which I desire you to note; I will never consent that
the Bishop of Rome shall have any jurisdiction in this realm."

"Mark, Master Cranmer," interrupted Martin, "you refuse and deny him
by whose laws you do remain in life, being otherwise attainted of high
treason, and but a dead man by the laws of the realm."

"I protest before God I was no traitor," said the archbishop. "I will
never consent to the Bishop of Rome, for then I should give myself to
the devil. I have made an oath to the king, and I must obey the king
by God's law. By the Scripture, the king is chief, and no foreign
person in his own realm above him. The pope is contrary to the crown.
I cannot obey both, for no man can serve two masters at once. You
attribute the keys to the pope and the sword to the king. I say the
king hath both."

Continuing the same argument, the archbishop entered at length into
the condition of the law and the history of the Statutes of Provisors
and Premunire: he showed that the constitution of the country was
emphatically independent, and he maintained that no English subject
could swear obedience to a foreign power without being involved in
perjury.

The objection was set aside, and the subject of oaths was an
opportunity for a taunt, which the queen's proctors did not overlook.
Cranmer had unwillingly accepted the archbishopric when the Act of
Appeals was pending, and when the future relations of England with the
See of Rome, and the degree of authority which (if any) the pope was
to retain, were uncertain. In taking the usual oaths, therefore, by
the advice of lawyers, he made an especial and avowed reservation of
his duty to the crown;[500] and this so-called perjury Martin now
flung in his teeth.

                   [Footnote 500: Although the circumstances of the
                   time called properly for an open declaration of
                   this kind on the part of Cranmer, yet every one of
                   his predecessors, from the time of Edward I., must
                   have been inducted with a tacit understanding of
                   the same kind. If a bishop had been prosecuted
                   under the Statutes of Provisors, his oath to the
                   Papacy would have been no more admitted as an
                   excuse by the Plantagenet sovereigns, than the oath
                   of a college Fellow to obey the statutes of the
                   founder would have saved him from penalties under
                   the House of Hanover had he said mass in his
                   college chapel. Because Cranmer, foreseeing an
                   immediate collision between two powers, which each
                   asserted claims upon him, expressed in words a
                   qualification which was implied in the nature of
                   the case--it was, and is (I regret to be obliged to
                   speak in the present tense), but a shallow sarcasm
                   to taunt him with premeditated perjury.]

"It pleased the king's highness," Cranmer replied, "many and sundry
times to talk with me of the matter. I declared that, if I accepted
the office of archbishop, I must receive it at {p.228} the pope's
hands, which I neither would nor could do, for his highness was the
only supreme governor of this church in England. Perceiving that I
could not be brought to acknowledge the authority of the Bishop of
Rome, the king called Doctor Oliver and other civil lawyers, and
devised with them how he might bestow it on me, enforcing me nothing
against my conscience, who informed him I might do it by way of
protestation. I said, I did not acknowledge the Bishop of Rome's
authority further than as it agreed with the word of God, and that it
might be lawful for me at all times to speak against him; and my
protestation did I cause to be enrolled, and there I think it
remaineth."

"Let your protestation, with the rest of your talk, give judgment
against you," answered Martin. "_Hinc prima mali labes_: of that your
execrable perjury, and the king's coloured and too shamefully suffered
adultery, came heresy and all mischief into the realm."

The special charges were then proceeded with.

In reply to a series of questions, the archbishop said, that he had
been twice married--once before, and once after he was in orders. In
the time of Henry, he had kept his wife secretly, "affirming that it
was better for him to have his own wife, than to do like other
priests, having the wives of others;" and he was not ashamed of what
he had done.

He admitted his writings upon the Eucharist; he avowed the authorship
of the Catechism, of the Articles, and of a book against the Bishop of
Winchester; and these books, and his conduct generally as Archbishop
of Canterbury, he maintained and defended. His replies were entered by
a notary, to be transmitted to the pope, and for the present the
business of the court with him was over.

"Who can stay him that willingly runneth into perdition?" said
Brookes. "Who can save that will be lost? God would have you to be
saved, and you refuse it."

The archbishop was cited to appear at Rome within eighty days to
answer to the charges which would there be laid against him; and in
order that he might be able to obey the summons he was returned to his
cell in Bocardo prison, and kept there in strict confinement.

Ridley and Latimer came next, and over them the papal mantle flung no
protection.

They had been prisoners now for more than two years. What Latimer's
occupation had been for all that time, little remains {p.229} to
show, except three letters:--one, of but a few lines, was to a Mrs.
Wilkinson, thanking her for some act of kindness:[501] another, was a
general exhortation to "all unfeigned lovers of God's truth," to be
constant in their faith: the third, and most noteworthy, was to some
one who had an opportunity of escaping from arrest, and probable
martyrdom, by a payment of money, and who doubted whether he might
lawfully avail himself of the chance: there was no question of
recantation; a corrupt official was ready to accept a bribe and ask no
questions.

                   [Footnote 501: If the gift of a pot of cold water
                   shall not be in oblivion with God, how can God
                   forget your manifold and bountiful gifts, when He
                   shall say unto you. "I was in prison, and you
                   visited me." God grant us all to do and suffer
                   while we be here as may be to His will and
                   pleasure.--Latimer to Mrs. Wilkinson, from Bocardo:
                   Latimer's _Remains_, p. 444.]

Latimer had not been one of those fanatics who thought it a merit to
go in the way of danger and court persecution; but in this present
case he shared the misgiving of his correspondent, and did "highly
allow his judgment in that he thought it not lawful to redeem himself
from the crown, unless he would exchange glory for shame, and his
inheritance for a mess of pottage."

"We were created," Latimer said, "to set forth God's glory all the
days of our life, which we, as unthankful sinners, have forgotten to
do, as we ought, all our days hitherto; and now God, by affliction,
doth offer us good occasion to perform one day of our life, our duty.
If any man perceive his faith not to abide the fire, let such an one
with weeping buy his liberty until he hath obtained more strength,
lest the gospel suffer by him some shameful recantation. Let the dead
bury the dead. Do you embrace Christ's cross, and Christ shall embrace
you. The peace of God be with you for ever."[502]

                   [Footnote 502: Latimer's _Remains_, p. 429.]

Ridley's pen had been more busy: he had written a lamentation over the
state of England; he had written a farewell letter, taking leave of
his friends, and taking leave of life, which, clouded as it was, his
sunny nature made it hard to part from: he had written comfort to the
afflicted for the gospel, and he had addressed a passionate appeal to
the Temporal Lords to save England from the false shepherds who were
wasting the flock of Christ. But both he and Latimer had looked death
steadily in the face for two years, expecting it every day or hour. It
was now come.

On the 30th of September, the three bishops took their seats in the
Divinity school. Ridley was led in for trial, and the {p.230}
legate's commission was read, empowering them to try him for the
opinions which he had expressed in the disputation at Oxford the year
before, and "elsewhere in the time of perdition." They were to degrade
him from the priesthood if he persisted in his heresies, and deliver
him over to the secular arm.

On being first brought before the court, Ridley stood bareheaded. At
the names of the cardinal and the pope, he put on his cap, like
Cranmer, declining to acknowledge their authority. But his scruples
were treated less respectfully than the archbishop's. He was ordered
to take it off, and when he refused, it was removed by a beadle.

He was then charged with having denied transubstantiation, and the
propitiatory sacrifice of the mass, and was urged at length to recant.
His opinions on the real presence were peculiar. Christ, he said, was
not the sacrament, but was really and truly in the sacrament, as the
Holy Ghost was with the water at baptism and yet was not the water.
The subtlety of the position was perplexing, but the knot was cut by
the crucial question, whether, after the consecration of the elements,
the substance of bread and wine remained. He was allowed the night to
consider his answer, but he left no doubt what that answer would be.
"The bishops told him that they were not come to condemn him, their
province was to condemn no one, but only to cut off the heretic from
the church, for the temporal judge to deal with as he should think
fit." The cowardly sophism had been heard too often. Ridley thanked
the court "for their gentleness," "being the same which Christ had of
the high priest:" "the high priest said it was not lawful for him to
put any man to death, but committed Christ to Pilate; neither would
suffer him to absolve Christ, though he sought all the means therefore
that he might."

Ridley withdrew, and Latimer was then introduced--eighty years old
now--dressed in an old threadbare gown of Bristol frieze, a
handkerchief on his head with a night-cap over it, and over that again
another cap, with two broad flaps buttoned under the chin. A leather
belt was round his waist, to which a Testament was attached; his
spectacles, without a case, hung from his neck. So stood the greatest
man perhaps then living in the world, a prisoner on his trial, waiting
to be condemned to death by men professing to be the ministers of God.
As it was in the days of the prophets, so it was in the Son of man's
days; as it was in the days of the Son of man, so was it in the
Reformers' days; as it was in the days of the Reformers, so will it be
to the {p.231} end, so long and so far as a class of men are
permitted to hold power, who call themselves the commissioned and
authoritative teachers of truth. Latimer's trial was the counterpart
of Ridley's: the charge was the same, and the result was the same,
except that the stronger intellect vexed itself less with nice
distinctions. Bread was bread, said Latimer, and wine was wine; there
was a change in the sacrament, it was true, but the change was not in
the nature, but the dignity. He too was reprieved for the day. The
following morning, the court sat in St. Mary's Church, with the
authorities of town and university, heads of houses, mayor, aldermen,
and sheriff. The prisoners were brought to the bar. The same questions
were asked, the same answers were returned, and sentence was
pronounced upon them, as heretics obstinate and incurable.

Execution did not immediately follow. The convictions for which they
were about to die had been adopted by both of them comparatively late
in life. The legate would not relinquish the hope of bringing them
back into the superstition in which they had been born, and had lived
so long; and Soto, a Spanish friar, who was teaching divinity at
Oxford in the place of Peter Martyr, was set to work on them.

But one of them would not see him, and on the other he could make no
impression. Those whom God had cast away, thought Pole, were not to be
saved by man;[503] and the 16th of October was fixed upon as the day
on which they were to suffer. Ridley had been removed from Bocardo,
and was under the custody of the mayor, a man named Irish, whose wife
was a bigoted and fanatical Catholic. On the evening of the 15th there
was a supper at the mayor's house, where some members of Ridley's
family were permitted to be present. He talked cheerfully of his
approaching "marriage;" his brother-in-law promised to be in
attendance, and, if possible, to bring with him his wife, Ridley's
sister. Even the hard eyes of Mrs. Irish were softened to tears, as
she listened and thought of what was coming. The brother-in-law
offered to sit up through the night, but Ridley said there was no
occasion; he "minded to go to bed, and sleep as quietly as ever he did
in his life." In the morning he wrote a letter to the queen. As Bishop
of London he had granted {p.232} renewals of certain leases, on
which he had received fines. Bonner had refused to recognise them, and
he entreated the queen, for Christ's sake, either that the leases
should be allowed, or that some portion of his own confiscated
property might be applied to the repayment of the tenants.[504] The
letter was long; by the time it was finished, the sheriff's officers
were probably in readiness.

                   [Footnote 503: A Rev. P. Soto accepi litteras
                   Oxonio datas quibus me certiorem facit quid cum
                   duobus illis hæreticis egerit qui jam erant
                   damnati, quorum alter ne loqui quidem cum eo
                   voluit: cum altero est locutus sed nihil profecit,
                   ut facile intelligatur a nemine servari posse quos
                   Deus projecerit. Itaque de illis supplicium est
                   sumptum.--Pole to Philip: _Epist._ Reg. Pol. vol.
                   v. p. 47.]

                   [Footnote 504: Foxe, vol. vii. p. 545. It is to the
                   discredit of Mary that she paid no attention to
                   this appeal, and left Bonner's injustice to be
                   repaired by the first parliament of Elizabeth.
                   _Commons Journals_, 1 Elizabeth.]

The place selected for the burning was outside the north wall of the
town, a short stone's throw from the southward corner of Balliol
College, and about the same distance from Bocardo prison, from which
Cranmer was intended to witness his friends' sufferings.

Lord Williams of Thame was on the spot by the queen's order; and the
city guard were under arms to prevent disturbance. Ridley appeared
first, walking between the mayor and one of the aldermen. He was
dressed in a furred black gown, "such as he was wont to wear being
bishop," a furred velvet tippet about his neck, and a velvet cap. He
had trimmed his beard, and had washed himself from head to foot; a man
evidently nice in his appearance, a gentleman, and liking to be known
as such. The way led under the windows of Bocardo, and he looked up;
but Soto, the friar, was with the archbishop, making use of the
occasion, and Ridley did not see him.[505] In turning round, however,
he saw Latimer coming up behind him in the frieze coat, with the cap
and handkerchief--the workday costume unaltered, except that under his
cloak, and reaching to his feet, the old man wore a long new shroud.

                   [Footnote 505: The execution, however, was
                   doubtless appointed to take place on that spot,
                   that Cranmer might see it. An old engraving in
                   Foxe's _Martyrs_ represents him as on the leads of
                   the Tower while the burning was going forward,
                   looking at it, and praying.]

"Oh! be ye there?" Ridley exclaimed.

"Yea," Latimer answered. "Have after as fast as I can follow."

Ridley ran to him and embraced him. "Be of good heart, brother," he
said. "God will either assauge the flame, or else strengthen us to
abide it." They knelt and prayed together, and then exchanged a few
words in a low voice, which were not overheard.

Lord Williams, the vice-chancellor, and the doctors were seated on a
form close to the stake. A sermon was preached, {p.233} "a scant
one," "of scarce a quarter of an hour;" and then Ridley begged that
for Christ's sake he might say a few words.

Lord Williams looked to the doctors, one of whom started from his
seat, and laid his hand on Ridley's lips--

"Recant," he said, "and you may both speak and live."

"So long as the breath is in my body," Ridley answered, "I will never
deny my Lord Christ and his known truth. God's will be done in me. I
commit our cause," he said, in a loud voice, turning to the people,
"to Almighty God, who shall indifferently judge all."

The brief preparations were swiftly made. Ridley gave his gown and
tippet to his brother-in-law, and distributed remembrances among those
who were nearest to him. To Sir Henry Lee he gave a new groat, to
others he gave handkerchiefs, nutmegs, slices of ginger, his watch,
and miscellaneous trinkets; "some plucked off the points of his hose;"
"happy," it was said, "was he that might get any rag of him."

Latimer had nothing to give. He threw off his cloak, stood bolt
upright in his shroud, and the friends took their places on either
side of the stake.

"O Heavenly Father," Ridley said, "I give unto thee most humble
thanks, for that thou hast called me to be a professor of thee even
unto death. Have mercy, O Lord, on this realm of England, and deliver
the same from all her enemies."

A chain was passed round their bodies, and fastened with a staple.

A friend brought a bag of powder and hung it round Ridley's neck.

"I will take it to be sent of God," Ridley said. "Have you more, for
my brother?"

"Yea, sir," the friend answered. "Give it him betimes then," Ridley
replied, "lest ye be too late."

The fire was then brought. To the last moment, Ridley was distressed
about the leases, and, bound as he was, he entreated Lord Williams to
intercede with the queen about them.

"I will remember your suit," Lord Williams answered. The lighted torch
was laid to the faggots. "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley," Latimer
cried at the crackling of the flames; "Play the man: we shall this day
light such a candle, by God's, grace, in England, as I trust shall
never be put out."

"_In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum_," cried Ridley.
"_Domine, recipe spiritum meum._"

{p.234} "O Father of Heaven," said Latimer, on the other side,
"receive my soul."

Latimer died first: as the flame blazed up about him, he bathed his
hands in it, and stroked his face. The powder exploded, and he became
instantly senseless.

His companion was less fortunate. The sticks had been piled too
thickly over the gorse that was under them; the fire smouldered round
his legs, and the sensation of suffering was unusually protracted. "I
cannot burn," he called; "Lord have mercy on me; let the fire come to
me; I cannot burn." His brother-in-law, with awkward kindness, threw
on more wood, which only kept down the flame. At last some one lifted
the pile with "a bill," and let in the air; the red tongues of fire
shot up fiercely, Ridley wrested himself into the middle of them, and
the powder did its work.

The horrible sight worked upon the beholders as it has worked since,
and will work for ever, while the English nation survives--being,
notwithstanding, as in justice to those who caused these accursed
cruelties, must never be forgotten--a legitimate fruit of the
superstition, that, in the eyes of the Maker of the world, an error of
belief is the greatest of crimes; that while for all other sins there
is forgiveness, a mistake in the intellectual intricacies of
speculative opinion will be punished not with the brief agony of a
painful death, but with tortures to which there shall be no end.

But martyrdom was often but a relief from more barbarous atrocities.
In the sad winter months which were approaching, the poor men and
women, who, untried and uncondemned, were crowded into the bishops'
prisons, experienced such miseries as the very dogs could scarcely
suffer and survive. They were beaten, they were starved, they were
flung into dark, fetid dens, where rotting straw was their bed, their
feet were fettered in the stocks, and their clothes were their only
covering, while the wretches who died in their misery were flung out
into the fields where none might bury them.[506]

                   [Footnote 506: Foxe, vols. vii. viii., _passim_,
                   especially vol. vii. p. 605. Philpot's Petition,
                   Ibid. p. 682; and an account of the Prisons at
                   Canterbury, vol. viii. p. 255. At Canterbury,
                   _after_ Pole became archbishop, his archdeacon,
                   Harpsfeld, had fifteen prisoners confined together,
                   of whom five were starved to death; the other ten
                   were burnt. But before they suffered, and while one
                   of those who died of hunger still survived, they
                   left on record the following account of their
                   treatment, and threw it out of a window of the
                   castle:--

                   "Be it known to all men that shall read, or hear
                   read, these our letters, that we, the poor
                   prisoners of the castle of Canterbury, for God's
                   truth, are kept and lie in cold irons, and our
                   keeper will not suffer any meat to be brought to us
                   to comfort us. And if any man do bring in
                   anything--as bread, butter, cheese, or any other
                   food--the said keeper will charge them that so
                   bring us anything (except money or raiment), to
                   carry it thence again; or else, if he do receive
                   any food of any for us, he doth keep it for
                   himself, and he and his servants do spend it; so
                   that we have nothing thereof: and thus the keeper
                   keepeth away our victuals from us; insomuch that
                   there are four of us prisoners there for God's
                   truth famished already, and thus it is his mind to
                   famish us all. And we think he is appointed thereto
                   by the bishops and priests, and also of the
                   justices, so to famish us; and not only us of the
                   said castle, but also all other prisoners in other
                   prisons for the like cause to be also famished.
                   Notwithstanding, we write not these our letters to
                   that intent we might not afford to be famished for
                   the Lord Jesus' sake, but for this cause and
                   intent, that they having no law so to famish us in
                   prison, should not do it privily, but that the
                   murderers' hearts should be openly known to all the
                   world, that all men may know of what church they
                   are, and who is their father."--Foxe, vol. viii. p.
                   255.]

{p.235} Lollard's Tower and Bonner's coal-house were the chief scenes
of barbarity. Yet there were times when even Bonner loathed his work.
He complained that he was troubled with matters that were none of his;
the bishops in other parts of England thrust upon his hands offenders
whom they dared not pardon and would not themselves put to death; and,
being in London, he was himself under the eyes of the court, and could
not evade the work.[507] Against Bonner, however, the world's voice
rose the loudest. His brutality was notorious and unquestionable, and
a published letter was addressed to him by a lady, in which he was
called the "common cut-throat and general slaughter-slave to all the
bishops in England."[508] "I am credibly informed," said this person
to him, "that your lordship doth believe, and hath in secret said,
there is no hell. The very Papists themselves begin now to abhor your
bloodthirstiness, and speak shame of your tyranny. Every child can
call you by name, and say, 'Bloody Bonner is Bishop of London!' and
every man hath it as perfect upon his fingers' ends as his
Paternoster, how many you for your part have burned with fire and
famished in prison this three-quarters of a year. Though your lordship
believe neither heaven nor hell, neither God nor devil, yet if your
lordship love your own honesty, you were best to surcease from this
cruel burning and murdering. Say not but a woman gave you warning. As
for the obtaining your popish purpose in suppressing of the truth, I
put you out of doubt, you shall not obtain it so long as you go this
way to work as you do. You have lost the hearts of twenty thousand
that were rank Papists within this twelve months."

                   [Footnote 507: See especially his conversation with
                   Philpot: Foxe, vol. vii. p. 611.]

                   [Footnote 508: Godly Letter addressed to Bonner:
                   Ibid. p. 712.]

In the last words lay the heart of the whole matter. The {p.236}
martyrs alone broke the spell of orthodoxy, and made the establishment
of the Reformation possible.

In the midst of such scenes the new parliament was about to meet.
Money was wanted for the crown debts, and the queen was infatuated
enough still to meditate schemes for altering the succession, or, at
least, for obtaining the consent of the legislature to Philip's
coronation, that she might bribe him back to her side.[509]

                   [Footnote 509: Pour le faire plustost retourner
                   elle fera toutes choses incrédible en ce dict
                   parlement en faveur dudict Sieur.... L'on dict que
                   l'occasion pour laquelle le dict parlement a esté
                   assemblé, ne tend à aultre fin que pour faire s'il
                   est possible tomber le gouvernement absolu de ce
                   royaulme entre les mains de ce roy.--Noailles to
                   the King of France, October 21: _Ambassades_, vol.
                   v.]

As the opening of the session approached, Elizabeth was sent again
from the court to be out of sight and out of reach of intrigue; and
Mary had the mortification of knowing that her sister's passage
through London was a triumphal procession. The public enthusiasm
became so marked at last that the princess was obliged to ride forward
with a few servants, leaving the gentlemen who were her escort to keep
back the people. Fresh alarms, too, had risen on the side of the
papacy. Cardinal Caraffa, Paul IV. as he was now named, on assuming
the tiara, had put out a bull among his first acts, reasserting the
decision of the canons on the sanctity of the estates of the church,
and threatening laymen who presumed to withhold such property from its
lawful owners with anathemas. In a conversation with Lord Montague,
the English ambassador at Rome, he had used language far from
reassuring on the concessions of his predecessor; and some violent
demonstration would undoubtedly have been made in parliament, had not
Paul been persuaded to except England especially from the general
edict.

Even then the irritation was not allayed, and a whole train of sorrows
was in store for Mary from the violent character of Caraffa. Political
popes have always been a disturbing element in the European system.
Paul IV., elected by French influence, showed his gratitude by
plunging into the quarrel between France and the Empire. He imprisoned
Imperialist cardinals in St. Angelo; he persecuted the Colonnas on
account of their Imperialist tendencies, levelled their fortresses,
and seized their lands. The Cardinal of Lorraine hastened to Rome to
conclude an alliance offensive and defensive on behalf of France; and
the queen, distracted between her religion and her duty as a wife, saw
Philip on the point of being drawn into parricidal hostility {p.237}
with his and her spiritual father. Nay, she herself might be involved
in the same calamity; for so bitter was the English humour that the
liberal party in the council were inclined to take part in the war, if
they would have the pope for an enemy; and Philip would be too happy
in their support to look too curiously to the motives of it.[510]

                   [Footnote 510: Ce soit ung argument plus grand que
                   tout aultre pour faire entrer ceulx cy à la guerre
                   ouverte; estant ceste nation comme ung chascung
                   sçait fort ennemie de sadict Sainctité.--Noailles
                   to Montmorency: _Ambassades_, vol. v. p. 188.]

A calamity of a more real kind was also approaching Mary. She was on
the point of losing the only able minister on whose attachment she
could rely. Gardiner's career on earth was about to end.

On the 6th of October, Noailles described the Bishop of Winchester as
sinking rapidly, and certain to die before Christmas,[511] yet still
eager and energetic, perfectly aware of his condition, yet determined
to work till the last.

                   [Footnote 511: Same to the same.--Ibid. p. 150.]

Noailles himself had two hours' conversation with him on business:
when he took his leave, the chancellor conducted him through the
crowded ante-chamber to the door, leaning heavily on his arm. "The
people thought he was dead," he said, "but there was some life in him
yet."

Notwithstanding his condition, he roused himself for the meeting of
parliament on the 21st; he even spoke at the opening, and he was in
his place in the House of Lords on the second day of the session; but
his remaining strength broke down immediately after, and he died at
Whitehall Palace on the 13th of November. The Protestants, who
believed that he was the author of the persecution, expected that it
would cease with his end; they were deceived in their hopes, for their
sufferings continued unabated. In their opinion of his conduct they
were right, yet right but partially.

Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, was the pupil of Wolsey, and
had inherited undiminished the pride of the ecclesiastical order. If
he went with Henry in his separation from the papacy, he intended that
the English Church should retain, notwithstanding, unimpaired
authority and undiminished privileges. The humiliations heaped upon
the clergy by the king had not discouraged him, for the Catholic
doctrine was maintained unshaken, and so long as the priesthood was
regarded as a peculiar order, gifted with supernatural powers, so long
as the sacraments were held essential conditions of {p.238}
salvation, and the priesthood alone could administer them, he could
feel assured that, sooner or later, their temporal position would be
restored to them.

Thus, while loyal to the royal supremacy, the Bishop of Winchester had
hated heresy, and hated all who protected heresy with a deadly hatred.
He passed the Six Articles Bill; he destroyed Cromwell; he laboured
with all his might to destroy Cranmer; and, at length, when Henry was
about to die, he lent himself, though too prudently to be detected, to
the schemes of Surrey and the Catholics upon the regency. The failure
of those schemes, and the five years of arbitrary imprisonment under
Edward, had not softened feelings already more than violent. He
returned to power exasperated by personal injury; and justified, as he
might easily believe himself to be, in his opinion of the tendencies
of heresy, by the scandals of the Protestant administration, he
obtained, by unremitting assiduity, the re-enactment of the
persecuting laws, which he himself launched into operation with
imperious cruelty.

Yet there was something in Gardiner's character which was not wholly
execrable. For thirty years he worked unweariedly in the service of
the public; his judgment as a member of council was generally
excellent; and Somerset, had he listened to his remonstrances, might
have saved both his life and credit. He was vindictive, ruthless,
treacherous, but his courage was indomitable. He resisted Cromwell
till it became a question which of the two should die, and the lot was
as likely to have fallen to him as to his rival. He would have
murdered Elizabeth with the forms of law or without, but Elizabeth was
the hope of all that he most detested. He was no dreamer, no
high-flown enthusiast, but he was a man of clear eye and hard heart,
who had a purpose in his life which he pursued with unflagging energy.
Living as he did in revolutionary times, his hand was never slow to
strike when an enemy was in his power; yet in general when Gardiner
struck, he stooped, like an eagle, at the nobler game, leaving the
linen-drapers and apprentices to "the mousing owls." His demerits were
vast; his merits were small, yet something.

"Well, well," as some one said, winding up his epitaph, "Mortuus est,
et sepultus est, et descendit ad inferos; let us say no more about
him."[512]

                   [Footnote 512: Special Grace appointed to have been
                   said at York on the Accession of
                   Elizabeth.--_Tanner MSS._, Bodleian Library.]

To return to the parliament. On the 23rd of October a bull {p.239}
of Paul IV, confirming the dispensation of Julius, was read in the
House of Commons.[513] On the 29th the crown debts were alleged as a
reason for demanding a subsidy. The queen had been prevented from
indulging her desire for a standing army. The waste and peculation of
the late reign had been put an end to; and the embarrassments of the
treasury were not of her creation. Nevertheless the change in social
habits, and the alteration in the value of money, had prevented the
reduction of the expenditure from being carried to the extent which
had been contemplated; the marriage had been in many ways costly, and
large sums had been spent in restoring plundered church plate. So
great had been the difficulties of the treasury, that, although fresh
loans had been contracted with the Jews, the wages of the household
were again two years in arrear.

                   [Footnote 513: _Commons Journals_, 2nd and 3rd
                   Philip and Mary.]

Parliament showed no disposition to be illiberal; they only desired to
be satisfied that if they gave money it would be applied to the
purpose for which it was demanded. The Subsidy Bill, when first
introduced, was opposed in the House of Commons on the ground that the
queen would give the keys of the treasury to her husband; and after a
debate, a minority of a hundred voted for refusing the grant.[514] The
general spirit of the Houses, however, was, on the whole, more
generous. Two fifteenths were voted in addition to the subsidy, which
the queen, on her side, was able to decline with thanks.[515] The
money question was settled quietly, and the business of the session
proceeded.

                   [Footnote 514: _Commons Journals_, 2nd and 3rd
                   Philip and Mary.--Noailles to the Constable,
                   October 31.]

                   [Footnote 515: _Commons Journal._ Noailles says
                   that the queen demanded the fifteenths, and that
                   the Commons refused to grant them. The account in
                   the _Journals_ is confirmed by a letter of Lord
                   Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury.--Lodge's
                   _Illustrations_, vol. i. p. 207.]

If her subjects were indifferent to their souls, Mary was anxious
about her own. On the 11th of November, a bill was read a first time
in the House of Lords, "whereby the king's and queen's majesties
surrendered, and gave into the hands of the pope's holiness the
first-fruits and tenths of all ecclesiastical benefices." The
reception of the measure can be traced in the changes of form which it
experienced. The payment of annates to the See of Rome was a
grievance, both among clergy and laity, of very ancient standing. The
clergy, though willing to be relieved from paying first-fruits to the
crown, were not so loyal to the successors of St. Peter as to desire
to restore their contributions into the old channel; while the laity,
who from {p.240} immemorial time had objected on principle to the
payment of tribute to a foreign sovereign, were now, through their
possession of the abbey lands and the impropriation of benefices,
immediately interested parties. On the 19th of November fifty members
of the House of Commons waited, by desire, upon the queen, to hear her
own resolutions, and to listen to an admonition from the
cardinal.[516] On the 20th a second bill was introduced, "whereby the
king's and queen's majesties surrendered and gave the first-fruits and
tenths into the hands of the laity."[517] The crown would not receive
annates longer in any form; and as laymen liable to the payment of
them could not conveniently be required to pay tribute to Rome, it was
left to their consciences to determine whether they would follow the
queen's example in a voluntary surrender.

                   [Footnote 516: Mr. Speaker declared the queen's
                   pleasure to be spoken yesterday, for to depart with
                   the first-fruits and tenths; and my Lord Cardinal
                   spake for the tithes and impropriations of
                   benefices to be spiritual.--_Commons Journals_,
                   November 20: 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary.]

                   [Footnote 517: _Lords Journals._]

Even then, however, the original bill could not pass so long as the
pope's name was in it, or so long as the pope was interested in it. As
it left the Lords, it was simply a surrender, on behalf of the crown,
of all claims whatever upon first-fruits of benefices, whether from
clergy or laity. The tenths were to continue to be paid. Lay
impropriators should pay them to the crown. The clergy should pay them
to the legate, by whom they were to be applied to the discharge of the
monastic pensions, from which the crown was to be relieved. The crown
at the same time set a precedent of sacrifice by placing in the
legate's hands unreservedly every one of its own impropriations.[518]

                   [Footnote 518: 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary, cap.
                   iv.]

In this form the measure went down to the Commons, where it
encountered fresh and violent opposition. To demand a subsidy in one
week, and in the next to demand permission to sacrifice a sixth part
of the ordinary revenue, was inconsistent and irrational. The laity
had no ambition to take upon themselves the burdens of the clergy. On
the 27th there was a long discussion;[519] on the 3rd of December the
bill was carried, but with an adverse minority of a hundred and
twenty-six, against a majority of a hundred and ninety-three.[520]

                   [Footnote 519: _Commons Journals._]

                   [Footnote 520: Ibid. The temper of the opposition
                   may be gathered from the language of a pamphlet
                   which appeared on the accession of Elizabeth.

                   The writer describes the clergy as "lads of
                   circumspection, and verily _filii hujus sæculi_."
                   He complains of their avarice in inducing the
                   queen, "at one chop, to give away fifty thousand
                   pounds and better yearly from the inheritance of
                   her crown unto them, and many a thousand after,
                   unto those idle hypocrites besides."

                   He then goes on:--

                   "And yet this great profusion of their prince did
                   so smally serve their hungry guts, like starven
                   tikes that were never content with more than
                   enough; at all their collations, assemblies, and
                   sermons, they never left yelling and yelping in
                   pursuit of their prey, Restore! Restore! These
                   devout deacons nothing regarded how some for long
                   service and travail abroad, while they sat at
                   home--some for shedding his blood in defence of his
                   prince's cause and country, while they with safety,
                   all careless in their cabins, in luxe and lewdness,
                   did sail in a sure port--some selling his antient
                   patrimony for purchase of these lands, while they
                   must have all by gift a God's name--they nothing
                   regarding, I say, what injury to thousands, what
                   undoing to most men, what danger of uproar and
                   tumult throughout the whole realm, and what a
                   weakening to the State, should thereby arise; with
                   none of these matters were they moved a whit, but
                   still held on their cry, Restore! Restore!"

                   "And that ye may be sure they meant nothing more
                   than how to have all, and that with all haste;
                   after that their Pope, this seditious Paul IV.,
                   that now is, had sent hither his bulls and his
                   thunderbolts for that cause, and other (and yet
                   little restored, because the world, indeed, would
                   not be so faced out of their livelihood) sundry of
                   our prelates, like hardy champions, slacke not a
                   whit themselves to thrust lords out of their lands,
                   and picked quarrels to their lawful possessions.
                   Well. Let nobility consider the case as they list;
                   but, as some think, if the clergy come to be
                   masters again, they will teach them a school point.
                   Christ taught the young man that perfection was in
                   _vade, vende, et da_, not in _mane, acquire,
                   accumula_."--Grace to be said at the Accession of
                   Elizabeth: _Tannes MSS._, Bodleian Library.]

{p.241} Language had been heard in both Houses, during the debates,
of unusual violence. Bradford's letter on the succession was
circulating freely among the members, and the parliament from which
the queen anticipated so much for her husband's interests proved the
most intractable with which she had had to deal.[521] After the
difficulty which she had experienced with the first-fruits, she durst
not so much as introduce the question of the crown.[522] She attempted
a bill for the restoration of the forfeited lands of the Howards, but
it was lost.[523] The Duchess of Suffolk,[524] with {p.242} several
other persons of rank, had lately joined the refugees on the
Continent; she attempted to carry a measure for the confiscation of
their property, and failed again.[525] A sharp blow was dealt also at
the recovered privileges of ecclesiastics. A man named Benet Smith,
who had been implicated in a charge of murder, and was escaping under
plea of clergy, was delivered by a special act into the hands of
justice.[526] The leaven of the heretical spirit was still unsubdued.
The queen dissolved her fourth parliament on the 9th of December; and
several gentlemen who had spoken out with unpalatable freedom were
seized and sent to the Tower. She was unwise, thought Noailles; such
arbitrary acts were only making her day by day more detested, and,
should opportunity offer, would bring her to utter destruction.

                   [Footnote 521: Noailles.]

                   [Footnote 522: Michele, the Venetian ambassador, in
                   his curious but most inaccurate account of England
                   during this reign, states that the queen had it in
                   her power to cut off Elizabeth from the succession,
                   but that she was prevented from doing it by Philip.
                   Michele's information suffered from the policy of
                   Venice. Venice held aloof from the complications of
                   the rest of Europe, and her representatives were
                   punished by exclusion from secrets of state. The
                   letters of Noailles might be suspected, but the
                   correspondence of Renard with Charles V. leaves no
                   doubt whatever either as to the views of the
                   Spaniards towards Elizabeth, of their designs on
                   the crown, or of the causes by which they were
                   baffled.]

                   [Footnote 523: Noailles to the King of France,
                   December 16.]

                   [Footnote 524: The witty Katherine Brandon, widow
                   of Henry VIII.'s Charles Brandon, married to
                   Richard Bertie. She was a lady of advanced
                   opinions, between whom and the Bishop of Winchester
                   there were some passages-at-arms. She dressed a dog
                   in a rochet on one occasion, and called it Bishop
                   Gardiner.

                   Gardiner himself said that he was once at a party
                   at the Duke of Suffolk's, and it was a question who
                   should take the duchess down to dinner. She wanted
                   to go with her husband; but as that could not be,
                   "My lady," said Gardiner, "taking me by the hand,
                   for that my lord would not take her himself, said
                   that, forasmuch as she could not sit down with my
                   lord whom she loved best, she had chosen me whom
                   she loved worst."--Holinshed.]

                   [Footnote 525: Et de mesme fust rejetté audict
                   parlement à la grande confusion de ladicte dame ung
                   aultre bill, par lequel elle vouloit confisquer les
                   personnes et biens de ceulx qui sont transfuges de
                   ce royaulme despuis son advènement à la
                   couronne.--Noailles to the King of France, December
                   16: _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 526: 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary, cap.
                   17.]

Unwise she was indeed, and most unhappy. When the poor results of the
session became known to Philip, he sent orders that such of his
Spanish suite as he had left behind him should no longer afflict
themselves with remaining in a country which they abhorred; he
summoned them all to come to him except Alphonso, his confessor. "The
queen wept and remonstrated; more piteous lamentations were never
heard from woman." "How," exclaimed a brother of Noailles,[527] "is
she repaid now for having quarrelled with her subjects, and set aside
her father's will! The misery which she suffers in her husband's
absence cannot so change her but that she will risk crown and life to
establish him in the sovereignty, and thus recall him to her side.
Nevertheless, she will fail, and he will not come. He is weary of
having laboured so long in a soil so barren; while she who feels old
age stealing so fast upon her, cannot endure to lose what she has
bought so dearly."

                   [Footnote 527: François de Noailles to Madame de
                   Roye: _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

Nothing now was left for Mary but to make such use as she {p.243}
was able of the few years of life which were to remain to her. If
Elizabeth, the hated Anne Boleyn's hated daughter, was to succeed her
on the throne, and there was no remedy, it was for her to work so
vigorously in the restoration of the church that her labours could not
afterwards be all undone. At her own expense she began to rebuild and
refound the religious houses. The Grey Friars were replaced at
Greenwich, the Carthusians at Sheene, the Brigittines at Sion. The
house of the Knights of St. John in London was restored; the Dean and
Chapter of Westminster gave way to Abbot Feckenham and a college of
monks. Yet these touching efforts might soften her sorrow but could
not remove it. Philip was more anxious than ever about the marriage of
Elizabeth; and as Mary could not overcome her unwillingness to
sanction by act of her own Elizabeth's pretensions, Philip wrote her
cruel letters, and set his confessor to lecture her upon her duties as
a wife.[528] These letters she chiefly spent her time in answering,
shut up almost alone, trusting no one but Pole, and seeing no one but
her women. If she was compelled to appear in public, she had lost her
power of self-control; she would burst into fits of violent and
uncontrollable passion; she believed every one about her to be a spy
in the interest of the Lords. So disastrously miserable were all the
consequences of her marriage, that it was said, the pope, who had
{p.244} granted the dispensation for the contraction of it, had
better grant another for its dissolution.[529] Unfortunately there was
one direction open in which her frenzy could have uncontrolled scope.

                   [Footnote 528: Among the surviving memorials of
                   Mary, none is more affecting than a rough copy of
                   an answer to one of these epistles, which is
                   preserved in the Cotton Library. It is painfully
                   scrawled, and covered with erasures and
                   corrections, in which may be traced the dread in
                   which she stood of offending Philip. _Demander
                   license de votre Haultesse_, is crossed through and
                   altered into _Supplier très humblement_. Where she
                   had described herself as _obeissante_, she enlarged
                   the word into _très obeissante_; and the tone
                   throughout is most piteous. She entreats the king
                   to appoint some person or persons to talk with her
                   about the marriage. She says that the conscience
                   which she has about it she has had for twenty-four
                   years; that is to say, since Elizabeth's birth.
                   Nevertheless, she will agree to Philip's wish, if
                   the realm will agree. She is ready to discuss it;
                   but she complains, so far as she dares complain, of
                   the confessor. The priests trouble her, she says.
                   "Alfonsez espécialement me proposoit questions si
                   obscures que mon simple entendement ne les pouvoit
                   comprehendre, comme pour exemple il me demandoit
                   qui estoit roy au temps de Adam, et disoit comme
                   j'estoy obligée de faire ceste marriage par ung
                   article de mon Credo, mais il ne l'exposoit....
                   Aultres choses trop difficiles pour moy d'entendre
                   ... ainsy qu'il estoit impossible en si peu de
                   temps de changer ... conscience.... Votre Haultesse
                   escript en ses dictes lettres que si le consent de
                   ce royaulme iroyt au contraire, Votre Haultesse en
                   imputeroit la coulpe en moy. Je supplie en toute
                   humilité votre Haultesse de différer ceste affaire
                   jusques à votre retour; et donques Votre Haultesse
                   sera juge si je seray coulpable ou non. Car
                   autrement je vinray en jalousie de Votre Haultesse
                   la quelle sera pire à moy que mort; car j'en ay
                   commencé déjà d'en taster trop à mon grand regret,"
                   etc.--_Cotton MSS., Titus_, B. 2: printed very
                   incorrectly in Strype's _Memorials_, vol. vi. 418.]

                   [Footnote 529: Noailles.]

The Archbishop of Canterbury, after his trial and his citation to
Rome, addressed to the queen a singular letter; he did not ask for
mercy, and evidently he did not expect mercy: he reasserted calmly the
truth of the opinions for which he was to suffer; but he protested
against the indignity done to the realm of England, and the
degradation of the royal prerogative, "when the king and queen, as if
they were subjects in their own realm, complained and required justice
at a stranger's hand against their own subjects, being already
condemned to death by their own laws." "Death," he said, "could not
grieve him much more than to have his most dread and gracious
sovereigns, to whom under God he owed all obedience, to be his
accusers in judgment before a stranger and outward power."[530]

                   [Footnote 530: Cranmer to Queen Mary: Jenkins, vol.
                   i. p. 369. This protest was committed to Pole to
                   answer, who replied to it at length.

                   The authority of the pope in a secular kingdom, the
                   legate said, was no more a foreign power than "the
                   authority of the soul of man coming from heaven in
                   the body generate on earth." "The pope's laws
                   spiritual did no other but that the soul did in the
                   body, giving life to the same, confirming and
                   strengthening the same;" and that it was which the
                   angel signified in Christ's conception, declaring
                   what his authority should be, that he should sit
                   _super domum David_, which was a temporal reign,
                   _ut confirmet illud et corroboret_, as the
                   spiritual laws did.

                   The quotation is inaccurate. The words in the
                   Vulgate are, _Dabit illi Dominus sedem David patris
                   ejus: et regnabit in domo Jacob in æternum_.

                   The letter contains another illustration of Pole's
                   habit of mind. "There was never spiritual man," he
                   says, "put to execution according to the order of
                   the laws of the realm but he was first by the canon
                   laws condemned and degraded; whereof there be as
                   many examples afore the time of breaking the old
                   order of the realm these last years, as hath been
                   delinquents. Let the records be seen. And specially
                   this is notable of the Bishop of ----, which, being
                   imprisoned for high treason, the king would not
                   proceed to his condemnation and punishment afore he
                   had the pope's bull given him...."

                   The historical argument proceeded smoothly up to
                   the name, which, however, was not and is not to be
                   found. Pole was probably thinking of Archbishop
                   Scrope, who, however, unfortunately for the
                   argument, was put to death _without_ the pope's
                   sanction.--Draft of a Letter from Cardinal Pole to
                   Cranmer: _Harleian MSS._ 417.]

The appeal was intended perhaps to provoke the queen to let him die
with his friends, in whose example and companionship he felt his
strength supported. But it could not be; he was the spectator of their
fate, while his own was still held at a distance before him. He
witnessed the agonies of Ridley; and the long imprisonment, the
perpetual chafing of Soto the Spanish friar, {p.245} and the dreary
sense that he was alone, forsaken of man, and perhaps of God, began to
wear into the firmness of a many-sided susceptible nature. Some vague
indication that he might yield had been communicated to Pole by Soto
before Christmas,[531] and the struggle which had evidently commenced
was permitted to protract itself. If the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
father of the Reformed Church of England, could be brought to a
recantation, that one victory might win back the hearts which the
general constancy of the martyrs was drawing off in tens of thousands.
Time, however, wore on, and the archbishop showed no definite signs of
giving way. On the 14th of December, a mock trial was instituted at
Rome; the report of the examination at Oxford was produced, and
counsel were heard on both sides, or so it was pretended. Paul IV. then
pronounced the final sentence, that Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of
Canterbury, having been accused by his sovereigns of divers crimes and
misdemeanours, it had been proved against him that he had followed the
teachings of John Wicliff and Martin Luther of accursed memory;[532]
that he had published books containing matters of heresy, and still
obstinately persisted in those his erroneous opinions: he was
therefore declared to be anathema, to be deprived of his office, and
having been degraded, he was to be delivered over to the secular arm.

                   [Footnote 531: Pole to Philip: _Epistolæ_ Reg.
                   Pol., vol. v. p. 47.]

                   [Footnote 532: _Damnatæ memoriæ._ Sentence
                   Definitive against Thomas Cranmer: Foxe, vol.
                   viii.]

There was some delay in sending the judgment to England. It arrived at
the beginning of February, and on the 14th, Thirlby and Bonner went
down to finish the work at Oxford. The court sat this time in Christ
Church Cathedral. Cranmer was brought to the bar, and the papal
sentence was read. The preamble declared that the cause had been heard
with indifference, that the accused had been defended by an advocate,
that witnesses had been examined for him, that he had been allowed
every opportunity to answer for himself. "O Lord," he exclaimed, "what
lies be these! that I, being in prison and never suffered to have
counsel or advocate at home, should produce witness and appoint
counsel at Rome; God must needs punish this shameless lying."

Silence would perhaps have been more dignified; to speak at all was an
indication of infirmity. As soon as the reading was finished, the
archbishop was formally arrayed in his robes, and when the decoration
was completed, Bonner called out in exultation:

{p.246} "This is the man that hath despised the pope's holiness, and
now is to be judged by him; this is the man that hath pulled down so
many churches, and now is come to be judged in a church; this is the
man that hath contemned the blessed sacrament of the altar, and now is
come to be condemned before that blessed sacrament hanging over the
altar; this is the man that, like Lucifer, sat in the place of Christ
upon an altar[533] to judge others, and now is come before an altar to
be judged himself."[534]

                   [Footnote 533: An allusion to a scaffold in St.
                   Paul's Church, on which Cranmer had sat as a
                   commissioner; said to have been erected over an
                   altar.]

                   [Footnote 534: Foxe, vol. viii. p. 73.]

Thirlby checked the insolence of his companion. The degradation was
about to commence, when the archbishop drew from his sleeve an appeal
"to the next Free General Council that should be called." It had been
drawn after consultation with a lawyer, in the evident hope that it
might save or prolong his life,[535] and he attempted to present it to
his judges. But he was catching at straws, as in his clearer judgment
he would have known. Thirlby said sadly that the appeal could not be
received; his orders were absolute to proceed.

                   [Footnote 535: Cranmer to a Lawyer: Jenkins, vol.
                   i. p. 384.]

The robes were stripped off in the usual way. The thin hair was
clipped. Bonner with his own hands scraped the finger points which had
been touched with the oil of consecration; "Now are you lord no
longer," he said, when the ceremony was finished. "All this needed
not," Cranmer answered; "I had myself done with this gear long ago."

He was led off in a beadle's threadbare gown, and a tradesman's cap;
and here for some important hours authentic account of him is lost.
What he did, what he said, what was done or what was said to him, is
known only in its results, or in Protestant tradition. Tradition said
that he was taken from the cathedral to the house of the Dean of
Christ Church, where he was delicately entertained, and worked upon
with smooth words, and promises of life. "The noblemen," he was told,
"bare him good-will; he was still strong, and might live many years,
why should he cut them short?" The story may contain some elements of
truth. But the same evening, certainly, he was again in his cell; and
among the attempts to move him which can be authenticated, there was
one of a far different kind; a letter addressed to him by Pole to
bring him to a sense of his condition.

"Whosoever transgresseth, and abideth not in the doctrine of Christ,"
so the legate addressed a prisoner in the expectation of {p.247}
death,[536] "hath not God. He that abideth in the doctrine of Christ,
he hath both the Father and the Son. If there come any unto you and
bring not this doctrine, receive him not into your house, neither bid
him God speed; for he that biddeth him God speed is partaker of his
evil deeds. There are some who tell me that, in obedience to this
command, I ought not to address you, or to have any dealings with you,
save the dealings of a judge with a criminal. But Christ came not to
judge only, but also to save; I call upon you, not to enter into your
house, for so I should make myself a partaker with you; my desire is
only to bring you back to the church which you have deserted.

                   [Footnote 536: _Epist._ Reg. Pol., vol. v. p. 248.
                   I am obliged to abridge and epitomise.]

"You have corrupted Scripture, you have broken through the communion
of saints, and now I tell you what you must do; I tell you, or rather
not I, but Christ and the church through me. Did I follow my own
impulse, or did I speak in my own name, I should hold other language;
to you I should not speak at all; I would address myself only to God;
I would pray him to let fall the fire of Heaven to consume you, and to
consume with you the house into which you have entered in abandoning
the church.[537]

                   [Footnote 537: Car se je n'écourtois que les
                   mouvemens de la nature, se je ne vous parlois qu'en
                   mon nom, je vous tiendrois un autre langage au
                   plutôt je ne vous dirois rien; je m'entretiendrois
                   avec Dieu seul at je lui demanderois de faire
                   tomber le feu du ciel pour vous consumer avec cette
                   maison où vous avez passé en abandonnant l'Église.
                   The letter was only known to the editor of Pole's
                   remains in a French translation. I do not know
                   whether the original exists, or whether it was in
                   Latin or in English.]

"You pretend that you have used no instruments but reason to lead men
after you; what instrument did the devil use to seduce our parents in
Paradise? you have followed the serpent; with guile you destroyed your
king, the realm, and the church, and you have brought to perdition
thousands of human souls.

"Compared with you, all others who have been concerned in these deeds
of evil, are but objects of pity; many of them long resisted
temptation, and yielded only to the seductions of your impious tongue;
you made yourself a bishop--for what purpose, but to mock both God and
man? Your first act was but to juggle with your king, and you were no
sooner primate, than you plotted how you might break your oath to the
Holy See; you took part in the counsels of the evil one, you made your
home with the wicked, you sat in the seat of the scornful. You
exhorted your king with your fine words, to put away his wife; you
prated to him of his obligations to submit to the judgment of the
{p.248} church;[538] and what has followed that unrighteous
sentence? You parted the king from the wife with whom he had lived for
twenty years; you parted him from the church, the common mother of the
faithful; and thenceforth throughout the realm law has been trampled
under foot, the people have been ground with tyranny, the churches
pillaged, the nobility murdered one by the other.

                   [Footnote 538: The innumerable modern writers who
                   agree with Pole on the iniquity of the divorce of
                   Catherine forget that, according to the rule which
                   most of us now acknowledge, the marriage of Henry
                   with his brother's wife _really was
                   incestuous_--really was forbidden by the laws of
                   God and nature; that the pope had no more authority
                   to dispense with those laws then than he has now;
                   and that if modern law is right, Cranmer did no
                   more than his duty.]

"Therefore, I say, were I to make my own cries heard in heaven, I
would pray God to demand at your hands the blood of his servants.
Never had religion, never had the church of Christ a worse enemy than
you have been; now therefore, when you are about to suffer the just
reward of your deeds, think no more to excuse yourself; confess your
sins, like the penitent thief upon the cross.

"Say not in your defence that you have done no violence, that you have
been kind and gentle in your daily life. Thus I know men speak of you;
but cheat not your conscience with so vain a plea. The devil, when
called to answer for the souls that he has slain, may plead likewise
that he did not desire their destruction; he thought only to make them
happy, to give them pleasure, honour, riches--all things which their
hearts desired. So did you with your king: you gave him the woman that
he lusted after; you gave him the honour which was not his due, and
the good things which were neither his nor yours; and, last and worst,
you gave him poison, in covering his iniquities with a cloak of
righteousness. Better, far better, you had offered him courtesans for
companions; better you and he had been open thieves and robbers. Then
he might have understood his crimes, and have repented of them; but
you tempted him into the place where there is no repentance, no hope
of salvation.

"Turn then yourself, and repent. See yourself as you are. Thus may you
escape your prison. Thus may you flee out of the darkness wherein you
have hid yourself. Thus may you come back to light and life, and earn
for yourself God's forgiveness. I know not how to deal with you. Your
examination at Oxford has but hardened you; yet the issue is with God.
I {p.249} at least can point out to you the way. If you, then,
persist in your vain opinions, may God have mercy on you."

The legate, in his office of guide, then travelled the full round of
controversy, through Catholic tradition, through the doctrine of the
sacraments and of the real presence, where there is no need to follow
him. At length he drew to his conclusion:

"You will plead Scripture to answer me. Are you so vain, then, are you
so foolish, as to suppose that it has been left to you to find out the
meaning of those Scriptures which have been in the hands of the
fathers of the church for so many ages? Confess, confess that you have
mocked God in denying that he is present on the altar; wash out your
sins with tears; and in the abundance of your sorrow you may find
pardon. May it be so. Even for the greatness of your crimes may it be
so, that God may have the greater glory. You have not, like others,
fallen through simplicity, or fallen through fear. You were corrupted,
like the Jews, by earthly rewards and promises. For your own profit
you denied the presence of your Lord, and you rebelled against his
servant the pope. May you see your crimes. May you feel the greatness
of your need of mercy. Now, even now, by my mouth, Christ offers you
that mercy; and with the passionate hope which I am bound to feel for
your salvation, I wait your answer to your Master's call."

The exact day on which this letter reached the archbishop is
uncertain, but it was very near the period of his sentence. He had
dared death bravely while it was distant; but he was physically timid;
the near approach of the agony which he had witnessed in others
unnerved him; and in a moment of mental and moral prostration Cranmer
may well have looked in the mirror which Pole held up to him, and
asked himself whether, after all, the being there described was his
true image--whether it was himself as others saw him. A faith which
had existed for centuries, a faith in which generation after
generation have lived happy and virtuous lives; a faith in which all
good men are agreed, and only the bad dispute--such a faith carries an
evidence and a weight with it beyond what can be looked for in a creed
reasoned out by individuals--a creed which had the ban upon it of
inherited execration; which had been held in abhorrence once by him
who was now called upon to die for it. Only fools and fanatics believe
that they cannot be mistaken. Sick misgivings may have taken hold upon
him in moments of despondency, whether, after all, the millions who
received the Roman supremacy might not be more right than the
thousands {p.250} who denied it; whether the argument on the real
presence, which had satisfied him for fifty years, might not be better
founded than his recent doubts. It is not possible for a man of gentle
and modest nature to feel himself the object of intense detestation
without uneasy pangs; and as such thoughts came and went, a window
might seem to open, through which there was a return to life and
freedom. His trial was not greater than hundreds of others had borne,
and would bear with constancy; but the temperaments of men are
unequally constituted, and a subtle intellect and a sensitive
organisation are not qualifications which make martyrdom easy.

Life, by the law of the church, by justice, by precedent, was given to
all who would accept it on terms of submission. That the archbishop
should be tempted to recant, with the resolution formed,
notwithstanding, that he should still suffer, whether he yielded or
whether he was obstinate, was a suspicion which his experience of the
legate had not taught him to entertain.

So it was that Cranmer's spirit gave way, and he who had disdained to
fly when flight was open to him, because he considered that, having
done the most in establishing the Reformation, he was bound to face
the responsibility of it, fell at last under the protraction of the
trial.

The day of his degradation the archbishop had eaten little. In the
evening he returned to his cell in a state of exhaustion:[539] the
same night, or the next day, he sent in his first submission,[540]
which was forwarded on the instant to the queen. It was no sooner gone
than he recalled it, and then vacillating again, he drew a second, in
slightly altered words, which he signed and did not recall. There had
been a struggle in which the weaker nature had prevailed, and the
orthodox leaders made haste to improve their triumph. The first step
being over, confessions far more humiliating could now be extorted.
Bonner came to his cell, and obtained from him a promise in writing,
"to submit to the king and queen in all their laws and ordinances, as
well touching the pope's supremacy, as in all other things;" with an
engagement further "to move and stir all others to do the like," and
to live in quietness and obedience, without murmur or grudging; his
book on the sacrament he would submit to the next general council.

                   [Footnote 539: Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 129.]

                   [Footnote 540: Forasmuch as the king's and queen's
                   majesties, by consent of parliament, have received
                   the pope's authority within this realm, I am
                   content to submit myself to their laws herein, and
                   to take the pope for chief head of this Church of
                   England so far as God's laws and the customs of
                   this realm will permit.--Thomas Cranmer.]

{p.251} These three submissions must have followed one another
rapidly. On the 16th of February, two days only after his trial, he
made a fourth, and yielding the point which he had reserved, he
declared that he believed all the articles of the Christian religion
as the Catholic Church believed. But so far he had spoken generally,
and the court required particulars. In a fifth and longer
submission,[541] he was made to anathematise particularly the heresies
of Luther and Zuinglius; to accept the pope as the head of the church,
out of which was no salvation; to acknowledge the real presence in the
Eucharist, the seven sacraments as received by the Roman Catholics,
and purgatory. He professed his penitence for having once held or
taught otherwise, and he implored the prayers of all faithful
Christians, that those whom he had seduced might be brought back to
the true fold.

                   [Footnote 541: Of this fifth submission there is a
                   contemporary copy among the MSS. at Corpus Christi
                   College, Oxford. It was the only one known to Foxe;
                   and this, with the fact of its being found in a
                   separate form, gives a colour of probability to Mr.
                   Southey's suspicion that the rest were forgeries.
                   The whole collection was published by Bonner, who
                   injured his claims to credit by printing with the
                   others a seventh recantation, which was never made,
                   and by concealing the real truth. But the balance
                   of evidence I still think is in favour of the
                   genuineness of the first six. The first four lead
                   up to the fifth, and the invention of them after
                   the fifth had been made would have been needless.
                   The sixth I agree with Strype in considering to
                   have been composed by Pole, and signed by Cranmer.]

The demands of the church might have been satisfied by these last
admissions; but Cranmer had not yet expiated his personal offences
against the queen and her mother, and he was to drain the cup of
humiliation to the dregs.

A month was allowed to pass. He was left with the certainty of his
shame, and the uncertainty whether, after all, it had not been
encountered in vain. On the 18th of March, one more paper was
submitted to his signature, in which he confessed to be all which Pole
had described him. He called himself a blasphemer, and a persecutor;
being unable to undo his evil work, he had no hope, he said, save in
the example of the thief upon the cross, who when other means of
reparation were taken from him, made amends to God with his lips. He
was unworthy of mercy, and he deserved eternal vengeance. He had
sinned against King Henry and his wife; he was the cause of the
divorce, from which, as from a seed, had sprung up schism, heresy, and
crime; he had opened a window to false doctrines of which he had been
himself the most pernicious teacher; especially he reflected with
anguish that he had denied the presence {p.252} of his Maker in the
consecrated elements. He had deceived the living and he had robbed the
souls of the dead by stealing from them their masses. He prayed the
pope to pardon him; he prayed the king and queen to pardon him; he
prayed God Almighty to pardon him, as he had pardoned Mary Magdalen;
or to look upon him as, from his own cross, He had looked upon the
thief.[542]

                   [Footnote 542: Recantations of Thomas Cranmer:
                   Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 393.]

The most ingenious malice could invent no deeper degradation, and the
archbishop might now die. One favour was granted to him alone of all
the sufferers for religion--that he might speak at his death; speak,
and, like Northumberland, perish with a recantation on his lips.

The hatred against him was confined to the court. Even among those who
had the deepest distaste for his opinions, his character had won
affection and respect; and when it was known that he was to be
executed, there was a widespread and profound emotion. "Although,"
says a Catholic who witnessed his death, "his former life and wretched
end deserved a greater misery, if any greater might have chanced to
him; yet, setting aside his offence to God and his country, beholding
the man without his faults, I think there was none that pitied not his
case and bewailed not his fortune, and feared not his own chance, to
see so noble a prelate, so grave a councillor, of so long-continued
honours, after so many dignities, in his old years to be deprived of
his estate, adjudged to die, and in so painful a death to end his
life."[543]

                   [Footnote 543: Death of Cranmer, related by a
                   Bystander: _Harleian MSS._, 442. Printed, with some
                   inaccuracies, by Strype.]

On Saturday, the 21st of March, Lord Williams was again ordered into
Oxford to keep the peace, with Lord Chandos, Sir Thomas Brydges, and
other gentlemen of the county. If they allowed themselves to
countenance by their presence the scene which they were about to
witness, it is to be remembered that but a few years since, these same
gentlemen had seen Catholic priests swinging from the pinnacles of
their churches. The memory of the evil days was still recent, and
amidst the tumult of conflicting passions, no one could trust his
neighbour, and organised resistance was impracticable.

The March morning broke wild and stormy. The sermon intended to be
preached at the stake was adjourned, in consequence of the wet, to St.
Mary's, where a high stage was erected, on which Cranmer was to stand
conspicuous. Peers, knights, {p.253} doctors, students, priests,
men-at-arms, and citizens, thronged the narrow aisles, and through the
midst of them the archbishop was led in by the mayor. As he mounted
the platform many of the spectators were in tears. He knelt and prayed
silently, and Cole, the Provost of Eton, then took his place in the
pulpit.

Although, by a strained interpretation of the law, it could be
pretended that the time of grace had expired with the trial; yet, to
put a man to death at all after recantation was a proceeding so
violent and unusual, that some excuse or some explanation was felt to
be necessary.

Cole therefore first declared why it was expedient that the late
archbishop should suffer, notwithstanding his reconciliation. One
reason was "for that he had been a great causer of all the alterations
in the realm of England; and when the matter of the divorce between
King Henry VIII and Queen Catherine was commenced in the court of
Rome, he, having nothing to do with it, sate upon it as a judge, which
was the entry to all the inconvenients which followed." "Yet in that
Mr. Cole excused him--that he thought he did it, not out of malice,
but by the persuasion and advice of certain learned men."

Another occasion was, "for that he had been the great setter-forth of
all the heresy received into the church in the latter times; had
written in it, had disputed, had continued it even to the last hour;
and it had never been seen in the time of schism that any man
continuing so long had been pardoned, and that it was not to be
remitted for example's sake."

"And other causes," Cole added, "moved the queen and council thereto,
which were not meet and convenient for every one to understand."[544]

                   [Footnote 544: Narrative of the Execution of Thomas
                   Cranmer: _MS. Harleian_, 422. Another account gives
                   among the causes which Cole mentioned, that "it
                   seemed meet, according to the law of equality,
                   that, as the death of the Duke of Northumberland of
                   late made even with Sir Thomas More, Chancellor,
                   that died for the Church, so there should be one
                   that should make even with Fisher, Bishop of
                   Rochester; and because that Ridley, Hooper, and
                   Ferrars were not able to make even with that man,
                   it seemed that Cranmer should be joined with them
                   to fill up their part of equality."--Foxe, vol.
                   viii. p. 85. Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 133.]

The explanations being finished, the preacher exhorted his audience to
take example from the spectacle before them, to fear God, and to learn
that there was no power against the Lord. There, in their presence,
stood a man, once "of so high degree--sometime one of the chief
prelates of the church--an archbishop, the chief of the council, the
second person of the realm: of long time, it might be thought, in
great assurance, a king on his side;" {p.254} and now, "notwithstanding
all his authority and defence, debased from a high estate unto a low
degree--of a councillor become a caitiff, and set in so wretched
estate that the poorest wretch would not change conditions with him."

Turning, in conclusion, to Cranmer himself, Cole then "comforted and
encouraged him to take his death well by many places in Scripture;
bidding him nothing mistrust but that he should incontinently receive
that the thief did, to whom Christ said, To-day shalt thou be with me
in Paradise. Out of Paul he armed him against the terrors of fire, by
the words, The Lord is faithful, and will not suffer you to be tempted
beyond that which you are able to bear; by the example of the three
Children, to whom God made the flame seem like a pleasant joy; by the
rejoicing of St. Andrew on his cross; by the patience of St. Lawrence
on the fire." He dwelt upon his conversion, which, he said, was the
special work of God, because so many efforts had been made by men to
work upon him, and had been made in vain. God, in his own time, had
reclaimed him, and brought him home.

A dirge, the preacher said, should be sung for him in every church in
Oxford; he charged all the priests to say each a mass for the repose
of his soul; and finally, he desired the congregation present to kneel
where they were, and pray for him.

The whole crowd fell on their knees, the archbishop with them; and "I
think," says the eye-witness,[545] "that there was never such a number
so earnestly praying together; for they that hated him before, now
loved him for his conversion, and hopes of continuance: they that
loved him before could not suddenly hate him, having hope of his
confession; so love and hope increased devotion on every side."

                   [Footnote 545: _MS. Harleian_, 422.]

"I shall not need," says the same writer, "to describe his behaviour
for the time of sermon, his sorrowful countenance, his heavy cheer,
his face bedewed with tears; sometimes lifting his eyes to heaven in
hope, sometimes casting them down to the earth for shame--to be brief,
an image of sorrow, the dolour of his heart bursting out of his eyes,
retaining ever a quiet and grave behaviour, which increased the pity
in men's hearts."

His own turn to speak was now come. When the prayer was finished, the
preacher said, "Lest any man should doubt the sincerity of this man's
repentance, you shall hear him speak before you. I pray you, Master
Cranmer," he added, turning to him, "that you will now perform that
you promised not long {p.255} ago; that you would openly express the
true and undoubted profession of your faith."

"I will do it," the archbishop answered.

"Good Christian people," he began, "my dear, beloved brethren and
sisters in Christ, I beseech you most heartily to pray for me to
Almighty God, that he will forgive me all my sins and offences, which
be many and without number, and great above measure; one thing
grieveth my conscience more than all the rest, whereof, God willing, I
shall speak more; but how many or how great soever they be, I beseech
you to pray God of his mercy to pardon and forgive them all."

Falling again on his knees:--

"O Father of heaven," he prayed, "O Son of God, Redeemer of the world,
O Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God, have mercy upon me, most
wretched caitiff and miserable sinner. I have offended both heaven and
earth more than my tongue can express; whither then may I go, or
whither should I flee for succour? To heaven I am ashamed to lift up
mine eyes, and in earth I find no succour nor refuge. What shall I do?
Shall I despair? God forbid! Oh, good God, thou art merciful, and
refusest none that come to thee for succour. To thee, therefore, do I
come; to thee do I humble myself, saying, O Lord, my sins be great,
yet have mercy on me for thy great mercy. The mystery was not wrought
that God became man, for few or little offences. Thou didst not give
thy Son, O Father, for small sins only, but for all and the greatest
in the world, so that the sinner return to thee with a penitent heart,
as I do at this present. Wherefore have mercy upon me, O Lord, whose
property is always to have mercy; although my sins be great, yet is
thy mercy greater; wherefore have mercy upon me, O Lord, for thy great
mercy. I crave nothing, O Lord, for mine own merits, but for thy
Name's sake, and, therefore, O Father of heaven, hallowed be thy
Name."

Then rising, he went on with his address:--

"Every man desireth, good people, at the time of his death, to give
some good exhortation that others may remember after his death, and be
the better thereby; for one word spoken of a man at his last end[546]
will be more remembered than the sermons {p.256} made of them that
live and remain. So I beseech God grant me grace, that I may speak
something at my departing whereby God may be glorified and you
edified.

                   [Footnote 546: Shakspeare was perhaps thinking of
                   this speech of Cranmer when he wrote the
                   magnificent lines which he placed in the mouth of
                   the dying Gaunt:--

             "O, but they say, the tongues of dying men
             Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
             Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain:
             For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.
             He, that no more must say, is listened more
             Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze;
             More are men's ends marked, than their lives before:
             The setting sun, and music at the close,
             As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last;
             Writ in remembrance more than things long past."

"But it is an heavy case to see that many folks be so doted upon the
love of this false world, and be so careful for it, that of the love
of God or the world to come, they seem to care very little or nothing;
therefore this shall be my first exhortation--that you set not
over-much by this glozing world, but upon God and the world to come;
and learn what this lesson meaneth which St. John teacheth, that the
love of the world is hatred against God.

"The second exhortation is, that next unto God, you obey your king and
queen willingly, without murmur or grudging, not for fear of them
only, but much more for the fear of God, knowing that they be God's
ministers, appointed of God to rule and govern you, and therefore
whosoever resisteth them resisteth God's ordinance.

"The third exhortation is, that you live all together like brethren
and sisters: but, alas! pity it is to see what contention and hatred
one man hath against another, not taking each other for brethren and
sisters, but rather as strangers and mortal enemies. But I pray you
learn and bear well away the lesson, to do good to all men as much as
in you lieth, and hurt no man no more than you would hurt your own
natural brother or sister. For this you may be sure, that whosoever
hateth his brother or sister, and goeth about maliciously to hinder or
hurt him, surely, and without all doubt, God is not with that man,
although he think himself never so much in God's favour.

"The fourth exhortation shall be to them that have great substance and
riches of this world, that they may well consider and weigh these
three sayings of the Scriptures. One is of our Saviour Christ himself,
who saith that it is a hard thing for a rich man to come to heaven; a
sore saying, and spoken of Him that knoweth the truth. The second is
of St. John, whose saying is this: He that hath the substance of this
world, and seeth his brother in necessity, and shutteth up his
compassion and mercy from him, how can he say he loveth God? The third
{p.257} is of St. James, who speaketh to the covetous and rich men
after this manner: Weep and howl for the misery which shall come upon
you; your riches doth rot, your clothes be moth-eaten, your gold and
silver is cankered and rusty, and the rust thereof shall bear witness
against you, and consume you like fire; you gather and hoard up
treasure of God's indignation against the last day. I tell them which
be rich, ponder these sentences; for if ever they had occasion to show
their charity, they have it now at this present; the poor people being
so many, and victuals so dear; for although I have been long in
prison, yet have I heard of the great penury of the poor."

The people listened breathless, "intending upon the conclusion."

"And now," he went on, "forasmuch as I am come to the last end of my
life, whereupon hangeth all my life past and all my life to come,
either to live with my Saviour Christ in joy, or else to be ever in
pain with wicked devils in hell; and I see before mine eyes presently
either heaven"--and he pointed upwards with his hand--"or hell," and
he pointed downwards, "ready to swallow me. I shall therefore declare
unto you my very faith, without colour or dissimulation; for now it is
no time to dissemble. I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of
heaven and earth; in every article of the Catholic faith; every word
and sentence taught by our Saviour Christ, his apostles, and prophets,
in the Old and New Testament.

"And now I come to the great thing that troubleth my conscience more
than any other thing that ever I said or did in my life, and that is
the setting abroad of writings contrary to the truth, which here I now
renounce and refuse,[547] as things {p.258} written with my hand
contrary to the truth which I thought in my heart, and written for
fear of death to save my life, if it might be; and that is, all such
bills and papers as I have written and signed with my hand since my
degradation, wherein I have written many things untrue; and forasmuch
as my hand offended in writing contrary to my heart, my hand therefore
shall first be punished; for if I may come to the fire, it shall be
the first burnt. As for the pope, I utterly refuse him, as Christ's
enemy and Anti-Christ, with all his false doctrine; and as for the
sacrament, I believe as I have taught in my book against the Bishop of
Winchester."

                   [Footnote 547: There are two original contemporary
                   accounts of Cranmer's words--_Harleian MSS._, 417
                   and 422--and they agree so far almost word for word
                   with "The Prayer and Saying of Thomas Cranmer a
                   little before his Death," which was published
                   immediately after by Bonner. But we now encounter
                   the singular difficulty, that the conclusion given
                   by Bonner is altogether different. The archbishop
                   is made to repeat his recantation, and express
                   especial grief for the books which he had written
                   upon the Sacrament.

                   There is no uncertainty as to what Cranmer really
                   said; but, inasmuch is Bonner at the head of his
                   version of the speech has described it as "written
                   with his own hand," it has been inferred that he
                   was required to make a copy of what he intended to
                   say--that he actually wrote what Bonner printed,
                   hoping to the end that his life would be spared;
                   and that he would have repeated it publicly, had he
                   seen that there was a chance of his escape.
                   Finding, however, that his execution had been
                   irrevocably determined on, he made the substitution
                   at the last moment.

                   There are many difficulties in this view, chiefly
                   from the character of the speech itself, which has
                   the stamp upon it of too evident sincerity to have
                   been composed with any underhand intentions. The
                   tone is in harmony throughout, and the beginning
                   leads naturally to the conclusion which Cranmer
                   really spoke.

                   There is another explanation, which is to me more
                   credible. The Catholics were furious at their
                   expected triumph being snatched from them. Whether
                   Cranmer did or did not write what Bonner says he
                   _wrote_, Bonner knew that he had not _spoken_ it,
                   and yet was dishonest enough to print it as having
                   been spoken by him, evidently hoping that the truth
                   could be suppressed, and that the Catholic cause
                   might escape the injury which the archbishop's
                   recovered constancy must inflict upon it. A man who
                   was capable of so considerable a falsehood would
                   not have hesitated for the same good purpose to
                   alter a few sentences. Pious frauds have been
                   committed by more religious men than Edmund Bonner.
                   See the Recantation of Thomas Cranmer, reprinted
                   from Bonner's original pamphlet: Jenkins, vol. iv.
                   p. 393.]

So far the archbishop was allowed to continue, before his astonished
hearers could collect themselves. "Play the Christian man," Lord
Williams at length was able to call; "remember yourself; do not
dissemble." "Alas! my lord," the archbishop answered, "I have been a
man that all my life loved plainness, and never dissembled till now,
which I am most sorry for." He would have gone on; but cries now rose
on all sides, "Pull him down," "Stop his mouth," "Away with him," and
he was borne off by the throng out of the church. The stake was a
quarter of a mile distant, at the spot already consecrated by the
deaths of Ridley and Latimer. Priest and monks "who did rue[548] to
see him go so wickedly to his death, ran after him, exhorting him,
while time was, to remember himself." But Cranmer, having flung down
the burden of his shame, had recovered his strength, and such words
had no longer power to trouble him. He approached the stake with "a
cheerful countenance," undressed in haste, and stood upright in his
shirt. Soto and another Spanish friar continued expostulating; but
finding they could effect nothing, one said in Latin to the other,
"Let us go from him, for the devil is within him." An Oxford {p.259}
theologian--his name was Ely--being more clamorous, drew from him only
the answer that, as touching his recantation, "he repented him right
sore, because he knew that it was against the truth."

                   [Footnote 548: _Harleian MS._, 422. Strype has
                   misread the word into "run," losing the point of
                   the expression.]

"Make short, make short!" Lord Williams cried, hastily.

The archbishop shook hands with his friends; Ely only drew back,
calling, "Recant, recant," and bidding others not approach him.

"This was the hand that wrote it," Cranmer said, extending his right
arm; "this was the hand that wrote it, therefore it shall suffer first
punishment." Before his body was touched, he held the offending member
steadily in the flame, "and never stirred nor cried." The wood was dry
and mercifully laid; the fire was rapid at its work, and he was soon
dead. "His friends," said a Catholic bystander, "sorrowed for love,
his enemies for pity, strangers for a common kind of humanity, whereby
we are bound to one another."

So perished Cranmer. He was brought out, with the eyes of his soul
blinded, to make sport for his enemies, and in his death he brought
upon them a wider destruction than he had effected by his teaching
while alive. Pole was appointed the next day to the See of Canterbury;
but in other respects the court had overreached themselves by their
cruelty. Had they been contented to accept the recantation, they would
have left the archbishop to die broken-hearted, pointed at by the
finger of pitying scorn; and the Reformation would have been disgraced
in its champion. They were tempted, by an evil spirit of revenge, into
an act unsanctioned even by their own bloody laws; and they gave him
an opportunity of redeeming his fame, and of writing his name in the
roll of martyrs. The worth of a man must be measured by his life, not
by his failure under a single and peculiar trial. The apostle, though
forewarned, denied his Master on the first alarm of danger; yet that
Master, who knew his nature in its strength and its infirmity, chose
him for the rock on which He would build His church.




{p.260} CHAPTER V.

CALAIS.


Not far from Abingdon, on the London road, was a house belonging to a
gentleman named Christopher Ashton. Here, on their way to and fro
between the western counties and the capital, members of parliament,
or other busy persons, whom the heat of the times tempted from their
homes, occasionally called; and the character of the conversation
which was to be heard in that house, may be gathered from the
following depositions. On the 4th of January, Sir Nicholas Arnold
looked in, and found Sir Henry Dudley there.

"Well, Sir Nicholas, what news?" said Ashton.

"None worth hearing," Arnold answered.

"I am sure you hear they go about a coronation," Dudley said.

"I hear no such matter," said Arnold. "The news that are worth the
hearing, are in such men's heads that will not utter them, and the
rest are not to be credited."[549]

                   [Footnote 549: Saying of Sir Nicholas Arnold: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. vii.]

"There be news come out of Flanders, as I heard from Sir Peter
Mewtas," said Ashton, laughing, to another visitor:[550] "The king has
written to the queen that he will not come hither a great while, or,
as men think, any more; and the queen was in a rage, and caused the
king's picture to be carried out of the privy chamber, and she in a
wonderful storm, and could not be in any wise quieted."[551]

                   [Footnote 550: The conversations with Ashton were
                   sometimes at his own house; sometimes at an inn by
                   the waterside, near Lambeth; sometimes at other
                   places. The localities are not always easy to make
                   out.]

                   [Footnote 551: Deposition of Thomas White: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. vii.]

"They have put me in the Tower for their pleasures," said Sir Anthony
Kingston; "but so shall they never do more."[552]

                   [Footnote 552: Wotton to the Queen, cypher: _French
                   MSS._, bundle 13. State Paper Office. Kingston was
                   one of the members of the House of Commons who was
                   imprisoned at the close of the late session, for
                   the freedom of his language in parliament. He was
                   "Vice-Admiral of the Ports about the Severn," and a
                   man of large influence in the Welsh Marches.]

At another time Sir Henry Peckham was alone with Ashton. {p.261}
Peckham[553] had been one of the sharers in the forfeited estates of
the Duke of Norfolk. He was obliged to relinquish his grant, with but
small compensation, and he complained of his treatment. Ashton bade
him "be of good cheer."

                   [Footnote 553: Younger son of Sir Edward Peckham,
                   Cofferer of the Household, and Member of Council
                   under Edward VI.]

"If you will keep my counsel," Ashton said, "I will tell you news that
will bring your land again or it be long."

Peckham promised to be secret.

"Sir Anthony Kingston," Ashton continued, "and a great many of the
western gentlemen, are in a confederacy to send the queen's highness
over to the king, and make the Lady Elizabeth queen, and to marry the
Earl of Devonshire to the said Lady Elizabeth. The laws of the realm
will bear it, that they may do it justly; and Sir Anthony Kingston
hath required me to hearken to King Henry VIII.'s will; for there is
sufficient matter for our purpose, as Sir Anthony doth tell me. I
pray, if you can, help me to it."

Peckham said it was to be had in the Rolls. Ashton did not like to put
himself in the way of suspicion by asking to see it publicly, and
begged Peckham to obtain a copy for him elsewhere.

"I will show you a token," he then said, and took out half a broken
penny; "the other half is with Sir Anthony, and whensoever I do send
this same to Sir Anthony, then will he be in readiness with ten
thousand men within three days upon receipt of this token." If Lord
Pembroke's men made resistance on the Marches, Kingston would cut them
off, and would be in London in twenty days at furthest. And "when this
is done," Ashton continued, "your father shall be made a duke; for I
tell you true, that the Lady Elizabeth is a jolly liberal dame, and
nothing so unthankful as her sister is; and she taketh this liberality
of her mother, who was one of the bountifullest women in all her time
or since; and then shall men of good service and gentlemen be
esteemed."

Peckham, who had not anticipated so dangerous a confidence, looked
grave and uneasy; Ashton said he hoped he would not betray him. "No,"
Peckham answered, and gave him his hand with his promise.

"I will tell you more, then," his friend went on; "we shall have that
will take our part, the Earl of Westmoreland, who will not come alone,
and we shall have my Lord Williams."[554]

                   [Footnote 554: Lord Williams of Thame, who
                   superintended the executions of Ridley, Latimer,
                   and Cranmer.]

{p.262} "That cannot be," Peckham said; "he hath served the queen
right well, and by her highness was made lord."

"I can better tell than you," Ashton answered; "the Lord Williams is a
good fellow, and is as unthankfully dealt with as you, Sir Henry. I
tell you that he is sure on our side; and Sir Henry Dudley hath spoken
with all the gentlemen that be soldiers, that be about the town, and
they be all sure ours, so that we have left the queen never a man of
war that is worth a button."[555]

                   [Footnote 555: Confession of Sir Henry Peckham:
                   _Mary, Domestic, MS._ vol. viii.]

The scene changes. Readers of the earlier volumes of this history will
remember Arundel's, in Lawrence Poultney Lane, where Lord Surrey and
his friends held their nightly festivities. Times had changed, and so
had Arundel's. It was now the resort of the young liberal members of
parliament, where the opposition tactics in the House of Commons were
discussed and settled upon. Here during the late session had met the
men whose names have been mentioned in the preceding conversation, and
who had crossed the queen's purposes; Kingston, Peckham, Ashton,
Dudley, and with them Sir John Perrot, Sir William Courtenay, Sir Hugh
Pollard, Sir John Chichester, and two young Tremaynes of Colacombe in
Devonshire, one of whom had been concerned with Wyatt and Carew. Here
also came John Daniel, in the service at one time of Lord Northampton,
who, not being in parliament, was excluded from the more private
consultations, but heard much of the general talk; "how they, with
great wilfulness, as might be perceived by their behaviour, did sore
mislike such Catholic proceedings as they saw the queen went about,
and did intend to resist such matters as should be spoken of in the
Parliament House other than liked them."[556]

                   [Footnote 556: Confession of John Daniel: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. viii.]

The party broke up with the dissolution. Some of them, however, came
back to London, and Daniel, one afternoon in March, was waiting for
his dinner in the public room, when a ruffling cavalier named Ned
Horsey came in, humming a catch of "Good man priest, now beware your
pallet," "and bringing out a rhyme thereto of 'Fire and faggot,' and
'helm and sallet.'"

"I desire to live no longer than Whitsuntide next," Horsey said to
Daniel; "for if I live so long, I mistrust not but my deeds shall be
chronicled."

"Tush, my boy," he went on, "be of good cheer; for when thou shalt
hear what the matter is, thou wilt take up thy hand {p.263} and
bless thee, and marvel that such young heads could ever bring such a
matter as this to pass. I tell thee, the matter hath been a-brewing
this quarter of a year at least, when thou wast in the country like a
lout. Well, well, man, we shall either be men shortly, or no men; yea,
and that very shortly, too."

"Tell me what you mean," said Daniel.

"Alas! good lout," quoth Horsey, "and do you not know, I pray you?
hath not Harry Dudley told you of it?"

"No, by the faith of a Christian man," said Daniel, "Harry Dudley told
me nothing except that he was going into France. But I pray thee, good
Ned Horsey, tell me."

"By God's blood!" said Horsey, "then I will not tell you; for we have
all taken an oath on the Testament, that no man should break it to any
man, except as told first by Harry Dudley."

Horsey went on to talk of preparations, in which Daniel had been
concerned, for an expedition to Southampton. Daniel, being a man of
property, had undertaken to provide the horses, and had deposited a
sum of money for the purpose; but, from Horsey's words, he perceived
that schemes were on foot, which, having something to lose, he had
better keep clear of. "His heart," he said, "rys in his body as big as
a loaf;" he left the table, went down into the garden, and walked up
and down an alley to collect himself; at last he ran into an arbour,
where he knelt and said his prayers.

"What, man!" said Sir John Harrington, looking in, "you are well
occupied on your knees so soon after dinner."

Daniel made up his mind that his friends were bringing him into a
fool's paradise; "as they did brew, so they should bake for him," he
thought, "and those heads that had studied it before he came to town
should work the end of it." He stole away, therefore, and crossed the
river to Southwark, where he took into his confidence a surgeon named
Blacklock. Daniel pretended a broken leg, which Blacklock pretended to
set: and thus the expedition to Southampton went off without him; the
object of it being the despatch of one of the party into France, and
the arrangement of the details of the conspiracy with the Captain of
the Isle of Wight.

The characters of the persons who were concerned in this new plot
against Mary's throne will not require much further elucidation. Sir
Henry Dudley was Northumberland's cousin--the same who had been
employed by the duke as an agent with the French court; the rest were
eager, headstrong, not very {p.264} wise young men, who, in the
general indignation of the country at the barbarity of the government,
saw an opportunity of pushing themselves into distinction. Lord
Willoughby, Lord Westmoreland, and Lord Oxford were suspected by the
queen of being unsound in religion; they had been reprimanded, and
Oxford was thought likely to lose his lands.[557] If the first move
could be made successfully, the conspirators counted on general
support from these noblemen, and indeed from the whole body of the lay
peers.

                   [Footnote 557: Noailles to the King of France,
                   March 12: _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

The plan was identical with that of Wyatt and Suffolk and Carew.
Kingston was to march on London from Wales, and the force of the
western counties was to join him on the Severn. One of the
Throgmortons, called "Long John," had been at the French court, and
made arrangements with Henry. Throgmorton returned to England, and
Henry Dudley crossed the Channel in his place. The French promised to
supply ships and money, while Dudley undertook to furnish them with
crews from among the refugees or the western privateers, as Carew had
done two years before. The Captain of the Isle of Wight, Uvedale,
undertook to betray the island and Hurst Castle to the French. Dudley
was to attack Portsmouth, where he would find the cannon
"pegged;"[558] and when Portsmouth was taken, Hampshire, Sussex, and
Kent were expected to rise.

                   [Footnote 558: Uvedale's Confession: _Mary,
                   Domestic, MS._, vol. vii.; Peckham's Confession,
                   vol. viii.]

Although known to so many persons, the secret was well kept. On
Dudley's disappearance, inquiries were made about him. It was
pretended that he was in debt, and had gone abroad to escape from his
creditors. Some suspicion attached to the Tremaynes, who had long been
connected with the privateers at Scilly. Strangways, the pirate,
happened to be taken prisoner, and told something to the council about
them which led to their arrest; but though the matter was "true
enough," they bore down their accuser by mere courageous audacity of
denial; and their resolution and fidelity were held up as an example
in the secret meetings of the conspirators.[559]

                   [Footnote 559: John Throgmorton said to Bedyll,
                   Derick, and me, on this wise: "Whatsoever becomes
                   of any of us in this dangerous enterprise, we will
                   here promise, that albeit, I, you, and your nannye,
                   every of us, by name, should accuse any of us of
                   this, or any part touching this enterprise, bye and
                   bye to revile him with most taunting and naughty
                   rebukes that may be devised. And thereby setting a
                   stern countenance, and for our couraging and better
                   comfort herein, he shewed us of a matter that was
                   most true, and accused by Strangways against two
                   brethren, meaning [the] Tremaynes, who being but
                   little men in personage, so reviled Strangways,
                   accusing them before your honours, that because
                   Strangways had no further proof but his only
                   saying, and they so stoutly denying it, even to the
                   threatening of the rack (or whether they were
                   anything thereto constrained or no, as he said, I
                   do not perfectly remember); but at length
                   Strangways was in effect ready to weep, and think
                   he had accused them wrongfully, and so they
                   dismissed, and Strangways much of your honours
                   rebuked."--Thomas White to the Council: _MS. Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. vii.]

{p.265} The active co-operation of France was an essential element in
the chances of success. From France, however, it became suddenly
uncertain whether assistance was to be looked for. The English
mediation in the European war had failed, because, after Mary's
disappointment, France refused to part with Savoy; and the emperor
could not bring himself to make a peace where the sacrifices would be
wholly on his own side. But the negotiations between the principals
were never wholly let fall; the emperor had now resigned. Philip, with
an embarrassed treasury, with his eye on the English crown, and with
trouble threatening him from the Turks, was anxious to escape from the
exhausting conflict; and at the beginning of February a truce for five
years was concluded at Vaucelles, by which Henry was left in
undisturbed possession of all his conquests.

Terms so advantageous to the court of France could not be rejected;
but past experience forbade, nevertheless, any very sanguine hope that
the truce would last out its term. Unquestionably, in the opinion of
the French king, it would be broken without scruple could Philip
obtain the active help of England; and Henry would not, therefore,
relinquish his correspondence with the conspirators. He instructed
Noailles only to keep them quiet for the present till Philip's
intentions should be revealed more clearly.[560]

                   [Footnote 560: The Constable to Noailles, Feb. 7:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

The "young heads," of whom Horsey had spoken to Daniel, were not,
however, men whom it was easy to keep quiet. Noailles replied, that
they were so anxious to make an effort for liberty, and felt so
certain of success, that he found great difficulty in restraining
them; if the King of France would give them some slight assistance at
the outset,[561] they undertook to do the rest themselves.

                   [Footnote 561: De leur prêtur un peu d'espaule.]

Dudley, therefore, remained in France, whither he was followed by
Ashton and Horsey, and Henry admitted them to a midnight audience. He
said that, for the moment, he could not act with them openly; but he
would throw no difficulty in their way; if they were as strong as they
professed to be (and they said that members of the privy council were
{p.266} in the confederacy), he would have them go forward with
their project; and if he found Philip occupied, as he expected that he
would be with the Turks in Hungary, he would assist them with men,
money, and other things. Meanwhile, he gave Dudley 1500 crowns,
distributed considerable sums among his companions, and advised them
to go, as Carew had done before, to the coast of Normandy, and keep up
their communications with their friends.

The interview and the promises of Henry were betrayed to Wotton, and
by him reported in cypher to Mary;[562] but the fear or treachery of
one of the party had already placed the government in possession of
information, as the first step was about to be taken. Fifty thousand
pounds were in the treasury: to embarrass the court, and to provide
the insurrection with funds, a party of four or five--Rosey, keeper of
the Star Chamber, Heneage, an officer of the Chapel Royal, a man named
Derick, and one or two others--were chosen to carry off the money.
Before the enterprise could be undertaken, Thomas White--perhaps one
of the five, in alarm at the danger--communicated with the council;
and on the 18th of March, Throgmorton, Peckham, Daniel, Rosey, and
twelve or fourteen others, were seized suddenly, and sent to the
Tower. Dudley was traced to Southampton; he was himself beyond
pursuit, but Uvedale was discovered, and brought to London; Kingston
was sent for, but died on his way up from Wales, probably by his own
hand, in despair.

                   [Footnote 562: Wotton to the Queen: _French MSS._,
                   bundle 13.]

Information was, of course, the great object of the court; and they
would shrink from nothing which would enable them to extort
confessions. The prisoners knew what was before them, and prepared
themselves according to their courage.

Throgmorton, when locked into the room which was allotted to him in
the Tower, found that Derick was in the chamber underneath. He
loosened a board in the floor, and "required him that, in any case, he
should not be the destruction of others besides himself;" "for look,"
Throgmorton said, "how many thou dost accuse, so many thou dost
wilfully murder."

Derick, it seems, was already thinking whether he could not, perhaps,
save his own life. None of the party as yet knew how much of their
secret had been discovered, or the value, therefore, which the
government would place upon a full confession.

"He would do nothing," Derick answered, "but that which {p.267} God
had appointed; and if God would that he should do it, there was no
remedy."

When a man has made up his mind that it is God's will that he should
be a rogue, he has small chance of recovering himself. Throgmorton
tried to reason him into manliness, and thought he had succeeded.
Derick even promised to "abide the torture," "whereupon Master
Throgmorton did sup his porridge to him, in token of his truth." But
the torture was used or threatened, and Derick did not "abide" it;
promises of pardon were also used, which the prisoners knew to mean
nothing, and yet were worked on by them.[563]

                   [Footnote 563: Although they be promised by your
                   means to move the queen's majesty to be gracious
                   lady to them, they know that it is not so meant;
                   but to suck out of others all ye may, and yet
                   thereby to have no mercy shewed.--Thomas White to
                   the Council: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. vii.]

Derick turned approver, so did Rosey, so did Bedyll: Uvedale, who was
ill and feeble, yielded to the rack; and, piece by piece, the whole
conspiracy was drawn out. The investigation was committed exclusively
to the queen's clique, Rochester, Englefield, Waldegrave, Jerningham,
and Hastings. The rest of the council refused to meddle,[564] for
reasons which, perhaps, the queen hoped to learn from one or other of
the prisoners. Throgmorton, however, who could tell the most, would
tell nothing, though the rack was used freely to open his lips. How
much he suffered may be gathered from a few words which he used to a
Mr. Walpole, who was one of his examiners.

                   [Footnote 564: Robert Swift to Lord Shrewsbury:
                   Lodge's _Illustrations_, vol. i.]

"Tell me, I pray you, Mr. Walpole," he said, "if the council may rack
me, or put me to torment, after the time I am condemned, or no?"

"They may," Walpole answered, "if it shall please them."

"Then," said Throgmorton, "I fear I shall be put to it again; and, I
will assure you, it is terrible pain."[565]

                   [Footnote 565: Walpole's Deposition: _MS._ Lodge's
                   _Illustrations_, vol. viii.]

When torture would not answer, promises were tried, and promises
apparently of an emphatic kind.

"I pray you, pray for me," Throgmorton said to his brother prisoners;
"for I shall not be long with you. I cannot live without I should be
the death of a number of gentlemen; and therewithal the said
Throgmorton recited a story of the Romans, commending much an old man
that was taken prisoner by the enemy, whom the Romans would have
redeemed with a great number of young men, which would have been much
more worth to the Romans; but this old man would in no case agree
{p.268} thereto, but received his death at the enemies' hand very
patiently, considering his old years, and also what profit these young
men should be to the Romans."[566]

                   [Footnote 566: Peckham's Confession: _MS._ Lodge's
                   _Illustrations_, vol. viii.]

The inquiry lasted till June, and much was learnt from those who had
not Throgmorton's courage. Matters came out implicating Lord Bray and
Lord Delaware. Lord Bray was arrested and examined; Lord Delaware was
tried and found guilty. But they were powerful, and had powerful
friends.[567] The court were forced to content themselves with smaller
game. Successive batches of the conspirators were despatched, as their
confessions were exhausted or despaired of. Throgmorton, silent to the
last, was sentenced on the 21st of April, and suffered on the 28th. On
the 19th of May, Captain Stanton was hanged; on the 2nd of June,
Derick followed--his cowardice had not saved him--with Rosey and
Bedyll. On the 7th of July, Sir Henry Peckham was disposed of, and
with him John Daniel, who was guilty, if not of worse, yet of having
concealed machinations dangerous to the state.[568]

                   [Footnote 567: Swift to Lord Shrewsbury: Ibid.,
                   vol. i.; Machyn's _Diary_.]

                   [Footnote 568: Daniel was supposed, like
                   Throgmorton, to know more than he had told; and to
                   quicken his confession he was confined in a
                   dungeon, of which he has left his own description
                   in an appeal to the mercy of the commissioners. "I
                   beseech your honours be good to me," he wrote, "for
                   I am a sick man, laid here in a dungeon where I am
                   fain to do ---- and ---- in the place that I do lie
                   in, and if I do lie here all this night, I think I
                   shall not be alive to-morrow. Mr. Binifield
                   [perhaps an examiner] as he cometh to me is ready
                   to cast his gorge, so he saith; and I have no light
                   all day so much as to see my hands perfectly. Pity
                   me, for God's sake--Your honours' footstool, John
                   Daniel. Good Master of the House, good Mr.
                   Controller, good Mr. Vice-Chamberlain, good Mr.
                   Englefield, good Mr. Waldegrave!"

                   Again in another letter, he writes:--

                   "For God's sake, be my honourable masters, and rid
                   me out of this dungeon, for I do lie here a man
                   sore pained with the stone, and among the newts and
                   spiders. For the love of God, I ask it; for I do
                   all things in the place that I do lie in. My good
                   and honourable masters, for God's sake, be good to
                   me, and consider that I did never give my consent
                   to do no evil. Good Mr. Englefield, consider my
                   meaning, and be good master to me, and consider the
                   place I lie in, and the pain of the
                   stone."--Daniel's Confessions: _MS. Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. viii.

                   The effect, however, apparently was what the
                   examiners desired. A note of the council remains to
                   the effect that--

                   "Daniel being yesterday removed, to a worse
                   lodging, beginneth this day to be more open and
                   plain than he hath been, whereby we perceive he
                   knoweth all, and we trust and think verily he will
                   utter the same."--Privy Council Minutes, Ibid.]

But the danger did not pass off with the execution of a few youths. An
inveterate conviction had taken hold of men of all ranks, that Philip
was coming over with an army to destroy {p.269} English liberty.
Paget went to Flanders to entreat him to come back unattended, to
dispel the alarm by his presence, and to comfort the queen; but Paget
returned with a letter instead of Philip, and the poor queen looked
ten years older on the receipt of it. She durst not stir abroad to
face the execration with which the people now received her. She passed
her time in frenzied extremities of passion, "because she could
neither enjoy the presence of her husband, nor the affection of her
subjects; and dreading every moment that her life might be attempted
by her own attendants."[569] A fleet was fitted out in the Channel. A
bishop in the queen's confidence was asked the reason by another
bishop. "To overawe rebels," was the answer, "and to carry off
Elizabeth into Flanders or Spain."[570] The government was conducted
entirely by the legate and the small knot of Catholic fanatics who had
adhered to the queen's fortunes in the late reign. Lord William Howard
told Noailles that he and the other lords lived in perpetual dread and
suspicion; if his honour would allow him, he would throw up his
office, and retire, with those who had gone before him, as a poor
gentleman, to France.

                   [Footnote 569: Estant en continuel fureur de ne
                   pouvoir jouir de la présence de son mary ny de
                   l'amour de son peuple, et dans une fort grande peur
                   d'estre offensée de sa propre vie par aulcungs des
                   siens.--Noailles to the King of France, May 7:
                   _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 570: Same to Montmorency, April 21:
                   Ibid.]

The general suffering was aggravated by a likelihood of famine. The
harvest of 1555 had failed, and bread, with all other articles of
food, was daily rising. The conspiracy exasperated the persecution,
which was degenerating into wholesale atrocity. On the 23rd of April,
six men were burnt at Smithfield; on the 28th, six more were burnt at
Colchester; on the 15th of May, an old lame man and a blind man were
burnt at Stratford-le-Bow. In the same month three women suffered at
Smithfield, and a blind boy was burnt at Gloucester. In Guernsey, a
mother and her two daughters were brought to the stake. One of the
latter, a married woman with child, was delivered in the midst of her
torments, and the infant just rescued was tossed back into the
flames.[571] Reason, humanity, even common prudence, were cast to the
winds. On the 27th of June, thirteen unfortunates, eleven men and two
women, were destroyed together at Stratford-le-Bow, in the presence
{p.270} of twenty thousand people.[572] A schoolmaster, in Norfolk,
in July read an inflammatory proclamation in a church. He and three
others were instantly hanged. Ferocity in the government and
lawlessness in the people went hand in hand. Along the river bank
stood rows of gibbets, with bodies of pirates swinging from them in
the wind. In the autumn, sixty men were sentenced to be hanged
together, for what crime is unknown, at Oxford;[573] and as a symbol
at head-quarters of the system of the administration, four corpses of
thieves hung as a spectacle of terror before the very gates of St.
James's Palace.[574]

                   [Footnote 571: Foxe. This hideous story was
                   challenged by Harding, the controversialist, in the
                   next reign. He was unfortunate in calling attention
                   to it, for the case was inquired into, and the
                   account was found too certainly true.]

                   [Footnote 572: Machyn's _Diary_.]

                   [Footnote 573: Machyn.]

                   [Footnote 574: Ibid.]

On the 20th of August, twenty-three men and women were brought to
London from Colchester, tied in a string with ropes to furnish another
holocaust. A thousand people cheered them through the streets as they
entered the city; and the symptoms of disorder were so significant and
threatening, that Bonner wrote to Pole for instructions how he should
proceed. The government was alarmed; "the council, not without good
consideration," decided that it would be dangerous to go on with the
executions; and Pole, checking Bonner's zeal, allowed the prisoners to
escape for the time, under an easy form of submission which they could
conscientiously make. They were dismissed to their homes, only,
however, for several of them to be slaughtered afterwards, under fresh
pretexts, in detail;[575] and Pole took an occasion, as will be
presently seen, of reprimanding the citizens of London for their
unnatural sympathy with God's enemies. That he had no objection to
these large massacres, when they could be ventured safely, he showed
himself in the following year, when fourteen heretics, of both sexes,
were burnt in two days at Canterbury and Maidstone.[576]

                   [Footnote 575: See their stories: Foxe, vol. viii.]

                   [Footnote 576: Foxe, vol. viii.]

Why, it may well be asked, did not the lords and gentlemen of England
rise and trample down the perpetrators of these devilish enormities?
It is a grave question, to which, nevertheless, some tolerable answer
is possible.

On the 21st of January, 1557, the English ambassador in Paris wrote in
cypher to Sir William Petre, of "a matter" which he desired should not
be communicated to the queen, "lest it should disquiet her." A refugee
had informed him, "that there was a great conspiracy in hand against
the queen, which without doubt would deprive her of her estate." He
had asked for names, but these his informant would not give, saying
merely, "the best of England were in it," and "such a {p.271} number
agreed thereupon, that it was impossible but that it would take
effect." There was no chance of discovery; "the matter had been in
hand for a year or thereabouts," yet no one "had uttered a word of
it;" should it become known, the conspirators were so strong that the
catastrophe would only be precipitated. They would have moved already,
"but for one man who had stayed them for a while."

Entreaties for more explicitness were fruitless. "By no means," wrote
Wotton, "would he name any man unto me; but only said that the
chiefest of them were such as had never offended the queen's highness
before; that the matter should begin in the evening, and the next day
by eight in the morning it should be done."

The queen was not to be killed; at least, not immediately. "They will
not kill her," the man said, "but deprive her of her estate, and then
might she chance to be used as she used Queen Jane;" and he added,
"_that they who went about the matter would not agree that any foreign
prince should have any meddling in it; neither Dudley nor any of the
English gentlemen in France were privy to the matter_."[577]

                   [Footnote 577: Wotton to Petre, cypher: _French
                   MSS., Mary_, bundle 13. State Paper Office.]

That any such combination as this letter described ever really menaced
Mary's throne cannot be affirmed with certainty. The last two
sentences, however, point to the difficulty which had embarrassed all
attempts which had been hitherto ventured. The vice of the previous
conspiracies had been the intrigues with France. The better order of
English statesmen refused to connect themselves with movements which
would give the court of Paris a dangerous influence in England, and
would entitle the French king to press the claims of the Queen of
Scots upon the English crown. If there was truth in the refugee's
story, if there really was a conspiracy of "the best of England,"
clear of all such mischievous elements, it must have consisted of the
body of the nobility, whom Lord William Howard described to Noailles
as equally dissatisfied with himself. The heresy acts had been
restored by the help of the bishops against the sustained opposition
of the majority of the lay peers. For the hundred and fifty years
during which those acts had been upon the Statute Book, they had
expressed the general feeling of the country, yet during all that
time, fewer persons had suffered under them than had been sacrificed
during the last twelve months. Having failed to destroy her sister,
having been unable to alter {p.272} the succession, the queen was
desperate; the Spaniards were watching their opportunity to interfere
by force, and would want no encouragement which she could give them;
and every honest English statesman must have watched her with the most
jealous distrust. Yet, on the other hand, she was childless; her life
must necessarily soon close by the course of nature, and with her life
the tyranny would end. If force was attempted, she would not fall
without a struggle; the clergy would stand by her, and all whom the
clergy could influence. Philip would have the pretext, for which he
was longing, for sending Spanish troops; and though liberty might and
would prevail in the end, thousands of lives might be sacrificed, and
Elizabeth's succession would be stained. The appeal to strength was,
and is, the last to which good men will allow themselves to be driven.
The lords understood one another: they would not be the first to
commence; but if an attempt were made to carry off Elizabeth, or to
throw on land a single Spanish battalion, they would know how to act.

Meantime, Dudley, Ashton, Horsey, the brothers Tremayne, and "divers
others," were safe in France, and were hospitably entertained there.
In England they were proclaimed traitors. At Paris they were received
openly at court. The queen wrote to Wotton with her own hand,
commanding him to demand their surrender.[578] She sent for Noailles,
and required that "those wretches, those heretics, those traitorous
execrable villains," who had conspired against her throne should be
placed in her hands.[579] Henry, with unembarrassed coolness, promised
Wotton that they should be apprehended, while he furnished them with
ships, which they openly fitted for sea at the mouth of the Seine; and
one of their number, Henry Killegrew, went to Italy to look for
Courtenay, who was in honourable exile there, to entreat him to put
himself at their head. Courtenay promised to come, so Killegrew
reported on his return;[580] his name would have given them strength,
his presence weakness; but if he really thought again of mixing
himself in conspiracies his intentions were frustrated. The last
direct heir of the noblest family in England died at the end of the
summer, of an ague caught among the lagoons at Venice.[581]

                   [Footnote 578: The Queen to Wotton: _MS. France_,
                   bundle 13.]

                   [Footnote 579: Gens abominables, hérétiques et
                   traistres villains et exécrables.--Noailles to the
                   King, May 7: _Ambassades_, vol. v.]

                   [Footnote 580: Wotton to Petre, cypher: _French
                   MSS._ State Paper Office, bundle 13.]

                   [Footnote 581: His death was of course attributed
                   by the world to poison. Courtenay's birth, and the
                   fortune which was so nearly thrust upon him, give
                   his fate a kind of interest, and an authentic
                   account of it may not be unwelcome.

                   On the 18th of September, Peter Vannes, the English
                   resident at Venice, wrote to the queen from
                   Padua:--

                   "It hath pleased Almighty God, as the Author of all
                   goodness, and as One that doth nothing in vain, to
                   call the Earl of Devonshire to his mercy, even
                   about the hour, or little more or less, that I am
                   writing of this present; and being very sorry to
                   trouble your Highness with this kind of news, yet
                   forasmuch as the providence of God must be
                   fulfilled in all things, I shall somewhat touch his
                   sickness till the hour of death. True it is that
                   he, as I have perceived, for the avoiding all
                   suspicion from himself, hath chosen a life more
                   solitary than needed, saving the company of certain
                   gentlemen, Venetians, among whom he was much made
                   of. It chanced him upon three weeks agone, for his
                   honest recreation, to go to a place called Lio, a
                   piece of an island five miles from Venice, for to
                   see his hawks fly upon a wasted ground, without any
                   houses; and there he was suddenly taken with a
                   great tempest of wind and rain, insomuch that his
                   boat, called [a] gondola, could not well return to
                   Venice: and he was fain, for his succour, to take a
                   certain searcher's boat that by chance there
                   arrived, and so to Venice he came, being body and
                   legs very thinly clothed, refusing to change them
                   with any warmer garment. And upon that time, or
                   within few days after, as he told me, had a fall
                   upon the stairs of his house, and after seeming to
                   himself to be well, and finding no pain, took his
                   journey hither unto Padua; and for the avoiding of
                   the weariness of the water, and the labouring of
                   horses, chose the worse way coming; and so by
                   certain waggons called coaches, very shaking and
                   uneasy to my judgment, came to Padua upon Saturday
                   at night. Of whose coming being advertised, I went
                   to visit him on the morrow after, and found him
                   very weak; and since that time he began to appear
                   every day worse and worse, avoiding friends'
                   visitations; and drew himself to the counsel of two
                   of the best physicians of this town, and entered
                   into a continued hot ague, sometimes more vehement
                   than at another; and as I have seen and heard, he
                   hath been always diligently attended. I have
                   charged his servants in your name, and as they will
                   avoid your displeasure, that a true inventory shall
                   be made of such small movables as he had here, and
                   that especially all kind of writings and letters
                   that he had either here or at Venice, shall be put
                   in assurance, abiding for your commandment. I am
                   now about to see the order of his burial, with as
                   much sparing and as much honour as can be done; for
                   the merchantmen on whom, by your Grace's
                   commandment, he had a credit of 3 or 4 thousand
                   crowns, are not as yet willing to disburse any
                   money without a sufficient discharge of my Lord of
                   Devonshire's hand, the doing whereof is past. I
                   shall shift to see him buried as well as I can;
                   notwithstanding, I beseech your Grace not to be
                   discontented with me that I am at the next door to
                   go a begging.

                   "My said Lord of Devonshire is dead, in mine
                   opinion a very good Christian man; for after that I
                   had much exhorted him to take his communion and
                   rites of the Church as a thing most necessary, and
                   by whose means God giveth unto His chosen people
                   health, both bodily and ghostly, he answered me, by
                   broken words, that he was well content so to do:
                   and in token thereof, and in repentance for his
                   sins, he lift up his eyes and knocked himself upon
                   the heart; and after I had suffered him to pause a
                   good while, I caused the Sacrament to be brought,
                   and after the priest's godly exhortation, he forced
                   himself to receive the blessed Communion; but his
                   tongue had so stopped his mouth, and his teeth so
                   clove together, that in no wise he could receive
                   that same; and after this sort this gentleman is
                   gone, as I do not doubt, to God his mercy.

                   "I shall not let to say to your Grace, that since
                   his coming to Padua, by way of communication, he
                   showed unto me, that it had been reported unto him
                   that some one had said that he was better French
                   than English, and if God did recover him and send
                   him his health so that he might come to the
                   knowledge of his misreporter, he was minded to try
                   that quarrel by the sword."

                   In a letter written a few days later, Vannes said
                   that, in consequence of rumours having gone abroad
                   that the earl had been poisoned, the Podesta, at
                   his request, had ordered the body to be opened, and
                   examined by physicians, which was accordingly
                   done.--Peter Vannes to the Queen: _Venetian MSS._
                   State Paper Office.]

{p.273} The refugees, however, could do their work without Courtenay.
The Killegrews, the Tremaynes, young Stafford, and many more, put to
sea with three or four vessels, and treated all Spaniards with whom
they could fall in as their natural enemies. Before the summer was
out, they had "taken divers good prizes," and "did trust they should
take more." "In case the worst fell, the gain thereof would find them
all;" and on the 4th of August it was reported that they had taken a
fort "on one of her majesty's islands," probably in Scilly, where the
dangerous and intricate navigation placed them beyond risk of capture.
Making war on their own account, half as pirates, half as crusaders,
these youthful adventurers seized the Spanish caracks on their way to
Flanders, sailed openly with their prizes into Rochelle or La Hogue,
sold them, and bought arms {p.274} and ammunition. Their finances
were soon prosperous. Wild spirits of all nations--Scots, English,
French, whoever chose to offer--found service under their flag. They
were the first specimens of the buccaneering chivalry of the next
generation--the germ out of which rose the Drakes, the Raleighs, the
Hawkinses, who harried the conquerors of the New World.

In vain Wotton protested. The French king affected to be sorry. The
Constable said that France was large; things happened which ought not
to happen, yet could not be helped; the adventurers should be put
down, if possible.

"These men brought nothing with them out of England," Wotton doggedly
replied, "and were in such good credit with the people in France that
nobody would lend them a shilling, and yet had they found ships which
they had armed, and manned with good numbers of soldiers. What would
the queen's highness think?"

The French court, in affected deference to such complaints, armed
vessels, which they pretended were to pursue the privateers to their
nest; but, as Wotton ascertained, they were intended really to act as
their consorts.[582]

                   [Footnote 582: Letters of Wotton to the Queen:
                   _French MSS._, bundle 13, State Paper Office.]

It was plain that the French king did not anticipate any long
{p.275} continuance to the truce of Vaucelles. In fact, Paul IV.,
whose schemes in Italy that truce had arrested, had succeeded in
inducing him to break it. Lest his oath should make a difficulty, the
pope had an ever-ready dispensation; and Paul's nephew, Cardinal
Caraffa, came to Paris in July to make arrangements for the expulsion
of the Spaniards from Naples.[583]

                   [Footnote 583: Wotton to Petre: _MS._ Ibid. Compare
                   Sir James Melville's _Memoirs_, p. 38.]

To insure Henry the continued support of the papacy, Paul undertook to
create French cardinals on so large a scale as would give him the
command of the next election. Henry, in spite of the entreaties of
Montmorency, promised, on his side, to send an army to Paul's support;
and the pope, without waiting for the arrival of the French troops,
seized the Duchy of Paleano, and excommunicated the Colonnas, as the
friends of the enemies of the Holy See. Scarcely caring to look for a
pretext, he declared the Spanish prince deprived of the kingdom of
Naples; and himself attempted to put in force his sentence against the
Duke of Alva, who was acting there as Philip's viceroy.

The event had thus actually arrived, of which the expectation the year
before had appeared so alarming. The most orthodox sovereign in Europe
found himself forced into war with his spiritual father. The parent
was become insane; the faithful child was obliged, in consequence, to
place him under restraint, with as much tenderness and respect as the
circumstances permitted. To the English council Philip explained the
hard necessity under which he was placed.[584]

                   [Footnote 584: "Pontifex, tantum abest ut
                   mollissimis obsequiis atque officiis acquieverit,
                   non potuit tandem sibi obtemperare quin pleno
                   Cardinalium Senatu Regni Neapolitani privationem
                   per suum fiscalem proposuerit, cum nullius nos in
                   ipsum Pontificem, aut sedem apostolicam contumaciæ,
                   summæ quin potius uti fas est observantiæ nobis
                   simus conscii, ac ne in præfractâ quidem ejus
                   obstinatione a solitis officiis destitum est, donec
                   cum nullâ molliore ope malum posset mitigari;
                   magisque indies ac magis propagaretur videretque
                   Albæ Dux copias eum undique contrahere, apparatum
                   facere, tempus ducere, quoscumque principes
                   quibuscumque conditionibus sollicitare, ut
                   ingruenti rerum omnium ruinæ occurreret, ad hoc
                   extremum remedium invitus coactusque descendit. Quæ
                   omnia quanquam vobis comperta quando in eorum
                   mentionem per vestras litteras incidistis, per nos
                   etiam vobis significanda duximus; atque id præterea
                   eâ temperantiâ ac modestiâ hoc bellum a duce geri
                   atque administrari, ut nihil nisi orbis Christiani
                   tranquillitas, sedis apostolicæ dignitas, et
                   nostrorum regnorum securitas procuretur, neque
                   ullum nos ex hoc bello gloriæ aucupemur, summum
                   potius dolorem animique ægritudinem
                   percipiamus."--Philip to the English Council: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. ix. State Paper Office.]

The Duke of Alva crossed the Neapolitan frontier into the States of
the Church with twelve thousand men, taking the towns {p.276} that
lay in his way; and protesting while he did it that he was the most
faithful servant of the Holy See. Individually a pious Catholic,
officially a military machine, Alva obeyed orders with mechanical
inflexibility, and, irresistible as destiny, advanced towards Rome.
The college of cardinals, who remembered the occupation of the city by
Bourbon's army, implored the pope to have pity on them. The pope had
been too precipitate in commencing operations without waiting for the
French. He was forced to submit his pride, and sue for an armistice,
to which Alva, in the moderation of conscious strength, consented.

The French, on the other hand, were preparing to strike a blow in a
quarter where as yet they were unlooked for.

The pastoral anxieties of the English legate had extended to Calais,
where the Protestants were in considerable numbers. A commission was
sent thither which proceeded with the usual severities,[585] and the
sufferers, or those among the garrisons in Calais and Guisnes whose
sympathy with the Reformation was stronger than their patriotism,
placed themselves in correspondence with Sir Henry Dudley, at Paris.
The pay of the troops was long in arrear, and they were all mutinous
and discontented. Neither Guisnes, Hammes, nor Calais itself were
provisioned for more than three or four weeks; and the refugees,
caring only to revenge themselves on Mary, were laying a train in
connection with several of the "chiefest officers" in the three
fortresses, to betray them into the hands of France. The existence of
a conspiracy became known by accident to some one, who placed Wotton
on his guard; and Wotton, by vigilance and by the help of spies,
ascertained gradually the nature of the scheme. In the beginning of
October he discovered that Senarpont, the governor of Boulogne, was
silently increasing the garrison of the Boullonnois. Then he heard of
troops collecting at Rouen, of large preparations of military stores,
of sappers' and miners' tools, and "great files, which would cut in
two without noise the largest [harbour] chains."[586] Next, it seemed
that the leader of the adventurous party, which fourteen years before
"took the town of Marano by practise and subtlety," was in Calais in
disguise. Finally, he learnt that Henry himself was going to Rouen, to
conduct the enterprise in person.

                   [Footnote 585: "There is a faction or dissension
                   within Calais for religion's sake, whereof it
                   seemeth that a commission of late sent thither, I
                   cannot tell whether somewhat rigorously used, may
                   have given occasion."--Wotton to the Queen, cypher:
                   _French MSS._, bundle 13, State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 586: Wotton to the Queen, cypher: _French
                   MSS._, bundle 13, State Paper Office.]

{p.277} The disaffection had penetrated so deeply into the English
garrisons that caution was required in dealing with them; while for
some weeks either the queen disbelieved the danger, or the council
took no steps to obviate it. The Catholic clique had, in fact, not a
soldier among them, and possibly knew not in which direction to turn.
The honour of his country at last recalled Lord Pembroke to the public
service in time to save Calais for a few more months.

By the middle of November eighteen ensigns of French infantry and a
thousand horse were at Abbeville. Dudley, with the refugee fleet, was
in readiness to blockade the harbour, while Henry was to march upon
the town. If possible, he would find the gates open: at all events he
would meet with no protracted resistance. But the move had been
anticipated. Reinforcements and supplies were sent from England, money
was despatched to pay up the arrears of the troops, and Pembroke
himself went over in command.[587] No open inquiry was ventured, but
the suspected persons were quietly removed. The French withdrew, and
the queen's government, through the bad patriotism of the refugees,
recovered a momentary strength.

                   [Footnote 587: The Council to Philip, November
                   22nd: _MS. Domestic, Mary_, vol. ix.]

The faint good fortune came opportunely; for in England the harvest
had again failed, and the threat of famine had become the reality. On
the 23rd of December malt was sold in London for forty shillings a
quarter, and white flour at six shillings a bushel. The helpless
remedy was attempted of crying up the base money, but the markets
answered only by a further rise.[588] In the utter misery of the
people, some were feeding upon acorns; some, in London, more
piteously, left their infant children at the doors of their wealthy
neighbours, to save them from starvation.

                   [Footnote 588: Machyn.]

A famine was considered to be the immediate work of Heaven, and to be
sent for an immediate moral cause. And yet the monasteries were rising
from their ruins. Westminster was again an abbey. Feckenham was
installed abbot on the 29th of November, with the ancient ceremonies,
and walked in sad procession round the cloisters at the head of his
friars.[589] The remnant of the monks of Glastonbury had crawled back
into the ruins of their home. The queen had spared no effort and no
{p.278} sacrifice where her own power extended; and she had exhorted
and advised where she was unable to act. Yet enough had not been done.
In Ireland, indeed, the Catholic spirit had life in it. The Earl of
Desmond had allowed no stone to be thrown down from the religious
houses which had fallen to his share in the distribution. He had
sheltered and supported the monks in the bad times, he now replaced
them at his private cost;[590] and the example was telling among the
chiefs. But in England, unfortunately, the lay owners of the church
lands, orthodox and unorthodox alike, were hopelessly impenitent.

                   [Footnote 589: The new monks did not do credit to
                   their restoration. Anne of Cleves died the next
                   year, and lay in state in the abbey.

                   "The 22nd of August," says Machyn, "was the herse
                   of my Lady Anne Cleves taken down at Westminster,
                   the which the monks by night had spoiled of all
                   velvet cloth, arms, banners, penselles, of all the
                   majesty and valence, the which was never seen afore
                   so done."--_Diary_, p. 148.]

                   [Footnote 590: Desmond to the Queen: _Irish MSS._
                   State Paper Office.]

This, perhaps, was one cause of God's displeasure--the heretics were
another; the heretics, and the sympathy with heresy displayed by the
inhabitants of London, which had compelled the temporary release of
the prisoners sent up from Essex.

It has been mentioned that the legate took occasion to admonish the
citizens for their behaviour. In the present or the following
year[591] he issued a pastoral letter, laying before them, and before
the educated inhabitants of England generally, their duty at the
present crisis; with an explanation, not entirely accurate, of the
spirit in which the church had hitherto dealt with them. "That by
license and dispensation," he said, "you do enjoy, and keep, and
possess such goods and lands of the church as were found in your
hands, this was done of the church your mother's tenderness unto you,
considering your imbecility and weakness after so sore a sickness that
you had in the schism, at the which time your appetite served you to
no meat, but to that fruit that came from the lands of the church; and
by that you lived, which she was content you should keep still, and
made promise it should not be taken from you. And so it was left in
your hand, as it were an apple in a child's hand given by the mother,
which she, perceiving him to feed too much of, and knowing it should
do him hurt if he himself should eat the whole, would have him give
her a little piece thereof, which the boy refusing, and whereas he
would cry out if she would take it from him, letteth him alone
therewith. But the father, her husband, coming in, if he shall see how
the boy will not let go one morsel to the mother that hath given him
the whole, she asking it with so fair means, he may peradventure take
the apple out of the {p.279} boy's hand, and if he cry, beat him
also, and cast the apple out of the window."

                   [Footnote 591: "Three years and more after the
                   restoration of the people to the church," the
                   legate says in the body of the letter. The date of
                   it will be December, 1556, or December, 1557, as
                   the three years are calculated from the restoration
                   of Orthodoxy, or from the reunion with Rome.]

The maternal tenderness, under this aspect of the secularisation, had
been more weak than wise.

"As the English laity had dishonoured the ministers of the church
above all people," continued the legate, "so must they now honour them
above all people, remembering Christ's words--'He that despiseth you
despiseth Me.' They must obey the priests, therefore, implicitly; they
must be careful to pay their tithes honestly; what they denied their
priests they denied their God; and they must show their repentance
especially where they had especially offended, touching the injuries
they had done to the ministers of God, whom God had set over them, to
be honoured as they would their natural father."

"And this," he said, coming to the heart of the matter, "this you
cannot do if you favour heretics, who being the very enemies of God
and man, yet specially their enmity extendeth against priests. Here is
another point that you must show worthy of a repentant mind: that
whereas you have sore offended God by giving favour to heretics, now
temper your favour under such manner that if you can convert them by
any ways unto the unity of the church, then do it, for it is a great
work of mercy. But if ye cannot, and ye suffer or favour them, there
cannot be a work of greater cruelty against the commonwealth than to
nourish or favour any such. _For be you assured, there is no kind of
men so pernicious to the commonwealth as they be; there are no
thieves, no murderers, no adulterers, nor no kind of treason, to be
compared to theirs, who, as it were, undermining the chief foundation
of all commonwealths, which is religion, maketh an entry to all kinds
of vices in the most heinous manner._" ... "You specially of the City
of London, you being the first that received the fruit of grace in the
new plantation, the seed of benediction being first cast upon you, to
make you a ground to bring forth all fruit of sanctity and justice;
... shall I say, that after all this done, more briars and thorns hath
grown here among you than in all the realm besides? I cannot say so,
nor I will not; albeit it might so seem, for a greater multitude of
these brambles and briars were cast in the fire here among you than in
any place besides; but many of them being grown in other places, and
brought in and burned among you, may give occasion that you have a
worse name without your desert. The thing standeth not in the
name--bethink you yourselves how it standeth.... Wherefore cometh
this, that when any heretic {p.280} shall go to execution, he shall
lack no comforting of you, and encouraging to die in his perverse
opinion? that when he shall be put in prison he shall have more
cherishing?... As it is now, this may not be suffered.... For their
boldness in their death, it is small argument of grace to be in them;
Christ himself showing more heaviness and dolour at his dying hour
than did the thieves that hung beside him, which did blaspheme Christ,
setting nought by him, specially one of them, showing no further fear.
So do the heretics at their deaths like the blasphemer."[592]

                   [Footnote 592: Address of Cardinal Pole to the
                   citizens of London: Strype's Memorials, vol. vi.]

Cruel and savage as the persecution had become, it was still
inadequate. The famine lasted, and therefore God was angry.

The new year opened with the appointment of a commission, consisting
of Bonner, Thirlby, and twenty other peers, gentlemen, and canon
lawyers, on whom the court could rely. "Wicked persons" had invented
slanders against the queen's person, and had sown "pestilent heresies"
in the realm. The queen, therefore, "minding to punish such
enormities," and having especial trust in the wisdom of these persons,
gave them power to institute inquiries at their pleasure into the
conduct and opinions of every man and woman in all parts of the
kingdom. The protection of the law was suspended. The commissioners
might arrest any person at any place. Three of them were enough to
form a court; and mayors, sheriffs, and magistrates were commanded to
assist at their peril.

The object of the commission was "to search and find out" the sellers
of heretical books, or those who in any way professed heresy or taught
it; to ascertain who refused to attend mass, to walk in procession, to
use holy water, or in any way betrayed disrespect for the established
religion. Those who "persisted in their bad opinions" were to be given
up to their ordinary, to be punished according to law. The
commissioners were themselves empowered to punish with fine or
imprisonment those who yielded, or those whose offences were in the
second degree, taking care to collect the fines which they inflicted,
and to certify the exchequer of their receipts. They were not
embarrassed by a necessity of impanelling juries; they might call
juries if they pleased; they might use "all other means and politic
ways that they could devise." No Spanish inquisition possessed larger
or less tolerable powers; no English sovereign {p.281} ever more
entirely set aside the restrictions of the law.[593] The appointment
of the commission was followed up by Pole in a visitation of the
diocese of Canterbury. Persons were nominated to examine into the
doctrines of the clergy; to learn whether those who had been married
held communication with their wives; whether the names of those who
had not been reconciled had been registered as he had ordered; and
from every clergyman to ascertain the habits, beliefs, and opinions of
every resident, male or female, in his parish.[594]

                   [Footnote 593: Royal Commission printed in Foxe,
                   vol. viii. p. 301, and by Burnet in his
                   _Collectanea_.]

                   [Footnote 594: Articles of the visitation of
                   Cardinal Pole: Foxe, vol. iii.]

Other commissioners again were sent to the universities, with powers
extending, not over the living only, but the dead.

Scot, Bishop of Chester, Watson, Bishop of Lincoln, and
Christopherson, Master of Trinity and Bishop of Chichester, went in
January to Cambridge, accompanied by Ormaneto, the Venetian, a
confidential friend of the legate. Bucer and Fagius slept in St.
Mary's and St. Michael's. The 10th of January, the day after the
bishops' arrival, the two churches were laid under an interdict, as
defiled with the presence of unhallowed bodies. On the 15th a summons
was fixed to St. Mary's door, citing Martin Bucer and Paul Fagius, or
any other who would plead on their behalf, to make answer three days
after, before the commission, on a charge of heresy. The court sate,
and no one appeared. The session was adjourned for a week, while the
colleges were searched, and Primers, Prayer-books, Bibles, or other
interdicted volumes, were hunted out and brought together. On the 26th
the bishops met again; the accused remained undefended, and the heresy
was taken to be proved; sentence was passed therefore, that the bodies
should be disinterred and burnt. On the 6th of February the coffins
were taken out of the graves, and chained to a stake in the
market-place; the Bibles and prayer-books were heaped round them with
a pile of faggots, and books and bodies were reduced to ashes.

Having purged Cambridge, Ormaneto proceeded to Oxford, on business of
the same description.

Peter Martyr, when he came into residence as divinity professor at
Christ Church, had outraged the orthodox party in the university by
bringing a wife within the college walls; and Catherine Cathie, so the
wife was named, had, like the wife of Luther, been a professed nun.
She had died before Mary's accession, and had been buried in the
cathedral. A process has now instituted against her similar to that at
Cambridge.

{p.282} An unforeseen difficulty occurred in the conduct of the
prosecution. Catherine Cathie had lived quietly and unobtrusively; she
had taught nothing and had written no books; and no evidence could be
found to justify her conviction on a charge of heresy.

Ormaneto wrote to the legate for instructions; and as burning was not
permissible, the legate replied that, "forasmuch as Catherine Cathie,
of detestable memory, had called herself the wife of Peter Martyr, a
heretic, although both he and she had before taken vows of religion;
forasmuch as she had lived with him in Oxford in fornication, and
after her death was buried near the sepulchre of the Holy Virgin St.
Frideswide, Ormaneto should invite the dean of the cathedral to cast
out the carcase from holy ground, and deal with it according to his
discretion."

Catherine Cathie, therefore, was dug up, taken out of her coffin, and
flung into a cesspool at the back of the dean's house, and it was
hoped that by this means the blessed St. Frideswide would be able to
rest again in peace. Human foresight is imperfect; years passed and
times changed; and Elizabeth, when she had the power to command,
directed that the body should be restored to decent burial. The
fragments were recovered with difficulty, and were about to be
replaced in the earth under the floor of the cathedral, when some one
produced the sacred box which contained the remains of St. Frideswide.
Made accessible to the veneration of the faithful by Cardinal Pole,
the relics had been concealed on the return of heresy by some pious
worshipper. They were brought out at the critical moment, and an
instant sense of the fitness of things consigned to the same
resting-place the bones of the wife of Peter Martyr. The married nun
and the virgin saint were buried together, and the dust of the two
still remains under the pavement inextricably blended.[595]

                   [Footnote 595: Wood's _Annals of the University of
                   Oxford_.--The story is authentic. The following is
                   the Roman Catholic version of it:--"Oxonii sepulta
                   fuerat digna Petro Martyre concubina, parthenonis
                   et ipsa desertrix sacrilega ut ille coenobii. Ejus
                   ossa refodi jusserat Maria et sterquilinio ut par
                   erat condi. Nunc æmulo plane sanctitatis et
                   virginitatis in Elizabâthe ingenio requisita sunt
                   inter sordes sterquilinii publici quarum foedissima
                   pars erant, et incredibili studio inventa purgata
                   lota in thecam eandem reponuntur in quâ S.
                   Frideswidæ reliquiæ colebantur, et cum his adeo
                   confusa ut nullâ unquam possunt diligentiâ secerni.
                   Clauditur loculus et cubitalibus litteris hoc
                   epitaphio decoratur, 'Hic jacet religio cum
                   superstitione,' meliore titulo meretrici hæretici
                   pessimi concubinæ; proh nefas! deteriore ancillæ
                   Christi sanctissimæ virgini attributo."--Foxe, vol.
                   viii. Editor's note.]

{p.283} But Pole did not live to see the retribution. Convinced, if
ever there was a sincere conviction in any man, that the course which
he was pursuing was precisely that which God required of him, he
laboured on in his dark vocation. Through the spring and summer the
persecution, under the new commission, raged with redoubled fury.

The subject is one to which it will not be necessary to return, except
with some brief details. In this place, therefore, shall be given an
extract from a tract in circulation among the Protestants who were
expecting death; and it may be judged, from the sentiments with which
these noble-natured men faced the prospect of their terrible trial,
with what justice Pole called them brambles and briars only fit to be
burnt--criminals worse than thieves, or murderers, or adulterers.[596]

                   [Footnote 596: An excellent epistle, translated
                   from French into English by Thomas Pownell, with a
                   preface, A.D. 1556. The copy from which I make my
                   extract is in the Bodleian Library at Oxford; it is
                   marked in the margin in various places with a
                   finger [Symbol: Hand] apparently almost as old as
                   the printing; and this finger was perhaps drawn by
                   some one whom the words were consoling or
                   inspiriting in the hour of his own trial.]

"The cross of persecution, if we will put childishness apart, and
visibly weigh the worthiness thereof, is that sovereign, tried
medicine that quencheth the daily digested poison of self-love,
worldly pleasure, fleshly felicity. It is the only worthy poison of
ambition, covetousness, extortion, uncleanness, licentiousness, wrath,
strife, sedition, sects, malice, and such other wayward worms: it is
the hard hammer that breaketh off the rust from the anchor of a
Christian faith. O profitable instrument! O excellent exercise, that
cannot be spared in a Christian life! with what alacrity of mind, with
what desirous affection, with what earnest zeal, ought we to embrace
this incomparable jewel, this sovereign medicine, this comfortable cup
of tribulation.

"When a piece of ground is limited and bounded, it doth not only
signify that it goeth no further, but also it tendeth and stretcheth
to the bound. It is not enough to consider that we shall not pass the
time that God hath limited and determined us to live, but we must
assuredly persuade ourselves that we shall live as long as He hath
ordained us to live; and so shall we do, in despite of all our
enemies.

"And tell me, have men given us our life? No, forsooth. No more can
they take it away from us. God hath given it, and God only doth take
it away, for He is the Lord of death as well as of life; wherefore
when the appointed time of our death is come, let us assure ourselves,
that it is God only and none {p.284} other that doth kill us, for He
saith, It is I that kill and make alive again.

"Let us follow the example of Christ, our Master, who seeing His death
approaching, said to God, My Father, not as I will, but as thou wilt;
thy will be done, and not mine.--Let us offer then, unto God our
Father, ourselves for a sacrifice, whose savour, although it be evil
in the nose of the world, yet it is good and agreeable unto God, by
Jesus Christ his Son, in the faith of whom we do dedicate and offer
ourselves, when we perceive our hour to approach.

"And, whatsoever betide, let us not fear men; let us not fear them.
God doth inhibit and forbid us in the same, saying, by his prophet,
Fear them not, for I am with you; and seeing God doth forbid us to
fear men, can we fear them without sin? No truly. To what purpose do
we fear them? Men of themselves can do nothing, and if at any time
they have any power, the same only cometh unto them from God, and is
given unto them only to accomplish the will of God. But peradventure
ye will say to me that Jesus Christ himself, in the time of his cross,
did fear death, and therefore it is no marvel though we do fear it, in
whom is no such perfection and constancy. Truly the flesh doth always
abuse herself with the example of Jesus Christ; she doth abuse it, for
she cannot rightfully use it, inasmuch as the flesh is in all ways
repugnant unto the spirit and the good will of God. Forasmuch as ye
will herein follow Christ--well, I am contented--fear death, but fear
it as he did fear it. If you will say that Christ had fear of death,
consider the same also to be on such sort as the fear did not keep him
back from the voluntary obedience of his Father, and from saying, with
unfeigned lips, Thy will be done.

"Ye will say, We fear not death for any fear we have to be damned,
neither for any diffidence that we have of eternal life; but we fear
death for the human understanding that we have of the great pain that
some do suffer in dying, and especially in dying by fire; for we
suppose that pain to surmount all patience. O fond flesh, thy voice is
always full of love of thyself, and of a secret diffidence and
mistrust of the Almighty power, wisdom, and goodness of God."

While the true heroes of the age were fighting for freedom with the
weapons of noble suffering, the world was about to recommence its own
battles, with which it is less easy to sympathise. The attempt on
Calais having failed, it became a question at the French court,
whether, after having given so {p.285} just cause of quarrel to
England, wisdom would not suggest an abandonment of the intention of
recommencing the war with Philip. Noailles crossed to Paris in
December, where the king questioned him whether Mary would be able to
declare war. Noailles assured him, "that out of doubt she would not;
for if she should send those whom she trusted out of the realm, then
would they whom she trusted not, not fail to be busy within the
realm."[597] Reassured by the ambassador's opinion, Henry resumed his
intentions. In March, the Duke of Guise led an army into Italy. The
pope recovered courage, defied Alva, and again laid claim to Naples;
and it was to be seen now whether Noailles was right--whether the
English people would unite with the court to resent the French king's
conduct sufficiently to permit Mary at last to join in the quarrel.

                   [Footnote 597: Wotton to Petre: _French MSS._,
                   bundle 13, State Paper Office.]

Philip, anxious and hopeful, paid England the respect of returning for
a few weeks, and in the same month of March came over to sue the
council in person. The affair at Calais was a substantial ground for a
rupture, but the attack, though intended, had not been actually made.
The story might seem, to the suspicions of the country, to have been
invented by the court; and, in other respects, Mary's injuries were
not the injuries of the nation. The currency was still prostrate; the
people in unexampled distress. The Flanders debts were as heavy as
ever, and the queen had insisted on abandoning a fifth of her
revenues. A war would inevitably be most unpopular. The attempt
nevertheless was made. The queen produced the treaty of 1546, between
England and the empire; and, in compliance with its provisions, laid
before the privy council a proposal, if not to declare war with
France, yet to threaten a declaration, in the event of an invasion of
the Netherlands.

The privy council considered the queen's request; their conclusion was
not what she desired.

The treaty of 1546, the council replied, had been abrogated by the
treaty of marriage, so far as it might involve England in a war with
France. "Her majesty would be unable to maintain a war, and,
therefore, to say to the French king that she would aid her husband,
according to the treaty, and not being able to perform it, indeed
would be dishonourable, and many ways dangerous." "It was to be
considered further, that, if by these means the realm should be drawn
into war, the fault would be imputed to the king's majesty." "The
common {p.286} people of the realm were at present many ways
grieved--some pinched with famine, some for want of payment of money
due to them, some discontented for matters of religion; and,
generally, all yet tasting the smart of the late wars. It would be
hard to have any aid of money of them. And in times past," the council
added, significantly, "although the prince found himself able to make
and maintain wars, yet the causes of those wars were opened for the
most part in parliament."[598]

                   [Footnote 598: Answer of the Privy Council to the
                   queen's question whether England shall enter the
                   wars with France.--_Sloane MSS._ 1786, British
                   Museum.]

Objections so decided and so just would have hardly been overcome, but
for an injudicious enterprise of the refugees, under French auspices.
The French court believed that, by keeping Mary in alarm at home, they
would make it the less easy for her to join in the war. They mistook
the disposition of the people, who resented and detested the
interference of France in their concerns.

Among the exiles at the court of Paris, the most distinguished by
birth, if not by ability, was Sir Thomas Stafford, Lord Stafford's
second son, and grandson of the Duke of Buckingham, who was put to
death under Henry VIII. On the 27th of April, Wotton sent notice to
the queen that Stafford had sailed from the mouth of the Seine with
two vessels well manned and appointed. His destination was unknown;
but it was understood that he intended to take some fortress on the
English coast, and that the refugees, in a body, intended to follow
him. Before Wotton's letter arrived, the scheme, such as it was, had
been already executed. Stafford, with thirty Englishmen and one
Frenchman, had surprised Scarborough Castle, and sent his
proclamations through Yorkshire. He was come, he said, to deliver his
country from foreign tyranny. He had sure evidence that an army of
Spaniards was about to land, and that Philip intended to seize the
crown by force. The queen, by her marriage with a stranger, had
forfeited her own rights; and he himself, as the protector of English
liberty, intended to bestow the crown on the next rightful heir, and
to restore all such acts, laws, liberties, and customs as were
established in the time of that most prudent prince, King Henry VIII.
"He did not mind," he thought it necessary to add, "to work his own
advancement touching possession of the crown, but to restore the blood
and house of the Staffords to its pristine estate, which had been
wrongfully suppressed by Cardinal Wolsey."[599]

                   [Footnote 599: Proclamation of Thomas Stafford, son
                   to the Lord Henry, rightful Duke of
                   Buckingham.--Strype's _Memorials_, vol. vi. p.
                   515.]

{p.287} The landing of Edward IV., at Ravenspurg, had made any wild
enterprise seem feasible, and Stafford had counted on the notorious
hatred of the people for the queen.

But if the Spaniards meditated a descent upon England, it was not by
adventurers like the refugees that their coming would be either
prevented or avenged; and the good sense of the country had determined
once for all to give no countenance to revolution supported by France.
The occupation of Scarborough lasted two days, at the end of which
Stafford and his whole party were taken by the Earl of Westmoreland.
Thirty-two prisoners were sent to London; thirty-one were put to
death; and the council reluctantly withdrew their opposition to the
war. A hundred and forty thousand pounds were in the exchequer, being
part of the subsidy granted by parliament to pay the crown debts.[600]
With this the court prepared to commence, trusting to fortune for the
future. War was to be declared on the 7th of June, and, while seven
thousand men were to cross the Channel and join Pembroke in the Low
Countries,[601] Howard was to cruise with the fleet in the Channel to
use his discretion in annoying the enemy, and, if possible, to destroy
the French ships at Dieppe.[602]

                   [Footnote 600: Exchequer Accounts: _MS. Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. xii. State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 601: Bitterly hating their work that they
                   were sent upon, "the people went to the musters,
                   said Sir Thomas Smith, with kerchiefs on their
                   heads--they went to the wars hanging down their
                   looks; they came from them as men dismayed and
                   forlorn."--Strype's _Life of Sir Thomas Smith_,
                   Appendix, p. 249.]

                   [Footnote 602: Instructions to the Lord Admiral:
                   _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xi.]

Happy, however, in having succeeded in gratifying her husband, the
queen brought at once upon herself a blow which she had little
foreseen, and from a quarter from which an injury was most painful. In
her desire to punish France for assisting her rebellious heretical
subjects, she seemed to have forgotten that France had an ally beyond
the Alps. No sooner did Paul IV. learn that England was about to
declare on the side of Philip, than, under the plausible pretence that
he could have no ambassador residing in a country with which he was at
war, he resolved to gratify his old animosity against Cardinal Pole,
and cancel his legation.

Sir Edward Karne, the English resident at Rome, waited on the pope to
remonstrate. He urged Paul to recollect how much the Holy See owed to
the queen, and how dangerous it might be to re-open a wound
imperfectly healed. The pope at first was obstinate. At length he
seemed so far inclined to yield as to {p.288} say that, if the queen
would herself expressly desire it, he would distinguish between her
and her husband.[603] But the suspension of the legation, though not
at first published, was carried through the Consistory; and so
ingeniously was it worded, that not only the formal and especial
commission was declared at an end, but the legatine privileges,
attached by immemorial custom to the archbishopric of Canterbury, were
cancelled with it. The pope chose to leave himself without
representative, ordinary or extraordinary, at the English court.

                   [Footnote 603: Sir Edward Karne to the Queen:
                   Burnet's _Collectanea_.]

The queen was in despair. Before Karne's letter reached her, she had
heard what was impending, and she wrote a letter of passionate
expostulation, in which she expatiated on her services to religion,
and on the assistance which Pole had rendered her. She said that, in
the unsettled condition of England, the presence of a legate with
supreme authority was absolutely necessary; and she implored Paul to
reconsider a decision so rash and so unkind.

The council added their separate protest.[604] "They had heard with
infinite grief that the legate was to be taken from them. There was no
precedent for the recall of a legate who had been once commissioned,
unless from fault of his own; and for themselves, they were
unconscious of having misconducted themselves in any way since the
reconciliation. Cardinal Pole had been the saviour of religion. Before
his coming to England, the queen, with the best intentions to do good,
had failed to arrest the growth of heresy, and the name of the Holy
See was held in detestation. Pole, the noblest and most distinguished
of the cardinals, had made what was crooked straight; he had
introduced reforms everywhere; in a few years the wound would heal,
and all would be well. If, however, he were now removed, the
convalescent, deserted too soon by his physician, would relapse, and
be worse than before. They entreated his holiness, therefore, to
listen to them, and allow him to remain. When they were reconciled,
the pope then reigning had promised that the customary privileges and
immunities of the English nation should be maintained. It was the
special prerogative {p.289} of English sovereigns to have a legate
perpetually resident in the person of the Archbishop of Canterbury;
and from immemorial time there was no record of any archbishop to whom
the legatine character had not attached as of right. The queen, who
had risked her life for the faith of the church, did not deserve that
the first exception should be made in her disfavour. The bishops did
not deserve it. The few who, in the late times of trial, had remained
faithful, did not deserve it. Even if the queen would consent and give
way, they would themselves be obliged to remonstrate."[605]

                   [Footnote 604: Printed by Strype, _Memorials of the
                   Reformation_, vol. vi. p. 476, and described by him
                   as a letter of the parliament. But at this time
                   there was no parliament in existence; the last had
                   been dissolved eighteen months before, the next did
                   not meet till the ensuing January. The queen's
                   letter is dated the 21st May, and the letter which
                   I suppose to have been from the council, and
                   another, said also to have been from "the
                   nobility," were evidently written under the same
                   impression, and at the same time, when the idea of
                   the recall was new.]

                   [Footnote 605: Letters to the Pope: Strype, vol.
                   vi. pp. 476-482. The drafts of the letters are not
                   signed, nor does it appear what names were attached
                   to them. It is not even certain that they were
                   sent.]

Karne's letter produced a brief hope that the pope would relent. But
the partial promise of reconsidering his resolution had been extorted
from Paul, while it was uncertain whether England would actually join
in the conflict; the intended declaration of war had in the interval
become a reality, and the pope, more indignant than ever, chose to
consider Pole personally responsible for the queen's conduct. Since a
point was made of the presence of a papal legate in England, he was so
far ready to give way; but so far only. The king left England the
first week in July. Mary accompanied him to Dover, and there a papal
nuncio met her, bringing a commission by which Pole was reduced into
the ordinary rank of archbishop; and the office of papal
representative was conferred on Peto, the Greenwich friar. For his
objections to the present legate, the pope gave the strange but
wounding reason, that his orthodoxy was not above suspicion.

The queen, with something of her father's temper in her, ordered the
nuncio to return to Calais till she could again communicate with Rome.
She interdicted Peto from accepting the commission, and desired Pole
to continue to exercise his functions till the pope had pronounced
again a final resolution. Pole, however, was too faithful a child of
the church to disobey a papal injunction; he relinquished his office,
but he sent Ormaneto to Rome with his own entreaties and protests.

Never had a legate of the Holy See been treated as he was treated, he
said; there was no precedent, therefore, to teach him how to act, nor
was ever charge of heresy urged with less occasion than against one
whose whole employment had been to recover souls to Christ and his
church, and to cut off those that were obstinate as rotten members.
His services to the {p.290} church, he passionately exclaimed,
transcended far the services of any legate who had been employed for
centuries, and, nevertheless, he found himself accused of heresy by
the Vicar of Christ upon earth. Such an insult was unjust and
unprovoked; and his holiness should consider also what he was doing in
bringing the queen, the mother of obedience, into heaviness and
sorrow. Mother of obedience the Queen of England might well be called,
whom God had made a mother of sons who were the joy of the whole
church. How was the pope rewarding this sainted woman, when with the
thunder of his voice he accused the king, her husband, of schism, and
himself, the legate, of heresy?[606]

                   [Footnote 606: Pole to the Pope: Strype's
                   _Memorials_, vol. vi. p. 34, etc.]

Scarcely in his whole troubled life had a calamity more agitating
overtaken Reginald Pole. To maintain the supremacy of the successor of
St. Peter, he had spent twenty years in treason to his native country.
He had held up his sovereign to the execration of mankind for
rejecting an authority which had rewarded him with an act of enormous
injustice; and to plead his consciousness of innocence before the
world against his spiritual sovereign, would be to commit the same
crime of disobedience for which he had put to death Cranmer, and
laboured to set Europe on fire. Most fatal, most subtle
retribution--for he knew that he was accused without cause; he knew
that the pope after all was but a peevish, violent, and spiteful old
man; he knew it--yet even to himself he could not admit his own
conviction.

Fortune, however, seemed inclined for a time to make some amends to
Mary in the results of the war.

The French usually opened their summer campaigns by an advance into
Lorraine or the Netherlands. This year their aggressive resources had
been directed wholly into Italy, and at home they remained on the
defensive. Philip, with creditable exertion, collected an army of
50,000 men, to take advantage of the opportunity. Fixing his own
residence at Cambray, he gave the command in the field to the Duke of
Savoy; and Philibert, after having succeeded in distracting the
attention of the enemy, and leading them to expect him in Champagne,
turned suddenly into Picardy, and invested the town of St. Quentin.
The garrison must soon have yielded, had not Coligny, the Admiral of
France, broken through the siege lines and carried in reinforcements.
Time was thus gained, and the constable, eager to save a strong place,
the possession of which would open to the Spaniards the road to Paris,
advanced with all the force {p.291} which he could collect, not
meaning to risk a battle, but to throw provisions and further supplies
of men into St. Quentin. Montmorency had but 20,000 men with him. His
levies consisted of the reserved force of the kingdom--princes, peers,
knights, gentlemen, with their personal retinues, the best blood in
France. It was such an army as that which lost Agincourt, and a fate
not very different was prepared for it.

On the 10th of August, the constable was forced by accident into an
engagement, in which he had the disadvantage of position as well as of
numbers. Mistaken movements caused a panic in the opening of the
battle, and the almost instant result was a confused and hopeless
rout. The Duke d'Enghien fell on the field with four thousand men; the
constable himself, the Duke de Montpensier, the Duke de Longueville,
the Marshal St. André, three hundred gentlemen, and several thousand
common soldiers, were taken; the defeat was irretrievably complete,
and to the victors almost bloodless. The English did not share in the
glory of the battle, for they were not present; but they arrived two
days after to take part in the storming of St. Quentin, and to share,
to their shame, in the sack and spoiling of the town. They gained no
honour; but they were on the winning side. The victory was credited to
the queen as a success, and was celebrated in London with processions,
bonfires, and _Te Deums_.

Nor was the defeat at St. Quentin the only disaster which the French
arms experienced. Henry sent in haste to Italy for the Duke of Guise
to defend Paris, where Philibert was daily expected. Guise was already
returning after a failure less conspicuous, but not less complete,
than that of the constable. The pope had received him on his arrival
with enthusiasm, but the promised papal contingent for the campaign
had not been provided; the pope was contented to be the soul of the
enterprise of which France was to furnish the body. Guise advanced
alone for the conquest of Naples, and he found himself, like De
Lautrec in 1528, baffled by an enemy who would not meet him in the
field, and obliged to waste his time and the health of his army in a
series of unsuccessful sieges, till in a few months the climate had
done Alva's work. The French troops perished in thousands, and Guise
at last drew off his thinned ranks and fell back on Rome. Here the
news of St. Quentin reached him, and the duke, leaving Paul to his
fate, amid a storm of mutual reproaches, hurried back to his own
country.

The pontiff had now no resource but to yield; and the piety of the
Spaniards, whom he had compelled against their will to {p.292} be
his enemies, softened the ignominy of his compelled submission.
Cardinal Caraffa and the Duke of Alva met at Cava, where, in a few
words, it was agreed that his holiness should relinquish his alliance
with France, and cease to trouble the Colonnas. Alva, on his side,
restored the papal towns which he had taken; he went to Rome to ask
pardon on his knees, in Philip's name, for the violence which he had
used to his spiritual father; and the pope gave him gracious
absolution.

This bad business, which had tried Mary so severely, was thus well
finished, and on the 6th of October London was again illuminated for
the peace between the king and the papacy. But the shadow which had
been thrown on Pole was maliciously permitted to remain unremoved; on
him, perhaps from personal ill-feeling, Paul visited his own
disappointment. With the return of peace there was no longer any
plausible reason for the recall of the legation; Peto was dead, having
survived his unpropitious honours but a few months: yet, unmoved by
Pole's entreaties, the pope refused to permit him to resume his
legatine functions, except so far as they were inherent in the
archbishopric. The odious accusation of heresy was not withdrawn; and
the torturing charge was left to embitter the peace of mind, and
poison the last days of the most faithful servant of the church who
was then living.[607]

                   [Footnote 607: Pole's sufferings in consequence
                   were really piteous. "Your holiness," he wrote on
                   the 30th of March, 1558, "is taking my life from me
                   when you take from me the reputation of orthodoxy.
                   You told the English ambassador it was God's doing;
                   God has told you, like Abraham, to kill your son;
                   and that your holiness intends that kind of death
                   for me, I know far more certainly than Isaac seemed
                   to know his father's purpose. When I see the fire
                   and the knife in the hands of your holiness, and
                   the wood laid upon my shoulders, there is no need
                   for me to ask where is the victim.

                   "When I was yet a lamb, I gave myself as a
                   sacrifice to the pontiff, who chose me for a
                   cardinal. Thus I thought of myself; thus I spoke
                   when I lay prostrate before the altar. Little did I
                   then think the time would come, when I should be
                   offered up by my father's hands a second time,
                   especially when the Bishop of Rochester was here
                   hanging as a ram among the briars ready to be
                   immolated," etc.--Pole to the Pope: _Epistolæ_,
                   vol. v. p. 31.]

And again, though there was peace with the pope, there was still war
with France; there was still war with Scotland. The events which had
taken place in Scotland will be related hereafter. It is enough for
the present to say that the Scots had been true as usual to their old
allies; no sooner was an English army landed in France, than a Scotch
army was wasting and burning on the Border. A second force had to be
raised and kept in the field to meet them, and the scantily supplied
treasury was soon empty.

{p.293} Money had to be found somewhere. The harvest, happily, had
been at last abundant, and wheat had fallen from fifty shillings a
quarter to four or five. The country was in a condition to lend, and a
commission was sent out for a forced loan, calculated on the
assessment of the last subsidy. Lists of the owners of property in
each county were drawn out, with sums of money opposite to their
names, and the collectors were directed "to travail by all the best
ways they might for obtaining the sums noted." Persons found
conformable were to receive acknowledgments. Should "any be froward"
they were to find securities to appear when called on before the privy
council, or to be arrested on the spot and sent to London.[608] A
hundred and ten thousand pounds were collected under the commission,
in spite of outcry and resistance;[609] but it was not enough for the
hungry consumption of the war, and the court was driven to call a
parliament.

                   [Footnote 608: Commission for the Loan: _MS. Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. xi.]

                   [Footnote 609: Ibid. vol. xii.]

The writs went out at the beginning of December, accompanied with the
usual circulars; to which the queen added a promise, that if the
mayors and sheriffs[610] would consult her wishes she would remember
their services. In a second address she said her pleasure was that
when the privy council, or any of them within their jurisdiction,
should recommend "men of learning and wisdom," their directions should
"be regarded and followed."[611] Yet there was not perhaps any wish to
have the House of Commons unfairly packed. Mary desired, probably
{p.294} with sincerity, "to have the assembly of the most chiefest
men in the realm for advice and counsel."

                   [Footnote 610: The queen to all sheriffs, mayors,
                   etc.--For the well choosing of the knights of the
                   shire and burgesses:

                   "Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well: and
                   whereas for certain great and weighty causes
                   touching both the honour of Almighty God, and the
                   wealth and good government of this our realm, we
                   have summoned our High Court of Parliament, to be
                   holden at Westminster, the 20th of January next:
                   and forasmuch as we consider that a great part of
                   the furthering of such things, as shall be treated
                   in our said parliament, and bringing them to good
                   effect, shall consist in the well appointing and
                   choosing of such as shall be knights of shires,
                   citizens of any city, or burgesses of other towns
                   corporate, we have thought good to require you to
                   have good regard, and so far forth as in you may
                   lie, to provide that such as shall be appointed may
                   be men given to good order, Catholic, and discreet,
                   and so qualified, as the antient law of this realm
                   requireth; giving the freeholders, citizens,
                   burgesses within our said county to understand,
                   what our will and pleasure is in that behalf.
                   Hereby as you shall do good service unto God and
                   this your country, so shall you also do us right
                   acceptable pleasure, which we shall consider
                   towards you as any occasion may shew. Given under
                   our signet, December 10, 1557."--_MS. Mary,
                   Domestic_, vol. xii.]

                   [Footnote 611: _MS._ Ibid.]

How the parliament would have acted in the circumstances under which
the meeting was anticipated, is very uncertain. The intense
unpopularity of the war had been little relieved by the victory at St.
Quentin, and the general state of suffering made a fresh demand for
money infinitely grievous. But between the issue of the writs and the
20th of January a blow had fallen on England which left room for no
other thought.

For the last ten years the French had kept their eyes on Calais. The
recovery of Boulogne was an insufficient retaliation for the disgrace
which they had suffered in the loss of it, while the ill success with
which the English maintained themselves in their new conquest,
suggested the hope, and proved the possibility, of expelling them from
the old. The occupation of a French fortress by a foreign power was a
perpetual insult to the national pride; it was a memorial of evil
times; while it gave England inconvenient authority in the "narrow
seas." Scarcely a month had passed since Mary had been on the throne,
without a hint from some quarter or other to the English government to
look well to Calais; and the recent plot for its surprise was but one
of a series of schemes which had been successively formed and
abandoned.

In 1541 the defences of Guisnes, Hammes, and Calais, had been repaired
by Henry VIII. The dykes had been cleared and enlarged, the
embankments strengthened, and the sluices put in order.[612] But in
the wasteful times of Edward, the works had fallen again into ruin;
and Mary, straitened by debt, by a diminished revenue, and a supposed
obligation to make good the losses of the clergy, had found neither
means nor leisure to attend to them.

                   [Footnote 612: A complete account of the repairs at
                   Calais, with the cost of work, and the wages of the
                   workmen, is printed in an appendix to the
                   _Chronicle of Calais_, published by the Camden
                   Society.]

In the year 1500, the cost of maintaining the three fortresses was
something less than £10,000 a-year;[613] and the expense had been
almost or entirely supported by the revenue of the Pale. The more
extended fortifications had necessitated an increase in the garrison;
two hundred men were now scarcely sufficient to man the works;[614]
while, owing to bad government, and the growing anomaly of the English
position, the wealthier inhabitants {p.295} had migrated over the
frontiers, and left the Pale to a scanty, wretched, starving
population, who could scarcely extract from the soil sufficient for
their own subsistence.[615] While the cost of the occupation was
becoming greater, the means of meeting it became less. The country
could no longer thrive in English hands, and it was time for the
invaders to begone.

                   [Footnote 613: _Chronicle of Calais._]

                   [Footnote 614: Lord Grey to the Queen, June 13,
                   1557: _Calais MSS._ bundle 10, State Paper Office.]

                   [Footnote 615: In 1550, Sir John Mason wrote to the
                   council, "I have heard say that, not long sythen
                   the Low Countries were able to set to the field 300
                   able men on horseback; I think there lacketh of
                   that number at this present a great many, the
                   occasion whereof, by the report of the king's
                   ministers on this side, is for that the king's
                   lands are so raised as no man is able to live
                   thereupon unless it is a sort of poor dryvells,
                   that must dig their living with their nails out of
                   the ground, and be not able scarce to maintain a
                   jade to carry their corn to market." _French MSS._
                   Edward VI. bundle 9.]

The government in London, however, seemed, notwithstanding warnings,
to be unable to conceive the loss of so old a possession to be a
possibility; and Calais shared the persevering neglect to which the
temporal interests of the realm were subjected. The near escape from
the Dudley treason created a momentary improvement. The arrears of
wages were paid up, and the garrison was increased. Yet a few months
after, when war was on the point of being declared, there were but two
hundred men in Guisnes, a number inadequate to defend even the castle;
and although the French fleet at that time commanded the Channel,
Calais contained provisions to last but for a few weeks.[616] Lord
Grey, the governor of Guisnes, reported in June, after the
declaration, that the French were collecting in strength in the
neighbourhood, and that unless he was reinforced, he was at their
mercy. A small detachment was sent over in consequence of Grey's
letter; but on the 2nd of July Sir Thomas Cornwallis informed the
queen that the numbers were still inadequate. "The enemy," Cornwallis
said, "perceiving our weakness, maketh daily attempts upon your
subjects, who are much abashed to see the courage of your enemies,
whom they are not able to hurt nor yet defend themselves." He
entreated that a larger force should be sent immediately, and
maintained in the Pale during the war. The charge would be great, but
the peril would be greater if the men were not provided; and as her
majesty had been pleased to enter into the war, her honour must be
more considered than her treasure.[617]

                   [Footnote 616: _Calais MSS._ bundle 10.]

                   [Footnote 617: Cornwallis to the Queen: _Calais
                   MSS._ bundle 10.]

The arrival of the army under Pembroke removed the immediate ground
for alarm; and after the defeat of the French, the {p.296} danger
was supposed to be over altogether. The queen was frightened at the
expenses which she was incurring, and again allowed the establishment
to sink below the legitimate level. Lord Wentworth was left at Calais
with not more than five hundred men. Grey had something more than a
thousand at Guisnes, but a part only were English; the rest were
Burgundians and Spaniards. More unfortunately also, a proclamation had
forbidden the export of corn in England, from which Calais had not
been excepted. Guisnes and Hammes depended for their supplies on
Calais, and by the middle of the winter there was an actual scarcity
of food.[618]

                   [Footnote 618: When all your majesty's pieces on
                   this side make account to be furnished of victuals
                   and other necessaries from hence, it is so that of
                   victuals your highness hath presently none here,
                   and the town hath none; by reason that the
                   restraint in the realm hath been so strait, and the
                   victuallers as were wont to bring daily hither good
                   quantities of butter, cheese, bacon, wheat, and
                   other things, might not of late be suffered to have
                   any recourse hither, whereby is grown a very great
                   scarcity.--Wentworth to the Queen: _Calais MSS._
                   bundle 10.]

Up to the beginning of December, notwithstanding, there were no
external symptoms to create uneasiness; military movements lay under
the usual stagnation of winter, and except a few detachments on the
frontiers of the Pale, who gave trouble by marauding excursions, the
French appeared to be resting in profound repose. On the 1st of
December, the governor of Guisnes reported an expedition for the
destruction of one of their outlying parties, which had been
accomplished with ominous cruelty.

"I advertised your grace," Lord Grey wrote to the queen, "how I
purposed to make a journey to a church called Bushing, strongly
fortified by the enemy, much annoying this your majesty's frontier. It
may please your majesty, upon Monday last, at nine of the clock at
night, having with me Mr. Aucher marshal of Calais, Mr. Alexander
captain of Newnham Bridge, Sir Henry Palmer, my son,[619] and my
cousin Louis Dives, with such horsemen and footmen as could be
conveniently spared abroad in service, leaving your majesty's pieces
in surety, I took my journey towards the said Bushing, and carried
with me two cannon and a sacre, for that both the weather and the ways
served well to the purpose, and next morning came hither before day.
And having before our coming enclosed the said Bushing with two
hundred footmen harquebuziers, I sent an officer to summon the same in
the king's highness' and your majesty's name; whereunto the captain
there, a man of good {p.297} estimation, who the day before was sent
there with twelve men by M. Senarpont, captain of Boulogne, answered
that he was not minded to render, but would keep it with such men as
he had, which were forty in number or thereabouts, even to the death;
and further said, if their fortune was so to lose their lives, he knew
that the king his master had more men alive to serve, with many other
words of French bravery. Upon this answer, I caused the gunners to
bring up their artillery to plank, and then shot off immediately ten
or twelve times. But yet for all this they would not yield. At length,
when the cannon had made an indifferent breach, the Frenchmen made
signs to parley, and would gladly have rendered; but I again, weighing
it not meet to abuse your majesty's service therein, and having Sir H.
Palmer there hurt, and some others of my men, refused to receive them,
and, according to the law of arms, put as many of them to the sword as
could be gotten at the entry of the breach, and all the rest were
blown up with the steeple at the rasing thereof, and so all
slain."[620]

                   [Footnote 619: Sir Arthur Grey.]

                   [Footnote 620: Grey to the Queen: _Calais MSS._
                   bundle 10.]

The law of arms forbade the defence of a fort not rationally
defensible; but it was over hardly construed against a gallant
gentleman. Grey was a fierce, stern man. It was Grey who hung the
priests in Oxfordshire from their church towers. It was Grey who led
the fiery charge upon the Scots at Musselburgh, and with a pike wound,
which laid open cheek, tongue, and palate, he "pursued out the chase,"
till, choked by heat, dust, and his own blood, he was near falling
under his horse's feet.[621]

                   [Footnote 621: He was held up by the Earl of
                   Warwick, who sprang from his own horse, and "did
                   lift a firkin of ale" to Grey's mouth. _Life of
                   Lord Grey of Wilton_, by his son.]

Three weeks passed, and still the French had made no sign. On the 22nd
an indistinct rumour came to Guisnes that danger was near. The frost
had set in; the low damp ground was hard, the dykes were frozen; and
in sending notice of the report to England, Grey said that Calais was
unprovided with food; Guisnes contained a few droves of cattle brought
in by forays over the frontier,[622] but no corn. On the 27th, the
intelligence became more distinct and more alarming. The Duke of Guise
was at Compiegne. A force of uncertain magnitude, but known to be
large, had suddenly appeared at Abbeville. Something evidently was
intended, and something on a scale which the English commanders felt
ill prepared to encounter. In a hurried council of war held at Calais,
it was resolved to make no attempt {p.298} to meet the enemy in the
field until the arrival of reinforcements, which were written for in
pressing haste.[623]

                   [Footnote 622: Grey to the Queen: _Calais MSS._
                   bundle 10.]

                   [Footnote 623: Wentworth and Grey to the Queen:
                   _Calais MSS._ bundle 10.]

But the foes with whom they had to deal knew their condition, and were
as well aware as themselves that success depended on rapidity. Had the
queen paid attention to Grey's despatch of the 22nd there was time to
have trebled the garrison and thrown in supplies; but it was vague,
and no notice was taken of it. The joint letter of Grey and Wentworth
written on the 27th, was in London in two days, and there were ships
at Portsmouth and in the Thames, which ought to have been ready for
sea at a moment's warning. Orders were sent to prepare; the Earl of
Rutland was commissioned to raise troops; and the queen, though
without sending men, sent a courier with encouragements and promises.
But when every moment was precious, a fatal slowness, and more fatal
irresolution hung about the movements of the government. On the 29th
Wentworth wrote again, that the French were certainly arming and might
be looked for immediately. On the 31st, the queen, deceived probably
by some emissary of Guise, replied, that "she had intelligence that no
enterprise was intended against Calais or the Pale," and that she had
therefore countermanded the reinforcements.[624]

                   [Footnote 624: The Queen to Wentworth: Ibid.]

The letter containing the death sentence, for it was nothing less, of
English rule in Calais was crossed on the way by another from Grey, in
which he informed the queen that there were thirty or forty vessels in
the harbour at Hambletue, two fitted as floating batteries, the rest
loaded with hurdles, ladders, and other materials for a siege.
Four-and-twenty thousand men were in the camp above Boulogne; and
their mark he knew to be Calais. For himself, he would defend his
charge to the death; but help must be sent instantly, or it would be
too late to be of use.

The afternoon of the same day, December 31, he added, in a postscript,
that flying companies of the French were at that moment before
Guisnes; part of the garrison had been out to skirmish, but had been
driven in by numbers; the whole country was alive with troops.

The next morning (January 1, 1558) Wentworth reported to the same
purpose, that, on the land side, Calais was then invested. The sea was
still open, and the forts at the mouth of the harbour on the Rysbank
were yet in his hands. Heavy siege cannon, however, were said to be on
their way from Boulogne, and it was uncertain how long he could hold
them.

{p.299} The defences of Calais towards the land, though in bad
repair, had been laid out with the best engineering skill of the time.
The country was intersected with deep muddy ditches; the roads were
causeways, and at the bridges were bulwarks and cannon. Guisnes, which
was three miles from Calais, was connected with it by a line of small
forts and "turnpikes." Hammes lay between the two, equidistant from
both. Towards the sea the long line of low sandhills, rising in front
of the harbour to the Rysbank, formed a natural pier; and on the
Rysbank was the castle, which commanded the entrance and the town. The
possession of the Rysbank was the possession of Calais.

The approaches to the sandhills were commanded by a bulwark towards
the south-west called the Sandgate, and further inland by a large work
called Newnham Bridge. At this last place were sluices, through which,
at high water, the sea could be let in over the marshes. If done
effectually, the town could by this means be effectually protected;
but unfortunately, owing to the bad condition of the banks, the sea
water leaked in from the high levels to the wells and reservoirs in
Calais.

The night of the 1st of January the French remained quiet; with the
morning they advanced in force upon Newnham Bridge. An advanced party
of English archers and musketeers who were outside the gate were
driven in, and the enemy pushed in pursuit so close under the walls
that the heavy guns could not be depressed to touch them. The English,
however, bored holes through the gates with augers, fired their
muskets through them, and so forced their assailants back. Towards
Hammes and Guisnes the sea was let in, and the French, finding
themselves up to their waists in water, and the tide still rising,
retreated on that side also. Wentworth wrote in the afternoon in high
spirits at the result of the first attack. The brewers were set to
work to fill their vats with fresh water, that full advantage might be
taken of the next tide. Working parties were sent to cut the sluices,
and the English commander felt confident that if help was on the way,
or could now be looked for, he could keep his charge secure. But the
enemy, he said, were now thirty thousand strong; Guise had taken the
Sandgate, and upwards of a hundred boats were passing backwards and
forwards to Boulogne and Hambletue, bringing stores and
ammunition.[625] {p.300} If the queen had a body of men in
readiness, they would come without delay. If she was unprepared, "the
passages should be thrown open," and "liberty be proclaimed for all
men to come that would bring sufficient victuals for themselves;"
thus, he "was of opinion that there would be enough with more speed
than would be made by order."

                   [Footnote 625: "Surely," Wentworth wrote to the
                   queen, "if your majesty's ships had been on the
                   shore, they might either have letted this voyage,
                   or, at the least, very much hindered it, and not
                   unlike to have distressed them, being only small
                   boats. Their ordnance that comes shall be conveyed
                   in the same sort. It may therefore please your
                   majesty to consider it. I am, as a man may be, most
                   sure that they will first attempt upon Rysbank, and
                   that way chiefly assail the town. Marry, I think
                   that they lie hovering in the country for the
                   coming of their great artillery and also to be
                   masters of the sea, and therefore I trust your
                   highness will haste over all things necessary with
                   all expedition."--Wentworth to the Queen: _Calais
                   MSS._ bundle 10.]

So far Wentworth had written. While the pen was in his hand, a message
reached him, that the French, without waiting for their guns, were
streaming up over the Rysbank, and laying ladders against the walls of
the fort. He had but time to close his letter, and send his swiftest
boat out of the harbour with it, when the castle was won, and ingress
and egress at an end. The same evening, the heavy guns came from
Boulogne, and for two days and nights the town was fired upon
incessantly from the sandbank, and from "St. Peter's Heath."

The fate of Calais was now a question of hours; Wentworth had but 500
men to repel an army, and he was without provisions. Calais was
probably gone, but Guisnes might be saved; Guisnes could be relieved
with a great effort out of the Netherlands. On the night of the 4th,
Grey found means to send a letter through the French lines to England.
"The enemy," he said, "were now in possession of Calais harbour, and
all the country between Calais and Guisnes." He was now "clean cut off
from all relief and aid which he looked to have;" and there "was no
other way for the succour of Calais" and the other fortresses, but "a
power of men out of England or from the king's majesty, or from both,"
either to force the French into a battle or to raise the siege. Come
what would, he would himself do the duty of a faithful subject, and
keep the castle while men could hold it.[626]

                   [Footnote 626: Grey to the Queen: _Calais MSS._ The
                   letter was dated January 4, seven o'clock at night.
                   The messenger was to carry it to Gravelines under
                   cover of darkness. It is endorsed, "Haste, haste,
                   haste! post haste for thy life, for thy life."]

The court, which had been incredulous of danger till it had appeared,
was now paralysed by the greatness of it. Definite orders to collect
troops were not issued till the 2nd of January. The Earl of Rutland
galloped the same day to Dover, where the musters were to meet, flung
himself into the first boat that he {p.301} found, without waiting
for them, and was half-way across the Channel when he was met by the
news of the loss of the Rysbank.[627] Rutland therefore returned to
Dover, happy so far to have escaped sharing the fate of Wentworth,
which his single presence could not have averted. The next day, the
3rd, parties of men came in slowly from Kent and Sussex; but so vague
had been the language of the proclamation, that they came without
arms; and although the country was at war with France, there were no
arms with which to provide them, either in Deal, Dover, or Sandwich.
Again, so indistinct had been Rutland's orders, that although a few
hundred men did come in at last tolerably well equipped, and the
Prince of Savoy had collected some companies of Spaniards at
Gravelines, and had sent word to Dover for the English to join him,
Rutland was now obliged to refer to London for permission to go over.
On the 7th, permission came; it was found by that time, or supposed to
be found, that the queen's ships were none of them seaworthy, and an
order of the council came out to press all competent merchant ships
and all able seamen everywhere, for the queen's service.[628] Rutland
contrived at last, by vigorous efforts, to collect a few hoys and
boats, but the French had by this time ships of war in co-operation
with them, and he could but approach the French coast near enough to
see that he could venture no nearer, and again return.[629]

                   [Footnote 627: Rutland to the Queen: _Calais MSS._]

                   [Footnote 628: _MS. Council Records._]

                   [Footnote 629: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xi.]

He would have been too late to save Calais at that time, however, even
if he had succeeded in crossing.

The day preceding, the 6th of January, after a furious cannonade,
Guise had stormed the castle. The English had attempted to blow it up
when they could not save it, but their powder train was wetted, and
they failed. The Spaniards, for once honourably careful of English
interests, came along the shore from Gravelines alone, since no one
joined them from England, and attempted in the face of overwhelming
odds to force their way into the town; but they were driven back, and
Wentworth, feeling that further resistance would lead to useless
slaughter, demanded a parley, and after a short discussion accepted
the terms of surrender offered by Guise. The garrison and the
inhabitants of Calais, amounting in all, men, women, and children, to
5000 souls, were permitted to retire to England with their lives, and
nothing more. Wentworth and fifty others {p.302} were to remain
prisoners; the town, with all that it contained, was to be given up to
the conquerors.

On these conditions the English laid down their arms and the French
troops entered. The spoil was enormous, and the plunder of St. Quentin
was not unjustly revenged; jewels, plate, and money were deposited on
the altars of the churches, and the inhabitants, carrying with them
the clothes which they wore, were sent as homeless beggars in the
ensuing week across the Channel.

Then only, when it was too late, the queen roused herself. As soon as
Calais had definitely fallen, all the English counties were called on
by proclamation to contribute their musters. Then all was haste,
eagerness, impetuosity; those who had money were to provide for those
who had none, till "order could be taken."

On the 7th of January, the vice-admiral, Sir William Woodhouse, was
directed to go instantly to sea, pressing everything that would float,
and promising indemnity to the owners in the queen's name. Thirty
thousand men were rapidly on their way to the coast; the weather had
all along been clear and frosty, with calms and light east winds, and
the sea off Dover was swiftly covered with a miscellaneous crowd of
vessels. On the 10th came the queen's command for the army to cross to
Dunkirk, join the Duke of Savoy, and save Guisnes.

But the opportunity which had been long offered, and long neglected,
was now altogether gone; the ships were ready, troops came, and arms
came, but a change of weather came also, and westerly gales and
storms. On the night of the 10th a gale blew up from the south-west
which raged for four days: such vessels as could face the sea, slipped
their moorings, and made their way into the Thames with loss of spars
and rigging; the hulls of the rest strewed Dover beach with wrecks, or
were swallowed in the quicksands of the Goodwin.

The effect of this last misfortune on the queen was to produce utter
prostration. Storms may rise, vessels may be wrecked, and excellent
enterprises may suffer hindrance, by the common laws or common chances
of things; but the queen in every large occurrence imagined a miracle;
Heaven she believed was against her. Though Guisnes was yet standing,
she ordered Woodhouse to collect the ships again in the Thames,
"forasmuch as the principal cause of their sending forth had
ceased;"[630] and on {p.303} the 13th she counter-ordered the
musters, and sent home all the troops which had arrived at Dover.[631]

                   [Footnote 630: The Queen to Sir William Woodhouse,
                   January 12: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.]

                   [Footnote 631: Circular for Staying of the Musters:
                   _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.]

Having given way to despondency, the court should have communicated
with Grey, and directed him to make terms for himself and the
garrisons of Guisnes and Hammes. In the latter place there was but a
small detachment; but at Guisnes were eleven hundred men, who might
lose their lives in a desperate and now useless defence. The disaster,
however, had taken away the power of thinking or resolving upon
anything.

It must be said for Philip that he recognised more clearly and
discharged more faithfully the duty of an English sovereign than the
queen or the queen's advisers. Spanish and Burgundian troops were
called under arms as fast as possible; and when he heard of the gale
he sent ships from Antwerp and Dunkirk to bring across the English
army. But when his transports arrived at Dover they found the men all
gone. Proclamations went out on the 17th to call them back;[632] but
two days after there was a counter-panic and a dread of invasion, and
the perplexed levies were again told that they must remain at home. So
it went on to the end of the month; the resolution of one day
alternated with the hesitation of the next, and nothing was done.

The queen's government had lost their heads. Philip having done his
own part, did not feel it incumbent on him to risk a battle with
inferior numbers, when those who were more nearly concerned were
contented to be supine. Guisnes, therefore, and its defenders, were
left to their fate.

                   [Footnote 632: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.,
                   January 17.]

On Thursday, the 13th, the Duke of Guise appeared before the gates.
The garrison could have been starved out in a month, but Guise gave
England credit for energy, and would not run the risk of a blockade.
To reduce the extent of his lines, Grey abandoned the town, burnt the
houses, and withdrew into the castle. The French made their approaches
in form. On the morning of Monday the 17th they opened fire from two
heavily armed batteries, and by the middle of the day they had
silenced the English guns, and made a breach which they thought
practicable. A storming party ventured an attempt: after sharp
fighting the advanced columns had to retreat; but as they drew back
the batteries re-opened, and so effectively, that the coming on of
night alone saved the English from being driven at once, and on the
spot, from their defences. The walls were of the old {p.304} sort,
constructed when the art of gunnery was in its infancy, and brick and
stone crumbled to ruins before the heavy cannon which had come lately
into use.

Under shelter of the darkness earthworks were thrown up, which proved
a better protection; but the French on their side planted other
batteries, and all Tuesday and Wednesday the terrible bombardment was
continued. The old walls were swept away; the ditch was choked with
the rubbish, and was but a foot in depth; the French trenches had been
advanced close to its edge, and on Wednesday afternoon (January 19),
twelve companies of Gascons and Swiss again dashed at the breaches.
The Gascons were the first; the Swiss followed "with a stately
leisure;" and a hand-to-hand fight began all along the English works.
The guns from a single tower which had been left standing causing loss
to the assailants, it was destroyed by the batteries. The fight
continued till night, when darkness as before put an end to it.

The earthworks could be again repaired, but the powder began to fail,
and this loss was irreparable. Lord Grey, going his rounds in the
dark, trod upon a sword point, and was wounded in the foot. The
daylight brought the enemy again, who now succeeded in making
themselves masters of the outer line of defence. Grey, crippled as he
was, when he saw his men give way, sprung to the top of the rampart,
"wishing God that some shot would take him." A soldier caught him by
the scarf and pulled him down, and all that was left of the garrison
fell back, carrying their commander with them into the keep. The gate
was rammed close, but Guise could now finish his work at his leisure,
and had the English at his mercy. He sent a trumpeter in the evening
to propose a parley, and the soldiers insisted that if reasonable
terms could be had, they should be accepted. The extremity of the
position was obvious, and Grey, as we have seen, was no stranger to
the law of arms in such cases. Hostages were exchanged, and the next
morning the two commanders met in the French camp.

Better terms were offered by Guise than had been granted to
Calais--Grey, Sir Henry Palmer, and a few officers should consider
themselves prisoners; the rest of the garrison might depart with their
arms, and "every man a crown in his purse." Grey, however, demanded
that they should march out with their colours flying; Guise refused,
and after an hour's discussion they separated without a conclusion.

But the soldiers were insensible to nice distinctions; if they
{p.305} had the reality, they were not particular about the form.
Grey lectured them on the duties of honour; for his part, he said, he
would rather die under the red cross than lose it. The soldiers
replied that their case was desperate; they would not be thrust into
butchery or sell their lives for vain glory. The dispute was at its
height when the Swiss troops began to lay ladders to the walls; the
English refused to strike another blow; and Grey, on his own rule,
would have deserved to be executed had he persisted longer.

Guise's terms were accepted. He had lived to repay England for his
spear wound at Boulogne, and the last remnant of the conquests of the
Plantagenets was gone.

Measured by substantial value, the loss of Calais was a gain. English
princes were never again to lay claim to the crown of France, and the
possession of a fortress on French soil was a perpetual irritation.
But Calais was called the "brightest jewel in the English crown." A
jewel it was, useless, costly, but dearly prized. Over the gate of
Calais had once stood the insolent inscription:--

               "Then shall the Frenchmen Calais win,
                When iron and lead like cork shall swim:"

and the Frenchmen had won it, won it in fair and gallant fight.

If Spain should rise suddenly into her ancient strength and tear
Gibraltar from us, our mortification would be faint, compared to the
anguish of humiliated pride with which the loss of Calais distracted
the subjects of Queen Mary.




CHAPTER VI.

DEATH OF MARY.


The queen would probably have found the parliament which met on the
20th of January little better disposed towards her than its
predecessor. The subsidy which should have paid the crown debts had
gone as the opposition had foretold, and the country had been dragged
after all into the war so long dreaded and so much deprecated. The
forced loan of £100,000 had followed, and money was again wanted.

But ordinary occasions of discontent disappeared in the enormous
misfortune of the loss of Calais; or rather, the loss of Calais had so
humbled the nation in its own eyes, that it expected {p.306} to be
overrun with French armies in the approaching summer. The church had
thriven under Mary's munificence, but every other interest had been
recklessly sacrificed. The fortresses were without arms, the ships
were unfit for service, the coast was defenceless. The parliament
postponed their complaints till the national safety had been provided
for.

On the 26th, a committee, composed of thirty members of both houses,
met to consider the crisis.[633] "That no way or policy should be
undevised or not thought upon," they divided themselves into three
sub-committees; and after three days' separate consultation the thirty
met again, and agreed to recommend the heaviest subsidy which had been
ever granted to an English sovereign, equivalent in modern computation
to an income-tax of 20 per cent, for two years. If levied fairly such
a tax would have yielded a large return. Michele, the Venetian, says
that many London merchants were worth as much as £60,000 in money; the
graziers and the merchants had made fortunes while the people had
starved. But either from hatred of the government, or else from
meanness of disposition, the money-making classes generally could not
be expected to communicate the extent of their possessions. The
landowners, truly or falsely, declared that, "for the most part, they
received no more rent than they were wont to receive," "yet, paying
for everything, they provided thrice as much by reason of the baseness
of the money."[634] It was calculated that the annual proceeds of the
subsidy would be no more than £140,000;[635] and even this the House
of Commons declared that the country would not bear for more than one
year. They did not choose perhaps to leave the queen at liberty to
abuse their confidence by giving her the full grant to squander on the
clergy. They were unanimous that the country must and should be
defended. They admitted that the sum which they were ready to vote
would fall short of the indispensable outlay; nevertheless, when the
report of the committee was laid before them they cut it down to half.
They agreed to give four shillings in the pound for one year, and to
pay it all at Midsummer. "They entreated her majesty to stay the
demanding of more" until another session of parliament. Should
circumstances then require it, they promised that they {p.307} would
add whatever might be necessary; but, for the present, "if any
invasion should be in the realm, or if the enemy should seek to annoy
them at home, they would have to employ themselves with all their
powers, which would not be without their great charges."[636]

                   [Footnote 633: _Commons Journals._]

                   [Footnote 634: Ibid. The famous graziers and other
                   people, how well willing soever they be taken to
                   be, will not be known of their wealth, and by
                   miscontentment of their loss, be grown stubborn and
                   liberal of talk. The Council to Philip: _Cotton.
                   MS. Titus_, B. 2.]

                   [Footnote 635: Estimate of the money to be provided
                   for the furniture and charges of the war: _MS.
                   Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.]

                   [Footnote 636: Discourse on the order that was used
                   in granting of the Subsidy: _MS. Mary, Domestic_,
                   vol. xii.]

The resolution of parliament decided the council in the course which
they must pursue with respect to Calais. Philip, unable to prevent the
catastrophe alone, proposed to take the field at once with a united
army of English and Spaniards, to avenge it, and effect a recapture.
He laid his plans before the council. The council, in reply, thanked
his majesty for his good affection towards the realm; they would have
accepted his offer on their knees had it been possible, but the state
of England obliged them to decline. The enemy, after the time which
had been allowed them, "would be in such strength that it was doubtful
if by force alone they could be expelled." If England sent out an
army, it could not send less than twenty thousand men; and the troops
would go unwillingly upon a service for which they had no heart, at a
time of year when they were unused to exposure. Before the year was
out £150,000 at the lowest would have to be spent in keeping the
musters of the country under arms. The navy and the defences of the
coast and of the isles, would cost £200,000, without including the
losses of cannon and military stores at Guisnes and Calais, which
would have to be made good. The campaign which Philip proposed could
not cost less than a further £170,000; and so much money could not be
had "without the people should have strange impositions set upon them,
which they could not bear." There was but "a wan hope of recovering
Calais," and "inconveniences might follow" if the attempt was made and
failed.[637]

                   [Footnote 637: The Council to Philip: Cotton. _MSS.
                   Titus_, B. 2.]

"The people have only in their heads," the council added, "the defence
of the realm by land and sea." The hated connection with Spain had
produced all the evils which the opponents of the marriage had
foretold, and no good was expected from any enterprise pursued in
common with Philip. Prone as the English were to explain events by
supernatural causes, they saw, like the queen, in the misfortunes
which had haunted her, an evidence that Heaven was not on her side,
and they despaired of success in anything until it could be undertaken
under better auspices. They would take care of themselves at home, and
they would do no more. In reducing the subsidy, the Commons {p.308}
promised to defend the country "with the residue of their goods and
life," to "provide every man armour and weapons according to his
ability," and to insist by a special law that it should be done.[638]

                   [Footnote 638: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.]

Every peer, knight, or gentleman, with an income above £1000 a-year,
was called on to furnish sixteen horses, with steel harness, forty
corslets, coats of mail, and morions, thirty longbows, with sheaves of
arrows, and as many steelcaps, halberds, blackbills, and haquebuts.
All English subjects, in a descending scale, were required to arm
others or arm themselves according to their property.[639]

                   [Footnote 639: 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, statute 2.]

In the levies of the past summer, men had shrunk from service, and
muster-masters, after the fashion of Falstaff, had taken bribes to
excuse them. On the present occasion no excuse was to be taken, and
every able-bodied man, of any rank, from sixteen to sixty, was to be
ready to take arms when called upon, and join his officers, under pain
of death.[640] With these essential orders, the business of the
legislature ended, and parliament was prorogued on the 7th of March
till the following November.

                   [Footnote 640: Ibid. statute 3.]

The chief immediate difficulty was to find money for present
necessities. The loan was gone. The subsidy would not come in for six
months. Englefield, Waldegrave, Petre, Baker, and Sir Walter Mildmay,
were formed into a permanent committee of ways and means, with
instructions to sit daily "till some device had been arrived at."[641]
Sir Thomas Gresham was sent again to Antwerp to borrow £200,000, if
possible, at fourteen per cent.[642] The queen applied in person for a
loan to the citizens of London. For security, she offered to bind the
crown lands, "so assuredly as they themselves could cause to be
devised;"[643] and she promised, further, that, if she could legally
do it, she would dispense in their favour with the statute for the
limitation of usury.

                   [Footnote 641: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xii.]

                   [Footnote 642: _Flanders MSS. Mary._ The aggregate
                   of the debts to the Flanders Jews, which Elizabeth
                   inherited, cannot be prudently guessed at; and I
                   have not yet found any complete account on which I
                   can rely. It cost her, however, fifteen years of
                   economy to pay them off.]

                   [Footnote 643: Queen Mary to the Aldermen of the
                   City of London: _MS._ Ibid.]

To this last appeal the corporation responded with a loan of £20,000,
at twelve per cent.; the Merchant Adventurers contributed £18,000
more; and Gresham sent from Flanders from time to time whatever he
could obtain. In this way dockyards and armouries were set in
activity, and the castles on the coast were repaired.

{p.309} Yet with the masses the work of arming went forward
languidly. The nation was heavy at heart, and it was in vain that the
noblemen and gentlemen endeavoured to raise men's spirits; the black
incubus of the priesthood sat upon them like a nightmare. The burnings
had been suspended while parliament was in session. On the 28th of
March the work began again, and Cuthbert Simson, the minister of a
protestant congregation, was put to death in Smithfield, having been
first racked to extort from him the names of his supporters;[644] on
the same day Reginald Pole, to clear himself of the charge of heresy,
sent a fresh commission to Harpsfeld, to purge the diocese of
Canterbury;[645] and the people, sick to their very souls at the
abominable spectacles which were thrust before them, sank into a
sullen despondency.

                   [Footnote 644: Foxe: Burnet.]

                   [Footnote 645: Strype's _Memorials_, vol. vi. p.
                   120.]

The musters for Derbyshire were set down at fifteen hundred. Lord
Shrewsbury raised four hundred from among his own dependents on his
estates. The magistrates declared that, owing to dearth, want, and
waste of means in the war of the last year, the "poor little county"
could provide but one hundred more.

The musters in Devonshire broke up and went to their homes. The
musters in Lincolnshire mutinied. The ringleaders in both counties
were immediately hanged;[646] yet the loyalty was none the greater.
The exiled divines in Germany, believing that the people were at last
ripe for insurrection, called on them to rise and put down the tyranny
which was crushing them. Goodman published a tract on the obedience of
subjects, and John Knox blew his "First Blast against the Monstrous
Regimen of Women." The queen, as if the ordinary laws of the country
had no existence, sent out a proclamation that any one who was found
to have these books in his or her possession, or who, finding such
books, did not instantly burn them, should be executed as a rebel by
martial law.[647] "Affectionate as I be to my country and countrymen,"
said Sir Thomas Smith, "I was ashamed of both; they went about their
matters as men amazed, that wist not where to begin or end. And what
marvel was it? Here was nothing but firing, heading, hanging,
quartering and burning, taxing and levying. A few priests in white
rochets ruled all, who with setting up of six-foot roods and
rebuilding of roodlofts, thought to make all sure."

                   [Footnote 646: _Privy Council Register, MS. Mary._]

                   [Footnote 647: Royal Proclamation, June 6, 1558:
                   Strype's _Memorials_, vol. vi.; Foxe, vol. xiii.]

With the summer, fever and ague set in like a pestilence, {p.310}
"God did so punish the realm," said Sir Thomas Smith again, "with
quartan agues, and with such other long and new sicknesses, that in
the last two years of the reign of Queen Mary, so many of her subjects
was made away, what with the execution of sword and fire, what by
sicknesses, that the third part of the men of England were
consumed."[648] In the spring, the queen, misled by the same symptoms
which had deceived her before, had again fancied herself _enceinte_.
She made her will in the avowed expectation that she was about to
undergo the perils of childbearing. She wrote for her husband to come
to her. She sent the fleet into the Channel, and laid relays of horses
along the roads to London from Dover and from Harwich, that he might
choose at which port to land.

                   [Footnote 648: Oration on the Queen's Marriage:
                   Strype's _Life of Sir Thomas Smith_.]

Philip so far humoured the fancy, which he must have known to be
delusive, that he sent the Count de Feria to congratulate her. Her
letter, he said, contained the best news which he had heard since the
loss of Calais. But the bubble broke soon. Mary had parted from her
husband on the 5th of the preceding July, and her suspense, therefore,
was not long protracted. It is scarcely necessary to say in what
direction her second disappointment vented itself.

Cranmer alone hitherto had suffered after recantation; to others,
pardon had continued to be offered to the last moment. But this poor
mercy was now extinguished. A man in Hampshire, named Bembridge,
exclaimed at the point of execution that he would submit; a form was
produced on the spot, which Bembridge signed, and the sheriff, Sir
Richard Pexall, reprieved him by his own authority. But a letter of
council came instantly to Pexall, that "the queen's majesty could not
but find it very strange" that he had saved from punishment a man
condemned for heresy: the execution was to proceed out of hand; and
"if the prisoner continued in the Catholic faith, as he pretended,"
"some discreet and learned man might be present with him in his death,
for the aiding of him to die God's servant."[649] Bembridge was
accordingly burnt, and the sheriff, for the lenity which he had dare
to show, was committed to the Fleet. Whole detachments of men and
women were again slaughtered in London; and the queen, exasperated at
the determination with which the populace cheered the sufferers with
their sympathy, sent out a proclamation forbidding her subjects to
approach, touch, speak to, or comfort heretics on {p.311} their way
to execution, under pain of death. Shortly after, a congregation of
Protestants were detected at a prayer-meeting in a field near the
city; thirteen were taken as prisoners before Bonner, and seven were
burnt at Smithfield together on the 28th of June. The people replied
to the queen's menaces by crowding about the stake with passionate
demonstrations of affection, and Thomas Bentham, a friend of Lever the
preacher, when the faggots were lighted, stood out in the presence of
the throng, and cried:

                   [Footnote 649: _Privy Council Register, MS._]

"We know that they are the people of God, and therefore we cannot
choose but wish well to them and say, God strengthen them. God
almighty, for Christ's sake, strengthen them."

The multitude shouted, in reply, "Amen, Amen."[650]

                   [Footnote 650: Bentham to Lever: Strype's
                   _Memorials_, vol. vi.]

Alarmed himself, this time, at the display of emotion, Bonner dared
not outrage the metropolis with the deaths of the remaining six. Yet,
not to let them escape him, he tried them privately in his own house
at Fulham, and burnt them at Brentford at night in the darkness.[651]

                   [Footnote 651: "This fact," says Foxe, "purchased
                   him more hatred than any that he had done of the
                   common people."]

So fared the Protestants, murdered to propitiate Providence, and, if
possible, extort for the queen a return of the Divine favour. The
alarm of invasion diminished as summer advanced. England had again a
fleet upon the seas which feared no enemy, and could even act on the
offensive. In May, two hundred and forty ships, large and small, were
collected at Portsmouth;[652] and on the day of the burning at
Brentford, accident gave a small squadron among them a share in a
considerable victory.

                   [Footnote 652: Swift to the Earl of Shrewsbury:
                   Lodge's _Illustrations_.]

Lord Clinton, who was now admiral in the place of Howard, after an
ineffectual cruise in the south of the Channel, returned to Portsmouth
on the 8th of July. A few vessels remained in the neighbourhood of
Calais, when M. de Thermes, whom the Duke of Guise left in command
there, with the garrison of Boulogne, some levies collected in
Picardy, and his own troops, in all about 9000 men, ventured an inroad
into the Low Countries, took Dunkirk, and plundered it. Not caring to
penetrate further, he was retreating with his booty, when Count
Egmont, with a few thousand Burgundians and Flemings, cut in at
Gravelines between the French and their own frontiers. They had no
means of passing, except at low water, between the town of Gravelines
and the sea, and the English ships, which were in {p.312}
communication with Egmont, stood in as near as they could venture, so
as to command the sands.

De Thermes, obliged to advance when the tide would permit him, dashed
at the dangerous passage; the guns of Gravelines on one side, the guns
of the English vessels on the other, tore his ranks to pieces, and
Egmont charging when their confusion was at its worst, the French were
almost annihilated. Five thousand were killed, De Thermes himself,
Senarpont of Boulogne, the Governor of Picardy, and many other men of
note, were taken. If Clinton had been at hand with the strength of the
fleet, and a dash had been made at Calais by land and sea, it would
have been recovered more easily than it had been lost. But fortune had
no such favour to bestow on Queen Mary. Clinton was still loitering at
Spithead, and when news of the action came it was too late.

The plan of the naval campaign for the season was to attack Brest with
the united strength of England and Flanders, and hold it as a security
for the restoration of Calais at the peace. It was for the arrival of
his allies that Clinton had been waiting, and it was only at the end
of the month that the combined fleet, a hundred and forty sail, left
Portsmouth for the coast of Brittany. They appeared duly off Brest;
yet, when their object was before them, they changed their minds on
the feasibility of their enterprise; and leaving their original design
they landed a force at Conquêt, which they plundered and burnt, and
afterwards destroyed some other villages in the neighbourhood. The
achievement was not a very splendid one. Four or five hundred Flemings
who ventured too far from the fleet were cut off; and as the Duke
d'Estampes was said to be coming up with 20,000 men, Clinton
re-embarked his men in haste, returned to Portsmouth, after an
ineffectual and merely mischievous demonstration, and then reported
the sickness in the fleet so considerable, that the operations for the
season must be considered at an end.[653]

                   [Footnote 653: _MS. Mary, Domestic_, vol. xiii.]

In the meantime, the contending princes in their own persons, Philip
with the powers of the Low Countries and Spain, Henry with the whole
available strength of France, sate watching each other in entrenched
camps upon the Somme. The French king, with the recollection of St.
Quentin fresh upon him, would not risk a second such defeat. Philip
would not hazard his late advantage by forcing an action which might
lose for him all that he had gained. In the pause, the conviction came
slowly over both, that there was no need for further bloodshed, and
that the {p.313} long, weary, profitless war might at last have an
end. A mighty revolution had passed over Europe since Francis first
led an army over the Alps. The world had passed into a new era; and
the question of strength had to be tried, not any more between
Spaniard and Frenchman, but between Protestant and Catholic. Already
the disciples of Calvin threatened the Church of France; Holland was
vexing the superstition of Philip, and the Protestants in Scotland
were breaking from the hand of Mary of Guise: more and more the
Catholic princes felt the want of a general council, that the
questions of the day might be taken hold of firmly, and the
Inquisition be set to work on some resolute principle of concert.

On September 21, the emperor passed away in his retirement at St.
Just. With him perished the traditions and passions of which he was
the last representative, and a new page was turning in the history of
mankind. Essential ground of quarrel between Henry and Philip there
was none; the outward accidental ground--the claims on Milan and
Naples, Savoy and Navarre--had been rendered easy of settlement by the
conquest of Calais, and by the marriage which was consummated a few
weeks after Guise's victory, between the Dauphin and the Queen of
Scots.

Satisfied with the triumph of a policy which had annexed the crown of
Scotland to France, and with having driven the English by main
strength from their last foothold on French soil, Henry could now be
content to evacuate Savoy and Piedmont, if Philip, on his side, would
repeat the desertion of Crêpy, and having brought England into the
war, would leave her to endure her own losses, or avenge them by her
single strength. With this secret meaning on the part of France, an
overture for a peace was commenced in the autumn of 1558, through the
mediation of the Duchess of Lorraine. An armistice was agreed upon,
and the first conference was held at the abbey of Cercamp, where
Arundel, Wotton, and Thirlby attended as the representatives of
England.

How far Philip would consent to an arrangement so perfidious towards
the country of which he was the nominal sovereign, depended, first, on
the life of the queen. The titular King of England could by no fiction
or pretext relieve himself of the duties which the designation imposed
upon him; and if the English were deserted their resentment would
explode in a revolution of which Mary would be the instant
victim.[654]

                   [Footnote 654: Renard found it necessary to warn
                   Philip of this, in a despatch written in October:
                   _Granvelle Papers_, vol. v. p. 225.]

{p.314} Mary, indeed, would soon cease to be a difficulty. She was
attacked in September by the fever which was carrying off so many of
her subjects. The fresh disease aggravated her constitutional
disorder, and her days were drawing fast to their end. But Philip's
hold on England need not perish with the death of his wife, if he
could persuade her sister to take her place. His policy, therefore,
was for the present to linger out the negotiations; to identify in
appearance his own and the English interests, and to wait the events
of the winter.

At the opening of the conference it was immediately evident that
France would not part with Calais. The English commissioners had been
ordered to take no part in the discussion, unless the restitution was
agreed on as a preliminary; and when they made their demand, Henry
replied that "he would hazard his crown rather than forego his
conquest."[655] The resolution was expressed decisively; and they saw,
or thought they saw, so much indifference in the Spanish
representatives, that they at first intended to return to England on
the spot.

                   [Footnote 655: Arundel, Thirlby, and Wotton to the
                   Council: _French MSS._, bundle 13.]

"To our minds," they wrote, "Calais is so necessary to be had again
for the quieting of the world's mind in England, and it should so much
offend and exasperate England, if any peace was made without
restitution of it, that, for our part, no earthly private commodity
nor profit could induce us thereto, nor nothing could be more grievous
to us than to be ministers therein."[656]

                   [Footnote 656: Ibid.]

They were on the point of departure, when a letter from Philip
required them to remain at their posts. Contrary to their expectation,
the king promised to support England in insisting on the restoration,
and his own commissioners were instructed equally to agree to nothing
unless it was conceded.[657] Thus for a time the negotiation remained
suspended till events should clear up the course which the different
parties would follow.

                   [Footnote 657: Philip to the English Ambassador,
                   October 30: Ibid.]

And these events, or the one great event, was now close, and the
shadows were drawing down over the life of the unfortunate Mary.
Amidst discontent and misery at home, disgrace and failure abroad, the
fantastic comparisons, the delirious analogies, the child which was to
be born of the Virgin Mary for the salvation of mankind--where were
now these visionary and humiliating dreams?

{p.315} On the 6th of October, the privy council were summoned to
London "for great and urgent affairs." At the beginning of November
three men and two women suffered at Canterbury. They were the last who
were put to death, and had been presented by Pole in person to be
visited "with condign punishment."[658] On the 5th, parliament met,
and the promised second subsidy was demanded, but the session was too
brief for a resolution. The queen's life, at the time of the opening,
was a question perhaps of hours, at most of days; and aware of what
was impending, Philip despatched the Count de Feria to her with a
desire that she should offer no objections to the succession of
Elizabeth.

                   [Footnote 658: "Condigna animadversione
                   plectendos."--Wilkins's _Concilia_, vol. iv.]

The count reached London on the 9th of November. He was admitted to an
interview, and the queen, too brave to repine at what was now
inevitable, and anxious to the last to please her husband, declared
herself "well content" that it should be as he wished; she entreated
only that her debts might be paid, and that "religion" should not be
changed.

Leaving Mary's deathbed, De Feria informed the council of the king's
request, and from the council hastened to the house of Lord Clinton, a
few miles from London, where Elizabeth was staying. In Philip's name,
he informed her that her succession was assured; his master had used
his influence in her favour, and no opposition need be anticipated.

Elizabeth listened graciously. That Philip's services to her, however,
had been so considerable as De Feria told her, she was unable to
allow. She admitted, and admitted thankfully, the good offices which
he had shown to her when she was at Woodstock. She was perhaps
ignorant that it was for the safety of Philip's life that her own had
been so nearly sacrificed; that Philip's interest in her succession
had commenced only when his own appeared impossible. But she knew how
narrow had been her escape; she had neither forgotten her danger, nor
ceased to resent her treatment. It was to the people of England, she
told the count, that she owed her real gratitude. The people had saved
her from destruction; the people had prevented her sister from
changing the settlement of the crown. She would be the people's queen,
and she would reign in the people's interest.

De Feria feared, from what she said, that "in religion she would not
go right." The ladies by whom she was surrounded were suspected; Sir
William Cecil, whose conformity was as transparent then as it is now,
would be her principal secretary; {p.316} and the count observed,
with a foreboding of evil, that "she had an admiration for the king
her father's mode of ruling;" and that of the legate she spoke with
cold severity.[659]

                   [Footnote 659: Report of the Count de Feria:
                   Tytler, vol. ii. p. 494. _Memorial of the Duchess
                   of Feria, MS._, quoted by Lingard.]

It is possible that Pole was made acquainted with Elizabeth's feelings
towards him. To himself personally, those feelings were of little
moment, for he, too, like the queen, was dying--dying to be spared a
second exile, and the wretchedness of seeing with his eyes the
dissolution of the phantom fabric which he had given the labours of
his life to build.

Yet what he did not live to behold he could not have failed to
anticipate. The spirit of Henry VIII. was rising from the grave to
scatter his work to all the winds; while he, the champion of Heaven,
the destroyer of heresy, was lying himself under a charge of the same
crime, with the pope for his accuser. Without straining too far the
licence of imagination, we may believe that the disease which was
destroying him was chiefly a broken heart. But it was painful to him
to lie under the ill opinion of the person who was so soon to be on
the throne of England; and possibly he wished to leave her, as a
legacy, the warning entreaties of a dying man.

Three days after De Feria's visit, therefore, Pole sent the Dean of
Worcester to Elizabeth with a message, the import of which is unknown;
and a short letter, as the dean's credentials, saying only that the
legate desired, before he should depart, to leave all persons
satisfied of him, and especially her grace.[660]

                   [Footnote 660: _Cotton. MS. Vespasian._ F. 3. The
                   letter is written in a shaking hand. The address is
                   lost, and being dated the 14th of November, while
                   Mary was still alive, it has been described as to
                   her and not to her sister. But an endorsement "From
                   the queen's majesty at Hatfield," leaves no doubt
                   to whom it was written.]

This was the 14th of November. The same day, or the day after, a
lady-in-waiting carried the queen's last wishes to her successor. They
were the same which she had already mentioned to De Feria--that her
debts should be paid, and that the Catholic religion might be
maintained, with an additional request that her servants should be
properly cared for.[661] Then, taking leave of a world in which she
had played so ill a part, she prepared, with quiet piety, for the end.
On the 16th, at midnight, she received the last rites of the church.
Towards {p.317} morning, as she was sinking, mass was said at her
bedside. At the elevation of the Host, unable to speak or move, she
fixed her eyes upon the body of her Lord; and as the last words of the
benediction were uttered, her head sunk, and she was gone.

                   [Footnote 661: Among the apocryphal or vaguely
                   attested anecdotes of the end of Mary, she is
                   reported to have said, that if her body was opened,
                   Calais would be found written on her heart. The
                   story is not particularly characteristic, but
                   having come somehow into existence, there is no
                   reason why it should not continue to be believed.]

A few hours later (November 17), at Lambeth, Pole followed her, and
the reign of the pope of England, and the reign of terror, closed
together.

No English sovereign ever ascended the throne with larger popularity
than Mary Tudor. The country was eager to atone to her for her
mother's injuries; and the instinctive loyalty of the English towards
their natural sovereign was enhanced by the abortive efforts of
Northumberland to rob her of her inheritance. She had reigned little
more than five years, and she descended into the grave amidst curses
deeper than the acclamations which had welcomed her accession. In that
brief time she had swathed her name in the horrid epithet which will
cling to it for ever; and yet from the passions which in general tempt
sovereigns into crime, she was entirely free: to the time of her
accession she had lived a blameless, and, in many respects, a noble
life; and few men or women have lived less capable of doing knowingly
a wrong thing.

Philip's conduct, which could not extinguish her passion for him, and
the collapse of the inflated imaginations which had surrounded her
supposed pregnancy, it can hardly be doubted, affected her sanity.
Those forlorn hours when she would sit on the ground with her knees
drawn to her face; those restless days and nights when, like a ghost,
she would wander about the palace galleries, rousing herself only to
write tear-blotted letters to her husband; those bursts of fury over
the libels dropped in her way; or the marchings in procession behind
the host in the London streets--these are all symptoms of hysterical
derangement, and leave little room, as we think of her, for other
feelings than pity. But if Mary was insane, the madness was of a kind
which placed her absolutely under her spiritual directors; and the
responsibility for her cruelties, if responsibility be anything but a
name, rests first with Gardiner, who commenced them, and, secondly,
and in a higher degree, with Reginald Pole. Because Pole, with the
council, once interfered to prevent an imprudent massacre in
Smithfield; because, being legate, he left the common duties of his
diocese to subordinates, he is not to be held innocent of atrocities
which could neither have been commenced nor continued without his
sanction; and he was notoriously the one person in the council whom
the queen {p.318} absolutely trusted. The revenge of the clergy for
their past humiliations, and the too natural tendency of an oppressed
party to abuse suddenly recovered power, combined to originate the
Marian persecution. The rebellions and massacres, the political
scandals, the universal suffering throughout the country during
Edward's minority, had created a general bitterness in all classes
against the Reformers; the Catholics could appeal with justice to the
apparent consequences of heretical opinions; and when the reforming
preachers themselves denounced so loudly the irreligion which had
attended their success, there was little wonder that the world took
them at their word, and was ready to permit the use of strong
suppressive measures to keep down the unruly tendencies of
uncontrolled fanatics.

But neither these nor any other feelings of English growth could have
produced the scenes which have stamped this unhappy reign with a
character so frightful. The parliament which re-enacted the Lollard
statutes, had refused to restore the Six Articles as being too severe;
yet under the Six Articles twenty-one persons only suffered in six
years; while, perhaps, not twice as many more had been executed under
the earlier acts in the century and a half in which they had stood on
the Statute roll. The harshness of the law confined the action of it
to men who were definitely dangerous; and when the bishops' powers
were given back to them, there was little anticipation of the manner
in which those powers would be misused.

And that except from some special influences they would not have been
thus misused, the local character of the persecution may be taken to
prove. The storm was violent only in London, in Essex, which was in
the diocese of London, and in Canterbury. It raged long after the
death of Gardiner; and Gardiner, though he made the beginning, ceased
after the first few months to take further part in it. The Bishop of
Winchester would have had a persecution, and a keen one; but the
fervour of others left his lagging zeal far behind. For the first and
last time the true Ultramontane spirit was dominant in England; the
genuine conviction that, as the orthodox prophets and sovereigns of
Israel slew the worshippers of Baal, so were Catholics rulers called
upon, as their first duty, to extirpate heretics as the enemies of God
and man.

The language of the legate to the city of London shows the devout
sincerity with which he held that opinion himself. Through him, and
sustained by his authority, the queen held it; and by these two the
ecclesiastical government of England was conducted.

{p.319} Archbishop Parker, who succeeded Pole at Canterbury, and had
therefore the best opportunity of knowing what his conduct had really
been, called him _Carnifex et flagellum Ecclesæ Anglicanæ_, the
hangman and the scourge of the Church of England. His character was
irreproachable; in all the virtues of the Catholic Church he walked
without spot or stain; and the system to which he had surrendered
himself had left to him of the common selfishnesses of mankind his
enormous vanity alone. But that system had extinguished also in him
the human instincts, the genial emotions by which theological theories
stand especially in need to be corrected. He belonged to a class of
persons at all times numerous, in whom enthusiasm takes the place of
understanding; who are men of an "idea;" and unable to accept human
things as they are, are passionate loyalists, passionate churchmen,
passionate revolutionists, as the accidents of their age may
determine. Happily for the welfare of mankind, persons so constituted
rarely arrive at power: should power come to them, they use it, as
Pole used it, to defeat the ends which are nearest to their hearts.

The teachers who finally converted the English nation to Protestantism
were not the declaimers from the pulpit, nor the voluminous
controversialists with the pen. These, indeed, could produce arguments
which, to those who were already convinced, seemed as if they ought to
produce conviction; but conviction did not follow till the fruits of
the doctrine bore witness to the spirit from which it came. The
evangelical teachers, caring only to be allowed to develop their own
opinions, and persecute their opponents, had walked hand in hand with
men who had spared neither tomb nor altar, who had stripped the lead
from the church roofs, and stolen the bells from the church towers;
and between them they had so outraged such plain honest minds as
remained in England, that had Mary been content with mild repression,
had she left the pope to those who loved him, and married, instead of
Philip, some English lord, the mass would have retained its place, the
clergy in moderate form would have resumed their old authority, and
the Reformation would have waited for a century. In an evil hour, the
queen listened to the unwise advisers, who told her that moderation in
religion was the sin of the Laodicæans; and while the fanatics who had
brought scandal on the Reforming cause, either truckled, like Shaxton,
or stole abroad to wrangle over surplices and forms of prayer, the
true and the good atoned with their lives for the crimes of others,
and vindicated a noble cause by nobly dying for it.

{p.320} And while among the Reformers that which was most bright and
excellent shone out with preternatural lustre, so were the Catholics
permitted to exhibit also the preternatural features of the creed
which was expiring.

Although Pole and Mary could have laid their hands on earl and baron,
knight and gentleman, whose heresy was notorious, although in the
queen's own guard there were many who never listened to a mass,[662]
they dared not strike where there was danger that they would be struck
in return. They went out into the highways and hedges; they gathered
up the lame, the halt, and the blind; they took the weaver from his
loom, the carpenter from his workshop, the husbandman from his plough;
they laid hands on maidens and boys "who had never heard of any other
religion than that which they were called on to abjure;"[663] old men
tottering into the grave, and children whose lips could but just lisp
the articles of their creed; and of these they made their
burnt-offerings; with these they crowded their prisons, and when filth
and famine killed them, they flung them out to rot. How long England
would have endured the repetition of the horrid spectacles is hard to
say. The persecution lasted three years, and in that time something
less than 300 persons were burnt at the stake.[664] "By imprisonment,"
said Lord Burghley, "by torment, by famine, by fire, almost the number
of 400 were," in their various ways, "lamentably destroyed."

                   [Footnote 662: Underhill's _Narrative_.]

                   [Footnote 663: Burghley's _Execution of Justice_.]

                   [Footnote 664: The number is variously computed at
                   270, 280, and 290.]

Yet, as has been already said, interference was impossible except by
armed force. The country knew from the first that by the course of
nature the period of cruelty must be a brief one; it knew that a
successful rebellion is at best a calamity; and the bravest and wisest
men would not injure an illustrious cause by conduct less than worthy
of it, so long as endurance was possible. They had saved Elizabeth's
life and Elizabeth's rights, and Elizabeth, when her time came, would
deliver her subjects. The Catholics, therefore, were permitted to
continue their cruelties till the cup of iniquity was full; till they
had taught the educated laity of England to regard them with horror;
and till the Romanist superstition had died, amidst the execrations of
the people, of its own excess.




{p.321} INDEX


    Abergavenny, Lord, 90, 92-6, 177.
    d'Aguilar, 139.
    Alexander, Mr., 296.
    Alva, Duke of, 139-43, 165, 171, 210, 275, 276, 285, 292.
    Annates, payment of, 239, 240.
    Arnold, Sir Nicholas, 114, 260.
    Arras, Bishop of, 38, 60, 61, 85, 119, 150, 155, 208.
    Arundel, Lord, 13, 18, 21, 22, 28, 42, 43, 116, 171, 313, 314.
    "Arundel's," 262.
    Ashley, Mrs., 217.
    Ashridge, Elizabeth at, 217.
    Ashton, Christopher, 260-2.
    Askew, Anne, 201, 202.
    Astley Park, 101.
    Aucher, Mr., 296.
    Augsburg, Cardinal of, 190.
    Aylmer, 70.


    Bagenall, Sir Ralph, 170.
    Baker, 308.
    Baoardo's _History_, 1, 10, 20, 28, 35, 40, 92, 100, 102,
      111, 112, 141-3.
    Barlow, Bishop, 47.
    Bath, Earl of, 11, 71.
    Baynard's Castle, 18.
    Bedford, Lord, 34, 83, 129, 136.
    Bedingfield, Sir Henry, 11, 215.
    Bedyll, 267, 268.
    Bembridge, 310.
    Bentham, Thos., 311.
    Berkeley, Sir Maurice, 109.
    Binifield, 268.
    Bird, Bishop, 47.
    Bishops Authority Bill, 133;
      creation of new, 119;
      requests to the, 176, 177;
      Mary's letter to the, 212.
    Blacklock, 263.
    Bocher, Joan, 135.
    Bonner, Edmond, 32, 47, 83, 155, 190, 197, 201, 202, 212, 223,
      232, 235, 245, 246, 257, 278, 280, 311.
    Bourne, Dr., 34, 37, 68, 116, 180.
    Bradford, Bishop, 37, 191, 196.
    Bradford, John, 220-2.
    Bray, Sir Ed., 95, 268.
    Brett, Captain, 95, 107-9, 114.
    Bromley, Sir Thos., 46, 132.
    Brookes, Bishop of Gloucester, 224.
    Brown, Sir Anthony, 141.
    Brydges, Sir John, 104, 112, 119, 126, 135, 178, 194, 252.
    Bucer, Martin, 281.
    Burghley, Lord, 320.
    Burnet, referred to, 67, 118, 149, 150, 157, 189, 193, 211,
      212, 281, 288, 309.
    Bush, Paul, 47.
    Bushing, 296.


    Calais, 294-305, 314.
    Caraffa, Cardinal, _see_ Paul IV.
    Cardmaker, 191, 213.
    Carew, Sir Gawen, 110.
    Carew, Sir Peter, 11, 87-90, 120-2, 140, 157.
    Castaldo, John Baptiste, 145.
    Castro, Alphonse, 197.
    Cathie, Catherine, 281.
    Causton, Thos., 201.
    Cava, meeting at, 292.
    Cecil, Sir Wm., 15, 23, 161, 315.
    Celi, Medina, 139.
    Celibacy of clergy, 47, 70.
    Cercamp, conference at, 313.
    Cervino, Marcellus, 206, 210.
    Champernowne, Sir Arthur, 88, 89.
    Chandos, Lord, _see_ Brydges.
    Chappelle, Admiral, 136.
    Charles V., 24, 25, 29, 30, 51, 55-7, 67, 83, 84, 94, 110,
      114-19, 144, 151, 159, 161, 218, 223.
    Cheke, Sir John, 6, 15, 20.
    Cheny, 70.
    Cheyne, Sir Thos., 15, 16, 91, 92, 95, 96, 104, 116.
    Chichester, Bishop of, _see_ Scory.
    Chichester, Sir John, 88, 89, 262.
    Cholmley, Judge, 28.
    Christopherson, Bishop, 281.
    Church property secularised, 176, 178, 179.
    Clarence, Lady, 72, 216.
    Clarke, George, 93.
    Clinton, Lord, 23, 106, 311, 312, 315.
    Cobham, Lord, 13, 90, 91, 94-6, 109, 114, 127, 164.
    Cole, 253, 254.
    Colebrook, meeting at, 215.
    Coligny, Admiral, 290.
    Commendone, Cardinal, 53, 54, 67.
    _Commons Journals_, quoted, 133, 232, 239, 240.
    Conquêt, plundering of, 312.
    Convocation, demands of the Lower House, 176, 177.
    Cornwallis, Sir Thos., 97, 107, 114, 116, 123, 295.
    Coronation Oath, 60.
    Corry, Thos., 120.
    de Courières, 2, 83, 85.
    Cotton MSS., 81, 225, 243, 306, 307.
    Courtenay, Lord, 6, 24, 30, 37-9, 59, 69-71, 76, 87-91, 103, 107,
      110, 113-16, 130, 131, 162, 198, 262, 272.
    Coventry, 100.
    Coverdale, Miles, 47, 134, 206.
    Cowling Castle, 96, 164.
    Cranmer, Thos., 15, 20, 48, 74, 110, 118, 134, 165, 212, 224-34,
      245-59.
    Crofts, Sir James, 23, 87, 102, 110, 114, 157.


    Dalaber, Anthony, 203.
    Daniel, John, 262, 263, 266, 268.
    Darcy, 116.
    Day, Bishop, 32, 47.
    Debts of the Crown, 33.
    Delaware, Lord, 268.
    Dennys, Sir Thos., 90.
    Derby, Earl of, 11, 36, 37, 71, 83, 116, 136.
    Derick, 267, 268.
    Desmond, Earl of, 278.
    Devonshire, Earl of, 273, 274.
    Dives, Louis, 296.
    Doria, Andrea, 145.
    Drury, Sir Wm., 11.
    Dudley, Lord Ambrose, 23, 28, 74.
    Dudley, Sir Andrew, 17, 40-2.
    Dudley, Lord Guilford, 4, 5, 10, 74.
    Dudley, Lord Henry, 12, 74.
    Dudley, Sir Henry, 260, 263-7.
    Dudley, Lord Robert, 23, 28.
    Dunkirk, plundering of, 311.
    Durham, Bishop of, 164.
    Dymocke, Sir Ed., 61.


    Edgecumbe, Sir Richard, 90.
    Edward VI., 1-3, 35, 36.
    Egmont, Count, 83, 85, 98, 115, 139, 311.
    Elder, John, 141.
    Elizabeth Tudor, 30-2, 57, 76-8, 93, 94, 103, 110, 114, 115,
      122-31, 136, 155, 162, 199, 200, 213-19, 236, 315-320.
    d'Enghien, Duc, 291.
    Englefield, Sir Francis, 71, 267, 268, 308.
    d'Estampes, Duke, 312.
    Exeter, Marchioness of, 69.


    Fagius, Paul, 281.
    Famine in England, 277.
    Feckenham, Abbot, 68, 111, 277.
    Feria, Count de, 139, 310, 315.
    Ferrars, Robert, 47, 134, 203-6.
    Fitzgerald, 23.
    Fitzwalter, Lord, 129.
    Fitzwarren, 23.
    Flanders MSS., 85.
    Flower, Wm., 206.
    Foxe, quoted, 16, 17, 22, 23, 48, 68, 70, 130, 173, 191, 196,
      197, 200, 202, 213, 214, 216, 224, 225, 232-5, 245, 246, 253,
      269, 270, 281, 282, 309.
    Framlingham, 21.


    Gage, Sir John, 107, 108, 116, 126, 130.
    Gardiner, Stephen, 28, 30, 33, 36, 41, 47, 56-63, 72-6, 83, 89,
      91-7, 103, 106, 109, 114-23, 132-5, 162, 171, 172, 175, 177,
      190, 196-7, 208, 223, 237, 238.
    Gates, Sir Henry, 40-2.
    Gates, Sir John, 14, 40-5.
    Goldwell, Thos., 81.
    Gomez, Ruy, 171, 185, 186.
    Gonzaga, Hernando de, 139, 145.
    Goodman, 309.
    Granvelle Papers, 3, 8, 13, 18, 19, 25, 27, 32, 37-9, 47, 55,
      56, 61, 64, 85, 92, 97, 105, 115, 116, 119, 137, 139, 147,
      150, 151, 155-7, 162, 176, 178, 179, 185, 186, 197-9, 200,
      214, 216, 313.
    Gravelines, Cardinal Pole at, 162.
    Great Bill, the, 180-2.
    Greenwich, disturbance at, 60.
    Gresham, Sir Thos., 84, 139, 208, 209, 308.
    Grey, Lady Jane, 4-20, 31, 39, 44, 74, 100, 110, 111.
    Grey, Lord John, 87, 92, 102, 110, 178.
    Grey, Lord Leonard, 87.
    Grey, Lord Thomas, 87, 90, 92, 101, 102, 106, 110, 116, 135.
    Grey, de Wilton, Lord, 12, 23, 28, 295-304.
    Grey, Sir Arthur, 296.
    _Grey Friars Chronicle_, _see_ Machyn.
    Griffin, Maurice, 212.
    Guise, Duke of, 285, 291, 297-305.
    Guisnes, 294-9, 302, 303.
    Gybbes, Mr., 88, 89.


    Hambletue, 298.
    Hammes, 294, 296, 299, 303.
    Hampton Court, Mary at, 208;
      Elizabeth at, 215.
    Harding, 269.
    Harleian MSS., 20, 24, 35, 42, 45, 61, 112, 127, 130, 153, 166,
      170, 244, 252-4, 257, 258.
    Harley, Bishop of Hereford, 67.
    Harper, Sir George, 93, 95, 105, 107.
    Harpsfeld, 69, 163, 212, 234, 309.
    Harrington, Sir John, 263.
    Hastings, Sir Ed., 11, 34, 83, 97, 114, 116, 123, 160, 162, 267.
    Hastings, Lord, 163.
    Hawkes, 201.
    Heath, Bishop, 32, 43, 47.
    Heneage, 266.
    Henry of France, 24, 25, 86, 121, 138, 144, 275-7, 312, 313.
    Heresy Bill, 134.
    Heresy, Commission on, 280, 281.
    Higbed, Thos., 201.
    Hoby, Sir Philip, 24, 83.
    Holgate, Archbishop, 47.
    Holinshed quoted, 8, 9, 22, 98, 108, 124, 128-31, 216, 242.
    Holyman, Bishop of Bristol, 224.
    Hooper, Bishop, 47, 134, 190-6.
    Hormolden, Edgar, 120.
    Horn, Count, 115, 139.
    Horsey, Ned, 262, 263.
    Hot Gospeller, _see_ Underhill.
    Howard, Lord Wm., 25, 85, 95, 99, 104, 108, 114, 116, 129, 136,
      140, 155, 178, 198, 199, 215, 269, 271, 287.
    Hunter, 201-3.
    Huntingdon, Earl of, 100-2, 110, 136, 163.


    Inglefield, 116.
    Irish, Mr., 231.
    Isly, Sir Henry, 92, 110.
    Italy, Philip's invasion of, 290.


    Jenkins quoted, 224, 250, 252, 253.
    Jerningham, Sir Henry, 15, 93, 116, 267.
    Joanna of Castile, 215.
    Julius III., Pope, 53-5, 81, 148, 175, 206.


    Karne, Sir Ed., 287, 288.
    Keninghal, 3.
    Killegrew, Henry, 272, 273.
    Kingston, Sir Anthony, 193, 194, 260-2, 266.
    Kingston, Wyatt at, 105.
    Knight, 201.
    Knox, John, 16.
    Knyvet, Anthony, 93, 105-9.


    Lalaing, Count de, 83, 85.
    Lansdowne MSS., 21.
    Latimer, Bishop, 48, 110, 118, 134, 161, 224-34.
    Lawrence, 201.
    Lee, Sir Henry, 233.
    Leicester, rising at, 100.
    Lennox, Lady, 76, 77.
    Lingard, Dr., 223.
    Loans, raising of, 308.
    Lodge quoted, 239, 267.
    Lollard statutes, 178.
    London Bridge, closing of, 99, 104.
    Longueville, Duke de, 291.
    _Lords Journals_ quoted, 132, 135, 240.
    Lorraine, Cardinal of, 208, 236.
    Low Countries, campaign in, 144, 207.


    Machyn, 1, 12, 28, 30, 32, 33, 85, 137, 208, 209, 219, 270, 277.
    Markham, Wm., 107.
    Marsh, George, 206.
    Martin, Dr., 224.
    Martyn, Peter, 46, 47, 231, 281.
    _Mary, Chronicles of Queen_, 100, 109, 111-13, 127, 130, 153.
    Mary, Queen of Scots, 79, 122.
    Mason, Sir John, 13, 19, 35, 145, 161, 176, 295.
    Mendoza, Diego de, 65, 139.
    Merchant adventurers, loan of the, 308.
    Mewtas, Sir Peter, 260.
    Michele, Giovanni, 98, 241, 306.
    Mildmay, Sir Walter, 308.
    Mohun's Ottery, 88-90.
    Money, shortage of, 239.
    Mordaunt, Lord, 11.
    Moreman, Dr., 70.
    Montague, Judge, 28, 46.
    Montague, Lord, 163, 165, 178, 236.
    Montmorency, 86, 208, 210, 269, 291.
    Montpensier, Duke de, 291.
    Morgan, Bishop, 206.
    Morone, Cardinal, 148, 149, 151.
    Mortmain, Statute of, 176;
      suspended, 184.
    Mountain, Thos., 62.


    Namur attacked, 144, 145.
    Navas, Marquis delas, 138.
    Newhall, 27.
    Newnham Bridge, 299.
    Nichols, John Gough, 6.
    de Nigry, 83, 85.
    Noailles referred to, 7, 12, 19, 25, 30, 36, 46, 57-9, 60-2, 67,
      74, 77-80, 86, 87, 90, 92, 98, 99, 103, 114, 121, 122, 125, 129,
      130, 135, 137, 138, 140, 141, 153, 154, 166, 180, 187, 192, 206,
      209, 210, 214, 218, 219, 220, 222, 236, 237, 239, 241, 242, 244,
      264, 265, 269, 271, 272, 285.
    Norfolk, Duke of, 28, 30, 39, 93.
    North, Lord, 178, 214.
    Northampton, Marquis of, 23, 28, 31-42, 87, 127.
    Northumberland, Duke of, 3, 11-22, 28, 31, 39-42, 43, 44.
    Norton, Anthony, 90, 91.
    Nowel, Alexander, 67.


    Oatlands, Mary at, 219.
    Oldcastle, Sir John, 96.
    Oliver, Dr., 228.
    Ormaneto, 150, 281, 289.
    Ormond, Lord, 23, 93.
    Oxford, Earl of, 18, 177, 264.
    _Oxford, Annals of University of_, 282.
    d'Oysel, 86, 87.


    Paget, Lord, 15, 21, 28, 68, 71, 73, 76, 79, 80, 93, 103, 116,
      118, 123-7, 132-5, 139, 160, 162, 197, 208, 269.
    Paleano, seizure of, 275.
    Pallavicino, quoted, 53, 175.
    Palmer, Sir Henry, 13, 296, 297, 304.
    Palmer, Sir Thomas, 13, 40-2, 45, 46.
    Parker, Archbishop, 319.
    Parsons, 41.
    Paul IV., 210, 236, 239, 275, 287-9, 292.
    Peckham, Sir Edmund, 11.
    Peckham, Sir Henry, 260-4, 266-8.
    Pelham, 105.
    Pembroke, Earl of, 14, 16, 18-20, 36, 37, 98, 106-8, 116, 135,
      154, 208, 277, 287.
    Perrot, Sir John, 262.
    Peto, Wm., 80, 289, 292.
    Petre, Sir Wm., 6, 33, 92, 94, 114, 116, 270, 308.
    Pexall, Sir Richard, 310.
    Philibert of Savoy, 144, 145, 155, 162, 213, 290.
    Philip of Spain, 38, 71-4, 137-42, 153, 165, 171, 185, 197, 198,
      217-24, 268, 269, 303, 312-14.
    Phillips, Dean of Rochester, 70.
    Phillips, 223.
    Philpot, Bishop, 70, 134, 234.
    Pigot, 201.
    Plots against Mary, 263-8.
    Pole, Reginald, 51-4, 65-8, 80, 81, 147-52, 158, 159, 162-70, 178,
      188-90, 206-8, 210, 212, 219-22, 231, 234, 278-80, 284, 287-90,
      292, 309, 316.
    Pollard, Sir Hugh, 262.
    Pomfret, 136.
    Ponet, Bishop, 32, 47, 105, 107, 118, 134, 165, 215.
    Potter, Gilbert, 7, 10, 24.
    Premunire, Act of, 184, 187.
    Prideaux, John, 90.
    Property of Church, 176, 178, 179.
    Protestants, set-back to, 69, 70;
      hanging of, 84.


    Radcliff, Sir Humfrey, 105.
    Rampton, Thos., 100.
    Regency Bill, 185, 186.
    Register introduced, 189.
    Religious houses rebuilt, 243.
    Religious Persecution Bills, 132.
    Renard quoted, 2, 7, 8, 10, 12, 17-21, 24-6, 28-32, 36-40, 46, 47,
      49, 51, 55, 57-64, 68-84, 91, 93-7, 102, 103, 106, 108-19,
      122-37, 139, 147, 153-9, 162, 176, 178, 185, 186, 197-200, 214,
      223.
    Renty, attack on, 145.
    Repeal, Act of, 179.
    Rich, Lord, 18, 177.
    Richmond, Mary at, 137.
    Ridley, Bishop, 16, 23, 28, 32, 46, 47, 68, 110, 118, 134, 190,
      191, 224-34.
    Rochester, Sir Robert, 71, 116, 135, 192, 267.
    Rochester, rising at, 93.
    Rogers, Canon, 190-2.
    _Rolls House MSS._, 6, 10-12, 15, 17, 20, 21, 26, 28, 30, 37, 39,
      40, 46, 47, 49, 51, 57-61, 64, 67-9, 70-4, 78-80, 83-4, 86, 91, 93,
      94, 97, 102, 103, 106, 108, 110, 114-19, 123, 127, 128, 133, 135.
    Rome, supplication to, 172.
    Rosey, 266-8.
    Russell, Lord, 37, 122, 178.
    Rutland, Earl of, 300, 301.
    Rymer quoted, 82.
    Rysbank, 298-300.


    St. André, Marshal, 291.
    St. Leger, Sir Anthony, 63.
    St. Lowe, Sir Wm., 114.
    St. Mary Overy, Church of, 190.
    St. Quentin, battle of, 290, 291.
    Salkyns quoted, 165.
    Sandars, Laurence, 134, 191, 195.
    Sanders, Ninian, 7.
    Sandgate, 299.
    Sandys, Edwin, 16, 21, 22, 28.
    Scarborough, occupation of, 286, 287.
    Scheyfne, 2, 6, 15.
    Schoolboys, fight between, 122.
    Scory, Bishop, 32, 47.
    Scot, Bishop, 281.
    Senarpont, 276, 297, 312.
    Shrewsbury, Earl of, 19, 71, 116, 136, 140, 141, 154, 164, 239, 309.
    Sidney, Sir Henry, 23.
    Simson, Cuthbert, 309.
    Six Articles, the, 318.
    Skelton, Sir John, 11.
    Sloane MSS., 286.
    Smith, Benet, 242.
    Smith, Sir Thos., 287, 309, 310.
    Somerset, Duchess of, 30.
    Soto, P., 231, 232.
    Southwell, Sir R., 90-6, 104, 116.
    Stafford, Sir Thos., 286, 287.
    Stanley, Sir George, 62.
    Stanton, Captain, 268.
    Story, Dr., 224.
    Stourton, Lord, 178.
    Stow quoted, 130.
    Strangways, 264, 265.
    Strozzi, Pietro, 144.
    Strype quoted, 36, 48, 49, 63, 94, 137, 208, 221, 222, 243, 280,
      286-90, 309-11.
    Subsidy Bill, 239, 240.
    Succession, question of the, 68, 132, 182, 185, 186, 199, 200,
      214, 218.
    Suffolk, Duchess of, 76, 77, 102.
    Suffolk, Duke of, 19, 20, 31, 87, 92-100, 110, 114, 157.
    Sussex, Earl of, 11, 71, 116, 123-7, 136.
    Swift, Robert, 267, 268.


    Talbot, Lord, 239.
    Tanner MSS., 21, 62, 107, 238, 241.
    Tate, Richard, 164.
    Taylor, Bishop, 67, 134.
    Taylor, Rowland, 191, 195.
    de Thermes, 311, 312.
    Thirlby, Bishop, 69, 245, 246, 280, 313, 314.
    Thomas, Wm., 105, 114.
    Thornton, Bishop, 212.
    Throgmorton, Sir Nicholas, 87, 88, 114, 131, 132, 266.
    Throgmortons, the, 264.
    Toledo, Antonio de, 139.
    Tomkins, 197, 201.
    Treason, Act of, 69.
    Tregonwell, Dr., 67.
    Tremayne, Edmund, 129.
    Tremaynes of Colacombe, the, 262, 264.
    Tucker, Lazarus, 84.
    Tunstal, Cuthbert, 32, 47, 92, 190.
    Tytler quoted, 80, 116, 131, 136, 160, 162, 316.


    Underhill, Ed., 33, 61, 105, 320.
    Uvedale, 264-7.


    Valles, Marquis de los, 139.
    Vannes, Peter, 273, 274.
    Vaughan, Cuthbert, 131.
    Villegaignon, Admiral, 87.


    Waldegrave, Sir Ed., 71, 83, 116, 267, 268, 308.
    Walpole, 267.
    Warne, 213.
    Warner, Sir Edmund, 87, 90.
    Warwick, Earl of, 39-43.
    Watson, Bishop, 281.
    Watson, Dr., 41, 46, 70.
    Wentworth, Lord, 116, 162, 178, 296-300.
    Westmoreland, Lord, 154, 177, 264, 287.
    Weston, Dr., 36, 70, 103, 130, 134, 176.
    Wharton, Lord, 11.
    White, Bishop, 224.
    White, Rawlins, 206.
    White, Thomas, 266, 267.
    Wight, Isle of, 122, 264.
    Wilkins quoted, 177, 315.
    Wilkinson, Mrs., 229.
    Williams, Lord, of Thame, 15, 119, 178, 232, 233, 252, 258, 259, 261.
    Willoughby, Lord, 264.
    Winchester, Bishop of, _see_ Ponet.
    Winchester, Marquis of, 9, 16, 116, 124, 136, 178.
    Windsor, Lord, 83.
    Woodhouse, Sir Wm., 302, 303.
    Woodstock, Elizabeth at, 136, 137, 155, 215.
    Worcester, Dean of, 316.
    Worcester, Lord, 107, 178.
    "Worthies, the nine," 153.
    Wotton, Dr., 80, 86, 121, 140, 144, 147, 260, 267, 271-6, 285,
      286, 313, 314.
    Wyatt, Sir Thos., 23, 87-114, 122, 123, 130, 131, 189.


    Young, 70.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Reign of Mary Tudor, by James Anthony Froude