The History of Mary I. Queen of England

At a time when prejudiced historical verdicts are being largely revised, and when it is universally admitted that history must be studied on broader and more discriminating lines than heretofore, the restatement of the case for our first Queen Regnant scarcely needs an apology.

Two books, one The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, with an Introductory Memoir by Sir Frederick Madden, some time Keeper of the Manuscripts in the British Museum, and the other, The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, edited by the Rev. Joseph Stevenson, from the original manuscript in the possession of Lord Dormer, first revealed Queen Mary to me as an attractive and sympathetic personality. Subsequent diligent examination of documents relating to her life and reign, scattered about the various archives of Europe, has not belied that impression, but has further shown that more interest attaches to her dire struggle with the difficulties which beset her than has generally been supposed.

This material has proved to be extremely rich and abundant, especially as regards the archives of Venice, Austria, Belgium and England. The valuable papers formerly at Brussels have, it is true, disappeared, but fortunately we are provided with transcripts of them in the Record Office. And where the despatches of ambassadors, those of Giustinian, Chapuys, Renard, Michiel, de Noailles, Surian and others, drop the thread of the story, our own chroniclers, Stowe, Holinshed, Machyn, Wriothesley, Foxe, etc., take it up, so that an almost continuous narrative is formed, reaching from Mary’s earliest childhood to her death.

I have endeavoured, where possible, to give the story in the words of each individual ambassador or annalist, in order to preserve, if it might be, the atmosphere of the times, in a manner unattainable by our modern phraseology. In most instances, I have been careful to reproduce even the eccentricities of the spelling in the English documents quoted, but in others, where I have given somewhat lengthy extracts from our chroniclers, the spelling has been modernised to avoid tedium.

It has not come within the scope of the present work to deal exhaustively with Mary’s correspondence, and many of her most interesting letters have been unavoidably omitted, preference being given to those which relate to the more crucial points in her history.

One word may not be out of place here, as to the now fully recognised necessity of bringing historical imagination to bear upon any period under consideration; for unless we throw ourselves into the spirit, the views, the interests of that period, we shall utterly fail to form a correct notion of its merits and its short-comings. The thoughts and opinions, the virtues and vices of the sixteenth century are not those of our own day, and the only way in which we can form a just estimate of them is by divesting ourselves of every preconceived notion, and by judging each individual case according to the standard which then prevailed. Whether, bearing this necessity in mind, and with the colours at my disposal, I have succeeded in painting a picture vivid enough to supersede the old traditional, but generally spurious, portraits of Queen Mary, I must leave to the kind judgment of my readers.

J. M. S.

April, 1901.

BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD—EARLY MARRIAGE PROJECTS.

1516-1525.

It was characteristic of the times in which the Princess Mary was born, that she should be ushered into the world with a pageant. England had but lately been roused from the lethargy to which the penuriousness of Henry VII. had condemned it, and good-fellowship, display and revelry were the order of the day.

Music and masquerades delighted the young King, and were a fitting background to his florid beauty, brilliant talents and sanguine temperament. The country, in its recoil from the asceticism of parsimony, no less than from the asceticism of mediæval piety, was well content to amuse itself, and Christmas revels, April jollities and May-day masques were supplemented by tilting at the ring, feasting and tournaments, that made the whole year round a “playing holiday”.

But the desire of the nation was an heir to the greatness, wealth and glory which the English people rejoiced to see centred in their eighth Henry. Three times had their hope been doomed to disappointment, when on the 19th February[1] 1516, Katharine of Arragon gave birth to a daughter. The universal satisfaction was scarcely lessened by the fact that the infant was not the longed-for prince, and in an ecstasy of joy, the Londoners lighted bonfires, roasted oxen whole, and caused the wine to flow merrily in the streets.

Two days later, the Princess, nearly the whole of whose life was to be so great a contrast to its rosy dawn, was baptised with much circumstance and pomp at Greenwich. From the palace gates to the church of the Friars Observants, the well-gravelled path was strewn with rushes, and hung with arras. At the great doors of the church a pavilion covered with tapestry had been erected, and here the child waited with her sponsors to receive the preliminary rites before being carried into the sacred building. Then the procession was formed, and swept through the grand entrance, only used on the most solemn occasions.

The church was resplendent with cloth of gold, precious stones, pearl embroideries, and tapestries from the famous looms of Europe. First walked a goodly array of the nobility, preceding the silver font, brought the day before from Canterbury,[2] and carried by the Earl of Devon, supported by Lord Herbert of Cherbury. The taper was held by the Earl of Surrey, the salt by the Marquis, the chrism by the Marchioness of Dorset. The Lord Chamberlain followed, with the Lord Steward on his right, and under a rich canopy, held by four knights, was the royal infant, in the arms of the Countess of Surrey. On each side of her walked the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. The sponsors at the font were the Cardinal of York (Wolsey), the Lady Katharine, sister of the Prince of Castile (afterwards Charles V.) and the Duchess of Norfolk. Immediately after the baptism followed the bishoping or rite of confirmation, at which the Countess of Salisbury, the celebrated Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarence, was sponsor. By her descent from Edward IV. she was a near kinswoman of Mary’s, and was appointed her governess or principal guardian, next to the king and queen.

The Te Deum was sung by the King’s chaplain, after which Mary’s style was proclaimed by the heralds:—

“God give good life and long unto the right high, right noble and right excellent Princess Mary, Princess of England, and daughter of our sovereign lord the King,” etc.

The Venetian ambassador, Sebastian Giustinian, to whose letter we owe the account of the royal christening, makes no mention of the King as having taken part in the procession, but it is probable that Henry witnessed the ceremony from the royal closet, which connected the church of the friars with the palace. The chronicler also omits to say by whom the sacraments of baptism and confirmation were administered, a curious oversight, as the Archbishops of Armagh and Dublin, as well as the Bishops of Durham and Chester, and the Cardinal-Archbishop of York, were present. [3] When Giustinian congratulated Henry on the birth of his daughter, in the name of the Council of Ten, adding, however, that the Signory would have been better pleased if the child had been a son, the King replied:—

“We are both young. If it is a daughter this time, by the grace of God, the sons will follow.”[4]

Giustinian’s despatches are pæans in Henry’s honour. Who so renowned as the King of England! He is not only “very expert in arms, most excellent in bodily endowments” of every description, but he is also adorned with mental accomplishments far beyond the average. And the admiration of the envoy is not merely general, but detailed. Sagudino, his secretary, writing from the court at Richmond, where he spent a week, together with Giustinian, says that in the evening, they enjoyed hearing the King play and sing, and seeing him dance, and run at the ring by day, “in all which exercises he acquitted himself divinely”. He spoke English, French and Latin, understood Italian, and played almost every instrument. It was the prettiest thing in the world to see him play tennis, “his fair skin glowing through a shirt of the finest texture”. On hearing that Francis I., his great rival, wore a beard, although it was not the English fashion, Henry allowed his own to grow, and as it was of a reddish colour, he is described as having “gotten himself a beard that looks like gold”.[5]

“Is the King of France as tall as I am?” he asked of Pasqualigo, the Venetian envoy to the French Court, who had special instructions to bring about a friendship between Henry and Francis, who was the sworn ally of the Republic of Venice.

Pasqualigo answered diplomatically, that there was little difference in height between them, although Henry was in reality much taller than Francis.

“Is he stout?”

The envoy replied that he was not.

“What sort of legs has he?”

“Spare,” answered Pasqualigo guardedly; upon which Henry opened the front of his doublet, clapped his hand on his thigh, and exclaimed: “Look here, I have a good calf to my leg”.[6]

Pasqualigo was to return to France, and before his departure, Henry took part in a tournament, in which he is declared to have looked “like St. George on horseback”. Sagudino adds slyly, “the king exerted himself to the utmost, that Pasqualigo might make a good report of his prowess to Francis,” and he “never saw so beautiful a sight”.[7]

Henry’s love of learning, his knowledge of theology, his piety, are still more praised. Were it not for the little saving-clause concerning his jealousy of the King of France, and one or two youthful indiscretions, one might ask in vain for a sign of human frailty. He heard three Masses a day, when he hunted, and on other days, often four or five. He followed Vespers and Compline every day in the queen’s closet. Of the regularity with which he despatched business we have still proofs, in the papers belonging to this period in the Record Office.

But corruptio optimi pessima, and Wolsey is mainly responsible for his degeneration, by exercising an almost boundless influence over the King, to flatter his already inordinate vanity. The Venetians were meanwhile so much dazzled by Henry’s brilliant qualities, that they had little admiration left for the Queen. Sagudino dismisses her with the disparaging remark, “she is rather ugly than otherwise,” and the ambassador himself says, “she is not handsome, but has a very beautiful complexion, is very religious, and as virtuous as words can express”.[8] Gerard de Pleine, in a letter to Margaret of Savoy, describes her as of a lively and gracious disposition, quite the opposite of her sister, Joan of Arragon.[9] Her music and dancing were admired, and it was said that she read, wrote and composed in English much better and more correctly than half the ladies of her court. To this Erasmus adds his testimony and says, “Katharine is not only a miracle of learning, but is not less pious than learned”.[10] She was a tertiary of St. Francis, and wore a religious habit under her ordinary dress. Lord Herbert of Cherbury remarks on her virtue and sweet disposition.[11] But to appreciate qualities such as the Queen’s needed more than the rather superficial discernment of Giustinian and his companions, who were so much struck with the pomp and glitter of the English court, that its real worth almost escaped their notice. Erasmus declared that in its serious aspects, it was “more like a museum than a court”.

During the first years of their marriage, the King and Queen had lived together in almost perfect happiness. Katharine was Henry’s chosen adviser, the confidante of his state secrets, and the principal negotiatrix between England and Spain.[12] We have Henry’s own words to prove that the union was not a mere political one. In a letter written in the highest spirits to Ferdinand of Arragon, the King declared that his love for his wife was such that, if he were still free, he would choose her again in preference to all others.[13] Of Katharine’s wifely devotion to Henry there has never been any doubt. She adored him, and thought him a paragon of perfection. But the birth of her daughter threw Katharine henceforth into the shade, and Wolsey, by his consummate state-craft, rapidly gained an ascendency over the King.

For years, Mary was the pivot on which the personal advantages of both King and Chancellor turned, now in one direction, now in another. Her title of Princess of England was equivalent to that of heiress apparent, and thus from the moment of her birth, she became an important piece on the chess-board of European politics. By effecting a brilliant matrimonial alliance for her, Wolsey conceived that he would enhance his master’s prestige among his contemporary sovereigns, and pave the way for his own aggrandisement, always the primum mobile of his schemes.

Before she was a year old, Mary was provided with a household, and Margaret, Lady Bryan,[14] a woman of sound sense and ability, was appointed “lady maistress” over it. Her nurse, Katharine Pole, received £26 in March 1517, being half a year’s salary. Her priest, chaplain or clerk of the closet, Sir Henry Rowte, had a stipend of sixpence a day. Alys Baker, a gentlewoman of her household, received £10 a year, and to Avis Wood, her laundress, was paid the sum of thirty-three shillings and four pence, as wages for six months.[15]

While still in her cradle, the Princess figured in a part she was often called upon to play afterwards. Henry’s sister, the Queen Dowager of France, being now married to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, gave birth to a daughter, and Katharine and Mary were the child’s godmothers. Dignity followed upon dignity, and before she was two years old Mary was an important factor in the treaty by which Henry VIII. ceded Tournay to the French for the sum of 600,000 crowns. The peace between France and England had been brought about partly through Wolsey’s increasing influence, partly (the Venetians flattered themselves mainly) through the tact and diplomacy of Giustinian, sent for that purpose back to England, and when a Dauphin was expected in 1518, Wolsey eagerly entered into negotiations with the French King, for the purpose of contracting a union between Henry’s only daughter and the hoped-for heir to the throne of France. Giustinian was, however, not so much in Wolsey’s confidence in this matter as might have been expected from the nature of his embassy to England, and some time after the birth of the Dauphin he wrote: “The French secretary has left, and is to be replaced by two great personages, to conclude, as it is said, a marriage between the Princess Mary and the Dauphin. The Cardinal will not admit this, but I am convinced of the truth of it.”

The secret soon oozed out, with the result that Mary was treated with even greater respect and ceremony than before, being regarded not only as heiress apparent to the throne of England, but as future Queen of France also. The Venetian envoys, in reporting to the Doge an interview which they had had with Henry and Wolsey, on the 28th February 1518, conclude their account of the audience in these words:—

“After this, the Princess Mary, who is two years old, was brought in. The Cardinal and Sebastiano kissed her hand pro more, the greatest marks of honour being paid to her universally, more than to the queen herself. The moment she cast her eyes on the Reverend Dionysius Memo, who was there at a little distance, she began calling out in English: ‘Priest, priest,’ and he was obliged to go and play for her, after which the King, with the Princess in his arms, came to me and said: ‘Per Deum iste est honestissimus vir et unus carissimus; nullus unquam servivit mihi fidelius et melius illo; scribatis Domino vestro quod habeat ipsum commendatum’.”[16]

Dionysius Memo was a musician, sent to Henry by the Doge as his chaplain and choir-master. Henry’s love of music, which Mary inherited, insured him a cordial welcome, and Memo took an important part at every state function. On the occasion of a banquet given by the king to the Austrian ambassador, to celebrate a league sworn between Henry and his nephew Charles in 1517, there were amusements of every kind, but especially instrumental music conducted by Memo, “which lasted for four consecutive hours to the so great admiration of all the audience, and with such marks of delight from his Majesty, as to defy exaggeration”. Five days later, a joust with costly decorations took place, followed by another banquet, at which no person was seated under the rank of a marquis. Giustinian is dazzled with the splendour of the repast, and the profusion of plate, the sideboard being covered with magnificent vessels, said to be all of gold. This was one of a series of revels and festivities, “but the chief dish” is always Memo’s music.[17]

On the 3rd October 1518, a general peace was proclaimed at St. Paul’s. Mass was said by Wolsey with unusual pomp, and the terms of the treaty between Henry and Francis were read before the high altar.

The King afterwards dined with the Bishop of London, going in the afternoon to Durham House in the Strand. “From thence,” says the Venetian ambassador, “the Cardinal of York was followed by the entire company to his own dwelling, where we sat down to a most sumptuous supper, the like of which, I fancy, was never given, either by Cleopatra or Caligula, the whole banqueting-hall being so decorated with huge vases of gold and silver, that I fancied myself in the tower of Chosroes, where that monarch caused divine honours to be paid him. After supper, a mummery consisting of twelve male and female maskers made an appearance, in the richest and most gorgeous array possible, all being dressed alike. When they had gone through certain original dances, they took off their masks. The two leaders of the dance were the King and the Queen Dowager of France. All the others were lords and ladies of the court. They seated themselves at separate tables, and were served with countless dishes of confections and other delicacies. When they had gratified their palates they regaled their eyes and hands, large bowls filled with ducats and dice being placed on the table for such as liked to gamble. Then, the supper tables being removed, dancing began and lasted till after midnight.”

On the 5th, the Princess Mary was formally betrothed to the Dauphin, in the Queen’s great chamber at Greenwich. Henry stood in front of the throne, having the Queen on his right, the Dowager Queen of France, his sister, on his left hand. In front of her mother stood the baby Princess, dressed in cloth of gold, a cap of black velvet covered with precious stones on her flaxen head. Facing the royal group were the two legates, Wolsey and Campeggio. Tunstal, Bishop of London, made an eloquent oration in praise of matrimony, “which being ended,” says Giustinian, “the most illustrious Princess was taken in arms, and the magnificos, the French ambassadors, having asked the consent of the King and Queen, on behalf of each of the contracting parties, and they having assented, the right reverend legate, the Cardinal of York, placed on her finger a small ring, juxta digitum puellæ, but in which a large diamond was set, supposed to be a present from his right reverend lordship above mentioned; and my lord admiral passed it over the second joint. The bride was then blessed by the two right reverend legates, after a long exordium from the Cardinal of York, every possible ceremony being observed.” They then went to the royal chapel within the palace, where the King and Bonivet, the French ambassador, in the name of Francis I., exchanged oaths before the high altar, to observe faithfully the articles of the treaty. The proceedings ended with Mass, Wolsey being the officiating prelate. “The choir,” wrote the admiring Venetian, “was decorated with cloth of gold, and all the court in such rich array, the like of which I never saw, either here or elsewhere.”

On the 16th, the King at the head of his council promised publicly to fulfil the marriage contract when the Dauphin should have attained the age of fourteen, his daughter being sixteen years old, and he desired, if he failed in his promises that the Cardinal would excommunicate him, and pass sentence of interdict on his kingdom. Mary was to have a dowry of 100,000 marks, and Francis bound himself, under pain of the censures of the Church, to contribute one as large as any Queen of France ever had.[18]

At the French court, the betrothal was celebrated with no less elaborate ritual, in which cloth of gold and silver, jewels, music, flowers, feasting, compliments and promises played an important part. No one wore any material less costly than silk. All the English envoys had chains of gold about their necks, were attired in the most sumptuous fashion, were praised, banqueted and amused for a whole week, while the King showered gifts upon them. Never was marriage contract celebrated with greater solemnity. The expressions of friendship exchanged by the two Kings were profuse. Henry sent Francis the most flattering messages; Francis doffed his cap, and kissed Henry’s letters before opening them.

For a few months Henry seems to have considered himself bound by this contract, or at least, to have seen no reason for breaking it. He told Francis that if he should die without heirs male, he intended to leave the regency of England to him, as it would belong to the Princess Mary, who was to marry his son.[19]

One day, he showed Giustinian with much pride, his young daughter in her nurse’s arms. The Venetian knelt and kissed her hand, “for that,” said he, “is alone kissed by any duke or noble of the land, let his degree be what it may; nor does any one see her without doffing his bonnet, and making obeisance to her”. Henry then said: “Domine orator, per Deum immortalem ista puella nunquam plorat,” upon which Giustinian, with ready diplomacy, replied: “Sacred Majesty, the reason is that her destiny does not move her to tears; she will one day be Queen of France,” words which, he declared, “pleased the king vastly”.[20]

Nevertheless, as early as September 1519, steps were taken for adopting another line of policy altogether, and for transferring Mary’s hand to the Emperor, Charles V.

The news of the French alliance had greatly disturbed the Spanish Ministry, for the Emperor’s political complications were many. The King of France had become, through Charles’s successful candidature for the empire, his implacable enemy. War was unavoidable, for it behoved the emperor to secure his overgrown possessions, by every means in his power.

Even alone, Francis constituted a formidable danger, on account of his pretensions in Italy, but when allied to England, which, thanks to Wolsey’s foreign policy, was fast emerging from the condition of a third-rate power, he might threaten the dismemberment of the empire. Moreover, money would be urgently needed to carry on the war, when Francis should begin hostilities, and although Charles was already pledged to marry the Princess Charlotte of France, he was also negotiating a union with the daughter of the King of Portugal, by which he would receive 80,000 crowns as her dowry. For the sake of his empty coffers, he was prepared to sell himself to the highest bidder. He demanded a million ducats with the Princess Mary. Wolsey offered 80,000, with the understanding that the sums already advanced by Henry should be deducted therefrom, thus reducing the dowry to 50,000. Charles was careful not to commit himself. In a pecuniary sense, the Portuguese Princess was clearly the more desirable, but there remained the necessity of breaking the Anglo-French alliance. A see-saw policy was, therefore, his only alternative.

Meanwhile, Mary’s betrothal to the Dauphin was supposed to stand good, and Charles continued his negotiation with Portugal. Francis was well-informed by spies of all that went on, and Henry knew that he knew, but all parties thought well to dissemble. When rumour became too loud to be disregarded, and the fact of the correspondence between Henry and Charles leaked out, Henry affected indignation, and warmly protested his loyalty to the French treaty. Francis replied, with more politeness than truth, that the King of England need not have troubled himself to disprove the calumny, for he himself gave it no credence.[21]

In England, public opinion was in favour of the more brilliant marriage. The nation had never looked with cordiality on the prospect of a French union. Mary was the future sovereign of England; if she married the Dauphin, a French monarch would one day be seated on the English throne, an unpleasant humiliation for those who considered France the rightful appanage of English kings.

Katharine also naturally inclined to the Spanish match. Although she had thrown herself heart and soul into the habits, tastes and interests of her adopted country, she retained a deep love for all that was Spanish. She never forgot that she was the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and foreign ambassadors wishing to gain her favour would address her in the Spanish tongue. Nothing was nearer her heart than a marriage between her daughter and her nephew. In England, all were eager for the union, but Charles held back, delaying his promised visit to his relatives almost beyond the limits of courtesy. Henry was not a little embarrassed, for while the imperial machinery was being slowly put into motion, Francis, anxious to outwit his rival, had himself proposed a meeting for the ratification of the marriage treaty. Henry and Wolsey, on the horns of a dilemma, sought in vain to postpone the interview indefinitely. Francis was bent on it, and various dates having been objected to, in the hope that the project would be abandoned, the 31st of May was at last fixed for their meeting. Whether or no this action on the part of the French King had any effect on the Emperor’s policy, Charles at once made up his mind, and landed at Dover on the 26th. He was received by the Cardinal of York, and Henry, who had awaited his arrival at Canterbury, rode over to meet him. The next day being Whitsunday, he escorted him to the city of St. Thomas, “the more to solempne the Feast of Pentecost; but specially to see the Queen of England, his aunt, was the intent of the emperor”.[22]

What passed between these three royal personages and Wolsey did not transpire. A further loan may have been effected, but the public records are silent on the real object of the visit, and do not even state, whether the bridegroom in posse saw his proposed bride. On the 31st, he re-embarked at Sandwich, and the King and Queen, with Wolsey and a brilliant suite, crossed over to Calais. On landing, they immediately proceeded to Guisnes, and the same day, Francis arrived at Ardres, about six miles distant.[23]

Descriptions are not wanting of the empty splendours of Field of the Cloth of Gold. The world had never before witnessed such a scene, such fantastic devices, such jewels, such cordiality, such fraternal affection between two Kings. Had Henry and Francis been brothers, meeting after a long and painful separation, their joy at being reunited could not have been more expansive. They met in a summer palace of glass, hastily prepared for the occasion, but covered from roof to floor with white fluted satin, and relieved by rich hangings of cloth of gold, while pearls and precious stones of immense value were strewn with oriental prodigality in every direction. Exquisitely designed fountains ran wine all day, and feats of arms were followed by costly banquets, at which all the grace and beauty of the two courts were represented.

Religion and chivalry were still supposed to go hand in hand, and the magnificence of the King’s temporary palace was only equalled by the magnificence of his temporary chapel, where gorgeous functions took place, and sermons were preached, in pompous language, on the blessings of peace and amity between princes. The whole scene was a dazzling epitome of the Renaissance. The two Kings parted seemingly on the best of terms; Henry and Wolsey proceeded to Gravelines to meet the Emperor, and the three went together to Calais, to plot against the host, at whose hands Henry had just received such lavish hospitality.

Keen as was Francis’s eye to penetrate diplomatic mysteries, he does not seem on this occasion to have fathomed the depths of Henry’s capacity for intrigue, for he hovered about the frontier, vainly hoping to be invited to join the conference at Calais. Henry had solemnly declared to him that he entertained no purpose of espousing Mary to the Emperor, and had sworn eternal friendship with him as his ally and future son-in-law,[24] although the principal object of his pending conference with Charles, was to discuss the means of transferring his daughter’s hand from the Dauphin to the greatest enemy of France.

Meanwhile, the Princess Mary, the innocent object of these plots, was still happily unconscious of her value in the eyes of politicians. She remained at Richmond Palace during the absence of the court, and Henry was kept well informed of her health and occupations. The Duke of Norfolk wrote to him on the 13th June, that he and the other members of the Council were, “on Saturday last,” with the Princess, “who, lauded be Almighty God, is right merry, and in prosperous health and state, daily exercising herself in virtuous pastimes”.[25] “On St. Peter’s Even,” as the lords of the Council informed him, “came the three gentlemen of France, of whose arrival they had notice from the Cardinal, and on Saturday, after dinner, as the tide was commodious, they being well accompanied by the lord Barnes, lord Darcy, and another, visited the Princess, at Richmond. There were with her,” they continue, “divers lords spiritual and temporal, and in the Presence Chamber, besides the lady governess and her other gentlewomen, the Duchess of Norfolk,” etc. They go on to say that she “welcomed the French gentlemen with most goodly countenance, proper communication, and pleasant pastime in playing on the virginals; and they greatly marvelled and rejoiced at the same, her young and tender age considered”.[26]

When we consider that this “young and tender age” represented but four short years, we cannot but feel sorry for the small lady, obliged to entertain visitors with “proper communication,” instead of amusing herself with her “rosemary bushes with gold spangles,” her “gold pomanders,” and other sixteenth century toys, which were continually being brought to her as presents. The Princess’s Household Book for 1520 informs us that she regaled those “gentlemen from France” with “four gallons of Ypocras, with cherries, old apples, wafers, and strawberries, the cost of which amounted to thirty-five shillings and threepence”.

Tokens were constantly exchanged between the Dauphin and his fiancée. In January 1521, Sir Peter Carew was sent over to Paris, to condole with Francis I. on an accident he had met with, and to inquire after his health. He took with him some rubies as presents, and the French defrayed his expenses, and prepared “some scents and smocks” for him to take back with him, as presents to the Princess.[27] According to the existing arrangements, the Dauphin was to be sent over to England to be brought up in this country when he was a few years old; but long before the time specified, Mary had been solemnly affianced to the Emperor, although her marriage-contract with the Dauphin was never annulled.

Until Mary was twelve years old, her health and education were the subjects of Henry’s constant solicitude, and apart from the value he set upon her as an important item in his political schemes, he appears to have regarded her with affection, as long as there was room in his character for natural feeling, or any sentiment unconnected with his dominant passions. The care of her health necessitated her frequent removal from one royal residence to another, as a precaution against infectious disease, rendered necessary by the conditions of life in England during the first half of the sixteenth century. The well-known letter written by Erasmus to Wolsey’s physician, testifies to the perpetual recurrence of the plague in this country, which was to be attributed, the writer considered, mainly to the construction of the houses, full indeed of windows, but as these were not made to open, light was admitted into the dwellings, but no air. He complains of the chalk floors and of the rushes laid thereon, but so carelessly renewed, that the bottom layer often remained for twenty years, harbouring all sorts of offal.

Writing in 1527, Erasmus says that thirty years before, if he entered a room uninhabited for some months previously, he caught a fever. It would have been well if some of the money lavished on the adornment of the walls had been expended on the floors, especially as the habits of the sixteenth century left much to be desired in point of cleanliness. Some attention was, however, given to this matter in the royal palaces, but it was of a kind that involved the removal of the court, whenever a room was to be thoroughly overhauled; the result of disturbing rushes upon which dogs had been fed and kennelled for months, and every kind of refuse allowed to rot, may be better imagined than described. There is little cause for surprise, therefore, if we hear constantly of fevers, agues and of the sweating sickness, more deadly than the plague.

On one occasion, news was brought to the court that “one of my lady princess’s servants was sick of a hot ague” at Enfield, whereupon Henry ordered that Mary should be taken at once to Byssham Abbey, remain there one day, and arrive at the More the day following. Even when the servant recovered, Mary was not allowed to return to Enfield. In August 1520, we find that “my lady princess will be sent to Richmond again, on account of the reports of the sickness at Woodstock”.

The excellent Lady Bryan having ceased in 1521, to occupy the position of governess of Mary’s household, Secretary Pace wrote to Wolsey that as the King intended leaving Windsor shortly, and as he would have no convenient lodging for the Princess, he desired Wolsey to think of some lady fit to give attendance on her. The King thought that the old Lady Oxford would be suitable, if she could be persuaded, if not, Lady Calthorpe, and her husband to be chamberlain to the Princess. Accordingly, Lady Oxford was invited to occupy the vacant post.

Wolsey describes her as “right discreet, and of a good age, and near at hand,” and she could at least “be tried for a season, if she did not decline on the score of health”. Apparently she did decline, for instead of Lady Oxford, we find Sir Philip Calthorpe and his wife appointed to attend on the Princess, and govern her house, with a salary of £40 a year.[28]

On the 29th July 1521, a commission was appointed to conclude a treaty for Mary’s marriage with the Emperor for which a dispensation was to be obtained from the Pope on account of their near relationship. This treaty was concluded, signed and sealed on the 24th November of the same year, on which day also, Francis I., writing to his ambassador in London, remarks that the contract between the Princess of England and the Dauphin is to remain in its entirety,[29] a curious satire on the good faith of princes. Moreover, while Francis thus proclaimed the peace and amity supposed to exist between himself and Henry, Charles was stipulating with Henry for a descent to be made by the English on the shores of France, not later than March, 1522. A fleet was to be provided by both parties, each contributing 3,000 men. It would be possible to regard Francis with some pity, as a miserable dupe, were it not for his own propensity for the same amount of false swearing. By February, he was in possession of the facts, but for some reason or other, war was not declared till June. On the 6th May, Contarini, the Venetian envoy, was able to inform the Signory of Mary’s approaching betrothal to the Emperor, adding that Henry was about to send a gentleman to France, to repudiate the French treaty.

On the 27th, Charles landed at Dover, and was received on the sands by Wolsey, attended by 300 nobles, knights and gentlemen. Leaning on the Cardinal’s arm, the Emperor proceeded to Dover Castle, where he remained for two days, being joined by Henry. On the road to Canterbury, and thence to Greenwich, they were greeted by the people with every demonstration of joy, the English looking upon Charles as the monarch of the world, and feeling flattered by his condescension in wedding a daughter of England.[30] At the great gates of Greenwich Palace stood the Queen and her daughter Mary, now six years old, to welcome him. The Emperor dropped on one knee, and asked Katharine’s blessing, “having,” says the chronicler Hall, “great joy to see the queen, his aunt, and in especiall his young cousin germain, the lady Mary”.

All who saw Mary at this time spoke favourably of her appearance. “She promises,” said Martin de Salinas, “to become a handsome lady, although it is difficult to form an idea of her beauty, as she is still so small.” Others describe her as a fair child, with a profusion of flaxen ringlets, and the admiration of all.

The usual revels were held in honour of the Emperor’s visit. The court removed to London, and Charles was magnificently lodged at Blackfriars. But he seems to have regarded the prodigality displayed with Hapsburg seriousness, if not with absolute disapproval. He was urgently in need of money, and would doubtless have been better pleased with a fresh loan, than with all that was done in his honour. At all events, the sombre stateliness of Windsor was more in accordance with his taste and humour, and he was altogether in his native element when the terms of the treaty were at last discussed. These included: (1) a settlement of the differences between the Emperor and Francis; (2) a marriage contract between the Emperor and the Princess Mary; (3) a league between the Emperor and Henry for making war upon France, and for recovering the territory which the English had lost in that country. A clause was inserted, to the effect that Mary should be sent to Spain to finish her education, when she was twelve years old.[31] The treaty of Windsor was signed on the 19th June, but was not then published, and “peace with France was dissembled”. Other things were dissembled also; and, although Mary was brought to Windsor, to take leave of her imperial cousin as his future bride, Wolsey soon discovered that no reliance could be placed on the Emperor’s words or promises, and that, as far as Charles was concerned, the whole negotiation and the treaty of Windsor itself were nothing but a political fiction, in order to alarm Francis. But indeed, in a competition of duplicity between Charles, Henry, Francis and Wolsey, it would be rash to speculate as to which of them would have borne the palm. Wolsey played a particularly odious part, inasmuch as he not only convinced Francis that he was anxious for the French alliance, but he was moreover in receipt of a yearly pension from him. Meanwhile, the determination of the Princess Isabella of Portugal to marry Charles served to further complicate matters. She took for her motto the trenchant device, Aut Cæsar aut nihil,[32] and the grandees of Spain threw their weight into the scale with her, urging the Emperor to marry her, with whom he would receive a million of gold, and not the English Princess, “about whom he thought less than of the first named”.[33] Still Charles hesitated, or affected to hesitate, and writing to Wolsey from Valladolid, the 10th February 1523, he begs to have news of the King: “et de ma mieulx aimee fiancee la Princesse, future Imperatrix”.[34] But much as Henry held to the fulfilment of the contract, he had no longer any real hope of it, and began to look for other possible alliances. It was thought in France that the Dauphin would soon be crowned, and that then he would marry the English princess,[35] but Gonzolles, the French ambassador in Scotland, wrote to the Duke of Albany: “The King of England has promised to give his daughter in marriage to the King of Scots, with a large pension, and proclaim him prince of his kingdom if they can agree”.

Henry would nevertheless have much preferred giving her to the Emperor, if by any means Charles could be persuaded to keep to his engagements, and he sent Tunstal, Bishop of London, and Sir Richard Wingfield, as extraordinary ambassadors to Spain, with orders to promote the marriage in every possible way.

In April 1525, Mary sent Charles an emerald with a curious message, showing that she was still taught to consider herself his promised bride. “Her Grace,” so ran the letter which accompanied the gift, “hath devised this token, for a better knowledge to be had, when God shall send them grace to be together, whether his Majesty do keep himself as continent and chaste as with God’s grace she woll, whereby ye may say, his Majesty may see that her assured love towards the same hath already such operation in her, that it is also confirmed by jealousy, being one of the greatest signs and tokens of hearty love and cordial affection.”[36]

After the victory of Pavia, Charles, no longer in fear of Francis, declared openly that he owed nothing to the help of his allies, and released himself from his pledges to Henry by the very extravagance of his demands. He sent a commission to Wolsey requiring that Mary should be sent to Spain at once, with a dowry of 400,000 ducats, and 200,000 crowns besides, to defray the expenses of the war with France. Nothing was said about the sums he had borrowed from Henry, while the whole transaction was in direct violation of the terms of the treaty of Windsor. The Cardinal replied that the Princess was still too young to be given up, and that the Spaniards had no hostages to offer that could be sufficient security for her, whom the English people looked upon as the treasure of the kingdom. The envoys whom the Emperor sent in return, in paying their respects to the King and Queen, were permitted to address “a short peroration in Latin to the Princess, to which she replied in the same tongue, with as much assurance and facility as if she were twelve years old,” and she did and said, they added, “many other gracious things on the occasion, of which they purpose giving an account at a future time”.[37] But the moment for fair speeches and compliments had gone by. Charles demanded that Henry should either agree to his conditions, or release him from his oath, “for all Spain” compelled him “to contract a marriage with Portugal”. Henry told him roundly that he would give him his daughter when she was of proper age, but no increase of dowry.[38] “If,” continued the King of England, “he should seek a maistress for hyr, to frame hyr after the manner of Spayne, and of whom she might take example of virtue, he shulde not find in all Christendome a more mete than she now hath, that is the Quene’s grace, her mother, who is comen of the house of Spayne, and who for the affection she bereth the Emperour, will norishe and bring hyr up as maybe hereafter to his most contentacion.”[39]

At the same time Tunstal and Wingfield represented that, as the Princess was not much more than nine years old, it might greatly endanger her health to be transported into an air so different from that of England. In replying more particularly to the Emperor’s statement, that his subjects wished him to marry the Portuguese Princess, Mary being still of tender age, Henry, seeing that nothing was to be gained by a breach with his nephew-in-law, told him that the Princess his daughter was still young; she was his own treasure and that of his kingdom; she was not of age to be married;[40] that the demands of the Spanish people seemed reasonable, and that desiring always to preserve the Emperor’s friendship, he consented to the Portuguese alliance under three conditions. These were: (1) that peace should be made with France; (2) that the Emperor should pay his debts to Henry; (3) that the treaties of Windsor and London should be annulled.[41]

The treaty of Windsor was rescinded on the 6th July 1525, and on the 22nd was signed the marriage contract between Charles V. and Isabella of Portugal. But the Emperor did not pay his debts, and henceforth no Spaniard coveted the post of ambassador to the English Court. To console Henry for the failure of his schemes, Tunstal assured him that Mary was “a pearl well worth the keeping”.[42]

PRINCESS OF WALES.

1525-1527.

When Mary was about ten years old, her father, mindful it was said of his Welsh origin, turned his attention towards that principality, thinking wisely by redressing some of its grievances to reduce it to a more strict obedience. It was, therefore, determined by the King in Council, to send “our dearest, best beloved, and only daughter, the Princess, accompanied with an honourable, sad, discreet and expert counsayle, to reside and remain in the Marches of Wales and the parties thereabouts, furnished with sufficient power and authority to hold courts of oyer and determiner, for the better administration of justice”.[43]

Disappointed in his hope of further issue, Henry had, in a more special manner than at her christening, declared his daughter heiress to the Crown, and Princess of Wales, consoling himself with the conviction, that her extreme popularity would be a sufficient counterpoise to the somewhat hazardous novelty of a queen regnant. The news of her departure for the west was communicated to the Venetian Government by Lorenzo Orio in August, 1525:—

“On Saturday, the Princess went to her principality of Wales, with a suitable and honourable escort, and she will reside there until the time of her marriage. She is a rare person, and singularly accomplished, most particularly in music, playing on every instrument, especially on the lute and harpsichord.”[44]

The term borders or marches of Wales was somewhat loosely applied, and “the parties thereabouts” seem to have included the whole of the south-western, and some of the midland counties, for we find Mary during this time not only at Chester and Shrewsbury, but also at Tewkesbury and Gloucester. A great deal of power was put into the hands of her council, with the means of enforcing their decrees, but the details of her short sojourn in the west are very meagre, and we are entirely dependent on a few sidelights, to show the kind of authority that was centred in her person, and the amount of state that was kept. This last was indeed considerable. A communication from her council to Sir Andrew Windsor, Sir John Dauncy and Sir William Skeffington, refers them to the King’s pleasure, “touching such ordnance and artillery as should be delivered for the Princess into the marches of Wales, and for despatching the payments for carriage by land or water. They desire that the two gunners, John Rauffe and Laurence Clayton, and the armourer, William Carter, now being the Princess’s servants, may have livery coats of the Princess’s colours.”[45] What those colours were may be learned from a letter of Wolsey’s to Sir Andrew Windsor, authorising him to deliver to Dr. Buttes, “appointed physician to my lady Princess, a livery of blue and green in damask, for himself, and in blue and green cloth for his two servants; also a cloth livery for the apothecary”. On the margin of a document, in which are inscribed the names of all the ladies and gentlemen who accompanied the Princess, is a memorandum, signed by Wolsey, relating to the quantity of black velvet to be allowed and delivered to each. Those of inferior rank were to have black damask.

Mary’s head-quarters were at Ludlow, but she travelled constantly from place to place, visiting all the more accessible parts of the principality, and the surrounding country. On the 3rd September 1526, she was at Langley, as we learn from a letter addressed to Wolsey from that place:—

“My lady Princess came on Saturday. Surely, Sir, of her age, as goodly a child as ever I have seen, and of as good gesture and countenance. Her Grace was well accompanied with a goodly number of persons of gravity.”[46]

These “persons of gravity” included, besides councillors, chamberlains, clerks, surveyors, etc., the Countess of Salisbury, the Countess of Devon, Lady Katharine Grey, Dr. Wootton, Dean of the Chapel; Mr. John Featherstone, schoolmaster, and many others, amounting in all to 304 persons, of the most honourable sort.

Mary had authority to kill or give deer at her pleasure, in any forest or park within the territory appointed to her, and her warrants were served under pain of the King’s indignation.[47] Careful directions had been given by the King in Council, concerning her own training, health, clothing, food and recreation, for all of which the Countess of Salisbury was primarily responsible. She was “to take open air in gardens, sweet and wholesome places, and walks,” and everything about her was to be “pure, sweet, clean and wholesome,” while “all things noisome and displeasant” were to be “forborne and excluded”. Great attention was to be paid to her food, and to the manner in which it was served, with cheerful society, “comfortable, joyous and merry communication, in all honourable and virtuous maner”. Her council was to meet once a month, at least, and to consult on her health, virtuous education, etc., “taking into communication my lady Governess, and the Princess if expedient”.[48] Mr. Featherstone was to instruct her in Latin, in the place of the Queen, who had hitherto undertaken this branch of her studies. Shortly before going to Wales, Mary had received a letter from her mother, in which, after expressing her trouble at the long absence of the King, and of her daughter, and assuring her that her health is “meetly good” and that she rejoices to hear that Mary’s own health is mended, Katharine goes on to say:—

“As for your writing in Latin, I am glad that ye shall change from me to master Federston, for that shall do you much good to learn by him to write aright. But yet sometimes I would be glad when ye do write to master Federston of your own inditing, when he hath read it, that I may see it, for it shall be a great comfort to me to see you keep your Latin and fair writing and all, and so I pray you to recommend me to my lady of Salisbury.”[49]

Katharine had spared no pains in the education of her daughter, basing it upon a solid foundation of piety, and imparting a taste for learning, which helped to support Mary in the dark days to come. The celebrated Ludovicus Vives had already contributed to her instruction before her departure into Wales, and on her return continued to direct one branch of her studies. In 1524 he had dedicated to the Princess 213 symbols or mottoes, with paraphrases upon each. The first one was called Scopus Vitæ Christus, and the last Mente Deo defixus, “and these,” says a contemporary writer, “the Princess seemed to have in perpetual memory, by the practice of her whole life, for she made Christ the beginning and end of all her actions, from whose goodness all things do proceed, and to whom all things do tend, having a most lively example in her virtuous mother”.[50]

The list of Latin works proposed by Vives, and in which Mary soon began to delight, is startling from the profound character of the subjects chosen. Among these works were the Epistles of St. Jerome, the Dialogues of Plato, “particularly,” observes Sir Frederick Madden, “those of a political turn”;[51] the works of Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, St. Ambrose, St. Augustine, St. Thomas, and other equally serious books.

That her mind responded to this severely classical and religious training, is evident from the remarks scattered about the correspondence of the more or less distinguished personages who at different times came in contact with her. Her own countrymen were not a little proud of her talents. Lord Morley, in the preface to his book, A New-Year’s Angelical Salutation by Tho. Aquine, which he presented to Mary as a New-Year’s gift, mentions the translation of a prayer by St. Thomas which she had made. “I do remember,” he says, “that skante ye were come to xij. yeres of age, but that ye were so rype in the Laten tongue that rathe doth happen to the women sex, that your grace not only could perfectly rede, wright and construe Laten, but furthermore translate eny harde thing of the Laten in to our Inglysshe tongue, and among all other your most vertuous occupacions, I have seen one prayer translated of your doing of Sayncte Thomas Alquyne, that I do ensuer your grace is so well done, so near to the Laten, that when I loke upon it, as I have one of the exemplars of yt, I have not only mervell at the doinge of it, but further for the well doing, have set yt as well in my boke or bokes, as also in my pore wyfe’s, your humble beadeswoman, and my chyldern, to gyve them occasion to remember to praye for your grace.“[52]

The Princess of Wales had not long to maintain the vice-regal dignity in the west. Fresh schemes were on foot for disposing of her in marriage, and her presence was required at court.

After his disastrous defeat at Pavia, the news of which he communicated to his mother in the famous words, “Tout est perdu fors l’honneur,” Francis I. had been taken captive to Madrid, from whence he only escaped by submitting to the most suicidal conditions, leaving his two eldest sons as hostages in the hands of the Emperor. But having signed the treaty of Madrid as a prisoner, and being therefore no free agent, he was scarcely likely to consider its terms binding. One of its stipulations was that he should marry the Emperor’s sister, Eleanor, Dowager Duchess of Austria, but this he had no intention of doing, provided he could regain possession of his children by any other means.

In the perpetual game of see-saw played by the three principal monarchs of Christendom, with a constant change of partners, it is not surprising to find Francis now looking towards England for a way out of his difficulties. He had contrived to form a league against Charles, consisting of the Pope, the Swiss, the Venetians, and the Florentines; and if England could be persuaded to join it, this league would be strong enough to defy the Emperor, and France might not only regain her lost possessions, but dictate the terms of peace.

But Henry and Wolsey had no particular interest in making things pleasant for Francis, whose overtures met with no eager response. It was not clear to the King or his Chancellor what advantage would be derived by them from an alliance with Francis.

“This king will not spend money to make an enemy of his friend, and gain nothing,” replied the astute Wolsey to the Venetian, Gasparo Spinelli, and he assured him that England would not join the league, unless his most Christian Majesty first undertook to restore Boulogne, and to marry the Princess Mary.[53]

But France had suffered too many humiliating losses willingly to give up so important a place, and later, when Henry sent a special envoy to negotiate a marriage between Mary and Francis, all mention of Boulogne was dropped.

It would seem incredible, but for authentic evidence, that Henry should have seriously entertained the notion of bestowing on a middle-aged profligate such as the King of France, whose actual life would not bear investigation, the young daughter whom he professed to love and cherish, as “the pearl of the world”. Nevertheless, for a time at least, his mind was fixed on this purpose, and Wolsey was never more keenly alive to his own interests than in the fabrication of this delicate piece of diplomacy. Francis was equally in earnest, on account of his impatience to take reprisals on the Emperor, and the Queen mother, Louise of Savoy, told the English ambassadors that her son had long been anxious to marry their Princess, “both for her manifold virtues and other gay qualities, which they assured them were not here unknown”.

The next step was to send ambassadors to England to treat of the marriage. These were the Bishop of Tarbes, afterwards Cardinal Grammont, first president of the Parliament of Toulouse, the Vicomte de Turenne, and La Viste, president of the Parliament of Paris. They were instructed by Francis to go straight to the Princess Mary, visit and salute her in his name, and to express his “sore longing to have her portraiture”. Hereupon, Henry sent Francis his own and Mary’s picture,[54] assuring him that he was much obliged to him for condescending to take his little daughter, who did not deserve such honour.[55]

The Venetians looked upon the marriage as certain, and thought that war would be waged in consequence, in every direction;[56] but the more general opinion in Europe was that Henry would not succeed in a matrimonial alliance with any foreign potentate, but that the English would insist on having a king of their own, and would not suffer a foreigner to sit upon the throne.[57]

“In time of war,” said the Archbishop of Capua to Charles V., “the English made use of their Princess as they did of an owl, as a decoy for alluring the smaller birds.” The Emperor, not understanding the allusion, asked the Archbishop what he meant by “owl,” and when it was explained to him laughed heartily.

Meanwhile, the French envoys saw the Princess, on St. George’s Day (1527). She spoke to them in French and Latin, and was made to display her achievements in writing and on the harpsichord. Spinelli wrote that a solemn betrothal had taken place at Greenwich, when the Bishop of Tarbes had delivered an oration, after which he and the Vicomte de Turenne had dined with the King, the others dining apart. At the end of dinner they went to the Queen’s apartments, where the Princess danced with de Turenne, who considered her very handsome, and admirable by reason of her great and uncommon mental endowments, but so thin, spare and small, as to render it impossible for her to be married for the next three years.[58] A succession of jousts and masks of the most dazzling description followed. Spinelli, in relating the brilliant course of entertainments, says of one in particular:—

“Thereupon there fell to the ground at the extremity of the hall, a painted canvas from an aperture, in which was seen a most verdant cave approached by four steps, each side being guarded by four of the chief gentlemen of the Court, clad in tissue doublets and tall plumes, each of whom carried a torch. Well grouped, within the cave, were eight damsels of such rare beauty, as to be supposed goddesses rather than human beings. They were arrayed in cloth of gold, their hair gathered into a net, with a very richly jewelled garland surmounted by a velvet cap, the hanging sleeves of their surcoats being so long, that they well-nigh touched the ground, and so well and richly wrought as to be no slight ornament to their beauty. They descended gracefully from their seats to the sound of trumpets, the first of them being the Princess, with the Marchioness of Exeter. Her beauty in this array produced such effect on everybody, that all the other marvellous sights previously witnessed were forgotten, and they gave themselves up solely to contemplation of so fair an angel. On her person were so many precious stones, that their splendour and radiance dazzled the sight, in such wise as to make one believe that she was decked with all the gems of the eighth sphere. Dancing thus, they presented themselves to the King, their dance being very delightful by reason of its variety, as they formed certain groups and figures most pleasing to the sight. Their dance being finished, they ranged themselves on one side, and in like order, the eight youths, leaving their torches, came down from the cave, and after performing their dances, each of them took by the hand one of those beautiful nymphs, and having led a courant together, for a while returned to their places. Six masks then entered. To detail their costume would be but to repeat the words ‘cloth of gold,’ ‘cloth of silver,’ etc. They chose such ladies as they pleased for their partners, and commenced various dances, which being ended, the King appeared. The French ambassador, the Marquis of Turrenne (sic), was at his side, and behind him four couples of noblemen all masked, and all wearing black velvet slippers on their feet, this being done lest the King should be distinguished from the others, as from the hurt which he received lately when playing at tennis, he wears a black velvet slipper. They were all clad in tissue doublets, over which was a very long and ample gown of black satin, with hoods of the same material; and on their heads caps of tawney velvet. They then took by the hand an equal number of ladies, dancing with great glee, and at the end of the dance unmasked, whereupon, the Princess with her companions again descended, and came to the King, who in the presence of the French ambassadors, took off her cap, and the net being displaced, a profusion of silver tresses, as beautiful as ever seen on human head, fell over her shoulders, forming a most agreeable sight. The aforesaid ambassadors then took leave of her, and all departing from that beautiful place, returned to the supper hall, where the tables were spread with every kind of confection and choice wines, for all who chose to cheer themselves with them. The sun I believe greatly hastened his course, having perhaps had a hint from Mercury of so rare a sight; so showing himself already on the horizon, warning being thus given of his presence, everybody thought it time to quit the royal chambers, returning to their own with such sleepy eyes, that the daylight could not keep them open.”[59]

Little progress was, however, made with the negotiations. Compliments flowed freely on both sides, but did not advance matters, and Wolsey determined to seek an interview with Francis, bring the affair to a crisis, and settle certain other matters which had lately supervened, to complicate immeasurably the tangled politics of Europe. One of these was the sack of Rome by the imperial army, and the consequent imprisonment of the Pope and the whole College of Cardinals, in the Castle of St. Angelo. Another, which more immediately concerned England, was known as yet but to a chosen few as “the king’s secret matter,” but which was ultimately to inflame the whole of Christendom.

Wolsey was flattered, courted and feared by all the powers. He was at once the most brilliant, the most daring and the least scrupulous diplomat in Europe. His boundless ambition was easily entertained by the notion that the Papal authority might be delegated to himself, during the Pope’s captivity, and that thus by one swing of the pendulum, he might be raised to the highest dignity on earth. This one swing of the pendulum was to be effected by a promise, that if Henry secured his election, he would, as Pope, pass a decree in favour of “the king’s secret matter”.[60]

But before this dream could be realised, Francis must be won over to the scheme of his candidature, and the votes of the French cardinals secured. Francis, bent only on checkmating the Emperor, was fascinated with the idea of marrying the English princess, and of drawing England into the league against Charles; and Wolsey, ever tactful, kept his own plans in the background, until the royal suitor should be satisfied.

The Cardinal of York and the French King were to meet at Amiens, and the moment that Wolsey set foot in France he received from the King a commission, authorising him to pardon and liberate under his own letters patent, such prisoners as he chose, in the towns through which he passed, except those committed for treason, murder, and similar crimes. After their first interview, the Cardinal wrote an account to Henry of all that had passed between them. Francis had spoken of Mary as “the cornerstone of the new covenant,” “and I,” added Wolsey, “being her godfather, loving her entirely, next unto your Highness, and above all other creatures, assured him that I was desirous she should be bestowed upon his person, as in the best and most worthy place in Christendom”.

Francis coveted the honour of possessing the Garter, and his hint to that effect was ingenious, if somewhat broad. Taking hold of the image of St. Michael, which he wore on his neck, he said to Wolsey:—

“Now the King, my brother, and I be thus knit and married in our hearts together, it were well done, it seemeth, that we should be knit par colletz et jambes”.[61]

It was becoming more and more evident that the only hope for France was in a speedy alliance with England. The Bishop of Tarbes, on his return from his embassy to solicit Mary’s hand for his master, contributed his meed of praise, assuring Francis that the Princess was “the pearl of the world,” and “of such beauty and virtue that the King of England esteemed her more than anything on earth”.

“I pray you, repeat unto me none of these matters,” interrupted Francis impatiently. “I know well enow her education, her form, her fashion, her beauty and virtue, and what father and mother she cometh of; expedient and necessary it shall be for me and for my realm that I marry her, and I assure you for the same cause, I have as great a mind to her as ever I had to any woman.”

Nevertheless, the alliance with England was not to be in this wise. The army, consisting of 30,000 men, which Francis had sent into Italy under Lautrec, had suffered a humiliating defeat before Naples, and the loss of a second army at Landriano obliged him to conclude with Charles the disastrous treaty of Cambrai, by which he was forced to pay 2,000,000 of gold crowns in lieu of Burgundy. Four marriages were to ensue. The King of France was to fulfil his promise to the Emperor’s sister; the Dauphin was to marry the Infanta of Portugal; the son of the Duke of Lorraine was affianced to the Princess Madeleine, daughter of the King of France, whose second son, the Duke of Orleans, was betrothed to Mary.

The marriage contract between Mary and the Duke of Orleans, signed and sealed by Francis I., and illustrated with their portraits, was dated 18th August 1527, and is still preserved in the Record Office.[62] This interesting document is beautifully illuminated on vellum, with a gold background and a border composed of Tudor roses, fleurs de lys and cupids. Francis I., representing the god Hymen, in a dress of the period, holds a hand of the bride and of the bridegroom. The arms of England and France are on either side of him. The Princess Mary, a youthful figure in a white dress covered with flowers, and wearing a blue coif with a gold border, stands on the left of Francis; the Duke of Orleans, a young boy in doublet and trunk hose, is on his right.

The peace, thus momentarily secured at the cost of immense sacrifices on the part of France, afforded a brief space in which to prepare for a fresh outbreak of hostilities. Francis and Henry were henceforth allies, and the course of affairs in England tended to cement their bond, and to widen the breach between them and the house of Austria. Henry sent Francis the Garter, and received the order of St. Michael in exchange.[63]

THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE.

1527-1533.

Mary’s whole life was clouded, with the first whisper of the King’s “secret matter”. Until then the Princess had been surrounded with all the charm of greatness, without any of its disadvantages, for she had been so wisely educated, that she remained unspoiled by the adulation of courtiers, or by the enthusiasm with which the nation regarded her. Her delight was in study, in music, in almsgiving, in the bestowal of gifts, and in the society of her parents, both of whom were remarkable for talents above the average.[64] She had been too young to be greatly affected by the various schemes for her disposal in marriage, although she had taken her betrothal to the Emperor seriously; but her trials began when she was old enough to appreciate their meaning, and when she might reasonably have expected to realise some of the seductive prospects held before her eyes from her cradle. There was no element of romance in her character; her mental endowments were essentially of a practical nature, and she lacked almost entirely the gifts necessary to adapt them to a changing world. Nearly all her life long the times were out of joint, and she knew no other way to set them right, but that of uncompromising opposition. But she possessed in an eminent degree the virtues of her limitations; her whole conduct was moulded on examples which she had been taught to reverence as her conscience, and consistent to a fault, she saw little evil in the old order, little good in the new. Ardently affectionate, a loyal friend and bountiful mistress, she was keenly sensitive to every act of fidelity. According to the contemporary chronicle already quoted,[65] “she was so bred as she hated evil, knew no foul or unclean speeches, which when her lord father understood, he would not believe it, but would try it once by Sir Francis Brian, being at a mask in the court; and finding it to be true notwithstanding, perceiving her to be prudent, and of a princely spirit, did ever after more honour her”.

But the fatal shadow of Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, had fallen on the throne, and the king’s infatuation for her was to sweep both his wife and his daughter into a vortex of misery from which there was no escape for one of them but death. Whether Wolsey first insinuated the doubt as to the validity of the king’s marriage, in order to pander to Henry’s wandering fancies, or whether Henry himself, carried away by his passion for Anne Boleyn, evolved the idea of a possible flaw in his union with Katharine, matters little. The question was soon entangled in a mass of chicanery, and whichever of the two may have been the first to strike the match, it was clear to Wolsey, that his fortunes depended henceforth on his keeping the flame alive. The subject had been mooted as far back as 1525, and the first mention of the coming divorce, of which we have any record, is contained in a letter from Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Wolsey. Referring to some other business, Warham says, “it will be better not to proceed further, till this great matter of the King’s grace be ended”.[66] Again in 1526, after a long interval in which the subject seems to have been dropped, the Bishop of Bath and Wells remarked to the Cardinal of York, “there will be great difficulty circa istud benedictum divortium”.[67]

The sack of Rome by the Imperialists, and the Pope’s captivity delayed the investigation of the cause by the papal courts to which it had been referred, but in 1527, Henry’s “scruples” for having married his brother’s widow began to be talked of as the King’s “great,” “secret” or “private matter”.[68] Possibly, when Henry first began to study the Scriptures, and the writers of antiquity in search of arguments to support his “scruples,” he may not yet have fallen in love with Anne, or at least Wolsey did not know that he had. When he did set his mind on marrying her, it did not seem probable that his fancy would outlive the necessary delays and preliminaries of a divorce, even if it could be obtained, or that the ambition of the Boleyns would be equal to the influence of the Cardinal. But during Wolsey’s absence in France, the whole subject assumed a point and a piquancy hitherto undreamed of. Wolsey had not fostered Henry’s desires in order to further his marriage with the grand-daughter of a wealthy merchant. He himself aimed at nothing short of the Papacy, and he thought that by negotiating a brilliant marriage with a princess of France, he could make for himself a convenient stepping-stone thereto, far more secure than that which Mary’s marriage would afford. As the candidate of two powerful monarchs, he would practically control the next conclave; but the Boleyns could do nothing for him. He had yet to learn that Anne was strong enough to work his ruin.

Before his departure for his embassy to France, he had, in collusion with the King, held a secret legatine court, together with Archbishop Warham, and had cited Henry to appear, and answer the charge of having lived unlawfully for eighteen years with his brother’s widow. A second sitting of the court was held on the 20th May, and a third on the 31st.

Thus were the proceedings opened, but Henry, fearing that the authority of the two archbishops might not be weighty enough to bring the affair to a crisis, proposed that the question, whether a man might marry his late brother’s wife, should be submitted to the most learned bishops in England, counting on their subserviency to obtain the answer he wished. But the bishops were less amenable than he expected. Most of them replied that with a papal dispensation such a marriage would be perfectly valid.

All this time, Henry imagined that his secret had been kept; but Katharine was well aware of what was pending. On the 22nd June he broached the subject to her, telling her that he had been living in mortal sin, and that henceforth he would abstain from her company. He asked her to remove to some place at a distance from the court. Katharine, greatly agitated, burst into tears, and would neither admit the reasonableness of his doubts nor agree to live apart from him. In the actual state of affairs, Henry could do no more, and for a time nothing was changed. Anne was almost constantly at court, and the divorce was now openly spoken of, but was extremely unpopular. No one believed in Henry’s scruples, but Anne played her part with tact, and her power increased daily. To give some colour to the proceedings, Henry and Wolsey had trumped up an ingenious story. They declared that during the treaty for Mary’s marriage with Francis or the Duke of Orleans, the Bishop of Tarbes had expressed a doubt as to her legitimacy.[69] This story was made to do duty in England, but no trace of the Bishop of Tarbes having made such a remark is to be found in France, nor was any use made of the pretext in the subsequent trial at Rome.[70] It is in distinct contradiction with the well-known fact that the bishop was in favour of the marriage, and did all he could to bring it about. Moreover, during all the long and tedious discussions between the two kings at that time, not a word transpired, even when Wolsey went to France, of Henry’s intention to repudiate Katharine, not a doubt was expressed of Mary’s legitimacy. Henry always alluded to his daughter at that time as heiress to the throne. But on Wolsey’s return, matters at once assumed a different aspect. Elated with the success of his embassy, the Cardinal of York seemed to have the world at his feet. He had all but married Mary to the King of France, who was in need of nothing more than of England’s friendship. As soon as this union was accomplished, Henry’s marriage might be successfully broken, and a new one negotiated with a daughter of France, when two grateful monarchs would hold the triple crown over his expectant head. But now all this choice fabric of his dreams was imperilled by the clashing ambition of a woman, even then lightly spoken of. Anne, knowing that he would be her bitterest foe, obtained to be present at his first audience with the King, and shortly after, Henry told him that he intended to marry her. Seeing that arguments, entreaties and warnings were futile, Wolsey turned round and paid court to the rising star. But Anne never forgave his opposition, and never trusted him. She taunted Henry with his bondage to the Cardinal, and did not rest till she had stirred up strife between them, on the subject of the nomination of an Abbess of Wilton. The quarrel was patched up, but it proved to be the rift within the lute, that was to make harmony impossible, and to lead on to his fall.

Meanwhile, Mary was still in ignorance of the events that were to influence all her future. Her education went on without interruption, and in the summer of 1528, Katharine, who, in spite of overwhelming anxieties, had room in her mind for solicitude regarding her daughter’s studies, wrote to Ludovicus Vives to express a wish that he would come and teach the Princess Latin, during the following winter. He consented, and returned to England on the 1st October, “to please the King and Queen”. By this time Katharine was in dire need of help, advice and consolation. “She told him how deeply she was afflicted about the controversy concerning her marriage; and, thinking him well read in matters of moral, began to open out to him as her countryman, on the subject of her grief.”[71] Vives prudently replied that “her sorrows were a proof that she was dear to God, for that thus He was accustomed to chasten His own”. But he proved himself a true friend to the Queen, and took occasion to write to Henry, begging him to consider the danger of his course in incurring the enmity of the Emperor. If his object was to have a son, he might choose a suitable person to marry his daughter. If he were to take another wife, there was no certainty that she would bear him a son, or that a son would live. A new marriage would leave the succession doubtful, and afford grounds for civil war. He was, he said, moved to write by his duty to the King, love to England, where he was so kindly received, and anxiety for the peace of Christendom.[72]

Katharine had, in truth, need of patience. Anne grew daily more overbearing, and it was hardly to be expected that the Queen’s sense of humour should be equal to the grotesque littleness, with which the favourite exulted over her enemies. In a hapless moment she showed her contempt for them by the device, Ainsi sera, groigne qui groigne, which she caused to be embroidered on her servants’ liveries, but learned to her mortification that she had unwittingly adopted the motto of her bitter enemies, the princes of the house of Burgundy. In England, the friends of the Queen cried: “Groigne qui groigne et vive Bourgoigne!” The liveries, being thus covered with ridicule, had to be discarded, and on Christmas Day, her servants appeared in their old doublets.[73]

In October 1528, the papal legate, Cardinal Campeggio arrived in London. The Pope had charged him with the mission to do his utmost to restore mutual affection between the King and Queen, and failing this result, to open a court of inquiry, in conjunction with Wolsey.

But it was clear that no reconciliation would be possible. Henry was infatuated with Anne; and as for the legatine court, the two judges were at cross purposes, Wolsey aiming at nothing but a verdict against the marriage, while Campeggio was determined that justice should be done. His policy was to counteract the haste with which the proceedings were hurried forward, “with great strides always faster than a trot,” and in this he succeeded so well, that the legates being pressed to give sentence in the King’s favour by the 22nd July, Campeggio declared, that if Wolsey agreed with him, he was willing to pronounce sentence, otherwise it would not be pronounced. The cause was then removed to Rome, to be tried before the Court of the Rota, and it being apparent that Wolsey possessed neither weight nor credit with the Pope, his fall became imminent. Anne had not schemed in vain, and his disgrace filled her with exultation, although her cause was in no way benefited by it.

We are greatly indebted for the history of the Queen and the Princess Mary, during the next few years, to the interesting despatches of the imperial ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, who arrived in England in August 1529. He was a native of Switzerland, aged about thirty, of distinguished, and even courtly manners, eloquent, quick-witted and trustworthy. Charles V. had been so much impressed with his sagacity that he sent him as ambassador, first to Francis I., then to Henry VIII., both enemies who required judicious handling. Full of minute details, his letters cannot be said to present either a wholly impartial, or still less a one-sided view of passing events. Chapuys was an avowed friend of the unhappy Queen and of her daughter, but as the accredited envoy of Charles V. he would not be likely to furnish him with false statements, or garbled facts, and although his natural bias leads him to write with eulogy of the Queen and the Princess, and with acrimony of their enemies, he would not have been the diplomatist he proved himself to be had he misled Charles as to the details of the tragedy that was being played before his eyes. He was a shrewd observer, tactful and discreet, so that he never compromised his position at court by showing too much zeal. He contrived to give Henry and Cromwell the impression that he was acting solely as the Emperor’s diplomatic agent, and thus was at first allowed to communicate freely with Katharine and Mary, and was often able to render them important service.

In transcribing portions of these letters, Dr. Gairdner’s excellent translations of the original documents in the Vienna archives, and the versions of Don Pasquale de Gayangos have been used. Mr. Rawdon Brown’s transcripts from the Venetian archives are still important, and later on, of even greater interest.

The condition in which Chapuys found the English Court was unique. Henry continued to treat Katharine with outward decency; they still sometimes dined together in public, and occasionally hunted in each other’s company. But Anne was never far off, and when at court, was treated with as much ceremony as the Queen herself. Mary was seldom allowed to visit her parents, probably because of Anne’s intense dislike to her. The favourite was, perhaps not unnaturally, less jealous of the wife whom Henry had ceased to care for, than of the daughter whom he was supposed to idolise. Both at Hampton Court and Windsor there was ample accommodation for the Queen, and the mistress as well; but at York Place, Whitehall, which Henry had seized on Wolsey’s fall, there was no suitable apartment for Katharine; and Anne was always best pleased to be there, for then Henry left his wife at Greenwich. But the court was seldom in London, and Anne agitated incessantly that she might be banished.[74]

In March 1531, Mary was allowed to visit her mother; but in April she had an illness, and wrote to the King that no medicine would do her so much good as to see him and the Queen, and desired his permission to come to them both at Greenwich. “This,” said Chapuys, “has been refused, to gratify the Lady, who hates her as much as the Queen, or more so, chiefly because she sees the King has some affection for her. Of late, when the King praised her in the Lady’s presence, the latter was very angry, and began to vituperate the Princess very strangely. She becomes more arrogant every day, using words and authority towards the King, of which he has several times complained to the Duke of Norfolk, saying that she was not like the Queen, who had never in her life used ill words to him.”[75]

On the 14th May, he writes: “The King, dining the other day with the Queen, as is usual in most festivals, began to speak of the Turk, and the truce concluded with your Majesty, praising your puissance, contrary to his wont. Afterwards, proceeding to speak of the Princess, he accused the Queen of cruelty, because she had not made her physician reside continually with her; and so the dinner passed off amicably. Next day, when the Queen, in consequence of these gracious speeches, asked the King to allow the Princess to see them, he rebuffed her very rudely, and said she might go and see the Princess if she wished, and also stop there. The Queen graciously replied, that she would not leave him for her daughter, nor for any one else in the world, and there the matter stopped.”

Worried at the opposition which he encountered in his efforts to get rid of Katharine, Henry told the Duke of Norfolk that it would have been a great blessing if this marriage had never been made, but on second thoughts, he added, “nevertheless, this would have been a great pity, since of it there had come such a pearl as the Princess, who was one of the most beautiful and virtuous ladies of the world”.[76]

In 1530, Mary was still called Princess of Wales, and until the autumn of the following year, her father kept up an appearance of civility towards her mother, visiting her in her apartments every three days. At last, however, he left her at Windsor, and went away hunting with Anne. Katharine sent to inquire after his health, and he replied by an angry letter, forbidding her to write to him. To add to the insult, there was no address on the letter, “probably,” says Chapuys, “because a change of name was contemplated; but the Princess is with her, and this will make her forget her grief for the absence of the King. They amuse themselves by hunting, and visiting the royal houses round Windsor, expecting some good news from Rome.”[77]

Chapuys told the Emperor that the Pope had said, that “if there was written evidence of the great familiarity and scandalous conversation, and bad example of the King and the Lady, and of the ill-treatment of the Queen, his Holiness would immediately fulminate his censures”. But, by this time, Henry was reckless of all save Anne, and his hunting expedition having come to an end, he wished to return to Windsor, and intimated to Katharine that both she and her daughter must depart. Mary was to return to Richmond, while she herself had orders to repair to the More, a house in Hertfordshire, formerly belonging to Wolsey, but which had come into the possession of the Abbey of St. Albans, and was granted to the King, in December 1531. The house itself is described as “a commodious habitation in summer,” but the park and garden were in a ruinous condition and “the ways so foul that those who went there in carriages, broke down the pales and made highway through the park”. The keeper, Sir John Russell, wrote repeatedly to Cromwell about the condition of the said palings, but could get no answer, and complained that if the king would “give no money for the paling,” no deer would be left; and if the charge were not so great, he would bear it out of his own purse. Moreover, the king would only give the gardener sixpence a day, and no one would take it at that price. If he would give eightpence, Sir John declares that he himself would contribute “twenty nobles of the charge”. “The Queen’s servants, with their carriage, broke down the pales in many places.”[78]

Katharine remained at this place for several months. She declared that she would have preferred going to the Tower as a prisoner, but Chapuys said that the King knew quite well, that if he sent her there, the people would have risen in mutiny; that he was often waylaid as he went to hunt, with entreaties to take the Queen back, and that Anne met with insults from the women wherever she went. Nevertheless, she protested loudly, that the King would marry her in three or four months, and began preparing for her royal state.

Katharine never saw her daughter again, and could only communicate with her secretly. They were sternly forbidden to write to each other, whereupon Mary begged that some one might be sent from the King to read the letters which she wrote to her mother, that it might be seen she only informed her about her health. But even this was refused, and henceforth none but furtive missives passed between them, letters written in dread, and conveyed with danger, at times when exceptional terrors appeared to hang over the one or the other. Henry hoped by a systematic persecution, to break the spirit of both; but each was of the blood royal of Spain, the noblest in Europe, and the indignities heaped upon them only served to increase the dignity with which they suffered. Mary was, moreover, a Tudor also, and could be as resolute as her father.

In 1531, an Italian, Mario Savagnano, with some companions, paid a visit to the English Court, and in an interesting account of his journey recorded his impressions of the King, Queen, and Princess:—

“I saw the King twice, and kissed his hand; he is glad to see foreigners, and especially Italians; he embraced me joyously, and then went out to hunt with some forty to fifty horsemen. He is tall of stature, very well formed and of very handsome presence, beyond measure affable, and I never saw a prince better disposed than this one. He is also learned and accomplished, and most generous and kind, and were it not that he now seeks to repudiate his wife, after having lived with her for twenty-two years, he would be no less perfectly good, and equally prudent. But this thing detracts greatly from his merits, as there is now living with him a young woman of noble birth, though many say of bad character, whose will is law to him, and he is expected to marry her should the divorce take place, which it is supposed will not be effected, as the peers of the realm, both spiritual and temporal, are opposed to it; nor during the present Queen’s life will they have any other queen in the kingdom. Her Majesty is prudent and good; and during these differences with the King, she has evinced constancy and resolution, never being disheartened or depressed. I returned to Windsor Castle, and from thence, on the fourth day of my departure from London, arrived at a palace called the More, where the Queen resides. In the morning we saw her Majesty dine: she had some thirty maids of honour standing round the table, and about fifty who performed its service. Her court consists of about two hundred persons, but she is not so much visited as heretofore, on account of the King. Her Majesty is not of tall stature, rather small. If not handsome, she is not ugly; she is somewhat stout, and has always a smile on her countenance. We next went to another palace called Richmond, where the Princess her daughter resides; and having asked the maggiordomo for permission to see her, he spoke to the chamberlain, and then to the governess (the Countess of Salisbury) and they made us wait. Then, after seeing the palace, we returned to the hall, and having entered a spacious chamber, where there were some venerable old men, with whom we discoursed, the Princess came forth, accompanied by a noble lady, advanced in years, who is her governess, and by six maids of honour. This Princess is not tall, has a pretty face, and is well proportioned, with a very beautiful complexion, and is fifteen years old. She speaks Spanish, French, and Latin, besides her own mother-English tongue, is well grounded in Greek, and understands Italian, but does not venture to speak it. She sings excellently, and plays on several instruments, so that she combines every accomplishment. We were then taken to a sumptuous repast, after which we returned to our lodging, whither, according to the fashion of the country, the Princess sent us a present of wine and ale (which last is another beverage of theirs) and white bread. On the next day, which was the 6th, we returned to London to the house of our ambassador, where we remained two days, and then by boat went down the Thames, which is very broad, and covered with swans, and thus we got to Dover the passage port.”[79]

KATHARINE OF ARRAGON.
From a fine original in miniature by Holbein, formerly in Horace Walpole’s Collection at Strawberry Hill.

Another Italian visitor, the Venetian, Ludovico Falier, describes Mary at sixteen years old as “a very handsome, amiable and accomplished princess, in no respect inferior to her mother”. He remarks that Katharine was so much loved and respected, that the people were beginning to murmur against the King. “Were,” he continues, “the faction to produce a leader, it is certain that the English nation, so prone to innovation and change, would take up arms for the Queen, and by so much the more, were it arranged for the leader to marry the Princess Mary, although by English law females are excluded from the Crown.”[80]

Another, Marin Giustinian, writing to the Signory, says: “The English King is not popular with his subjects, chiefly on account of his intention to divorce his wife, who is much loved, and they hold her daughter in very great account”.[81]

A month later, the same writer was at Paris, and says:—

“The English ambassador here, Sir John Wallop, does not approve the divorce; praising the wisdom, innocence, and patience of Queen Katharine, as also her daughter. He says that the Queen was beloved as if she had been of the blood royal of England, and the Princess in like manner.”[82]

And from Lyons, on the 28th March 1533, he writes that a gentleman who has come from England has told Sir John Wallop, that “the King does not choose the Princess any longer to be styled Princess, but ‘Madam Mary,’ nor will he give her in marriage abroad; others say that he intends to make her a nun”. In August Marc Antonio Venier, in a despatch to the Signory from Rome, says that “letters from England announce that the Archbishop of Canterbury has pronounced a sentence in favour of Henry, prohibiting Katharine to be any longer named Queen, and is having it proclaimed throughout the realm, so that she may not be able to defend herself; and her daughter has been admonished not to interfere”.[83]

In the main, the Italians were correctly informed as to passing events in England. But at this period, although Henry kept Mary at a distance from court, and had not seen her for three years, she was still treated with a degree of consideration, to which her mother had long been a stranger. He was still uncertain as to the use he would make of her, in securing for himself allies abroad. He hoped that she would submit quietly to the new laws, and therefore, for a time at least, nothing was abated of her royal state. In September 1531, soon after her parting from her mother, a warrant was issued to the Master of the Great Wardrobe “to deliver certain things for the use of the Princess,” nearly all of which were composed of materials then only used by royal personages.[84]

The perennial question of her marriage was again in debate, but was thenceforth removed to a lower level in European politics. Her betrothal to the Duke of Orleans had never been cancelled, but a dispute had arisen between Henry and Francis, on the subject of money. Then, when the validity of her parents’ marriage became a matter of discussion in all the Universities of Europe, Francis wished that the case should be first settled, “lest the world should declare that his son had married a bastard”.[85] And in the midst of these delays, the Scottish alliance was again mooted. But the Scotch put too high a value on their friendship with France, to risk such a union;[86] Margaret was too like her brother to commit herself to any definite policy save that of intrigue; and Henry had now more urgent business on hand than the disposal of his daughter in marriage. Some languid interest was excited at court by the proposal of King John Zapolski to marry her, and Chapuys heard that her hand had been sought for the Duke of Cleves;[87] but neither project was seriously entertained. It was also believed that the Pope and the Emperor wished to bestow her on Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan, who had lost the use of his hands and feet. “And this,” wrote Niño to the Emperor, “would not be half such bad treatment of the daughter as of the mother.”[88]

To all these projects Henry replied that the Princess would never be married except in a high position, for she was still heiress of the kingdom; and when the great affair was settled in the King’s favour, and he remarried, it was uncertain whether he would have male children, and if not she would be preferred to other daughters. If any person ventured to say that she was illegitimate, “he would have his head cut off”.[89]

Wolsey had died in disgrace, on the 27th November 1530, and the chancellorship devolved on his own secretary, Thomas Cromwell, a man who virtually made the history of the next ten years in England. The son of a “fuller of clothes” or dyer, his career had been singularly varied. He had as a mere youth found his way to Italy, where he served as a common soldier, but being preternaturally observant, he succeeded in picking up many scraps of the new learning which fell from the great Medici banquet, then being spread throughout Tuscany. Machiavelli’s book, Il Principe, was the foundation on which his whole future statesmanship was built. On his return to England he was successively a scrivener, a lawyer, a money-lender, and a great wool merchant at Middlesbrough. It was not till he was nearly middle-aged, that he attracted the notice of Wolsey, then beginning the suppression of some small monasteries, in favour of his colleges at Ipswich and Oxford. On Wolsey’s fall, it was thought that he would be imprisoned, but he seized the moment when the tide was turning, and used it to float himself into a safe harbour. Reginald Pole, son of the Countess of Salisbury, had met him at Cardinal Wolsey’s, and had recognised in him the coming man. They had talked philosophy, and Cromwell tried to persuade him that Plato’s system was “a dream,” promising to send him a copy of Il Principe. It was probably at Cromwell’s instigation that Henry offered Pole the Archbishopric of York, although he was not yet in priest’s orders. Seeing the course that the King was now taking, and Cromwell’s growing influence, instead of accepting the benefice, Pole determined to fly the kingdom, “beyond the reach of his bow,”[90] and was in consequence saved from the fate of More and Fisher, and, later on, from that of his own mother. Henry, loth to lose so able an advocate as he would prove, if he could be won over to his cause, refused his repeated request to be allowed to go and study abroad. But at last Pole told him that if he remained in England, he must of necessity attend the Parliament which was about to assemble, and that if the King’s divorce were discussed, he must speak according to his conscience. Henry then at once gave him leave to go, and even promised to continue his income of 400 ducats yearly.[91]

Between the beginning of August 1530 and May 1531, Henry lavished the price of a king’s ransom in jewels upon Anne.[92] But in the catalogue of presents made by him on New Year’s Day, 1532, the names of the Queen and Princess are conspicuously followed by a blank space. Not only did he send them none, but he forbade the members of his council, and others to do so, and this year he abstained for the first time from making presents to the ladies of Katharine’s and Mary’s households. But to Anne he gave the hangings of a room in cloth of gold and silver, and crimson satin with costly embroideries. She was now lodged in the Queen’s apartments, and had almost as many ladies as if she were already queen. Katharine sent a gold cup to the King as a present, but he returned it to her, with a message praising its beauty, but informing her that he could receive no gift from her. So complete was the power of Anne over him at this time, that he was less free than the least of his subjects; and this power she continued to exercise during the entire year then beginning, and a few months longer. Chapuys told the Emperor that one day Henry had met his daughter walking in the fields, but did not say much to her, except to ask her how she was, and to assure her that in future he would see her more often. “It is certain,” he continued, “that the King dares [not] bring her where the Lady is, for she does not wish to see her or hear of her.” He thought that the King would have talked with Mary longer and more familiarly, if the Lady had not sent two of her people to listen. The Princess, he adds, was to be at Windsor during her father’s absence in France, whither he was to be accompanied by Anne, and the Queen was very much afraid that he would marry his mistress at the impending interview with the French king. “But the Lady has assured some person in whom she trusts, that even if the King wished, she would not consent, for she wishes it to be done here, in the place where queens are wont to be married and crowned.”[93]

In anticipation of the journey to France, Anne had been created Marchioness of Pembroke on the 1st September 1532,[94] and was to appear at the meeting with Francis, in great state as the future queen; but as no royal lady could be prevailed on to meet her, not even the Queen of Navarre, who was supposed to be her friend, she was obliged to go unattended by a suite.[95]

She accompanied Henry to Calais, and remained there while he proceeded to join Francis at Boulogne. The two Kings returned together to Calais, and Francis presented Anne with a valuable jewel, complimenting her much on her beautiful dancing. But all this was humiliation compared with the ambitious hopes she had founded on the meeting, and she was more than ever impatient for her marriage, when she imagined that slights would no longer be her portion.

Warham had died on the 23rd August, and Cranmer, already prominent as a creature of Henry’s and of the Boleyns, and a zealous favourer of the divorce, was at once put forward as a candidate for the vacant see of Canterbury. His election was pushed on, in the hope that if the Pope gave an adverse sentence, the new archbishop might then dissolve the King’s marriage by his own authority. But some time must necessarily elapse before the bulls of consecration could be issued, and meanwhile matters were precipitated by Anne’s announcement in January 1533, that Henry might expect an heir to the Crown. It was necessary, if this passionately hoped-for heir was to be Prince of Wales, that Henry and Anne should be married at once.[96] The ceremony was accordingly performed at York Place, on the 25th January, by Rowland Lee, one of the King’s chaplains, whom Henry deceived with the assurance that he had leave from the Pope to contract a new marriage. The event was at first kept secret even from Cranmer, who was informed of it a fortnight later, but Chapuys, ever vigilant and alert, discovered that it had taken place, and informed the Emperor, naming the date as the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul.[97] The object of the secrecy was twofold; first, in order that a semblance of friendship might be kept up with the Pope till he had granted Cranmer’s bulls, and also that the date of the marriage might be afterwards falsified to claim legitimacy for Anne’s child.[98]

The bulls arrived in March, and Cranmer was immediately consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury. The next step was to pronounce sentence of divorce. A court was opened at Dunstable, on the 10th May, and the Queen cited to appear before it. On her failing to do so, Cranmer declared her contumacious, and on the 23rd, proceeded to pronounce her marriage null, Henry himself dictating the form of the sentence.[99]

Katharine, when she was informed of this proceeding, was at Ampthill, near Dunstable, whither she had been removed from Buckden or Bugden, a house which she had occupied for some months, very inferior to the More, and very damp in winter, belonging to Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, one of the first promoters of the divorce. Since her arrival at Ampthill, Henry had twice sent to her to inform her of his marriage with Anne, and to forbid her any longer to take the title of Queen. She was henceforth to be styled Princess Dowager, to retire to one of the houses settled on her by his brother, Prince Arthur, and live on a small income, as the King would no longer pay her expenses, or the wages of her servants. She answered on both occasions with calmness and dignity, that as long as she lived she would call herself Queen, but that if the King objected to the expense of her allowance, she would be contented with what she had, and with her confessor, physician, apothecary and two women, would go wherever he wished. If food for herself and servants failed her, she would go and beg for the love of God.[100]

Anne was now triumphant. Her coronation was fixed for the 1st June, and the nearer she approached to the desired goal, the more insolent became her conduct and language.[101] Already, on the 10th April, Chapuys had written with great earnestness to the Emperor, urging him to make war upon Henry, considering the very great injury done to madame, his aunt, “for it is to be feared,” so ran the letter, “that the moment this accursed Anne sets her foot firmly in the stirrup she will try to do the Queen all the harm she possibly can, and the Princess also, which is the thing your aunt dreads most. Indeed, I hear she has lately boasted that she will make of the Princess a maid-of-honour in her royal household, that she may perhaps give her too much dinner on some occasion, or marry her to some varlet, which would be an irreparable evil.”[102]

In another part of the same letter he says: “I hear that the King is about to forbid every one, under pain of death, to speak in public or private, in favour of the Queen. After that, he will most likely proceed to greater extremities, unless God and your Majesty prevent it. Again, I beseech your Majesty to forgive me if I dare give advice in such matters, for besides the above causes, the great pity I have for the Queen and the Princess, your Majesty’s aunt and niece (sic), absolutely compel me to take this course. Though the King is by nature kind and generously inclined, this Anne has so perverted him, that he does not seem the same man. It is therefore to be feared that unless your Majesty applies a prompt remedy to this evil, the Lady will not relent in her persecution, until she actually finishes with Queen Katharine, as she once did with Cardinal Wolsey, whom she did not hate half so much. The Queen, however, is not afraid for herself; what she cares most for is the Princess.”

And again, in the same letter: “The Queen is to take the title of old dowager Princess. As for the Princess Mary, no title has been yet given to her,” and Chapuys fancies that they will wait to settle this until “la dame aye faict lenfant”.[103]

Anne’s coronation in Westminster Abbey, magnificent as a ceremony and a procession, was marked by an absence of popular enthusiasm amounting to general stupefaction. The crowd, silent and sullen, could not be persuaded to take off their hats and cry “God save the Queen,” and when one of Anne’s attendants told the lord mayor to order them to cheer as usual, he answered that he “could not command people’s hearts, and even the King could not do so”. The court and the nobility did their best to grace the ceremony, but the Duchess of Norfolk refused to be present, and no one was surprised, for her loyalty to Queen Katharine was known.

Henry had caused his own and Anne’s initials, H. and A., to be interwoven in every imaginable device, but the people interpreted them derisively—Ha! ha! They even went so far as to insult the French ambassador and his suite, because they were known to be Anne’s friends, calling them “French dogs”.[104]

When Katharine left Ampthill to return to Buckden, all the neighbourhood turned out to do her honour. In defiance of the order not to style her queen, they shouted at the top of their voices: “Long live Queen Katharine,” wishing her joy, repose, and prosperity, and confusion to her enemies. They begged her with tears, to set them to work and employ them in her service, protesting that they were ready to die for her.[105] A few days before, Henry had sent Lord Mountjoy, her chamberlain, and several other gentlemen to Ampthill, to tell her once more that she must henceforth bear the title of Dowager-Princess of Wales. But she declared that she would never accept service from any one, or answer any one who addressed her by that title. On being shown the report of the interview with her, which had been drawn up by the deputation, she crossed out the words Dowager-Princess wherever they appeared.

The news of Henry’s independent action, and of Cranmer’s sentence at Dunstable, had duly reached the Pope’s ears, and had brought the cause before the Rota[106] to a sudden climax. A brief was at once issued, declaring that Cranmer, and all those who had co-operated with him in the matter, had incurred the greater excommunication, and the Papal anathemas were prepared. Henry appealed from the authority of the Pope to a General Council, and withdrew his ambassador from Rome. It was the beginning of the breach with the Pope.

On the 7th September, Anne gave birth to a daughter, and Chapuys wrote to Charles: “The Lady’s daughter has been christened Elizabeth, not Mary as I wrote in my last despatch. The christening ceremony was as dull and disagreeable (mal playcante) as the mother’s coronation. Neither at court nor at this city of London nor elsewhere have there been bonfires, illuminations, and rejoicings customary on such occasions. Immediately after the christening of this daughter of the King a herald, standing at the gate of the church, proclaimed her Princess of England; and previously to that, that is, immediately after the child’s birth, the same herald announced that the good, true, and legitimate Princess (of Wales) was no longer to be called so; the badges usually borne by her laquais on their coats-of-arms were instantly removed, and replaced by the King’s skutcheon. In fact, a rumour is afloat, and not without foundation, that her household and allowance are to be shortly reduced. May God in His infinite mercy prevent a still worse treatment. Meanwhile, the Princess, prudent and virtuous as she naturally is, has taken all these things with patience, trusting entirely in God’s mercy and goodness. She has addressed to her mother, the Queen, a most wonderful letter, full of consolation and comfort. I shall not fail, however, after hearing the Queen’s wishes, and receiving her orders, to remonstrate and protest against so enormous an injury and injustice, as the one just inflicted upon her and her daughter, the Princess, though I very much fear—and indeed am almost sure—that all my remonstrances will lead to nothing, for certainly, the King’s obdurate sin, and his own misfortune have so shut his ears that no arguments of any sort or prayers shall be listened to. Indeed, something more than mere words will be required to make him return to the right path.”[107]

But Anne would allow of no respite in the persecution of Henry’s wife and daughter, and the King was now committed to a systematic policy, by which they were to be reduced to submission. A document now in the Record Office, endorsed “Articles to be proposed to my lady Mary,” marks the next act of the drama. They are as follows: “Articles to be proponed and showed on our behalf unto our daughter, lady Mary, and all other the officers and servants of her household, by our right trusty and right well-beloved cousin and councillors, the earls of Oxford, Essex and Sussex, and by our trusty and right well-beloved clerk and councillor, the Dean of our Chapel, whom we send at this time unto our said daughter.

“1. They are to assemble on Wednesday next, at Chemsforth (Chelmsford) and after communicating with each other on their charge, repair to Beaulieu (New Hall) where our said daughter now abides, and there declare their credence as follows, by the mouth of the Dean of the Chapel, viz.:—

“2. That the King is surprised to be informed both by lord Husaye’s letters, and by his said daughter’s own, delivered by one of her servants, that she, forgetting her filial duty and allegiance, attempts, in spite of the commandment given her by lord Hussy, and by the letters of Sir Will. Pallett, controller of the Household, arrogantly to usurp the title of Princess, pretending to be heir apparent, and encourages to do the like, declaring that she cannot in conscience, think but she is the King’s lawful daughter, born in true matrimony, and believes the King in his own conscience thinks the same. That to prevent her pernicious example spreading, they have been commanded to declare to her the folly and danger of her conduct, and how the King intends that she shall use herself henceforth, both as to her title and as to her household. That she has worthily deserved the King’s high displeasure and punishment by law, but that on her conforming to his will, he may incline of his fatherly pity to promote her welfare.”

Mary had thus written to her father on the 2nd October:—

“This morning my chamberlain came and informed me that he had received a letter from Sir Will. Paulet, controller of your House, to the effect that I should remove at once to Hertford Castle.

“I desired to see the letter, in which was written ‘the lady Mary, the King’s daughter,’ leaving out the name of Princess. I marvelled at this, thinking your Grace was not privy to it, not doubting but you take me for your lawful daughter, born in true matrimony. If I agreed to the contrary, I should offend God; in all other things, you shall find me an obedient daughter. From your manor of Beaulieu, 2 Oct.”[108]

On the 16th, the imperial ambassador again writes:—

“Nothing new has occurred since the date of my last despatch, except that the King has made the Princess, his daughter, move from the fine house in which she was dwelling to a very wretched one, most unfit for this present season. He has done still more, the Princess’s residence he has given, or let—I cannot say which—to lord Rochefort, the brother of the Lady, who is already furnishing it, and sending thither his household servants. I omitted in my last despatch to specify all the names of those who had gone, by the King’s commands, to speak to the Princess. These were: the earls of Auffort (Oxford), Excez (Essex), and Succez (Sussex), and Dr. Sampson, all of whom tried by prayers, threats and persuasions innumerable, to make her give up the name and title of Princess, and submit entirely to her father’s will, in this respect, as God commands. But the Princess, I am told, replied so wisely and discreetly, that the said lords knew not what to say, and all shed tears in consequence (et ny eust personne a la compagnie que ne pleurast bien chauldement). And I hear also, that following her mother’s example, she would never consent to hear them in private; but insisted on their delivering the King’s message in public, and before all her household assembled for the purpose. She was no doubt afraid, as she has since declared, that in the absence of witnesses, the King’s deputies might make some statement to her prejudice or disadvantage. It is impossible for me to describe the love and affection which the English bear to their Princess; but they are already so much accustomed to see and tolerate such disorderly things, that they tacitly commit the redress of the same to God, and to your Majesty.“

It was about this time, that Katharine, upon the warning she had received from Chapuys, wrote the following letter to Mary:—

“Daughter, I heard such tidings to-day, that I do perceive, if it is true, the time is come that Almighty God will prove you; and I am very glad of it, for I trust He doth handle you with a good love. I beseech you, agree to His pleasure with a merry heart; and be you sure, that without fail, He will not suffer you to perish, if you beware to offend Him. I pray you, good daughter, to offer yourself to Him. If any pangs come to you,[109] shrive yourself; first make you clean; take heed of His commandments, and keep them as near as He will give you grace to do, for then are you sure armed. And if this lady do come to you, as it is spoken, if she do bring you a letter from the King, I am sure, in the self-same letter, you shall be commanded what you shall do. Answer you with few words, obeying the King your father in everything, save that you will not offend God, and lose your own soul; and go no further with learning and disputation in the matter. And wheresoever and in whatsoever company you shall come, [obey] the King’s commandments. Speak you few words, and meddle nothing. I will send you two books in Latin: one shall be De Vita Christi, with the declaration of the Gospels, and the other the Epistles of Hierome, that he did write always to St. Paula and Eustochium; and in them I trust you shall see good things. And sometimes, for your recreation, use your virginals, if you have any. But one thing specially I desire you, for the love you do owe unto God, and unto me, to keep your heart with a chaste mind, and your body from all ill and wanton company, [not] thinking nor desiring any husband, for Christ’s Passion; neither determine yourself to any manner of living, until this troublesome time be past, for I dare make you sure that you shall see a very good end, and better than you can desire. I would God, good daughter, that you did know with how good a heart I do write this letter unto you. I never did one with a better, for I perceive very well that God loveth you. I beseech Him of His goodness to continue it; and if it fortune that you shall have nobody to be with you of your acquaintance, I think it best to keep your keys yourself, for howsoever it is, so shall be done as shall please them. And now you shall begin, and by likelihood I shall follow. I set not a rush by it; for when they have done the uttermost they can, then I am sure of the amendment. I pray you recommend me unto my good lady Salisbury, and pray her to have a good heart, for we never come to the Kingdom of Heaven but by troubles. Daughter, wheresoever you become, take no pain to send for (to?) me, for if I may I will send to you.

“By your loving mother, Katharine, the Queen.”[110]

VIA DOLOROSA.

1533-1536.

A crisis of some sort was generally thought to be at hand, although its precise nature remained a mystery for a few days longer. The King’s subjects made no secret of their satisfaction, because Anne had not fulfilled the confident prognostications of the astrologers, who had flattered her with assurances that she would present Henry with a son. Not only did they rejoice in her disappointed ambition, and in the visible cooling of Henry’s passion, but they now began to entertain hopes that Mary would not be so completely set aside in the succession as they had been led to expect.

The satisfaction and the hope were, however, short-lived, and on the 3rd November, Chapuys communicated to the Emperor the further untoward progress of events.[111]

“Not satisfied with having taken away from his own legitimate daughter the name and title of princess, as intimated in a former despatch, the King has lately been talking of removing—and has actually begun to do so—all the officers and servants of her princely household, on the plea that they have encouraged her in her disobedience. This the King has done, as he says, to daunt and intimidate her; he has even gone so far as to demand that she (the Princess) should go and live as ‘demoiselle d’honneur’ to his bastard daughter, at which, your Majesty may guess, both the Queen and the Princess are marvellously disturbed, and in great trouble. They sent to me a week ago in this emergency and begged I would speak to Cromwell, and see what could be done to arrest the blow. I immediately sent to the Princess, a protest drawn in due form for her to sign and keep secret, declaring that neither by word nor deed, expressly nor tacitly, had she ever consented to anything that may prejudice her or her right. I have besides put down in writing several candid and temperate statements, to be addressed to those who might come with such a proposition in her father’s name. In case however, of there being no help at all, she was, I said, to have patience, for she would not have to suffer long. Should the King send some one to her on such an errand, she was to say from the very first, that if the King her father wished it to be so, she submitted, but that she protested, in due form, against whatever might be done to her prejudice. These words I wrote down for her, she was to learn them by heart, and repeat them daily, surrounded by her most confidential servants.”

The blow fell speedily, and on the 16th December, Chapuys told his master that what he had feared had come to pass:[112]—

“According to the determination come to by the King about the treatment of the Princess and the bastard, of which I wrote in my last, the said bastard was taken three days ago to a house seventeen miles from here [Hatfield], and although there was a shorter and better road, yet for greater solemnity, and to insinuate to the people that she is the true Princess, she was taken through this town [London] with the company which I wrote in my last; and next day, the Duke of Norfolk went to the Princess, to tell her that her father desired her to go to the court and service of the said bastard, whom he named Princess. The Princess answered that the title belonged to herself, and to no other, making many very wise remonstrances, that what had been proposed to her was strange and dishonourable. To which, the Duke could not reply. After much talk, he said he had not come there to dispute, but to accomplish the King’s will; and the Princess, seeing that it was needless excusing herself, demanded half an hour’s respite to go to her chamber, where she remained about that time—to make, as I know, a protestation which I had sent her, in order that if compelled by force or fraud to renounce her rights, or enter a nunnery, it might not be to her prejudice. On returning from her chamber, she said to the Duke, that since the King her father was so pleased, she would not disobey him, begging him to intercede with the King for the recompense of her servants, that they might have at least a year’s wages. She then asked what company she should bring. The Duke said it was not necessary to bring much, for she would find plenty where she was going; and so she parted, with a very small suite. Her gouvernante [the Countess of Salisbury], daughter of the late Duke of Clarence and near kinswoman to the King, a lady of virtue and honor, if there be one in England, has offered to follow and serve her at her own expense, with an honorable train. But it was out of the question that this would be accepted; for in that case, they would have no power over the Princess, whom it is to be feared, they mean to kill, either with grief or otherwise, or make her renounce her right, or marry basely, or make her stain her honour, to have ground for disinheriting her—since notwithstanding the remonstrances I have hitherto made, touching the Princess, to which I have had no reply, the King has proceeded to such excesses; and considering that my words only served to irritate him, and make him more fierce and obstinate, I have resolved not again to address to him a single word, except he obliges me, without a command from the Queen.”

In the same letter he says:—

“You cannot imagine the grief of all the people at this abominable government. They are so transported with indignation at what passes, that they complain that your Majesty takes no steps in it, and I am told by many respectable people, that they would be glad to see a fleet come hither in your name, to raise the people; and if they had any chief among themselves, who dared raise his head, they would require no more.”

After signing the formal protest which Chapuys had drawn up for her, Mary allowed herself to be placed in a litter, and conveyed to Hatfield, where Elizabeth, then three months old, was provided with an establishment. Dr. Fox, the King’s almoner, rode by the side of the litter, in order to guard the Princess, and prevent any excessive outbreak of indignation on the part of the populace. Nevertheless, according to Anne’s scornful remark, Mary was treated, in the villages through which she passed, “as if she were God Himself who had descended from heaven”. Moreover, Dr. Fox, Henry’s own agent, took the opportunity of telling her that she had done well, not to submit, and he implored her for the love of God, and the welfare of the realm, to remain firm.

On the 23rd December, Chapuys continues his narrative:[113]—

“When the Princess, who was taken off with only two attendants, had arrived where the bastard was, the Duke (of Suffolk) asked her whether she would not go and pay her respects to the Princess. She replied, that she knew no other Princess in England except herself, and that the daughter of Madame de Penebrok (sic) had no such title; but that it was true, that since the King her father acknowledged her to be his, she might call her ‘sister,’ as she called the Duke of Richmond ‘brother’. On her removing, the Duke asked her what word he should carry to the King; to which she replied: ‘Nothing else except that his daughter, the Princess, begged his blessing;’ and when he said that he would not carry such a message, she told him curtly, he might leave it; and after protesting several times, that what she did at the King’s command, should not be to her prejudice, she retired to weep in her chamber, as she does continually. Though the said Duke treated her very roughly, the King reproached him for not having accomplished his charge; that he went about it too softly; and he was resolved to take steps to abate the stubbornness and pride of the Princess.”

Meanwhile, the same measure was to be meted out to mother and daughter, and the Duke of Suffolk, albeit “he went about it too softly,” was in each case Henry’s faithful agent.

Katharine was allowed to remain undisturbed at Buckden, till Mary was removed from Beaulieu, when it was resolved to send her to Somersham, in the Isle of Ely, a place surrounded with deep water and marshes, the most unhealthy and pestilential spot in England. Katharine, knowing what awaited her there, refused to stir, and for six days, Henry’s commissioners remained with her, using persuasion and threats in vain. She shut herself up in her room, and told them through a hole in the wall, that if they would take her away they must break open the doors, and carry her off by force. This they dared not do, for fear of the people; and the Duke of Suffolk was obliged to depart with his mission entirely unfulfilled. To do him justice, it must be remarked that he was extremely loth to undertake it.

“The Duke of Suffolk,” wrote Chapuys,[114] “as I am informed by his wife’s mother, confessed on the Sacrament, and wished some mischief might happen to him, to excuse himself from this journey. The King, at the solicitation of the Lady, whom he dares not contradict, has determined to place the Queen in the said house, either to get rid of her, or to make sure of her, as the house is strong; and besides, it is seven miles from another house, situated in a lake, which one cannot approach within six miles, except on one side; and the King and the Lady have agreed to seek all possible occasions to shut up the Queen within the said island, and failing all other pretexts to accuse her of being insane.”

Nothing is more apparent, in all that Chapuys writes at this time, than Henry’s weakness in whatever concerned Anne. His passion for her was already on the wane, but he dared not disregard her least wish, and her empire over him, although exercised by different means, was as great as it had ever been. One day he set out for Hatfield, to pay a visit to the little Elizabeth, and at the same time, to try all that persuasion and threats from his own lips could do, to reduce Mary to submission, and induce her to give up her title. Anne, considering his “easiness or lightness (if any one dared to call it so), and that the beauty, virtue and prudence of the Princess might assuage his wrath and cause him to treat her better,” sent Cromwell and other messengers after him to prevent his seeing or speaking with his daughter Mary. Accordingly, Henry, before arriving at the house, sent on orders that she was not to come to him, and while he was there, he delegated to Cromwell, to the treasurer, and to the captain of the guard, the office of remonstrating with her. But to all their arguments she replied that she had already given a decided answer, that it was labour wasted to press her further, and that they were deceived if they thought that rudeness, bad treatment, or even the fear of death would shake her determination. While her father was with Elizabeth, she sent to ask leave to come and kiss his hand; but this request he dared not grant. Just, however, as he was about to mount his horse, he looked up (Chapuys is uncertain whether by chance or whether his attention was directed by some one present) to the terrace on the top of the house, and saw Mary on her knees, with her hands clasped. He bowed to her, and put his hand to his hat, whereupon all present, who had before this not dared to look at her, “saluted her reverently with signs of goodwill and compassion”.[115]

The ambassador continues:—

“The day before yesterday, the Lady having heard of the prudent replies of the Princess, complained to the King that he did not keep her close enough, and that she was badly advised, as her answers could not have been made without the suggestion of others, and that he had promised that none should speak to her without his knowing it. Twenty days ago, the King said to the Marquis [of Saluce, who had come with a proposal of marriage] that the trust the Princess had in your Majesty made her obstinate, but he would bring her to the point, as he feared neither the Emperor nor any other, if the Marquis and other vassals were loyal, as he thought they would be; they must not trip or vary, for fear of losing their heads, and he would keep such good watch, that no letters could be received from beyond sea, without his knowing it. Besides his trust in his subjects, he has great hope in the Queen’s death. He lately told the French ambassador, that she could not live long, as she was dropsical, an illness she was never subject to before. It is to be feared, something has been done to bring it on. I told Gregory Casale of this saying of the King’s, and he replied that he thought of renouncing the King’s service before leaving here, and of setting up the white banner.... The Queen has not been out of her room since the Duke of Suffolk was with her, except to hear Mass in a gallery. She will not eat nor drink what the new servants provide. The little she eats, in her anguish, is prepared by her chamberwomen, and her room is used as her kitchen. She is very badly lodged; she desires me to write to you about it.”

On the 11th February he continues:[116]—

“The French ambassador told me that the King on returning from a visit to his new daughter, said that he had not spoken to the Princess, on account of her obstinacy, which came from her Spanish blood; and when the ambassador remarked that she had been very well brought up, the tears came into his eyes, and he could not refrain from praising her. Anne is aware of the King’s affection for the Princess, and does not cease to plot against her. A gentleman told me yesterday, that the Earl of Northumberland told him, that he knew for certain she had determined to poison the Princess. The Earl may know something of it from his familiarity and credit with Anne. The Princess has been warned to be on her guard, but if God do not help her, it will be difficult for her to protect herself for long. I do not know any other remedy, except to persuade the Scotch ambassador to make the King and his Council believe that his master will not make peace unless the right of succession, on the death of the Princess is reserved to him. This he has promised to do, and said he would come and see me yesterday about it, without caring for the suspicions these people might have. I thought also that the Princess, after making solemn protestations of compulsion and danger, might offer to the King to be content not to be called Princess, if she was allowed to reside with the Queen; but Anne might be encouraged to execute her wicked will from fear of a reconciliation between the Princess and her father, and would be able to do it with less suspicion, under colour of friendship, than now that her hatred and enmity is open. Perhaps also, those who now favour the Princess would become cool towards her, not knowing the cause of her actions, nor the protestations. A gentleman told me that Anne had sent to her father’s sister (Alice, widow of Sir Thomas Clere of Ormesby, in Norfolk), who has charge of the Princess, telling her not to allow her to use that title, and if she did otherwise, she must box her ears as a cursed bastard—quelle luy donnast des buffes comme a une mauldicte bastarde telle quelle estoit. The Princess has been used to breakfast in her chamber, and then come to table in public, but neither eat nor drink, but Anne has now ordered that she shall not be served in her chamber. She is going to see her daughter, the first Thursday in Lent, and will stay two days. I pray this may not be to the injury of the Princess. The French ambassador said he was astonished that good guard was not kept about the Princess, to keep her from being carried away, as it would totally ruin the King if she were to cross the sea. This agrees with what I have already written, that the King did not care to marry her on the other side of the sea.”

Mary’s condition became daily worse. Her position in Elizabeth’s household was rather that of an attendant, than of a lady-in-waiting, and to the humiliations showered upon the unhappy girl was now added the want of the barest necessaries of life. The “pearl of the kingdom” was less well provided for than the meanest of her father’s subjects. Failing all other methods, she was to be starved into a surrender, and if she would not dine at the common table, was to have nothing to eat at all. Anne’s vindictiveness increased, when some peasants, assembling under Mary’s balcony, cheered the poor prisoner, calling her their rightful Princess. Chapuys’ despatch of the 21st February chronicles what is perhaps the high-water mark of her disgrace.

“The Princess,” he writes,[117] “finding herself nearly destitute of clothes and other necessaries, has been compelled to send a gentleman to the King. She ordered him to take money or the clothes, but not to accept any writing in which she was not entitled Princess. He was also charged to ask leave for her to attend Mass, at the church which adjoins the house, but this was not allowed. As the country people seeing her walk along a gallery saluted her as their princess, she is now kept much closer, and nothing done without the leave of the sister of Anne Boleyn’s father, who has charge of her. The Duke of Norfolk, and Anne’s brother lately reprimanded her for behaving to the Princess with too much respect and kindness, saying that she ought only to be treated as a bastard. She replied, that even if the Princess were only the bastard of a poor gentleman, she deserved honour and good treatment for her goodness and virtues. The Princess is well in health, and bears her troubles with patience, trusting in God and your Majesty, and showed no better cheer in her prosperity than now. God grant that this may not irritate this accursed Lady to carry out her detestable imaginations.”

Charles was not unmindful of the perils which surrounded his aunt and cousin, but he was greatly embarrassed for means to help them. Henry was deaf to persuasive arguments; the argument of force still remained to be applied, but this would involve the Emperor in a series of complications, out of which he did not see his way. If he made war on Henry, he would have to reckon with Henry’s ally and his own enemy, the King of France, who was by no means so scrupulous a Catholic, that he would hesitate to take up a hostile attitude towards the Pope, in a matter which was considered by the rest of Christendom as the Pope’s peculiar province. Henry had effected a formal rupture with Rome, and still Francis was as friendly to him as before. Moreover, the French court, although it had professed to be shocked by Anne’s effrontery, was known to favour the new Queen secretly; and dominating all these other difficulties was the Emperor’s accumulated debt to Henry, which his nephew was less than ever in a position to pay. A chess-board policy was therefore all that was possible in the actual state of affairs. Not any amount of sacrifices on the part of Charles would avail to help his aunt’s cause, and the letter which he wrote at this juncture to his ambassador in France, is alike a voucher for the accuracy of Chapuys’ narrative of affairs in England, and a confession of weakness by the Emperor.

“You have done well,” he writes, “to report what you have heard touching practices against the Princess of England, and what the King of France has said to you touching the King of England’s rupture with the Pope and the Holy See, and his making alliance with the Lutherans, and pretending that the Queen our aunt is ill. We have heard the same from our ambassador in England, much to our grief. And you are to tell Francis that the more Henry disowns obedience to the Holy See, the more he ought to support it. As to the report spread by the King of England, that the Queen our aunt is ill, you are to take an opportunity of telling him that she is in very good health of body, notwithstanding her ill-treatment, and that the spreading of such a report is very suspicious—all the more, as they have put her in a very unhealthy habitation, and taken away her physician, and almost all her servants, so that the essai of viands is no longer made. You have done right to inform Cifuentes[118] of this, although our ambassador in England has also done so.”[119]

Whether Chapuys was right in thinking that Anne would make a pretence of friendship with Mary, in order to destroy her more completely, or whether, having tried her utmost to break the Princess’s spirit, she now thought to win her enemy by gentler means, it is certain that in March 1534 she suddenly changed her tactics.

She went to Hatfield, ostensibly to see Elizabeth, but as soon as she arrived, she sent a message to Mary inviting her to come and salute her as the queen she was. If Mary would do so, Anne promised that she would intercede with her father on her behalf.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Mary replied that she knew no queen in England but her mother; but she would be much obliged if the Lady Anne Boleyn would be a means to the King in her favour. Anne tried again, sent a fresh message, but was again repulsed, whereupon she threatened “to break the haughtiness of this unbridled Spanish blood”.[120]

But if Anne’s hatred increased from this moment, her power to influence Henry was visibly on the decline. Her very threats are henceforth indicative of her weakened hold on his inconstant mind. In the course of the year 1534, there was a question of his departure for France, and Anne was more than once heard to say, that when he had crossed the sea, and she remained in England as regent, she would use her authority to put Mary to death, either by starving her or otherwise. When her brother, Lord Rochford represented to her that this would anger the King, she replied that she did not care, even if she were burned alive for it afterwards. “The Princess,” adds Chapuys, “quite expects this, and thinking that she could not better gain Paradise than by such a death, shows no concern, trusting only in God, whom she has always served well, and does still better now. Having spoken to the Queen, by her advice, I will make remonstrances; but I know not if they will do any good.”[121]

In a formal letter of protest, dated 7th June 1534, against the treatment she had received, in being declared illegitimate, and deprived of her title of Princess of Wales, Mary declared that she would not enter a convent, or take any such step at the will of her father, without the free consent of her mother. The strange mixture of firmness, self-reliance and sweetness in her behaviour at this time, was a source of wonder and admiration to all not utterly devoid of human pity, and even strangers were impressed with such conduct in a girl of eighteen, whose whole life appeared to be one perpetual lesson on the “uses of adversity”.

Chapuys told the French Admiral on his visit to England “that those who had shown him the Tower, and several other things, had not shown him the principal gem of all the kingdom, to wit the Princess. He replied that he was as much vexed as possible, that he had no opportunity of seeing her, although he had several times spoken about her, and used means to that effect. I asked if he had been refused a sight of her, and he confessed that he had not expressly requested it, but that the King never would come to the point. He added that he had never heard a lady so praised as the Princess, even by those who were giving her trouble; and certainly he was her devoted servant, both on account of her great virtue, and because she was so nearly related to the Queen his mistress,[122] and that he hoped for certain, soon to do her good service.”[123]

Chapuys had now begun to speak very openly to the King and Cromwell, insisting on the discussion of matters over which they would rather have drawn a veil. Of some of these Cromwell declared that “neither sugar nor sauce would make them go down”.

It was evident to the envoy, that all their hope lay in the Queen’s death, and he was at no pains to conceal the fact that he had fathomed their designs. He had petitioned the King for leave to attend Parliament when Katharine’s cause was tried, and to state her case plainly. But Henry refused, on the plea that it was not customary for foreigners to be present at parliamentary debates. Chapuys protested that there had never been such a case before, and that no Parliament could stigmatise the birth of the Princess, for the cognizance of such cases belonged to ecclesiastical judges, and that even if his marriage with the Queen were null, Mary was still his legitimate daughter, owing to the lawful ignorance of her parents. The Archbishop of Canterbury, he declared, had not dared to cast a slur on her birth, and the King himself had considered her as the heir to the throne, until the birth of his new daughter. Henry seemed more moved by this, than by anything else that Chapuys had said; but he still maintained that there was no need for Katharine, or any one else to be summoned to Parliament, as he himself being a party could not be there, and that according to the laws of the kingdom, Mary was unable to succeed, and there was no other Princess except his daughter Elizabeth, who was the heir, until he had a son, which he thought would happen soon, adding that he did not care for all the canons which might be alleged, as he preferred his own laws, according to which he would have legitimacy judged by lay judges, who could also take cognizance of matrimonial causes. “As,” remarked Chapuys, “I thought this was strange, he said he would send me books. I asked him to do so, and also to show me the law which, he says, makes against the Princess; but he will do neither the one nor the other, for he will not find what he wants.”[124]

Soon after Anne’s visit to Hatfield, Elizabeth was removed to the More, and Mary, thinking that she would prejudice her own and her mother’s cause by consenting to go in her suite, declared that she had no objection to go to the same place either before or after Elizabeth, but that she would not pay court to her on the road, unless she was led by force. She was accordingly put into a litter, when she took the opportunity of making a public protest. Chapuys thought this ill-advised, since it might only serve to irritate the King, and draw upon herself worse treatment than before, “at the desire of his mistress, who is constantly plotting the worst she can against the Princess”.

SIR THOMAS MORE, LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND.
From the original portrait by Holbein.

The shrewdness of the ambassador was not at fault, and Mary was treated more rigorously than ever. When Henry paid a visit of two days to the More, she was commanded not to leave her room, and was told that her father did not care in the least, whether she renounced her title or not, since by statute she was now declared illegitimate, and incapable of succeeding. It was also reported to her, that Henry had said he would make her lose her head, for violating the laws of his realm. She was constantly watched, so that it was extremely difficult for her to communicate this new danger to Chapuys. Her ingenuity provided her, however, with a means which proved successful. Her old schoolmaster and friend, Master Featherstone, happened to be in the house, and Mary asked to speak with him privately. This being refused, she contrived to tell him what she wished he should know, without exciting the suspicion of the bystanders. She began to say to him that she had been now so long without speaking Latin, that she could not say two words properly, and he desiring to judge for himself, asked her to say something in that language. Then she told him what the King had said that day, no one present understanding Latin. He was astounded, and could only answer, that that was not good Latin, and immediately sent to inform Chapuys,[125] who related the occurrence to the Emperor. In the same despatch the envoy says:—

“It is feared the King will put to death the Bishop of Rochester, and Mr. More, late Chancellor, who, as I lately wrote, are confined in the Tower with others, for refusal to swear. The Scotch ambassadors laugh at this King, with good reason, for imagining to strengthen his cause and his laws by this oath violently extorted, for it rather tends to show that they are worth nothing, since they require such help to maintain them.”

On the 14th May he wrote:—

“Some days ago the King asked his mistress’s aunt, who has charge of the Princess, if the latter had abated her obstinacy, and on being answered ‘No,’ he said there must be some one about her who encouraged her, and conveyed news from the Queen, her mother. The said gouvernante, on consideration, could suspect no one, except the maid of whom I lately wrote, who had been compelled to swear, and on this suspicion, she drove her out, and she has been for some days without any one to go to, or means to support herself. The Princess has been much grieved at this, for she was the only one in whom she had confidence, and by her means, she had letters from me and others. The Queen also is very sorry, but still more because the King has taken from the Princess her confessor, a very good man, and given her another who is a Lutheran, and a tool of his own. During the last few days, the King perceiving that neither by force nor menaces could he get his way with the said Princess, or for some other reasons, has shown her more honour than usual, and used more gracious words, begging that she would lay aside her obstinacy, and he would promise her before Michaelmas to make such a bargain with her, that she should enjoy a royal title and dignity, to which, among 1000 other wise answers, she replied that God had not so blinded her as to confess for any kingdom on earth that the King, her father, and the Queen, her mother, had so long lived in adultery, nor would she contravene the ordinance of the Church, and make herself a bastard. She believes firmly that this dissimulation the King uses is only the more easily to attain his end, and cover poison. But she says she cares little, having full confidence in God, that she will go straight to Paradise, and be quit of the tribulations of this world; and her only grief is about the troubles of the Queen, her mother.”[126]

Seeing that she was liable to make mistakes, if guided by her own inexperience, Mary was anxious in future to do nothing without Chapuys’ advice, as the following letter from the ambassador shows:—

“The Princess, understanding of late that the King intended she should remove, and accompany the Bastard, sent to me three times in less than twenty-four hours to know what to do. I wrote back to her each time, resolving her scruples, that even if she did obey the King without opposition or protestation, all that the King desired in this respect could do no prejudice to the protestations already made. Nevertheless, I thought that to prevent her father and his lady imagining she was worn out, and conquered by ill-treatment, she should speak boldly, and with her accustomed modesty, but not go to the extremity of allowing herself to be taken by force, as on the former occasion. I wrote to her at full length what she ought to say; not that it was necessary, considering her good sense, but because she desired me. She played her part so well, that the Comptroller promised her she should not go after the other. Nevertheless, on her coming to the first door of the lodging, there was the litter of the Bastard, and the Princess was compelled to go out after her, the Comptroller allowing her, as soon as she was mounted, to go before or after, as she pleased; on which account, she suddenly pushed forward, and arrived at Greenwich about an hour before the Bastard. When she came to enter the barge, she took care to secure the most honourable place. I had intimated to her that I would go to Greenwich to see her pass; and she sent to beg me to do so, as earnestly as she could. I was there accordingly in disguise, and it was a great pleasure to see such excellent beauty, accompanied by heroic bearing, which all the more increased the pity to see her so treated.”[127]

A little later Chapuys, continuing his narrative, says:—

“Although Cromwell assured me of the goodwill the King bore the Princess, I should scarcely have believed it, but for some other things, which make it probable. For the King has commanded that she shall be well treated; and on Wednesday, before leaving the More, she was visited by nearly all the gentlemen and ladies of the court, to the Lady’s great annoyance. On Thursday, the day before yesterday, being at Richmond with the little lass, the Lady came to see her said daughter, accompanied by the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and others, including some of the ladies, which was a novelty; and she refused to leave her chamber till the Lady was gone, that she might not see her. The first time that the said Princess accompanied the said little one, she was placed in a litter covered with leather; but on leaving the More, she had one of velvet like the other, in which she came to Richmond; and being there, both to avoid following the litter of the other, and because she was pleased to see me in passing, she let the little one go by land, and came herself by water. In the evening, she arranged with the bargemen to row her along the bank where she pleased, and immediately gave notice to me, that I would not fail to be at a certain house, which I keep in the fields by the river, between Greenwich and this town, to inhabit in time of plague, for she wished to see me, and requite my going to see her at Greenwich, when she passed. She accordingly persuaded the steersman, instead of going by one side of the river, to take the other, and from the time she came near enough to see me, she caused the barge to be uncovered, and went on deck in the most conspicuous place, and passed quite near where I was, never moving from the place she had taken up to look at me, until she had lost sight of me. She is, thank God, in very good health and en bon point, and appears to be happy and very cheerful. I notified to her before she left the More, that as the King’s severity was abating, she must take care not to give him any cause of offence, and as the protestation I had counselled her to make preserved her from all danger, she ought to make no difficulty about following the Bastard, but should declare that she was very glad in this to satisfy the King her father, and from that proceeded the visit paid to her at Richmond,[128] of which I have written above, and the licence to come by water without accompanying the other.”[129]

Early in 1535, Mary fell ill, and Henry in a moment of relenting, not only allowed her mother’s physician and apothecary to attend her, but sent his own physician, Dr. Buttes. The only stipulations made were that they must see her in the presence of witnesses, speak in no language but English, and pay their respects on their arrival to Elizabeth, before being conducted to Mary. The latter part of the order could not, however, be carried out, as it arrived too late.[130] Katharine eagerly seized the opportunity of Henry’s sudden kindness to entreat that her daughter might be sent to her, a petition that was answered with the singular concession, that the King would send her to a house near her mother, provided that the two did not meet. Her letter to Cromwell, in acknowledging his services in the negotiation, such as they were, is as pathetic as it is dignified.

“My good friend,” wrote Katharine, “you have laid me under great obligation by the trouble you have taken in speaking to the King, my lord, about the coming of my daughter to me. I hope God will reward you, as you know it is out of my power to give you anything but my goodwill. As to the answer given you, that the King is content to take her to some house near me, provided I do not see her, I beg you will give him my hearty thanks for the good he does to his daughter and mine, and for the peace of mind he has given me. You may assure him, that if she were but a mile from me I would not see her, because the time does not permit me to go visiting, and if I wished it, I have not the means. But you may tell his Majesty, it was my wish that he should send her where I am, as the comfort and cheerfulness she would have with me would be half her cure. I have found this by experience, being ill of the same sickness, and as my request was so reasonable, and touched so greatly the honour and conscience of the King, I did not think it would be denied me. Do not forbear, I beseech you, and do what you can that it may be so. I have heard that he had some suspicion of her security—a thing so unreasonable that I cannot believe it entered into his heart, nor do I think he has so little confidence in me. If such a thing be assumed, I beg you to tell his Majesty, it is my fixed determination to die in this kingdom; and I offer my person as security that if such a thing be attempted, he may do justice upon me as the most traitorous woman that ever was born.”[131]

Katharine made another attempt to get possession of her daughter; and the letter which she wrote to Chapuys with that object is very touching in its tender, maternal anxiety:—

“My physician has informed me partly of my daughter’s illness, giving me hope of her improved health; but as I know her infirmity lasts so long, and I see he is slow to visit her (although for some days he could not, as I was so ill myself), I have great suspicion as to the cause. So because it appears to me that what I ask is just, and for the service of God, I beg you will speak to his Highness, and desire him, on my behalf, to do such a charity as to send his daughter and mine where I am; because treating her with my own hands, and by the advice both of other physicians and of my own, if God pleases to take her from this world, my heart will rest satisfied; otherwise, in great pain. You shall also say to his Highness that there is no need of any other person but myself to nurse her; that I will put her in my own bed where I sleep, and will watch her when needful. I have recourse to you, knowing that there is no one in this kingdom who dare say to the King my lord, that which I desire you to say; and I pray God reward you for the diligence that you will make.”[132]

Immediately after receiving this letter, Chapuys asked Cromwell to arrange an interview with the King, which was assigned for the next morning. When he had read the letter aloud to Henry, the ambassador supported it by all the arguments he could think of, and instead of replying, as usual, that he knew better than any one else how to provide for his daughter, Henry answered gently that he wished to do his utmost for her health, but that he must not forget what was due to his own honour, which would be injured if she were taken out of the kingdom, or if she herself escaped, as she might easily do, by night, if she were with her mother, for he had begun to suspect the Emperor of designs for getting her away.

Chapuys craftily allayed this suspicion, but Henry went on to say that there was no great occasion to confide Mary again to her mother’s hands, for it was Katharine who had put it into her head to show such obstinacy and disobedience, as all the world knew; and although sons and daughters were bound to show some obedience towards their mothers, their chief duty was to their fathers, and since the Princess could not have much help from the Queen, and it was clear the whole matter proceeded from her, Mary must submit to his pleasure. Chapuys then asked that she might, at least, have her old governess, Lady Salisbury, whom she regarded as her second mother. But Henry declared that she was a fool, of no experience, and that if his daughter had been under her care, she would have died, for Lady Salisbury would not have known what to do, whereas her present governess was an expert lady. All the physicians were apparently agreed, that Mary’s illness was caused by distress and sorrow, and that if the Princess were placed where she might enjoy a modicum of brightness and pleasure, and might be allowed to take exercise, her cure would be effected.

Dr. Buttes urged the responsibility he would incur in attending her, unless she were within reach of her mother’s medical adviser and apothecary, for in the event of her death he might be accused of foul play. Chapuys expressed a hope that some of Mary’s old and loyal servants would be sent to her, to keep her cheerful; but he recommended that her governess should not be changed, for he feared lest some one should give her a slow poison; whereas Anne’s aunt had long been warned that she would be suspected, if anything untoward happened to her charge. There was, she was told, a common belief in London, that she had already attempted to poison the Princess, so that the poor creature was terribly alarmed, and could do nothing but weep and lament whenever Mary was ill. Cromwell agreed that Chapuys’ demands were just, “but matters,” he said, “were rather hard of digestion, and he couldn’t get his master to chew them”.

In spite of all efforts, nothing was done to better Mary’s condition. But her illness abated, and on the 23rd March the ambassador told Cardinal Granvelle, that the Princess was well again, and “better than some would have her. She may be called,” he continued, “the paragon of beauty, goodness and virtue.” But she was constitutionally delicate, and suffered all her life, from a malady aggravated by the grief and sorrow which overwhelmed her in her youth. The violent attack which prostrated her in the beginning of 1535 followed immediately upon the information that had been conveyed to her at Christmas, of the statute lately framed against those who refused to acknowledge the King’s second marriage, and upon the command made directly to her, to renounce her title and her mother’s, and to take the oath of supremacy. A refusal, she was told, rendered her liable to instant imprisonment, and danger of death.

In clinging to mere formulas, Mary was influenced by no pride or obstinacy, for in yielding she would have implicitly repudiated her mother’s marriage, and have admitted a slur on her own birth. While maintaining her title she vindicated both.

Chapuys was now more thoroughly alarmed for Mary’s safety than ever, and the Emperor began to make plans for spiriting his cousin over to Flanders. “As to the possibility of withdrawing the Princess from hence,” the envoy declared, “the thing is so hazardous at present, that I doubt if she would listen to it. For besides that one must put oneself at the mercy of the wind, she is so strictly guarded that I can scarcely communicate to her anything; for apart from her indisposition, I have only suggested to her whether she would not like to be beyond the sea, and she replied that she desired nothing else.”[133] Shortly afterwards he continues: “Whatever pretence the King makes about the Princess’s illness, he has been very cold; in fact, she was taken ill on Friday, and he did not send his physician thither till Thursday after, and I do not know if he would have gone even then if I had not importuned Cromwell. On Friday afterwards she was let blood, and on Monday following, when I spoke to the King, he did not know she had been let blood, or anything about her condition. Since the first news, I have sent to her four or five times, by my servants, who make a poor report of her treatment, and of her company. She sent to me yesterday, two persons, to beg that I would continue to send some of my servants to her, for that caused her to be better respected. Your Majesty may consider what solace and pastime she can have with those about her, hearing them desire her death, by which, they say, the world would be at peace, and they, discharged of the pain and trouble they have had about her. As to getting her away from hence, it could be accomplished by having a pinnace on the river (Mary was then at Greenwich) and two armed ships at the mouth of the river; at least I could find means to get her out of the house almost at any hour of the night.”

On the 5th April he says:—

“The Princess, in order not to be altogether shut up, has remained ten or twelve days at Greenwich, since the little one was removed thence. On the 1st inst., she left for the house of which I wrote formerly. She wished to go on horseback, but as three of my servants were mounted to accompany her, those who had charge of her made her enter the litter, and her gouvernante along with her, and there she remained, till my servants took leave of her, six miles from here. The litter was covered with velvet, and was by far the most honourable she had had since her misfortunes. This favour has been allowed to her this year, besides that the King, her father, has sent her since Christmas, on two occasions, sixty or eighty ducats. Since the little Bastard removed from Greenwich, considering that one of the galleons of La Renterie was on the other side of the river, and that there were some other Spanish ships here, by means of which the Princess might be saved, I sent to her to know if she would agree to it. She gave ready ear to the suggestion, saying she desired nothing else, and has since sent two or three times for my man, to solicit the matter; but her sudden departure broke off the enterprise, to which also, I did not dare commit myself, not having commandment from your Majesty, considering the practices put in train, since it pleased you to charge me to write what means there might be of withdrawing her. Nevertheless, the said Princess continues in her purpose to go away, and has sent to desire me by my servant, who has just come from seeing her, that, for the love of God, I will contrive to remove her from the danger, which is otherwise inevitable, adding that where she is now, there is no means of saving her by night, and that as soon as it was fine weather, she would go out walking, to see what arrangement could be made to come upon her by surprise, in the daytime, and so that it should appear as little as possible that it was by her consent; for the sake of her own honour, and the less to irritate the King, her father. The house where she lies is twelve miles from this river, and if once she could be found alone, it would be easier to save her than it is at Greenwich, for we could put her on board beyond Gravesend, past the danger of this river. The matter is hazardous, and your Majesty will take it into due consideration.”

The same day, he wrote to Granvelle:—

“If I were to tell you the messages she sent me at her leaving Greenwich, and again this morning, you could not refrain from tears, begging me to have pity on her, and advise her as I thought best, and she would obey....

“If the Princess going out to sport were once seized, and put on horseback, and there were ready a great ship or two and a row boat, the thing would be done. Except her guards, and some of the other side, the people would help her, and those sent in pursuit would shut their eyes, and bless those who had carried her off.”[134]

About this time, Mary and Elizabeth had removed to Eltham, and Anne Boleyn again paid her daughter a visit. In The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, it is recorded of this visit[135] that the Princess Mary, and the Lady Anne Boleyn “heard Mass together in one room. At the end of Mass, the Lady Mary made a low curtsy, and went to her lodging; so did the Lady Anne, then called queen. When she came to her quarter, one of her maids told her that the Lady Mary at parting made reverence to her, she answered that she did not observe it, and said: ‘If we had seen it, we would have done as much to her,’ and presently sent a lady of honour to her to excuse it; adding, that the love of none should be dearer nor more respected than hers, and she would embrace it with the kindness of a true friend. The lady that carried the message came when the Lady Mary was sat down at dinner. When admitted, she said: ‘The queen salutes your grace with much affection, and craves pardon, understanding that at your parting from the oratory, you made a curtsy to her, which, if she had seen, she would have answered you with the like; and she desires that this may be an entrance of friendly correspondence which your grace shall find completely to be embraced on her part’. ‘It is not possible,’ answered the Lady Mary, ‘that the queen can send me such a message; nor is it fit she should, nor can it be so sudden, her majesty being so far from this place. You would have said the Lady Anne Boleyne, for I can acknowledge no other queen but my mother, nor esteem them my friends who are not hers. And for the reverence that I made, it was to the altar, to her Maker and mine; and so, they are deceived, and deceive her who tell her otherwise.’ The Lady Anne was maddened with this answer, replying that one day she would pull down this high spirit.”

In 1534, Mary’s position was momentarily alleviated by the influence of a friend at court, a young lady, who had for the time being taken the King’s roving fancy,[136] and who sent the Princess word to be of good cheer, and that her troubles would sooner come to an end than she supposed, and that when the opportunity occurred, she would show herself Mary’s true and devoted servant.[137] Anne was furiously jealous, and intrigued with her sister-in-law, Lady Rochford, to have the young woman removed from court. But Henry discovered the plot, and banished Lady Rochford. The new favourite’s influence was remarked to increase daily, while Anne’s diminished, “which,” said Chapuys, “has already abated a good deal of her insolence”. Cromwell told him that he had received a charge from the King, that Mary should be well treated, and that if he found those about her did not do their duty, he was to have them punished, and that henceforth he should not have much difficulty in getting due respect paid to her, considering Henry’s paternal affection.

However, Anne’s influence although diminished still had periods of revival, and Mary was made to suffer for every sign of returning affection which her father manifested towards her in his moments of reaction.

“As to the King being dissatisfied with the Lady,” said Chapuys, “it is true he sometimes shows it, but as I have written before, they are lovers’ quarrels, and not much weight is to be attached to them, unless the love of the King for the young lady of whom I wrote to you should grow warm, and continue some time; of which it is impossible to form a judgment, considering the changeableness of this King. I have learned from the Master of the Horse, that when the Lady began to complain of the said young lady, because she did not do, either in word or deed, the reverence she expected, the King went away from her very angry, complaining of her importunity.”

Describing an interview with Cromwell, Chapuys again wrote to the Emperor on the 17th April. He continues:—

“He (Cromwell) then replied to me, as he had several times told me, that it was the Princess, who created the difficulty, and troubled matters, and that if it pleased God—he did not dare to say more, but it was quite clear what he wished. I again spoke about placing her with the Queen, her mother, but it was of no use; and on my saying that if any illness overtook her, where she is, evil might befall, before she received succour, he only answered that it was no question of illness, and that she was not likely to fall into it. But he was a bad prophet; and yesterday morning I sent him two of my servants, booted and spurred, who had just returned from the Princess in great haste (they had seen her the day before yesterday) to inform him that she had had a relapse, and desire that he would notify the King, to send thither the physician and servants he might think necessary. This he promised to do; but I fear he will not do it, or that even if he does, the King will make no account of it. Ill as the Princess is, she does not cease to think if there be any means of escaping; and on this subject she had a long conversation with one of my men, begging me most urgently to think over the matter, otherwise she considered herself lost, knowing that they wanted only to kill her. She has not had leisure to visit the neighbourhood, nor to devise means how she could get away, night or day. And because I see the thing is difficult, I keep her in hope of a speedy remedy by some other means, and endeavour to remove her suspicion that foul play is intended against her. Cromwell has always given me to understand that he is much devoted to the Princess; nevertheless, I have found no evidence of it except words.... Your Majesty may consider how the good Princess is placed.”[138]

Soon afterwards the scheme was abandoned, on account of the difficulties in the way, and on the 25th April, Chapuys was able to report that Mary was well again:—

“The Princess, thank God, has recovered. The King at my request sent her his physician, lending his own horses, for want of which, among other reasons the said physician had excused himself. But when the King told him that it concerned his honour, especially, seeing that he had promised to send him whenever the Queen’s physician should be there, all excuses ceased. He had only made them indeed, not for want of good will to serve the Princess, but to avoid the suspicion, in which he was held by the King and his lady, of too much devotion to her, and also to give occasion for the Princess being near the Queen, and under the care of her physician; and the said physician is of the King’s Chamber with the great people and those of the Council. He understands many things. He told the Queen’s physician that there were only two ways to remedy the affairs of the Queen and the Princess, and of all the realm. The first was, if God should visit this King with some little illness. Then besides that of himself he might come to a better mind, he would also take patiently the remonstrances made to him. The other way would be to try force, of which he says, the King and those about him are wonderfully afraid.”

Chapuys then informed the Emperor that “the said physician” had told him, that if the Emperor would make war, the right time had come, and that he knew for certain “of a score of the principal lords of England, and more than a hundred knights, who were quite ready to employ their persons, goods, friends and dependants, if they had the smallest assistance from your Majesty, and that as aforesaid, the time is most favourable, because the people are every day more dissatisfied at the taxation, for the levying of which, they are beginning to depute commissioners to enquire the value of every one’s goods, and assess them accordingly”.[139] All over the country prevailed a discontent, which not daring to break out into open rebellion took refuge in seditious words, and a sullen, almost threatening attitude. People were constantly arrested for speeches, such as: “It was a pity that the King was not buried in his swaddling clothes,” and “It was to be hoped that the Lady Anne would be brought full low,” and “We shall have no merry world till we have a new change,” etc.[140] But in spite of these mutterings, Henry inspired more terror even than hatred. The butchery of the Carthusian monks for refusing the oath of supremacy was followed quickly by the trial and execution of More and Fisher. Katharine and Mary were in a desperate position. Cromwell asked Chapuys what evil or danger would arise from the death of the Princess, even if it did excite the indignation of the people, and what cause the Emperor would have to be offended by it.[141]

Nevertheless, Henry was scarcely less to be pitied than his victims. The nation needed little encouragement to revolt. His treatment of the Queen and Princess, though not the whole cause of the disaffection, was a large factor in the rebellious temper of the people. But if to please them he showed Mary a little kindness, Anne left him no peace. He was, it is true, beginning to weary of his fetters, and sometimes inquired anxiously whether Anne too might not be divorced. Not, replied his otherwise complaisant advisers, unless he took back Katharine,[142] and he was not prepared for such a humiliation in the eyes of Europe. It would look, forsooth, as if he submitted after all to the Pope’s decree, and all that he had done with a high hand would have to be undone. There was no alternative but to carry out the policy he had determined upon, but his embarrassment was not lessened when Francis, through the French Admiral, demanded Mary’s hand for the Duke of Angoulême. Clearly, Henry had not succeeded in convincing the world, or even his one friend, the French King, that Katharine was not his wife, or in getting him to take Anne’s queenship seriously. The subject of Mary’s betrothal to the Duke of Orleans had been tacitly dropped since the divorce. It was no longer a part of Henry’s plan to marry his elder daughter honourably, or to allow her to leave the kingdom, and at first he pretended to regard the Admiral’s commission as a joke. The Duke of Angoulême, he said, had much better marry the true Princess, Elizabeth, and so the matter rested; but Francis would not take Henry’s line with regard to Mary. When in the autumn of 1535 he sent ambassadors to England for the purpose of drawing the King into a war with the Emperor, they were charged to interview her, and find out how she felt disposed to a marriage with the Dauphin. Mary had, in fact, not forgotten that she had been affianced to him as a baby, and would have welcomed any suitable proposal that would have freed her from the perils of her actual lot. At that time she was at Eltham with Elizabeth, into whose presence the French envoys were ushered. To their annoyance they were not even allowed to see Mary, who had orders to remain in her room while they were in the house, and to prevent any possible communication between them and her, the windows of her apartment were bolted. She had inquired of Chapuys whether she was to obey or not, and as he had advised submission, she amused herself while the ambassadors were with Elizabeth, by playing on the virginals.[143]

During the whole of 1535, Mary was in imminent danger. Anne constantly urged the King to treat her as he had treated Cardinal Fisher, saying that it was she who caused all his troubles, and as for herself she declared of the Princess, “She is my death and I am hers; so I will take care that she shall not laugh at me after my death”.[144] Anne could no longer be mistaken as to the decline of her power, and expressions such as the above are indicative that the general terror had reached the former favourite. The atmosphere was heavy with death, and she knew that all depended for her on the feeble hope that she might shortly give birth to a son. Henry himself was not free from the uneasiness which he so well knew how to inspire in others. Tyrant that he was, he saw danger where no danger lurked, and was strangely enough misinformed as to the Emperor’s ability to declare war. In the intervals of disgust which he felt for Anne, he was ready to stave off the invasion of which he lived in abject fear, by surrounding Mary with a little more circumstance; but with the revival of his expectations of a son, he allowed himself to be goaded into fury by her opposition, declaring that his worst troubles came from his own flesh and blood.

On the 6th November, Chapuys wrote:—

“The Marchioness of Exeter has sent to inform me that the King has lately said to some of his most confidential councillors, that he would no longer remain in the trouble, fear and suspense he had so long endured, on account of the Queen and Princess, and that they should see, at the coming Parliament, to get him released therefrom, swearing most obstinately that he would wait no longer. The Marchioness declares this is as true as the Gospel, and begs me to inform your Majesty, and pray you to have pity upon the ladies, and for the honour of God and the bond of kin to find a remedy.”

And again on the 21st:—

“The personage who informed me of what I wrote to your Majesty on the 6th, about the Queen and the Princess, viz., that the King meant to have them despatched at this next Parliament, came yesterday into this city in disguise, to confirm what she had sent to me to say, and conjure me to warn your Majesty, and beg you most earnestly to see to a remedy. She added that the King, seeing some of those to whom he used this language shed tears, said that tears and wry faces were of no avail, because, even if he lost his crown, he would not forbear to carry his purpose into effect. These are things too monstrous to be believed; but considering what has passed, and goes on daily—the long continuance of these menaces—and, moreover, that the Concubine, who long ago conspired the death of the said ladies, and thinks of nothing but getting rid of them, is the person who governs everything, and whom the King is unable to contradict, the matter is very dangerous. The King would fain, as I have already written, make his Parliament participators, even authors, of such crimes, in order that, losing all hope of the clemency of your Majesty, the whole people should be the more determined to defend themselves when necessary.”[145]

To Granvelle he expressed himself thus:—

“The person before mentioned (the Marchioness of Exeter) has sent to say, that four or five days ago the King, talking about the Princess, said that he should provide, that soon she would not want any company, and that she would be an example to show that no one ought to disobey the laws, and that he meant to fulfil what had been foretold of him—that is, that at the beginning of his reign he would be gentle as a lamb, and at the end worse than a lion. He said also that he would despatch those at the Tower, and some who were not there.”[146]

In the meantime, one of Henry’s victims was nearing the end of her trials, and reached it even before the meeting of Parliament that was to pass sentence of death upon her. In the autumn of 1535 Katharine had what appeared to be a slight illness, from which she seemed to be recovering, when at Christmas she suddenly grew worse, and sent to Chapuys, begging him to come to her without delay. He had no great difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission, although his repeated requests to see Mary, and for her to visit her mother, had been utterly disregarded. He found the Queen suffering from extreme emaciation, and from sickness. She was unable to retain any nourishment whatever; but her condition improved during the few days that Chapuys remained with her, and she was able to converse with him, and listen to him for about two hours each day. She also slept better during that time than she had done before, so that her physician pronounced her out of danger. Chapuys, “not to abuse the licence” the King had given him, left Kimbolton, where Katharine was then residing, on the 5th January, but rode slowly, in case a messenger should be sent after him with the news that she was worse, in which event he had promised to return to her. On his arrival in London, on the 9th, he sent to ask Cromwell for an audience with the King. In replying to this request, Cromwell sent word that the Queen had died little more than forty-eight hours after his leaving her, and that the news of her death had reached the court on the preceding Friday. The suddenness of her end, and the circumstances immediately following it, caused so much suspicion, that at the time there was hardly any one who did not firmly believe that she had been poisoned. The account of what passed was thus communicated to the Emperor by Chapuys:—

“The Queen died two hours after midday, and eight hours afterwards, she was opened, by command of those who had charge of it, on the part of the King, and no one was allowed to be present, not even her confessor or physician, but only the candlemaker of the house, and one servant and a ‘compagnon,’ who opened her; and although it was not their business, yet they have often done such a duty, at least the principal, who on coming out, told the Bishop of Llandaff, her confessor, but in great secrecy, as a thing which would cost his life, that he had found the body and all the internal organs as sound as possible, except the heart, which was quite black and hideous, and even after he had washed it three times, it did not change colour. He divided it through the middle, and found the interior of the same colour, which also would not change on being washed, and also some black, round thing which clung closely to the outside of the heart. On my man asking the physician if she had died of poison, he replied that the thing was too evident, by what has been said to the bishop, her confessor, and if that had not been disclosed, the thing was sufficiently clear from the report and circumstance of the illness.

“You could not conceive the joy that the king and those who favour the concubinage have shown at the death of the good Queen, especially the Earl of Wiltshire and his son, who said it was a pity the Princess did not keep company with her. The King, on the Saturday he heard the news, exclaimed: ‘God be praised that we are free from all suspicion of war,’ and that the time had come that he would manage the French better than he had done hitherto, because they would do now whatever he wanted, from a fear lest he should ally himself again with your Majesty, seeing that the cause which disturbed your friendship was gone. On the following Sunday, the King was clad all over in yellow, from top to toe, except the white feather he had in his bonnet; and the little Bastard was conducted to Mass with trumpets and other great triumphs. After dinner, the King entered the room in which the ladies danced, and there did several things, like one transported with joy. At last he sent for the little Bastard, and carrying her in his arms, he showed her first to one and then to another. He has done the like on other days since, and has run some courses at Greenwich.[147]

“This,” added Chapuys, “has been the most cruel news that could come to me, especially as I fear the good Princess will die of grief, or that the Concubine will hasten what she has long threatened to do, viz., to kill her, and it is to be feared that there is little help for it. I will do my best to comfort her, in which a letter from your Majesty would help greatly.”

Luther, writing about this time to Caspar Müller, says: “The Queen of England is said to be dead, and her daughter mortally ill; but she has lost her cause all over the world except with us poor beggars of divines at Wittenberg, who would gladly have maintained her in her queenly dignity; in which case she ought to have lived”.[148]

Katharine was buried with no more ceremony than befitted a Princess Dowager, some said with much less, in Peterborough Cathedral, where her remains still lie.

It was intended to have kept her mother’s death a secret from Mary for some time, but by a mistake the news was brought to her four days after the event. To Chapuys’ letter of condolence she answered, that following his advice, “she would show such courage and constancy as he advised her, but that in any case she would prepare herself to die”.

“She has written to me,” said the ambassador, “since she heard the death of the Queen more frequently than she did before, and this I think to testify the good heart and constancy to which I continually exhort her, in which certainly she shows great sense and incomparable virtue and patience, to bear so becomingly the death of such a mother, to whom she bore as much love as any daughter did to her mother, who was her chief refuge in her troubles.”

These events took place at the beginning of 1536, and Shakespeare, who with his collaborators wrote his play of “King Henry VIII.” at the end of the same century, had not only Holinshed’s Chronicle, and other records to guide him, but a mass of still floating tradition. He had grown to middle age, surrounded by persons who were in their prime when Mary’s and her mother’s troubles were in the mouths of all. He knew of, and described Chapuys’ visit to the dying Queen, and recorded in the following words, part of the contents of a letter sent by her to her husband:—

THE GREAT RENUNCIATION.

1536.

Whether there was any truth or not in the sinister rumours concerning the manner in which Katharine had come by her death, it was natural that Mary should believe them, and prepare herself for the worst that could befall her. As early as the 21st January, even before her mother’s obsequies had taken place in Peterborough Cathedral, Chapuys told his master that a new campaign had been opened.

“Now the King and the Concubine are planning in several ways to entangle the Princess in their webs, and compel her to consent to their damnable statutes and detestable opinions,” wrote the ambassador, Cromwell having declared that thenceforth there remained nothing to prevent friendship between the King and the Emperor, but Mary’s submission. The new tactics were as puzzling as they were cruel. Scarcely were Mary’s hopes of better times encouraged by some small attention, such as a present of money for distribution to the poor, on her journeys from one residence to another, when a fresh act of petty tyranny would fill her mind with renewed apprehensions. The occasional favours were probably intended as a blind to the Emperor, while the insults which the unhappy girl was still made to suffer were instances of Anne’s increasing spite and fury. Thus Cromwell, after showing her some kindness, summoned her to deliver up a little cross which her mother had bequeathed to her. Chapuys estimated that there could not be ten crowns’ worth of gold in the whole trinket, which contained no jewels, but a fragment of the true Cross to which Mary had great devotion. “Your Majesty,” said Chapuys, in relating the circumstance, “may judge what reliance is to be placed upon the words of these men. I think that God will never give them grace to recognise their error, lest they should avoid the punishment of their abominable misdeeds.”[150]

Pending instructions from Charles, his ambassador advised the same line of conduct which Mary had hitherto followed, urging her “to show as good courage and constancy as ever, with requisite modesty and dignity,” for if they began to find her at all shaken, they would pursue her to the end, without ever leaving her in peace. He thought that they would not insist very much now, on Mary’s openly renouncing her rights, nor on her abjuring the Pope’s authority directly, but would be content if she acknowledged Anne as Queen, a concession that would not cost her much, her mother being dead. And probably this would have been the case, if Anne Boleyn had continued to share Henry’s throne. Chapuys told the Princess to avoid all discussion with the King’s messengers, but to entreat them to leave her in peace, that she might pray for her mother’s soul, and for herself, a poor, simple orphan, without experience or counsel, ignorant of laws and canons. She was to beseech them to intercede with her father on her behalf, and beg him to have pity on her, and if she thought it necessary to say more, she might add with her customary gentleness, that as it was not the custom in England to swear fealty to queens, and that as such a thing had not been done when her mother was held as Queen, she could not but suspect that her swearing would be, either directly or indirectly, to her prejudice. Moreover, if Anne Boleyn really were queen, her swearing or refusing to swear did not matter, and if she were not, it would be the same. By the consistorial sentence, her father’s first marriage had been declared valid, and the second marriage annulled. It had also been declared, that this lady could not claim the title of queen, for which reason Mary was to say that she thought she could not in conscience go against the Pope’s command, and that by so doing she would prejudice her own right.[151]

The Emperor, meanwhile, communicated the news of his aunt’s death to the Empress in the following letter:—

“Five or six days ago, the news of the demise of her most serene Highness, the Queen of England arrived, which I felt deeply, as you may imagine. May God receive her in Paradise, which she certainly deserved, on account of her extreme goodness and virtue, and the excellent life she led. About her last illness and death the accounts differ. Some say that it was produced by a painful affection of the stomach, which lasted upwards of ten or twelve days; others that the distemper broke out all of a sudden, after taking some draught, and there is a suspicion, that there was in it, that which in similar cases is administered. I do not choose to make such an affirmation, nor do I wish to have it repeated as coming from me, but nothing can prevent people from judging and commenting upon the event, according to their own feelings. Of the Princess, my cousin, I hear only that she is inconsolable at the loss she has sustained, especially when she thinks of her father’s past behaviour towards herself, and the little favour she can expect for the future. I trust, however, that God will have pity on her, and will not permit the great injustice which has been shown her to remain without some reparation. I have put on mourning, and ordered all the grandees round me, the high officers of this household as well as the gentlemen of my chamber and table to do the same, and I myself intend wearing it until I go to Rome. The exequies have been performed here as is customary in such cases; there where you are the same ought to be done.”[152]

But if Mary’s position was fraught with danger, Anne’s was still more so. The woman for whose sake Henry had quarrelled with the Pope, risked a war with the Emperor, banished his wife and daughter, executed Fisher, More and the London Carthusians, had now ceased to charm, or even to please him. He scarcely spoke to her for weeks together, and those who understood his methods began to look about for the new favourite. She was none other than Jane Seymour, one of Anne’s ladies, whom Chapuys describes as “no great beauty, over twenty-five years old, of middle stature, and so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise”. As for her virtue, he will not pledge himself, considering that the lady has so long frequented the English court;[153] she has, however, one title to his goodwill, inasmuch as she has taken up the Princess’s cause warmly. Anne’s enemies were careful that the fallen favourite should be informed of her new cause for dread; and the transports of joy with which she had welcomed the news of Katharine’s death were soon turned into mourning. She was frequently seen to weep, “fearing,” said Chapuys, “that they might do with her as with the good Queen”. Now, at the eleventh hour, it occurred to her that by conciliating Mary, she might avert her own doom, and she therefore sent her word that if she would “lay aside her obstinacy, and obey her father, Queen Anne would be the best friend in the world to her, like another mother, and would obtain for her anything she liked to ask”. If Mary wished to come to court, she would be exempted from holding the tail of the Queen’s gown, and should walk by her side. Lady Shelton, Anne’s aunt, besought the Princess with hot tears to consider the matter, but Mary remained firm.

Anne’s rage and despair almost deprived the now wretched woman of reason, when she found that all her efforts to win her were unavailing. She wrote to her aunt, who, as if by accident, left the letter in Mary’s oratory, where the Princess could not fail to see and read it. These were its contents:—

“My pleasure is that you do not further move the Lady Mary towards the King’s grace otherwise than it pleases herself. What I have done has been more for charity than for anything the King or I care what road she takes, or whether she will change her purpose, for if I have a son, as I hope shortly, I know what will happen to her, and therefore, considering the Word of God, to do good to one’s enemy, I wished to warn her beforehand, because I have daily experience, that the King’s wisdom is such, as not to esteem her repentance of her rudeness and unnatural obstinacy, when she has no choice. By the law of God and of the King, she ought clearly to acknowledge her error and evil conscience, if her blind affection had not so blinded her eyes that she will see nothing but what pleases herself. Mrs. Shelton, I beg you not to think to do me any pleasure by turning her from any of her wilful courses, because she could not do me good or evil; and do your duty about her, according to the King’s commands, as I am assured you do.”[154]

Mary, of course, saw the letter, took a copy of it for Chapuys’ instruction, and laid the original where she had found it.

Of the two women, Anne, at this juncture, inspires the deeper pity. The overbearing tone of her letter is almost forgotten in the pathetic cry that escapes her: “If I have a son, as I hope shortly,” a cry which betrays the last piteous hope of one who has lost all, if this should fail. Mary, it is true, daily prepared herself for death, which now seemed nearer than ever; but beyond the natural love of life belonging to youth, and to a mind and heart keenly sensitive to all the interests that make life worth living, she did not desire it inordinately. For years she had faced death, and had repeatedly declared that she would rather die a hundred times than offend God, or do anything against her honour or conscience.

Anne, on the contrary, had sacrificed everything and everybody to the gratification of her own vanity, ambition and lightness; and now, abandoned by the King, the scorn of the court, the laughing-stock of the whole nation, she could but cling, a shipwrecked waif, to one poor spar, destined, like all else, to fail her. The day of Katharine’s funeral was a fatal day to the usurper. She had looked forward with passionate longing to the time when her rival should cease to exist, and leave her in undisputed possession of her queenship. And now the time had come, and on that very day, the last vestige of hope faded from before her eyes. Before night, the news was circulated in London that she had miscarried, and that the King had treated her with marked coldness. He had even declared that he had been led to marry her by witchcraft, that he had grave doubts as to the validity of their marriage, and as to whether he might consider himself free to take another wife.[155] Anne sought refuge from Henry’s brutality in recriminations, the last futile resource of the fallen. Chapuys wrote on the 17th February:—

“The Concubine has since attempted to throw all the blame on the Duke of Norfolk whom she hates, pretending that her miscarriage was entirely owing to the shock she received when, six days before, the Duke announced to her the King’s fall from his horse. But the King knows very well that it was not that, for his accident was announced to her in a manner not to create undue alarm, and besides, when she heard of it she seemed quite indifferent to it.”[156]

Both Mary and Chapuys understood Henry too well to hope for better times, even now that his aversion from Anne was complete. He would never content himself with the simple admission that he was weary of her to loathing, but would contrive to find some means to persuade the world that he was justified in his resolve to be rid of her. Although he would be obliged to admit, at least tacitly, that he had been mistaken, in a matter in which his pride was inextricably involved, and had sacrificed everything for a creature who had proved worthless, it was not likely that he would make further humiliating confessions, by owning that his treatment of Katharine and his daughter had been a mistake also, but rather, lest his enemies should triumph, would be prepared to send Mary to the block, as he had so often threatened.

Chapuys revived the plan, therefore, for carrying her abroad; and Mary thought it would be easy to escape, “if she had something to drug the women with”. She would have to pass Mistress Shelton’s window, but once out of the house, she could easily find a way to break or open the garden gate. So eager was she to breathe the air of freedom, that the envoy believed, that even were he to advise her to cross the Channel in a sieve she would do it.[157] He saw, however, that it would be impossible for him to take an active part in her removal, as suspicion would naturally be directed at once to him, if the scheme were discovered. He suggested that it might be as well for him to be recalled, before the actual attempt was made, so that the vigilance with which the Princess was guarded might be somewhat relaxed. In accordance with his desire, the Baron de Rœulx was sent from Flanders with a vessel, in which Mary was to take flight, and which remained at anchor a little below Gravesend.[158]

Mary was now at Hunsdon, fifteen miles farther from Gravesend than Greenwich, from whence the first attempt was to have been made; and as it was thought unsafe to bring the vessel any farther up the river, she would be obliged to ride forty miles to reach it. This would necessitate relays of horses, which could not be managed with such rapidity, as to prevent the risk of discovery. Moreover, the village of Hunsdon was crowded, and the royal fugitive would have to pass through several such places, where pursuit would be instantaneous if suspicion were aroused. Keen as Mary was to reach a place of safety, she was, says Chapuys, more bent on preventing further sin and misery, than on escaping from the dangers of her position, seeking a remedy, whereby innumerable souls might be saved from perdition.[159] But escape was soon found to be impossible, unless the Princess could be lodged nearer to Gravesend; and Chapuys now began to talk of conciliation. Henry was evidently determined to get rid of Anne, and was nothing loth to take another wife. If he died as things were, Mary was certain to succeed; it was, therefore, to her interest that he should not contract a true marriage, by which he might have male issue. To this Mary replied that she did not care how her own interests might be affected, if only her father could be saved from the sinful life he was leading.[160]

It was perhaps to this attitude that Mary owed Jane Seymour’s espousal of her cause. The new favourite met Henry’s advances in an exemplary manner. The King sent her a purse full of gold pieces, and with it a letter. After kissing the letter, she returned it to the messenger unopened, and throwing herself on her knees, begged him to represent to the King that she was a gentlewoman of good and honourable parents, without reproach, and that she had no greater riches in the world than her honour. If he wished to make her some present in money, she begged that it might be when God enabled her to make some honourable match. The purse was returned with the letter, and Henry’s admiration for Jane advanced by leaps and bounds. He caused her to be told that he did not intend henceforth to speak with her, except in the presence of some of her kin. He then made Cromwell dislodge from a room to which he himself had private access through certain galleries, and gave it to Jane’s eldest brother and his wife, in order that the young lady might meet him there in all propriety, and yet unknown to the world. “She has been well taught,” said the astute Chapuys, “for the most part by those intimate with the King, who hate the Concubine, that she must by no means comply with the King’s wishes except by way of marriage, in which she is quite firm. She is also advised to tell the King boldly how his marriage is detested by the people, and none consider it lawful; and on the occasion when she shall bring forward the subject, there ought to be present none but titled persons, who will say the same, if the King put them upon their oath of fealty.”[161]

Chapuys was greatly in favour of the projected union with Jane Seymour, considering it “a great thing both for the security of the Princess, and to remedy the heresies here, of which the Concubine is the cause and principal nurse, and also to pluck the King from such an abominable and more than incestuous marriage.[162] The Princess would be very happy, even if she were excluded from her inheritance by male issue.”

Henry’s approaching divorce from Anne was hailed with general satisfaction, the royal secrets being freely commented on by the people, but something like consternation was felt when, on the 2nd May, it became known that she had been arrested, and was lodged in the Tower, in the same apartment which she had occupied at her coronation three years before. It is happily unnecessary to discuss here the various counts on which the miserable woman was tried and condemned, the whole painful and revolting story having already been amply told.[163] Great excitement prevailed throughout the country, and those who hated Anne most were horror-struck at the scanty show of justice that accompanied her trial. On the 17th May, Cranmer declared Elizabeth illegitimate, pronouncing the marriage of her parents null and void from the beginning. This was a preliminary step to Anne’s execution, sentence of death having been passed in the secular courts. If “the Concubine” had been really proved guilty of the grave charges of immorality brought against her, and if her marriage had been condemned on a sound judicial basis, there would have been few to grieve for her fall; but Englishmen have ever been advocates of fair play, and there was some murmuring at the mode of procedure throughout her hurried trial. Cranmer had shown himself terrified at the possible result to himself, for his share in her advancement, and was suspiciously pliant in the matter of the sentence of divorce. The evidence produced against her in court was neither confirmed nor rebutted, but some was suppressed, as it was alleged to be unfit for decent ears.[164]

Henry’s own hypocritical and heartless conduct during the fortnight that elapsed between Anne’s arrest and execution disgusted even his friends. On the day of her committal to the Tower, the Duke of Richmond went as usual to ask his father’s blessing, when Henry, with tears in his eyes, said that both he and his sister Mary ought to thank God for having escaped from the hands of that woman, who had planned their death by poison, “from which I conclude,” added Chapuys, “that the King knew something of her wicked intentions”.[165] Early in the course of events, Chapuys wrote to the Emperor:—

“Already it sounds badly in the ears of the public, that the King, after such ignominy and discredit as the Concubine has brought on his head, should manifest more joy and pleasure now since her arrest and trial, than he has ever done on other occasions; for he has daily gone out to dine here and there with ladies, and sometimes has remained with them till after midnight. I hear that on one occasion, returning by the river to Greenwich, the royal barge was actually filled with minstrels and musicians of his chamber, playing on all sorts of instruments or singing; which state of things was by many a one compared to the joy and pleasure a man feels in getting rid of a thin, old and vicious hack, in the hope of getting soon a fine horse to ride—a very peculiarly agreeable task for this King.”[166]

In the meanwhile, Jane Seymour had been sent to a house about seven miles from London, where Henry could see her daily when he was at Hampton Court, and on the 14th May she was lodged with semi-royal magnificence, at a house on the Thames, in order to be near him at Greenwich. None of these movements were lost on the people, or on Chapuys, who expressed his opinion unreservedly that “the little Bastard would be excluded from the succession,” and that the King would “get himself requested by Parliament to marry”.

On the 15th, Henry sent a message to Jane, to the effect that she would hear of Anne’s condemnation at three o’clock that afternoon, and shortly after dinner, the words were verified. On the 19th, the day of her execution, as soon as the news of her death was brought to him, he entered his barge, and went to spend the day with Jane. The following morning, they were betrothed, not married, as many writers have stated, the marriage ceremony taking place ten days later.

Anne had persisted to the last, in the declaration of her innocence; but the often quoted letter, supposed to have been written by her to Henry from the Tower, and which Burnet printed[167] as authentic, because he had found it among Cromwell’s papers, must now be considered spurious. That it should ever have been regarded as genuine, is among the unaccountable beliefs that have obtained concerning this much misrepresented woman. It proclaims itself a forgery by the style of its composition and mode of expression, entirely unlike any of Anne’s recognised and undisputed letters. The speeches also imputed to her before her execution must be taken with extreme caution, the opportunity being favourable to romance writers of every subsequent period, to invent sentiments which neither would nor could have been uttered or recorded, so great was the terror in which Henry was held by ministers, judges, courtiers, and the people. On the other hand, doubt has been thrown on the authenticity of words and actions which, viewed with their context, are, to say the least, highly probable. Thus Mr. Friedmann, the able biographer of Anne Boleyn, while he admits that the one thing that preyed on her mind was her conduct towards the Princess, discredits the story of her having thrown herself at the feet of Lady Kingston, wife of the Lieutenant of the Tower, entreating her as a favour in like manner to throw herself at the feet of the Lady Mary, and in her name beseech her to forgive the many wrongs she had brought upon her.[168] But there is evidence in a letter from Mary to Cromwell, dated 26th May 1536, that Lady Kingston was then present with her, and it is unlikely that she would have been sent to announce Anne’s death, unless she had some special message to deliver. In this letter, as if in response to Anne’s petition for pardon, Mary in mentioning her fallen enemy adds, “whom I pray our Lord of His great mercy to forgive”.[169] Moreover, Chapuys told Cardinal Granvelle, that on her way to the scaffold, “the Concubine declared that she did not consider herself condemned by divine judgment, except for being the cause of the ill-treatment of the Princess, and for having conspired her death”.[170]

Although Henry took no pains to conceal the satisfaction he felt at his deliverance from Anne, he chose to pretend that he was heart-broken at her wickedness, and Cranmer, whose safety depended on a servile acquiescence in his master’s every whim, begged him “somewhat to suppress the deep sorrows of his Grace’s heart, and do violence to himself, by accepting with patience and cheerfulness the decrees of Providence”.[171]

In truth, not Henry alone, but the whole nation breathed more freely, and the horror inspired by the injustice of Anne’s trial cannot be said to have extended to any feeling of regret for her untimely end. On the day of her execution, Chapuys, keenly observant of all that went on at court, and of its effect upon the nation, wrote:—

“The joy shown by this people every day, not only at the ruin of the Concubine, but at the hope of the Princess Mary’s restoration, is inconceivable, but as yet, the King shows no great disposition towards the latter; indeed he has twice shown himself obstinate, when spoken to on the subject by his Council. I hear, that even before the arrest of the Concubine, the King, speaking with Mistress Jane Semel of their future marriage, the latter suggested that the Princess should be replaced in her former position; and the King told her she was a fool, and ought to solicit the advancement of the children they would have between them, and not any others. She replied, that by asking the restoration of the Princess, she conceived she was seeking the rest and tranquillity of the King, herself, her future children, and the whole realm; for without that, neither your Majesty nor this people would ever be content. Such a wish,” continues the ambassador, “on the part of the said lady, is very commendable, and I purpose using all means in my power, in keeping her to her good intentions. I also mean to go to the King about it two or three days hence, and visit one by one, the members of the Privy Council, and if I can personally, or by means of my friends, influence some of the lords and gentlemen, who have been summoned for the next Parliament, which is to meet on the 8th of next month, I shall not fail to do so.”[172]

Chapuys did not exaggerate the nation’s joyful expectation that Mary would be restored to favour, and that the people would be allowed to enjoy the sight of her once more. His testimony is corroborated in various ways, one of the most striking proofs of her popularity being contained in a French poem, written and printed in London in the beginning of June 1536. This poem, which gives a singularly accurate description of Anne Boleyn’s life, promotion and disgrace, is highly eulogistic of Mary’s goodness and charms. In expressing the universal satisfaction displayed at the prospect of her speedy return to court, the writer continues:—

It was impossible for Henry to ignore the immense popular enthusiasm of which Mary was the object, and it hampered him considerably, for he was not by any means prepared to acknowledge himself in the wrong, by replacing her in his good graces unconditionally. The desire of the nation, combined with Jane’s influence and his own much-vaunted affection, did not equal his obstinacy and vanity. Only, as the above-mentioned poem goes on to relate, when the enthusiasm developed into impatience, and a rumour was circulated that he had sent for her, and had shown her kindness, did he realise that it might be prudent to reckon with the Londoners. Fearing a disturbance, if he did not show some sign of relenting, he sent them a condescending message, in which he thanked them for their goodwill to him and his daughter, and held out hopes of their speedy reconciliation.[173]

But Henry was still hedged in with difficulties, and he had far more to consider than a mere peace-making with an eager, affectionate daughter of twenty, whom all, except those whose interest it was to keep them apart, agreed in praising. To give Mary back her rights without terms, would be tantamount to submission to the Pope, whose decree he had treated with open scorn and defiance, to humbling himself before the Emperor, after the haughty tone he had assumed in his letters to him, and to climbing down in the eyes of his ally, the King of France. And while on the one hand, he would be able to secure a powerful friend by bestowing her on a candidate of the Emperor, he would on the other, cease to be an important factor in the game of European politics. His strength, he knew, lay in temporising, in being considered a valuable prize in petto to Francis and Charles alternately. If he definitely gave himself up to Charles, he would but swell the importance of the empire, at the sacrifice of his own pride. The Emperor, when it became known that Anne’s fall was imminent, made decided advances, promising “to be a mean to reconcile him with the Pope”. He begged Henry to legitimatise his daughter, and to give her a place in the succession, and took the opportunity to request his help against the Turk, slipping in a solicitation for his support, in accordance with an existing treaty, in the event of an invasion of the Duchy of Milan, by the French King.

Henry’s reply, through Chapuys, was lofty and cleverly worded. The interruption of their friendship, he declared to Pate, his ambassador at the imperial court, proceeded from the Emperor, “who, although we made him King of Spain and afterwards Emperor, when the empire was at our disposal, and afterwards lent him money, so that he can thank only us for his present honor, has showed us all the ingratitude he could devise, both in contemning our friendship, when we have done more for his satisfaction in our proceedings than needed, and in procuring injury and displeasure against us at the hands of the Bishop of Rome; yet, if he will by his express writings desire us to forget his unkind doings, or declare that what we consider unkindness has been wrongly imputed to him, we will gladly embrace the overture for the renewal of amity; but as we have sustained the injury, we would not be a suitor for reconciliation, nor treat of anything till our amity is simply and without any conditions renewed. If he will first accomplish this, he need not doubt that friendly and reasonable answers will be given to all his reasonable desires. To his overtures touching the Bishop of Rome, we answered that we have not proceeded upon such slight grounds that we could revoke or alter any part of our doing, having made our foundation upon the laws of God, nature and honesty, and established our works thereon, by the consent of all the estates of our realm, in open and high court of Parliament. A proposal has been made to us by the Bishop of Rome himself, which we have not yet embraced, and it would not be expedient to have it compassed by any other means. We should not think the Emperor earnestly desired a reconciliation with us, if he moved us to alter anything for the satisfaction of the Bishop of Rome, our enemy. As to the legitimatation of our daughter Mary, if she will submit to our grace, without wrestling against the determination of our laws, we will acknowledge her and use her as our daughter; but we would not be directed or pressed herein, nor have any other order devised for her entertainment, than should proceed from the inclination of our own heart, being moved by her humility, and the gentle proceedings of such as pretend to be her friends. God has not only made us King by inheritance, but has given us wisdom, policy, and other graces in most plentiful sort, necessary for a prince to direct his affairs by, to his honor and glory; and we doubt not, the Emperor thinks it meet for us to order things here without search of foreign advice, as for him or any other prince to determine their affairs without our counsel. We trust that we have proceeded in all that we have enterprised with such circumspection, that no one who looks with an indifferent eye upon our foundation, which is God’s law, shall have cause to be miscontented, but rather judge of us as a most Christian, prudent, victorious and politic prince. If princes, by reason of foreign marriages should be directed in the ordering of their issue by the parents or allies of their wives, and, as it were, controlled, as if they had committed themselves by such marriages to other princes’ ‘arbitres,’ who can by no means know the truth of their proceedings, the servitude thereof would appear so great, that wisdom would allow no prince to marry out of his realm. Notwithstanding such marriages, princes have meddled but little in foreign affairs, unless the title of inheritance has descended thereby to them. We doubt not, that the Emperor will not intricate himself with our affairs more than he honourably may, and agreeably to the amity which should be between Christian princes.”[174]

To this the Emperor replied in a long letter, the conclusion of which ran:—

“As to the Princess, our cousin, we also hold that the King will act like a good and natural father, especially considering her great virtues and good qualities; but our near relationship, and the great worth of the said Princess, compel us to urge the King to have a fatherly regard for her. Nor does it seem unreasonable that kinsmen should intercede with fathers for their children; and we do so all the more, because we have always thought, that if the King has in any degree withheld his favour from her, it has not been of his own motion, but by sinister reports of others. So we think he will take our intercession in good part, as we would do in the case of our own children, of whom, if he consolidate this amity, we shall consider him another father.”[175]

The Emperor’s compliments with reference to Henry’s “fatherly regard” for Mary were not altogether insincere. Her position had been made less humiliating in various ways. In March, it was observed that Cromwell, in speaking of her, put his hand to his cap, and the secretary, Pate, emboldened by the turn affairs had taken, expressed his ardent desire that the King “would not suffer that redolent flower to be deprived of the sun’s warmth, and to wither away”.[176]

The change was, no doubt, to be attributed to Jane Seymour’s influence, as far as it went, but it was never very great, her power never being equal to her will to help Mary, who was not slow to perceive that a crisis was imminent; and buoyed up with hope, as soon as an opportunity occurred, she wrote to Cromwell:—

The series of letters which follow on this simple, natural effusion are of so painful a character, that were it not necessary for the clear understanding of the impending crisis in Mary’s life, to print them here entire, the temptation would be great to pass them over with a general indication of their contents. But the matter is one that may not be dealt with superficially, and the text of the somewhat discursive correspondence which passed between Mary, Cromwell and Henry is indispensable if we would estimate the extent of the mental torture the Princess was called upon to undergo, at the very time when she hoped that her worst trials were over. Her father’s tyranny, far from having exhausted its resources, culminated in an act so brutal, that it removes him for ever beyond the pale of humanity. It is a question whether, in all Mary’s sad and troubled life, the saddest moment was not now approaching. Gradually, the bright, eager tone of her letters dies down, and, in place of the hopeful strain, is one of abject grovelling at Henry’s feet. The later letters of the series are, indeed, written either from Cromwell’s dictation, or are copied from his drafts, but the pen is Mary’s; and the fact that she was now brought to renounce, at least formally, her birthright, her pious faith in her mother’s honour and dignity, together with all that she held most dear, places her in a position than which there could hardly be a more painful. But nothing short of this total abandonment of herself to his despotic will would satisfy the “most Christian, prudent, victorious and politic prince,” her father.[178]

Cromwell’s answer to the above letter has not been preserved, but its tenor may be inferred by another from the Princess Mary, dated the 30th May:—

In accordance with the permission obtained, two days later Mary wrote to her father:—

Humble as were these petitions, they elicited no reply from Henry, and Mary waited in vain for a word of kindness. Gradually it was borne in upon her, that the favour which she so earnestly implored, and which seemed to her so simple and easy a thing for the King to grant, would only be bestowed at the price of a sacrifice too heavy for her conscience to bear. Her contrition for past offences must not only be general, and such as any child might express to any father, but circumstantial and precise, affecting the vital principles for which she had struggled for four years. On the 6th June, Chapuys told the Emperor, that in an interview with Cromwell, the Secretary had declared it to be absolutely necessary that Mary should write a letter, according to a draft which he (Cromwell) had prepared, “in the most honourable and reasonable form that could be”. He had, he said, by the King’s command, sent a very confidential lady to solicit the Princess to do this, and that to avoid scruple, he wished that Chapuys would write to her, and send one of his principal servants to persuade her to make no difficulties about writing the said letter, which he intended to have translated from English into Latin, that Chapuys might see that it was quite honourable. There was, Chapuys thought, “some bird-catching attempted,” and he warned Mary. But meanwhile Cromwell visited him at his lodging, and told him that the King and Queen were wonderfully well pleased at the letters which Mary had written, in which, however, the ambassador told Charles that there was nothing corresponding to Cromwell’s draft, nor anything that could prejudice her.

Mary’s next two letters, the one addressed to the chief Secretary, the other to Henry, dated respectively the 7th and 8th June, were evidently written in an agony of suspense, and of that hope deferred which “afflicteth the soul”.

Her letter to the King ran thus:—

The above is the last of this series of letters which Mary wrote to her father without help or suggestion from Cromwell. Abject as was the tone of them all, Cromwell, anxious, for reasons of his own, to make peace between Henry and his daughter, saw clearly that this would not be effected, unless she could be brought categorically to declare herself illegitimate. The King was determined on it, in order that failing legitimate male issue, he might have some show of reason for putting his natural son, the Duke of Richmond, forward as his successor. This project could be furthered by nothing that she had hitherto written, and the chief Secretary now began to give her advice as to the wording of her appeals. The result of this advice was a letter written on the 10th June, the beginning and end of which were little else than repetitions of her former expressions of sorrow for past offences, desire for forgiveness and admission into the King’s “most noble presence”. But in the middle occurs this sentence: “Eftsoones therefore, most humbly prostrate before your noble feet, your most obedient subject and humble child, that hath not only repented her offences hitherto, but also decreed simply from henceforth and wholly next to Almighty God, to put my state, continuance and living in your gracious mercy, and likewise to accept the condition of your disposition and appointment, whatsoever it shall be”.[183]

This letter she sent to Cromwell with the following:—

Mary’s surmises were correct. “More business” was pending, and meanwhile her letters only gave dissatisfaction. The contents of Cromwell’s answer to the above can be gathered from the Princess’s letter of the 13th June.

Cromwell’s draft, which the Princess copied “word for word” ran:—

It was clearly anticipated that Mary’s progress, by almost imperceptible degrees, from vague expressions of repentance to a definite surrender of her will for the future, would have prepared the victim for the final coup. Immediately after receiving the above transcript of Cromwell’s draft, Henry sent commissioners to Hunsdon, summoning her to accept the new statute, and to affix her signature to a statement, declaring her own illegitimacy, which had been drawn up with the most ruthless and humiliating detail.

To Henry’s fury and Cromwell’s consternation Mary refused to sign. The Chief Secretary had pledged himself to reduce her to submission, and he knew by experience, that with his master, failure spelt treason, and he trembled accordingly. His answer to Mary’s appeals was brutal in the extreme, yet knowing as we do by the light of after events, that he was not only arrested, but condemned and executed for far less than complicity in Mary’s disobedience, we can scarcely wonder at his tone towards her. None, with the single exception perhaps of Cranmer, knew Henry so well as his chief minister, and to know him was with all time-servers to fear exceedingly.

We are indebted to Chapuys’ letter to the Emperor, dated 1st July 1536, for a detailed account of the matter that had excited Cromwell’s ire.

“When the Princess, having written several good letters to the King her father and to this Queen, expected to be out of her trouble, trusting to the hope held out to her, she found herself in the most extreme perplexity and danger she had ever been in, and not only herself, but all her principal friends. The King, seven or eight days after the departure of the man whom I sent to your Majesty, took a fancy to insist that the Princess should consent to his statutes, or he would proceed by rigour of law against her, and to induce her to yield, sent to her the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Sussex, the bishop of Chester and certain others, whom she confounded by her wise and prudent answers, till they, seeing that they could not conquer her in argument, told her that since she was so unnatural as to oppose the King’s will so obstinately, they could scarcely believe she was his bastard, and if she was their daughter, they would beat her and knock her head so violently against the wall, that they would make it as soft as baked apples, and that she was a traitress and should be punished, and several other words. And her gouvernante was commanded not to allow any one to speak to her, and that she and another should never lose sight of her, day or night. Nevertheless, the said Princess found means to send me immediate information of everything, begging me not to leave her without counsel in her extreme necessity.

“On this I wrote to her very fully, telling her among other things, that she must make up her mind, if the King persisted in his obstinacy, or she found evidence that her life was in danger, either by maltreatment or otherwise, to consent to her father’s wish, assuring her that such was your advice, and that to save her life, on which depended the peace of the realm, and the redress of the great evils which prevail here, she must do everything, and dissemble for some time, especially, as the protestations made, and the cruel violence shown her, preserved her rights inviolate, and likewise her conscience, seeing that nothing was required expressly against God, or the articles of the Faith, and God regarded more the intention than the act; and that now she had more occasion to do thus than during the life of the Concubine, as it was proposed to deprive the Bastard, and make her heiress; and I felt assured that if she came to Court, she would by her wisdom set her father again in the right road, to which the intercession of your Majesty through the reconciliation and establishment of amity would conduce.”[187]

The King suspected that Mary was advised to hold out by certain of her attendants, and made strict inquiries. Several of her ladies were called before the Council, and made to swear to the statutes. The wife of her Chamberlain, whom Chapuys designates as “one of the most virtuous ladies in England,” was sent to the Tower, while Mary’s chief confidential servant was detained for two days in Cromwell’s house. The Council sat for six or seven days from morning till night without intermission, deliberating on Mary’s fate. Cromwell, suspected of having shown himself too favourable to the Princess, was not free from danger. He told Chapuys that for four or five days he looked upon himself as a lost man and dead. The Marquis of Exeter and the Lord Treasurer, Fitzwilliam, were dismissed from the Council as Mary’s friends, and the new Queen, Jane Seymour, was rudely repulsed for speaking in her favour. Continuing the above letter, Chapuys said:—

“The judges, in spite of threats, refused to decide, and advised that a writing should be sent to the Princess, and that if she refused to sign it they should proceed against her. The Princess being informed from various quarters how matters stood, signed the document without reading it. For her better excuse, I had previously sent her the form of the protestation she must make apart. I had also warned her that she must in the first place secure the King’s pardon, and, if possible, not give her approval to the said statutes, except so far as she could do so agreeably to God and her conscience, or that she should promise only not to infringe the said statute, without expressing approval. I have not yet ascertained how the thing has passed, but, in any case, she never made a better day’s work, for if she had let this opportunity slip, there was no remedy in the world for her. As soon as the news arrived of her subscription, incredible joy was shown in all the Court, except by the earl of Essex, who told the King that was a game that would cost him his head, for the injurious language he had used against the Princess. After the Princess had signed the document she was much dejected, but I immediately relieved her of every doubt even of conscience, assuring her that the Pope would not only not impute to her any blame, but would hold it rightly done. Since the Princess subscribed the said document, the King sent back the above commissioners with others, among whom was Master Cromwell, who was charged by the King to carry to her a most gracious letter, and also, according to the custom of the country, another with the paternal blessing, and they all offered her the highest possible honour, addressing her almost continually kneeling upon the ground, especially asking her pardon for their previous conduct. The Princess remains very happy, especially on account of the goodwill Cromwell bears her in the promotion of her affairs. She is only anxious as to how your Majesty will be satisfied with what she has done. And now that she has done it, on my assurance that it was the will of your Majesty, yet it would be a marvellous consolation to her to know it by letters from you. She has also desired me to write to your Majesty’s ambassador at Rome, to procure a secret absolution from the Pope, otherwise her conscience could not be at perfect ease.”[188]

The document to which Henry finally summoned his daughter to affix her signature was drawn up in the following terms:—

“The confession of me the Lady Mary, made upon certain points and articles under written, in the which as I do now plainly and with all mine heart confess and declare mine inward sentence, belief and judgment, with a due conformity of obedience to the laws of the realm; so minding for ever to persist and continue in this determination, without change, alteration or varyance, I do most humbly beseech the King’s Highness, my father, whom I have obstinately and inobediently offended in the denyal of the same heretofore, to forgive mine offences therein, and to take me to his most gracious mercy. First, I confess and knowledge the King’s Majesty to be my Soveraign Lord and King, in the imperial Crown of this realme of England, and do submit myself to his Highness, and to all and singular lawes and statutes of this realm, as becometh a true and faithfull subject to do; which I shall also obey, keep, observe, advance and maintain, according to my bounden duty, with all the power, force and qualities that God hath induced me, during my life.

Thus was the great renunciation made. It was probably the worst thing that Mary did in her whole life, for there is nothing in her history on record to compare with this violation of her conscience, and of all that she held most sacred. To excuse her on the score that she never gave interior consent to the sacrifice of her mother’s honour and her own faith would be but a miserable apology. She yielded indeed less to Cromwell’s threats, than to the Emperor’s specious arguments, and to the wretchedness of her own forlorn condition; but her intellect and mental and moral training were such that she was able to appreciate to the full the extent of her fall, and it would be doing her a poor service to attempt to palliate her guilt.

Cromwell prepared yet another letter for the hapless victim to copy, for having drunk the bitter cup to the dregs, she was now required to thank her father humbly for the boon. The passionless utilitarian mind of the Chief Secretary was not bent on causing Mary more pain than was necessary to bring about and perfect the reconciliation which he had set himself to accomplish. He was not wantonly cruel; but he understood Henry, and knew that neither his own head nor Mary’s was safe, until the royal vanity was fed to repletion. He therefore caused her to write the following letter to her father on the 15th June, after having signed the articles:—

Henry was now pleased to accept Mary’s holocaust, and intimated to her his forgiveness. Cromwell’s hand is again evident in her reply. Even now, if left to her own expressions of affection, she might fail to attain to the proper degree of servility. On the 26th June she wrote:—

AFTER THE STORM.

1536-1537.

Amid all the fencing and diplomatic insincerities that went on between Henry and Charles, concerning Mary’s status, his cousin’s real welfare had but a small share in the policy of the Emperor. Persecuted by her father, Mary had taken counsel with the powerful kinsman who, she thought, had her interests, and the cause for which she was suffering, at heart. But Charles was a much better politician than kinsman, and had no cause so much at heart as his own advantage, and that of the empire. He was anxious to be at peace with Henry for more reasons than one, and cared little what temporary concessions his cousin made, so long as they furthered this object. He had not seen his way to make war, when she and her mother had looked to him as their avenger, and now that the principal cause of estrangement between himself and Henry had been removed by death, he was eager to sacrifice Mary on the altar of peace. Her eyes were never opened to the treacherous part he had played, but Henry was not ignorant of the fact that she was entirely influenced by the Emperor. If she had yielded, he knew that she had done so with Charles’s approval, a circumstance that made largely for political amity. The days of chivalry were done, and Mary’s trust and confidence were ruthlessly employed to pave a way out of the imperial difficulties.

Great stress was laid by Charles on the axiom, that concessions extracted by force or fraud had no binding power, so long as formal protests against the compulsion exercised were secretly made and signed. This principle was frequently applied between the three chief rulers of Europe at this period, and sometimes led to curious results.

Meanwhile, Mary was not yet in calm waters. Cromwell, for the sake of his own safety, required her to express in a letter addressed to him, but intended for Henry’s eye, all that she owed him as a mediator. He had not forgotten what he had undergone, during the six days’ uninterrupted sitting of the Council, when he had considered himself “a dead man,” and when, in fact, his own and Mary’s fate had trembled in the balance. Even yet, his capricious master might again suspect him of having encouraged Mary in her resistance, and he was anxious that there should be no mistake in Henry’s mind, as to his share in her submission. Besides this, the King’s tyranny required a declaration from Mary, that she not only abandoned her title but agreed in its being given to Anne’s daughter Elizabeth (although she, too, had been declared illegitimate and was not allowed to use it any longer), and that as to her own future position she made no claim, but was content to accept whatever was conceded. Another point left vague had been her attitude respecting Henry’s disposal of doctrines, which concerned purgatory, pilgrimages, relics, etc., and her father must be satisfied in this matter also. Having swallowed the whole, Mary made no further resistance as to the parts, and wrote to Cromwell as he desired, probably copying his entire draft.

Henry was at last pleased to forgive her, and by common consent, Cromwell had all the credit of the peacemaking. Chapuys told Cardinal Perrenot de Granvelle, President of the Emperor’s Council, that the Secretary was also doing his best to promote friendship between their masters, and that, having carried it into effect, he would die proud of that feat, and of having reconciled the Princess to her father, “not wishing to live one day longer”. On the 6th July, Chapuys applied for an audience with the King for the next day, but was told that he could not then have one, as both the King and Queen were to visit the Princess secretly. Cromwell added that it would be far better for the advancement of business, if Chapuys spoke to him after his return, “knowing well that after seeing the beauty, goodness, prudence and virtue of the same Princess, the King would be more inclined to the matter in question”. The letter in which this news is communicated then breaks off, and later on Chapuys continues:—

“The day before yesterday (6th inst.) the King and Queen left this, with a small and secret company to visit the Princess, three miles from here, where they remained till yesterday about vespers. The kindness shown by the King to the Princess was inconceivable, regretting that he had been so long separated from her. He made good amends for it in the little time he was with her, continually talking with her, with every sign of affection, and with ever so many fine promises. The Queen gave her a beautiful diamond, and the King about 1000 crowns in money for her little pleasures, telling her to have no anxiety about money, for she should have as much as she could wish. He promised her that when he returned from Dover, she should come to court. She will no doubt by her great prudence remedy many things.”[193]

On the same day, however, he had cause to modify this account somewhat, in a subsequent letter to Granvelle, in which he says:—

“What I have told his Majesty about this King’s singularly kind behaviour to his daughter the Princess, when he saw her the other day, I have on the authority of one of her own servants, the very same one who, for some time past, has been the bearer of her messages to me. Yesterday, as he was imparting the said news, and conveying his mistress’s commendations to me, I naturally concluded that he himself was speaking in the Princess’s name, but I am afraid such is not the case, and that the man only repeated what he had heard, for I have since been told, that mixed with the sweet food of paternal kindness, there were a few drachmas of gall and bitterness. But after all, we must set that down to paternal authority, and pray God to inspire the King to behave still better to the Princess, and work with more zest and sincerity than he has hitherto done, towards the establishment and extension of the confederacy with your Majesty, which, as may be gathered from my previous despatches, has hitherto been surrounded by much artifice and subterfuge.”[194]

Henry was much perplexed as to the exact position Mary was to occupy thenceforth. Cromwell told Chapuys that “the great and almost excessive love and affection that the English have always shown for the Princess” had so increased of late, that they were determined to risk everything for her sake. This attitude of the people roused her father’s jealousy and suspicion, and Cromwell was observed no longer to give her her title, a habit which he had already resumed. He not only avoided speaking of Mary as Princess, but requested Chapuys to do the same, which made him think that instead of declaring her to be Princess of Wales, she would be called Duchess of York. “Considering,” continued Cromwell, “the King’s versatility and, on the other hand, the rumours current among the people, I hesitate to say what the Princess’s future is likely to be; but this I can assure you (Chapuys), that the whole business will be conducted to her honor and profit”—“giving me,” said the ambassador, “to understand thereby that she will be appointed heiress to the Crown, should the King have no male issue.”

On the 22nd July, the Duke of Richmond died of consumption, and Mary’s prospects immediately brightened. Chapuys informed the Emperor of the fact, assuring him that the Princess had plenty of company, “even of the following of the little Bastard who will henceforth pay her court”. Her household had not yet been appointed, but nothing was wanting except her name and title of princess. “Nor need we make too much of the name,” said Chapuys, “seeing that it has not been usual to give such a title to a daughter, while there is any hope of male issue, and the Cardinal, for some particular reasons, had broken that custom in her case. Nevertheless, Cromwell says, that title will be restored to her before many days, and there is no doubt, if she comes to court, she will have that, and everything she can desire, for her incomparable beauty, grace and prudence. And I think that your Majesty’s affairs will proceed all the better for it; at all events, it will not be for want of goodwill that your affairs do not go on more prosperously than her own. I sent lately to warn the Princess, that there was some talk of marrying her in this kingdom to some very unsuitable person [perhaps he means to Cromwell, who had been suggested as a possible husband for her], and she sent to assure me, that she would never make any match without the express consent of your Majesty; protesting that except for some great advantage to the peace of Christendom, she would not care to be married at all.”[195]

THE PRINCESS MARY.
From the original drawing by Holbein, in the possession of the Marquis of Exeter.

Chapuys could never admire and praise Mary enough. Even in communicating officially the news of the Duke of Richmond’s death, eulogy of the Princess formed the chief part of his despatch. “Few are sorry,” he wrote to Perrenot de Granvelle, “because of the Princess. Even Cromwell has congratulated her in his letters, and thank God, she now triumphs, and it is to be hoped that the dangers are laid, with which she has been surrounded, to make her a paragon of virtue, goodness, honor and prudence: I say nothing of beauty and grace, for it is incredible. May God raise her soon to the Crown, for the benefit of his Majesty and of all Christendom.”[196]

Those who wished for a return to the old order in England looked to Mary’s influence to bring it about. She was in some miraculous way, by her very presence at court, to exercise power over her father’s indomitable will (the will that had crushed her into submission), to reconcile him with the Pope, and undo all the mischief he had been doing for the last ten years.

“It is to be hoped,” wrote Chapuys to the Empress Isabella, “that through the Princess’s means, and through her great wisdom and discretion she may hereafter little by little bring back the King, her father, and the whole of the English nation to the right path. It would indeed have been a great pity to lose such a gem, her virtues being of such a standard, that I know not how to express and define her great accomplishments, her wisdom, beauty, prudence, virtue, austere life, and her other great qualities, for certainly all those who have been and are acquainted with her, cannot cease from praising her any more than I can.”[197]

He was indefatigable in promoting Mary’s interests in every possible way. On being presented to Queen Jane, he seems to have thought of nothing else, regarding her merely as a useful friend, who had it in her power to smooth the Princess’s paths. His account of the interview is interesting:—

“Mass over, I accompanied the King to the apartments of the Queen, whom, with the King’s pleasure, I kissed, congratulating her on her marriage, and wishing her prosperity. I told her besides, that although the device of the lady who had preceded her on the throne was ‘The happiest of women,’ I had no doubt she herself would fully realise that motto....

“Among the many felicities which I enumerated, I said to the Queen, that certainly the chief one was the Princess, in whom, without having had the pain and trouble of bringing her into the world, she had such a daughter, that she would receive more pleasure and consolation from her, than from any other she might have. I ended by begging her to take care of the Princess’s affairs; which she kindly promised to do, saying that she would work in earnest to deserve the honourable name which I had given her of pacificator, that is preserver and guardian of the peace. After this address of mine, the King, who had been talking with the ladies of the Court, approached us, and began making excuses for the Queen, saying that I was the first ambassador to whom she had spoken; she was not used to that sort of reception, but he imagined that she would do her utmost to obtain the title of pacificator which I had greeted her with, as being herself of kind and amiable disposition, and much inclined to peace, she would make the greatest efforts to prevent his taking part in a foreign war, were it for no other thing than the fear of having to separate herself from him.”[198]

A charming trait in Mary’s character was the protection which the now happier sister pityingly extended to Anne Boleyn’s unfortunate daughter. For the next three years, they continued to live chiefly at Hunsdon, under the same roof, but while Mary was treated with a certain amount of consideration, Elizabeth was wholly neglected, disgraced, and unprovided with the commonest necessaries of life, at one time having “neither gown nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor linen for smocks, nor kerchiefs, rails, body-stychets, handkerchiefs, mufflers nor begens”.[199] But Mary’s relations with her father, although cordial on the whole, were lacking in every element of stability. All depended on his caprice, as the Princess well knew, and had she been worldly minded, she might have hesitated to take up the cause of one, to whom he was now far less favourably inclined than to herself. But Mary was not worldly, and she took care to say a good word for the child when she could. Thus at the end of a letter to her father she wrote:

The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary abound in entries for presents “to the Lady Elizabeth’s grace,” and in the notification of sums expended on her amusements.

The art with which Mary received gifts was no less happy than her manner of giving, and the letter of thanks which she wrote to Cromwell, just after he had been made Lord Privy Seal, in acknowledgment of his services to her, is a pleasant contrast, in its spontaneous expressions of gratitude, to the former grovelling effusions, which purported to have emanated from her, but which were really the compositions of Cromwell himself.

And again:—

Mary’s appearance at court was still delayed, probably on account of the difficulty with regard to her rank. If the King’s eldest daughter was thenceforth to be regarded as heiress apparent, she must appear as Princess of Wales, with pomp and circumstance, but all was as yet uncertain, and for the same reason, Henry came to no conclusion, respecting the various marriages again proposed for her. If he had no son, he would be unwilling for her to leave the kingdom, but in any case hers was a name to intrigue with. “He feels,” wrote Chapuys to the Emperor, “that he is getting old, and has no male children to succeed him on the throne, and knows that he will have enough to do to keep the peace in his own kingdom, where the novelties he has introduced are not generally approved of. He therefore thinks of nothing else save making of good cheer, and filling his coffers with the feathers of those whom he wishes to put down. All his late shifting and dissimulation have no other origin, than the fear he has of your Majesty’s affairs becoming prosperous again, and your coming over to England to chastise him.”[203]

But unpopular as Henry was, Cromwell was looked upon as the evil genius of the throne. It was he who had inspired the divorce of Katharine, the disinheriting of Mary, the suppression of the monasteries, the execution of those who denied the royal supremacy, and the introduction of such heretics as Cranmer and Latimer into the sees of Canterbury and Worcester. In the south, the general discontent was paralysed by dread, but the hardy, frugally living people of the eastern and northern counties knew no fear. The dissolution of the smaller monasteries was the signal for revolt. The Canons of Hexham fortified their house. One of their number appeared in armour on the leads, and declared to the King’s Commissioners, that the twenty inmates would all die before they would yield, and the Commissioners thought it prudent to withdraw. But the Lincolnshire men rose first. The rebels in the east numbered at the outset from forty to fifty thousand men, and their ranks swelled daily. They would undoubtedly have carried all before them, had not the leaders of the King’s army been as prompt as they were efficient. The Duke of Suffolk swept up from the south, the Earl of Shrewsbury from the west, and the King himself would have headed a third contingent, had it been necessary. But no sooner were Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk subdued, than Yorkshire, Lancashire and all the northern counties were up in arms. Soon, Skipton Castle, held by the Earl of Cumberland for the King, was the only spot north of the Humber that Henry could count upon. If the rebels had triumphed, there is no doubt that Mary would have been placed on the throne.[204]

A statute had been passed on the 8th July 1536, declaring Elizabeth base-born,[205] and on Sunday, 30th August, Mary was proclaimed heiress-apparent in one of the London churches. When the Yorkshire men rose, on the 9th October, they swore to be true “to the King’s lawful issue and the noble blood”. Robert Aske, leader of the insurgents, was declared Grand Captain of the Commons of Yorkshire. He could rely on the staunch loyalty of 30,000 “tall men and well horsed,” as well as on the enthusiastic adherence of the whole population, while the King’s forces, under the Duke of Norfolk, only amounted to 6,000 men, hampered in their every movement northwards by the disaffection of the midland and eastern counties. Had all these advantages been husbanded by the rebels, they might have dictated terms to Henry; but the strongest arm is powerless against a subtle brain, and Cromwell soon perceived that his one chance lay in negotiation. The word meant with him stratagem and fraud. The promise of a free pardon, and a Parliament at York was so worded, that it was understood by all the leaders of the rising to mean consent to their demands. They disbanded their troops, and by degrees order was restored. Then, all the northern towns were strongly garrisoned by the King, and the last palpitating throes of the rebellion were eagerly seized upon as a pretext for withdrawing every concession that had been made. The Lords Dacre and Hussey were arrested and sent to the block. The Earl of Northumberland and Sir Robert Constable, with the Abbots of Barlings, of Fountains and of Jervaulx, were hanged in chains. Lady Bulmer, for encouraging the rebels, was burned at the stake. A letter from Henry to his lieutenant in the north gave him carte blanche for every atrocity. The King wrote:—

“We approve of your proceeding in the displaying of your banner, which, being now spread, till it is closed again, the course of our laws must give place to martial law; and before you close it up again, you must cause such dreadful execution upon a good number of the inhabitants, hanging them on trees, quartering them and setting their heads and quarters in every town, as shall be a fearful warning, whereby shall ensue the preservation of a great multitude.”[206]

It is noticeable that the King does not here speak of the execution of the leaders, but of “a good number of the inhabitants,” an order which resulted in the most fearful carnage. The Duke of Norfolk, anxious to prove his loyalty, declared that his only regret was that there were not enough iron chains in the country in which to hang the prisoners; ropes must serve for some. But he flattered himself that so great a number put to death at one time had never yet been heard of.[207] “It was,” says one writer, “as if the earth had broken out into gibbets, but in spite of them the people, though coerced, were not cowed.”

Lord Dacre, speaking before the Council, had a tongue as free as when he led his Yorkshire yokels to battle. “It is thou,” he said boldly, confronting Cromwell, “that art the very special and chief cause of all this rebellion and wickedness, and dost daily travail to bring us to our ends and strike off our heads. I trust that ere thou diest, though thou wouldst procure all the noblest heads within the realm to be stricken off, yet there shall one head remain that shall strike off thy head.” After the pardon at Doncaster, three hundred persons wished to pull the curate out of the pulpit at Kendal Church, crying out: “He shall proclaim the Pope to be supreme head of the Church, or be cast into the water!”[208]

But in spite of the anxieties caused by the rebellion, the perennial subject of the disposal of Mary’s hand in marriage was occupying public attention both at home and abroad. It kept the possibility of an alliance with Henry perpetually before the arbiters of European affairs, and did more to avert war than all his other tactics. But it is clear, with the whole history of his negotiations before us, that he never intended Mary to leave the country, and risk her repudiation of all that he had been at so great pains to wring from her.

Already, in February 1536, the Emperor had devised a marriage between his cousin Mary, and Don Loys, brother of King Emanuel of Portugal, his brother-in-law. Henry appeared to look favourably on the proposed match, and in June, a formal demand was made for her hand. The matter was allowed to drag on indefinitely; raised from time to time with much affectation of seriousness, to suit Henry’s policy, it was again repeatedly dropped, for the nice adjustment of the scale, when Francis became restive, at the apparent understanding between his ally and his enemy. Then the proposed union of the Princess Mary with the Duke of Orleans was once more brought forward, and so the changes rang for some time. But all this was merely on the surface; and the question of Mary’s legitimacy was the only real point at issue, for it involved the whole series of events which had landed Henry in his actual position with regard to his own subjects, to his fellow-sovereigns, and to the Pope, still a power to be reckoned with. To yield that point was to give up all he had been fighting for during the last ten years, and to cut away the ground from under his feet. If he temporised long enough, the possible birth of a son might allow him to restore his daughter without loss of his own dignity.

Charles V., in putting forward Don Loys as a suitor, made the condition, that the slur cast by Henry on Mary’s birth should be removed; and Henry’s instructions to his special envoy, Sir Thomas Wyatt, on the renewal of his amity with the Emperor, show the use her father intended to make of her renunciation of her birthright.

“If,” the instructions ran, “the Emperor is grieved that the lady Mary is declared illegitimate, although born in bona fide parentum, Wyatt must declare that when the prohibition is of the law of God, bona fides cannot be alleged; moreover, that the assertion of her illegitimacy will irritate the King, and Wyatt shall deliver a letter to the Emperor from the lady Mary showing how she reputes herself. If the Emperor speaks of an overture of marriage that was lately made for her with the Infant of Portugal, he shall say he has no commission therein, but thinks the matter might be arranged, if the Infant will take her, as only to succeed to the Crown in default of issue male or female from his present queen.”[209]

Chapuys’ letter to the Emperor on the 7th October proves that her difficulties were not yet at an end:—

“I have just this moment received a letter from the Princess, saying that yesterday, the King her father sent her the draft of a letter which he wished her to write to your Majesty, the substance of which is, that being now better informed than she was before, through reading books and continually consulting learned and holy persons, perhaps also inspired by the grace of the Holy Ghost, she has of her own free will, without compulsion of any sort, suggestion, impression, respect or regard for any person whomsoever, acknowledged, confirmed, and approved the statutes of this kingdom, declaring her mother’s marriage to have been unlawful, and the King her father to be the chief of the Church, at the same time, begging and entreating your Majesty to allow truth to prevail, and not disturb nor impede it at the General Council or anywhere else—all this, in order that the King, who has behaved so kindly towards the Princess, may not have occasion to treat her differently. The Princess desires me to inform your Majesty of this, and wishes to know what answer she is to give to her father’s request. She would also be glad for your Majesty to show discontent at her and her acts. Though it seems to me, that this is not the time nor the opportunity for doing so, I could not do otherwise than obey the Princess, and express her wishes in that particular. It might be that your Majesty could find hereafter some excuse for dissembling, not meddling in the affair, but giving some evasive answer or other; for although this King may insist upon the letter being written, perhaps he may not send it on, and will keep it by him, to use at the proper time and place. This has been the cause of my reporting, as fully as I have done, on the contents of the draft which the Princess has in her possession, I have taken care to inform Count Cifuentes of everything, even of the protest which she has already signed, as well as of that which she ought to make, before the letter demanded of her is written, that the Count may speak (to the Pope) and answer as the case requires.”[210]

The next day, he wrote again to Cifuentes, saying that it would be necessary to warn his Holiness of all that was going on, that he might not, in the event of the said letter being written, or of a similar one being shown to him, reply to the Princess as if he were angry for what had been done. “As these people have their doubts, as to the precise wording of the Princess’s renunciation, and have their fears and suspicions concerning the future, they are now taking their measures, and trying to make sure of her before they bring her back to court. Should she come, I will do my best to find out a remedy in all this business; for the present nothing more can be done. Her Highness must be advised and encouraged to listen to the words of these people, and not let them imagine that under what her Highness is now doing there lies a danger for them. If your Lordship does not know it already, I can tell you that for a long time back, her Highness has, by my advice, applied such a remedy, and drawn such protests for the safeguarding of her right, that I do not think any more are required. To the protest formerly made, the Princess herself has since added, after consulting over the matter with me, certain clauses and words which render all other precautions perfectly useless. Your Lordship however must keep profoundly secret in these matters, for should these people hear of our precautionary measures for the future, the Princess would not be allowed to live long. It is therefore necessary that no living person should know of this save your Lordship, to whom I cannot at present sufficiently declare the precise text of the letters which her Highness, as aforesaid, will be compelled to write. You may however be sure of one thing, namely, that those who have the charge of making the draft thereof will forget no circumstance nor expression likely to serve their purpose, and will make the Princess sign it. The Princess herself being apprehensive of what may come out of all this, has sent me orders to communicate with his Imperial Majesty, and with your most illustrious Lordship on the subject, that you may be warned, and prepared to answer whenever the thing be made public; but above all, let it be settled, that whatever papers and letters her Highness is made to sign on this occasion, there is no truth whatever in them, and that she signs them by sheer force.”[211]

The drafts above alluded to consisted of two letters, one addressed to the Pope, the other to the Queen of Hungary. The contents were practically a repetition of the declarations which Cromwell drew up for Mary to transcribe six months before. The expressions used were of course less abject than those which purported to be addressed by her to her father, but the renunciation was the same. The conclusion of the letter addressed to the Pope was to the effect that he should no longer trouble himself with the affairs of England, since the King had really and truly the right on his side, and reasons of his own to act as he did. Of her own free consent, she had renounced the succession, and begged that neither in the future Council nor out of it, the subject might be mentioned, or anything done contrary to the wishes of the King of England, or for the sake of the King of Portugal, because such was her resolution, and she was much pleased with it.

Chapuys, we have seen, was quite convinced that nothing remained for Mary but to sign the drafts. Her justification would, as before, be the compulsion exercised, and her written protests would, he considered, be sufficient proof that she had not been a free agent. Nevertheless, he was anxious that the Pope should be told of the thraldom in which she had signed, and should declare her guiltless of all participation in the sin. His anxiety was probably the reflex of her own, and his personal regard for her made him wish to soothe, as far as he was able, her much-tried conscience. Since she had acted by his advice in the tangled skein of diplomacy in which she was caught, his chivalry and affection prompted him to obtain for her all the relief he could. He wrote to the Emperor on the subject, and Charles referred the matter to his ambassador in Rome. Cifuentes had no personal acquaintance with Mary, and viewed the subject in the mere light of politics. He told the Emperor in a ciphered despatch, that it would be useless, and even dangerous to apply for a papal brief, absolving the Princess from her oath, as, in his opinion, the imperial ambassador in England had not shown sufficient cause why the publication of the Princess’s justification to the world should be delayed; for should his Holiness come to know what the Princess had done, the French would sooner or later hear of it; and, if so, the King of England be immediately informed of the fact, and therefore the danger to her life would be increased twofold. The above were the reasons which he (Cifuentes) had for not applying for a delay; but since Chapuys still insisted upon it, after mature deliberation the following expedient had been thought of: The Pope should be petitioned for a vivæ voces oraculo in genere, tacitly including Mary, and empowering all confessors to absolve those who might have fallen into these “new English errors”. “In that class the Princess would necessarily be comprised, and therefore any public justification on her own part might be delayed for some time.” Cifuentes goes on to say that Chapuys should remit the whole matter to him, surrounded as he is by those whom he can trust, and who cannot fail to help him by their wisdom and learning. If he should then find just and honest causes why the Princess should be absolved by her confessor, well and good. In this way, his Holiness would be entirely ignorant of the precise and particular object for which his verbal declaration was needed.[212]

Mary signed the letters, and the Pope apparently gave the dispensation asked for, without knowing who was especially to be benefited by it, and we hear no more of the matter.

In the midst of these wretched diplomatic transactions occurs the first note of joy that has greeted Mary for years, more completely reconciling her to her father than all the horrible concessions wrung from her by threats and entreaties. The Queen gave promise of an heir, and Mary was sent for to the court. The following curious extract from a contemporary document describes the meeting between her and the King and Queen. It is, unfortunately, undated, but bears intrinsic evidence that it refers to the spring of 1537:—

“Thus the good Lady Mary’s grace lived a long time in disgrace of the King her father, in hard imprisonment, and danger of her life, till at the lenght, Ann Bullen being dead, and the King maried againe unto Queen Jane, Edward’s mother by whose meanes she came againe in favour with the King—as thus: Upon a time as the King and the Queene were together, she being great with child with King Edward, the King said unto her—Why, darling, how happeneth it you are no merier. She wisely answered, Now it hath pleased your grace to make me your wife, there are none but my inferiors to make mery withall, your grace excepted, unlesse it would please you that wee might enjoye the company of the Lady Marie’s grace at the Court; I could be mery with her. We will have her here, darling, if she will make the merry. So presently the King commanded all her women to be put to her againe, and all in rich array with his daughter, the Lady Mary, in most gorgeous apparel, to come the next day unto the Court, all apparelled at the King’s charge. The King and the Queene standing in the chamber of presence by the fier. This worthy lady entered with all her train. So soon as she came within the chamber doore, she made lowe curtsey unto him; in the midst of the chamber she did so againe, and when she came to him, she made them both lowe cursey, and falling on her knees asked his blessing, who after he had given her his blessing, took her up by the hand, and kist her, and the Queen also, both bidding her welcome. Then the King turning him to the Lords there in presence, said—Some of you weare desirous that I should put this jewell to death. That had been great pittie, quoth the Queene, to have lost your chefest jewell of England.... But Mary, knowing that when her father flattered, most mischief was like to ensue, her coler going and coming, at last in a swoone fell down amongst them. With that the King being greatly perplexed, what for the fear of his daughter, and the frighting of his wife that was then great with child, sought all meanes possible to recover her, and being come to herself, bid her be a good comfort, for nothing should goe against her, and after perfect recovery, took her by the hand, and walked up and down with her. Then commandment was made that she should be called Lady Princess, and the other Lady Elizabeth. Why, governor, quoth the Lady Elizabeth, being but a child, how happs it yesterday, Lady Princess and to-day but Lady Elizabeth? Here was a haughtie stomach betimes.”[213]

The account is inaccurate in two points. Henry never gave in on the question of Mary’s title. Princess in those days meant heiress to the Crown, and he would have been less likely than ever to give it back to his daughter, when the passionately longed-for son might shortly be granted to him. Moreover, Elizabeth had been deprived of the title by act of Parliament months before, and would not have remained in ignorance of the fact till Mary’s return to court, as it had nothing whatever to do with her sister, in the actual state of affairs, but with the declared nullity of Anne Boleyn’s marriage.

On the 23rd May, arrived Hurtado de Mendoza, special envoy from Charles V., to confer with Chapuys, and learn from him his latest news of the King’s will, regarding the Portuguese match. He remained in England for more than a year, and during that time, the wearisome negotiations went on, with the utmost insistence as to detail, while Henry was probably determined from the outset that they should come to nothing. He declared bluntly his refusal to legitimatise Mary, but held out hopes that she would be heiress to the throne, should he die without legitimate issue. When the Emperor had first suggested the marriage, the King of Portugal was disinclined to it, saying that no confidence could be placed in Henry, but Charles had set his mind upon it, and wrote to his ambassador in England, that if it appeared that the Princess would be forced into some other union (he feared with Cromwell) they were to see whether it would be possible to carry her out of the country. Henry told Gardiner to answer any inquiries about the Lady Mary’s marriage with Don Loys, that it was “neither agreed upon nor in any towardness”. Further, in his instructions to Sir Thomas Wyatt, whom he was sending as envoy to Charles, he told him that if the Emperor marvelled, that there was no furtherance in the matter, he should reply that Mendoza brought no commission for it, and came so slenderly despatched that the default is not since supplied, and thinks the matter scarcely in earnest.[214]

All these excuses were made to gain time. If a prince were born and lived, there would be less danger in sending Mary abroad, but among so many aspirants to her hand, Henry was resolved only to part with her to the highest bidder, if, indeed, he parted with her at all. The match with the Duke of Orleans was perhaps the most to his liking, but Francis demanded that she should be declared legitimate, and that was the only thing Henry was quite resolved not to do. If he had no son, all foreign princes would agree, in spite of him, in looking upon her as his rightful heir, and in view of such a contingency he could not afford to let her go out of the kingdom. His difficulties were so far understood on the continent, as to create a general apprehension that he would marry her to Cromwell.

In the midst of the universal tension, the Queen was brought to bed on the 12th October, vigil of Edward the Confessor. But so slowly did even great news travel in those days, that on the 17th, in many parts of the country, the people were still praying for a prince, while in others, vague rumours were beginning to circulate to the effect that they had one. The circumstance was not known in Brussels till the 20th, when the Emperor expressed his satisfaction, and said he thought that his cousin Mary was delivered of a great burden.[215]

At the christening of Prince Edward, “the most dearest son of King Henry,” Mary was the most prominent figure as godmother. She walked next to the canopy, under which the royal infant was carried, her train being borne by Lady Kingston. Then the chrism (for the Prince’s confirmation) ”richly garnished was borne by the Lady Elizabeth, the King’s daughter, the same lady for her tender age being borne by the Viscount Beauchamp, with the assistance of the Lord Morley”. On the return of the procession from the church, Elizabeth walked by the side of Mary, who held her hand, and the Prince “was taken to the King and Queen, and had the blessing of God, our Lady and St. George, and of his father and mother”. A Te Deum was sung in St. Paul’s and in other churches of the city, and great fires were made in every street. There was much “goodly banqueting, shooting of guns all day and night, and great gifts were distributed”.

The nation’s joy, which was undoubtedly deep and sincere, can hardly be said to have turned into mourning, when the news was spread that the good Queen had received the Sacraments of Penance and Extreme Unction, and was dying. It was not merely that the people had not had time to become attached to her, but the sixteenth century set no great value on human life in general, and that of a queen consort was held exceptionally cheap in England. It was a time when there might indeed be indignation for wrongs, and tears for a friend’s misfortune; but little grief was felt for bodily sufferings or death. Deeply as Katharine of Arragon was beloved by English men and women, and loudly as they expressed their sense of the injuries inflicted on her, her death would perhaps have caused little emotion, had it not been accompanied by suspicious circumstances. When Anne Boleyn went to her doom, even her friends were indifferent, although the obvious unfairness of her trial aroused pity and abhorrence. The Duke of Richmond’s funeral passed almost unnoticed; and if the executions after the Northern Rising sent a thrill of horror through the country, this was produced by butcheries such as had never before been known. That which was natural and inevitable excited little notice, and Gardiner was not more wanting in sensibility than the rest of his contemporaries, when he crudely charged the envoys to announce to the King of France, that “though the Prince is well, and sucketh like a child of his puissance, the Queen, by the neglect of those about her, who suffered her to take cold, and eat such things as her fantasy in sickness called for, is dead”.[216] He went on to say that “the King though he takes this chance reasonably, is little disposed to marry again, but some of his Council have thought it meet to urge him to it, for the sake of his realm, and he has framed his mind both to be indifferent to the thing, and to the election of any person from any part that with deliberation shall be thought meet”.

Queen Jane died on the 24th October, and in a letter to Lord Lisle on the 3rd November Sir John Wallop says: “The King is in good health, and merry as a widower may be, the Prince also”.[217]

By command of the Duke of Norfolk, twelve hundred Masses were ordered to be said for the repose of the Queen’s soul, and a solemn Dirge and Requiem were sung at St. Paul’s. Jane had died at Hampton Court, but was buried at Windsor, on the 12th November, Mary being chief mourner at her funeral, following the hearse on horseback at a foot’s pace. Her palfrey was in black velvet trappings and her train was held up by eight ladies of the highest rank.

THE DESIRE OF ALL EYES.

1537-1547.

Mary was now the most prominent princess in Europe. The character, the accomplishments, the personal charms of none were so amply discussed, so widely known, so universally admired. Her beauty is spoken of in terms which to modern ears sound extravagant. There was scarcely a marriageable representative of any royal house, who did not aspire to her hand, for strange as it seems, there is no sign that her political value was diminished by the birth of an heir to the throne. If Henry would but have consented to declare her legitimate, Francis I. would have entered eagerly into a fresh negotiation for her marriage with the Duke of Orleans, the question of which was being constantly renewed during the next few years.[218] Sir William Paget, the English ambassador in France, did his best to promote the match in 1542, and Henry would have been far more likely to make concessions to please Francis, than for any other consideration, but to give in on that point would have been to stultify all that he had done. The Emperor’s candidate had less chance still. He had never been a persona grata at the English court, and however anxious Henry was to avoid war, he was far from contemplating a close alliance with Charles. There remained the German Protestant princes, the Emperor’s enemies, and they admirably suited Henry’s purpose of hampering Charles in every possible way; but when this policy threatened to push him into the arms of France, Henry abandoned the Lutherans, greatly to Cromwell’s disgust, and suggested that Charles, then a widower, should take Mary, and his son Philip, her sister Elizabeth. The proposal was sufficient to save the situation, without committing him to anything definite, knowing as he did full well, that it would be met by a demand for Mary’s rehabilitation, without which no step in the direction of such a marriage would be taken.

It is easy to form a notion of Mary’s personal appearance during these years, for besides the portraits painted by Holbein, who generally aimed at faithful likenesses, remarks on her face and form are sandwiched into most of the longer despatches of the ambassadors of all the principal powers of Europe. Marillac, the French envoy, wrote more soberly than most of them, for he was not much inclined to a closer friendship between his master and a renegade of Henry’s kidney, the excesses “of this King” being a theme on which he and his colleagues dwelt freely. He describes Mary as ”twenty-four years of age, of medium height, with well-proportioned features, and a perfect complexion, which makes her look as if she were but eighteen. Her voice is full and deep, and rather more masculine in tone than her father’s. Some praise her musical talents, others her proficiency in languages, others her dancing; all feel the charm of her goodness and benignity, and the pure atmosphere that surrounds her, in marvellous contrast to the tainted air of the court.”[219]

The author of The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria observes, in the stiff phraseology of the time, that when she grew older she was commended “to the most noble and Catholic princess, the lady Mary, so persuaded by her grandfather Sidney, whom two of his daughters had served before, and died in her service much favoured of her Highness for their virtue. When the queens (the wives of King Henry) had sought with much importunity to have them in their service, they would by no means leave the lady Mary, although the King himself requested it. In those days the house of this princess was the only harbour for honourable young gentlewomen given any way to piety and devotion. It was the true school of virtuous demeanour, befitting the education that ought to be in noble damsels, and the greatest lords of the kingdom were suitors to her to receive their daughters in her service.“[220]

It was perhaps mainly on account of the esteem in which she was held, at home and abroad, that Mary was the object of so jealous a supervision on the part of Henry’s Council. The parents and guardians of the many “noble damsels” who desired an asylum in her house were peremptorily informed that she might have no more than the prescribed number; and occasionally one or two would be dismissed in the most arbitrary manner, no reason being given. Her every movement was watched with suspicion, and even when she was supposed to be enjoying her father’s favour, she was continually on the verge of losing it, for the most innocent causes. She could not exercise the least hospitality without being subjected to annoyance, and in May 1538, the fact of her having entertained guests, whom she allowed to sleep under her roof, was made a matter of accusation to the Council. Her reply to Cromwell’s remonstrance and warning is significant of the bondage in which she was held.

Henry and Cromwell were both anxious to detach her from the Emperor, and they tried to do so by creating a misunderstanding between them, telling Mary that he had been wanting in zeal to promote her marriage. Hurtado de Mendoza was still in England, and Cromwell wrote to inform her that the ambassador extraordinary would pay her a visit with Chapuys, at the same time advising her to complain to them of the Emperor’s coldness on the subject of Don Loys’s suit. But Mary was not for an instant misled as to Cromwell’s intention, and her answer to his letter shows that she was learning how to deal with his unscrupulous policy. On the 24th August 1538, she wrote:—

She then at once communicated Cromwell’s letter to the envoys, in order that they might be prepared with an answer, when they came to see her. Chapuys, on behalf of both, thus described the whole matter to the Emperor, six days later:—

“The King granted us permission to visit the Prince and the Princess, though we perceived that had we not applied for such permission, he himself would have requested us to go, for he evidently wished the latter to speak to us, as prescribed in a letter of Sir Cromwell, addressed to her in his (the King’s) name. The substance of the letter was that she (the Princess) had heard from an authentic quarter, the dissimulation employed by us, your Majesty’s ambassadors, in the discussion of the affair concerning her individually, and that from the fact of your Majesty being her good lord and cousin, all people would have thought that your kindness and friendship towards her would have been of greater magnitude. Being a woman, she could not help saying so much to us; not indeed that she felt any particular desire or anxiety for the issue of the matter in question (since she only obeyed in that respect the commands of her most gracious and loving father the King, in whom, after God, she placed all her trust) but because after so many overtures and fine words, nothing had been concluded, as she heard; and also because when merchants were in the habit of bestowing as a dower on their daughters, one fourth of their annual revenue in cash, we Imperial ministers should only have offered 20,000 ducats, and even those so uncertain as to the manner of settlement, that had misfortune obliged her to leave England, and have recourse to her dower, she might perhaps never have known upon what her revenue was settled. Sir Cromwell, as it appears, had besides, written to her to use the very words of the letter, coupled with such gentle terms as her own wisdom and natural discretion might suggest, and immediately inform him of what passed at the interview with us. We must observe that the contents of Sir Cromwell’s letter to the Princess had been duly communicated by her to us, the day before we called, that we might be prepared to shape our answer in writing; which we did accordingly, that she herself might transmit it to her father the King.

“The answer, as we flatter ourselves, is courteous and satisfactory for both parties. We omit it for fear of lengthening this despatch of ours already too prolix perhaps.

“After visiting the Prince, who is the prettiest child we ever set eyes upon, we returned to the Princess, and began again, to speak about Sir Cromwell’s letter, and our own answer to it. After a good deal of conversation on the subject, the Princess said to us, that all her hopes centred in God, and your Imperial Majesty, and that she held you in the room of father and mother, and was so affectionately attached to you, that it seemed almost impossible to her to have such an affection and love for a kinsman. She knew perfectly well, that it had not been your fault, if the affair of her marriage had remained in the state in which it is, that she really believed what we had told her to be the exact truth, in spite of the efforts made to persuade her to the contrary. Indeed, she owned to us, that about last Lent, the King her father had tried to convince her that your Imperial Majesty proceeded in the affair with the utmost dissimulation, and without any wish whatsoever to treat of it, so much so that it seemed as if the whole thing had been planned, in order to bring discredit upon him (the King). She, the Princess, had before and after her father’s representations, experienced that the contrary was the case, and therefore she was now ready to act one way or the other, whichever your Imperial Majesty decided, respecting the marriage proposal. This seemed to us a fair opportunity to ask her, as we did, then and there, whether in case of a favourable opportunity presenting itself, she would have courage enough to leave England by stealth. To this question of ours, the Princess, from modesty, as we presume, did at first show some reluctance to reply. Then she said that she could not say yes or no, for things might arrive at such a pitch, and the occasion for her departure from this country might become so propitious and favourable, that she would have no scruple or difficulty at all in leaving. Anyhow she would let me know her intentions on that score; for it might happen after all, that the King her father might hereafter show greater consideration for her, or cause her to be more respected and better treated than she had been until now; in which case, she would much prefer remaining in England, and conforming herself entirely to her father’s commands and wishes, obeying him implicitly and so forth, though still acting by my advice. Such was the Princess’s language in the two long conferences we held with her. In short, she begged us to present to your Majesty her most humble commendations, until she herself did so by letter.”[223]

Mary had reasons enough to dread worse treatment, in spite of her humble expressions of submissive obedience. After the first flush of her reconciliation and return to court, and more especially after the death of Queen Jane, who had always befriended her, Henry’s irritation broke out afresh. At Easter 1538, the mourning for the Queen being over, Lady Kingston sent to Wriothesley, Keeper of the Wardrobe and Cromwell’s Secretary, “to know the King’s pleasure whether my Lady Mary’s grace should leave wearing of black this Easter or not”. She received the ungracious reply that the Lady Mary might wear “what colour she would”. Nothing daunted, Lady Kingston again wrote, “My Lady’s grace desireth you now to be a suitor to the King’s grace, for her wearing her whiten taffety edged with velvet, which used to be to his own liking, whenever he saw her grace, and suiteth to this joyful feast of our Lord’s holy rising from the dead”.[224] There is no answer to this letter, but about the same time there is a warrant in Cromwell’s Remembrances, written in Wriothesley’s hand, “for apparell for my Lady Mary”.[225]

During the whole of this year, although supposed to be in favour, Mary was not only in an uncomfortable, but in a more or less dangerous position. She was virtually a prisoner in her own house, and was not even allowed to take the exercise which her health needed. Henry saw her occasionally and dined with her at Richmond in May; but she was closely watched, and scarcely ever permitted to appear in public, while the sums allowed for her household expenses were painfully inadequate.

On the 14th September, Mendoza wrote to Charles V., that when he last saw her, she was in good health, but he had heard, that she had been unwell for the last few days, and that he thought the cause of it was to be found in the confinement in which she lived, “for nowadays she is kept much closer, and more poorly than before”. This new piece of persecution had for its sole object to force her to give up her only powerful friend, the Emperor, whose advice to her Henry felt was continually getting in the way of his own particular affairs. He could not apparently convince her that Charles’s friendship was not disinterested, but at least he could keep her a constant “suitor,” and in the humble position of a beggar, at his own royal and sacred feet. The letter which she wrote to Cromwell, in her urgent need for money, was entirely after the despot’s heart.

Soon after writing this letter, the whirligig of her father’s caprice placed her again at court, and from the beginning of the following year, she was the subject of one matrimonial scheme after another, Henry even pretending to go so far as to associate her with his own plans for a fourth marriage. In January 1539 Christopher Mont or Mount, a German agent in his service, was instructed to proceed to the court of the Duke of Saxony, and treat with Burgartus the Duke’s Vice-chancellor concerning a marriage, between the young Duke of Cleves and the Lady Mary. There is an amusing difference between Henry’s solemn, if hollow forms of negotiation with the first-rate powers of Europe, and the polite contempt with which he treats the petty German princes. If Burgartus desire “the picture of her face,” and say he wrote for it, Mont is to remind him that she is a King’s daughter, and that it was never seen, that the pictures of persons of such degree were sent abroad. Burgartus moreover has seen her, “and can testify of her proportion, countenance and beauty, and though she is only the King’s natural daughter, she is endued, as all the world knows, with such beauty, learning and virtue, that when the rest is agreed, no man would stick for any part concerning her beauty and goodness”.

Having disposed of this matter, Cromwell, in his instructions to Mont, goes on to say that he is diligently to inquire of the beauty and qualities of the elder of the two daughters of the Duke of Cleves, her shape, stature and complexion, and if he hear she is “such as might be likened unto his Majesty,” he shall tell Burgartus, that Cromwell, tendering the King’s alliance in Germany, “would be glad to induce the King to join with them, specially for the Duke of Saxony’s sake, who is allied there, and to make a cross marriage between the young Duke of Cleves and Lady Mary, and the King and the elder daughter of Cleves; for as yet, he knows no conclusion, in any of the overtures of marriage made to his grace in France or Flanders”. But first it was expedient that they should send her portrait. Mont is not to speak as if demanding her, “but rather to give them a prick to offer her”.[227]

Mont performed his mission zealously, and pressed the matter, urging daily, that the portrait of the lady might be sent to England. The Duke promised to send it, but explained that his painter Lucas Cranach was sick at home; and meanwhile Mont wrote, that as for her beauty she was said “to surpass the Duchess of Milan, as the golden sun surpassed the silver moon”.[228] The affair concerning the Lady Anne of Cleves continued its course, and the ultimate sending of her portrait to Henry has been duly chronicled by all writers on his fourth marriage. But the subject of her brother’s union with Mary was alternately dropped and revived, until it was at length allowed to die away in silence. Both schemes were the product of Cromwell’s ingenuity. They register the height to which Lutheran influence in the Church of England had risen at this period, the first decisive step towards his downfall and the return to more Catholic doctrines.

It was while Lutheran doctrines were still in the ascendant in England, and Mary’s possible bestowal on a Lutheran prince was everywhere discussed, that the Empress Isabella died, and immediately rumours were afloat that Charles would marry his cousin. The French at once took alarm, and Marillac, their ambassador in England, asked Henry what truth there was in the report. Henry replied, that whoever proposed such a thing must be out of his senses, although he had himself put the suggestion before Charles. He affected indignation, and declared that he could never trust the Emperor, who had once broken his promise to him, and who was always looking out for an opportunity of setting the Christian princes one against the other, to serve his own ambition, which was so great, that were he the sole monarch of Christendom he would not be satisfied.[229]

Nevertheless, he was not believed, and Melancthon complained, that in England the pious doctrine was again oppressed and adversaries triumphed, and that some suspected it was owing to the deliberations for the marriage of the Emperor with the King of England’s daughter. The French ambassador in Rome said that the Pope was in dread, lest Charles should ally himself with the great enemy of the Church. Reginald Pole, then in Rome, wrote to Cardinal Contarini; “They say it is in treaty to give the Princess to the Emperor. May God do what is best.” There was certainly some excuse for these surmises in the Catholic reaction taking place in England, a reaction however that had as little real bearing on an alliance with the Empire as it had, according to some, on a possible reconciliation with the Pope. Those who had opposed the King on the subject of his first divorce, and who still maintained the validity of his marriage with Katharine of Arragon, were as much in danger as ever, none of his subsequent matrimonial complications effacing the resentments which the first had inspired. He was never less inclined, however much he might persecute heretics, to make up his quarrel with Rome, and Cromwell was still the powerful enemy of the Catholic party, in spite of his having been thwarted by the King in his championship of the German reformers. He could still strike with the other side of his two-edged sword, and the terror of his name was great; for although Henry and his chief secretary were at variance on the subject of sacraments, there was a perfect understanding between them in the matter of the royal supremacy, and headship, and as to the coercive measures necessary to enforce them.

The principal object of their vengeance at this time was Reginald Pole, not merely on account of the book he had written On the Unity of the Church, but more especially because he had appealed to the Emperor to execute the Bull of Deposition fulminated by the Pope against Henry. All attempts to lure him back to England had failed, but he was not therefore to remain entirely unpunished. As it was not possible to strike him directly, he must suffer through the helpless and innocent members of his family, who were still in Henry’s power. In default of the son, there was nothing to prevent reprisals on the mother, and a parliamentary roll, dated 28th April 1539, records the arrest and attainder of Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury, of Lord Montague her eldest son, and of several others. The only crimes imputed to them were their correspondence with Reginald Pole and their having “named and promulged that venemous serpent the Bishop of Rome to be supreme head of the Church of England”.

A letter from John Worth to Lord Lisle, after Lady Salisbury’s arrest, contains a curious allusion to the old project of betrothing the Princess Mary to her kinsman.

“Pleaseth your Lordship so it is that there was a coat armour found in the Duchess of Salisbury’s coffer, and by the one side of the coat, there was the King’s grace his arms of England, that is the lions without the fleur de lys, and about the whole arms was made pansies for Pole, and marygolds for my Lady Mary. This was about the coat armour. And betwixt the marygold and the pansy was made a tree to rise in the midst, and on the tree a coat of purple hanging on a bough, in token of the coat of Christ, and on the other side of the coat all the Passion of Christ. Pole intended to have married my lady Mary, and betwixt them both should again arise the old doctrine of Christ. This was the intent that the coat was made, as it is openly known in the Parliament house, as Master Sir George Speke showed me. And this my lady Marquess, my lady Salisbury, Sir Adrian Forskew [Fortescue], Sir Thomas Dingley with divers others are attainted to die by act of Parliament.”[230]

Pole thus wrote of his mother’s arrest to Cardinal Contarini:—

“You have heard, I believe of my mother being condemned by public council to death, or rather to eternal life. Not only has he who condemned her, condemned to death a woman of seventy, than whom he has no nearer relation except his daughter, and of whom he used to say there was no holier woman in his kingdom, but at the same time, her grandson, son of my brother, a child, the remaining hope of our race. See how far this tyranny has gone, which began with priests, in whose order it only consumed the best, then [went on] to nobles, and there too destroyed the best. At length it has come to women and innocent children; for not only my mother is condemned, but the wife of that marquis [of Exeter] who was slain with my brother, whose goodness was famous and whose little son is to follow her. Comparing these things with what the Turk has done in the East, there is no doubt but that Christians can suffer worse under this western Turk.”[231]

In Cromwell’s Remembrances occurs this entry: “What the King will have done with the Lady of Salisbury”.[232] It was his pleasure that she should languish in prison for two years, before her grey head was brought to the scaffold, but her son, Lord Montague, had suffered no such delay. Together with Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter he had been arrested, the latter for no other crime than for saying, “Knaves rule about the King,” and that he trusted “to give them a buffet some day,” and together they were beheaded on Tower Hill. Courtenay’s young son Edward, mentioned in Pole’s letter, remained in the Tower, grew up there, and was liberated by Mary in person on her accession.

Chapuys describes Lady Salisbury’s execution in the Tower, in presence of the Lord Mayor and about 150 persons. He says that when informed of her sentence she found it very strange, not knowing her crime; but she walked to the space in front of the Tower where there was no scaffold, but only a small block, and there commended her soul to God. She desired those present to pray for the King, Queen, Prince and Princess. The ordinary executioner being absent, a “blundering garçonneau” performed the office, who hacked her head and shoulders to pieces.[233]

There is no trace in the public records of the immediate effect produced on Mary by these frightful occurrences, except that Chapuys reports to the Emperor that “the Princess has been very ill, and in some danger of her life, but thanks to God she is beginning to recover, and there is a hope that owing to the good diet prescribed by her physicians, and the great care her father, and her own servants take of her, she will soon recover completely”.

She knew by experience, how slight a remark would suffice to place her own head in jeopardy, and acutely as she would feel the awful fate of her best friends, especially that of one to whom she owed next to her mother all her early training in that “virtue and goodness” of which even her father was proud, she dared not give utterance to the least word of sorrow, or even show a mournful countenance lest she should excite his wrath. When the strain became too great, the nervous tension ended in a complete break-down that must have been a relief. When we consider that even thoughts, sympathies and friendships were interpreted high-treason by this “western Turk,” and that Mary’s mental attitude was well-known to him, her hair-breadth escapes partake of the marvellous. In spite of her yielding to his every demand, he knew full well that his daughter had never given an interior consent to his new laws, and that in the eyes of Europe, he was on account of those same laws an object of derision. The only way in which he could claim respect for himself and for them was by becoming a terror. There is no doubt that Mary was still of value to him in playing off one of his allies against another, but at any moment it might suit his policy better to behead her, than to pretend to dispose of her in marriage. Cromwell, it is true, seemed to be her friend, but in the past, he had been the origin of her troubles, and it was evident to all, that his friendship would be as chaff before the wind, if she stood between him and the attainment of his purpose. It has been more than once pointed out by biographers of Cromwell, that he was not unnecessarily cruel, that he never sent any to the block from private passion, that he took no delight in bloodshed for its own sake. Neither was he accessible to any feeling of generosity or pity. All the thews and sinews of his make were of iron; humanity he esteemed a weakness, and altogether beside his one absorbing study of the advancement of self, by ministering to the greed, vanity and caprice of his master. He at last came to understand Henry’s character better than his own, and could have foretold the doom that awaited him, if he had been able to estimate the extent of his own capacity to satisfy the tyrant.

But for her tact and judgment, cultivated by Chapuys, Mary must inevitably, like innumerable others, even after her supreme sacrifice, have been crushed between these two millstones.

Henry had concluded the negotiations for his marriage with Anne of Cleves, in the autumn of 1539, and the lady arrived in England before the end of the year. But the subject of Mary’s union with Anne’s brother having now been dropped, another aspirant to her hand appeared on the scene. This was Philip, Duke of Bavaria, nephew of the Count Palatine, whose wooing was surrounded with some little romance. The preliminaries for this proposed marriage went farther, and gave more promise of fulfilment than any of the various plans for the disposal of the Princess since her childhood. The object of Duke Philip’s visit to England was at first kept secret, although Marillac, the shrewd ambassador of Francis I., was not long in discovering it. “There is a talk,” he wrote to Montmorency, “of the marriage of this King’s eldest daughter with the young Duke of the house of Bavaria, but there seems no appearance of it, except that he will not give her to a powerful prince, lest he should afterwards raise some claim to this crown.”[234]

Sir Thomas Wriothesley was sent to Hertford Castle, where Mary was then residing, to announce to her this new proposal. It does not appear whether she had any warning of his errand, Chapuys being then absent from England, and although her agreement to whatever marriage Henry might decide on for her was a foregone conclusion, Wriothesley’s account of the interview and her own answer to Cromwell are interesting documents.

Wriothesley wrote as follows:—

It is to be regretted that Mary’s letter to her father on this occasion has been lost, but to Cromwell she wrote as follows:—

Henry’s sole object in this negotiation appears to have been to hoodwink the Emperor into a belief that he was again throwing himself on the side of the German Princes, and to secure this, he allowed matters to go further towards a conclusion than he had ever before suffered them to go. With a great pretence of secrecy, he took care that the French and Imperial ambassadors should know all about the affair. Marillac wrote on the 27th December, to say that the news he communicated to Montmorency on the 24th was confirmed “touching the marriage of the lady Mary with the Duke of Bavaria, who three or four days ago, as secretly as he could, went to visit her in a house of the Abbot of Westminster, in the gardens of the Abbey, a mile from this town, whither she had been brought. After having kissed her, which is an argument either of marriage or of near relationship, seeing that since the death of the late marquis, no lord of this kingdom has dared to go so far, the said Duke had a long conversation with her, partly in German, through an interpretator, and partly in Latin, of which she is not ignorant. Finally, they mutually declared, the said lord his resolution, taken with this King, to have her for wife, ‘pourveu que sa personne luy feust agréable,’ and the said lady her willingness to obey her father. He cannot say when the marriage will come off, but some think in fifteen or twenty days; others that the weddings of father and daughter will be on the same day, that is, as soon as the lady, who is at Calais arrives. She is only detained by the wind, which yesterday was not contrary.”[237]

The Duke presented his supposed fiancée with a cross of diamonds set with four pearls, and one great pearl pendant,[238] and there the matter ended for the moment. Anne of Cleves had landed at Deal, and Henry was taken up with the subject of his own marriage.

A letter in the Record Office from Henry VIII. to some person unnamed, commands him to prepare himself “and all other things meet and convenient, to bring unto us our entirely beloved daughters, the ladies Mary and Elizabeth, in such honourable sort as you can”. They were among the foremost to receive their father’s bride, and took part in the wedding festivities. These were however clouded by the royal bridegroom’s disappointment on seeing the lady. Reports of her beauty, and also of her want of beauty have been greatly exaggerated. Henry remarked to Cromwell that she was “nothing so fair as she had been reported,” that she was ”well and seemly, but nothing else”.[239] The wedding took place on the feast of the Epiphany, 1540, with marked reluctance on Henry’s part. He afterwards said that he would never have married her, “but for fear of making a ruffle in the world, and of driving her brother into the hands of the Emperor and the French King”.[240] But his discontent was kept secret for a time, although the day after his marriage he pointedly asked Cromwell, “What remedy?” Cromwell said he knew of none, and hoped for the best. He had been more facile in the case of Queen Katharine and of Anne Boleyn, but his ingenuity seemed to have forsaken him at the moment when it might have saved him from ruin. His fall was as swift and as unforeseen by himself, as that of any of the victims of his policy.

On the 11th June, the French ambassador wrote to Francis I.: “I have just been informed that Master Thomas Cramvel Keeper of the Privy Seal of this King, and his Vicar General in things spiritual, who since the death of the Cardinal had the principal management of the affairs of this kingdom and had lately been made Grand Chamberlain, was an hour ago led prisoner to the Tower of London, and all his goods seized and confiscated. Although this might be thought a private matter and of little importance, inasmuch as they have but reduced a personage thus to the condition from which they raised him, treating him only as they all say he deserved, nevertheless, considering the consequence of the matter, ... especially as regards the innovations in religion, of which the said Cramvel had been the principal author, the news seems to me of so much importance, that it ought to be communicated forthwith.” Later on he adds:—

“Sire, as I was on the point of closing this letter, a gentleman of the Court came to me from the King his master to tell me not to be surprised that Cramvel had been sent to the Tower, and that as the common, ignorant people as usual spoke of it variously, and in such a manner as to mislead one, I might think and write accordingly, he wished me to know the truth, and the reason why he had taken him all invested in authority as he was”. He goes on to say that the King, according to his own statement, wished to settle religious matters in England on a Catholic basis, and was opposed by Cromwell, who was in league with the German Lutherans, and working against his master and the Acts of Parliament; that he had betrayed himself, and said that he hoped to do away with the old preachers, so that the new ones would be listened to, adding that “the affair would soon be brought to such a pass, that the King with all his power would not be able to prevent it, but that his own party would be so strong that he would make the King descend to the new doctrines, even if he had to take arms against him, in which case, he reckoned that he would not be inferior but rather superior in power, and able to establish that which he had long proposed to do”.[241]

This was Henry’s version of his minister’s disgrace, and there was, beyond doubt, an element of truth in it, but the immediate irritating cause of Henry’s displeasure was, as we shall presently see, Cromwell’s guilt in providing him with a wife whom he disliked, and his inability to release him from a bond, for the forming of which he was mainly responsible. Meanwhile, Marillac gives an interesting description of Cromwell’s arrest:—

“To begin with the day of his taking, in the Council Chamber of this King’s house at Westminster—as soon as the Lieutenant of the Tower declared the charge he had received from the King, to take him prisoner, the said Cramvel, moved with indignation, took off his cap and threw it on the ground in a rage, saying to the Duke of Norfolk, and others of the Privy Council there assembled, that this then was the reward of his good services towards the King, and that he appealed to their consciences as to whether he was a traitor; but as he was treated thus, he renounced all the mercy and pardon that might be done to him, as one who never thought to have offended, and that all he asked of the King his master, if he had such an opinion of him was, not to let him languish long. Thereupon, some said he was a traitor, others that it was meet he should be judged by the laws he had himself made, which were so bloody, that often words which had been spoken inadvertently, with a good intention, he had constituted high treason. The Duke of Norfolk, having reproached him with some villanies done by him, snatched off the order of St. George, which he wore round his neck, and the Admiral, to show himself as great an enemy in adversity, as he had been thought a friend in prosperity, untied the Garter. Then by a door which opens upon the water, he was put into a boat, and taken to the Tower, without the people of this city suspecting it, until they saw all the King’s archers under Mr. Cheyney at the door of the prisoner’s house, where they made an inventory of his goods, which were not of such value as it was thought, although too much for a fellow of his cloth. The money was £7,000 sterling, equal to 28,000 crowns of our currency, and the silver plate, including crosses, chalices, mitres, vases and other spoils of the Church, might amount to rather more. These moveables were taken before night to the King’s treasury, which is a sign that they will not be restored. The next day, were found several letters which he had written to, or received from the German lords who adhered to the doctrines of Luther. I have not been able to learn their contents, except that this King was so embittered against the said Cramvel, that he will no longer hear him spoken of, but desires as soon as possible to abolish all memory of him, as the meanest wretch ever born in England. To begin, this King at once distributed all his offices as it pleased him, and had it proclaimed that no one should call him Lord Privy Seal or by any other title of estate, but only Thomas Cramvel, Shearman, depriving him of all his privileges and prerogatives of nobility, which he had before given him, dividing his less valuable effects among the servants of the prisoner, who were commanded no longer to wear their master’s livery. Wherefore it is inferred, Sire, that the said Cramvel will not be judged according to the solemnity used to the great of this country, nor beheaded as they are, but will be dragged along like an ignoble person, and afterwards hanged and quartered. A few days will show, especially as they have resolved to empty the Tower at this Parliament, which finishes with this month.”[242]

Cromwell’s tone of indignation, real or pretended, changed to one of the humblest entreaty for mercy as soon as he was lodged in the Tower. His letters to the King were contemptible. Henry replied to them by ordering him to write an account of all he knew about his marriage with Anne of Cleves, and having had ample experience of his ex-minister’s complaisance in his matrimonial affairs, he was justified in thinking that Cromwell would not stick at trifles now. The result was a detailed story of the whole matter, with the very words that had passed between himself and the King, the day after the marriage, most of which is unfit to print.[243] But nothing that he could write or say availed to save him; the axe that he had so long held over the heads of the nation fell at last on his own head, the only favour granted to him being the manner of his death, for he had been condemned to be hanged. According to the proceedings which he had himself instituted, he was attainted in Parliament in his absence, and convicted without a hearing. Hated by every member of the Council, feared throughout the realm, disliked and suspected abroad, he was regretted by none. Cranmer who had been his only friend, styling him, “Mine own entirely beloved Cromwell,” did as he had done on Anne Boleyn’s arrest, and wrote to Henry that he stood amazed and grieved, but was glad as a loyal subject, that Cromwell’s treasons had been discovered![244]

The nation once more breathed freely, and even on the continent considerable relief was felt. The Constable of France said that “every honest man was much bound to God and Henry, that Christendom should be dispatched of such a ribald who thought to have my lady Mary in marriage”; and the Portuguese ambassador in France was heard to say that Henry was like to have made Cromwell a duke, and then have given him his daughter, as he had given his sister to the Duke of Suffolk, and that therefore Cromwell did his best to break every marriage proposed for her. He swore he could not remember who first told him, “but the bruit was common among ambassadors two years past”.[245]

Meanwhile, the new Queen had been sent to Richmond, ostensibly to be out of reach of the plague, and it was given out that Henry would follow her there in a few days. But proceedings for a divorce had been already instituted in Parliament, and in an incredibly short space of time her marriage with the King was declared null, by reason of her pre-contract with the son of the Duke of Lorraine. She was endowed with lands, to the value of £4,000 annually, with two houses to live in, one at Richmond, the other at Bletchingly.

With this arrangement Anne was perfectly content. She expressed her willingness to be divorced, and had desired the Duke of Cleves’ messenger “to commend her to her brother and say she was merry and well entreated. This she did with such alacrity and pleasant gesture, that he may well testify that he found her not miscontented. After she had dined, she sent the King the ring delivered unto her at their pretended marriage, desiring that it might be broken in pieces, as a thing which she knew of no force or value.” Henry sent her many gifts and tokens, “as his sister and none otherwise,” in which capacity she was to be the first lady in the realm, next after the Queen and the King’s children. In his letters Henry exhorts her to be “quiet and merry,” which injunction she seems to have obeyed, without any great effort, and he subscribes himself “Your loving brother and friend”. A douceur was administered to the Duke of Cleves, and all parties concerned were as well pleased and friendly as possible. After Henry’s fifth marriage, Anne was spoken of as “the old Queen, the King’s sister”.

Whatever others said of these startling events, Mary apparently said nothing. Not a single remark of hers is chronicled that might be an indication of her feelings on the fall of Cromwell. He had been her greatest foe, but had seemed in later years to befriend her, and she believed that she owed her father’s restored favour to his intercession. Whether he really aspired to her hand, and whether she knew of it, must remain one of the mysteries of the reign. That he had worked with Henry on her behalf is certain, and perhaps her fear of him was balanced by gratitude, a sentiment which Mary alone of all the Tudors seems to have cherished. Many of her appeals to Cromwell had been penned in charitable solicitude for servants of her own and her mother’s, for she never forgot a service rendered, and never hesitated to become importunate, where the welfare and comfort of her dependants were concerned. Among a number of such appeals is one of the year 1537, in which she desires him to have in remembrance “mine earnest suit made unto you for mistress Coke, my mother’s old servant, touching the farm of Rysbridge, belonging to the new college in Oxford, the warden whereof hath neither used you nor me, as I think gently therein. And therefore, as my sheet-anchor, next the king’s majesty, I recommend it wholly unto you, and even so beseech our Lord to send you no worse to fare than I would myself.”[246]

In December 1540, Henry married Katharine Howard, grand-daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, whose reputation was already so bad, that it is impossible to believe him to have been ignorant of it. She complained to Henry of not being treated by Mary with the same respect as she had shown to the two preceding Queens. An attempt was made about the same time to remove from the Princess’s household two of her maidservants, a petty piece of persecution which it was thought came from the new Queen’s hostility. Some means of conciliation was however found, and the two maids were allowed to remain, but this was not the only trouble of the kind, for Chapuys, writing to the Queen of Hungary, says that Mary is well in health, “though exceedingly distressed and sad, at the death of one of her damsels, who has actually died of grief at having been removed from her service by the King’s order”. Nevertheless, Mary had been too well schooled in adversity to indulge in resentment, and she sent Katharine a New Year’s present, with which Henry was much pleased, as well as with her present to him, and sent her messenger back to her with two magnificent gifts from himself and the Queen. She still contrived to hold herself aloof from the court, but the deposed Queen Anne seems to have had no such scruple, and Marillac gives a description of her New Year’s visit to the King and her rival, which is too amusing to be passed over. In a letter to Francis he says:—

“Sire, to omit nothing that may be written about this country, Madame Anne, sister of the Duke of Cleves formerly Queen of England, passed the recent festivities at Richmond, four miles from Hampton Court, to which place, the King and also the Queen sent her on the first day of the year rich presents of clothes, plate and jewels, valued at six or seven thousand crowns. And on the second day, she was summoned to appear at Hampton Court, where she was very honourably conducted by several of the nobility, and being arrived, this king received her very graciously as did also the queen, with whom she remained nearly the whole afternoon. They danced together, and seemed so happy that neither did the new queen appear to be jealous or afraid that the other had come to raise the siege, as it was rumoured, nor did the said lady of Cleves show any sign of discontent at seeing her rival in her place. Moreover, Sire, if it please you to hear the end of this farce, that evening and the next, the two ladies supped at the King’s table together, although the lady of Cleves sat a little backward in a corner, where the Princess of England, Madame Mary is wont to be; and the following day, the said lady of Cleves returned with the same escort to Richmond, where she is visited by all the personages of the court, which makes people think that she is about to be reinstated in her former position.”[247]

In May, Henry and Katharine went to visit Prince Edward at Mary’s request, “but chiefly,” says Chapuys, “at the intercession of the Queen herself”. Henry gave Mary on this occasion full permission to reside at court, “and the Queen,” Chapuys adds, “has countenanced it with a good grace”. Mary had therefore no choice but to spend the next few months with her new stepmother, keeping outwardly on good terms with her, and presenting a strange contrast to her surroundings. When at last it suited Henry to have his eyes opened to Katharine’s outrageously loose conduct, his indignation, or that which passed for such, knew no bounds. During her trial, the palace at Hampton Court, where she was imprisoned, was so strictly guarded that none but certain officers could enter or leave it. Mary was sent away, and her father announced that he was heart-broken at the Queen’s immorality and perfidy. Anne of Cleves was thought by Chapuys to rejoice greatly at Katharine’s fall, but her execution caused little comment throughout the country. Either the people were indifferent to her fate, or they had become accustomed to the disgrace of Queens consorts.

But for Mary there seemed no escape from tragedies. The block was never long absent from her life, which was often passed under its very shadow. When, in May 1541, the Countess of Salisbury was beheaded, under peculiarly aggravated circumstances, her goddaughter, on whose behalf she indirectly suffered, might well walk in terror. The axe had never before come so near Mary’s own head. Fear for her safety was universal. The Emperor shared the common apprehension, and was anxious to protect his cousin by seeming to be on especially good terms with her father. Chapuys therefore advised him no longer to address Henry as uncle, for the title only served to reopen old sores, and for the same reason, he thought it better to give up the word princess in addressing Mary. The King having now a son, it might be dropped without any loss of dignity, as it really implied heiress to the Crown, a title to which she had no longer any right.[248]

But the constant anxiety in which she lived, resulted, as often before, in a serious illness. Illness however was sometimes her best friend, for when she was in danger of death Henry would perhaps remember that she was the idolised child of his youth, connected with his happier days, and would hasten to show her that kindness and affection which always helped to restore her to health. It was not until she appeared to be in extremis that he could be roused to any degree of interest, whereas Chapuys was ever ready with sympathy. Thus on the 7th April 1542, he says that Mary had sent to him three or four days ago, to thank him for certain letters which he had written to her during her illness, saying that they had acted “as a most health-restoring cordial to her”. And he ends, “To say the truth, I did my very best to comfort and cheer her in the midst of her ailments”. But she was still far from recovery, and on the 22nd he writes to the Queen of Hungary, “The Princess has not improved in health of late; on the contrary, she has occasionally been in danger of her life. I pray and beseech God to grant her more consolation and pleasure than she has hitherto enjoyed.” Marillac also informed Francis of the extremely critical state in which she lay. However, at the end of the month, Chapuys reported her convalescence, with the news that Henry was taking great care of her, and that “with God’s help and good diet,” it was hoped that she would shortly be well. From this time onwards, till her father’s death, Mary’s lot improved, a fact that may have been owing to the King’s marriage with Katharine Parr, who had a great regard for the desolate girl. In September, we find that “the King has just been entertaining and feasting the Princess, beyond measure, presenting her with certain rings and jewels”. She was recalled to Hampton Court for the Christmas festivities, and was “triumphantly attended, and accompanied on her passage through London”. Henry received her kindly and “spoke the most gracious and amiable words that a father could address to his daughter”.[249] On New Year’s Day, he presented her with more rings, silver plate and jewels, among which were two rubies of inestimable value. In the course of the year, Chapuys tells the Emperor that “the King continues to treat her kindly, and has made her stay with the new Queen, who behaves affectionately towards her. As to Anne Boleyn’s daughter, the King has sent her back to stay with the Prince his son.”

Mary and Katharine had many tastes in common, and were excellent companions. Both were fond of study, though in an unequal degree, for to Mary it had been her only resource and consolation, in the midst of her fiercest trials. Friendships she had cultivated, as far as they were allowed to her, but books had been her constant refuge, and the taste for them once formed never forsook her. The New Learning had found in her an apt pupil, and she had eagerly welcomed the works of Erasmus, as they flowed from his facile and ever industrious pen. His Paraphrase on the New Testament had been printed in the year of her birth. It formed a part of her education, and was the basis on which her piety was founded. In later years, she translated a portion of it—“The Paraphrase on the Gospel of St. John”—into English. Udal gave it to the world with a translation of the whole work, which he dedicated to Katharine Parr. In his preface he says:—

“And in this behalf, like as to your highness, most noble Queen Catherine, for causing these paraphrases of the most famous clerk and most godly writer, Erasmus of Rotterdam, to be translated into our vulgar language, England can never be able to render thanks sufficient; so may it never be able, as her deserts require, enough to praise and magnify the most noble, the most virtuous, the most witty, and the most studious Lady Mary’s grace, daughter of the late most puissant and victorious King Henry the Eighth, etc., it may never be able I say, enough to praise and magnify her grace for taking such great study, pain and travail in translating this paraphrase of the said Erasmus upon the Gospel of St. John, at your highness’ special contemplation, as a number of right well-learned men both would have made courtesy at, and also would have brought to worse frame in the doing.”

The book was published after Henry’s death, but a letter from Katharine to Mary, and belonging to the year 1544, is interesting as showing how much of it was really Mary’s own work, and the arguments employed by the Queen to persuade her to acknowledge the fact of her authorship publicly.

During the remaining three years of her father’s life, Mary was allowed to lead her own quiet, studious life in peace. She was held in very great consideration both at home and abroad; ambassadors were instructed after receiving their first audience of the King to visit “the most serene Queen Katharine Parr and the most illustrious Princess, the King’s daughter”.

Negotiations for her marriage still continued, but were nothing more than tactics of war to mislead the enemy, so long as the purpose served. Duke Philip of Bavaria had taken leave of her in January 1540, believing that he was soon to return and claim his bride. The Emperor considered the matter settled, and deep sympathy was felt for her at his court in Brussels. Granvelle thought, however, that the marriage must be suffered, provided she was made to consent to nothing against her religion, and he sent over yet another form of protestation to be used at the ceremony. In England it was even reported that she was already married to the Duke; and all these various comments were exactly what Henry wished to call forth, without pledging himself irrevocably, or having the least intention of concluding the treaty. While Mary was sadly resigned to her fate, and all Europe was pitying her, Henry was merely trifling with the German Protestants for political reasons. But the trifling was of a very solemn sort, and as late as 1546, a treaty was drawn up but never signed, between the Duke of Bavaria and the Lady Mary, in which it was provided that “the Duke shall transport the Lady within three months, the King to give the Duke 12,000 florins, in hands towards her transporting”.[251] It was also enacted that her dowry was to consist of 40,000 florins in gold, 20,000 to be paid on the day of her marriage, the rest at Frankfort a year later.

But yet another aspirant, the Duke of Holstein, came forward, and Henry played him off against Duke Philip, as he had played Philip off against the Emperor and Francis I., and his son, without of course any definite result.

At the age of twenty-eight Mary was still admired, although bad health, and trouble of mind had left their marks on a face, the beauty of which had been praised in such lavish terms. In 1544 the secretary of the Duke of Najera merely said of her, “The Princess Mary has a pleasing countenance and person. The dress she wore was a petticoat of cloth of gold and gown of violet-coloured three-piled velvet, with a head-dress of many rich stones.” It was in this year that she sat to the now unknown painter, for the portrait which has passed into the National Portrait Gallery. The somewhat hard outlines of the picture betoken a hand far less skilful than that of Holbein, who painted her earlier, or that of Sir Antonio More and Lucas Van Heere, who painted her later portraits. It will be observed that the style of dress resembles that of the more pleasing Oxford portrait, which must have been executed about the same time.

Henry’s various machinations were cut short by death, and Mary’s troubles were henceforth to take an entirely different form.

Walker & Cockerell, Photographers, London.

THE PRINCESS MARY AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-EIGHT.
From the original painting in the National Portrait Gallery.

THE KING’S SISTER.

1547-1553.

At the time of her father’s death, Mary was thirty-one years old. Her youth had passed away amid storms such as few women are called upon to weather, and they had left their traces on her character no less than on the brilliant beauty for which she had been famed throughout Europe. The slightly mutine expression, which we notice in Holbein’s fascinating portrait, had changed into a thoughtful, self-contained and rather sad look. She had acquired a thorough knowledge of the world, of men’s foibles, ambitions, passions and intrigues, and thus came well-equipped and undismayed into the new struggle that awaited her with her brother’s Privy Council. In spite of her many friends (for her popularity had increased rather than diminished) she was necessarily somewhat isolated in her exalted position, and her enemies were powerful.

By the terms of her father’s will she was now the first lady in the land, being placed in the line of succession, as was her right, immediately after Edward, in default of male heirs of his body. Projects were formed for her marriage with the Duke of Ferrara, with the King of Poland, with Albert Marquis of Brandenburg, and with Don Loys of Portugal, who was again put forward as a suitable husband, but the Council were not more eager to send her out of the country than Henry had been.

So far as Edward was allowed to entertain any warmth of affection, he was, it may be said, sincerely attached to both his sisters, but he was entirely a puppet in the hands of his uncles the Seymours. He was nine years old at the time of his accession, and but for them might have regarded Mary something in the light of a mother. She was in fact his godmother, and had watched over him as well as circumstances would allow, from his birth, but those who surrounded him were careful that her interest in her young brother should not assume a more definite shape than the bestowal of countless presents, and the constant providing of juvenile amusements. One of his letters to her shortly before his father’s death contains a pretty passage: “Amo te, sicut frater debet amare charissimam sororem, quæ habet omnia ornamenta virtutis et honestatis in se”.[252] In May 1546, he told her that God had given her the wisdom of Esther, and that he looked up to her virtues with admiration.[253] But scarcely was he on the throne, when his uncles made him the mouthpiece of the narrow Puritan views to which they were committed, and we find him writing to Katharine Parr, to entreat her “to preserve his dear sister Mary from the enchantments of the Evil One, by beseeching her to attend no longer to foreign dances and merriments, which do not become a Christian princess”. When left to himself, however, he showed her simple, child-like affection.[254] The rapid decline of Henry’s health had been a signal to the Seymours to seize what extra power they could. They even went so far as to amend the King’s will, a few days before his death, conferring on themselves more authority than had been already decreed. Henry had refused to sign the amendment, but they, disguising the fact that it did not bear the royal sign manual, carried matters with so high a hand that their powers were taken for granted. The supreme authority had originally been vested in sixteen executors, but the two Seymours claimed the entire guardianship of the boy-king. Henry had had little regard for his brothers-in-law. He knew them to be ambitious, and had been sparing of his favours towards them. He suspected them moreover of a secret fondness for the new doctrines, to which he was again strenuously opposed, but as there was no kinsman of the blood royal to whom he could confide his son, he was obliged to accept the inevitable.

Thomas and Edward Seymour were at Henry’s death, the one a simple knight, the other Earl of Hertford and Lord Chamberlain. Not content with these mediocre honours, they at once busied themselves with their own advancement. Hertford caused himself to be created Duke of Somerset, while Sir Thomas was made Lord Seymour of Sudley. Besides this, the latter coveted the patent of High Admiral, held by the Earl of Warwick, and as with the Seymours to covet was to have, Warwick was obliged to resign the patent in his favour. Neither of the brothers was sensitive in regard to the outspoken criticism of the other members of the Council, who suggested that it would have been well to await the King’s majority, to be rewarded according to their merits; and in spite of murmurs of dissatisfaction the new Duke of Somerset had himself proclaimed Protector, and procured letters patent under the Great Seal, conferring on his person the whole authority of the Crown.

The ambition of Admiral Seymour had, it is said, further led him to solicit the hand of Elizabeth, immediately after her father’s death,[255] and, meeting with a rebuff, he at once offered himself to the widowed Queen, greatly to the indignation of Henry’s daughters when the fact became known to them. The indecency of the proceeding could scarcely have been more accentuated, for as soon as Henry’s body was laid in the tomb, the Admiral was secretly married to Katharine Parr.

Henry died on the 28th January, and an undated letter from Katharine to the Admiral, bearing intrinsic evidence that she was his wife when she wrote it, also contains irrefragable proof that it could not have been written later than the middle of February next following.[256] Thus the marriage was an accomplished fact weeks before his appeal to Edward for permission to marry his stepmother. To marry a queen dowager, without the royal consent was a misdemeanour involving fine and imprisonment, and he therefore by means of flattery, and by supplying the boy secretly with large sums of money, so wormed himself into his favour, that Edward being made aware of his uncle’s wishes, affectionately urged him to marry Katharine, and afterwards thanked him for doing so. It is probable that Henry’s children never knew the extent to which they had been deceived, although in the subsequent indictment of Seymour, one of the charges brought against him was, that he had married the Queen Dowager so quickly after the King’s death, that if she had had a child within the next nine months, disputes might well have arisen regarding the succession.

There had been little difficulty in gaining Edward’s consent, but it was no such plain sailing to win Mary’s good-will towards the marriage. In spite of all she had suffered at her father’s hands, Mary was astonishingly devout to his memory, and her letter in answer to the Admiral’s hypocritical pleading that she would intercede with the Queen in his behalf, when he had already been married to her for months, is dignified and sensible.

The marriage was concealed till the end of June, when it was supposed to have taken place at Edward’s request. Elizabeth’s indignation, real or feigned, was thus expressed in a letter to Mary:—

Although we have no authority but Leti, for the authenticity of this letter, a remarkable production for a girl of thirteen, it cannot be denied that there is a striking resemblance between the shrewdness displayed therein, and the clever fencing in which Elizabeth afterwards so greatly excelled. Before long, the writer was an inmate of the Queen’s household, and an adept in that “dissimulation” which she recommended to Mary. The Admiral, already repenting his hasty marriage, was carrying on an intrigue with Elizabeth, whom Katharine one day surprised in his arms; and there were rumours of still greater familiarities. The unhappy Queen died soon after in childbed, and an inquiry into the nature of Elizabeth’s relations with the Admiral revealed a sink of depravity and corruption. But self-defence was an art in which Elizabeth excelled, and in the characteristic words of Mrs. Ashley, her governess, “She would not cough out more matter than it suited her purpose to confess”.[259]

Meanwhile, so great was the enmity between the Protector and his brother, each seeking to supplant the other with the King, that Edward could scarcely be expected to retain a spark of natural affection for either. Somerset, bent on the Admiral’s ruin, accused him of a design for upsetting the Government, and caused him to be attainted for high treason, without bringing the least particle of real evidence against him. There is something repulsive in the succinct manner in which the whole affair of his uncle’s attainder and execution is disposed of in the young King’s Journal: “Also the Lord Sudley, Admiral of England was condemned to death, and died in the March ensuing”.[260]

But these were days when human life was held cheap, and not only did Somerset sign the warrant for his brother’s execution, but Cranmer, who, as a Churchman, was prohibited by Canon law from all participation in judgments of blood, did not refrain from setting his sign manual to the deed.[261] Latimer preached the funeral sermon, which, in his anxiety to curry favour with the Council, became a further indictment. “Whether he be saved or no, I leave it to God,” said the Bishop of Worcester, “but surely he was a wicked man, and the realm is well rid of him.”[262]

The Protector did not long enjoy his triumph over his brother. His assumption of the supreme power in the State was an eyesore to others besides the Admiral. The Earl of Warwick soon proved a redoubtable adversary and rival in the Council, and accused him of arbitrary and tyrannical abuse of his authority.

Edward, who sometimes smarted under the despotic control of his uncle, was not unwilling to be released therefrom, and was easily persuaded to sign a writ for his committal to the Tower. The arrest of the most powerful advocate of the new doctrines appeared to the reformers to threaten the existence of all that they had worked for with so much success, and it was felt that the decisive moment had arrived, for striking a final blow for the total abolition of the old faith.

Henry’s last years had been marked by a strong reaction in its favour. This reaction had set in with Cromwell’s waning influence, had not a little to do with the Chief Secretary’s disgrace, and had continued till his own death, at which time he was more Catholic than he had ever been since his youth. In his anxiety to guard against the introduction of Genevan heresies into England, he revived the statute against Lollardy, and the Protestants were burned for propagating the new opinions. Stringent measures were adopted to prevent the importation of books concerning religion from the continent, and in his last will, Henry put his belief in the Mass on record, by ordering that it should be offered daily, “perpetually while the world shall endure,” for the repose of his soul. Edward VI. had been crowned according to ancient Catholic rites, so far as the religious part of the ceremonies was concerned, although several departures from precedent were made as regarded the administration of the oath. High Mass concluded the ceremony. But in two years, vast changes had come about, mainly through Somerset’s influence, and a circular letter had been sent to the clergy, informing them of the King’s intention to proceed with the reformation of the Church of England. They were commanded to deliver up all books containing any portion of the service of the Mass, that such might be burnt, or destroyed publicly. An act was passed ordering that “all books, manuals, legends, pics, grailes, primers in Latin and English, journals, ordinals or other books or writings whatsoever, heretofore used for service of the Church, written or printed in the English or Latin tongue, other than such as shall be set forth of the King’s Majesty, shall be by authority of this present act, clearly and utterly abolished, extinguished and forbidden for ever to be used or kept in this realm, or elsewhere within any of the King’s dominions”.[263]

It was further enacted, that all images already taken out of the churches and chapels should be utterly defaced and destroyed by the mayor, bailiff, constable or churchwardens within three months, under the penalty of ten shillings for the first default, four pounds for the second, and imprisonment during the King’s pleasure for the third.[264]

Those bishops who resisted the new laws were sent to the Tower, among them were Heath, Day and Gardiner, who denounced as illegal all ecclesiastical changes made during the King’s minority. Cranmer had long since joined the Protestant party, and it was observed in 1549 that “this year the Archbishop of Canterbury did eat meat openly in Lent in the hall of Lambeth, the like of which was never seen since England was a christian country”. But the proceedings of the Council were marked by singular inconsistency, for although most of the changes tended towards a shaking off of old beliefs, freedom of conscience was by no means allowed. The statute De Heresia was again called into play, and a woman was tried, condemned and burned for denying the Incarnation of our Lord. On the 2nd May 1549, Edward wrote in his Diary, “Joan Bocher, otherwise called Joan of Kent, was burnt for holding that Christ was not incarnate of the Virgin Mary, being condemned the year before, but kept in hope of conversion, and the 30 of April, the bishop of London, and the bishop of Ely were to persuade her. But she withstood them, and reviled the preacher that preached at her death.” The three bishops, Hooper, Latimer and Ridley followed Cranmer’s lead, and distinguished themselves in the cause of the Reformation.[265] But the people rose in protest, a revolt that was everywhere stamped out in blood. Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer superseded the Missal and Breviary, and an order of the Privy Council provided that from thenceforth, “no printer should print or put into vent any English book but such as should first be examined by Mr. Secretary Petre, Mr. Secretary Smith, and Mr. Cecil, or the one of them, and allowed by the same, under pain of imprisonment”.[266]

The triumph of the Reformation all along the line was celebrated by the pardon and release of Somerset, on his subscribing a document consisting of twenty-nine charges brought against him, in which he was made to confess his presumption, negligence and incapacity.

During this time, Mary was living, for the most part, in great retirement, at her favourite residence, Beaulieu (New Hall) in Essex, rarely appearing at court, and hoping that by attracting little attention she might be able to practise her religion unmolested. The Mass, although abolished by Act of Parliament, and celebrated only at the risk of pains and penalties, was still said openly in her house. The Statute of Uniformity by which heavy penalties were inflicted on all priests saying Mass, and on every individual who should be found present at Mass, was a formidable weapon in Somerset’s hands. The Protector summoned Mary, in his capacity as head of the Council, to embrace the new form of worship. Her answer was a spirited protest:—

“It is no small grief to me to perceive that they whom the King’s Majesty my father (whose soul God pardon) made in this world of nothing, in respect of that they be come to now, and at this last end, put in trust to see his will performed, whereunto they were all sworn upon a book (it grieveth me I say) for that love I bear to them, to see both how they break his will, what usurped power they take upon them, in making (as they call it) laws, clean contrary to his proceedings and will, and also against the custom of all Christendom, and in my conscience, against the law of God and his Church, which passeth all the rest. But though you among you have forgotten the King my father, yet both God’s commandment and nature will not suffer me to do so, wherefore with God’s help, I will remain an obedient child to his laws as he left them, till such time as the King’s Majesty, my brother shall have perfect years of discretion, to order the power that God hath sent him, to be a judge in these matters himself, and I doubt not, he shall then accept my so doing better than theirs, who have taken a piece of his power upon them in his minority.”[267]

On the 22nd June 1549, she was admonished to send her chaplain and comptroller of her household before the Council, but she replied haughtily that she could not spare her comptroller, and that her chaplain had been sick, that the law made by Parliament was not worth the name of a law, that King Henry’s executors were sworn to his statutes, that her house was her flock, and that she deferred in obedience to King Edward’s laws, till his Majesty were of sufficient years, all of which of course gave great offence. Nevertheless, Edward, in a letter dated August 1549, merely marvelled at his sister’s refusal to conform to the order of Common Prayer lately set forth, and gave a dispensation to the Princess and her household to have private service in her own chamber.[268]

The secret of this forbearance lay in the fact that Mary had appealed to the Emperor, who had threatened war if she were molested, and as the country was already entangled in hostilities with France, Edward’s Council thought it prudent to allow her temporarily to practise the old religion. But as soon as peace was signed, and friendship with the Emperor was less important, messengers were again sent to her, and letters from the King, offering to supply her with teachers, who would instruct her ignorance and refute her errors. The permission to have Mass, granted at the point of the sword, was declared to have been limited to a few months only, and to have included none of her servants. She was again warned “to be conformable and obedient to the observation of his Majesty’s laws, to give order that the Mass should be no more used in her house, and that she would embrace and cause to be celebrated in her said house, the communion and other divine services set forth by his Majesty”.[269]

On the 3rd February 1551, Mary thus wrote to the King:—

On the 18th March, Edward made the following entry in his Journal:—

“The Lady Mary my sister came to me at Westminster, where after salutations, she was called with my Council into a chamber, where was declared how long I had suffered her Mass, in hope of her reconciliation and how now being no hope, which I perceived by her letters, except I saw some short amendment, I could not bear it. She answered that her soul was God’s, and her faith she would not change, nor dissemble her opinion with contrary doings. It was said I constrained not her faith, but willed her not as a king to rule, but as a subject to obey, and that her example might breed too much inconvenience.”

On the 19th and 20th he added:—

“The Emperor’s ambassador came with a short message from his master, of war if I would not suffer his cousin, the princess to use her mass. To this was no answer given at this time. The bishops of Canterbury, London and Rochester did consider [that] to give licence to sin was sin; to suffer and wink at it for a time might be borne, so all haste possible might be used.”[271]

Already the Council had written to Sir Richard Morysine, their envoy extraordinary at the court of Charles V., to inform him that “of late the Emperor’s ambassador has moved them that the Lady Mary might freely retain the ancient religion in such sort as her father left it in this realm, according to a promise made to the Emperor, till the King should be of more years. They denied that such promise had been made, except to this extent, that the King was content to bear with her infirmity, that she should for a season hear the mass in her closet or privy chamber only, whereat there should be present no more than they of her chamber, and no time appointed, but left to the King’s pleasure. But in spite of their repeated assurances, that no promise had been made, he would not receive their flat denial.”[272]

But Morysine was not a persona grata with the Emperor, and the Council sent over Dr. Wotton in the hope of propitiating him. From Augsburg, where the imperial court was then residing, Morysine wrote to the Council saying that he was in no better favour than any in his case would be, though the Emperor had changed his testiness for a more gentle behaviour towards him. But he does not desire to buy the Emperor’s love at the price at which he holds it, and he is certain that he shall not hereafter be able to live on it. The fault, he begs their Lordships to believe, lies in the matter and not in him, and he continues: “Mr. Wotton hath a more mannerly nay than I had, but even as flat a nay as mine was. The Emperor’s choler spent upon me hath taught him to use others with more gentleness.”[273]

Wotton’s account of his interview with Charles is extremely interesting. The Emperor said: “Ought it not suffice you that ye spill your own souls, but that ye have a mind to force others to lose theirs too? My cousin, the Princess is evil-handled among you, her servants plucked from her, and she, still cried upon to leave Mass, to forsake her religion, in which her mother, her grandmother, and all our family have lived and died.” Wotton told him that when he left England, she was honourably entertained, in her own house, with such about her as she best liked, and he thought she must be so still, since not hearing to the contrary, he was driven to think there was no change. “Yes, by St. Mary,” saith he, “of late they handle her evil, and therefore, say you hardly to them, I will not suffer her to be evil-handled by them. I will not suffer it. Is it not enough that mine aunt, her mother was evil entreated by the King that dead is, but my cousin must be worse ordered by councillors now? I had rather she died a thousand deaths, than that she should forsake her faith and mine. The King’s Majesty is too young to skill of such matters.” Hereupon, Wotton, professing that it became him not to dispute with his Majesty, yet being forced somewhat to answer him, said that he knew the King was young in years, but yet “the Lord be praised for his gifts poured upon him, as able to give an account of his faith as any prince in Christendom being of thrice his years. And as for the Lady Mary, tho’ she had a king to her father, hath a king to her brother and is akin to the Emperor, yet in England there is but one king, and the king hath but one law to rule all his subjects by. The Lady Mary being no king must content herself to be a subject.”

“A gentle law I tell you,” said he, “that is made, the King’s majesty being no ——” (illegible).

Wotton then asked, that Chamberlain, the English ambassador in ordinary, might have the service of the Book of Common Prayer in his house, without access of strangers. But the Emperor exclaimed, “English service in Flanders! speak not of it. I will suffer none to use any doctrine or service in Flanders that is not allowed of the Church.” If his cousin the Lady Mary might not have her Masses, he would provide for her a remedy, and in case his ambassador were restrained from serving of God, he had already given him order that if the restraint come to-day, that he should to-morrow depart.[274]

The Council replied to Wotton’s letter, that the Lady Mary might no longer do as she had done, and that the laws would be henceforth executed in her house. They concluded their ultimatum by saying that “his Majesty also considers the Emperor’s demands for his ambassador in England to use the Mass, and his denial to suffer his Majesty’s ambassador within his dominions to use the Communion, too much unequal and unreasonable, and therefore he doubts not the Emperor will otherwise consider this matter”.

The law of Uniformity once passed, Edward’s ministers could only justify it by carrying it out logically; but in thus doing they cut through marrow and bone, and the acts of the Privy Council show the drastic nature of their dealings with the disobedient. On the 19th March, Sergeant Morgan had been summoned before the Council for hearing Mass at St. John’s, in the Lady Mary’s house, two or three days previously, “and not being able to excuse himself, because that, being a learned man, he should give so ill an example to others, he was committed to the Fleet prison”.[275]

On the 24th, Sir Anthony Browne was examined as to whether he had of late heard any Mass or not, when he answered, “that indeed twice or thrice at the New Hall; and once at Romford, as my Lady Mary was coming hither about ten days past, he had heard Mass. Which being considered as a notable ill example, was thought requisite to be corrected, and therefore he was committed to the Fleet.”[276]

On the same day, Rochester, Comptroller of Mary’s household, was interrogated as to “how many ordinary chaplains her Grace had”. He answered that she had four, namely Drs. Mallet, Hopton, Barker and Ricardes. But it was not until August that definite steps were taken to coerce the Princess into subjection. The story of the proceedings as it is told in the Acts of the Privy Council is dramatic.[277]

The English envoys having signified to the Emperor the ultimatum of Edward’s government on the 9th August, on the 15th, three of Mary’s servants, Rochester, Waldegrave and Sir Francis Englefield appeared before the Council, and were commanded on their return home, to call Mary’s chaplains together, and to inhibit them from further saying Mass in her house, or in any other place, contrary to the King’s laws, under pain of the King’s high indignation and displeasure. As Rochester made many excuses “to avoid the report of this matter unto her Grace and the execution thereof in her house, he was finally commanded on his allegiance to see it performed, and in case her Grace should dismiss him, and the rest out of her service, upon the receipt of this message (as he pretended she would) then was he and the rest commanded on the King’s Majesty’s behalf, neither to avoid her service nor to depart from her house, but to see this order prescribed unto them fulfilled until they should have further commandment from hence”.[278]

They were then dismissed, and returned to Mary, but were summoned to appear again on the 24th, to give an account of their doings. In the meanwhile, the Princess wrote the following letter to Edward, which was perhaps more forcible than anything she had hitherto said in her defence:—

On the 24th, the officers of Mary’s household appeared duly before the Lords, and in the words of the minutes of the Privy Council, “declared unto their Lordships that upon Saturday the 15th of this present, they arrived at Copped-hall somewhat before night, by reason whereof they did not the same night execute their charge committed to them at Hampton Court, the 14th of this present. The Sunday following, being the 16th of this present, because they understood that her Grace received the Sacrament, for so they termed it, they did abstain to deliver their letters before noon, considering that the same would trouble and disquiet her so as after dinner, taking commodity to deliver their letters, after that her Grace had read them, they made offer to her to declare what charge they had received of the Lords to execute, praying her Grace to be contented to hear the same. Whereunto her Grace made answer, that she knew right well that their commission was agreeing with such matter as was contained in her letters, and that therefore they need not to rehearse the same, howbeit they pressing her Grace, she was finally content to hear them. And when they had said, she seemed to be marvellously offended with them, and charged them that they should not declare that same they had in charge to say, neither to her chaplains nor family, which if they did, besides that they should not take her hereafter for their mistress, she would immediately depart out of the house. Upon this, the said Rochester, Inglesfeld (sic) and Walgrave said to the Lords that forasmuch as she oftentimes altered her colour, and seemed to be passioned and unquiet, they forbare to trouble her any further, fearing that the troubling of her might perchance bring her to her old disease, and besought her to consider the matter with herself, and pause thereupon against Wednesday next, when they would wait on her Grace, and know her further pleasure; which they said they did, hoping to have found her then, upon more ripe deliberation, and debating of the matter with herself, more conformable. And in the meantime, they forbare also to declare to her chaplains and household the charge they had received. But replying to her Grace, the Wednesday, being the xxth of this present, they did not only not find her conformable, but in further choler than she was before, utterly forbidding them to make declaration of their said charge and commission to her chaplains and household; adding that where she and her household were in quiet, if they would by any means disturb her and them, if any inconvenience did ensue thereof to her or them she would erect it to the said Rochester, Inglefeld and Walgrave, which thing considered, they thought it better to return without doing their commission, and declare thus much to their Lordships, without meddling any further, than to proceed in the execution of their charge before they had advertised their Lordships of the premisses.”[280]

They brought with them Mary’s letters of the 19th, addressed to the King, and the next day were again summoned to receive a sharp rebuke for having “troubled her Grace” with delivering their message to her, contrary to the directions given to them, and for doing nothing in regard to the prohibition to her chaplains and household. They were then each commanded separately, to return and do the business required of them. But this they one and all refused to do, Rochester and Waldegrave saying that they would rather endure any punishment, and Sir Francis Inglefield declaring that he could find it neither in his heart nor his conscience to do so. They were therefore dismissed, with orders to be in readiness to appear, whenever their Lordships should summon them, until such time as they should know their further pleasure. Meanwhile, the Lord Chancellor Rich, Sir William Petre, one of the secretaries, and Sir Anthony Wingfield, Comptroller of his Majesty’s Household, repaired to Copt Hall, taking with them “a trusty skylfull man” who, it was intended, should for the time being replace Rochester in the management of Mary’s household. The following is their own account of their proceedings:—

“Windsor, 29th August 1551. First having received commandment and instructions from the King’s Majesty, we repaired to the said Lady Mary’s house at Copthall in Essex, on Friday last, being the 28th of this instant, in the morning, where, shortly after our coming, I, the Lord Chancellor delivered his Majesty’s letters unto her, which she received upon her knees, saying that for the honour of the King’s Majesty’s hand, wherewith the said letters were signed, she would kiss the letters, and not for the matter contained in them, for the matter (said she) I take to proceed not from his Majesty, but from you of the Council. In the reading of the letter, which she did read secretly to herself, she said these words in our hearing—’Ah! good Mr. Cecil took much pain here’. When she had read the letters, we began to open the matter of our instructions unto her. And as I, the Lord Chancellor began, she prayed me to be short, for (said she) I am not well at ease; and I will make you a short answer, notwithstanding that I have already declared and written my mind to his Majesty plainly, with my own hand.

“After this, we told her at good length, how the King’s Majesty, having used all the gentle means and exhortations that he might, to have reduced her to the rights of religion and order of Divine Service set forth by the laws of the realm, and finding her nothing conformable, but still remaining in her former error, had resolved, by the whole estate of his Majesty’s Privy Council, and with the consent of divers others of the nobility, that she should no longer use the private Mass, nor any other Divine Service than is set forth by the laws of the realm; and here we offered to show her the names of all those that were present at this consultation and resolution; but she said she cared not for any rehearsal of their names, for (said she) I know you be all of one sort therein. We told her further, that the King’s Majesty’s pleasure was, that we should also give strait charge to her chaplains and servants, that none of them should presume to say any Mass or other Divine Service than is set forth by the laws of the realm, and like charge to all her servants that none of them should presume to hear any Mass or other Divine Service than is aforesaid. Hereunto her answer was this: First, she protested that to the King’s Majesty she was, is, and ever will be, his most humble and most obedient subject and poor sister, and would most willingly obey all his commandments in anything (her conscience saved)—yea and would willingly and gladly suffer death, to do his Majesty good; but rather than she will agree to use any other service than was used at the death of the late King, her father, she would lay her head on a block and suffer death; but (said she) I am unworthy to suffer death in so good a quarrel. When the King’s Majesty (said she) shall come to such years that he may be able to judge these things himself, his Majesty shall find me ready to obey his orders in religion; but now in these years, although he, good, sweet King, have more knowledge than any other of his years, yet is it not possible that he can be a judge in these things. For if ships were to be sent to the seas, or any other thing to be done, touching the policy of the government of the realm, I am sure you would not think his Highness yet able to consider what were to be done, and much less (said she) can he in these days discern what is fittest in matters of divinity. And if my chaplains do say no Mass, I can hear none, no more can my poor servants, but as for my servants, I know it shall be against their wills, as it shall be against mine, for if they could come where it were said, they would hear it with good-will. And as for my priests, they know what they have to do. The pain of your laws is but imprisonment for a short time, and if they will refuse to say Mass for fear of that imprisonment, they may do therein as they will, but none of your new service (said she) shall be used in my house, and if any be said in it, I will not tarry in the house.”

They then went on to blame Rochester and the others for not executing the orders of the Council, upon which Mary replied that “it was not the wisest counsel to appoint her servants to control her in her own house, and if they refused to do the message unto her and her chaplains and servants as aforesaid, they be (said she) the honester men, for they should have spoken against their own consciences”.

The promise to the Emperor was then discussed.

“I have (quoth she) the Emperor’s hand, testifying that this promise was made, which I believe better than you all of the Council; and though you esteem little the Emperor, yet should you show more favour to me for my father’s sake, who made the more part of you, almost of nothing. But as for the Emperor (said she), if he were dead I would say as I do, and if he would give me now other advice, I would not follow it, notwithstanding (quoth she) to be plain with you, his ambassador shall know how I am used at your hands. After this we opened the King’s Majesty’s pleasure, for one to attend on her Grace for the supply of Rochester’s place during his absence. To this her answer was that she would appoint her own officers, and that she had years sufficient for that purpose, and if we left any such man she would go out of her gates, for they two would not dwell in one house. And (quoth she) I am sickly, and yet I would not die willingly, but will do the best I can to preserve my life; but if I shall chance to die, I will protest openly that you of the Council be the causes of my death; you give me fair words, but your deeds be always ill towards me. And having said this, she departed from us into her bedchamber, and delivered to me, the Lord Chancellor a ring, upon her knees, most humbly, with very humble recommendations, saying that she would die his true subject and sister, and obey his commandments in all things, except in this matter of religion, touching the Mass and the new Service, but yet said she this shall never be told to the King’s Majesty. After her departing, we called the chaplains, and the rest of the household before us, giving them strait commandment upon pain of their allegiance, that neither the priests should from henceforth say any Mass or other Divine Service than that which is set forth by the laws of the realm, nor that they the residue of the servants should presume to hear any. The chaplains after some talk, promised all to obey the King’s Majesty’s commandment signified by us.”

Each one was ordered on his allegiance, to inform the Council if this command were disobeyed, and when after some time, the commissioners were waiting outside the house for one of the chaplains who had not been present when the charge was given, they go on to say that, “the Lady Mary’s Grace sent to us to speak with her one word at a window. When we were come into the court, notwithstanding that we offered to come up to her chamber, she would needs speak out of the window, and prayed us to speak to the Lords of the Council, that her comptroller might shortly return, for said she sythens his departing I take the account myself of my expenses, and learn how many loaves of bread be made of a bushel of wheat, and ye wis my father and my mother never brought me up with baking and brewing, and to be plain with you, I am weary of mine office, and therefore, if my Lords will send my officer home, they shall do me pleasure, otherwise if they will send him to prison, I beshrew him if he go not to it merrily, and with a good-will. And I pray God to send you to do well in your souls and bodies too, for some of you have but weak bodies.”[281]

Instead of granting this last request, the Council committed the three officers, Rochester, Waldegrave and Inglefield to the Tower, where they remained till the 18th March 1552, and a month later, the same Lords addressed letters to the Lady Mary’s Grace, that her servants be sent unto her according to her desire. By that time, another wave had swept over Mary’s destiny. For some reason that has never been apparent, the King’s counsellors changed their tactics, and the Princess was henceforth allowed to practise her religion in peace. Edward’s health was rapidly declining, and the bold design of the Duke of Northumberland to set aside her rights, and annul her father’s will, had not yet been framed. It might, therefore, have been judged prudent, somewhat to conciliate one who stood so near the throne, and who might soon be called upon to mount it. Moreover, in 1550, Sir John Masone informed the Council that the Emperor had serious thoughts of carrying her off, and in 1551 we find that certain pinnaces were prepared for her secret transport over sea.[282]

Perhaps both these considerations weighed with the Council, and the fall of Somerset further turned the scale in her favour by ridding Mary of her bitterest enemy. He was again arrested in December 1551, lodged in the Tower, and tried for high treason. Acquitted of this charge, he was condemned for felony, and executed within six weeks. The fact is notified in Edward’s Journal in the words: “The Duke of Somerset had his head cut off upon Tower hill, between eight and nine o’clock in the morning” (22nd January 1552).

None of Edward’s ministers had been so violently opposed to the old religion, so active in the advancement of the Reformation as Somerset. Calvin wrote to him from Geneva, a letter in which he praised the spiritual work done by the Protector in England, and gave him sundry advice as to the disposal of matters in the Church, thanking him for having presented his works to the young King, and for having taken into his service a boy whom he had recommended.[283] It was not likely that a man whose doings were singled out for approval by Calvin would ever tolerate Mary’s attitude towards Popery, and therefore his fall may be considered a factor in the liberty granted to her. Henceforth, to the end of the reign, she was on good terms with her brother’s ministers, and her name only occurs in the minutes of the Privy Council Registers in reference to warrants for payments to her comptroller, Mr. Rochester, for the maintenance of her household, or for the repairing of her lands “damaged by the rage of the water this last year”. One entry mentions the committal of a man “for stealing the Lady Mary’s hawks”.

An account of a visit paid to her at Hunsdon, in September 1552 by Bishop Ridley shows the complete religious freedom which she then enjoyed. She received him courteously, and talked with him very pleasantly for a quarter of an hour, reminding him that she knew him at court, when he was chaplain to her father; and she mentioned a sermon which he had preached at a certain wedding. Then she dismissed him to dine with her household. After dinner, he offered to preach to her in the church, on which she replied, that he might preach, but that neither she nor any of hers would listen.

“Madam,” he expostulated, “I trust you will not refuse God’s Word.”

“I cannot tell what ye call God’s Word,” answered Mary. “That is not God’s Word now which was God’s Word in my father’s days.”

“God’s Word is all one in all times, but is better understood and practised in some ages than in others,” replied Ridley.

THE PRINCESS MARY.
From the original portrait in the possession of the Marquis of Exeter.

“You durst not for your ears have avouched that for God’s Word in my father’s days that now do you,” she retorted, “and as for your new books, I thank God I never read any of them; I never did nor ever will do.”

In dismissing him she said, “My lord, for your gentleness to come and see me, I thank you; but for your offering to preach before me I thank you never a whit”.

Before leaving, he drank according to custom a stoup of wine with Mary’s steward, but suddenly felt a qualm of conscience, and exclaimed, “I have done amiss. I have drunk in that place where God’s Word offered hath been refused. I ought, if I had done my duty, to have departed immediately, and to have shaken the dust off my shoes for a testimony against this house.”[284]

Although the Puritans had set the fashion of sober colours and rigid simplicity of dress, which was followed by most people during Edward’s reign, the Princess and her friends continued to assume a considerable amount of state in their retinue and attire. Strype[285] records that on her going to court in 1550, Mary rode through London with fifty knights and gentlemen in velvet coats and chains of gold before her, while following her were fourscore gentlemen and ladies. On her arrival, the Comptroller of the King’s Household received her, and many lords and knights escorted her through the hall to the presence chamber, where she remained two hours “being treated at a goodly banquet”. But when she visited the King at Greenwich in 1552, it was observed that her company was only half the number which a nobleman chose to come with a week afterwards.[286]

Edward had always been a delicate boy, and his weak constitution was still further debilitated in 1552, by a combination of diseases, so that even the most hopeful began to fear the worst. Nothing was however done to alter the succession till the spring of the following year. In May, took place the marriage of Lord Guildford Dudley, fourth son of the Duke of Northumberland, to the Lady Jane Grey, granddaughter of Henry VIII.’s sister Mary, who, first married to the King of France, became afterwards the wife of Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. This marriage of his son to one so nearly related to the royal family was Northumberland’s first step in what Turner calls “that nefarious combination,” by which the Crown was to be alienated from its rightful possessor, and placed on the head of a usurper. The injustice of the proceeding was threefold: 1. Henry VIII. had determined the succession by virtue of a statute of the realm, and it could not legally be set aside. 2. In the event of the failure of both his daughters, the next in succession would have been Mary Stuart, but Northumberland passed her over with the inconsistent pretext, that Henry had excluded the issue of his elder sister, Margaret, from his will. 3. The Lady Frances, daughter of the Duchess of Suffolk, married to Henry, Lord Grey, created Duke of Suffolk, was also set aside, in favour of her eldest daughter, the better to satisfy Northumberland’s ambition by marrying this young lady to his son. On the 25th June Edward was so ill that it was reported he was dead, and one of his physicians told the French ambassador that he could not get beyond the month of August. He died on the 6th July, having been persuaded to exclude both his sisters from the succession, in defiance of his father’s will, and to leave the Crown to the Lady Jane Grey.

THE COMING OF THE QUEEN.

1553.

The hereditary enmity between Charles V. and the King of France, which in its earliest stages had deluged Europe with blood, and had made of the city of Rome a shambles, was in its later developments the cause of most of the troubles of Mary’s reign. Scarcely was it whispered that Edward lay dying, when England became at once the political battlefield of their conflicting interests.

Charles opened the campaign by sending over from Brussels three envoys extraordinary, ostensibly to visit the King, but really to watch Mary’s case in the interest of the empire. These envoys were Jean de Montmorency Sieur de Corrières, Jacques de Mornix Sieur de Toulouse, and last, though by no means the least, Simon Renard, who was destined to play an important part in Mary’s future. France too was immediately in the field, and Henry II. despatched two envoys to the coast, with instructions to remain at Boulogne till further orders, while de Noailles, his ambassador in England, made overtures to Northumberland of French aid in the event of foreigners attempting to disturb the tranquillity of the realm.

Charles’s aim was to bring about a marriage between his son and his cousin, as soon as Mary might be sure of reigning, in the hope that their issue would exclude the next legitimate heir to the throne of England, the young Scottish Queen already betrothed to the Dauphin. On the other hand, Henry’s object was of course to defeat this project, to prevent Mary Tudor if possible from succeeding to her inheritance, to place obstacles in the way of any marriage that might be proposed, and above all to hinder by every means in his power, her union with the Prince of Spain.

Mary was no politician. The diplomacy under which she had suffered had not taught her to meet treachery with dissimulation and fraud with cunning. She could arm herself at all points for defence, but she was not a good dissembler. “To be plain with you,” was an expression natural to her, and all her words and actions were plain, clean-cut and unmistakable. Her letters are a distinct contrast to Elizabeth’s monuments of mystification, framed to confuse, if not altogether to mislead. Perhaps Mary’s greatest misfortune was that she was born fifty years too late. Her virtues and her faults were those of a past, or rapidly passing, age. She belonged by every fibre of her nature to the old order, while the world about her was holding out eager arms to the Renaissance, to the new life that was so well worth living, the new learning that added a fresh impetus to intellectual pursuits, to the new religion that was to lead men away from the purgative into the illuminative way, abolishing good works as snares of the Evil One. The world was advancing; Mary with a few kindred spirits was reactionary, and if for a while, her popularity was as great, the nation’s love for her as enthusiastic as ever, it was because people were still more than half unconscious of the new forces at work among them. England was not yet Protestantised. The legislation of five or six years had not overcome the habits of thought formed by nine centuries, and although a new generation had sprung up since the rupture with Rome, believing that Pope spelt arch-enemy, the greater number of Englishmen were in all other respects Catholics by choice. But as strong as their particular fear of Rome was their general distrust of all foreigners, and especially of Spaniards; and the French ambassador took care to keep that distrust alive, and to increase it by every means in his power.

Edward lay dying, but no sign was allowed to transpire of the revolution that was intended. The Council Registers are a blank, save for significant entries concerning the removal of artillery from the ships and forts to the Tower. But these ominous if silent preparations did not escape the notice of the imperial envoys, who kept close watch, to prevent a surprise.

The young King breathed his last on the evening of the 6th July, but it had been arranged that the event should be kept secret, till all was in readiness for the great stroke. The guards were doubled in the palace, and every care was taken that the outer world should still ask anxiously for news from the sick chamber. Nevertheless, that same night, Mary was informed of her brother’s death. She had ridden from Hunsdon, where she was then residing, towards London, and was expected by the conspirators at court, whence she would have been at once transferred in safe custody to the Tower.

At Hoddesden, however, she was met by a secret messenger, bringing the fateful news. Putting spurs to her horse, she rode into the eastern counties, with the intention of gaining Kenninghall, a house in Norfolk left to her by Henry VIII., the gift being confirmed by a grant of the second year of Edward VI. On the way, she stopped to rest at the house of Mr. Huddleston of Sawston, and in consequence of her prompt action, while she was under this hospitable roof, the bubble blown by Northumberland burst sooner than had been intended. On leaving Sawston, Mary looked back from the summit of a neighbouring hill, and saw smoke rising from the house that had sheltered her. The rebels had set fire to it, thinking that she was still there. It was burned to the ground, but after the rebellion, the Queen granted to Mr. Huddleston the materials from the ruins of Cambridge Castle, with which to rebuild his home.[287] Hengrave Hall was the next halting-place, whence John Bourchier, Earl of Bath, accompanied her with a considerable force to Kenninghall. [288] From thence, she sent proclamations into all parts of the country, announcing her accession, and calling her loyal subjects to her aid. Among the muniments of Condover Hall, Shropshire, is a letter from Mary dated six days after Edward’s death, and addressed to the Mayor of Chester, summoning the inhabitants of that part of the county to raise as great a force as possible, and repair to her at Kenninghall, or elsewhere in Norfolk, “wherefore right trusty and well-beloved, as ye be true Englishmen, fail ye not”.

With her were the Earl of Sussex, the Lord Mordaunt, Sir William Drury, Sir John Shelton, Sir Henry Bedingfeld, Sir Henry Jerningham, besides the Earl of Bath and his contingent. As her whereabouts became known, numbers flocked to her standard. In two days, she found herself at the head of 30,000 men, and while the conspirators were taking possession of the Tower, of the Crown, of the Crown jewels and the revenues, Mary without a single accessory of royalty, without arms or money, was gathering round her the flower of the nobility, and was issuing manifestoes to the whole kingdom, as calmly as if she were already undisputed mistress of the realm. When it became known that the Duke of Northumberland was advancing with an army, she removed her quarters to Framlingham, a strongly fortified house belonging to the Duke of Norfolk, who had been a prisoner in the Tower ever since 1546.[289] A report was circulated that the Council was about to execute him, together with the rest of the State prisoners, Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, deprived for religion, and Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter who was beheaded in the same cause in 1538.[290] On the 10th July, Jane was proclaimed Queen.

“Item the x. day of the same month, after vii. o’clock at night was made a proclamation at the Cross in Cheap by three herolds and one trumpet, with the King’s Sheriff of London, Master Garrard, with divers of the guards, for Jane, the Duke of Suffolk’s daughter to be Queen of England (but few or none said ‘God save her’) the which was brought the same afternoon from Richmond unto Westminster, and so unto the Tower of London by water.”[291] At the same time, the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth were declared illegitimate, and all estates and degrees were called upon to be obedient to their lawful sovereign, Queen Jane. A vintner’s boy in the crowd ventured to protest against the usurpation, and for his temerity was nailed to the pillory by the ears, both of which were amputated before he could be set free.[292]

Earlier in the day, the demise of the Crown had been announced in London, and when the Lady Jane arrived at the Tower, she was surrounded with as much state as was possible. The Lord Treasurer presented her ceremoniously with the Crown; all knelt as she passed by; her train was carried by her mother, the Duchess of Suffolk. But the space at the disposal of the new court was extremely limited, the Tower being crowded with prisoners, as well as with the members of the new government, who were all lodged there for safety.

In spite of the lack of enthusiasm, and the silence with which Jane was received, even in Protestant London, the imperial ambassadors thought Mary’s determined attitude “strange, difficult and dangerous,” fearing that in four days she would be in the hands of the Council. Though the people hated Northumberland for his ambition, and dreaded him for his tyranny, and though they gave credit to the rumours that Edward had been poisoned,[293] even Mary’s friends were of the opinion that it would be necessary to appeal to the Emperor to place her on the throne. This, the ambassadors thought, would in no wise diminish the affection of the country for her, so entirely was she beloved by the people. [294] Their view of the desperate character of her resistance was strengthened by the information that Northumberland had sent his son Lord Henry Dudley into France, to solicit troops, and that 6000 French soldiers were expected shortly to embark at Dieppe and Boulogne.

On the 11th, a letter from Mary, addressed to the Lords of the Council was brought to the Tower. It ran as follows:—

This display of courage made no impression on the conspirators, and they made answer:—

Then follow the signatures of all the members of the Council, thus:—

“Thomas Canterbury, the Marquis of Winchester, John Bedford, Will. Northampton, Thomas Ely, chancellor; Northumberland, Henry Suffolk, Henry Arundel, Shrewsbury, Pembroke, Cobham, R. Rich, Huntingdon, Darcy, Cheney, R. Cotton, John Gates, W. Peter, W. Cecill, John Cheeke, John Mason, Edward North, R. Bowes”.[295]

The confident tone of the above letter concealed the real sentiments of the conspirators. The Duke of Suffolk had been commissioned by Northumberland to march into Norfolk, seize Mary’s person, and bring her a prisoner to London. But Jane besought her father with tears not to leave her, and Northumberland reluctantly took the command of the rebel troops himself. As they marched through Shoreditch, he observed to Sir John Gates, “The people crowd to look upon us, but not one exclaims God speed ye!”[296]

He had no illusions about the attitude of the citizens, and trusted more to an eloquent and fiery appeal to their Protestantism, than to the hope of overawing them with the shadow of a sovereignty, for which they evinced undisguised contempt. Before leaving London, therefore, he charged the ministers of religion to expatiate in their sermons on the benefits to be derived from the reign of a Protestant queen, and thus work on their religious feelings. Ridley, Bishop of London, was the preacher at Paul’s Cross on the 16th July. He declaimed violently against Mary, and sought to persuade his hearers that she would bring in foreign power, and subvert all Christian religion already established. He stigmatised her religion as a “popish creed,” and herself as “the idolatrous rival” of Queen Jane. He related the story of his visit to her at Hunsdon, and remarked on the significance of her refusal to listen to his preaching, adding that “notwithstanding in all other points of civility, she showed herself gentle and tractable, yet in matters that concerned truth, faith and doctrine—so stiff and obstinate that there was no other hope of her to be conceived, but to disturb and overturn all that which with so great labours had been confirmed and planted by her brother afore”.[297]

The people listened in unwonted and unsympathetic silence. They had not yet learned to associate the claims of inheritance with those of religious convictions. It would have seemed to them preposterous, that Mary should forfeit her right to reign, because she professed the religion practised by every one of her predecessors, with the single exception of Edward, who had died before escaping from tutelage. Ridley’s language was reported seditious, and when, after Mary’s proclamation, the Bishop of London hastened to Framlingham to stultify all that he had said, by laying his homage at the Queen’s feet, he was arrested at Ipswich, deprived of his dignities, and sent to the Tower.[298]

The Duke of Northumberland, meanwhile, reached Bury with an army of 8,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry, only to find that he had been declared a rebel, and that a price had been put upon his head. He would have pushed on towards Framlingham, but disheartened by the hourly desertion of his followers to Mary’s standard, he ordered a retreat to Cambridge. Six ships, fully armed and manned, had been sent to lie in wait off Yarmouth, in order to intercept Mary should she attempt to fly the realm. Sir Henry Jerningham, who was raising troops in her behalf, boarded them each in turn, and would have taken their captains prisoners, the whole of the crews declaring for Mary, and expressing themselves willing to deliver them up:—

“Then the mariners axed master Gernyngham what he would have, and whether he would have their captains or no, and he said ‘yea marry’. Said they ‘ye shall have them, or else we shall throw them to the bottom of the sea’. The captains, seeing this perplexity, said forthwith they would serve Queen Mary gladly, and so came forth with their men, and conveyed certain great ordinance, of the which coming in of the ships, the lady Mary and her company were wonderful joyous, and then afterward doubted greatly the Duke’s puissance.”[299]

Scarcely had Northumberland left the Tower, when the news was brought that Mary had been proclaimed at Norwich, that Sir Edward Peckham and Sir Edward Hastings, Lord Windsor and others were out proclaiming her in Buckinghamshire, and worst news of all, that the ships had surrendered instantly to Jerningham. “Each man then,” says the Chronicle of Queen Jane, “began to pluck in his horns,” and when a messenger arrived from Oxfordshire, with tidings that Sir John Williams was holding the county for Mary, the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Thomas Cheney tried to get out of the Tower to feel the pulse of London. But Suffolk kept all the members of the Council in a sort of honourable captivity,[300] and the matter required some nice handling. The Council Registers, which contain no entries relating to the Lady Jane’s brief reign, certify that on the 16th July, Queen Mary’s friends in four counties, numbering in all 10,000, assembled at Paget’s house at Drayton, and marched to Westminster, where they took possession of the arms and ammunition stored in the palace, “for the better furnishing of themselves in the defence of the Queen’s Majesty’s person and her title”. Money was so scarce that no regular pay could be given to the soldiers, the captain of each band being charged to relieve at his own discretion those who were plainly necessitous, “but in such sort that it appear not otherwise but to be of his own liberality”.[301]

Paget, it appears from the above, though shut up in the Tower, was in friendly communication with the loyalists; and it is evident from Cecil’s own account of his submission, that the moment Northumberland had left, the various members of the Council began to plot against him. On the 19th July, the Lords Treasurer, Privy Seal, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Pembroke, with Sir Thomas Cheney and Sir John Masone succeeded, under pretext of receiving the French ambassador, in getting out of the Tower, and having communicated with the Lord Mayor, were at once joined by that dignitary, the Recorder, and a deputation of aldermen. They assembled at Baynard’s Castle, and the Earl of Arundel opened the proceedings by censuring Northumberland’s ambition. As he finished speaking, Pembroke, drawing his sword, exclaimed: “If the arguments of my lord Arundel do not persuade you, this sword shall make Mary queen, or I will die in her quarrel”. Shouts of applause answered him, and the Duke of Suffolk, who had been sent for, signed the proclamation. The summons had convinced him that all was lost, and he ordered his men to leave their weapons behind them. He proclaimed Mary on Tower Hill, before joining the other members of the Council. They then all rode through the City, and proclaimed her at Paul’s Cross, after which Arundel and Paget were despatched to lay the submission of the Council at her feet.[302]

According to the Grey Friars’ Chronicle, “The choir sang Te Deum with the organs going and the bells ringing, as most parts all. And the same night had the [most] part of London to dinner, with bonfires in every street of London, with good cheer at every bonfire; and the bells ringing in every parish-church, for the most part all night till the next day to None.”

A newsletter in Ralph Starkey’s collection says, “Great was the triumph here at London; for my time I never saw the like, and by the report of others, the like was never seen. The number of caps that were thrown up at the proclamation were not to be told. The Earl of Pembroke threw away his cap full of angellettes. I saw myself, money was thrown out at windows for joy. The bonfires were without number, and what with shouting and crying of the people, and ringing of the bells, there could no one hear almost what another said, besides banquettings and singing in the street for joy.”[303]

Even Foxe, Mary’s bitterest enemy, admitted that “God so turned the hearts of the people to her, and against the Council, that she overcame them without bloodshed, notwithstanding there was made great expedition against her both by sea and land”.[304]

Jane, having left her apartments in ignorance of what was happening, to stand sponsor at the baptism of the child of Edward Underhill in St. John’s Chapel, found on her return that the cloth of estate, and other insignia of royalty had disappeared from her presence chamber, by order of the Duke of Suffolk himself. The Crown had passed for ever from her, and there was no alternative but a hasty retreat into that private life, from which it would have been well for her had she never been drawn.

So much extravagant language has been employed by the partisans of the Lady Jane Grey, in describing her virtues and accomplishments, while her youth and tragic end make her so interesting a figure, that it is scarcely wonderful if we find it difficult to form a sober opinion of one, who appeared for a moment in our annals, and as the price of that appearance, laid her fair young head upon the block. The charm that failed to draw even a murmur of applause from her contemporaries, when she was thrust upon them as Queen has been potent ever since, and there are few who do not unconsciously canonise her on account of her misfortunes.

She had been educated severely, in the same kind of intellectual school as that, in which the daughters of Henry VIII. and the learned family of Sir Thomas More had also distinguished themselves. She was a good Latin and Greek scholar, and was further well versed in the doctrines of the Genevan Reformers. The instrument of Northumberland’s ambitious schemes, she had passively acquiesced in the dignity conspired for her, but once raised to the throne, the timid girl of sixteen had suddenly displayed the obstinacy which she had inherited from her Tudor grandmother, and had evinced spirit and determination enough to refuse to share her supposed title with her husband.[305] Had the bold stroke succeeded, which placed the Crown for a moment in her hands, her father-in-law might have lived to repent his temerity.

It would be obviously unfair to hold Jane responsible for all that was done in her name, but although Mary’s temper showed itself the reverse of vindictive, it must have cost the Queen an effort, to forgive the nine days’ usurper the letter which purported to have been written by her to the Marquis of Northampton, announcing her accession, and requiring his allegiance and defence of her title, against “the feigned and untrue claim of the Lady Mary, bastard daughter to our great-uncle, Henry the Eighth of famous memory”. The draft of this letter, in Northumberland’s hand, and endorsed by Cecil “First copy of a letter to be written by the Lady Jane when she came from the Tower,” is in the British Museum, as is also the copy made by a clerk and signed by Jane. This second copy was afterwards endorsed by the Duke “Jana non Regina”.[306] On the news reaching the Duke of Northumberland that the Council had submitted to Mary, and that immediately the troops had testified their satisfaction in a volley of artillery, he saw that further resistance would be suicidal. He threw up his cap and shouted, “Long live Queen Mary! so laughing that the tears ran down his face with grief”.[307] In less than an hour, he was summoned to disband his army, and commanded not to approach London within ten miles. He remained at Cambridge, and when that place, following the example of Great Yarmouth, Colchester and Bury declared for Mary, he was arrested by the municipality, but released on the Queen’s proclamation, ordering every man to go to his own home, till further orders. Scarcely however did he breathe freely, when the Earl of Arundel arrived to apprehend him on a charge of high treason. Over and above the guilt which he shared with the whole Council, he had borne arms against his lawful sovereign, and was suspected of having offered Calais to the French as the price of their support. At once guessing why Arundel had come, he fell on his knees, and with a craven spirit begged him to be good to him for the love of God. “And consider,” he added, “I have done nothing but by the consent of you all, and all the whole Council.” He went to the Tower, guarded by 4,000 soldiers, and was lodged in the Beauchamp Tower, whence he wrote abjectly to Arundel: “Oh that it would please her good Grace to give me life, yea the life of a dog, if I might live and kiss her feet; and spend both life and all in her humble service, as I have the best part already, under her worthy brother and most glorious father”.

Northumberland was, justly enough, the scapegoat; but as he had said, no member of the Council came out of the matter with clean hands. All had signed the will which the Duke had dictated to Edward, enfeebled by his mortal disease, and dexterously worked up to a pitch of fanaticism that made him oblivious of justice. But Cecil’s proceedings were, by his own showing, perhaps the most despicable. In his written submission[308] to Queen Mary, after beseeching her clemency, he went on to confess that his conduct throughout the plot had been guided by the one consideration of saving his skin whole. He had shuffled as long as he dared brave the Duke’s irritation, and had given in only, when the odds in favour of the conspirators seemed overwhelming. But when Northumberland had charged him to proclaim the Lady Jane, he had shifted the responsibility of the act on to Throckmorton, “whose conscience I saw was troubled therewith, misliking the matter”. The document ends with the pious invocation:—

Sir William Petre had also tried to make compromises with the Duke, but had succumbed, on being told that unless he agreed to the whole plan he could no longer retain his office of Secretary of State. Each day brought Mary fresh conquests. After a nine days’ rebellion, without a single blow having been struck in her defence, she was proclaimed Queen in every town in England. Her journey to London was a triumphal progress. Antoine de Noailles, the French ambassador, who had so lately conspired with Edward’s Council, and who was to be the evil genius of the new reign, rode twenty-five miles into the country to meet and congratulate the Queen in his master’s name, offering her the whole of the French forces, in support of her right. At Wanstead, she was joined by the Lady Elizabeth, who had prudently abstained from taking sides, till it should be clear where success lay. She had declined Northumberland’s overtures, and offers of large sums of money, but had equally avoided moving a finger in Mary’s cause, pleading an illness, which however allowed her to recover opportunely, when the Queen was about to take possession of her capital. Mary greeted her affectionately, embraced all her ladies, and assigned her the next place in the royal cortège after herself.[309] Together they entered the City of London at Aldgate, on the 3rd August, and rode through the densely crowded streets, the multitude rending the air with shouts of joy. Elizabeth was too clever not to estimate at its real value the contrast presented by the two sisters on this striking occasion. In spite of their loyalty and enthusiasm in realising the reward of their long devotion, the people could not fail to observe, that the Queen at thirty-seven, worn with trouble and sickness, was eclipsed by Elizabeth’s twenty years.

Elizabeth was tall and majestic, more gracious than beautiful, pale of complexion, with fine eyes, and hands that were admired for their whiteness and elegance. It was noticed that she knew how to use them effectively.[310]

At the Tower, where according to custom, the Queen was to reside pending her brother’s obsequies, the State prisoners of the two preceding reigns were kneeling on the Green, in front of the scaffold. These were the Duchess of Somerset, who had been in captivity since the execution of her husband; the aged Duke of Norfolk; Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter, beheaded in 1538; Tunstal and Gardiner, the deprived Bishops of Durham and Winchester. Gardiner, in the name of them all, congratulated Mary on her accession, and without complaining of the injustice of their detention expressed their joy at seeing her victorious over her enemies.[311]

“Ye are my prisoners!” exclaimed the Queen, bursting into tears. Embracing them all, she ordered them to be released at once, and took them with her to the royal apartments. Their goods, their rank, their sees were restored. The next day, Gardiner was sworn a member of the Privy Council, and three weeks later, was made Lord Chancellor of England.

The names of twenty-seven persons concerned in the rebellion were handed to the Queen. Of these she struck out sixteen, leaving eleven to be tried. These were again reduced to seven—the Duke of Northumberland, his son the Earl of Warwick, the Marquis of Northampton, Sir John Gates, Sir Henry Gates, Sir Andrew Dudley and Sir Thomas Palmer. The law then took its course, and they were condemned to death. But Mary again intervened; four were reprieved, and three only of the ringleaders, the Duke of Northumberland, Sir John Gates and Sir Thomas Palmer, his chief advisers, were executed. The Emperor urged her in vain to include the Lady Jane in the number of those to be tried for high treason. The Queen spoke warmly in her defence, and declared that she was less guilty than he believed her to be. Usurper though she had been, she was but a tool, and Mary would not have her punished for another’s crime. She had returned to the Tower as a prisoner, along with her husband, but was allowed great freedom within its precincts. The danger of her pretensions was, Mary declared, imaginary, but every precaution should be taken before she was restored to liberty.[312] With unprecedented mildness, the Queen had been inclined to pardon even Northumberland, but Charles put pressure on her to sign his death-warrant. The Duke made no defence at his trial, and on the scaffold admitted his crime, expressed penitence, and declared that he died a member of the Catholic and Roman Church.[313]

Whether Mary was persuaded of Jane’s innocence on the ground that the girl was scarcely a free agent, or whether the letter which Jane wrote to her as a prisoner,[314] turned the balance in her favour, is not clear, but it is certain that the Queen’s treatment of her rival at this time was magnanimous to imprudence, as the sequel showed. As for the other delinquents, no rebellion had ever been quenched with so little effusion of blood. Far otherwise had been Henry’s reprisals after the northern rising, far other the crushing of the insurgents in Edward’s reign. Had the punishment of the rebels rested entirely with Mary, she would have signalised her advent with a full and general amnesty. The Duchess of Suffolk had thrown herself at the Queen’s feet, imploring the pardon and release of her husband, both of which she obtained immediately; but strange as it appears, it is not on record that she even attempted to plead for her daughter.[315]

More stringent measures at the outset would no doubt have averted the serious disturbances of the following year, and afterwards; and the opinion of Charles V., that to punish the authors of sedition was to nip the revolution in the bud, was justified in the event. He had insisted on the execution of Northumberland and his lieutenants, but more than this he had not obtained. The people had little respect or gratitude for a clemency which they did not understand.

AGAINST THE TIDE.

July-December 1553.

Mary’s opportunity was in many ways a splendid one. From her earliest youth, the new Queen had been the hope, the admiration, the delight of the English people, and the poet expressed no mere conceit in the words:—

The whole country welcomed her as one man, and it may be truly said that it was the affection of Englishmen, no less than their loyalty that had placed her on the throne. Nevertheless, she was beset with difficulties. The art of reigning as she understood it was part and parcel of the mediæval system, but it needed a spirit touched with the inspiration of the new age, to direct the restless activities of a nation already beginning to be permeated with the Renaissance. While she looked back to the past, her people had emancipated themselves from mediæval traditions.

Moulding her conduct on the ideals which she had venerated from her youth upwards, she regarded the new needs and tendencies with suspicion and dislike; and thus gradually a breach was formed between herself and the nation. She had its interests as sincerely at heart as any English monarch either before or after her, but those interests, as she understood them, were hopelessly at variance with the seething crowd of ideas that were transforming the life of the people.

With intense honesty of purpose, Mary stood at the parting of the ways, between a mediævalism that seemed good in her eyes, and a progress that all her experience had taught her to interpret as revolution. It was partly her inability to distinguish between the two, to seize the good element in the new modes of thought, that brought about the catastrophe of her reign, and evolved anarchy out of aspirations, which ably led and controlled, might have contributed to the welfare of the realm. If it is unfortunate to be born in advance of one’s age, it is doubly so to be behind it; but if conscientious motives and earnest endeavour could have compensated for the mistake, Mary would have won golden opinions instead of hatred and abuse. But there were difficulties quite independent of her own limitations. At the outset, the task of forming a government was a delicate one. Nearly all the statesmen of the time had been members of Edward’s Council and had proved themselves traitors. When she had restored the Duke of Norfolk to the Council Board, had installed Sir John Gage as Constable of the Tower, had made Sir Henry Jerningham a member of her Privy Council, Vice-Chancellor and Captain of the Guard, had knighted her faithful Rochester and set him over her household, had promoted Waldegrave to the charge of the Grand Wardrobe, and had made Sir Francis Englefield a Privy Councillor, the most important of the public offices remained to be filled by those whom she could neither afford to offend nor to dispense with, but who had all failed at the critical moment. The Earl of Arundel became Lord Steward, the Marquis of Winchester retained his office of High Treasurer, while many others of doubtful loyalty, including Sir William Petre and Sir John Masone, made her Privy Council a compact body of potential conspirators. Lord Paget, the most dangerous of all, became Secretary of State and Privy Seal. Gardiner, henceforth Lord Chancellor, had once vehemently opposed the validity of her mother’s marriage, although he had since amply vindicated his claim to Mary’s regard, and stood highest of all in her counsels, a sufficient answer to the charge so often made that the Queen had foredoomed Cranmer, because he had pronounced the sentence of divorce.

Mary lost no time in acquainting the Emperor and the French King with her resolve to bring back Catholic worship. Henry congratulated her on her intention, and urged her to proceed at once; but Charles advised caution, and told her to pause until she had obtained the consent of Parliament.[316] From Rome came still other counsel. If Mary was strangely unconscious of the change that had come over the country since the days of her childhood, at the heart of Christendom a still greater optimism prevailed. Reginald Pole wrote to her, urging not only the reconciliation of her kingdom with the Holy See, but also the restitution of Church lands. He congratulated her on the manner of her accession, and trusted that as she had been tutored in the school of God how to rule herself, her realm would become a mirror of good order and true justice, to the comfort of all good men.[317] He also wrote to the Emperor, representing that as the principal foundation of her right to the Crown rested on the legitimacy of her mother’s marriage, which depended on the Papal dispensation of Julius II.; by deferring the re-establishment of Papal authority her right was in consequence deferred also.[318]

Again he wrote to Mary herself, drawing attention to her own spiritual danger and to the shipwrecked condition of the English nation, “for the Queen, or at least England, was assuredly shipwrecked, when she threw herself into the sea of this century; and having drawn a picture of the danger, her Majesty will judge whether it is the time to deliberate, or rather to act as ordained and prescribed her by divine and human counsel”.[319]

Pole was not alone in advising prompt and swift action. All over the continent the same ignorance prevailed concerning the fact that England was not the same country as in the days when Henry VIII. broke away from Rome, and this mistaken notion as to Mary’s difficulties was not strange, seeing that the Queen herself was still peacefully unaware of more than half of them. The Papal nuncio in France, writing to the Cardinal del Monte, said: “From England comes the news that the Queen is about to enter London, beloved and revered by the people, not only as Queen but as a saint. Her sister has arrived, and her Majesty caused her to be received most honourably, a thousand horses with green and white velvet trappings being sent to meet her. All the populace cry out that Northumberland, Suffolk and Jane should have their heads cut off. It is believed that they poisoned the late King. As soon as the Queen arrives in London, it is supposed that she will have the marriage between her mother and father declared valid, and she is said to desire it very much, and wills it to be declared by all Parliaments and statutes, so that her mother’s and her own honour may be fully satisfied. Another of her intentions is to re-establish religion under the obedience of his Holiness, and the feeling of the realm is with her.” This was all true enough, but to complete the picture, he should have added that the Puritan Londoners were violently opposed to the old religion, that Elizabeth was as hostile as she dared to be, and was already looked on as the champion of the Protestant party, that the French ambassador played into their hands, and was ready for any conspiracy.

The advice of the Emperor was preferred to all other. Next to Mary’s devotion to her faith was her loyalty to the Hapsburgs. She had grown up in the belief that Charles was her best friend and only refuge; and now whenever she considered herself free to choose an independent policy, she chose to follow his advice. Indeed, it is scarcely thinkable, that at thirty-seven she should have awoke from the dream of a lifetime, by the mere fact of ascending the throne. In many ways, the Emperor advised her well. He had vast experience of the kind of religious revolution that was agitating the greater part of Europe. He had been twice in England, but more perhaps by his genius for government, and his habit of working out national problems on paper, than by his actual knowledge of the English people, the knowledge that comes from contact, did he realise the amount of pressure that could with any chance of success be brought to bear upon them. So long as he applied general principles in his advice to Mary, so long was his guidance of service to her; but where his own interests were concerned, and those of the empire, he ceased to consider her advantage at all, and involved her in a policy that ultimately became her ruin. If he had so willed, she would have gone to the block cheerfully for the principles for which More and Fisher died; but her martyrdom would have availed the Emperor nothing. Rather would it have embroiled him further with Henry, whose friendship he was just then anxious to obtain. Therefore he did not scruple to entangle her conscience in the meshes of an indefensible sophistry. When Edward’s Council had brought the country to so miserable a condition that the Government, neither feared nor respected abroad, dared not try conclusions with him, it was a small matter for him to declare that he had rather Mary died on the scaffold than abandon one jot or tittle of her faith. Having therefore been the arbiter of her destiny during the years of her bondage, it was not likely that he would cease to exercise his influence when the majesty of England was centred in her person.

Although Mary had wished Edward’s obsequies to be performed in the Catholic manner, when Charles represented to her that, as her brother had died professing the new, reformed religion, she could not consistently have him buried as a Catholic, she yielded to Cranmer’s objection to having a Popish Mass said over his body. The Archbishop of Canterbury therefore conducted his funeral, in accordance with the established form, in Westminster Abbey, the Queen, at the same time, with 300 of the nobility assisting at a solemn Dirge for his soul in St. John’s Chapel in the Tower. Elizabeth refused to be present at the Mass of requiem,[320] and Renard pressed Mary to take measures against her, declaring that her profession of Protestantism was a decoy, to attract to herself the malcontents, and to form a party in the State dangerous to peace and security.[321] After events proved the truth of this opinion. Mary replied that she was thinking of sending her sister away from the court; but, meanwhile, Elizabeth still remained, and the Queen did her best to convert her.

The bulk of the nation heartily welcomed the return of the old worship, but London was Protestant to the backbone. Something like a riot took place on the occasion of an unauthorised celebration of Mass, in a church near the Horse-market, and when Gilbert Bourne, Archdeacon of St. Paul’s, attempted to preach at Paul’s Cross on the 13th August fresh disturbances arose. The occasion was unfortunate, his theme dealing with the unjust imprisonment of Bonner; and the preacher’s language became somewhat inflammatory. “In this very place, upon this very day, four years afore passed,” cried Bourne, “was the Bishop of London, who is here present, most unjustly cast into the vile dungeon of the Marshalsea, among thieves.”[322] Bonner was hated by the Londoners on account of his uncompromising Papistry, and for what they considered his want of tact, in his conduct towards Ridley, who had been intruded into his see, when Edward deprived him for religion, and whom he now replaced. The sight of him, as he sat listening to Bourne’s panegyric, incensed the partisans of Ridley. As the preacher went on, low murmurs grew into fierce cries, and at last a voice called out, “Pull him down!” A dagger was thrown at Bourne, hit a post of the pulpit, and rebounded a great way. With difficulty Bourne was conveyed to a place of safety in St. Paul’s School.[323] The following Sunday, a detachment of the Queen’s guard was sent to protect the preacher,[324] but after this event, few came to listen to the discourses at Paul’s Cross, and the Lord Mayor was ordered “to make the ancients of the companies resort to the sermons, lest the preacher should be discouraged by a small audience”.[325]

These riots produced the first tightening of the reins of government, a measure which only led to further irritation. A royal proclamation was issued, which although testifying to Mary’s benignity, describes the tumultuous state of the metropolis. A part of it ran thus: “First, her Majesty being presently, by the only goodness of God, settled in her just possession of the imperial crown of this realm, and other dominions thereunto belonging, cannot now hide that religion which God and the world knoweth she hath ever professed from her infancy hitherto: which as her Majesty is minded to observe and maintain for herself, by God’s grace, during her time, so doth her Highness much desire and would be glad the same were of all her subjects quietly and charitably embraced. And yet she doth signify unto all her Majesty’s loving subjects, that of her most gracious disposition and clemency, her Highness mindeth not to compel any her said subjects thereunto, unto such time as further order, by common assent may be taken therein: forbidding nevertheless all her subjects of all degrees, at their perils to move seditions or stir unquietness in her people, by interpreting the laws of this realm after their brains and fantasies, but quietly to continue for the time till (as before is said) further order may be taken; and therefore willeth and straitly chargeth and commandeth all her said good loving subjects, to live together in quiet sort and christian charity, leaving those new found devilish terms of papist or heretic and such like, and applying their whole care, study and travail to live in the fear of God, exercising their conversations in such charitable and godly doing, as their lives may indeed express that great hunger and thirst of God’s glory and holy word, which by rash talk and words many have pretended; and in so doing they shall best please God, and live without danger of the laws, and maintain the tranquillity of the realm,” etc., etc.[326]

This was published on the 18th August, but scarcely succeeded in quieting men’s minds. Unauthorised Masses were constantly being said in prominent places of worship hitherto given over to the services of the established religion. Machyn’s Diary records the fact that on “the xxiii day of August began the mass at Saint Nicholas Colabay, goodly sung in Latin, and tapers and set on the altar, and a cross, in old Fish Street. Item the next day a goodly mass sung at St. Nicholas Wyllms, in Latin, in Bread Street.”[327]

To many, these things appeared quite otherwise than “goodly,” and there was much murmuring at street corners and in taverns, angry discussions that might easily end in brawls; and the forbidden words “papist” and “heretic” were bandied about without much restraint. Consequently, every householder was exhorted to “keep his children, apprentices and other servants in such order and awe, as they follow their work the week days, and keep their parish-churches the holy day, and otherwise to be suffered to attempt nothing tending to the violation of common peace, and that for the contrary, every one of them to stand charged for his children and servants”.

Meanwhile, all eyes were fixed on Cranmer. It is more than probable, that if he had remained quiescent he would have been suffered to retire into private life, or to betake himself to the continent like so many others of his opinions. Strype says that he was called before the Council at the beginning of August, to answer for his share in the late rebellion; that he was severely reprimanded, and ordered to confine himself to his palace at Lambeth. But this statement is unsupported by any evidence. There are no minutes of the Privy Council between the 2nd and the 8th August, on which day Edward’s funeral took place, when certainly Cranmer was not a prisoner either on parole or otherwise. Strype seems to have been confused by a letter from the Archbishop to Cecil, dated 14th August, in which he says that he has been to court. This appearance in the Queen’s presence would account for the report that was immediately circulated, to the effect that he had pledged himself to Mary, to say Mass for her.[328] Disagreeable as the rumour must have been to him in his position as reformer, worse was to follow. Mass had once more been said in Canterbury Cathedral, and Cranmer was accredited by the public voice with having said it. This was more than he could endure, and fired with indignation, he took the first irrevocable step towards his doom. Seizing his pen, he wrote the celebrated Declaration which, if the Archbishop of Canterbury has any determining voice in the doctrine of the Established Church of England, should for ever settle the question whether that Church teaches belief in the Sacrifice of the Mass or not.

“As the devil, Christ’s ancient adversary is a liar and the father of lies, even so hath he stirred up 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 something herein, in his time; and also our late sovereign Lord, King Edward VI. took the same whole away, for the manifold errors 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 easily to pass, some have abused the name of me Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, bruiting abroad that I have set up the mass at Canterbury, and that I offered to say mass before the Queen’s Highness, and at Paul’s church, and I wot not where. I have been well exercised these twenty years to suffer and bear evil reports and lies; and have not been mych grieved thereat, and have borne all things quietly. Yet when untrue reports and lies turn to the hindrance of God’s truth, they be in no wise 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 it was a false, flattering, lying and dissembling monk which caused the mass to be set up there, without my advice or counsel. [Here Foxe has the words omitted by Strype, ‘Reddet illi Dominus in die illo’.] 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, and 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 manifest contrary to the same, and contains many horrible blasphemies in it. And although many either unlearned or maliciously do report that Mr. Peter Martyr[329] is unlearned, yet if the Queen’s Highness will graunt thereunto, I with the said Mr. Peter Martyr, and other four or five which I shall choose, will by God’s grace, take upon us to defend that not only our Common Prayers of the churches, ministration of sacraments, and other rites and ceremonies, but also that all the doctrine and religion by our said sovereign lord King Edward VI. is more pure and according to God’s word than any that hath been used in England these thousand years; so that God’s word may be the judge, and that the reason and proofs may be set out in writing, to the intent as well that all the world may examine and judge them, as that no man shall start back from their writing; and what faith hath been in the church these fifteen hundred years, we will join them in this point, that the same doctrine and usage is to be followed which was in the church fifteen hundred years past. And we shall prove that the order of the church set out at this present, in this church of England by Act of Parliament, is the same that was used in the church fifteen hundred years past—and so shall they never be able to prove theirs.”[330]

This document was copied in all the scriveners’ shops in London, circulated widely and posted up in Cheapside. Foxe, with his wonted inaccuracy, says that the Archbishop was, in consequence, summoned before the Commissioners of St. Paul’s, and interrogated by Bishop Heath, and by Scory, Bishop of Rochester. Now Scory was not at that time Bishop of Rochester, neither was Heath on the Commission, but at the Council Board, which he joined on the 4th September. Moreover, when on other occasions Cranmer was summoned before the Commissioners, he did not appear personally but by proxy. For “Commissioners” we must therefore read “Council”.

“My Lord,” said Bishop Heath gently, “there is a bill put forth in your name, wherein you seem to be aggrieved at setting up Mass again. We doubt not but you are sorry that it is gone abroad.”

“As I do not deny myself to be the very author of that bill or letter,” replied Cranmer, “so must I confess here unto you, that I am sorry that the said bill went from me in such sort as it did. For when I had written it, Master Scory got the copy of me, and it is now come abroad, and as I understand, the city is full of it. For which I am sorry that it is so passed my hands, for I had intended otherwise to have made it in a more large and ample manner, and minded to have set it on Paul’s church door, and on the doors of all the churches in London, with mine own seal joined thereto.”

He was then ordered to appear the following day in the Star Chamber, and, after a long and serious debate, was committed to the Tower, “as well for the treason committed by him against the Queen’s Highness, as for the aggravating the same his offence by spreading abroad seditious bills, moving tumults, to the disquietness of the present State”.[331]

The Archbishop had had ample opportunity for flight had he been so inclined, but he persistently refused to take advantage of it, though he advised others in like danger to escape to the continent.[332] Great numbers did so, and went to Strassburg, Antwerp, Worms, Frankfort or Geneva, in all of which cities the new doctrines obtained. Among the fugitives were the Bishops of Winchester, Wells, Chichester, Exeter and Ossory; the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, and those of Westminster, Exeter, Durham, Wells and Chichester; and the Archbishop’s brother Edmund, Archdeacon of Canterbury.[333] Peter Martyr also applied for passports which were granted without reluctance, and five days after Cranmer’s committal, he left England “with great safety and unnecessary precaution”.[334] The government apparently connived also at Latimer’s escape, for the Bishop received warning of the coming of a pursuivant from the Council. The pursuivant did no more than deliver a letter and depart, after which plenty of time was left, in the hope that he would take flight. But he did not budge, and accordingly, on the 13th September, the Council Register states that “This day Hugh Latimer, clerk, appeared before the lords, and for his seditious demeanour was committed to the Tower, there to remain a close prisoner, having attending upon him one Austin, his servant”.[335]

Mary was Queen, but not entirely mistress of her kingdom. De Noailles was careful to keep the coals stirred continually, and was responsible for at least half the discontent that prevailed in London. Elizabeth, whose vanity prompted her to pose as the centre of attraction everywhere, coquetted with the French ambassador, with the populace, with the leaders of the Protestant party, without committing herself to any overt act of rebellion. She was already mistress in the arts of innuendo, dissimulation and intrigue. The treachery of de Noailles made her the stalking-horse of the Reformers, although the ambassador expressed to his master a fear, that her obstinacy in refusing to go to Mass would shortly land her in the Tower.[336] But he was not even sincere in his treachery, for lightly as he imperilled Elizabeth’s life by encouraging the Princess to associate herself with the factious, it was scarcely his aim in the event of a successful insurrection to place her on the throne. Mary Queen of Scots was Mary Tudor’s next legitimate heir, and as the wife of the Dauphin would, if she mounted the throne of England, bring to a glorious end the humiliation under which the French had smarted for centuries, in seeing the English monarchs, their rivals, quartering the arms, and coolly assuming the style of Kings of France. But of these ulterior views the ambassador’s friends in England were totally ignorant, and perhaps even Elizabeth, with all her cleverness, was at least once in her life completely outwitted. It was constantly represented to the Queen, that her sister’s attitude was a serious danger to the government, and the imperial ambassadors urged that the Princess should be banished from London, where she was surrounded by partisans, and if she would not conform to the Catholic faith, it would be better for her to be in prison than out of it. Mary, loth to coerce, tried to persuade her by the force of example, and would hear five or six Masses daily, surrounded by the members of her Privy Council, all of whom had been, till recently, ardent Protestants.[337] Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves were the only persons at court who still held out. At last, alarmed at the sinister reports that reached her, Mary told her sister, that if she wished to remain near her person, she must break with the new doctrines, and with those who professed them.

Considering then, that she had done enough to exculpate herself in the eyes of those who had been carefully taught to look on her as their Joshua, Elizabeth threw herself at the Queen’s feet, and with streaming eyes expressed her sorrow at having seemingly lost her Majesty’s affection. She could account for it, she declared, in no other way than her profession of the reformed religion, for which, however, she ought to be excused, as having been brought up in it, and never taught any other. Perhaps, she pleaded, if she were provided with books, and aided by the instructions of divines, she might see her errors, and embrace the religion of her fathers. Her conversion was the work of a week. She went to Mass with the Queen, on the 8th September, and soon after, opened a chapel in her own house, and sent to Flanders for a chalice, cross and vestments.[338] De Noailles, without laying claim to great sagacity, might well express his opinion that all this proceeded more from policy than from any deep religious conviction. Up to the last moment before going to Mass, Elizabeth did all she could to persuade her Protestant friends that she was merely acting under compulsion. Even on her way to the chapel, she sighed and groaned, and gave out that she was ill. Renard too, doubted the sincerity of her conversion, especially as she did not appear at Mass on the Sundays following, and he besought the Queen to secure her person, as a frequenter and abettor of rebels. Mary assured him that she had also had grave misgivings, had already sent for her sister and implored her to say frankly whether she was a Catholic and shared the Catholic belief in the Eucharist, or whether, as it had been affirmed, her conversion were a feint or the result of fear. Elizabeth, the Queen said, had professed herself ready to declare in public that she had acted in accordance with the dictates of her conscience, without feint, fear or dissimulation; but in saying these words she had trembled from head to foot.[339] Renard and his colleagues continued to regard her as the champion of the disaffected, and were careful to bring to the Queen’s notice the persistent rumours concerning her. But Mary, on her guard perhaps, lest she should lend a too willing ear, as persistently refused to act upon them, continued to call Elizabeth her “good sister,” held her by the hand at all the great court ceremonies, and showered kindnesses and gifts upon her. Among other jewels, she gave her a brooch about this time, representing the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, with a magnificent table diamond, and four rubies; two volumes bound in massive gold, the one set with rubies, with a diamond clasp, the other containing the portraits of Mary’s father and mother; a white coral rosary mounted in gold, etc.[340] Either from fear of displeasing the Puritans by ornamenting herself with gems, or for some other reason, Elizabeth avoided either wearing or using her sister’s presents.[341]

One of the distinguishing features of the new reign was the style of dress adopted by the court. By restoring something of the splendour that had distinguished it in the early days of Henry VIII., by bringing dancing and music again into vogue, and by abolishing the sombre Puritanical fashion of Edward’s reign, Mary had given a much-needed impetus to trade, and while she offended some by her sumptuous attire, the change found favour with the many, weary of the dull, colourless garments, which for six years had been supposed to indicate a state of salvation. De Noailles told his master that the Queen had abolished the former “superstition” regarding ladies’ dress, which had forbidden them hitherto to wear gold ornaments or coloured clothes, and that her Majesty herself, and the ladies of the court were adorned with jewels and dressed à la française, with wide sleeves to their gowns.[342]

In consequence of the revival of industries, money at once began to circulate more freely, and this naturally exercised a beneficial effect on the nation at large, long the prey of poverty and discontent. Those only had been satisfied who were enriched by the plunder of churches and monasteries. The monopoly of land having been one of Henry’s chief objects in seizing Church property, every stray piece of waste ground was enclosed and rack-rented, so that the poor man, who had hitherto been able to keep a cow and a few sheep, could not afterwards so much as find food for a goose or a hen. The fishing population, since days of abstinence from meat were no longer obligatory, suffered as much as the country people, for the fisheries declined, through want of a market to dispose of the smack-loads with which the ports were glutted. The suppression of the religious houses affected the arts and crafts throughout the country. Nine years afterwards, at the beginning of Edward’s reign, it was found necessary to deal with vagrancy by legislation. The indigent had become the great bulk of the nation, while those who had grown rich with the wealth which had formerly been distributed at the convent gates, thought of nothing less than of feeding the hungry. Stringent poor-laws were enacted, but failed to meet the difficulty. A vagrant might be pressed into the service of any person who met him on the King’s highway. If he refused to do the work assigned to him, how vile soever it might be, he was branded with the letter V, and adjudged a slave for two years, to be fed on bread and water and refuse meat. A first attempt at escape was punished by the slave being branded with an S, after which he was kept a slave for life. A second attempt resulted in a felon’s death. From all this Mary delivered her people. Poverty under her was no longer considered a crime, and if there is one special reason more than another for honouring her memory it is her love and care for the poor and afflicted, of which we shall presently see many examples.[343] But besides the able-bodied vagrants, a vast number of feeble, halt, blind and wretched vagabonds lay and crept begging in the miry streets of London and Westminster. Money, urgently needed to reanimate commerce, and pay the debts of the Crown, had been squandered in the erection of expensive public buildings. In Sorranzo’s report on England in 1553, the Venetian ambassador says of London, that on the banks of the river were many fine palaces, making a grand show, but that the rest of the city was much disfigured by the ruins of a multitude of churches and monasteries, belonging heretofore to friars and nuns. The population was dense, numbering 180,000 souls.[344] Mary found, not merely an impoverished exchequer, but a mass of royal debts. In 1551 Edward’s liabilities had amounted to £241,179 14s. 10d.; in 1553 they still exceeded £190,000.[345] Immediately on her accession, the Queen acknowledged herself answerable for the salaries, three years in arrear, of all the Crown officials, although she had no longer a private purse; and while one royal proclamation restored a depreciated currency, setting forth the Queen’s “tender care to her loving subjects,” adding how sensible she was of “the great intolerable charges had come to her subjects by base money,”[346] another remitted two odious and oppressive taxes levied by the late Parliament. These were subsidies of four shillings in the pound on land, and two shillings and eightpence on goods, a burden that had weighed heavily on the small merchants and farmers.

Mary’s scrupulous justice and honesty left little wherewith to make a show of generosity. It had ever been the custom for English monarchs to reward those who had fought in their quarrel, with rich gifts of land and money, but clamour as her friends might, the Queen would not make grants of Church property, and there were few other resources at her command. “She is so poor,” said de Noailles, “that her want of money is apparent, even to the dishes put upon her table.”

Her choice of Gardiner as Chancellor was fortunate for the rehabilitation of the public finances. His ability in this direction was undeniable, his integrity known to all, and while he lived, however low the state of her coffers, Mary was never in debt. An Englishman to a fault, rough, uncouth and frank, often to incivility, Gardiner was liked by few. Both the French and Imperial ambassadors hated him cordially. Renard added distrust to his relations with him, remembering the active part which he had taken in the divorce of Queen Katharine, and in the declaration of the royal supremacy. He could not believe in the sincerity of the man, who was in reality burning with desire to prove it. But apart from his past history, Gardiner’s actual attitude was an obstacle to imperial interests in England. His patriotism, no less than his honesty and common sense, led him to discern that no matrimonial alliance, however brilliant, would be acceptable to the nation, if contracted with a foreigner. Fear and abhorrence of any “foreign potentate” having jurisdiction in this realm had become part and parcel of that insular prejudice, which had sprung up since the separation from Rome, a prejudice which Mary underrated, if she did not entirely ignore it, while Renard, to make the situation acute, was entrusted with a secret mission from the Emperor to bring about a marriage between her and his son, the Prince of Spain. There were henceforth three antagonistic parties in the State—the Spanish, the loyal English headed by Gardiner, and the disloyal, leagued secretly with the French.

To de Noailles, polished, urbane and ceremonious, an ultra Frenchman, the Chancellor was peculiarly obnoxious. Gardiner had always had a reputation for want of courtesy, and on his release, the French ambassador was the first to observe that imprisonment had not civilised him.[347] But if these two, who were working to some extent for the same ends,[348] had joined forces, they might together have defeated the Emperor’s schemes. They were however natural enemies, the invincible element of deceit and treachery in de Noailles revolting Gardiner, even more than his own want of tact disgusted the Frenchman. Pugnacious, outspoken, and strong in the integrity of his intention, the Chancellor held his own in the Council, although he was opposed throughout by Arundel and Paget, who favoured the imperial policy. But highly as she esteemed him for his probity, he was powerless to influence the Queen. The subject of her marriage exercised the minds of all parties in the State. Even her ladies talked to her of nothing else, and Mary herself, who had hitherto preferred to remain unmarried, acquiesced in the general understanding, that it was for the common weal she should now choose a husband. Before her public entry into London, Renard had secretly waited upon her at New Hall, to treat of the matter. She had told him, that before succeeding to the throne, she had resolved to end her days as a celibate, but that now another duty had been imposed on her. She was resolved, she said, to follow the Emperor’s advice, and to choose the consort whom he approved, for after God, she desired to obey him as a father. Only she besought him to consider her age, and not to press her to treat of matrimony with any whom she had not seen and heard. She gave Renard to understand that she had not been deceived by the Emperor’s feigned advice to her ambassadors at Brussels, that she should marry one of her own nobles, and that she even suspected them of having interpolated the sentence in which it was contained, to suit their own inclinations. On receiving Renard’s letter, containing an account of this audience, Charles replied that the Queen plainly showed by what she had said, that she inclined towards marriage with a foreigner.[349]

A few days later (according to de Noailles, on the 12th August) Mary repeated formally what she had already said to Renard, that for State reasons she had resolved to marry, and that seeing no suitable match in her own kingdom, she would form an alliance with a foreigner, trusting that the Emperor would propose a Catholic, and arrange for her to see and speak with the aspirant to her hand. She stipulated earnestly that he should not be too young.[350]

Among the prisoners already mentioned as having been liberated on her accession was Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter. Descended like his cousin, Reginald Pole, from the royal family, through his mother, Courtenay possessed advantages of birth sufficient to justify his being put forward as a candidate for the Queen’s favour; but in spite of all that has been written on the subject, it is more than doubtful, whether Mary, even for a moment, thought seriously of marrying him. With the whole Renard correspondence before us, it seems certain that from the beginning she had placed her destiny in the hands of the Emperor, and was resolved to abide by his choice.

Courtenay was handsome and fascinating in appearance, of noble carriage and distinguished manners; at the time of his release from the Tower, he was twenty-six years old, fourteen of which had been spent in prison. The Queen, as if she could not do enough to compensate him for the long injustice he had suffered, lavished honours and benefits upon him. She restored to him the earldom of Devon, and his confiscated estates of the marquisate of Exeter; and de Noailles surmised that, had he continued to deserve favours, the dukedom of York was in store for him.[351] His mother was made first lady of the court, and slept with the Queen. Courtenay became for a time the idol of the people, who would gladly have seen him married to their sovereign; but the idea probably originated with Gardiner, who had conceived an affection for the young man during their common imprisonment. He did his utmost to induce Mary to marry him, and had Courtenay proved himself worthy, and had the Chancellor and de Noailles worked in concert, she might possibly have raised him to the throne, their united action overcoming the Emperor’s influence, but there was no foundation for de Noailles’ absurd theory that she was in love with him. Scarcely was he out of the Tower, than intoxicated with his first sweet draught of freedom, he abandoned himself to every kind of dissipation, and frequented the loosest company. London echoed with tales of his excesses.

Even in those early days, his name was as often coupled with Elizabeth’s as with the Queen’s, and at the beginning of August, the imperial ambassadors told Mary that Courtenay and her sister were in collusion. They were careful also to keep her informed of his new way of life, which caused her great indignation, though de Noailles persisted in declaring that she was so deeply enamoured of him, that she would put up with all his licentiousness, and marry him in spite of everything. Unfounded as these assertions were, they gained considerable credence at home and abroad, and Prosper de Sainte Croix wrote to Cardinal del Monte, that it was very likely that the Queen of England would decide on Courtenay as a husband, as she had lately given him a diamond worth 16,000 crowns, which King Henry used to wear. But while Mary declared in public, that it was not to her honour to marry a subject, she told her friends privately that his immorality would alone prove a sufficient barrier. The French ambassador was not so blinded by his illusion, as not to perceive that Courtenay was fast ruining whatever prospects he might have had, and with facile diplomacy he caught the ball at the rebound, and still carried on the game in the interests of France. If Mary’s disappointed suitor were not to be a convenient foil to Spain, by marrying the Queen, he might still be valuable as a name to conjure with in connection with Elizabeth. If only he were a little more enterprising and a trifle less timid, Courtenay and Elizabeth might well lay themselves out for popularity among the discontented Protestants. De Noailles entertained him at a banquet, under cover of his belonging to the Queen’s Privy Council, flattered and encouraged him, and let fall a few tentative words, to the effect that he should push his fortunes. A few days later, Courtenay was seen leaving the French ambassador’s house disguised, at midnight.

Meanwhile Gardiner, and with him most of the loyalists, disappointed in the new Earl of Devon, looked to Reginald Pole as their next best hope. Mary was known to have an affectionate regard for her kinsman, and she owed him, moreover, a debt of gratitude. It will be remembered that there had been once before a question of their marriage. But Pole, although not yet irrevocably pledged to the ecclesiastical state, being only in minor orders, was without ambition, and had no desire for matrimony. He even thought that the Queen, being of the age she was, should remain single, and leave the succession to take its course; and he charged his friend, Pedro Soto, to say this to the Emperor. But the Council were greatly concerned to negotiate a suitable match, and the only two eligible Englishmen being henceforth out of the reckoning, they turned their attention successively to the King of Denmark, the Infant of Portugal, the Prince of Piedmont and to Ferdinand of Austria, King of the Romans. But during this time, Renard was not idle. Having sounded Mary with regard to the Prince of Spain, he proceeded diligently to combat her objections. In his first interview at New Hall, he had merely put forward the suggestion of a marriage; by degrees Philip’s name was introduced, and when he judged that the time was come for delivering the Emperor’s message, he flattered himself that the day was won, because she smiled as she listened. Writing to the Bishop of Arras, Cardinal Granvelle, he said, “Je connais ladite reine, tant facile, tant bonne, tant peu expérimentée des choses du monde et d’état, tant novice en toutes choses.... Et pour vous dire confidemment ce que me semble d’elle, je suis en opinion que si Dieu ne la garde, elle se trouvera trompée et abusée, soit par pratiques des Français, soit par conspirations particulières de ceux du pays, soit par poison ou autrement.”[352]

Mary has been represented by some modern historians as eagerly desiring the marriage with Philip, as greedily swallowing the tempting bait, her passion overleaping every obstacle. Nothing is farther from the truth, and those who have carefully followed her career step by step hitherto, will readily acknowledge, that such a reading of her character is altogether at variance with the whole tenour of her life. With regard to this marriage, she saw difficulties on all sides, and observed to Renard that the suitors proposed to her were so young that she might be the mother of them all, and reminded him that his Highness, the Prince of Spain, was twelve years younger than herself. She also objected that he would naturally wish to pass much of his time in Spain, ordering and administering the affairs of his kingdom, and that this would constitute an immense drawback to the marriage, adding that she had never seriously contemplated matrimony until God had promoted her to the Crown, nor felt affection for any man.[353]

After this interview, Renard thought that Mary was more inclined to the Emperor’s brother, Ferdinand of Austria, who had attained the mature age of fifty, than to Philip, who was no older than Courtenay, but he thought, too, that Ferdinand’s son, Maximilian, had also a fair chance. Nevertheless, he ceased not to sing Philip’s praises, and before long, all London was in possession of the secret, that the Emperor was soliciting the Queen’s hand for his son. None scrupled to express a disapproval, which became general hostility, when de Noailles had dexterously insinuated, that the coming of Philip as their King would mean ruin to the English, followed by the establishment of the Inquisition. To his master he observed reasonably enough, that the Spanish marriage of the Queen would be “to the great displeasure of all, with perpetual war against your Majesty, the Scotch and her own subjects, who will unwillingly suffer the rule of a foreigner”.[354]

The simmering discontent was momentarily allayed by the prospect of the Queen’s coronation on the 1st October, and by the issuing far and wide of writs for the assembling of Parliament on the 4th.

The Londoners had ever loved a spectacle, and having been deprived for six years of every outward and visible sign of rejoicing, their whole energies were now turned to the devising of a succession of brilliant pageants, wherein they proposed to do honour to the Queen. They flattered themselves that at the meeting of Parliament, all difficulties would be adjusted.

The Queen, entirely occupied with the solemnity before her, had applied through Renard to the Bishop of Arras, Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle, to procure the chrism to be used in her anointing. The Bishop, in sending the three different unctions necessary, excused himself for not enclosing them in a more costly box, saying that, as no artist (nul maistre) had been willing to undertake the preparation of a more ornate receptacle in less than three weeks, he sent the box which he usually carried about with him, choosing to execute her Majesty’s commission in a rough and ready manner, rather than to fail altogether by being too late.[355] On the same day the Papal Nuncio told Cardinal del Monte, that Mary had resolved no longer to style herself supreme Head of the Church of England, but simply Queen of France and England, that she had caused coin to be struck with her effigy on one side, and on the other, the legend Veritas temporis filia, that she had abrogated several taxes, and had ordered that Mass should again be offered throughout the kingdom.

At two o’clock on the afternoon of the 30th September the Queen left the Tower, and passed through the city to her coronation in Westminster Abbey. Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves followed Mary’s chariot, which was covered with cloth of gold, in one only a little less splendid, covered with cloth of silver. After them came the ladies of the court. “All the streets from the Tower to Temple Bar were richly hung with divers costly pageants.”[356]

That night, the court remained at Westminster Palace, and the next day, all walked in solemn procession on foot to the Abbey, where Mary was crowned by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; the Archbishop of Canterbury, on whom the office would naturally have fallen, being in prison. To a superficial observer all would have appeared as satisfactory as possible; the cheers of the people were hearty and spontaneous, and the Queen, deeply impressed by the significance of the act she was accomplishing, was yet not so entirely wrapt in her devotions, but that she had a kindly look and smile for the crowd that pressed round her on all sides. Behind her stood Elizabeth, and Anne of Cleves, both Princesses wearing dresses of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine; on their heads were crowns of gold, ablaze with precious stones of great size and value. The Queen’s crown, sceptre, sword and other insignia of the regal office were carried by the highest dignitaries in the State. Renard watched Elizabeth closely, and noticed signs of intelligence between her and the French ambassador. After the ceremony, as the royal procession was moving towards Westminster Hall, he heard her complain to de Noailles of the weight of the crown she was wearing. “Have patience,” he replied, “it is only the preliminary to one that will sit more lightly.”[357]

On Thursday, the 5th October, the first Parliament of Mary’s reign met “to consider chiefly the restoration of religion”.

Great interest had been taken throughout the realm, in the election of the 430 members who made up on the opening day an unusually full House. Even Froude, who will not be suspected of partiality, admits[358] that “on the whole it was perhaps the fairest election which had taken place for many years”.

Mary opened Parliament in person, “the Queen riding from Whitehall in her Parliament robes, with all the lords spiritual and temporal in their Parliament robes; and had a solemn Mass of the Holy Ghost sung in Westminster Church, with a sermon made by Dr. Heath, Bishop of Chichester”.[359]

Afterwards, the Lord Chancellor, addressing both Houses, extolled the virtue, piety and clemency of their sovereign. The speech was received with enthusiasm, and hopes were entertained that the Queen’s measures would be passed without opposition. Five days later, Mary sent down a bill for the abrogation of all laws concerning religion that had been passed during the two preceding reigns, one clause of the bill dealing especially with her mother’s divorce, and the question of her own legitimacy. The peers passed it without debate, but in the Lower House some stormy scenes attended the reading. The Commons had imagined that Mary would be content to restore religion to the condition in which her father had left it, and now they perceived, in the proposed abrogation of the decree of divorce, not merely a recognition of the Pope’s dispensing power, but an attempt to re-establish his jurisdiction in England. For this, the majority of the nation were unprepared. For twenty years and more, the Pope’s authority had been treated with contempt, his jurisdiction denied, his claims ridiculed, his name converted into a mark of infamy, and only mentioned with the foulest abuse. The language of the Reformers admirably promoted the effect which Henry VIII. wished to produce on the national mind, and by constant repetition of every scurrilous term of opprobrium, they had gained the popular ear. Few, at the beginning of Mary’s reign, were of so judicial a mind as to distinguish the real Pope from the bugbear that had been set up. Moreover, at the back of the prejudice lurked the fear, as yet vague and undefined, of a possible contingency, involving the restoration of Church property, on which so many had become rich. But besides the old and the middle-aged, with whom these things weighed, a fresh generation had sprung up, to whom the Papacy, if not the execrable institution that it was popularly believed to be, yet savoured too much of the past, and of those dreary mediæval times, from which the world was escaping as from a tomb. Too recent to appear picturesque, the Middle Ages were, to the pioneers of the new era, out of date and old-fashioned, terms far more injurious than the most violent word-war of the preachers. Filled with the new wine of the Renaissance, these youthful enthusiasts formed the nucleus of that phalanx of life-loving, exuberant personalities who, throwing all their energies into the glorification of liberty, fame, pleasure, and earthly beauty, gave us subsequently the Elizabethan age. To all of these the very shadow of a spiritual authority was repellant, and the whole session would doubtless have worn itself out in wrangling, had not the Queen, coming unexpectedly to the House, seen how matters stood. She promptly affixed the royal assent to three bills that had been passed, and prorogued Parliament for three days. During this interval, two separate bills were framed in the place of the one obnoxious one, the first dealing exclusively with the confirmation of Henry’s first marriage. To make this bill acceptable to the Commons, all allusion to the Pope was avoided. The royal couple, it stated, had lived together in lawful matrimony for twenty years, after which time, unfounded scruples and projects of divorce had been suggested to the King, by interested persons, who, to further their schemes, obtained by threats and bribery the seals of national and foreign universities in favour of the divorce, the sentence being ungodlily pronounced by Thomas, the newly made Archbishop of Canterbury, against all principles of equity and conscience, and in the absence of Queen Katharine. The sentence had afterwards been ratified by Parliament, but as the marriage was not prohibited by divine law, it could not be dissolved by any such authority. The bill required therefore that the marriage should be adjudged good and valid.[360]

Although what was demanded was tantamount to a decree bastardising Elizabeth, not a dissentient voice was raised against the bill in either House.[361]

The second bill was framed in such a manner as to allay the fears of the holders of Church property, and to reassure those who dreaded a return to Papal jurisdiction. It made therefore no mention of ecclesiastical property, neither did it touch the vital question of the royal supremacy, but simply aimed at the re-establishment of religion as it was left at Henry’s death, with the repeal of nine Acts passed by the influence of Edward’s Council. The debate lasted two days in the Lower House, two-thirds of which consisted of friends of the new doctrines. Nevertheless, the bill passed without a division, and Cranmer’s ingenious compromise between Catholicism, Lutheranism and Calvinism was abolished.[362]

The other bills passed in this session related to the Acts, bonds, deeds and writings passed during the nine days’ usurpation, and were made as binding in law, as if Mary’s name had stood for Jane’s. It was also decreed, that nothing should be accounted treason but what fell under the famous statute of Edward III., nor felony but what was so understood in the first year of Henry VIII. The Acts against riotous gatherings passed in the reign of Edward VI. were revived; several persons attainted were restored in blood, and their estates given back to them. Those who had been foremost in actively conspiring to exclude Mary from the throne were attainted. These were, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Guildford and Lord Ambrose Dudley, and the Lady Jane.

All these measures were passed without serious obstacle; the real crux lay in the question of the Queen’s marriage. On the 6th September, de Noailles had been informed by one of the Howards, especially trusted by Mary, of her secret interview with Renard, and of his formal proposal to her from the Emperor, to marry Philip of Spain. The French ambassador lost no time in informing his master of the threatened danger to France, requesting that his brother, the protonotary, François de Noailles, might be accredited as his coadjutor in the difficult diplomatic situation likely to ensue. The following night, he sent for one of Courtenay’s friends, and advised him and his party to acquire as many allies as possible among those who came personally into contact with the Queen and the members of Parliament, soon to be assembled. These latter were to be incensed against Spain, and brought to petition her Majesty not to take a foreigner for her consort. On the 8th, he had an interview with Sorranzo, the Venetian envoy, whom he found ready to enter into his schemes, although Sorranzo had received no instructions from his government, on the subject of the Queen’s marriage. But so great was his dread of any further aggrandisement of the House of Austria, that he was willing to listen to anything de Noailles had to propose. On the 9th, the French ambassador sought out Gardiner, and harangued him for two hours, on the dangers and disadvantages of the proposed union—to the Queen who would soon find herself forsaken by her husband—to the ministers who knew well that Spaniards were not people to suffer opposition in the government—to the realm at large which would see its fortresses occupied by foreigners, and be itself drawn into a war with France, “for,” said he, “if the Emperor married his son to the Queen of England,” it was “with the intention that she, in accepting him, should take upon herself all his quarrels”.[363]

To these arguments Gardiner more than agreed, but he was careful not to show his hand completely. He had been the first to remonstrate with Mary, urging the dislike of the English to foreigners, the arrogance of Spain in particular, and the danger of a perpetual war with the French, who would never agree to the Low Countries being annexed to England. But opposed to the Chancellor were the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel, Paget and Rochester, so that Gardiner could no longer be said to control the Council. De Noailles declared that they were in the pay of the Emperor. His manipulation of the popular feeling was the cleverest stroke of all. He caused it to be widely circulated, that immediately on his arrival and marriage, Philip would seize the Tower and the royal treasure, and make so many innovations that the laws would be entirely subverted, the rights of Parliament suppressed, the Inquisition established and the people trodden under the heel of Spain.[364] In his anxiety to prevent the union, he overstepped his master’s commands, unless the letter which Henry II. wrote to him, prescribing moderation, was a mere blind, intended to be shown to the Queen. Henry’s private instructions to his ambassador regarding his personal dealings with Mary were, that he should go to work very delicately, not seeming to wish to prevent the marriage, which would only cause her to be still more determined in its favour, but that gently he should continue to express doubt of the possibility of such an alliance, so odious to the King of France, since her Majesty had expressed a wish to live in peace with him.

At the beginning of the second session, the Commons, largely under the influence of de Noailles, waited a fortnight for the opportunity to present the Queen with an address which they had voted on the all-engrossing subject. Pleading illness, Mary sought time for further reflection. Then she sent suddenly for the Lower House, to attend on her at once. The Speaker presented himself, accompanied by twenty members, all that could be collected in haste. In his hurry, he had forgotten to provide himself with the address, but his eloquence made up for all deficiencies of form. He spoke so long and tediously, that Mary became impatient, and sat down, contrary to her wont. With a great deal of circumlocution, he prayed the Queen to marry, but not to choose a husband among foreigners, and he expatiated on the advantages she would derive from a union with a member of the English nobility. Such language, respectful though it might be, was not such as to be acceptable to Tudor ears, and in an aside, Mary exclaimed that she would be a match for all her Chancellor’s cunning.[365] When the Speaker had finished, she rose to reply, although the answer should rightly have devolved on Gardiner, as Chancellor, an innovation that caused Paget to rally him afterwards on his disgrace, the Queen having deprived him of his office. Her words were short and characteristic: “For that you desire to see us married,” she said, “we thank you. Your desire to dictate to us the consort whom we shall choose, we consider somewhat superfluous. The English Parliament has not been wont to use such language to its sovereigns, and when private persons on such matters suit their own tastes, sovereigns may reasonably be allowed to choose whom they prefer.” Herewith she dismissed them, and a few days later, Parliament was dissolved.[366]

QUEEN MARY.
From the portrait by Sir Antonio More, at Madrid.

The truth was, that in the interval of her seclusion, Mary had been making up her mind. In an interview with Renard on the 14th October, she had questioned him minutely as to Philip’s character and disposition, entreating him several times to tell her truly, whether the Prince was in fact moderate, well-regulated, and such in very deed as he had been described to her. She seized both of Renard’s hands, and implored him to be open with her, speaking to her as if he were her confessor. Renard protested warmly that he was ready to pledge his honour and his life, that the Prince of Spain was all that she could desire in a husband. Still, only half-satisfied, Mary continued to express regret that a meeting should be considered impracticable, before her final decision.[367]

In default of the original, whom the Emperor would by no means subject to the insulting possibility of not pleasing, a portrait of the Prince by Titian, was sent for Mary’s acceptance by the Queen of Hungary, Philip’s aunt.[368]

Charles was not greatly disturbed by the manner in which his overtures had been received in England. The English opinion of Spaniards was not less flattering than his and Renard’s of the English. “Your Majesty knows,” wrote the imperial ambassador, “that the temper and self-will of the English are extremely turbulent. They love change and novelty, either because of their insular position, or by reason of their habitual contact with the sea, or because their morals are corrupt. Your Majesty is aware how in times past their kings have been obliged to treat them with rigour, even shedding royal blood, in order to maintain their control over them, for which reason they have acquired the reputation of being cruel tyrants.” He went on to draw a picture of all that a foreign prince must be, if he would hope to gain the good-will of the English people. The affection of the nobility might, he explained, be won by rich banquets and entertainments, by dazzling them with great wealth, by giving them the means of enriching themselves, and by showing them an example of valour, in arms and knighthood.

Renard was not far wrong in accusing the people of turbulence. Excited to fever heat by de Noailles’ treachery, they confounded the Queen’s marriage with purely religious questions, and in defiance of all reason, attacked the Catholic religion merely because it was that of Spain. Preachers were insulted in their pulpits; it became unsafe to say Mass in public. The rebellious tone of the Londoners communicated itself to the provinces, especially to the home counties, and to Devonshire, the cradle of the Courtenay family. A circular letter from the Queen to her Council declared, that “certain ill-disposed persons meaning, under the pretence of misliking this marriage to rebel against the Catholic religion, and divine service restored within this our realm, and to take from us their sovereign Lady and Queen that liberty which is not denied to the meanest women in the choice of their husbands, cease not to spread many false, vile and untrue reports of our said cousin and others of that nation”.[369]

The opposition of the Commons, gently as it had been expressed, seems to have brought Mary’s uncertainties to an end. That same night, she took the fatal step which was eventually to deprive her of her people’s affection, an affection that had grown with her from her childhood, had been her consolation in days of darkness, and had enabled her to triumph so splendidly over her enemies. A despatch of Renard’s, addressed to the Emperor, and dated the 31st October, describes the dramatic scene in which she pledged herself to marry Philip.

“On Sunday evening, the said Lady sent for me to a room in which the Blessed Sacrament was exposed, and declared that since I had presented to her your Majesty’s letters, she had not been able to sleep, but had wept and prayed that God would counsel her, and inspire her answer to the question of marriage, which I had asked at Beaulieu [New Hall]. She went on to say that as the Blessed Sacrament was in the room, and she had always invoked it as her protector, guide and counsellor, she would on this occasion also willingly ask it to help her. And kneeling down on both knees, she recited the Veni Creator Spiritus, there being in the room only myself and mistress Clarence, who did the same. But as for mistress Clarence, I do not know whether she heard the said prayer, but I think so because of the sign she made me. After the said lady had risen from her knees, she said, that as your Majesty had chosen me to treat of this negotiation with her, she had chosen me as her first father confessor, and your Majesty for the second, and that having weighed everything, and considered all I had told her, besides having spoken on the subject to Arundel, Paget and Petre, and trusting to what I had said of the good qualities and condition of his Highness, she begged that your Majesty would be mindful of her, and agree to all the conditions necessary for the welfare of the kingdom, and continue to be a good father to her; all the more now that he would be a double father, and would obtain from his Highness to be a good husband to her. Feeling admonished by God, who had already operated so many miracles in her favour, she gave me her royal word, before the Blessed Sacrament, to marry his Highness, declaring that she would never change, but love him perfectly, and never give him cause for jealousy. She went on to say that she had feigned illness for two days, but that her indisposition was merely the result of the difficulty she had felt in making this resolution. Sire, the joy which I experienced on hearing this declaration was as great as your Majesty can imagine, for if she invoked the Holy Spirit, I indeed invoked the Blessed Trinity, to inspire her to give this desired answer.”[370]

This interview was kept so secret, that on the 17th November, more than a fortnight afterwards, de Noailles knew nothing of it, and still expressed doubt that Mary would persist in a matter that was certain to end for her in the loss of her people’s love; and he could not believe that the Emperor would risk sending his son into a country, the inhabitants of which threatened to kill him, rather than recognise him as their King.[371] Nevertheless, it was generally understood that the Queen had made up her mind, and as a forlorn hope the people clamoured for the arrival of Cardinal Pole, whom they credited with being opposed to the match, counting on his influence with Mary to prevent it. He had been appointed by Pope Julius III. legate a latere and pro pace, and had started for England at the beginning of October. Wotton, Mary’s ambassador in France, wrote to Sir William Petre as follows:—

“The Pope has made Cardinal Pole legate a latere to the Emperor and French King, and thereafter he is to go to her Majesty. His errand is to attempt a reconciliation between the two former sovereigns, and if any Cardinal is able to do good in the matter, Pole is that person, being esteemed of an honest mind and virtuous life, and so much respected by the Emperor, that at the last vacation of the Papacy, the Imperial Cardinals laboured to have him made Pope.”[372]

Pole, we have seen, was of the opinion that, having remained thus far unmarried, Mary should not change her state, but that the succession should be left to take care of itself. But ignorant of his young cousin’s unworthiness, he had desired that, if any marriage took place, it might be with Edward Courtenay, though he abstained from giving any advice on the subject. He had reached Dillingen, near Brussels, on his way to England, when the Emperor forbade his further progress, informing Renard, on the 21st November that by reason of jealousies, and because the Cardinal might effectually oppose the Queen’s marriage with his son, Pole was better where he was.[373] Renard replied, begging the Emperor still to detain him, for being Courtenay’s relative, he might put spokes in the wheel of Spain. There is no doubt that had he come to England at that time, he would, seeing the irritation of the people, have done all he could to prevent the marriage; but the Emperor and Renard were probably wrong in suspecting him of the least desire to push Courtenay’s fortunes. A letter from him to his nephew, having been intercepted, was found to contain nothing but the advice to remain faithful to the Queen, and to cultivate gratitude for the benefits which he had received from her.

On the 13th November, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Guildford, Ambrose and Henry Dudley, with the Lady Jane, proceeded from the Tower on foot, to be arraigned at the Guildhall for high treason.[374] All pleaded guilty, Cranmer protesting that he had acted unwillingly, in deference to the authority of the officers of the Crown. Parliament confirmed their attainder, and they were condemned to death. The Archbishop appealed to the Queen, and hoped that the mercy that had been extended to so many would be shown to him.[375] Notwithstanding that the prisoners had been convicted, there was no intention on the part of the Queen to proceed to the extremity of the law. She hoped, by keeping them as hostages, to secure the loyalty of their friends, an optimistic view that was not realised. Meanwhile, every indulgence compatible with their situation was allowed to them. Both Cranmer and Ridley had the freedom of the Tower, and the Queen’s garden, in common with the Lady Jane and the others. Ridley was even sometimes invited to dine at the Lieutenant’s table. The confinement of Latimer was more rigorous. He had from the first been ordered into close prison, with his servant to attend him.

Thus were matters constituted at the end of 1553. Elizabeth had remained at court for some months, in a not very enviable position, regarded by the Imperialists as the arch-enemy, and in reality the object of every plot that was floated. Her fate seemed to keep her perpetually hovering between the scaffold and the throne, to which de Noailles bade her aspire, without intending, even if he succeeded in dethroning Mary, to help her to mount it. She besought the Queen to allow her to retire to her house at Ashridge, but Mary hesitated, in giving her leave to depart, and if she had her watched, it was with good reason. Her relations with de Noailles had been discovered, and Arundel and Paget had told the Queen that the French ambassador had visited the Princess three or four times under cover of the night, in order to treat secretly of her marriage.[376] But Elizabeth denied everything, and probably the accusation regarding the ambassador’s visits was untrue. At any rate, Mary did not believe it, and took occasion to make a new act of confidence in her sister. She embraced her, and gave her two strings of large and magnificent pearls and some rich sables. On taking leave, Elizabeth entreated Mary not to believe the reports circulated to her disadvantage without hearing her. Nevertheless, de Noailles thought that it only depended on Courtenay, for her to follow him into Devon and Cornwall, where they would have a good chance of securing the Crown for themselves. He had some reason for this belief, the mayor and aldermen of Plymouth, thanks to his interference, having sent to beg him to supplicate his master to take them under his protection. They wished, they said, to place their town in his hands, and were willing to receive whatever garrison he would place there, being resolved not to receive the Prince of Spain, nor to obey his commands in any way, assuring de Noailles that the country gentlemen of the neighbourhood would do the same.[377]

Gardiner, ignorant of the Queen’s definite step, continued to struggle against the marriage, till the Emperor, at Lord Paget’s suggestion, wrote to six members of the Privy Council, introducing the subject of the treaty. Then, seeing that all further opposition would be fruitless, the Chancellor, ever patriotic, consented to negotiate terms likely to safeguard the rights, liberties and interests of the nation.

There remained only for the Emperor to make the formal demand for Mary’s hand, on behalf of his son.

THE COMING OF THE KING.

January-July, 1554.

Courtenay was still on the horns of a dilemma, where the weakness and natural timidity of his character kept him irresolute. While he did not hesitate to play with treason, listening to the French ambassador’s flattering suggestions that he should marry Elizabeth, set up his standard in the south-west, and gather round it the disaffected, he hesitated, in the faint hope that the Queen might yet raise him by a safer path to the throne. Never was ambition supported by less courage, moral or physical. De Noailles was in despair as much on account of Courtenay’s want of decision as because of his loose conduct.[378]

It had cost Paget and Renard much trouble to persuade Mary to simulate a belief, which she was now far from entertaining, in Elizabeth’s loyalty. But at last, her sister’s collusion with traitors could no longer be ignored, and remembering all that she had suffered at the hands of Anne Boleyn, the Queen would have been credulous indeed, if she had continued to place confidence in Anne Boleyn’s daughter.[379] The awakening had involved a shock, but Renard and the Spanish party in the Council, consisting of the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel and Lord Paget, prevailed on her to control her indignation, in order to pave the way for her marriage; and it is probable that the idea, which now suggested itself to the Queen and Paget, of marrying Elizabeth to Courtenay,[380] originated in the wish to propitiate those who were opposed to the Spanish match. Half the objection to the Queen’s union with a foreigner would, they thought, vanish, if it were clearly understood, that in the event of her death without issue, not Philip of Spain, but the English heirs of Elizabeth and Courtenay would succeed to the throne. It was a strange coincidence that the same idea should have occurred both to the Queen and her friends, and to her bitterest foe the French ambassador. He thought thereby to create a strong party for Elizabeth and Courtenay, while the loyalists hoped to put an end to the discontent. But the Emperor, to whom of course the plan was at once referred, nipped it in the bud. He saw that to promote such a marriage would be suicidal, for it would constitute the contracting parties natural heads of the conspiracy, and furnish them with a strong motive for plotting against the Queen’s life.[381]

Elizabeth, who was now at Hatfield, and eager to prove the sincerity of her conversion, wrote to her sister for copes, chasubles and everything necessary for Catholic worship in her chapel; but it was remarked that she surrounded herself exclusively with those of the new doctrines, and that she was considerably hampered by the constant supervision under which she lived. “Toutefois, je vous laisse à penser Sire,” wrote de Noailles, “si ladite dame Elisabeth est en peyne d’estre si près éclairée (watched) ce qui n’est fait sans quelque raison, car je vous puis asseurer Sire, qu’elle désire fort de se mettre hors de tutelle, et à ce que j’entends, il ne tiendra qu’à lord Courtenay qu’il ne l’espouse, et qu’elle ne le suive jusques au pays de Dampschier (Devonshire) et de Cornouailles, où il se peult croire que s’ils y estoient assemblez, ils seroient pour avoir une bonne part a ceste couronne.... Mais le malheur est tel, que ledit de Courtenay est en si grande craincte, qu’il n’ose rien entreprendre. Je ne vois moyen qui soit pour l’empeschier sinon la faute de cueur.”[382]

On the 2nd January 1554, the imperial envoys, Counts Egmont and Lalain, Jean de Montmorency, Lord of Corrières, and the Sieur de Nigry, Chancellor of the Order of the Golden Fleece, arrived in England, “for the knitting up of the marriage of the Queen to the King of Spain, before whose landing there was let off a great peal of guns in the Tower”. At the Tower wharf they were met by Sir Anthony Browne, “he being clothed in a very gorgeous apparel,” and on Tower Hill, the Earl of Devon, and others received them, “in most honourable and familiar wise”. Courtenay gave his right hand to Count Egmont, “and brought him throughout Cheapside, and so forth to Westminster; the people nothing rejoicing held down their heads sorrowfully. The day before his coming in, as his retinue and harbingers came riding through London, the boys pelted them with snowballs, so hateful was the sight of their coming in to them.”[383]

The Council and the municipality of London did their best to counteract the impression conveyed by the attitude of the people, and the next day, the Lord Mayor and the Lord Chamberlain waited on the envoys, and presented them with various rich gifts. On the 9th, they were invited to a banquet given by the Lords of the Privy Council. On the 10th they went to Hampton Court.[384] In an audience, at which the whole court was present, they formally demanded Mary’s hand for the Prince of Spain. The Queen replied, that it became not a woman to speak in public, on so delicate a matter as her own marriage, but that they might confer with her ministers, who would make known to them her resolution; but, fixing her eyes on the ring that had been placed on her finger at her coronation, she told the envoys to bear in mind that her realm was her first husband, and that no consideration would induce her to violate the faith she had already pledged.[385]

The terms of the marriage treaty, which had already been settled between Gardiner and Renard, were in every way most honourable to the English nation, safeguarding the national interests in a manner far beyond all other royal marriage treaties before or since. It was stipulated, that Philip should observe strictly the rights and privileges of all classes, and that foreigners should be excluded from public offices; that he should have no claim on English ships, ammunition or treasure, that he should not involve the country in the war which he and the Emperor were carrying on against Henry II., and that as far as lay in his power, he would promote peace between England and France.[386] If there were issue of the marriage, the eldest child was to inherit Burgundy and the Low Countries, a valuable appanage to the Crown of England; and if the Queen predeceased her husband, Philip was to resign the guardianship of the child into English hands. Moreover, this child, male or female, was also, in the event of the death without issue of Don Carlos, Philip’s son by his first marriage, to inherit the kingdoms of Spain and Sicily, the Duchy of Milan, and all Philip’s other dominions. Sixty thousand pounds a year (equal to about a million of present money) was to be settled on Mary as her jointure, to be paid by Spain, if she outlived her husband. Besides this, she was to share with him equally all his titles, honours and dignities, which were to be mentioned in all official documents, after their first titles of King and Queen of England.[387]

No political combination could have been more advantageous to England as a make-weight against the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with the Dauphin. For it was not only desirable that England should seek the protection of the Empire against this important coalition, but as Elizabeth had been virtually declared illegitimate by two Acts of Parliament, Mary Stuart was heir presumptive to the throne, and it was necessary to raise an effectual barrier against the possibility of England becoming a mere appendage to France.

Philip was to have nothing but the empty title of King, the only advantages accruing to him from the marriage being the geographical position of England, its political friendship as a counterpoise to the alliance between France and Scotland, and the hope that Mary would give birth to an heir. By the first he would secure an unmolested passage through the English Channel, for his ships sailing between Spain and the Netherlands; by the second the balance of power in Europe would be restored, and by the third he would checkmate his enemy. Further than this he would reap no benefit. England, with the exception of London, was poor, and only just recovering from the consequences of a debased currency, while the religious troubles of the last seventeen years, dating from the Pilgrimage of Grace, had made revolt and popular risings far too frequent for the prosperity of the country.

During the first half of the sixteenth century, England had played but a subordinate part in the politics of Europe, and during Edward’s reign, the Government had been so weak that Charles V. had been able to demand Mary’s religious rights without compromise. France and the Empire had disputed the honours, the wealth, the prestige of the civilised world, and Mary had some reason to hope that by her marriage, she would raise her country to the rank of a first-rate power. But de Noailles and his friends had sown the seeds of discord too carefully, party and religious feeling ran too high for dispassionate counsels to prevail, and when, on the 14th and 15th January, the Chancellor read aloud the articles of the treaty, first in the Upper, then in the Lower House, calling attention in each, to the favourable terms stipulated for, and to the provisions made to secure the national independence, no satisfaction was expressed.[388] Immediately afterwards, the French King ordered his ambassador to demand an audience, and to represent to Mary his master’s grief at her projected union with his enemy, “having desired more than anything in this world, to perpetuate friendship with her all their lives”. Nevertheless, Henry wanted not peace, but England as well as Scotland, for his daughter-in-law’s dowry, for together, France, England and Scotland would have formed a compact bulwark against the Empire. Spain and the Netherlands would have been completely sundered, with no possibility of intercourse, and the Low Countries would have fallen a facile prey to France.[389] At the very time when he was charging his ambassador to reproach the Queen with a want of friendship, de Noailles was secretly interviewing a number of the malcontents, and organising a plot so widespread in its ramifications, that had it succeeded, Mary must have been utterly undone. Devonshire and Cornwall were to rise under Sir Peter Carew, in favour of Elizabeth and Courtenay; Sir Thomas Wyatt, a young Kentish gentleman, son of the poet of that name, was to disaffect the home counties. The Duke of Suffolk was to incite to rebellion his tenantry in the Midlands; Sir James Croft undertook to cause a revolt on the borders of Wales, while the French fleet was under orders to be in readiness to help the insurgents wherever the need should be greatest. De Selve, formerly French ambassador in England, now envoy at Venice, wrote to the Constable of France, advising him to do his utmost to stir up and keep alive the discontent in England. This was done by circulating the grossest and most self-contradictory falsehoods. It was reported that Edward was still alive, that the Spaniards were coming with an army of 8,000 men to take possession of the Tower, the ports and the ships, that they possessed every vice and evil propensity that could enslave and disgrace a nation, that the Queen had been false to her promises not to make any change in religion or to marry a foreigner.[390] Had there been unity of purpose and design among the leaders, and above all, had Courtenay possessed one spark of courage, their success would have been certain. But some were for immediate action, while others had regard to the bad and almost impassable state of the country roads, and to the difficulty of a combined movement in mid-winter.

Finally, it was decided that nothing should be done till the spring, when Philip was expected to arrive. At the first sign of his approach, they were to arm, oppose his landing, marry Elizabeth to Courtenay, and have them proclaimed King and Queen in Devonshire. But the suspicions of the Council were roused by the visits to Elizabeth of a mysterious person, representing himself to be a French pastor. He had several conferences with her, the officers of her household taking him for an emissary of the disaffected. The Council urged Mary to secure Elizabeth’s person, but in vain, and Gardiner sent a message to the Princess, entreating her to be loyal to the Queen.[391] Elizabeth immediately posed as a victim, but Courtenay was wax in the Chancellor’s hands. Gardiner summoned him to an interview, and began by reproaching the thankless recipient of Mary’s bounty with his manner of life, and with the company he frequented, warning him that if he continued to forget his duty to the Queen, he would assuredly have cause for repentance. He should be on his guard, the Chancellor insinuated, against the French, and other interested people, adding that her Majesty wished that he should go and make the acquaintance of the Emperor. Hereupon Courtenay became alarmed, fancying himself already handed over to the just punishment of his crime. He pretended to confess all, declared that certain persons had tried to persuade him of things touching religion and the Queen’s marriage, but that he had been unwilling to listen to them; that he had resolved to live and die in the Queen’s service; that a marriage with Madam Elizabeth had been proposed to him, but that he would rather be sent back to the Tower than be united to her; and that he was willing to accept the proposed mission to the Low Countries.[392] This was all that Renard committed to writing of the interview, but the news spread like wildfire among the conspirators, that Courtenay had revealed the plot, and de Noailles informed Henry of the fact. Renard as usual importuned Gardiner for Elizabeth’s imprisonment, but the Chancellor made an evasive answer, to the effect that he would see to it when the Prince of Spain should be in England. The plotters decided to bring matters to an immediate crisis, although it was fully six weeks before the time fixed for action. On leaving London, Wyatt and Croft resolved to warn Elizabeth, but the letter which Wyatt wrote to her fell into the hands of the Council. In this letter, he urged her for greater safety to leave her house at Ashridge, and to retire to her castle of Donnington, thirty miles farther from the capital. On the day after Wyatt’s appearance openly in arms at Maidstone, the Queen wrote to Elizabeth:—

Elizabeth returned a verbal answer, saying that she was too ill to travel at that time, but that she would come as soon as she was able. She neither removed to Donnington, in compliance with Wyatt’s letter and Croft’s reiterated entreaties, nor made any attempt to obey Mary’s summons, but fortified herself at Ashridge, and took to her bed, either because she was really ill, or to give some colour to her assertion. De Noailles told Henry II. that she had surrounded herself with people “à sa devotion,” and was suspected. Renard also noted that she had summoned armed men to her defence.[394]

The Earl of Devon remained at court closely watched, presenting a pitiable figure, but stoutly maintaining his loyalty and devotion to the Queen.

In spite of the determination, boldness and assurance with which the plot had been laid, the conspirators were mistaken in the measure of the national discontent. Even the Devonshire men, supposed to be staunch adherents of Courtenay’s house, were apathetic, and when it became apparent that the young Earl would fail to come himself and lead them, their last spark of enthusiasm died out. The Earl of Bedford, who was sent against them, took a few of the leaders prisoners, Carew with some of his companions escaping to France. Sir James Croft was closely pursued, when he left London to spread revolt among his tenantry on the banks of the Severn, and before one seditious word could be uttered, his designs were nipped in the bud. He was arrested in his bed and conveyed to the Tower.

The part taken by the Duke of Suffolk was particularly odious. If he displayed a less craven spirit than Courtenay, his ingratitude for past favours was far more glaring. The principal mover after Northumberland, in the plot to deprive Mary of the Crown, he had been freely and frankly forgiven, after only three days’ imprisonment, being permitted to suffer for his treason neither in body nor estate. So great moreover was the distinction accorded to his wife by Mary, that the Queen sometimes gave her precedence over her own sister; and if his daughter and her husband were still captives, it was owing to the fact of the disturbed state of London, and its neighbourhood, the direct result of his own and his friends’ treachery. There is little doubt that there had been no further movement to raise the Lady Jane to the throne, and had her father remained faithful, although sentence of death had been passed on her, she would shortly with her husband have regained complete liberty. None suspected Suffolk’s fidelity, for with consummate deceit, the Duke feigned the deepest attachment to the person of the Queen, giving repeated assurances of the same, and of his approval of her marriage. So entirely was Mary deceived, that it was thought she contemplated placing him at the head of her troops.[395] The following account of his departure for the Midlands shows how little she doubted him:—

“The 25th day of January, the Duke of Suffolk, the lord John Gray and the Lord Leonard Gray fled (from his house at Sheen). It is said that the same morning that he was going, there came a messenger to him from the Queen, that he should come to the Court. ‘Marry,’ quoth he, ‘I was coming to her Grace. Ye may see, I am booted and spurred, ready to ride, and I will but break my fast and go.’ So he gave the messenger a reward, and caused him to be made to drink, and so thence departed himself, no man knoweth whither. Sir Thomas Palmer, servant to the Earl of Arundel said on the morrow following, to a friend of his, that the complot between the French king and the said Duke of Suffolk was now come to light.”[396]

Suffolk went into Warwickshire with his brothers, and about fifty followers, and was accused of having proclaimed the Lady Jane at Leicester, and in other places, but according to Holinshed, he only called on the inhabitants of the towns through which he passed, to rise and fight for their liberties, which were at the mercy of Spain.[397] But as in the first rebellion, the people listened to him in stolid and indifferent silence, even refusing the money which he scattered in profusion among them. The Earl of Huntingdon, who was sent in pursuit as soon as Suffolk’s intentions were known, encountered the Duke near Coventry, and after a slight skirmish obliged him to fly for his life. He was betrayed by one of his own tenants, with whom he had taken refuge, and delivered over to his pursuers.

Thus the triple cord was utterly broken in less than a fortnight, and Mary and her advisers might now concentrate all their energies on the only one of the chief plotters who seemed likely to prove dangerous. This was Sir Thomas Wyatt, whose name has become identified with the rebellion. In courage, skill and enterprise he far exceeded the other conspirators, and when it was known that he had risen, furnished with arms and ammunition by the Venetian ambassador, consternation filled the hearts of the loyal. Fifteen thousand Kentish men gathered round his standard, in the fields bordering the great highway that runs from London to Dover. They harassed the Flemish and Spanish merchants, travelling from the coast inland, in such sort, that those who escaped with their lives thought themselves fortunate.

So great was the terror which he inspired, that if Wyatt had at once pushed on to London, the city would have fallen resistless into his hands.

“The 26th day of January,” says Machyn, “began watching at every gate, in harness, for tidings came the same time to the Queen and her Council, that Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir George Harper, Sir Hare Isseley, Master Cobham, and Master Rudston and Master Knevett, and divers other gentlemen and commons were up, and they say because [of] the Prince of Spain coming in to have our Queen, for they keep Rochester Castle, and the bridge and other places.”[398]

By six o’clock in the evening, a small force of about five hundred men had been collected at Leadenhall, and the next day marched towards Gravesend, under Captain Brett, as if to fight the Kentish men, while the Earl of Huntingdon set out with another company “to take the Duke of Suffolk”. The Duke of Norfolk, lieutenant of the army, was supported by the Earl of Ormond, and Sir Henry Jerningham, Captain of the Guard, with a considerable number of men under him. But the loyalty of Brett and his men was feigned, and the following account relates the story of their treason:—

“And before the setting forward of these men, the Duke sent a herald into Rochester, with the Queen’s proclamation, that all such as would desist their purpose should have frank and free pardon; who came upon the bridge, and would have gone through into the city, but they that kept the bridge would not suffer him, till that the captain came, who at last granted the same to be read in the city. But the same being ended, each man cried they had done nothing whereof they should need any pardon, and that quarrel which they took, they would die and live in it. Nevertheless, at the last, Sir George Harper received the pardon outwardly, and being received under the Duke of Norfolk’s protection, came on forward against the Kentish men; and even as the company was set in a readiness, and marched forward toward the bridge, the said Bret being captain of the five hundred Londoners, of which the more part were in the forward, turned himself about, and drawing his sword said by report these or much like words. ‘Masters, we go about to fight against our native countrymen of England and our friends, in a quarrel unrightful and partly wicked, for they, considering the great and manifold miseries which are like to fall upon us if we shall be under the rule of the proud Spaniards or strangers, are here assembled to make resistance against the coming in of him or his favourers.’”

Then followed the usual highly coloured description of the state of slavery to which England was to be reduced by the Queen’s marriage, a picture that had been so often held up before the people by de Noailles, that it was no wonder if they had come to believe in the reality of the horrors portrayed. “‘Wherefore,’ continued Brett, ‘I and these (meaning by them such as were in that rank with him) will spend our blood in the quarrel of this worthy captain, master Wyatt, and other gentlemen here assembled.’ Which words once pronounced, each man turned their ordnance against their fellow. The Londoners thereupon cried ‘a Wyatt! a Wyatt!’ of which sudden noise, the duke, the earl of Ormond and the captain of the guard, being abashed, fled forthwith. Immediately came in master Wyatt and his company, on horseback, rushing in amongst them, saying as well to the guard, Londoners, as to all the rest. ‘So many as will come and tarry with us shall be welcome; and so many as will depart, good leave have they.’ And so all the Londoners, part of the guard, and more than three parts of the retinue went into the camp of the Kentishmen, where they still remain. At this discomfiture, the Duke lost eight pieces of brass, with all other munition and ordnance, and himself with the earl of Ormond, and Jerningham and others fled to London. Ye should have seen some of the guard come home, their coats turned, all ruined, without arrows or string in their bow, or sword, in a very strange wise; which discomfiture, like as it was a heartsore, and very displeasing to the Queen and Council, even so it was almost no less joyous to the Londoners, and most part of all others.”[399]

Wyatt then marched to a house belonging to Lord Cobham near Rochester, made himself master of it, and obliged the owner with his two sons to join his band. His next movement was towards London. The Queen ordered the bridges over the Thames to be destroyed, to the distance of fifteen miles. The numbers of the insurgents increased daily, lashed into a fury of fear by inflammatory words, such as the following incident relates:—

William Cotman, afterwards committed, declared that “William Ishley Gent. eldest son Sir William Ishley, Knt., came this morning to his shop, two hours before day, to shoe his horse, where he tarried the making of a shoe, and there used these words: ‘that the Spaniards were coming into the realm, with harness and hand-guns, and would make us Englishmen worse than enemies and viler; for this realm should be brought to such bondage by them, as it was never afore, but should be utterly conquered!’ And at his taking of his horse, he said with a loud voice, that all the street might hear it, it being scarce day: ‘Smith, if thou beest a good fellow, stir and encourage all the neighbours to rise against these strangers, for they should have lawful warning and help enough!...’ ‘Why,’ quoth the smith, ‘these be marvellous words, for we shall be hanged if we stir.’ ‘No,’ quoth Ishley, ‘ye shall have help enough, for the people are already up in Devonshire and Cornwall, Hampshire and other counties.’”[400]

The Council, the Court, the loyal citizens of London were panic-stricken, armed men patrolled the London streets; friends and foes were scarcely to be distinguished in the surging, vociferous crowds that thronged the open spaces day and night. Confusion and terror reigned. The government sued Wyatt for terms, thereby only increasing his audacity. He replied by undertaking to lay down his arms, provided that the Queen placed the Tower of London, and four of her principal advisers in his hands, as guarantees of her promise to marry an Englishman. Mutual distrust gave rise to futile recriminations at the Council Board. Gardiner was reproached on the one hand for his precipitancy in restoring the ancient religion; the Spanish ambassadors, on the other, were blamed for advising the Queen’s marriage with Philip, to which the Chancellor had always been opposed. The ambassadors fled in dismay, disguised as merchants—all but Renard, who refused to desert the Queen.

Mary was at Whitehall and Westminster Palace, during the whole time of the horrible panic, the only calm and self-possessed figure, amid the confusion and dire distress of her friends. She could easily pass from one palace to the other by means of the inside galleries which connected the Holbein Gate at Whitehall, with the Old Palace at Westminster, on the site of the present Houses of Parliament. When her ministers urged her to seek safety in flight, she as usual consulted Renard, who advised her to remain, if she would not lose her crown.[401] A meeting of the citizens to discuss measures for the defence of London, was convened at the Guildhall, on the 1st February. Mary’s coming to the city and her address to the people are thus described by Wriothesley:—

“The same day in the afternoon, being Candlemas Even, all the Commons of the City were assembled in their liveries at the Guildhall. The Queen’s Majesty, with her lords and ladies, riding from Westminster to the said Guildhall, came thither by 3 of the clock the same afternoon. First she went up to the Council Chamber, where the aldermen use to sit, and there paused a little, the Lord Mayor and aldermen receiving her Majesty at the steps going up to the Lord Mayor’s Court. Then her Majesty came down into the great hall, up into the place of the hustings, where was hanged a rich cloth of estate, she standing under it, with her own mouth declared to the audience there assembled, the wicked pretence of the traitor Wyatt, which was utterly to deprive her of her crown and to spoil the City; which was so nobly and with so good spirit declared, and with so loud a voice, that all the people might hear her Majesty, and comforting their hearts with so sweet words, that made them weep for joy to hear her Majesty speak. This done, she came down, and went up again into the Council Chamber, and drank, and then departed, and rode through Bucklersbury to the Crane in the Vinetree, and there took her barge, and so to Westminster by water.”[402]

Foxe gives the Queen’s speech at the Guildhall “as near out of her own mouth as it could be penned”. She said: “I am come unto you in mine own person to tell you that which already you see and know; that is, how traitorously and rebelliously a number of Kentishmen have assembled themselves against us and you. Their pretence (as they said at the first) was for a marriage determined for us, to the which, and to all the articles thereof, ye have been made privy. But since, we have caused certain of our privy council to go again unto them, and to demand the cause of this their rebellion; and it appeared then unto our said council, that the matter of the marriage seemed to be but a Spanish cloak to cover their pretended purpose against our religion; for that they arrogantly and traitorously demanded to have the governance of our person, the keeping of the Tower, and the placing of our councillors. Now, loving subjects, what I am ye right well know. I am your queen, to whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left off) you promised your allegiance and obedience unto me. And that I am the right and true inheritor of the crown of this realm of England, I take all Christendom to witness. My father, as ye all know, possessed the same regal state, which now rightly is descended unto me: and to him always ye showed yourselves most faithful and loving subjects; and therefore I doubt not, but ye will show yourselves [such] likewise unto me, and that ye will not suffer a vile traitor to have the order and governance of our person, and to occupy our estate, especially being so vile a traitor as Wyat is, who most certainly as he hath abused mine ignorant subjects which be on his side, so doth he intend and purpose the destruction of you, and spoil of your goods. And I say to you on the word of a prince, I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for I was never the mother of any, but certainly if a prince and governor may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects, as the mother doth love the child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you. And I, thus loving you, cannot but think that ye as heartily and faithfully love me; and then I doubt not but that we shall give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow. As concerning the marriage, ye shall understand that I enterprised not the doing thereof without advice, and that by the advice of all our privy council, who so considered and weighed the great commodities that might ensue thereof, that they not only thought it very honourable, but also expedient, both for the wealth of the realm, and also of you our subjects. And as touching myself, I assure you, I am not so bent to my will, neither so precise nor affectionate, that either for mine own pleasure I would choose where I lust, or that I am so desirous, as needs I would have one. For God, I thank him, to whom be the praise therefore, I have hitherto lived a virgin, and doubt nothing, but with God’s grace, I am able so to live still. But if, as my progenitors have done before me, it may please God, that I might leave some fruit of my body behind me, to be your governor, I trust you would not only rejoice thereat, but also I know it would be to your great comfort. And certainly, if I either did think or know, that this marriage were to the hurt of any of you my commons, or to the impeachment of any part or parcel of the royal state of this realm of England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry while I lived. And on the word of a queen, I promise you, that if it shall not probably appear to all the nobility and commons, in the high court of parliament, that this marriage shall be for the high benefit and commodity of the whole realm, then will I abstain from marriage while I live. And now good subjects, pluck up your hearts, and like true men, stand fast against these rebels, both our enemies and yours, and fear them not, for I assure you I fear them nothing at all. And I will leave with you, my lord Howard, and my lord treasurer, who shall be assistants with the mayor for your defence.”[403]

As Mary finished this oration, “which she seemed perfectly to have conned without book,” the hall resounded with cheers and acclamations. “God save Queen Mary!” shouted the citizens, and some even added, “and the Prince of Spain”. The Chancellor, who was standing by, exclaimed: “Oh, how happy are we, to whom God hath given such a wise and learned prince!” Enthusiasm took the place of depression, and 20,000 men at once enrolled themselves for the defence. The Queen’s noble confidence in the strength and righteousness of her cause communicated itself to the people, and the approach of the rebels was henceforth met with steady preparations for a determined resistance. On the last day of January, Wyatt was at Dartford. While Mary was rousing the citizens to fervour at the Guildhall, he was passing through Greenwich and Deptford, but his company was suffering hourly from desertions, and that same night Lord Cobham gave himself up, and was taken to the Tower as a prisoner.

“On Saturday in the morning, being the 3rd of February, there came forth a proclamation, set forth by the Queen’s Council, wherein was declared that that traitor Wyatt educed simple people against the Queen. Wherefore, she willed all her loving subjects to endeavour themselves to withstand him; and that the Duke of Suffolk with his two brethren were discomfited by the Earl of Huntingdon, and certain of his horsemen taken, and the Duke and his two brethren fled in servingman’s coats; and that Sir Peter Carew was fled into France; and that Sir Gawen Carew, Gibbs and others were taken and remain in Exeter; and that the whole city of Exeter and commons thereabout, were at the Queen’s commandment, with their power to the death. And that she did pardon the whole camp except Wyatt, Harper, Rudston and Iseley; and that whoever could take Wyat, except the said four persons, should have an hundred pounds a year, to them and to their heirs for ever.”[404]

Nevertheless Wyatt pushed on boldly, in spite of his daily decreasing numbers, and the disorganised state of his band, weary with trudging day after day along the miry high-roads, exposed to the inclemency of the prolonged winter. He reached Southwark, which he ravaged during four terrible days, seeking how he might cross the river and capture London. But the bridge had been hewn down, and he was obliged, after his men had pillaged Gardiner’s house, and destroyed his library, “so that a man might have gone up to the knees in the leaves of books cut out and thrown under feet,”[405] to move out of the reach of the batteries placed on the Tower walls. He marched up to Kingston, where he effected a crossing. Here also the bridge had been partially destroyed, but he swam over the Thames, and procured a boat, in which he, with a few others, worked so successfully at its restoration that by eleven o’clock at night his 7,000 men were able to pass over it. The audacity of the feat filled London once more with consternation. Gardiner threw himself on his knees, and entreated Mary to retire into the Tower for safety. She replied, that if the Earl of Pembroke and Lord Clinton, who had charge of the defence, would do their duty, she would assuredly remain at her post. But she was the only calm person in the whole panic-stricken palace. “The Queen’s ladies,” said Underhill,[406] “made the greatest lamentations that night; they wept and wrung their hands, and from their exclamations may be judged the state of the interior of Whitehall. Alack! alack! they said, some great mischief is toward. We shall all be destroyed this night. What a sight is this, to see the queen’s bedchamber full of armed men! The like was never seen or heard before!”

The struggle began at four o’clock in the morning (7th February), and all through the day, Mary’s presence animated the courage of the soldiers, and restored the confidence of the citizens; for “it was more than marvel to see that day the invincible heart and constancy of the queen”.[407] The way in which these were displayed adds to the force of the picture. Mary might well have ridden up and down the ranks, speaking gracious words, or have herself led her soldiers to battle. She chose a more womanly way. “The Queen,” says Bishop Christopherson, “while the field was fighting, was fervently occupied in praying. And when as tidings was brought her that by treason all was lost, she like a valiant champion of Christ, nothing abashed therewith, said that she doubted not at all, but her Captain (meaning thereby our Saviour Jesus Christ) would have the victory at length. And falling to her prayer again, anon after, had she word brought her that her men had won the field, and that Wyatt, her enemy’s captain was taken.”[408]

The story of that memorable day has been often told. Wyatt arrived near the spot now covered by St. George’s Hospital, at Hyde Park Corner, at about nine o’clock in the morning, and set up his standard in a field. The numbers of his Kentish yeomanry, and burghers of Maidstone, Canterbury and Rochester, had still further diminished during the past night, many being glad to avail themselves of the pardon extended to them in the Queen’s proclamation. Those who still remained lost heart, when they saw the preparations that had been made to receive them. Ten thousand infantry, fifteen hundred mounted troops, and a formidable battery of cannon, lay between the insurgents and the gates of the city. Wyatt, valiant to the last, resolved to fight his way through, in the hope of being succoured by his friends within the walls. The ranks of the Queen’s soldiers opened to let him pass, with about four hundred of his men, then closed again, and having separated the leader from the main body of his army, fell upon the wavering lines, and cut them to pieces. Nearly five hundred of them were made prisoners, many were wounded, and about a hundred were slain. Wyatt with his four hundred men was allowed to proceed unchallenged. Halting at St. James’s, to insult the gates of the palace, he then passed on towards Charing Cross, where he encountered Sir John Gage, with a detachment of the Queen’s Guards, and a number of gentlemen. Among them was Courtenay. Either from fear, or with treacherous intent, at sight of Wyatt, he fled in the direction of Whitehall, crying “All is lost!” Lord Worcester and the Guards followed helter skelter, taking up the cry, and causing a fresh panic, which was increased when they met a company of Wyatt’s soldiers in search of their leader. These let fly a shower of arrows into the palace windows, so that those within thought that an attack was being made. But the Queen, indifferent to danger, came out on to a balcony and cried that she was ready to descend into the arena, and to die with those who remained faithful to her.

Wyatt had by this time, reached Ludgate, ignorant that his greatest opportunity lay behind him. Had he retraced his steps, pursued Courtenay and the Guards, he would have rejoined his men, and could easily have captured the Queen. But in the meanwhile, he had suffered under the fire of another detachment of Guards, which the Earl of Pembroke was sending to Mary’s assistance, and his followers, fagged and spiritless, numbered barely three hundred, when he knocked at Ludgate for admittance.

His demand to be let in, on the lying ground that “the Queen had granted all his petitions,” was met by the defiant answer of Lord William Howard, “Avaunt traitor, thou shalt not come in here!” “And then,” continues the Chronicle, “Wyat awhile stayed, and as some say, rested him upon a seat [at] the Bellsavage gate; at last seeing he could not come in, and belike being deceived of the aid which he hoped out of the city, returned back again in array towards Charing Cross, and was never stopped till he came to Temple Bar, where certain horsemen which came from the field met them in the face; and then began the fight again to wax hot, till an herald said to master Wyat, ‘Sir, ye were best, by my counsel, to yield. You see this day is gone against you, and in resisting ye can get no good, but be the death of all these your soldiers, to your great peril of soul. Perchance ye may find the Queen merciful, and the rather if ye stint so great a bloodshed as is like here to be.’ Wyat herewith being somewhat astonished (although he saw his men bent to fight it out to the death) said ‘Well, if I shall needs yield, I will yield me to a gentleman’. To whom Sir Morice Barkeley came straight up, and bade him leap up behind him; and another took Thomas Cobham, and William Knevet, and so carried them behind them upon their horses to the court. Then was taking of men on all sides. It is said that in this conflict, one pikeman setting his back to the wall at Saint James, kept seventeen horsemen off him a great time, and at last was slain. At this battle, was slain in the field, by estimation on both sides, not past forty persons, as far as could be learned by certain that viewed the same; but there was many sore hurt, and some think there was many slain in houses. The noise of women and children, when the conflict was at Charing Cross, was so great and shrill, that it was heard to the top of the White tower; and also the great shot was well discerned there out of Saint James’ field. There stood upon the leads there the lord Marquess [of Northampton], Sir Nicholas Poyns, Sir Thomas Pope, Master John Seamer and others. From the battle, when one came and brought word that the Queen was like to have the victory, and that the horsemen had discomfited the tale of his enemies, the lord Marquess for joy gave the messenger ten shillings in gold, and fell in great rejoicing. Note that when Wyat was perceived to be comen to Ludgate, and the mayor and his brethren heard thereof, thinking all had not gone well with the Queen’s side, they were much amazed, and stood as men half out of their lives, and many hollow hearts rejoiced in London at the same.”[409]

According to another account, on “the 8th February, being Ash Wednesday, early in the morning, the Earl of Pembroke, Lieutenant of the Queen’s army, with the horsemen and footmen of the noblemen, gathered their armies together with the Queen’s ordinance, and pitched their field by St. James beyond Charing Cross, to abide the said traitor Wyatt and his rebels. The Lord Mayor and the Lord Admiral set the citizens in good array at Ludgate, Newgate, and from Cripplegate to Bishopsgate, lest the rebels would draw to Finsbury field, they to defend that side. Then Wyatt with his rebels came to the park pale by St. James about 2 of the clock in the afternoon, and Knevett one of his captains, with his rebels went by Tothill through Westminster, and shot at the Court gates. But Wyatt, perceiving the great army of the Queen’s camp, and ordinance bent against him, suddenly returned by the wall of the park at St. James, toward Charing Cross, with the lightest of his soldiers, when the Earl of Pembroke’s men cut off his train, and slew divers of the rebels. But Wyatt himself, with divers other came in at Temple Bar, and so through Fleetstreet to the Bell Savage, crying ‘A Wyatt! a Wyatt! God save Queen Marie.’ But when he saw that Ludgate was shut against him and the ordinance bent, he fled back again, saying ‘I have kept touch;’ and by Temple Bar was taken, with the Lord Cobham’s son, and other of his captains and rebels, and brought to the court gate, and from thence sent by water to the Tower of London.”[410]

The next day, a solemn Te Deum in thanksgiving for the Queen’s victory was sung at St. Paul’s, and in every parish church the bells were rung for joy.[411]

Mary, by her courage and great heart, had a second time triumphed over the revolution. On the first occasion, she had magnanimously thought to disarm, and win over the factious by an almost universal pardon. Three victims only suffered the just punishment of their crimes; two were held over as hostages for the peaceable behaviour of the others; the rest obtained a full and free forgiveness. Such clemency was a complete innovation. If Mary cannot be said to have been in advance, or even abreast of her time, in many ways, she often rose above it, with the inevitable result that she was misunderstood by some, and repaid by others with the grossest ingratitude. The world has never been ripe for a clemency such as she had extended to the insurgents after the first rebellion. The elementary laws of rewards and punishments were alone grasped by the people, accustomed to the frequent spectacle of revolt followed by swift vengeance. The butchery with which Henry VIII. had replied to the northern rising, though an everlasting blot on his name, made him feared, and his authority respected. Elizabeth’s ruthless punishment of the Catholics of the north, after their abortive efforts to bring back the Mass, resulted in peace for the remainder of the reign.

Mary’s wholesale forgiveness of the insurgents had been interpreted as weakness, by a people who had not yet learned that mercy “becomes the thronèd monarch better than his crown”. Charles V. had insisted that it should be seasoned with a larger measure of justice, but in this one point Mary had disregarded his advice. Now her eyes were opened. Had the rebels been treated with proper severity, there would have been no second outbreak. Had Suffolk fallen with Northumberland, as the consequence of his share in Jane’s usurpation, his daughter would not have constituted a danger to the State six months later. Even those who had been implicated in the first plot were loud in maintaining that there would now be no safety for the realm while Jane lived.[412]

Both she and her husband had already been found guilty by Parliament of high treason, and sentence of death was passed in November 1553, although but for Suffolk’s action they would undoubtedly both have been pardoned. Now, however, recognising the disastrous consequences of her mildness, Mary allowed herself to be guided by those who had from the beginning advocated a policy of rigid justice; and on the day after Wyatt’s arrest, she signed the warrant for their execution.

Modern writers have not hesitated to accuse Mary of cruelty and vindictiveness in causing the death of two persons who, although usurpers, were but tools in masterful and unscrupulous hands. This opinion does not appear to have been shared by her contemporaries, who threw the blame generally, not on the Queen, but on the Duke of Suffolk, “who would have died more pitied for his weakness, if his practices had not brought his daughter to her end”.[413] They argued, that to lay claim to a throne is a matter of so deep an import, that even in deploring the necessity of executing the Lady Jane and her husband, “their death being not easily consented to, not even by the Queen herself,” they could not help exculpating Mary, who adopted the measure for State reasons and not from personal animosity.[414] It is strange that, with so great a personal reputation for clemency, in the midst of a ferocious age, Mary should have come to be regarded as an example of unparalleled cruelty, by all subsequent generations. When we remember that during nearly the whole of Elizabeth’s reign, the rack, the thumbscrew and the terrible instrument known as “the Scavenger’s Daughter” were never at rest, and that under Mary, contrary to the custom of every court of justice in Europe, torture was seldom applied to an accused person, the unfairness with which she has been treated by historians is unmistakeably apparent. Contemporaneous annalists, such as Holinshed and Stow, are guiltless of the injustice; Foxe was the first of Mary’s libellers, and Strype, who wrote at the end of the seventeenth century, was not only biassed by Foxe, but was embittered by the mass of calumny heaped upon her memory by Anabaptists and Iconoclasts.

The Bishop of Winchester, preaching before her on the 11th February, “axed a boon of the Queen’s highness, that like as she had before time extended her mercy particularly and privately, so through her lenity and gentleness much conspiracy and open rebellion was grown, according to the proverb nimia familiaritas parit contemptum; which he brought then in for the purpose that she would now be merciful to the body of the commonwealth, and conservation thereof, which could not be, unless the rotten and hurtful members thereof were cut off and consumed”.[415]

The next day, Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guildford Dudley were beheaded, he on Tower Hill, in presence of the people, she within the Tower precincts, in consideration of her royal descent. Mary had sent them permission to take leave of each other, but Jane declined the favour, saying that they would meet soon in heaven. Before laying her head on the block, she acknowledged in a few words her guilt in having consented to her father-in-law’s treason, although she had not been one of the original conspirators.

Brett, with twenty other prisoners, was taken into Kent to be executed. On leaving the Tower, he expressed himself in these words: “I am worthy of no less punishment than I do now go to suffer; for besides mine offence, I refused life and grace three times when it was offered; but I trust God did all for the best for me, that my soul might repent, and thereby after this life attain to the more mercy and grace in his sight”.[416]

When the extreme penalty of the law had been suffered by about sixty of the most prominent rebels, a general pardon was extended to the mass of the Kentish insurgents. Four hundred prisoners, with halters round their necks, rode into the tilt yard at Whitehall, where the Queen, from a balcony pardoned them, and ordered them to return home in peace. Of those who still remained in the Tower, eight were pardoned by her prerogative alone. Renard in his despatch of the 27th March says with curious logic:—

“Sire, the Queen of England sent for me last Saturday, and told me that persuaded by the Comptroller, Southwell, Petre, and those who had examined the prisoners, she had pardoned eight of them, having found no ground for suspecting or accusing them of treason in the late rebellion. Among others were the Marquess of Northampton, affirming that he had returned to the old religion, Cobham and his eldest son, Davet (Daniel) and four others whom she did not name, and added that from time immemorial, it had been the custom for the kings of England, on Good Friday to pardon some prisoners. To this I answered that since it had pleased her to dispense mercy, I could not and ought not to make any objection, especially as she had done it by the advice of her Councillors, but that she might have deferred the pardon till it had been ascertained whether they were concerned in the plot or no; for if they were, she had only thus increased the number of her enemies by so many persons, setting them at liberty to strengthen Elizabeth’s party.”[417]

He then goes on to say, that he had expressed doubts regarding the coming of Philip, on account of the divisions in the Council, objecting that he could not come in arms, and yet that if anything befell him, it would be a most disastrous and lamentable scandal. He had advised that the greatest precautions should be taken for his safety, and the Queen had replied with tears in her eyes, that she would rather never have been born, than that any harm should happen to the Prince, that the Council would do their utmost to receive him worthily, that they were making great expense with that object, that the Council should be reformed and reduced to six members, a measure advised by Paget and Petre, and that she, herself, would do all she could, to conciliate her subjects in the matter. The people, she thought, were anxious for the coming of his Highness, and she would exert every effort to have the proceedings against Elizabeth and Courtenay concluded before his arrival.[418] These proceedings had arisen from Wyatt’s behaviour in the Tower, which was singularly at variance with his dashing courage during the revolt. Being questioned with regard to two intercepted notes which he had addressed to Elizabeth, the one advising her to remove to Donnington, the other informing her of his triumphant arrival at Southwark, Wyatt admitted having written to her more than once. Lord Russell, only son of the Earl of Bedford, owned to having carried letters between him and the Princess, and Croft confessed that he had urged her to go to Donnington. All this, together with an intercepted packet containing three letters from de Noailles to Henry II., and a copy of a letter from Elizabeth to the Queen, in answer to one which Mary had sent her, added to Elizabeth’s refusal to obey Mary’s summons, constituted strong presumptive evidence that she was in league with the rebels.[419] Wyatt then denounced Courtenay, who was at once arrested and brought to the Tower, where the two were confronted with each other, Wyatt accusing him of being as great a traitor as himself. He further declared that the object of his rising was to place Courtenay and Elizabeth on the throne. He subsequently repeated the statement, and the second time added, that Monsieur d’Oysel, who came to London in January, on his way to Scotland to take up his functions as ambassador of France at that court, had united his efforts to those of de Noailles, and that they had conspired with Croft to prevent the Queen’s marriage, and to compass her death. The King of France, to enable them the more easily to carry on the chief enterprise, having promised them men and money, was to attack Calais and Guisnes, the moment they set foot in London. Besides this, he was to organise a descent from Scotland, with which object he had already sent some officers to that country, to prepare the way, and he purposed despatching the Vidame de Chartres, with artillery, ammunition, money and soldiers, to begin the war in conjunction with the Scots.[420]

It was not until Wyatt had directly accused Elizabeth of connivance with Henry II. that Mary was convinced of the necessity of securing her person. More than a fortnight had elapsed since the Princess had declared herself unable to travel, and there was still no sign of her coming. The Queen now repeated the summons, but not, as Foxe would have us believe, with inconsiderate cruelty, and rough haste. Lord William Howard, her uncle, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, who were sent to escort her, treated her throughout with courtesy and consideration. The Queen’s two physicians accompanied them, in order to decide whether she were well enough to travel, and that she might accomplish the journey with the greatest amount of comfort possible, Mary sent her own litter.

“The Lord Admiral, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallays to the Queen.

“In humble wise. It may please your Highness to be advertised, that yesterday immediately upon our arrival at Ashridge, we required to have access unto my Lady Elizabeth’s Grace, which obtained, we delivered unto her your Highness’s letter, and I the Lord Admiral, declared the effect of your Highness’s pleasure, according to the credence given to us, being before advertised of her estate by your Highness’s physicians, by whom we did perceive the estate of her body to be such, that without danger to her person, we might well proceed to require her in your Majesty’s name (all excuses set apart) to repair to your Highness, with all convenient speed and diligence. Whereunto, we found her Grace very willing and conformable, save only that she much feared her weakness to be so great, that she should not be able to travel and to endure the journey without peril of life, and therefore desired some longer respite, until she had better recovered her strength; but in conclusion, upon the persuasion as well of us as of her own council and servants, whom we assure your Highness, we have found very ready and forward to the accomplishment of your Highness’s pleasure in this behalf, she is resolved to remove her hence to-morrow, towards your Highness, with such journeys as, by a paper herein enclosed, your Highness shall perceive, further declaring to your Highness that her Grace much desireth, if it might stand with your Highness’s pleasure, that she might have a lodging, at her coming to the Court, somewhat further from the water than she had at her last being there; which your physicians, considering the state of her body, thinketh very meet, who have travailed very earnestly with her Grace, both before our coming and after, in this matter. And after her first day’s journey, one of us shall await upon your Highness to declare more at large the whole estate of our proceedings here.”[421]

The distance from Ashridge to Westminster is thirty-three miles. It was decided to accomplish the journey in five days, so that Elizabeth might have ample time to rest on the road, but on her reaching Highgate, she was so ill from some unknown cause, some declaring from poison, others from apprehension, remorse and anger, others again imputing a still more disgraceful reason for her malady, that a week passed before the last stage could be undertaken. By some indeed it was maintained that she was not ill at all, but that the delay was occasioned by Lord William Howard’s desire to screen her, and by his hope that the Queen’s anger might subside before she reached Westminster.[422]

Elizabeth was fully aware, not only of the danger of her situation, on account of the depositions of the conspirators in the Tower, but also of the reports circulated against her honour, and her courage rose as her need became desperate. She had long been an adept in the art of self-defence, and it was on occasions such as this, that her talents shone most brightly. On the 22nd February, between four and five o’clock in the afternoon, escorted by 200 gentlemen of the Queen’s court, she descended the steep hill that lies to the north-west of London, and proceeded to Westminster. The people flocked in immense crowds to meet her, lining both sides of the road, and testifying, now by a mournful silence, now by sighs and groans, their sympathy with her condition.

Renard thus describes the scene:—

“The lady Elizabeth arrived here yesterday, clad completely in white, surrounded by a great assemblage of the servants of the Queen, besides her own people. She caused her litter to be uncovered, that she might show herself to the people. Her countenance was pale, her look proud, lofty and superbly disdainful; an expression which she assumed to disguise the mortification she felt. The Queen declined seeing her, and caused her to be accommodated in a quarter of her palace, from which neither she nor her servants could go out, without passing through the guards. Of her suite, only two gentlemen, six ladies and four servants are permitted to wait on her; the rest of her train being lodged in the city of London. The Queen is advised to send her to the Tower, since she is accused by Wyatt, named in the letters of the French ambassador, suspected by her own councillors, and it is certain that the enterprise was undertaken in her favour. And assuredly, Sire, if now that the occasion offers, they do not punish her and Courtenay, the Queen will never be secure; for I have many misgivings that if, when she sets out for the parliament, they leave Elizabeth in the Tower, some treasonable means will be found to deliver either Courtenay or her, or both, so that the last error will be worse than the first.”[423]

Parliament had been summoned to meet at Oxford, on the 2nd April, and after the session Mary thought of establishing herself at York, in the midst of a Catholic population, a convenient port being in the vicinity. But the Londoners viewed her proposed withdrawal from their city with alarm. The removal of the seat of government from Westminster would deprive them of that consideration which they had always enjoyed; the absence of the court would divest them effectually of their prestige, and the transference of commerce from the Thames to the Tees and the Humber would involve them in financial ruin. This triple loss was apparently to be the only result to them of the blood that had been shed in the cause of independence, and for which they had been largely responsible. The anticipation of it did more to awaken their loyalty, than the spectacle they had lately witnessed of Mary’s queenly courage in the midst of dangers that had paralysed them with fear, or her noble words to them on the eve of the contest at the Guildhall. Overshadowed by the prospect of substantial material losses, they forgot the bugbears with which the French ambassador had threatened them, if the Spaniards should come—forgot that they were to be reduced to slavery, to have the Inquisition forced upon them, and to suffer dishonour and untold horrors, the common heritage of a subjugated race. They petitioned the Queen humbly to remain in their midst, promising to render her all the help in their power, and to welcome whatever marriage she desired.[424]

In consequence of this petition, Parliament met at Westminster, and the Queen abandoned her intention of removing the court to the north. The Royal Marriage Bill was discussed, and passed unanimously in both Houses, after which Mary dissolved Parliament in person, delivering an address that was frequently interrupted by cheers and acclamation. Both Lords and Commons assured her at its close, that the Prince of Spain would be welcomed on his arrival by a dutiful and affectionate people.[425]

The preliminary formalities between the contracting parties, interrupted by the rebellion, had been resumed. Count Egmont had returned to England, bringing with him the ratification of the marriage treaty, and a letter of instructions from Charles. He was to represent to Mary, that as God had been pleased once more to give her the victory over her enemies, and to deliver them into her hands, she should, as they had before so largely abused the clemency with which she had treated them, and in case they had not yet been brought to execution, not delay to do so, but that their chastisement should be prompt, and that she should rid herself of those whose will was so evil towards her, that she might strike terror into the hearts of others. Those who were to be pardoned should be pardoned also promptly, that their fears being removed, they might the sooner lose the desire to attempt anything further against her. Courtenay and Elizabeth should be secured,[426] and the Queen should reflect that in the matter of so manifest a conspiracy against her person, the smallest evidence of guilt might be taken into account, and the persons suspected should be put into a place where they would have no longer the opportunity of doing harm. He added that if the Privy Council could not be induced to proceed against Courtenay, he would be better out of the kingdom than in it, for if the people no longer saw him they would soon forget him. He ought to be either shut up in the Tower or got rid of.

With regard to the mischievous practices of the French ambassador, Egmont was to represent to the Queen, that it would be well, either to send him back to France at once, or to imprison him till he should be recalled, to prevent his doing further harm, giving the French King to understand in either case, what grave cause she had to proceed severely, he having acted in such a manner as to lose altogether his privileges as ambassador. Egmont was also to advise Mary to obtain the recall of the Venetian ambassador, Sorranzo. [427]

With unparalleled effrontery, both the French and Venetian ambassadors presented themselves at court, and congratulated Mary on her victory. The Council thought it advisable that the Queen should conceal her indignation for a time, and she, therefore, received them courteously. De Noailles was, however, closely watched, a measure which he was not slow to perceive, and complain of, whereupon Mary in an audience of the 1st March, reproached him vehemently with having stirred up the late rebellion, and with continuing the same line of conduct with respect to some of Wyatt’s accomplices who had fled into France, meaning probably the Carews and their friends.

De Noailles, of course, denied all that he dared, promised to give entire satisfaction as to the rest, and proceeded forthwith to concoct schemes, by which his promises would be entirely stultified. All that he relates henceforth touching the Queen’s marriage, the punishment of the rebels, and the restoration of the Catholic worship, is coloured by personal animosity, and must be received with caution, his new resentment and annoyance rendering his testimony less trustworthy than before.

On the day after Elizabeth’s arrival at Westminster, the Duke of Suffolk was beheaded on Tower Hill. He confessed his guilt, and expressed a hope that the Queen would forgive him.

“My Lord, her grace hath already forgiven and prayeth for you,” said Dr. Weston, his confessor. “Then,” continued the Duke, “I beseech you all good people, to let me be an example to you all for obedience to the Queen and the magistrates, for the contrary thereof hath brought me to this end.”[428] He called them to witness that he died “a faithful and true Christian, believing to be saved by none other but only by Almighty God through the Passion of his Son Jesus Christ”. His brother Thomas, who was believed to have incited him to rebellion, was also executed, but the Lord John Grey, who was taken with him, was pardoned by the Queen.

At his trial, Wyatt pleaded guilty, and made no defence. He referred his interrogators to his written declaration, and refused to enter into further details. He was condemned to death, but his execution was deferred for a month, in the hope of his giving further information as to the other implicated persons. His accusation of Elizabeth made it necessary that she should be examined, but the result obtained might have been a foregone conclusion. When the Chancellor, with nine members of the Council, went to Westminster, and charged her with complicity in the plot, she replied boldly that she knew nothing of it whatever. Gardiner entreated her for her own sake to throw herself on the Queen’s mercy, and to crave her pardon. But she answered proudly that this would be to confess a crime, and that forgiveness was only extended to the guilty. First, her guilt must be proved, in which case she would follow the Chancellor’s advice.[429] They were obliged to leave without having gained anything by their visit. The councillors were more than ever divided. Those among them who secretly favoured Elizabeth maintained that the legal proof against her was insufficient to justify her being sent to the Tower; the Spanish party were for giving her short shrift. Others again thought that she ought to be closely guarded, but not imprisoned. Mary availed herself of this loophole, and caused each lord of the Council in succession to be asked to undertake the custody of the Princess in his own house. Not one was willing to accept the dangerous office, and when all had refused it, a warrant was made out for her committal to the Tower.[430]

Thoroughly alarmed, and fully expecting to suffer the same fate as her unfortunate mother, Elizabeth denied with oaths and curses that she had ever had any letter from Wyatt, that she had ever written to the French King, or consented to anything that might endanger the Queen’s life. Haughtily she begged those who brought her the news to remember who she was. An hour later, the Earl of Sussex and two other members of the Council dismissed her suite, leaving her only one gentleman, three ladies and two servants. Guards were placed in her antechamber, and in the garden under her windows. The next morning, Saturday, 17th March, the Earl of Sussex and the Marquis of Winchester announced that her barge was in attendance to convey her to the Tower. Her scornful mood having changed to one of deep depression, she entreated to be allowed to wait for the next tide. Lord Winchester answered her tritely, that time and tide waited for no man, whereupon she begged that they would at least permit her to write a few lines to the Queen. Winchester again refused, but the Earl of Sussex, more friendly, gave her leave, and swore that he himself would deliver her letter, and bring her back the answer. She was so long in writing it, that the tide no longer served, and Elizabeth scored her usual point of delay. She obtained, indeed, twenty-four hours respite, for her guards would not risk the midnight tide, for fear of a rescue under cover of the darkness. Mary, extremely displeased, exclaimed with some bitterness that in her father’s time they would not have dared to take upon themselves such disobedience, and vouchsafed no answer to Elizabeth’s letter.

The next day being Palm Sunday, at nine o’clock the warrant was executed, and the Princess conducted through the guards to her barge, which was moored at the water entrance to the palace. Foxe says,[431] “Being come forth into the garden, she did cast her eyes towards the window, thinking to have seen the Queen, which she could not: whereat she said, she marvelled much what the nobility of the realm meant, which in that sort would suffer her to be led into captivity, the Lord knew whither, for she did not,” a remark which, perhaps, savoured of treason more than anything else she allowed to escape her.

According to the chronicler already often quoted:—

“The 18th March, being 1553 [1554], the lady Elizabeth’s grace, the queen’s sister, was conveyed to the Tower, from the court at Westminster, about ten of the clock in the forenoon, by water; accompanying her the Marquis of Northampton [probably a mistake for Winchester] and the Earl of Sussex. There was at the Tower to receive her, the lord Chamberlain. She was taken in at the drawbridge. It is said when she came in, she said to the warders and soldiers, looking up to heaven, ‘Oh Lord, I never thought to have come in here as prisoner; and I pray you all, good friends and fellows, 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’. And so, going a little further, she said to my lord Chamberlain, ‘What, are all these harnessed men here for me?’ And he said, ‘No, Madam’. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know it is so; it needed not for me, being alas! but a weak woman.’ It is said that when she was in, the lord Treasurer and the lord Chamberlain began to lock the doors very straitly; then the Earl of Sussex with weeping eyes said, ‘What will ye do, my lords? What mean ye therein? She was a king’s daughter, and is the queen’s sister; and ye have no sufficient commission so to do; therefore go no further than your commission, which I know what it is.’”[432]

Elizabeth’s trial began five days after her committal. Gardiner, accompanied by nine members of the Privy Council, proceeded to an interrogatory, concerning what had passed between the Princess and Sir James Croft, as to her proposed removal from Ashridge to Donnington. She feigned at first not to know that she had such a house as Donnington, but after a moment’s reflection, said that she did remember having such a place, but that she had never been inside it. Confronted with Croft, she was asked what she had to say of him, and she replied, that she had no more to do with him than with any of the other prisoners in the Tower, declaring with great dignity that if they had done ill, and had offended the Queen’s Majesty, it was their business to answer for it; and she begged that she might not be associated with criminals of that sort.

“Concerning my going to Donnington Castle,” she continued, “I do remember that Master Hoby and mine officers, and you, Sir James Croft, had such talk. But what is that to the purpose, my lords, but that I may go to my houses at all times?”[433]

Nothing further could be obtained from her; and the Emperor demanded in vain that she should be executed. Mary, although personally convinced of her guilt, as were so many others, would not have her condemned on the evidence of the intercepted letters, because they were written in cypher, which easily lent itself to forgery.[434] In her first Parliament, she had restored the ancient constitutional law of England, by which overt or spoken acts of treason must be proved, before any English person could be convicted as a traitor; and from this position the Queen would not move. She told Renard, that she herself, and her Council, were labouring to discover the truth, but that the law must be maintained.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth’s enemies neither slumbered nor slept, and if we may trust the author[435] of a book called England’s Elizabeth, published in 1631, a warrant was actually handed in at the Tower, for her execution, under the Queen’s seal, but without her signature. The Lieutenant, Sir John Bridges, in the absence of the Constable, suspecting foul play, hastened with it to the Queen, who denied all knowledge of the warrant, and expressed great indignation against the Chancellor, who was probably responsible. According to this author, the Queen summoned Gardiner, and several others to her presence, and “blamed them for their inhuman usage of her sister, and took measures for her greater security”. But as the story is unsupported by any corroboration, it seems likely that it was, in its circumstantial points, an invention. Gardiner was known to protect Elizabeth against the clamour of the imperial ambassador for her execution, and indeed he befriended her all through. Nevertheless, there was a very general impression, that her life would have been in danger but for Mary’s determination that the law should not be infringed. It was for Elizabeth’s greater safety that Mary appointed Sir Henry Bedingfeld to be her custodian in the Tower, giving her at the same time leave to walk in the Queen’s lodging, provided that she did not look out through any of the windows, there being so many prisoners in the Tower at that time. A little later, leave was given to her to take the air in the garden, the doors and gates being shut. Here, the child of one of the warders was allowed to come and talk to her sometimes, until it was suspected that Courtenay contrived to communicate with her, by means of a basket of flowers and figs, whereupon the indulgence was withdrawn.

Mary’s solemn betrothal to Philip had taken place on the return of Count Egmont from Brussels, with the Emperor’s ratification of the marriage treaty. The members of the Privy Council having waited on the Queen at Whitehall, Mary proceeded to her oratory, when Egmont was introduced by the Lord Admiral, and the Earl of Pembroke. She knelt down before the altar, and called God to witness the truth of the words she was about to speak. Then rising, and turning towards the assistants (most of whom were in favour of the marriage, and therefore not to be cajoled by her words into toleration of it), she declared that she had not resolved to marry through dislike of celibacy, nor had she chosen the Prince of Spain through any respect of kindred, her chief object being the furtherance of the honour and tranquillity of the realm. She had, she said, pledged her faith to her people on her coronation day, and it was her steadfast resolve to redeem that pledge. She would never permit affection for her husband to seduce her from the performance of this, the first and most sacred of her duties. As Mary ceased speaking, Egmont advanced, and placed on her finger a costly ring, sent by the Emperor on behalf of his son.[436]

Renard, in the meanwhile, took great credit to himself for the promptness with which the rebellion had been quelled. It was no doubt partly due to his advice to the Queen, to remain at her post, at a critical moment, when all other counsellors were entreating her to fly, that the rebels had been put to rout. With great self-complacency, he informed the Emperor, that all the members of the Queen’s Privy Council had become very intimate with him, and admitted that “the firmness of the said Lady had alone gained the victory, for in leaving London, she would have involved the kingdom in danger and ruin”. He remarked however, on the admirable conduct of the English nobility, at the battle of London, and dealt a passing blow at Courtenay, and the young Earl of Worcester, whose cowardice had prompted them to remain always in the rear, without once charging the enemy, but spreading the alarm that the rebels had the advantage, crying out that all was lost, the wish being father to the thought.[437]

But when he went on to express satisfaction at seeing peace re-established, Wyatt discredited by the people, a large number of the nobility well-disposed towards the marriage, and the popular prejudice against it less acute, his credulity clearly overstepped the boundary of facts. The people’s prejudice, thanks to the agitators, was certainly not less acute, the vexed question of the marriage being still inextricably involved in that of religion. To express their hatred of both, the London rabble hung a cat on the gallows in Cheapside “clothed like a priest, and that same day, held it up before the preacher at Paul’s Cross”.[438] During a procession in Smithfield, a man tore the consecrated Host out of the priest’s hand, and drew a dagger. He was seized and taken to Newgate.[439] A musket was discharged at a priest during a sermon, when he was surrounded by nearly four thousand people.

No wonder that Philip delayed his coming! If he escaped the arrow flying by day, how could he guard himself against the hidden enemy that might be lurking in the dish and the cup? Even Renard at last ceased to cry “peace” when all the time there was no security. “It is well-nigh impossible to foresee what the English may do,” he wrote to the Emperor, and advised him to send over a competent steward, “against the arrival of his Highness,” a man of good appearance, adroitness and experience, to superintend the preparing of his food, and to make acquaintance with the officials, and with the customs of the country; otherwise dire confusion and danger would ensue. The want of understanding between Renard and the Queen’s English advisers increased the difficulties at every step. Mary and her Council were for treating the peace disturbers as heretics. The enormities which they practised were all directed against religion, and it seemed just that the punishment should be adapted to the offence. But Renard knew full well that this mode of procedure would but increase the public irritation against Spain, which was at the bottom of the disturbances, and still further complicate the political situation. He never ceased admonishing the Queen to have these outrages dealt with as seditious, and on the 22nd March wrote:—

“Things are in such disorder, that we know not who is well-disposed or ill-disposed, constant or inconstant, loyal or traitorous. One thing is certain, that the Chancellor has been extremely remiss in proceeding against the criminals, and most ardent and hot-headed in the affairs of religion, being so hated in this kingdom, that I have doubts whether the detestation against him will not recoil on the Queen. Assuredly, Sire, I have never ceased to admonish her as to the necessity of a prompt punishment of the prisoners. I have given her Thucydides translated into French, so that she may understand what advice he gives, and what kind of punishment ought to be inflicted on rebels.”[440]

Renard’s natural dislike of Gardiner, and the divergence of their aims, probably spoke here more eloquently than the fact justified. Other evidence will show that Gardiner was not hated, even by the reformers, with the exception of Foxe.

But there was ample ground for Renard’s fear lest Mary’s popularity should decline, and not least among the reasons for such a decline was the fact, that she had abrogated the law framed by her father, by which libels on the sovereign were punishable by death. The country was inundated, at this time, with foul and scurrilous sermons and pamphlets, the perpetrators screening themselves behind the Queen’s strictly constitutional mode of government, knowing that the utmost penalty for language that would be an insult to the meanest woman in the land, and which they freely indulged in to vilify their Queen, would but cause them a brief and slight inconvenience. Thus we hear of two men in the pillory in Cheapside “for horrible lies and seditious words against the Queen’s Majesty and her Council,”[441] and this kind of punishment became now of frequent occurrence, although most of the slanders were anonymous, and could never be traced to their authors.

As to Renard’s constant refrain that “the prisoners,” meaning of course Elizabeth and Courtenay, should be promptly punished, it must be admitted that he spoke with full knowledge of the danger they represented. Their names were ever on the lips of the rebels, and on the 7th April a letter was found dropped in the street, in favour of the Princess, “as seditious as could possibly be conceived”. Even Gardiner confessed that there was no hope of peace or tranquillity for the realm while she was in it, and he advised that she should be sent abroad, and placed under the care of the Queen of Hungary, the Emperor’s sister.

Sir Thomas Wyatt was brought to the scaffold on the 12th April,[442] and so contradictory are the statements as to his conduct and words at the moment of death, concerning the guilt of the accused pair, that absolutely nothing can be deduced from them. According to the sheriffs who were present at his last interview with Courtenay, Wyatt asked his pardon for accusing him. According to Lord Chandos, who was also present, he urged Courtenay to confess his crime. On the scaffold he is said to have uttered these words: “Where it is noised abroad, that I should accuse the Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Courtenay, it is not so, good people; for I assure you, neither they nor any other now yonder in hold, was privy of my rising before I began, as I have declared no less to the Queen’s Council, and that is most true”. Upon this, however, Weston said: “Mark this, my masters, that that which he hath shown to the Council of them in writing is true,” and Wyatt by his silence implied that he consented to what Weston had said.[443] But as no fresh evidence was forthcoming, and as the case against Elizabeth had not been formally proved, she was released from the Tower on the 18th May, exactly two months after her committal. As she left, three volleys of artillery were discharged from the Steelyard in sign of rejoicing and congratulation.[3] A few days later Courtenay was also released, and sent to Fotheringhay.

Sir Henry Bedingfeld had already for some time had the charge of the Princess, and it was to his care, and that of the Lord Williams of Thame, that she was confided, on her removal to Woodstock. Foxe’s account of the supposed insults offered to her by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, totally unsupported by any other evidence, falls into the region of romance, the source of much that has been written about Elizabeth at this period. When she came to the throne Bedingfeld frequently appeared at court and was on the best terms with her, she playfully styling him her jailer.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth was very closely kept and watched during the months of her captivity at Woodstock, allowed to see none but those appointed to be near her, and deprived of materials for writing, even to Mary, unless with direct permission. It would, however, have been very unlike what we know of her astuteness, if she had not contrived means of communication with her friends. It was shortly before leaving Woodstock, that she wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass, the famous three lines, two of which sum up the whole case for and against her:—

At last Philip showed signs of leaving Spain. On the 19th June, arrived his precursor, the Marquis de las Naves, bringing presents for the bride. These were: “A great table diamond mounted as a rose, in a superb gold setting, and valued at 50,000 ducats; a necklace of eighteen brilliants, worth 32,000 ducats; a great diamond, with a fine pearl pendant from it, worth 25,000 ducats, and other jewels, pearls, diamonds, emeralds and rubies of inestimable value, for the Queen and her ladies”.

Philip left Valladolid on the 4th May, and his progress through the north-western provinces of Spain was a splendid pageant, for the crowds of spectators that flocked to meet him, with demonstrations of intense and passionate devotion. He remained several days at Compostella to pay homage to the patron saint of Spain. Here, he signed his marriage contract, brought from England by the Earl of Bedford, and then proceeded to Corunna, where a flotilla of more than a hundred sail was anchored in the bay.

Accompanied by 4,000 picked troops, destined for the Netherlands, he embarked with a numerous suite, including the Flemish Counts, Egmont and Horn, the Dukes of Alva and Medina Cœli, the Prince of Eboli, the Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, and all the flower of the Spanish nobility, together with their wives, their vassals, musicians, and even jesters, and a number of useless servants, in order to swell his train, add to the splendour of his cortège, and impart a notion of his magnificence.

The imperial ambassador in London had advised him to come with as little state as possible, “in order not to excite the jealousy of the English,” but perhaps the philosophy of the younger man was deeper than that of the statesman. The good-will of a people may be won by frank simplicity; their ill-will is rarely conquered but by a display of power and circumstance, which commands their respect.

After an agreeable sail of a few days, the Spanish fleet encountered that of England, commanded by Lord William Howard, who was lying in wait for the Prince, in order to conduct him into British waters. The Admiral at once offended the Spaniards, by speaking of their ships as mussel-shells; and it was reported, that on nearing the Spanish fleet, he ordered a salvo of cannon to be fired, to oblige the Spaniards to lower their flag in returning the salute, thereby acknowledging the supremacy of the English. If these reports reached Philip’s ears, they would be eloquent to him of the spirit stirring beneath the apparent cordiality of his welcome. But there was nothing in the grave courtesy of his manner, and in the high breeding which gave dignity to his slight and otherwise almost insignificant figure, to indicate that he was not solemnly satisfied with all that he heard and saw.

On the 19th July, the united fleets anchored in Southampton water. Immediately, a number of small craft put out, and foremost among them the Queen’s own yacht, superbly decorated, and manned with officers wearing the royal livery of green and white, to bring the Prince to land.[444]

PHILIP AND MARY.

July 1554-August 1555.

Philip had married as his first wife the daughter of John III., King of Portugal, who had died in 1552, having given birth to a son, the unfortunate and notorious Don Carlos. Charles V. then entered into negotiations for a union between his son and the King of Portugal’s sister, whose dowry amounted to more than a million gold ducats. But unwilling that so large a sum should pass out of the country, King John was in no hurry to bring matters to a conclusion, and while he haggled over the terms of the marriage treaty, the death of Edward VI. opened out a new political vista. The Emperor seeing the possibility of a geographical combination, that would materially help him to overthrow his old enemy France, wrote to Philip, telling him to suspend the negotiations with Portugal if they were not already concluded. A matrimonial alliance with England would, he conceived, equal in importance that of the Dauphin with the young Scottish Queen, Mary Stuart. Philip, perfectly docile, agreed to his father’s scheme,[445] and thus the fuse was set to the train laid by de Noailles, resulting in the conflagration described in the last chapter. But Mary’s firmness and courage, and the enthusiasm with which she had inspired her army, quickly extinguished the flames of revolution, and notwithstanding the dissensions in her Council, a far too numerous and unwieldy body, her government was stronger than before Wyatt’s rebellion. De Noailles had gained nothing by his treachery, except the questionable glory of having successfully worked upon the worst passions of the rabble. Painfully conscious that he had little cause for self-congratulation, and anxious to know how far the Queen was informed of his secret practices, and what were her feelings towards France, he demanded an audience in the middle of June, when the court was on the eve of removing to Windsor. Mary received him coldly, and when he complained, that although his master desired to continue the peace, her ministers appeared to be otherwise disposed, she told him roundly that neither the King of France nor his advisers had displayed much inclination towards peace in the past, and that not for all the kingdoms in the world would her conscience have permitted her to play such a part as he, de Noailles, had played. This outspokenness on the part of the Queen so disconcerted the ambassador, that he begged Henry to send him a safe-conduct and his recall.[446] Nevertheless, he was obliged to remain where he was, and he continued to be the most mischievous person in England. In giving an account of this audience to his master, de Noailles expressed the opinion that Philip had “something in hand against France”. But in this he was mistaken. Philip had no independent policy apart from the Emperor’s. Whatever his defects of mind and character, he was a perfect son, and while his father lived, Philip lived but to obey his behests. The chief of these now was, that he should marry Mary, and seek to conciliate the English.

Michiel, the Venetian ambassador, who had seen the Prince in Italy, describes him as the image of the Emperor, even to his hanging under-lip, the distinguishing feature of the Hapsburgs. He was not quite so tall (and Charles V. was but of medium height), but well-proportioned and agile, as had often been proved in tournaments, on foot and on horseback, armed and unarmed.[447] He is elsewhere described as short but slender, with a fine broad brow, large blue eyes, dense, fair eyebrows, very close together, a nose well formed, a large mouth, with a thick and pendent under-lip, which rather spoiled his appearance. His skin was white, and his hair flaxen, like that of a Fleming, but here the resemblance to his northern ancestors ceased, his tastes and manners being essentially Spanish. Even in his early manhood, he was inclined to be thoughtful and laborious. It was observed that he listened attentively to all that was said to him, but spoke little, and that little cautiously, with his eyes bent on the ground. If he raised them, it was to allow them to wander hither and thither. His answers were prompt, short and to the purpose, but he was careful never to compromise himself in any way.[448] At the end of his first visit to Flanders, the Emperor, who idolised him, took him to task for his cold and haughty bearing. Philip learned the lesson so well, that on his second visit, it was remarked that his manner was more affable, recalling that of his father, and retaining no trace of the disdain which had before caused him to be so much disliked in the Low Countries. He differed from the Emperor, inasmuch as Charles delighted in warfare, and military exercises, whereas Philip cared nothing for them, and understood them but little. He was fond of study, and especially of the study of history; he knew the exact position of every important place on the map, was a good mathematician, and had some notions of sculpture and of painting, which arts he sometimes practised. His own language he spoke with elegance, knew Latin well enough for a prince, understood and wrote Italian, and some French, and possessed an excellent memory. He was slow in his movements, both naturally and from his having schooled himself in extreme deliberation, a characteristic often illustrated by remarks which he was in the habit of writing on the margin of official documents, and in letters to his friends and servants. One such expression, written to an Italian diplomat, “bisogna caminare coi piedi di piombo,” is an epitome of his manner of conducting business. He was careful to surround even the smallest affair with an atmosphere of dignity, a custom that may partly account for his dilatoriness. As he was habitually grave and distant, his courtesy was the more appreciated when he forced himself to unbend. In his opinion, no nation on earth equalled the Spanish nation, and he admitted none but Spaniards into his counsels and intimacy. His piety was considered remarkable, because he heard Mass daily, and approached the sacraments at least four times a year. Capable as he was of prolonged and careful attention to the minutest details of business, he was naturally fond of repose and solitude, especially in summer, when he made a point of seldom granting audiences on affairs of state. So great was his power of self-control, that even in taking vengeance, he would sometimes wait for years for an opportune moment, when he would strike without passion and without pity.[449] His morals were neither better nor worse than those of the majority of his contemporaries.

Such was Philip in his twenty-seventh year, at the time of his second marriage.

Sorranzo’s description of Mary, at the age of thirty-eight, is important, as coming from the pen of a none too friendly critic. In the Venetian ambassador’s description of England in 1554 occurs the following paragraph:—

“The most serene Madam Mary is entitled Queen of England and of France, and Defendress of the Faith. She was born on the 18 February 1515 [1516], so she yesterday completed her thirty-eighth year, and six months. She is of low stature with a red and white complexion, and very thin. Her eyes are white [light?] and large, and her hair reddish; her face is round, with a nose rather low and wide, and were not her age on the decline, she might be called handsome rather than the contrary. She is not of a strong constitution, and of late she suffers from headache, and serious affection of the heart, so that she is often obliged to take medicine, and also to be blooded. She is of very spare diet, and never eats till one or two p.m., although she rises at daybreak, when after saying her prayers, and hearing Mass in private, she transacts business incessantly until after midnight, when she retires to rest; for she chooses to give audience not only to all the members of her Privy Council, and to hear from them every detail of public business, but also to all other persons who ask it of her. Her Majesty’s countenance indicates great benignity and clemency, which are not belied by her conduct, for although she has had many enemies, and though so many of them were by law condemned to death, yet had the executions depended solely on her Majesty’s will, not one of them perhaps would have been enforced; but deferring to her Council in everything, she in this matter likewise complied with the wishes of others, rather than with her own. She is endowed with excellent ability, and more than moderately read in Latin literature, especially with regard to Holy Writ; and besides her native tongue, she speaks Latin, French and Spanish, and understands Italian perfectly, but does not speak it. She is also very generous, but not to the extent of letting it appear that she rests her chief claim to commendation on this quality. She is so confirmed in the Catholic religion, that although the King her brother, and his Council, prohibited her from having the Mass celebrated according to the Roman Catholic ritual, she nevertheless had it performed in secret, nor did she ever choose by any act to assent to any other form of religion, her belief in that in which she was born being so strong, that had the opportunity offered, she would have displayed it at the stake, her hope being in God alone, so that she constantly exclaims, ‘In te Domine confido, non confundar in eternam! Si Deus est pro nobis, quis contra nos?’ Her Majesty takes pleasure in playing on the lute and spinet, and is a very good performer on both instruments, and indeed before her accession, she taught many of her maids of honour. But she seems to delight above all in arraying herself elegantly and magnificently, and her garments are of two sorts; the one a gown such as men wear, but fitting very close, with an under petticoat which has a very long train; and this is her ordinary costume, being also that of the gentlewomen of England. The other garment is a gown and boddice with wide hanging sleeves in the French fashion, which she wears on State occasions, and she also wears much embroidery, and gowns and mantles of cloth of gold, and cloth of silver of great value, and changes every day. She also makes great use of jewels, wearing them both on her chaperon, and round her neck, and as trimming for her gowns, in which jewels she delights greatly, and although she has a great plenty of them left her by her predecessors, yet were she better supplied with money than she is, she would doubtless buy more.”[450]

“Philippe II” From the original portrait by Adrian van der Werff.

Philip’s departure for England had been delayed at the last, on account of the large quantity of bullion he was taking with him, amounting to 3,000,000 ducats, 300,000 of which were for his bride, 100,000 for the merchants, and the rest for the Emperor. In charge of this money was Sir Thomas Gresham, the celebrated founder of the Royal Exchange, who had gone to Spain for the purpose of raising a loan. When that part of the treasure which was destined for England was taken to the Tower, it filled twenty carts containing fourscore and seventeen chests, a yard and four inches long, and it was estimated that when coined it would produce about £50,000 sterling.[451]

Both the Emperor and Renard had taken care to give the Prince good advice as to his behaviour in England. They dreaded, lest by a repetition of the contempt he had displayed in Flanders, he should render the marriage still more unpopular than it already was. They implored him to make at least a show of cordiality towards the nobles, and to be affable and condescending to the people. He should force himself to learn a few words of English, to salute them with, but at the same time, it would not be amiss, said his mentors, if he wore a coat of mail under his dress.[452]

On the 19th July, the Spanish fleet being anchored in Southampton Bay, Philip sent the Prince of Gonzaga and Count Egmont to inform Mary of his arrival and good health. The next morning, he was landed at Southampton in the Queen’s yacht. As he stepped on shore, a royal salute was fired, and the Earl of Arundel invested him with the Order of the Garter,[453] which was at once put on and fastened by a herald. A brilliant company had assembled at the landing-place, to receive and do him honour. “God save your Grace,” was heard on all sides.

Philip presented a gallant enough appearance in his usual costume of black, with the short Spanish cape worn over one shoulder, and on his head a berretta with gold chains and a waving plume. Mary had sent him an Andalusian genet richly caparisoned, and as the reins were handed to him, Sir Anthony Browne[454] advanced, and made a speech in Latin, to the effect that he had been appointed equerry to the Prince, and had taken the oath to the imperial ambassador, and begged to be received as his Highness’s most humble, faithful and loyal servant. Having kissed the stirrup, he helped the Prince to mount.[455] As Philip rode through the town, the spectators remarked with admiration, his graceful horsemanship and smiling countenance, an indication that he had taken Renard’s counsels to heart. His first visit was to the Church of the Holy Rood, where he heard Mass, and returned thanks for his prosperous voyage and safe arrival.

He was then conducted to the house that had been prepared for his reception, during his stay at Southampton. Here his apartments were hung with some famous Flemish arras of immense value, that had belonged to Henry VIII. A chair of state in crimson velvet, embroidered with gold and pearls, stood on a daïs, under a canopy in the principal room. Before dismissing his escort, composed of nearly every member of the Privy Council, he addressed them in a Latin speech, in which he said he had come to live among them, not as a foreigner, but as a native Englishman, and not from want of men or money, but God had called him to marry their virtuous sovereign; and in thanking them for their expressions of faith and loyalty, he promised that they should ever find him a grateful, affable and loving Prince.

To the Spanish nobles in his suite, he said that he hoped, so long as they remained in England, they would conform to the customs of the country, and in this he would give them an example. As he finished speaking, he raised to his lips a flagon of English ale, which he then tasted for the first time, and drank farewell to the company.[456] Perhaps he disliked it less than some of his followers; at all events it was observed that he drank bravely, and without wincing.

As soon as the news of Philip’s arrival reached London, demonstrations of joy were set on foot, forced upon the people, said de Noailles maliciously, under pain of death.[457] But it did not appear that they evinced any serious objection to being feasted and amused. Bells were rung, salvos of artillery fired, and processions formed to all the principal churches. Fireworks were displayed, and tables groaning with viands were laid out in the streets, for every one to eat as much as he pleased. Wine and ale flowed in abundance.

On the 21st, Mary with her whole court made her entry into Winchester, where she was to receive the Prince and to be married to him.[458] She took up her residence at the Bishop’s palace.

Philip, meanwhile, by his condescension had been making a favourable impression. So anxious was he to ingratiate himself with the English, that he gave offence to his own suite. Every time he went out, he was escorted by Englishmen; Englishmen served him at table; he breakfasted and dined in public, according to English custom, although he disliked it extremely, and drank toasts valiantly in tankards of strong ale, in the English fashion, encouraging the Spaniards to do the same.

On the 23rd, the Earl of Pembroke with 200 mounted gentlemen arrived to conduct him to Winchester. With them were a company of English archers, wearing the colours of Arragon, with tunics of yellow cloth striped with crimson velvet, and with cordons of white and crimson silk. Before Philip left Southampton the Spanish fleet that had accompanied him was ordered to sail to Flanders immediately after the marriage ceremony, not a man belonging to it being allowed to set foot on English soil.[459]

The day of his departure was stormy, and it rained in torrents. He mounted his horse early in the afternoon, but had not left Southampton far behind, when a horseman came galloping to meet him, bringing a ring from Mary, with the entreaty that he would not expose himself to the inclemency of the weather, but would defer his arrival at Winchester till the following day. Not at first understanding the message, Philip thought that he was being warned of some danger, and stopped to consult with Alva and Egmont; but when Mary’s solicitude had been explained to him by an interpreter, he only wrapped his scarlet cloak more closely round him, pulled down his broad beaver over his eyes, and pressed gallantly forward, in spite of the elements. His company was increased at every bend of the road, by the country gentlemen of Hampshire, who turned out to form an escort; and by the time he arrived at his destination, his suite numbered several thousands. Drenched with rain, they were received at the gates of Winchester by the Mayor and Aldermen, in their civic robes, who after presenting Philip with the keys of the city, conducted him to the residence prepared for him in the Dean’s house.[460]

John Elder’s letter, describing Philip’s reception at Winchester and his marriage, takes up the story probably about an hour after his entry.

“Then the next Monday, which was the 24th July, his Highness came to the city of Winchester, at 6 of the clock at night, the noblemen of England, and his nobles riding, one with another before him, in good order, through the city, every one placed according to his vocation and office, he riding on a fair white horse, in a rich coat, embroidered with gold, his doublet, hosen and hat suite-like, with a white feather in his hat, very fair. And after he lighted, he came the highway towards the west door of the cathedral church, where he was most reverently received with procession, by my lord the Bishop of Winchester, now lord chancellor of England, and five other bishops, mitred, coped and staved, where also, after he had kneeled, kissed the crucifix, and done his prayer, he ascended from thence five steps upon a scaffold, which was made for the solemnization of his marriage; and until he came to the choir door, the procession sang Laus honor et virtus. And after he had entered the choir, and perceived the most holy sacrament, he put off his cap, and went bare-headed, with great humility, until he entered his seat or traverse as they call it, where after he had kneeled, my lord Chancellor began Te Deum laudamus, and the choir together with the organs sang and played the rest. Which being done, he was brought with torch-light to the Dean’s house, the lords going before him, and the Queen’s guard in their rich coats standing all the way. Which house was very gorgeously prepared for him, adjoining to my lord the Bishop of Winchester’s palace, where the Queen’s Highness then lay, not passing a pair of but-length’s between. This night, after he had supped, at 10 of the clock (as I am credibly informed) he was brought by the counsel a privy way to the Queen, where her grace very lovingly, yea and most joyfully received him. And after they had talked together half an hour,[461] they kissed and departed. I am credibly informed also that at his departing, he desired the Queen’s Highness to teach him what he should say to the lords in English at his departing; and she told him he should say ‘Good night, my lords all’. And as he came by the lords, he said as the Queen had taught him.”[462]

The writer goes on to say, that the next day, being Tuesday, the Prince made his first public and official visit to the Queen, at three o’clock in the afternoon, conducted by the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Pembroke and others, he walking alone behind them all, “in a cloak of black cloth embroidered with silver, and a pair of white hose”. He entered the courtyard of the bishop’s palace, to the sound of music played by every kind of instrument, and passed into the great hall. Here Mary received him, and kissed him in presence of all the people. Taking him by the hand, she led him into the presence chamber, where after conversing with her for a quarter of an hour, under the cloth of estate, “to the great comfort and rejoicing of the beholders,” Philip took his leave and went to Evensong at the Cathedral, returning afterwards by torch-light to his lodging.

The following day, 25th July, Feast of St. James, the patron saint of Spain, was fixed for the marriage. The Cathedral was entirely hung with arras and cloth of gold. From the west entrance to the rood-screen, separating the nave from the chancel, a platform had been erected for the first part of the service. Under the rood-loft, on either side, a canopied seat called a traverse, draped with cloth of gold, was placed for the royal bride and bridegroom. Similar seats were also placed for them within the choir, in front of the altar. At about eleven o’clock, Philip, accompanied by his suite, and wearing a white doublet and trunk hose, a mantle of cloth of gold, ornamented with pearls and precious stones, which Mary had sent him, the collar of the Golden Fleece, and the brilliant blue ribbon of the Garter, entered by the western door, to the sound of trumpets, and proceeded to his place under the rood-loft. After waiting for half an hour, he was joined by the Queen, who wore a dress of white satin, scarlet shoes, and a mantle of cloth of gold, studded and fringed with diamonds of great price. Before her walked the Earl of Derby, bearing the sword of state.

Hundreds of spectators, from all parts of Christendom, attired with great magnificence, crowded the church, and made the sight one of dazzling splendour. When the bride and bridegroom reached their respective traverses, says the chronicler, they were shriven,[463] and afterwards stood up together by the rood, the Bishops of Winchester, London, Durham, Chichester, Lincoln and Ely, preceded by their croziers, having come from the choir to that place. But before the ceremony began, Don Juan Figueroa, Regent of Naples, and a member of the Emperor’s Council, handed to the English Chancellor two instruments, by which Charles V. made over to his son his sovereignty over the kingdom of Naples, and the Duchy of Milan, so that, as Gardiner at once declared to the assembly, “it was thought the Queen’s Majesty should marry but with a prince; now it was manifested that she should marry with a king”.[464]

Then the banns were bidden, in Latin and in English, and the marriage was solemnised, the Queen standing on the right side, the King on the left, while the Marquis of Winchester, the Earls of Derby, Bedford and Pembroke gave her to her husband, in the name of the whole realm. The nuptial blessing was pronounced by Gardiner, who was the officiating prelate in default of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

“Then all the people gave a great shout, praying God to send them joy, and the ring being laid upon the book to be hallowed, the Prince laid also upon the said book, three handfuls of fine gold, which the lady Margaret[465] seeing, opened the Queen’s purse, and the Queen smilingly put up in the same purse. And when they had enclosed their hands, immediately the sword was advanced before the King, by the Earl of Pembroke.”[466] The marriage ring was a plain hoop of gold without any stone, for the Queen had said: “she would be married as maidens were in the old time, and so she was”.[467]

“After the marriage knot thus knit, the King and Queen came hand in hand, under a rich canopy, being borne over them with six knights, and two swords before them, all the lords both English and strangers, richly apparelled going afore them, the trumpets then blowing, till they came into the choir, where all the priests and singing men, all in rich copes, began to sing a psalm used in marriages, the King and Queen kneeling a while before the altar, each of them having a taper afore them. Then after, her Majesty went into her traverse on the right side, and the King into another on the left side; after the Gospel, they came out, and kneeled before the altar openly all the Mass time, and the care-cloth was holden over them; and he kissed the bishop at the Agnus and then her Majesty. The Mass done, the King of Heralds openly in the church, and in presence of the King, the Queen, the lords and ladies, and all the people, solemnly proclaimed their Majesties King and Queen, with their title and style in manner as followeth: Philip and Mary by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France, Naples, Jerusalem, Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant, Counts of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyrol.”[468]

At three o’clock, the royal procession left the Cathedral, and the King and Queen walked hand in hand to the banqueting hall. According to the Spanish accounts of the banquet, none were seated at the royal table but the King and Queen. Some of the English chronicles state that a third place was assigned to Gardiner, the only dignitary admitted to their table. Farther off, tables occupying the whole length of the room were placed for the members of the court, the foreign ambassadors, Philip’s suite and the other guests. De Noailles had absented himself from the whole of the marriage ceremonies, judging that it was beneath his master’s dignity for the imperial ambassador to take precedence of him. Edward Underhill thus describes the banquet:—

“On the marriage day, the King and the Queen dined in the hall in the bishops palace, sitting under the cloth of estate, and none else at that table. The nobility sat at the side tables. We (the gentlemen pensioners) were the chief servitors to carry the meat, and the Earl of Sussex, our captain, was the shewer. The second course at the marriage of a king is given unto the bearers; I mean the meat, but not the dishes, for they were of gold. It was my chance to carry a great pasty of red deer, in a great charger, very delicately baked, which for the weight thereof, divers refused, the which pasty I sent unto London, to my wife and her brother, who cheered therewith many of their friends.”[469]

At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, and music was played during nearly the whole time of the banquet. Towards the end, the Winchester schoolboys came in, and some of them recited poems and epithalamiums in honour of the marriage. The Queen rewarded them handsomely. After the banquet followed a ball, at which Underhill compared the Spanish dancing unfavourably with the English, and especially with that of Lord Braye and Mr. Carew, a criticism that must certainly be put down to British prejudice. Before nine o’clock, all had retired, but the feasting and rejoicing were continued for several days, after which the King and Queen went to Basinghouse, and thence to Windsor. Here, a chapter of the Order of the Garter was held, and Philip was installed. During the preparations for this ceremony, an overzealous herald hoisted down the arms of England and substituted those of Spain, but he was peremptorily ordered to replace them as they were.[470]

On the 7th August, a great public hunt was held, with toils five and six miles long, “and many a deer that day was brought to the quarry”.

So far, the Emperor and his ministers were satisfied with the success of their policy. On the 4th August, the Bishop of Arras wrote to Renard, expressing “incredible content, that the marriage for which both had worked, for so long, was accomplished, to the mutual satisfaction of both parties, and that the King was behaving in every way so well, that he had gained the approbation of all in England”. He foresaw, he said, many difficulties still, but hoped that with gentleness and benignity, they might not prove too great.[471]

Meanwhile, the King and Queen had made their public entry into London, and although there is nothing in the records to indicate that the citizens made any hostile demonstration against Philip, their reception of him cannot have been altogether gratifying, for after his second visit to the capital in September, Renard observed:—

“Since the return of the King to London, the vigil of St. Michael, the citizens have recovered altogether from the insolence which they at first showed, and seemed to comprehend, and taste at last, the honour and welfare which the alliance has brought to England, and the repose and tranquillity that are the result”.[472] The nobility, he went on to say, were beginning to accommodate themselves, and to converse with the Spaniards, admiring the humanity and virtue of the King, so that things were more peaceful than usual. At first, there had been, he said, some embarrassment, because things had not been arranged properly, but since the Council had been informed of the difficulty in getting the suite lodged, they had given such orders, that the citizens no longer objected to lodge the strangers, and that now all was well, except that they were made to pay exorbitant rents, which also would be reformed. It was true, he continued, that the heretics could not get over the matter of religion, and had been much troubled by the articles which the Bishop of London (Bonner) had caused to be printed and published, and notably on account of the form and name of the Inquisition, in which they had been conceived, but the publication had continued, in spite of murmurs, and they could do nothing, Madam Elizabeth being under arrest. All their hope now lay in the Earl of Arundel, who was an enemy of the Chancellor, and who hoped to marry his son to the Princess.

At the public entry of their Majesties into London, one small but ominous misadventure has been recorded showing the drift of Puritan feeling. The streets were gaily decorated, and the citizens indulged their love of pageantry freely. At the Conduit in Gracechurch Street, figures had been painted representing “Nine Worthies,” among whom were Henry VIII., Edward VI. and Mary. Henry VIII. wore armour, and had a sword in one hand, while he held a book in the other. On the book was inscribed in Latin The Word of God. He was supposed to be handing the Bible to Edward, who was standing in a corner by his side.

“Hereupon was no small matter made, for the Bishop of Winchester, lord Chancellor sent for the painter, and not only called him knave, for painting a book in King Henry’s hand, and specially for writing thereupon Verbum Dei, but also rank traitor and villain, saying to him that he should rather have put the book into the Queen’s hand (who was also painted there) for that she had reformed the Church and religion, with other things, according to the pure word of God indeed. The painter answered and said, that if he had known that had been the matter wherefore his lordship sent for him he could have remedied it, and not have troubled his lordship. The bishop answered and said, that it was the Queen’s Majesty’s will and commandment, that he should send for him; and so commanding him to wipe out the book and Verbum Dei, he sent him home. So the painter departed, but fearing lest he should leave somewhat either of the book or of Verbum Dei in King Henry’s hand, he wiped away a piece of his fingers withal.”[473]

Another discordant note was struck by the circumstance that the Council either by design or accident delayed inviting the French ambassador to take part in the procession, till half an hour before the King and Queen set forth from Southwark. De Noailles received the invitation by means of “a shabby-looking individual, who said he was one of the newly made heralds,” and pleaded the shortness of time in which to make a creditable appearance, and to get himself to Southwark, a distance of at least two miles from his house.[474] Nevertheless, as soon as might be, he solicited an audience, and was received by the Queen on the 21st August. On expressing his congratulations, coupled with regrets at not having been able to be present at the wedding festivities, like the other ambassadors, his desires for her prosperity and for peace between France and England being no less than she herself could wish, Mary replied that she had not forgotten what she had said to him at their first interview, relating to the friendship contracted between the two countries during her father’s and her brother’s lifetime. She had, she declared, maintained it intact; and in spite of the troubles in the past, all things being now settled to her great contentment, she hoped that the peace for which she had so deep an affection would never be violated.

On leaving the Queen’s presence, de Noailles proceeded to an audience with Philip, an occasion of still deeper concern to him. The following remarks, which he wrote for his master’s information, reveal the want of good faith and mutual confidence through the polite speeches made on either side.

“On being conducted to him, I said that I had taken advantage of the first opportunity to pay my respects to his Majesty, and to inform him as ambassador of the very Christian King, residing at the Court of the Queen of England, his good sister, that their Majesties had hitherto lived, and had caused their subjects to live, in peace and sincere friendship with each other. This peace and friendship I trusted, would not be troubled or diminished by his advent on the throne, but rather be increased thereby, and that he would as far as possible be the means of the pacification of all Christendom, as the said Lady and her Council had often predicted. And I added, that I prayed our Lord to permit the tranquillity in which his Highness had found these two realms in their relations with each other, to continue perpetually. In this case, I said, he might count on my co-operation as minister and humble servant of his Majesty, who like a true prince made a point of observing his promises faithfully. When I had finished my speech, the said King called the Chancellor, and told him in Latin, that he had perfectly understood what I had said, although he could not speak French, and he begged him to reply to me, and say that both before and since his arrival in this country, he had sworn and promised to maintain the alliances which the Kingdom of England had contracted with neighbouring princes, and in which he had found this realm, as long as it should be for the good and convenience of England. He thanked me moreover for the good service which I had offered to do in this matter, and for the trouble I had taken in coming to see him, his answer being clearly forged in the Emperor’s, as well as in the English smithy, as one may see, by the pains they take to show that they are not wanting in the will to make war on the first convenient occasion.”[475]

But Mary at least was anxious for peace, and she wrote to Henry II. expressing herself in no ambiguous terms on the subject.[476] At the same time, she knew not how to satisfy all the various conflicting demands on her justice, her fidelity to her people, to her husband and to her conscience. Philip had shown himself so willing, in every way, to respect national customs and prejudices; he was so careful in his intercourse with Englishmen to seem to identify his interests with theirs, that it was felt something must also be conceded to his tastes. Hitherto the palace gates had been open to all comers; the Queen was easy of access to the humblest petitioner, and the Venetian ambassador has recorded that from early morning till late at night she gave audiences without ceasing. A few days after their public entry into London, their Majesties removed to Hampton Court, where more of Spanish etiquette and of that aloofness which characterised the majesty of Spain began to be observed. Before long, there were murmurs because the hall door within the courtyard was now kept continually shut, so that no man might enter, unless his errand were first known, “which seemed strange to Englishmen that had not been used thereto”.[477]

Philip may have considered this withdrawal from close contact with the people a necessity, on account of the unsatisfactory state of London, which was constantly the scene of attacks against religious ceremonies, disputes at street corners, concerning points of doctrine, and the interpretation of different passages of Scripture. Not unfrequently, the brawl would end in vituperation of the Queen, of Philip and of their marriage, in language that was no less than treason. Renard had repeatedly expressed the opinion that these disturbers of the public peace should be punished as rebels, and not as heretics. Such a proceeding would certainly have been far more diplomatic, although the outrages perpetrated sprang obviously from religious discontent. The Chancellor and the Bishop of London ruled that they came within the episcopal province and jurisdiction, and proceeded against them in the religious sense, sometimes dispensing with the royal sign manual altogether. The articles mentioned in Renard’s letter as having been published by Bonner in September came under this head. The Council called him to account for having acted without sufficient warrant, and, above all, without the seal of their Majesties. Bonner replied, that these were things dependent on his office and jurisdiction, and that he knew well, in communicating them to the Council, annoyances and hindrances would have been put in his way; that he had acted in the service of God, and that in religious questions one must advance boldly, without fear. He gave instances from the Old Testament, to prove that God helped those who upheld His laws, observed His commandments, and adhered faithfully to Him.

Later on, the Council altered their tactics, and Bonner was accused of dilatoriness in examining heretics.

Gardiner, preaching at Paul’s Cross, about this time, inveighed against the prevailing heresies, but in such a manner that his audience took his words in good part, although there were more than ten thousand persons present. He touched discreetly on the Queen’s marriage, and had it not been for Bonner’s articles, the agitation in London would have gradually subsided. But the disturbances which they caused became so serious, and the people remonstrated to such purpose, that they were temporarily withdrawn. Even then, the Londoners were not satisfied, erroneously connecting the Bishop’s measures with Spanish policy, and clamouring for the arrival of Reginald Pole, who, in spite of his long exile, was known to be a thorough Englishman at heart, and to have been disinclined to the Queen’s marriage.

But although, when once the alliance was an accomplished fact, the Emperor’s zeal for the salvation of souls appeared suddenly to awake, and although he expressed keen anxiety that the Papal Legate should proceed at once to his mission in England,[478] Pole was still prevented from accomplishing it. His desire to return to his native land was as great as that of his fellow-countrymen for his presence among them, and on the 21st September, he wrote to Philip, complaining that it was now a year since he commenced knocking at his palace gate, nor as yet had any one opened it to him. Were the King to ask, “Who knocks?” he would reply, “I am he, who in order not to exclude your consort from the throne of England, endured expulsion from home and country, and twenty years of exile”. Were he merely to say this much, would he not seem worthy to return to the land of his birth, and to have access to the King? But as he was not acting in his own name, nor as a private person, he knocked and demanded in the name and person of the vicegerent of the King of kings and the Pastor of man, namely, the successor of Peter, or rather of Peter himself, whose authority, heretofore so flourishing and vigorous in England, was now most injuriously ejected thence. Through Pole, Peter had long been knocking at the royal gate, which although open to others, was still closed to him alone. The voice perhaps was not heard? Continuing in the same strain, he expostulated with Philip and Mary, and concluded by saying that if he personally were not acceptable, he begged that another might be summoned in his stead.[479]

Few, conversant with the celebrities of the sixteenth century, will fail to see in Reginald Pole the most distinguished Englishman of his day. Of royal descent, a notable scholar and a man whose conscience ruled every action of his life, he voluntarily exiled himself, when, at the cost of a single principle, the highest preferments in Church or State lay open to him. Two passions marked his singularly blameless career: love of his country and devotion to the Holy See. He turned his back on the one, when the King renounced the other, and made it high treason to continue to acknowledge the Pope Head of the Church of England. We have seen that when Pole refused to return to England he was declared a traitor, a price was put upon his head, and his aged mother was brought to the block.

Paul III. made him a Cardinal, in order to avail himself of his knowledge and brilliant talents at the Council of Trent, and at the death of that Pontiff, he was the imperial candidate for the Papacy. Had he possessed a particle of ambition he might have controlled the Conclave.

On Mary’s accession, he wrote many urgent appeals to the Queen, beseeching her to lose no time in riveting the broken chain between England and Rome. He possessed undoubted influence with her, but less than the Emperor, who counselled delay, and took care that the interests of the empire should before all be secured. The eldest son of the Church, Charles ever made religion the handmaid of politics; and as for Philip, in spite of his boasted maxim, that it would be better not to reign at all, than to reign over a nation of heretics, he was content always to play a waiting game, and above all to follow his father’s lead. Pole, in common with Gardiner, had considered that Mary was fatally mistaken in allying herself with Spain, that the English would have been far more easily reconciled to Rome if every other foreign element had been excluded, and confidence in herself planted on a firm and solid basis, and that, at all events, the re-establishment of Papal jurisdiction should have been her first care in ascending the throne. If, when the kingdom was at her feet, she had freed herself from the Emperor’s influence, and had summoned Pole in his official capacity as Papal Legate, he believed that the movement towards reunion would have been a truly national one.

In many ways, Pole’s opinion was justified by facts. The enthusiasm with which Mary had been greeted, although perhaps mainly owing to the affection she inspired, was also in no small measure due to the recoil of the people from the innovations of Edward’s reign, innovations that had abounded in disillusion, and that had set the hearts of many burning within them with desire for the old religion. But de Noailles, Suffolk, Wyatt and others, had successfully availed themselves of the unpopularity of the Queen’s contemplated marriage to rouse the Puritan minority against her throne, and her religion; and the Emperor, knowing Pole’s opinions, and being well aware of the weight they would have in England, detained the Legate till all dread of his interference was at an end.

Great as was his disappointment at the enforced delay, Pole was not the man to resent or resist the obstacles put in his way. He did what he could, to fulfil his secondary mission, which was to promote peace between the King of France and the Emperor; and he conferred diligently with the royal and imperial ministers, on the possibility of a modus vivendi between the two powers. From Brussels he went to Paris and made a favourable impression on Henry II., but failing to bring about the desired object, returned to the Netherlands. Charles received him coolly, believing him to have been the author of an intercepted letter, which had been actually written by one of his suite, to the Queen of England, dissuading her from marrying Philip. But this gave Pole the opportunity of assuring the Emperor, that he was convinced the Queen’s decision had been taken with the highest motives for the sake of religion, and in order to secure the royal succession, and that such being the case, he cordially approved it.[480] Philip was now in England, and the Legate, like the Chancellor, made the best of what could no longer be avoided. Difficulties other than those concerning the empire kept him still an exile. They were of two kinds, one relating to himself personally, the other having reference to the religious state of England. The personal difficulty was the fact of his being still an outlaw, and as regarded the other, until there was some prospect of the accomplishment of his mission, it would be useless for him to cross the Channel.

The first, but least formidable barrier to the reunion of the kingdom with Rome, arose from the opposition of a small party unfavourable to Papal jurisdiction. This party was confined almost exclusively to London, and to parts of the southern and eastern counties, but wherever isolated bodies of Puritans were to be found scattered up and down the country, the same opposition naturally prevailed. The great masses of country gentlefolk had become, in consequence of the frequent changes of religion, indifferent to every form of faith; they would have been ready, at the call of the Sovereign, to embrace Judaism or Mohammedanism if their convenience or interest required it. The yeomanry, farmers and peasantry were nearly everywhere intensely Catholic, but especially in the north, where also a considerable number of landed gentry were ready to suffer all things in defence of the old religion. But another class had sprung up in the course of twenty-five years, consisting of almost every second wealthy family in the kingdom, enriched, in many cases entirely built up, from the spoils of the churches and monasteries. And these would never consent to any religious authority that might call their right to them in question. Cardinal Pole was known to be opposed to any recognition of the title of these lay proprietors; and without wasting efforts at this crisis, in an attempt to induce Parliament to reverse Pole’s attainder, the Chancellor appealed to the Pope for a bull, confirming them in their possessions.

In reply to the before-mentioned letter, in which Pole spoke of his having been kept knocking a whole year at the palace gates, Philip sent Renard to Brussels to negotiate. Having graphically described the state of the country, proving to the Legate that a general and immediate restitution was out of the question, Renard persuaded him to leave the matter for a time in abeyance. Meanwhile Julius III. signed a bull, empowering the Legate to give, alienate and transfer to the actual holders, all property which had been torn from the Church during the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. The Pope had considered, after consulting with canonists, that the continued alienation of Church property was justifiable, if it proved the means of restoring the realm to the faith.

This difficulty being settled, on Renard’s return to England, the Lords Paget and Hastings were sent to bring the Legate home. Sir William Cecil accompanied them, but in an unofficial capacity, probably because, having become a Catholic, he would be a persona grata to Pole, and also to the Emperor on account of his moderate views.[481]

Parliament met on the 12th November, and a bill was brought forward to reverse Pole’s attainder. It set forth that the sole cause of his disgrace was his refusal to consent to the unlawful divorce of the Queen’s father and mother, and in order that the repeal might be clearly understood as an act of justice, and not of grace, the cause was rejudged, the result being that both Houses repealed the attainder, and restored all his rights and privileges. The Great Seal put to this Act was, for more distinction, taken off in gold. Pole was then free to return to his native land, and was received at Dover on the 20th, with the honours due to a royal person. From Gravesend, he sailed up the Thames in the Queen’s barge, his silver cross at the prow, a crowd of smaller boats flying gala colours. At Westminster, the Chancellor welcomed him at the landing place, and conducted him to the palace. Their Majesties rose from dinner to greet him, receiving him at the top of the great staircase.

After delivering the briefs of his legation, he retired to the archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth, which had been prepared for his reception. Three days later, a royal message summoned the Lords and Commons to the court, where the Legate, in a long speech, acknowledged the act of justice done to him, invited the nation to a sincere repentance of its past errors, and exhorted the members of both Houses to receive with joy the reconciliation which he was charged by Christ’s Vicegerent here on earth to impart to them. As they, by repealing Acts made against him, had opened his country to him once more, so he was invested with full power to receive them back into the Church of God. He then retired, and the Chancellor addressed them, in a discourse beginning with the words, “The Lord shall raise up a prophet to thee from amongst thine own brethren,” making an allusion to himself as having been among the number of the delinquents. He urged them to rise from their fallen state, and to seek reconciliation with the common parent of all Christians.

The next day, both Houses passed a unanimous resolution to return to the communion of the Catholic Church.

On the 30th, Feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, the King sent the Earl of Arundel with six knights of the Garter and six prelates to escort the Legate to the House of Lords. He took his place at the Queen’s right hand, the King being on her left, but nearer to her. The Commons having been sent for, Gardiner recapitulated what he had before said, asking all present if they ratified his words, and desired to return to the unity of the Catholic Church and to the obedience owed to her chief pastor. The shouts and acclamations of the whole assembly answered him. He then handed a petition to the King and Queen, on behalf of both Houses of Parliament, as representatives of the nation, declaring their sorrow for the schism, and all that had been done against the See of Rome and the Catholic religion, requesting their Majesties to obtain of the Lord Legate, pardon and restoration, as true and living members to that body from which they had separated themselves by misdeeds.

When this petition had been read and returned to the Chancellor, who then read it aloud in the hearing of all, both Houses rose as one man, and went towards the Legate. He stepped forward to meet them, while the Queen, in her own name, and in that of the nation, petitioned him to grant them the pardon and reconciliation sued for. The Legate in a somewhat lengthy speech reminded them of the thanks due to divine Providence for this further proof of forbearance, and of the favour shown to England. Then the whole assembly fell prostrate, except the King and Queen, and the Cardinal pronounced the words of absolution, “from all heresy and schism, and all judgments, censures and penalties, for that cause incurred; and restored them to the communion of holy Church, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost”. “Amen” resounded from every part of the House, and the members rising from their knees, followed the royal procession into the chapel, where they returned thanks by chanting a solemn Te Deum.[482]

This apparent fervour was for the most part only on the surface. Had Pole not returned armed with a Papal dispensation, exonerating all the possessors of ecclesiastical plunder from the necessity of restoring it, he would have been received in a very different spirit. It was not possible to bring back the ages of faith to a generation that had grown sceptical from change and worldliness, and both Houses consisted largely of this class of people. When the question of restoring Church lands had come under discussion before the Papal dispensation had been published, the Earl of Bedford fell into a violent passion, and breaking his rosary beads from his girdle flung them into the fire, declaring that he valued his sweet abbey of Woburn more than fatherly counsel that should come from Rome.[483] Although Sir William Cecil might have expressed himself less warmly, he certainly shared this sentiment, in regard to his benefices of Putney, Mortlake and Wimbledon; and the express mention of the lands held by Sir William Petre and the confirmation of his title to them in the bull of Paul IV. are sufficient proof of the Chief Secretary’s unwillingness to part with the monastic property that had fallen to his share.[484] And these men were fairly representative of all those who had been enriched in this way. It was to such as these that Pole addressed his earnest admonition concerning the sacred vessels of the altar, that they might not be put to profane uses, while he entreated all those who were in possession of ecclesiastical revenues, “through the bowels of mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, that from a regard to their own eternal lot, they would provide out of the Church lands, such especially as had been set aside for the maintenance of the parochial clergy, a competent subsistence for those who exercised that charge, which might enable them to live creditably, according to their state, and perform their functions, and support the burden of their calling”. On the first Sunday of Advent, he made his public entry into London, and heard High Mass at St. Paul’s. Gardiner on this occasion preached his famous sermon, in which he accused himself bitterly of his conduct under Henry VIII., and exhorted all who had fallen with him, or through his example, to rise with him, and return to the religion of their forefathers.[485] He took as the text of his discourse a part of the eleventh verse of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, “It is the hour to rise out of sleep”. On the following Thursday, both Houses of Convocation waited on the Cardinal at Lambeth, and kneeling, received absolution “from all their perjuries, schism and heresies”.[486]

To Mary the moment seemed to rain blessings. God was operating miracles of grace in her favour. From the midst of perils that had surrounded her from her childhood upwards, from ignominy such as the lowest in the land had never known, she had been raised to the throne. Those who had taken up arms against her had been twice signally defeated. By a marriage which she had contracted in spite of the most violent prejudice and opposition, she had allied her beloved country to the most powerful empire in the world, and now she had been the means, not only of restoring to it its birthright, but had thereby, in a certain sense, expiated and undone her father’s sin. To crown her glory, she was about to become a mother, and secure a long succession of Catholic monarchs to the throne. She had longed for it, and had hoped for some time; on the day of the Legate’s arrival she thought that she knew it as certain, and applied to herself the words of St. Elizabeth, on hearing the salutation of the Blessed Virgin.

Philip lost no time in informing the Pope of the happy issue of his solicitude for the conversion of England. On the very day of the reunion he wrote as follows:—

De Noailles was still doing his old work of sowing dissension broadcast, and he flattered himself, and assured Henry, that the country was on the verge of another revolt. But here his eager enmity misled him, and his despatches about this time are exceedingly untrustworthy. The fact is that Mary’s enemies were for a moment awed into some degree of loyalty, by what was then regarded as a wonderful succession of outward and visible signs of the Divine protection; and apart from the friction caused by the presence of so many Spaniards in London, the city had not been in so peaceable a condition for many months. But Philip’s suite and the servants of his servants were far less careful than the King was himself not to offend the national susceptibilities, and on the slightest provocation, the Spaniards produced their knives. It is recorded that on “Friday, the 26th day of October, there was a Spaniard hanged at Charing Cross, which had shamefully slain an Englishman, servant to Sir George Gifford. There would have been given 500 crowns of the strangers to have saved his life.”[488] On the 11th January, 1555, a Spaniard was hanged for running an Englishman through with a rapier, whilst two Spaniards held him by the arms.[489] Affrays were of constant occurrence between Englishmen and Spaniards, and Philip issued a proclamation to the effect that the first Spaniard who should dare to use a weapon was to have his hand cut off. Henceforth, none of his compatriots were to carry arms, and any who should raise the cry of Spain for assistance, either in defence or offence, should be hanged.[490] On the other hand, the wealth of the Spaniards tempted the English; and on the 26th April, 1555, three men were hanged at Charing Cross, for robbing them of a treasure of gold, out of Westminster Abbey.[491]

Cardinal Pole, in the report which he sent to Julius III. of the ceremony in Parliament on St. Andrew’s Day, prognosticated nothing but good for the future of the country. After bestowing much praise on the King and Queen, he continues rather quaintly: “Philip is the spouse of Mary, but treats her so deferentially as to appear her son, thus giving promise of the best result. Mary has spiritually generated England, before giving birth to that heir of whom there is very great hope.”[492] The Pope’s response to this eulogy was the sending to Mary of the golden rose, and to Philip the sword and hat which sometimes accompanied it, when the Pope desired to honour in this manner both a King and a Queen. The Venetian ambassador thus chronicled the event. Writing on the 26th March 1555 he says: “Three days ago, there arrived here Monsignor Antonio Agustini, auditor di Rota, sent by the Pope to visit and thank their Majesties for the auspicious events of the religion, and to present them with the rose, sword and hat which his Holiness is in the habit of sending to one prince or another; and so yesterday, the day of the Annunciation and commencement of the year, according to the English style, the ceremony was performed in the private chapel of her Majesty’s palace, there being present the most illustrious Legate, all the ambassadors, and the lords of the Court. Monsignor Agostini (sic) after the Mass, presented the rose to the most serene Queen, and the sword and hat to the most serene King, accompanying the presents with a brief from his Holiness, which was read in public, replete with praise of their Majesties, and of his Holiness’s great love and affection for them; and the most illustrious Legate, in his episcopal habit, with mitre and cope, having recited certain prayers over the presents, and given the usual benediction, the most serene Queen evinced the utmost delight at hers, for after a short prayer, she carried it in her own hand, and placed it on its altar.”[493]

In the midst of her joy and hope, Mary was mindful of the afflicted. Many were still in the Tower for having been implicated in Wyatt’s rebellion. They would have been liberated at her marriage, but it had been thought that the fear of death might induce them to make important confessions. They were however released in January 1555, under personal recognisances for their future good behaviour, subject to the payment of sundry fines. Several of them were, notwithstanding, engaged in another rebellious enterprise, a few months later.[494]

Elizabeth was not forgotten in the clemency so generally extended. She too must feel the effect of the wonderful dawn of happiness that was at last tinging all Mary’s existence with a rosy light. Even before her marriage, the Queen had wished to restore her sister to liberty. But the problem as to what should be done with her was not easy to solve. She had thought of sending her to the Low Countries, where under the eye of the widowed Queen of Hungary, Philip’s aunt, even Elizabeth would find it difficult to do much mischief. Then a marriage was proposed for her with Philibert Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy.

Closely as she was guarded by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, de Noailles found means to communicate with her, and to advise her against this union. He feared that she might consent to anything, in order to regain her liberty. The Duke was a disinherited prince, and the project of marrying her to him was nothing but a scheme for expatriating her, perhaps even for depriving her of the hope she might entertain of one day succeeding to the throne.[495]

Hereupon Elizabeth at once refused the Duke, without ever having seen him. He had arrived in England during the Christmas holidays, leaving at the beginning of January, and she was not released from captivity at Woodstock until the following April.[496]

At the beginning of that month, Mary went to Hampton Court, where she intended to await her confinement. On the 17th, Sir Henry Bedingfeld received an order to convey the Lady Elizabeth to that place with all despatch, together with her servants and her customary guard.[497] The journey lasted four days, the third day being marked by a demonstration in her favour, on the part of sixty of her tenants at Colnebrook. But Bedingfeld, in the Queen’s name, ordered them all to retire, and allowed none but her three women, an officer, two men-servants, and a gentleman of her wardrobe to approach her. She arrived at Hampton Court on the 29th, and was lodged in the apartment just then vacated by the Duke of Alva, adjoining that of the King. All communication from outside was cut off, and Bedingfeld’s soldiers mounted guard over her. Her seclusion was almost as great as it had been at Woodstock. She was not permitted to see the Queen, but according to documents discovered a few years ago, and, of course, unknown to the early writers on this reign, Philip visited her within a few days of her arrival.[498]

“The next day 29 April, Madam Elizabeth came to this Court, whom the King went to visit two or three days after. She had been told beforehand by the Queen her sister, to be dressed as richly as possible, to receive the visit of the said King.”

What was said at this interview never transpired, but it is certain that not a word passed Elizabeth’s lips, that could be construed into a willingness to play the part of a repentant sinner. A demeanour of injured and haughty innocence had served the accused Princess well, when she was in imminent danger, and a prisoner in the Tower. She had found it successful at Woodstock, and it was not likely that now, when she was on the threshold of freedom, she would abate one iota of her dignity. She knew that if there had been evidence against her sufficient to convict, she would have been convicted long ago, and she knew also that without that evidence her life was safe. After a fortnight of solitude, she was allowed to see her great-uncle, Lord William Howard, whom she begged to procure her the favour of an interview with some members of the Privy Council. Accordingly, a few days later, Gardiner, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Petre paid her a visit. Foxe says:—

“Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, kneeled down, and requested that she would submit herself to the queen’s grace; and in so doing, he had no doubt but that her majesty would be good to her. She made answer that rather than she would so do, she would lie in prison all the days of her life; adding that she craved no mercy at her majesty’s hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend her majesty in thought, word or deed. ‘And besides this, in yielding,’ quoth she, ‘I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an offender, which I never was towards her majesty, by occasion whereof, the King and the Queen might ever hereafter conceive of me an evil opinion. And therefore I say, my lords, it were better for me to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my prince.’ And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the queen.

“On the next day, the bishop of Winchester came again unto her grace, and kneeling down, declared that the queen marvelled that she would so stoutly use herself, not confessing that she had offended: so that it should seem that the queen’s majesty had wrongfully imprisoned her grace. ‘Nay,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘it may please her to punish me as she thinketh good.’ ‘Well,’ quoth Gardiner, ‘her majesty willeth me to tell you, that you must tell another tale, or that you be set at liberty.’ Her grace answered, that she had as lieve be in prison with honesty and truth, as to be abroad suspected of her majesty: ‘and this that I have said, I will,’ said she, ‘stand unto: for I will never belie myself’. Winchester again kneeled down, and said, ‘Then your grace hath the vantage of me, and other the lords, for your wrong and long imprisonment’. ‘What vantage I have,’ quoth she, ‘you know: taking God to record I seek no vantage at your hands, for your so dealing with me; but God forgive you and me also!’ With that the rest kneeled, desiring her grace that all might be forgotten, and so departed, she being fast locked up again.”[499]

Nevertheless, in spite of these bold words, so little was Elizabeth resigned to a life of captivity that she never ceased besieging her friends with letters, petitions that they would obtain her release, and assurances of her innocence.[500]

“A sevennight after,” continues Foxe, “the queen sent for her grace at ten of the clock in the night, to speak with her: for she had not seen her in two years before. Yet for all that, she was amazed at the so sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse for her than afterwards it proved, and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to pray for her, for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or no. At which time, coming in, Sir Henry Benifield [Bedingfeld] with mistress Clarencius,[501] her grace was brought into the garden unto a stair’s foot that went to the queen’s lodging, her grace’s gentlewomen waiting upon her, her gentleman-usher, and her grooms going before with torches; where her gentleman and gentlewomen being commanded to stay all, saving one woman, Mistress Clarencius conducted her to the queen’s bedchamber, where her majesty was. At the sight of whom, her grace kneeled down, and desired God to preserve her majesty, not mistrusting but that she should try herself as true a subject towards her majesty as ever did any; and desired her majesty even so to judge of her; and said that she should not find her to the contrary, whatsoever report otherwise had gone of her. To whom the queen answered, ‘You will not confess your offence, but stand stoutly in your truth. I pray God it may so fall out.’ ‘If it doth not,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘I request neither favour nor pardon at your majesty’s hands.’ ‘Well,’ said the queen, ‘you stiffly still persevere in your truth. Belike you will not confess but that you have been wrongfully punished.’ ‘I must not say so, if it please your Majesty, to you.’ ‘Why then,’ said the queen, ‘belike you will to others.’ ‘No, if it please your majesty,’ quoth she. ‘I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech your majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your true subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but for ever, as long as life lasteth.’ And so they departed, with very few comfortable words of the queen in English: but what she said in Spanish, God knoweth. It is thought that King Philip was there, behind a cloth, and not seen, and that he showed himself a very friend in that matter.”[502]

A week later, Sir Henry Bedingfeld’s task was done, and Elizabeth was free.

Courtenay had been already released from his captivity at Fotheringhay Castle, and had received advice from the King and Queen, equivalent to a command, to travel for the improvement of his mind. He went first to Brussels, from which place the English ambassador wrote to Sir William Petre:—

“Last Sunday, the Earl of Devon was conducted to the Emperor by the Duke of Alva. Masone was not present but by report of the Duke and Chamberlain, whom the Earl has requested to be his interpreter if necessary, he demeaned himself very well, declaring, among other things, how much he was indebted to King Philip for helping him, through the Queen’s favour out of custody, and also for procuring him leave to see the world, whereby he might attain to such knowledge, as displeasant fortune had caused him hitherto to lack: for which reason, he had come to offer his services to the Emperor, the renown of whose court was so great. His Majesty embraced his offer most willingly, minding from time to time, to show him such signs of his favour, as the Earl should have no cause to forthink his journey hither. To this he said he was moved, not merely by the King’s and Queen’s recommendation, but for the sake of the Earl’s father, whose noble virtues were not unknown to him.”[503]

Courtenay afterwards went to Italy, where he died in 1556.

Meanwhile, elaborate preparations had been made for the advent of Mary’s passionately longed for child. Public prayers were offered for the Queen’s safety, and Parliament had petitioned Philip that “if it should happen to the queen otherwise than well, in the time of her travail, he would take upon himself the government of the realm during the minority of her majesty’s issue, with the rule, order, education and government of the said issue”.[504] In the Royal Library in Paris is a letter addressed to the Queen of Navarre, and describing an interview with Philip and Mary, at which the latter informed the writer, that the first desire of her heart was to have a son. Letters were written as the expected time approached, to announce the joyful intelligence of the birth of a child, blank spaces being left for the date and the sex to be filled in afterwards. But the time wore on and passed, and it was at last clear that what had been mistaken for the promise of motherhood, was but the beginning of a fatal disease. Mary clung to the hope long after her physicians had assured her that she would never give birth to a child, and most of those around her flattered the hope, while they pitied the delusion. One of her women was however more sincere and a contemporary document relates, “How Mrs. Clarentius and divers others, as parasites about her, assured her to be with child, insomuch as the Queen was fully so persuaded herself, being right desirous thereof, if God had been so pleased, that it might have been a comfort to all Catholic posterity, as she declared by her oration in the Guild Hall at London, at the rising of Wyatt, which was so worthy a speech made by her there, touching the cause of her marriage and why, that it made them that were there, though of contrary religion, to relent into tears, and hardly could she suffer any that would not say as she said, touching her being with child. Mrs. Frideswide Strelley, a good honourable woman of hers would not yield to her desire, and never told her an untruth....”[505]

The writer then describes that “when the rockers and cradle, and all such things were provided for the Queen’s delivery, that her time should be nigh, as it was supposed, and those parasites had had all the spoil of such things amongst them, and no such matter in the end ... then when the uttermost time was come, and the Queen thus deluded, she sent for Sterly (sic) her woman again, to whom she said, ‘Ah, Strelly, Strelly, I see they be all flatterers, and none true to me but thou,’ and then was she more in favour than ever she was before”.

As the hope of an heir was gradually abandoned, all other reasons for congratulation appeared also to fade away. De Noailles’ intrigues had prepared a fresh harvest of discontent, and with Elizabeth’s release, the turbulence of the Londoners assumed a more insolent character than ever. Hideous lampoons were circulated, bearing upon the Queen’s supposed condition, and to increase her agony of mind, Philip showed signs of a sickening conviction of the uselessness of his sacrifice.

A little book of prayers, once belonging to Queen Mary is to be seen at the British Museum.[506] Its leaves are worn and thumbed, and it opens of itself at a blurred and tear-stained page, on which is a petition for the unity of the Catholic Church, and another for the safe delivery of a woman with child. These oft-conned prayers afford us a glimpse into the Queen’s heart, which not all the despatches of ambassadors are able to give.

THE MARTYRS.

It is doubtful, even had her hopes of an heir not proved vain, whether Mary would have been able to control the revolutionary movement that had now spread from London into various parts of the country. She had formed an alliance with the most powerful nation in Europe, she had reconciled her kingdom to the one stable institution in Christendom, she had worked incessantly to promote peace between the Emperor and the French King, she had earnestly desired peace in her time; and there was no peace.[507]

The enthusiasm with which her advent had been hailed had entirely subsided, except among the poor, in country towns and villages, who loved her to the last, and with whom she came in personal contact, in the most informal manner, distributing alms, counsel and words of kindness and sympathy. Many of her autograph letters in the Cotton Library testify to the fidelity with which she remembered, through life, the claims of her dependants, although she had scanty means wherewith to reward them. The great royal progresses throughout the country, for which Henry VIII. had had so marked a predilection, were often a heavy tax upon the country people. In the time of hay-making or harvesting it was a serious inconvenience to them to be pressed into the royal service, and to have their horses and waggons seized for the transport of household stuff and provisions for the court. As often as not, they received little or no compensation, while their beasts were so fatigued with the additional labour, that a further loss of time was entailed, before they could use them again. Mary seldom went in progress, and when she did, was careful not to trouble and vex the country people, at times when their well-being for the whole year depended on their industry. If she discovered that her Comptroller had not acted fairly by them, she was extremely indignant, and would not rest till she saw the poor folk righted.

She visited them in their own homes, accompanied by two or three of her ladies, would sit down familiarly among them, and inquire into their manner of living, talking kindly to them, while the poor man ate his supper after his day’s work in the fields, little thinking that he was confiding his troubles to the Queen, for Mary would have no special ceremony paid to her by her suite, in order not to embarrass or confuse him.[508] The help she afforded was always substantial and well advised. If her poor neighbours were overburdened with children, she did not content herself with dispensing alms, but took care to advise them to live thriftily, bring up their boys and girls in the fear of God, and sometimes apprenticed these to an honest trade, so that they might be able to earn their living and better their condition. “This she did,” writes the biographer of the Duchess of Feria, “in a poor carpenter’s house, and the house of the widow of a husbandman. And in this sort did she pass some hours with the poor neighbours, with much plainness and affability; they supposing them all to be Queen’s maids, for there seemed no difference. And if any complaints were made, she commended the remembrance very particularly to Jane Dormer.”[509]

No religious or political agitators had as yet disturbed the loyalty of these simple peasants; but in London, pasquinades directed against the Queen had become of constant occurrence. Offensive and scurrilous language was the order of the day. A boy named Featherstone was made to personate Edward VI. in order to dispute her right. Treasonable books, such as John Knox’s Blast against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, Goodman’s Superior Magistrate, in which Wyatt was invoked as a martyr, Poynet’s treatise on Politic Power, were busily circulated, and roused the spirit of revolt in the minds of thousands of hitherto peaceable citizens. The seditious availed themselves boldly of the shibboleth liberty of conscience and of the 270 persons estimated by Foxe, as having suffered for religion during this reign, many were, quite apart from their religious opinions, traitors, assassins and perjurers. The Venetian ambassador says, in a letter to the Doge, dated 13th May 1555:[510] “Certain knaves in this country endeavour daily to disturb the peace and quiet, and present state of the kingdom, so as if possible to induce some novelty and insurrection, there having been publicly circulated of late throughout the city, a Dialogue written and printed in English, full of seditious and scandalous things against the religion and government, as also against the Council, the Parliament, and chiefly against their Majesties’ persons; and although all diligence has been used for the discovery of the authors, no light on the subject has yet been obtained, save that an Italian has been put in the Tower, he being a master for teaching the Italian tongue to Milady Elizabeth, some suspicion having been apparently entertained of him. The edition of the Dialogue was so copious, that a thousand copies have been taken to the Lord Mayor, who by order of their Majesties, commanded all those who had any of them to bring them to him under heavy penalties.”

A royal proclamation was then issued, to the effect that all books, both Latin and English, concerning “any heretical, erroneous or slanderous doctrines, might be destroyed and burnt throughout the realm,” as also against conveying into the kingdom any books, writings or works by writers thereinafter named. All the names of the principal reformers follow, as also that of Erasmus, who was at that time looked upon with distrust. The Book of Common Prayer “set forth by the authority of Parliament” in the reign of Edward VI. was to be delivered up within the space of fifteen days, to be burned or otherwise disposed of.[511]

But these measures only increased the fanaticism. William Thomas, who had been clerk of the Council under Edward, and was a disciple of the preacher Goodman, plotted to murder the Queen, “for which he was sent to the Tower, and afterwards executed, at which time he said he died for his country”.[512] Wriothesley and Machyn both chronicle a murderous attack made on a priest at the altar rails. The former says: “The 4 day of April (1555) being Easter Day was a lewd fact done in the church of St. Margaret, Westminster. Sir John Sleuther, priest, ministering the sacrament to the parishioners, and holding the chalice in his left hand, one William Branch, alias called Flower, in a serving-man’s coat, suddenly drew a wood knife, and struck the priest on the head, that the blood ran down, and fell both on the chalice and on the consecrated bread. The said person was apprehended, and committed to the Gatehouse in Westminster.” Machyn adds that the ruffian assaulted the priest, after saying that “by the idolatory which he committed, he deceived the crowds of souls there assembled, with other disgusting language, and gave him two deep wounds, one in the hand, the other in the head, that he fell as if dead, causing such an uproar and tumult, in part from the shrieks of the women, and the multitude of persons present, who pursued the man as if to put him to death. It was thought for a moment that the English had risen for the purpose of massacring the Spaniards, and all the other foreigners who lived in that quarter. The man was seized, and burnt for the assault, on the 24th April following, outside St. Margaret’s churchyard.”[513]

This outrage was a bold advance on the part of the revolutionists, who the previous year had contented themselves with derisively hanging a cat on the gallows in Cheapside, dressed in full pontificals.

Holinshed, Stow and Strype all tell a story of a fraud, perpetrated by the Queen’s enemies. Strange sounds were heard to issue from a house in Aldersgate Street, interspersed with obscure words, perfectly incomprehensible, until they were interpreted by certain persons who were in the secret. These told the crowds assembled in front of the house, that what they heard was the voice of the Holy Ghost, warning a wicked and perverse generation. It inveighed, they said, against the Queen’s marriage, and the impiety of the Mass; and the citizens were threatened with war, famine, pestilence and earthquakes. The tumult became so great, that the magistrates ordered the front wall of the house to be demolished, when a young woman, named Elizabeth Crofts, crept out of a hiding place, and confessed that she had been hired to commit the fraud. She was put in the pillory, but afterwards pardoned and sent home.[514]

The way in which religion was purposely confused with political grievances, real or supposed, was the cause of more than half the difficulty. The Council were still for prosecuting the criminals for heresy, the Emperor for ever maintained that they should be tried for treason.

The Venetian ambassador notifies a slight insurrection in Essex, whereupon Bonner received an order from the Privy Council to send “certain discreet and learned preachers to reduce the people who hath been of late seduced by sundry lewd persons named ministers there”.[515] The state of affairs is thus seen to have entered into a vicious circle. The lawlessness of the sectaries prompted severe reprisals, and the punishments inflicted did but aggravate the evil instead of suppressing it. “I have never,” said Renard, “seen the people so disturbed and discontented as now.” For six months, he had not ceased urging that Elizabeth, who was, he considered, the cause of all the troubles, should be sent abroad.

The opinion was at that time general, that capital punishment might be inflicted in religious matters. Catholics and Reformers were alike agreed on this subject, differing only as to their definition of heresy. Catholics regarded it as a revolt from the teaching of a divinely appointed Church; each individual Reformer submitted it to the test of his own private judgment. Calvin burned Servetus for his opinions on the Blessed Trinity, an act that was not only attended with as many aggravating circumstances as any death for heresy that had ever been suffered, but which was almost unanimously applauded by the Protestants of that time, Melancthon, Bullinger and Farel all writing to express their approval of it. Those who objected were called by Beza, “emissaries of Satan”. Luther, in his reply to Philip of Hesse, distinctly asserted the right of civil magistrates to punish heresy with death, a right that was maintained by the Helvetic, Belgic, Scottish and Saxon confessions. Calvin, Beza and Jurieu all wrote books to prove the lawfulness of persecution for false doctrine, each having independent views of what was the true.[516] Knox in his famous Appellation says: “None provoking the people to idolatry ought to be exempted from the punishment of death ... it is not only lawful to punish to the death such as labour to subvert the true religion, but the magistrates and people are bound to do so, unless they will provoke the wrath of God against themselves ... and therefore, my Lords, to return to you, seeing that God hath armed your hands with the sword of justice, seeing that His law most straightly commandeth idolaters and false prophets to be punished with death, and that you be placed above your subjects, to reign as fathers over children, and further, seeing that not only I, but with me many thousand famous, godly and learned persons accuse your bishops, and the whole rabble of the Papistical clergy, of idolatry, of murder and of blasphemy against God committed, it appertaineth to your honours to be vigilant and careful in so weighty a matter. The question is not of earthly substance, but of the glory of God and of the salvation of yourselves.”[517]

In Edward’s reign, Cranmer not only pronounced sentence on Joan Bocher, for holding that Christ was not incarnate of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but informed the King, in delivering her over to the civil power, that she was to be “deservedly punished,” which meant that she was to be burned.[518] He also pronounced sentence on van Parris, and gave the same recommendation, and handed over several Anabaptists to be burned at Smithfield. In his new code of ecclesiastical discipline, Cranmer classed belief in Transubstantiation, in Papal supremacy, and in the denial of justification by faith alone, as heresy. But Edward died before this code had obtained the sanction of Parliament.[519]

Both in England and Scotland, the Reformation signalised itself by a law, making it penal for any priest to say Mass, for any worshipper to hear it, under pain of death for the one, of confiscation of his goods, heavy fines, exile, and finally death for the other. “One Mass,” exclaimed Knox, “is more fearful to me than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed in any part of the realm!” In 1572, the two Houses of Convocation implored Elizabeth to put Mary Queen of Scots to death, giving as one reason, that she had endeavoured to seduce God’s people to idolatry, and that according to the Old Testament, all who did so should be put to death.[520] “There was an express order that no pity should be shown them.” But not only did the Reformers adopt the principle, that heresy, such as each understood it to be, was punishable by death, the newly established Protestant Governments also claimed the right to define heresy, as well as to punish it. Mr. Lecky states no more than bare facts, when he says that, “In Scotland during nearly the whole period that the Stuarts were on the throne of England, a persecution, rivalling in atrocity almost any on record, was directed by the English Government, at the instigation of the Scotch bishops, and with the approval of the English Church, against all who repudiated episcopacy. If a conventicle was held in a house, the preacher was liable to be put to death. If it was held in the open air, both minister and people incurred the same fate. The Presbyterians were hunted like criminals over the mountains. Their ears were torn from the roots. They were branded with hot irons. Their fingers were wrenched asunder by the thumbkins. The bones of their legs were shattered in the boots. Women were scourged publicly through the streets. Multitudes were transported to Barbadoes, infuriated soldiers were let loose upon them and encouraged to exercise all their ingenuity in torturing them.”[521]

It is thus clear, that if the sixteenth century, and the ages preceding it were not acquainted with our modern ideas of religious toleration, neither indeed were the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth centuries. As late as 1679, an Irish Franciscan was executed for his priesthood at Ruthin, being hanged, cut down while yet alive, drawn and quartered;[522] and in 1729 died in Hurst Castle another Franciscan, Father Paul Atkinson, who had been apprehended and condemned to perpetual imprisonment for the same crime.[523]

On the Catholic side, two authorities may be quoted in favour of the punishment of heresy as a crime; and the standpoint from which it was so regarded may be briefly stated thus. Before the Reformation, the Catholic Church was universally recognised as the sole depositary of revealed truth. To the mediæval mind, he who was convicted of spreading doctrine contrary to the teaching of this divine institution was worse than a fratricide, since by poisoning the wells of truth, he murdered not his brother’s perishable body, but his immortal soul, and was, therefore, deserving of death. It is difficult for us, whose minds are necessarily imbued with modern ideas, to realise the mode of thought concerning novelties of doctrine which agitated all the countries of Europe in the middle ages, and which still agitated them when so much that was purely mediæval had passed away. Nor can we estimate to the full the depth of those profound convictions, on the subject of revealed religion, which called forth the ecclesiastical and civil enactments, framed to prevent any tampering with dogma. We have in our days no practical experience of a system universally admitted and recognised to be the sole depositary of revealed truth, such as the Catholic Church was acknowledged to be, before the rise and growth of Protestantism. Accustomed to the presence of religious speculation, doubt, and unbelief around us, or at least to the existence of varying creeds, we are familiar with the notion that every man may weigh and consider the credibility of each doctrine proposed to him, and that he is at liberty to accept or reject it, to halve or to double it, according to the promptings of his own individual judgment. Religious truth has come to be considered so much a personal affair, that Roman Catholics are perhaps alone in looking upon it as a divine deposit, a purely objective matter, independent of what this or that man may think, and to be accepted undoubtingly by the faithful. And this was precisely the state of the pre-Reformation mind. But the opinion is sometimes expressed in our own day, that were the Catholic Church again powerful, as in the middle ages, we should see a recurrence of persecution as determined as any that marked with horror the former annals of our country. The notion is as absurd as it would be to imagine that if the Puritans were again masters, they would bring back the thumbkin, the boots, the rack and the sword, in order to enforce the uselessness of good works. No organised persecution could ever be possible where the general trend of ideas was not in its favour. Our thicker-skinned ancestors had far less sympathy with bodily suffering, and a much lower appreciation of the value of human life than ourselves. In an age when coiners and forgers were punished with death, it would have seemed incongruous that apostates and heretics should fare more softly.[524] The Reformers, who rejected nearly every tenet held by the universal Church, were almost all agreed to retain the punishment by which those tenets had been vindicated. St. Thomas Aquinas says:—

“The crime of heresy must be considered first in itself and then in its connexion with the Church. If we consider the crime in itself, heretics deserve not only to be cut off from the Church by excommunication, but to be cut off from the world by death. They are more guilty than those who coin false money, for it is more grave to corrupt the faith which is the life of the soul, than to falsify coins, by which that of the body is supported; and thus they are justly put to death like other malefactors. Considered in connexion with the Church, it is clear that she, ever merciful and desirous of obtaining the conversion of those who are in error, does not at once condemn the heretic, but exhorts him to repentance, according to the teaching of the apostle. It is only when he shows himself obstinate, and if she despairs of his salvation, that she cuts him off from herself, and abandons him to the secular arm that he may be put to death.”[525]

The fourth Lateran Council decreed, that no beneficed clerk, or any clerk in holy orders, might take any part, even the most mechanical and subordinate, in the judicial doing to death of a criminal.[526] Heresy was, however, looked upon as an ecclesiastical as well as a civil offence, the delinquent first committing a grave crime against God, by denying and attacking the truths which He had revealed, so that by his example he led other men astray. Secondly, by so doing he raised tumults, and endangered the peace of the commonwealth. He was, therefore, tried in the ecclesiastical courts, and if found guilty and obdurate, was handed over to the State for punishment. “Cognisance of heresies, errors and Lollardies appertaineth to the judge of holy Church.”[527]

Long before the rise of Lollardy, burning at the stake was the recognised punishment for heresy, just as decapitation and hanging were the penalty for the crimes of treason and murder. An obstinate Albigensian was burned in London in 1210, and in 1222 a deacon suffered death at Oxford, for turning Jew, and marrying a Jewess.[528] The first Act of Parliament against heresy was passed in the reign of Henry IV. (1401) and dealt with the suppression of Lollardy. Nevertheless, the placing of the new law on the statute book was not followed by any great increase in the number of punishments, and there were more burnings in the reign of Henry VIII. than in the whole of the previous century.

The second authority on the Catholic side on the subject of the punishment of heresy is an Englishman, Sir Thomas More, who says:—

“As touching heretics, I hate that vice of theirs, and not their persons, and very fain would I that the one were destroyed and the other saved. And that I have toward no man any other mind than this—how loudly soever these blessed new brethren and professors and preachers of heresy belie me—if all the favour and pity that I have used among them to their amendment were known, it would, I warrant you well and plain appear; whereof, if it were requisite, I could bring forth witnesses more than men would ween. Howbeit, because it were neither right nor honesty, that any man should look for more than he deserveth, I will that all the world wit it on the other side, that whoso be so deeply grounded in malice, to the harm of his own soul, and other men’s too, and so set upon the sowing of seditious heresies, that no good means that men may use unto him can pull that malicious folly out of his poisoned, proud, obstinate heart, I would rather be content that he were gone in time, than overlong to tarry to the destruction of other.”[529]

Mary’s Parliament of 1554, which abolished her title of Supreme Head of the Church of England, threw out the bill for reviving the Act of 1401 against heresy, chiefly on Paget’s motion, but it was brought in again in the following January, and in four days it had passed through both Houses without opposition.

It was felt that a breakwater had become imperatively necessary to stop the inflowing tide of sedition. Ross, a reformed preacher, prayed openly, that God would “either convert the heart of the Queen, or take her out of this world”. It was then made treason to pray in public for the Queen’s death. But those who had been already committed for this offence might recover their liberty, by making humble protestation and promise of amendment.

While the Council were debating on the manner in which the revived Act should be enforced, the Queen sent them a message, written in her own hand, in which, after expressing her wishes with regard to several points of ecclesiastical discipline, she said:—

“Touching punishment of heretics, me thinketh it ought to be done without rashness, not leaving in the meanwhile to do justice to such as by learning would seem to deceive the simple: and the rest so to be used, that the people might well perceive them not to be condemned without just occasion, whereby they shall both understand the truth, and beware to do the like: and especially within London, I would wish none to be burnt without some of the Council’s presence, and both there and everywhere good sermons at the same”.[530]

From the fact that the Queen advocated sermons at the stake it has been inferred that Philip exercised considerable influence on the persecution, as it was the Spanish custom for preachments to be held at the autos da fe of heretics. But indeed the custom was quite as much an English as it was a Spanish one. At the burning of Friar Forest, for refusing to acknowledge Henry’s ecclesiastical supremacy, Hugh Latimer preached for three hours against the Papal claims, when the martyr fixing his eyes on him said: “Seven years back thou durst not have made such a sermon for thy life!”

It is probable, that neither Philip nor Mary was keen to punish as heresy, the rebellious spirit manifested by the religionists. The persecution was a movement of expediency, set on foot by the Council, as a means of coping with the disturbances. The Emperor and Renard were distinctly opposed to it, and now the Spanish friar, Alfonso de Castro, Philip’s confessor, in preaching before the court, strenuously denounced the measure, which he would scarcely have ventured to do in so public a manner, if it had been ardently desired by the King and Queen. Moreover, the most enlightened among the English clergy, including the Bishop of London, who had at first been in favour of it, though agreeing in the general principle, that erroneous thinking led to erroneous acting, were against its adoption at this juncture. But Parliament willed it, and “it was not therefore,” says an authority on English law, “the policy of the church but of the crown, and not merely of the crown but of the state. It was the act of the crown with the authority of Parliament, and the assent of the council.”[531]

The same writer, accentuating this opinion, which appears incontrovertible, says in another place:—

“With reference to this unhappy persecution, it appears important to observe, that it was not the will of the church but of the state, that it was the result not of the religious bigotry of ecclesiastics, but of state policy, and there is reason to believe not a little, of the worst and vilest state craft. It did not commence until after the marriage with the Spanish King, nor until after the lapse of two years after the restoration of the ancient religion, and then it was not only not instigated but it was rather discouraged by the prelates; and though it was no doubt authorized by the sovereign, it was at the advice of her council, composed chiefly of laymen. The Cardinal Legate opposed it, the King’s confessor preached against it, the prelates acted only upon compulsion, and there is reason to believe from the Queen’s reply to the representation of the council, that she rather yielded to their advice, and desired the execution of the measure not only to be moderated, but to be directed rather against popular agitators, than against mere private holders of heretical opinions.”[532]

Our principal data for the history of this persecution are derived from John Foxe’s Acts and Monuments, and the martyrologist’s spirit of animosity, wilful misrepresentation and neglect to rectify obvious errors, have exposed his book to everlasting reproach. On the death of his last descendant, the greater number of his manuscripts were either given to Strype, or allowed to remain in Strype’s hands till his death in 1737, when many of them were purchased for the Harleian Collection, now in the British Museum. A few found their way into the Lansdowne Library. They include amongst a mass of heterogeneous documents of the most unequal value and interest—such as the depositions of some who were really present at the different executions for religion in the reign of Queen Mary, minutes of the examination of prisoners, apparently written on the spot, fantastic stories of his favourite theory concerning the judgments of God, on those who persecuted the followers of the reformed doctrines, and the thrilling legend of Pope Joan—several statements sent to Foxe for the purpose of correcting portions of his work, but of which he never made any use. Nearly, if not quite all the material for that part of the Acts and Monuments, which deals with the reign of Mary, was collected by others for Foxe and Grindal, during their absence from England. Grindal handed over to Foxe the accounts of the various prosecutions for heresy sent to him by his correspondents at home, taking care, however, at the same time, to warn the martyrologist against placing too much confidence in them, he himself suspending his judgment, “till more satisfactory evidence came from good hands”. He advised him for the present, only to print separately the acts of particular persons, of whom they had authentic accounts, and to wait for a larger and completer history, until they had reliable information of the whole persecution.[533] But the careful investigation which Grindal recommended did not fall in with the particular genius and uncritical methods of Foxe, who, perhaps on account of his necessitous condition, worked with a will, on the unsifted tales and reports, as they came to hand, so that the book in its Latin form was completed, almost to the end of Mary’s reign, and was published at Basle, before his return to England in 1559. He afterwards made an English translation of the work, but without seeing fit to revise his material, and it was given to the public under the title of Acts and Monuments. It was at once popularly styled the Book of Martyrs.

When attacked by Alan Cope (Nicholas Harpsfield) for his inaccuracies, Foxe replied, “I hear what you will say; I should have taken more leisure, and done it better. I grant and confess my fault; such is my vice. I cannot sit all the day (M. Cope) fining and mincing my letters, and combing my head, and smoothing myself all the day at the glass of Cicero. Yet notwithstanding doing what I can, and doing my good will, methinks I should not be reprehended.”[534] Parsons in his Three Conversions of England[535] makes “a note of more than a hundred and twenty lies uttered by John Foxe in less than three leaves of his Acts and Monuments,” and he proceeds to point them out, beginning with the lie concerning John Marbeck, and some others, whom he counts among the martyrs, although they were never burned at all. John Marbeck was an eminent musician and a controversial writer on the Protestant side. As in consequence of Parsons’ remark, Foxe acknowledged the error, in his second edition, he may be held excused thus far; but his delinquencies in this respect were not infrequent, and gave rise to the saying that “Many who were burnt in the reign of Queen Mary drank sack in the days of Queen Elizabeth”.[536]

Two similar mistakes which he was in a position to correct and did not, relate to the supposed death by the vengeance of God, of Henry Morgan, Bishop of St. David’s, and of one Grimwood, another “notorious Papist”.

Anthony à Wood, the famous antiquary and historian, who wrote his History of the Antiquities of Oxford about a hundred years after Foxe had become celebrated as a martyrologist, and who in his youth spoke with people who remembered the days of persecution in the reign of Mary, says that “Henry Morgan was esteemed a most admirable civilian and canonist; he was for several years the constant Moderator of all those that performed exercise for their degrees in the civil law in the school or schools, hall and church pertaining to that faculty, situated also in the same parish.... He was elected Bishop of St. David’s upon the deprivation of Robert Ferrar.... In that see he sate till after Queen Elizabeth came to the Crown, and then being deprived ... retired among his friends, and died a devoted son to the Church of Rome, on the 23 of December following (1559) of whose death, hear I pray what John Fox saith in this manner: Morgan, Bishop of St. David’s who sate upon the condemnation of the blessed Martyr Bishop Ferrar, and unjustly usurped his room, was not long after stricken by God’s hand, after such a strange sort, that his meat would not go down, but rise and pick up again, sometimes at his mouth, sometimes blown out of his nose, most horribly to behold, and so he continued till his death. Thus Fox followed by Thomas Beard, in his Theatre of God’s Judgments. But where or when his death happened they tell us not, nor any author hitherto, only when. Now therefore be pleased to know, that the said Bishop Morgan, retiring after his deprivation to and near Oxon, where he had several relations and acquaintance living, particularly the Owens of Godstow in the parish of Wolvercote, near the said city, did spend the little remainder of his life in great devotion at Godstow, but that he died in the condition which Fox mentions, there is no tradition among the inhabitants of Wolvercote. True it is that I have heard some discourse many years ago from some of the ancients of that place, that a certain Bishop did live for some time, and exercised his charity and religious counsel among them, and there died, but I could never learn anything of them of the manner of his death, which being very miserable as John Fox saith, methinks that they should have a tradition of it, as well as of the man himself, but I say there is now none, nor was there any thirty years ago, among the most aged persons then living at that place, and therefore whether there be anything of truth in it may be justly doubted; and especially for this reason, that in the very same chapter and leaf containing the severe punishment upon persecutors of God’s People, he hath committed a most egregious falsity in reporting that one Grimwood, of Higham in Suffolk, died in a miserable manner, for swearing and bearing false witness against one John Cooper, a carpenter of Watsam in the same county; for which he lost his life. The miserable death of the said Grimwood was as John Fox saith thus, that when he was in his labour, staking up a gosse of corn, having his health, and fearing no peril, suddenly his bowels fell out of his body, and immediately most miserably he died. Now it so fell out that in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, one Prick became parson of the parish where the said Grimwood dwelt, and preaching against perjury, being not acquainted with his parishioners, cited the said story of Fox, and it happening that Grimwood being alive, and in the said church, he brought an action upon the case against the parson, but Judge Anderson, who sate at the assizes, in the county of Suffolk did adjudge it not maintainable, because it was not spoken maliciously.”[537]

That the case was not maintained on this ground, as against the parson, was no doubt fair and just, but Foxe cannot himself be as reasonably acquitted, for although he went into Suffolk to investigate the matter, he never made any alteration in his story, which has appeared in all the subsequent editions of his work.

It would be beyond the scope of the present volume to indicate all the misstatements and distorted facts of which he was guilty, some being, no doubt, as much the result of the far too ambitious scheme of his undertaking, as of his preconceived malice.

Thirty years after the death of Sir Thomas More, the martyrologist proceeded to collect all the traditional gossip afloat concerning the Chancellor’s treatment of certain individuals accused of heresy; and he gravely introduces it into his Acts and Monuments as historical fact. All these fables had been refuted by More himself, in his famous Apology, made at a time when, although he stood alone, defenceless and obnoxious, none were bold enough to challenge his truth.

We shall, later on, have occasion incidentally to notice cases of Foxe’s glaring inaccuracy; suffice it here to mention one instance, which is fairly representative of his manner. He chronicles the martyrdom at Newent, on the 25th September 1556, of “Jhon Horne and a woman”. On investigation it transpires, that the story is nothing more than an amplification of the burning of Edward Horne, who suffered on the 25th September 1558, and that no woman suffered at either of these times. This confusion was first notified by John Deighton, a friendly critic of the Acts and Monuments, clearly not disposed to magnify its imperfections.

It is one of the many anomalies which confront the student of sixteenth century methods, that the Book of Martyrs being what it is, a mass of unsorted fact and fiction, carelessly thrown together, often proved untrustworthy, rarely corrected, and at the best uncritical, one-sided and violent, should not merely have leapt into the foremost rank of contemporary literature, but should have attained in the popular estimation the level of the Bible itself. Foxe had been penniless when he returned to England in 1559, but the success of his book, first published in 1563, made his fortune. The Catholics called it derisively Foxe’s Golden Legend. In 1570, a second edition was printed, in two volumes folio, and Convocation decreed that the book designated by the canon as Monumenta Martyrum, should be placed in cathedral churches, and in the houses of the great ecclesiastical dignitaries. This decree, although never confirmed by Parliament, was so much in accordance with the Puritan tone of the whole Church of England at that time, that even parish churches, far and wide were furnished with copies of the work, chained side by side with the Bible. The vestry minutes of St. Michael’s Church, Cornhill, of the 11th January, 1571-72, ordered “that the booke of Martyrs of Mr. Foxe, and the paraphrases (of the Gospel) of Erasmus shalbe bowght for the church, and tyed with a chain to the Egle bras”. A few years ago, mutilated copies of the Acts and Monuments might still be seen chained, in the parish churches of Apethorpe (Northamptonshire), of Arreton (Isle of Wight), of Chelsea, of Eustone (Oxfordshire), Kinver (Staffordshire), Lessingham (Norfolk), St. Nicholas (Newcastle-on-Tyne), Northwold (Norfolk), Stratford-on-Avon, Waltham, St. Cuthbert (Wells).[538]

No more potent means could have been devised for saturating the national mind with a hatred of Queen Mary, and of her religion, than the diffusion of the Book of Martyrs on this gigantic scale. In a short time, there was scarcely a parish church in England, that did not possess a copy of the work, which was at the disposal of all who could read. Those who were illiterate might frequently be seen standing in a group round the lectern, while one among them read aloud from the graphic pages. In many churches, a chapter was read to the assembled congregations every Sunday evening along with the Bible, and the clergy constantly made its stories of martyrdom the subject of their sermons. One of the indictments against Archbishop Laud, at his trial, was the fact of his having ordered the book to be withdrawn from some churches.[539] But the secret of its charm for Puritan England did not altogether lie in its anti-Marian character, or in the partisanship of its garbled facts, and fictitious heroisms. The simplicity of its vigorous English, the picturesque, though minute circumstances which it detailed, the very boldness with which it lied, and above all, its appeal to the newly awakened passion for the private interpretation of Scripture, endeared it to the children of the new era. Nevertheless, it was undeniably one of the most powerful engines in the conspiracy to blacken Mary’s fame, and cast a lurid light on the few years of her troubled reign. It was not so much an epoch-making book as the embodiment of a movement, the effects of which have not yet passed away, and even the Pilgrim’s Progress, a far more imaginative and strictly religious work than Foxe’s, did not displace the Acts and Monuments in the religious life of the nation. The two together did perhaps more than anything else to wean the people from the old faith.

But, apart from all misrepresentation, exaggeration, distorted evidence and positive fiction, there remains the fact that a considerable number of persons did perish at the stake in Mary’s reign, although it is as great an historical absurdity to apply to Mary the epithet “bloody,” as it is to attach that of “good” to Queen Elizabeth. Mary did but sanction that which was not only the common practice throughout Christendom, but which had been the law of England for more than 150 years, and which continued in force for upwards of a century after her. Utterly repugnant to modern ideas as is the thought which made it possible to punish any religious propaganda with the death of the propagandist, we must admit that Mary, and those whose business it was to carry out the law, far from entertaining feelings of vengeance, provided every possible loophole of escape for those under examination. Moreover, the accused, even on the showing of Foxe, instead of being the meek and lamb-like martyrs we have been led to consider them, persistently flouted their judges, and treated them with flippant insolence and contempt.

Immediately after the revival of the statute, it was Gardiner’s unwelcome duty, with thirteen other bishops and a number of laymen, to sit in a commission of inquiry into the teaching of four Churchmen, Hooper, the deprived Bishop of Gloucester; Rogers, Prebendary of St. Paul’s; Saunders, Rector of Allhallows, and Taylor, Rector of Hadley in Sussex. This was the only occasion on which Gardiner presided over a trial for heresy.

Hooper, by far the most distinguished of the four, had had a singularly chequered career, even for those stirring times. Perhaps even more than Cranmer, he had come under the influence of the German reformers. He had entered the cloister at an early age, and had graduated as a religious at Oxford, but had returned to secular life, after some fray in which he was concerned. He fed his mind on the writings of Zwingli and Bullinger, and identified himself so closely with their opinions, that on the promulgation of the Six Articles he was obliged to fly the country. He went to Zürich, the hot-bed of Calvinism, and there attacked Gardiner’s book on the Holy Eucharist. On Edward’s accession, he returned to England, and continued the controversy in a lecture which he delivered on the 1st September 1549. This lecture brought him into notice and favour with the Council, and when Bonner attacked his doctrine in a powerful sermon preached to a large congregation at St. Paul’s, Hooper retaliated by denouncing the Bishop of London.[540] Bonner was therefore examined as to his belief in the dogma in question, deprived, and sent to the Tower. But although Hooper was now made King’s Preacher, he did not allow himself to exult greatly over his good fortune. “Sharp and dangerous,” said he, “has been my contest with that bishop; if he be restored again to his office, I shall be restored to my Father which is in heaven.”[541] He threw himself with ardour into the war then raging against altars, vestments, priests and bishops, putting himself at the head of the Gospellers. None of his contemporaries surpassed him in forcible language. In 1551 some altars were still standing in the diocese of Chichester, in spite of the decree of the Council, that they should be destroyed, and Masses were still surreptitiously offered at some of them.[542] “The bishops and priests do damnable and devilish superstition,” he exclaimed in one of his sermons,[543] “saying Mass, conjuring the holy water bucket and the like, in the congregation of God.... Into the sea with all clerks who will not preach the true doctrine and teach the catechism.” The Council owed it mainly to Hooper, if their behests were at last obeyed. “So long as the altars remain, the ignorant people and evil-persuaded priests will dream of sacrifice,” he persisted, until even the places where the altars had stood were whitewashed, so that no vestige of them might remain. In one of his pungent sermons, he went so far as to condemn Cranmer’s new Prayer Book, as savouring too much of Popery. For this he was brought before the Council, but came out of the debate victorious, and was offered a bishopric which he refused, saying, “I cannot put on me a surplice and a cope. I cannot swear by created beings.” Even Edward’s Government found his eloquence inconvenient, and he was sent to the Fleet for his intemperate preaching.[544] He was at length consecrated Bishop of Gloucester, with the usual ceremonies, but was afterwards allowed to discard the hated vestments of Episcopacy, “the rags of the harlot of Babylon,” as he described them. He does not seem to have had any scruple in holding the bishopric of Worcester in commendam; but he consistently maintained the greatest simplicity, forbade the people under his jurisdiction, to stand at the reading of the Gospel, or to kneel when they received Communion.[545]

He was indefatigable in striving to enlighten the gross ignorance of his clergy. “Out of 300, 168 were unable to repeat the Ten Commandments, 31 knew not where to find them in the Bible, 40 could not find the Lord’s Prayer in the Bible, and 31 did not know who framed it.”[546]

On the 1st September 1553, Hooper was again committed to the Fleet, not apparently on a charge of religion, but for debts due to the Crown.[547] While he was in prison, the statute against Lollardy was again enforced, and he and his three companions were examined as to their doctrine. They pleaded conscientious objections to the religion restored by the Queen. Gardiner allowed them twenty-four hours for reflection, but on their second refusal to retract, they were excommunicated, degraded, and handed over to the civil power. Hooper was sent back to Gloucester, where he suffered at the stake. Rogers was burned at Smithfield, Saunders at Coventry, and Taylor at Hadley.

Nevertheless, Gardiner was by no means the savage tyrant Foxe represents him to be. His personal kindness to the proscribed brethren was amply acknowledged by them. He furnished Peter Martyr with funds to escape out of England, shielded Thomas Smith, formerly Secretary to Edward VI., from persecution, and generously allowed him a yearly pension of £100 for his support. Of his behaviour to Roger Ascham, the reformer himself said, “Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, High Chancellor of England, treated me with the utmost humanity and favour, so that I cannot easily decide whether Paget was more ready to commend me, or Winchester to protect and benefit me; there were not wanting some, who on the ground of religion, attempted to stop the flow of his benevolence towards me, but to no purpose. I owe very much to the humanity of Winchester, and not only I, but many others who have experienced his kindness.”[548] One of the “many others” was John Frith, whom Gardiner did his best to save.[549] It was said, that even the Duke of Northumberland would not have perished, had the Chancellor’s counsels prevailed.

Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley had remained in the Tower, where at first they had enjoyed considerable freedom, till March 1554. Ridley dined frequently at the Lieutenant’s table, and he and Cranmer were allowed the liberty of the Queen’s garden, Latimer being kept more straitly. But after Wyatt’s rebellion, the Tower being crowded with prisoners, the three bishops were put together in one room, and to them was added Ridley’s chaplain, John Bradford. In the spring of 1554, they were sent to Oxford, to take part in a theological discussion on the Mass.

Ridley, the most learned of the three, was born in 1500 and was consequently fifty-four years old at the time of the disputation. He had adopted the principles of the German reformers in 1536, and renounced his belief in transubstantiation in the year of Henry’s death, after which he laboured strenuously to defend and spread the new doctrines. Cranmer acknowledged him his superior in controversy, and during the disputation it was said of the three bishops: “Latimer leaneth to Cranmer, Cranmer leaneth to Ridley and Ridley to the singularity of his own wit”. Nevertheless in arguing, he always referred to Cranmer’s book.

Latimer joined to the Puritan sympathies of Hooper the weakness of character which signalised Cranmer. He had been so deeply imbued with the spirit of the German divines as to lose Henry’s favour, but as he ardently advocated the King’s first divorce, Anne Boleyn procured him a bishopric. He was however regarded with some suspicion, and was twice convented before Convocation, and required to subscribe to certain articles presented to him for his acceptance. He refused, was pronounced contumacious and excommunicated, until he retracted, and sued for forgiveness. He was ultimately pardoned, but relapsed into Protestantism, and was only saved from prosecution by a timely utterance in favour of the divorce, when he was made Bishop of Worcester. In 1536 he was called on to examine some Anabaptists for heresy, and saw no reason why they should not suffer the rigour of the law for their opinions. Later, he thus defended their execution: “This is a deceivable argument,” said Latimer “he went to his death boldly: ergo he standeth in a just quarrel. The Anabaptists that were burnt here in divers towns in England (as I heard of credible men, I saw them not myself) went to their death even intrepid, as ye will say, without any fear in the world, cheerfully. Well, let them go. There was in the old doctor’s time another kind of poisoned heretics that were called Donatists, and these heretics went to their execution as though they should have gone to some jolly recreation or banquet, to some belly-cheer or to a play.”[550]

But in spite of these words, Latimer was soon afterwards as busy as any Anabaptist in destroying images, and during the reaction of Henry’s orthodoxy, in the matter of the Six Articles, was in some danger. Cromwell forced him to resign his see,[551] and he was kept in a sort of honourable confinement by the Bishop of Chichester. On his release, he was forbidden to preach, to go to either university or to return to his diocese. He found himself in the Tower, in 1546, for his openly professed disbelief in Purgatory, but was liberated on Edward’s accession, and licensed as a preacher. Latimer threw in his lot boldly with Somerset’s Protectorate, and when Admiral Seymour was executed, and the people murmured, he justified his death from the pulpit, and told them that the Admiral had gone to everlasting damnation. The passages in his sermon in which this sentiment was expressed were afterwards eliminated as too scandalous for Latimer’s credit as a divine. His eloquence was so overwhelming, that its effect was generally to excite the people on whatever subject he preached, and an entry in the churchwardens’ accounts of St. Margaret’s, Westminster, records the fact that the sum of one shilling and sixpence was paid some time in 1549, “for mending of divers pews that were broken when Dr. Latimer did preach”.[552] When in 1550, a fresh commission was appointed to eradicate heresy, and to enforce the new Book of Common Prayer, Latimer was one of the thirty-two commissioners. On Mary’s accession, the Council, for some reason unknown, declared his behaviour seditious, and sent him a close prisoner to the Tower, denying him the liberty accorded to Cranmer and Ridley. The latter, however, contrived to communicate with him, and the two together wrote a defence of their opinions, through the intermediary of Latimer’s servant, who was allowed to attend him. After the Oxford disputation in October 1555, Cardinal Pole wrote to Philip, telling him that he had received letters from the King’s confessor, Friar Soto, who had been sent to persuade the prisoners to recant, and that Soto had given him an account of what he had done “with those two heretics, Ridley and Latimer after their condemnation”. One of them would not even speak to him, and although the other spoke, “it profited nothing, it being easily intelligible than no one can save those whom God has rejected, and thus according to report, the sentence was executed, the people looking on not unwillingly, as it was known that nothing had been neglected with regard to their salvation”.[553]

Giovanni Michiel also informed his Government that the execution of the sentences “against the heretics, the late Bishop of London, Ridley, and Latimer, Bishop of Worcester had been decided on, there being no hope or visible sign of their choosing to recant”.[554] Gardiner had nothing to do with the conviction of the two bishops, beyond the fact that, as Chancellor, he was at the head of the civil power which passed sentence upon them. He is known to have been personally averse from the persecution, and, as we have already seen, he substantially helped some of the suspects to leave the country before proceedings could be taken against them. None the less, however, Foxe goes out of his way to attribute to him the most horrible and inhuman desire for, and satisfaction at, their death. The apparent object of the martyrologist was to draw his favourite inference in regard to the temporal judgment of God on miscreants. He says, admitting that he obtained his information at third hand: “The same day, when Bishop Ridley and master Latimer suffered at Oxford (being about the 19th day of October) there came into the house of Stephen Gardiner the old duke of Norfolk, with the foresaid Master Munday his secretary above named reporter hereof. The old aged duke, there waiting and tarrying for his dinner, the bishop being not yet disposed to dine, deferred the time to three or four o’clock at afternoon. At length, about four of the clock cometh his servant, posting in all possible speed from Oxford, bringing intelligence to the bishop, what he had heard and seen: of whom the said bishop, diligently inquiring the truth of the matter, and hearing by his man, that fire most certainly was set unto them, cometh out rejoicing to the duke. ‘Now,’ saith he, ‘let us go to dinner’. Whereupon they being set down, meat immediately was brought, and the bishop began merrily to eat. But what followed? The bloody tyrant had not eaten a few bits, but the sudden stroke of God’s terrible hand fell upon him in such sort as immediately he was taken from the table, and so brought to his bed, where he continued the space of fifteen days in such intolerable anguish and torments ... whereby his body being miserably inflamed within (who had inflamed so many good martyrs before) was brought to a wretched end.”[555]

The first thing to be observed in this story is the notable fact, that “the old duke of Norfolk” could not by any possibility have dined with Gardiner on the 19th October 1555, having been in his grave since August 1553. As for “the sudden stroke of God’s terrible hand,” by which the Bishop was brought to a wretched end, he had been suffering for some time from dropsy,[556] and died of it, not in his own house, but at Whitehall, to which place he had been removed, after making an heroic effort to appear at the opening of Parliament on the 21st October. It was an act of devotion to the Queen and the country; the long speech which he then delivered on the state of the royal finances, resulting in a subsidy which removed the most pressing difficulties of the Crown. But his strength was exhausted by the strain; he was too weak to be taken home, and was therefore accommodated in Whitehall Palace, till his death on the 12th November. He desired during his last hours, that the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ might be read to him, and when the reader came to the contrition of St. Peter, Gardiner exclaimed: “Negavi cum Petro, exivi cum Petro, sed nondum flevi cum Petro,” alluding to his fall in Henry’s reign.[557]

Cranmer’s execution was delayed for more than five months after the execution of Ridley and Latimer, in the hope of his recanting. In the same letter, in which he communicated to Philip the fact of the burning of the two bishops, Cardinal Pole said:—

“The late Archbishop of Canterbury whose sentence of condemnation is now expected from Rome, does not show himself so obstinate, and desires a conference with me. If he can be brought to repent, the Church will derive no little profit from the salvation of a single soul; but they are awaiting what may be expected, from the next letters of Father Soto, and will certify it to your Majesty.”

From his prison in Bocardo, Cranmer had seen his two companions led to the stake, and the sight had awakened that natural timidity which underlay and prompted his least praiseworthy actions. It has been said of him that in his youth, he was cowed and crushed by a tyrannical master, and so deprived of all manliness of character.[558] He had a legal rather than a broad or elevated mind, and this was of service to him in keeping clear of the pitfalls, into which so many of his friends fell, at least temporarily. It had also enabled him to avail himself of the tide, which taken at the flood led on to fame and fortune. He went to Cambridge at the age of fourteen, but although he remained there for many years, his name does not once appear among the learned or distinguished men of the University. Erasmus, who knew every one with any claim to notice, lived in the same street with him, but makes no mention of him in his letters.

Cranmer took his degree of B.A. at the age of twenty-two, and proceeded M.A. three years later. The fact of his marriage, by which he forfeited the fellowship of his college (Jesus), implies that he had then no intention of taking orders; and he probably meant to adopt the law as a profession.[559] His first wife was the daughter of an innkeeper, known by the name of Black Joan. To support himself and her, he accepted a readership at Buckingham Hall, afterwards Magdalene College, and lived with his wife at the Dolphin, her father’s inn. But Black Joan died in childbirth, and Cranmer was then reinstated in his fellowship. He proceeded D.D., and was ordained in 1523, at the age of thirty-four. Either Gardiner, or Fox, Bishop of Hereford, first brought him to the King’s notice, by quoting a shrewd remark which Cranmer had made, on the subject of Henry’s “private matter”.

“Who is this Dr. Cranmer?” asked the King. “Where is he? Is he still at Waltham? I will speak to him; let him be sent for out of hand. This man I trow has got the right sow by the ear.”[560]

The interview proved satisfactory, and Henry charged Cranmer to draw up a statement of his view of the King’s marriage. In order to be able to confer often with him, he lodged him in the household of the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne Boleyn’s father, at Durham Place. A royal chaplaincy was conferred on him, besides the emoluments of the Archdeaconry of Taunton. He visited Rome with Lord Wiltshire, and the Pope, unsuspicious of what was being plotted, made him Grand Penitentiary for England. He then went to Germany, on private business of his own, and there married Osiander’s[561] niece. At this juncture Warham died, and Henry, who saw that Cranmer was “an admirable tool, so timid that he could ever be terrorised into submission, so tender with himself that the King’s policy admirably fitted in with his sensuality,” advanced him over the heads of better men, and made him Primate of all England. Probably the dignity was unsolicited, possibly undesired, and perhaps it was even thrust upon him with unwillingness on his part. If he had aspired to it, he would scarcely, as things then were, have married a second time, nor would he have delayed his return to England, after the death of Archbishop Warham. Ambition had no inordinate share in his character. But he had signified to the King, that sentence as to the validity of his marriage should be given, not by the Pope, but by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was to this opinion that his sudden promotion was due.[562] The bulls from Rome were to be obtained at the cost of any duplicity, and they were in Henry’s hands before the Pope had any inkling of what was intended.

The appointment was unpopular in England. Cranmer was still comparatively unknown, and had as yet done nothing to justify the extraordinary rise in his fortunes. Public opinion had designated Gardiner as Warham’s successor, and under normal conditions, he would probably have been chosen. But lately, he had shown himself less pliable than suited Henry’s convenience, and the King knew that he could count absolutely on Cranmer, who was accordingly consecrated on the 30th March, which that year fell on Passion Sunday. Immediately before the ceremony, the new Archbishop called four witnesses, and in their presence declared before a notary, that he did not intend to bind himself, by the oath of obedience to the Pope which he was about to take, to do anything that should appear to him contrary to the law of God, the King’s prerogative or the statutes of the realm. When he knelt to take this oath, he repeated his protest, and immediately afterwards swore obedience to the Pope in the usual form. Just before receiving the pallium, he made his third protest, and again took the oath of obedience.[563]

Immediately after pledging himself to obey the Pope, he took the following oath to the King for his temporalities: “I Thomas Cranmer renounce and utterly forsake all such claims, words, sentences and grants which I have of the Pope’s Holiness in his Bulls of the Archbishopric of Canterbury, that in any manner, wise, is or may be hurtful or prejudicial to your Highness, your heirs, successors, estate or dignity royal, knowledging myself to take and hold the said Archbishopric immediately and only of your Highness and of none other,” etc.[564]

Cranmer had been made Archbishop, solely that he might advance “the King’s matter” which had little chance of being settled at Rome according to the royal pleasure. Therefore on the 3rd May, he rendered his first service to Henry by pronouncing a sentence, declaring that his marriage with Katharine of Arragon was invalid. On the 28th, he further declared Henry’s union with Anne Boleyn good and valid,[565] and to stop men’s tongues, prohibited all preaching throughout his diocese till further notice, a measure that was significant of public opinion.

In May 1536, the man whom Anne had virtually made Archbishop, and who had made her Queen, at Henry’s command, declared and decreed that “the marriage between our sovereign lord the King and the lady Anne had always been without effect”. In January 1540, he married Anne of Cleves to the King, and six months later, pronounced her sentence of divorce. In 1541, he favoured Henry with yet another decree nisi, to relieve him of his fifth wife, Katharine Howard. He examined Friar Forest on his refusal to acknowledge the King as supreme Head, and handed him over to his executioners. But the visit of the German Lutherans, to negotiate the terms of union between the Church of England and the reformed Churches of the Continent, marked a crisis in his life, and the seeds of Protestantism were sown which were to bear abundant fruit in the next reign.[566] Nevertheless, he still maintained the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, and condemned John Lambert and Anne Askew to the flames for maintaining the contrary, while later on, he sentenced Joan Bocher to death for holding that Christ was not incarnate of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He also handed over several Anabaptists to the secular arm, to be burned at Smithfield.

On Henry’s promulgation of the Six Articles of Religion, one of which forbade the marriage of priests, Cranmer was obliged to dismiss his wife. For some time past, it had cost him no little trouble and inconvenience to conceal her presence at Lambeth, where she lived in more than oriental seclusion. When he travelled, he was obliged to carry her from place to place in a chest, with holes contrived to allow of her breathing. On one lamentable occasion the chest was placed the wrong side uppermost, which so incommoded her that she was forced to betray her presence by screaming.[567]

Cranmer was never popular with his clergy. “Of all sorts of men,” he complained, “I am daily informed that priests report the worst of me.” Conspiracies were even set on foot against him, but he was too useful to Henry to fear a fall, and was the one man in the realm to whom the King was ever faithful. To all complaints against the Archbishop Henry turned a deaf ear. “I would you should well understand,” said he, “that I account my lord of Canterbury as faithful a man towards me as ever was prelate in this realm, and one to whom I am many ways beholden.” The praise was certainly not exaggerated. Even in matters of purely theological moment, Cranmer was never at variance with his master, for he held no opinion or doctrine that was not at Henry’s service. Incredible as it seems, Cranmer once said to him: “This is mine opinion and sentence at this present, which nevertheless I do not temerariously define, but refer the judgment thereof wholly unto your Majesty”.[568] Speaking in Cranmer’s defence, the Archbishop’s secretary Morice unconsciously deprived him of every vestige of fidelity to principle. “Men ought to consider,” he pleaded, “with whom he had to do, specially with such a prince as would not be bridled, nor be against-said in any of his requests.”[569]

In deference to the wishes of the Council, he made several alterations in the oath administered to the King at Edward’s coronation, but he said the prescribed Mass of the Holy Ghost, and also sang a Requiem for the repose of Henry’s soul. Nevertheless, the whole tendency of the new Government was in sympathy with his private feelings, and it was not long before he made up his mind to swim with the tide. He headed a commission which deprived Bonner and Gardiner, and held a visitation of his diocese, to ascertain whether the destruction of images had been fully carried out. A bill having been passed in Parliament, “to take away all positive laws made against the marriage of priests,” Cranmer sent for his wife, invested in Abbey lands the money granted to him by Henry and confirmed by Edward’s Council, invited Peter Martyr, Martin Bucer and other Calvinists to settle in England, and did all he could to promote union between the Church of England, and the reformed Churches of the Continent. He renounced the Mass, advocated the overthrow of the altars and declared transubstantiation to be heresy. The Book of Common Prayer which he had compiled and put forth in 1551, under the auspices of the Government, having been criticised by the foreign Protestants, he set about its revision, aided by the Bishop of Ely. The so-called Black Rubric, which forbade the practice of kneeling at the Communion, was introduced a little later. Towards the close of 1552, the forty-two articles, afterwards reduced to thirty-nine, were published by the King’s command.

Cranmer was instrumental in Seymour’s execution, and by his treachery was partly responsible for Somerset’s fall. His abject submission to the upstart lords of the Council of Regency led to an act of high treason, by inducing him to sign Edward’s will drawn up by Northumberland.[570] Had Mary really possessed the vindictive feelings attributed to her, she had ample pretext for ordering his apprehension, thus avenging her own and her mother’s cause. But it was not until some time after the rebellion, when Cranmer had signalised himself by an act of open and aggressive opposition to her measures, that his liberty was threatened. Even then, opportunity was given him to escape if he had so willed. On his committal to the Tower, he was charged with having caused the Lady Jane to be proclaimed, and for sending twenty armed men to Cambridge to aid Northumberland. He pleaded not guilty, but afterwards withdrew the plea, and confessed to the indictment. He was then sentenced for treason, and would have been executed at Tyburn, but was saved by Mary’s clemency. Being sent to Oxford with Latimer and Ridley, to dispute with the most learned scholars in both universities, he appeared at St. Mary’s before the prolocutor, Dr. Weston, and thirty-three commissioners, and was presented with three articles setting forth the doctrine of the Mass, drawn up by Convocation. All three bishops refused to subscribe to them, and a disputation was appointed for the following Monday.

The day’s proceedings had been opened by a sermon from Dr. Weston on the unity of the Church, which he accused Cranmer of having violated by making, as it were, every year a new faith. The Queen, he said in conclusion, had commissioned the doctors assembled, on his repentance, to restore him to the unity of the Church.

On the day appointed for the disputation, Dr. Chedsey, Prebendary of St. Paul’s, afterwards a Canon of Christ Church, Oxford, was Cranmer’s principal opponent, and kept up the discussion for nearly six hours, at the end of which time the assembly dispersed crying, Vicit Veritas! Cranmer wrote an account of what had passed, and complained to the Council that he had been unfairly treated in argument. He begged them to obtain for him the Queen’s pardon. Thereupon he was allowed to reopen the subject with John Harpsfield, a divinity student, and Dr. Weston,[571] but in the end, it was declared that neither Cranmer nor the other two bishops had successfully maintained their theses, and they were all sent back to Bocardo. Here they remained for eighteen months, continually pressed to recant. It was then decided that they should have a formal trial for heresy, and Cardinal Pole, as Papal Legate, was appointed to conduct it. The proceedings with regard to Cranmer, as Primate of all England, were different from those observed with the Bishops of London and Worcester. He was cited to appear at Rome, to answer the charges made against him, but this was a mere matter of form, as he was a prisoner, and the Pope commissioned Cardinal Dupuy, who delegated his functions to the Bishop of Gloucester, to represent his Holiness.[572] But Cranmer refused to recognise the Pope’s authority, declaring that he had sworn never again to consent to papal jurisdiction. On being reminded that he had also sworn obedience to Rome, he sheltered himself behind the protest which he had made before doing so. Sixteen charges in all were formulated against him, supported by eight witnesses. He admitted the facts, but not their interpretation, and objected to the witnesses as having also formerly abjured the Pope. A report of the trial having been sent to Rome, Cranmer wrote to the Queen, complaining that his “own natural sovereign” had cited him before a foreign tribunal. Judgment was at last pronounced against him for heresy in the papal courts, and he was accordingly deprived, but the sentence of degradation was not carried out for five months, during which time no efforts were spared to save him. A papal commission was then issued to Bonner, Bishop of London, and Thirlby, Bishop of Ely, for his degradation. The scene was a painful one, and Dr. Thirlby is said to have been moved to tears during the ceremony. The day fixed for it was the 14th February 1556. Cranmer was brought before the two bishops at Christ Church, and the function took place outside the church, in the great quadrangle. He was clothed successively in vestments proper to a sub-deacon, a deacon, a priest, a bishop and an archbishop, one over the other, but all made of canvas, with a mitre and pallium of the same material.

Lastly, a crosier was put into his hand, and Bonner standing before him, declared the cause of his degradation, Cranmer interrupting him at intervals with protests and retorts. When the ceremony of unvesting began, he refused to yield up the crosier, which was then wrested from him by force, and when the pallium was to be removed, he exclaimed, “Which of you, having a pallium is able to divest me of mine!” They replied, that they held their commission from the Pope. He then drew out of his sleeve a formal protest, appealing from the Pope to a General Council, and handed the document to Thirlby, who took it, saying, “Well, if it may be admitted it shall,” and bursting into tears, he promised to petition the Queen for a pardon. When Cranmer had been stripped of all the vestments, with appropriate words and ceremonies at each of them, he was degraded from his minor orders, after which his hair was closely cut, and Bonner proceeded to scrape his hands, at the places where he had been anointed priest. His gown was then taken off, and that of a yeoman substituted, in which he returned to prison. This was the regular form of degrading a bishop.

Thirlby was as good as his word. Cranmer had drawn up two separate forms of submission before his degradation, and in consequence of these, a pardon such as had been granted to other recanters, was contemplated by the Council. But it was finally decided that the enormity of his offences required that he should suffer “for ensample sake”. During the six weeks which intervened before his execution, he made repeated recantations “without fear, and without hope of favour” as he himself said, “for the discharge of his conscience, and as a warning to others,” abjuring his former errors, and “beseeching the people, the Queen and the Pope, to pray for his wretched soul”.

He signed in all seven recantations, and it was expected that he would read the last of them at his execution. But instead of doing so, at the supreme moment, he repudiated them all, expressing repentance for having written “contrary to the truth which I thought in my heart, and writ for fear of death”.[573] Being bound to the stake, he is said to have thrust his right hand into the flame exclaiming: “This hand hath offended”.[574] From first to last, he had proved himself so base a dissembler, that no confidence could possibly have been placed in the sincerity of his recantations. That he had lied therein also, he admitted by his final recantation of them all.

Cranmer suffered according to the notions of the day, on his own principles, and for causes which he had himself judged sufficient for death. He had not only sent men and women to the stake for the very same opinions which he afterwards professed, and had burned Catholics because they would not acknowledge the King’s supreme Headship, but had also burned Protestants because their Protestantism differed from his own. All things considered, it was wonderful that he did not receive shorter shrift, and we do not find that his miserable end excited much regret or pity among his contemporaries.[575]

It was part of Foxe’s method, in claiming for his martyrs the sympathy of his readers, to cast as much odium as possible on their judges. Thus, Bonner, Bishop of London, has been made to appear an extremely violent persecutor, although after the publication of his articles in 1554, he was rather the reverse of zealous in enforcing the revived statute. But whatever may be said for or against it, it was the law of the land, and Bonner could no more help sitting on the Bench in his own diocese to examine into the offences committed against it, than could any other judge of any court over which he had jurisdiction. His functions were purely judicial, and it does not anywhere appear that he was guided by passion, or that he overstepped his prerogative. He had, on the contrary, been somewhat negligent in the exercise of the duty which the law imposed on him, and hence the reprimand which he received in the following letter from the King and Queen in Council:—

“Right reverend Father in God, right trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well. And whereas of late, we addressed our letters to the justices of peace, within every of the counties of this our realm, whereby, amongst other instructions given them for the good order and quiet government of the country round about them, they are willed to have a special regard unto such disordered persons as (forgetting their duty towards God and us) do lean to any erroneous and heretical opinions, refusing to show themselves conformable to the Catholic religion of Christ’s Church; wherein, if they cannot by good admonitions and fair means reform them, they are willed to deliver them to the ordinary, to be by him charitably travailed withal, and removed (if it may be) from their naughty opinions; or else if they continue obstinate, to be ordered according to the laws provided in that behalf: understanding now, to our no little marvel, that divers of the said disordered persons, being by the justices of peace for their contempt and obstinacy, brought to the ordinaries to be used as is aforesaid, are either refused to be received at their hands, or if they be received, are neither so travailed with, as christian charity requireth, nor yet proceeded withal, according to the order of justice, but are suffered to continue in their errors, to the dishonour of Almighty God, and dangerous example of others; like as we find this matter very strange, so we have thought convenient both to signify this our knowledge, and therewith also to admonish you to have in this behalf such regard henceforth to the office of a good pastor and bishop, as when any such offenders shall be by the said officers or justices of peace brought unto you, you, to use your good wisdom and discretion, in procuring to remove them from their errors, if it may be; or else in proceeding against them (if they shall continue obstinate) according to the order of the laws; so as through your good furtherance, both God’s glory may be better advanced, and the Commonwealth more quietly governed. Given under our signet, at our honour of Hampton Court, the 24th May, the first and second years of our reigns.”[576]

It will be admitted that the above document does not correspond in any sense to the “rattling letters” by which popular historians suppose Mary to have stimulated the zeal of her “bloody executioners”. Its tone is calm, judicial, charitable and even wise, if we consider the stand-point from which the great majority then regarded any divergence from authorised doctrine.

Foxe would have us believe that Bonner entertained a furious, personal grudge against those who were brought to be examined, and the pages of the Acts and Monuments teem with such picturesque allusions to him as “bloody wolf,” “the bishop being in a raging heat, as one clean void of humanity,” “he was in a marvellous rage,” “in a great fury,” etc.; but when we divest the stories of these adornments, there is little or nothing to support the epithets. As a learned writer has aptly remarked, this kind of description reminds us of the mountain being in labour, and bringing forth—a mouse.[577] For when we examine what Bonner, even according to Foxe, really did say, on the occasion of his appearing before the Commissioners of the Council in 1549 when he was supposed to be in such a “raging heat,” that he appeared “as one clean void of humanity,” we find that turning himself about to the people he said: “Well, now, hear what the Bishop of London saith for his part”. But the Commissioners “seeing his inordinate contumacy, denied him to speak any more, saying that he had used himself very disobediently”.[578] Equally unjustified by the context are most of the other vituperative epithets, by which the martyrologist sought to prejudice Bonner in the minds of his credulous and uncritical readers.

The truth is, that when brought before the bishops, the would-be martyrs, by Foxe’s own showing, frequently twitted their judges, gave them home thrusts and “privy nips,” and behaved themselves generally in a very insolent, provocative and irritating manner. In spite of this however, the judges seldom lost their tempers, and bore with these things in a singularly good-humoured spirit, doing their best to give the accused a chance of escape. Of the six who came under Bonner’s examination on the 8th February 1555, Foxe affirms that the bishop sentenced them the next day after they were charged, and killed them out of hand without mercy, “such quick speed these men could make in despatching their business at once”—a terrible indictment if it could be proved. But Bonner not only knew about the accused, long before the 8th February, three of them having been for months in prison, where he had again and again reasoned with them; but after sentence was passed, an interval of five weeks was the shortest respite granted for reflection, before any one of them was executed. The others we find suffered consecutively on the 26th, 28th and 29th March, and on the 10th June.

With as little accuracy did Foxe pen the following remarkable distich, which however served his purpose of vilifying Bonner.

Of the 200 persons who were burned for spreading opinions considered subversive of public order, in the reign of Mary, about 120 came under Bonner’s jurisdiction, so that Foxe’s assertion that the Bishop of London “slew” 300 must be discounted by more than half, leaving a sufficiently heavy record. But his supposed thirst for blood has no foundation in fact, for we have many instances of his labouring not unsuccessfully in causing many to recant, upon which they were restored to liberty. Instances of Foxe’s perversion of truth might be multiplied, but enough has been said, to prove his untrustworthiness wherever his prejudices are involved. An appreciation of Bonner’s character from the pen of the late Dr. S. R. Maitland will fitly close this chapter.

“In plainer terms, setting aside declamation, and looking at the details of facts left by those who may be called if people please, Bonner’s victims and their friends, we find very consistently maintained, the character of a man, straightforward and hearty, familiar and humorous, sometimes rough, perhaps coarse, naturally hot-tempered, but obviously (by the testimony of his enemies) placable and easily entreated, capable of bearing most patiently, much intemperate and insolent language, much reviling and low abuse directed against himself personally, against his order, and against those peculiar doctrines and practices of his church, for maintaining which, he had himself suffered the loss of all things, and borne long imprisonment. At the same time, not incapable of being provoked into saying harsh and passionate things, but much more frequently meaning nothing by the threatenings and slaughter which he breathed out, than to intimidate those on whose ignorance and simplicity argument seemed to be thrown away—in short we can scarcely read with attention any one of the cases detailed by those who were no friends of Bonner, without seeing in him a judge who (even if we grant that he was dispensing bad laws badly) was obviously desirous to save the prisoner’s life.”[580]

THE FORSAKEN QUEEN.

Mary had gone into retirement at Hampton Court, in the spring of 1555, and had refused to relinquish the cherished hope of maternity, till long after her physicians had pronounced that hope vain. But at last in August, she yielded to entreaties, and consented to remove to Oatlands, ostensibly that the palace which the court had inhabited for so many months might undergo a thorough cleansing, the rushes be changed and the floors washed.

The despatches of the Venetian ambassador, Giovanni Michiel, are very important and interesting, as regards the history of the next two years. As he was neither a passionately devoted friend of the Queen, like Renard, nor a malicious foe, such as de Noailles, his correspondence has a special value. Writing in his direct manner to the Doge and Senate, on the 3rd August, he says:—

“The fact is, that the move has been made in order no longer to keep the people of England in suspense about this delivery, by the constant and public processions which were made, and by the Queen’s remaining so many days in retirement, seriously to the prejudice of her subjects; as not only did she transact no business, but would scarcely allow herself to be seen by any one but the ladies, who in expectation of this childbirth, especially the gentlewomen and the chief female nobility, had flocked to the court, from all parts of the kingdom, in such very great numbers, all living at the cost of her Majesty, that with great difficulty could Hampton Court, although one of the largest palaces that can be seen here or elsewhere, contain them. At present, by this change of residence, an opportunity is afforded for dispensing with the processions, without any scandal, and for the Queen to free herself from expense, by giving permission to the greater part of these ladies to return to their homes, under pretence of very limited accommodation; and by degrees her Majesty has resumed the audiences, and replaced other matters in their former ancient state, the usual officials (I am told) resuming their service about her person, and the females being removed.” In the same despatch he says: “The reported insurrections in the provinces, and which caused so much apprehension some days ago, their origin having been subsequently ascertained authentically, were found to be slight and unimportant, part having arisen from a great concourse of men at a grand periodical fair held in Warwickshire, when on account of the price of wheat, which had been raised extraordinarily by certain persons, who having a great supply, wished to sell it in their own fashion, by reason of the backward season, and the small hope of the present harvest, the summer being so rainy and cold, that the like is not remembered in the memory of man for the last fifty years, so that no sort of grain or corn ripens, and still less can it be reaped, a prognostic of scarcity yet greater than that of last year; so that in part from this, owing to the murmurs and complaints of the multitude, which were construed into rebellion, and partly from a report circulated in Cornwall and Devonshire that the most Serene Queen was dead, and that to deceive the people, as they said was done in the time of King Edward, they exhibited her effigy at the casement and not her real face; so having half rebelled, they said they would come towards the court to ascertain the fact. These disturbances were also caused in part by a gentleman, who being on bad terms with his tenants, who had risen against him, and not knowing in what other way to suppress the outbreak, sent word to the court, that they were in arms against the Queen, and the falsehood being discovered, he together with eight others, who originated the reports of the other unreal insurrections, were deservedly imprisoned, everything, thank God, remaining quiet and peaceable.”[581]

In the midst of her bitter grief and disappointments; fed with insults by the London Puritans, with revolt and rumours of revolt at her door, Mary had at least one abiding consolation in the love of the poor and afflicted, who looked upon her as their true mother. Machyn, in chronicling her removal,[582] says that on “the 3. day of August the Queen and King’s grace removed from Hampton Court unto Oatlands, a palace four miles off: as her grace went through the park for to take her barge, there met her grace by the way, a poor man with two crutches, and when that he saw her grace, for joy he threw his staffs away and ran after her grace, and she commanded that one should give him a reward”.

The court remained at Oatlands but just long enough to purify the larger palace after its overcrowded and filthy condition, and on the 19th Michiel writes:—

“Last week, their Majesties returned to Hampton Court, the Lady Elizabeth remaining at the seat to which she went; and now the Queen shows herself, and converses with everybody as usual, her health being so good, as perhaps never to have been better, to the universal surprise of all who see her, but of delivery or pregnancy small signs are visible externally, and no one talks or thinks of them any longer. As to the King’s departure, he yesterday sent the Signor Carlo da Sanguino, gentleman of the mouth, to Brussels (they say), to fix his going, having already adroitly broached the topic to the Queen, who will acquiesce; so it is said he will leave in eight or ten days, postwise, leaving the greater part of his household, for the sake of convincing the Queen by as many signs as he can, that he purposes returning speedily; though on the contrary, it is said more than ever, that he will go to Spain, and remove hence his household, and all the others by degrees.”[583]

On the 27th, he wrote from London:—

“Their Majesties came hither from Hampton Court yesterday morning, remaining merely to dine, and then went to Greenwich, where the Queen will remain during the whole time of the King’s stay beyond sea. On departing hence, his Majesty had determined, when passing through London, to show himself in public to the people on horseback, leaving the Queen to follow him at leisure, by water as usual, but her Majesty chose to give the City the satisfaction of seeing her likewise in his company, she having made the determination when in the very act of embarking; so having herself carried in an open litter, she went accompanied, not only by the English and Spanish nobility now at the court, but also by the Cardinal Legate and the ambassadors, the Lord Mayor and all the aldermen, having met her at Temple Bar, coming with the royal insignia, and all the other solemnities, as customary when the Queen appears in public. It is not to be told what a vast crowd of people there was all along the road, which is a very long one, nor yet the joy they demonstrated at seeing their Majesties, which was really great, and the more as the London populace were firmly convinced that the Queen was dead; so when they knew of her appearance, they all ran from one place to another, as to an unexpected sight, and one which was well-nigh new, as if they were crazy, to ascertain thoroughly if it was she, and on recognising and seeing her in better plight than ever, they by shouts and salutations, and every other demonstration then gave yet greater signs of their joy, inasmuch as to their great comfort and that of her Majesty, they saw her come with the King on one side of her and Cardinal Pole on the other, both of whom are universally popular, by reason of the reported kindness of their nature, and of which daily proof is afforded by facts, so that the determination to make this display, most especially at the present moment, has been very useful. The King will leave Greenwich, as soon as he hears that the fleet with which he is to cross, and which until yesterday was here in the Thames to complete its outfit, shall be off Dover. It consists of twelve ships and a galleon for his Majesty’s person, armed and provided in the best fashion possible, and in addition to this force, they are expecting some Flemish ships, to render the passage-track yet more secure, as it is daily infested by Frenchmen, who without any scruple, attack every vessel, in order to take out of them all property and subjects belonging to the enemy....

“In the meanwhile, as may be imagined with regard to a person extraordinarily in love, the Queen remains disconsolate, though she conceals it as much as she can, and from what I hear, mourns the more when alone, and supposing herself invisible to any of her attendants. During this absence, Cardinal Pole will reside with her, lodgings having been assigned to him in the palace, that he may comfort and keep her company, her Majesty delighting greatly in the sight and presence of him.”

In a despatch dated 3rd September he describes Philip’s departure:—

“Much to my pleasure, I accompanied Cardinal Pole and the other noblemen, on the day when they went with the King to his barge, to see him take leave of the Queen, who on that occasion really expressed very well the sorrow becoming a wife, and a wife such as she is, invested with the regal habit and dignity, for without displaying much extrinsic disquietude, though evidently deeply grieved internally, she chose to come with him through all the chambers and galleries to the head of the stairs, constraining herself the whole way, to avoid in sight of such a crowd, any demonstration unbecoming her gravity, though she could not but be moved when the Spanish noblemen kissed her hand, and yet more, when she saw the ladies in tears take leave of the King, who, according to the custom of the country, kissed them one by one.

“On returning however to her apartments, placing herself at a window which looks on the river, not supposing herself any longer seen or observed by any one, it was perceived that she gave free vent to her grief by a flood of tears, nor did she once quit the window, until she had not only seen the King embark and depart, but remained looking after him as long as he was in sight; and the King on his part, mounted aloft on the barge in the open air, in order to be better seen when the barge approached in sight of the window, and moreover waved his bonnet from the distance to salute her, demonstrating great affection. Now, whilst his Majesty is at Canterbury, not only every day but every hour, expresses are on the road from the King to the Queen, and in like manner from hence to his Majesty, the gentlemen in waiting being always booted and spurred ready for a start. Shortly before he departed, the King sent for Cardinal Pole, and all the Lords of the Council into the chamber, and in very suitable language recommended the government of the kingdom to them during his absence, alluding especially to justice and religion, leaving a writing, in which, as I was told by the Legate, were noted all such warnings, as he deemed most important and necessary, with a detailed list of such persons as could be trusted and employed for any necessary business or office, a matter which although discussed previously, surprised every one by the judgment and tact displayed in it by his Majesty, who then, thus in public, turning towards Cardinal Pole, besought him very earnestly in his own name, and that of the Queen, to assume this charge, in conformity with his own patriotism and the wish of their Majesties, desiring all the others to defer to him in everything. This same office had been performed by the King with the Cardinal, the day before, they being alone together, his Majesty for this purpose having gone very privately in person to the Legate’s own apartment, taking him quite by surprise. Cardinal Pole told me, that by so much the less did he think fit to combat the wish of his Majesty, as he trusted and was indeed certain that the will of their Majesties being in accordance with his natural obligation, would also have the approval of his Holiness, from which by another second obligation, both as a member of the apostolic see, and as the Pope’s representative he could not depart. Henceforth, therefore to the great comfort of their Majesties, and the whole kingdom, all public and important business will be discussed and decided, according to the opinion and advice of his right reverend Lordship, who, for the avoidance of envy and molestation, will not interfere with private and ordinary matters, leaving their despatch as before, to the other members of the Council; and this will perhaps be the chief cause besides the others for his remaining here.”[584]

Contrary winds detained Philip at Canterbury for five days. So ardently did Mary desire, and affect to believe in his immediate return, that she was very angry when she heard that to save expense, the fleet which accompanied him to Calais, had on his landing been dismissed and disarmed. She ordered it to be at once fitted out again to be ready against his return, little imagining that nineteen months would elapse before it was needed. But she soon saw that her intention to await him at Greenwich would have to be abandoned, and she was obliged to depart to London to open Parliament in person. Michiel writing to the Doge and Senate on the 21st October, gives a graphic account of Gardiner’s last great public act of devotion to the Queen’s service. He says:—

“The most serene Queen opened Parliament to-day, according to the appointed term, coming from St. James’s, whither she retired on her return from Greenwich, to sit, as in the last Parliament, on a lofty and well-decorated throne, carried by two mules, in the guise of a litter, accompanied in state, not only by all the lords, barons and prelates of the kingdom, clad in the habit suited to this occasion, but in addition to these personages, by the most illustrious Legate likewise, the Queen having chosen him to attend it for this day, although not entitled legitimately to a seat in Parliament. After the Mass of the Holy Ghost, sung by the Bishop of Ely, and the sermon preached by the Bishop of Lincoln, her Majesty proceeded into the great hall, where in the presence of all those officially summoned, the Lord Chancellor having rallied a little, choosing at any rate to be there, in order not to fail performing his office on this occasion, made the usual proposal, stating the cause for assembling Parliament, which was, in short, solely for the purpose of obtaining pecuniary supply. His right reverend Lordship laid before the House the great need of the most Serene Queen, from having on her accession found the revenues of the Crown so exhausted and consumed, that not only was she unable to avail herself of them for the many and heavy expenses, which he enumerated one by one, incurred by her compulsorily for the honour of the realm, both before and after her marriage—with regard to which he did not omit to say that King Philip, whilst in England had spent much more than her Majesty,—but that having found considerable debts left by her father and brother, she had been compelled to make fresh ones for their acquittance, still remaining responsible for a great part of the old ones. Her Majesty, in the meanwhile had not chosen to avail herself, as she might have done, of the taxes and subsidy conceded by Parliament, to her brother King Edward, amounting to upwards of 1,200,000 ducats, but remitted that sum, for the sake of not burdening any one. Neither did she choose, as she might and ought to have done in justice, to avail herself of the revenues and estates of many of her rebels, amounting to a very considerable sum, but to demonstrate thoroughly her benignity and clemency, she made them a free gift both of their lives and lands. Therefore, in the Queen’s name, the Chancellor requested Parliament, in consideration of the present public necessities, to devise means for their relief, saying moreover, that at this commencement, her Majesty had not chosen to keep this her proposal any longer in suspense, nor allow it to be made by others than by herself, but proceeding openly, had willed to proclaim and announce it immediately, anticipating such speedy supply as by reason of the great affection of her subjects she felt sure she should witness. The Chancellor added that if any member had anything else to suggest, to the profit and advantage of the realm, and for the common weal, he was not to omit doing so, in conformity with the obligation and duty of everybody, nor to fail thus to act readily and willingly as becoming; and his right reverend Lordship having spoken with much more energy than by reason of his indisposition any one would have expected, the business of this first day of the session ended.”[585]

The long speech completely exhausted the strength of the dying Chancellor. The effort he had made left him so weak that, as we have already seen, he was unable to return to his own house, and was taken to Whitehall, where he breathed his last on the 12th November. But in consequence of his representations, Parliament unanimously agreed to give the Queen a million of gold, to be levied, in two years from the laity, and in four from the clergy, “who contribute,” said Cardinal Pole, “willingly to this subsidy, which free contribution is a very ancient custom in England”.[586]

The death of Gardiner was perhaps the greatest misfortune that could have happened to Mary at this time. He understood the temper of the English nobility far better than Pole, who had been so long absent, that in spite of the enthusiasm he inspired among the people, he was not in touch with the new generation of statesmen and courtiers whom he found in power. Nor had he the business qualities which had enabled Gardiner to steer the Queen’s financial barque safely among the troubled waters. Moreover, Gardiner, although of the old school, had been generally able to lead and control, always to make his influence felt in the Council, and whether he agreed with her views or not, he was ever loyal to the Queen and upheld her against all opponents. Pole was too entirely one with her; their interests were too identical to constitute him an independent influence in the State. Had he been less near to the throne, less a kinsman and personal friend of Mary’s, more a statesman and less an ecclesiastic, he might more effectually have replaced Gardiner in the Queen’s counsels. De Noailles with his usual shrewdness, in announcing the Chancellor’s death to his master, expressed the hope that it would greatly further their affairs in England.[587]

It was, without doubt, a severe blow to the Catholic party. Some members of the Council influenced by Paget, whose treachery and falsehood are responsible for many of Mary’s troubles, inclined to a secret understanding with Elizabeth. The Queen had had little choice in the formation of her government, and although Paget had distinguished himself as a Puritan under Edward, on his professing himself a Catholic, she made him Lord Privy Seal, and gave him back the Garter, which had been taken from him in 1552, for having as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, made large profits at the expense of the Crown.[588] Having established himself in Mary’s favour by furthering her marriage, he entered into league with de Noailles, and with all the Queen’s enemies, and his position at the Council board, especially after Gardiner’s death, gave him almost unlimited power. The Lords Arundel, Pembroke, Cobham, and Sir William Petre were all swayed by him. He was the moving spirit of them all, and little business was transacted without him. Mary told the Cardinal that she had no longer perfect confidence in any member of her Council, Pole himself being in the King’s absence her only support.[589]

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was careful to give no direct cause for suspicion. She openly declared herself a Catholic, was often at court, and shared the Queen’s public devotions. On the day of Philip’s departure, “the Queen’s grace and my lady Elsabeth, and all the Court did fast from flesh, and took the Pope’s Jubilee and pardon granted to all men”.[590]

While Mary felt her husband’s absence so keenly that Sir Anthony Strelley, writing to the Earl of Rutland, says he will speak to her about a certain piece of business, “as soon as the Queen’s highness hath passed over her sorrowfulness at the King’s departure into Flanders,” Philip was on his part by no means anxious to hasten his return. The Emperor welcomed him at Brussels with all the ceremony and display of respect which Philip loved. They met at the Louvain Gate, Charles having gone out to receive him. The King dismounted and knelt to kiss his father’s hand, but the Emperor raised him up, and doffing his bonnet prevented him, by continuing to hold it. Philip then insisted on kissing his left arm, but his father embraced and kissed him so lovingly “that tears came to his eyes”. They then mounted their horses, and rode side by side, through respectful if not enthusiastic crowds, to the imperial palace.

Philip’s conduct at Brussels, at this time, was not perfectly in accordance with the reputation for gravity which he had acquired by his haughty and reserved manners, and even the Emperor showed some displeasure at his levity, in masquerading about the streets in such troubled times, and was in serious doubt as to his son’s capacity to bear the burden he was about to lay on his shoulders.

Mary having heard that he was suffering from a slight indisposition, the result of too much dissipation, sent over one of her chamberlains to visit him. Philip sent him back with protestations and thanks, and ordered him to announce to the Queen his firm intention to fulfil his promise to return to her, as soon as he had completed some business which obliged him to go to Antwerp. Before leaving Brussels, the Chamberlain remarked to some of the King’s attendants, that he should gladly be the bearer of this good news, but that he had promised “not to give account of his Majesty’s having twice gone abroad in this wretched weather, and of his dancing at weddings, as he feared lest the Queen who was easily agitated might take it too much to heart”.[591]

But no sooner were Mary’s hopes raised, than they were again dashed to the ground, by an order which Philip’s confessor, Alfonso de Castro; his steward, Don Diego de Azevedo, and the rest of his household received, to proceed immediately to Spain, “An indication” says Michiel,[592] “to some persons that the intentions announced by King Philip to the Queen of his being here at the Epiphany, are mere words”. Badoer, the Venetian ambassador at Brussels, told the Doge[593] that this order had pained her intensely, as she took it for an announcement, either that Philip would not return to England for a long while, or that, should he return, he would shortly afterwards proceed to Spain, as was generally believed. “The King’s confessor has arrived here,” continued Badoer, “and repeated a variety of foul language, uttered by the English, indicating their ill-will towards his Majesty, and the Spanish nation, narrating the following incident, that on seeing him and the rest of the royal attendants depart, they made great rejoicing, well-nigh universally.” Philip’s relations with the English in Brussels, and even with Mary’s ambassador there, were observed to differ widely from the courtesy which had characterised them in England, the outcome perhaps of his irritation towards the nation in general, on account of their persistent unwillingness to proceed to his coronation.

As the subject was much discussed in the official despatches of the time, and as it served to increase the general discontent as well as the Queen’s perplexities, it is deserving of more notice than has been hitherto directed to it.

Mary’s continued inability to overcome the determination of the Council not to bestow on him the Crown matrimonial was perhaps more than anything else the cause of his alienation from a wife whom he had never loved, and from a country which he had every reason to dislike. His dignity and his future stake in the realm appeared to him to be alike threatened by the refusal, and dignity was to Philip the breath of his nostrils, while political considerations had by long habit become paramount over all others.[594] To utilise Mary’s affection for these ends seemed to him as legitimate, as to employ any other means to compass them, and his absence, which caused the unhappy Queen intense pain and grief, was to be a powerful factor in undermining her objections, by the skilful manipulation of hope deferred. Moreover, to the demand for his coronation, he added another of far greater moment, a demand that the English should co-operate with him in the long-talked-of war with France. To his first request Mary replied that she did not venture to propose it in Parliament, so large a number of members of the opposition having been returned, and as for the second, Cardinal Pole, of whom even de Noailles spoke as “un homme pacifique,” sent over the Abbot of San Saluto to confer with him. The following extract from a letter from the Venetian ambassador at Brussels shows the delicacy with which both questions were handled. Badoer says that the Abbot, after treating of the peace “in the name of the Queen, performed an earnest office with his Majesty, apologising for her non-adoption of any of the resolutions desired by him, in the matter of the coronation, or with regard to waging war on the most Christian King, as mentioned in my former letters, telling King Philip that when she looks round, and carefully considers the persons about her, she scarcely knows one who has not injured her, or who would fail to do so again were the opportunity to present itself, and that since she is Queen, the afflictions and perils undergone by her have been, and still are, so great, on account of the religion, and from anxiety to preserve public quiet, besides other vexations, that she knew it to be impossible to form either of these important resolutions, without greatly endangering her crown; but that she hoped, in the course of a short time, to comfort the King with what he seems to desire; and in her Majesty’s name, and as his personal servant, the Abbot exhorted him to go to England as soon as possible, but I have heard from a person of quality that his Majesty is not inclined to do so, and that the Emperor is of a contrary opinion. King Philip however has written back to the Queen, feeding her in general terms with this hope, and suggesting that in the meanwhile she could fill up the important offices now vacant, as he shall be satisfied with any appointment made by her, but recommending Lord Paget and the English ambassador in France (Dr. Wotton) for the Chancellorship.”[595]

The Emperor had already conferred the sovereignty of Naples and Milan on Philip at the time of his marriage; on the 22nd of October 1555 he invested him with the Grand Mastership of the Golden Fleece of Burgundy, the proudest and most coveted of all the military orders of knighthood of that day. These were but the preliminaries for his abdication of the kingdom of the Netherlands, which he now, being only in the fifty-sixth year of his age, formally ceded to his son[596] with the sovereignties of Castile and Arragon and their dependencies. Philip at once despatched a gentleman to England to give Mary notice, and to congratulate her on her being able to style herself the Queen of many and great crowns, and on her being no less their mistress than of her own crown of England. He again assured her that on his return from Antwerp, to which place he was going the next day, he would remain a few days with the Emperor, and then go speedily to her. Confiding in the truth of this assertion, Mary ordered the fleet to drop down towards the sea forthwith, and a guard of 100 halberdiers to be at Dover on the 20th January. The Earl of Pembroke was to hold himself in readiness, from one day to another, to go to Calais to receive his Majesty.[597]

And still Philip came not, nor had he apparently any intention of coming. But seeing little present hope of drawing England into a war with France, he concluded, in February 1556, a truce with Henry II. for five years.

Meanwhile, a formidable plot, known as Dudley’s conspiracy to murder the Queen, and place Elizabeth on the throne, was being hatched in London. It was revealed to Cardinal Pole before the decisive moment, but it was some time before the real nature and object of the design were brought to light. On the 17th March, Michiel notified to the Doge: “For many consecutive days, a comet has been visible as it still is, and with this opportunity, a gang of rogues, some twelve in number, who have been arrested, went about the city, saying we should soon see the Day of Judgment, when everything would be burned and consumed. These knaves, with a number of others, availing themselves of this device, agreed to set fire to several parts of the city, to facilitate their project of murder and robbery, and if this be true, due punishment will be inflicted on them.”[598]

A few days later, the affair assumed a more serious aspect, and on the 24th Michiel continued his report:—

“The suspicion about the conspirators, who proposed setting fire to several quarters of the city, for the sake of plunder, had a different root and origin to what was reported, a plot having been lately discovered of such a nature, that had it been carried into effect as arranged, it would doubtless, as generally believed, considering the ill-will of the majority of the population here on account of the religion, besides their innate love of frequent change and innovation, have placed the Queen and the whole kingdom in great trouble, as it was of greater circuit and extent than had been at first supposed.”

They were to have seized all the public money, by an understanding with the officials of the Exchequer, and to facilitate this, were to set fire to different parts of the city, and to the palace, so that the population being occupied with the conflagration, in the midst of the turmoil, they might do their work freely, and after its accomplishment, escape in two of the Queen’s ships well armed and provisioned.[599]

CARDINAL REGINALD POLE, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
From an engraving of a portrait painted by Sebastiano del Piombo.

The money, consisting chiefly of the bullion brought over from Spain by Philip, was, on the discovery of the plot, secretly removed from the Tower; but the conspirators were left unmolested, and carefully watched. When the affair seemed ripe, the ringleaders were caught in the act and arrested. But even then, the whole extent of the plot, which had been far more carefully planned than that of Wyatt and his accomplices, had still to be discovered. The Queen was, however, sufficiently alarmed not to allow Cardinal Pole, who had been preconised Archbishop of Canterbury, to leave her for the ceremony of his consecration, which was to have taken place in his Cathedral Church, on the 25th March.[600] He was therefore consecrated in the Church of the Grey Friars at Greenwich, with great solemnity, and in presence of the Queen and of the whole court, and in spite of his anxiety to begin the exercise of his spiritual functions, the State burden which the King and Queen had placed on his shoulders pressed daily more and more heavily. The conspiracy, as it was discovered piecemeal, resolved itself into a vast network composed indeed of the usual meshes, spread by the French King, his ambassador, Elizabeth, and her confederates throughout the country, but it was bolder in design than anything that had been hitherto conceived against Mary. Its object, like Wyatt’s, was to depose and murder the Queen, raise Elizabeth to the throne, and marry her to the Earl of Devon. The charge to conduct it was entrusted by de Noailles to Sir Henry Dudley, an offshoot of the disaffected Northumberland family and faction, to whom the King of France granted a considerable pension, in return for his services. Elizabeth’s willing co-operation was brought to light by the instructions sent to de Noailles from France, one of the letters implicating her containing the following passage: “Above all, you must prevent Madam Elizabeth from making any sort of move to undertake what you have written to me, for it would spoil everything, and lose the advantage which they may expect from their plans, which must be conducted carefully and slowly”.[601]

In order to arrange the final coup, Dudley, followed by three other conspirators, sailed for France and landed in Normandy. The moment was unfavourable, Henry II. having but just concluded his truce for five years with Philip, and little as considerations of honour and chivalry had ever entered into his dealings with Mary, he shrank from the odium he would incur, in appearing as an accomplice, in a conspiracy against a prince with whom he had sworn even a temporary friendship. He therefore ordered Dudley and his friends to remain quiet, and to counsel their allies in England to do the same, feigning loyalty, until a more convenient season. The above-mentioned instructions which he wrote to de Noailles concerning Elizabeth’s part in their schemes, and the necessity for her quiescence belong to this juncture. Dudley, and the three conspirators who had followed him into France, continued to reside there, and the discovery of the plot was the result of precisely the same want of combined action that had impelled Wyatt to break out into open revolt, six weeks before the time originally agreed upon. The impatience of the plotters in London brooked no delay; they disregarded the advice of their royal ally, and their dark sayings in connection with the comet, chronicled in Michiel’s despatch of the 17th March, first roused the suspicion of the Government, and led to the arrest of Sir Anthony Kingston, Throckmorton, Udal, Staunton and others, about forty in number. Kingston had been sent to the Tower some months previously, for seditious words, but had been released by the Queen’s prerogative, Mary believing him to be loyal at heart, in spite of his intemperate language. Now, for the first time in her life, her courage seemed to be unequal to the demands made upon it. She was greatly troubled, and would no longer appear in public, and her depression communicated itself to her friends. A panic among the loyalists was however prevented, and confidence in a great measure restored by the public appearance of Cardinal Pole, who on the 25th March, preached in the church of St. Mary of the Arches, on the occasion of his consecration and reception of the pallium, “to the edification of many souls”. Alluding to the cause of his return to England, he explained the meaning of the pallium, and dwelt on the peace which he had come to offer to his fellow-countrymen. He told his hearers that they ought not to be slow to receive so great a benefit, offered to them by the Divine mercy, lest there be said of them those words uttered by Christ concerning Jerusalem, when drawing nigh to and weeping over the city He said: “If thou didst know the things which belong to thy peace; but now are they hidden from thine eyes”. His voice failed with emotion; he remained silent for a moment, and then continued in a low tone: “You know what has passed; I pray you guard against the future,” and those words, says the chronicler, “if thou didst know,” he pronounced with such tenderness, that not one of his congregation remained unmoved.[602]

Never were details of conspiracy so slow to unfold themselves, even long after the scheme had collapsed. When it at last dawned upon the Government, that the traitors had a special understanding with the King of France, the idea did not even then present itself to their minds, that Elizabeth was in any way implicated, and it was not till June, that attention was turned to her household. But as early as the 14th April Lord Clinton was commissioned, when Henry’s share in the matter had become apparent, to proceed at once to France, ostensibly to congratulate the King on the conclusion of his truce with Philip, but he was also the bearer of instructions from the Council, to demand Dudley and the other fugitives at his hands, as “traitors, heretics and outlaws,” and to complain of the harbour which it was understood he gave to English rebels, “contrary to the agreement and express treaty between the two crowns”. The envoy was compelled to set out in such haste, and so suddenly, and in such confusion, that neither he nor his attendants had time to provide themselves with many necessary articles of apparel, which “for the sake of dispatch were supplied them from the Queen’s wardrobe”.[603] Henry affected ignorance of the case in point, and to Lord Clinton’s representations, answered that his kingdom was so large and free to every one, that he could not know so particularly, either who entered it, nor who went out of it, but that he heard with regret of the commotions in England. “Notwithstanding which,” continued Sorranzo, Venetian ambassador in France, in his letter to the Doge, “since several days, there are several Englishmen here at the court, who were subsequently outlawed from England, and are said to have come to ask favour from his most Christian Majesty.”[604] To Sorranzo, speaking of the complaint made by Clinton, that he harboured the Queen’s rebels, and listened to their proposals, Henry said:—

“I answered him that the malcontents of that kingdom were in such number that they had already filled not only France but the whole of Italy, and that it was true that they came to me and proposed the most extravagant things possible, but that I had never given ear to any of them; and to tell you the truth, ambassador, I know the English well, and that they are not to be trusted by any one. I have also heard, that in England, they plotted to make Courtenay go back, but my ambassador at Venice writes to me, that by no means will he go thither.”[605]

Describing a former audience with Henry, Sorranzo says: “The King added that he supposed I had heard of the disturbances in England, and when I replied that they were known to me in part, he continued: ‘They wanted to rob the Queen’s treasury, and plotted to put her to death, so that kingdom is more upside down than ever, and the Queen wishes for her husband, who cares but little about it, but through the coming of these ambassadors, whom the Queen is sending, the future will be made manifest,’ and with this the King closing the discourse, I thanked him again in your Serenity’s name, and took leave. When speaking about English affairs with the Constable, he said: ‘Ambassador, I will tell you a thing privately, and do not forget it, as for my own part, I believe it will certainly come true. I am of opinion that ere long the King of England will endeavour to dissolve his marriage with the Queen, and should this come to pass remember then this prophecy.’”[606]

The embassy mentioned by Henry was the sending of Lord Paget to Philip, according to Badoer, to find out the true reason of his not coming, for he declared, “the said Queen is beyond measure exasperated by what she considers this well-nigh contemptuous treatment”. The astute Venetian went on to say: “It is very evident, from the language of the chief Spaniards of these two Courts [the Emperor’s and the King’s] that neither the arguments adduced by Paget nor the adroit means employed by him to make the King go to England, will take effect, unless he has a certain promise from the Queen that she will crown him, in virtue of such authority as, it is said, she might legally exercise, and with the support of those who may be dependent on their Majesties, by reason of offices and benefits received from them. The French ambassador uses all diligence to ascertain whether his Majesty will go to England or not, and according to news-letters which he says he has received from thence, he shows that the coronation may take place, and that Queen Maria of Hungary is the person who well-nigh daily writes autograph letters on this subject to the Queen of England, exhorting her to put aside every consideration, and her timidity, and to crown her husband, assuring her that otherwise she will fail in what is due to herself, and to right, and that consequently she will not have him with her. It is said that Queen Maria acts thus by reason of the extreme desire she has to resume the Regency of Flanders, in which she cannot succeed, unless the King depart hence.”[607]

In a subsequent despatch, the same authority relates: “The report also of King Philip’s going to England still continues, but neither the ministers nor his Majesty himself any longer assert that it will take place at the beginning of next month, as he told Lord Paget, who went about assuring everybody of this, and that he should go back with his Majesty; but by taking leave of the Emperor yesterday, to depart in three days, he has surprised everybody. Some persons believe that the King has rather cooled about going so immediately as was promised by him, owing to the confession made to the Queen by one of the prisoners, that he had determined to kill her consort; and some are of opinion that King Philip has sent Lord Paget back, in order that he may return subsequently with the Earl of Pembroke, and other English noblemen, to conduct him with more positive arrangements. Don Juan Manrique, a member of the Privy Council, having said that although the Queen professes here to resign herself to the King’s will, it is nevertheless evident that she either allows herself to be biased by her ministers, or that Paget has promised more than he was commissioned to do. Others say that his Majesty’s departure for England is delayed by the hope of the coming hither of the King of Bohemia.”[608] Whatever the Emperor and his son may have thought and intended, all they did was to buoy Mary up with delusive hopes and polite assurances, as before, and she gained nothing more from the embassy that was to have done so much.

Lord Clinton arrived from France about the same time that Paget returned from Brussels, bringing many declarations of friendship from Henry; but far from offering to surrender the traitors who had fled to his court, the French King said openly that he would rather suffer in his own person, than fail to receive and treat kindly any Englishmen of however low degree, who might take refuge in his realm. “To-day,” adds Michiel, “the French ambassador was a long while at the palace, I believe about this business, concerning which should I hear anything has passed worthy your Serenity’s notice, I will not omit to give you notice of it by the first opportunity.”

Mary’s Government, now thoroughly on the alert, made fresh discoveries and arrests daily. Carew, one of the chief conspirators in Wyatt’s rebellion, and Dr. Cheke, formerly tutor to Edward VI., were taken together in Flanders, and sent to England. Strict watch was kept about the court, and in Elizabeth’s household, and the Queen still refused to appear in public, even on the solemn feast of the Ascension. It was said that recognising the uselessness of her former clemency, and the ingratitude of those who had before been so freely pardoned, she had determined that all should suffer the just punishment of their misdeeds.

But in fact, nothing was done without Philip’s advice, and the courier Francesco Piamontese was continually on the road between London and Brussels, bearing letters from the Queen to the King, and vice versâ. On the day on which Paget returned, Mary had two interviews with him, lasting upwards of two hours. The next day, to the surprise of all, Piamontese was on his way back to Flanders. “Many persons believe,” wrote Michiel, “that this frequent despatch of couriers, during the last few months, relates not only to the affair of the prisoners, it being credible that the Queen acquaints her consort with what takes place from day to day, and with the discoveries made, and that this last mission of Francesco in great part concerns Carew and Cheke—but also another more momentous matter, and perhaps the one communicated to me heretofore [and written to the Doge in a despatch now lost] relating to the Lady Elizabeth, which proceeds with very great secrecy.”[609] Again he says that the arrest of Carew and Cheke has been followed by that of Lord Thomas Howard (second son of the third Duke of Norfolk) who has been suspected for some time, on account of his intimacy with three of the conspirators, and he then communicates the following important fact: “The French ambassador, M. de Noailles, took leave of the Queen yesterday, as for many months; subsequent however to the discovery of the conspiracy, he has most earnestly requested his king to recall him hence, for the removal simultaneously of the suspicions and accusations to which he will be hourly subjected, through the examinations of the conspirators, and to avoid any dishonour, from which he has indeed had a very narrow escape, for from what I hear, there was a debate and decision in the Privy Council, as to whether, by proceeding against him individually, as a plotter and contriver against the state and person of the Sovereign with whom he resides, the ‘jus gentium’ would thus be violated; but to avoid coming to open hostilities at the present moment, and under existing circumstances, it seems that the ministry has not chosen to proceed further, dissembling their indignation, and consigning the affair to silence for the present, perhaps in conformity with the will and command of the most Serene King. There will remain here in his stead as agent, a brother of his, a Councillor of the Parliament of Bordeaux, who was sent lately from France, until the arrival of the other brother, the Protonotary, destined a long while ago for the embassy in ordinary.”[610]

The arrest of Lord Thomas Howard was followed by that of Lord de la Warre, described by Michiel as “factious and scandalous, having been deprived of his seat in Parliament as baron, for an attempt to poison one of his uncles, for the sake of inheriting from him so much the sooner, wherefore no one is surprised at his having been guilty as an associate in the plot”.[611] About the same time were sent to the Tower the notorious Katharine Ashley, governess of Elizabeth’s household at Hatfield, and three other inmates of it. They all confessed to having had knowledge of the conspiracy, this alone being sufficient to imperil their lives, while in Katharine Ashley’s possession were found a number of “those writings and scandalous books against the King and Queen, which were scattered about some months ago, and published all over the kingdom”.

It was probably owing to Philip’s prudent policy that Elizabeth’s household and not the Princess herself was accused. Experience had proved, that to push matters to a crisis with Elizabeth was wholly unprofitable, and that by giving her an opportunity of placing herself in the light of a victim, the enemy’s hands were strengthened. Philip, far more diplomatic than the Queen, had on the few occasions on which he had come into personal contact with her, affected to regard her as a friend. And he had seen the futility of any other attitude towards her. Moreover, he was still hoping that Parliament would grant him the crown matrimonial, and he was mindful of those members of the opposition, of whom the Queen had told him that they were in so great force, all devoted to Elizabeth, and who might yet turn the balance in his favour. Thus it was no doubt Philip’s influence that prompted the curious proceedings towards her, related in Michiel’s letter of the 9th June:—

“The arrest of the governess, and of Miladi Elizabeth’s three domestics having subsequently been added to by that of two other gentlemen resident here, who although her dependants, and receiving salaries from her are in less constant attendance on her than the aforesaid, the Queen was induced to send to her in the country (at Hatfield) yesterday, Sir Edward Hastings, Master of the Horse, and Sir Henry[612] Englefield, one of the lords of the royal Council, to console and comfort her on behalf of her Majesty, knowing, as may well be supposed, that this circumstance had distressed and dejected her; and to present her as a token of loving salutation, and of a message of good-will, according to the custom here, with a ring worth 400 ducats, and also to give her minute accounts of the cause of their arrest, to acquaint her with what they had hitherto deposed and confessed, and to persuade her not to take amiss the removal from about her person of similar folks, who subjected her to the danger of some evil suspicion; assuring her of the Queen’s good-will and disposition, provided she continue to live becomingly, to her Majesty’s liking; together with some other particulars which cannot now be ascertained; using in short, loving and gracious expressions, to show her that she is neither neglected nor hated, but loved and esteemed by her Majesty. This message is considered most gracious by the whole kingdom, everybody in general wishing her all ease and honour, and very greatly regretting any trouble she may incur; the proceedings having been not only necessary, but profitable to warn her of the licentious life led, especially in matters of religion, by her household, independently of the certain knowledge had by those members of it who have been arrested, of these conspiracies; she being thus clandestinely exposed to the manifest risk of infamy and ruin.

“The Queen has thus moreover an opportunity for remodelling her (Elizabeth’s) household in another form, and with a different sort of persons to those now in her service, replacing them by such as are entirely dependent on her Majesty; so that as her own proceedings, and those of all such persons as enter or quit her abode will be most narrowly scanned, she may have reason to keep so much the more to her duty, and together with her attendants behave the more cautiously; but on the return of the gentlemen aforesaid, the effect produced by them will be still better ascertained.”

On the 16th Michiel continues:—

“The office performed with Miladi Elizabeth by the two personages sent to her in the Queen’s name, agreed with what I wrote on the 9th, as heard on their return. According to the chief commission given them; before leaving her, they placed in her house a certain Sir Thomas Pope, a rich and grave gentleman of good name, both for conduct and religion; the Queen having appointed him Miladi’s governor, and she having accepted him willingly, although he himself did his utmost to decline such a charge. I am told that besides this person, they also assigned her a widow gentlewoman as governess, in lieu of her own, who is a prisoner, so that at present, having none but the Queen’s dependents about her person, she herself likewise may be also said to be in ward and custody, though in such decorous and honourable form as becoming.”[613]

Elizabeth shortly afterwards wrote the following letter to Mary, exceeding in obscurity of phrase and circumlocution any of her former effusions.

The truce concluded between Philip and Henry for five years, made in despite of a treaty scarcely two months old, between the King of France and the Pope, which had for its object to drive the Spaniards out of Italy, came to an end in July of the same year. It was broken by Henry, at the instigation of the Pope’s envoy and nephew Cardinal Caraffa, who promised the King of France that his uncle should give the crown of Naples to one of his sons, and Milan to another. Philip then declared war against the Pope who imprisoned his ambassador, and proceeded to the fortification of Rome. “The Queen,” said Michiel, “by her orders still continues to maintain her neutrality, although harassed as usual, owing to the present suspicions between the Pope and her consort, on account of which, Cardinal Pole was on the point of sending an express to Rome, but apparently awaits the return of Francesco Piamontese.”

At home, justice was being administered in a manner that seemed to promise immunity from further attempts at revolution, although after events proved, that the evil was still lurking in Elizabeth’s shadow. Kingston died on his way to the Tower, of a disease from which he had long been suffering; his accomplices were tried and executed, “while all, both good and bad, said and admitted, that the execution was just and holy”. The death of Lord de la Warre, and that of three others condemned with him, was deferred from day to day, in order, said Michiel, that they might “reconcile themselves to God, and for the salvation of their souls, to which above all the Queen wishes the greatest attention to be paid, rather than because either they or others may hope for pardon, as the persons aforesaid, neither by their own deserts, nor through the intercession of persons in great favour with the Queen, and very dear to her, have been able to obtain it. According to report, although it seems improbable, Carew will adjust his affairs by payment of a fine, some persons telling me that he has already done so, by agreeing to disburse £2,000 sterling. Cheke has again demanded a conference with the theologians, after having lately dismissed them, persisting obstinately in his heretical opinions, which unless he retract them will cause him likewise to be burned in public.”[615]

On the 19th October, the ambassador announced that Peter Carew had come out of the Tower, and was released entirely, after having compounded for 2,000 marks, and had already paid a part of his debt to the Crown. Katharine Ashley was also set at liberty, but was deprived of her office in Elizabeth’s household, “and forbidden ever again to go to her ladyship,” who was expected shortly at court. Dr. Cheke recanted and was liberated. As a direct consequence of his recantation, “through the efficacy of his language,” about thirty others followed his example and saved their lives.[616] He died the next year, some said of remorse, for what he had done against the reformed religion.

The times were more full of strife and trouble for Mary than any period she had traversed since the beginning of her reign. Her confidence in her people, which had carried her undoubtingly through the anxieties of Wyatt’s rebellion, had been rudely shaken. Insult, calumny and treachery had at last opened her eyes to the extent of the disaffection that prevailed. Philip, moreover, who was to have been her sheet-anchor, and that of the nation, treated her not merely with neglect, but with ill-disguised contempt; and far from appreciating the difficulties and dangers with which she was beset, added to them, by insisting on concessions that could only be wrung from the nation at the cost of the last remnant of her popularity. Together with him, she had celebrated with inexpressible joy, what was to have been the crowning glory of her reign—the reconciliation of her kingdom with the Holy See—and now, little more than a year and a half afterwards, not only was the country a very hot-bed of political and religious revolt, but the most Catholic King himself was in open debate with the Pope, and even threatened with excommunication. She had reason enough to acknowledge herself beaten all along the line, but she would have been no Tudor had she done so. As for her constancy, no other Tudor could boast the like, and little as Philip cared for her, she clung to him as faithfully as to the principles that had been her mainstay all her life long. Her piteous plight did not escape the observation of the kindly Venetian ambassador, who in his despatch of the 23rd June, 1556, wrote: “As for many months, the Queen has passed from one sorrow to another, your Serenity can imagine what a life she leads, comforting herself as usual with the presence of Cardinal Pole, to whose assiduous toil and diligence, having entrusted the whole government of the kingdom, she is intent on enduring her troubles as patiently as she can”. Two months later, he wrote: “To say the truth, the Queen’s face has lost flesh greatly since I was last with her, the extreme need she has of her Consort’s presence harassing her, as told me, she having also within the last few days lost her sleep”. And again: “The Queen has been unwell lately, both from the great heat, the like of which no one remembers, as likewise owing to some mental vexation, and not having yet quite recovered, she has chosen to change her residence, and to-day went eight miles hence to Croydon, to a house of the most illustrious the Legate”.[617] “Before moving,” said Michiel in another letter, “the Queen chose to give orders and arrange about the prisoners, so as not to be troubled with this business during her absence, having some of them released, on giving security, others being fined, others remaining in prison where they were; to others she conceded liberty within the Tower; and the execution of those condemned to death is deferred from what I hear, until her return, perhaps in order that the King being then here may, with his usual clemency, obtain their entire release, so as to gain for himself so much the more favour and popularity.”[618]

In spite of the Queen’s resolve to treat the peace disturbers with greater severity than heretofore, her former leniency having been so much abused, it does not appear from the above that Mary had any desire for their death, but it would seem rather, as if she snatched at every pretext for sparing their lives, providing them with every possible pretext for escape. In her desolation and perplexities, she turned more than ever to the consolations of religion, and to the relief of the poor and afflicted. It was especially to the summer of 1556, part of which was spent at Croydon, that the biographer of the Duchess of Feria refers, when he describes Mary’s informal visits to her poor neighbours, and tells of the practical aid and sympathy the Queen gave them in their necessities, listening to their grievances, taking their part actively on occasion, against the injustice of her own officials, advising them as to the upbringing of their children, and doing all she could to improve their condition.[619] But it was not only during her retirement in the country, that she found time for acts of charity. In the midst of the cares of state, and the turmoil of public affairs, devotion to the poor was among the recognised duties of her daily life. It was part of her personal piety, and inseparable from her devotion to her religion, the sincerity of which, notwithstanding all the libels that have been heaped upon her memory, has never been called in question.

In Holy Week, 1556, the Dudley conspiracy had just been discovered, and the Queen was too much alarmed to allow of Cardinal Pole’s departure for Canterbury. From the despatches of the Venetian ambassador we know that she refrained for some time almost entirely from appearing in public, yet she made no alteration in the performance of the public acts of charity, which according to ancient custom she had determined to carry out at this time. Marc Antonio Faitta, secretary to Cardinal Pole, writing to a private friend in Italy, describes the ceremony of the feet-washing on Holy Thursday by the Queen. He says:—

“Her Majesty, being accompanied by the right reverend Legate and by the Council, entered a large hall, at the head of which was my Lord Bishop of Ely, as Dean of the Queen’s chaplains, with the choristers of her Majesty’s chapel. Around this hall on either side, there were seated on certain benches with their feet on stools, many poor women to the number of forty and one, such being the number of years of the most Serene Queen. Then one of the menials of the court, having washed the right foot of each of these poor persons, and this function being also next performed by the under almoner, and also by the grand almoner, who is the Bishop of Chichester, her Majesty next commenced the ceremony in the following manner: At the entrance of the hall, there was a great number of the chief dames and noble ladies of the court, and they prepared themselves by putting on a long linen apron which reached to the ground, and round their necks they placed a towel, the two ends of which remained pendant at full length on either side, each of them carrying a silver ewer, and they had flowers in their hands, the Queen also being arrayed in like manner. Her Majesty knelt down on both her knees before the first of the poor women, and taking in the left hand the woman’s right foot, she washed it with her own right hand, drying it very thoroughly with the towel which hung at her neck, and having signed it with the cross, she kissed the foot so fervently, that it seemed as if she were embracing something very precious. She did the like by all and each of the other poor women, one by one, each of the ladies, her attendants, giving her in turn their basin and ewer and towel; and I vow to you, that in all her movements and gestures, and by her manner, she seemed to act thus not merely out of ceremony but from great feeling and devotion. Amongst these demonstrations, there was this one remarkable, that in washing the feet, she went the whole length of that long hall, from one end to the other on her knees. Having finished, and risen on her feet, she went back to the head of the hall, and commenced giving in turn to each of the poor women a large wooden platter, with enough food for four persons, filled with great pieces of salted fish, and two large loaves, and thus she went a second time, distributing these alms. She next returned a third time to begin again, giving to each of the women a wooden bowl filled with wine, or rather I think hippocras; after which, for the fourth time, she returned, and gave to each of these poor people a piece of cloth, of royal mixture, for clothing. Then returning for the fifth time, she gave to each a pair of shoes and stockings; for the sixth time she gave to each a leathern purse, containing forty-one pennies, according to the number of her own years, and which in value may amount to rather more than half an Italian golden crown; finally, going back for the seventh time, she distributed all the aprons and towels which had been carried by those dames and noble ladies, in number forty-one, giving each with her own hand. Her Majesty then quitted the hall, to take off the gown which she had worn, and half an hour afterwards she returned, being preceded by an attendant, carrying the said gown, and thus she went twice round the hall, examining very closely all the poor women one by one, and then returning for the third time, she gave the said gown to the one who was in fact the poorest and most aged of them all; and this gown was of the finest purple cloth lined with marten’s fur, and with sleeves so long and wide that they reached the ground. During this ceremony, the choristers chanted the Miserere, with certain other psalms, reciting at each verse the words: ‘In diebus illis mulier quæ erat in civitate peccatrix’.”[620]

The same writer goes on to describe the ceremonies of Good Friday:—

“After this, on Friday morning (4th April) the offertory was performed according to custom in the church of the Franciscan Friars, which is contiguous to the palace. After the Passion, the Queen came down from her oratory for the adoration of the Cross, accompanied by my Lord the right reverend Legate, and kneeling at a short distance from the cross, moved towards it on her knees, praying before it thrice, and then she drew nigh and kissed it, performing this act with such devotion, as greatly to edify all those who were present. Her Majesty next gave her benediction to the rings (cramp rings), the mode of doing so being as follows:[621] An enclosure was formed for her Majesty, to the right of the high altar, by means of four benches placed so as to form a square, into the centre of which she again came down from her oratory, and placing herself on her knees within this enclosure, two large covered basins were brought to her, filled with rings of gold and silver, one of these basins containing rings of her own, whilst the other had those of private individuals labelled with their owners’ names. On their being uncovered, she commenced reciting a certain prayer and psalms, and then taking them in her two hands, she passed them again and again from one hand to the other, saying another prayer which commenced thus: ‘Sanctifica, Domine, annulos istos’.

“This being terminated, her Majesty went to bless the scrofulous, but she chose to perform this act privately in a gallery, where there were not above twenty persons; and an altar being raised there, she knelt and recited the Confession (Confiteor?), on the conclusion of which, her Majesty turned towards my right reverend Lord, the Legate, who gave her absolution; whereupon, a priest read from the Gospel according to St. Mark, and on his coming to these words: ‘Super ægros manus imponet et bene habebunt,’ she caused one of those infirm women to be brought to her, and kneeling the whole time, she commenced pressing with her hands in the form of a cross, on the spot where the sore was, with such compassion and devotion, as to be a marvel, and whilst she continued doing this to a man and to three women, the priest kept ever repeating these words, ‘Super ægros,’ etc. Then on terminating the Gospel, after the words ‘In principio erat verbum,’ and on coming to the following, namely, ‘Erat lux vera quæ illuminat omnem hominem in hunc mundum,’ then the Queen made the sick people again approach her, and taking a golden coin called an angel, she touched the place where the evil showed itself, and signed it with this coin in the form of the cross; and having done this, she passed a ribbon through a hole which had been pierced in the coin, and placed one of these round the neck of each of the patients, making them promise never to part with that coin, which was hallowed, save in case of extreme need, and then, having washed her hands, the towel being presented to her by my Lord the right reverend Legate, she returned to her oratory.

“Having been present myself in person at all these ceremonies, her Majesty struck me as affording a great and rare example of goodness, performing all those acts with such humility and love of religion, offering up her prayers to God with so great devotion and affection, and enduring for so long a while and so patiently so much fatigue; and seeing thus, that the more her Majesty advances in the rule of this kingdom, so does she daily afford fresh and greater opportunities for commending her extreme piety, I dare assert that there never was a queen in Christendom of greater goodness than this one, whom I pray God long to save and prosper, for the glory of His divine honor, and for the edification and exaltation of His holy Church, not less than for the consolation and salvation of the people of this island.”[622]

Faitta adds that at court, alms were distributed to 3,000 poor persons on Holy Thursday, and that the Cardinal having made preparations for his public entry into his archdiocese, and being prevented by the Queen from going there, caused all his provisions to be divided among the poor of Canterbury, 2,000 in number, besides giving largesses to many others, who had flocked to that city from the neighbourhood, “all which causes the indigent population there now to await his right reverend Lordship with greater anxiety than ever”.

Another source of consolation to Mary, during Philip’s prolonged absence, lay in the success of her plans for the re-establishment of the religious orders, which had been dispersed, and their homes for the most part secularised by her father. Her health had been greatly benefited by her sojourn at Croydon, she took fresh heart at her husband’s renewed promises of a speedy return, and entering London at the approach of Michaelmas, seemed to have recovered her usual spirits. Michiel wrote on the 28th September: “The Queen, thank God, continues in her good plight, rejoicing to see the monks of St. Benedict returned to their old Abbey of Westminster, into which, the canons having been removed, they, in God’s name, will make their entry to-morrow,[623] and this will be the third monastery and order of regulars, besides one of nuns which has been hitherto reestablished, to which will be soon added the fourth, of the Carthusians (at Shene) who have already made their appearance, to return as they will, according to the promise given them, to their ancient abode, eight miles hence, although it is now occupied by the Duchess of Somerset, who is however to be recompensed with something else”.[624]

On the 24th October, Michiel announced the arrival at Dover of the King’s pages, stable and armoury, together with some shopkeepers “who follow the Court, to put their shops in order” against his Majesty’s arrival, “and as this” said he, ”is the first sign witnessed, it has greatly rejoiced this entire city, and the people, chiefly on account of the profit which from past experience they all hope to make”. A report was also circulated, of an agreement arrived at between the Pope and King Philip, to the great rejoicing of the Queen and of Cardinal Pole. “Nothing is thought of, nothing expected save this blessed return of the King,” wrote the Venetian on the 24th November, “which as told me by Cardinal Pole, the Queen will not credit can be impeded or delayed by the rupture in Italy with the Pope, unless here they declare war on France; but as yesterday, a courier sent express post haste brought news of the King’s return to Brussels, thus removing himself to a greater distance from here, everybody’s suspicion of further delay has increased.... Here, they have been intent on levying the loan demanded by them; henceforth they will occupy themselves by paying the debts, the Queen choosing everybody to be satisfied by Christmas or before, and to give yet greater satisfaction, she has also willed that the gentlemen pensioners and yeomen, who were broken lately, re-enter her service, letting it appear that their dismissal proceeded from her councillors, and not from her own desire, which by the said pensioners and universally was received with twofold gratitude.”

On the 9th November, Philip told Mary that he could not fix a certain date for his return, but that he hoped it would be soon, “and though this indeed saddens the Queen,” said Michiel, “yet nevertheless, considering that such is the fact, and that his not coming does not proceed from neglect, nor from little will, but from necessity, owing to the nature of the times, and his important business, the Queen has of late been pacified, and hope remaining to her, she endures this delay better than she did”.[625]

WAR.

1556-1558.

Want of money had hampered the Queen from the beginning of her reign, and was not the least among the causes which led to the unpopularity of her government. Her poverty was apparent, had observed the French ambassador, even in the number of dishes placed on her table, and worse still, it had necessarily influenced the distribution of rewards to those who had risked all for their rightful sovereign. One not unfriendly ambassador so far misunderstood the state of her finances, as to accuse her of parsimony, although it was well known that she had inherited debts from her father and brother, amounting to an enormous sum.[626]

The Act of Parliament which restored Papal supremacy also decreed that the holders of Church lands might lawfully retain them, the Kings of England having had jurisdiction over all ecclesiastical property from time immemorial. Mary’s own conscience refused to be quieted by an Act of Parliament, and in November 1555, the tenths and first-fruits which Henry had seized, and Edward had kept were restored to the Church, together with the value of each ecclesiastical benefice and the first year’s income of each, worth about a million a year of present day money.[627] This strain on her already impoverished exchequer was immense, but in vain her ministers objected that the money was sorely needed to support the dignity of the Crown, the Queen replied characteristically, “I would rather lose ten such crowns, than place my soul in peril”.[628] Gardiner pledged himself to secure the consent of Parliament to this renunciation, but his death prevented him, and Mary herself sent for a deputation from each House, explained her desire, and the reasons which moved her to restore the Church property vested in the Crown. A bill was accordingly drawn up. It passed through the Upper House with only two dissentient voices, and was carried in the Commons by a majority of 193, against 126 votes. The money thus restored to its original purpose was placed at the disposal of Cardinal Pole, to be expended on the augmentation of small livings, on the support of preachers, and on the foundation of scholarships at the universities.[629]

It has been frequently made to appear, as if the Queen wished to oblige all holders of ecclesiastical goods to follow her example, but the contrary is amply demonstrated by Pole’s correspondence on the subject, contained in St. Mark’s Library at Venice, and by Mary’s own request to Paul IV. that he would make no difficulties about restitution.[630]

But having impoverished herself for conscience’ sake, and being burdened with inherited debts, the Queen was ever after, in the humiliating position of a suppliant to her people, whenever a fresh need for funds arose. Philip moreover, who had at first contributed in a princely fashion, to the revenues of the country, was engaged in a costly war, while the subsidies which he had received from Spain were pawned in perpetuity, those of Milan alienated for five years, those of Naples for seven, and the means of finding money elsewhere scanty.[631] The English had persistently refused to crown him, and Mary had apparently been unable to force them to do so; she must prove her wifely devotion by raising money for his wars, in which case he would gratify her by going to visit her.

The new loan subscribed by Parliament, in consequence of Gardiner’s representations, was being raised with great difficulty, thanks to de Noailles’ manipulation of the opposing members, although Mary had demanded less than the original sum voted. A fresh device must therefore be invented if Philip’s wants were to be met. The plan adopted is described by Michiel as unusual, even unprecedented.

“The Queen,” he wrote on the 25th August 1556, “sent freely to the lords and gentlemen, the wealthiest and best provided, letters in which is specified the precise sum demanded of each of them, according to what the individual might be supposed able to bear, and I am told that the least is £40 sterling, her Majesty urging all of them to exceed their means, availing themselves of their property and credit to raise the sum required by her, as she is in great need, and compelled to supply herself with funds to enable her to quell the insurrections to which she is daily subjected. This mode of request has seemed the more strange and vexatious to everybody as it is unusual and unprecedented, the device being attributed to the Spanish lords, in order as said by them publicly, that the King may make use of the money; so it seems that all (although it be untrue) apologise, under pretence of being overwhelmed with debts. But opposition will be of little avail, nor in the end will any one dare obstinately to resist her Majesty’s desire.”[632]

The general irritation at this measure was increased by the circumstance, that payment was to be made through the Queen’s Comptroller, instead of through the Lord High Treasurer, through a private instead of a public official. But none were taxed over £100, the lowest sum demanded being £20. Mary told Philip of the great difficulty she experienced in getting the tax paid, and of the loud complaints and foul language current on this account, it being understood that she was either giving him the money, or making use of it to further the design attributed to the Emperor of going to England, of crowning his son by force, and of putting pressure on Parliament to wage war on France, “which,” adds Badoer, “it does not seem inclined to do”. In the same despatch, Badoer says that Piamontese had told him, that the Queen had again written very earnestly to the Pope, “not only to pray and exhort him to abstain from disturbing his Majesty’s affairs, but to let him know that the people of England from this cause are greatly encouraged to resume Lutheran opinions”.

Philip, seeing that his affairs in England showed little sign of progressing in his absence, made a virtue of necessity, and rejoiced the Queen, by declaring that he would set out as soon as possible, after the pending departure of the Emperor for Spain. Mary received the news in a transport of delight, but Pole, who had learned to distrust Philip’s repeated assurances of his speedy arrival, persuaded her to await further intelligence, before despatching Pembroke, Arundel and Paget to the sea coast. He could not dispel the renewed hope which sent her back to London at Michaelmas, in better health and spirits than for months before. She took her barge at Lambeth, but before crossing to St. James’s Palace expressed a desire to visit the Cardinal’s official residence, and “not only chose to enter it, but ascending the stairs, had herself conducted by his most illustrious Lordship into his own chamber, and through the gardens everywhere, staying for luncheon, with infinite familiarity and kindness, asking two or three times for Monsignor Priuli[633] who failed to present himself”.

But again Philip’s coming was delayed, and the courier Piamontese performed wonderful feats of rapid travelling between Brussels and London, carrying despatches of the utmost weight and significance. “On Wednesday last,” says Michiel, writing on the 23rd November, “at one and the same time, Francesco Piamontese returned from Brussels, and from France the secretary of the Queen’s ambassador there, both one and the other having travelled with such speed, that the one came from Paris to London in 25 hours, and the other out and home from Brussels (although detained there during a day and a half) in five days. Since their arrival until now, the ministers, and Cardinal Pole may be said to have been in very close consultation, assembling every day at 6 A.M. well-nigh before day break, until the dinner hour, and after noon until 6 P.M. or about the second hour of the night according to the Italian fashion. This proceeding is unusual, and Lord Paget having been confined to the house by indisposition, for upwards of a month, they even urged him, on no account to absent himself from the Council board, and although he apologised, as not being in a state to be able to go abroad, I understand that what he could not do by word of mouth, in their presence, was done by him in writing, and that he gave his opinion about what had been asked him at full length. The speed of the couriers, and these long and extraordinary consultations, indicate the gravity and importance of the matter which is being treated so secretly, that as yet, no one has been able to elicit anything certain about it, although from conjecture and conversation rather than from knowledge, many things have been, and still continue to be said, some persons declaring, that some fresh conspiracy, in virtue of an understanding with the French, has been discovered, or some design of the French themselves, on certain places either here or across the Channel. Others, on the contrary, believe the business to be some request from the King to the Queen, to the effect that should the truce be broken, as is feared, war be also waged by England against France, and if this cannot or will not be done, that at least a subsidy of money or troops be given, by reason of the great preparations of the French for Italy, and all the borders; but be it as it may, the deliberation proceeds so silently, that to know anything more about it is difficult. It has been determined for the Earl of Pembroke to cross the Channel, and in two days he will go to Calais, nor is it known whether he is betaking himself to the King. He has ordered his whole household to follow, and it is said that from suspicion, all the guards will be changed.”[634]

On the 1st December, Michiel informed his government that he had discovered Lord Pembroke’s going to Calais to be caused by the French having reinforced their cavalry on the borders of Calais and Guisnes, with a view to a fortress held by the English, named Hammes, the governor of which was Lord Dudley, brother of the traitor Henry Dudley, then still in France, and in great favour with the King.[635] Continuing the same despatch, he says:—

“Three days ago, Miladi Elizabeth arrived from the country, fifteen miles off (from Hatfield) with a handsome retinue, having with her, including lords and gentlemen, upwards of 200 horsemen, clad in her own livery, and dismounted at her own house (Somerset Place) where she has remained ever since, to the infinite pleasure of this entire population, though she was not met by any of the lords or gentlemen of the Court, but many visited her subsequently. Three days afterwards, she went to the Queen, and according to report was received very graciously and familiarly. Yesterday, she returned thither to take leave, having at length had an interview with the Cardinal, whom she visited even in his own chamber, he never having seen her until then, although last year, they both resided at the Court for a whole month, with their apartments very near each other. It cannot yet be ascertained whether she came for any other purpose than that of visiting the Queen, she having with great earnestness solicited to come, and not having been called. With this opportunity, I (according to the custom of my predecessors) now that she seems to be in good favour with her Majesty will not fail to visit her before her departure, not having done so hitherto. Yesterday, the festival of St. Andrew, in Westminster Abbey, which has been restored to the monks, the most illustrious Legate and the royal Council (with all the lords now here, and the nobility of the Court, I also being present, with a great concourse of people) celebrated the anniversary of the kingdom’s release from the schism, which took place on that day, and the twenty-six monks and their abbot made a fine show and procession. The Queen likewise would have been present, had she not been slightly indisposed during the last three or four days, on which account she has not appeared in public, or even in her own chapel at the palace.”[636]

A week later, he wrote again: “The Queen still remains without going abroad, distressing herself about her husband’s troubles”.

Elizabeth, unfortunately, left London before Michiel had time to pay his proposed visit to her, and we are consequently deprived of a description of the Princess at this period, which his realistic pen would no doubt have rendered extremely interesting. He was, moreover, recalled by his Government before the end of the year, and Michiel Surian, who arrived in England as his successor in March 1557, continued the official reports of passing events, without, however, the life-like touches, and vivid colouring of Giovanni Michiel.

At last, it was announced that the King was indeed coming without further delay. He had set out by the end of the first week in March, and was met at each important place through which he passed, by two gentlemen, sent by the Queen, one of whom returned immediately to Greenwich, where she awaited her husband’s arrival, to bring her news of him, and enable her to follow his journey stage by stage. “Thursday, the 18 day of March,” says Machyn, “the King landed at Dover, about x of the clock in the night.” His courtesy and attention to national and local customs were as apparent as on his first setting foot in England, and having inadvertently entered Canterbury Cathedral with his spurs on, he gracefully paid the fine he had thereby incurred, by emptying his purse full of gold pieces, into the cap of a young student who claimed it.[637] After two days spent in retirement at Greenwich, Philip rode through London to Whitehall, by the side of the Queen, who was carried in a litter. He had no cause to complain of his reception by the citizens, and he in his turn did his best to please them, by pardoning and releasing certain prisoners in the Tower, “nevertheless, from what I hear,” reported Surian, “the Spaniards are so greatly hated, that neither his Majesty nor the Queen are well looked on by the multitude”. On the other hand, all the members of the Privy Council were his firm friends, “owing,” said the new Venetian ambassador, “to the great rewards they have had from him, for when last here, he spent and gave a considerable quantity of money, and distributed vast revenues in Spain and Flanders, to propitiate the leading people here, and he found by experience that what my father used to say of this kingdom was perfectly true, that all, from first to last are venal, and do anything for money”.[638]

He went on to say that the Count de Feria had assured him, that the King had so much influence with the Council that he could do with them what he pleased, and that it was in his Majesty’s power to make the country wage war against France, when and in what manner he chose. Surian thought however that Philip would only demand pecuniary help, in which surmise his shrewdness was at fault. “Thus,” he continued, ”do the affairs of the government proceed at present, and those of the religion are regulated with less severity, both to avoid further exasperation of the public mind, as also because, although few are perhaps really Catholic at heart, everybody nevertheless, in appearance, makes a show of living religiously, so there is no cause for proceeding against them.”[639]

Philip’s return, hailed by the Queen and Council, was an occasion of some embarrassment to Cardinal Pole. On the one hand, he rejoiced to be free from the burden of secular affairs, that had weighed so heavily on him, and to be at last able to attend to his archdiocese; but on the other, his position as Papal Legate, and as a member of the Sacred College made it impossible for him to meet on terms of amity, one who was at war with the Pope. In his official capacity he could not meet Philip at all, and he sent to excuse himself for not going to visit him; but before leaving for Canterbury, he went secretly, unattended, and in his private character, to the King’s apartments, at which proceeding the French King affected to be somewhat scandalised, declaring it to be “an unbecoming act”. What passed at the interview did not tend to smooth difficulties with the Pope, or to cause him to listen more patiently to the Queen’s ceaseless appeals on behalf of her husband, as the following transcript from a letter of the Venetian ambassador at the Vatican very well shows. Bernardo Navagero in describing an audience with Paul IV. on the 8th May 1557, quotes the Pope’s own words: “The Queen’s ambassador (Sir Edward Carne) who for a native of those regions is modest and very intelligent, has been to us in the name of the Queen and of the kingdom, to pray me not to abandon them, but to remember that it has lately come to our obedience. We answered him that we love the Queen for her own sake, as she is good, and has done good works; for the sake of her mother, who honoured us extremely, when we were sent to that kingdom by Leo,[640] and for the sake of her grandfather, the late Catholic King, to whom we are much obliged for the love he bore us, and he was assuredly a worthy King, nor could we ever have believed that his descendants would have degenerated so much as Charles and Philip; but we told the Ambassador, that we would willingly separate the Queen’s cause from that of her—we know not whether to call him husband, cousin or nephew—and have her as daughter, bidding her attend to the government of her kingdom, and not let herself be induced to do anything to our detriment nor to that of our confederates, as for instance the King of France, for we would spare neither relations nor friends, but include in our maledictions and anathemas all those who shall desert the cause of God. Even yesterday, we had a letter from the Cardinal of England, telling us that on the arrival of Philip in London, he departed for his bishopric, and he did well, for he could not in honour remain there. He says that he visited King Philip in his own name, as he could not do so in ours, seeing that he has no commission to that effect, as we on the contrary have revoked the legations, and recalled nuncios, and all the ministers of the Apostolic See, in the realms of that individual, to deprive him of the means for doing injury to God and to us. Cardinal Pole also writes that the said individual told him, he would gladly be reconciled to us, and that he has provided for his realms so as to prevent their molestation. This reconciliation fails through him, as induratum est cor ejus, and we believe that he will not reform until his head has been soundly beaten. God knows that for nothing do we pray Him more earnestly, than for our quiet, and that of all Christendom, which were He to grant us, we should close these eyes most contentedly.”[641]

But Mary’s most pressing cause for anxiety was Philip’s determination to invade France, and to prevail on the English, not only to succour his army with troops and money, but to consent to an aggressive alliance, and a formal declaration of war against Henry II. Under other conditions there would have been nothing repugnant to Mary in an open rupture with the most Christian King, who from the moment of her accession had been her secret, powerful and most insidious enemy. He it was, who by his persistent intrigues was mainly responsible for the disturbed relations between herself and her people, and nothing short of honest, open-handed warfare would get rid of the poison with which he had inoculated the blood of the nation. Greatly as she loved peace, and ardently as she had desired it, and striven to secure it, she knew well that it could be bought at too high a price. But war with France, in the interest of Spain, would, it was clear, be extremely unpopular, while it would constitute an infringement of one of the articles of her marriage treaty by which Philip undertook not to involve the country in his personal quarrel with any Continental power. Nevertheless, he was closeted early and late with the Privy Council,[642] with the result that Surian informed the Doge and Venetian Senate on the 21st April, that the hope of peace with the Pope had come to nothing, and that there was more talk of war than ever. He went on to say, that no army would be mustered until the next harvest was gathered in, for never in memory of man, had there been such scarcity of everything in England, and that although for a long while, great supplies of grain had been coming from Denmark and Sweden, and from the Hanse towns, these had been stopped by the ice, and as there was no means of providing for the ordinary consumption of the people, either in Flanders or England, still less could provision be made for so great an army as was then being mustered.

As late as the beginning of May, Philip, in spite of his influence with the Council, had only obtained assurances of such support as the nation was bound to give him, by ancient treaties then still existing, as an ally of the House of Burgundy. He was to have 5,000 infantry, and 1,000 horse for four months, these to be commanded by the Earl of Pembroke, Lord Grey, Sir Thomas Cheyne, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, Lord Montague, and some others, “all of whom were considered good soldiers, except Montagu, who was appointed because he was rich, and spent willingly on his troops, who were to serve the King in Flanders”.[643]

Besides the above subsidy, 3,000 additional infantry were to be raised, in order to garrison the English fortresses on the other side of the Channel, and in case of need, a fleet was to be fitted out, carrying 6,000 soldiery, half to be paid by Philip, the other half by England. It was announced that the English Government had no intention of breaking the peace with France, the troops being sent to Flanders by virtue of the old treaty between England and those provinces, and solely to defend the King’s States, and not to invade France. It was also pointed out, that the additional 3,000 soldiers were merely for the defence of Calais and its frontiers, and that the fleet was to secure the passage of the Channel, and not to attempt any act of aggression.[644]

Possibly no more than this may have been intended, in spite of Philip’s demands, but the French believing or affecting to believe that a rupture was imminent, reinforced all their places on the English frontier, with ammunition, victuals and soldiers. They also sent a force to Scotland, sufficient not only for the defence of the Scottish border, but capable of attacking England on that side.[645] Even then the actual breaking out of war with England was due to a renewal of Henry’s connivance with English traitors and rebels. Dudley and his friends, among whom was Thomas Stafford, grandson of the last Duke of Buckingham, had been quietly waiting in France, till it should be convenient for the King to employ them, and the moment having now arrived, he entered into negotiations with them, and with certain families of the reformed faith, settled in and about Calais, for delivering the English fortresses, Hammes and Guisnes, into the hands of the French.[646] The design failed, but a few days later, another, not less daring, was attempted by Stafford. Having obtained two French ships, he sailed for England, with a handful of English, Scotch and French desperadoes, about 100 in all, and landing on the coast of Yorkshire, seized Scarborough Castle. He issued a proclamation, assuming the titles of protector and governor of the realm, and declared that he was come to deliver his countrymen from the tyranny of strangers and “to defeat the most devilish devices of Mary, unrightful and unworthy queen”. She had, he pretended, forfeited her claim to the sceptre by her marriage with a Spaniard, who lavished the national treasures on his countrymen, and was resolved to deliver into their hands twelve of the strongest fortresses of the kingdom. As for himself, he was determined to die bravely in the field, rather than see his country enslaved; and he called on all loyal Englishmen to rally round the standard of independence which he had set up, and to fight for the preservation of their lives, lands, wives, children and treasures.[647]

To his mortification, not a man answered the summons—the north was more loyal than the traitors suspected, and Wotton, Mary’s ambassador in France, disclosed the plot before Henry had time to send aid to his confederates. The Earl of Westmorland marched to Scarborough with a considerable force, and Stafford, whose language had been so bold, at once surrendered at discretion, and met with the punishment he richly deserved, together with about twenty-five other persons implicated in the affair.[648]

The only result of the enterprise was, that instead of engaging in the war with France, as an ally of Philip, England was now a principal in the quarrel, the Council having resolved that the time had come for demanding satisfaction for the injuries offered to Mary by the King of France.[649] Nevertheless, when on the 7th June 1557, the English herald announced the declaration of war to Henry, he replied: “I foresaw this war; it is the pledge of the Queen of England’s submission to the will of her husband.”[650] He immediately recalled his ambassador, François de Noailles, Bishop of Acqs, who had replaced his brother Antoine; but Mary had already dismissed him herself.[651] The Bishop took the opportunity at Calais, to examine the state of the fortifications, and the likelihood of its withstanding a bombardment. The result of his investigation was a report to the French King, to the effect that a considerable portion of the rampart lay in ruins, and that the boasted strength of the place consisted only in its reputation. In its present condition it offered, said the ambassador, seconded by the Governor of Boulogne, an easy conquest to a sudden and unexpected assailant.[652] “Here, in the meanwhile,” wrote Surian on the 1st June, “they are expecting the succours from Spain which do not make their appearance, and unless they be speedy and considerable, they will show by experience what a gross blunder it is to circulate reports of making great preparations, and not verifying them by facts, as it merely rouses the enemy, rendering them more and more ready for attack and defence.” But before concluding his despatch, he adds, “whilst writing this I hear that the Admiral of England has put to sea with his fleet, in order to meet the one expected from Spain. He has a total of twenty-three large ships well supplied with artillery and soldiers; so the French fleet being greatly inferior in the number and quality of its vessels, and in the activity of its sailors, and in strength, will be unable to show itself, and do any damage in these seas.”[653]

Philip, who had not been five months in England, re-embarked for Flanders, on the 3rd July. Mary accompanied him as far as Dover, and there took leave of him in a heartrending farewell. They never met again.

Surian had been appointed ambassador to Philip, and therefore left England with him; and in spite of Mary’s representations to the Signory, there was afterwards no resident Venetian envoy in England, Surian doing duty to both King and Queen.

The first important feature in the new campaign was the victory of St. Quentin, which was taken by storm by the Spaniards, aided by Lord Pembroke, and between 7,000 and 8,000 English soldiers. When the news reached London “was Te Deum laudamus sung and ringing solemnly; at night bonfires and drinking in every street in London, thanking be to God Almighty that gives the victory”.[654] Cardinal Pole, in congratulating Philip, said, “The most serene Queen has also evinced great gladness at this, principally from the testimony offered by your Majesty on this occasion, of your piety, to the glory of God and to His true honour, especially because it took place with so little loss of life, which grace she always prays His divine Majesty to grant you in all your victories. Here, we are anxiously expecting news of some good agreement with his Holiness, which may our Lord God deign to grant, and ever have your Majesty in His keeping, and for His service favour your Majesty, whose hand I humbly kiss.”[655]

The victory of St. Quentin did actually lead, as Pole so ardently desired, to peace with the Pope, but also indirectly to the loss of Calais. A brief survey of Philip’s war with Paul IV. will make this clear. Philip had always repudiated any other intention, in carrying on hostilities against the Pope, than that of protecting the kingdom of Naples against molestation.[656] The campaign opened by the seizure, in September 1556, of Pontecorvo, and several other small towns in the Papal States, by the Duke of Alva, Philip’s celebrated general. A truce was concluded for forty days, under the walls of Ostia, and Alva entered Naples in triumph. In the meantime, the French army, under the Duke of Guise, had marched into Italy, and had joined hands with the Pope. The truce having expired, and the two armies being encamped within a few miles of each other, before Civitella, Guise judged that Alva’s force was too overwhelming for him to risk a battle, and retreated, leaving the kingdom of Naples to the Spaniards. The Pope, alarmed by the success of the Colonnas, who were fighting on the Spanish side, summoned the Duke of Guise to Rome, to defend the Holy City. But misunderstandings arose daily between the Pope and his French allies. He evinced a great desire for peace, and the Florentine ambassador sent an express to his Duke, urging him to exhort the King of Spain to adjust matters with his Holiness, by giving him some satisfaction before the world, “the old man desiring nothing else”.[657] At this juncture, Philip won the battle of St. Quentin, and took the town by storm, upon which the King of France, seeing that he would need all the strength he could muster, to oppose the Spaniards and English combined, recalled Guise from Italy, and the Pope was obliged to come to terms with Alva. Escorted by the Papal guard, Philip’s generalissimo entered Rome on the 27th September 1557, and on reaching the Vatican, fell on his knees before the Pope and craved his pardon for the offence of having borne arms against the Church, his master having already declared, and probably with truth, that he would never have commenced hostilities, could he have secured his kingdom of Naples by any other means.

The Duke of Guise was now free to oppose Philip’s inroads into France. By the month of October, Philip had three French fortresses in his possession, namely, St. Quentin, Hammes and Catelet; and Henry’s plan was to harass him in as many quarters as possible, in the hope that being obliged to divide his forces, he would be inferior to his enemy in each one of them. His further design was to hamper Mary, and prevent her from sending reinforcements across the Channel. With this object the French King despatched 10,000 infantry-men, and a company of horse to the Queen Regent of Scotland, who hereupon entered Berwick-on-Tweed, and occupied it, at the same time ravaging the Borders.

Flattering himself that Henry would disband, in face of the rigorous winter, Philip returned to Brussels, convoked the States, and required them to levy a subsidy in money, for carrying on the war in the spring. The utmost that could be obtained from them was 800,000 crowns, far too small a sum for maintaining his troops, and defending his conquered fortresses in the midst of an enemy’s country.

If the victory of St. Quentin was the principal feature of the first campaign, the loss of Calais marked the second with disaster. The first note of alarm came from England, in a letter from Cardinal Pole to the King, dated the 4th January 1558. It proved not only the prelude to worse news, but testified to the spirit in which Mary was prepared to meet the crowning calamity of her life.

“Although I wrote to your Majesty yesterday, in reply to what you were pleased to write to me on the 24th ultimo, yet nevertheless having heard to-day of the loss of Risbank near Calais (taken on the 3rd) I will not omit telling you how in an untoward circumstance, the most serene Queen has shown her usual firmness, which has comforted me the more, as I was at first anxious, lest such unexpected news might seriously agitate her Majesty, especially as we now hope she is pregnant; but having seen not only that she was not in the least disheartened by this news, but that immediately on hearing it, she commenced arranging and providing by such means as possible, both divine and human, for what the present need requires, as also by ordering supplications and prayers to be made in all the religious congregations for success, I was much comforted. I have deemed it my duty to give notice of this to your Majesty, as by your putting forth your vigorous arm and aid, which we are certain you will do, with such speed as the present need requires, I have no doubt but that the Almighty will thus convert everything to His greater glory, and at the same time to the consolation and honour of your Majesties and your realms; as I continually pray His divine Majesty’s goodness to do, and to preserve and prosper your Majesty for the common weal, and particularly for this kingdom, which is placed under your care and government.”[658]

On the same day, Lord Grey de Wilton, Governor of Guisnes, wrote to the Queen as follows:—

Lord Wentworth, Deputy Governor of Calais, in the absence of the Earl of Pembroke, who was collecting troops in England, had written on the 2nd, that the French were before Risbank, and that he feared no more of his despatches would get through, adding, “but I will do what I can tidily to signify unto your Majesty our state”.[660] Close upon this followed the news that Risbank had fallen, and Lord Pembroke crossed to Dunkirk, six leagues from Calais, with 5,000 infantry, hoping to raise the siege of that place.[661]

In Michiel’s report of England in 1557, the ambassador describes Calais as having a garrison of 500 of the best soldiers, besides a troop of fifty horsemen, and as being considered an impregnable fortress, on account of the inundation with which it could be surrounded, although certain engineers doubted that it would prove so, if put to the test. The recent inspection of the town by the French had led them to the conclusion that its boasted strength was a fable, and that it might easily be taken by storm; and their chief reason for recalling the Duke of Guise from Italy was probably, that he might restore this lost jewel to the French Crown.

Michiel, now Venetian ambassador in France, informed the Doge and Senate on the 4th January, that on presenting himself before Calais, M. de Guise made himself master of Risbank, which Michiel describes as “that part of the town fronting the sea, and which, forming a bank, receives as it were into an arm or small gulf, the vessels which arrive there, and which for greater security, withdraw thither under the walls of the town; and he simultaneously took possession both of the ships and their crews, and of the hostels which are built there outside, for the accommodation of the mariners and wayfarers, so that when they embark or disembark by night, on account of the tides, they may not have to enter the town”.[662]

Notwithstanding the ease with which Risbank had been captured, the first attempt to storm the castle of Calais proved ineffectual, according to the French account, by reason of the fluctuation of the tide. The assault being made from the ships, which at high-tide, were on a level with the town, but at the ebb below it, the cannon struck at low tide six or seven paces below the wall, and the besiegers were at the mercy of the besieged, who from the ramparts made a convenient target of them. They also threw up earthworks, and barricades, and fortified the road between the castle and the town, by placing artillery there. The duke, therefore, returned to a site above his first position, “Boulogne in his rear supplying him with provisions,” and a wood not more than half a league distant affording him plenty of fuel.

From this position, he, two days later, began bombarding the castle with sixty pieces of artillery, and Michiel observes that “although the besieged defend themselves stoutly, it is nevertheless not authentically understood that the garrison is more numerous than usual, the governor, as said lately by the King, not having chosen to admit any one; and notwithstanding a public report, that the Duke of Savoy in person is coming to succour the place, with a strong body of cavalry and infantry, the hope of its capture does not in the least diminish”.[663]

Lord Grey and Lord Wentworth afterwards refuted this charge, and declared that they sent five messengers to Philip before the appearance of the French army under Calais, and never received any reply whatever, which totally disheartened them, in contradiction of what was said, as to their not having chosen to accept the garrisons offered to them.[664] Philip, however, cannot reasonably be blamed for the straits to which the place was reduced. He had never ceased recommending that Calais should be carefully guarded,[665] and when he heard that the French were preparing an attack, he insisted that nothing should be neglected to defeat their projects. His answer to the appeals of the Governors of Calais and Guisnes was to commission the Duke of Savoy to levy troops, and to proceed at once to their aid, but the latter arrived on the scene too late to avert disaster. Within a week of the assault a wide breach was made in the castle wall, and seeing that all was lost, Wentworth ordered the garrison to be withdrawn and the towers to be blown up, at the approach of the enemy. That same evening, when the tide was low, a company of French soldiers waded across the haven, but contrary to expectation, no explosion occurred, the engineer to whom the order had been given excusing himself, on the pretext that the water dropping from the clothes of the Frenchmen, as they passed over the train, had wetted the powder, rendering it useless.[666]

The town itself still remained untaken, but on the 8th January, news was brought to the French court, that while the Duke of Guise was preparing to storm it, “one of the inhabitants appeared on the ramparts with a flag of truce, praying the besiegers not to fire, nor to proceed to further hostilities, as the townspeople were willing to surrender; so whilst it was being treated to have them at discretion, according to the Duke’s resolve, as he knew that those who remained were very few and very weak, he having shortly before at the passes occupied by him, routed four companies of Spaniards on their march to succour them, they demanding safety for their properties and persons, he sent Robertet to assure the King that either at discretion or in some other way, the town could not fail to be his”.[667]

Eventually, the place surrendered, on condition that the citizens and garrison should be allowed to depart, with the exception of Wentworth and fifty others, all the ammunition and merchandise passing as booty into the hands of the French. Meanwhile, ample reinforcements of troops and stores lay waiting at Dover, detained there by stress of weather, none divining that a place, hitherto deemed impregnable, could possibly succumb within a week. But the French had contemplated the enterprise for four years, and the fall of Boulogne, in the preceding reign, had paved the way for them to Calais.[668]

Bonfires were lighted in Paris, two days before the intelligence that was to plunge England into a stupor of despair reached London. “The x day of January, heavy news came to England and London, that the French had won Calais, the which was the heaviest tidings to London and to England that ever was heard of, for like a traitor it was sold and delivered unto them.”[669]

“On the 10th, and not previously,” wrote Surian, “the news of the loss of Calais was received in England, and it is strange that such important intelligence should scarcely have been conveyed in three days, whereas the passage is usually made in one. They (a Spanish and an English messenger) having left so immediately after the receipt of the news, are unable to know what took place in the kingdom either good or bad, merely saying that the Queen, when she heard it, determined to make every possible effort to recover the place, and that besides the ships now ready to put to sea to succour it, and the troops which were being mustered, it will be reinforced by the greatest amount the country can raise, and with the opportunity offered by the session of Parliament, her Majesty will obtain any sum of money that may be required to that effect.”[670]

Although the English laboured under a delusion in regard to the strength of Calais, they were probably right in ascribing its prompt fall to treachery. The whole region had been a nest of conspirators, of whom Stafford had left many behind him, when he went to surprise Scarborough Castle, and they were all in the employ of the King of France. John Highfield in his letter to Mary, concerning the siege and loss of Calais, said that the Duke of Savoy had asked him “after what sort the town was lost”; and he had answered that “the cause was not only by the weakness of the castle and lack of men,” but also he thought there was some treason, for as he heard “there were some escaped out of the town, and the Frenchmen told [him] that they had intelligence of all our estate within the town”.[671]

Moreover, Sir Edward Carne wrote from Rome, that tidings had come from Venice, and from Cardinal Trivulci, Papal Legate in Paris, “which last stated, that the place had been rendered without any battery being laid to it, or defence made, but by appointment of those within it. If so, it is the most abominable treason that ever man heard of, and most to be abhorred.”[672] In the same despatch, he tells the Queen that, “if she spares either heretics or traitors, she shall but nourish fire in her own house”.

The first to break the news to Mary was Cardinal Pole, who feared the effect it might produce on her. But he was able to report to Philip that, “in this present case her Majesty really shows, that in generosity of nature and in pardoning she is very like herself,” adding politely, “and no less connected with your Majesties in this respect, than she is by ties of blood”.[673] Nevertheless, while she lived, she never ceased urging the King and her Council to devise some means for the recovery of Calais, and grievous as was its loss to the whole realm, it was remarked that the burden of sorrow lay most heavily on the Queen herself.[674] She declared that if her ministers should dare to conclude peace with France, without stipulating for the restoration of that place, they should pay for the concession with their heads; and on her death-bed she assured the bystanders, that if her breast were opened after death, the word “Calais” would be found engraven on her heart.[675]

Philip, less ponderous in action than usual, was not slow to respond to Mary’s appeals, and at once proposed to join a given number of Spaniards to an equal number of Englishmen, and to set about the recovery of the town and castle before the French had time to repair the damages to the castle walls. As Surian had foretold, money was speedily forthcoming, the nation being stirred to the quick. The clergy granted a subsidy of eight shillings in the pound, the laity one of four shillings on lands, and two and eightpence on goods, besides a fifteenth and tenth, the whole to be collected in nine months. Seven thousand men were levied and trained for service in the field, and a fleet of 140 ships sailed out of Portsmouth harbour, in the spring. But Philip’s offer was for various reasons declined, the Queen’s ministers preferring to fortify the coast of Devonshire against an expected descent by Dudley, and to send an expedition to attack the French harbour of Brest, an alternative which the King had himself proposed, and seconded with a strong contingent of Flemish troops. The expedition resulted in failure, but the English Admiral Malin, by supporting the Count of Egmont, in an engagement with the French, on the banks of the Aa, gained him a splendid victory. In this encounter the French lost 5,000 men, their gallant Marshal de Fermes and many distinguished officers being taken prisoners. Peace would then undoubtedly have resulted from the conferences which took place in the Abbey of Cercamp, between Philip and Henry, had not the King of Spain felt bound in honour to make the restoration of Calais an indispensable condition.

With the fall of Guisnes, three weeks after that of Calais, England lost for ever her last foothold of territory on the French side of the Channel. The place was so well defended “that had the like been done by Calais,” wrote Surian, “that fortress had never been lost,” and he goes on to say that “Lord Grey showed incredible valour, for although he had been badly wounded in the assault, he nevertheless, with very great courage, stood firm to the defence, until he found himself fainting; and even then, rather to avoid alarming the soldiers than from any personal consideration, had himself carried, all bleeding into a house near at hand; but scarcely had he got there when he was told that the enemy had taken the ravelin, and were attacking the bastions; then half dead as he was, he made his men take him on a chair, to the scene of action, where he so increased the courage and resolution of the soldiery, that the French were doubtful of victory; but the assault becoming more vigorous, Lord Grey seeing that all his men were worsted,[676] and that there was no remedy, demanded terms, and it having been granted him, that his soldiers might go out free with their arms, and what they could carry, he surrendered himself prisoner, the glory he thus obtained exceeding the infamy of those who through negligence or treachery lost Calais, which is close to Guisnes”.[677]

Lord Grey remained a prisoner in the hands of Prince Strozzi, by whom he was sold for 8,000 crowns to the Count de la Rochefoucauld, who had been captured at the battle of St. Quentin. La Rochefoucauld demanded 25,000 crowns as Lord Grey’s ransom, a sum which would go a long way to pay his own ransom of 30,000 crowns. But the money, when raised, so weakened Lord Grey’s estate, that the hero of Guisnes was obliged to sell his ancestral castle of Wilton-upon-Wye to his nephew, Charles Bridges, second son of John, first Lord Chandos.[678] The fortress of Hammes fell with Guisnes, and both places were razed to the ground by the French.

It would seem that Mary might reasonably have hoped, whatever her troubles from other sources, to have enjoyed the favour and confidence of the Roman Pontiff. All her life long, most of her trials had resulted from an unswerving devotion to the Holy See, and now the time had come, when she might expect to reap a rich reward for her faith and fidelity. Julius III. had sent her the Golden Rose, as an expression of his affection and esteem, and Paul IV., throughout his differences with Philip, and however severe his language with reference to the Catholic King, always disassociated Mary from the blame which he lavished freely on her consort. Even when he recalled his representatives, in the length and breadth of Philip’s dominions, and made no exception of Cardinal Pole, it was thought that Mary’s protests would procure a speedy revocation of the decree, so far as it affected her kinsman and principal adviser. But peace was ultimately made between Philip and the Holy See, and Pole’s recall as legate a latere from a country whose King was at war with the Head of the Church, was found to be but one aspect of a contest in which Mary, to her grief and vexation, found herself suddenly involved.

As Cardinal Caraffa, Paul IV. had at one time expressed doubt as to Pole’s orthodoxy, and although since his elevation to the Papacy, he had acknowledged that this suspicion had been unfounded, repeatedly expressing his high opinion of the English Cardinal, he once more allowed the doubt to gain possession of his mind. Possibly Pole’s enemies, and the Queen’s, may have contrived to revive the suspicion for their own ends—the conspiracy in England was hydra-headed—but the whole case is enveloped in obscurity, and the only certainty is, that when Cardinal Morone was arrested in Rome on a charge of Lutheranism, Pole was accused of sharing his friend’s heterodoxy. He defended himself in various letters to the Pope,[679] and represented that a legate was necessary in the actual state of affairs in England, although it was immaterial whether that office were filled by himself or by another. Mary expostulated directly by letters, and also through her ambassador in Rome, Sir Edward Carne. Paul replied by creating Friar Peto, a Cardinal, and giving him the English legation. Peto had formerly distinguished himself by a firm and bold adhesion to Queen Katharine’s cause, for which he had incurred Henry’s anger, and would no doubt have shared Friar Forest’s fate, had he not fled to the Low Countries. He was afterwards a chaplain in Cardinal Pole’s household, where he attracted the attention of the Pope, by the great austerity of his life. But he was now a very old man, and scarcely fit for active service, and the appointment caused much surprise in Rome. In an interview with the English ambassador, Paul expatiated on the goodness and learning of the new Cardinal, and said that he hoped what he had done would be agreeable to her most serene Majesty, and beneficial to the whole kingdom. Carne replied that, as for Friar Peto personally, he was willing to believe in his virtue and learning, but that he was old, and could not bear fatigue, and would merely remain in his cell praying; and that it would scarcely please the Queen to have the legation taken away from one so nearly related to her, and to whom she was so much attached, and to see it conferred on a decrepit friar, who although he had once confessed her Majesty,[680] it was only before she had attained her seventh year. As for benefiting the kingdom, the people, Carne declared, esteemed no one, who was not of very noble lineage, or very wealthy, or powerful through armed retainers and dependent on the Crown; the friar having none of these prerogatives, no respect would be paid to him.

But the Pope only replied to these objections, that he regretted not being able to do otherwise, as he wished to have Cardinal Pole in Rome, and to avail himself of his advice and assistance.[681]

No one felt his incompetence for the dignity and office conferred upon him more than Friar Peto himself, and he entreated the Pontiff to be allowed to decline them, as too great a burden for his old and feeble shoulders. In the meanwhile, Mary wrote that although his Holiness had not instantly granted her request, she believed that he would do so, like the Lord, who when entreated more than once, at length satisfies those who pray to Him heartily. In like manner, she again prayed and supplicated the Holy Father to restore the legation in the person of Cardinal Pole, and to pardon her, if she professed to know the men who were good for the government of her kingdom, better than the Pope, and also, if she wondered, that a legate, after being confirmed by him, and after the performance of so many good works, whereby it might be truly said, that through him alone England had resumed her obedience to the Church, should be recalled without cause. The Queen further protested that should any disturbance take place in England, it would be on this account, but that she would do her utmost to prevent it.[682]

This letter Carne delivered to the Pope, whose expression while reading it, showed extreme exasperation; he also presented another protest from Friar Peto, and then said that he besought his Holiness, seeing the Queen’s submission and reverence for him to be such, as would not have been shown to him by any other sovereign, that he would be pleased to grant her demand. After a long silence, the Pope declared that the matter was one of very great importance, that he would confer with the Cardinals, and give him a reply.

All that came of this conference was a summons to Pole to proceed to Rome forthwith, to answer the charges brought against him by the Inquisition, and a protest from Mary, that his trial should take place in England, while Peto, invested with all the powers hitherto exercised by Pole, was to take his place at once.

In order not to place herself in open opposition to the Pope, and yet not to yield in a matter which appeared to her to involve the most serious consequences, Mary had recourse to a diplomatic quibble, not unprecedented in history. She gave orders that every courier from the continent should be detained, and searched, on his arrival at any English port, and when the Papal messenger reached Calais, on his way to England, he was arrested and deprived of his despatches. In this way, although Mary knew, from private letters, of Peto’s appointment and of Pole’s recall, she never received the official notification of either. The Papal brief addressed to Pole disappeared at the same time, while Peto never received the bull which appointed him legate. But the Cardinal ceased to exercise his functions as legate a latere, although he retained those of legatus natus, which belonged to the Archbishopric of Canterbury. He sent his chancellor Ormanetto to Rome to represent him. Ormanetto arrived just as peace was being concluded between Philip and the Holy See, and was kindly received; but the case was referred by the Pope to his nephew Cardinal Caraffa, Papal Nuncio at Brussels. Caraffa required that both Pole and Peto should be allowed to go to Rome, the one to clear himself from the charge of heresy, the other, that he might aid the Pope with his counsel. But Mary refused to let Pole go, and the situation thus constituted only ceased to exist at the death, a few months later, of every one concerned in it.[683] The charge against Pole appears to have been of the flimsiest nature. It was never substantiated, but it served the purpose of the moment, to oppose an additional barrier to public peace and concord. It has in no way affected his reputation for orthodoxy, and he stands out in history as the model of a devout, loyal, upright Englishman.

AT EVENTIDE.

1558.

Grief, anxiety and disappointment, perpetually assailing a constitution never one of the strongest, brought the Queen to her life’s end before she was forty-three. If her naturally hopeful and buoyant temperament helped her through her bitterest trials, it was a fertile source of sorrows, as one by one, all the things upon which she had set her heart, collapsed like the fabric of a dream.

The loss of Calais inflicted the first mortal blow upon her enfeebled health, but its poignancy was for a time softened by the recurrence of the persistent hope, that even now she was about to give birth to an heir. She had waited till that hope seemed like certainty, and on the eve of realisation, before announcing it to Philip. To leave issue, and so secure a Catholic succession, had been the main incentive to her marriage; she clung to the prospect as a drowning man to a plank, and when it failed her, she would have despaired, had she not been uplifted by the faith and resignation that were stronger than all her trouble. Philip flattering her delusion had sent de Feria to congratulate her on her condition, assuring her that nothing could better console him for the loss of Calais.

Gomez Suarez de Figuera, Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, destined to play an important part in English affairs during the next few months, was, in so far as Philip ever unbent and allowed himself the luxury of a friend, his most confidential adviser, remarkably outspoken and unceremonious. He had accompanied the King from Spain, and was the one Spaniard who had followed his master’s injunction to the letter, to adopt a manner of life in conformity with English customs and prejudices. So literally did he obey, that he sought and obtained the hand of the beautiful Jane Dormer, the Queen’s favourite, and most trusted, attendant and companion.

In the various letters written by de Feria to Philip, on the Count’s return to England in the spring of 1558, he tells him how greatly Mary has lost in power and influence, during the few months that have elapsed since the King’s departure. The partisans of the new doctrines are beginning to hold up their heads again, and since the recent disasters, the people, who formerly frequented the churches through obedience or fear, are now conspicuous by their absence. This was no exaggeration, for the loss of Calais was more fatal to Mary’s government, than anything that had gone before.[684]

Persecution of the heretics had made it unpopular; misfortune caused it to be despised. Had the Queen possessed the physical strength and energy she had shown at the time of Wyatt’s rebellion, she might still have rallied round her an enthusiastic army, inspired by devotion and loyalty, to dare all for the recovery of the lost fortresses that were the key to France. But the sands of life were running low, and all she could do was to appeal to Philip, trusting that he was England’s truest friend. De Feria told him that she bore even the privation of his society patiently, understanding how grave were the circumstances which detained him in Flanders.

Nevertheless, she had ordered the fleet to cruise between Dunkirk and Dover, in the hope that he would come. By degrees, she was forced to recognise, that this hope too was a delusion, and she listened to de Feria when, in obedience to Philip’s instructions, he suggested that as the King was prevented from undertaking the journey, it would be well to send the Admiral, Lord Clinton, to him. His Majesty could thus communicate to him his displeasure against the Queen’s councillors, for their neglect in allowing Calais to be taken, and in affording him so little help. This interview with de Feria took place at Lambeth. Mary was on her way to St. James’s, and being ill, had broken her journey at the Cardinal’s palace. She expressed her willingness to let Clinton go, somewhat to the surprise of de Feria, who thought she would have shown some irritation at the proposal. It was tantamount to an announcement, that she would see her husband’s face no more.

In the Cecil papers at Hatfield, is a Memorandum drawn up by Lord Clinton, and entitled “The Cause I Was Sent for to Brussels,” all the items enumerated referring to questions concerning the harassing of the French coast by the English, and the reasons, for and against, attempting the reconquest of Calais.

De Feria had as yet not ventured to seek an interview with Elizabeth, fearing thereby to displease the Queen, but he sent his excuses to the Princess, and meanwhile begged Philip to instruct him, whether he should pay her a visit or not. Philip ordered him to do so, and on the 23rd June, the diplomatic Spaniard wrote that he had every reason to be well contented with the interview which she had granted him, and would communicate viva voce what had passed between them.[685]

This matter, too important to be penned, undoubtedly concerned the succession, and Philip’s promise of support, in case Elizabeth needed it, to make good her claim to the throne in the event of Mary’s death.

De Feria returned to Brussels, and Philip neither came nor wrote. It was said that his coldness and indifference were hurrying the Queen to her grave. Contrary to her usual symptoms, when attacked by illness, she was devoured by fever, and wearied by sleepless nights. All who surrounded her became conscious that there was something new and alarming in her condition. The first indication of this occurs in a letter from Cardinal Pole to the King, dated the 6th September, when she had partially recovered:—

“Don Juan de Acunha will report the particulars of the Queen’s indisposition, and how our Lord God granted us the grace four days ago, to free her from all feverish symptoms, and as her Majesty is not liable to them, they could not but cause us much anxiety; but the physicians were and are of opinion that through this malady, she will obtain relief from her habitual indisposition; and may it thus please the goodness of God, and may He preserve her Majesty for the welfare of this realm. During her malady, the Queen did not fail to take the greatest care of herself, following the advice of the physicians, and by continuing to do so, it is hoped that she will recover, and daily more and more establish her health; a result to which nothing can contribute more, than to receive frequent good news of his Majesty.”[686]

Pole mentions having himself been ill of a quartan ague which cannot but be regarded as serious at his age, and with his constitution, but he is resigned to what Divine Providence shall be pleased to ordain for him. In a further letter, he recommends to Philip certain individuals of his household, for whom he has not the means to provide out of his own substance.[687]

The improvement in Mary’s state was not long maintained, and on the 29th October, Surian wrote the following important letter to the Doge, from Brussels:—

“A few days ago, his Majesty received news from England that the Queen was grievously ill, and her life in danger, which intelligence, most especially at the present moment being of very great importance, so disquieted his Majesty, and all these lords, that it was immediately determined to send the Count de Feria to visit the Queen, in the name of her consort, and to treat another affair which I will narrate hereunder; but as when the Count was about to depart, a fresh advice arrived, that her Majesty’s health had improved, he therefore delayed his departure for three or four days longer, and in the meanwhile, his household at Brussels is preparing to cross over with him to England, a sign that he will not return hither so speedily.

“Now the matter to be treated by him is the marriage of Miladi Elizabeth, to keep that kingdom in any event in the hands of a person in his Majesty’s confidence. Last year King Philip gave an order to this effect to his confessor, who is very dear to the Queen, he laying before her all the considerations both of religion and piety, and of the safety of the realms, and to prevent the evils which might occur, were the Lady Elizabeth, seeing herself slighted, to choose after her Majesty’s death, or perhaps even during her lifetime, to take for her husband, some individual who might convulse the whole kingdom into confusion. For many days, during which the confessor treated this business, he found the Queen utterly averse to give Lady Elizabeth any hope of the succession, obstinately maintaining that she was neither her sister, nor the daughter of the Queen’s father, King Henry, nor would she hear of favouring her, as she was born of an infamous woman, who had so outraged the Queen, her mother and herself. Notwithstanding this, the confessor assiduously and adroitly persevering in this design, effected so much, that her Majesty consented to do what the King wished, he expressing great satisfaction at this; but two days later, the Queen changed her mind, and the confessor lays the blame on Cardinal Pole, who, as the project had not been communicated to him, may have performed some contrary office, ignoring that such was the will of the King. Now that things have been in such danger, owing to the Queen’s malady, they are sending the Count de Feria, that he may try and revive this project, and realize it, but I do not yet know whether with the Duke of Savoy or others, nor can it be known for certain, until this peace is concluded or excluded; but the Count’s instructions purport that he is to try and dispose the Queen to consent to Lady Elizabeth being married as her sister, and with the hope of succeeding to the crown, this negotiation having to be treated with the greatest possible secrecy, because these lords suspect, that were the French to come to know it, they would easily find means to thwart the project, as the greater part of England is opposed to the Queen, and most hostile to King Philip and his dependants, and much inclined towards Miladi Elizabeth, who has always shown greater liking for the French faction, than for this other, being thus habituated in the time of her brother, King Edward, when at the summit of her grandeur.”[688]

The King of Sweden had, during the preceding summer, sent a proposal for Elizabeth’s hand, and Mary had shown some displeasure which was shared by Philip, at the fact that his Majesty had not presented his demand in the ordinary way, through the Queen. But Elizabeth had refused him, and while the subject of her sister’s religion mainly preoccupied Mary during the illness which she felt would end in death, that of his sister-in-law’s marriage concerned Philip still more deeply.

In The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria it is recorded,[689] that “Queen Mary in her last sickness sent Commissioners to examine her [Elizabeth] about religion; to whom she answered, ‘Is it not possible that the queen will be persuaded I am a Catholic, having so often protested it?’ and thereupon did swear and vow that she was a Catholic. This is answerable to what Mr. Camden saith, and is likewise confirmed by the Duke of Feria’s letter to the king, who in this sickness of the queen, visited the Lady Elizabeth. He certified him that she did profess the Catholic religion, and believed the Real Presence, and was not like to make any alteration for the principal points of religion.”

The same writer gives a pathetic account of Mary’s end, and of her constant solicitude for others, which being obtained from Jane Dormer herself, must be regarded as authentic. It is necessary to dwell at some length on every known detail of this period, as some writers have given a highly coloured, grotesque, and altogether imaginative account of the Queen’s declining days. Clifford relates that “When it chanced that Jane was not well, as that she could not well attend upon the Queen, it is strange, the care and regard her Majesty had of her, more like a mother or sister, than her queen and mistress. As in the last days of this blessed queen, she being at Hampton Court, and to remove to London, Jane having some indisposition, her Majesty would not suffer her to go in the barge by water, but sent her by land, in her own litter, and her physician to attend her. And being come to London, the first that she asked for was Jane Dormer, who met her at the stairfoot, told her that she was reasonably well. The queen answered, ‘So am not I,’ being about the end of August 1558. So took her chamber and never came abroad again.

“At that time the king was in Flanders about his wars, made upon the frontiers of France, who understanding the Queen’s sickness, being then with his army before Dourlens, sent away the Duke of Feria, to serve and assist her in all that should be requisite. It pleased Almighty God, that this sickness was her last, increasing daily, until it brought her to a better life. Jane was continually about the Queen, not yet married, for the Queen would not have her marry, until the king was returned from Flanders; which occasioned the want of great gifts and rich endowments, wherewith the Queen had determined, and promised to honour the marriage, whereof did her Majesty complain. She finding herself languishing to death, told Jane, she would have been glad to have seen her marriage had been effected in her days; but God Almighty would otherwise dispose, and being sick and the king absent, she was not in case to do what she would. Her sickness was such as made the whole realm to mourn, yet passed by her with most Christian patience. She comforted those of them that grieved about her; she told them what good dreams she had, seeing many little children, like angels play before her, singing pleasing notes, giving her more than earthly comfort; and thus persuaded all, ever to have the holy fear of God before their eyes, which would free them from all evil, and be a curb to all temptations. She asked them to think that whatsoever came to them was by God’s permission; and ever to have confidence, that He would in mercy turn all to the best.”[690]

On the 12th November, Surian wrote the following despatch in cipher to his Government:—

“There are also advices from England, that the Queen is not well, and the ambassador from Florence has said to me and many others, that she is at the point of death, as known throughout the court, much to the regret of these lords, who for their own reasons would not wish it to be known that she was even indisposed, but the truth is, that her malady is evidently incurable, and will end with her life sooner or later, according to the increase or decrease of her mental anxieties, which harass her more than the disease, however dangerous it may be. The King has therefore sent to England the Count de Feria, who being a most perfect gentleman and agreeable to his Majesty, is also in great favour with the Queen, he likewise fancying himself popular there; but may God grant (in case of her Majesty’s death) that he do not experience to his detriment the perverse nature of those people, and their most inveterate detestation of foreigners, and above all of Spaniards. He took with him a Portuguese physician, who has a very great name in these parts, so as not to fail in whatever could conduce to the Queen’s health. He will at any rate attempt to carry into effect the design about which I wrote on the 29th ult. for marrying Miladi Elizabeth, to some personage in the King’s confidence, in which he hopes to succeed, but I have not yet been able to hear who will be proposed. She herself inclines towards a Scottish lord, her kinsman, a handsome and noble youth, son of a sister of Henry VIII., who was married in Scotland; he being of the same mind as this lady in the matter of religion; so were the crown to pass into her hands with that husband, it might be well-nigh surely prognosticated that the country will relapse into its former state and worse, unless the Lord God of His mercy interpose His hand.”[691]

In the meanwhile, Mary, having received Elizabeth’s protestation, sent two members of the Privy Council to the Princess, announcing that she would leave her the Crown on two conditions, the first being her promise to maintain the Catholic faith and worship in England, the second that she would undertake to pay the Queen’s debts. Both these conditions Elizabeth accepted.[692]

De Feria arrived in London on the 9th November, to find that the Queen’s recovery was despaired of by all her English and Spanish physicians. She was attended only by an Italian doctor, afterwards suspected of having poisoned her, and was growing gradually weaker every hour. A smile hovered over her face when de Feria spoke to her of her husband, but she had no strength to read the letter which he sent her, in explanation of the grave reasons for his remaining in Flanders. All she could do was to send him a ring, as a pledge of her love and fidelity.[693]

From Mary’s death-bed, the envoy passed to the Council Chamber, where he found all the members assembled except Pembroke and Paget. He noticed Masone, who was accounted one of Elizabeth’s most confidential friends, and took the opportunity of declaring in a loud voice, that the King was extremely glad, that the Princess was to succeed her sister, and that he would do all that depended on himself to help her to mount the throne. The next day, he went to express the same sentiments to Elizabeth in person. She received him in a friendly manner, but was less gracious than she had shown herself to Christopher d’Assonleville, who had visited her in August, at a moment when she felt less secure of the future, and to whom she had expressed much gratitude for Philip’s protection, at a time when she had been suspected by the Queen. In order to flatter her vanity which was great, de Feria said that the King had always been very sensible of her charms, and that if she continued in the Catholic religion, he would be disposed to seek her hand. She replied with some asperity, that the King had wished her to marry the Duke of Savoy, but that she herself could not forget how the Queen had in a great measure, lost the affection of her people through having married a foreigner.[694] In concluding his letter, de Feria remarked that Elizabeth was surrounded by persons as favourable to heresy as they were hostile to his Majesty, and that she herself, combining vanity with astuteness, would not fail soon to follow in the footsteps of her father King Henry VIII.[695]

De Feria was not alone, in paying court to the rising sun.

“Many personages of the kingdom,” wrote Surian, “flocked to the house of Miladi Elizabeth [at Hatfield], the crowd constantly increasing with great frequency.”[696]

A smaller crowd, but more mixed, gathered round Mary’s death-bed. It was composed of her most devoted friends—with the exception of Cardinal Pole, who himself lay dying—and of those who were eagerly watching for her last sigh. The end came in the gloomy dawn of the 17th November, and the sympathetic chronicler of the life of the Duchess of Feria thus describes the scene:—

“That morning hearing Mass, which was celebrated in her chamber, she being at the last point (for no day passed in her life that she heard not Mass), and although sick to death, she heard it with so good attention, zeal and devotion, as she answered in every part with him that served the Priest; such yet was the quickness of her senses and memory. And when the priest came to that part to say ‘Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi,’ she answered plainly and distinctly to every one, ‘Miserere nobis, Miserere nobis, Dona nobis pacem’. Afterwards, seeming to meditate something with herself, when the Priest took the Sacred Host to consume it, she adored it with her voice and countenance, presently closed her eyes and rendered her blessed soul to God. This, the duchess [Jane Dormer] hath related to me, the tears pouring from her eyes, that the last thing which the queen saw in this world, was her Saviour and Redeemer in the Sacramental species; no doubt to behold Him presently after in His glorious Body in heaven. A blessed and glorious passage. ‘Anima mea cum anima ejus.’”[697]

Monsignor Priuli, writing to his brother ten days later, thus describes the death of Mary and that of her friend and kinsman, Reginald Pole:—

“I wrote last week that the Queen’s life was in danger, and also that of my right reverend Lord, since when, it has pleased God, so to increase the malady of both, that on the 17th inst., seven hours after midnight, the Queen passed from this life, and my right reverend Lord followed her at 7 o’clock in the evening of the same day; and each departed with such piety as might have been expected from persons who had led such lives.

“During their illness they confessed themselves repeatedly, and communicated most devoutly, and two days before their end, they each received extreme unction, after which it seemed as if they rallied, and were much comforted, according to the fruit of that holy medicine. Although two days previously it had been intimated to his right reverend Lordship, that there was scarcely any hope of the Queen’s recovering from her infirmity, this being done, in order that the news of her demise, coming less suddenly, might prove less grievous to him, nevertheless, after the event, it was thought well to delay its announcement, until his Lordship should become more composed, though it could not have been long deferred, yet in contradiction to this understanding, one of our countrymen forgetfully told it him. On hearing it, after remaining silent for a short while, he then said to his intimate friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and to me, that in the whole course of his life, nothing had ever yielded him greater pleasure and contentment than the contemplation of God’s providence, as displayed in his own person and in that of others, and that in the course of the Queen’s life, and of his own, he had ever remarked a great conformity, as she like himself had been harassed during many years, for one and the same cause, and afterwards, when it pleased God to raise her to the throne, he had greatly participated in all her other troubles entailed by that elevation. He also alluded to their relationship, and to the great similarity of their dispositions, and to the great confidence which her Majesty demonstrated in him, saying that besides the immense mischief which might result from her death, he could not but feel deep grief thereat, yet by God’s grace, that same faith and reliance which had ever comforted him in all his adversities, greatly consoled him likewise, in this so grievous a catastrophe. He uttered these words with such earnestness that it was evident they came from his very heart, and they even moved him to tears of consolation, at perceiving how our Lord God, for such a wound received at such a moment had granted a balm so valid and efficacious, and which might soothe not only himself, but also all who loved him. His right reverend Lordship then remained quiet and silent for about a quarter of an hour, but though his spirit was great, the blow nevertheless having entered into his flesh, brought on the paroxysm earlier, and with more intense cold than he had hitherto experienced, so that he said he felt this would be his last. He therefore desired, that there might be kept near him the book containing those prayers which are said for the dying. He then had Vespers repeated as usual, and the Compline, which part of the office yet remained for him to hear; and this was about two hours before sunset, he having on the very same morning heard Mass also, as was his daily custom. In fine it was evident, that as in health that sainted soul was ever turned to God, so likewise in this long and troublesome infirmity, did it continue thus until his end, which he made so placidly, that he seemed to sleep rather than to die, as did the Queen likewise, so that had not a physician perceived the act, her Majesty would have died without any one’s witnessing it. My affection has moved me thus minutely to detail the end of this truly holy prelate and of this sainted Queen.”[698]

It is scarcely matter for surprise that Mary’s time-serving Council should have made no long lingering over their mistress’s yet warm ashes. The scene was quickly changed from St. James’s to Hatfield, where Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was the first to acquaint Elizabeth with the news of her accession.

After being embalmed, Mary’s body lay in state in the chapel of St. James’s Palace, till the 12th December, when it was removed to Westminster Abbey. Strype thus quaintly describes the funeral procession:—

“When the day was come, after this manner were her funerals performed. Her corpse was brought from St. James’s where she died, in a chariot, with a picture or image resembling her person, adorned with crimson velvet, her crown on her head, and her sceptre in her hand, and many good rings on her fingers.[699] And so up the highway went the foremost standard, with the falcon and the hart. Then came great company of mourners. And after, another goodly standard of the lion and the falcon, followed by King Philip her husband’s servants, two and two together, in black gowns; heralds riding to and fro to see all go in order. After, came the third standard with the white greyhound and the falcon. Then came gentlemen in gowns, mourners. Then came riding esquires, bearing banners of arms. Next came the lord Marquis of Winchester, on horseback, bearing the banner of the arms of England, embroidered with gold. Then Mr. Chester, the herald, bearing the helm and the crest and mantles. Then Mr. Norroy bearing the target, with the garter and the crown. Then Mr. Clarencieux, bearing the sword. And after, Mr. Garter bearing her coat armour: all on horseback. Banners were borne about her by lords and knights, with four heralds on horseback, bearing four white banners of saints, wrought with fine gold, viz., Mr. Somerset, Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Windsor and Mr. York. Then came the corpse with her picture lying over her, covered with cloth of gold, the cross silver. Then followed Mr. —— with the chief mourners. And then ladies riding, all in black trailed to the ground. In the chariot, wherein the Queen lay, rode the pages of honour with banners in their hands. Afore the corpse, her chapel, and after, all the monks, and after them the bishops in order. And all in this equipage passed by Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey, where at the great doors of the church, everybody alighted off their horses. Then were gentlemen ready to take the Queen out of her chariot: and so earls and lords went before her towards the hearse,[700] with her picture borne between men of worship. At the church door, met her four bishops and the abbot, mitred, in copes, censing the body; and so she lay all night under the hearse with watch. Item. There were an hundred poor men in good black gowns, bearing long torches, with hoods on their heads, and arms on them. And about her the guard, bearing staff-torches, in black coats. And all the way chandlers, having torches to supply them that had their torches burnt out.”[701]

The next day, being the 13th December, a Mass of Requiem was sung, and Dr. White, Bishop of Winchester, preached the funeral sermon. Mary had been dead nearly a month, and by this time it required some courage to speak of her in terms of praise, affection or gratitude. “For such offenses as he committed in his sermon at the funeralles of the late Queen,”[702] Dr. White was ordered to keep his house during the Queen’s pleasure. The sting lay in the eulogy contained in the following fragments of his discourse:—

“She was a King’s daughter, she was a King’s sister, she was a King’s wife. She was a Queen, and by the same title a King also: she was sister to her, that by the like title and right, is both King and Queen at this present of this realm. These be great gifts and benefactions of God; who in his gifts is ever to be glorified. What she suffered in each of these degrees before and since she came to the crown I will not chronicle; only this I say, howsoever it pleased God to will her patience to be exercised in the world, she had in all estates, the fear of God in her heart. I verily believe the poorest creature in all this city feared not God more than she did. She had the love, commendation and admiration of all the world.... She was never unmindful or uncareful of her promise to her realm. She used singular mercy towards offenders. She used much pity and compassion towards the poor and oppressed. She used clemency among her nobles. She restored more noble houses decayed than ever did prince of this realm, or I pray God ever shall have the like occasion to do hereafter. She restored to the Church such ornaments as in the time of schism were taken away and spoiled. She found the realm poisoned with heresy, and purged it, and remembering herself to be a member of Christ’s Church, refused to write herself head thereof.... Such was her knowledge as well as virtue; neither was there ever prince on earth that had more of both. But although she were such a one yet could she not be immortal. It pleased God, in whose hands the heart and breath, the life and death, the beginning and end of princes is, to call her from this mortal life, of the pleasures whereof (the pleasure that she took in the service of God only excepted) as no person than her, I suppose, took less, so of troubles and bitterness of the same none here for his estate taketh more.”

After giving an account of her preparation for death, and of her last moments, the preacher went on to say that, having received the blessing of the Church, “she bowed down her head and withal yielded a mild and gracious spirit into the hands of her Maker. All this I say,” he added, “if it were as pithily expressed, as she godly and devoutly did it, should be to you as it was to them that saw it, more than ten such sermons. If angels were mortal, I would rather liken this her departure to the death of an angel, than of a mortal creature. After this sort died this gracious Queen, of whom we may justly say, Laudavi mortuam magis quam viventem, and although we doubt not of her estate, yet because it is temerity to pronounce of God’s secret judgments, or to deny prayer, to deny to one which is due to all, let us again commend her soul to God, wishing to her as Tertullian teacheth refrigerium et in prima resurrectione consortium. Which prayer if it relieve not her, as one that with God’s grace and mercy hath the effect thereof already, yet shall it help us the rather before God, from whom the prayer of the faithful is never turned back or in vain.

“And as we for our parts have received worthily detriment and discomfort upon her departing, so let us comfort ourselves in the other sister, whom God hath left, wishing her a prosperous reign, in peace and tranquillity, with the blessing which the prophet speaketh of, if it be God’s will ut videat filios filiorum et pacem super Israel, ever confessing that, though God hath mercifully provided for them both, yet Mariam optimam partem elegit; because it is still a conclusion Laudavi mortuos magis quam viventes.”[703]

The displeasure which Dr. White incurred for his panegyric of Mary,[704] was but the beginning of a systematic blackening of her memory, by those, whose interest it was to stand well with Elizabeth. Eleven out of the thirty-five members who composed Mary’s Privy Council at the end of her reign became Privy Councillors under Elizabeth, a process that entailed some turning of coats for the second and even the third time. Those pamphleteers and manufacturers of low abuse, who had embittered Mary’s last days with insult and calumny might now pursue their trade unmolested, while the loose statements of reformers such as John Knox, John Foxe and John Bale,[705] afterwards too carelessly credited, and copied by Strype, Burnet and others, and elaborated by Hume and Froude, have marred beyond recognition the reputation of one who has been tardily recognised in our own day, as “amongst the best, although not the greatest of our sovereigns”.[706]

No monument has ever been raised to the memory of Queen Mary I. Two small black tablets mark the spot where she lies buried, in the north aisle of Henry VIIth’s Chapel in Westminster Abbey, at the foot of the tomb erected by James I. over the remains of Elizabeth. They bear this inscription:—

Mary’s last Will and Testament, dated the 30th April 1558, with a Codicil, added a little more than a fortnight before her death, is an interesting and characteristic document, containing many glimpses into her mind and heart. It was not only entirely ignored by Elizabeth, but lay utterly forgotten for nearly 300 years. Sir Frederick Madden printed a copy of it in 1831.[707]

VERITAS TEMPORIS FILIA.

We live in an age of criticism. Epithets will no longer serve in lieu of evidence, and we are called upon to revise the hasty judgments of past centuries, and to reconsider their verdicts. The verdict passed on Mary I. has hitherto been founded on the one-sided testimony of her enemies, and on their showing, the world has taken for granted that she was at the best a gloomy, narrow-minded bigot, whose life was utterly unproductive of good to England. Her very trials and sorrows have led the most indulgent to conclude, that she must in consequence have been of a melancholy disposition, and to find in her misfortunes an excuse for the moroseness which in their opinion, rendered her the most unattractive personality in our history. Moroseness is a fit accompaniment to cruelty and thirst for blood; and thus, by easy stages, it has been possible to imagine her gloating over the executions for religion’s sake, which disgraced her reign as they did those of her predecessors and successors, down to the time of Charles II.

Such, however, has not been the picture presented to us in the course of our study of the State papers, dealing with her life and reign, and “all history,” said the learned Dr. Samuel Johnson, “so far as it is not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance”.[708] We have seen her, as represented in the secret despatches of ambassadors, in her own private letters, in those of Cardinal Pole, in the narratives of her contemporaries, in the brief chronicles of her time, in the occasional admissions of her enemies; we have seen her as a girl, a woman, a queen, in a dozen different lights, and we have found an image, the very reverse of that which for three centuries has been held up to the world’s execration.

That Mary was not in advance of her contemporaries should scarcely be a reproach. What wonder even, if she looked to the past for inspiration, from amidst the chaos of new opinions, that seemed to her productive only of rebellion, licence and impiety! She could remember the time, when order reigned in Church and State, and when peace resulted from obedience to civil and ecclesiastical authority. With the change had begun all her miseries. Cromwell and Cranmer, the apostles of the new regime, had played her father’s game of tyranny and rapine, and their followers had made havoc of her own projects of peace and prosperity. Had the new religionists been mere harmless, loyal, quiet folk, the fires of Smithfield had never been lighted.[709] Hence, it was inevitable that all novelty should be regarded by her with suspicion, as synonymous with evil, and she died in the fruitless attempt to resist the inflowing tide. She was wanting neither in intelligence nor devotion to her people; what she lacked was the touch of genius to discern the actual trend of the new, restless ideas, that made her kingdom into a battle-field, and inspiration and tact, to guide them into peaceful channels. Absorbed in the inherited notions of an ideal good, she missed much of the practical good that lay within her grasp, and had she been less conscientious, she might have been a greater Queen.

It is not possible to exonerate her completely, in the matter of her formal condemnation of her mother’s marriage, although she was therein herself the victim, her only valid excuse being, that the Emperor had caught her in the toils of his diplomatic sophistry, and had blinded her judgment with the glamour of his arguments.

Her character, therefore, was not without some inconsistencies—and indeed of whom can the reverse be declared? Those who have extolled her more than virile courage, as it was exhibited in her early trials, during her persecution by Edward’s Council, in her manner of meeting Northumberland’s conspiracy, in her dealing with Wyatt’s rebellion, and on many smaller occasions, have generally overlooked the feminine weakness, with which she almost always yielded when her affections intervened. Thus, after having braved Henry’s anger, and stoutly maintained her mother’s rights and her own, fearless of the axe that hung by a thread over her, she gave in, when Katharine was beyond the reach of harm, from a, to us, almost incomprehensible longing for her father’s love, and in her childlike confidence that the Emperor could not lead her astray. She had taken up a logical attitude with reference to Elizabeth, which was the complement of the disgust, with which she regarded Elizabeth’s mother; but this attitude was at once abandoned when Anne Boleyn’s disgrace involved the child in the same ignominy and ruin. Mary had but just regained a certain amount of consideration for her own position, but she did not hesitate generously to risk all, by calling Henry’s attention to the neglected child, once her own triumphant rival. “My sister Elizabeth is in good health,” she ventured to write to the inhuman tyrant, “and such a child toward, as I doubt not your highness shall have cause to rejoice of in time coming.” The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary are eloquent of her generosity towards “the Lady Elizabeth’s grace,” and until Elizabeth forfeited her esteem by making common cause with her enemies, there was no diminution of cordiality on the part of the Queen towards her sister. She married Philip of Spain in spite of all opposition, in the first place for the sake of the realm, and in the hope of issue, and gave him a passionate devotion. In most of these things Mary was a true woman, no heroine, but tender and human to a fault. Of her learning and accomplishments, much has been said in the course of this history. Her contemporaries have been warm in praise of the high order of her intellect, of her knowledge of ancient and modern languages, of her musical talents, of her skill in dancing. Her translation of the Paraphrases of Erasmus proves that her reputation for scholarship proceeded from no mere courtier-like flattery. And the same may be said of the general terms of praise in which foreign envoys wrote of her to their governments. Their communications being altogether secret, and often written in cipher, could have been penned with no ulterior views of pleasing Mary or her friends. Until within a year of her death, there is no allusion in their despatches to any despondency on her part. She felt her husband’s absence acutely, and it may have been that his indifference to her hastened her death; but contrary to what David Hume and his followers would have us believe, it is clear that no spirit of settled bitterness brooded over any portion, even the saddest, of her life. Nothing is more evident in her story, as it is told in the State Papers, than that to the end, her disposition was to hope against hope, to believe that her prayers would be answered, to trust that good would come out of evil; and not one despairing word is recorded as ever having passed her lips.[710]

We have had various descriptions of Mary’s personal appearance, of her manner and character, from those who came in contact with her at different periods. There still remains to be chronicled the impression which the Queen produced on the mind of Giovanni Michiel, and which he describes in his account of England in 1557, at a time, therefore, when the charm of youth was past, and when she was approaching her end.

After describing her as of low, rather than middling stature and of a spare and delicate frame, quite unlike her father, who was tall and stout, or her mother who was portly, he says that her face, as can be seen by her portraits, is well proportioned in features and lineaments. He mentions the fact that when younger, she was considered not merely tolerably handsome, but of beauty exceeding mediocrity. At present, with the exception of some wrinkles, caused more by anxieties than by age, which make her appear some years older, “she is a seemly woman and never to be loathed for ugliness, even at her present age, without considering her degree of queen”. Her expression is very grave, her eyes are so piercing, that they inspire not only respect but fear, in those on whom she fixes them, although she is very short-sighted. “Her voice is rough and loud almost like a man’s, so that when she speaks, she is always heard a long way off.... But whatever may be the amount deducted from her physical endowments as much more may with truth and without flattery be added to those of her mind, as besides the facility and quickness of her understanding, which comprehends whatever is intelligible to others, even to those who are not of her own sex (a marvellous gift for a woman) she is skilled in five languages, not merely understanding but speaking four of them fluently, viz., English, Latin, French, Spanish and Italian, in which last however she does not venture to converse, although it is well known to her; but the replies she gives in Latin, and her very intelligent remarks made in that tongue, surprise everybody. Besides woman’s work, such as embroidery of every sort with the needle, she also practises music, playing especially on the clavicorde (a sort of spinet or small harpsichord) and on the lute, so excellently, that when intent on it (though now she plays rarely) she surprised the best performers, both by the rapidity of her hand and by her style of playing. Such are her virtues and external accomplishments. Internally, with the exception of certain trifles, in which to say the truth she is like other women, being sudden and passionate and close and miserly,[711] rather more so than would become a bountiful and generous queen.”

In other respects, he maintains that she has “no notable imperfections, whilst in certain things she is singular and without an equal; for not only is she brave and valiant, unlike other timid and spiritless women, but so courageous and resolute, that neither in adversity nor peril did she ever display or commit any act of cowardice or pusillanimity, maintaining always on the contrary, a wonderful grandeur and dignity, knowing what became the dignity of a sovereign as well as any of the most consummate statesmen in her service; so that from her way of proceeding, and from the method observed by her (and in which she still perseveres) it cannot be denied, that she shows herself to have been born of truly royal lineage. Of her humility, piety and religion it is unnecessary to speak, or bear witness to them, as they are not only universally acknowledged, but recently blazoned by proofs and facts, which fell little short of martyrdom, by reason of the persecutions she endured; so that it may be said of her, as Cardinal Pole says with truth, that in the darkness and obscurity of that kingdom, she remained precisely like a feeble light, buffeted by raging winds for its utter extinction, but always kept burning, and defended by her innocence and lively faith, that it might shine in the world, as it now does shine. It is certain that few women (I do not speak of princesses or queens but of private women) are known to be more assiduous at their prayers than she is, never choosing to suspend them for any impediment whatever, going at the canonical hours with her chaplains either to church in public, or to her private chapel, doing the like with regard to the communion and fast days, and finally to all other christian works, precisely like a nun and a religious.”

After commenting on Mary’s weak health, on her disappointed hopes of maternity, on her grief at the insurrections, conspiracies and plots formed against her daily, Michiel goes on to say, that although these have resulted auspiciously for the Queen, and inauspiciously for their authors, “yet nevertheless it being necessary on such occasions to proceed to capital punishment or confiscation, against one person or another, sometimes for crime, and sometimes on suspicion, she knows that by these means, the hatred and indignation she inspires are increased, the delinquents being not only excused almost by everybody, but the causes, such as the expulsion of foreigners (who are most odious to the English, on account of the Spaniards) or the religion, or both together assigned by the conspirators for their movements, being tacitly approved of. The consequence is, that as until now, the plots have been set on foot by the commonalty, and persons of mean extraction, so from the fickleness of that nation, were they excited by some personage or nobleman of importance, there is no doubt, they would create a great revolution throughout the realm, much to the personal danger of the Queen, and of her life, the kingdom being still full of humours and discontent, and the country showing a greater inclination and readiness for change than ever, provided it has a leader. Besides these and many other distresses, the Queen witnesses the daily increasing decline of the affection evinced towards her universally at the commencement of her reign, which in truth was such and so extraordinary, that never was greater shown in that kingdom towards any sovereign; and she is also harassed by the poverty in which she sees the Crown, owing not only to the past debts and disorders, but to the many expenses and the wants incurred in her own time, which prevent her from showing courtesy and liberality such as become a sovereign, either to her own subjects or to others. She is compelled on the contrary (there being no other remedy) daily to repeat her demands for loans and subsidies, which have now become such a grievance, and so much the more odious to the people, as notwithstanding all the subsidies, the creditors remain unpaid, the majority having arrears due to them for entire years, so that their clamours and complaints being redoubled, the hatred of all other malcontents increases proportionably. These and many others are the public causes of the Queen’s distress, and although they are held by her in great account, she nevertheless feels them less painfully than certain others, which affect her personally, as respecting those already mentioned by me, she comforts herself with the hope of their being remedied in the course of time, by the counsel and diligence of some of her ministers, especially Cardinal Pole, through the care taken by them to investigate and retrench superfluities and abuses, and thus with the aid of parsimony, getting out of debt as she expects to do shortly, so as then to be enabled to use liberality, confer favours and rewards, and relieve those who are in want.”[712]

Michiel, in continuing his report, ascribes the Queen’s principal distress to two causes. It proceeds, he says, from love and hatred—from excessive love of her husband, of his character and manners, believed by Michiel to be such as to captivate any one; and from hatred of Elizabeth. He considers that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, nor so good a one, and that to think of losing him, as he and the Queen can only meet by accident, would be irksome and grievous to any person who loved another heartily, and is assuredly so to a woman who is naturally tender. “If,” he continues, “to this violent love were to be added jealousy, which as yet she is not known to feel ... she would be truly miserable; and this separation is one of the anxieties that especially distresses her.”[713]

Without stopping to question the accuracy of Michiel’s assertion, that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, we pass on to what the Venetian considers the second principal cause of Mary’s distress, namely her “hatred of Elizabeth”. The expression is a strong one, and scarcely compatible with what he has already related of her piety, humility and prayerfulness. But “although dissembled,” the Queen, he tells us, “displays in many ways the scorn and ill-will she bears her ... whenever she sees her, fancying herself in the presence of the affronts and ignominious treatment to which she was subjected on account of her mother, from whom, in great part, the divorce from Queen Katharine originated. But what disquiets her most of all is, to see the eyes and hearts of the nation already fixed on this lady as successor to the Crown, from despair of descent from the Queen, to whom the demonstration and the thought are so much the more bitter and odious, as it would be grievous not only to her but to any one, to see the illegitimate child of a criminal, who was punished as a public ——, on the point of inheriting the throne, with better fortune than herself, whose descent is rightful, legitimate and regal. Besides this, the Queen’s hatred is increased, by knowing her to be averse to the present religion, she not only having been born in the other, but being versed and educated in it; for although externally she showed, and by living catholically shows, that she has recanted, she is nevertheless supposed to dissemble, and to hold it more than ever internally.”[714]

Strong feeling and strong language were natural in the days in which the above words were written, and a certain exaggeration of expression may be granted to an Italian, whose mother tongue flowed in superlatives. But Mary could not have been so ardent a lover, so devoted a friend, so kind a benefactress, if she had not also been quick to experience resentment, indignation, scorn and contempt. Elizabeth had been always the great antagonism of her life, and although Mary had repeatedly overcome her aversion, in very generous ways, her sister had done nothing to make her task an easier one. From the outset, their dispositions were as the poles asunder. Mary’s meaning was ever plain, expressed sometimes even bluntly; there was never anything the least ambiguous, either in her spoken or her clearly written words, in a hand admirably indicative of her firm, straightforward character. Elizabeth was at the best an enigma. It was impossible to judge whether any meaning lay behind her elaborate assurances which assured nothing; and her tortuous phrases served but to conceal whatever plan her cunning, secretive brain harboured. On the rare occasions when she was compelled to speak out, and declare herself, her utterances were for the most part falsified in the event.

It is not unlikely that Mary’s self-conquest in regard to Elizabeth, at the time of the latter’s abandonment and disgrace, would have resulted in a lasting affection, founded on pity, and that motherly instinct so strongly developed in the Queen, had not her sister persistently thrown herself into the arms of the rebels. At the time of Henry’s death, and until the beginning of Mary’s reign, their relations were as cordial as it was possible for Mary to make them. But in a very short time, Elizabeth became a source of constant annoyance and danger, and pursuing her underhand tactics to the end she thoroughly alienated and disgusted the Queen. If, for reasons of policy, Philip induced his wife to treat her as though she were innocent, the position was not thereby improved.

The purity of Mary’s court, at a period when licence was the order of the day, was the subject of much comment by her contemporaries. Her care for the honour and good repute of those about her, is illustrated by the following occurrence, which shows also the gentle manner in which she administered rebuke, when rebuke was necessary.

“Queen Mary being in the gallery, ready to go to the chapel, within the traverse, the Lord William Howard, Lord Chamberlain being with her, he taking his leave; without the traverse stood the maids of honour, expecting to wait on the queen to the chapel. Mrs. Frances Neville standing next to the traverse, the Lord Chamberlain passing by, a merry gentleman, took her by the chin saying: ‘My pretty —— (a word unfit for repetition) how dost thou?’ Which the queen saw and heard, the traverse being drawn. The queen gone forth, finding her farthingale at her foot loose, made sign to Mrs. Neville to pin it, which, kneeling down she did. The queen then took her by the chin as he had done saying: ‘God-a-mercy, my pretty ——’. She hearing the queen say thus, so blushed as she seemed to be astonished, replying: ‘Madam, what says your Majesty?’ still upon her knees, and seemed to be much troubled. The queen answered, ‘What is the matter? Have I said or done more than the Lord Chamberlain did? And may not I be as bold with thee as he?’ She replied: ‘My Lord Chamberlain is an idle gentleman, and we respect not what he saith or doth; but your Majesty from whom I think never any heard such a word, doth amaze me, either in jest or earnest to be called so by you. A —— is a wicked misliving woman.’ The queen took it, ‘Thou must forgive me; for I meant no harm’.”

The troubles arising from religious questions occupy so large a portion of Mary’s short reign, that a substantial reform of the criminal law, which at another period would have excited interest and admiration, has almost escaped the notice of historians. It was indeed in the reign of Edward VI. that a jury first began to be a fair and effective tribunal, but Mary’s noble exordium in appointing Morgan, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, contained the first indication of the precept, that not only was equity to be maintained among the people, but that in cases in which the Crown was involved, the like justice was to be done. “I charge you, Sir,” said the Queen, “to minister the law and justice indifferently, without respect of persons; and notwithstanding the old error among you, which will not admit any witness to speak, or other matters to be heard, in favour of the adversary, the Crown being party, it is my pleasure that whatever cases be brought, in favour of the subject may be admitted and heard. You are to sit there not as advocates for me, but as indifferent judges between me and my people.”[715]

That this was no empty formula was proved in the following year, when a jury persisted in acquitting a prisoner of State, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, against the direction of the court, and as was well known against the personal conviction of the Queen,[716] who believed in his guilt. Throughout Mary’s reign, the accused had absolute confidence in the uprightness, integrity and unhampered freedom of the jury, and never forgot, that a statute of the realm had expressly declared, that there should be two witnesses to prove a treason, and that they must be confronted face to face. Hitherto, and in the subsequent reigns, persons indicted on behalf of the Crown, whatever their rights, had no probability of a favourable decision, on account of the paramount advantages claimed and enjoyed by the counsel for the sovereign. Many instances of this arbitrary and tyrannical rule are to be found in the minutes of the State trials under Elizabeth and James I.

If, in some ways, Mary seemed to have inherited a large amount of Tudor obstinacy, her sincere and earnest intention to act according to the light of conscience, and to govern by strictly constitutional methods, made her singularly unlike her father before, or her sister after her. No flattery however insidious, on the part of those who sought to ingratiate themselves with her, by advocating a more unrestricted course, was able to lure her from this lofty resolve. A rebel who had been pardoned, and who thought by this means to secure her favour, drew up a plan by which she might render herself independent of Parliaments. It was presented to her by the Spanish ambassador, who ventured to recommend its adoption. As the Queen read it, she disliked it, “and judged it contrary to the oath she had made at her coronation”. She sent for Gardiner, and giving him the treatise to read, commanded him as he would answer for it at the judgment seat of God, to tell her his real opinion of the matter. “Madam,” replied the Chancellor, on returning the volume to her, “it is a pity that so noble and virtuous a lady should be endangered with the pernicious devices of such lewd and subtle sycophants. For the book is naught, and most horrible to be thought on.” The Queen thanked him, and threw the volume into the fire.[717]

There are important indications in the records of this reign showing that had Mary’s lines been cast in more peaceful places, and had her life been prolonged, much would have been done to develop international and commercial interests. Shortly before Edward’s death, a joint-stock company had been formed under the direction of Sebastian Cabot, son of the famous navigator. A small fleet commanded by Sir Hugh Willoughby was fitted out, and sailed for the north of Europe, with the object of discovering a north-east passage to China and India. Off the coast of Norway, their ships were scattered by a violent storm, and Challoner, the second officer in command, found his way into the White Sea, and reached Archangel in safety. The others were cast upon the shores of Nova Zembla, and Russian Lapland, where they all perished from cold and want. Challoner, obliged to abandon the original enterprise, travelled through Russia to Moscow, where he was kindly received by the Czar, Ivan Wassilegevich, who gave him a letter to the King of England. Edward being then dead, the letter was consequently delivered to Mary, and Challoner’s reports of the wonderful sights he had witnessed roused a keen spirit of adventure in the nation. A new company was formed, and directed by the same Sebastian Cabot, and was incorporated under the title of “Merchants adventurers of England, for the discovery of lands, territories, isles and signories unknown”. A charter was granted to the company, by which its members were empowered to make discoveries by navigating northwards, north-westwards or north-eastwards, and were entitled to raise the flag of England over “all manner of cities, towns, isles and main lands of infidelity,” after subduing them to the dominion of the King and Queen, and their heirs and successors for ever.[718] It was the beginning of the brilliant exploits by which England became subsequently so formidable, under the semi-piratical enterprises of Drake, Frobisher and Sir Walter Raleigh.

Challoner was sent back to Moscow, with a letter from Philip and Mary to the Czar, containing the initiative towards a commercial treaty between England and Russia.[719] The expedition was eminently successful, and he returned, accompanied by the Russian ambassador, as far as the Bay of Pitsligo, where the ship was wrecked, and Challoner was drowned. The ambassador escaped, but as he had suffered considerable loss at the hands of the Scotch, who plundered the wreck, Mary sent two messengers to Edinburgh, to redress his wrongs, and bring him with honour and distinction to London. After some difficulties, the commercial treaty with Russia was concluded, under very advantageous conditions for England, and the ambassador went back to his own country, loaded with costly presents for himself and his sovereign. By this treaty English trade received a great impetus, and henceforth the manufactures of the country were exchanged at a vast profit for the skins and other valuable products of Russia.

Mary also defended English commercial interests against the cupidity of a powerful company of foreign merchants, who had been settled in London for centuries, and were known as Easterlings, merchants of the Hanse towns, and merchants of the Steelyard. The privileges granted to them by generations of English kings, in return for the loans which their immense resources enabled them to advance in sudden emergencies, had accumulated until they had almost absolute control of the markets. One great subject of complaint was their exemption from paying more than 1 per cent. duty on their merchandise, which included almost every imaginable article of commerce, so that all competition was excluded, and they could raise or depress the prices as they pleased. It had been declared on investigation, that they had violated, and therefore forfeited their charter, but they were powerful enough to dispute its possession, until the bill of tonnage and poundage passed in Mary’s first Parliament aimed a decisive blow at their excessive privileges, by enacting that the Easterlings should pay the same duties as other merchants. The Queen was induced to suspend for a time the operation of the statute, but having ascertained what were, in this respect, the real interests of her people, she finally revoked the charter, and refused to listen to any further arguments in favour of the company.[720]

Among many interesting facts, hitherto ignored by Mary’s biographers, are the benefits which the Queen bestowed on her army. Two of these call for special remark, the first being an increase of pay from 6d. to 8d. a day, the sum for which the men had mutinied under Henry VIII.; the second being a touching instance of her care for them, expressed in her last will. In this document it will be seen, she left instructions for the foundation of a hospital in London, with an endowment of 400 marks, “for the relief and help of poor, impotent and aged soldiers,” who had suffered loss or wounds in the service of England. “For all her man’s voice and masculine will,” says a recent writer, “she had a woman’s heart, which warmed to the deserving old soldier, and whatever her demerits in the eyes of those who wear the gown, her memory may at least be cherished by those who wear the red coat.” She was the first English sovereign to lend a pitying ear to the necessities of those who had spent themselves in their country’s defence; while as for her immediate successor, Elizabeth has been declared by the same writer to have been “intolerably impatient of such miserable creatures”.[721]

But if the whole truth were known, it is certain that evidence would be forthcoming to prove that “those who wear the gown” have as little cause as soldiers to speak of Mary’s “demerits”. The history of our universities has yet to be adequately written, but when it is written, important instances will doubtless come to light, concerning her connection with both. Dr. John Christopherson, her chaplain and confessor, was installed master of Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1553, and through him, the Queen became a considerable benefactress to this college. She was especially anxious that it should possess a larger and more suitable chapel, and on her initiative, the present building was begun in the Tudor style in 1556.[722] Carrying her solicitude still further, she added to the endowments of Trinity, the Rectories of Heversham, Kendal and Kirkby Lonsdale in Westmorland, and those of Sedbergh and Aysgarth in Yorkshire, then producing a revenue of £338 per annum, for the maintenance of twenty scholars, ten choristers and their master, thirteen poor scholars, fourteen chaplains and two sizars.[723] In the Master’s Lodge, where Mary slept when she passed through Cambridge, on her way to London at the time of her accession, is a portrait of the Queen inscribed Maria Regina Huius Collegii Benefactrix. The picture is one of the replicas of the portrait painted by Sir Antonio More, before her marriage, with some variations as to minor details. Seeing how entirely Mary has passed from the minds and hearts of the English people, it is pleasant to learn that she is still commemorated at Trinity College, in a prayer said after grace on feast days.

The portrait which she presented to Christ Church, Oxford, and another in the University galleries, show her interest in that seat of learning also. During her short reign, two colleges were founded at Oxford; Trinity, by the munificence of Sir Thomas Pope, and St. John’s, on the site of Archbishop Chicheley’s foundation, the latter being the gift of Sir Thomas White, of the company of Merchant Tailors.

Sir Aubrey de Vere, in his little-known poem Mary Tudor, struck a right chord, in putting into the mouth of the unhappy Queen the words:—

But the real Mary was perhaps a truer prophet, when she foresaw the dawn of a better day, and chose for her motto the device—

Veritas temporis filia.

A.

ORATIO SOLITA RECITARI SINGULO DIE ANTE IMAGINEM CHRISTI.

Concede mihi, misericors Deus, quæ tibi placita sunt ardenter concupiscere, prudenter investigare, veraciter agnoscere, et perfecte adimplere ad laudem et gloriam nominis tui. Ordina statum meum, et quod a me requiris ut faciam, tribue ut sciam; et da exequi sicut oportet et expedit animæ meæ. Da mihi Domine Deus meus, inter prospera et adversa non deficere, ut in illis non extollar et in istis non deprimar; de nullo gaudeam vel doleam nisi quod ducat ad te vel abducat a te. Nulli placere appetam vel displicere timeam nisi tibi. Vilescant mihi Domine omnia transitoria, et cara mihi sint omnia tua. Tædeat me gaudii quod est sine te, nec aliud cupiam quod est extra te. Delectet me Domine, labor qui est pro te; et tædiosa sit mihi omnis quies quæ est sine te. Frequenter da mihi, Domine, cor ad te dirigere, et in defectione mea cum emendationis proposito dolendo pensare. Fac me Domine Deus obedientem sine contradictione, pauperem sine defectione, castum sine corruptione, patientem sine murmuratione, humilem sine fictione, et hilarem sine dissolutione, tristem sine dejectione, maturum sine gravitate, agilem sine levitate, timentem te sine desperatione, veracem sine duplicitate, operantem bona sine præsumptione, proximum corripere sine elatione, ipsum ædificare verbo et exemplo sine simulatione. Da mihi, Domine Deus, cor pervigil quod nulla abducat a te curiosa cogitatio: da nobile, quod nulla deorsum trahat indigna affectio: da rectum, quod nulla seorsum obliquet sinistra intentio: da firmum, quod nulla frangat tribulatio: da liberum, quod nulla sibi vindicet violenta affectio. Largire mihi, Domine Deus meus, intellectum te cognoscentem, diligentiam te quærentem, sapientiam te invenientem, conversationem tibi placentem, perseverantiam fidenter te expectantem, et fiduciam te finaliter amplectentem, tuis pænis hic affligi per pœnitentiam, tuis beneficiis in via uti per gratiam, tuis gaudiis et præmiis in patria perfrui per gloriam. Qui vivis et regnas Deus per omnia sæcula sæculorum. Amen.

The prayer of Saint Thomas of Aquin, translated out of Latin into English by the most excellent Princess Mary, daughter to the most high and mighty Prince and Princess, King Henry the VIII. and Queen Katharine, his wife, in the year of Our Lord God 1527 and the eleventh year of her age.

O merciful God, grant me to covet with an ardent mind those things which may please Thee, to search them wisely, to know them truly, and to fulfil them perfectly, to the laud and glory of Thy Name. Order my living that I may do that which Thou requirest of me, and give me grace, that I may know it, and have wit and power to do it, and that I may obtain those things which may be most convenient for my soul. Good Lord, make my way sure and straight to Thee, that I fail not between prosperity and adversity, but that in prosperous things I may give Thee thanks, and in adversity be patient, so that I be not lift up with the one, nor oppressed with the other, and that I may rejoice in nothing but in this which moveth me to Thee, nor be sorry for nothing but for those which draweth me from Thee; desiring to please nobody, nor fearing to displease any besides Thee. Lord, let all worldly things be vile to me, for Thee, and that all Thy things be dear to me, and Thou, good Lord, most special above them all. Let me be weary with that joy which is without Thee, and let me desire nothing besides Thee. Let the labour delight me which is for Thee, and let all the rest weary me which is not in Thee. Make me to lift my heart oft-times to Thee, and when I fall, make me to think and be sorry, with a steadfast purpose of amendment. My God, make me humble without feigning, merry without lightness, sad without mistrust, sober without dulness, fearing without despair, gentle without doubleness, trusting in Thee without presumption, telling my neighbour’s faults without mocking, obedient without arguing, patient without grudging, and pure without corruption. My most loving Lord and God, give me a waking heart, that no curious thought withdraw me from Thee. Let it be so strong that no unworthy affection draw me backward, so stable that no tribulation break it, and so free that no election by violence make any change to it. My Lord God, grant me wit to know Thee, diligence to seek Thee, wisdom to find Thee, conversation to please Thee, continuance to look for Thee, and finally hope to embrace Thee, by Thy penance here to be punished, and in our way to use Thy benefits by Thy grace, and in heaven through Thy glory to have delight in Thy joys and rewards. Amen.

B.

MARGARET, LADY BRYAN, TO CROMWELL.[724]

My Lord, when your Lordship was last here, it pleased you to say, that I should not mistrust the King’s Grace, nor your Lordship, which word was more comfort to me than I can write, as God knoweth. And now it boldeth me to show you my poor mind. My Lord, when my Lady Mary’s Grace was born, it pleased the King’s Grace to appoint me Lady Mistress, and made me a Baroness. And so I have been a ... (mother?) to the children his Grace have had since.

Now it is so, my Lady Elizabeth is put from that degree she was afore: and what degree she is at now I know not but by hearing say; therefore I know not how to order her, nor myself, nor none of hers that I have the rule of: that is, her women and her grooms: beseeching you to be good Lord to my Lady and to all hers. And that she may have some raiments; for she hath neither gown nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor no manner of linen for smocks, nor kerchiefs, nor sleeves, nor rails, nor body-stychets, nor handkerchiefs, nor mufflers, nor begens. All this her Graces Mostake, I have driven off as long as I can, that by my troth I cannot drive it no longer: beseeching you my Lord, that ye will see that her Grace may have that is needful for her, as my trust is ye will do.... My Lord, master Shelton would have my Lady Elizabeth to dine and sup every day at the board of estate. Alas, my Lord, it is not meet for a child of her age, to keep such rule yet. I promise you, my Lord, I dare not take it upon me to keep her Grace in health, and she keep that rule: for there she shall see divers meats and fruits and wine, which would be hard for me to refrain her Grace from it. Ye know, my Lord, there is no place of correction there. And she is yet too young to correct greatly. I know well and she be there, I shall neither bring her up to the King’s Grace’s honour, nor hers, nor to her health nor my poor honesty. Wherefore I show your Lordship this my discharge, beseeching you my Lord that my Lady may have a mess of meat to her own lodging, with a good dish or two, that is meet for her to eat of. And the reversion of the mess shall satisfy all her women, a gentleman usher and a groom. Which been eleven persons on her side. Sure I am, it will be (in to right little) as great profit to the King’s Grace, this way as the other way. For if all this should be set abroad, they must have three or four mess of meat, where this one mess shall suffice them all with bread and drink, according as my Lady Mary’s Grace had afore, and to be ordered in all things as her Grace was afore. God knoweth, my Lady hath great pain with her great teeth, and they come very slowly forth: and causeth me to suffer her Grace to have her will more than I would. I trust to God and her teeth were well graft to have her Grace after another fashion than she is yet; so I trust, the King’s Grace shall have great comfort in her Grace. For she is as toward a child and as gentle of conditions as ever I knew any in my life, Jesu preserve her Grace ... Hunsdon 1536.

C.

LADY JANE GREY TO QUEEN MARY.[725]

Although my fault be such that, but for the goodness and clemency of the queen, I can have no hope of finding pardon nor in craving forgiveness, having given ear to those who at that time appeared, not only to myself, but also to a great part of this realm to be wise, and now have manifested themselves the contrary, not only to my and their great detriment, but with the common disgrace and blame of all, they having with such shameful boldness made so blameable and dishonorable an attempt to give to others that which was not theirs, neither did it become me to accept (wherefore rightly and justly am I ashamed to ask pardon for such a crime) nevertheless, I trust in God, that as now I know and confess my want of prudence, for which I deserve heavy punishment, except for the very great mercy of your majesty, I can still on many grounds conceive hope of your infinite clemency, it being known that the error imputed to me has not been altogether caused by myself. Because, although my fault may be great, and I confess it to be so, nevertheless I am charged and esteemed guilty more than I have deserved. For whereas I might take upon me that of which I was not worthy, yet no one can ever say either that I sought it as my own, or that I was pleased with it, or ever accepted it. For when it was publicly reported that there was no more hope of the King’s life, as the Duchess of Northumberland had before promised, that I should remain in the house with my mother, so she, having understood this soon after from her husband, who was the first that told it to me, did not wish me to leave my house, saying to me that if God should have willed to call the King to his mercy, of whose life there was no lingering hope, it would be needful for me to go immediately to the Tower, I being made by his majesty heir of his realm. Which words being spoken to me thus unexpectedly, put me in great perturbation, and greatly disturbed my mind, as yet soon after they oppressed me much more. But I, nevertheless making little account of these words, delayed to go from my mother. So that the Duchess of Northumberland was angry with me, and with the duchess my mother, saying that if she had resolved to keep me in the house, she should have kept her son, my husband near her, to whom she thought I would certainly have gone, and she would have been free from the charge of me. And in truth, I remained in her house two or three nights, but at length obtained leave to go to Chelsea, for my recreation, where soon after, being sick, I was summoned by the Council, giving me to understand that I must go that same night to Sion to receive that which had been ordered for me by the King. And she who brought me this news was the lady Sidney, my sister-in-law, the daughter of the Duchess of Northumberland, who told me with extraordinary seriousness, that it was necessary for me to go with her, which I did. When we arrived there, we found no one, but soon after came the Duke of Northumberland, the marquis of Northampton, the earl of Arundel, the earl of Huntingdon, and the earl of Pembroke. By which lords I was long held in conversation before they announced to me the death of the King, especially by the earls of Huntingdon and Pembroke, who, with unwonted caresses and pleasantness, did me such reverence as was not at all suitable to my state, kneeling down before me on the ground, and in many other ways, making semblance of honouring me. And acknowledging me as their sovereign lady (so that they made me blush with infinite confusion) at length they brought to me the duchess Frances my mother, the duchess of Northumberland, and the marchioness of Northampton. The duke of Northumberland, as president of the council, announced the death of King Edward, shewing afterward what cause we had all to rejoice for the virtuous and praiseworthy life that he had led, as also for his very good death. Furthermore he pretended to comfort himself and the bystanders, by praising much his prudence and goodness, for the very great care that he had taken of his kingdom at the very close of his life, having prayed God to defend it from the Popish faith, and to deliver it from the rule of his evil sisters. He then said that his Majesty had well weighed an act of Parliament, wherein it was already resolved, that whoever should acknowledge the most serene Mary, that is your most serene Majesty or the Lady Elizabeth, and receive them as true heirs of the crown of England should be had all for traitors, one of them having been formerly disobedient to her father Henry the 8th, and also to himself, concerning the truth of religion, and afterwards also capital enemies of the Word of God, and both bastards. Wherefore, in no manner did he wish that they should be heirs of him, and of that crown, he being able in every way to disinherit them. And therefore, before his death, he gave order to the council that, for the honour they owed to him, and for the love they bare to the realm, and for the affection that was due to their country, they should obey this his last will. The Duke then added, that I was the heir named by his Majesty, to succeed to the crown, and that my sisters should likewise succeed me, in case of my default of issue. At which words, all the lords of the council kneeled down before me, telling me that they rendered to me the honour that was due to my person, I being of true direct lineage heir to that crown, and that it became them, in the best manner, to observe that which, with deliberate mind, they had promised to the King, even to shed their blood, exposing their own lives to death. Which things as soon as I had heard, with infinite grief of mind, how I was beside myself stupefied and troubled, I will leave it to those lords who were present to testify, who saw me, overcome by sudden and unexpected grief, fall on the ground, weeping very bitterly; and then, declaring to them my insufficiency, I greatly bewailed myself for the death of so noble a prince, and at the same time, turned myself to God, humbly praying and beseeching him, that if what was given to me was rightly and lawfully mine, his divine Majesty would grant me such grace and spirit that I might govern it to his glory and service, and to the advantage of this realm. On the day following (as is known to every one) I was conducted to the Tower, and shortly afterwards were presented to me by the Marquis of Winchester, lord high treasurer, the jewels, with which he also brought me the crown, although it had never been demanded from him by me, or by any one in my name; and he further wished me to put it on my head, to try whether it really became me well or no. The which, although with many excuses I refused to do, he nevertheless added, that I might take it without fear, and that another also should be made, to crown my husband with me. Which thing, I, for my part, heard truly with a troubled mind, and with ill will, even with infinite grief and displeasure of heart. And after the said lord was gone, and I was reasoning of many things with my husband, he assented, that if he were to be made King, he would be made so by me, by act of parliament. But afterwards I sent for the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, and said to them that if the crown belonged to me, I should be content to make my husband a duke, but would never consent to make him king. Which resolution of mine gave his mother (this my opinion being related to her) great cause for anger and disdain, so that she, being very angry with me, and greatly displeased, persuaded her son not to sleep with me any longer as he was wont to do, affirming to me moreover that he did not wish in any wise to be a duke, but a king. So that I was constrained to send to him the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, who had negotiated with him to come from me, otherwise I knew, that the next morning he would have gone to Sion. And thus in truth was I deceived by the duke and the council and ill-treated by my husband and his mother. Moreover (as Sir John Gates has confessed) he (the duke) was the first to persuade King Edward to make me his heir. As to the rest, for my part, I know not what the council had determined to do, but I know for certain that, twice during this time, poison was given to me, first in the house of the duchess of Northumberland, and afterwards here in the Tower, as I have the best and most certain testimony, besides that since that time all my hair has fallen off, and all these things I have wished to say, for the witness of my innocence, and the disburdening of my conscience.

D.

CORONATION.[726]

The last of September Queen Mary rode through the city of London towards Westminster, sitting in a chariot of cloth of tissue drawn with six horses and trapped with the like cloth of tissue. She sat in a gown of purple velvet furred with powdered ermine, having on her head a caul of cloth of tinsel beset with pearl and stone, and above the same upon her head, a round circlet of gold beset so richly with precious stones, that the value thereof was inestimable, the same caul and circlet being so massy and ponderous, that she was fain to bear up her head with her hand, and the canopy was borne over her chariot. Before her rode a number of gentlemen and knights, then judges, then doctors, then bishops, then lords, then the Council, after whom followed the Knights of the Bath, thirteen in number, in their robes, the bishop of Winchester, Lord Chancellor, and the Marquess of Winchester, Lord High Treasurer; next came the Duke of Norfolk, and after him the Earl of Oxford who bare the sword before her, the Mayor of London in a gown of crimson velvet bare the sceptre of gold, etc., after the Queen’s Chariot, Sir Edward Hastings led her horse in his hand: then came another chariot, having a covering all of cloth of silver, all white, and six horses trapped with the like. Therein sate the Lady Elizabeth and the lady Anne of Cleves, then ladies and gentlemen riding on horses trapped with red velvet, and their gowns and kirtles likewise of red velvet: after them followed two other chariots covered with red satin, and the horses be trapped with the same, and certain gentlewomen between every of the said chariots, riding in crimson satin, their horses betrapped with the same, the number of the gentlewomen so riding were forty-six, besides them in the chariots. At Fenchurch was a costly pageant made by the Genoese; at Gracechurch corner there was another pageant made by the Easterlings. At the upper end of Grace Street, there was another pageant made by the Florentines, very high, on the top whereof there stood four pictures, and in the midst of them and most highest, there stood an angel all in green with a trumpet in his hand, and when the trumpeter who stood secretly in the pageant did sound his trump, the angel did put his trump to his mouth, as though it had been the same that had sounded, to the great marvelling of many ignorant persons. This pageant was made with three thoroughfares or gates, &c. The Conduit in Cornhill ran wine, and beneath the Conduit, a pageant made at the charges of the City, and another at the great Conduit in Cheap, and a fountain by it running wine. The standard in Cheap new painted, with the waits of the City aloft thereof playing. The Cross in Cheap new washed and burnished. One other pageant at the little Conduit in Cheap next to Paul’s made by the City, where the Aldermen stood. And when the Queen came against them, the Recorder made a short proposition to her, and then the Chamberlain presented to her in the name of the Mayor and the City, a purse of cloth of gold and 1,000 marks of gold in it. Then she rode forth, and in Paul’s Churchyard against the School, one Master Haywood sate in a pageant under a vine, and made to her an oration in Latin and English. Then was there one Peter a Dutchman stood on the weather-cock of Paul’s steeple, holding a streamer in his hand of five yards long, and waving thereof stood some time on the one foot and shook the other, and then kneeled on his knees, to the great marvel of all people. He had made two scaffolds under him, one above the Cross, having torches and streamers set on it, and one other over the bole of the Cross, likewise set with streamers and torches, which could not burn, the wind being so great. The said Peter had sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and four pence given him by the City for his costs and pains, and all his stuff. Then was there a pageant made against the Dean of Paul’s gate, where the choristers of Paul’s played on vials, and sung. Ludgate was newly repaired, painted and richly hanged, with minstrels playing and singing there. Then was there another pageant at the Conduit in Fleet Street, and the Temple Bar was newly painted and hanged. And thus she passed to Whitehall at Westminster, where she took her leave of the Lord Mayor, giving him great thanks for his pains, and the City for their cost. On the morrow, which was the first day of October, the Queen went by water to the old palace, and there remained till about eleven of the clock, and then went on foot upon blue cloth, being railed on either side unto Saint Peter’s Church, where she was solemnly crowned and anointed by the Bishop of Winchester, which coronation and other ceremonies and solemnities then used according to the old custom, was not fully ended till it was nigh four of the clock at night, that she returned from the church, before whom was then borne three swords sheathed and one naked. The great service that day done in Westminster Hall at dinner by divers noblemen would ask long time to write. The Lord Mayor of London and twelve citizens kept the high cupboard of plate as butlers, and the Queen gave to the Mayor for his fee, a cup of gold with a cover weighing seventeen ounces.

E.

TRANSLATION OF CRANMER’S OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THE POPE ON HIS RECEIVING THE PALLIUM.[727]

In the name of God Amen. I Thomas elect of Canterbury from this hour forward shall be faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the holy Church of Rome, and to my lord the Pope, Clement VII. and his successors canonically entering. I shall not be of counsel nor consent that they shall lose either life or member, or shall be taken, or suffer any violence, or any wrong by any means. Their counsel to me credited by them, their messengers or letters I shall not willingly discover to any person. The papacy of Rome, the rules of the holy fathers and the regality of St. Peter I shall help and maintain, and defend against all men (saving my order). The legate of the see Apostolic going and coming, I shall honourably entreat and assist in his necessities [in suis necessitatibus]. The rights, honours, privileges, authorities of the Church of Rome, and of our Pope and his successors I shall cause to be conserved, defended, augmented and promoted. I shall not be in council, treaty or any act, in the which anything shall be imagined against him, or the Church of Rome, their rights, seats, honours or powers. And if I know any such to be moved or compassed, I shall resist it to my power, and as soon as I can, I shall advertise him or such as may give him knowlege. The rules of the holy fathers, the decrees, ordinances, sentences, dispositions, reservations, provisions and commandments apostolic to my power I shall keep and cause to be kept by others. Heretics, schismatics and rebels to our holy father and his successors I shall resist and prosecute to my power. I shall come to the Synod when I am called, except I be letted by a canonical impediment. The threshold of the Apostles I shall visit yearly, personally or by my deputy. I shall not alienate or sell the possessions of my Archbishopric without the Pope’s counsel. So help me God and the holy Evangelists.

F.

OPINION OF THE MOST SERENE QUEEN OF ENGLAND WHICH SHE WROTE WITH HER OWN HAND, AND GAVE TO HIS RIGHT REVEREND LORDSHIP THE LEGATE, CARDINAL POLE, AT THE TIME WHEN THE SYNOD WAS HELD.[728]

First—I should wish that all the Church property, which for the discharge of our conscience, the King my husband and I have totally renounced, should be distributed as shall seem best to my Lord Cardinal and to the rest of you, so that what has been commenced for the increase of the religion in this kingdom, may produce its due effect.

Secondly—I desire, that the preachers by their piety and doctrine do smother and extinguish all those errors and false opinions disseminated and spread abroad by the late preachers, making provision at the same time, that no book be printed sold or purchased, or brought into the kingdom, without our licence, and under very strict penalties.

Thirdly—I should deem it well, for the churches and universities of this kingdom, to be visited by such persons as my Lord Cardinal and we may know to be fit and sufficient, to execute what is required in this matter.

Fourthly—Touching the punishment of heretics, I believe it would be well to inflict punishment at this beginning, without much cruelty or passion, but without however omitting to do such justice on those who choose by their false doctrines to deceive simple persons, that the people may clearly comprehend that they have not been condemned without just cause, whereby others will be brought to know the truth, and will beware of letting themselves be induced to relapse into such new and false opinions. And above all, I should wish that no one be burned in London, save in the presence of some member of the Council; and that during such executions, both here and elsewhere, some good and pious sermons be preached, &c.

Fifthly—I really believe it to be by no means fitting, for a plurality of benefices to be placed in the hands of one individual, but that they should be so distributed that each priest may be resident, and have care of his flock, whereas at present, quite the reverse is seen, to which I attribute so great a lack of preachers throughout this kingdom; nor are they of such a sort as they ought to be, so as by their doctrine to overcome the diligence of false preachers in the time of schism, and also by leading an exemplary life, without which in my opinion, their sermons would not be of so much profit as I could wish; and in like manner, as their good example will through them, effect great good, so I acknowledge myself to be very greatly bound on my part also to give the like example by aiding in the disposition and maintenance of such persons, that they may perform their office and duty well; not forgetting on the other hand, to have those punished who shall do the contrary, that it may serve as a very evident example to the whole of this kingdom, of how I discharge my conscience in this matter, and administer justice by doing so.

G.

There is an account in Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson[729] of a curious discussion carried on by Johnson, Goldsmith, Dr. Mayo and Boswell as to the morality of punishing men for spreading religious opinions dangerous to the State. Boswell having introduced the subject of toleration is answered by:—

Johnson—“Every society has a right to preserve public peace and order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of opinions which have a dangerous tendency. To say the magistrate has this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the society for which the magistrate is agent. He may be morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politically right.” Mayo—“I am of opinion, Sir, that every man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the magistrate cannot restrain that right.” Johnson —“Sir, I agree with you. Every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere. People confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking, nay, with liberty of preaching. Every man has a physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how he thinks. He has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself and think justly. But, Sir, no member of a society has a right to teach any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true. The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks....” Goldsmith—”... Our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing bread and wine to be Christ——” Johnson (interrupting him)—“Sir, they were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be Christ, but for insulting those who did believe it. And, Sir, when the first reformers began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could....” Mayo—“But, Sir, is it not very hard that I should not be allowed to teach my children what I really believe to be the truth?” Johnson—“Why, Sir, you might contrive to teach your children extra scandalum; but, Sir, the magistrate, if he knows it has a right to restrain you. Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?” Mayo—“This is making a joke of the subject.” Johnson—“Nay, Sir, take it thus:—that you teach them the community of goods; for which there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines. You teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no man had a right to anything, but as he laid his hands upon it; and that this still is, or ought to be the rule amongst mankind. Here, Sir, you sap a great principle in society—property, and don’t you think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? or suppose you should teach your children the notion of the Adamites, and they should run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog ’em into their doublets?” Mayo—“I think the magistrate has no right to interfere till there is some overt act.” Boswell—“So, Sir, though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is fired off!” Mayo—“He must be sure of its direction against the state.” Johnson—“The magistrate is to judge of that. He has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil centres in yourself. If a man were sitting at this table, chopping off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness as a parent—though, indeed, upon more consideration, I think he may; as it is probable that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off those of other people. If I think it right to steal Mr. Dilly’s plate I am a bad man; but he can say nothing to me. If I make an open declaration that I think so, he will keep me out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I shall be sent to Newgate. This is the gradation of thinking, preaching and acting: if a man thinks erroneously he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place and he is hanged.” Mayo—“But, Sir, ought not Christians to have liberty of conscience?” Johnson—“I have already told you so, Sir. You are coming back to where you were.” Boswell—“Dr. Mayo is always taking a return postchaise, and going the stage over again. He has it at half-price.” Johnson—“Dr. Mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration has got a set of words. Sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to be formed to drink confusion to King George the Third, and a happy restoration to Charles the Third, this would be very bad with respect to the state; but every member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that the magistrates should ‘tolerate all things that are tolerable’. This is no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it shows that he thought some things were not tolerable.” Toplady—“Sir, you have untwisted this difficult subject with great dexterity.”

Cobbett’s History of the Reformation, which raised a storm of abuse at the time of its publication, may not in these days be ignored by any writer on the subject. Its statements, nearly all based on Lingard, who is admittedly a fair and large-minded authority, have been found to contain far less exaggeration than was formerly supposed. Cobbett lived and died a Protestant, but his convictions did not bias him concerning the seditious practices of Foxe’s Martyrs. He says:[730]—

“The real truth about these ‘Martyrs’ is that they were generally a set of most wicked wretches, who sought to destroy the Queen and her government, and under the pretence of conscience and superior piety, to obtain the means of again preying upon the people. No mild means could reclaim them; those means had been tried: the Queen had to employ vigorous means, or to suffer her people to continue to be torn by the religious factions, created not by her, but by her two immediate predecessors, who had been aided and abetted by many of those who now were punished, and who were worthy of ten thousand deaths each, if ten thousand deaths could have been endured. They were, without a single exception, apostates, perjurers or plunderers; and the greater part of them had also been guilty of flagrant high treason against Mary herself, who had spared their lives, but whose lenity they had requited by every effort within their power to overset her authority and government. To make particular mention of all the ruffians that perished upon this occasion would be a task as irksome as it would be useless; but there were amongst them three of Cranmer’s bishops and himself! For now, justice at last overtook this most mischievous of all villains, who had justly to go to the same stake that he had unjustly caused so many others to be tied to; the three others were Hooper, Latimer and Ridley, each of whom was indeed inferior in villainy to Cranmer, but to few other men that have ever existed!”

H.

A COPY OF QUEEN MARY’S WILL FROM THE ORIGINAL, FORMERLY IN THE HANDS OF MR. HALE OF ALDERLEY, GLOUCESTERSHIRE (Harl. MS. 6949, f. 29).

✠

MARY THE QUENE.

In the name of God, Amen. I Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Englond, Spayne, France, both Sicelles, Jerusalem and Ireland, Defender of the Faythe, Archduchesse of Austriche, Duchesse of Burgundy, Millayne and Brabant, Countesse of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyroll, and lawful wife to the most noble and virtuous Prince Philippe, by the same Grace of God Kynge of the said Realms and Domynions of England, &c. Thinking myself to be with child in lawful marriage between my said dearly beloved husband and Lord, altho’ I be at this present (thankes be unto Almighty God) otherwise in good helthe, yet foreseeing the great danger which by Godd’s ordynance remaine to all whomen in ther travel of children, have thought good, both for discharge of my conscience and continewance of good order within my Realmes and domynions to declare my last will and testament; and by these presents revoking all other testaments and last Wills by me at onny time heretofore made or devised by wryting or otherwise, doe with the full consent, agreement and good contentment of my sayd most Dere L^d and Husband, ordeyn and make my sayd last will and testament in manner and forme following.

Fyrste I do commend my Soulle to the mercye of Almighty God the maker and Redeemer thereof, and to the good prayers and helpe of the most puer and blessed Virgin our Lady St. Mary, and of all the Holy Companye of Heven. My body I will to be buried at the discression of my executors: the interment of my sayd body to be made in such order and with such godly prayers, Suffrages and Ceremonies as with consideracyon of my estate and the laudable usage of Christ’s Church shall seme to my executors most decent and convenient. Also my mynde and will ys, that during the tyme of my interrment, and within oon moneth after my decesse owte of this transitory lyfe, ther be distributed in almes, the summe of oon thousand pownds, the same to be given to the relefe of pore prysoners, and other pore men and whomen by the discression of my executors. And further I will that the body of the vertuous Lady and my most dere and well-beloved mother of happy memory, Quene Kateryn, whych lyeth now buried at Peterborowh, shall within as short tyme as conveniently yt may after my burial, be removed, brought and layde nye the place of my sepulture, in w^ch place I will my Executors to cawse to be made honorable tombs or monuments for a decent memory of us. And whereas the Howses of Shene and Sion, the which were erected by my most noble Progenitor K. Henry the Fyfte for places of Religion and prayer, the oon of Monks of th’ order of Carthusians and th’ other of Nunns Ordines S^tæ Brigittæ wer in the tyme of the late Scisme within this Realme clerly dissolv’d and defac’d, which sayde howses are lately by my said dere Lord and husband and by me reviv’d and newly erected accordynge to ther severall ancyent foundacyons, order and Statutes, and we have restor’d and endow’d them severally with diverse Mannors, londs, tenements and hereditaments, sometyme parcell of ther severall possessions. For a further increase of their lyvyng, and to thentent the said Religious persons may be the more hable to reedifye some part of ther necessary howses that were so subverted and defac’d, and furnish themselves with ornaments and other thyngs mete for Godd’s servyce, I will and give unto ether of the said Religious howses of Shene and Sion, the summe of fyve hundred pownds of lawfull money of Englond, and I further will and give unto the Pryor and Covent of the said house of Shene, and to ther Successours, Mannours, londs, tenements, sometyme parcell of the possessions belongyng to the same howse before the dissolucyon thereof and remayning in our possession, to the clere yerly valewe of one hundred pownds. And lykewyse I will and give unto the Abbesse and Covent of the said house of Sion, and to ther Successors, Mannours, lands, tenements and hereditaments sometyme parcell of the possessions of the said house of Sion, and remayning in our hands at the tyme of our decesse or of some other late Spirituall possessions to the clere yerly valewe of one hundred pownds, the which summe of 100^li to ether of the said houses and the said Mannours, londs, tenements and hereditaments to the said yerly valewe of C^li to ether of the said houses I will shall be pay’d, convey’d and assur’d to ether of the said houses within oon yere next after my decesse; requyring and chargyng the Religious persons, the which shall from tyme to tyme remayne and be in the said severall houses, to praye for my Soulle and the Soulle of my said most Dere and well-beloved husband the King’s Maj^ty when God shall call hym to hys mercye owt of this transitory lyfe, and for the Soulle of the said good and vertuous Quene my Mother, and for the Soulles of all other our Progenitours, and namely the said Kynge Henry 5 as they were bounden by the ancyente Statuts and ordyenances of ther Severall foundacyons. Item, I will and geve to the Warden and Covent of the Observante Fryers of Greenwiche the summe of five hundred pownds. Item, I will and geve to the Pryor and Covent of the black fryers at St. Bartholomews within the suburbs of London, the sum of 400 Marks. And likewise unto the Fryers of the said Observante order beyng at Southampton, the summe of 200 pownds. Item, I will and geve unto the pore Nunns of Langley the Summe of 200^li pounds. All which said severall legacies unto the said Fryers and Nunns, I will that my Executors shall cawse to be payd to ther severall uses within oon yere next after my decesse, as well for the relefe and comfort, as towards the reparacyons and amendments of ther necessary howses, and to provyde them some more ornaments for their Churches, for the better service of Almighty God. Also I will and geve unto the Abbot and Covent of the said Monastery of Westminster the summe of 200^li pownds or else as many ornaments for ther Church ther, as shall amounte unto the said Summe of CC^li to be pay’d and deliver’d unto them within oon yere next after my decesse by my said Executors. And I will, charge and requyre the said Abbot and Covent, and all others the Fryers and Nunns and ther Covents above remembred, to pray for my Soulle, and for the Soulle of my said most Dere and well beloved Lord and husband, the King’s Highnesse, by whose specyall goodnesse they have been the rather erected, and for the Soulle of my said most dere beloved mother the Quene, and for the Soulles of all our Progenitors with dayly Masses, Suffrages and prayers. Also I will and geve for and to the relefe of the pore Scolers in ether of the Universities of Oxinford and Cambridge the Summe of 500^li pownds, that ys to say, to ether of the said Universities the Summe of 500^li the which summe I will that my Executors shall delyver within oon yere next after my decesse unto the Chancellors and others of the most grave & wisest men of the same Universities, to be distributed and geven amongst the said pore Scolers, from tyme to tyme as they shall thynke expedient for ther relefe and comfort, and specyally to such as intend by Godds grace to be Religious persons and Priests. And whereas I have by my warrant under my Signe Manuell assigned and appoynted londs, tenements, and hereditaments of the yerly valewe of 200^li and somewhat more to be assur’d unto the Master and Brotherne of the Hospitall of Savoy, fyrste erected and founded by my Grandfather of most worthy memory Kynge Henry 7, my mynde will and intent ys, and I charge my Executors that yf the said londs be not assur’d unto the said howse of Savoy in my lyfetime, that yt be done as shortly as maye be after my decesse, or else some other londs, tenements & hereditaments, sometyme parcell of the possessions of the said howse, to the said yerely valewe of 200^li and as muche other londs, tenements and hereditaments, late parcell of the possessions of the said howse, or of some other the late spirituall londs, as shall make up together with the londs I have before this tyme assur’d unto the said howse, and the which the said Master and his Brotherne doth by vertue of our former grant enjoye, the summe of 500^li of clere yerely valewe, which is agreeable with thendowment my said Grandfather indow’d the same howse with, at the first erection thereof. Willynge and chargynge the said M^r and his Brotherne and ther successors, not only to keep and observe the anciente rewles and statuts of the said howse accordynge to the foundacyon of the said Kynge my Grandfather, but also to praye for the Soulles of me, and of my said most dere Lord and Husband, when God shall call hym out of this transitory lyfe, and of the said Quene my Mother, and of all others our Progenitors Soulles. And forasmuch as presently there ys no howse or hospitall specyally ordeyn’d and provyded for the relefe and helpe of pore and old Soldiers, and namely of such as have been or shall be hurt or maymed in the warres and servys of this Realme, the which we thynke both honour, conscyence and charyte willeth should be provided for. And therefore my mynde and wyll ys, that my Executors shall, as shortly as they may after my decesse, provide some convenient howse within or nye the Suburbs of the Cite of London, the which howse I would have founded and erected of oon Master and two Brotherne, and these three to be Priests. And I will that the said howse or Hospitall shall be indow’d with Mannours, londs tenements and hereditaments some tyme parcell of the Spirituall londs and possessions, to the clere yerly valewe of 400 Markes whereof I will, that the said M^r shall have 30 pownds by the yere, and ether of the said two brotherne 20^li by the yere, and the rest of the revenewe of the said londs, I will that my Executors shall limyt and appoynt by good ordynances and statuts, to be made and stablyshed upon the erection of the said Hospitall, how the same shall be us’d and imployed, wherein specyally I would have them respect the relefe succour and helpe of pore, impotent and aged Souldiers, and chefely those that be fallen into exstreme poverte, havyng no pencyon or other pretence of lyvyng, or are become hurt or maym’d in the warres of this Realme, or in onny servyce for the defence and suerte of ther Prince and of ther Countrey, or of the Domynions thereunto belongyng. Also I will and specyally charge the executors of this my present testament and last Will, that yf I have injuried or done wrong to onny person (as to my remembrance willingly I have not) yet yf onny such may be proved, and lykewyse all such detts as I owe to onny person sens the tyme I have been Quene of this Realme, and specyally the lone money (the which diverse of my lovyng subjects have lately advanced and lent unto me) that the same injuries (yf onny be) and the said detts and lone money above all thyngs, as shortly as may be after my decesse be recompenced, restor’d and pay’d, and that doon, my mynde and will ys, that all such detts as were owing by my late Father, King Henry 8^th or by my late brother K. Edward the 6^th, shall likewyse, as they conveniently may, be satisfyed and payd. And for as much as yt hath pleased Almighty God of hys infenyte marcye & goodnesse, to reduce this Realme unto the unyte of Christ’s Church, from the which yt declyned, and during the tyme thereof diverse londes and other hereditaments, goods and possessions geven and dispos’d, as well by sondry of my Progenitors as by other good and vertuous people to sondrye places and Monasteries of Religion, and to other Ecclesiastical howses and persons, for the mayntenance of Godds servyce, and for continuall prayer to be made for the relefe both of the lyvyng and of the dedde, were taken away and committed to other uses; I have before this tyme thought yt good, for some part of satisfaction thereof, and to be a piece of the dewtie I owe unto God, that some porcyon of the londs and hereditaments that were sometyme the goods of the said Church shold be restor’d ageyne unto good and Godly uses, and for the accomplyshing thereof I have, with the consent of my said most Dere Lord and Husband the Kyng’s Majesty, and by theauthority of Parliament, and with the advyce and counsell of the Most Rev. Father in God and my right intierly beloved Cousyne Cardynall Poole, Archbp̃. of Cant. and Primate of Englond, who hath specyally travelled as a good Mynister and Legate sent from the Apostolique See to reduce this Realme unto the Unyte of the said See, Renounc’d and geven over as well diverse parsonages Impropriate, tythes and other Spirituall hereditaments, as also divers other profits and hereditaments some tyme belongyng to the said Ecclesiasticall and Spirituall persons and howses of Religion, to be ordered, used and imploy’d by the said most Reverend Father in God, in such manner and forme as ys prescribed and lymitted by the said Statute, and as to hys godly wysdome shall be thowght mete and convenyent. My mynde, will and pleasure ys, that such ordynances and devyses as the said most Rev^d Father in God hath made and devised, or shall hereafter make and devise, for and concerning the said parsonages, tithes and other Spirituall hereditaments (the which I have committed to his order and disposition) shall be inviolably observ’d. Requyryng my said Cousyne and most Rev^d Father in God, as he hath begun a good work in this Realme, soe he will (cheifly for God’s sake and glory, and for the good will he beareth unto me, and to this my Realme, beynge his native Countrey) doe, as much as he maye, by Godd’s grace, to fynishe the same. And specyally to dispose and order the said Parsonages, tithes, and other Spirituall possessions and hereditaments commytted to his order, with as much speed as he convenyently may, accordynge to the trust and confidence that my most Dere Lord and Husband and I, and the whole Realme have repos’d in hym, and yn hys virtue and wysdome, for the which God shall rewarde hym, and this hys Countrey honour and love hym. And for hys better assistance in theexecution thereof, I will, charge and requyre my Executors, and all others of my Counsell, and the rest of my good and faythfull Subjects, that they to the uttermost of ther power be aydynge and assistynge unto my said Cousyne, as they tender the benefit of ther Countrey and ther own Commodyte. Furthermore I will and charge my said Executors, that yf onny person or persons have pay’d unto my use onny Summe of money for the purchase of onny londs, tenements and hereditaments the assurances whereof to them in my lyfe tyme ys not perfitted, that the said Person or Persons be, within such short tyme after my decesse as may be, either repay’d ther mony, or else have good assurances of the said londs, or of others of the like valewe, made unto them accordynge to the laws of this Realme. Also I will that my Executors shall within oon quarter of a year next after my decesse, destribute amongst my pore Servants that be ordinary, and have most nede, the Summe of 2000^li. willyng them in the destribution thereof to have a specyall regarde unto such as have serv’d me longest and have no certainty of lyvyng of my gifte to lyve by after my decesse. And as towchyng the dispocyon of this my Imperiall Crowne of England, and the Crowne of Ireland, with my title to France, and all the dependances, of the same, whereof by the mere provydence of Almighty God I am the lawful Inheritor and Quene: my will, mynde, and entent ys, that the s^d Imperiall Crowne of Englond and Ireland, and my Title to France, and all the dependances, and all other my Honours, Castells, fortresses, mannours, londs, tenements, prerogatyves and hereditaments whatsoever, shall wholly and entirely descend remayne & be unto the heyres, issewe and frewte of my bodye, accordyng to the laws of this Realme. Neverthelesse the order, Governnment and Rewle of my said issewe, and of my said Imperiall Crowne, and the dependances thereof, during the Minoryte of my said heyre and Issewe, I specyally recommend unto my said most Dere and well beloved Husband, accordynge to the laws of this my said Realme for the same provided. Willing, charging, and most hertily requyryng all and singular my lovyng, obedient and naturall subjects, by that profession and dewtye of allegiance that by God’s commandment they owe unto me, beyng ther naturall Sovereigne Lady & Quene; And also desyryng them (per viscera Misericordiæ Dei) that sens yt hath pleased hys devyne Majesty, far above my merits to shew me so great favour in this world, as to appoynte me so noble, vertuous, and worthy a Prince to be my husband, as my said most Dere and intirely beloved Husband the King’s Majesty ys, whose endeavour, care and stodie hath ben, and chefely ys, to reduce this Realme unto the Unyte of Christ’s Church and trewe Religion, and to the anncyente and honourable fame and honor that yt hath ben of, and to conserve the same therein; And not dowting but accordyng to the trust that ys repos’d in hys Maj^ty, by the laws of this Realme, made concernyng the Government of my Issewe, that hys Highnesse will discharge the same to the glory of God, to hys own honour, to the suerty of my said Issewe, and to the profit of all my Subjects; that they therefore will use themselves in such humble and obedient sort and order, that hys Majesty may be the rather incoraged and provoked to continewe hys good and gracious disposition towards them and this Realme. And for as much as I have no Legacy or jewell that I covet more to leve unto hys Majesty to reqyte the nobility of hys harte towards me and this Realme, nor he more desirous to have, than the love of my Subjects, I doe therefore once agayne reqyre them to bere and owe unto his Highnesse the same dewtie and love that they naturally doe and should owe unto me, and in hope they will not forget the same, I do specyally recommend the same dewtye and love unto hys Highnesse, as a legacye, the which I trust he shall enjoye. Also I will and geve unto my said issewe all my jewells, ships, municyons of warre, and artillery, and after my detts (and the detts of my said late Father and brother, King Henry 8. and King Edward 6.) satisfied and pay’d, and this my present testament and last will perform’d, I geve and bequethe unto my said issewe all the rest of my treasure, plate, goods and Chattells whatsoever they be. And callynge to my Remembrance the good and dewtyfull service to me doon by diverse of my lovyng Servants and faythfull Subjects, to whom, as yet, I have not given onny condigne recompence for the same, therefore I am fully resolv’d and determyn’d to geve to every of them whose names are hereafter mention’d such legacies and gifts as particularly ensueth.

[Then follow in the Will several particular Legacies to her women and other Servants about her, which in all amount to 3400^li among which she gives Dr. Malet her Almoner and Confessor, to praye for her the summe of 200^li and to the poor fryers of the Order of St. Dominick, erected and placed within the University of Oxford, to pray for her soul, her Husband’s, Mother’s, and all other her progenitours the summe of 200^li; besides all this she gives 20^li a year apiece to Father Westweek and Father Metcalfe and then it followes in her Will.]

And to thentente this my last will and testament may be the more inviolably observ’d, fulfill’d and executed, I will the Issewe of my bodye that shall succede me in th’ Imperiall Crowne of this Realme upon my blessing, that he or she be no Impedyment thereof, but that to the uttermost of his or her power, they do permytt and suffer my said Executors to performe the same, and to ayd them in theexecution thereof. And yf ther shall be any imperfection in the assurances of the londs that I have devis’d and appoynted to the howses of Religion or to Savoye, or to the hospitall I mynde to have erected for the pore and maymed Souldiers, or onny negligence be in my Executors in the performance and execucyon of this my testament and last will, that then I will and charge my said Issewe on my blessing, to supply and accomplyshe all such defects and imperfections. And I charge my said Executors, as they will answer before God at the dredfull day of Judgement, and as they will avoyde such commynacyons, threatnyngs, and the severe justice of God pronounc’d and executed against such as are brekers and violaters of wills and testaments, that they to the uttermost of ther powers and wyttes, shall see this my present Testament & last will perform’d and executed, for the which I trust, God shall reward them, and the world commend them. And as yt hath stood with the good contentment and pleasure of my said most dere beloved Lord and husband the King’s Majesty, that I should thus devise my Testament and last will, so I dowte not, but that his most noble harte desyreth and wysheth that the same should accordyngly take effect after yt shall please God to call me out of this transytory lyfe to his marcye. And havyng such exsperience of his gracyus faveure, zeale and love towards me as I have, I am fully perswaded that no person either can or will more honorably and ernestly travell in thexecution of this my Testam^t and last will, then his Majesty will doo. Therefore I most humbly beseech his Highnesse that he will vouchsafe and be pleas’d to take upon hym the pryncipall and the chefest care of thexecutyon of this my present Testament and last will, and to be a patron to the rest of my Executors of the same in thexecutyon thereof.

And I do humbly beseeche my saide most dearest lorde and husbande to accepte of my bequeste, and to kepe for a memory of me one jewell, being a table dyamond which themperours Majesty, his and my most honourable Father, sent unto me by the Cont degmont, at the insurance of my sayde lorde and husbande, and also one other table dyamonde whiche his Majesty sent unto me by the marques de les Nanes, and the Coler of golde set with nyne dyamonds, the whiche his Majestye gave me the Epiphanie after our Maryage, also the rubie now sett in a Golde ryng which his Highnesse sent me by the Cont of Feria, all which things I require his Majestye to dispose at his pleasure, and if his Highnesse thynck mete, to the Issue betwene us.

Also I reqyre the said most Reverend Father in God and my said most dere beloved Cosyn the Lord Cardynall Poole, to be oon of my Executors, to whom I geve for the paynes he shall take aboute the thexecucyon of this my present Testament the summe of one thousande powndes. And for the specyall truste and good service that I have alweyes had and founde in the most Rev^d Father in God, and my right trustye and right well beloved Councellour Nicholas Abp of Yorke, my Chancellor of Englonde, and in my right trusty and right wel beloved Cosyns William, Marques of Wynchester, L^d Treasorer of Englonde, Henry Erle of Arundel, Henry Erle of Westmorland, Francis Erle of Shrewsbury, Edward Erle of Derbye, Thomas Erle of Sussex, W^m Erle of Pembroke, and in my right trusty and well beloved Councellors Visc, Mountague, Edward Lord Clynton, highe Admyrall of Englonde, and in the Rev^d Father in God and my right trusty and well beloved Councellors Thomas Bishop of Elye, Edward Lord Hastings of Lowtheborowghe, Lorde Chamberlayne of my Howsehold, S^r W^m Petre K^t Chancellor of my order of the Garter, and S^r W^m Cordell K^t M^r of the Rowlles of my Court of Chancerye. I ordeyne and constitute them also Executors of this my present Testament and last Will, and I geve unto every of the said L^d Chancellor, Lord Tresorer, etc., for their paynes and travell therein to be taken, the Summe of fyve hundred powndes. And unto every of the said Visc Montague, Lord Admyrall, etc., for ther paynes likewise to be taken fyve hundred marckes.

And for the greate experyence I have had of the trothe fidelite and good servyce of my trustye and righte well beloved Servants and Councellors, S^r Tho. Cornwallis K^t Comptroller of my howsehold, S. Henry Jernegan K^t Master of my horses, M^r Boxall, my Chefe Secretary, S^r Edward Waldegrave K^t Chancellor of my Duchy of Lancaster, S^r Francis Englefeld K^t Master of my Court of Wards and lyveries, and S^r John Baker K^t Chancellor of my Exchequer I geve unto every of them for ther paynes and good servyce to be taken, as assistants to this my said testament, and to be of Council with my said Issewe, the Summe of two hundred powndes. I do appoynte, name and ordeyne them to be Assistants unto my said Executors in thexecucyon of this my said Testament, and to be with them of the Council to my said issewe. And I geve unto every of my said Servants and Councellors last before remembered whom I have appoynted to be assistants to my said Executors, as ys aforesaid, for ther good servyce and paynes to be taken and doon with my said Executors for thexecucyon of this my present Testament and last Will, the Summe of two hundred powndes, before geven unto ether of them.

Nevertheless my playne Will, mynde and entent ys, that yf onny of my said Councillors whom I have appoynted before by this my Testament to be my Executors of the same, shall at the tyme of my decesse be indetted unto me in onny Summes of money, or ought to be and stond charged unto me or to my heirs or Successors for onny Acc^ts or summes of money by hym or them receyved, whereof at the tyme of my decesse he ys not lawfully discharged. That the said Executor or Executors, who shall be so indetted or ought to be charg’d with onny such Acc^ts shall not, for that he or they be named & appoynted onny of my Executars, be exonerate and discharged of the said detts or acc^ts, but thereof shall remayne charged, as tho’ he or they had not been named of my said Executors, and in that respect only shall be excepted to all intents as none of my said Executors, to take any benefit or discharge of the said dette or acc^ts.

And in wytnesse that this ys my present Testament and last Will, I have sign’d diverse parts of the same with my Signe Manuell, and thereunto also have cawsed my prevye Signett to be put, the Thirtieth day of Marche, in the yere of our Lorde God a Thousande fyve hundred fyfty and eight, and in the fourth yere of the Reigne of my said moste dere lorde and husband, and in the fyfte yere of the Reigne of me the said Quene. These beynge called to be wytnesses, whose names hereafter followythe

Marye the Quene

Hereabouts was her Seale being the Arms of England France and Spayne, and round the Seale was a collar of Roses as it seemed to me to be.—H.

Throughout this Will those words which are underlined were written with the Queen’s own hand in the original.

(Here follows the Codicil, which was afterwards annexed by the Queen to her Will.)

MARYE THE QUENE.

This Codicell made by me Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Engl^d &c., & lawful wyfe to the most noble and vertuous Prynce Philippe, by the same grace of God, Kynge of the said Realmes and Domynions of Englond, &c., the twenty-eighth day of October, in the yere of our Lord God 1558, and in the 5^th yere of the reign of my said most dere Lord and husbande, and in the Sixth yere of the reigne of me the said Quene. The which Codicell I will and ordeyne shall be added and annexed unto my last Will and Testament heretofore by me made and declared. And my mynd and will ys, that the said Codicell shall be accepted, taken and receyved as a part and parcell of my said last will and testament, and as tho’ it were incorporate with the same to all entents and purposes, in manner and forme followynge.

Fyrste, whereas I the said Quene have with the good contentment and pleasure of my said most dere belov’d Lorde and husbande the Kyng’s Majesty devis’d & made my said last will and testament, beryng date the 30^th day of Marche last past, and by the same, for that as I then thowght myself to be with childe did devise and dispose the Imperiall Crowne of this Realme of Englond and the Crowne of Ireland, with my title to France and all the dependances thereof, and all other honours, Castells, Fortresses, Prerogatives and hereditaments, of what nature, kynde or qualitie soever they be, belongyng to this crowne, unto the heires, Issewe and frewte of my body begotten, & the government, order, and rewle of the said heire and Issewe I recommended unto my said most dere Lord and husband duryng the mynoryte of the said heire, accordynge to the lawes of this Realme in that case provided.

Forasmuch as God hath hitherto sent me no frewte nor heire of my bodie, yt ys onlye in his most devyne providence whether I shall have onny or noo, Therefore both for the discharge of my conscyence and dewtie towards God and this Realme, and for the better satisfaction of all good people, and to thentent my said last will and Testament (the which I trust, is agreeable to God’s law and to the laws of this Realme) may be dewly performed, and my dettes (pryncipally those I owe to many of my good subjects, and the which they most lovyngly lent unto me) trewly and justly answered and payed, I have thought it good, fealynge myself presently sicke and week in bodye (and yet of hole and perfytt remembrance, our Lord be thanked) to adde this unto my said testament and last will, viz. Yf yt shall please Almighty God to call me to his mercye owte of this transytory lyfe without issewe and heire of my bodye lawfully begotten, Then I most instantly desire et per viscera misericordiæ Dei, requyre my next heire & Successour, by the Laws and Statutes of this Realme, not only to permytt and suffer theexecutors of my said Testament and last will and the Survivours of them to performe the same, and to appoynte unto them such porcyon of treasure & other thynges as shall be suffycient for the execution of my said testament and last will, and to ayd them in the performance of the same, but also yf such assurance and conveyance as the Law requyreth for the State of the londs which I have devysed and appoynted to the howses of Religion, and to the Savoye, and to the Hospitall I would have erected, be not suffycyent and good in Lawe by my said Will, then I most hertily also requyre both for God’s sake, and for the honour and love my said heyre and Successour bereth unto me, that my said heyre and Successour will supplye the Imperfection of my said will and testament therein, & accomplyshe and fynishe the same accordynge to my trew mynde and intente, for the dooyng whereof my said heire and Successour shall, I dowte not, be rewarded of God, and avoyde thereby his severe justice pronounced and executed ag^t all such as be violaters and brekers of wills and testaments, and be the better assisted with his specyall grace and favour in the mynistracyon of ther Regall function and office, And the more honored of the world and loved of ther subjects, whose natural zeale and love (as a most precious jewell unto every Prynce) I leve and bequeathe unto my said heire and Successour for a specyall Legacye and bequeste, the which I most humbly beseech our Lord, the same may enjoye and possesse (as I trust they shall) chefely to the advancement of God’s glorye & honor, and to the good quyetnesse and Government of this Realme, the which two thynges I most tender. And albeit my said most Dere Lord and Husband shall for defawte of heyre of my bodye have no further government, order and rewle within this Realme and the domynions thereunto belongynge, but the same doth and must remayne, descend, and goo unto my next heyre and Successour, accordyng to the Lawes and Statuts of this Realme, yet I most humbly beseech his Majesty, in recompence of the great love and humble dewtye that I have allwayes born and am bounden to bere unto his Majesty, and for the great zeale and care the which his Highness hath always sens our marriage professed and shew’d unto this Realme, and the Subjects of the same, and for the ancyente amyte sake that hath always ben betwene our most Noble Progenitours and betwene this my Realme and the Low Countries, whereof his Majesty is now the enheritour, And finally, as God shall reward hym, and I praye (I hope among the elect servants of God) that yt may please his Majesty to shew hymself as a Father in his care, as a Brother or member of this Realme in his love and favour, and as a most assured and undowted frend in his powre and strengthe to my said heire and Successour, and to this my Country and the Subjects of the same, the which I trust his Highnesse shall have just cause to thynke well bestowed, for that I dowte not, but they will answer yt unto his Majesty with the like benevolence and good will, the which I most hertily requyre them to doo, bothe for my sake, and for the honour and suerty of this Realme. And In witnesse that I have cawsed this Codicell to be made, and that my will & entent ys, that the same shall be annexed and added unto my said former testament & last will, the which my full mynde and will ys shall stonde and remayne in perfytte force and effect, to all intents and purposes, and this Codicell to be accepted taken and declared only as a part and parcell of my said testament and last Will, I have sign’d this Codicell with my Signe Manuell, and have also cawsed my privy Signet to be put thereunto, the day and yere fyrste in this Codicell above written. These beying called to be my wytnesses as well to my said testament and last will as to this Codicell whose names followeth.