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 HISTORY 
 
 FROUDE’S 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND 
 MARY TUDOR • INTRODUCTION 
 BY W. LLEWELYN WILLIAMS 
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 THE REIGN of 
 MARY TUDOR 
 5y ^JAMES 
 ANTHONY^ 
 FROUDE ^ 
 
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 LON DON: PUBLISHED 
 byJMDENT & SONSIS 5 
 AND IN NEW YORK 
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 is 
 
First Issue of this Edition 
 Reprinted 
 
 1910 
 
 IQI3 
 

 f 
 
 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 Phi ip of Spain, with his Council of Blood in the 
 ' Netherlan- 3, 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 detestatioifvY/' 
 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 govem : 
 ment was weak, there was no stand htj| 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 par¬ 
 liament 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 Smith- 
 field fires had been lit, there was no sign of disapproval or 
 of condemnation. When Edward died, there was an instan¬ 
 taneous return to Catholicism. When Mary died, Elizabeth 
 
 vii 
 
 1 Cp 
 
viii Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Canter¬ 
 bury, 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 English¬ 
 men 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 Plantagcnet 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 
 \pof 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 
 I their own countries. Foreigners might sit on the throne of 
 /wfengland, 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 
 po.wer he was studiousty 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. Nc 
 
Introduction 
 
 IX 
 
 Spanish troops were landed in England, even when war had 
 broken out with France, and the coasts of England were un¬ 
 guarded. 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’etat. Mary’s popularity began to wane 
 with her marriage; it sunk lower and lower till it almost dis¬ 
 appeared when England was dragged mto a war with France 
 in the interests_of.jSpain. St. Quintin and Gravelineslor a 
 time'rousecT a feeble enthusiasm for the war, but the loss of 
 Calais finally extinguished the Queen’s 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 
 i is no doubt that the loss of Calais was accountable, if not for 
 the death of the Queen, for the permanent destruction of he / 1 
 fame. 
 
 Calais was called the “ brightest jewel in the English crown.” 
 
 . It was the last relic of the French possessions of the Plan- 
 tagenets. It was the Gibraltar of the sixteenth century. It 
 I 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 
 j at the accession of Queen Victoria. But to Mary’s subjects 
 i 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. 
 
X 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 trust¬ 
 worthiness 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 con¬ 
 troversialist 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 com¬ 
 pelling 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. yJFrom 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 
 
Introduction 
 
 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 bom 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. 
 
 «s»<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 Ms 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. Pie 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 
 
Xll 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 sh^ 
 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. 
 
Bibliography xiii 
 
 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 ^ermon 
 (on 2 Cor. vii. 10) preached at St. Mary’s Church on the Death of tKe 
 Rev. George May Coleridge, 1847 ; Article on Spinoza ( Oxford and Cam¬ 
 bridge Review), 1847; The Nemesis ofFaTOr (Tale), 1849; England’s For¬ 
 gotten 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 \ 1853; '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~ iihort 
 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 1878; Caesar: 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- 
 Si), 2 vols., 1884; Oceana, 1886; The English in the West Indies, 1888; 
 Liberty and Property: an Address [188S]; The Two Chiefs of Dunbov, 
 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. 
 

 % 
 
 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Queen Jane and Queen Mary ..... i 
 II. The Spanish Marriage ....... 79 
 
 III. Reconciliation with Rome ...... 147 
 
 IV. The Martyrs ......... 201 
 
 V. Calais .......... 260 
 
 VI. Death of Mary ........ 305 
 
 Index .......... 321 
 
 xv 
 
MARY TUDOR 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 QUEEN JANE AND QUEEN MARY 
 
 On the 7 th 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 English¬ 
 man 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 
 
 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, pro¬ 
 claiming 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 
 
 1 Grey Friars' Chronicle : Machyn. 
 
 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 BodleiaD 
 Library at Oxford. 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 ambas¬ 
 sadors 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 con¬ 
 cert with him; but on the 6th, the day of Edward’s death, 
 Renard and M. de Courieres 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 resolu¬ 
 tion 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 en¬ 
 treating 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. 1 The remonstrance agreed 
 
 1 Avant nostre arrivee elle mist en deliberation avec aulcungs le 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 pax lettres et escriptz, et qu’en ce faisant, elle conciteroit plusieurs 
 a se declairer pour la maintenir telle, (et aussy que y a quelque observance 
 par de $a que celuy ou celle qui est appele a la couronne se doit incontinent 
 tel declairer et publier) pour la haine qu’ilz portent audict due, 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 a la couronne. La 
 quelle conclusion avons treuve estrange, difficile, et dangereuse, pour les 
 raisons soubzeriptes: pour aultant que toutes les forces du pays sont es 
 mains dudict due: que la dicte dame n’a erpoir de contraires forces ny 
 d’assistance pour donner pied a ceulx qu’ilz adherer luy vouldroient; que 
 se publiant royne, le roy et royne designes par le diet testament (encores 
 qu’il soit mal) prendroient fondement, de l’invahir par la force et que 
 n’v aura moien d’y resister si vostre majeste ne s’en empesche; ce que 
 avons pese pour les grands affaires et empeschemens qu’elle a contre les 
 Franfoys et en divers lieux, que ne semble convenir que Ton concite en 
 ceste saison les Angloys contre vostre Majeste et ses pays. 
 
 Comme n’avons peu communiquer verbalement avec elle, l’avons 
 advertie desdicts difficultes. . . . Que si la noblesse ses adherens, ou le 
 peuple la desiroit et maintenoit pour royne, il le pourroit demonstrer par 
 l’effect; que la question estoit grande mesme entre barbares et gens 
 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 3 
 
 fully with the opinion of Charles himself, who replied to Renard’s 
 account of his conduct with complete approval of it. 1 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 dis¬ 
 believed entirely in the ability of Mary and her friends to cope 
 with a conspiracy so broadly contrived, and supported by the 
 countenance of France. 2 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. 3 
 
 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 con¬ 
 cealed, 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 pub¬ 
 lished to the world, and another difficulty was not yet got over. 
 
 The novelty of a female sovereign, and the supposed con¬ 
 stitutional objection to it, were points in favour of the altera¬ 
 tion 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 
 
 1 telle condition que les Angloys. . . . luy touchant ces difficultez pour le 
 j respect de sa personne et pour suyvre la fin de la dicte instruction qu’est 
 de non troubler le royaulme au desadvantaige de vostre Majeste.—The 
 I Ambassadors in England to the Emperor: Papiers d'Etat du Cardinal de 
 I Granvelle, vol. iv. pp. 19, 20. 
 
 1 Nous avons veu par vos lectres l’advertissement qu’avez donne soubz 
 i main & Madame la princesse nostre cousine, affin qu’elle ne se laisse for- 
 i compter par ceulx qui luy persuadent qu’elle se haste de se declairer pour 
 | royne, que nous a seinble tres bien pour les raisons et considerations 
 
 touschez en vosdictes lectres.—The Emperor to the Ambassadors: Ibid. 
 !' pp. 24, 25. 
 
 2 Ne se pouvoient faire grand fondement sur la faveur et affection que 
 | aulcuns particulars et le peuple peuvent porter a nostredicte cousine, ne 
 ■ fust que y en y eust plus grant nombre ou des principaulx, n’estant cela 
 1 souffisant pour contreminer la negociation si fondee et de si longue main 
 
 que le diet due de Northumberland a empris avec 1 ’assistance que doubtez 
 ' ie France.—Ibid. pp. 25, 26. 
 
 * Baoardo. 
 
4 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 England was still to 
 have a king, and that king was to be Guilford Dudley. 
 
 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 accomplish¬ 
 ments 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 con¬ 
 sciousness. 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. 2 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 m 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. 
 
 When married to Guilford Dudley, Jane Lady had entreated 
 that, being herself so young, and her husband scarcely older, 
 
 1 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 
 referant 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’Etal 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. 
 
 s Letters of Lady Jane Grey to Bullinger: Epistolce Tigurince, pp. 3-7. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 
 
 she might continue to reside with her mother. 1 Lady No 
 umberland had consented; and the new-made bride remaii 
 at home till a rumour went abroad that Edward was on tin 
 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. 
 
 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 dis¬ 
 obedient to her husband,” she consented. The duchess carried 
 her off, and kept her for three or four days a prisoner. After¬ 
 wards 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 reflect ed th at-both the Lady 
 Mary and the Lady Elizabeth had been cut off by act of parlia- 
 mentdfoni’ the succession as illegitimate; 2 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 bomshe and her sister jwere bastards born; King 
 Henry did not intend that'the crown should be worn by either 
 of them; King Edward 7 ~therefore, had, before his death, be- 
 
 ’ Baoardo—who tells the story as it was told by Lady Jane herself to 
 Abbot Feckenham. 
 
 2 La detta maesta haveva ben considerate un atto di Parliamento nel 
 quale fu gih deliberato che qualunque volesse riconoscere Maria overo 
 Elizabetha sorelle per heredi della corona fusse tenuto traditore.— Baoardo. 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 jathed it to his cousin the Lady Jane; and, should the Lady 
 arte 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.” 
 
 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 owm 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. 1 
 
 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 suc¬ 
 cession 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 2 were 
 directed to prepare for death in three days. 3 But Northumber¬ 
 land would scarcely have risked an act of gratuitous tyranny. 
 Norfolk, being under attainder, might have been put to death 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 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. 
 
 2 Scheyfne to Charles V., July 10: MS. Rolls House. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 7 
 
 without violation of the forms of law, by warrant from the 
 crown; but Gardiner was uncondemned, and Courtenay had 
 never been accused of crime. 
 
 The next day, Monday, the xoth 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 pro¬ 
 claimed “ 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; 1 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. 
 
 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 
 •Noailles. 
 
8 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 The lords who were with the new queen were not so confident. 
 They were in late consultation with the Duchess of Northumber¬ 
 land 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 con¬ 
 sultation to undo the provisions made for our preferment, nor 
 of the great banded provisions forcible whereunto ye be assembled 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal Granvelle, vol. iv. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 9 
 
 and prepared, by whom and to what end God and you know; 
 and nature can fear some evil. But be it that some considera¬ 
 tion 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 govern¬ 
 ment 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.” 1 
 
 The lords, when the letter was read to the end, looked un¬ 
 easily 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 con¬ 
 scious 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 corona¬ 
 tion, another crown was to be made for her husband. Lady 
 Jane started; and it seemed as if for the first time the dreary 
 
 1 Holinshed. 
 
IO 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 suspicion crossed hermind-that shewas, after all, but the puppet 
 of the “ambition of the duke to raise his family to the throne. 
 Winchester retired, and she sat indignant 1 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. 2 
 
 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 3 —tinsel distinctions, for which 
 the poor wretch had to pay dearly. 
 
 The next day (July n) 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 M ary w as 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 
 
 1 Le quale parole io senti con mio gran dispiacere.—Baoardo. 
 
 1 Baoardo. 
 
 * Se faisoit servir de mesme.—Renard to Charles V.: MS. Rolls House. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary i r 
 
 the laws of God, pronounced by the Church of England, and con¬ 
 firmed 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 1 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. 2 
 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. 2 
 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 Hunting¬ 
 don’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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: MS. Rolls House. 
 
 2 Ibid. 
 
 * Queen Jane and Queen Mary. Renard to Charles V. 
 
i 2 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 advan¬ 
 tage 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 proclama¬ 
 tion offering tenpence a day to volunteers who would go to 
 bring in the Lady Mary. 1 The lists were soon filled, but filled 
 with the retainers and servants of his secret enemies. 2 
 
 The men being thus collected, Suffolk was first thought of to 
 lead them, or else Lord Grey de Wilton; 3 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. 4 Northampton’s truth 
 could have been depended upon, but Northampton four years 
 before had been defeated by a mob of Norfolk peasants. North¬ 
 umberland, the council said, must go himself—“ there was no 
 remedy.” No man, on all accounts, could be so fit as he; “ he 
 bad achieved the victory in Norfolk once already, and was so 
 feared, that none durst lift their weapons against him:” 5 
 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. 
 
 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 ambas- 
 
 1 Grey Friars' Chronicle. 
 
 2 “ 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 Maria; favebant.”— 
 Julius Terentianus to John ab Ulmis: Epistolce Tigurinee, p. 243. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * Ibid. 6 Chronicle of Queen Jane. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 13 
 
 sador suggested also that he would do wisely to take the initia¬ 
 tive himself, to send Renard his passports, and commit the 
 country to war with the emperor. 1 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. 2 
 
 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 predomi¬ 
 nated—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. “ The)' 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. 3 
 
 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.” 4 
 
 The principal conspirator was now out of the way; his own 
 particular creatures—Sir Thomas and Sir Henry Palmer, and 
 
 1 Noailles, vol. ii. 
 
 2 Ajoutant menace de la rigeur de leurs lois barbares.—Renard to 
 Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 3 Chronicle of Queen Jane. 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
14 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 
 fact'on 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, per¬ 
 haps, 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 pro¬ 
 pose 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 posses¬ 
 sion 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 1 
 
 1 “ Aliqui subscripserunt, id quod postea compertum est, ut facilius 
 fallerent Northumbrum, cujus consilio ha:c omnia videbant fieri et tegerent 
 conspirationem quam adornabant in auxilium Maria:.”—Julius Terentianus 
 to John ab Ulmis: Epistoltz Tigurina, 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 Northum¬ 
 berland. 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 15 
 
 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. 
 
 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; 1 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, 2 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.” 3 North¬ 
 umberland sent a courier at full speed to the council for rein¬ 
 forcements. The courier returned “ with but a slender answer.” 4 
 
 The lords in London, however, were still under the eyes of 
 the Tower garrison, who watched them narrowly. Their first 
 
 1 Cecil’s Submission, printed by Tytler, vol. ii. 
 
 ’ Scheyfne to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * Chronicle of Queen Jane. 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
16 Mary Tudor 
 
 meeting to form their plans was within the Tower walls, and 
 Arundel said “ he liked not the air.” 1 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 Mar}' might succeed, they 
 might still lose their own lives, which they were inclined to 
 value. 
 
 On Sunday, the 16th, the preachers again exerted themselves. 
 Ridley shrieked against Mary at Paul’s Cross; 2 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. 
 
 “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.” 3 
 
 At Cambridge, on the same day, another notable man preached 
 —Edwin Sandys, then Protestant Vice-Chancellor of the Uni¬ 
 versity, 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.” 4 Sandys, the vice- 
 chancellor, must address the university the next morning from 
 the pulpit. 
 
 Sandys rose at three o’clock in the summer twilight, took his 
 Bible, and prayed with closed eyes that he might open at a 
 
 1 Cecil’s Submission Tytler, vol. ii. a Stow. 
 
 •Account of a Sermon at Amersham: Admonition to the Faithful in 
 
 England, by John Kncx. 
 
 4 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 17 
 
 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. 1 
 
 But the comparison, if it held at all, held only in its least agree¬ 
 able 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. 2 The duke foresaw, and dared 
 
 1 Foxe, vol. viii. p. 590. 
 
 * Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 B 
 
i 8 Mary Tudor 
 
 the indignation of the people; but he had left himself no choice 
 except between treason tothe country- or now inevitable destruc¬ 
 tion. 1 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. 
 
 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 RicFf 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. 2 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, 3 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 La peine ou se retreuve ledict due est qu’il ne se ose fier en personne, 
 pour n’avoir faict ou donne occasion a personne de l’aimer,—que a meu 
 envoyer en France le Millor Dudley son frere, pour l’assurer du secours 
 que luy a est6 promis par le roy de France, et le prier en faire demonstra¬ 
 tion pour intimider ceulx de par defa. Car encores qu’il entende qu’il 
 degoustera davantage ceulx du pays pour y amener Francois, si est ce 
 craignant d’estre reboute de son emprinse, et d’estre massacre du peuple 
 et sa generation, et que ma dicte dame Marie ne parvienne a la couronne, 
 il ne respectera chose quelconque: plustot donnera il pied aux Francois 
 ou peys: tel est le couraige d’ung homme tiran, obstine, et resolu, signam- 
 ment quant il est question de se demesurer pour regner.—Renard to 
 Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 38. 
 
 2 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. 
 
 3 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 19 
 
 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 pre¬ 
 tensions 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.” 1 
 
 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 com¬ 
 municate with Renard; 2 3 while a hundred and fifty men were 
 marched directly to the Tower gates, and the keys were de¬ 
 manded in the queen’s name. 
 
 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 xeyolt 
 of the council. She replied that his present words were more " 
 w^elcome toTter than those in which he had advised her to accept 
 
 1 E quando le persuasioni del conte d’Arundel non habiano luogo ap- 
 presso di voi, o questa spada fara Reina Maria, o perdero io la vita.— 
 
 Baoardo. 
 
 3 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, a bonne heure, il y a venu une 
 vieille femme de soixante ans en nostre logis pour nous advertir que l’on 
 deust faire s^avoir a madicte dame Marie qu’elle se donna garde de ceulx 
 de conseil car ils la vouloient tromper soubz couleur de luy monstrer 
 affection .—Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
20 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 the crown; 1 her reign being at an end, she asked innocently if 
 she might leave the Tower and go home. 2 But the Tower 
 was a place not easy to leave, save by one route too often 
 travelled. 
 
 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. 3 
 q 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 inTEgTTSme of Queen Mary to 
 lay down his arms. If he complied, the'iords undertook to 
 interc«hr~for• his pardon. If he refused, they said that they 
 
 1 Baoardo to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Narrative of Edward Underhill: Harleian MSS. 425. 
 
 3 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 21 
 
 would hold him as a traitor, and spend their lives in the field 
 against him. 1 
 
 While a pursuivant bore the commands of the council to the 
 duke, Arundel and Paget undertook to carry to Mary, at Fr am- 
 lingham their petition for forgiveness, in which they declared 
 that they had been innocent at heart of any share in the con¬ 
 spiracy, 2 and had only delayed coming forward in her favour 
 from a desire to prevent bloodshed. 
 
 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 Ca mbridge for his arrest; 3 
 and, although he had as yet been personally unmolested, he was 
 powerless in the midst of an army which was virtually in Mary’s 
 sendee. 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 
 
 •This letter is among the Tanner MSS. in the Bodleian Library at 
 Oxford. It was printed by Stowe. 
 
 2 “ 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 our¬ 
 selves 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. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
22 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 pardon,” Sandys answered, “ the lords never will; you can 
 hope nothing from those who now rule.” 1 
 
 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 him¬ 
 self 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.” 2 
 
 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 ring¬ 
 ing, 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 
 1 Foxe, vol. viii. 1 Holinshed. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 23 
 
 with it,” had not some of his friends disarmed him. 1 He, too, 
 was handed over to a guard, lashed to the back of a lame horse, 
 and carried to London. 
 
 Mary, meanwhile, notwithstanding the revolution in her 
 favour, remained a few more days at Framlingham, either sus¬ 
 picious 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 
 21 st 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 punislunent 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. 
 I 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 shou ld h pi- marry-a^fqreigner. The dread that Mary 
 might form a connection with some continental prince, had 
 formed the strongest element in Northu mberland's cause; all 
 the-GatholiesyeXcept the""inslgmfican t faction who desired the 
 restoration of the Papal authority, 2 all the moderate Protestants, 
 
 1 Foxe, vol. viii. pp. 591-2. 
 
 2 1 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. 
 
i\ Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Ed ward Cmn-fcna v 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. 1 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 North¬ 
 umberland. 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. 2 
 
 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, 
 
 1 “ 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 Northum¬ 
 berland than Mary. “ We have had many prophets and true preachers,” 
 lie 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.” 
 
 * MS. Harleian, 523. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 25 
 
 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, 1 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. 2 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 detesta¬ 
 tion 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 in¬ 
 finite 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 con¬ 
 ciliatory about religion. He lost not a moment, after hearing 
 that she was proclaimed queen, in sending her his congratula¬ 
 tions; 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 se;t 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 ). 3 
 
 It was, in consequence, with no light anxiety that Renard 
 learnt from Mary her intention of commencing her reign with 
 an act wh ich w as 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 
 
 1 Governor of Calais. 2 Noailles. 
 
 2 Charles V. to Renard, July 22: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
26 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 by the law, would be a strain of the prerogative which could 
 not fail to create jealousy even among those to whom the differ¬ 
 ence 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. 1 
 
 • 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 m 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 inter¬ 
 fering with the existing settlement of the realm.” 2 
 
 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. 3 He desired 
 
 1 Elle sera odieuse, suspecte, et dangereuse.—Renard to the Emperor: 
 Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Renard to Queen Mary, copy enclosed to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Vous avez tres bien faict de desconseillier a la dicte Royne qu’elle fist 
 les obseques du feu Roy, ce qu’elle peult tant plus delaisser avecque le 
 repos de sa conscience, puisque comme escripvez il est decede soustenant 
 jusques 4 la fin, selon, qu’il avoit este persuade de depuis sa jeunesse, les 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 27 
 
 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 danger¬ 
 ous 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 senti¬ 
 ments. 1 
 
 If the e mperor 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 wamedTfer 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 
 yested till the preparations were complete for her entry into the 
 feity. 
 
 ^ The first point on which she had now to make up her mind 
 concerned the persons with whom she was to carry on .the govern¬ 
 ment. 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 contri but ed to the revolution—ift-her-favour. 
 DerTjwrSussexT Bath, Ox ford, who had hurrie'd to her support 
 at Framlingham, were her loyal subjects, whom she could afford 
 to neglect, because she could depend upon their fidelity. Pem¬ 
 broke and Winchester, Arundel and Shrewsbury, Bedford, 
 
 opinions de desvoyez de nostre ancienne religion: par ou l’on ne peult sans 
 scrupule luy faire l’enteiTement et obseques accoustumez en nostre dicte 
 religion. Et est bien que l'ayez persuade par vostre dicte lettre a la dicte 
 dilation.—Charles V. to Renard, July 29: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 1 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 demonstre plus d’affection en son endroit qu’elle 
 trouveroit envers iceulx pour tout ce qu’elle vouldroit ordonner plus de? 
 faveur.—Ibid. 
 
28 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 Cobham, Chevne, 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. 4 She would have to govern with 
 the assistance of men who were gorgwT wittrthE spoils - of the 
 church, suspected of heresy, and at best indifferent to religion. 
 
 In Mary’s absence, the lords in London carried on the govern¬ 
 ment 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, 
 tie rejoined the council, however, and on the first or second day of 
 his return to the board, he agitated their deliberations by re¬ 
 quiring 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 veils 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. 1 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. Baoardo. Grey Friars’ 
 Chronicle. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 29 
 
 went to Newhall to beg for mercy for her sons, but Mary refused 
 to admit her. 1 
 
 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 prin¬ 
 cipal offenders only should be excluded, and Mary herself was as 
 little inclined to harshness. Her present desire whs-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. 2 
 
 Jler 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, 3 and she in¬ 
 tended to act boldly; timidity wQuId only encourage the people 
 to be insolent; ” “ the lords were all quarrelling among them¬ 
 selves, and accusing one another; s he cou M notTeafn-Fh-g-tmth 
 on any point of the late c onspiracy : she did not know who were 
 guilty o'fvdnrWere' innocent; and," amidstjthe distracted advices 
 which were urged upon her, she could not tell whether she could 
 safely venture to London or not; but outward acquiescence in 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Ibid. 
 
 3 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 nth 
 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. 
 
30 Mary Tudor 
 
 the course which she chose to follow she believed that she could 
 compel, and she would govern as God should direct her. The 
 emperorfshe added, had written to her about her marriage, not 
 specifying any particular person, but desiring her to think upon 
 the subject. She had neve r 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.” 
 
 On this last point Renard knew more of the emperor’s inten¬ 
 tions 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.” 1 
 
 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, 2 as she rode in the midst of a splendid caval¬ 
 cade of knights and nobles. Elizabeth, escorted by two thou¬ 
 sand 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 sister s , emb raced; the queen was warm and affectionate, 
 kissing all the ladies in Elizabeth VtramT" and side by side the 
 daughters of Henry VIII. rode through AJdgate at seven in the 
 •evening, amidst the shouts of the people, the thunder of cannon, 
 and pealing of church bells. 3 At the Tower gates the old Duke 
 of Norfolk, Gardiner, Courtenay, and the Duchess of Somerset 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * “ La beaute de visage plus que mediocre,” are Renard’s words to 
 Charles. 
 
 ’Renard; Noailles; Machyn; Grey Friars’ Chronicle. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 31 
 
 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 
 thepleasant disappointment of her anxieties, she could find no 
 room for hard thoughts of any one; so far was she softened, 
 RFltamvrote, that she could hardly be brought to consent to 
 the necessary execution of justice. Against Northumberland 
 himself she had no feeling of vuidictiVenesspan'd was 'chiefly 
 anxious'that'fie"should be attended by a confessor; North¬ 
 ampton \yas_ certainly to be pardoned; Suffolk was already free - ; 
 NorthlirhherlanH should be spared, if possible; and, as to Lady 
 Jane, justice iorbade, sfid~said, that an innocent girl should 
 suffer for the crimes of others. 1 
 
 The emperor had reco mmende d mercy; but he had not 
 advised- a gcm rratmAdemnityj asJJemixd 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.” 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Et luy fust propose l’exemple de Maximus et Victor son filz que 
 Theodose l’Einpereur feit mourir pour s’estre attribu6 le nom d’Empereur 
 par tyrannie et l’avoir voulu continuer en son diet filz Victor, escripvant 
 1’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. 
 
32 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 un¬ 
 questionably 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. 1 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 pre¬ 
 vented. 1 ’ 2 
 
 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 chancellor¬ 
 ship, 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * Signantment sembleroit que vostre majeste 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 regne, 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 majeste, et pour les courtoysies dont elle use en son 
 endroit encores qu’elle ny eust faict sinon l’assister et l’accompaigner. Et 
 davantage Ton peult discouvrir comme elle se maintient en la nouvelle 
 religion par practique, pour attirer et gaigner a sa devotion ceulx quilz 
 sont de la dicte religion en s’en aider, si elle avoit intention de maligner; 
 et jagois Ton se pourroit fourcompter quant a son intention, si est en ce 
 commencement, qu’il est plus sure prevenir que d’estre prevenu et penser 
 a ce que peult advenir; actendu que les objects sont evidens. —Les 
 Ambassadeurs de l’Empereur a Marie, Reine d’Angleterre: Granvelle 
 Papers, vol. ii. pp. 64-69. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary ^ 
 
 steps, and said his prayers, and the people rang the bells for 
 
 i 0 ?-” 1 .. ... 
 
 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 £190,0op. 2 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_every¬ 
 thing 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 cr 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.” 3 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 game- 
 keepers 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. 
 
 In happier times Mary might have been a worthy queen, and 
 Gardiner an illustrious minister; 4 but the fatal superstition 
 
 1 Chrotucle 0} the Grey Friars of ConZtcm, p. 82. 
 
 2 August 1553. Debts of the crown. Irish debt, £36,094 18s. House¬ 
 hold 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. 
 
 3 Note of things to be attended to: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. i. 
 
 4 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 
 
 C 
 
4 Mary Tudor 
 
 which confounded religion with orthodox opinion was too strong 
 for both of them. 
 
 thus worked his way into Court favour. During the brief royalty of Tang 
 Grey, his wife was confined. His child was christened at the Tower churcTq 
 and Suffolk and Pembroke were “ gossips,” and Jane herself was god¬ 
 mother. 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 Under¬ 
 hill was to 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 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 35 
 
 - Edward’s body was meanwhile examined. The physicians 
 
 of an arrant heretic, Tyndal. Underhill used the word Papist. Sir John 
 me 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 
 ,i.’ mumpsimusses there. 
 
 . “ Mumpsimusses, knave, said he, mumpsimusses! Thou art an heretic 
 
 iis | knave, by God’s blood! 
 
 ij ! “ 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 
 q I 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 
 t I Majesty’s father and brother long time, and spent and consumed my 
 living therein. I went not forth against her Majesty, notwithstanding I 
 p 1 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 
 I 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. 
 
36 Mary Tudor 
 
 reported that without doubt he had died of poison, and there 
 was a thought of indicting the Duke o£ Northumberland for his 
 murder: 'butrrtr\vas _ refihquislied on further inquiry; t he poison , 
 if the physicians were right, must have been administered by 
 negligence of- accident. The corpse was-then .buried.(August 6)' 
 witKTRe 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. Simul¬ 
 taneously, 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 mis¬ 
 fortune ; 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.” 1 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; 2 yet Mary 
 had made a beginning, and as she had begun she was resolved 
 that others should continue. 
 
 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 sp ies uponJhfir a ctions .; the sentinels 
 at the gates were a checFupon her visitors. She could receive no 
 one whose business with her was not rftade 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. 3 
 
 1 Strype. * Noailles, vol. ii. p. 111. 
 
 3 Monseigneur, je n’ay sceu trouver moien jusques a ceste heure de 
 communiquer avec la royne, ce que je deliberois faire avec l’occasion des 
 lectres de sa Majeste, si sans suspicion, j’eusse peu avoir acces, que n’a 
 este possible pour estre les portes en la Tour de Londres oil elle este logee, 
 si gardees que n’est possible y entrer que Ton ne soit congneu; elle m’avoit 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 3 7 
 
 " 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 
 hou ses,-and the ccrart was^distracted with suspicion, discord, 
 a nd unce rtainty. 1 
 
 From such a scene Mary desired to escape to some place where 
 I s hej could be at least-mistress of her own movements; her im- 
 patience'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, 2 
 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 peopl’e back till he could be carried off. 
 
 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 
 
 faict dire si je me pouvoys desguiser et prendre ung manteau, mais il m’a 
 semble pour le mieux et plus seur d’attendre qu’elle soit a Richemont.— 
 Renard to Charles V.: Granvclle Papers, vol. iv. pp. 71, 72. 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. Queen Jane and Queen 
 Mary, p. 15. 
 
 1 Renard says it was at these words that the exasperation broke out. 
 
ft>*f i. 
 
 Man' Tudor 
 
 38 
 
 religion was to be tampered witiu men were heard to sav, it was 
 better At or.ce to fetch Northumberland from the Tower. 
 
 Uncertain on whom she could rely. Mar}- 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 cam- things 
 y with so high a hand. She had a rival in the Queen of Scots, 
 beyond her domestic enemies, whom.her wisdom ought taiear ; 
 
 , -i^she would ruin herself if she hew in t he face of her subjects; and 
 he prevailed so far with her that she promised To take no further 
 v steps till the meeting of parliament. After a consultation with 
 the m avor, she dreg-up fHha-gy proclama tion, gituillim, uiiiveigST 
 toleration - till iurther orders, forbidding her Prole! taut and* 
 j^Catholic subjects to interrupt each other's services, and prohibit¬ 
 ing at the "sam e time all preaching on either side without licence 
 from herselE 
 
 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 opposi¬ 
 tion. 1 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 
 
 1 Car si elie y avoit fantaae, eUe ne laisseroit, si elle este du nature! 
 des autres regimes, de passer cultre, et si se ressentiroit a jamais de ce 
 <3De vous en pourriei avoir dit.—Arras to Renard: Granrelie Papers, 
 vol. iv. p. 77. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 39 
 
 condescend to a subject; Courtenay, the sole remaining repre¬ 
 sentative 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. 1 
 
 The trials of the conspirators were now resolved upon. The 
 quee n was determined to spare Lady Jane Grey, i n spite of all" 
 which Renard could urge; but the state of Londoffishowed 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 whcm he had received his com¬ 
 mission, 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.” 2 
 
 The duke bowed and was silent, 
 x^orthamptqn and Warwick came next, and, like North- 
 umberlandjconfessed to the indictment. Northampton, how¬ 
 ever, pleaded in his defence, that he had held no public office 
 
 1 Renard to the Bishop of Arras: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 79. 
 Renard to Charles V., August 16: ;Rolls House MSS. 
 
 1 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, 
 
40 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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. 2 
 
 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 con¬ 
 fessor; 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. 3 
 
 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 un¬ 
 scrupulous of the Duke’s partisans, while Palmer was also especi¬ 
 ally 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 trajtors as well as he, 
 and worse than he. 4 
 
 Seven had been condemned P <thfee 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, 
 
 1 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 govemo et che sempre attese alia caccia. 
 
 > Ibid. 
 
 5 Queen Jane and Queen Mary, p. 17. Renard says that he asked the 
 council to intercede for his life. 
 
 ‘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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 41 
 
 in a moment of extreme peril, four years before, had kissed 
 swords with his comrades, and had sworn to conquer the in¬ 
 surgents at Norwich, or die with honouj. - \ , . , j. f^y ' 
 
 Xhe Duke of Northumberland,^who’sfrice that time had lived 
 very emphatigaHy-withoutr-GbH'in the world, had not lived with¬ 
 out 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. 1 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 na®e and ip the 
 emperor’s. 
 
 Tt he shou ld die; and a priest was 
 
 assigned him to prepare his soflfT 'T 3 octor 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, 
 
 1 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. 
 
42 Mary Tudor 
 
 as rough soldiers, spiritual consolation from a priest of any 
 -decent creed was welcome. 
 
 The executions were fixed originally for Monday, the 21st; 
 hut 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 Northumber¬ 
 land, 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, 1 every one of them, Confiteor .” 
 
 “ Alter 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 weep¬ 
 ing tears.” 2 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Gardiner. 
 
 1 Harleian MSS. 284. Compare the account of the chronicler, Queen 
 Jane and Queen Mary, pp. 18, 19. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 43 
 
 “ 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. 1 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 “ 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. ao. 
 
44 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 In his better years Northumberland had been a faith¬ 
 ful 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 
 
 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. 
 
 £ates was th n_ second suffer er. He, too, spoke in the same 
 key! He TiacTTieen 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, 1 “ 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. 
 
 Last came Sir Jhomaa-'Palmer, in whom, to judge by his 
 method'TSftJdfing 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 com¬ 
 panions. “ 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 incompre¬ 
 hensible; 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.” 
 
 1 Harleian MSS. 284. 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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. 2 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 wks^ 
 slightly abated, indeed, when it was "announced that their for¬ 
 giveness 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. L ondon st reets rang again with 
 ^ shouts of “ God Save t he Queen; ,r and Mafy'fecov'C'red a fresh 
 instalment of popularity t 5 "earry'her a few steps further. 3 
 
 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 invita- 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Ibid. 3 Noailles; Renard. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 47 
 
 tion 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. 1 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 him¬ 
 self. The movements of others were quickened with indirect 
 menaces; while Gardiner told Renard, with much self-satisfac¬ 
 tion, that a few messages desiring some of them to call upon him 
 at his house had given them wings. 2 
 
 •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 com¬ 
 missioners 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 govern¬ 
 ment 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 North¬ 
 umberland 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 bencfi was wholesomely swept. 3 
 
 1 Renard to Queen Mary: Granvelle Papers, vol iv. p. 65. 
 
 2 Renard to Charles V., September 9: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 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. 
 
48 Mary Tudor 
 
 The English Protestant preachers seeing that priests every¬ 
 where held themselves licensed ex officio to speak as they pleased 
 from the pulpit, began themselves also, in many places, to dis¬ 
 obey 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, 
 be 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,” 1 and was committed to the Tower. 
 “ What, my friend,” he said to a warder who was an old ac¬ 
 quaintance there, “ how do you? I am come to be your neigh¬ 
 bour 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 
 vet. 2 
 
 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 
 
 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, 
 wol. i. p. 440. 
 
 1 Privy Council Register, MS. Mary. 
 
 * Foxe. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 49 
 
 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 for¬ 
 giveness 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 recom¬ 
 mended 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.” 1 
 
 Neither was it fitting for him to sit by in silence. The world, 
 misconstruing his inaction, believed him false like Northumber 
 land; the world reported that he had restored mass at Canter 
 bury; 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. 2 
 
 1 Strvpe’s Cranmer. 
 
 1 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 treat¬ 
 ment. 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. Consider¬ 
 ing 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 
 
 D 
 
50 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 
 riot wish for the re-establis'hment 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 Pro¬ 
 testant doctrinalists than from the most bigoted of the persecut¬ 
 ing 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 
 
 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, Arch¬ 
 bishop 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 un¬ 
 true 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.” 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 51 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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 en¬ 
 gaged, 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 circula¬ 
 tion; 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, 2 he spoke of that division 
 as having been executed by himself; 3 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, 4 and he sent a copy at the same time with a letter, or he 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., September 9: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * Before his embassy to Spain. 
 
 3 Opus in quatuor libros sum partitus. 
 
 4 “ Scripta quae 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. 
 
52 . Mary Tudor 
 
 wrote a letter with the intention of sending a copy, to James V. 
 of Scotland. 1 
 
 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 com¬ 
 mand of the pope—that his own anxiety had been for the sup¬ 
 pression of it. 2 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; 3 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 “ Eum ad te librum Catholice princeps nunc mitto, et sub nominis 
 tui auspiciis cujus te strenuuin pietatis ministrum piwbes in lucem exire 
 volo.” — Epistola ad Regem Scotia;: Poli Epistola. vol. i. p. 174. 
 
 2 “ Qui si postea editus fuit magis id aliorum voluntate et illius qui 
 mihi imperare potuit quam meS est factum, mea vero fuit ut impressus 
 supprimeretur.”—Ibid. vol. iv. p. 85 
 
 2 “ Nam cum ad urbem ex Hispania rediens libros injussu meo typis 
 excusos reperissem, toto volumine amicorum studio et opera non sine ejus 
 nuctoriiate qui jus imperandi haberet in plures libros disposito quod ego non 
 jcccram quippe qui de ejus editione nunquam cogitdssem,” etc. 
 
 “ Quid aliud hoc significavit nisi me ab his libris divulgandis penitus 
 abhorruisse ut certe abhorrui.”—Epistola ad Edwardum Sexturn: Pol) 
 I pistoles. 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., speak¬ 
 ing of a war against Henry, he had said: “ Tempus venisse video, ad te 
 priinum missus, deinde ad Regem Christianissimum, ut hujus scelera per 
 se quidem minirne obscura detegam, et te Ca;sar a hello Turcico abducere 
 concr et quantum possum suadeam ut arma tua eo convcrtas 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 tuque cum illis egi." —Epistola ad Edwardum Sexturn; Ibid. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 53 
 
 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 recollec¬ 
 tion, among other things, that he was attainted by act of parlia¬ 
 ment, 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 instruc¬ 
 tions 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, 1 disguised as an 
 Italian gentleman in search of property which he professed had 
 been bequeathed him by a kinsman. By the favour of Pro¬ 
 vidence, 3 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, how¬ 
 ever, 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, 
 
 1 He remained fifteen days, and he left for Rome the day after the 
 execution of Northumberland.—Pallavicino. 
 
 1 Caelitum ductu. 
 
54 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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. 
 
 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; 2 and, although she agreed herself in all 
 which Pole had urged (she had received his letter before Com¬ 
 mendone left England), yet that, nevertheless, necessity acknow¬ 
 ledged 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. 
 
 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, 3 although he had urged upon them the opposite 
 opinion entertained by Pole: 4 he had himself witnessed the 
 
 1 “ 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 hujusinodi relaxionum exempla 
 ingentis alicujus emolumenti gratia.”—Pallavicino. 
 
 3 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 del beni ecclesiastici occupati da molti signori, che sono del suo 
 consiglio.”—Julius III. to Pole: Pali Epistola, vol. iv. 
 
 3 “ Le parole che haveva inteso da lei disse di haver inteso da persone 
 Catholice et digne di fede in quel paese.”— Ibid. 
 
 4 “ Et similmente esposeT opinione vostra con le ragioni che vi movano.” 
 — Ibid. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 55 
 
 disposition with which the people regarded Elizabeth, and he 
 was satisfied that the queen’s alarm on this head was not 
 exaggerated. 1 
 
 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 intel¬ 
 lectual unfitness of the intended legate for any office which 
 required discretion; and Julius, therefore, was obliged to com¬ 
 municate 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. 2 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. 
 
 About the marriage Charles was more anxious than ever; 
 Pole was understood to have declined the honour of being a 
 competitor; 3 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 Scot¬ 
 land, 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. 4 
 
 1 Julius III. to Pole: Poll Epistolce, vol. iv. 
 
 * “ Onde se per questa molta diligenza nostra, le avvenisse qualche caso 
 sinistro, si rovinarebbe torse (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. 
 
 3 “ Ayant le Cardinal Pole si expressement declaird qu’il n’a nul desir 
 de soy marier, et que nous tenons, que pour avoir si longuement suivi 
 l’etat ecclesiastique, et s’accommode aux choses duysant a icelluy et estant 
 diacre.”—Charles V. to Renard: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
56 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 tw enty-seve n, she ten years 
 older; she called him <r boy]^ J 'she "feared she might nof~Be 
 enough for him; unsusceptible; she had no experience 
 
 in love; 1 with such other phrases, which Renard interpreted at 
 their true importance. With the queen there would be no diffi¬ 
 culty; with the council it was far otherwise. Lord Paget was 
 the only English statesman who listened with any show of 
 favour. 
 
 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'fhe wife of a~SpanfefrsoveT 5 tgn~En^land 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. 
 
 1 “ Elle jura que jamais elle n’avoit senti esquillon de ce que l’on appelle 
 amour, ny entre en pensement de volupte, etc.—Renard to the Bishop of 
 Arras: Granvclle Papers, vol, iv. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 57 
 
 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; 1 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. 
 
 No wonder, therefore, that the whole council were in con¬ 
 fusion 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. 
 
 Eljzabetlds da nger was great, and proceeded as much from 
 her friend’s indiscfeTron~as-fro?n 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 ha 
 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 SiIEcesiluT rival "m 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 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
58 Mary Tudor 
 
 now generally present at mass in the royal chapel. Elizabeth, 
 with Anne of Cleves, had as yet refused to appear. Her resist¬ 
 ance was held to imply a sinister intention; and on the 2nd and 
 3rd of September the council were instructed to bring her to 
 compliance. 1 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; 2 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 cold¬ 
 ness; 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 modem 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. 
 
 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 sub¬ 
 mission; make your first trial on the mass of the Nativity of the 
 Blessed Virgin. 3 
 
 Elizabeth consented. She was present, but present reluc¬ 
 tantly; 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. 4 
 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 
 
 1 Noailles to the King of France: Ambassades, vol. ii. p. 147. 
 
 s Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 1 Ibid. 
 
 4 Renard to Charles V., September 23: Ibid. > 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 59 
 
 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. 
 
 There was no difficulty in keeping the queen’s jealousy alive 
 'against her sist er. 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: 1 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. 2 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 Eliza¬ 
 beth; 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. 
 
 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 inter¬ 
 dict; 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, 
 1 Noailles. 
 
 a Renard to Charles V., September 19: Rolls House MSS. 
 
6o 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 where Gardiner’s house was attacked, 1 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. 
 
 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 indepen¬ 
 dence 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. 2 
 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. 3 
 
 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 illegiti- 
 matised. With Paget’s help she faced down these objections, 
 and declared that she would be crowned at once; she appointed 
 the ist 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 
 1 Noailles; Renard. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 6i 
 
 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; 
 
 I 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. 1 ,, 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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: 3 there 
 was no interruption; and the next day (October 1), Arras 
 having sent the necessary unction, 4 the ceremony was per¬ 
 formed at the Abbey without fresh burdens being laid on Mary’s 
 conscience. 
 
 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 understand¬ 
 ing; 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.” 5 
 
 1 “ Devant lcs quelz elle se mist a genoulx.”—Renard to Charles V.: 
 Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 
 3 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.—Under¬ 
 hill’s Narrative: MS. Harleian, 425. 
 
 * Arras to Renard: Granvellc Papers, vol. iv. p. 105. 
 
 * Renard to the Regent Mary: Rolls House MSS. 
 
62 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 The coronation was a step gained; it was one more victory, 
 yet'rrprodurKnSfnm'ateriar'alteration. Rome, and the Spanish 
 marriage, remained as before, insoluble elements of difficulty; 
 the queen, to her misfortune, was'dnven 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 body¬ 
 guard; she went so far as to send a commission to Sir George 
 Stanley for their transport. 1 
 
 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 treat¬ 
 ment 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. 2 Partly, 
 however, from attachment to Courtenay, partly from loyalty 
 to his country, he shook off the temptation and continued to 
 support the opposition. 3 
 
 1 “ 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. go, 
 Bodleian Library. 
 
 2 “ 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. 
 
 3 A look at Gardiner, at this time, through contemporary eyes, assists 
 much towards the understanding him. Thomas Mountain, parson of 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 63 
 
 Mary, except for the cautious support of Paget, stood other¬ 
 wise 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, 
 
 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 t 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- 
 
64 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 Moreover, when she was married, she 
 must obey as God commanded; her husband, perhaps, might 
 wish to jflace 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 Eng¬ 
 land 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. 2 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; 3 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 tryants; 4 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.” 
 
 To these dark hints Mary ever listened eagerly—meantime 
 she was harassed painfully from another quarter. 
 
 following description of him, by Ponet, his rival in the See of Winchester, 
 gives the image as it was reflected in Pouet’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.” 
 
 1 “ Que s’il vouloit estre voluptueux ce n’est ce quelle desire pour estre 
 de telle eaige.”—Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 “ Vostre Majeste seit les humeurs des Angloys et leur voluntez estre 
 forte discordantes, desireux de nouvellete, de mutation, et vindicatifz, soit 
 pour estre insulaires, ou pour tenir ce natural de la marine.”—Renard to 
 Alary: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 129. 
 
 ‘ “ Les roys du passe on este forces 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 ont acquis le 
 renom de tyrans et cruelz.”—Ibid. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 65 
 
 Reginald Pole, as might have been expected from his tempera¬ 
 ment, 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. 1 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 inform d, 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 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 on submission to the Holy See, 1 and for parliament to interfere 
 and give an opinion upon the subject would be but a fresh act 
 of schism and disobedience. 
 
 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 know¬ 
 ing 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 67 
 
 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 proebends, Alexander Nowel and Doctor Tregon- 
 well had been returned to the Lower House; Nowel as a member 
 of Convocation was declared ineligible; 1 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. 2 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 under¬ 
 standing that the lay owners of church lands should not be 
 disturbed in their tenures under any pretext whatsoever. 
 
 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 Com¬ 
 mendone 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. 3 
 
 No less distinct were the opinions expressed in the Lower 
 House on the Papacy. The authority of the pope, as under- 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
 2 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 k 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. 
 
 s Renard to Charles V., October 1 q: Rolls House MSS. 
 
68 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 stood 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 1 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; 2 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. 3 
 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, 4 but the legate’s ingenuity had removed all 
 serious obstacles. 
 
 Again parliament seemed determined that the Act of Succes¬ 
 sion, and the will of Henry VIII., should not be tampered with, 
 to the disfavour of Elizabeth. It is singular that Renard, and 
 probably, therefoFeTMary, 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 ex¬ 
 pectations. 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 Renard to Charles V., October 28: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Ibid. October 15: Rolls House MSS. * Ibid. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 69 
 
 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; 1 but he very soon found that there was no present hope 
 of it. 
 
 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. 2 The bishops must have been glad to escape from 
 so mortifying a subject, and to apply themselves to the more 
 congenial subject of religion. 
 
 As soon as the disposition of parliament had been generally 
 ascertained, the restoration of the mass was first formally sub¬ 
 mitted, for the sake of decency, to the clergy of Convocation. 
 
 The bench_Jiajl-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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., October 21: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 J 1 Mary, cap. 1. 
 
yo Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 The orthodox 
 thus ruled themselves the victors: but beyond the doors of the 
 Convocation House they did not benefit their cause. The dis¬ 
 pute, according to Renard, resolved itself, in the opinion of the 
 laity, into scandalous railing and recrimination; 2 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. 3 
 
 The precipitation with which Somerset, Cranmer, and North¬ 
 umberland 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 Noncon¬ 
 formity; it had now to reap the fruits of its injustice, and was 
 superseded till its teachers had grown wiser. The first parlia¬ 
 ment of Mary was in deed 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. 4 There 
 was to be no pope, no persecution, no restoration of the abbey 
 
 1 Report of the Disputation in the Convocation House.—Foxe, vol. v. 
 P- 395 - 
 
 2 Renard to Charles V., October 28: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Ibid. November 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 4 Ibid. December 8. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 71 
 
 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 Engrahd' 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. 
 
 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 king¬ 
 dom 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. 1 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. 
 
 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 ? ” 
 
 1 Renard. 
 
72 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 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. 1 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 her¬ 
 self 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. 2 
 
 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; 3 the French would play into the hands of 
 
 1 “ EUe l’avoit toujours invoque comme son protecteur, conducteur, et 
 conseilleur.”—Renard to Charles V., October 31: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V., October 31: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 “ II fauldra obtenir dispense du Pape, pour le parentage, qui ne pourra 
 estre publique ains secrete, autrement le peuple se revolteroit, pour 
 l’auctoritfe du Pape qu’il ne veult admettre et revoir.”—Renard to Charles 
 V., November 9: Rolls House MSS. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 73 
 
 the heretics, and the Spanish alliance would give them the game; 
 there would be a cry raised that Spanish troops would be intro¬ 
 duced 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. 
 
 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 parlia¬ 
 ment 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 pre¬ 
 sumptive 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. 1 
 
 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 recog- J 
 nise 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 suc¬ 
 ceeded. 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 dis¬ 
 tinct answer, Yes or no. The queen said she would consult her 
 ministers, and repaired in agitation to the council-room. 2 Dis- 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., November 4: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 1 “ Visage intimide et gestes tremblans.”—Renard to Charles V.: Rolls 
 House MSS. 
 
74 Mary Tudor 
 
 trusting one another, unprepared for the sudden demand, and 
 unable to consult in her presence, the lords made some answer, 
 which she interpreted into acquiescense: Mary returned radiant 
 with joy, and told the ambassador that his proposal was accepted. 
 
 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. I.ady_Jane„th£- qnppn stjl] 
 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. 1 
 
 The struggle had told upon her. She was looking aged and 
 worn, 2 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 them¬ 
 selves, 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., November 17: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 “ Fort envieillie et agee.”—Noailles. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 75 
 
 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 faith¬ 
 ful 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 pur¬ 
 pose—that she sate down before he had half-finished. When 
 he came to the words “ Marry a subject,” she could remain 
 silent no longer. /V 
 
 Replies to addresses of the T4* mse o f Commo n s were usually 
 read by the chancellor; but, careless of forms, she again started 
 to her feet, and spoke 1 
 
 “For your desire to see us married we thank you; your 
 desire to dictate to us the consort whom we shall choose we con¬ 
 sider 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; 2 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.” 
 
 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
 * “ Ce seroit procurer l’inconvenient de sa mort.” 
 
76 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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. 
 
 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 diffi¬ 
 culty 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. 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., November 28: Rolls House MSS. 
 
Queen Jane and Queen Mary 77 
 
 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; 1 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. 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 “ Elle l’a faict quelquefois aller apres la Comtesse de Lennox, que 
 Ton appelle icy Madame Marguerite, et Madame Franpoise, qu’est la 
 susdicte Duchesse de Suffolk.”—Noailles to the King of France, November 
 30 . 
 
 * Noailles to the King of France, December 6. 
 
78 Mary Tudor 
 
 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, ar d 
 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 am¬ 
 bassador’s applause . 1 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 voluntan- 
 escort . 2 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 . 3 
 
 1 “ La Reine a tres bien dissimulee, en son endroict.”—Renard to Charles 
 V., December 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 1 Noailles. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V., December 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE SPANISH MARRIAGE 
 
 The fears of Renard and the hopes of Noailles were occasioned 
 by the unanimity of Ca tholics 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 Courte¬ 
 nay, but they desired to marry him to the queen, not to Eliza¬ 
 beth: 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 . 1 
 
 Thus, from their murmurs, they seemed to be on the edge of 
 rebellion; yet, when the point of action came, they halted, un¬ 
 certain what to do, unwilling to acquiesce, yet without resolution 
 to resist. From a modem 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 Phili 
 bert, and Savoy and Piedmont restored with her. “ You,” 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 79 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 dget 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.” 1 
 
 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 friend^ 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 thmgs 
 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 ; 2 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; 3 while 
 Peto, the Greenwich friar, who was in his train, wrote to her, 
 reflecting impolitely on her age, and adding Scripture commenda¬ 
 tions of celibacy as the more perfect state . 4 It was even feared 
 
 1 “ Le diet 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. 
 
 * Renard to Charles V.: November 14, November 28, December 3, 
 December 8, December 11: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 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. 
 
 4 “ 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 
 encelibat; meslant en ses lettres plusieurs allegations duVieux et Nouveau 
 Testament,r epetant 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’dge dont 
 elle est.”—Renard to Charles V.: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 303. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 81 
 
 that the impatient legate had advised the pope to withhold the 
 dispensations. 
 
 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 un¬ 
 asked 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 . 1 
 
 “ 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 . 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 Instructions of Cardinal Pole to Thomas Goldwell: Cotton MSS. 
 Titus, B. xi. 
 
 * Renard dwelt much on this point as a reason for haste. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 off¬ 
 spring 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 negotia¬ 
 tion 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 PhilipjshquId 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 parlia¬ 
 ment, 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. 1 
 
 These demands were transmitted to Brussels, where they were 
 
 1 Marriage Treaty between Mary, Queen of England, and Philip of 
 Spain: Rymer, vol. vi. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 83 
 
 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 Couri£res, 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. 1 
 
 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 
 1 Renard to Charles V., December n: Rolls House MSS. 
 
84 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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, en¬ 
 couraged 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. 2 
 
 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. 3 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 thou¬ 
 sand 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 
 
 1 “ The English,” he said, “ sont si traictres, si inconstantes, si doubles, 
 si malicieux, et si faciles a esmover qu’il ne se fault her; et si "alliance 
 est grande, aussi est elle hazardeuse pour la personne de son Altesse.”— 
 Renard to Charles V., December 12: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Charles V. to Renard, December 24: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V., December 20: Ibid. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 85 
 
 or high. 1 Fortunately for Mary the project of a standing army 
 could not be carried out by herself alone, and the passive resist¬ 
 ance 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. 
 
 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. 2 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 con¬ 
 cluded. 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. 3 
 
 The interval of delay was consumed in hunting-parties 4 and 
 dinners at the palace, where the courtiers played off before the 
 guests the passions of their eager mistress. 5 The enemies of 
 
 1 The queen to Sir Thomas Gresham: Flanders MSS. Mary, State Paper 
 Office. 
 
 3 Noailles to the King of France, December 6: Atnbassades, vol. ii. 
 
 3 The Bishop of Arras to the Ambassadors in England: Granvelle Papers, 
 vo. iv. p. 181, etc. 
 
 4 The ioth 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. 
 
 4 After dinner Lord William Howard entered, and, seeing the queen 
 
86 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 the marriage , Fre nch and Engli sh, had no time to lose, if they 
 intended to prevent the completion of it. 
 
 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 
 saicTTTie Tame 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 pro¬ 
 fessed by making a fresh treaty with them. 1 That a country 
 should be at peace while its titular king was at war, was a situa¬ 
 tion 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. 
 
 The uneasiness of the court of Paris was not allayed when the 
 queen met this most reasonable proposal yith.. a., refusal. 2 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 unquestion¬ 
 ably 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. 
 
 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 them¬ 
 selves at the head of an insurrection, and to depose 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. 
 
 1 Noailles. ! Ibid. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 87 
 
 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 North¬ 
 umberland, 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. 1 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. 2 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 offen¬ 
 sive 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 
 
 1 Noailles and d’Oysel to the King of France, January 15: Atnbassades, 
 vol. iii. 
 
 2 “ Sire, tout maintenant en achevant cette lettre, les maire et aldermans 
 de Plymouth, m’ont envoye 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’asseryir en 
 fa<pon que ce soit k 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: Atnbassades, vol. ii. p. 342. 
 
88 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 pro¬ 
 gress 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. 1 
 
 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 Throg¬ 
 morton 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 
 qtfarter-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 Devon¬ 
 shire was at Mohun’s Ottery.” 2 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. 3 Sir John Chichester, Sir Arthur Champer- 
 nowne, 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
 1 The house of Sir Peter Carew. 
 
 3 Miscellaneous Depositions on the State of Devonshire: MS. Domestic, 
 Mary, vol. ii. State Paper Office. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 89 
 
 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. 1 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. 2 
 
 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 de¬ 
 termined, 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 inhabi¬ 
 tants 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, 3 
 and their true object was suspected. The bams 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 
 
 1 Instructions to la Marque: Noailles, vol. iii. p. 25, etc. 
 
 3 Noailles to the King of France: Ambassades, vol. iii. p. 31. 
 
 3 “ On the morning of Christmas-day came twelve neighbours of 
 Silverton, being the parish where Mr. Gybbes dwelleth, and they com¬ 
 plained to me of a cross of latten, and of an altar-cloth stolen out of the 
 chinch 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. 
 
90 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 Carew 
 retired to Mohun’s Ottery, when an order came to Dennys from 
 the court for his arrest. 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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 in¬ 
 tended 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. 3 
 
 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 gentle¬ 
 men 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. 4 Lord 
 Cobham, Wyatt’s uncle, was known to wish him well. Sir 
 
 1 Depositions of John Prideaux: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. ii. State 
 Paper Office. 
 
 2 Ibid. 3 Noailles. 
 
 4 Confession of Anthony Norton: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. iii. State 
 Paper Office. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 91 
 
 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 opposi¬ 
 tion; 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.” 1 The result of the conference was a deter¬ 
 mination 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. 
 
 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.” 2 
 Unfortunately, the spies had as yet detected no cause for sus¬ 
 picion on which the government could act legitimately. 
 
 Mary, ignorant that she was in immediate danger, and .oujy^ 
 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 wen.” She said s he would r aise ei ght thousand men 
 -and keep them in London as his guard and hers; she would send 
 a fleetiTTlU' tlre'Channel and sweep the Drench into their harbours; 
 only let him come before Lent, which was-no wbu ta fortnight 
 distant: “give him my affec'ttarratcT6ve, n 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. 3 The ceremony, could it have been accomplished, 
 
 ‘Confession of Anthony Norton: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. iii. State 
 Paper Office. 
 
 * Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 
92 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. Cuth- 
 bert Tunstal, who had been consecrated before the schism, might 
 officiate, and the pope would remove all irregularities after¬ 
 wards. 1 But when the letter and the brief arrived Mary was at 
 no leisure to be married. 
 
 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.” 2 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. 
 
 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. 3 
 
 1 Charles V. to the Ambassadors in England, January 24 Granvelle 
 Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 2 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. 
 
 3 Southwell to Sir William Petre: MS. Mary, Domestic, State Paper 
 Office. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 
 
 On the 26th, Wyatt, being master of Rochester and the Me*, 
 way, seized the queen’s ships that were in the river, took posses¬ 
 sion of their guns and ammunition, proclaimed Abergavenny, 
 Southwell, and another gentleman traitors to the common¬ 
 wealth, 1 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. 2 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. 
 
 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 Jemingham, apd 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 recom- 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
 * Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 .Lided her to take shelter with herself in the palace. 1 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. 
 
 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. 2 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 correspond¬ 
 ence. The cypher, could it be read, might be expected to con¬ 
 tain decisive evidence against her. 3 
 
 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 
 
 1 Strypo, 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. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V., January 29: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 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 some¬ 
 what 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. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 95 
 
 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 
 I 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: ” 1 
 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, 
 Jemingham, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Norfolk to the Council from Gravesend, Sunday, January 28, Monday, 
 January 29: MS. Domestic, Mary, State Paper Office. 
 
g 6 Mary Tudor 
 
 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.” 1 
 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 back¬ 
 ward; 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 2 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 sur¬ 
 render. 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. 3 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. 
 
 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' fcTdoher 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 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
 3 Cowling Castle, a place already famous in English Reforming history 
 as the residence of Sir John Oldcastle. 
 
 3 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 com¬ 
 position 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. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 97 
 
 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 
 Y emperor himself was aware, could only increase the exaspera- 
 , tion. 1 The queen’s resolution, however, grew with her diffi- 
 . culties. If she could not fight she would not yield; and, taking 
 t 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. 2 
 
 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. 3 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 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor, January 29: Rolls House MSS. The Emperor 
 to Renard, February 4: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 204. 
 
 1 Instructions to Sir Thomas Cornwallis and Sir Edward Hastings: 
 MS. State Paper Office. 
 
 3 Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 G 
 
98 Mary Tudor 
 
 trust; he would argue the marriage with pleasure, but he re¬ 
 quired 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. 1 
 
 Had Wyatt, said Noailles, been able to reach London simul¬ 
 taneously 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 in¬ 
 dignant 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, marr ia ge, 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, 2 rode through the streets to the Guild¬ 
 hall, 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. 3 
 
 Her subjects had risen in rebellion against her, she said; she 
 had been told that the cause was her intended marriage with the 
 
 1 Holinshed; Noailles. 
 
 2 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 
 desploree qu’il se peult penser.—Noailles to the King of France, Feb. r. 
 
 3 La voce grossa et quasi di huomo.—Giovanni Michele: Ellis, vol. ii. 
 series ii. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 
 
 Prince of Spain; and, believing that it was the real cause, she hau 
 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~ rr 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 spec tacle of her distress won the sympathy of her a udience; 
 the boldness oT’ her bearing commYimliT^eTr TesjTf^gtT- the 
 promise of a parliament satisfied, or seemed to satisfy, all reason¬ 
 able 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 
 t he next day for the pro tection _of »thc ereW l T anTtKe c apTtatp 
 Lord W iIIiam~H6warcT was associated with the mayor in the 
 command; and Wyatt, who had reached Greenwich on Thurs¬ 
 day, 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, believ ed now that the insurrection 
 w ould fai l. ^Success orTailure, in fact, would turn on the recep¬ 
 tion which the midland counties had given to the Duke of 
 Suffolk; and of Suffolk authentic news had been brought to 
 London that morning. 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 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, 1 ancLdficlared .that he had called on the country to rise 
 in arm s for Qti*Frt Jane. But Suffolk’s plan was identical with 
 Wyatt’s; he had carried with him a duplicate of Wyatt’s pro¬ 
 clamation, and, accompanied by his brother, he presented him¬ 
 self 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. 
 
 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 War¬ 
 wick, 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 estab¬ 
 lished authorities, were those who had placed themselves in 
 correspondence with the Duke of Suffolk. 
 
 Suffolk’s servant (his name was Thomas Rampton), on reach¬ 
 ing 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 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
IOI 
 
 The Spanish Marriage 
 
 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.” 1 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.” -- 
 
 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 morn¬ 
 ing; 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 
 
 1 Rampton’s Confession: MS. Domestic, Mary, vol. iii. State Paper 
 Office. 
 
102 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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. 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 1 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 este grand com¬ 
 mencement du miracle pour le succes prospere des affaires de la dicte 
 dame.”—Renard to the Emperor, February 8: MS. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 103 
 
 was instantly repressed; the inhabitants of the Borough enter¬ 
 tained them with warm hospitality; and the queen, notwith¬ 
 standing 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 move¬ 
 ment, no demonstration on either side of popular feeling. The 
 ominous strangeness of the situation appalled even Mary herself. 1 
 
 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 con¬ 
 spirators; it explained tj ^jabjecf-Qf-Jiie jiging—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. 
 Evidenc e~of~-Hfea.beth■’s xorrrplrcifyTt 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 feel¬ 
 ing 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 intoler¬ 
 ance; 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.” 2 -- 
 
 The position, however, could not be of long continuance. 
 
 1 Noailles. 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. February 5. 
 
104 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 per¬ 
 mitted, 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 ^yutt scaled the leads 
 of the gatehouse, climbed into a window/atrd 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 draw¬ 
 bridge 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 insur¬ 
 gents collected within reach of his guns, and had asked the queen 
 for permission to fire upon them. The queen, afraid of provok¬ 
 ing 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 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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, 1 and others more or less con¬ 
 spicuous in the worst period of the late reign. 
 
 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 dan¬ 
 gerous elements. Sir Humfrey Radcliff, the lieutenant, was a 
 “ favourer of the gospel; ” 2 and the “ Hot Gospeller ” himself, 
 on hi§ recovery from his fever, had returned to his duties. 3 No 
 
 1 The Regent Mary to the Ambassadors in England: Granvelle Papers 
 vol. iv. 
 
 3 Underhill’s Narrative. 
 
 3 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; 
 
io6 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 cer¬ 
 tainly unlooked for; nor was it till past midnight that informa¬ 
 tion 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. 
 
 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 ans wered, you will remain here till tire 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 under¬ 
 take to stand by her, she would remain and see out the struggle. 1 
 
 They were not present, and were sent for on the spot. Pem¬ 
 broke 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 
 
 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.” 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., February 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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. 1 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 Comer 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 lulled 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 
 
 1 Letter of William Markham: Tanner MSS. Bodleian Library. Com¬ 
 pare Stow. 
 
108 Mary Tudor 
 
 Cornwallis cried to him, “ is this the action of a gentleman? ” 1 
 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. 2 
 
 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. 3 
 
 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 
 by-standers; 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., February 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Holinshed. 
 
 3 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! ” 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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 qu een had triumphed, triumphed through her own resolu- 
 tinnpand th e fruits of victory. 
 
 HafPWyatt 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. 1 On Ash Wednesday evening, after Wyatt’s 
 
 1 “ On Sunday, the nth 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 con¬ 
 servation thereof, which could not be unless the rotten and hurtful members 
 thereof were cut off and consumed .”—Chronicle of Queen Mary, p. 54. 
 
I IO 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 them¬ 
 selves, 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. 
 
 The queen’s blood is up at last, Renard wrote exultingly to 
 the emperor on the 8th of February ; 1 “ the Duke of Suffolky 
 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 am¬ 
 bassador was still better satisfied. Elizabeth had been sent 
 for, and was on her way to London. A rupture with France 1 
 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; 2 “ The house of Suffolk would soon be extinct.” 
 
 The house of Suffolk would be extinct: that too, or almost 
 that, had been decided on. Jane Grey was guiltless of this last 
 commoti on; her name had ffcrtrF>eCTr _ 5 o - mucK~'a 5 mentioned— 
 among the insurgents; but sh e was guilty of having been once 
 callacLcm een, and Mary, whoBefOre-had-heen -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. 
 
 1 Rolls House MSS. 
 
 * Renard to Charles V., February 12: Rolls House MSS. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 
 
 Jane Grey, therefore, was to die—her execution was resoi 
 uponTHe day"'affe’T'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 en¬ 
 treaties, 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. 1 
 
 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. 2 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. 3 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, 
 
 1 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. 
 
 1 Vol. vi. pp. 415-417. 
 
 3 The story told by Baoardo, to whom, it would seem, Feckenham. 
 related it. 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 .*z 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. 1 
 
 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.” 2 
 
 Her husband was also to die, and to diejbefore her. The 
 morning on which they were to suffer he begged foha last inter¬ 
 view 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 
 
 1 Foxe, vol. vi. 
 
 * 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. II fallo e degno di morte ma il modo della mia ignoranza 
 doueva meritar pieta e excusatione appresso il mondo e alle leggi.” 
 

 The Spanish Marriage i 13 
 
 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.” 1 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 en¬ 
 treated 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. 2 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:— 
 
 “ 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 hang¬ 
 man 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.” 3 
 
 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 4 were dangling 
 
 1 Aiidate: 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. 
 
 2 The 51st: “ Have mercy on me, oh Lord, after thy goodness.” 
 
 3 Chronicle of Queen Mary, pp. 58, 59. 
 
 4 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. 
 
 3 
 
114 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 But, sooner or later, thejpieen-'was -determined that every one. 
 who could be convicted should die, 2 and beyond, and above 
 them all, Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s illness, which had been sup¬ 
 posed 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. 3 Renard had described her to the emperor as probably 
 enceinte through some vile intrigue, and crushed with remorse 
 and disappointment. 4 
 
 1 On Sunday the nth 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.” 
 
 2 Renard to the Emperor: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 3 The Order of my Lady Elizabeth’s Grace’s Voyage to the Court: MS, 
 Marv, Domestic vol. iii. State Paper Office. 
 
 * Renard to the Emperor: February 17: Rolls House MSS. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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 ex¬ 
 pression was lofty, scornful, and magnificent. 1 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 comer 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. 2 
 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 Eliza¬ 
 beth’s interests; if she escaped now, the queen would never be 
 secure. 3 In fact, while Elizabeth lived, the prince could not 
 venture among the wild English spirits, and Charles was deter¬ 
 mined that the marriage should not escape him. 
 
 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. 4 Egmont gave his message. The unhappy queen 
 
 1 “ Pour desguyser le regret qu’elle a,” says Renard, unable to relinquish 
 his first conviction. 
 
 2 Renard was instructed to exhort the queen: “ Que l’execution et 
 chastoy de ceulx qui le meritent se face tost; usant & l’endroit de Madame 
 Elizabeth et de Cortenay comme elle verra convenir a sa seurete, pour 
 apres user de cldmence 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. 
 
 3 II 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 asseuree.—Renard to Charles V.: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 311. 
 
 4 Renard to the Emperor, March 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
i i 6 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 Courtenay, if necessary, she.could kill; against 
 him the proofs were“TBTllp!Efe; aTTo'"Elizabeth, she knew her 
 guilt; the evidence was growing; and she would insist to the 
 council that justice should be done. 
 
 About the marriage itself, the lords had by this time agre ed 
 to"yleTcT."~Cdurfenm.’ J s pretensions could no longer be decently" 
 advanced, and Gardiner, abandoning a hopeless cause, and turn¬ 
 ing 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; 2 ten thousand crowns were 
 distributed among the officers and gentlemen who had distin¬ 
 guished 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. 3 
 
 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 
 
 1 La quelle me respondit et afferme qu’elle ne dort ny repose pour le 
 soucy elle tient de la seure venue de son Altesse.—Renard to the Emperor: 
 Tvtler, vol. ii. 
 
 2 Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 267. 
 
 3 Renard to Charles V., March 8: Rolls House MSS. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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; 1 
 but he had nothing else to fear, if he could escape the French 
 cruisers. 
 
 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 con¬ 
 ducted by Pembroke into the presence chamber. The queen, 
 kneeling before the sacrament, called it to witness that, in con¬ 
 senting 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 by¬ 
 standers all in tears, she gave her hand to Egmont as Philip’s 
 representative The blessing was pronounced by GardiherT^d 
 the''proxy marriage was completed. 2 The prince was to be sent 
 for'without deTay, and Southampton was cKosen as thB pen-Uat. 
 ! which he should disembark, “ being in the country of the Bishop 
 of Winchester,” where the people were, for the most part, good 
 Catholics. 
 
 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 diffi¬ 
 culties; but other questions were likely to rise which would not 
 be settled so easily. She herself was longing to show her grati- 
 : tude 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. 3 The English laity 
 
 1 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 scion les coustumes d’Angleterre.- — Renard to 
 Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Puis par la main de l’Evesque de Winchester les promesses et paroles 
 de prEesenti, furent dictes et prononcees 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. 
 
 3 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 
 
i 18 Mary Tudor 
 
 were resolute on their side to keep hold of what they had got; 
 and to set the subject at rest, and to prevent unpleasant dis¬ 
 cussions 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. 1 
 
 Gardiner, however, saw in the failure of the insurrection an 
 opportunity of emancipating the church, and of extinguishing 
 heresy with fire and sword. 2 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 parlia¬ 
 ment, the summons should be to meet at Oxford, 3 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 melo¬ 
 drama. 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. 
 
 Vainly Renard protested. In the fiery obstinacy of his deter¬ 
 mination, 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 Pro¬ 
 testant excesses, the Bishop of Winchester had seen the Six 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Paget to Renard: Tytler, vol. ii. 
 
 * Par feug et sang.—Renard to Charles V., March 14: Rolls House MSS. ; 
 partially printed by Tytler. 
 
 8 Ibid. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 119 
 
 Articles Bill carried—but his prey had then been snatched from 
 
 I 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. 1 Paget 
 swore it should not be. 2 Charles V. himself, dreading a fresh 
 interruption to the marriage, insisted that this extravagant 
 fervour should be checked; 3 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. Re nard urge d her to h e prudent in 
 religion and cruel to the poliTtcaTp risoners. 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. 4 
 
 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 sijent; when they said 
 “ God save Queen'Elizabeth,” the wall said “ Amen! ” When 
 
 1 Establir forme cPTnquisition contre les heretiques.—Renard to Charles 
 V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 2 Ibid. 
 
 3 La chnleur exhorbitante.—Charles V. to Renard: Granvelle Papers. 
 vol. iv. p. 229. 
 
 4 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. 
 
I 20 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Wey¬ 
 mouth, promised soon to return, and he was received at Paris 
 with a cordiality that answered his warmest hopes. Deter¬ 
 mined, if possible, to prevent Philip from reaching EnglanclTthe 
 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’. Ever)" 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 Spainsh ships x 
 and swearing. thaX the Pfmee-of-Spain should-set no foot on 
 English sho res. 1 
 
 1 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 Corrv writes to Lord Grey that “ two 
 hundred vessels be in readiness ” in the French harbours. “ There is 
 latelv 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 alien jus pr txclar t 
 facinoris quam artis bonce famam queerant; 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 
 
I 2 I 
 
 The Spanish Marriage 
 
 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, perliaps,lo'r'frfe' own security, suggestedTM't 
 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.” 1 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.” 2 
 
 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. 3 But Carew and his friends might 
 depend on support so long as they would make themselves 
 
 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 ckiefest 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. 
 
 1 Wotton to the Queen: French MSS. bundle xi. State Paper Office. 
 
 2 Noailles to the King of France: Ambassades, vol. iii. 
 
 3 “ 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. 
 
122 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 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 per¬ 
 petually 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 repre¬ 
 sentative of Philip, who was dragged to a gallows, and would 
 have been hanged upon it, had not the spectators interfered. 2 
 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. 3 
 
 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 exten d his 
 confession. Renard carried his ingenuity farther; he called 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 The execution was commenced in earnest. The prince, says Noailles, 
 “ fust souldainement mesne au gibet par ceulx de la part du Roy et de 
 M. Wyatt; et sans quelques homines qui tout a propoz y accoururent, ils 
 l’eussent estrangle; ce que se peult clairement juger par les marques qu’il 
 «n a et aura encores d’icy a long temps au col.”—Noailles to Montmorency: 
 Amhassades, vol. iii. 
 
 3 Diet on qu’elle veult que l’ung d’eulx soit sacrifiS pour tout le peuple. 
 —Ibid. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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. 1 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 him¬ 
 self to drop vague hints that he could tell more if he pleased. 2 
 
 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 counciljnet, but 
 separated without a resolution; on Friday, the 16th, Elizab&th- 
 was examined before the m 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 
 
 1 Ce qui faict juger a beaulcoup de gens que Wyatt ne mourra point, 
 mais que la dicte dame le rendra tant son oblige 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 c p'nions d’icelle dame, et lequele 
 traice ceste composition avecques la femme dudict Wyatt k laquelle comme 
 l’on diet il a asseure la vie de son diet 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. 
 
 2 Noailles says: Wyatt a este condamne a mourir; toutesfois il n’est 
 encores execute et avant que luy pronon?er sa sentence on luy avoit 
 promis tant de belles choses que vaincu par leur doulces paroles oultre sa 
 deliberation, il a accuse beaulcoup de personnages et parle 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 con¬ 
 tradictions, 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 & Elizabeth Ton ne peult encores 
 tomber en preuves suffisantes pour les loys d’Angleterre contre elle.”— 
 Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS. 
 
i 24 Mary Tudor 
 
 there was no evidence to justify so violent a measure. 1 Which 
 of you, then, said Gardiner, with dexterous ingenuity, will be 
 responsible for the safe keeping of her person? 
 
 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, 2 and her hand was 
 more than usually firm. 
 
 “ 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 con¬ 
 sented to anything that might be prejudicial to your person any 
 
 ''*'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. 
 
 8 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. iv. Printed by Ellis, 2nd series, vol. ii. 
 
 P- 255- 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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: 1 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. 
 
 “ I humbly crave but one word of answer from yourself.” 
 
 1 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 blasphemant tous les sermens du monde pour la 
 justification de la dicte Dame Elizabeth.”—Renard to Charles V., April 
 3: Rolls House MSS. 
 
126 Mary Tudor 
 
 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.” 1 
 
 At nine o’clock the next morning—it was Palm Sunday 
 (March 18)—the two lords returned to Elizabeth to te ll 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 incon¬ 
 veniences, 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 re¬ 
 sistance; 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 
 1 Renard. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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.” 1 
 
 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 deter¬ 
 mined to remonstrate, and, if necessary, to insist on a change 
 of course, and Paget undertook to be the bearer of tfti? 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. 2 
 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 
 
 1 Contemporary Narrative: Harleian MSS. 419. Chronicle of Queen 
 Mary, p. 71. Holinshed. . 
 
 * Renard to Charles V., March 22; Rolls House MSS. 
 
i 28 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 
 
 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-wa.s 
 no security for the queen, fpr 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 . 1 
 
 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 . 2 The Houses met, 
 therefore, as usual, as Westminster, and the speech from the 
 throne was read in Mary’s presence by the chancellor. 
 
 Since the last parliament, Gardiner said, the people of Eng¬ 
 land 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 sub¬ 
 jects’ 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 in¬ 
 solently and ignorantly presumed to mutiny against her inten¬ 
 tions, and, in her affection for the commonwealth, her majesty 
 had consented to submit the articles of the marriage to the 
 approval of parliament. 
 
 1 II me repliqua que vivant Elizabeth il n’a espoir 4 la tranquillite du 
 Royaulme, que quant k 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. 
 
 4 Renard. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 129 
 
 Again, her majesty would desire them to take into their con¬ 
 sideration 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 bequeath¬ 
 ing the crown by will might not be, with propriety, extended to 
 her present majesty . 1 
 
 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 . 2 The bill, therefore, 
 passed both Houses by the 12th of April . 3 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 . 4 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 imme¬ 
 diately 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 . 5 Here, however, 
 unanimity was at an end. The paragraph about the succession 
 in the queen’s speech being obviously aimed at Elizabeth, pro¬ 
 duced such an irritation in the council, as well as in parliament, 
 that Renard expected it would end in actual armed conflict . 0 
 
 From the day of Elizabeth’s imprisonment Gardiner had 
 laboured to extort evidence against her by fair means or foul . 7 
 
 1 Noailles, vol. iii. p. 141. 
 
 2 Renard to Charles V., April 7. 3 1 Mary, cap. ii. 
 
 4 See the treaty of marriage between Philip and Mary in Rymer. 
 
 6 1 Mary, cap. i. 
 
 * 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 
 
 7 Holinshed says, Edmund Tremayne was racked, and I have already 
 quoted Gardiner’s letter to Petre, suggesting the racking of “ ,le Wyatt.” 
 
 I 
 
130 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 , 1 
 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 . 2 
 
 The temptation of life having failed, after all, to induce Wyatt 
 to enlarge his confession beyond his first acknowledgments 7 ~rt- 
 was determined to execute him. On the nth of April he was 
 brought out” Of his celly-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 . 3 Finding that 
 his death was inevitable, he determined to make the only repara¬ 
 tion 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: 
 
 “ 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.” 4 
 
 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.” 
 
 1 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. 4x9, and see Holinshed. 
 
 2 L’Admiral s’est colere au grand chamberlain de la Rovne 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. 
 
 3 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, 
 
 •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 other¬ 
 wise 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 coupee, 
 discliargeant advant que de mourir Madame Elizabeth et Courtenay qu’il 
 avoit aulparavant charge de s’estre entendus en son entreprinse sur 
 promesses que Ton luy avoit faictes de luy saulver la vie.”—Noailles, 
 vol. iii. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 131 
 
 “ That which I said then I said,” answered Wyatt, “ but that 
 which I say now is true.” T he executioner did his office, and 
 Wyatt’s work, for good..or. eyil^ was^ndfid.. 
 
 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. 1 2 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 convic¬ 
 tion was at an end. The j udges declared that ag ainst Elizabeth 
 theje-Htas now.iia.qyiden cepand, 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. 3 Perplexed to know how to dispose of her, the ambas¬ 
 sador 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. 
 
 The threatened escape of her sister, too, was but the begin ¬ 
 ni ng oftRe "qrCp.e.nJ«-fiQrrr»w^_ On the 17 th of April Sir~NichoTas 
 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 Throg¬ 
 morton 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 4 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 
 
 1 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 ot his accusations. 
 
 2 Les gens de loy ne treuvent matiere pour la condamner.—Renard to 
 Charles V., April 22: Tytler, vol. ii. 
 
 3 Ibid. And see a passage in the MS., which Mr. Tytler has omitted. 
 
 It is printed at length in Holinshcd. 
 
132 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ Not guilty.” Sir Thomas Bromley urged them to remember 
 themselves. The foreman answered they had found the verdict 
 according to their consciences. 
 
 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, 1 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. 
 
 Since Elizabeth could not be exec uted, the_jcain^L_ffier#-tfee- 
 mo re an xious t o~ca r?y'~the~" 5 ucc.ession Bill. Gardiner’s first 
 desire was that Elizabeth should be excluded by name; but 
 Paget said that this was impossible. 2 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. Follow¬ 
 ing 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 impor¬ 
 tant words were introduced, “ during the queen’s lifetime; ” 3 
 the bill was read a third time, and then disappeared; and Paget 
 had been the loudest of its opponents. 4 
 
 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— 
 
 1 Que tant altere la dicte dame qii’elle a est6 trois jours malade, et n’est 
 encore bien d’elle.—Renard to Charles V.: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 371. 
 
 2 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. 
 
 3 Lords Journals. 
 
 * Renard complains of Paget’s conduct bitterly.—Renard to Charles V., 
 May 1: Tytler, vol. ii. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 133 
 
 a bill for the restoration of the Six Articles, a bill to re-enact 
 the Lollard Statute of Henry IV., De Heretico 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, 1 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 conse¬ 
 quences ; 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. 2 
 
 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 in¬ 
 dulging 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 
 
 1 Commons Journals. 
 
 a Paget to Renard; Tytlcr, vol. ii. p. 382. And compare Renard’s 
 correspondence with the emperor during the month of April .—Rolls 
 House MSS. 
 
134 Mary Tudor 
 
 assume; summer was the dangerous time in England, when the 
 people’s blood was apt to boil. 1 
 
 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 simul¬ 
 taneously tried and sentenced at Cambridge. These six, how¬ 
 ever, 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 wait¬ 
 ing 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 diffi¬ 
 culties. 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 
 
 1 Pour ce qui ordinairement les humeurs des Angloys boulissent plus 
 en 1’este que en autre temps. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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. 1 The bill was read a first time 
 on the day on which it was introduced; on the 4th of May it was 
 read again, 2 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 punish¬ 
 ments which could still be inflicted. 3 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. 
 
 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 Pem¬ 
 broke; 4 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. 5 
 
 On the other hand, twelve noblemen and gentlemen under¬ 
 took to stand by Mary if she would arrest Paget and Pembroke* 
 The chancellor, Sir Robert Rochester, and the Marquis of Win- 
 
 1 Quant Ton a parle de la peyne des heretiques, il a sollicite les sieurs 
 pour non y consentir, y donner lieu a peyne de mort.—Renard to Charles 
 V., May 1. 
 
 2 Lords Journals. 
 
 3 There can, 1 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 heretiques fut agree par toute la noblesse, 
 et qu’ilz fairent dire expressement et publiquement qu’ilz entendoient 
 l’h£resie estre extirpee 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 touch¬ 
 ing 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 inten¬ 
 tions 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. 
 
 4 Renard to Charles V., May 13: Rolls House MSS. 
 
 ‘ Noailles. 
 
136 Mary Tudor 
 
 Chester 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 oppor¬ 
 tunity offered, Arundel and Paget might, at least, be secured. 1 
 
 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 j 
 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 him- ; 
 self be trusted, his fleet could not. On the eve of sailing for the t 
 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 thatTKis 
 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 com¬ 
 plained 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; 2 and, as if finally to complete the queen’s 
 vexation, Lord Bedford wrote that the prince declined the pro¬ 
 tection of her subjects on his voyage, and that his departure was 
 postponed for a few weeks longer. 
 
 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. QnJ:he 19th of May, 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V., May 13: Tytler, vol. ii. 
 
 2 Les ont provoque 4 debatz, les cerrans et poulsans.—Renard to Charles 
 V.: Tyler vol. ii. p. 413. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 137 
 
 Rlizaheth was taken up the river. The princess believed her¬ 
 self that she War being e a r ned "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. 1 A letter from Philip would have been a consoTSTfofTR)' 
 ner 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. 
 
 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 West¬ 
 minster. 2 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 White¬ 
 hall ; 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. 
 
 The trials of the last six months had b egun to tell upon Mary ’s 
 underslanding-;—sl^-wfts-fiT-wirt+r;hyiterical Jongipgsj; ill with 
 the passions'which Gardiner hacTTcmdled and Paget disappointed. 
 A lady who slept in her room told Noailles that she could speak 
 to no one without impatience, ancLtlyit^she believed the whole 
 w orld was i n leagueroTUlffib' h er husband 'frorrfliSr. She found 
 fault witK"evefy me—even wfth’tllS priirctThilliself. Why had 
 he not written ? she asked again and again. Why had she never 
 
 1 Samedy dernier Elizabeth fut tiree de la Tour et menee a Richmond; 
 et dois ledict Richmond l’on l’a conduit k Woodstock pour y estre gardfie 
 surement jusques Ton la fasse aller k Pomfret. Et s’est resjouy le peuple 
 de sa departye, pensant qu’elle fut en liberte, 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 demonstation.—Renard to Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, 
 vol. iv. 
 
 * Machyn’s Diary; Strype’s Memorials of the Reformation. 
 
138 Mary Tudor 
 
 received one courteous word from him? If she heard of mer- 
 chants 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. 1 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. 2 
 
 “ 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.” 3 
 
 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. 4 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. 
 
 It was even so. Philip had submitted to his unwelcome 
 
 1 Le doubte luy est souvent augmentee par plusieurs marchants mariniers 
 et aultres malcontens de son marriage qui venans de France et Espaign 
 luy desguisent et luy controuvent un infinite de nouvelles estranges, les 
 ungs du peu de volunte que le prince a de venir par dega, les aultres 
 d’avoir ouy et entendus combats sur la mer, et plusieurs d’avoir descouvert 
 grand nombre de voisles Francoises avec grand appareil.—Noailles to the 
 King of France: Ambassades, vol. iii. p. 253. 
 
 1 L’on m’a diet 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 diminuee et ses ans multiplier en telle nombre qu’ilz 
 luy courent tous les jours 4 grande interest.—Noailles to the King of 
 France: Ambassades, vol. iii. p. 252. 
 
 3 Ibid. p. 255. 
 
 4 Nuper cum litterarum studia pene extincta jacerent cum salus omnium 
 exigua spe dubiaque penderet quis non fortunae incertos eventus ex- 
 timescebat? Quis non ingemuit et arsit dolore? Pars studia deserere 
 cogebantur; pars hue 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. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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 en¬ 
 deavour to be affable: he would have to hunt with the young 
 lords, and to make presents to them; and, with whatever diffi¬ 
 culty, 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.” 1 
 ' 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 
 fie 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 R.enard 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, per¬ 
 haps to enable her to make her marriage palatable by the 
 restoration of the currency. 2 
 
 Thus preciously freighted, the Spanish fleet, a hundred and 
 fifty ships, large and small, sailed from Corunna at the beginning 
 
 1 “ Homme d’esprit.” — Instructions donnees 4 Philippe, Prince 
 d’Espagne: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 267. 
 
 ’Gresham’s Correspondence: Flanders MSS. State Paper Office. The 
 bullion was afterwards drawn in procession in carts through the London 
 streets. 
 
140 Mary Tudor 
 
 of July. The voyage was weary and wretched. The sea-sickness 
 prostrated both the prince and the troops, and to the sea-sick- 
 ' ness 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; 1 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. 2 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 Wafer. 
 
 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. 3 An enthusiastic eye-witness thus 
 describes Philip’s appearance:— 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 Noailles to the King of France, July 23: A mbassad.es, vol. iii. 
 
 3 Antiquaries dispute whether Philip received the Garter on board his 
 own vessel or after he came on shore. Lord Shrewsbury himself settles 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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.” 1 
 
 Sir Anthony Brown approached, leading a horse with a saddle¬ 
 cloth 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 noble¬ 
 men 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 Plead of the Church of England.” 2 
 
 Here the prince was to remain till Monday to recover from 
 his voyage; perhaps to ascertain, before he left the neighbour¬ 
 hood 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, 3 but he 
 evidently endeavoured to be courteous. With a stomach un¬ 
 recovered 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. 4 The first evening passed off well, and he 
 
 the important point. “ I, the Lord Steward,” Shrewsbury wrote to 
 Wotton, “ at his coming to land, presented the Garter to him.”— Freixch 
 MSS. Mary, State Paper Office. 
 
 1 John Elder to the Bishop of Caithness: Queen Jane and Queen Mary , 
 appendix io. 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. 
 
 2 Baoardo. 
 
 3 Non havendo mai levato la berretta a persona.—Baoardo. 
 
 4 Noailles. 
 
142 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 
 
 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 1 
 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. 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 Crudele pioggia.—Baoardo. 
 
 2 La Dominica Mattina se n’ando a messa et tomato 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 luDgo, mormoravano assai tra di loro.—Baoardo. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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 hav'e~you 
 come to her in such wretched weather.” 1 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 N 
 arrived within the walls of Winchester. 
 
 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 open¬ 
 ing 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 post- v 
 ponement of an interview till morning; but Mary could not 
 wait, and the same night he was conducted into the presence j 
 of his haggard bride, who now, after a life of misery, believed u 
 herself at the open gate of Paradise. Let the curtain fall over 4 
 the meeting, let it close also over the wedding solemnities which A 
 followed with due splendour two days later. There are scenes ~s 
 in life which we regard with pity too deep for words. The un¬ 
 happy 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. Fer-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 under¬ 
 standing, 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. 
 
 1 “ Sire, la Nostra Reina ama tanto l’Attezza vostra ch’ella non vorebbe 
 che pigliasse disagio di caminar per tempi cosi tristi.”—Baoardo. 
 
144 Mary Tudor 
 
 The scene will change for a few pages to the Low Countries. 
 Charles V. more than any other p er son was responsible for this 
 marriage^^He-ten^rteSiTeH 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 FrThce}'~?tffd,To gain 
 his end, he had already led the queen into a course which had 
 y forfeited the regard of her subjects. She-had murdered Lady 
 Jane Grey at the instigation of his ambassador---an d undex -the 
 same -influence she had dene her best to des troy her si ster. 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 Franch 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.” 1 
 
 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 out¬ 
 numbered, 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 
 1 Wotton to the Queen; cypher: French MSS. Mary, bundle xi. 
 
The Spanish Marriage 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. 1 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 ex¬ 
 claimed 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. 2 Neither the 
 
 1 “ 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, vivd 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 pre¬ 
 servation whereof standeth the safety of the whole, and twenty other 
 arguments. Yet was there no remedy, but forth he would, and com¬ 
 manded them that they should march sans plus repliquez. 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. 
 
 2 “ The Emperor, in these nine or ten days following of his enemy, hath 
 showed a great coinage, 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 Liege, 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. 
 
 K 
 
146 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 selfish¬ 
 ness 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 them¬ 
 selves there may be something to love, and something more to 
 admire. 
 
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."jt_ remained tcTBr ingTack her suhi£C ts~to the bosom Y 
 opthe Catholic Church. "Reginald'Pole had by this time awoke ' 
 froml!ome~p 5 rt 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.! 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. 2 
 
 1 Renard. 
 
 * Que pourroit estre Ton auroit mis en avant au consistoire cette com¬ 
 mission par affection particuliere pour plustot nuirc, que servir aux 
 consciences; attendu qu’ilz sont partiaul.x pour les princes Chrestiens, 
 et souvent meslent les choses seculieres et prophanes avec les conseils 
 divins et ecclesiastiques.—Renard to Philip: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 147 
 
148 Mary Tudor 
 
 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, contrast¬ 
 ing 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; 1 but, whatever befell 
 him, his life was in God’s hands. 
 
 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; 
 
 1 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. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 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 restora¬ 
 tion 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. 1 
 
 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; 2 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; 3 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. 
 
 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 ammo 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. 
 
 1 Scrissi alia Regina non la volendo contristare condolermi di cio, che 
 io 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 matri¬ 
 moniale d’un Re Hispano et d’una Regina Inglese ella vi doverse ritornare. 
 —Pole to Morone: Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. iv. 
 
 2 E benche S. Sanctita non havesse patienza secundo l'ordinario suo 
 di leggere o di udir la lettera, nondimeno le dissi talmente la summa che 
 mostro restare satisfattissima, e disse esser piu 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. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 
I 50 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 Ormaneto, a confidential agent, carried the despatch to Flanders, 
 and on Ormaneto’s arrival, the legate, believing that his em¬ 
 barrassments 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. 2 
 
 Both Arra s 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; 3 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 settle¬ 
 ment after it had been made; 4 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 fort¬ 
 night after the date of the brief, told him that his holiness was 
 still unable to come to a resolution; 5 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 
 
 1 Powers granted by tbe Pope to Cardinal Pole: Burnet’s Collectanea. 
 
 3 Charles V. to Renard: Granvclle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 3 Che gran diflerenza sarebbe se fosse stata commessa la cosa o al S. 
 Cardinale, o alii Serenissimi Principi.—Ormaneto to Priuli, July 31: 
 Burnet’s Collectanea. 
 
 4 Salvo tamen in his, in quibus propter rerum magnitudinem et gravi- 
 tatem ha?c sancta sedes merito tibi videretur consulenda, nostro et praefatae 
 sedis beneplacito et confirmatione.—Powers granted by the Pope to 
 Cardinal Pole: Ibid. 
 
 6 Nondimeno non si risolveva in tutto, com anco non si risolveva nella 
 materia delli beni ecclesiastici, sopra la qual sua Sanctita ha parlato molte 
 volte variamente.—Morone to Pole, July 13: Ibid. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 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. 1 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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 re¬ 
 imposition of the pope’s authority was a far more ticklish matter 
 than the restoration of orthodoxy, 3 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 intro¬ 
 duce 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. 4 
 
 Once more the cup of hope was dashed to the ground, and 
 Reginald Pole was sent back to his monastery at Dhilihghen 
 like a child unfit to be trusted with a dangerous plaything. In 
 times of trial his pen was his refuge, and Tn an appear to Philip 
 he poured out his characteristic protest. 
 
 1 n s^auroit bien user de moderation quant aux biens occupez; mais 
 que toutesfois il fauldroit que se fust de sorte que la reste de la Chrestiente 
 n’en print malvais exemple; et signamment que aucuns Catholiques qui 
 tiennent biens ecclesiastiques soubz leur main ne voulsissent pretendre 
 d’eulx approprier avec cest exemple; et que de vouloir laisser les biens 4 
 ceulx qui les occupent, il ne conviendroit pour ce qu’il sembleroit que ce 
 seroit racheter, comme a deniers comptans l’auctorite du siege apostolique 
 en ce coustel- 14 . The Emperor to Renard: Granvclle Papers, vol. iv. pp. 
 282, 283. 
 
 2 Nous sgavons que le diet Cardinal n’a commission de presser si chaulde- 
 ment en cette affaire—ains avons heu soubz main advertissement du 
 nunce propre de sa Sainctete que la resolution de la commission dudict 
 Cardinal est que toutes choses se traictent comm’il nous semblera pour 
 le mieulx et qu’il tienne cecy pour regie.— Granv. Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 3 Trop plus chastolleux que celuy de la vraye religion.—Renard to the 
 Emperor: Ibid. p. 287. 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
I 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 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 Man-. But Man- 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 Man-, or is it fear? She 
 rejoices, that 1 know, but she also fears. Yet why should Man- 
 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 faH^apd great will be the fall thereof.” 1 
 
 The pleading^ ay powerful, yet it could Bear no fruits—thg___ 
 door"coulcT noPlTTl 1 ‘Bj t h e pope pronounced the magic words 
 Neither Philip nor Mary was in a position 
 
 which held i t close 
 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 
 thev went to Richmond. The entry into London was fixed for 
 the 18th; after which, should it pass off without disturbance, 
 1 Pole to Philip: Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. iv. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 1 53 
 
 ! the Spanish fleet might sail from Southampton Water. The 
 prince himself had as yet met with no discourtesy; but disputes 
 had broken out early b etween the English, and Spanish retinues, 
 and petty taunts and msolenceslia/1 passed among them. 1 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. 2 The council soon provided 
 for their ordinary comforts, but increase of acquaintance pro¬ 
 duced no improvement of feeling. 
 
 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. 3 
 
 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. 4 
 
 1 Avecques d’aultres petits depportements de mocqueric qui croissent 
 tous les jours d’ung couste et d’aultre.—Noailles to the King of France, 
 August i. 
 
 2 Noailles, and compare Pole to Miranda, Oct. 6: Episl. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
 3 Chronicle of Queen Mary. Contemporary Narrative: MS. Hat Id an, 
 
 419. 4 Chronicle of Queen Mary. 
 
i 54 Mary Tudor 
 
 ) 
 
 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, di'P" 
 ' persed to their counties; and on the ioth of September, Pem- 
 broke, Shrewsbury, and Westmoreland were believed to have 
 raised a standard of revolt at York. Frays were continually 
 , breaking outin the streets, and there was~a~scan'dalQurbra-wt - 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 
 y. f eeling in a l l class£s,.high and Igw^vas.as Bactas possible. 
 
 There was dread, too, that Philip was bent on drawing 
 England into the war. The French ambassador had been in¬ 
 vited 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. 1 
 
 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 
 tjju—propriety of. his hastening, like aa obSdteTT^on^ Td'ffre 
 ^assistance of his father. Under pretence of escort he could take 
 withTurira 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 c 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 
 
 1 Tant et si longuement que se seroit l’utilite et commodite de ce diet 
 Royaulme d’Angleterre.—Noailles to the King of France. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 155 
 
 already panting for freedom, and eager to utilise the instruments 
 which he had bought so dearly. 1 
 
 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 ha,cl 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 pla n sugges ted by Lord Paget seemed, 
 after all, to promise the LeST^- Eo marTyTier to PhiTfberC-of.-S^Sqx, 
 and thus 'make IIS 'e- ^Mift r^as Asecond Tu^ ^ England 
 
 with"the 1 nT hat case would have to recognise her 
 sister’sTankandexpeetations. 
 
 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 oL public., feeling did not improve when, at the 
 end of S eptember . 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 m~sfecret to visit her; 
 whether his sermons were orthodox; whether Re 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 aritcles 
 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. 2 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 294. 
 
 2 Renard to the Bishop of Arras: Ibid. p. 330. 
 
i 56 Mary Tudor 
 
 The Bishop of London was called to account for having 
 venfUrEtLsoTash 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. 1 But the attitude of the city was too decided even 
 / for the stubborn Bonner, he gave.way sullenly, and suspe nded, 
 the execu tion^ofJ a -is -or d e r, .. 
 
 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. 2 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 com¬ 
 pelled to be reasonable. 
 
 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-fee ling was gradu ally aba ting.; 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. 3 The queen believed herself 
 enceinte, and if her hopes were well founded, a thousand causes 
 of restlessness would be disposed of; byiJEtulip. musfe--netT)e_ 
 permitted t o harass her with hkJm patver^R. to-.be_goqe. She 
 had gathered something of his intentions, and was already pre¬ 
 tending more uncertainty than in her heart she felt, lest he 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 321. 
 
 2 Entre les seigneurs et gens de la noblesse et de credit et administration, 
 il y a telle partialite que l’un ne se fie de l’autre.—Ibid. 
 
 3 Les choses se vont accommoder a quoy sert la saison de l’hiver et ce 
 que en la court l’on y danse souvent; que les Espaignolz et Angloys com- 
 mencent a 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 Chrestiente, 
 et pour restablir et asseurer les estatz de vostre majeste troublez par ses 
 ennemis.—Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 319. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 1 57 
 
 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 ieave' Fnj’ jftfUl l [jlIuiuk, 
 Religion will be overthrown, tfiequeerTs person w iTTFiHiTTfrtfipTFi 
 and parliament will not meet. A door will be opened for the 
 practices of France; the country may throw itself in self-pro¬ 
 tection 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 common¬ 
 wealth.” 1 
 
 So matters stood at the beginning of October, when parlia¬ 
 ment was about to be summoned, and the great experiment to 
 be tried whefetei I?Tiylan4-w mil(j qona ent tcy be re-united to 
 Qathol ic Chris tendom. The writs went out on thlTT5th-,~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 t o 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.” 2 These general direc¬ 
 tions 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. 3 In the country the decisive failure 
 of Carew, Suffolk, and Crofts s howed tFm? thp wpiVht nf public 
 •feelin g w as still in favour_ q£- the queen notwithstanding" ffi fe 
 
 1 Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 320. 
 
 ■ Royal Circular; printed in Burnet’s Collectanea. 
 
 3 Les lettres de la convocation du parlement sont este pourjectees sur 
 la vieille forme dont l’on usoit au temps du Roy Henry septieme pour avoir 
 en icelluy gens de bien Catholiques: et a propos et scion ce ceulx de Londre 
 en publique assemblee ont choisiz quatre personnaiges que Ton tient estre 
 fort saiges et modestes.—Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. 
 iv p. 324. 
 
158 Mary Tudor 
 
 Span ish mar riage; and the reaction against the excesses of the 
 R^eTontra!ti5h'Tiad 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 abso¬ 
 lutely intolerable. 
 
 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 recog¬ 
 nised. If in accepting these terms he would agree to a humiliat¬ 
 ing reconciliation, only those who objected on doctrinal grounds 
 to the papal religion were inclined to persist in refusing a return 
 of his friendship. T he dream of an independent orthodox 
 Anglicanism which had once foun'iT'IavoTir wi tfTTrafdiner was 
 fading away. The indifferent and the orthodox alike desired to~ 
 put an end ?o 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, 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 159 
 
 but throughout Europe;” “ t he queen, o n her _a cc ession, had 
 promised a toleration 1 Hmd tt-WSs u seless to p rovoEe 
 
 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.” 1 2 Finally, Renard still thought the 
 legate had better remain abroad. The recon ciliatio n, if it could 
 I be effected at all, could be managed "Better wi thoutjiis irritating 
 presence. ' " .. 
 
 ffnTg -hi mself -had- found- -the emperor- more gracious. Charles 
 professed the greatest.anxiety th»^thc-pnpq 1 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 holi¬ 
 ness 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 w r ould 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 
 Engl and believed one doctrine as little as another; 3 * * * * 8 but they 
 
 1 Le mandement et declaration que vostre Majeste a faict publier sur 
 le point de la religion, laissant la liberte a ung chacun pour tenir quelle 
 
 religion l’on vouldra.—Renard to Philip and Mary: Granvclle Papers, 
 
 vol. iv. p. 327. 
 
 1 Et que sa Sainctete le fonde in pietate Christiana et ecelesiastica quia 
 
 nunquam Ecclesia claudit gremium, semper indulget exemplo Salvatoris, 
 
 et Evangelium semper consolatur, semper remittit, et sur plusieurs aultres 
 
 fondemens generaulx.—Ibid. p. 326. 
 
 8 Perciocche quanto alia 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. 
 
x6o Mary Tudor 
 
 limited Rome , they hated the religious orders, they hated 
 cardinals; and, as to the landsT'omftT'tft'e' cKurcR~relmqulsh 
 them ? 1 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 reserva¬ 
 tions; nor could he come to any decision till he heard again 
 from England. 
 
 The legate was almost hopeless; yet his time of triumph— 
 such triumph as it was—had nearly arrived. The que e n’s sup- 
 posed pregnancy had increased her influence;' and, constant 
 herself in the midsf”of genoral 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; 2 and although the court would 
 receive him as legate de latere, he had better enter the country I 
 only as a cardinal and ambassador, till he could judge of the state 
 of things for himself. 3 On these terms the commissioners might 
 conduct him to the queen’s presence. 
 
 Th e bearers of this communication were Lord Paget and Sir 
 
 1 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. \ 
 
 2 The greatest and only means to procure the agreement of the noble¬ 
 men 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. 
 
 3 Tytler, vol. ii. p. 446. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 161 
 
 Edward Hastings, accompanied, it is curious to observe, by 
 ■ Sir W iiTlarrrGetil: 1 - “ “““ 
 
 Th ey pres ent’d themselves to the emperor, who, after the 
 report whicFTthey brought wTtli thern^'madeTio 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. 2 
 
 1 Cecil had taken no formal part in Mary’s government, but his hand¬ 
 writing 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 
 i for either. 
 
 It was the view of common sense. It was not the view of a saint. To 
 i Latimer, also, technical theology was indifferent—indifferent in pro¬ 
 s' portion to his piety. But he hated lies—legalised or unlegalised—he 
 could not tolerate them, and he died sooner than seem to tolerate them. 
 
 I The counsels of perfection, however, lead to conduct neither possible, nor, 
 perhaps, desirable for ordinary men. 
 
 1 Charles was particular in his inquiries of Mary’s prospect of a family, 
 j 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 
 
 L 
 
162 Mary Tudor 
 
 The effect on Pole of the commissioners’ arrival “ there 
 needed not,” as they said themselves, “ many words to 
 declare.” 1 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-Tasfnon~fI!at 
 might do good, so only that he might come. 
 
 Little time was lost in preparation. Parliament met on th§, 
 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 Princ e jq£ 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 maffying''f nevertheless, Renard 
 said, she would be disposed of, as the emperor had advised, 2 
 CQuldJ^e-quem.LeJjQdiiced .ta.coasent. 
 
 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 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Paget and Hastings to the Queen: Ibid. p. 459 
 
 2 Neantmoins il sera necessaire achever avec elle selon l’advis de vostre 
 Majeste.—Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 163 
 
 apostle of the church moved in an atmosphere of marvel. The 
 Calais bells, which rang as they entered the town, were of pre¬ 
 ternatural 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.” 1 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. 2 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 ji£~ 
 ! his arri val spread, respect or curiosity rapidly swelled his train. 
 TheEaFTof 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 .peo ple towards the papal legate, t hey gave to ReginalJHPote*. 
 1 the welcome dua-tn an -E ng l ish nobleman.^ 
 
 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 arch¬ 
 bishop’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 pre¬ 
 served through a thousand dangers for the salvation of his 
 country; and, firing up at last in a blaze of enthusiasm, he 
 
 1 Dio gran tempo perduto e hora ritrovato.—Descriptio Reductions 
 Angliae: Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
 2 Imbarcatosi adunque sua S. R. ad un hora di giorno, passo a Doure 
 nell’ Isola in tre here et mezza che fu camino di qitaranta iniglia fatto con 
 extraordinaria prestezza.— Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
164 Mary Tudor 
 
 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.” 1 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.” 
 
 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, how¬ 
 ever, 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. 
 
 1 “ Tu es Polus, qui aperis nobis Polum regni cadorum. Aer, flumina, 
 terra, parietes ipsi, omnia denique te desiderant. Quamdiu abfuisti 
 omnia fuerunt tristia et adversa. In adventu tuo, omnia rident, omnia 
 laeta, 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 v r alls, and the allusion was to the defacement of 
 the cathedral. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 1 65 
 
 The king and queen were at dinner, the arrival not being 
 expected till the afternoon. Philig^jpse—instantly from..._the 
 table, hurried out, and caught tire legate in his arms. The 
 queen followed to the head of the grand staircase; and when 
 £flje!reached-her, she threw herself on his breast, and kissed 
 him, crying that his coming gave her as much joy as the posses- 
 siorT'df her kingdom. TJjeCarduml, in corresponding ecstasy, 
 exclaimed, in the words of me"angei to the Virgin, “ Ave Maria 
 gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus.” 1 
 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. 
 
 “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.” 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 “ Cardinalis cum reginam salutaret, nec ulla humana verba occurrerent 
 tali muliere digna, Sanctis Scripturarum verbis abuti non verebatur, sed 
 in prinio congressu iisdem quibus matrem Dei salutavit Angelus, Reginam 
 Polus alloquitur, Ave Maria,” etc.—Salkyns to Bullinger: Epistolce 
 Tigurinae, p. 169. 
 
 2 “ II Signor Legato rispose che Dio havea voluto, che fusse tardato a 
 tempo piu maturo, perche egli havesse potuto dire a sua Altezza come 
 diceva Benedictus fructus ventris tui.”—Descriptio Reductionis Angliae. 
 
i 66 Mary Tudor 
 
 in her womb.” 1 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. 
 
 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 com¬ 
 missions in which the pope relinquished formally his last reserva¬ 
 tions, 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 con¬ 
 summation had arrived. 2 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 TeDeum 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 s 
 The queen was splendidly dressed, and it was observed that 
 she threw out her person to make her supposed condition as 
 conspicuous as possible. 3 When all were in their places, the 
 chancellor rose. 
 
 “ 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’ 
 
 1 Descriptio Reductionis Anglias. 
 
 2 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 attache 4 la porte de son palais, v 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? ’ ” 
 
 3 Contemporary Diary: MS Harleian, iv. 19. 
 

 Reconciliation with Rome 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 tlW 
 commonwealth, have restored me to be a member of the same; 
 and of a man having no place either here or elsewhere within this 
 
 I 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 p 
 ingratitude could not pull from me the affection and desire that U) 
 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 toTJecIare untoyou 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 in¬ 
 crease 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 
 
168 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 had continued to heap benefit upon benefit on the favoured 
 people, even making them a present of Ireland, “ which per¬ 
 tained 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 i 
 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 con¬ 
 spired 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, 
 bom 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 acknow¬ 
 ledge him to be the vicar of God, and to have power from above 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 169 
 
 —for 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 dis¬ 
 tinct, so have they two several effects and operations. Secular 
 princes be ministers of God to execute vengeance upon trans¬ 
 gressors and evil livers, and to preserve the well-doers and 
 innocents from injury and violence; and this power is repre¬ 
 sented 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 com¬ 
 mitted 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 > 
 I 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 
 
17° Mary Tudor 
 
 God, and, next, to {he conservation of your commonwealth, 
 surety, and J 'flu b** 
 
 T he speech was listened to Wy -sucfTas could hear 7 t with pro¬ 
 found 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. Ainong 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.” 1 
 
 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 dis¬ 
 cussed 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. 2 
 The chancellor arranged with Pole the forms which should be 
 
 1 The writer of the Italian “ Description” says that Bagenall gave way 
 the next day. The contemporary narrative among the Harleian MSS. 
 savs that he persisted, and refused to kneel at the absolution. 
 
 2 “ Mentre la casa alta mandava a far sapcre la sua conclusiune alia casa 
 bassa, la casa bassa mandava anch’ ella per fare intendere il medesimo alia 
 casa alta, sicche 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 Anglia. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 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. 
 
 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 mis¬ 
 cellaneous 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 
 
172 Mary Tudor 
 
 at which the Houses had arrived. Then turning to the Lords 
 and Comm ons, he asked if they continued in the same rrtflwk' 
 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 asse nted. The chancellor drew 
 a scroll from under his robe, ascenned the platform, and pre¬ 
 sented 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, th e Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons 
 of the .presejqF~p' 3 ltiaiiient aSSHhliledi - representing' the'Tvhble 
 body of the reaku oi-Ehglaod. and dominions of uift sSUlb, "m 
 our own names particularly, and also of the said body univers¬ 
 ally, 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—de- dt_:. :■> : repentant for th e 
 
 schism and di:. e committed in this realm and dominions 
 
 of the same, agaijutm Te 'said See Aposto lic, 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 know¬ 
 ledge 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 never¬ 
 theless 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 bv 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 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 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.” 1 
 
 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 unib^of-aur...liL>ther.. thjg _Holy Ch urch, in the 
 name of theTatherJof the Son, and of the Holy 7 THbsf?*~ 
 
 Ami cist'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 
 
 1 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. 
 
174 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 tom 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.” 1 
 
 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 over¬ 
 come 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 ! Who¬ 
 ever 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 
 1 Descriptio Reductionis Angli®: Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 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 reconcilia¬ 
 tion of this people to Christ and the church. 1 
 
 “ 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 bom together? 
 but Mary has brought forth the nation of England before the 
 time of that delivery for which we all are hoping! ” 
 
 T enable t o exha^.t itself, ip, wo rds, the C atholic enthusiasm 
 flowed over in procession s 1 in ser mons. masseffr i> »^_‘¥» - DeziM. 
 Gardiner at Paul’s Cross, onTthe 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 popefe efati 
 a nuncio to urge that, in the presence of this great mercy, peace 
 should be mady with where the king was devoted to the 
 
 rEnrqEJ the f^thnlir powers wouIcTHTETI' 1 iave~thecoT?fm and of 
 Europe, and the heretics could be destroyed. 2 One thing only 
 
 1 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 matri- 
 monio favit; quod sane videtur prae se ferre magnam summi illius regis 
 similitudinem, qui mundi litres a regalibus sedibus a patre demissus fuit, 
 ut esset virginis sponsus et filius, et hdc ratione universum genus humanum 
 consolaretur ac servaret. Sic enim hie rex maximus omnium qui in terns 
 sunt haeres, 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 adjutortm ad 
 reconciliandos Christo et Ecclesiae hos populos praBberet.”—Pole to the 
 Pope: Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
 * Pallavicino. 
 
iy 6 - Mary Tudor 
 
 seemed forgotten, that the transaction was a bargain. The 
 p apal par ^pnliadJbagfi thrus t upo n criminals, whose hearts were- 
 soculpaHy indifferentThaf it was necessaiyi. to bribe them to 
 ac cept i t; and the conditions oFtKe^Smpromise, even yet, were ' 
 far from concluded. 
 
 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, 1 
 the ecclesiastical faction began to agitate for a reconsideration 
 of the question. Their friends in parliament said that the dis¬ 
 pensation 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. 2 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 un¬ 
 reality; and the practical English clergy desired substantial 
 restorations which their eyes could see and their hands could 
 handle. 
 
 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 Mort¬ 
 main, and afterwards the abolition of lay impropriations, the 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor: GranveUe Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 " “ It was this morning told me by one of the Emperor’s council, who I 
 mishked much the matter, that a preacher of ours whose name he rehearsed, J 
 beateth the pulpit jollily in England for a restitution of abbey lands. It j 
 is a strange thing in a well-ordered commonwealth that a subject should 1 
 be so hardy to cry unto the people openly such learning, whereby your 1 
 winter work may in the summer be attempted with some storm. These 1 
 unbridled preachings were so much misliked in the ill-governed time as j 
 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 j 
 consider it, as it is more than necessary to be looked unto. The party j 
 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 j 
 clear who the offender was. Perhaps it was Weston, Dean of Westminster > 
 and Prolocutor of Convocation. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 *93 
 
 the stake or on his way to it. 1 He was carried down on horse¬ 
 back 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 fri> ndship 
 she could.” 
 
 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.” 2 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 intrud *r, did not at 
 first know him. Kingston told him his name, and then, burst¬ 
 ing into tears, said:— 
 
 “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.” 
 
 1 Mandate for the execution of Hooper: Burnet’s Collectanea. * Foxe. 
 
 N 
 
194 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 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 en¬ 
 forced 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 thou¬ 
 sand 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 gun¬ 
 powder was tied between his legs, and as much more under either 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 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. w ag t ' 11 
 after th ree-q uajtejsoLanJiciuLQ f torment that he at last exp ired, y 
 
 The same day, at the same hour, Rowland Taylor was burnt 
 f 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 con¬ 
 cluded 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 
 
196 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. Where¬ 
 fore 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 con¬ 
 ditions 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.” 1 
 
 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 condemna¬ 
 tion in Bonner’s prisons. Xhe enemies of the church were to 
 jijlhmit or--diftn. So said Gaminer, m the nam e~of»^ ho . Englia th 
 'priesthood, with the passion oT'S~fierC£ leveiige. So saldthe 
 legate -and the qneep r in the delirious belief t hat they were 
 chosen instruments of .Proviflenfie^. 
 
 So, however, did not say the English lay statesmen. The 
 1 Hooper to his friends: Foxe, vol. vi. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 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 execu¬ 
 tion, 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 . 1 
 
 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 . 2 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 . 3 With such a humour abroad, 
 
 1 “ L’evesque de Londres avec les autres evesques assembleez en ce 
 lieu pour l’execution du statut conclu en dernier Parlement sur le faict 
 de la religion, a fait brusler trois heretiques; 1’ung en ce lieu et les deux 
 autres en pays; et sont apres pour continuer contre les obstinez: dont les 
 nobles et le peuple heretique murmure et s’altere; selon que l’ay faict 
 entendre au roy par ung billet par escript duquel la copie va avec les 
 presentes; et la noblesse tousjours desire d'avoir occasion d’attirer le 
 peuple et le faire joindre k r6volte avec elle; et pr^voys si Dieu n’v remedie, 
 ou que telle precipitation ne se modere, les choses prendront dangereux 
 succes, et signamment les partiaulx, contre le chancelier ne perdront ceste 
 commodite de vengeance. . . . Les dictes conseilliers se retirent de 
 n£goces. Paget se voyant en la male grfice 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 sejoumer par deqfi apres le depart du roy, je 
 n’ay peu dGlaisser de supplier tres humblement vostre majeste me excuser 
 . . . je suys certain Ton me tueroit incontinant apres ledict parlement,” 
 etc.—Renard to Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. pp. 400-402. 
 
 1 “ Et a l’on diet que plusieurs . . . se sont voulu voluntairement 
 mettre sur le buche a coste de ceulx que Ton brusloit.”—Ibid. p. 404. 
 
 3 “ Un bourgeois estant interrouge par ledict evesque de Londres se 
 souffriroit bien le feug, respondist qu’il en fist l’experience: et aiant fait 
 apporter une chandelle allum6e, 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 illustra¬ 
 tion of Bonner’s brutality, says that the Bishop himself held the hand. 
 But Renard’s is probably the truer version. 
 
198 Mary Tudor 
 
 jt^seemed to Renard that the Lords had only to give the sig nal, 
 andTten^em-arrd the'bisllfips-would be overwhelmed. 
 
 Hefexpected 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, there¬ 
 fore, invited to rise in arms, drive out the Spaniards, revolu¬ 
 tionise religion, tear down the enclosures of the commons, and 
 proclaim Courtenay king under the title of Edward VII . 1 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 notwith¬ 
 standing, 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 . 2 
 
 i Meantim e. Philip, who had pined for freedom after six weeks’ 
 experience of his Ljridej was'becoming unmanageably impatient? 
 A paper of advice arid 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 
 
 1 Renard to Charles V.: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 403. 
 a Renard to Charles V.: Ibid. pp. 404, 405. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 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 ; 1 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. 
 
 “ 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 . 2 
 
 “ Further, your highness will do well to weigh the uncertainty 
 of the succession. Should the queen’s pregnancy p rove a 
 mistake, the here tics will nlacfl t heir hopes In Elizabe th: ana 
 fere you - 
 
 "m a difficulty whateverBe done; 
 hfr fip.t aside, the crown will go to the Queen of 
 succe ed, sh e - w i ll restore - h eresy, and ji ajiiral l 'y^ at te ^- T iei-se rF^ - 
 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 . 3 
 
 “ 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 
 
 for if Elizab 
 ■f Scots; if she 
 
 1 “ Et combien l’on pouvoit requerir plus de civilite en la Reyne.—Renard 
 to Philip: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 394. 
 
 * “ Les gens d’eglise ne sont refornffies, il y a plusieurs abuz qui donnent 
 scandale et maulvaise impression, et ilz ne respondent aux offices auxquelz 
 ilz sont appellez.”—Ibid. p. 395. 
 
 s “ Donner ce contentement 4 la royne d’avoir intention de asseurer et 
 establir ses affaires et la secourir comme bon Seigneur et mari.” 
 
200 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 cruelty, and the legate must see that a better example is set by 
 the clergy themselves . 1 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. 
 
 “ 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 
 
 her sister, and, on your part, promise that you will be her friend, 
 and assist her whereyou can-find.opportunity.”. 
 
 ~ rrr * JI '. r -' 
 
 1 “ Que ps choses de la religion l’on ne use de precipitation pawpunition ( 
 eruelle, ains avec la moderation, et mansuetude requise, et dont l'eglise \ 
 a tousjours use; retirant le peuple de 1’erreur par doctrine et predication, ( 
 et que si ce n'est un acte scandaleux Ton ne passe oultre en chastoy que 
 puisse alterer le peuple et le desgouter, que la reformation requise pour 
 le bon example, soit introduicte sur les gens de l’eglise comme le legat 
 advisera pour le mieulx.”—Renard to Philip: Granveile Papers, vol. iv. 
 
 P- 395 - 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MARTYRS 
 
 The ..^otestijjf^gmardagainst the persecution receiv.od no 
 
 attention. ... — ■ • 
 
 The i nquisitio n established by the legate was not to commence 
 till Easter: but the prisons AVcre~aiready''ablm"TihTly - TiTpplifid 
 wilh 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 prin¬ 
 cipally 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 indigna¬ 
 tion 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 Col¬ 
 chester. 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.” 1 
 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 
 1 Foxe, vol. vi. 
 
 201 
 
202 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 Another priest, 
 going one day into Brentwood Church, found Hunter reading 
 the Bible there. 
 
 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 occupa¬ 
 tion 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 
 
 1 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 ti ustworthy; 
 so far, that is to say, as there are means of testing him. 
 
The Martyrs 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 • afr-Garmttrfchea, 
 whose fate v^as peculiarly unprovoked and cruel. 
 
 Robfiti^Ferrars, who twenty-seven years before carried a 
 faggot w tK""Anfhony Dalaber in High Street at Oxford, had 
 been appointed by Somerset Bishop of St. David’s. He was a 
 
204 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Northumber¬ 
 land an elaborate series of complaints against him. He was 
 charged with neglecting his books and his preaching, and spend¬ 
 ing 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 godli¬ 
 ness,” “ 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, 1 appointed two god¬ 
 fathers and two godmothers contrary to the ordinance, making 
 his son a monster and himself a laughing-stock. 
 
 “ 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 
 
 1 Wherefore it came to pass that Hannah bare a son, and called his 
 name Samuel, saying, Because I have asked him of the Lord, i Samuel 
 i. 20. 
 
The Martyrs 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 neigh¬ 
 bours; 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, “ think¬ 
 ing 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 
 lay behind, and is indicated in a vague statement that he had 
 exposed 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 
 so 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; other- 
 
2o6 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 wise, however, Ferrars was unobnoxious politically and person¬ 
 ally. 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 nth of jMarch, he was condemned and de¬ 
 graded ; 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. 1 
 
 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. 2 An opportunity, however, seemed to offer itself to 
 him of accomplishing a service to Europe. 
 
 1 Foxe, vol. vii. 
 
 J Noailles to the King of France, April 5 and April 17. Montmorency 
 to Noailles, April 21. Noailles to Montmorency, April 30: Ambassades, 
 vol. iv. 
 
The Martyrs 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 insig¬ 
 nificant. 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 home¬ 
 steads 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 Pied¬ 
 mont, and had pushed forward its northern frontier to Marien- 
 bourg 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 Crepy, 
 lasted only while the combatants were taking breath; and those 
 who would attribute the extravagances of human folly to super¬ 
 natural 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 extin¬ 
 guished; 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 expecta¬ 
 tions. 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 
 
2o8 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 re¬ 
 mained 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. 1 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.” 2 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. 
 
 About the 20th of April she withdrew to Hampton Court for 
 entire quiet. TJfe-Foekergjand the nurses were in readiness, and 
 a cradle stood open to receive ITie'TSyal-mfaflt.—.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. 3 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 
 
 'Letters to and from Sir Thomas Gresham: MS. Flanders, Mary, 
 State Paper Office. 
 
 3 Strype’s Memorials. s Machyn’s Diary. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 177 
 
 punishment of heretics, the destruction of all the English Prayer- 
 books and Bibles, the revival of the act De Hceretico 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. 1 
 
 The petition expressed the views of Gardiner, and was prob¬ 
 ably 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 
 i 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 
 i 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 
 I 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 work¬ 
 ing 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. T he la wyers went 
 beyond the clef^ffir^mith^Alreqwwmrrf the pope ;Thti'flawyers 
 j also said TtrrprrprrlracFTIO^iglTte’oV^TIiFTHnrroTtffities 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 
 
 ’ Demands of the Lower House of Convocation, December, 1554 : 
 printed in Wilkins’s Concilia. 
 
 M 
 
178 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Win¬ 
 chester, 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 Pro¬ 
 testants were in their enemies’ hands. 1 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. 
 
 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 
 
 '“La ehambre haulte y faict difficulty pour ce que l’auctorite et 
 jurisdiction des evesques est autorizee et renouvellee, et que le peine 
 semble trop griefve. Mais Ton tient qu’ilz s’accorderont par la pluralite.” 
 —Renard to the Emperor, December 21: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 181 
 
 set themselves to the fulfilment of their promise to undo the acdl 
 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 pre¬ 
 decessors. The^a pal_ s^pH'inaL^—the— secularisation of t he 
 
 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 a uthority of the Holy 
 .See to pronounce upon the matter at a ll, the legal opinion might 
 be embodied also as J 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^pepe i S _ troiiagss was bought 
 and sold for a price, he said, and he would soonefigo baclcTb 
 Rome, ancPleave-hTS 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. 1 
 
 So keen was the debate that there was not so much as a 
 Christmas recess. Christmas Day was kept as a holyday. On 
 
 1 “ Le parlement faict instance que, en statut de la dicte obedience la 
 dicte dispense soit inseree, ce que le diet cardinal ne veult admettre, a 
 ce que ne semble la dicte obedience avoir este rachetee; et est passee si 
 avant la dicte difficulty que le diet cardinal a declare qu’il retourneroit 
 plutot 4 Rome et delaisseroit la chose imparfaite que consentir a chose 
 contre l’auctorite dudict S. Siege, et de si grande prejudice.”—Renard to 
 the Emperor, December: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
178 Mary Tudor 
 
 Ke 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. 1 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 
 accusto med to success. that^ a.a^«^^her-s Sl 3 trfp*. 0 Uld oTda'm ■ 
 all that she desired. The object, of..the court was to secure thej 
 regency for Philip,.with full sovereign powers, should she die 
 leaving a child; should she die childless, to make him her suc¬ 
 cessor. 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 unani¬ 
 mous refusal. 2 
 
 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, 3 “ 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-bom subjects of this realm, and partly being 
 brought in hither from sundry foreign countries, hath been sown 
 
 '• “ 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 a la basse par laquelle il mettait en advant s’il n’estoit pas raison- 
 nable que le filz secourust le pere, voullant dire de ce roy a l’Empereur. 
 Ce qui fut si bien recueilly du tiers estat, si promptment et avecques 
 grande raison responau, comme par le dernier parlement et le traite de 
 mariaige d’entre ce roy et royne cela avoit este et estoit tellement con- 
 sidere, qu’il n’estoit plus besoign mettre telles choses en advant pour les 
 fake entrer a la guerre.”—Noailles to the King of France: Ambassades, 
 vol. iv. p. 76. 
 
 2 “ Je vous puis dire, Sire, que toutes ces choses ont passe bien loing 
 de l’esperance qu’il avoit, puisqu’il s’attendoit de se faire couronner, 
 comme despuis six jours il en avoit particulierement faict rechercher 
 ceulx de la basse chambre dudict parlement qui luv ont tous d’une voix 
 rejett£.”—Noailles to the King of France: Ambassades, vol. iv. p. 137. 
 
 2 1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 181 
 
 1 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 know- 
 ledged 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:— 
 
 “ The Act against obtaining Dispensations from Rome for 
 Pluralities and non-Residence. 1 
 
 “ The Act that no person shall be cited out of the Diocese 
 where he or she dwelleth. 2 
 
 “ The Act against Appeals to the See of Rome. 3 
 “ The Act against the Payment of Annates and First-fruits to 
 the See of Rome. 4 
 
 “ The Act for the Submission of the Clergy. 5 
 “ The Act for the Election and Consecration of Bishops. 6 
 “ The Act against Exactions from the See of Rome. 7 
 “ The Act of the Royal Supremacy. 8 
 
 1 21 Henry VIII. cap. 13. 2 23 Henry VIII. cap. 9. 
 
 3 24 Henry VIII. cap. 12. 
 
 4 23 Henry VIII. cap. 20. The Act was repealed, but the annates were 
 
 not restored. 
 
 5 25 Henry VIII. cap. 19. 
 
 7 25 Henry VIII. cap. 21. 
 
 4 25 Henry VIII. cap. 20. 
 * 26 Henry VIII. cap. 1. 
 
182 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ The Act for the Consecration of Suffragan Bishops. 1 
 
 “ The Act for the Reform of the Canon Law. 2 
 
 “ Tire Act against the Authority of the Pope. 3 
 
 “ The Act for the Release of those who had obtained Dis¬ 
 pensations from Rome. 4 
 
 “ The Act authorising the King to appoint Bishops by Letters 
 Patent. 5 
 
 “ The Act of Precontracts and Degrees of Consanguinity. 6 
 
 “ The Act for the King’s Style. 7 
 
 “ The Act permitting the Marriage of Doctors of Civil Law.” 8 
 
 In, th c_repeal of the se st atutes the entire ecclesiastical legisla- 
 tion of 11, ".o V111. wo.-swept away: and. so far ,.s . nr. : ri;v 
 in a single' pfifli.Tmwit 1 rouid' *fferTthem, the work way ’.do ne 
 absolutely and with clean c< 
 
 But there remained two other acts collaterally and accidentally 
 affecti ng 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 9 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 1 26 Henry VIII. cap. 14. 5 31 Henry VIII. cap 9. 
 
 2 27 Henry VIII. cap. 15. * 33 Henry VIII. cap 38. 
 
 2 28 Henry VIII. cap. 10. ’ 35 Henry VIII. cap 3. 
 
 4 28 Henry VIII. cap. 16. * 37 Henry VIII. cap. 17. 
 
 * 28 Henry VIII cap. 7; 35 Henry VIII. cap. 1. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 183 
 
 restoration of the authority of the church courts. 1 In continua¬ 
 tion, 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 repre- 
 ■ sented 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 re¬ 
 main to its present possessors—“ so as all persons having suffi- 
 I cient 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 eccle¬ 
 siastical 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 con¬ 
 sideration of the sacrifice, to interweave amidst the legal techni¬ 
 calities 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 
 
 1 “ 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, never¬ 
 theless, perceiving the tenures of those lands and goods were now com¬ 
 plicated 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.”—i and 2 Philip and 
 Mary, cap. 8, sec. 31. 
 

 1^4 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 j ■ the patines, chalices, and ornaments of the altars. The impro¬ 
 priators of benefices were implored, in the mercy of Christ, to 
 / '• remember the souls of the people, and provide for the decent 
 Sjjj performance of the services of the churches. 1 
 4 % Here the act might have been expected to end. The nature 
 ^ of the transaction between the parliament and the pope had been 
 ’’j made sufficiently clear. Yet, had nothing more been said, the 
 '"'f surrender of their claims by the clergy would have implied that 
 they had parted with something which they might have legiti¬ 
 mately required. Under the inspiration of the lawyers, there- 
 fore, 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, “ who- 
 ^ soever, 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.” 2 
 
 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 elo¬ 
 quent the phrases in w r hich it was expressed. As some compensa¬ 
 tion, the Mortmain Act was suspended for twenty years. Yet, 
 as if it were in reply to Pole’s appeal, a mischievous provision 
 
 1 “ 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 misericordias Jesu Christi obtestantes eos omnes quos h*c res 
 tangit, ut salutis suae non omnino immemores hoc saltern efliciant, ut ex 
 bonis ecclesiasticis maxime iis quae ratione personatuum et vicariatuum 
 populi ministrorum sustentationi fuerint specialiter destinata, seu aliis 
 cathedralibus et aliis quae 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.”—i and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8, sec. 
 3 i- 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 18 c 
 
 A X , v 
 
 ^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. 1 
 5 Such was the great statute of reconciliation with Rome, with 
 f which, in the inability to obtain a better, the legate was com- 
 j pelled to be satisfied, and to reconsider his threat of going back 
 to Italy. 
 
 This first conflict was no sooner ended than another com¬ 
 menced. 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. 2 Gardiner, in the course of the debate, 
 T attempted to put in a clause affecting Elizabeth, 3 but the success 
 was no better than usual. The act went down to the Commons, 
 V “where, however, it was immediately cancelled. Though the 
 Commons would give Philip no rights as king, they-Ayereoetter 
 djs gosetrTfftipnrel^^ and they drew another 
 
 . bill ol 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; 4 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. 
 
 Taking courage from the apparent disposition of the House, the 
 frien ds of the court proposed that, should the queen die childless, 
 the ciffifim shouItC devolve ab solutely upon him for his life. 5 6 
 But .in this they were going top..far. The suggestion was. 
 listened to coldly; and Philip, who had really^mtetrtSted on 
 obtarniifg from pailiTtment, in some form or other, a security for 
 his succession, despatched Ruy Gomez to Brussels, to consult the 
 
 1 i and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 8, sec. 31. 
 
 2 “ It was suspected,” says Renard, “ que le diet act se proposoit a 
 maulvais fin, qu’il estoit contre les traictez et capitulation de marriage 
 pour hereder la couronne qui venoit de. maulvais auteurs quilz plustot 
 desiroient le mal dudict S. roy et inquietude dudict royaulme que le bien.” 
 —Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. p. 347. 
 
 3 Ibid. vol. iv. p. 348. 
 
 4 “ Et que en son absence il y pourra nornmer qui luy plaira.”—Ibid. voL 
 
 iv. p. 348. 
 
 6 “ Aulcuns particulars proposaient en ladicte chambre basse que le 
 diet S. roy deust demeurer roy absolut dudict royaulme mourant ladicte 
 dame sans hoirs sa vie durant.”—Ibid. vol. iv. p. 348. 
 
i 86 Mary Tudor 
 
 emperor on the course which should be pursued. 1 On the whole, 
 however, could the bill of the House of Commons be carried, 
 Renard was disposed to be contented; t he queen was confident 
 i f! bPf hopes of a n heir, and it might not be wP illi wW le~fo* 
 irritate tire people unnecessarily about Elizabeth. 2 The clause 
 empowering Philip to govern by deputy in his absence was 
 especially satisfactory. 3 
 
 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 even tually passed, declared Philip regent 
 till his child should be of age, and so long as he continued in tKS 
 realm; but, at thesame 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.” 4 
 
 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 
 
 1 “ Ruy Gomez est alle vers l’Empereur pour faire entendre les difficultez 
 qu’ilz trouvent de faire demeurer ceste couronne a son diet filz, au cas 
 que la royne sa femme allast de vie a trespaz sans enfans, et d’aultant 
 qu’ilz ont congneu la volunte de ceulx cy estre bien loin de leur intention; 
 et pour ce scavoir par quelz moyens il semblera bon audict Empereur 
 qu’on puisse rnettre cela en termes devant la fin de ce parlement.”— 
 Noailles. 
 
 2 “ Et quant a la declaration de bastardise Ton n’est d’opinion qu’elle 
 se doige entamer aux diet parlement, puisque l’apparence d’heretier est 
 certaine et pour l’evident et congneue contrariete que seroit en toute le 
 rovaulme.”—Renard to the Emperor: Granvellg Papers, p. 348. 
 
 3 Ibid. f 
 
 * 1 and 2 Philip and Mary, cap. 10. 
 
Reconciliation mth Rome 187 
 
 j^ing and queeiycame to the House of Lords almost unattended, 
 ancTwlth an evident expression of dissatisfaction dissolved the 
 parliament. 1 
 
 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 move¬ 
 ments 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—w r ho 
 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 un- 
 
 1 “ Ilz sont pour cejourdhuy bien esloignez de ce qu’ilz pensoient faire 
 il y a six sepmaines en re parlement, ou ilz faisoient compte que ne pouvant 
 couronner ce roy ou luy faire succeder ce royaulme, a tout le moings de 
 luy en faire tumber l’administration. avecques tel pouvoir sur les forces 
 et finances qu’il en eust peu disposer a sa volunte. Toutefois la chose a 
 prins telle issue que pour ce coup il fault qu’il se contente a beaucoup 
 moings qu'il ne s’attendoit. 
 
 “ Ce qui a tellement despleu a 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 petitcment accompaignez et sans aulcune 
 ceremonie, monstrans et faisans congnoistre a ung chascun avoir quelque 
 grand mescontentement contre l’assemble d’icelluv.”—Noailles to the 
 Constable: Ambassades, vol. iv. p. 153. 
 
188 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 licensed extravagance of opinion. Their restored power, how¬ 
 ever, 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 con¬ 
 tented 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 com¬ 
 promise. 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 them¬ 
 selves 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 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 i 89 
 
 . 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 under¬ 
 stand 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. 1 
 
 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 
 
 1 Instructions of Cardinal Pole to the Bishops: Burnet’s Collectanea. 
 
190 Mary Tudor 
 
 first be tried with them; 1 the meaning which he attached to the 
 words was illustrated in an instant example. 
 
 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 Witten¬ 
 berg, 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 provoca¬ 
 tion, 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 scrambl¬ 
 ing for the church property, Hooper was found petitioning the 
 council for leave to augment impoverished livings out of his own 
 income. 2 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 
 
 1 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, negarim fieri posse,” he continued, “ ut alicujus 
 opiniones tarn pemicios® existant, ipseque jam corruptus tam sit ad 
 corrumpendos alios promptus ac sedulus ut non dubitarim dicere eum e 
 vita tolli oportere et tanquam putridum membrum e corpore exsecari. 
 Xeque id tamen priusquam ejus sanandi causa omnis leviter medendi 
 tentata sit ratio.”—Pole to the Cardinal of Augsburg: Epist. Reg. Pol. 
 vol. iv. 
 
 * Privy Council Register, Edward VI. MS. 
 
Reconciliation with Rome 
 
 191 
 
 < to constancy in the end which both foresaw, determining “ if 
 they could not overthrow, at least, to shake those high altitudes ” 
 il of spiritual tyranny. 1 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 
 t 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. 2 
 
 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. 3 
 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 
 
 1 Correspondence between Hooper and Ridley: Foxe, vol. vi. 
 
 2 Account of Hooper’s Imprisonment, by himself: Foxe, vol. vi. 
 
 2 Bradford to Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer: Foxe. 
 
1 92 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 his eyes, and collecting himself, he hurried on his clothes. “ I. 
 it be thus,” he said, “ I need not tie my points.” Hooper had 
 been sent for also for the ceremony of degradation. The vest¬ 
 ments 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. A gain .Rogers entreated permission to 
 see his wife, and again he was refused. 
 
 The two friends were then parted. Hoop er was to suffer at 
 Gloucester, and returned to his cell; RogeTS was committed 
 to the sheriff, and led out to Smithfield! 'Ttf'e 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. 1 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 b athed his hands in the flame as “ if it was cold 
 water,” raised his eyes to heaven, and died. 
 
 The same night a party of the royal guard took charge of 
 Hooper, the order of whose execution was arranged by a man¬ 
 date 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 
 
 1 “ Cejourdhuy a este faicte la confirmation de 1 ’alliance entre le Pape 
 et ce Royaulme par ung sacrifice publique et solempnel d’ung docteur 
 predicant nommfi Rogerus, lequel a este brule tout vif pour estre Lutherien; 
 mais il est mort persistant en son opinion, a 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 
 assistes le consolantes de telle fafon qu’il sembloit qu’on le menast aux 
 nopces.”—Noailles to Montmorency: Atnbassades, vol. iv. 
 
The Martyrs 209 
 
 of state, to ambassadors, and to foreign sovereigns, the birth of 
 a prince. 1 
 
 On the 30th, the happy moment was supposed to have arrived; 
 a Iff 5 ^sage-was- seftt-©£L.to._London, annOTUicing-the-eommenee^” 
 ment 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. 2 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.” 3 
 
 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 fchild. The-phy»icians-profep 5 d te"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. 4 Such marching, such chanting, such praying was never 
 seen or heard before or since in London streets. A profane 
 
 J 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 ist and 2nd year of our 
 and my Lord the King’s reign.— MS. Mary , Domestic, vol. v. State Paper 
 Office. 
 
 2 Noailles to Montmorency, April 30: Ambassades. vol. iv. 
 
 2 Sir Thomas Gresham to the Council: MS. Flanders, Mary, State 
 Paper Office. 
 
 * Machyn’s Diary. 
 
 O 
 
2 10 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 1 Philip wrote to Rome in his behalf, 
 and Mary condescended to ask for the support of the French 
 cardinals. 2 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. 
 
 The choice of a pope, however, would signify little, if only the 
 child could be born; hut where wai; the child? The queen put 
 it off strangely. The conference could be" 3 gl^ 7 ed no longer. 
 It opened without the intended makeweight, and_ the..court of 
 France was less, inclined to make concessions forapeace.TKe 
 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. 3 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. 4 
 The English were to be punished, for the infinite insolences in 
 which they had indulged towards E]filip’s retinue, by being 
 compelled, whether they liked it or not, to bestow upon him 
 the crown. 5 
 
 1 Noailles to Montmorency, May 15: Ambassades, vol. iv. 
 
 2 Philip and Mary to Gardiner, Arundel, and Paget: Burnet’s Col¬ 
 lectanea. 
 
 3 Noailles: Ambassades , vol. iv. p. 313. 
 
 4 “ Et 14 ou ladicte paix ou trefve adviendront ledict seigneur 
 (l’Empereur) fera bientost apres repasser en ce royaulme le due d’Alva 
 avecque la plus grande part de sesdictes forces pour y fabvoriser les 
 affaires de ce roy.”—Noailles, vol. iv. p. 330. 
 
 s “ II n’est rien que l’Empereur ne fasse pour venir a la paix, tant il 
 desire avant de retourner en Espaigne de faire couronner son filz, roy de 
 ce pays. Et pensera par meme moyen se saisir des places fortes d’icelluy 
 et chastier des Angloys d’infinies injures qu’ilz ont faict recepvoir aux 
 Espagnols, mettant grosses gamisons en ceste ville de Londres, et aultres 
 
2 I I 
 
 The Martyrs 
 
 But the peace could not be, nor could the child be bom; and 
 the'impression grew daily that the queen had not been pregnant 
 at all. Mary hersetTjWlTO' had beerTbonTe toTwafd 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... 
 fjirftoor, 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 tRST 
 she was loathed by her people." She imagined Qtey wdulfl rise 
 again In Tier defence. But if they rose again, it would be to 
 drive her and her hu hand freon '{115 country. 1 ---- 
 
 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 erro r in herself. God h ad 
 delayed the fulfi lment of his promiseT"'l Ahd what could that 
 
 crime be?.TKcfaccursed 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. 2 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. 
 
 lieux, a quoy ces roy et rovne proposent . . . s’y faire obeir 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. 
 
 1 “ Ladicte dame plusieurs fois de le jour demeure longtemps assise 
 a terre, les genoulx aussy haultz que la teste. 
 
 “ Se trouva hier fort malade et plus que de coustume, et pour la soulager, 
 fust trouve a mesme heure en sa court plusieurs lettres semees contre son 
 honneur,” etc.—Noailles, vol. iv. p. 342. 
 
 1 " 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. 
 
2 I 2 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 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 I 
 means reform, they are willed to deliver unto the ordinary, to I 
 be by him charitably travelled withal, and removed, if it may I 
 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 I 
 of the said misordered persons, being, by the justices of the 
 peace, for their contempt and obstinacy, brought to the ordinary, I 
 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 accord¬ 
 ing to the order of justice, but are suffered to continue in their 
 errors, to the dishonour of Almighty God, and dangerous example I 
 of others; like as we find this matter very strange, so have we I 
 thought convenient both to signify this our knowledge, and 
 therewithal also to admonish you to have in this behalf such j 
 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 dis- i 
 cretion 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 i 
 the commonwealth more quietly governed.” 1 
 
 Under the fresh impulse of this letter, fif ty perso ns were .put to I 
 flfAth the stake in the three ensuin g months,—un the diocese 
 of London, under Bonner; In the diocese of "Rochester, under i 
 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
The Martyrs 21 3 
 
 sufferers, that of Cardmaker, prebendary of Wells, calls most 
 for notice. 
 
 The people, whom the cruelty of the Catholic party was re¬ 
 converting 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. Wame, 
 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 expecta¬ 
 tions, 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.” 1 Every martyr’s trial was a 
 battle; every constant death was a defeat ol the cofhlUdirtiTlPETy; — 
 
 in suffering , conys 3 SCBlE!!!S^^^^nio^tIoiTTir*Ko^ 3 FTSto 
 admiring pride. * ~~ ~~ “* 
 
 Tet, for the great purpose of the court, the burnt-offerings 
 were ineffectual as the prayers of the priests. T he queen w as 
 aUojyedPto persuade herself that she had mistaken her timeTty 
 two months; and to TLlPhope-she-elti'fig- herself, -so toffg’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 Elizalm tli arid Philibert had hung fire, from 
 the invincible unwillingness on the part of Mary to par don pr 
 HhmaflS£ 5 c av recogp yg'her sister; ! 2 an'^~ as Trmcr as there was a 
 hope of a child, she had not perhaps been pressed about it; but 
 
 1 Foxe, vol. vii. — 
 
 S 2 A letter of Mary’s to Philip on the subject will be given in the follow- [_ 
 | ing chapter, which reveals the disagreement which had arisen between 7 
 ’ them about this marriage. 
 
 s* 
 
214 Mary Tudor 
 
 it was now absolutely necessary to do something, and violent 
 measures towards the princess were more impossible than 
 ever. 
 
 “ 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 pro¬ 
 ceedings 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 enceinle ; 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. 1 The looks of men are grown strange and impene¬ 
 trable ; 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.” 2 
 
 Tire 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, ancTrhat it 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 
 
 1 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 rvas 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. 
 
 1 Renard to the Emperor, June 27: Granvelle Papers, vol. vi. 
 
The Martyrs 215 
 
 disappointment; and, willingly or unwillingly, Mary must be 
 forced to receive Inf it mi lit T^i iii i 
 
 Xh p prince ST™^ 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 
 _pf guilt. “ A secret friend ” entreated her to “ submit herself 
 to the queenTmercy.” 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 pro¬ 
 duced 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 re¬ 
 quired 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 con¬ 
 gratulations, and Howard dared and provoked the resentment 
 of the king and queen by making them kneel and kiss her hand. 1 
 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. 
 
 Elizabeth had been resolute when she was alone and friend¬ 
 less, she was not more yielding now. She repeated that she had 
 
 1 Joanna of Castille, the emperor’s mad mother, dying soon after, 
 masses were said for her with some solemnity at St. Paul’s. “ Aux 
 obseques que la royne commanda estre faictes 4 Londres, l’admiral 
 d’Angleterre demontra ouvertement avoir quelque ressentment, de ce 
 qu’il disoit le roy ne luy faisoit si bonne chiere et demonstration si favorable 
 qu’il avoit accoustume, disant qu’il sfavoit bien pourquoy s’estoit, inferant 
 que ce fust pour ce qu’il avoit faict baiser les mains de Elizabetz aux 
 gentilhommes qui l’avoient visitez.” 
 
2i6 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 com¬ 
 pelled the form of reconciliation. 
 
 Elizabeth dropped on her knees. “ God preserve „_your. 
 majesty", - ”"sTte' said; “ you will find me as.true a subject to. your 
 majesty as any; whatever L n reported of me, you shall 
 not find it otherwise." 
 
 “ You will not confess ; ” the qu een 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 w'hile life lasteth.” 
 
 The queen did not answer, she muttered only in Spanish, 
 “ Sabe Dios,” “ God knows,” and Elizabeth withdrew. 1 
 
 It was said that, during the interview, Philip was concealed 
 1 Foxe; Holinshed. 
 
The Martyrs 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 be autifuh her haughty features 
 were softened by misfortune; and as it is certain that Philip, 
 when he left England, gave special directions for her goodTreSt* 
 ment, so.Jt is possible that he may have envied the fortune 
 which he intended" fof''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. 
 girl, who wa§j,lready the idfikof 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. Effiza- 
 beth was set at lib erty, but she was not a llowed to rerqain atTftg" 
 court . Sne returned to Ashrldge. to be pursued, even therejT 
 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 gentle¬ 
 men 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. 1 
 
 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 
 
 1 Le diet conseil voyant que plusieurs gentilhommes s’assembloient k 
 Londres, et communicquoient par ensemble, qu’ils se tenoient a Londres, 
 contre ce qu’est accoustume en Angleterre, qu'est que ceulx qu’ilz eu moien 
 ne demeurent k Londres en l’este, ains au pays pour la chaleur et maladies 
 ordinaires qu’ilz y reignent, et que toutes les diets gentilhommes sont 
 hferetiques, ains est6 pour le plus part rebelles, les autres parens et adherens 
 de Elizabetz, leur a faict faire commandement de se retirer chascun en sa 
 maison et se separer; qu’ilz ont prins mal et en ont fait grandes doleances, 
 en pretendant qu’ilz estoient gens de bien, qu’ilz n’estoient traistres.— 
 Renard to the Emperor: Granvelle Papers, vol. iv. 
 
218 Mary Tudor 
 
 a dying woman. Sorrow was h eaped on sorrow; Philip would 
 stay with her no longer. Hi's pres ence~ ~WSS J Tgquifefl~un-the- 
 continent, where his father was about to anHcipaTS'the death- 
 which'h& kriiewTo "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. 1 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. 
 
 1 Noailles, vol. v. pp. 77-82. 
 
The Martyrs 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. 1 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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. 3 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 competi¬ 
 tion of the Queen of Scots and Dauphiness of France. 
 
 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 queems use 
 during her husband’s absence. 4 It is to be hoped that she was 
 
 1 Machyn’s Diary. 
 
 2 Noailles, vol. v. pp. 98, 99, 123. 
 
 3 Elle a bonne part en la grace dudict Seigneur Roy, lequel par plusieurs 
 lettres qu’il escript it la royne sa femme la luy recommende, comme aussy 
 il a faict particulierement et par soubz main aux principaux seigneurs 
 Espaignolz qui sont demourez en ce lieu.—Ibid. p. 127. 
 
 4 Domine Jesu Christe, qui es verus sponsus anim® me®, verus Rex 
 ac Dominus meus qui me ad Regni hujus gubernacula singulari tu 4 
 providentia ac benignitate vocatam, cum antea essem derelicta et tan- 
 quam mulier ab adolescentia abjecta, eum virum in matrimonium et regni 
 societatem expetere voluis ti, qui plus aztens imaginem tuam quam in 
 sanctitate et justitid mundo ostendisti in suis meisque actionibus dirigendis 
 exprimeret, et expelitum dedisti, cujus nunc disc'sssum moerens defleo— 
 qu®so per ilium pretiosissimum sanguinem quem pro me sponsa tua 
 proque illo et omnibus in ara crucis effudisti, ut hunc meum dolorem ita 
 lenias, ita purges, ita temperes, ut quoties ille sanctis suis consiliis mihi 
 adest, quoties per litteras qu® ad salutem hujus populi tui pertinent 
 commendat, toties ilium pr®sentem esse, teque unicum consolatorem in 
 medio nostro adesse sentiam, utque in illo te semper amein atque glorificem. 
 
220 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 The truth, however, became known in England, although in a 
 form under which the queen could turn from it as a calumny. 
 
 Before the meeting of parliament, a letter was published, 
 addressed to the Lords of the Council, by a certain John Brad¬ 
 ford. 2 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. 3 
 
 Obsecro, Domine, ut in nobis tua imago sic indies per tuam gratiam 
 renovetur in conspectu popuii tui, quern nobis gubernandum commisisti, 
 ut cum is justitiae tu® severitatem, in iis quas amiserat dum hi regnarent 
 qui a recta fide declinantes sanctitatem et justitiam expulerunt, jam 
 pridem senserit, quae nunc per tuam misericordiam recuperaverit sub 
 illorum Regno quos nunquam a rectfi fide declinare es passus, cum 
 gratiarum actione l»tus intelligat ut uno ore tam nos quam populus noster 
 Deuin patrem per te ejus unicum filium in unitate Spiritus glorificemus, ad 
 nostram ipsorum et piorum omnium salutem et consolationem. Amen.— 
 Epist. Reg. Pol. vol. v. 
 
 1 II 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 oil vous estes. Et premierement la 
 royne a tant enchantfi et ensorcele ce beau jeune prince son mary que de 
 luy avoir faict crovre ung an entier qu’elle estoit grosse pour le retenir pres 
 d’elle, dont il se trouve k present si confus et fasche qu’il n’a plus delibere 
 de retourner habiter ceste terre, promettant a tous ses serviteurs que s’il 
 peult estre une fois en Espaigne qu’il n’en sortira plus k si maulvaise 
 occasion, etc. . . .—Le Protonotaire de Noailles h M. de Noailles: 
 Ambassades, vol. v. p. 136. 
 
 2 Not the martyr; he had been despatched by Bonner among the victims 
 of the summer; but a person otherwise-known. 
 
 3 “ 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 @nce obtained I kept secret from 
 
22 1 
 
 The Martyrs 
 
 “ 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.” 1 
 
 Struggle as the queen might against such a representation of 
 
 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. 
 
 1 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 laud 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 1 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. 
 
 2 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 
 
222 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 her husband’s feelings towards her, it^was true that he had left 
 her with a pr omise to return; a nd the~wee~k~ went, Uinl l ie-Ad 
 not come, and no longer spoke of coming. The abdicatlorTofTtlE' 
 emperor woiilcTkeep him from her, at least, till the end of the 
 winter. And-news .cacag soon which was harder still to bear; 
 news, that he, whom she had been taught to regard as made in 
 the image ot our Saviour, 1 was unfai thful to his marriage vows. 2 
 Bradford had spoken generally of the'’Tung'S V uhgsn iilliuurs; 
 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; 3 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. 
 
 The— Fr e nch - ■■ a mba ssado r describes her as distracted with 
 Tjietcijgdness, speaking to no one excTflt the lesjale."" Tlindega*^ 
 wasJigr only comfort: the legate and the thing which she called 
 religion,. .... 
 
 Deep in the hearts of both queen and cardinal lay the con¬ 
 viction 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 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Prayer written by Cardinal Pole for Queen Mary: supra. 
 
 1 Noailles to the King of France, October 21: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 ’ Noailles to Montmorency, December 5: Ibid. 
 
The Martyrs 
 
 to try a single heretic. If not with Pole, with whom did the 
 guilt rest? Gardiner was jointly responsible for the commence¬ 
 ment, 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 sup¬ 
 posed 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 metro¬ 
 politan 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 1 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-establish¬ 
 ment of both. Mary was driven to madness by the disappoint- 
 1 Phillips. 
 
4 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 ment of the grotesque imaginations with which he had inflated * 
 her; and where two such persons were invested by the circum¬ 
 stances 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. 
 
 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 disturb¬ 
 ances; 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, con¬ 
 sisting 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, 1 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. 
 
 “ 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, repre¬ 
 senting his holiness the pope.” 
 
 The archbishop approached the bar, bent his head and un¬ 
 covered 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.” 
 
 1 Foxe says the 12th; but this is wrong.—See Cranmer’s letter to the 
 Queen: Jenkins, vol. i. p. 369. 
 
The Martyrs 225 
 
 The president remonstrated, but without effect, and then pro- 
 :eeded to address the archbishop, who remained covered: 1 — 
 
 “ My lord, we are come hither at this present to you, not 
 ntruding ourselves by our own authority, but sent by commis- 
 ion, as you know, by the pope’s holiness partly; partly from 
 he king’s and queen’s most excellent majesties; not utterly 
 .0 your discomfort, but rather to your comfort if you will your- 
 elf. For we are come not to judge you immediately, but to 
 >ut you in remembrance of that which you have been partly 
 ; udged of before, and shall be thoroughly judged of ere long, 
 i “ Neither our coming or commission is to dispute with you, 
 | ,mt to examine you in matters which you have already disputed 
 n, taught, and written; and of your resolute answers in those 
 , >oints and others, to make relation to them that shall give 
 entence on you. If you, of your part, be moved to come to a 
 iniformity, then shall not only we take joy of our examination, 
 rnt also they that have sent us. Remember yourself then, 
 tnde excideris, from whence you have fallen. You have fallen 
 rom the unity of your mother, the Holy Catholic Church, and 
 hat by open schism. You have fallen from the true and re¬ 
 vived faith of the same Catholic Church, and that by open 
 leresy. You have fallen from your fidelity and promise towards 
 lod, in breaking your orders and vow of chastity, and that by 
 ipen apostasy. You have fallen from your fidelity and promise 
 ) owards God’s vicar-general, the pope, in breaking your oath 
 nade to his holiness at your consecration, and that by open 
 >erjury. You have fallen from your fidelity and allegiance 
 owards God’s magistrate, your prince and sovereign lady the 
 jueen, and that by open treason, whereof you are already 
 iittainted and convicted. Remember, unde excideris, from 
 vhence you have fallen, and in what danger you have fallen. 
 
 “ You were sometime, as I and other poor men, in mean estate. 
 Jod hath called you from better to better, from higher to higher, 
 ind 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 
 I 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 
 >n high on a pinnacle. But after you began to fall from the 
 'mity of the Catholic Church by open schism, and would no 
 
 1 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 appear- 
 mce of having been touched up afterwards. 
 
 P 
 
226 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 longer acknowledge the supremacy of the pope’s holiness b 
 God’s word and ordinance;—and that by occasion, that yoi I 
 in whose hands then rested the sum of all, being primate, a 
 was aforesaid, would not, according to your high vocatior 
 stoutly withstand the most ungodly and unlawful request c 
 your prince touching his divorce, as that blessed martyr, Si 
 Thomas of Canterbury, sometime your predecessor, did with 
 stand the unlawful requests of the prince of his time, but woul>, 
 still not only yield and bear with things not to be borne witha 
 but also set a-flame the fire already kindled—then your pei y 
 fections diminished; then began you, for your own part, t [ 
 fancy unlawful liberty. Then decayed your conscience of you i 
 former faith, your former promise, the vow of chastity and dis l 
 cipline after the order of priesthood; and when good conscienc 
 was once cast off, then followed after, as St. Paul noteth, 
 shipwreck in the faith. Then fell you from the faith, and ou 
 of the Catholic Church, as out of a sure ship, into a sea of dangei 
 ous desperation; for out of the church, to say with St. Cypriar 
 there is no hope of salvation at all. To be brief; when you ha> 
 forsaken God, his Spouse, his faith, and fidelity to them botf 
 then God forsook you; and as the apostle writeth of the ingrati 
 philosophers, delivered you up in reprobum sensum, and sufferer 
 you to fall from one inconvenience to another, as from perjur; 
 into schism, from schism into a kind of apostasy, from apostas; 
 into heresy, from heresy into traitory, and so, in conclusior 
 from traitory into the highest displeasure and worthiest indigna 
 tion of your most benign and gracious queen.” 1 
 
 When the bishop ceased, the crown proctors rose, and de 
 manded justice against the prisoner in the names of the kin 
 and queen. 
 
 “ My lord,” Cranmer replied, “ I do not acknowledge thi 
 session of yours, nor yet yourself my mislawful judge; neithe 
 would I have appeared this day before you, but that I wa 
 brought hither; and therefore here I openly renounce you a 
 my judge, protesting that my meaning is not to make an 
 answer as in a lawful judgment, for then I would be silent; bu 
 only for that I am bound in conscience to answer every ma ' 
 of that hope which I have in Jesus Christ.” 
 
 He then knelt, and turning towards the west with his bac J 
 to the court and the altar, he said the Lord’s Prayer. Afte ^ 
 which,, he rose, repeated the creed, and said— 
 
 1 The address concluded with a prolix exhortation to repentance, whic 
 I omit. It may be read in a form sufficiently accurate in Foxe. 
 
The Martyrs 227 
 
 “ This I do profess as touching my faith, and make my pro¬ 
 testation, 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 other¬ 
 wise 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. 
 “ j wi'u. jjp/v ff r' f or tlT g rr f glmrf k f 
 I give myself to the devil. I have ma' 3 'e an"oaYR to the king, and 
 I must obey the kin g by Goa’s la^“''By-feh«-Serfpture, the king 
 is chief, and no foreifll person iirhis 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.” 
 r 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 con¬ 
 stitution 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; 1 and this so-called perjury Martin now flung in his teeth. 
 
 “ 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 
 
 1 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 pre¬ 
 decessors, 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. 
 
228 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 the pope’s hands, which I neither would nor could do, for his 
 highness was the only supreme governor of this church in Eng- j 
 land. 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 con¬ 
 science, 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 Plenry, 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 I 
 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 i 
 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 
 
The Martyrs 229 
 
 to show, except three letters:—one, of but a few lines, was to a 
 Mrs. Wilkinson, thanking her for some act of kindness: 1 another, 
 was a general exhortation to “ all unfeigned lovers of God’s 
 truth,” to be constant in their faith: the third, and most note¬ 
 worthy, 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. 
 
 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.” 2 
 
 Ridley’s pen had been more busy: he had written a lamenta¬ 
 tion 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 
 
 1 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’s Remains, p. 429. 
 
230 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 bare¬ 
 headed. 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 arch¬ 
 bishop’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 w r as 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 I 
 in the world, a prisoner on his trial, waiting to be condemned to 1 
 death by men professing to be the ministers of God. As it was 1 
 in the days of the prophets, so it was in the Son of man’s days; 1 
 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 
 
The Martyrs 231 
 
 :nd, so long and so far as a class of men are permitted to hold 
 )ower, who call themselves the commissioned and authoritative 
 ;eachers of truth. Latimer’s trial was the counterpart of 
 lidley’s: the charge was the same, and the result was the same, 
 :xcept that the stronger intellect vexed itself less with nice dis¬ 
 anctions. Bread was bread, said Latimer, and wine was wine; 
 i ;here was a change in the sacrament, it was true, but the change 
 vas not in the nature, but the dignity. He too was reprieved 
 hr the day. The following morning, the court sat in St. Mary’s 
 j Shurch, with the authorities of town and university, heads of 
 ! louses, mayor, aldermen, and sheriff. The prisoners were 
 I orought to the bar. The same questions were asked, the same 
 i 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; 1 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 ifiayor, 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 
 
 1 A Rev. P. Soto accepi litteras Oxonio datas quibus me certiorem tacit 
 quid cum duobus illis haereticis egerit qui jam erant damnati, quorum 
 alter ne loqui quidem cum eo voluit: cum altero est locutus ssd 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. 
 
232 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 The letter was long; 
 by the time it was finished, the sheriff’s officers were probably in 
 readiness. 
 
 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 disturb¬ 
 ance. 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. 2 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. 
 
 “ 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, 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 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. 
 
The Martyrs 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. 1 ” 
 
 “ 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 hand¬ 
 kerchiefs, 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.” 
 
234 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 0 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 powdei 
 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 bum,” he called; “Lord 
 have mercy on me; let the fire come to me; I cannot bum.” 
 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 in¬ 
 tricacies 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. T p the sad winter months w hich were approaching, 
 the poor men and, wonfUH, Wfirryiin tried and uncondemned, were 
 crowded into the bishops’ prisons, experienced such miseries 
 as~the~very dogs-xould scarcely suffer and survive. They were 
 I ihoy w e re starved, the y were'flung into da rk, fe ?1]1- f, ° T, ‘j 
 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. 1 
 
 1 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 arch¬ 
 deacon, 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 
 
The Martyrs 235 
 
 Lollard’s Tower and Bonner’s coal-house were the chief scenes 
 >f barbarity. Yet there were times when even Bonner loathed 
 lis work. He complained that he was troubled with matters 
 hat were none of his; the bishops in other parts of England 
 hrust upon his hands offenders whom they dared not pardon 
 md would not themselves put to death; and, being in London, 
 le was himself under the eyes of the court, and could not evade 
 ie work. 1 Against Bonner, however, the world’s voice rose 
 ;he loudest. His brutality was notorious and unquestionable, 
 md a published letter was addressed to him by a lady, in which 
 le was called the “ common cut-throat and general slaughter- 
 ;lave to all the bishops in England.” 2 “I am credibly in¬ 
 formed,” said this person to him, “that your lordship doth 
 Delieve, 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 Pater¬ 
 noster, 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.” 
 
 In the last words lay the heart of the whole matter. The 
 
 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. 
 
 1 See especially his conversation with Philpot: Foxe, vol. vii. p. 6n. 
 
 •Godly Letter addressed to Bonner: Ibid. p. 712. 
 
236 Mary Tudor 
 
 martyrs alone broke th e spell of orthodoxy, and made the estab 
 lishment of the Reformation’ pfliSH'ltilH ”' 11 """ 
 
 InldiT’mTdst'drs’ucTi’scenes the new parliament was about tc 
 meet. Money was wanted for the crown debts, and the queer 
 was infatuated enough still to meditate schemes for altering th< 
 succession, or, at least, for obtaining the consent of the legis 
 lature to Philip’s coronation, that she might bribe him back tc 
 her side. 1 
 
 As the opening of the session approached, Elizabeth was senl 
 again from the court to be out of sight and out of reach ol 
 intrigue; and Mary had the mortification of knowing that hei 
 sister’s passage through London was a triumphal procession 
 The public enthusiasm became so marked at last that the prin¬ 
 cess 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 un¬ 
 doubtedly 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 
 
 1 Pour le faire plustost retourner elle fera toutes choses incredible en 
 ce diet parlement en faveur dudict Sieur. . . . L’on diet que l’occasion 
 pour laquelle le diet parlement a este assemble, ne tend a aultre fin que 
 pour faire s’il esc 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. 
 
The Martyrs 237 
 
 vith his and her spiritual father. Nay, she herself might be 
 nvolved in the same calamity; for so bitter was the English 
 lumour that the liberal party in the council were inclined to 
 ;ake part in the war, if they would have the pope for an enemy; 
 ind Philip would be too happy in their support to look too 
 :uriously to the motives of it. 1 
 
 A calamitv J Q-Ua.uaaara..r £al kind was also a pproach ing Mary, 
 jhe " ,oc ~ r»f l^ng tHETiTThr-gfife m inister on wnose 
 
 ittechflaent- she could rely. Gardiner’s career" on ea.rtrs~~was- 
 il^out to end. 
 
 On the 6th of October, Noailles described the Bishop of Win- 
 ehester as sinking rapidly, and certain to die before Christmas, 2 
 yet still eager and energetic, perfectly aware of his condition, 
 yet determined to work till the last. 
 
 Noailles himself had two hours’ conversation with him on 
 business: when he took his leave, the chancellor conducted 
 aim 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 open¬ 
 ing, 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 con¬ 
 tinued unabated. In their opinion of his conduct they were 
 right, yet right but partially. 
 
 Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, was the pupil of 
 !WoIsey'/cEM "lracTTnneriteS undmumsKed the pride of the eccle¬ 
 siastical order. If he went with Henry in his separation from 
 the papacy, he intended that the English Church should re¬ 
 tain, 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 re¬ 
 garded as a peculiar order, gifted with supernatural powers, 
 so long as the sacraments were held essential conditions of 
 
 1 Ce soit ung argument plus grand que tout aultre pour faire entrer 
 ceulx cy k la guerre ouverte; estant ceste nation comme ung chascung 
 syait fort ennemie de sadict Sainctite. — Noailles to Montmorency: 
 Ambassades, vol. v. p. 188. 
 
 2 Same to the same.—Ibid. p. 150. 
 
238 Mary Tudor 
 
 salvation, and the priesthood alone could administer them 
 he could feel assured that, sooner or later, their temporal positior 
 would be restored to them. 
 
 Thus, while loyal to the royal supremacy, the Bishop of Win 
 Chester had hated heresy, and hated all who protected heresj 
 with a deadly hatred. He passed the Six Articles Bill; h< 
 destroyed Cromwell; he laboured with all his might to destroj 
 Cranmer; and, at length, when Henry was about to die, he lent j 
 himself, though too prudently to be detected, to the schemes 0 
 Surrey and the Catholics upon the regency. The failure 0: 
 those schemes, and the five years of arbitrary imprisonment 
 under Edward, had not softened feelings already more thar 
 violent. He returned to power exasperated by personal injury 
 and justified, as he might easily believe himself to be, in hit 
 opinion of the tendencies of heresy, by the scandals of the Pro¬ 
 testant administration, he obtained, by unremitting assiduity 
 the re-enactment of the persecuting laws, which he himseli 
 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 in¬ 
 domitable. 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.” 1 
 
 To return to the parliament. On the 23rd of October a bull 
 
 1 Special Grace appointed to have been said at York on the Accession 
 of Elizabeth .—Tanner MSS., Bodleian Library 
 
The Martyrs u._ 
 
 of Paul IV., confirming the dispensation of Julius, was read in 
 the House of Commons. 1 On the 29th the crown debts were 
 , alleged as a reason for demanding a subsidy. The j aufifin-TaxT,, 
 
 | been prevented from indulging her desire for a standing army . 
 
 W 93 T 6 khcTpecu l lal:i , oh l "Of‘the"fcl'lH reig'n'had been put an enoO' 
 to; and the embarrassments of the treasury were not of her 
 1 creation. Nevertheless the change in social habits, and the “ 4 
 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. 
 
 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. 2 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. 3 The money question 
 was settled quietly, and the business of the session proceeded. 
 
 If her subjects were indifferent to their souls, Mary was 
 anxious about her own. On the nth 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 con¬ 
 tributions into the old channel; while the laity, who from 
 
 1 Commons Journals, 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary. 
 
 2 Commons Journals, 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary.—Noailles to the 
 Constable, October 31. 
 
 3 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. 
 
j Mary Tudor 
 
 immemorial time had objected on principle to the payment 
 of tribute to a foreign sovereign, were now, through their posses¬ 
 sion 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. 1 On the 20th a second bill was 
 introduced, “ whereby the king’s and queen’s majesties sur¬ 
 rendered and gave the first-fruits and tenths into the hands of 
 the laity.” 2 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. 
 
 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. 3 
 
 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 dis¬ 
 cussion; 4 * 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. 6 
 
 1 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. 
 
 2 Lords Journals. 
 
 3 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary, cap. iv. 
 
 4 Commons Journals. 
 
 6 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 
 filti hujus scEculi.” He complains of their avarice in inducing the queen, 
 
The Martyrs 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. 1 
 After the difficulty which she had experienced with the first-fruits, 
 she durst not so much as introduce the question of the crown. 2 
 She attempted a bill for the restoration of the forfeited lands of 
 the Howards, but it was lost. 3 The Duchess of Suffolk, 4 with 
 
 “ 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 
 1 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! 
 
 1 “ 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 seditous 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, vcnde, et da, not in mane, acquire, 
 nccHmula.” —Grace to be said at the Accession of Elizabeth: Tannes MSS., 
 Bodleian Library. 
 
 1 Noailles. 
 
 2 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 
 pf 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. 
 
 3 Noailles to the King of France, December 16. 
 
 * 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- 
 
 Q 
 
242 Mary Tudor 
 
 several other persons of rank, had lately joined the refugees on 
 the Continent; she attempted to carry a measure for the con¬ 
 fiscation of their property, and failed again. 1 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.^ The leaven of the 
 heretical spirit was still unsubdued. The queen dissolved her 
 fourth parliament on the 9th of December; and several gentle¬ 
 men 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 destruc¬ 
 tion. 
 
 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, 3 “ 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.” 
 
 Nothing now was left for Mar)'- but to make such use as she 
 
 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 x 
 worst.” —Holinshed. 
 
 1 Et de mesme fust rejette audict parlement a la grande confusion de J 
 ladicte dame ung aultre bill, par lequel elle vouloit confisquer les personnes 
 et biens de ceulx qui sont transfuges de ce royaulme despuis son advene-! 
 ment a la couronne—Noailles to the King of France, December 16a 3 
 Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 1 2nd and 3rd Philip and Mary, cap. 17. 
 
 * Francois de Noailles to Madame de Roye: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
The Martyrs 24^ 
 
 was able of the few years of life which were to remain to her. 
 If^E lizabet h, the hated Ajine.J 3 oleym’s .hated^ 4 au"hter^was to 
 
 no reme dv, 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 West¬ 
 minster 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 preten¬ 
 sions, Philip yyrntg 
 lecture her upon her duties as a wife.* 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 
 c omp elled to appear in public, she had lost her power of self- 
 c ontrol; s he would burst into fits of violent and u ncontrollabl e 
 passio n ;~~sh e beT irv n rl i n vr»wi»iwn. ffijffi TerTo be a*spy in tRe 
 j nteres't ofTKeLords . So disast^sTy‘mis^tbbre"wefe"'alT~the 
 consequences ot Her marriage, that it was said, the pope, who had 
 
 1 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 ie voire Haultesse, is crossed through 
 and altered into Supplier iris humblement. Where she had described 
 herself as obeissante, she enlarged the word into tris obeissante; and the 
 tone throughout is most piteous. She entreats the king to appoint some 
 Iperson 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 especialement 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 obligee 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 humilite votre 
 Haultesse de differer ceste affaire jusques a 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 i moy que mort; car j’en 
 ay commence d6jh d’en taster trop a mon grand regret,” etc.— Cotton MSS., 
 Titus, b. z; printed very incorrectly in Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi. 418. 
 
 her c ruel letters, and set his confessor to 
 
.Z 44 Mary Tudor 
 
 granted the dispensation for the contraction of it, had better 
 grant another for its dissolution. 1 Unfortunately there was one 
 direction open in which her frenzy could have uncontrolled 
 scope. 
 
 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.” 2 
 
 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, 
 
 1 Noailies. 
 
 2 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 11 
 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 ceternum. ■ 
 
 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 ifnprisoned 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 0 
 put to death without the pope’s sanction.—Draft of a Letter from Cardinal 
 Pole to Cranmer: Harleian MSS. 417. 
 
The Martyrs 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, 1 
 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 pro¬ 
 nounced 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; 2 that he had published books containing 
 1 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. 
 
 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 indiffer¬ 
 ence, 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. “ 0 Lord,” he ex¬ 
 claimed, “ 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 
 1 this shameless lying.” 
 
 Silence would perhaps have been more dignified; to speak 
 at all was an indication of infirmity. As soon as the reading 
 l was finished, the archbishop was formally arrayed in his robes, 
 and when the decoration was completed, Bonner called out in 
 exultation: 
 
 1 Pole to Philip: Epistolce Reg. Pol., vol. v. p. 47. 
 
 , 2 Damn alts memonce. Sentence Definitive against Thomas Cranmer: 
 
 Foxe, vol. viii. 
 

 246 Mary Tudor 
 
 “ 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 1 to judge others, 
 and now is come before an altar to be judged himself.” 2 
 
 Thirlby checked the insolence of his companion. The degra¬ 
 dation 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, 3 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. 
 
 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 trades¬ 
 man’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 I 
 which can be authenticated, there w r as one of a far different 
 kind; a letter addressed to him by Pole to bring him to a sense fl 
 of his condition. 
 
 “ Whosoever transgresseth, and abideth not in the doctrine of 
 Christ,” so the legate addressed a prisoner in the expectation of 
 
 1 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. 
 
 * Foxe, vol. viii. p. 73. 
 
 ’ Cranmer to a Lawyer: Jenkins, vol. i. p. 384. 
 
The Martyrs 247 
 
 death, 1 “ 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. 
 
 “ 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. 2 
 
 “ 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 ex¬ 
 horted 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 
 
 1 Epist. Reg. Pol., vol. v. p. 248. I am obliged to abridge and epitomise. 
 
 2 Car se je n’ecourtois que les mouvemens de la nature, se je ne vous 
 parlois qu’en mon nom, je vous tiendrois un autre langage au plutot 
 je ne vous dirois rien; je m’entretiendrois avec Dieu seul at je lui de- 
 manderois de faire tomber le feu du ciel pour vous consumer avec cette 
 maison ou vous avez passe en abandonnant l’Eglise. 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. 
 
248 Mary Tudor 
 
 church; 1 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. 
 
 “ 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 forgive¬ 
 ness. I know not how to deal with you. Your examination 
 at Oxford has but hardened you; vet the issue is with God. I 
 
 1 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. 
 
The Martyrs 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 
 1 you feel the greatness of your need of mercy. Now, even now, 
 by my mouth, Christ offers you that mercy; and with the pas¬ 
 sionate 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 
 1 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 abhor¬ 
 rence 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 
 
250 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 dis¬ 
 dained 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: 1 
 the same night, or the next day, he sent in his first submission, 2 
 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. 
 
 1 Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 129. 
 
 1 Forasmuch as the king’s and queen’s majesties, by consent of parlia¬ 
 ment, 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. 
 
The Martyrs 25 1 
 
 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, 1 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 other¬ 
 wise, and he implored the prayers of all faithful Christians, that 
 those whom he had seduced might be brought back to the true 
 fold. 
 
 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 
 1 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 
 1 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; especi¬ 
 ally he reflected with anguish that he had denied the presence 
 
 1 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. 
 
252 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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-con¬ 
 tinued 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.” 2 
 
 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 conse¬ 
 quence of the wet, to St. Mary’s, where a high stage was erected, 
 on which Cranmer was to stand conspicuous. Peers, knights, 
 
 1 Recantations of Thomas Cranmer: Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 393. 
 
 2 Death of Cranmer, related by a Bystander: Harleian MSS., 442, 
 Printed, with some inaccuracies, by Strype. 
 
The Martyrs 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. 
 
 i. 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.” 1 
 
 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; ” 
 
 1 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. 
 
254 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 “ com¬ 
 forted and encouraged him to take his death well by many places d 
 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 j 
 for the repose of his soul; and finally, he desired the congrega¬ 
 tion 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 , 1 “ 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.” 
 
 “ 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 
 1 MS. Harleian, 422. 
 
The Martyrs 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:— 
 
 “ 0 Father of heaven,” he prayed, “ O Son of God, Redeemer 
 of the world, 0 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, 0 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, 0 Lord, whose pro¬ 
 perty 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 1 will be more remembered than the sermons 
 
 1 Shakspeare was perhaps thinking of this speech of Cranmer when he 
 I 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: 
 
256 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 
 
 “ 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, know¬ 
 ing 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 1 
 seeth his brother in necessity, and shutteth up his compassion 1 
 and mercy from him, how can he say he loveth God ? The third J 
 
 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.” 
 

 The Martyrs 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, 
 pour gold and silver is cankered and rusty, and the rust thereof 
 shall bear witness against you, and consume you like fire; you 
 rather 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 
 low at this present; the poor people being so many, and victuals 
 1 so dear; for although I have been long in prison, yet have I 
 tieard of the great penury of the poor.” 
 
 The people listened breathless, “ intending upon the con¬ 
 clusion.” 
 
 “ 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 
 I 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, 1 as things 
 
 1 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 
 as 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 manv 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 
 
 R 
 
258 Mary Tudor 
 
 written with my hand contrary to the truth which I thought ii ' 
 my heart, and written for fear of death to save my life, if i. 
 might be; and that is, all such bills and papers as I have writtei | 
 and signed with my hand since my degradation, wherein !jj 
 have written many things untrue; and forasmuch as my hanc | 
 offended in writing contrary to my heart, my hand therefore shal 
 first be punished; for if I may come to the fire, it shall be the firsl 
 burnt. As for the pope, I utterly refuse him, as Christ’s enem> 
 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.” 
 
 So far the archbishop was allowed to continue, before hb 
 astonished hearers could collect themselves. “ Play the Chris¬ 
 tian man,” Lord Williams at length was able to call; remembei 
 yourself; do not dissemble.” “Alas! my lord,” the arch¬ 
 bishop 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 1 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 re¬ 
 covered his strength, and such words had no longer power to 
 trouble him. He approached the stake with “ a cheerful coun¬ 
 tenance,” 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 
 
 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 i 
 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 I 
 who was capable of so considerable a falsehood would not have hesitated I 
 for the same good purpose to alter a few sentences. Pious frauds have been 
 committed by more religious men than Edmund Bonner. See the Re¬ 
 cantation of Thomas Cranmer, reprinted from Bonner’s original pamphlet: 
 Jenkins, vol. iv. p. 393. 
 
 1 Harlcian MS., 422. Strype has misread the word into “ run,” losing 
 the point of the expression. 
 
The Martyrs 
 
 2 59 
 
 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.” 
 
 “ Make short, make short! ” Lord Williams cried, hastily. 
 
 The archbishop shook hands with his friends; Ely only drew 
 
 I back, calling, “ Recant, recant,” and bidding others not approach 
 
 him. 
 
 ! i “ 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 con¬ 
 tented 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. 
 
 / ' 
 
 / 
 
 JL ' 
 
 
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 deposi¬ 
 tions. 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.” 1 
 
 “ There be news come out of Flanders, as I heard from Sir 
 Peter Mewtas,” said Ashton, laughing, to another visitor: 2 “ 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.” 3 
 
 “ They have put me in the Tower for their pleasures,” said 
 Sir Anthony Kingston; “ but so shall they never do more.” 4 
 
 At another time Sir Henry Peckham was alone with Ashton. 
 
 1 Saying of Sir Nicholas Arnold: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. vii. 
 
 2 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 Eire not always easy to make out. 
 
 3 Deposition of Thomas White: MS. Mary , Domestic, vol. vii. 
 
 4 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. 
 
 260 
 
Calais 
 
 261 
 
 Peckham 1 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 treat¬ 
 ment. Ashton bade him “ be of good cheer.” 
 
 “ 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-shighnessmvefto the Icing, and make the Lady Eliza¬ 
 beth 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 else¬ 
 where. 
 
 “ I will show you a token,” he then said, and took out half a 
 broken penny; “ the other half is with Sir Anthony, and when¬ 
 soever 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 talceth 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.” 2 
 
 1 Younger son of Sir Edward Peckham, Cofferer of the Household, and 
 Member of Council under Edward VI. 
 
 * Lord Williams of Thame, who superintended the executions of Ridley, 
 Latimer, and Cranmer. 
 
262 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 “That cannot be,” Peckham said; “he hath served th< 
 queen right well, and by her highness was made lord.” 
 
 “ I can better tell than you,” Ashton answered; “ the Lore 
 Williams is a good fellow, and is as unthankfully dealt with a; 
 you, Sir Henry. I tell you that he is sure on our side; and Si) 
 Henry Dudley hath spoken with all the gentlemen that b< 
 soldiers, that be about the town, and they be all sure ours, sc 
 that we have left the queen never a man of war that is worth 1 
 button.” 1 
 
 The scene changes. Readers of the earlier volumes of thi; 
 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 anc 
 settled upon. Here during the late session had met the mer 
 w'hose names have been mentioned in the preceding conversa¬ 
 tion, and who had crossed the queen’s purposes; Kingston 
 Peckham, Ashton, Dudley, and with them Sir John Perrot, Sii 
 William Courtenay, Sir Hugh Pollard, Sir John Chiche°ter, and 
 two young Tremaynes of Colacombe in Devonshire, one of whoni 1 
 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.” 2 
 
 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 
 
 1 Confession of Sir Henry Peckham: Mary, Domestic, MS. vol. viii. 
 a Confession of John Daniel: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. viii. 
 
Calais 
 
 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. 
 
 1 “ 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 pre¬ 
 tended 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 
 
264 Mary Tudor 
 
 wise young men, who, in the general indignation of the country 
 at the barbarity of the government, saw an opportunity 0. 
 pushing themselves into distinction. Lord Willoughby, Lore 
 Westmoreland, and Lord Oxford were suspected by the queer || 
 of being unsound in religion; they had been reprimanded, anc n 
 Oxford was thought likely to lose his lands. 1 If the first movi H 
 could be made successfully, the conspirators counted on genera 
 support from these noblemen, and indeed from the whole bodj 
 of the lay peers. 
 
 The plan was identical with that of Wyatt and Suffolk and 
 Carew. Kingston was to march on London from Wales, and 
 thsTorce 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. Throg¬ 
 morton 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 I 
 French. Dudley was to attack Portsmouth, where he would ' 
 find the cannon “ pegged; ” 2 and when Portsmouth was taken, | 
 Hampshire, Sussex, and Kent were expected to rise. 
 
 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. 3 
 
 1 Noailles to the King of France, March 12: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 3 Uvedale’s Confession: Mary, Domestic, MS., vol. vii.; Peckham's 
 Confession, vol. viii. 
 
 3 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, 1 
 should accuse any of us of this, or any part touching this enterprise, bye I 
 and bye to revile him with most taunting and naughty rebukes that may 
 be devised. And thereby setting a stem 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, 
 
Calais 
 
 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 negotia¬ 
 tions 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. Un¬ 
 questionably, 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. 1 
 
 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, 2 they undertook to do the rest 
 themselves. 
 
 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 diffi¬ 
 culty in their way; if they were as strong as they professed 
 to be (and they said that members of the privy council were 
 
 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. 
 
 1 The Constable to Noailles, Feb. 7: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 ’ De leur pretur un peu d’espaule. 
 
266 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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; 1 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. 
 
 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 con¬ 
 fession. 
 
 “ He would do nothing,” Derick answered, “ but that which 
 1 Wotton to the Queen: French MSS., bundle 13. 
 
Calais 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. 1 
 
 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, Engle- 
 field, Waldegrave, Jemingham, and Hastings. The rest of the 
 council refused to meddle, 2 for reasons which, perhaps, the queen 
 hoped to learn from one or other of the prisoners. Throg¬ 
 morton, 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. 
 
 “ 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 con¬ 
 demned, 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.” 3 
 
 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 
 
 1 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. 
 
 3 Robert Swift to Lord Shrewsbury: Lodge’s Illustrations, vol. i. 
 
 3 Walpole’s Deposition: MS. Lodge’s Illustrations, vol. viii. 
 
268 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 thereto, but received his death at the enemies’ hand very 1 
 patiently, considering his old years, and also what profit these-1 
 young men should be to the Romans.” 1 
 
 The inquiry lasted till June, and much was learnt from those { 
 who had not Throgmorton’s courage. Matters came out im- i 
 plicating 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. 2 i 
 The court were forced to content themselves with smaller game, j 
 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 machina¬ 
 tions dangerous to the state. 3 
 
 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 ' 
 
 1 Peckham’s Confession: A/S. Lodge’s Illustrations, vol. viii. 
 
 2 Swift to Lord Shrewsbury: Ibid., vol. i.; Machyn’s Diary. 
 
 3 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 com¬ 
 missioners. “ 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 1 
 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. 
 
Calais 
 
 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 sub¬ 
 jects; and dreading every moment that her life might be 
 attempted by her own attendants.” 1 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.” 2 
 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. 
 
 The general suffering was aggravated by a likelihood of 
 famine. "The harvest of- r^^ Lfad'Tailed, and bread, with all 
 other articles of food, was daily rising. The conspiracy ex¬ 
 asperated the persecution, which was degenerating into whole¬ 
 sale 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. 3 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 
 
 1 Estant en continuel fureur de ne pouvoir jouir de la presence de son 
 mary ny de l’amour de son peuple, et dans line fort grande peur d’estre 
 offensee de sa propre vie par aulcungs des siens.—Noailles to the King of 
 France, May 7: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 2 Same to Montmorency, April 21: Ibid. 
 
 3 Foxe. This hideous story was challenged by Harding, the contro¬ 
 versialist, in the next reign. He was unfortunate in cailing attention 
 to it, for the case was inquired into, and the account was found too 
 certainly true. 
 
iyo Mary Tudor 
 
 of twenty thousand people. 1 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 swing¬ 
 ing from them in the wind. In the autumn, sixty men were i 
 sentenced to be hanged together, for what crime is unknown, | 
 at Oxford; 2 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. 3 
 
 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 sub¬ 
 mission 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; 4 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. 5 
 
 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, never¬ 
 theless, some tolerable answer is possible. 
 
 On the 2ist of January, 1557, the English ambassador in 
 Paris wrote in cypher to Sir William Petre, of “ a matter ” I 
 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, k 
 which without doubt would deprive her of her estate.” He 1 
 had asked for names, but these his informant would not give, I 
 saying merely, “ the best of England were in it,” and “ such a | 
 
 1 Machyn’s Diary. 2 Machyn. 3 Ibid. 
 
 4 See their stories: Foxe, vol. viii. 6 Foxe, vol. viii. 
 
Calais 
 
 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 con¬ 
 spirators 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.” 1 
 
 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 u nder 
 them than had been sacrificed during the last twelve months. 
 Having failed to destroy her sister, having been unable to alter 
 
 1 Wotton to Petre, cypher: French MSS., Mary, bundle 13. State 
 Paper Office. 
 
272 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 com¬ 
 mence; 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. 1 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. 2 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; 3 his name would 
 have given them strength, his presence weakness; but if he 
 really thought again of mixing himself in conspiracies his inten¬ 
 tions were frustrated. The last direct heir of the noblest family | 
 in England died at the end of the summer, of an ague caught u 
 among the lagoons at Venice. 4 
 
 1 The Queen to Wotton: MS. France , bundle 13. 
 
 3 Gens abominables, heretiques et traistres villains et execrables.— I 
 Noailles to the King, May 7: Ambassades, vol. v. 
 
 3 Wotton to Petre, cypher: French MSS. State Paper Office, bundle 13. 
 
 * His death was of course attributed by the world to poison. Courtenay’s 1 
 birth, and the fortune which was so nearly thrust upon him, give his , 
 
Calais 
 
 2 73 
 
 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 
 
 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 judg¬ 
 ment, 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 
 specially 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 
 
 S 
 
274 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 It was plain that the French king did not anticipate any long 
 
 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 com¬ 
 munion 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 gentle¬ 
 man 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. 
 
 1 Letters of Wotton to the Queen: French MSS., bundle 13, State Paper 
 Office. 
 
Calais 
 
 2 75 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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 
 j 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~f 3 thel\ 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 per¬ 
 mitted. To the English council Philip explained the hard 
 necessity under which he was placed. 2 
 
 The Duke of Alva crossed the Neapolitan frontier into the 
 States of the Church with twelve thousand men, taking the towns 
 
 1 Wotton to Petre: MS. Ibid. Compare Sir James Melville’s Memoirs, 
 P- 38 - 
 
 1 2 “ 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 contumacies, 
 summas quin potius uti fas est observantise nobis simus conscii, ac ne in 
 prasfracta quidem ejus obstinatione a solitis officiis destitum est, donee 
 cum nulla molliore ope malum posset mitigari; magisque indies ac magis 
 propagaretur videretque Albas Dux copias eum undique contrahere, ap- 
 ! paratum facere, tempus ducere, quoscumque principes quibuscumque 
 I conditionibus sollicitare, ut ingruenti rerum omnium ruinas occurreret, 
 
 ; ad hoc extremum remedium invitus coactusque descendit. Quae omnia 
 quanquam vobis comperta quando in eorum mentionem per vestras litteras 
 incidistis, per nos etiam vobis significanda duximus; atque id praterea 
 ea temperantiS ac modestia hoc bellum a duce geri atque administrari, ut 
 . nihil nisi orbis Christiani tranquillitas, sedis apostolic® dignitas, et nostro- 
 rum regnorum securitas procuretur, neque ullum nos ex hoc bello glorias 
 aucupemur, summum potius dolorem animique aegritudinem percipiamus.” 
 —Philip to the English Council: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. ix. State Paper 
 Office. 
 
2 j 6 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 I 
 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. p- 
 
 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, 1 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 correspond¬ 
 ence 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 con¬ 
 spiracy 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 Boullon- 
 nois. 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.” 2 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 dis¬ 
 guise. Finally, he learnt that Henry himself was going to 
 Rouen, to conduct the enterprise in person. 
 
 1 “ 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. 
 
 2 Wotton to the Queen, cypher: French MSS., bundle 13, State Paper 
 Office. 
 
Calais 
 
 2 77 
 
 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 pro¬ 
 tracted resistance. But the move had been anticipated. Rein¬ 
 forcements and supplies were sent from England, money was 
 despatched to pay up the arrears of the troops, and Pembroke 
 himself went over in command. 1 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. 
 
 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. 2 
 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. 
 
 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. Feclcenham 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. 3 The 
 remnant of the monks of Glastonbury had crawled back into the 
 ruins of their home. The queen had spared no effort and no 
 
 1 The Council to Philip, November 22nd: MS. Domestic, Mary, vol. ix. 
 
 2 Machyn. 
 
 3 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 
 of 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. 
 
278 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 ; 1 and the 
 example was telling among the chiefs. But in England, un¬ 
 fortunately, the lay owners of the church lands, orthodox and 
 unorthodox alike, were hopelessly impenitent. 
 
 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 com¬ 
 pelled the temporary release of the prisoners sent up from 
 Essex. 
 
 It has been mentioned that the legate took occasion to ad¬ 
 monish the citizens for their behaviour. In the present or the 
 following year 2 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 
 vour 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 
 
 1 Desmond to the Queen: Irish MSS. State Paper Office. 
 
 2 “ Three years and more after the restoration of the people to the 
 chinch,” 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. 
 
Calais 
 
 279 
 
 boy’s hand, and if he cry, beat him also, and cast the apple out 
 of the window.” 
 
 The maternal tenderness, under this aspect of the secularisa¬ 
 tion, 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 
 i —‘ 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 
 
280 
 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 I 
 no further fear. So do the heretics at their deaths like the y 
 blasphemer.” 1 
 
 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, gentle¬ 
 men, 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, there¬ 
 fore, “ minding to punish such enormities,” and having especial 
 trust in the wisdom of these persons, gave them power to in¬ 
 stitute inquiries at their pleasure into the conduct and opinions I 
 of every man and woman in all parts of the kingdom. The pro- | 
 tection 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 com¬ 
 manded 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 em¬ 
 barrassed by a necessity of impanelling juries; they might call I 
 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 
 
 'Address of Cardinal Pole to the citizens of London: Strype’s 
 Memorials, vol. vi. 
 

 Calais 
 
 28 1 
 
 ever more entirely set aside the restrictions of the law. 1 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 
 1 with their wives; whether the names of those who had not been 
 j 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. 2 
 
 Other commissioners again were sent to the universities, with 
 1 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 
 I 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 
 f 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 un- 
 f defended, 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, 
 ;l 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 pro¬ 
 fessor 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 
 I Luther, been a professed nun. She had died before Mary’s 
 t accession, and had been buried in the cathedral. A process 
 was now instituted against her similar to that at Cambridge. 
 
 1 Royal Commission printed in Foxe, vol. viii. p. 301, and by Burnet in 
 his Collectanea. 
 
 2 Articles of the visitation of Cardinal Pole: Foxe, vol. iii. 
 
282 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 An unforeseen difficulty occurred in the conduct of the pro¬ 
 secution. Catherine Cathie had lived quietly and unobtrusively . 
 she had taught nothing and had written no books; and nc 
 evidence could be found to justify her conviction on a charge 1 
 of heresy. 
 
 Ormaneto wrote to the legate for instructions; and as 
 burning was not permissible, the legate replied that, “ foras¬ 
 much as Catherine Cathie, of detestable memory, had called 1 
 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, i 
 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, I 
 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 inex- ! 
 tricably blended. 1 
 
 1 Wood’s A nnals 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 aemulo plane sanctitatis et virginitatis in Eliza- 
 bathe ingenio requisita sunt inter sordes sterquilinii publici quarum foedis- 
 sima pars erant, et incredibili studio inventa purgata lota in thecam eandem 
 reponuntur in qua S. Frideswid* reliquias colsbantur, et cum his adeo 
 confusa ut nulla unquam possunt diligentia secemi. Clauditur loculus et 
 cubitalibus litteris hoc epitaphio decoratur, ‘ Hie jacet religio cum super- 
 stitione,’ meliore titulo meretrici liaretici pessimi concubinae; proh nefas! 
 deteriore ancillae Christi sanctissimas virgini attributo.”—Foxe, vol. viii. 
 

 Calais 
 
 
 283 
 
 But Pole did not live to see the retribution. Convinced, if 
 ver there was a sincere conviction in any man, that the course 
 diich he was pursuing was precisely that which God required of 
 im, he laboured on in bis dark vocation. Through the spring 
 nd summer the persecution, under the new commission, raged 
 nth redoubled fury. 
 
 The subject is one to which it will not be necessary to return, 
 xcept with some brief details. In this place, therefore, shall 
 e given an extract from a tract in circulation among the 
 ’rotestants who were expecting death; and it may be judged, 
 I rom the sentiments with which these noble-natured men faced 
 he prospect of their terrible trial, with what justice Pole called 
 hem brambles and briars only fit to be burnt—criminals worse 
 I han thieves, or murderers, or adulterers. 1 
 
 “ The cross of persecution, if we will put childishness apart, 
 ' nd visibly weigh the worthiness thereof, is that sovereign, tried 
 ledicine that quencheth the daily digested poison of self-love, 
 ■I/orldly pleasure, fleshly felicity. It is the only worthy poison 
 f ambition, covetousness, extortion, uncleanness, licentiousness, 
 1 'rath, strife, sedition, sects, malice, and such other wayward 
 rorms: it is the hard hammer that breaketh off the rust from 
 he anchor of a Christian faith. 0 profitable instrument! O 
 xcellent exercise, that cannot be spared in a Christian life! 
 /ith wdtat alacrity of mind, with what desirous affection, with 
 /hat earnest zeal, ought we to embrace this incomparable jewel, 
 his sovereign medicine, this comfortable cup of tribulation. 
 
 “ When a piece of ground is limited and bounded, it doth not 
 nly signify that it goeth no further, but also it tendeth and 
 tretcheth to the bound. It is not enough to consider that we 
 hall not pass the time that God hath limited and determined us 
 ’ 0 live, but we must assuredly persuade ourselves that we shall 
 '< ve as long as He hath ordained us to live; and so shall we do, 
 i despite of all our enemies. 
 
 “And tell me, have men given us our life? No, forsooth. 
 jTo more can they take it away from us. God hath given it, 
 nd God only doth take it away, for He is the Lord of death as 
 /ell as of life; wherefore when the appointed time of our 
 leath is come, let us assure ourselves, that it is God only and none 
 
 1 An excellent epistle, translated from French into English by Thomas 
 ■ rownell, with a preface, a.d. 1556. The copy from which I make my 
 I xtract is in the Bodleian Library at Oxford; it is marked in the margin 
 1 various places with a finger pm~ apparently almost as old as the printing; 
 nd this finger was perhaps drawn by some one whom the words were con¬ 
 i' oling or inspiriting in the hour of his own trial. 
 
284 Mary Tudor 
 
 other that doth kill us, for He saith, It is I that kill and mak< 
 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 offei 
 then, unto God our Father, ourselves for a sacrifice, whos< 
 savour, although it be evil in the nose of the world, yet it is gooc 
 and agreeable unto God, by Jesus Christ his Son, in the faith 0 
 whom we do dedicate and offer ourselves, when we perceive oui 
 hour to approach. 
 
 “ And, whatsoever betide, let us not fear men; let us not feai 
 them. God doth inhibit and forbid us in the same, saying, b> 
 his prophet, Fear them not, for I am with you; and seeing Goc 
 doth forbid us to fear men, can we fear them without sin ? Nc 
 truly. To what purpose do we fear them ? Men of themselves 
 can do nothing, and if at any time they have any power, thf 
 same only cometh unto them from God, and is given unto their, 
 only to accomplish the will of God. But peradventure ye will 
 say to me that J esus Christ himself, in the time of his cross, die 
 fear death, and therefore it is no marvel though we do fear it 
 in whom is no such perfection and constancy. Truly the flesh J 
 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. II 
 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 un¬ 
 feigned 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, 1 
 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 sym¬ 
 pathise. The attempt on Calais having failed, it became a 
 question at the French court, whether, after having given so 
 
Calais 
 
 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. 
 i Noailles assured him, <c that out of doubt she would not; for if 
 r she should send those whom she trusted out of the realm, then 
 1 would they whom she trusted not, not fail to be busy within the 
 \ realm.” 1 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 
 S .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. 
 
 Philip, anxious and hopeful, paid England the respect of 
 returning for a few weeks, and in the same month of March 
 1 came over to sue the council in person. The affair at Calais was 
 t a substantial ground for a rupture, but the attack, though 
 intended, had not been actually made. The story might seem, 
 I 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 
 1 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 un¬ 
 popular. The attempt nevertheless was made. The queen 
 produced the treaty of 1546, between England and the empire; 
 
 1 and, in compliance with its provisions, laid before the privy 
 l council a proposal, if not to declare war with France, yet to 
 I threaten a declaration, in the event of an invasion of the 
 * Netherlands. 
 
 The privy council considered the queen’s request; their 
 I conclusion was not what she desired. 
 
 The treaty of 1546, the council replied, had been abrogated 
 I by the treaty of marriage, so far as it might involve England in 
 I a war with France. “ Her majesty would be unable to main- 
 I tain a war, and, therefore, to say to the French king that she 
 would aid her husband, according to the treaty, and not being 
 I 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 
 1 Wotton to Petre: French MSS., bundle 13, State Paper Office. 
 
286 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 people of the realm were at present many ways grieved—som 
 pinched with famine, some for want of payment of money du. 
 to them, some discontented for matters of religion; and 
 generally, all yet tasting the smart of the late wars. It wouL 
 be hard to have any aid of money of them. And in times past, : 
 the council added, significantly, “ although the prince founc 
 himself able to make and maintain wars, yet the causes of thos 
 wars were opened for the most part in parliament.” 1 
 
 Objections so decided and so just would have hardly Peei 
 overcome, but for an injudicious enterprise of the refugees, unde 
 French auspices. The French court believed that, by keepinj 
 Mary in alarm at home, they would make it the less easy for he 
 to join in the war. They mistook the disposition of the people 
 who resented and detested the interference of France in thei 
 concerns. 
 
 Among the exiles at the court of Paris, the most distinguish^ 
 by birth, if not by ability, was Sir Thomas Stafford, Lon 
 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 fron 
 the mouth of the Seine with two vessels well manned an? 
 appointed. His destination was unknown; but it was under 
 stood that he intended to take some fortress on the Englisl 
 coast, and that the refugees, in a body, intended to follow him 
 Before Wotton’s letter arrived, the scheme, such as it was, ha< 
 been already executed. Stafford, with thirty Englishmen am 
 one Frenchman, had surprised Scarborough Castle, and sent hi 
 proclamations through Yorkshire. He was come, he said, ti 
 deliver his country from foreign tyranny. He had sure evidenci 
 that an army of Spaniards was about to land, and that Philij 
 intended to seize the crown by force. The queen, by he 
 marriage with a stranger, had forfeited her own rights; and h ' 
 himself, as the protector of English liberty, intended to bestov 
 the crown on the next rightful heir, and to restore all such acts 
 laws, liberties, and customs as were established in the time of tha ' 
 most prudent prince, King Henry VIII. “ He did not mind,’ 
 he thought it necessary to add, "to work his own advancemen 
 touching possession of the crown, but to restore the blood am 
 house of the Staffords to its pristine estate, which had beei 
 wrongfully suppressed by Cardinal Wolsey.” 2 
 
 1 Answer of the Privy Council to the queen’s question whether Englam 
 shall enter the wars with France .—Sloane MSS. 1786, British Museum. 
 
 2 Proclamation of Thomas Stafford, son to the Lord Henry, rightfu 
 Duke of Buckingham.—Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi. p. 515. 
 

 Calais 
 
 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 
 I :ountry had determined once for all to give no countenance to 
 ■evolution supported by France. The occupation of Scar¬ 
 borough lasted two days, at the end of which Stafford and his 
 whole party were taken by the Earl of Westmoreland. Thirty - 
 I :wo prisoners were sent to London; thirty-one were put to 
 [death; and the council reluctantly withdrew their opposition 
 co the war. A hundred and forty thousand pounds were in the 
 exchequer, being part of the subsidy granted by parliament to 
 bay the crown debts. 1 With this the court prepared to com- 
 j nence, trusting to fortune for the future. War was to be 
 I declared on the 7th of June, and, while seven thousand men 
 I were to cross the Channel and join Pembroke in the Low 
 I Countries, 2 Howard was to cruise with the fleet in the Channel 
 I co use his discretion in annoying the enemy, and, if possible, 
 
 I :o destroy the French ships at Dieppe. 3 
 
 Happy, however, in having succeeded in gratifying her 
 husband, the queen brought at once upon herself a blow which 
 >he had little foreseen, and from a quarter from which an injury 
 was most painful. In her desire to punish France for assisting 
 ier rebellious heretical subjects, she seemed to have forgotten 
 Fat France had an ally beyond the Alps. No sooner did Paul 
 tV. learn that England was about to declare on the side of 
 Philip, than, under the plausible pretence that he could have 
 10 ambassador residing in a country with which he was at war, 
 le resolved to gratify his old animosity against Cardinal Pole, 
 > ind cancel his legation. 
 
 Sir Edward Karne, the English resident at Rome, waited on 
 
 1 :he pope to remonstrate. He urged Paul to recollect how much 
 ;he 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 
 
 1 Exchequer Accounts: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. State Paper Office. 
 
 ‘ Bitterly hating their work that they were sent upon, “ the people went 
 li 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. 
 
 3 Instructions to the Lord Admiral: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xi. 
 
288 
 
 Mary Tudor 
 
 say that, if the queen would herself expressly desire it, he wouli 
 distinguish between her and her husband. 1 But the suspension 
 of the legation, though not at first published, was carried throug] 
 the Consistory; and so ingeniously was it worded, that not onl' 
 the formal and especial commission was declared at an end, bu 
 the legatine privileges, attached by immemorial custom to th 
 archbishopric of Canterbury, were cancelled with it. The pop 
 chose to leave himself without representative, ordinary or extra 
 ordinary, at the English court. 
 
 The queen was in despair. Before Kame’s letter reached her 
 she had heard" what was impending, and she wrote a letter o 
 passionate expostulation, in which she expatiated on he 
 services to religion, and on the assistance which Pole hat 
 rendered her. She said that, in the unsettled condition o 
 England, the presence of a legate with supreme authority wa 
 absolutely necessary; and she implored Paul to reconsider ; 
 decision so rash and so unkind. 
 
 The council added their separate protest. 2 “ They had heart 
 with infinite grief that the legate was to be taken from them 
 There was no precedent for the recall of a legate who had beer 
 once commissioned, unless from fault of his own; and for them 
 selves, they were unconscious of having misconducted them 
 selves in any way since the reconciliation. Cardinal Pole hac 
 been the saviour of religion. Before his coming to England 
 the queen, with the best intentions to do good, had failed tc 
 arrest the growth of heresy, and the name of the Holy See wa: 
 held in detestation. Pole, the noblest and most distinguishec 
 of the cardinals, had made what was crooked straight; he hac 
 introduced reforms everywhere; in a few years the wounc 
 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 hi; 
 holiness, therefore, to listen to them, and allow him to remain 
 When they were reconciled, the pope then reigning hac 
 promised that the customary privileges and immunities of the 
 English nation should be maintained. It was the special pre- 
 
 1 Sir Edward Kame to the Queen: Burnet’s Collectanea. 
 
 2 Printed by Strype, Memorials of the Reformation, vol. vi. p. 476, anc 
 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 lettei I 
 is dated the 21st May, and the letter which I suppose to have been frorr, | 
 the council, and another, said also to have been from “ the nobility,” wer< 
 evidently written under the same impression, and at the same time, wher 
 the idea of the recall was new. 
 
Calais 289 
 
 rogative 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 dis¬ 
 favour. 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.” 1 
 
 Kame’s letter produced a brief hope that the pope would 
 1 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 de- 
 ; slaration of war had in the interval become a reality, and the 
 t pope, more indignant than ever, chose to consider Pole personally 
 responsible for the queen’s conduct. Since a point was made 
 I 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 
 I week in July. Mary accompanied him to Dover, and there a 
 I papal nuncio met her, bringing a commission by which Pole was 
 ' reduced into the ordinary rank of archbishop; and the office of 
 I papal representative was conferred on Peto, the Greenwich 
 j friar. For his objections to the present legate, the pope gave 
 [the strange but wounding reason, that his orthodoxy was not 
 > above suspicion. 
 
 1 The queen, with something of her father’s temper in her, 
 I srdered the nuncio to return to Calais till she could again 
 | pommunicate with Rome. She interdicted Peto from accepting 
 j 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 
 | Drmaneto 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 
 jccasion than against one whose whole employment had been 
 I no recover souls to Christ and his church, and to cut off those 
 I that were obstinate as rotten members. His services to the 
 
 1 Letters to the Pope: Strype, vol. vi. pp. 476-482. The drafts of the 
 I .etters are not signed, nor does it appear what names were attached to 
 ' them. It is not even certain that they were sent. 
 
 T 
 
290 Mary Tudor 
 
 church, he passionately exclaimed, transcended far the service , 
 of any legate who had been employed for centuries, and, never 
 theless, he found himself accused of heresy by the Vicar of Chris 
 upon earth. Such an insult was unjust and unprovoked; am 
 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 01 
 the whole church. How was the pope rewarding this saintec 
 woman, when with the thunder of his voice he accused the king 
 her husband, of schism, and himself, the legate, of heresy ? 1 
 
 Scarcely in his whole troubled life had a calamity more agitat¬ 
 ing overtaken Reginald Pole. To maintain the supremacy ol 
 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 dis-[ 
 obedience 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;i 
 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 
 1 Pole to the Pope: Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi. p. 34, etc. 
 
Calais 
 
 291 
 
 which he could collect, not meaning to risk a battle, but to throw 
 provisions and further supplies of men into St. Quentin. Mont¬ 
 morency 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, 
 f 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. 
 Andre, 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 
 i 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 con¬ 
 spicuous, 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 enter¬ 
 prise 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- 
 
292 Mary Tudor 
 
 be his enemies, softened the ignominy of his compelled sub- , 
 mission. Cardinal Caraffa and the Duke of Alva met at Cava 
 where, in a few words, it was agreed that his holiness shoulc 
 relinquish his alliance with France, and cease to trouble thf 
 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 agaic 
 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 urn 
 propitious 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 arch¬ 
 bishopric. 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. 1 
 
 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 here¬ 
 after. 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. 
 
 1 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 1 
 take from me the reputation of orthodoxy. You told the English ambas- 1 
 sador 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, whc U 
 chose me for a cardinal. Thus I thought of myself; thus I spoke when 1 
 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: Epistolce, vol. v. p. 31. 
 
Calais 
 
 2 93 
 
 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 con¬ 
 dition 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 
 i of money opposite to their names, and the collectors were 
 directed “to travail by all the best ways they might for obtain¬ 
 ing the sums noted.” Persons found conformable were to receive 
 acknowledgments. Should “any be froward ” they were to 
 j find securities to appear when called on before the privy council, 
 or to be arrested on the spot and sent to London. 1 A hundred 
 and ten thousand pounds were collected under the commission, 
 in spite of outcry and resistance; 2 but it was not enough for the 
 hungry consumption of the war, and the court was driven to call 
 } a parliament. 
 
 The writs went out at the beginning of December, accom- 
 , panied with the usual circulars; to which the queen added a 
 , promise, that if the mayors and sheriffs 3 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 
 i them within their jurisdiction, should recommend “ men of 
 I learning and wisdom,” their directions should “ be regarded 
 and followed.” 4 Yet there was not perhaps any wish to have 
 the House of Commons unfairly packed. Mary desired, pro- 
 
 [i 1 Commission for the Loan: MS. Mary, Domestic, v ol. xi. 
 
 2 Ibid. vol. xii. 
 
 3 The queen to all sheriffs, mayors, etc.—For the well choosing of the 
 knights of the shire and burgesses: 
 
 j “ Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well: and whereas for certain 
 great and weighty causes touching both the honour of Almighty God, and 
 I the wealth and good government of this our realm, we have summoned our 
 I High Court of Parliament, to be holden at Westminster, the 20th of 
 I January next: and forasmuch as we consider that a great part of the 
 1 furthering of such things, as shall be treated in our said parliament, and 
 I bringing them to good effect, shall consist in the well appointing and 
 I choosing of such as shall be knights of shires, citizens of any city, or bur- 
 I gesses of other towns corporate, we have thought good to require you to 
 I have good regard, and so far forth as in you may lie, to provide that such 
 I as shall be appointed may be men given to good order, Catholic, and dis- 
 I creet, 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 acccept- 
 ■ able pleasure, which we shall consider towards you as any occasion may 
 shew. Given under our signet, December 10, 1557.”— MS. Mary, Domestic, 
 vol. xii. 
 
 ‘ MS. Ibid. 
 

 294 Mary Tudor 
 
 bably with sincerity, “ to have the assembly of the most chiefest ■ 
 men in the realm for advice and counsel.” 
 
 How the parliament would have acted in the circumstances 
 under which the meeting was anticipated, is very uncertain, i 
 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 retalia¬ 
 tion for the disgrace which they had suffered in the loss of it, 
 while the ill success with which the English maintained them¬ 
 selves 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 suc¬ 
 cessively 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. 1 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. 
 
 In the year 1500, the cost of maintaining the three fortresses 
 was something less than £ 10,000 a-year; 2 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; 3 while, owing to bad government, and the 
 growing anomaly of the English position, the wealthier inhabi- 
 
 1 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 0/ 
 Calais, published by the Camden Society. 
 
 2 Chronicle of Calais. 
 
 3 Lord Grey to the Queen, June 13, 1557: Calais MSS. bundle 10, State 
 Paper Office. 
 
Calais 
 
 295 
 
 tants 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. 1 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 I 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. 2 
 - Lord Grey, the governor of Guisnes, reported in June, after the 
 I 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. 3 
 
 The arrival of the army under Pembroke removed the imme- 
 t diate ground for alarm; and after the defeat of the French, the 
 
 1 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 there¬ 
 upon 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. 
 
 * Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
 * Cornwallis to the Queen: Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
296 Mary Tudor 
 
 danger was supposed to be over altogether. The queen was , 
 frightened at the expenses which she was incurring, and again j 
 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 com 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. 1 
 
 Up to the beginning of December, notwithstanding, there 
 were no external symptoms to create uneasiness; military move¬ 
 ments 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, 2 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 1 
 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 i 
 
 1 When all your majesty’s pieces on this side make account to be fur¬ 
 nished 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 I 
 hither, whereby is grown a very great scarcity.—Wentworth to the Queen: I 
 Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
 a Sir Arthur Grey. 
 
Calais 
 
 297 
 
 estimation, who the day before was sent there with twelve men 
 by M. Senarpont, captian 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, w r hen 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.” 1 
 
 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. 2 
 
 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, 3 but no com. 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 
 
 1 Grey to the Queen: Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
 2 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. 
 
 3 Grey to the Queen: Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
298 Mary Tudor 
 
 to meet the enemy in the field until the arrival of reinforcements, 
 which were written for in pressing haste. 1 
 
 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 22 nd 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, 1 
 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 imme¬ 
 diately. 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. 2 
 
 The letter containing the death sentence, for it was nothing | 
 less, of English rule in Calais was crossed on the way by another I 
 from Grey, in which he informed the queen that there were I 
 thirty or forty vessels in the harbour at Hambletue, two fitted | 
 as floating batteries, the rest loaded with hurdles, ladders, and 1 
 other materials for a siege. Four-and-twenty thousand men 1 
 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. I 
 
 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 in¬ 
 vested. 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.- 
 
 1 Wentworth and Grey to the Queen: Calais MSS. bundle 10. 
 
 2 The Queen to Wentworth: Ibid. 
 
Calais 
 
 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 con¬ 
 nected 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 unfor¬ 
 tunately, 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 
 I 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 them- 
 l selves up to their waists in water, and the tide still rising, 
 1 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. 1 
 
 1 “ 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 
 
300 Mary Tudor 
 
 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.” 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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 
 
 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 he 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. 
 
 1 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.” 
 
Calais 
 
 3 °i 
 
 found, without waiting for them, and was half-way across the 
 Channel when he was met by the news of the loss of the Rys- 
 bank. 1 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 com¬ 
 panies 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. 2 Rut¬ 
 land 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. 3 
 
 He would have been too late to save Calais at that time, how¬ 
 ever, 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 
 
 1 Rutland to the Queen: Calais MSS. 
 
 2 MS. Council Records. 
 
 3 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xi. 
 
302 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Wood- 
 house, 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 Dun¬ 
 kirk, 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;” 1 and on 
 
 ‘The Queen to Sir William Woodhouse, January 12: MS. Mary, 
 Domestic , vol. xii. 
 
Calais 
 
 3 °3 
 
 the 13th she counter-ordered the musters, and sent home all the 
 troops which had arrived at Dover. 1 
 
 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 any¬ 
 thing. 
 
 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; 2 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. 
 
 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 17 th 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 prac¬ 
 ticable. 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 
 
 1 Circular for Staying of the Musters: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. 
 
 8 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii., January 17. 
 
304 Mary Tudor 
 
 sort, constructed when the art of gunnery was in its infancy 
 and brick and stone crumbled to ruins before the heavy cannot 
 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 stand¬ 
 ing 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 powdei 
 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 mer 
 give way, sprung to the top of the rampart, “ wishing God thal 
 some shot would take him.” A soldier caught him by the scarl 
 and pulled him down, and all that was left of the garrison fel 
 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 e 
 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, anc 
 Grey, as we have seen, was no stranger to the law of arms in such 
 cases. Hostages were exchanged, and the next morning the twe 
 commanders met in the French camp. 
 
 Better terms were offered by Guise than had been granted tc 
 Calais—Grey, Sir Henry Palmer, and a few officers should con¬ 
 sider 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 
 
Death of Mary 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, 
 !^ut 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, com¬ 
 pared 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 
 
 u 
 
306 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 “ That no way or policy 
 should be undevised or not thought upon,” they divided them¬ 
 selves 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 modem 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 govern¬ 
 ment, 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.” 2 It was calculated that the annual proceeds of the 
 subsidy would be no more than £140,000;® 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 oi 
 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 
 
 1 Commons Journals. 
 
 3 Ibid. The famous graziers and other people, how well willing soevei j 
 they be taken to be, will not be known of their wealth, and by miscontent- I 
 ment of their loss, be grown stubborn and liberal of talk. The Council tc j 
 Philip: Cotton. MS. Titus, B. 2. 
 
 1 Estimate of the money to be provided for the furniture and charges o 
 the war: MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. 
 
Death of Mary 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 them¬ 
 selves with all their powers, which would not be without their 
 great charges.” 1 
 
 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 nqt 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. 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 
 
 1 Discourse on the order that was used in granting of the Subsidy: MS. 
 Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. 
 
 ‘The Council to Philip: Cotton. MSS. Titus, B. 2. 
 
308 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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 long¬ 
 bows, with sheaves of arrows, and as many steelcaps, halberds, 
 blackbills, and haquebuts. All English subjects, in a descend¬ 
 ing scale, were required to arm others or arm themselves accord¬ 
 ing to their property. 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 six¬ 
 teen to sixty, was to be ready to take arms when called upon, 
 and join his officers, under pain of death. 3 With these essential 
 orders, the business of the legislature ended, and parliament was 
 prorogued on the 7th of March till the following November. 
 
 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.” 4 Sir Thomas Gresham was sent again to 
 Antwerp to borrow £200,000, if possible, at fourteen per cent. 6 
 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;” 6 and she 
 promised, further, that, if she could legally do it, she would dis¬ 
 pense in their favour with the statute for the limitation of usury. 
 
 To this last appeal the corporation responded with a loan of 
 £20,000, at twelve per cent.; the Merchant Adventurers con¬ 
 tributed £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. 
 
 1 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. 
 
 2 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, statute 2. 3 Ibid, statute 3. 
 
 4 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xii. 
 
 6 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. 
 
 • Queen Mary to the Aldermen of the City of London: MS. Ibid. 
 
Death of Mary 309 
 
 Yet with the masses the work of arming went forward lan¬ 
 guidly. 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 night¬ 
 mare. 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; 1 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 Canter- 
 | bury; 2 and the people, sick to their very souls at the abominable 
 : spectacles which were thrust before them, sank into a sullen 
 despondency. 
 
 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; 3 yet the loyalty was none 
 i 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. Good¬ 
 man 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 bum them, should be 
 executed as a rebel by martial law. 4 “ 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.” 
 
 With the summer, fever and ague set in like a pestilence. 
 
 1 Foxe: Burnet. 2 Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi. p. 120. 
 
 3 Privy Council Register, MS. Mary. 
 
 1 Royal Proclamation, June 6, 1558: Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi.; 
 Foxe, vol. xiii. 
 
3 i o Mary Tudor 
 
 “ God did so punish the realm/’ said Sir Thomas Smith again, 
 
 “ with quartan agues, and with such other long and new sick¬ 
 nesses, 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.” 1 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. 
 
 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 dis¬ 
 appointment 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 execu¬ 
 tion 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.” 2 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 I 
 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 
 
 1 Oration on the Queen’s Marriage: Strype’s Life of Sir Thomas Smith. 
 
 2 Privy Council Register, MS. 
 
Death of Mary 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, 
 i when the faggots were lighted, stood out in the presence of the 
 throng, and cried: 
 
 “ 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.” 1 
 
 Alarmed himself, this time, at the display of emotion, Bonner 
 dared not outrage the metropolis with the deaths of the remain¬ 
 ing 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. 2 
 
 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; 3 and 
 on the day of the burning at Brentford, accident gave a small 
 squadron among them a share in a considerable victory. 
 
 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 
 I 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 
 
 1 Bentham to Lever: Strype’s Memorials, vol. vi. 
 
 ’“This fact,” says Foxe, “purchased him more hatred than any that 
 he had done of the common people.” 
 
 a Swift to the Earl of Shrewsbury: Lodge’s Illustrations. 
 
3 i 2 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 Conquet, which they plundered and burnt, and after¬ 
 wards 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 Ports- : 
 mouth, after an ineffectual and merely mischievous demonstra¬ 
 tion, and then reported the sickness in the fleet so considerable, 
 that the operations for the season must be considered at an end. 1 
 
 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 w r atching 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 
 
 1 MS. Mary, Domestic, vol. xiii. 
 
Death of Mary 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 prin¬ 
 ciple 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 turn¬ 
 ing in the history of mankind. Essential ground of quarrel 
 between Henry and Philip there was none; the outward acci¬ 
 dental 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 Crepy, and 
 having brought England into the war, would leave her to endure 
 her own losses, or avenge them bv 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, 
 
 1 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 
 I duties which the designation imposed upon him; and if the 
 i English were deserted their resentment would explode in a 
 revolution of which Mary would be the instant victim. 1 
 
 1 Renard found it necessary to warn Philip of this, in a despatch written, 
 in October: Granvelle Papers, vol. v. p. 225. 
 
314 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 con¬ 
 stitutional 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 nego¬ 
 tiations; 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 com- 
 mlssioners 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.” 1 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. 
 
 “ 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.” 2 
 
 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. 3 
 Thus for a time the negotiation remained suspended till events 
 should clear up the course which the different parties would 
 follow. 
 
 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 bom of the Virgin Mary for the salva¬ 
 tion of mankind—where were now these visionary" and humifi- . 
 ating dreams? 
 
 1 Arundel, Thirlby, and Wotton to the Council: French MSS., bundle 13. 1 
 
 2 Ibid. 
 
 J Philip to the English Ambassador, October 30: Ibid. 
 
Death of Mary 3 15 
 
 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 pre¬ 
 sented by Pole in person to be visited “ with condign punish¬ 
 ment.” 1 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. 
 
 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 sendees 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 Wood- 
 stock. 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; 
 
 1 “ Condigna animadversione plectendos.”—Wilkins’s Concilia, vol. iv. 
 
3 16 Mary Tudor 
 
 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. 1 
 
 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. With¬ 
 out 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. 2 
 
 This was the 14th of November. The same day, or the day 1 
 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. 3 Then, i 
 taking leave of a world in which she had played so ill a parfy 1 
 she prepared, with quiet piety, for the end. On the 16th, at ' 
 midnight, she received the last rites of the church. Towards 
 
 1 Report of the Count de Feria: Tytler, vol. ii. p. 494. Memorial of the 
 
 Duchess of Feria, MS., quoted by Lingard. 1 
 
 2 Cotton. MS. Vespasian. F. 3. The letter is written in a shaking hand. , 
 The address is lost, and being dated the r4th of November, while Mary j 
 was still alive, it has been described as to her and not to her sister. But 1 
 an endowment “ From the queen’s majesty at Hatfield,” leaves no doubt i 
 to whom it was written. 
 
 3 Among the apocryphal or vaguely attested anecdotes of the end of 1 
 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 char- t 
 
 * acteristic, but having come somehow into existence, there is no reason why 
 it should not continue to be believed. 
 
Death of Mary 3 1 / 
 
 , 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. 
 
 A few hours later (November 17), at Lambeth, Pole followed 
 Iher, 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 whi ch 
 had welcomed her accession. In that brief time she hacT 
 pwathed her name in the horrid epithet which will cling to it for 
 ever; and yet from the passions which in general tempt sove¬ 
 reigns into crime, she was entirely free: to the time of her acces¬ 
 sion 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 derange¬ 
 ment, and leave little room, as we think of her, for other feelings 
 ithan 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 
 1 commenced nor continued without his sanction; and he was 
 notoriously the one person in the council whom the queen 
 
318 Mary Tudor 
 
 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 un¬ 
 happy 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 exectued 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 anticipa¬ 
 tion 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. 
 
Death of Mary 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 Ecclesice 
 Anglicance, 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 Laodicaeans; 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. 
 
320 Mary Tudor 
 
 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, 1 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; ” 2 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. 3 “ By imprisonment,” said Lord Burghley, 
 “ by torment, by famine, by fire, almost the number of 400 
 were,” in their various ways, “ lamentably destroyed.” 
 
 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 execra¬ 
 tions of the people, of its own excess. 
 
 1 Underhill’s Narrative. 2 Burghley’s Execution of Justice. 
 
 3 The number is variously computed at 270, 280, and 290. 
 
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, Six Nicholas, 114, 260 
 Arras, Bishop of, 38, 60, 61, 85, 119, 
 150, 155 , 208 
 
 Arundel, Lord, 13, 18, 21, 22, 28, 42, 
 43 , II6 , i 7 i, 313 , 3 M 
 “ 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 
 
 Baordo’s History, 1, 10, 20, 28, 35, 
 40, 92, 100, 102, hi, 112, 141-3 
 Barlow, Bishop, 47 
 Bath, Earl of, 11, 71 
 Bavnard’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; crea¬ 
 tion 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 
 
 32 
 
 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, no 
 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, no, 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 
 
 I X 
 
322 Mary 
 
 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 
 
 Conquet, 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 Courieres, 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, no, 
 113-16, 130, i3r, 162, 198, 262, 
 272 
 
 Coventry, 100 
 
 Coverdale, Miles, 47, 134, 206 
 Cowling Castle, 96, 164 
 Cranmer, Thos., 15, 20, 48, 74, rro, 
 118, r34, 165, 212, 224-34, 245-59 
 Crofts, Sir James, 23, 87, 102, no, 
 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, n, 36, 37, 71, 83, 
 116, 136 
 
 TDerick, 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, 
 3ii 
 
 Tudor 
 
 Elder, John, 141 
 
 Elizabeth Tudor, 30-2, 57, 76-8 i 
 93, 94, 103, no, 114, 115, T22-31 
 136, r55, r62, 199, 200, 213-19 
 236, 315-320 
 d’Enghien, Due, 29r 
 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, rrr, 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, I 
 70, 130, 173, 191, 196, rg7, 200,1 
 202, 213, 2t4, 216, 224, 225, 232-5,1 
 245, 246, 253, 269, 270, 281, 282,1 
 
 309 
 
 Framlingham, 2r 
 
 Gage, Sir John, 107, 108, ir6, 126, t 
 130 1 
 
 Gardiner, Stephen, 28, 30, 33, 36, j 
 41, 47, 56-63, 72-6, 83, 89, 91-7, | 
 103, 106, 109, rz4-23, 132-5, 162, * 
 171, 172, 175, r77,190, 196-7, 208, 1 
 223, 237, 238 
 Gates, Sir Henry, 40-2 
 Gates, Sir John, T4, 40-5 
 Goldwell, Thos., 81 
 Gomez, Ruy, r7r, 185, 186 
 Gonzaga, Hernando de, 139, 
 145 
 
 Goo dman , 309 
 
 Granvelle Papers, 3, 8, r3, 18, 19, I 
 25, 27, 32, 37 - 9 . 47 , 55 , 56, 61, 64, 
 85 , 92, 97 , i° 5 , ii 5 , u6, rip, r37, 
 139, 147, 150, 151, 155-7, 162, 1 
 176, 178, 179, 185, 186, 197-9, 
 200, 2t4, 216, 313 
 Gravelines, Cardinal Pole at, r62 
 Great Bill, the, 180-2 
 Greenwich, disturbance at, 60 
 Gresham, Sir Thos., 84, 139, 208, 
 209, 308 
 
 Grey, Lady Jane, 4-20, 3r, 39, 44, t 
 74, 100, no, nr 
 
 Grey, Lord John, 87, 92, 102, no, 
 178 
 
 Grey, Lord Leonard, 87 
 
Index 
 
 I Grey, Lord Thomas, 87, 90, 92, 101, 
 102, 106, no, 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, 3 02 . 3°3 
 
 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., n, 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 
 Highbed, Thos., 201 
 Hoby, Sir Philip, 24, 83 
 Holgate, Archbishop, 47 
 Holinshed quoted, 8, 9, 22, 98, 108, 
 124, 128-31, 2x6, 242 
 Holvman, 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, I7 8 , 198, 199, 215, 269, 271, 
 287 
 
 Hunter, 201-3 
 
 Huntingdon, Earl of, 100-2, no, 136, 
 
 ) 163 
 
 1 Inglefield, 116 
 1 Irish, Mr., 231 
 Isly, Sir Henry, 92, no 
 Italy, Philip's invasion of, 290 
 
 3 2 3 
 
 Jenkins quoted, 224, 250, 252, 253 
 Jerningham, Sir Henry, 15, 93, n6, 
 267 
 
 Joanna of Castile, 215 
 
 Julius III., Pope, 53-5, 81, 148, 175, 
 
 206 
 
 Karae, Sir Ed., 287, 288 
 Keninghal, 3 
 
 Killegrew, Henry, 272, 273 
 Kingston, Sir Anthony, 193, 194, 
 260-2, 266 
 
 Kingston, Wyatt at, 105 
 Knight, 20 x 
 Knox, John, 16 
 Knyvet, Anthony, 93, 105-9 
 
 Lalaing, Count de, 83, 85 
 Lansdowne MSS., 21 
 Latimer, Bishop, 48, no, 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 
 
324 Mary 
 
 Montague , Lord, 163, 165, 178, 
 236 
 
 Montmerency, 86, 208, 210, 269, 
 
 291 
 
 Montpensier, Duke de, 291 
 Morgan, Bishop, 206 
 Morone, Cardinal, 148, 149, 151 
 Mortmain, Statute of, 176; sus¬ 
 pended, 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, 12T, 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, 
 3°4 
 
 Palmer, Sir Thomas, 13, 40-2, 45, 
 46 
 
 Parker, Archbishop, 319 
 Parsons, 41 
 
 Paul IV., 210, 236, 239, 275, 287-9, 
 
 292 
 
 Tudor 
 
 Peckham, Sir Edmund, 11 
 Peckham, Sir Henry, 260-4, 266-8 
 Pelham, 105 
 
 Pembroke, Earl of, 14, 16, 18-20, 36, 
 37, 98, ro6-8, ir6, 135, 154, 208. 
 277, 287 
 
 Perrot, Sir John, 262 
 Peto, Wm., 80, 289, 292 
 Petre, Sir Wm., 6, 33, 92, 94, 114, 
 ri6, 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, 8r, 
 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, ro, 24 
 Premunire, Act of, 184, 187 
 Prideaux, John, 90 
 Property of Church, 176, 178, 179 
 Protestants, set-back to, 69, 70; 
 hanging of, 84 
 
 RadcliS, Sir Humfrey, 105 
 Rampton, Thos., 100 
 Regency Bill, 185, 1S6 
 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, 5i, 
 55, 57-64, 68-84, 91, 93-7, 102, 
 103, 106, 108-19, 122-37, 139, 147, 
 I 53*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, no, ri8, 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 , 5 i, 57 - 6 i, 64, 67-9, 7 °- 4 , 
 78-80, 83-4, 86, 91, 93, 94, 97 , 
 102, 103, 106, 108, no, 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. Andre, 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- 
 go, 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, no, 114, 157 
 
 Sussex, Earl of, n, 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, 2S0, 
 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 
 Wame, 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, n 
 White, Bishop, 224 
 White, Rawlins, 206 
 White, Thomas, 266, 267 
 
Mary Tudor 
 
 326 
 
 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 , *15 
 
 Worcester, Dean of, 316 
 Worcester, Lord, 107, 178 
 “ Worthies, the nine,” 153 
 Wootton, 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 
 
 TUB TEMPLE PRESS, PRINTERS, LETCH WORTH 
 
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Dare Due