CHAPTER XI.

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:—

“Right dear and entirely beloved Sister, We greet you well: And

where certain evil-disposed persons minding more the satisfaction

of their own malicious and seditious minds, than their duty of

allegiance towards us, have of late foully spread divers lewd and

untrue rumours; and by that means and other devilish practices,

do travail to induce our good and loving subjects to an unnatural

rebellion against God, us and the tranquillity of our realm, we

tendering the surety of your person, which might chance to be in

some peril, if any sudden tumult should arise, where you now be,

or about Donnington, whither, as we understand, you are minded

shortly to remove, do therefore think expedient, you should put

yourself in good readiness, with all convenient speed, to make

your repair hither to us. Which we pray you, fail not to do;

assuring you, that as you may most surely remain here, so shall

you be most heartily welcome to us. And of your mind herein we

pray you to return answer by this messenger. And thus we pray God

to have you in his holy keeping.

“Given under our signet, at our manor of St. James’s, the 26 Jan.

in the first year of our reign.

“Your loving sister

“MARYE THE QUEEN.”[393]

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:—

Much suspected by me,

Nothing proved can be,

Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.

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]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 378: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 310.]

[Footnote 379: Nevertheless, Froude has no authority for the assertion,

in support of which he has interpolated words into Renard’s despatch

of the 17th December 1553, to the effect that the Queen was bent on

Elizabeth’s death (vol. vi., p. 129). No such words occur in the letter

to which he refers (Record Office Transcripts, vol. i., p. 853) or in

any other.]

[Footnote 380: Record Office Transcripts, Belgian Archives, vol. i., p.

603.]

[Footnote 381: _Ibid._]

[Footnote 382: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 310.]

[Footnote 383: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 34.]

[Footnote 384: Machyn, p. 50.]

[Footnote 385: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 234, etc.

Lingard, vol. vii., p. 147.]

[Footnote 386: Charles himself proposed that Philip should have no

share in the government.]

[Footnote 387: So highly was this treaty esteemed by the statesmen of

the following reign, that in the negotiations for a marriage between

Elizabeth and the Duke of Anjou, the marriage articles of Philip and

Mary were repeatedly quoted in a memorial endorsed by Lord Burghley,

and still preserved at Hatfield, in answer to objections brought

forward against the Queen’s marriage with a foreign prince. “It behoves

her Majesty” said Elizabeth’s ministers, “to have the like proceedings

herein as was for Queen Mary’s marriage.” The country should not be

governed by a foreigner, but by the Queen herself and her Council, by

the laws of the realm “as it was in the time of King Philip and Queen

Mary” (Historical MSS. Commission, Hatfield MSS., vol. ii., pp. 241,

243, 288, 291-93, 544, 556).]

[Footnote 388: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 34.]

[Footnote 389: Friedmann, _Dépêches de Giovanni Michiel_, introd., p.

xxi.]

[Footnote 390: Mary had only promised to make no changes other than

those approved by Parliament. With regard to her marriage, she had

given no promise at all.]

[Footnote 391: Griffet, p. xxv.]

[Footnote 392: Renard to Charles V., Feb. 1554, _Papiers d’Etat du

Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p. 405.]

[Footnote 393: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., part i.,

p. 126.]

[Footnote 394: Record Office Transcripts, vol. ii., p. 287.]

[Footnote 395: Rosso, _I Successi d’Inghilterra_, p. 44.]

[Footnote 396: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 37.]

[Footnote 397: Heylin, pp. 165-263.]

[Footnote 398: _Diary_, p. 52.]

[Footnote 399: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 38 _et seq._]

[Footnote 400: “The saying of William Cotman in the County of Kent,

Smith, this present Tuesday, January 1553” (1554). Printed in Tytler’s

_England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and Mary_, vol. ii., p. 277.

The people were fed with falsehoods; the Devonshire and Cornish men

refused to stir, and Hampshire was quiet.]

[Footnote 401: Record Office Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1175-76.]

[Footnote 402: _A Chronicle of England_, vol. ii., p. 108.]

[Footnote 403: Foxe, _Acts and Monuments_, vol. vi., p. 414.]

[Footnote 404: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 41.]

[Footnote 405: Stowe, p. 619.]

[Footnote 406: _Edward Underhill’s Journal_, Strype, vol. iii., pt. i.,

p. 137.]

[Footnote 407: Holinshed, p. 1098.]

[Footnote 408: “Exhortation against Rebellion,” printed in the

_Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc. (Additions and Corrections), p. 188.]

[Footnote 409: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 50.]

[Footnote 410: Wriothesley, p. 110.]

[Footnote 411: Machyn, p. 55.]

[Footnote 412: Strype, _Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i., p. 141.]

[Footnote 413: _Ibid._, p. 146.]

[Footnote 414: Burnet, vol. ii., p. 437.]

[Footnote 415: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 54.]

[Footnote 416: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 61.]

[Footnote 417: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts.]

[Footnote 418: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1200-9,

and vol. ii., p. 1.]

[Footnote 419: _Ibid._]

[Footnote 420: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1200-9,

and vol. ii., p. 1.]

[Footnote 421: Record Office, State Papers, Domestic, 1554, vol. iii.,

21: Ashridge, 11th Feb.]

[Footnote 422: Record Office, Transcripts, vol. i., p. 1223. De

Noailles, vol. iii., p. 78. It was of course the French ambassador who

suggested poison as the possible cause of her illness.]

[Footnote 423: Record Office Transcripts, Belgian Archives, vol. ii.,

p. 4; printed by Tytler, _England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and

Mary_, vol. ii., p. 310.]

[Footnote 424: _Ibid._ Griffet, p. 39.]

[Footnote 425: Lingard, vol. v., p. 441 _et seq._]

[Footnote 426: The Emperor was evidently unaware that Courtenay was

already in the Tower.]

[Footnote 427: Record Office Transcripts, vol. ii., Instructions of

Charles V. to Count Egmont.]

[Footnote 428: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 64.]

[Footnote 429: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 607. Heywood, _England’s

Elizabeth_, p. 89.]

[Footnote 430: Lingard and Miss Strickland have supposed with Griffet,

that Mary herself questioned the Lords of the Privy Council on this

subject. But Wiesener points out (_La Jeunesse d’Elisabeth_, p. 224

note) that in the document on which P. Griffet supports the statement,

namely, Renard’s letter of the 22nd March, no mention is made of the

Queen’s presence at that sitting; and he agrees with Froude that the

question was probably put by the Chancellor.]

[Footnote 431: Vol. viii., p. 608.]

[Footnote 432: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 70.]

[Footnote 433: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 610.]

[Footnote 434: Elizabeth herself had no such scruple at the trial

of Mary Queen of Scots, who was convicted on evidence obtained from

letters written in cypher, and which she persistently declared to be

forgeries.]

[Footnote 435: Thomas Heywood.]

[Footnote 436: Griffet, p. 39.]

[Footnote 437: Renard, _Ses Ambassades et ses Négociations_, par M.

Tridon, p. 198 note.]

[Footnote 438: _Grey Friars’ Chronicle_, p. 88. “A dead cat having a

cloth like a vestment of the priest at Mass with a cross on it afore,

and another behind put on it; the crown of the cat shorn, a piece of

paper like a singing-cake put between the forefeet of the

said cat, bound together, which cat was hanged on the post of the

gallows in Cheap, beyond the Cross, in the parish of St. Matthew, and

a bottle hanged by it; which cat was taken down at 6 of the clock in

the morning, and carried to the Bishop of London, and he caused it

to be showed openly in the sermon time at Paul’s Cross, in the sight

of all the audience there present. The Lord Mayor with his brethren,

the aldermen of the city of London, caused a proclamation to be made

that afternoon, that whosoever could utter, or show the author of the

said fact, should have £6 13s. 4d. for his pains, and a better reward

with hearty thanks. But at that time after much enquiry and search

made, it could not be known, but divers persons were had to prison for

suspicions of it” (Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 114).]

[Footnote 439: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 64.]

[Footnote 440: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. ii.]

[Footnote 441: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 64.]

[Footnote 442: “The xii day of April was Sir Thomas Wyatt set upon the

gallows on Hay Hill, beside Hyde Park, where did hang three men in

chains, where the Queen’s men and Wyatt’s men did skirmish, where he

and his captains were overcome, thank be to God” (Machyn, _Diary_, p.

60). According to Wriothesley, Wyatt was beheaded on Tower Hill “at 6

o’clock in the forenoon, and his body after quartered on the scaffold”

(_Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 115). Wriothesley gives the date of his

execution as the 11th April. It is probable that one of his quarters

was set on the gallows on Hay Hill.]

[Footnote 443: Lingard remarks, that as for Elizabeth and Courtenay not

being “privy” to Wyatt’s rising, “it may certainly be true, for he rose

unexpectedly six weeks before the time originally fixed upon” (_History

of England_, vol. v., p. 434 note). Holinshed says that Wyatt protested

against being pressed to say anything more in his wretched condition;

that he declared it went against him to accuse any one by name, but

that having confessed everything to her Grace, he begged that he might

be tormented with no more questions (_Chronicle_, 1103, 1104, 1111).]

[Footnote 444: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II_, etc., vol. i.,

p. 43. Tytler, _Edward VI. and Mary_, vol. ii., p. 414.]