_VERITAS TEMPORIS FILIA._
We live in an age of criticism. Epithets will no longer serve in lieu
of evidence, and we are called upon to revise the hasty judgments of
past centuries, and to reconsider their verdicts. The verdict passed
on Mary I. has hitherto been founded on the one-sided testimony of
her enemies, and on their showing, the world has taken for granted
that she was at the best a gloomy, narrow-minded bigot, whose life was
utterly unproductive of good to England. Her very trials and sorrows
have led the most indulgent to conclude, that she must in consequence
have been of a melancholy disposition, and to find in her misfortunes
an excuse for the moroseness which in their opinion, rendered her
the most unattractive personality in our history. Moroseness is a
fit accompaniment to cruelty and thirst for blood; and thus, by
easy stages, it has been possible to imagine her gloating over the
executions for religion’s sake, which disgraced her reign as they did
those of her predecessors and successors, down to the time of Charles
II.
Such, however, has not been the picture presented to us in the course
of our study of the State papers, dealing with her life and reign, and
“all history,” said the learned Dr. Samuel Johnson, “so far as it is
not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance”.[708] We have seen
her, as represented in the secret despatches of ambassadors, in her own
private letters, in those of Cardinal Pole, in the narratives of her
contemporaries, in the brief chronicles of her time, in the occasional
admissions of her enemies; we have seen her as a girl, a woman, a
queen, in a dozen different lights, and we have found an image, the
very reverse of that which for three centuries has been held up to the
world’s execration.
That Mary was not in advance of her contemporaries should scarcely be a
reproach. What wonder even, if she looked to the past for inspiration,
from amidst the chaos of new opinions, that seemed to her productive
only of rebellion, licence and impiety! She could remember the time,
when order reigned in Church and State, and when peace resulted from
obedience to civil and ecclesiastical authority. With the change had
begun all her miseries. Cromwell and Cranmer, the apostles of the new
regime, had played her father’s game of tyranny and rapine, and their
followers had made havoc of her own projects of peace and prosperity.
Had the new religionists been mere harmless, loyal, quiet folk,
the fires of Smithfield had never been lighted.[709] Hence, it was
inevitable that all novelty should be regarded by her with suspicion,
as synonymous with evil, and she died in the fruitless attempt to
resist the inflowing tide. She was wanting neither in intelligence
nor devotion to her people; what she lacked was the touch of genius
to discern the actual trend of the new, restless ideas, that made her
kingdom into a battle-field, and inspiration and tact, to guide them
into peaceful channels. Absorbed in the inherited notions of an ideal
good, she missed much of the practical good that lay within her grasp,
and had she been less conscientious, she might have been a greater
Queen.
It is not possible to exonerate her completely, in the matter of her
formal condemnation of her mother’s marriage, although she was therein
herself the victim, her only valid excuse being, that the Emperor had
caught her in the toils of his diplomatic sophistry, and had blinded
her judgment with the glamour of his arguments.
Her character, therefore, was not without some inconsistencies—and
indeed of whom can the reverse be declared? Those who have extolled
her more than virile courage, as it was exhibited in her early trials,
during her persecution by Edward’s Council, in her manner of meeting
Northumberland’s conspiracy, in her dealing with Wyatt’s rebellion,
and on many smaller occasions, have generally overlooked the feminine
weakness, with which she almost always yielded when her affections
intervened. Thus, after having braved Henry’s anger, and stoutly
maintained her mother’s rights and her own, fearless of the axe that
hung by a thread over her, she gave in, when Katharine was beyond the
reach of harm, from a, to us, almost incomprehensible longing for her
father’s love, and in her childlike confidence that the Emperor could
not lead her astray. She had taken up a logical attitude with reference
to Elizabeth, which was the complement of the disgust, with which she
regarded Elizabeth’s mother; but this attitude was at once abandoned
when Anne Boleyn’s disgrace involved the child in the same ignominy
and ruin. Mary had but just regained a certain amount of consideration
for her own position, but she did not hesitate generously to risk all,
by calling Henry’s attention to the neglected child, once her own
triumphant rival. “My sister Elizabeth is in good health,” she ventured
to write to the inhuman tyrant, “and such a child toward, as I doubt
not your highness shall have cause to rejoice of in time coming.”
_The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_ are eloquent of her
generosity towards “the Lady Elizabeth’s grace,” and until Elizabeth
forfeited her esteem by making common cause with her enemies, there
was no diminution of cordiality on the part of the Queen towards her
sister. She married Philip of Spain in spite of all opposition, in
the first place for the sake of the realm, and in the hope of issue,
and gave him a passionate devotion. In most of these things Mary was
a true woman, no heroine, but tender and human to a fault. Of her
learning and accomplishments, much has been said in the course of this
history. Her contemporaries have been warm in praise of the high order
of her intellect, of her knowledge of ancient and modern languages, of
her musical talents, of her skill in dancing. Her translation of the
_Paraphrases_ of Erasmus proves that her reputation for scholarship
proceeded from no mere courtier-like flattery. And the same may be said
of the general terms of praise in which foreign envoys wrote of her
to their governments. Their communications being altogether secret,
and often written in cipher, could have been penned with no ulterior
views of pleasing Mary or her friends. Until within a year of her
death, there is no allusion in their despatches to any despondency on
her part. She felt her husband’s absence acutely, and it may have been
that his indifference to her hastened her death; but contrary to what
David Hume and his followers would have us believe, it is clear that
no spirit of settled bitterness brooded over any portion, even the
saddest, of her life. Nothing is more evident in her story, as it is
told in the State Papers, than that to the end, her disposition was to
hope against hope, to believe that her prayers would be answered, to
trust that good would come out of evil; and not one despairing word is
recorded as ever having passed her lips.[710]
We have had various descriptions of Mary’s personal appearance, of
her manner and character, from those who came in contact with her at
different periods. There still remains to be chronicled the impression
which the Queen produced on the mind of Giovanni Michiel, and which he
describes in his account of England in 1557, at a time, therefore,
when the charm of youth was past, and when she was approaching her end.
After describing her as of low, rather than middling stature and of a
spare and delicate frame, quite unlike her father, who was tall and
stout, or her mother who was portly, he says that her face, as can be
seen by her portraits, is well proportioned in features and lineaments.
He mentions the fact that when younger, she was considered not merely
tolerably handsome, but of beauty exceeding mediocrity. At present,
with the exception of some wrinkles, caused more by anxieties than by
age, which make her appear some years older, “she is a seemly woman
and never to be loathed for ugliness, even at her present age, without
considering her degree of queen”. Her expression is very grave, her
eyes are so piercing, that they inspire not only respect but fear, in
those on whom she fixes them, although she is very short-sighted.
“Her voice is rough and loud almost like a man’s, so that when she
speaks, she is always heard a long way off.... But whatever may be the
amount deducted from her physical endowments as much more may with
truth and without flattery be added to those of her mind, as besides
the facility and quickness of her understanding, which comprehends
whatever is intelligible to others, even to those who are not of
her own sex (a marvellous gift for a woman) she is skilled in five
languages, not merely understanding but speaking four of them fluently,
_viz._, English, Latin, French, Spanish and Italian, in which last
however she does not venture to converse, although it is well known
to her; but the replies she gives in Latin, and her very intelligent
remarks made in that tongue, surprise everybody. Besides woman’s work,
such as embroidery of every sort with the needle, she also practises
music, playing especially on the clavicorde (a sort of spinet or small
harpsichord) and on the lute, so excellently, that when intent on it
(though now she plays rarely) she surprised the best performers, both
by the rapidity of her hand and by her style of playing. Such are her
virtues and external accomplishments. Internally, with the exception
of certain trifles, in which to say the truth she is like other women,
being sudden and passionate and close and miserly,[711] rather more so
than would become a bountiful and generous queen.”
In other respects, he maintains that she has “no notable imperfections,
whilst in certain things she is singular and without an equal; for not
only is she brave and valiant, unlike other timid and spiritless women,
but so courageous and resolute, that neither in adversity nor peril
did she ever display or commit any act of cowardice or pusillanimity,
maintaining always on the contrary, a wonderful grandeur and dignity,
knowing what became the dignity of a sovereign as well as any of the
most consummate statesmen in her service; so that from her way of
proceeding, and from the method observed by her (and in which she still
perseveres) it cannot be denied, that she shows herself to have been
born of truly royal lineage. Of her humility, piety and religion it is
unnecessary to speak, or bear witness to them, as they are not only
universally acknowledged, but recently blazoned by proofs and facts,
which fell little short of martyrdom, by reason of the persecutions
she endured; so that it may be said of her, as Cardinal Pole says with
truth, that in the darkness and obscurity of that kingdom, she remained
precisely like a feeble light, buffeted by raging winds for its utter
extinction, but always kept burning, and defended by her innocence
and lively faith, that it might shine in the world, as it now does
shine. It is certain that few women (I do not speak of princesses or
queens but of private women) are known to be more assiduous at their
prayers than she is, never choosing to suspend them for any impediment
whatever, going at the canonical hours with her chaplains either to
church in public, or to her private chapel, doing the like with regard
to the communion and fast days, and finally to all other christian
works, precisely like a nun and a religious.”
After commenting on Mary’s weak health, on her disappointed hopes of
maternity, on her grief at the insurrections, conspiracies and plots
formed against her daily, Michiel goes on to say, that although these
have resulted auspiciously for the Queen, and inauspiciously for their
authors, “yet nevertheless it being necessary on such occasions to
proceed to capital punishment or confiscation, against one person or
another, sometimes for crime, and sometimes on suspicion, she knows
that by these means, the hatred and indignation she inspires are
increased, the delinquents being not only excused almost by everybody,
but the causes, such as the expulsion of foreigners (who are most
odious to the English, on account of the Spaniards) or the religion,
or both together assigned by the conspirators for their movements,
being tacitly approved of. The consequence is, that as until now, the
plots have been set on foot by the commonalty, and persons of mean
extraction, so from the fickleness of that nation, were they excited by
some personage or nobleman of importance, there is no doubt, they would
create a great revolution throughout the realm, much to the personal
danger of the Queen, and of her life, the kingdom being still full of
humours and discontent, and the country showing a greater inclination
and readiness for change than ever, provided it has a leader. Besides
these and many other distresses, the Queen witnesses the daily
increasing decline of the affection evinced towards her universally
at the commencement of her reign, which in truth was such and so
extraordinary, that never was greater shown in that kingdom towards any
sovereign; and she is also harassed by the poverty in which she sees
the Crown, owing not only to the past debts and disorders, but to the
many expenses and the wants incurred in her own time, which prevent her
from showing courtesy and liberality such as become a sovereign, either
to her own subjects or to others. She is compelled on the contrary
(there being no other remedy) daily to repeat her demands for loans
and subsidies, which have now become such a grievance, and so much the
more odious to the people, as notwithstanding all the subsidies, the
creditors remain unpaid, the majority having arrears due to them for
entire years, so that their clamours and complaints being redoubled,
the hatred of all other malcontents increases proportionably. These
and many others are the public causes of the Queen’s distress, and
although they are held by her in great account, she nevertheless feels
them less painfully than certain others, which affect her personally,
as respecting those already mentioned by me, she comforts herself
with the hope of their being remedied in the course of time, by the
counsel and diligence of some of her ministers, especially Cardinal
Pole, through the care taken by them to investigate and retrench
superfluities and abuses, and thus with the aid of parsimony, getting
out of debt as she expects to do shortly, so as then to be enabled to
use liberality, confer favours and rewards, and relieve those who are
in want.”[712]
Michiel, in continuing his report, ascribes the Queen’s principal
distress to two causes. It proceeds, he says, from love and hatred—from
excessive love of her husband, of his character and manners, believed
by Michiel to be such as to captivate any one; and from hatred of
Elizabeth. He considers that no one could have been a better husband
than Philip, nor so good a one, and that to think of losing him, as he
and the Queen can only meet by accident, would be irksome and grievous
to any person who loved another heartily, and is assuredly so to a
woman who is naturally tender. “If,” he continues, “to this violent
love were to be added jealousy, _which as yet she is not known to feel_
... she would be truly miserable; and this separation is one of the
anxieties that especially distresses her.”[713]
Without stopping to question the accuracy of Michiel’s assertion,
that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, we pass on
to what the Venetian considers the second principal cause of Mary’s
distress, namely her “hatred of Elizabeth”. The expression is a strong
one, and scarcely compatible with what he has already related of her
piety, humility and prayerfulness. But “although dissembled,” the
Queen, he tells us, “displays in many ways the scorn and ill-will she
bears her ... whenever she sees her, fancying herself in the presence
of the affronts and ignominious treatment to which she was subjected
on account of her mother, from whom, in great part, the divorce from
Queen Katharine originated. But what disquiets her most of all is, to
see the eyes and hearts of the nation already fixed on this lady as
successor to the Crown, from despair of descent from the Queen, to
whom the demonstration and the thought are so much the more bitter and
odious, as it would be grievous not only to her but to any one, to see
the illegitimate child of a criminal, who was punished as a public
——, on the point of inheriting the throne, with better fortune than
herself, whose descent is rightful, legitimate and regal. Besides this,
the Queen’s hatred is increased, by knowing her to be averse to the
present religion, she not only having been born in the other, but being
versed and educated in it; for although externally she showed, and by
living catholically shows, that she has recanted, she is nevertheless
supposed to dissemble, and to hold it more than ever internally.”[714]
Strong feeling and strong language were natural in the days in
which the above words were written, and a certain exaggeration of
expression may be granted to an Italian, whose mother tongue flowed
in superlatives. But Mary could not have been so ardent a lover, so
devoted a friend, so kind a benefactress, if she had not also been
quick to experience resentment, indignation, scorn and contempt.
Elizabeth had been always the great antagonism of her life, and
although Mary had repeatedly overcome her aversion, in very generous
ways, her sister had done nothing to make her task an easier one.
From the outset, their dispositions were as the poles asunder. Mary’s
meaning was ever plain, expressed sometimes even bluntly; there was
never anything the least ambiguous, either in her spoken or her
clearly written words, in a hand admirably indicative of her firm,
straightforward character. Elizabeth was at the best an enigma. It
was impossible to judge whether any meaning lay behind her elaborate
assurances which assured nothing; and her tortuous phrases served but
to conceal whatever plan her cunning, secretive brain harboured. On
the rare occasions when she was compelled to speak out, and declare
herself, her utterances were for the most part falsified in the event.
It is not unlikely that Mary’s self-conquest in regard to Elizabeth, at
the time of the latter’s abandonment and disgrace, would have resulted
in a lasting affection, founded on pity, and that motherly instinct
so strongly developed in the Queen, had not her sister persistently
thrown herself into the arms of the rebels. At the time of Henry’s
death, and until the beginning of Mary’s reign, their relations were as
cordial as it was possible for Mary to make them. But in a very short
time, Elizabeth became a source of constant annoyance and danger, and
pursuing her underhand tactics to the end she thoroughly alienated and
disgusted the Queen. If, for reasons of policy, Philip induced his wife
to treat her as though she were innocent, the position was not thereby
improved.
The purity of Mary’s court, at a period when licence was the order of
the day, was the subject of much comment by her contemporaries. Her
care for the honour and good repute of those about her, is illustrated
by the following occurrence, which shows also the gentle manner in
which she administered rebuke, when rebuke was necessary.
“Queen Mary being in the gallery, ready to go to the chapel, within the
traverse, the Lord William Howard, Lord Chamberlain being with her,
he taking his leave; without the traverse stood the maids of honour,
expecting to wait on the queen to the chapel. Mrs. Frances Neville
standing next to the traverse, the Lord Chamberlain passing by, a merry
gentleman, took her by the chin saying: ‘My pretty —— (a word unfit
for repetition) how dost thou?’ Which the queen saw and heard, the
traverse being drawn. The queen gone forth, finding her farthingale at
her foot loose, made sign to Mrs. Neville to pin it, which, kneeling
down she did. The queen then took her by the chin as he had done
saying: ‘God-a-mercy, my pretty ——’. She hearing the queen say thus, so
blushed as she seemed to be astonished, replying: ‘Madam, what says
your Majesty?’ still upon her knees, and seemed to be much troubled.
The queen answered, ‘What is the matter? Have I said or done more than
the Lord Chamberlain did? And may not I be as bold with thee as he?’
She replied: ‘My Lord Chamberlain is an idle gentleman, and we respect
not what he saith or doth; but your Majesty from whom I think never
any heard such a word, doth amaze me, either in jest or earnest to be
called so by you. A —— is a wicked misliving woman.’ The queen took it,
‘Thou must forgive me; for I meant no harm’.”
The troubles arising from religious questions occupy so large a portion
of Mary’s short reign, that a substantial reform of the criminal law,
which at another period would have excited interest and admiration,
has almost escaped the notice of historians. It was indeed in the
reign of Edward VI. that a jury first began to be a fair and effective
tribunal, but Mary’s noble exordium in appointing Morgan, Chief Justice
of the Common Pleas, contained the first indication of the precept,
that not only was equity to be maintained among the people, but that
in cases in which the Crown was involved, the like justice was to be
done. “I charge you, Sir,” said the Queen, “to minister the law and
justice indifferently, without respect of persons; and notwithstanding
the old error among you, which will not admit any witness to speak,
or other matters to be heard, in favour of the adversary, the Crown
being party, it is my pleasure that whatever cases be brought, in
favour of the subject may be admitted and heard. You are to sit there
not as advocates for me, but as indifferent judges between me and my
people.”[715]
That this was no empty formula was proved in the following year, when
a jury persisted in acquitting a prisoner of State, Sir Nicholas
Throckmorton, against the direction of the court, and as was well known
against the personal conviction of the Queen,[716] who believed in his
guilt. Throughout Mary’s reign, the accused had absolute confidence in
the uprightness, integrity and unhampered freedom of the jury, and
never forgot, that a statute of the realm had expressly declared, that
there should be two witnesses to prove a treason, and that they must
be confronted face to face. Hitherto, and in the subsequent reigns,
persons indicted on behalf of the Crown, whatever their rights, had
no probability of a favourable decision, on account of the paramount
advantages claimed and enjoyed by the counsel for the sovereign. Many
instances of this arbitrary and tyrannical rule are to be found in the
minutes of the State trials under Elizabeth and James I.
If, in some ways, Mary seemed to have inherited a large amount of Tudor
obstinacy, her sincere and earnest intention to act according to the
light of conscience, and to govern by strictly constitutional methods,
made her singularly unlike her father before, or her sister after
her. No flattery however insidious, on the part of those who sought
to ingratiate themselves with her, by advocating a more unrestricted
course, was able to lure her from this lofty resolve. A rebel who had
been pardoned, and who thought by this means to secure her favour, drew
up a plan by which she might render herself independent of Parliaments.
It was presented to her by the Spanish ambassador, who ventured to
recommend its adoption. As the Queen read it, she disliked it, “and
judged it contrary to the oath she had made at her coronation”. She
sent for Gardiner, and giving him the treatise to read, commanded him
as he would answer for it at the judgment seat of God, to tell her
his real opinion of the matter. “Madam,” replied the Chancellor, on
returning the volume to her, “it is a pity that so noble and virtuous
a lady should be endangered with the pernicious devices of such lewd
and subtle sycophants. For the book is naught, and most horrible to
be thought on.” The Queen thanked him, and threw the volume into the
fire.[717]
There are important indications in the records of this reign showing
that had Mary’s lines been cast in more peaceful places, and had her
life been prolonged, much would have been done to develop international
and commercial interests. Shortly before Edward’s death, a joint-stock
company had been formed under the direction of Sebastian Cabot, son of
the famous navigator. A small fleet commanded by Sir Hugh Willoughby
was fitted out, and sailed for the north of Europe, with the object of
discovering a north-east passage to China and India. Off the coast of
Norway, their ships were scattered by a violent storm, and Challoner,
the second officer in command, found his way into the White Sea, and
reached Archangel in safety. The others were cast upon the shores of
Nova Zembla, and Russian Lapland, where they all perished from cold
and want. Challoner, obliged to abandon the original enterprise,
travelled through Russia to Moscow, where he was kindly received
by the Czar, Ivan Wassilegevich, who gave him a letter to the King
of England. Edward being then dead, the letter was consequently
delivered to Mary, and Challoner’s reports of the wonderful sights he
had witnessed roused a keen spirit of adventure in the nation. A new
company was formed, and directed by the same Sebastian Cabot, and was
incorporated under the title of “_Merchants adventurers of England, for
the discovery of lands, territories, isles and signories unknown_”. A
charter was granted to the company, by which its members were empowered
to make discoveries by navigating northwards, north-westwards or
north-eastwards, and were entitled to raise the flag of England over
“all manner of cities, towns, isles and main lands of infidelity,”
after subduing them to the dominion of the King and Queen, and their
heirs and successors for ever.[718] It was the beginning of the
brilliant exploits by which England became subsequently so formidable,
under the semi-piratical enterprises of Drake, Frobisher and Sir Walter
Raleigh.
Challoner was sent back to Moscow, with a letter from Philip and
Mary to the Czar, containing the initiative towards a commercial
treaty between England and Russia.[719] The expedition was eminently
successful, and he returned, accompanied by the Russian ambassador,
as far as the Bay of Pitsligo, where the ship was wrecked, and
Challoner was drowned. The ambassador escaped, but as he had suffered
considerable loss at the hands of the Scotch, who plundered the wreck,
Mary sent two messengers to Edinburgh, to redress his wrongs, and bring
him with honour and distinction to London. After some difficulties, the
commercial treaty with Russia was concluded, under very advantageous
conditions for England, and the ambassador went back to his own
country, loaded with costly presents for himself and his sovereign. By
this treaty English trade received a great impetus, and henceforth the
manufactures of the country were exchanged at a vast profit for the
skins and other valuable products of Russia.
Mary also defended English commercial interests against the cupidity
of a powerful company of foreign merchants, who had been settled in
London for centuries, and were known as Easterlings, merchants of the
Hanse towns, and merchants of the Steelyard. The privileges granted to
them by generations of English kings, in return for the loans which
their immense resources enabled them to advance in sudden emergencies,
had accumulated until they had almost absolute control of the markets.
One great subject of complaint was their exemption from paying more
than 1 per cent. duty on their merchandise, which included almost every
imaginable article of commerce, so that all competition was excluded,
and they could raise or depress the prices as they pleased. It had
been declared on investigation, that they had violated, and therefore
forfeited their charter, but they were powerful enough to dispute its
possession, until the bill of tonnage and poundage passed in Mary’s
first Parliament aimed a decisive blow at their excessive privileges,
by enacting that the Easterlings should pay the same duties as other
merchants. The Queen was induced to suspend for a time the operation
of the statute, but having ascertained what were, in this respect,
the real interests of her people, she finally revoked the charter,
and refused to listen to any further arguments in favour of the
company.[720]
Among many interesting facts, hitherto ignored by Mary’s biographers,
are the benefits which the Queen bestowed on her army. Two of these
call for special remark, the first being an increase of pay from 6d. to
8d. a day, the sum for which the men had mutinied under Henry VIII.;
the second being a touching instance of her care for them, expressed in
her last will. In this document it will be seen, she left instructions
for the foundation of a hospital in London, with an endowment of 400
marks, “for the relief and help of poor, impotent and aged soldiers,”
who had suffered loss or wounds in the service of England. “For all
her man’s voice and masculine will,” says a recent writer, “she had a
woman’s heart, which warmed to the deserving old soldier, and whatever
her demerits in the eyes of those who wear the gown, her memory may at
least be cherished by those who wear the red coat.” She was the first
English sovereign to lend a pitying ear to the necessities of those
who had spent themselves in their country’s defence; while as for her
immediate successor, Elizabeth has been declared by the same writer to
have been “intolerably impatient of such miserable creatures”.[721]
But if the whole truth were known, it is certain that evidence would
be forthcoming to prove that “those who wear the gown” have as little
cause as soldiers to speak of Mary’s “demerits”. The history of
our universities has yet to be adequately written, but when it is
written, important instances will doubtless come to light, concerning
her connection with both. Dr. John Christopherson, her chaplain and
confessor, was installed master of Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1553,
and through him, the Queen became a considerable benefactress to this
college. She was especially anxious that it should possess a larger
and more suitable chapel, and on her initiative, the present building
was begun in the Tudor style in 1556.[722] Carrying her solicitude
still further, she added to the endowments of Trinity, the Rectories
of Heversham, Kendal and Kirkby Lonsdale in Westmorland, and those
of Sedbergh and Aysgarth in Yorkshire, then producing a revenue of
£338 per annum, for the maintenance of twenty scholars, ten choristers
and their master, thirteen poor scholars, fourteen chaplains and two
sizars.[723] In the Master’s Lodge, where Mary slept when she passed
through Cambridge, on her way to London at the time of her accession,
is a portrait of the Queen inscribed _Maria Regina Huius Collegii
Benefactrix_. The picture is one of the replicas of the portrait
painted by Sir Antonio More, before her marriage, with some variations
as to minor details. Seeing how entirely Mary has passed from the minds
and hearts of the English people, it is pleasant to learn that she is
still commemorated at Trinity College, in a prayer said after grace on
feast days.
The portrait which she presented to Christ Church, Oxford, and another
in the University galleries, show her interest in that seat of learning
also. During her short reign, two colleges were founded at Oxford;
Trinity, by the munificence of Sir Thomas Pope, and St. John’s, on the
site of Archbishop Chicheley’s foundation, the latter being the gift of
Sir Thomas White, of the company of Merchant Tailors.
Sir Aubrey de Vere, in his little-known poem _Mary Tudor_, struck a
right chord, in putting into the mouth of the unhappy Queen the words:—
Vampyre Calumny
Shall prey on my remains. My name shall last
To fright the children of the race I love.
But the real Mary was perhaps a truer prophet, when she foresaw the
dawn of a better day, and chose for her motto the device—
_Veritas temporis filia._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 708: Boswell’s _Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D._, vol. v., p.
156.]
[Footnote 709: Peter Frarin of Antwerp, Master of Arts, and Bachelor of
both laws, writing in the next reign says enthusiastically: “I could
declare unto you how the traitorous gospellers of England gathered
a main host against their most virtuous lady Queen Marie, the rare
treasure, the peerless jewel, the most perfect pattern and example
of our days. How they shot arrows and darts against her court gates,
conspired her death, devised to poison and kill her with a dagg at
one time, with a privy dagger at another time, reviled her, called
her bastard, butcher; printed seditious books against her, wherein
they railed at her like hell-hounds, and named her traitorous Marie,
mischievous Marie” (_An oration against the unlawful insurrection
of the Protestants of our time under Pretence to reform Religion_,
Louvain, 1565).]
[Footnote 710: A more correct opinion of this trait in her character
than that expressed by Hume, Froude and some others, is given by a
writer in the _Dictionary of National Biography_ on John Heywood, the
wit and epigrammatist, who says that his fortunes were at their highest
under Mary, “who had a highly cultivated intelligence, and was fond of
innocent fun ... and it is said that his pleasantries, often acceptable
in her privy chamber, helped to amuse her even on her death-bed.”]
[Footnote 711: It has been elsewhere pointed out that Michiel did not,
in the matter of generosity, give Mary the credit she deserved. It was
natural to her to be lavishly generous, but the state of her finances
was such, that parsimony became an equivalent for honesty. This he
afterwards admits.]
[Footnote 712: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 884.]
[Footnote 713: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 714: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 884. This version of
Michiel’s _Report_ is taken from a transcription made by Francesco
Contarini, Doge of Venice, who died in 1624. Sir Henry Ellis
transcribed another version which is in the Cottonian Library at the
British Museum (Nero B. vii.).]
[Footnote 715: _State Trials_, vol. i., p. 72.]
[Footnote 716: Reeves’ _History of English Law_, edited by W. F.
Finlason, “Criminal Law in Mary’s Reign,” vol. iii., p. 537, 538
_note_.]
[Footnote 717: Burnet, vol. ii., p. 448.]
[Footnote 718: Strype, _Eccles. Mem._, vol. iii., pt. i., p. 520.]
[Footnote 719: Cotton MS. Nero B. viii., f. 3, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 720: Lingard, vol. v., p. 533.]
[Footnote 721: _The History of the British Army_, by the Hon. J. W.
Fortescue, vol. i., pp. 126, 138.]
[Footnote 722: _Notes on the History of Trinity College_, by W. W.
Rouse Ball, p. 49.]
[Footnote 723: Harradon, _History of the University of Cambridge_, p.
185.]
APPENDIX.
A.
ORATIO SOLITA RECITARI SINGULO DIE ANTE IMAGINEM CHRISTI.
Concede mihi, misericors Deus, quæ tibi placita sunt ardenter
concupiscere, prudenter investigare, veraciter agnoscere, et perfecte
adimplere ad laudem et gloriam nominis tui. Ordina statum meum, et quod
a me requiris ut faciam, tribue ut sciam; et da exequi sicut oportet et
expedit animæ meæ. Da mihi Domine Deus meus, inter prospera et adversa
non deficere, ut in illis non extollar et in istis non deprimar; de
nullo gaudeam vel doleam nisi quod ducat ad te vel abducat a te. Nulli
placere appetam vel displicere timeam nisi tibi. Vilescant mihi Domine
omnia transitoria, et cara mihi sint omnia tua. Tædeat me gaudii quod
est sine te, nec aliud cupiam quod est extra te. Delectet me Domine,
labor qui est pro te; et tædiosa sit mihi omnis quies quæ est sine
te. Frequenter da mihi, Domine, cor ad te dirigere, et in defectione
mea cum emendationis proposito dolendo pensare. Fac me Domine Deus
obedientem sine contradictione, pauperem sine defectione, castum sine
corruptione, patientem sine murmuratione, humilem sine fictione, et
hilarem sine dissolutione, tristem sine dejectione, maturum sine
gravitate, agilem sine levitate, timentem te sine desperatione, veracem
sine duplicitate, operantem bona sine præsumptione, proximum corripere
sine elatione, ipsum ædificare verbo et exemplo sine simulatione.
Da mihi, Domine Deus, cor pervigil quod nulla abducat a te curiosa
cogitatio: da nobile, quod nulla deorsum trahat indigna affectio: da
rectum, quod nulla seorsum obliquet sinistra intentio: da firmum, quod
nulla frangat tribulatio: da liberum, quod nulla sibi vindicet violenta
affectio. Largire mihi, Domine Deus meus, intellectum te cognoscentem,
diligentiam te quærentem, sapientiam te invenientem, conversationem
tibi placentem, perseverantiam fidenter te expectantem, et fiduciam
te finaliter amplectentem, tuis pænis hic affligi per pœnitentiam,
tuis beneficiis in via uti per gratiam, tuis gaudiis et præmiis in
patria perfrui per gloriam. Qui vivis et regnas Deus per omnia sæcula
sæculorum. Amen.
The prayer of Saint Thomas of Aquin, translated out of Latin into
English by the most excellent Princess Mary, daughter to the most
high and mighty Prince and Princess, King Henry the VIII. and Queen
Katharine, his wife, in the year of Our Lord God 1527 and the eleventh
year of her age.
O merciful God, grant me to covet with an ardent mind those things
which may please Thee, to search them wisely, to know them truly, and
to fulfil them perfectly, to the laud and glory of Thy Name. Order
my living that I may do that which Thou requirest of me, and give me
grace, that I may know it, and have wit and power to do it, and that I
may obtain those things which may be most convenient for my soul. Good
Lord, make my way sure and straight to Thee, that I fail not between
prosperity and adversity, but that in prosperous things I may give
Thee thanks, and in adversity be patient, so that I be not lift up
with the one, nor oppressed with the other, and that I may rejoice in
nothing but in this which moveth me to Thee, nor be sorry for nothing
but for those which draweth me from Thee; desiring to please nobody,
nor fearing to displease any besides Thee. Lord, let all worldly things
be vile to me, for Thee, and that all Thy things be dear to me, and
Thou, good Lord, most special above them all. Let me be weary with that
joy which is without Thee, and let me desire nothing besides Thee.
Let the labour delight me which is for Thee, and let all the rest
weary me which is not in Thee. Make me to lift my heart oft-times to
Thee, and when I fall, make me to think and be sorry, with a steadfast
purpose of amendment. My God, make me humble without feigning, merry
without lightness, sad without mistrust, sober without dulness, fearing
without despair, gentle without doubleness, trusting in Thee without
presumption, telling my neighbour’s faults without mocking, obedient
without arguing, patient without grudging, and pure without corruption.
My most loving Lord and God, give me a waking heart, that no curious
thought withdraw me from Thee. Let it be so strong that no unworthy
affection draw me backward, so stable that no tribulation break it, and
so free that no election by violence make any change to it. My Lord
God, grant me wit to know Thee, diligence to seek Thee, wisdom to find
Thee, conversation to please Thee, continuance to look for Thee, and
finally hope to embrace Thee, by Thy penance here to be punished, and
in our way to use Thy benefits by Thy grace, and in heaven through Thy
glory to have delight in Thy joys and rewards. Amen.
B.
MARGARET, LADY BRYAN, TO CROMWELL.[724]
My Lord, when your Lordship was last here, it pleased you to say, that
I should not mistrust the King’s Grace, nor your Lordship, which word
was more comfort to me than I can write, as God knoweth. And now it
boldeth me to show you my poor mind. My Lord, when my Lady Mary’s Grace
was born, it pleased the King’s Grace to appoint me Lady Mistress, and
made me a Baroness. And so I have been a ... (mother?) to the children
his Grace have had since.
Now it is so, my Lady Elizabeth is put from that degree she was afore:
and what degree she is at now I know not but by hearing say; therefore
I know not how to order her, nor myself, nor none of hers that I have
the rule of: that is, her women and her grooms: beseeching you to
be good Lord to my Lady and to all hers. And that she may have some
raiments; for she hath neither gown nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor no
manner of linen for smocks, nor kerchiefs, nor sleeves, nor rails,
nor body-stychets, nor handkerchiefs, nor mufflers, nor begens. All
this her Graces Mostake, I have driven off as long as I can, that by
my troth I cannot drive it no longer: beseeching you my Lord, that ye
will see that her Grace may have that is needful for her, as my trust
is ye will do.... My Lord, master Shelton would have my Lady Elizabeth
to dine and sup every day at the board of estate. Alas, my Lord, it is
not meet for a child of her age, to keep such rule yet. I promise you,
my Lord, I dare not take it upon me to keep her Grace in health, and
she keep that rule: for there she shall see divers meats and fruits and
wine, which would be hard for me to refrain her Grace from it. Ye know,
my Lord, there is no place of correction there. And she is yet too
young to correct greatly. I know well and she be there, I shall neither
bring her up to the King’s Grace’s honour, nor hers, nor to her health
nor my poor honesty. Wherefore I show your Lordship this my discharge,
beseeching you my Lord that my Lady may have a mess of meat to her
own lodging, with a good dish or two, that is meet for her to eat of.
And the reversion of the mess shall satisfy all her women, a gentleman
usher and a groom. Which been eleven persons on her side. Sure I am, it
will be (in to right little) as great profit to the King’s Grace, this
way as the other way. For if all this should be set abroad, they must
have three or four mess of meat, where this one mess shall suffice them
all with bread and drink, according as my Lady Mary’s Grace had afore,
and to be ordered in all things as her Grace was afore. God knoweth, my
Lady hath great pain with her great teeth, and they come very slowly
forth: and causeth me to suffer her Grace to have her will more than I
would. I trust to God and her teeth were well graft to have her Grace
after another fashion than she is yet; so I trust, the King’s Grace
shall have great comfort in her Grace. For she is as toward a child and
as gentle of conditions as ever I knew any in my life, Jesu preserve
her Grace ... Hunsdon 1536.
C.
LADY JANE GREY TO QUEEN MARY.[725]
Although my fault be such that, but for the goodness and clemency
of the queen, I can have no hope of finding pardon nor in craving
forgiveness, having given ear to those who at that time appeared, not
only to myself, but also to a great part of this realm to be wise, and
now have manifested themselves the contrary, not only to my and their
great detriment, but with the common disgrace and blame of all, they
having with such shameful boldness made so blameable and dishonorable
an attempt to give to others that which was not theirs, neither did
it become me to accept (wherefore rightly and justly am I ashamed to
ask pardon for such a crime) nevertheless, I trust in God, that as
now I know and confess my want of prudence, for which I deserve heavy
punishment, except for the very great mercy of your majesty, I can
still on many grounds conceive hope of your infinite clemency, it being
known that the error imputed to me has not been altogether caused by
myself. Because, although my fault may be great, and I confess it to
be so, nevertheless I am charged and esteemed guilty more than I have
deserved. For whereas I might take upon me that of which I was not
worthy, yet no one can ever say either that I sought it as my own,
or that I was pleased with it, or ever accepted it. For when it was
publicly reported that there was no more hope of the King’s life,
as the Duchess of Northumberland had before promised, that I should
remain in the house with my mother, so she, having understood this
soon after from her husband, who was the first that told it to me,
did not wish me to leave my house, saying to me that if God should
have willed to call the King to his mercy, of whose life there was
no lingering hope, it would be needful for me to go immediately to
the Tower, I being made by his majesty heir of his realm. Which words
being spoken to me thus unexpectedly, put me in great perturbation,
and greatly disturbed my mind, as yet soon after they oppressed me
much more. But I, nevertheless making little account of these words,
delayed to go from my mother. So that the Duchess of Northumberland
was angry with me, and with the duchess my mother, saying that if she
had resolved to keep me in the house, she should have kept her son,
my husband near her, to whom she thought I would certainly have gone,
and she would have been free from the charge of me. And in truth, I
remained in her house two or three nights, but at length obtained leave
to go to Chelsea, for my recreation, where soon after, being sick, I
was summoned by the Council, giving me to understand that I must go
that same night to Sion to receive that which had been ordered for me
by the King. And she who brought me this news was the lady Sidney, my
sister-in-law, the daughter of the Duchess of Northumberland, who told
me with extraordinary seriousness, that it was necessary for me to go
with her, which I did. When we arrived there, we found no one, but soon
after came the Duke of Northumberland, the marquis of Northampton, the
earl of Arundel, the earl of Huntingdon, and the earl of Pembroke. By
which lords I was long held in conversation before they announced to
me the death of the King, especially by the earls of Huntingdon and
Pembroke, who, with unwonted caresses and pleasantness, did me such
reverence as was not at all suitable to my state, kneeling down before
me on the ground, and in many other ways, making semblance of honouring
me. And acknowledging me as their sovereign lady (so that they made
me blush with infinite confusion) at length they brought to me the
duchess Frances my mother, the duchess of Northumberland, and the
marchioness of Northampton. The duke of Northumberland, as president
of the council, announced the death of King Edward, shewing afterward
what cause we had all to rejoice for the virtuous and praiseworthy
life that he had led, as also for his very good death. Furthermore
he pretended to comfort himself and the bystanders, by praising much
his prudence and goodness, for the very great care that he had taken
of his kingdom at the very close of his life, having prayed God to
defend it from the Popish faith, and to deliver it from the rule of his
evil sisters. He then said that his Majesty had well weighed an act
of Parliament, wherein it was already resolved, that whoever should
acknowledge the most serene Mary, that is your most serene Majesty
or the Lady Elizabeth, and receive them as true heirs of the crown
of England should be had all for traitors, one of them having been
formerly disobedient to her father Henry the 8th, and also to himself,
concerning the truth of religion, and afterwards also capital enemies
of the Word of God, and both bastards. Wherefore, in no manner did he
wish that they should be heirs of him, and of that crown, he being able
in every way to disinherit them. And therefore, before his death, he
gave order to the council that, for the honour they owed to him, and
for the love they bare to the realm, and for the affection that was
due to their country, they should obey this his last will. The Duke
then added, that I was the heir named by his Majesty, to succeed to the
crown, and that my sisters should likewise succeed me, in case of my
default of issue. At which words, all the lords of the council kneeled
down before me, telling me that they rendered to me the honour that was
due to my person, I being of true direct lineage heir to that crown,
and that it became them, in the best manner, to observe that which,
with deliberate mind, they had promised to the King, even to shed
their blood, exposing their own lives to death. Which things as soon
as I had heard, with infinite grief of mind, how I was beside myself
stupefied and troubled, I will leave it to those lords who were present
to testify, who saw me, overcome by sudden and unexpected grief, fall
on the ground, weeping very bitterly; and then, declaring to them my
insufficiency, I greatly bewailed myself for the death of so noble a
prince, and at the same time, turned myself to God, humbly praying and
beseeching him, that if what was given to me was rightly and lawfully
mine, his divine Majesty would grant me such grace and spirit that
I might govern it to his glory and service, and to the advantage of
this realm. On the day following (as is known to every one) I was
conducted to the Tower, and shortly afterwards were presented to me
by the Marquis of Winchester, lord high treasurer, the jewels, with
which he also brought me the crown, although it had never been demanded
from him by me, or by any one in my name; and he further wished me to
put it on my head, to try whether it really became me well or no. The
which, although with many excuses I refused to do, he nevertheless
added, that I might take it without fear, and that another also should
be made, to crown my husband with me. Which thing, I, for my part,
heard truly with a troubled mind, and with ill will, even with infinite
grief and displeasure of heart. And after the said lord was gone, and I
was reasoning of many things with my husband, he assented, that if he
were to be made King, he would be made so by me, by act of parliament.
But afterwards I sent for the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, and said
to them that if the crown belonged to me, I should be content to make
my husband a duke, but would never consent to make him king. Which
resolution of mine gave his mother (this my opinion being related to
her) great cause for anger and disdain, so that she, being very angry
with me, and greatly displeased, persuaded her son not to sleep with
me any longer as he was wont to do, affirming to me moreover that
he did not wish in any wise to be a duke, but a king. So that I was
constrained to send to him the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, who had
negotiated with him to come from me, otherwise I knew, that the next
morning he would have gone to Sion. And thus in truth was I deceived by
the duke and the council and ill-treated by my husband and his mother.
Moreover (as Sir John Gates has confessed) he (the duke) was the first
to persuade King Edward to make me his heir. As to the rest, for my
part, I know not what the council had determined to do, but I know for
certain that, twice during this time, poison was given to me, first
in the house of the duchess of Northumberland, and afterwards here in
the Tower, as I have the best and most certain testimony, besides that
since that time all my hair has fallen off, and all these things I have
wished to say, for the witness of my innocence, and the disburdening of
my conscience.
D.
CORONATION.[726]
The last of September Queen Mary rode through the city of London
towards Westminster, sitting in a chariot of cloth of tissue drawn
with six horses and trapped with the like cloth of tissue. She sat in a
gown of purple velvet furred with powdered ermine, having on her head a
caul of cloth of tinsel beset with pearl and stone, and above the same
upon her head, a round circlet of gold beset so richly with precious
stones, that the value thereof was inestimable, the same caul and
circlet being so massy and ponderous, that she was fain to bear up her
head with her hand, and the canopy was borne over her chariot. Before
her rode a number of gentlemen and knights, then judges, then doctors,
then bishops, then lords, then the Council, after whom followed the
Knights of the Bath, thirteen in number, in their robes, the bishop
of Winchester, Lord Chancellor, and the Marquess of Winchester, Lord
High Treasurer; next came the Duke of Norfolk, and after him the Earl
of Oxford who bare the sword before her, the Mayor of London in a gown
of crimson velvet bare the sceptre of gold, etc., after the Queen’s
Chariot, Sir Edward Hastings led her horse in his hand: then came
another chariot, having a covering all of cloth of silver, all white,
and six horses trapped with the like. Therein sate the Lady Elizabeth
and the lady Anne of Cleves, then ladies and gentlemen riding on horses
trapped with red velvet, and their gowns and kirtles likewise of red
velvet: after them followed two other chariots covered with red satin,
and the horses be trapped with the same, and certain gentlewomen
between every of the said chariots, riding in crimson satin, their
horses betrapped with the same, the number of the gentlewomen so riding
were forty-six, besides them in the chariots. At Fenchurch was a costly
pageant made by the Genoese; at Gracechurch corner there was another
pageant made by the Easterlings. At the upper end of Grace Street,
there was another pageant made by the Florentines, very high, on the
top whereof there stood four pictures, and in the midst of them and
most highest, there stood an angel all in green with a trumpet in his
hand, and when the trumpeter who stood secretly in the pageant did
sound his trump, the angel did put his trump to his mouth, as though
it had been the same that had sounded, to the great marvelling of many
ignorant persons. This pageant was made with three thoroughfares or
gates, &c. The Conduit in Cornhill ran wine, and beneath the Conduit,
a pageant made at the charges of the City, and another at the great
Conduit in Cheap, and a fountain by it running wine. The standard in
Cheap new painted, with the waits of the City aloft thereof playing.
The Cross in Cheap new washed and burnished. One other pageant at the
little Conduit in Cheap next to Paul’s made by the City, where the
Aldermen stood. And when the Queen came against them, the Recorder
made a short proposition to her, and then the Chamberlain presented to
her in the name of the Mayor and the City, a purse of cloth of gold
and 1,000 marks of gold in it. Then she rode forth, and in Paul’s
Churchyard against the School, one Master Haywood sate in a pageant
under a vine, and made to her an oration in Latin and English. Then
was there one Peter a Dutchman stood on the weather-cock of Paul’s
steeple, holding a streamer in his hand of five yards long, and waving
thereof stood some time on the one foot and shook the other, and then
kneeled on his knees, to the great marvel of all people. He had made
two scaffolds under him, one above the Cross, having torches and
streamers set on it, and one other over the bole of the Cross, likewise
set with streamers and torches, which could not burn, the wind being so
great. The said Peter had sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and four
pence given him by the City for his costs and pains, and all his stuff.
Then was there a pageant made against the Dean of Paul’s gate, where
the choristers of Paul’s played on vials, and sung. Ludgate was newly
repaired, painted and richly hanged, with minstrels playing and singing
there. Then was there another pageant at the Conduit in Fleet Street,
and the Temple Bar was newly painted and hanged. And thus she passed to
Whitehall at Westminster, where she took her leave of the Lord Mayor,
giving him great thanks for his pains, and the City for their cost. On
the morrow, which was the first day of October, the Queen went by water
to the old palace, and there remained till about eleven of the clock,
and then went on foot upon blue cloth, being railed on either side unto
Saint Peter’s Church, where she was solemnly crowned and anointed by
the Bishop of Winchester, which coronation and other ceremonies and
solemnities then used according to the old custom, was not fully ended
till it was nigh four of the clock at night, that she returned from
the church, before whom was then borne three swords sheathed and one
naked. The great service that day done in Westminster Hall at dinner by
divers noblemen would ask long time to write. The Lord Mayor of London
and twelve citizens kept the high cupboard of plate as butlers, and
the Queen gave to the Mayor for his fee, a cup of gold with a cover
weighing seventeen ounces.
E.
TRANSLATION OF CRANMER’S OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THE POPE ON HIS
RECEIVING THE PALLIUM.[727]
In the name of God Amen. I Thomas elect of Canterbury from this hour
forward shall be faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the
holy Church of Rome, and to my lord the Pope, Clement VII. and his
successors canonically entering. I shall not be of counsel nor consent
that they shall lose either life or member, or shall be taken, or
suffer any violence, or any wrong by any means. Their counsel to me
credited by them, their messengers or letters I shall not willingly
discover to any person. The papacy of Rome, the rules of the holy
fathers and the regality of St. Peter I shall help and maintain,
and defend against all men (saving my order). The legate of the see
Apostolic going and coming, I shall honourably entreat and assist
in his necessities [_in suis necessitatibus_]. The rights, honours,
privileges, authorities of the Church of Rome, and of our Pope and
his successors I shall cause to be conserved, defended, augmented and
promoted. I shall not be in council, treaty or any act, in the which
anything shall be imagined against him, or the Church of Rome, their
rights, seats, honours or powers. And if I know any such to be moved
or compassed, I shall resist it to my power, and as soon as I can, I
shall advertise him or such as may give him knowlege. The rules of
the holy fathers, the decrees, ordinances, sentences, dispositions,
reservations, provisions and commandments apostolic to my power I shall
keep and cause to be kept by others. Heretics, schismatics and rebels
to our holy father and his successors I shall resist and prosecute
to my power. I shall come to the Synod when I am called, except I be
letted by a canonical impediment. The threshold of the Apostles I shall
visit yearly, personally or by my deputy. I shall not alienate or sell
the possessions of my Archbishopric without the Pope’s counsel. So help
me God and the holy Evangelists.
F.
OPINION OF THE MOST SERENE QUEEN OF ENGLAND WHICH SHE WROTE WITH HER
OWN HAND, AND GAVE TO HIS RIGHT REVEREND LORDSHIP THE LEGATE, CARDINAL
POLE, AT THE TIME WHEN THE SYNOD WAS HELD.[728]
First—I should wish that all the Church property, which for the
discharge of our conscience, the King my husband and I have totally
renounced, should be distributed as shall seem best to my Lord Cardinal
and to the rest of you, so that what has been commenced for the
increase of the religion in this kingdom, may produce its due effect.
Secondly—I desire, that the preachers by their piety and doctrine do
smother and extinguish all those errors and false opinions disseminated
and spread abroad by the late preachers, making provision at the same
time, that no book be printed sold or purchased, or brought into the
kingdom, without our licence, and under very strict penalties.
Thirdly—I should deem it well, for the churches and universities of
this kingdom, to be visited by such persons as my Lord Cardinal and we
may know to be fit and sufficient, to execute what is required in this
matter.
Fourthly—Touching the punishment of heretics, I believe it would be
well to inflict punishment at this beginning, without much cruelty or
passion, but without however omitting to do such justice on those who
choose by their false doctrines to deceive simple persons, that the
people may clearly comprehend that they have not been condemned without
just cause, whereby others will be brought to know the truth, and will
beware of letting themselves be induced to relapse into such new and
false opinions. And above all, I should wish that no one be burned in
London, save in the presence of some member of the Council; and that
during such executions, both here and elsewhere, some good and pious
sermons be preached, &c.
Fifthly—I really believe it to be by no means fitting, for a plurality
of benefices to be placed in the hands of one individual, but that
they should be so distributed that each priest may be resident, and
have care of his flock, whereas at present, quite the reverse is seen,
to which I attribute so great a lack of preachers throughout this
kingdom; nor are they of such a sort as they ought to be, so as by
their doctrine to overcome the diligence of false preachers in the time
of schism, and also by leading an exemplary life, without which in my
opinion, their sermons would not be of so much profit as I could wish;
and in like manner, as their good example will through them, effect
great good, so I acknowledge myself to be very greatly bound on my
part also to give the like example by aiding in the disposition and
maintenance of such persons, that they may perform their office and
duty well; not forgetting on the other hand, to have those punished
who shall do the contrary, that it may serve as a very evident example
to the whole of this kingdom, of how I discharge my conscience in this
matter, and administer justice by doing so.
G.
There is an account in Boswell’s _Life of Samuel Johnson_[729] of a
curious discussion carried on by Johnson, Goldsmith, Dr. Mayo and
Boswell as to the morality of punishing men for spreading religious
opinions dangerous to the State. Boswell having introduced the subject
of toleration is answered by:—
_Johnson_—“Every society has a right to preserve public peace and
order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of
opinions which have a dangerous tendency. To say the _magistrate_ has
this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the society for which
the magistrate is agent. He may be morally or theologically wrong in
restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but
he is politically right.” _Mayo_—“I am of opinion, Sir, that every
man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the
magistrate cannot restrain that right.” _Johnson_—“Sir, I agree with
you. Every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the
magistrate cannot interfere. People confound liberty of thinking with
liberty of talking, nay, with liberty of preaching. Every man has a
physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how
he thinks. He has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself
and think justly. But, Sir, no member of a society has a right to
_teach_ any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true.
The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he
thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks....”
_Goldsmith_—”... Our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing
bread and wine to be Christ——” _Johnson_ (interrupting him)—“Sir, they
were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be Christ, but for
insulting those who did believe it. And, Sir, when the first reformers
began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away
as could....” _Mayo_—“But, Sir, is it not very hard that I should
not be allowed to teach my children what I really believe to be the
truth?” _Johnson_—“Why, Sir, you might contrive to teach your children
_extra scandalum_; but, Sir, the magistrate, if he knows it has a
right to restrain you. Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?”
_Mayo_—“This is making a joke of the subject.” _Johnson_—“Nay, Sir,
take it thus:—that you teach them the community of goods; for which
there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines.
You teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no
man had a right to anything, but as he laid his hands upon it; and
that this still is, or ought to be the rule amongst mankind. Here,
Sir, you sap a great principle in society—property, and don’t you
think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? or suppose you
should teach your children the notion of the Adamites, and they should
run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to
flog ’em into their doublets?” _Mayo_—“I think the magistrate has no
right to interfere till there is some overt act.” _Boswell_—“So, Sir,
though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not
to interfere till it is fired off!” _Mayo_—“He must be sure of its
direction against the state.” _Johnson_—“The magistrate is to judge
of that. He has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil
centres in yourself. If a man were sitting at this table, chopping
off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has
no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness
as a parent—though, indeed, upon more consideration, I think he may;
as it is probable that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may
soon proceed to chop off those of other people. If I think it right
to steal Mr. Dilly’s plate I am a bad man; but he can say nothing to
me. If I make an open declaration that I think so, he will keep me
out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I shall be sent to Newgate.
This is the gradation of thinking, preaching and acting: if a man
thinks erroneously he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody
will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel
him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place and he is
hanged.” _Mayo_—“But, Sir, ought not Christians to have liberty of
conscience?” _Johnson_—“I have already told you so, Sir. You are coming
back to where you were.” _Boswell_—“Dr. Mayo is always taking a return
postchaise, and going the stage over again. He has it at half-price.”
_Johnson_—“Dr. Mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration has
got a set of words. Sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the
magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to be formed to drink
confusion to King George the Third, and a happy restoration to Charles
the Third, this would be very bad with respect to the state; but every
member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out
of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that the magistrates should
‘tolerate all things that are tolerable’. This is no good definition of
toleration upon any principle; but it shows that he thought some things
were not tolerable.” _Toplady_—“Sir, you have untwisted this difficult
subject with great dexterity.”
Cobbett’s _History of the Reformation_, which raised a storm of abuse
at the time of its publication, may not in these days be ignored by any
writer on the subject. Its statements, nearly all based on Lingard, who
is admittedly a fair and large-minded authority, have been found to
contain far less exaggeration than was formerly supposed. Cobbett lived
and died a Protestant, but his convictions did not bias him concerning
the seditious practices of Foxe’s Martyrs. He says:[730]—
“The real truth about these ‘Martyrs’ is that they were generally a
set of most wicked wretches, who sought to destroy the Queen and her
government, and under the pretence of conscience and superior piety,
to obtain the means of again preying upon the people. No mild means
could reclaim them; those means had been tried: the Queen had to employ
vigorous means, or to suffer her people to continue to be torn by
the religious factions, created not by her, but by her two immediate
predecessors, who had been aided and abetted by many of those who
now were punished, and who were worthy of ten thousand deaths each,
if ten thousand deaths could have been endured. They were, without a
single exception, apostates, perjurers or plunderers; and the greater
part of them had also been guilty of flagrant high treason against
Mary herself, who had spared their lives, but whose lenity they had
requited by every effort within their power to overset her authority
and government. To make particular mention of all the ruffians that
perished upon this occasion would be a task as irksome as it would be
useless; but there were amongst them three of Cranmer’s bishops and
himself! For now, justice at last overtook this most mischievous of all
villains, who had justly to go to the same stake that he had unjustly
caused so many others to be tied to; the three others were Hooper,
Latimer and Ridley, each of whom was indeed inferior in villainy to
Cranmer, but to few other men that have ever existed!”
H.
A COPY OF QUEEN MARY’S WILL FROM THE ORIGINAL, FORMERLY IN THE HANDS OF
MR. HALE OF ALDERLEY, GLOUCESTERSHIRE (Harl. MS. 6949, f. 29).
✠
MARY THE QUENE.
In the name of God, Amen. I Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Englond,
Spayne, France, both Sicelles, Jerusalem and Ireland, Defender of the
Faythe, Archduchesse of Austriche, Duchesse of Burgundy, Millayne and
Brabant, Countesse of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyroll, and lawful wife to
the most noble and virtuous Prince Philippe, by the same Grace of God
Kynge of the said Realms and Domynions of England, &c. Thinking myself
to be with child in lawful marriage between my said dearly beloved
husband and Lord, altho’ I be at this present (thankes be unto Almighty
God) otherwise in good helthe, yet foreseeing the great danger which
by Godd’s ordynance remaine to all whomen in ther travel of children,
have thought good, both for discharge of my conscience and continewance
of good order within my Realmes and domynions to declare my last will
and testament; and by these presents revoking all other testaments and
last Wills by me at onny time heretofore made or devised by wryting or
otherwise, doe with the full consent, agreement and good contentment of
my sayd most Dere L^d and Husband, ordeyn and make my sayd last will
and testament in manner and forme following.
Fyrste I do commend my Soulle to the mercye of Almighty God the
maker and Redeemer thereof, and to the good prayers and helpe of the
most puer and blessed Virgin our Lady St. Mary, and of all the Holy
Companye of Heven. My body I will to be buried at the discression of my
executors: the interment of my sayd body to be made in such order and
with such godly prayers, Suffrages and Ceremonies as with consideracyon
of my estate and the laudable usage of Christ’s Church shall seme to
my executors most decent and convenient. Also my mynde and will ys,
that during the tyme of my interrment, and within oon moneth after my
decesse owte of this transitory lyfe, ther be distributed in almes, the
summe of ~oon thousand pownds~, the same to be given to the relefe of
pore prysoners, and other pore men and whomen by the discression of my
executors. And further I will that the body of the vertuous Lady and
my most dere and well-beloved mother of happy memory, Quene Kateryn,
whych lyeth now buried at Peterborowh, shall within as short tyme as
conveniently yt may after my burial, be removed, brought and layde
nye the place of my sepulture, in w^{ch} place I will my Executors to
cawse to be made honorable tombs or monuments for a decent memory of
us. And whereas the Howses of Shene and Sion, the which were erected
by my most noble Progenitor K. Henry the Fyfte for places of Religion
and prayer, the oon of Monks of th’ order of Carthusians and th’ other
of Nunns Ordines S^{tæ} Brigittæ wer in the tyme of the late Scisme
within this Realme clerly dissolv’d and defac’d, which sayde howses are
lately by my said dere Lord and husband and by me reviv’d and newly
erected accordynge to ther severall ancyent foundacyons, order and
Statutes, and we have restor’d and endow’d them severally with diverse
Mannors, londs, tenements and hereditaments, sometyme parcell of ther
severall possessions. For a further increase of their lyvyng, and to
thentent the said Religious persons may be the more hable to reedifye
some part of ther necessary howses that were so subverted and defac’d,
and furnish themselves with ornaments and other thyngs mete for Godd’s
servyce, I will and give unto ether of the said Religious howses of
Shene and Sion, the summe of ~fyve hundred pownds~ of lawfull money
of Englond, and I further will and give unto the Pryor and Covent of
the said house of Shene, and to ther Successours, Mannours, londs,
tenements, sometyme parcell of the possessions belongyng to the same
howse before the dissolucyon thereof and remayning in our possession,
to the clere yerly valewe of ~one hundred pownds~. And lykewyse I
will and give unto the Abbesse and Covent of the said house of Sion,
and to ther Successors, Mannours, lands, tenements and hereditaments
sometyme parcell of the possessions of the said house of Sion, and
remayning in our hands at the tyme of our decesse or of some other
late Spirituall possessions to the clere yerly valewe of ~one hundred
pownds~, the which summe of 100^{li} to ether of the said houses and
the said Mannours, londs, tenements and hereditaments to the said yerly
valewe of C^{li} to ether of the said houses I will shall be pay’d,
convey’d and assur’d to ether of the said houses within oon yere next
after my decesse; requyring and chargyng the Religious persons, the
which shall from tyme to tyme remayne and be in the said severall
houses, to praye for my Soulle and the Soulle of my said most Dere and
well-beloved husband the King’s Maj^{ty} when God shall call hym to
hys mercye owt of this transitory lyfe, and for the Soulle of the said
good and vertuous Quene my Mother, and for the Soulles of all other our
Progenitours, and namely the said Kynge Henry 5 as they were bounden
by the ancyente Statuts and ordyenances of ther Severall foundacyons.
Item, I will and geve to the Warden and Covent of the Observante Fryers
of Greenwiche the summe of ~five hundred pownds~. Item, I will and geve
to the Pryor and Covent of the black fryers at St. Bartholomews within
the suburbs of London, the sum of 400 ~Marks~. And likewise unto the
Fryers of the said Observante order beyng at Southampton, the summe
of 200 pownds. Item, I will and geve unto the pore Nunns of Langley
the Summe of 200^{li} ~pounds~. All which said severall legacies unto
the said Fryers and Nunns, I will that my Executors shall cawse to
be payd to ther severall uses within oon yere next after my decesse,
as well for the relefe and comfort, as towards the reparacyons and
amendments of ther necessary howses, and to provyde them some more
ornaments for their Churches, for the better service of Almighty God.
Also I will and geve unto the Abbot and Covent of the said Monastery of
Westminster the summe of 200^{li} ~pownds~ or else as many ornaments
for ther Church ther, as shall amounte unto the said Summe of CC^{li}
to be pay’d and deliver’d unto them within oon yere next after my
decesse by my said Executors. And I will, charge and requyre the said
Abbot and Covent, and all others the Fryers and Nunns and ther Covents
above remembred, to pray for my Soulle, and for the Soulle of my said
most Dere and well beloved Lord and husband, the King’s Highnesse,
by whose specyall goodnesse they have been the rather erected, and
for the Soulle of my said most dere beloved mother the Quene, and for
the Soulles of all our Progenitors with dayly Masses, Suffrages and
prayers. Also I will and geve for and to the relefe of the pore Scolers
in ether of the Universities of Oxinford and Cambridge the Summe of
500^{li} ~pownds~, that ys to say, to ether of the said Universities
the Summe of 500^{li} the which summe I will that my Executors shall
delyver within oon yere next after my decesse unto the Chancellors
and others of the most grave & wisest men of the same Universities,
to be distributed and geven amongst the said pore Scolers, from tyme
to tyme as they shall thynke expedient for ther relefe and comfort,
and specyally to such as intend by Godds grace to be Religious persons
and Priests. And whereas I have by my warrant under my Signe Manuell
assigned and appoynted londs, tenements, and hereditaments of the yerly
valewe of 200^{li} and somewhat more to be assur’d unto the Master
and Brotherne of the Hospitall of Savoy, fyrste erected and founded
by my Grandfather of most worthy memory Kynge Henry 7, my mynde will
and intent ys, and I charge my Executors that yf the said londs be
not assur’d unto the said howse of Savoy in my lyfetime, that yt be
done as shortly as maye be after my decesse, or else some other londs,
tenements & hereditaments, sometyme parcell of the possessions of the
said howse, to the said yerely valewe of 200^{li} and as muche other
londs, tenements and hereditaments, late parcell of the possessions of
the said howse, or of some other the late spirituall londs, as shall
make up together with the londs I have before this tyme assur’d unto
the said howse, and the which the said Master and his Brotherne doth
by vertue of our former grant enjoye, the summe of 500^{li} of clere
yerely valewe, which is agreeable with thendowment my said Grandfather
indow’d the same howse with, at the first erection thereof. Willynge
and chargynge the said M^r and his Brotherne and ther successors, not
only to keep and observe the anciente rewles and statuts of the said
howse accordynge to the foundacyon of the said Kynge my Grandfather,
but also to praye for the Soulles of me, and of my said most dere Lord
and Husband, when God shall call hym out of this transitory lyfe,
and of the said Quene my Mother, and of all others our Progenitors
Soulles. And forasmuch as presently there ys no howse or hospitall
specyally ordeyn’d and provyded for the relefe and helpe of pore and
old Soldiers, and namely of such as have been or shall be hurt or
maymed in the warres and servys of this Realme, the which we thynke
both honour, conscyence and charyte willeth should be provided for. And
therefore my mynde and wyll ys, that my Executors shall, as shortly
as they may after my decesse, provide some convenient howse within or
nye the Suburbs of the Cite of London, the which howse I would have
founded and erected of oon Master and two Brotherne, and these three
to be Priests. And I will that the said howse or Hospitall shall be
indow’d with Mannours, londs tenements and hereditaments some tyme
parcell of the Spirituall londs and possessions, to the clere yerly
valewe of 400 ~Markes~ whereof I will, that the said M^r shall have
30 pownds by the yere, and ether of the said two brotherne 20^{li} by
the yere, and the rest of the revenewe of the said londs, I will that
my Executors shall limyt and appoynt by good ordynances and statuts,
to be made and stablyshed upon the erection of the said Hospitall, how
the same shall be us’d and imployed, wherein specyally I would have
them respect the relefe succour and helpe of pore, impotent and aged
Souldiers, and chefely those that be fallen into exstreme poverte,
havyng no pencyon or other pretence of lyvyng, or are become hurt or
maym’d in the warres of this Realme, or in onny servyce for the defence
and suerte of ther Prince and of ther Countrey, or of the Domynions
thereunto belongyng. Also I will and specyally charge theexecutors
of this my present testament and last Will, that yf I have injuried
or done wrong to onny person (as to my remembrance willingly I have
not) yet yf onny such may be proved, and lykewyse all such detts as
I owe to onny person sens the tyme I have been Quene of this Realme,
and specyally the lone money (the which diverse of my lovyng subjects
have lately advanced and lent unto me) that the same injuries (yf onny
be) and the said detts and lone money above all thyngs, as shortly as
may be after my decesse be recompenced, restor’d and pay’d, and that
doon, my mynde and will ys, that all such detts as were owing by my
late Father, King Henry 8^{th} or by my late brother K. Edward the
6^{th}, shall likewyse, as they conveniently may, be satisfyed and
payd. And for as much as yt hath pleased Almighty God of hys infenyte
marcye & goodnesse, to reduce this Realme unto the unyte of Christ’s
Church, from the which yt declyned, and during the tyme thereof
diverse londes and other hereditaments, goods and possessions geven
and dispos’d, as well by sondry of my Progenitors as by other good
and vertuous people to sondrye places and Monasteries of Religion,
and to other Ecclesiastical howses and persons, for the mayntenance
of Godds servyce, and for continuall prayer to be made for the relefe
both of the lyvyng and of the dedde, were taken away and committed to
other uses; I have before this tyme thought yt good, for some part of
satisfaction thereof, and to be a piece of the dewtie I owe unto God,
that some porcyon of the londs and hereditaments that were sometyme the
goods of the said Church shold be restor’d ageyne unto good and Godly
uses, and for the accomplyshing thereof I have, with the consent of my
said most Dere Lord and Husband the Kyng’s Majesty, and by theauthority
of Parliament, and with the advyce and counsell of the Most Rev.
Father in God and my right intierly beloved Cousyne Cardynall Poole,
Archbp̃. of Cant. and Primate of Englond, who hath specyally travelled
as a good Mynister and Legate sent from the Apostolique See to reduce
this Realme unto the Unyte of the said See, Renounc’d and geven over
as well diverse parsonages Impropriate, tythes and other Spirituall
hereditaments, as also divers other profits and hereditaments some
tyme belongyng to the said Ecclesiasticall and Spirituall persons and
howses of Religion, to be ordered, used and imploy’d by the said most
Reverend Father in God, in such manner and forme as ys prescribed and
lymitted by the said Statute, and as to hys godly wysdome shall be
thowght mete and convenyent. My mynde, will and pleasure ys, that such
ordynances and devyses as the said most Rev^d Father in God hath made
and devised, or shall hereafter make and devise, for and concerning the
said parsonages, tithes and other Spirituall hereditaments (the which
I have committed to his order and disposition) shall be inviolably
observ’d. Requyryng my said Cousyne and most Rev^d Father in God, as
he hath begun a good work in this Realme, soe he will (cheifly for
God’s sake and glory, and for the good will he beareth unto me, and to
this my Realme, beynge his native Countrey) doe, as much as he maye,
by Godd’s grace, to fynishe the same. And specyally to dispose and
order the said Parsonages, tithes, and other Spirituall possessions
and hereditaments commytted to his order, with as much speed as he
convenyently may, accordynge to the trust and confidence that my most
Dere Lord and Husband and I, and the whole Realme have repos’d in hym,
and yn hys virtue and wysdome, for the which God shall rewarde hym, and
this hys Countrey honour and love hym. And for hys better assistance in
theexecution thereof, I will, charge and requyre my Executors, and all
others of my Counsell, and the rest of my good and faythfull Subjects,
that they to the uttermost of ther power be aydynge and assistynge
unto my said Cousyne, as they tender the benefit of ther Countrey and
ther own Commodyte. Furthermore I will and charge my said Executors,
that yf onny person or persons have pay’d unto my use onny Summe of
money for the purchase of onny londs, tenements and hereditaments the
assurances whereof to them in my lyfe tyme ys not perfitted, that the
said Person or Persons be, within such short tyme after my decesse as
may be, either repay’d ther mony, or else have good assurances of the
said londs, or of others of the like valewe, made unto them accordynge
to the laws of this Realme. Also I will that my Executors shall within
oon quarter of a year next after my decesse, destribute amongst my pore
Servants that be ordinary, and have most nede, the Summe of 2000^{li}.
willyng them in the destribution thereof to have a specyall regarde
unto such as have serv’d me longest and have no certainty of lyvyng of
my gifte to lyve by after my decesse. And as towchyng the dispocyon
of this my Imperiall Crowne of England, and the Crowne of Ireland,
with my title to France, and all the dependances, of the same, whereof
by the mere provydence of Almighty God I am the lawful Inheritor and
Quene: my will, mynde, and entent ys, that the s^d Imperiall Crowne of
Englond and Ireland, and my Title to France, and all the dependances,
and all other my Honours, Castells, fortresses, mannours, londs,
tenements, prerogatyves and hereditaments whatsoever, shall wholly and
entirely descend remayne & be unto the heyres, issewe and frewte of my
bodye, accordyng to the laws of this Realme. Neverthelesse the order,
Governnment and Rewle of my said issewe, and of my said Imperiall
Crowne, and the dependances thereof, during the Minoryte of my said
heyre and Issewe, I specyally recommend unto my said most Dere and
well beloved Husband, accordynge to the laws of this my said Realme
for the same provided. Willing, charging, and most hertily requyryng
all and singular my lovyng, obedient and naturall subjects, by that
profession and dewtye of allegiance that by God’s commandment they
owe unto me, beyng ther naturall Sovereigne Lady & Quene; And also
desyryng them (per viscera Misericordiæ Dei) that sens yt hath pleased
hys devyne Majesty, far above my merits to shew me so great favour in
this world, as to appoynte me so noble, vertuous, and worthy a Prince
to be my husband, as my said most Dere and intirely beloved Husband
the King’s Majesty ys, whose endeavour, care and stodie hath ben, and
chefely ys, to reduce this Realme unto the Unyte of Christ’s Church
and trewe Religion, and to the anncyente and honourable fame and honor
that yt hath ben of, and to conserve the same therein; And not dowting
but accordyng to the trust that ys repos’d in hys Maj^{ty}, by the
laws of this Realme, made concernyng the Government of my Issewe, that
hys Highnesse will discharge the same to the glory of God, to hys own
honour, to the suerty of my said Issewe, and to the profit of all my
Subjects; that they therefore will use themselves in such humble and
obedient sort and order, that hys Majesty may be the rather incoraged
and provoked to continewe hys good and gracious disposition towards
them and this Realme. And for as much as I have no Legacy or jewell
that I covet more to leve unto hys Majesty to reqyte the nobility of
hys harte towards me and this Realme, nor he more desirous to have,
than the love of my Subjects, I doe therefore once agayne reqyre them
to bere and owe unto his Highnesse the same dewtie and love that they
naturally doe and should owe unto me, and in hope they will not forget
the same, I do specyally recommend the same dewtye and love unto hys
Highnesse, as a legacye, the which I trust he shall enjoye. Also I will
and geve unto my said issewe all my jewells, ships, municyons of warre,
and artillery, and after my detts (and the detts of my said late Father
and brother, King Henry 8. and King Edward 6.) satisfied and pay’d, and
this my present testament and last will perform’d, I geve and bequethe
unto my said issewe all the rest of my treasure, plate, goods and
Chattells whatsoever they be. And callynge to my Remembrance the good
and dewtyfull service to me doon by diverse of my lovyng Servants and
faythfull Subjects, to whom, as yet, I have not given onny condigne
recompence for the same, therefore I am fully resolv’d and determyn’d
to geve to every of them whose names are hereafter mention’d such
legacies and gifts as particularly ensueth.
[Then follow in the Will several particular Legacies to her women and
other Servants about her, which in all amount to 3400^{li} among which
she gives Dr. Malet her Almoner and Confessor, to praye for her the
summe of 200^{li} and to the poor fryers of the Order of St. Dominick,
erected and placed within the University of Oxford, to pray for her
soul, her Husband’s, Mother’s, and all other her progenitours the summe
of 200^{li}; besides all this she gives 20^{li} a year apiece to Father
Westweek and Father Metcalfe and then it followes in her Will.]
And to thentente this my last will and testament may be the more
inviolably observ’d, fulfill’d and executed, I will the Issewe of my
bodye that shall succede me in th’ Imperiall Crowne of this Realme
upon my blessing, that he or she be no Impedyment thereof, but that
to the uttermost of his or her power, they do permytt and suffer my
said Executors to performe the same, and to ayd them in theexecution
thereof. And yf ther shall be any imperfection in the assurances of
the londs that I have devis’d and appoynted to the howses of Religion
or to Savoye, or to the hospitall I mynde to have erected for the
pore and maymed Souldiers, or onny negligence be in my Executors in
the performance and execucyon of this my testament and last will,
that then I will and charge my said Issewe on my blessing, to supply
and accomplyshe all such defects and imperfections. And I charge my
said Executors, as they will answer before God at the dredfull day of
Judgement, and as they will avoyde such commynacyons, threatnyngs,
and the severe justice of God pronounc’d and executed against such
as are brekers and violaters of wills and testaments, that they to
the uttermost of ther powers and wyttes, shall see this my present
Testament & last will perform’d and executed, for the which I trust,
God shall reward them, and the world commend them. And as yt hath stood
with the good contentment and pleasure of my said most dere beloved
Lord and husband the King’s Majesty, that I should thus devise my
Testament and last will, so I dowte not, but that his most noble harte
desyreth and wysheth that the same should accordyngly take effect after
yt shall please God to call me out of this transytory lyfe to his
marcye. And havyng such exsperience of his gracyus faveure, zeale and
love towards me as I have, I am fully perswaded that no person either
can or will more honorably and ernestly travell in thexecution of this
my Testam^t and last will, then his Majesty will doo. Therefore I most
humbly beseech his Highnesse that he will vouchsafe and be pleas’d to
take upon hym the pryncipall and the chefest care of thexecutyon of
this my present Testament and last will, and to be a patron to the rest
of my Executors of the same in thexecutyon thereof.
~And I do humbly beseeche my saide most dearest lorde and husbande to
accepte of my bequeste, and to kepe for a memory of me one jewell,
being a table dyamond which themperours Majesty, his and my most
honourable Father, sent unto me by the Cont degmont, at the insurance
of my sayde lorde and husbande, and also one other table dyamonde
whiche his Majesty sent unto me by the marques de les Nanes, and the
Coler of golde set with nyne dyamonds, the whiche his Majestye gave me
the Epiphanie after our Maryage, also the rubie now sett in a Golde
ryng which his Highnesse sent me by the Cont of Feria, all which things
I require his Majestye to dispose at his pleasure, and if his Highnesse
thynck mete, to the Issue betwene us.~
Also I reqyre the said most Reverend Father in God and my said most
dere beloved Cosyn the Lord Cardynall Poole, to be oon of my Executors,
to whom I geve for the paynes he shall take aboute the thexecucyon of this
my present Testament the summe of ~one thousande powndes~. And for the
specyall truste and good service that I have alweyes had and founde
in the most Rev^d Father in God, and my right trustye and right well
beloved Councellour Nicholas Abp of Yorke, my Chancellor of Englonde,
and in my right trusty and right wel beloved Cosyns William, Marques
of Wynchester, L^d Treasorer of Englonde, Henry Erle of Arundel, Henry
Erle of Westmorland, Francis Erle of Shrewsbury, Edward Erle of Derbye,
Thomas Erle of Sussex, W^m Erle of Pembroke, and in my right trusty
and well beloved Councellors Visc, Mountague, Edward Lord Clynton,
highe Admyrall of Englonde, and in the Rev^d Father in God and my right
trusty and well beloved Councellors Thomas Bishop of Elye, Edward
Lord Hastings of Lowtheborowghe, Lorde Chamberlayne of my Howsehold,
S^r W^m Petre K^t Chancellor of my order of the Garter, and S^r W^m
Cordell K^t M^r of the Rowlles of my Court of Chancerye. I ordeyne and
constitute them also Executors of this my present Testament and last
Will, and I geve unto every of the said L^d Chancellor, Lord Tresorer,
etc., for their paynes and travell therein to be taken, the Summe of
~fyve hundred powndes~. And unto every of the said Visc Montague, Lord
Admyrall, etc., for ther paynes likewise to be taken ~fyve hundred
marckes~.
And for the greate experyence I have had of the trothe fidelite and
good servyce of my trustye and righte well beloved Servants and
Councellors, S^r Tho. Cornwallis K^t Comptroller of my howsehold, S.
Henry Jernegan K^t Master of my horses, M^r Boxall, my Chefe Secretary,
S^r Edward Waldegrave K^t Chancellor of my Duchy of Lancaster, S^r
Francis Englefeld K^t Master of my Court of Wards and lyveries, and S^r
John Baker K^t Chancellor of my Exchequer I geve unto every of them for
ther paynes and good servyce to be taken, as assistants to this my said
testament, and to be of Council with my said Issewe, the Summe of ~two
hundred powndes~. I do appoynte, name and ordeyne them to be Assistants
unto my said Executors in thexecucyon of this my said Testament, and to
be with them of the Council to my said issewe. And I geve unto every
of my said Servants and Councellors last before remembered whom I have
appoynted to be assistants to my said Executors, as ys aforesaid,
for ther good servyce and paynes to be taken and doon with my said
Executors for thexecucyon of this my present Testament and last Will,
the Summe of ~two hundred powndes~, before geven unto ether of them.
Nevertheless my playne Will, mynde and entent ys, that yf onny of my
said Councillors whom I have appoynted before by this my Testament
to be my Executors of the same, shall at the tyme of my decesse be
indetted unto me in onny Summes of money, or ought to be and stond
charged unto me or to my heirs or Successors for onny Acc^{ts} or
summes of money by hym or them receyved, whereof at the tyme of my
decesse he ys not lawfully discharged. That the said Executor or
Executors, who shall be so indetted or ought to be charg’d with onny
such Acc^{ts} shall not, for that he or they be named & appoynted onny
of my Executars, be exonerate and discharged of the said detts or
acc^{ts}, but thereof shall remayne charged, as tho’ he or they had
not been named of my said Executors, and in that respect only shall
be excepted to all intents as none of my said Executors, to take any
benefit or discharge of the said dette or acc^{ts}.
And in wytnesse that this ys my present Testament and last Will, I have
sign’d diverse parts of the same with my Signe Manuell, and thereunto
also have cawsed my prevye Signett to be put, the Thirtieth day of
Marche, in the yere of our Lorde God a Thousande fyve hundred fyfty and
eight, and in the fourth yere of the Reigne of my said moste dere lorde
and husband, and in the fyfte yere of the Reigne of me the said Quene.
These beynge called to be wytnesses, whose names hereafter followythe
HENRY BEDINGFELD JOHN THROKMORTON
THOMAS WHARTON R. WILBRAHM
MARYE THE QUENE
Hereabouts
was her Seale being
the Arms of England
France and Spayne, and
round the Seale was a
collar of Roses as it
seemed to me to
be.—H.
Throughout this Will those words which are underlined were written with
the Queen’s own hand in the original.
(Here follows the Codicil, which was afterwards annexed by the Queen to
her Will.)
MARYE THE QUENE.
This Codicell made by me Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Engl^d &c.,
& lawful wyfe to the most noble and vertuous Prynce Philippe, by the
same grace of God, Kynge of the said Realmes and Domynions of Englond,
&c., the twenty-eighth day of October, in the yere of our Lord God
1558, and in the 5^{th} yere of the reign of my said most dere Lord and
husbande, and in the Sixth yere of the reigne of me the said Quene.
The which Codicell I will and ordeyne shall be added and annexed unto
my last Will and Testament heretofore by me made and declared. And my
mynd and will ys, that the said Codicell shall be accepted, taken and
receyved as a part and parcell of my said last will and testament, and
as tho’ it were incorporate with the same to all entents and purposes,
in manner and forme followynge.
Fyrste, whereas I the said Quene have with the good contentment and
pleasure of my said most dere belov’d Lorde and husbande the Kyng’s
Majesty devis’d & made my said last will and testament, beryng date the
30^{th} day of Marche last past, and by the same, for that as I then
thowght myself to be with childe did devise and dispose the Imperiall
Crowne of this Realme of Englond and the Crowne of Ireland, with my
title to France and all the dependances thereof, and all other honours,
Castells, Fortresses, Prerogatives and hereditaments, of what nature,
kynde or qualitie soever they be, belongyng to this crowne, unto the
heires, Issewe and frewte of my body begotten, & the government, order,
and rewle of the said heire and Issewe I recommended unto my said most
dere Lord and husband duryng the mynoryte of the said heire, accordynge
to the lawes of this Realme in that case provided.
Forasmuch as God hath hitherto sent me no frewte nor heire of my bodie,
yt ys onlye in his most devyne providence whether I shall have onny
or noo, Therefore both for the discharge of my conscyence and dewtie
towards God and this Realme, and for the better satisfaction of all
good people, and to thentent my said last will and Testament (the which
I trust, is agreeable to God’s law and to the laws of this Realme) may
be dewly performed, and my dettes (pryncipally those I owe to many
of my good subjects, and the which they most lovyngly lent unto me)
trewly and justly answered and payed, I have thought it good, fealynge
myself presently sicke and week in bodye (and yet of hole and perfytt
remembrance, our Lord be thanked) to adde this unto my said testament
and last will, viz. Yf yt shall please Almighty God to call me to his
mercye owte of this transytory lyfe without issewe and heire of my
bodye lawfully begotten, Then I most instantly desire et per viscera
misericordiæ Dei, requyre my next heire & Successour, by the Laws and
Statutes of this Realme, not only to permytt and suffer theexecutors of
my said Testament and last will and the Survivours of them to performe
the same, and to appoynte unto them such porcyon of treasure & other
thynges as shall be suffycient for the execution of my said testament
and last will, and to ayd them in the performance of the same, but
also yf such assurance and conveyance as the Law requyreth for the
State of the londs which I have devysed and appoynted to the howses of
Religion, and to the Savoye, and to the Hospitall I would have erected,
be not suffycyent and good in Lawe by my said Will, then I most hertily
also requyre both for God’s sake, and for the honour and love my said
heyre and Successour bereth unto me, that my said heyre and Successour
will supplye the Imperfection of my said will and testament therein,
& accomplyshe and fynishe the same accordynge to my trew mynde and
intente, for the dooyng whereof my said heire and Successour shall, I
dowte not, be rewarded of God, and avoyde thereby his severe justice
pronounced and executed ag^t all such as be violaters and brekers of
wills and testaments, and be the better assisted with his specyall
grace and favour in the mynistracyon of ther Regall function and
office, And the more honored of the world and loved of ther subjects,
whose natural zeale and love (as a most precious jewell unto every
Prynce) I leve and bequeathe unto my said heire and Successour for a
specyall Legacye and bequeste, the which I most humbly beseech our
Lord, the same may enjoye and possesse (as I trust they shall) chefely
to the advancement of God’s glorye & honor, and to the good quyetnesse
and Government of this Realme, the which two thynges I most tender.
And albeit my said most Dere Lord and Husband shall for defawte of
heyre of my bodye have no further government, order and rewle within
this Realme and the domynions thereunto belongynge, but the same doth
and must remayne, descend, and goo unto my next heyre and Successour,
accordyng to the Lawes and Statuts of this Realme, yet I most humbly
beseech his Majesty, in recompence of the great love and humble dewtye
that I have allwayes born and am bounden to bere unto his Majesty, and
for the great zeale and care the which his Highness hath always sens
our marriage professed and shew’d unto this Realme, and the Subjects
of the same, and for the ancyente amyte sake that hath always ben
betwene our most Noble Progenitours and betwene this my Realme and the
Low Countries, whereof his Majesty is now the enheritour, And finally,
as God shall reward hym, and I praye (I hope among the elect servants
of God) that yt may please his Majesty to shew hymself as a Father in
his care, as a Brother or member of this Realme in his love and favour,
and as a most assured and undowted frend in his powre and strengthe to
my said heire and Successour, and to this my Country and the Subjects
of the same, the which I trust his Highnesse shall have just cause to
thynke well bestowed, for that I dowte not, but they will answer yt
unto his Majesty with the like benevolence and good will, the which I
most hertily requyre them to doo, bothe for my sake, and for the honour
and suerty of this Realme. And In witnesse that I have cawsed this
Codicell to be made, and that my will & entent ys, that the same shall
be annexed and added unto my said former testament & last will, the
which my full mynde and will ys shall stonde and remayne in perfytte
force and effect, to all intents and purposes, and this Codicell to
be accepted taken and declared only as a part and parcell of my said
testament and last Will, I have sign’d this Codicell with my Signe
Manuell, and have also cawsed my privy Signet to be put thereunto, the
day and yere fyrste in this Codicell above written. These beying called
to be my wytnesses as well to my said testament and last will as to
this Codicell whose names followeth.
MARYE THE QUENE
[She wrote her name here in
smaller letters and not so well as
to the bottom of her will.—H.]
EDMOND PECKHAM THOMAS WENDYE
JOHN WILLIS BARNARD HAMPTON
Here the
seale was fix’d
being the same
as to the end of
her Will.
H.
On the outside cover of this Will was written with the Queen’s own hand
these words, with a Crosse at the top:—
✠
This is the laste wyll and testament of me Marye the Quene.
“The copy from which the Harleian transcript is taken was made from the
original will at the beginning of the last century, by the Rev. George
Harbin, Chaplain to Lord Weymouth, a very zealous and diligent searcher
into historical records, whose papers are now with the above copy in
the hands of Sir Alexander Malet, Bart. Great pains have been taken to
trace what has become of the Will itself, but without success. It is
to be regretted that the copy is not quite complete, and that Harbin
has modernised the orthography in many instances. Such as it is, it is
printed _verbatim_ from his autograph.”
Note by Sir Frederick Madden, _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess
Mary_ (Appendix, No. iv.).
A PRAYER OF THE LADY MARY TO THE LORD JESU; AGAINST THE ASSAULTS OF
VICES.
Most benign Lord Jesu! Behold me wretched beggar, and most vile sinner,
prostrate here before the feet of thy mercy. Behold the wounds, sores,
griefs and vices of my soul, (which alas! I have brought into the same
by sin) that they may be healed. Most Merciful Lord Jesu! Have pity
upon mine infirmities, captivity and infelicity: by means whereof my
miserable soul is pressed down to earthly things, and divided into
sundry desires.
Most loving Jesu! I beseech thee for thy great love’s sake, which
caused thee to deliver thy soul into the hands of sinners, to be bound
and crucified; and which also did force thee to remain three hours
upon the cross, more than the nails either of thy hands or feet had
power to do. For thy charity I humbly desire thee to loose the yoke of
my captivity, and to deliver me from all my vices, concupiscence, and
evil inclinations, to defend me from all the assaults of mine enemies,
and in time of temptation to help me. Moreover, quench and pluck up
by the roots in me all private love, all inordinate motions, passions
and affections, all provokings, readiness and inclination to pride,
wrath, envy and vainglory, with such other like. For it is in thy
power only to deliver me from these things. Sweet Jesu! Fulfil me with
thy grace, and most perfect charity. Make me to continue in goodness,
that I may eschew all occasion of sin, strongly overcome temptation,
subdue the flesh to the Spirit, persecute and banish sin, and obey thy
inspiration; escape the deceits and frauds of the Devil, never consent
to any sin, nor nourish anything that should displease thee. But
cause me most fervently to thirst for thy honour, laud and glory, most
faithfully to prefer the same, and to give and submit myself wholly
to thy will. My Lord God, give me grace to cleave to thee only with
a clean and pure heart, that I may be unite and knit to thee without
separation by a most chaste and fervent love. Amen.
A MEDITATION TOUCHING ADVERSITY, MADE BY MY LADY MARY’S GRACE, 1549.
This natural life of ours is but a pilgrimage from this wandring world,
and exile from our own country: that is to say, a way from all misery
to thee (Lord) which art our whole felicity. And lest the pleasantness
and commodity of this life should withdraw us from the going to the
right and speedy way to thee, thou dost stir and provoke us forward,
and as yet ward prick us with thornes, to the intent we should covet
a quiet rest, and end of our journey. Therefore sickness, weepings,
sorrow, mourning, and in conclusion all adversities be unto us as
spurs; with the which we being dull horses, or rather very asses, are
forced not to remain long in this transitory way. Wherefore Lord,
give us grace to forget this wayfaring journey, and to remember our
proper and true country. And if thou do add a weight of adversity, add
thereunto strength, that we shall not be overcome with that burden:
but having our minds continually erected and lift up to thee, we may
be able strongly to bear it. Lord! all things be thine; therefore do
with all things without any exception as shall seem convenient to thine
unsearchable wisdom. And give us grace never to will but as thou wilt.
So be it.
A PRAYER TO BE READ AT THE HOUR OF DEATH.
O Lord Jesu! which art the health of all men living, and the
everlasting life of them which die in faith, I, wretched sinner give
and submit myself wholly unto thy most blessed will. And I being
sure that the thing cannot perish which is committed unto thy mercy,
willingly now I leave this frail and wicked flesh, in hope of the
resurrection; which in better wise shall restore it to me again. I
beseech thee most merciful Lord Jesus Christ, that thou wilt by thy
grace make strong my soul against all temptations; and that thou wilt
cover and defend me with the buckler of thy mercy against all the
assaults of the Devil. I see and knowledge that there is in myself no
help of salvation, but all my confidence, hope and trust is in thy most
merciful goodness. I have no merits nor good works which I may allege
before thee. Of sins and evil works (alas), I see a great heap; but
through thy mercy I trust to be in the number of them to whom thou wilt
not impute their sins; but take and accept me for righteous and just,
and to be an inheritor of everlasting life.
Thou merciful Lord, wert born for my sake. Thou didst suffer both
hunger and thirst for my sake. Thou didst preach and teach, thou didst
pray and fast for my sake. Thou didst all good works and deeds for my
sake. Thou sufferedst most grievous pains and torments for my sake. And
finally, Thou gavest thy most precious body to die, and thy blood to be
shed on the cross for my sake.
Now, most merciful Saviour, let all these things profit me which thou
freely hast given me, that hast given thyself for me. Let thy blood
cleanse and wash away the spots and foulness of my sins. Let Thy
righteousness hide and cover my unrighteousness. Let the merits of thy
passion and blood be the satisfaction for my sins.
Give me, Lord, thy grace, that my faith, and salvation in thy blood
waver not in me, but ever be firm and constant; that the hope of thy
mercy and life everlasting never decay in me; that charity wax not cold
in me.
Finally, that the weakness of my flesh be not overcome by the fear of
death. Grant me merciful Father, that when Death has shut up the eyes
of my body, yet that the eyes of my soul may still behold and look upon
thee; that when death hath taken away the use of my tongue and speech,
yet that my heart may cry and say unto Thee _In manus tuas, Domine,
commendo spiritum meum_; that is, O Lord, into thy hands I give and
commit my soul. _Domine Jesu accipe spiritum meum._ Lord Jesu, receive
my soul unto thee. Amen.[731]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 724: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 230. Ellis, 2nd series, vol.
ii., p. 78.]
[Footnote 725: Pollini, _Istoria Ecclesiastica della rivoluzion
d’Inghilterra_, p. 355. Harl. MS. 424.]
[Footnote 726: Stow, _Annals_, p. 616.]
[Footnote 727: Cranmer’s _Register_, Lambeth MS. The original is in
Latin, written in Cranmer’s own hand. The form given in Strype’s
_Memorials of Archbishop Cranmer_ is mutilated, and could not have been
collated by Strype with Cranmer’s manuscript.]
[Footnote 728: MS., St. Mark’s Lib., Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p. 208 _et
seq._; Rawdon Brown, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., App. 136;
original in Italian.]
[Footnote 729: _The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D._, vol. iii., p. 291
_et seq._]
[Footnote 730: _The History of the Reformation_, by William Cobbett, a
new edition, revised, with notes and preface by Francis Aidan Gasquet,
D.D., O.S.B., p. 207.]