Bonner, somewhat fearful that what had been done could not be justified

even among the bloodhounds of his own voracious pack, concluded in his

dark and wicked mind, to release John Fetty, for a time at least, from

the severities he was enduring in the glorious cause of everlasting

truth! whose bright rewards are fixed beyond the boundaries of time,

within the confines of eternity; where the arrow of the wicked cannot

wound, even "where there shall be no more sorrowing for the blessed,

who, in the mansion of eternal bliss shall glorify the Lamb forever and

ever." He was accordingly by order of Bonner, (how disgraceful to all

dignity, to say bishop!) liberated from the painful bonds, and led from

Lollard's Tower, to the chamber of that ungodly and infamous butcher,

where, says Fox, he found the bishop bathing himself before a great

fire; and at his first entering the chamber, Fetty said, "God be here

and peace!" "God be here and peace, (said Bonner,) that is neither God

speed nor good morrow!" "If ye kick against this peace, (said Fetty,)

then this is not the place that I seek for."

A chaplain of the bishop, standing by, turned the poor man about and

thinking to abash him, said, in mocking wise, "What have we here--a

player!" While Fetty was thus standing in the bishop's chamber, he

espied, hanging about the bishop's bed, a pair of great black beads,

whereupon he said, "My Lord, I think the hangman is not far off; for the

halter (pointing to the beads) is here already!" At which words the

bishop was in a marvellous rage. Then he immediately after espied also,

standing in the bishop's chamber, in the window, a little crucifix. Then

he asked the bishop what it was, and he answered, that it was Christ.

"Was he handled as cruelly as he is here pictured?" said Fetty. "Yea,

that he was," said the bishop. "And even so cruelly will you handle such

as come before you; for you are unto God's people as Caiaphas was unto

Christ!" The bishop, being in a great fury, said, "Thou art a vile

heretic, and I will burn thee, or else I will spend all I have, unto my

gown." "Nay, my Lord, (said Fetty) you were better to give it to some

poor body, that he may pray for you." Bonner, notwithstanding his

passion, which was raised to the utmost by the calm and pointed remarks

of this observing Christian, thought it most prudent to dismiss the

father, on account of the nearly murdered child. His coward soul

trembled for the consequences which might ensue; fear is inseparable

from little minds; and this dastardly pampered priest experienced its

effects so far as to induce him to assume the appearance of that he was

an utter stranger to, namely, MERCY.

The father, on being dismissed, by the tyrant Bonner, went home with a

heavy heart, with his dying child, who did not survive many days the

cruelties which had been inflicted on him. How contrary to the will of

our great King and Prophet, who mildly taught his followers, was the

conduct of this sanguinary and false teacher, this vile apostate from

his God to Satan! But the arch-fiend had taken entire possession of his

heart, and guided every action of the sinner he had hardened: who, given

up to terrible destruction, was running the race of the wicked, marking

his footsteps with the blood of the saints, as if eager to arrive at the

goal of eternal death.

_Deliverance of Dr. Sands._

This eminent prelate, vice-chancellor of Cambridge, at the request of

the duke of Northumberland, when he came down to Cambridge in support of

Lady Jane Grey's claim to the throne, undertook at a few hours notice,

to preach before the duke and the university. The text he took was such

as presented itself in opening the Bible, and a more appropriate one he

could not have chosen, namely, the three last verses of Joshua. As God

gave him the text, so he gave him also such order and utterance, that it

excited the most lively emotions in his numerous auditors. The sermon

was about to be sent to London to be printed, when news arrived that the

duke had returned and queen Mary was proclaimed.

The duke was immediately arrested, and Dr. Sands was compelled by the

university to give up his office. He was arrested by the queen's order,

and when Mr. Mildmay wondered that so learned a man could wilfully incur

danger, and speak against so good a princess as Mary, the doctor

replied, "If I would do as Mr. Mildmay has done, I need not fear bonds.

He came down armed against queen Mary; before a traitor--now a great

friend. I cannot with one mouth blow hot and cold in this manner." A

general plunder of Dr. Sands' property ensued, and he was brought to

London upon a wretched horse. Various insults he met on the way from the

bigoted catholics, and as he passed through Bishopsgate-street, a stone

struck him to the ground. He was the first prisoner that entered the

tower, in that day, on a religious account; his man was admitted with

his Bible, but his shirts and other articles were taken from him.

On Mary's coronation-day, the doors of the dungeon were so laxly

guarded, that it was easy to escape. A Mr. Mitchell, like a true friend,

came to him, afforded him his own clothes as a disguise, and was willing

to abide the consequence of being found in his place. This was a rare

friendship: but he refused the offer; saying, "I know no cause why I

should be in prison. To do thus, were to make myself guilty. I will

expect God's good will, yet do I think myself much obliged to you:" and

so Mr. Mitchell departed.

With doctor Sands was imprisoned Mr. Bradford; they were kept close in

prison twenty-nine weeks. John Fowler, their keeper, was a perverse

papist, yet, by often persuading him, at length he began to favour the

gospel, and was so persuaded in the true religion, that on a Sunday,

when they had mass in the chapel, Dr. Sands administered the communion

to Bradford and to Fowler. Thus Fowler was their son begotten in bonds.

To make room for Wyat and his accomplices, Dr. Sands and nine other

preachers were sent to the Marshalsea.

The keeper of the Marshalsea appointed to every preacher a man to lead

him in the street; he caused them to go on before, and he and Dr. Sands

followed conversing together. By this time popery began to be unsavoury.

After they had passed the bridge, the keeper said to Dr. Sands, "I

perceive the vain people would set you forward to the fire. You are as

vain as they, if you, being a young man, will stand in your own conceit,

and prefer your own judgment before that of so many worthy prelates,

ancient, learned, and grave men as be in this realm. If you do so, you

shall find me a severe keeper, and one that utterly dislikes your

religion." Dr. Sands answered, "I know my years to be young, and my

learning but small; it is enough to know Christ crucified, and he hath

learned nothing who seeth not the great blasphemy that is in popery. I

will yield unto God, and not unto man; I have read in the Scriptures of

many godly and courteous keepers: may God make you one! if not, I trust

he will give me strength and patience to bear your hard usage." Then

said the keeper, "Are you resolved to stand to your religion?" "Yes,"

quoth the doctor, "by God's grace!" "Truly," said the keeper, "I love

you the better for it; I did but tempt you: what favour I can show you,

you shall be assured of; and I shall think myself happy if I might die

at the stake with you." He was as good as his word, for he trusted the

doctor to walk in the fields alone, where he met with Mr. Bradford, who

was also a prisoner in the King's Bench, and had found the same favour

from his keeper. At his request, he put Mr. Saunders in along with him,

to be his bed-fellow, and the communion was administered to a great

number of communicants.

When Wyat with his army came to Southwark, he offered to liberate all

the imprisoned protestants, but Dr. Sands and the rest of the preachers

refused to accept freedom on such terms.

After Dr. Sands had been nine weeks prisoner in the Marshalsea, by the

mediation of Sir Thomas Holcroft, knight marshal, he was set at liberty.

Though Mr. Holcroft had the queen's warrant, the bishop commanded him

not to set Dr. Sands at liberty, until he had taken sureties of two

gentlemen with him, each one bound in L500, that Dr. Sands should not

depart out of the realm without license. Mr. Holcroft immediately after

met with two gentlemen of the north, friends and cousins to Dr. Sands,

who offered to be bound for him.

After dinner, the same day, Sir Thomas Holcroft sent for Dr. Sands to

his lodging at Westminster, to communicate to him all he had done. Dr.

Sands answered, "I give God thanks, who hath moved your heart to mind me

so well, that I think myself most bound unto you. God shall requite you,

nor shall I ever be found unthankful. But as you have dealt friendly

with me, I will also deal plainly with you. I came a freeman into

prison; I will not go forth a bondman. As I cannot benefit my friends,

so will I not hurt them. And if I be set at liberty, I will not tarry

six days in this realm, if I may get out. If therefore I may not get

free forth, send me to the Marshalsea again, and there you shall be sure

of me."

This answer Mr. Holcroft much disapproved of; but like a true friend he

replied, "Seeing you cannot be altered, I will change my purpose, and

yield unto you. Come of it what will, I will set you at liberty; and

seeing you have a mind to go over sea, get you gone as quick as you can.

One thing I require of you, that, while you are there, you write nothing

to me hither, for this may undo me."

Dr. Sands having taken an affectionate farewell of him, and his other

friends in bonds, departed. He went by Winchester house, and there took

boat, and came to a friend's house in London, called William Banks, and

tarried there one night. The next night he went to another friend's

house, and there he heard that strict search was making for him, by

Gardiner's express order.

Dr. Sands now conveyed himself by night to one Mr. Berty's house, a

stranger who was in the Marshalsea prison with him a while; he was a

good protestant and dwelt in Mark-lake. There he was six days, and then

removed to one of his acquaintances in Cornhill; he caused his man

Quinton to provide two geldings for him, resolved on the morrow to ride

into Essex, to Mr. Sands, his father-in-law, where his wife was, which

after a narrow escape, he effected. He had not been there two hours,

before Mr. Sands was told that two of the guards would that night

apprehend Dr. Sands.

That night Dr. Sands was guided to an honest farmer's near the sea,

where he tarried two days and two nights in a chamber without company.

After that he removed to one James Mower's, a ship-master, who dwelt at

Milton-Shore, where he waited for a wind to Flanders. While he was

there, James Mower brought to him forty or fifty mariners, to whom he

gave an exhortation; they liked him so well, that they promised to die

rather than he should be apprehended.

The sixth of May, Sunday, the wind served. In taking leave of his

hostess, who had been married eight years without having a child, he

gave her a fine handkerchief and an old royal of gold, and said, "Be of

good comfort; before that one whole year be past, God shall give you a

child, a boy." This came to pass, for, that day twelvemonth, wanting one

day, God gave her a son.

Scarcely had he arrived at Antwerp, when he learned that king Philip had

sent to apprehend him. He next flew to Augsburgh, in Cleveland, where

Dr. Sands tarried fourteen days, and then travelled towards Strasburgh,

where, after he had lived one year, his wife came to him. He was sick of

a flux nine months, and had a child which died of the plague. His

amiable wife at length fell into a consumption, and died in his arms.

When his wife was dead, he went to Zurich, and there was in Peter

Martyr's house for the space of five weeks. As they sat at dinner one

day, word was suddenly brought that queen Mary was dead, and Dr. Sands

was sent for by his friends at Strasburgh, where he preached. Mr.

Grindall and he came over to England, and arrived in London the same day

that queen Elizabeth was crowned. This faithful servant of Christ, under

queen Elizabeth, rose to the highest distinctions in the church, being

successively bishop of Worcester, bishop of London, and archbishop of

York.

_Queen Mary's treatment of her sister the Princess Elizabeth._

The preservation of the princess Elizabeth may be reckoned a remarkable

instance of the watchful eye which Christ had over his church. The

bigotry of Mary regarded not the ties of consanguinity, of natural

affection, of national succession. Her mind, physically morose was under

the dominion of men who possessed not the milk of human kindness, and

whose principles were sanctioned and enjoined by the idolatrous tenets

of the Romish pontiff. Could they have foreseen the short date of Mary's

reign, they would have imbrued their hands in the protestant blood of

Elizabeth, and, as a _sine qua non_ of the queen's salvation, have

compelled her to bequeath the kingdom to some catholic prince. The

contest might have been attended with the horrors incidental to a

religious civil war, and calamities might have been felt in England

similar to those under Henry the Great in France, whom queen Elizabeth

assisted in opposing his priest-ridden catholic subjects. As if

Providence had the perpetual establishment of the protestant faith in

view, the difference of the durations of the two reigns is worthy of

notice. Mary might have reigned many years in the course of nature, but

the course of grace willed it otherwise. Five years and four months was

the time of persecution alloted to this weak, disgraceful reign, while

that of Elizabeth reckoned a number of years among the highest of those

who have sat on the English throne, almost nine times that of her

merciless sister!

Before Mary attained the crown, she treated her with a sisterly

kindness, but from that period her conduct was altered, and the most

imperious distance substituted. Though Elizabeth had no concern in the

rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyat, yet she was apprehended, and treated as a

culprit in that commotion. The manner too of her arrest was similar to

the mind that dictated it: the three cabinet members, whom she deputed

to see the arrest executed, rudely entered the chamber at ten o'clock at

night, and, though she was extremely ill, they could scarcely be induced

to let her remain till the following morning. Her enfeebled state

permitted her to be moved only by short stages in a journey of such

length to London; but the princess, though afflicted in person, had a

consolation in mind which her sister never could purchase: the people,

through whom she passed on her way, pitied her, and put up their prayers

for her preservation. Arrived at court, she was made a close prisoner

for a fortnight, without knowing who was her accuser, or seeing any one

who could console or advise her. The charge however was at length

unmasked by Gardiner, who, with nineteen of the council, accused her of

abetting Wyat's conspiracy, which she religiously affirmed to be false.

Failing in this, they placed against her the transactions of Sir Peter

Carew in the west in which they were as unsuccessful as in the former.

The queen now signified, it was her pleasure she should be committed to

the Tower, a step which overwhelmed the princess with the greatest alarm

and uneasiness. In vain she hoped the queen's majesty would not commit

her to such a place; but there was no lenity to be expected; her

attendants were limited, and a hundred northern soldiers appointed to

guard her day and night.

On Palm-Sunday she was conducted to the Tower. When she came to the

palace garden, she cast her eyes towards the windows, eagerly anxious to

meet those of the queen, but she was disappointed. A strict order was

given in London, that every one should go to church, and carry palms,

that she might be conveyed without clamour or commiseration to her

prison.

At the time of passing under London-bridge the fall of the tide made it

very dangerous, and the barge some time stuck fast against the

starlings. To mortify her the more, she was landed at Traitors' Stairs.

As it rained fast, and she was obliged to step in the water to land, she

hesitated; but this excited no complaisance in the lord in waiting. When

she set her foot on the steps, she exclaimed, "Here lands as true a

subject, being prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs; and before

thee, O God, I speak it, having no friend but thee alone!"

A large number of the wardens and servants of the Tower were arranged

in order, between whom the princess had to pass. Upon inquiring the use

of this parade, she was informed it was customary to do so. "If," said

she, "it is on account of me, I beseech you that they may be dismissed."

On this the poor men knelt down, and prayed that God would preserve her

grace, for which they were the next day turned out of their employments.

The tragic scene must have been deeply interesting, to see an amiable

and irreproachable princess sent like a lamb to languish in expectation

of cruelty and death; against whom there was no other charge than her

superiority in Christian virtues and acquired endowments. Her attendants

openly wept as she proceeded with a dignified step to the frowning

battlements of her destination. "Alas!" said Elizabeth, "what do you

mean? I took you to comfort, not to dismay me; for my truth is such,

that no one shall have cause to weep for me."

The next step of her enemies was to procure evidence by means which, in

the present day, are accounted detestable. Many poor prisoners were

racked, to extract, if possible, any matters of accusation which might

affect her life, and thereby gratify Gardiner's sanguinary disposition.

He himself came to examine her, respecting her removal from her house at

Ashbridge to Dunnington castle a long while before. The princess had

quite forgotten this trivial circumstance, and lord Arundel, after the

investigation, kneeling down, apologized for having troubled her in such

a frivolous matter. "You sift me narrowly," replied the princess, "but

of this I am assured, that God has appointed a limit to your

proceedings; and so God forgive you all."

Her own gentlemen, who ought to have been her purveyors, and served her

provision, were compelled to give place to the common soldiers, at the

command of the constable of the Tower, who was in every respect a

servile tool of Gardiner,--her grace's friends, however, procured an

order of council which regulated this petty tyranny more to her

satisfaction.

After having been a whole month in close confinement, she sent for the

lord Chamberlain and lord Chandois, to whom she represented the ill

state of her health from a want of proper air and exercise. Application

being made to the council, Elizabeth was with some difficulty admitted

to walk in the queen's lodgings, and afterwards in the garden, at which

time the prisoners on that side were attended by their keepers, and not

suffered to look down upon her. Their jealousy was excited by a child of

four years old, who daily brought flowers to the princess. The child was

threatened with a whipping, and the father ordered to keep him from the

princess' chambers.

On the 5th of May the constable was discharged from his office, and Sir

Henry Benifield appointed in his room, accompanied by a hundred

ruffian-looking soldiers in blue. This measure created considerable

alarm in the mind of the princess, who imagined it was preparatory to

her undergoing the same fate as lady Jane Gray, upon the same block.

Assured that this project was not in agitation, she entertained an idea

that the new keeper of the Tower was commissioned to make away with her

privately, as his equivocal character was in conformity with the

ferocious inclination of those by whom he was appointed.

A report now obtained that her grace was to be taken away by the new

constable and his soldiers, which in the sequel proved to be true. An

order of council was made for her removal to the manor of Woodstock,

which took place on Trinity Sunday, May 13, under the authority of Sir

Henry Benifield and Lord Tame. The ostensible cause of her removal was

to make room for other prisoners. Richmond was the first place they

stopped at, and here the princess slept, not however without much alarm

at first, as her own servants were superseded by the soldiers, who were

placed as guards at her chamber door. Upon representation, Lord Tame

overruled this indecent stretch of power, and granted her perfect safety

while under his custody.

In passing through Windsor, she saw several of her poor dejected

servants waiting to see her. "Go to them," said she, to one of her

attendants, "and say these words from me, tanquim ovis, that is, like a

sheep to the slaughter."

The next night her grace lodged at the house of a Mr. Dormer, in her way

to which the people manifested such tokens of loyal affection, that Sir

Henry was indignant, and bestowed on them very liberally the names of

rebels and traitors. In some villages they rang the bells for joy,

imagining the princess's arrival among them was from a very different

cause; but this harmless demonstration of gladness was sufficient with

the persecuting Benefield to order his soldiers to seize and set these

humble persons in the stocks.

The day following, her grace arrived at Lord Tame's house, where she

staid all night, and was most nobly entertained. This excited Sir

Henry's indignation, and made him caution Lord Tame to look well to his

proceedings; but the humanity of Lord Tame was not to be frightened, and

he returned a suitable reply. At another time, this official prodigal,

to show his consequence and disregard of good manners, went up into a

chamber, where was appointed for her grace a chair, two cushions, and a

foot carpet, wherein he presumptuously sat and called his man to pull

off his boots. As soon as it was known to the ladies and gentlemen, they

laughed him to scorn. When supper was done, he called to his lordship,

and directed that all gentlemen and ladies should withdraw home,

marvelling much that he would permit such a large company, considering

the great charge he had committed to him. "Sir Henry," said his

lordship, "content yourself; all shall be avoided, your men and all."

"Nay, but my soldiers," replied Sir Henry, "shall watch all night." Lord

Tame answered, "There is no need." "Well," said he, "need or need not,

they shall so do."

The next day her grace took her journey from thence to Woodstock, where

she was enclosed, as before in the Tower of London, the soldiers

keeping guard within and without the walls, every day, to the number of

sixty; and in the night, without the walls were forty during all the

time of her imprisonment.

At length she was permitted to walk in the gardens, but under the most

severe restrictions, Sir Henry keeping the keys himself, and placing her

always under many bolts and locks, whence she was induced to call him

her jailer, at which he felt offended, and begged her to substitute the

word officer. After much earnest entreaty to the council, she obtained

permission to write to the queen; but the jailer, who brought her pen,

ink, and paper stood by her while she wrote, and, when she left off, he

carried the things away till they were wanted again. He also insisted

upon carrying it himself to the queen, but Elizabeth would not suffer

him to be the bearer, and it was presented by one of her gentlemen.

After the letter, doctors Owen and Wendy went to the princess, as the

state of her health rendered medical assistance necessary. They staid

with her five or six days, in which time she grew much better; they then

returned to the queen, and spoke flatteringly of the princess'

submission and humility, at which the queen seemed moved; but the

bishops wanted a concession that she had offended her majesty. Elizabeth

spurned this indirect mode of acknowledging herself guilty. "If I have

offended," said she, "and am guilty, I crave no mercy but the law, which

I am certain I should have had ere this, if any thing could have been

proved against me. I wish I were as clear from the peril of my enemies;

then should I not be thus bolted and locked up within walls and doors."

Much question arose at this time respecting the propriety of uniting the

princess to some foreigner, that she might quit the realm with a

suitable portion. One of the council had the brutality to urge the

necessity of beheading her, if the king (Philip) meant to keep the realm

in peace; but the Spaniards, detesting such a base thought, replied,

"God forbid that our king and master should consent to such an infamous

proceeding!" Stimulated by a noble principle, the Spaniards from this

time repeatedly urged to the king that it would do him the highest

honour to liberate the lady Elizabeth, nor was the king impervious to

their solicitation. He took her out of prison, and shortly after she was

sent for to Hampton court. It may be remarked in this place, that the

fallacy of human reasoning is shown in every moment. The barbarian who

suggested the policy of beheading Elizabeth little contemplated the

change of condition which his speech would bring about. In her journey

from Woodstock, Benefield treated her with the same severity as before;

removing her on a stormy day, and not suffering her old servant, who had

come to Colnbrook, where she slept, to speak to her.

She remained a fortnight strictly guarded and watched, before any one

dared to speak with her; at length the vile Gardiner with three more of

the council, came with great submission. Elizabeth saluted them,

remarked that she had been for a long time kept in solitary

confinement, and begged they would intercede with the king and queen to

deliver her from prison. Gardiner's visit was to draw from the princess

a confession of her guilt; but she was guarded against his subtlety,

adding, that, rather than admit she had done wrong, she would lie in

prison all the rest of her life. The next day Gardiner came again, and

kneeling down, declared that the queen was astonished she should persist

in affirming that she was blameless--whence it would be inferred that

the queen had unjustly imprisoned her grace. Gardiner farther informed

her that the queen had declared that she must tell another tale, before

she could be set at liberty. "Then," replied the high-minded Elizabeth,

"I had rather be in prison with honesty and truth, than have my liberty,

and be suspected by her majesty. What I have said, I will stand to; nor

will I ever speak falsehood!" The bishop and his friends then departed,

leaving her locked up as before.

Seven days after the queen sent for Elizabeth at ten o'clock at night,

two years had elapsed since they had seen each other. It created terror

in the mind of the princess, who, at setting out, desired her gentlemen

and ladies to pray for her, as her return to them again was uncertain.

Being conducted to the queen's bedchamber, upon entering it the princess

knelt down, and having begged of God to preserve her majesty, she humbly

assured her that her majesty had not a more loyal subject in the realm,

whatever reports might be circulated to the contrary. With a haughty

ungraciousness, the imperious queen replied, "You will not confess your

offence, but stand stoutly to your truth. I pray God it may so fall

out."

"If it do not," said Elizabeth, "I request neither favour nor pardon at

your majesty's hands." "Well," said the queen, "you stiffly still

persevere in your truth. Besides, you will not confess that you have not

been wrongfully punished."

"I must not say so, if it please your majesty, to you."

"Why, then," said the queen, "belike you will to others."

"No, if it please your majesty: I have borne the burden, and must bear

it. I humbly beseech your majesty to have a good opinion of me and to

think me to be your subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but

for ever, as long as life lasteth." They departed without any heart-felt

satisfaction on either side; nor can we think the conduct of Elizabeth

displayed that independence and fortitude which accompanies perfect

innocence. Elizabeth's admitting that she would not say neither to the

queen nor to others, that she had been unjustly punished, was in direct

contradiction to what she had told Gardiner, and must have arisen from

some motive at this time inexplicable.--King Philip is supposed to have

been secretly concealed during the interview, and to have been friendly

to the princess.

In seven days from the time of her return to imprisonment, her severe

jailer, and his men were discharged, and she was set at liberty, under

the constraint of being always attended and watched by some of the

queen's council. Four of her gentlemen were sent to the Tower without

any other charge against them than being zealous servants of their

mistress. This event was soon after followed by the happy news of

Gardiner's death, for which all good and merciful men glorified God,

inasmuch as it had taken the chief tiger from the den, and rendered the

life of the protestant successor of Mary more secure.

This miscreant, while the princess was in the Tower, sent a secret writ,

signed by a few of the council, for her private execution, and, had Mr.

Bridges, lieutenant of the Tower, been as little scrupulous of dark

assassination as this pious prelate was, she must have perished. The

warrant not having the queen's signature, Mr. Bridges hastened to her

majesty, to give her information of it, and to know her mind. This was a

plot of Winchester's, who, to convict her of treasonable practices,

caused several prisoners to be racked; particularly Mr. Edmund Tremaine

and Smithwicke were offered considerable bribes to accuse the guiltless

princess.

Her life was several times in danger. While at Woodstock, fire was

apparently put between the boards and ceiling under which she lay. It

was also reported strongly, that one Paul Penny, the keeper of

Woodstock, a notorious ruffian was appointed to assassinate her, but,

however this might be, God counteracted in this point the nefarious

designs of the enemies of the reformation. James Basset was another

appointed to perform the same deed: he was a peculiar favourite of

Gardiner, and had come within a mile of Woodstock, intending to speak

with Benefield on the subject. The goodness of God however so ordered

it, that while Basset was travelling to Woodstock, Benefield, by an

order of council, was going to London; in consequence of which, he left

a positive order with his brother, that no man should be admitted to the

princess during his absence, not even with a note from the queen; his

brother met the murderer, but the latter's intention was frustrated, as

no admission could be obtained.

When Elizabeth quitted Woodstock, she left the following lines written

with her diamond on the window:--

Much suspected by me,

Nothing proved can be. Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.

With the life of Winchester ceased the extreme danger of the princess,

as many of her other secret enemies soon after followed him, and, last

of all, her cruel sister, who outlived Gardiner but three years. The

death of Mary was ascribed to several causes. The council endeavoured to

console her in her last moments, imagining it was the absence of her

husband that lay heavy at her heart, but though his treatment had some

weight, the loss of Calais, the last fortress possessed by the English

in France, was the true source of her sorrow. "Open my heart," said

Mary, "when I am dead, and you shall find Calais written there."

Religion caused her no alarm; the priests had lulled to rest every

misgiving of conscience, which might have obtruded, on account of the

accusing spirits of the murdered martyrs. Not the blood she had spilled,

but the loss of a town, excited her emotions in dying, and this last

stroke seemed to be awarded, that her fanatical persecution might be

paralleled by her political imbecility. We earnestly pray that the

annals of no country, catholic or pagan, may ever be stained with such a

repetition of human sacrifices to papal power, and that the detestation

in which the character of Mary is holden, may be a beacon to succeeding

monarchs to avoid the rocks of fanaticism!

_God's Punishments upon some of the Persecutors of his People in Mary's

Reign._

After that arch-persecutor, Gardiner, was dead, others followed, of whom

Dr. Morgan, bishop of St. David's, who succeeded bishop Farrar, is to be

noticed. Not long after he was installed in his bishopric, he was

stricken by the visitation of God; his food passed through the throat,

but rose again with great violence. In this manner, almost literally

starved to death, he terminated his existence.

Bishop Thornton, suffragan of Dover, was an indefatigable persecutor of

the true church. One day after he had exercised his cruel tyranny upon a

number of pious persons at Canterbury, he came from the chapter-house to

Borne, where as he stood on a Sunday looking at his men playing at

bowls, he fell down in a fit of the palsy, and did not long survive.

After the latter succeeded another bishop or suffragan, ordained by

Gardiner, who not long after he had been raised to the see of Dover,

fell down a pair of stairs in the cardinal's chamber at Greenwich, and

broke his neck. He had just received the cardinal's blessing--he could

receive nothing worse.

John Cooper, of Watsam, Suffolk, suffered by perjury; he was from

private pique persecuted by one Fenning, who suborned two others to

swear that they heard Cooper say, "If God did not take away queen Mary,

the devil would." Cooper denied all such words, but Cooper was a

protestant and a heretic, and therefore he was hung, drawn and

quartered, his property confiscated, and his wife and nine children

reduced to beggary. The following harvest, however, Grimwood of Hitcham,

one of the witnesses before mentioned, was visited for his villany:

while at work, stacking up corn, his bowels suddenly burst out, and

before relief could be obtained he died. Thus was deliberate perjury

rewarded by sudden death!

In the case of the martyr Mr. Bradford, the severity of Mr. Sheriff

Woodroffe has been noticed--he rejoiced at the death of the saints, and

at Mr. Rogers' execution, he broke the carman's head, because he stopped

the cart to let the martyr's children take a last farewell of him.

Scarcely had Mr. Woodroffe's sheriffalty expired a week, when he was

struck with a paralytic affection, and languished a few days in the most

pitiable and helpless condition, presenting a striking contrast to his

former activity in the cause of blood.

Ralph Lardyn, who betrayed the martyr George Eagles, is believed to have

been afterward arraigned and hanged in consequence of accusing himself.

At the bar, he denounced himself in these words, "This has most justly

fallen upon me, for betraying the innocent blood of that just and good

man George Eagles, who was here condemned in the time of Queen Mary by

my procurement, when I sold his blood for a little money."

As James Abbes was going to execution, and exhorting the pitying

bystanders to adhere steadfastly to the truth, and like him to seal the

cause of Christ with their blood, a servant of the sheriff's interrupted

him, and blasphemously called his religion heresy, and the good man a

lunatic. Scarcely however had the flames reached the martyr, before the

fearful stroke of God fell upon this hardened wretch, in the presence of

him he had so cruelly ridiculed. The man was suddenly seized with

lunacy, cast off his clothes and shoes before the people, (as Abbes had

done just before, to distribute among some poor persons,) at the same

time exclaiming, "Thus did James Abbes, the true servant of God, who is

saved but I am damned." Repeating this often, the sheriff had him

secured, and made him put his clothes on, but no sooner was he alone,

than he tore them off, and exclaimed as before. Being tied in a cart, he

was conveyed to his master's house, and in about half a year he died;

just before which a priest came to attend him, with the crucifix, &c.

but the wretched man bade him take away such trumpery, and said that he

and other priests had been the cause of his damnation, but that Abbes

was saved.

One Clark, an avowed enemy of the protestants in king Edward's reign,

hung himself in the Tower of London.

Froling, a priest of much celebrity, fell down in the street and died on

the spot.

Dale, an indefatigable informer, was consumed by vermin, and died a

miserable spectacle.

Alexander, the severe keeper of Newgate, died miserably, swelling to a

prodigious size, and became so inwardly putrid, that none could come

near him. This cruel minister of the law would go to Bonner, Story, and

others, requesting them to rid his prison, he was so much pestered with

heretics! The son of this keeper, in three years after his father's

death, dissipated his great property, and died suddenly in Newgate

market. "The sins of the father," says the decalogue, "shall be visited

on the children." John Peter, son-in-law of Alexander, a horrid

blasphemer and persecutor, died wretchedly. When he affirmed any thing,

he would say, "If it be not true, I pray I may rot ere I die." This

awful state visited him in all its loathsomeness.

Sir Ralph Ellerker was eagerly desirous to see the heart taken out of

Adam Damlip, who was wrongfully put to death. Shortly after Sir Ralph

was slain by the French, who mangled him dreadfully, cut off his limbs,

and tore his heart out.

When Gardiner heard of the miserable end of Judge Hales, he called the

profession of the gospel a doctrine of desperation; but he forgot that

the judge's despondency arose after he had consented to the papistry.

But with more reason may this be said of the catholic tenets, if we

consider the miserable end of Dr. Pendleton, Gardiner, and most of the

leading persecutors. Gardiner, upon his death bed, was reminded by a

bishop of Peter denying his master. "Ah," said Gardiner, "I have denied

with Peter, but never repented with Peter."

After the accession of Elizabeth, most of the Catholic prelates were

imprisoned in the Tower or the fleet; Bonner was put into the

Marshalsea.

Of the revilers of God's word, we detail, among many others, the

following occurrence. One William Maldon, living at Greenwich in

servitude, was instructing himself profitably in reading an English

primer one winter's evening. A serving man, named John Powell, sat by,

and ridiculed all that Maldon said, who cautioned him not to make a jest

of the word of God. Powell nevertheless continued, till Maldon came to

certain English Prayers, and read aloud, Lord, have mercy upon us,

Christ have mercy upon us, &c. Suddenly the reviler started, and

exclaimed, Lord, have mercy upon us! He was struck with the utmost

terror of mind, said the evil spirit could not abide that Christ should

have any mercy upon him, and sunk into madness. He was remitted to

Bedlam, and became an awful warning that God will not always be insulted

with impunity.

Henry Smith, a student in the law, had a pious protestant father, of

Camden, in Gloucestershire, by whom he was virtuously educated. While

studying law in the middle temple, he was induced to profess

catholicism, and, going to Louvain, in France, he returned with pardons,

crucifixes, and a great freight of popish toys. Not content with these

things, he openly reviled the gospel religion he had been brought up in;

but conscience one night reproached him so dreadfully, that in a fit of

despair he hung himself in his garters. He was buried in a lane, without

the Christian service being read over him.

Dr. Story, whose name has been so often mentioned in the preceding

pages, was reserved to be cut off by public execution, a practice in

which he had taken great delight when in power. He is supposed to have

had a hand in most of the conflagrations in Mary's time, and was even

ingenious in his invention of new modes of inflicting torture. When

Elizabeth came to the throne, he was committed to prison, but

unaccountably effected his escape to the continent, to carry fire and

sword there among the protestant brethren. From the duke of Alva, at

Antwerp, he received a special commission to search all ships for

contraband goods, and particularly for English heretical books.

Dr. Story gloried in a commission that was ordered by Providence to be

his ruin, and to preserve the faithful from his sanguinary cruelty. It

was contrived that one Parker, a merchant, should sail to Antwerp and

information should be given to Dr. Story that he had a quantity of

heretical books on board. The latter no sooner heard this, than he

hastened to the vessel, sought every where above, and then went under

the hatches, which were fastened down upon him. A prosperous gale

brought the ship to England, and this traitorous, persecuting rebel was

committed to prison, where he remained a considerable time, obstinately

objecting to recant his anti-christian spirit, or admit of queen

Elizabeth's supremacy. He alleged, though by birth and education an

Englishman, that he was a sworn subject of the king of Spain, in whose

service the famous duke of Alva was. The doctor being condemned, was

laid upon a hurdle, and drawn from the Tower to Tyburn, where after

being suspended about half an hour, he was cut down, stripped, and the

executioner displayed the heart of a traitor. Thus ended the existence

of this Nimrod of England.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

Philip, king of Spain, husband to the deceased queen Mary of England,

was no less an enemy than that princess to the protestants. He had

always disliked the English, and after her death, determined, if

possible, to crown that infamous cruelty which had disgraced the whole

progress of her reign, by making a conquest of the island, and putting

every protestant to death.

The great warlike preparations made by this monarch, though the purpose

was unknown, gave a universal alarm to the English nation; as, though he

had not declared that intention, yet it appeared evident that he was

taking measures to seize the crown of England. Pope Sixtus V. not less

ambitious than himself, and equally desirous of persecuting the

protestants, urged him to the enterprise. He excommunicated the queen,

and published a crusade against her, with the usual indulgences. All the

ports of Spain resounded with preparations for this alarming expedition;

and the Spaniards seemed to threaten the English with a total

annihilation.

Three whole years had been spent by Philip in making the necessary

preparations for this mighty undertaking; and his fleet, which on

account of its prodigious strength, was called the "Invincible Armada,"

was now completed. A consecrated banner was procured from the pope, and

the gold of Peru was lavished on the occasion.

The duke of Parma, by command of the Spaniards, built ships in Flanders,

and a great company of small broad vessels, each one able to transport

thirty horses, with bridges fitted for them severally; and hired

mariners from the east part of Germany, and provided long pieces of wood

sharpened at the end, and covered with iron, with hooks on one side; and

20,000 vessels, with a huge number of fagots; and placed an army ready

in Flanders, of 103 companies of foot and 4000 horsemen. Among these 700

English vagabonds, who were held of all others in most contempt. Neither

was Stanley respected or obeyed who was set over the English; nor

Westmoreland, nor any other who offered their help, but for their

unfaithfulness to their own country were shut out from all

consultations, and as men unanimously rejected with detestation. And

because Pope Sixtus the Fifth in such a case would not be wanting, he

sent Cardinal Allen into Flanders, and renewed the bulls declaratory of

Pope Pius the Fifth, and Gregory the Thirteenth.

He excommunicated and deposed queen Elizabeth, absolved her subjects

from all allegiance, and, as if it had been against the Turks or

infidels, he set forth in print a conceit, wherein he bestowed plenary

indulgences, out of the treasure of the church, besides a million of

gold, or ten hundred thousand ducats, to be distributed (the one half in

hand, the rest when either England, or some famous haven therein, should

be won) upon all them that would join their help against England. By

which means the Marquis of Bergau, of the house of Austria, the duke of

Pastrana, Amadis, duke of Savoy, Vespasian, Gonzaga, John Medicis, and

divers other noblemen, were drawn into these wars.

Queen Elizabeth, that she might not be surprised unawares, prepared as

great a navy as she could, and with singular care and providence, made

all things ready necessary for war. And she herself, who was ever most

judicious in discerning of men's wits and aptness, and most happy in

making choice, when she made it out of her own judgment, and not at the

discretion of others, designed the best and most serviceable to each

several employment. Over the whole navy she appointed the Lord Admiral

Charles Howard, in whom she reposed much trust; and sent him to the west

part of England, where Captain Drake, whom she made vice-admiral, joined

with him. She commanded Henry Seimor, the second son to the duke of

Somerset, to watch upon the Belgic shore, with forty English and Dutch

ships, that the duke of Parma might not come out with his forces;

although some were of opinion, that the enemy was to be expected and set

upon by land forces, accordingly as it was upon deliberation resolved,

in the time of Henry the Eighth, when the French brought a great navy on

the English shore.

For the land fight, there were placed on the south shore twenty

thousand; and two armies beside were mustered of the choicest men for

war. The one of these, which consisted of 1000 horse and twenty two

thousand foot was commanded by the earl of Leicester, and encamped at

Tilbury, on the side of the Thames. For the enemy was resolved first to

set upon London. The other army was commanded by the Lord Hunsdon,

consisting of thirty-four thousand foot, and two thousand horse, to

guard the queen.

The Lord Gray, Sir Francis Knowles, Sir John Norris, Sir Richard

Bingham, Sir Roger Williams, men famously known for military experience,

were chosen to confer of the land-fight. These commanders thought fit

that all those places should be fortified, with men and ammunition,

which were commodious to land in, either out of Spain or out of

Flanders, as Milford-Haven, Falmouth, Plymouth, Portland, the Isle of

Wight, Portsmouth, the open side of Kent, called the Downs, the Thames'

mouth, Harwich, Yarmouth, Hull, &c. That trained soldiers through all

the maratime provinces should meet upon warning given, to defend the

places; that they should by their best means, hinder the enemy from

landing; and if they did happen to land, then they were to destroy the

fruits of the country all about, and spoil every thing that might be of

any use to the enemy, that so they might find no more victuals than what

they brought with them. And that, by continued alarms, the enemy should

find no rest day or night. But they should not try any battle until

divers captains were met together with their companies. That one captain

might be named in every shire which might command.

Two years before, the duke of Parma, considering how hard a matter it

was to end the Belgic war, so long as it was continually nourished and

supported with aid from the queen, he moved for a treaty of peace, by

the means of Sir James Croft, one of the privy council, a man desirous

of peace, and Andrew Loe, a Dutchman, and professed that the Spaniard

had delegated authority to him for this purpose. But the queen fearing

that the friendship between her and the confederate princes might be

dissolved, and that so they might secretly be drawn to the Spaniard, she

deferred that treaty for some time. But now, that the wars on both sides

prepared might be turned away, she was content to treat for peace; but

so as still holding the weapons in her hand.

For this purpose, in February, delegates were sent into Flanders, the

earl of Derby, the lord Cobham, Sir James Croft, Dr. Dale, and Dr.

Rogers. These were received with all humanity on the duke's behalf, and

a place appointed for their treating, that they might see the authority

delegated to him by the Spanish king. He appointed the place near to

Ostend, not in Ostend, which at that time was held by the English

against the Spanish king. His authority delegated, he promised them to

show, when they were once met together. He wished them to make good

speed in the business, lest somewhat might fall out in the mean time,

which might trouble the motions of peace. Richardotus, spoke somewhat

more plainly, That he knew not what in this interim should be done

against England.

Not long after, Dr. Rogers was sent to the prince, by an express

commandment from the queen, to know the truth, whether the Spaniards had

resolved to invade England, which he and Richardotus seemed to signify.

He affirmed, that he did not so much as think of the invasion of

England, when he wished that the business might proceed with speed; and

was in a manner offended with Richardotus, who denied that such words

fell from him.

The 12th of April, the count Aremberg, Champigny, Richardotus, Doctor

Maesius, and Garnier, delegated from the prince of Parma, met with the

English, and yielded to them the honour both in walking and sitting.

This conference, however, came to nothing; undertaken by, the queen, as

the wiser then thought, to avert the Spanish fleet; continued by the

Spaniard that he might oppress the queen, being as he supposed

unprovided, and not expecting the danger. So both of them tried to use

time to their best advantages.

At length the Spanish fleet, well furnished with men, ammunition,

engines, and all warlike preparations, the best, indeed, that ever was

seen upon the ocean, called by the arrogant title, The Invincible

Armada, consisted of 130 ships, wherein there were in all, 19,290.

Mariners, 8,350. Chained rowers, 11,080. Great ordnance, 11,630. The

chief commander was Perezius Guzmannus, duke of Medina Sidonia; and

under him Joannes Martinus Ricaldus, a man of great experience in sea

affairs.

The 30th of May they loosed out of the river Tagus, and bending their

course to the Groin, in Gallicia, they were beaten and scattered by a

tempest, three galleys, by the help of David Gwin, an English servant,

and by the perfidiousness of the Turks which rowed, were carried away

into France. The fleet, with much ado, after some days came to the

Groin, and other harbours near adjoining. The report was, that the fleet

was so shaken by this tempest, that the queen was persuaded, that she

was not to expect that fleet this year. And Sir Francis Walsingham,

sec'y, wrote to the lord admiral, that he might send back four of the

greatest ships, as if the war had been ended. But the lord admiral did

not easily give credit to that report; yet with a gentle answer

entreated him to believe nothing hastily in so important a matter: as

also that he might be permitted to keep those ships with him which he

had, though it were upon his own charges. And getting a favourable wind,

made sail towards Spain, to surprise the enemy's damaged ships in their

harbours. When he was close in with the coast of Spain, the wind

shifting, and he being charged to defend the English shore, fearing that

the enemy might unseen, by the same wind, sail for England, he returned

unto Plymouth.

Now with the same wind, the 12th of July, the duke of Medina with his

fleet departed from the Groin. And after a few days he sent Rodericus

Telius into Flanders, to advertise the duke of Parma, giving him warning

that the fleet was approaching, and therefore he was to make himself

ready. For Medina's commission was to join himself with the ships and

soldiers of Parma; and under the protection of his fleet to bring them

into England, and to land his forces upon the Thames side.

The sixteenth, day, (saith the relator,) there was a great calm, and a

thick cloud was upon the sea till noon; then the north wind blowing

roughly; and again the west wind till midnight, and after that the east;

the Spanish navy was scattered, and hardly gathered together until they

came within sight of England the nineteenth day of July. Upon which day,

the lord admiral was certified by Fleming, (who had been a pirate) that

the Spanish fleet was entered into the English sea, which the mariners

call the Channel, and was descried near to the Lizard. The lord admiral

brought forth the English fleet into the sea, but not without great

difficulty, by the skill, labour, and alacrity of the soldiers and

mariners, every one labouring; yea, the lord admiral himself putting his

hand to this work.

The next day the English fleet viewed the Spanish fleet coming along

like the towering castles in height, her front crooked like the fashion

of the moon, the wings of the fleet were extended one from the other

about seven miles, or as some say eight miles asunder, sailing with the

labour of the winds, the ocean as it were groaning under it, their sail

was but slow, and yet at full sail before the wind. The English were

willing to let them hold on their course, and when they were passed by,

got behind them, and so got to windward of them.

Upon the 21st of July, the lord admiral of England sent a cutter before,

called the Defiance, to denounce the battle by firing off pieces. And

being himself in the Royal-Arch, (the English admiral ship) he began the

engagement with a ship which he took to be the Spanish admiral, but

which was the ship of Alfonsus Leva. Upon that he expended much shot.

Presently Drake, Hawkins, and Forbisher, came in upon the rear of the

Spaniards which Ricaldus commanded.--Upon these they thundered. Ricaldus

endeavoured, as much as in him lay, to keep his men to their quarters,

but all in vain, until his ship, much beaten and battered with many

shot, hardly recovered the fleet. Then the duke of Medina gathered

together his scattered fleet, and setting more sail, held on his course.

Indeed they could do no other, for the English had gotten the advantage

of the wind, and their ships being much easier managed, and ready with

incredible celerity to come upon the enemy with a full course, and then

to tack and retack and be on every side at their pleasure. After a long

fight, and each of them had taken a trial of their courage, the lord

admiral thought proper to continue the fight no longer, because there

were forty ships more, which were then absent, and at that very time

were coming out of Plymouth Sound.

The night following, the St. Catharine, a Spanish ship, being sadly torn

in the battle, was taken into the midst of the fleet to be repaired.

Here a great Cantabrian ship, of Oquenda, wherein was the treasurer of

the camp, by force of gunpowder took fire, yet it was quenched in time

by the ships that came to help her. Of those which came to assist the

fired ship, one was a galleon, commanded by one Petrus Waldez; the

fore-yard of the galleon was caught in the rigging of another ship, and

carried away. This was taken by Drake, who sent Waldez to Dartmouth, and

a great sum of money, viz. 55,000 ducats, which he distributed among the

soldiers. This Waldez coming into Drake's presence, kissed his hand, and

told him they had all resolved to die, if they had not been so happy as

to fall into his hands whom they knew to be noble. That night he was

appointed to set forth a light, but neglected it; and some German

merchant ships coming by that night, he, thinking them to be enemies,

followed them so far, that the English fleet lay to all night, because

they could see no light set forth. Neither did he nor the rest of the

fleet find the admiral until the next evening. The admiral all the

night proceeding with the Bear and the Mary Rose, carefully followed the

Spaniards with watchfulness. The duke was busied in ordering his

squadron. Alfonsus Leva was commanded to join the first and last

divisions. Every ship had its proper station assigned, according to that

prescribed form which was appointed in Spain; it was present death to

any one who forsook his station. This done, he sent Gliclius and Anceani

to Parma, which might declare to them in what situation they were, and

left that Cantabrian ship, of Oquenda, to the wind and sea, having taken

out the money and mariners, and put them on board of other ships. Yet it

seemed that he had not care for all; for that ship the same day, with

fifty mariners and soldiers wounded and half-burned, fell into the hands

of the English, and was carried to Weymouth.

The 23d of the same month, the Spaniards having a favourable north wind,

tacked towards the English; but they being more expert in the management

of their ships, tacked likewise, and kept the advantage they had gained,

keeping the Spaniards to leeward, till at last the fight became general

on both sides. They fought awhile confusedly with variable success:

whilst on the one side the English with great courage delivered the

London ships which were enclosed about by the Spaniards; and on the

other side, the Spaniards by valour freed Ricaldus from the extreme

danger he was in; great and many were the explosions, which, by the

continued firing of great guns, were heard this day. But the loss (by

the good providence of God,) fell upon the Spaniards, their ships being

so high, that the shot went over our English ships, and the English,

having such a fair mark at their large ships, never shot in vain. During

this engagement, Cock, an Englishman, being surrounded by the Spanish

ships, could not be recovered, but perished; however, with great honour

he revenged himself. Thus a long time the English ships with great

agility were sometimes upon the Spaniards, giving them the fire of one

side, and then of the other, and presently were off again, and still

kept the sea, to make themselves ready to come in again. Whereas the

Spanish ships, being of great burden, were troubled and hindered, and

stood to be the marks for the English shot. For all that the English

admiral would not permit his people to board their ships, because they

had such a number of soldiers on board, which he had not; their ships

were many in number, and greater, and higher, that if they had come to

grapple, as many would have had it, the English being much lower than

the Spanish ships, must needs have had the worst of them that fought

from the higher ships. And if the English had been overcome, the loss

would have been greater than the victory could have been; for our being

overcome would have put the kingdom in hazard.

The 24th day of July they gave over fighting on both sides. The admiral

sent some small barks to the English shore for a supply of provisions,

and divided his whole fleet into four squadrons; the first whereof he

took under his own command, the next was commanded by Drake, the third

by Hawkins, and the last by Forbisher. And he appointed out of every

squadron certain little ships, which, on divers sides might set upon the

Spaniards in the night, but a sudden calm took them so that expedition

was without effect.

The 25th, the St. Anne, a galleon of Portugal, not being able to keep up

with the rest, was attacked by some small English ships. To whose aid

came in Leva, and Didacus Telles Enriques, with three galeasses; which

the admiral, and the Lord Thomas Howard, espying, made all the sail they

could against the galeasses, but the calm continuing, they were obliged

to be towed along with their boats; as soon as they reached the

galeasses, they began to play away so fiercely with their great guns,

that with much danger, and great loss, they hardly recovered their

galleon. The Spaniards reported that the Spanish admiral was that day in

the rear of their fleet, which, being come nearer to the English ships

than before, got terribly shattered with their great guns, many men were

killed aboard, and her masts laid over the side. The Spanish admiral,

after this, in company with Ricaldus, and others, attacked the English

admiral, who, having the advantage of the wind, suddenly tacked and

escaped. The Spaniards holding on their course again, sent to the duke

of Parma, that with all possible speed he should join his ships with the

king's fleet. These things the English knew not, who write that they had

carried away the lantern from one of the Spanish ships, the stern from

another, and sore mauled the third very much disabling her. The

Non-Parigly, and the Mary Rose, fought awhile with the Spaniards, and

the Triumph being in danger, other ships came in good time to help her.

The next day the lord admiral knighted the Lord Thomas Howard, the Lord

Sheffield, Roger Townsend, John Hawkins, and Martin Forbisher, for their

valour in the last engagement. After this, they agreed not to attack the

enemy until they came into the straits of Calais, where Henry Seimor,

and William Winter, waited for their coming. Thus with a fair gale the

Spanish fleet went forward, and the English followed. This great Spanish

Armada was so far from being esteemed invincible in the opinion of the

English, that many young men and gentlemen, in hope to be partakers of a

famous victory against the Spaniards, provided ships at their own

expense, and joined themselves to the English fleet; among whom were the

earls of Essex, Northumberland, and Cumberland, Thomas and Robert Cecil,

Henry Brooks, William Hatton, Robert Cary, Ambrose Willoughby, Thomas

Gerard, Arthur George, and other gentlemen of good note and quality.

The 27th day, at even, the Spaniards cast anchor near to Calais, being

admonished by their skilful seamen, that if they went any further they

might be in danger, through the force of the tide, to be driven into the

North Ocean. Near to them lay the English admiral with his fleet, within

a great gun's shot. The admiral, Seimor and Winter, now join their

ships; so that now there were a hundred and forty ships in the English

fleet, able, and well furnished for fighting, for sailing, and every

thing else which was requisite; and yet there were but fifteen of these

which bore the heat of the battle, and repulsed the enemy. The Spaniard,

as often as he had done before, so now with great earnestness sent to

the duke of Parma, to send forty fly-boats, without which they could not

fight with the English, because of the greatness and slowness of their

ships, and the agility of the English, entreating him by all means now

to come to sea with his army, which army was now to be protected as it

were, under the wings of the Spanish Armada, until they should land in

England.

But the duke was unprovided, and could not come out in an instant. The

broad ships with flat bottoms being then full of chinks must be mended.

Victuals wanted, and must be provided. The mariners being long kept

against their wills, began to shrink away. The ports of Dunkirk and

Newport, by which he must bring his army to the sea, were now so beset

with the strong ships of Holland and Zealand, which were furnished with

great and small munition, that he was not able to come to sea, unless he

would come upon his own apparent destruction, and cast himself and his

men wilfully into a headlong danger. Yet he omitted nothing that might

be done, being a man eager and industrious, and inflamed with a desire

of overcoming England.

But queen Elizabeth's providence and care prevented both the diligence

of this man, and the credulous hope of the Spaniard; for by her command

the next day the admiral took eight of their worst ships, charging the

ordnance therein up to the mouth with small shot, nails, and stones, and

dressed them with wild fire, pitch, and rosin, and filling them full of

brimstone, and some other matter fit for fire, and these being set on

fire by the management of Young and Prowse, were secretly in the night,

by the help of the wind, set full upon the Spanish fleet, which, on

Sunday, the seventh of August, they sent in among them as they lay at

anchor.

When the Spanish saw them come near, the flames giving light all over

the sea, they supposing those ships, besides the danger of fire, to have

been also furnished with deadly engines, to make horrible destruction

among them; lifting up a most hideous cry, some pull up anchors, some

for haste cut their cables, they set up their sails, they apply their

oars, and stricken with extreme terror, in great haste they fled most

confusedly. Among them the Pretorian Galleass floating upon the seas,

her rudder being broken, in great danger and fear drew towards Calais,

and striking in the sand, was taken by Amias Preston, Thomas Gerard, and

Harvey; Hugh Moncada the governor was slain, the soldiers and mariners

were either killed or drowned; in her there was found great store of

gold, which fell to be the prey of the English. The ship and ordnance

went to the governor of Calais.

The Spaniards report, that the duke, when he saw the fire ships coming,

commanded all the fleet to heave up their anchors, but so as the danger

being past, every ship might return again to his own station; and he

himself returned, giving a sign to the rest by shooting off a gun; which

was heard but by a few, for they were far off scattered some into the

open ocean, some through fear were driven upon the shallows of the coast

of Flanders.

Over against Gravelling the Spanish fleet began to gather themselves

together. But upon them came Drake and Fenner, and battered them with

great ordnance: to these Fenton, Southwel, Beeston, Cross, Riman, and

presently after the lord admiral, and Sheffield, came in. The Duke

Medina, Leva, Oquenda, Ricaldus, and others, with much ado in getting

themselves out of the shallows, sustained the English ships as well as

they might, until most of their ships were pierced and torn; the galleon

St. Matthew, governed by Diego Pimentellas, coming to aid Francis

Toleton, being in the St. Philip, was pierced and shaken with the

reiterated shots of Seimor and Winter, and driven to Ostend, and was at

last taken by the Flushingers. The St. Philip came to the like end; so

did the galleon of Biscay, and divers others.

The last day of this month, the Spanish fleet striving to recover the

straits again, were driven towards Zealand. The English left off

pursuing them, as the Spaniards thought, because they saw them in a

manner cast away; for they could not avoid the shallows of Zealand. But

the wind turning, they got them out of the shallows, and then began to

consult what were best for them to do. By common consent they resolved

to return into Spain by the Northern Seas, for they wanted many

necessaries, especially shot; their ships were torn, and they had no

hope that the duke of Parma could bring forth his forces. And so they

took the sea, and followed the course toward the north. The English navy

followed, and sometimes the Spanish turned upon the English, insomuch

that it was thought by many that they would turn back again.

Queen Elizabeth caused an army to encamp at Tilbury. After the army had

come thither, her majesty went in person to visit the camp, which then

lay between the city of London and the sea, under the charge of the earl

of Leicester, where placing herself between the enemy and her city, she

viewed her army, passing through it divers times, and lodging in the

borders of it, returned again and dined in the army. Afterwards when

they were all reduced into battle, prepared as it were for fight, she

rode round about with a leader's staff in her hand, only accompanied

with the general, and three or four others attending upon her.[A]

I could enlarge the description hereof with many more particulars of

mine own observation, (says the author,) for I wandered, as many others

did, from place to place, all the day, and never heard a word spoke of

her, but in praising her for her stately person and princely behaviour,

in praying for her long life, and earnestly desiring to venture their

lives for her safety. In her presence they sung psalms of praise to

Almighty God, for which she greatly commended them, and devoutly praised

God with them. This that I write, you may be sure I do not with any

comfort, but to give you these manifest arguments that neither this

queen did discontent her people, nor her people show any discontent in

any thing they were commanded to do for her service, as heretofore hath

been imagined.

This account was related by a popish spy, in a letter written here in

England to Mendea. The copy of which letter was found upon Richard

Leigh, a seminary priest in French and English: which priest was

executed for high treason while the Spanish Armada was at sea.

The same day whereon the last fight was, the duke of Parma, after his

vows offered to the lady of Halla, came somewhat late to Dunkirk, and

was received with very opprobrious language by the Spaniards, as if in

favour of queen Elizabeth he had slipped the fairest opportunity that

could be to do the service. He, to make some satisfaction, punished the

purveyors that had not made provision of beer, bread, &c. which was not

yet ready nor embarked, secretly smiling at the insolence of the

Spaniards, when he heard them bragging that what way soever they came

upon England, they would have an undoubted victory; that the English

were not able to endure the sight of them. The English admiral appointed

Seimor and the Hollanders to watch upon the coast of Flanders that the

duke of Parma should not come out; whilst he himself close followed the

Spaniards until they were past Edinburgh Frith.

The Spaniards, seeing all hopes fail, fled amain; and so this great

navy, being three years preparing with great expense, was within one

month overthrown, and, after many were killed, being chased again, was

driven about all England, by Scotland, the Oreades, and Ireland, tossed

and damaged with tempests, much diminished, and went home without glory.

There were not a hundred men of the English lost, and but one ship.

Whereupon money was coined with a navy fleeing away in full sail, with

this inscription, _Venit, Vidit, Fugit_. Others were coined with the

ships on fire, the navy confounded, inscribed, in honour of the queen,

_Dux Faemina Facti_. As they fled, it is certain that many of their ships

were cast away upon the shores of Scotland and Ireland. About seven

hundred soldiers and mariners were cast away upon the Scottish shore,

who, at the duke of Parma's intercession with the Scotch king, the queen

of England consenting, were after a year sent into Flanders. But they

that were cast upon the Irish shore came to more miserable fortunes, for

some were killed by the wild Irish, and others were destroyed for fear

they should join themselves with the wild Irish, (which cruelty queen

Elizabeth much condemned,) and the rest being afraid, sick and hungry,

with their disabled ships, committed themselves to the sea, and many

were drowned.

The queen went to public thanksgiving in St. Paul's church, accompanied

by a glorious train of nobility, through the streets of London, which

were hung with blue cloth, the companies standing on both sides in their

liveries; the banners that were taken from the enemies were spread; she

heard the sermon, and public thanks were rendered unto God with great

joy. This public joy was augmented when Sir Robert Sidney returned from

Scotland, and brought from the king assurances of his noble mind and

affection to the queen, and to religion; which as in sincerity he had

established, so he purposed to maintain with all his power. Sir Robert

Sidney was sent to him when the Spanish fleet was coming, to

congratulate and return thanks for his great affection towards the

maintenance of the common cause, and to declare how ready she would be

to help him if the Spaniards should land in Scotland; and that he might

recal to memory with what strange ambition the Spaniards had gaped for

all Britain, urging the pope to excommunicate him, to the end that he

might be thrust from the kingdom of Scotland, and from the succession in

England: and to give him notice of the threatening of Mendoza, and the

pope's nuncio, who threatened his ruin if they could effect it: and

therefore warned him to take special heed to the Scottish papists.

The king pleasantly answered that he looked for no other benefit from

the Spaniards, than that which Polyphemus promised to Ulysses, to devour

him last after his fellows were devoured.

It may not be improper here to subjoin a list of the different articles

taken on board the Spanish ships, designed for the tormenting of the

protestants, had their scheme taken effect.

1. The common soldiers' pikes, eighteen feet long, pointed with long

sharp spikes, and shod with iron, which were designed to keep off the

horse, to facilitate the landing of the infantry.

2. A great number of lances used by the Spanish officers. These were

formerly gilt, but the gold is almost worn off by cleaning.

3. The Spanish ranceurs, made in different forms, which were intended

either to kill the men on horseback, or pull them off their horses.

4. A very singular piece of arms, being a pistol in a shield, so

contrived as to fire the pistol, and cover the body at the same time,

with the shield. It is to be fired by a match-lock, and the sight of the

enemy is to be taken through a little grate in the shield, which is

pistol proof.

5. The banner, with a crucifix upon it, which was to have been carried

before the Spanish general. On it is engraved the pope's benediction

before the Spanish fleet sailed: for the pope came to the water side,

and, on seeing the fleet, blessed it, and styled it _invincible_.

6. The Spanish cravats, as they are called. These are engines of

torture, made of iron, and put on board to lock together the feet, arms

and heads of Englishmen.

7. Spanish bilboes, made of iron likewise, to yoke the English prisoners

two and two.

8. Spanish shot, which are of four sorts: pike-shot, star-shot,

chain-shot, and link-shot, all admirably contrived, as well for the

destruction of the masts and rigging of ships, as for sweeping the decks

of their men.

9. Spanish spadas poisoned at the points, so that if a man received the

slightest wound with one of them, certain death was the consequence.

10. A Spanish poll-axe, used in boarding of ships.

11. Thumb-screws, of which there were several chests full on board the

Spanish fleet. The use they were intended for is said to have been to

extort confession from the English where their money was hid.

12. The Spanish morning star; a destructive engine resembling the figure

of a star, of which there were many thousands on board, and all of them

with poisoned points; and were designed to strike at the enemy as they

came on board, in case of a close attack.

13. The Spanish general's halberd, covered with velvet. All the nails of

this weapon are double gilt with gold; and on its top is the pope's

head, curiously engraved.

14. A Spanish battle-axe, so contrived, as to strike four holes in a

man's head at once; and has besides a pistol in its handle, with a

match-lock.

15. The Spanish general's shield, carried before him as an ensign of

honour. On it are depicted, in most curious workmanship, the labours of

Hercules, and other expressive allegories.

When the Spanish prisoners were asked by some of the English what their

intentions were, had their expedition succeeded, they replied, "To

extirpate the whole from the island, at least all heretics (as they

called the protestants,) and to send their souls to hell." Strange

infatuation! Ridiculous bigotry! How prejudiced must the minds of those

men be, who would wish to destroy their fellow-creatures, not only in

this world, but, if it were possible, in that which is to come, merely

because they refused to believe on certain subjects as the Spaniards

themselves did.

_A conspiracy by the Papists for the destruction of James I., the royal

family, and both houses of Parliament; commonly known by the name of the

Gunpowder Plot._

The papists (of which there were great numbers in England at the time of

the intended Spanish invasion) were so irritated at the failure of that

expedition, that they were determined, if possible, to project a scheme

at home, that might answer the purposes, to some degree, of their

blood-thirsty competitors. The vigorous administration of Elizabeth,

however, prevented their carrying any of their iniquitous designs into

execution, although they made many attempts with that view. The

commencement of the reign of her successor was destined to be the era of

a plot, the barbarity of which transcends every thing related in ancient

or modern history.

In order to crush popery in the most effectual manner in this kingdom,

James soon after his succession, took proper measures for eclipsing the

power of the Roman Catholics, by enforcing those laws which had been

made against them by his predecessors. This enraged the papists to such

a degree, that a conspiracy was formed, by some of the principal

leaders, of the most daring and impious nature; namely, to blow up the

king, royal family, and both houses of parliament, while in full

session, and thus to involve the nation in utter and inevitable ruin.

The cabal who formed the resolution of putting in practice this horrid

scheme, consisted of the following persons:--Henry Garnet, an

Englishman, who, about the year 1586, had been sent to England as

superior of the English Jesuits; Catesby, an English gentleman; Tesmond,

a Jesuit; Thomas Wright; two gentlemen of the name of Winter; Thomas

Percy, a near relation of the earl of Northumberland; Guido Fawkes, a

bold and enterprising soldier of fortune; Sir Edward Digby; John Grant,

Esq.; Francis Tresham, Esq.; Robert Keyes and Thomas Bates, gentlemen.

Most of these were men both of birth and fortune; and Catesby, who had a

large estate, had already expended two thousand pounds in several

voyages to the court of Spain, in order to introduce an army of

Spaniards into England, for overturning the protestant government, and

restoring the Roman Catholic religion; but, being disappointed in this

project of an invasion, he took an opportunity of disclosing to Percy

(who was his intimate friend, and who, in a sudden fit of passion, had

hinted a design of assassinating the king) a nobler and more extensive

plan of treason, such as would include a sure execution of vengeance,

and, at one blow, consign over to destruction all their enemies.

Percy assented to the project proposed by Catesby, and they resolved to

impart the matter to a few more, and, by degrees, to all the rest of

their cabal, every man being bound by an oath, and taking the sacrament

(the most sacred rite of their religion), not to disclose the least

syllable of the matter, or to withdraw from the association, without the

consent of all persons concerned.

These consultations were held in the spring and summer of the year 1604,

and it was towards the close of that year that they began their

operations; the manner of which, and the discovery, we shall relate with

as much brevity as is consistent with perspicuity.

It had been agreed that a few of the conspirators should run a mine

below the hall in which the parliament was to assemble, and that they

should choose the very moment when the king should deliver his speech to

both houses, for springing the mine, and thus, by one blow cut off the

king, the royal family, lords, commons, and all the other enemies of the

catholic religion in that very spot where that religion has been most

oppressed. For this purpose, Percy, who was at that time a

gentleman-pensioner undertook to hire a house adjoining to the upper

house of parliament with all diligence. This was accordingly done, and

the conspirators expecting the parliament would meet on the 17th of

February following, began, on the 11th of December, to dig in the

cellar, through the wall of partition, which was three yards thick.

There was seven in number joined in this labour: they went in by night,

and never after appeared in sight, for, having supplied themselves with

all necessary provisions, they had no occasion to go out. In case of

discovery, they had provided themselves with powder, shot, and fire

arms, and formed a resolution rather to die than be taken.

On Candlemas-day, 1605, they had dug so far through the wall as to be

able to hear a noise on the other side: upon which unexpected event,

fearing a discovery, Guido Fawkes, (who personated Percy's footman,) was

despatched to know the occasion, and returned with the favourable

report, that the place from whence the noise came was a large cellar

under the upper house of parliament, full of sea-coal which was then on

sale, and the cellar offered to be let.

On this information, Percy immediately hired the cellar, and bought the

remainder of the coals: he then sent for thirty barrels of gunpowder

from Holland, and landing them at Lambeth, conveyed them gradually by

night to this cellar, where they were covered with stones, iron bars, a

thousand billets, and five hundred fagots; all which they did at their

leisure, the parliament being prorogued to the 5th of November.

This being done, the conspirators next consulted how they should secure

the duke of York,[B] who was too young to be expected at the parliament

house, and his sister, the Princess Elizabeth, educated at Lord

Harrington's, in Warwickshire. It was resolved, that Percy and another

should enter into the duke's chamber, and a dozen more, properly

disposed at several doors, with two or three on horseback at the

court-gate to receive him, should carry him safe away as soon as the

parliament-house was blown up; or, if that could not be effected, that

they should kill him, and declare the princess Elizabeth queen, having

secured her, under pretence of a hunting-match, that day.

Several of the conspirators proposed obtaining foreign aid previous to

the execution of their design; but this was over-ruled, and it was

agreed only to apply to France, Spain, and other powers for assistance

after the plot had taken effect; they also resolved to proclaim the

princess Elizabeth queen, and to spread a report, after the blow was

given, that the puritans were the perpetrators of so inhuman an action.

All matters being now prepared by the conspirators, they, without the

least remorse of conscience, and with the utmost impatience, expected

the 5th of November. But all their counsels were blasted by a happy and

providential circumstance. One of the conspirators, having a desire to

save William Parker, Lord Monteagle, sent him the following letter:

"My Lord,

"Out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I

have a care for your preservation; therefore I

advise you, as you tender your life, to devise you

some excuse to shift off your attendance at this

parliament; for God and man have concurred to

punish the wickedness of this time: and think not

slightly of this advertisement, but retire yourself

into the country, where you may expect the event

with safety, for though there be no appearance of

any stir, yet I say they shall receive a terrible

blow, this parliament, and yet they shall not see

who hurts them. This counsel is not to be

contemned, because it may do you good, and can do

you no harm; for the danger is past so soon (or as

quickly) as you burn this letter; and I hope God

will give you the grace to make good use of it, to

whose holy protection I commend you."

The Lord Monteagle was, for some time, at a loss what judgment to form

of this letter, and unresolved whether he should slight the

advertisement or not; and fancying it a trick of his enemies to frighten

him into an absence from parliament, would have determined on the

former, had his own safety been only in question: but apprehending the

king's life might be in danger, he took the letter at midnight to the

earl of Salisbury, who was equally puzzled about the meaning of it; and

though he was inclined to think it merely a wild and waggish contrivance

to alarm Monteagle, yet he thought proper to consult about it with the

earl of Suffolk, lord chamberlain. The expression, "that the blow should

come, without knowing who hurt them," made them imagine that it would

not be more proper than the time of parliament, nor by any other way

likely to be attempted than by gunpowder, while the king was sitting to

that assembly: the lord chamberlain thought this the more probable,

because there was a great cellar under the parliament-chamber, (as

already mentioned,) never used for any thing but wood or coal, belonging

to Wineyard, the keeper of the palace; and having communicated the

letter to the earls of Nottingham, Worcester, and Northampton, they

proceeded no farther till the king came from Royston, on the 1st of

November.

His majesty being shown the letter by the earls, who, at the same time

acquainted him with their suspicions, was of opinion that either nothing

should be done, or else enough to prevent the danger: and that a search

should be made on the day preceding that designed for this execution of

the diabolical enterprise.

Accordingly, on Monday, the 4th of November, in the afternoon, the lord

chamberlain, whose office it was to see all things put in readiness for

the king's coming, accompanied by Monteagle, went to visit all places

about the parliament-house, and taking a slight occasion to see the

cellar, observed only piles of billets and fagots, but in greater number

than he thought Wineyard could want for his own use. On his asking who

owned the wood, and being told it belonged to one Mr. Percy, he began to

have some suspicions, knowing him to be a rigid papist, and so seldom

there, that he had no occasion for such a quantity of fuel; and

Monteagle confirmed him therein, by observing that Percy had made him

great professions of friendship.

Though there was no other materials visible, yet Suffolk thought it was

necessary to make a further search; and, upon his return to the king, a

resolution was taken that it should be made in such a manner as should

be effectual, without scandalizing any body, or giving any alarm.

Sir Thomas Knevet, steward of Westminster, was accordingly ordered,

under the pretext of searching for stolen tapestry hangings in that

place, and other houses thereabouts, to remove the wood, and see if

anything was concealed underneath. This gentleman going at midnight,

with several attendants, to the cellar, met Fawkes, just coming out of

it, booted and spurred, with a tinder-box and three matches in his

pockets, and seizing him without any ceremony, or asking him any

questions, as soon as the removal of the wood discovered the barrels of

gunpowder, he caused him to be bound, and properly secured.

Fawkes, who was a hardened and intrepid villain, made no hesitation of

avowing the design, and that it was to have been executed on the morrow.

He made the same acknowledgment at his examination before a committee of

the council; and though he did not deny having some associates in this

conspiracy, yet no threats of torture could make him discover any of

them, he declaring that "he was ready to die, and had rather suffer ten

thousand deaths, than willingly accuse his master, or any other."

By repeated examinations, however, and assurances of his master's being

apprehended, he at length acknowledged, "that whilst he was abroad,

Percy had kept the keys of the cellar, had been in it since the powder

had been laid there, and, in effect, that he was one of the principal

actors in the intended tragedy."

In the mean time it was found out, that Percy had come post out of the

north on Saturday night, the 2d of November, and had dined on Monday at

Sion-house, with the earl of Northumberland; that Fawkes had met him on

the road, and that, after the lord chamberlain had been that evening in

the cellar, he went, about six o'clock, to his master, who had fled

immediately, apprehending the plot was detected.

The news of the discovery immediately spreading, the conspirators fled

different ways, but chiefly into Warwickshire, where Sir Everard Digby

had appointed a hunting-match, near Dunchurch, to get a number of

recusants together, sufficient to seize the princess Elizabeth; but this

design was prevented by her taking refuge in Coventry; and their whole

party, making about one hundred, retired to Holbeach, the seat of Sir

Stephen Littleton, on the borders of Staffordshire, having broken open

stables, and taken horses from different people in the adjoining

counties.

Sir Richard Walsh, high sheriff of Worcestershire, pursued them to

Holbeach, where he invested them, and summoned them to surrender. In

preparing for their defence, they put some moist powder before a fire to

dry, and a spark from the coals setting it on fire, some of the

conspirators were so burned in their faces, thighs, and arms, that they

were scarcely able to handle their weapons. Their case was desperate,

and no means of escape appearing, unless by forcing their way through

the assailants, they made a furious sally for that purpose. Catesby (who

first proposed the manner of the plot) and Percy were both killed.

Thomas Winter, Grant, Digby, Rockwood, and Bates, were taken and carried

to London, were the first made a full discovery of the conspiracy.

Tresham, lurking about the city, and frequently shifting his quarters,

was apprehended soon after, and having confessed the whole matter, died

of the strangury, in the Tower. The earl of Northumberland, suspected on

account of his being related to Thomas Percy, was, by way of precaution,

committed to the custody of the archbishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth;

and was afterwards fined thirty thousand pounds, and sent to the Tower,

for admitting Percy into the band of gentlemen pensioners, without

tending him the oath of supremacy.

Some escaped to Calais, and arriving there with others, who fled to

avoid a persecution which they apprehended on this occasion, were kindly

received by the governor; but one of them declaring before him, that he

was not so much concerned at his exile, as that the powder plot did not

take effect, the governor was so much incensed at his glorying in such

an execrable piece of iniquity, that, in a sudden impulse of

indignation, he endeavoured to throw him into the sea.

On the 27th of January, 1606, eight of the conspirators were tried and

convicted, among whom was Sir Everard Digby, the only one that pleaded

guilty to the indictment, though all the rest had confessed their guilt

before. Digby was executed on the 30th of the same month, with Robert

Winter, Grant, and Bates, at the west end of St. Paul's churchyard;

Thomas Winter, Keyes, Rockwood, and Fawkes, were executed the following

day in Old Palace yard.

Garnet was tried on the 28th of March, "for his knowledge and

concealment of the conspiracy; for administering an oath of secrecy to

the conspirators, for persuading them of the lawfulness of the treason,

and for praying for the success of the great action in hand at the

beginning of the parliament." Being found guilty,[C] he received

sentence of death, but was not executed till the 3d of May, when,

confessing his own guilt, and the iniquity of the enterprise, he

exhorted all Roman Catholics to abstain from the like treasonable

practices in future. Gerard and Hall, two Jesuits, got abroad; and

Littleton, with several others, were executed in the country.

The Lord Monteagle had a grant of two hundred pounds a year in land, and

a pension of five hundred pounds for life, as a reward for discovering

the letter which gave the first hint of the conspiracy; and the

anniversary of this providential deliverance was ordered to be for ever

commemorated by prayer and thanksgiving.

Thus was this diabolical scheme happily rendered abortive, and the

authors of it brought to that condign punishment which their wickedness

merited. In this affair Providence manifestly interposed in behalf of

the protestants, and saved them from that destruction which must have

taken place had the scheme succeeded according to the wishes of a

bigoted, superstitious, and blood-thirsty faction.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] The queen made the following animated speech to the troops assembled

at Tilbury:

"My loving people, we have been persuaded by some, that are careful of

our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes,

for fear of treachery, but I assure you, I do not desire to live to

distrust my faithful and loving people.--Let tyrants fear: I have always

so behaved myself, that under God, I have placed my chiefest strength

and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects. And

therefore I am come among you at this time, not as for my recreation or

sport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live

or die among you all, to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdom, and

for my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have

but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart of a king,

and of a king of England too; and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain,

or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realms:

To which rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take

up arms; I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one

of your virtues in the field. I know already, by your forwardness, that

you have deserved rewards and crowns; and I do assure you, on the word

of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean time my

lieutenant-general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince

commanded a more noble and worthy subject; not doubting by your

obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in

the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of

my God, of my kingdom, and of my people."

[B] Afterward Charles I.

CHAPTER XV.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE PROTESTANT RELIGION IN IRELAND; WITH AN ACCOUNT

OF THE BARBAROUS MASSACRE OF 1641.

The gloom of popery had overshadowed Ireland from its first

establishment there till the reign of Henry VIII. when the rays of the

gospel began to dispel the darkness, and afford that light which till

then had been unknown in that island. The abject ignorance in which the

people were held, with the absurd and superstitious notions they

entertained, were sufficiently evident to many; and the artifices of

their priests were so conspicuous, that several persons of distinction,

who had hitherto been strenuous papists, would willingly have

endeavoured to shake off the yoke, and embrace the protestant religion;

but the natural ferocity of the people, and their strong attachment to

the ridiculous doctrines which they had been taught, made the attempt

dangerous. It was, however, at length undertaken, though attended with

the most horrid and disastrous consequences.

The introduction of the protestant religion into Ireland may be

principally attributed to George Browne, an Englishman, who was

consecrated archbishop of Dublin on the 19th of March, 1535. He had

formerly been an Augustine friar, and was promoted to the mitre on

account of his merit.

After having enjoyed his dignity about five years, he, at the time that

Henry VIII. was suppressing the religious houses in England, caused all

the relics and images to be removed out of the two cathedrals in Dublin,

and the other churches in his diocese; in the place of which he caused

to be put up the Lord's prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments.

A short time after this he received a letter from Thomas Cromwell,

lord-privy seal, informing him that Henry VIII. having thrown off the

papal supremacy in England, was determined to do the like in Ireland;

and that he thereupon had appointed him (archbishop Browne) one of the

commissioners for seeing this order put in execution. The archbishop

answered, that he had employed his utmost endeavours at the hazard of

his life, to cause the Irish nobility and gentry to acknowledge Henry as

their supreme head, in matters both spiritual and temporal; but had met

with a most violent opposition, especially from George, archbishop of

Armagh; that this prelate had, in a speech to his clergy, laid a curse

on all those who should own his highness'[D] supremacy: adding, that

their isle, called in the Chronicles _Insula Sacra_, or the Holy Island,

belonged to none but the bishop of Rome, and that the king's progenitors

had received it from the pope. He observed likewise, that the archbishop

and clergy of Armagh, had each despatched a courier to Rome; and that it

would be necessary for a parliament to be called in Ireland, to pass an

act of supremacy, the people not regarding the king's commission without

the sanction of the legislative assembly. He concluded with observing,

that the popes had kept the people in the most profound ignorance; that

the clergy were exceedingly illiterate; that the common people were more

zealous, in their blindness, than the saints and martyrs had been in the

defence of truth at the beginning of the gospel; and that it was to be

feared Shan O'Neal, a chieftain of great power in the northern part of

the island, was decidedly opposed to the king's commission.

In pursuance of this advice, the following year a parliament was

summoned to meet at Dublin, by order of Leonard Grey, at that time

lord-lieutenant. At this assembly archbishop Browne made a speech in

which he set forth, that the bishops of Rome used, anciently, to

acknowledge emperors, kings, and princes, to be supreme in their own

dominions, and, therefore, that he himself would vote king Henry VIII.

as supreme in all matters, both ecclesiastical and temporal. He

concluded with saying, that whosoever should refuse to vote for this

act, was not a true subject of the king. This speech greatly startled

the other bishops and lords; but at length, after violent debates, the

king's supremacy was allowed.

Two years after this, the archbishop wrote a second letter to lord

Cromwell, complaining of the clergy, and hinting at the machinations

which the pope was then carrying on against the advocates of the gospel.

This letter is dated from Dublin, in April, 1538; and among other

matters, the archbishop says, "A bird may be taught to speak with as

much sense as many of the clergy do in this country. These, though not

scholars, yet are crafty to cozen the poor common people and to dissuade

them from following his highness' orders. The country folk here much

hate your lordship, and despitefully call you, in their Irish tongue,

the Blacksmith's Son. As a friend, I desire your lordship to look well

to your noble person. Rome hath a great kindness for the duke of

Norfolk, and great favors for this nation, purposely to oppose his

highness."

A short time after this, the pope sent over to Ireland (directed to the

Archbishop of Armagh and his clergy) a bull of excommunication against

all who had, or should own the king's supremacy within the Irish nation;

denouncing a curse on all of them, and theirs, who should not, within

forty days, acknowledge to their confessors, that they had done amiss in

so doing.

Archbishop Browne gave notice of this in a letter, dated, Dublin, May,

1538. Part of the form of confession, or vow, sent over to these Irish

papists, ran as follows; "I do farther declare him or her, father or

mother, brother or sister, son or daughter, husband or wife, uncle or

aunt, nephew or niece, kinsman or kinswoman, master or mistress, and all

others, nearest or dearest relations, friend or acquaintance whatsoever,

accursed, that either do or shall hold, for the time to come, any

ecclesiastical or civil power above the authority of the mother church;

or that do or shall obey, for the time to come, any of her the mother of

churches' opposers or enemies, or contrary to the same, of which I have

here sworn unto: so God, the Blessed Virgin, St. Peter, St. Paul, and

the Holy Evangelists, help me, &c." This is an exact agreement with the

doctrines promulgated by the councils of Lateran and Constance, which

expressly declare, that no favour should be shown to heretics, nor faith

kept with them; that they ought to be excommunicated and condemned, and

their estates confiscated; and that princes are obliged, by a solemn

oath, to root them out of their respective dominions.

How abominable a church must that be, which thus dares to trample upon

all authority! how besotted the people who regard the injunctions of

such a church!

In the archbishop's last-mentioned letter, dated May, 1538, he says,

"His highness' viceroy of this nation is of little or no power with the

old natives. Now both English and Irish begin to oppose your lordship's

orders, and to lay aside their national quarrels, which I fear will (if

any thing will) cause a foreigner to invade this nation."

Not long after this, Archbishop Browne seized one Thady O'Brian, a

Franciscan friar, who had in his possession a paper sent from Rome dated

May, 1538, and directed to O'Neal. In this letter were the following

words: "His holiness, Paul, now pope, and the council of the fathers,

have lately found, in Rome, a prophecy of one St. Lacerianus, an Irish

bishop of Cashel, in which he saith, that the mother church of Rome

falleth, when, in Ireland, the catholic faith is overcome. Therefore,

for the glory of the mother church, the honour of St. Peter, and your

own secureness, suppress heresy, and his holiness' enemies."

This Thady O'Brian, after farther examination and search made, was

pilloried, and kept close prisoner, till the king's orders arrived in

what manner he should be farther disposed of. But order coming over from

England that he was to be hanged, he laid violent hands on himself in

the castle of Dublin. His body was afterwards carried to Gallows-green,

where, after being hanged up for some time, it was interred.

After the accession of Edward VI. to the throne of England, an order was

directed to Sir Anthony Leger, the lord-deputy of Ireland, commanding

that the liturgy in English be forthwith set up in Ireland, there to be

observed within the several bishoprics, cathedrals, and parish churches;

and it was first read in Christ-church, Dublin, on Easter day, 1551,

before the said Sir Anthony, Archbishop Browne, and others. Part of the

royal order for this purpose was as follows: "Whereas, our gracious

father, King Henry VIII. taking into consideration the bondage and heavy

yoke that his true and faithful subjects sustained, under the

jurisdiction of the bishop of Rome; how several fabulous stories and

lying wonders misled our subjects; dispensing with the sins of our

nations, by their indulgences and pardons, for gain; purposely to

cherish all evil vices, as robberies, rebellions, theft, whoredoms,

blasphemy, idolatry, &c. our gracious father hereupon dissolved all

priories, monasteries, abbeys, and other pretended religious houses; as

being but nurseries for vice or luxury, more than for sacred learning,"

&c.

On the day after the common-prayer was first used in Christ-church,

Dublin, the following wicked scheme was projected by the papists:

In the church was left a marble image of Christ, holding a reed in his

hand, with a crown of thorns on his head. Whilst the English service

(the Common Prayer) was being read before the lord-lieutenant, the

archbishop of Dublin, the privy-council, the lord-mayor, and a great

congregation, blood was seen to run through the crevices of the crown of

thorns, and to trickle down the face of the image. On this, some of the

contrivers of the imposture cried aloud: "See how our Saviour's image

sweats blood! But it must necessarily do this, since heresy is come into

the church." Immediately many of the lower order of people, indeed the

_vulgar of all ranks_, were terrified at the sight of so _miraculous_

and _undeniable_ an evidence of the divine displeasure; they hastened

from the church, convinced that the doctrines of protestantism emanated

from an infernal source, and that salvation was only to be found in the

bosom of their own _infallible_ church.

This incident, however ludicrous it may appear to the enlightened

reader, had great influence over the minds of the ignorant Irish, and

answered the ends of the impudent imposters who contrived it, so far as

to check the progress of the reformed religion in Ireland very

materially; many persons could not resist the conviction that there were

many errors and corruptions in the Romish church, but they were awed

into silence by this pretended manifestation of Divine wrath, which was

magnified beyond measure by the bigoted and interested priesthood.

We have very few particulars as to the state of religion in Ireland

during the remaining portion of the reign of Edward VI. and the greater

part of that of Mary. Towards the conclusion of the barbarous sway of

that relentless bigot, she attempted to extend her inhuman persecutions

to this island; but her diabolical intentions were happily frustrated in

the following providential manner, the particulars of which are related

by historians of good authority.

Mary had appointed Dr. Cole (an agent of the blood-thirsty Bonner) one

of the commissioners for carrying her barbarous intentions into effect.

He having arrived at Chester with his commission, the mayor of that

city, being a papist, waited upon him; when the doctor taking out of his

cloak-bag a leathern case, said to him, "Here is a commission that shall

lash the heretics of Ireland." The good woman of the house being a

protestant, and having a brother in Dublin, named John Edmunds, was

greatly troubled at what she heard. But watching her opportunity, whilst

the mayor was taking his leave, and the doctor politely accompanying him

down stairs, she opened the box, took out the commission, and in its

stead laid a sheet of paper, with a pack of cards, and the _knave of

clubs_ at top. The doctor, not suspecting the trick that had been played

him, put up the box, and arrived with it in Dublin, in September, 1558.

Anxious to accomplish the intentions of his "_pious_" mistress, he

immediately waited upon Lord Fitz-Walter, at that time viceroy, and

presented the box to him; which being opened, nothing was found in it

but a pack of cards. This startling all the persons present, his

lordship said, "We must procure another commission; and in the mean time

let us shuffle the cards!"

Dr. Cole, however, would have directly returned to England to get

another commission; but waiting for a favourable wind, news arrived that

queen Mary was dead, and by this means the protestants escaped a most

cruel persecution. The above relation as we before observed, is

confirmed by historians of the greatest credit, who add, that queen

Elizabeth settled a pension of forty pounds per annum upon the above

mentioned Elizabeth Edmunds, for having thus saved the lives of her

protestant subjects.

During the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. Ireland was almost

constantly agitated by rebellions and insurrections, which, although not

always taking their rise from the difference of religious opinions

between the English and Irish, were aggravated and rendered more bitter

and irreconcilable from that cause. The popish priests artfully

exaggerated the faults of the English government, and continually urged

to their ignorant and prejudiced hearers the lawfulness of killing the

protestants, assuring them that all catholics who were slain in the

prosecution of so _pious_ an enterprise, would be immediately received

into everlasting felicity. The naturally ungovernable dispositions of

the Irish, acted upon by these designing men, drove them into continual

acts of barbarous and unjustifiable violence; and it must be confessed

that the unsettled and arbitrary nature of the authority exercised by

the English governors, was but little calculated to gain their

affections. The Spaniards, too, by landing forces in the south, and

giving every encouragement to the discontented natives to join their

standard, kept the island in a continual state of turbulence and

warfare. In 1601, they disembarked a body of 4000 men at Kinsale, and

commenced what they called "_the holy war for the preservation of the

faith in Ireland_;" they were assisted by great numbers of the Irish,

but were at length totally defeated by the deputy, lord Mountjoy, and

his officers.

This closed the transactions of Elizabeth's reign with respect to

Ireland; an interval of apparent tranquility followed, but the popish

priesthood, ever restless and designing, sought to undermine by secret

machinations, that government and that faith which they durst no longer

openly attack. The pacific reign of James afforded them the opportunity

of increasing their strength and maturing their schemes, and under his

successor, Charles I. their numbers were greatly increased by titular

Romish archbishops, bishops, deans, vicars-general, abbots, priests, and

friars; for which reason, in 1629, the public exercise of the popish

rites and ceremonies was forbidden.

But notwithstanding this, soon afterwards, the Romish clergy erected a

new popish university in the city of Dublin. They also proceeded to

build monasteries and nunneries in various parts of the kingdom; in

which places these very Romish clergy, and the chiefs of the Irish, held

frequent meetings; and from thence, used to pass to and fro, to France,

Spain, Flanders, Lorrain, and Rome; where the detestable plot of 1641

was hatching by the family of the O'Neals and their followers.

A short time before the horrid conspiracy broke out, which we are now

going to relate, the papists in Ireland had presented a remonstrance to

the lords-justices of that kingdom, demanding the free exercise of their

religion, and a repeal of all laws to the contrary, to which both houses

of parliament in England, solemnly answered, that they would never grant

any toleration to the popish religion in that kingdom.

This farther irritated the papists to put in execution the diabolical

plot concerted for the destruction of the protestants; and it failed not

of the success wished for by its malicious and rancorous projectors.

The design of this horrid conspiracy was, that a general insurrection

should take place at the same time throughout the kingdom, and that all

the protestants, without exception, should be murdered. The day fixed

for this horrid massacre, was the 23d of October, 1641, the feast of

Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits; and the chief conspirators, in

the principal parts of the kingdom, made the necessary preparations for

the intended conflict.

In order that this detested scheme might the more infallibly succeed,

the most distinguished artifices were practised by the papists; and

their behaviour in their visits to the protestants, at this time, was

with more seeming kindness than they had hitherto shown, which was done

the more completely to effect the inhuman and treacherous designs then

meditating against them.

The execution of this savage conspiracy was delayed till the approach of

winter, that sending troops from England might be attended with greater

difficulty. Cardinal Richelieu, the French minister, had promised the

conspirators a considerable supply of men and money; and many Irish

officers had given the strongest assurances that they would heartily

concur with their catholic brethren, as soon as the insurrection took

place.

The day preceding that appointed for carrying this horrid design into

execution, was now arrived, when, happily for the metropolis of the

kingdom, the conspiracy was discovered by one Owen O'Connelly, an

Irishman, for which most signal service the English parliament voted him

500_l._ and a pension of 200_l._ during his life.

So very seasonably was this plot discovered, even but a few hours before

the city and castle of Dublin were to have been surprised, that the

lords-justices had but just time to put themselves, and the city, in a

proper posture of defence. The lord M'Guire, who was the principal

leader here, with his accomplices, were seized the same evening in the

city; and in their lodgings were found swords, hatchets, pole-axes,

hammers, and such other instruments of death as had been prepared for

the destruction and extirpation of the protestants in that part of the

kingdom.

Thus was the metropolis happily preserved; but the bloody part of the

intended tragedy was past prevention. The conspirators were in arms all

over the kingdom early in the morning of the day appointed, and every

protestant who fell in their way was immediately murdered. No age, no

sex, no condition, was spared. The wife weeping for her butchered

husband, and embracing her helpless children, was pierced with them, and

perished by the same stroke. The old, the young, the vigorous, and the

infirm, underwent the same fate, and were blended in one common ruin. In

vain did flight save from the first assault, destruction was every where

let loose, and met the hunted victims at every turn. In vain was

recourse had to relations, to companions, to friends; all connexions

were dissolved; and death was dealt by that hand from which protection

was implored and expected. Without provocation, without opposition, the

astonished English, living in profound peace, and, as they thought, full

security, were massacred by their nearest neighbours, with whom they had

long maintained a continued intercourse of kindness and good offices.

Nay, even death was the slightest punishment inflicted by these

monsters in human form; all the tortures which wanton cruelty could

invent, all the lingering pains of body, the anguish of mind, the

agonies of despair, could not satiate revenge excited without injury,

and cruelly derived from no just cause whatever. Depraved nature, even

perverted religion, though encouraged by the utmost license, cannot

reach to a greater pitch of ferocity than appeared in these merciless

barbarians. Even the weaker sex themselves, naturally tender to their

own sufferings, and compassionate to those of others, have emulated

their robust companions in the practice of every cruelty. The very

children, taught by example, and encouraged by the exhortation of their

parents, dealt their feeble blows on the dead carcasses of the

defenceless children of the English.

Nor was the avarice of the Irish sufficient to produce the least

restraint on their cruelty. Such was their frenzy, that the cattle they

had seized, and by rapine had made their own, were, because they bore

the name of English, wantonly slaughtered, or, when covered with wounds,

turned loose into the woods, there to perish by slow and lingering

torments.

The commodious habitations of the planters were laid in ashes, or

levelled with the ground. And where the wretched owners had shut

themselves up in the houses, and were preparing for defence, they

perished in the flames together with their wives and children.

Such is the general description of this unparalleled massacre; but it

now remains, from the nature of our work, that we proceed to

particulars.

The bigoted and merciless papists had no sooner begun to imbrue their

hands in blood, than they repeated the horrid tragedy day after day, and

the protestants in all parts of the kingdom fell victims to their fury

by deaths of the most unheard of cruelty.

The ignorant Irish were more strongly instigated to execute the infernal

business by the jesuits, priests, and friars, who, when the day for the

execution of the plot was agreed on, recommended in their prayers,

diligence in the great design, which they said would greatly tend to the

prosperity of the kingdom, and to the advancement of the Catholic cause.

They every where declared to the common people, that the protestants

were heretics, and ought not to be suffered to live any longer among

them; adding, that it was no more sin to kill an Englishman than to kill

a dog; and that the relieving or protecting them was a crime of the most

unpardonable nature.

The papists having besieged the town and castle of Longford, and the

inhabitants of the latter, who were protestants, surrendering on

condition of being allowed quarter, the besiegers, the instant the

towns-people appeared, attacked them in a most unmerciful manner, their

priest, as a signal for the rest to fall on, first ripping open the

belly of the English protestant minister; after which his followers

murdered all the rest, some of whom they hung, others were stabbed or

shot and great numbers knocked on the head with axes provided for the

purpose.

The garrison at Sligo was treated in like manner by O'Connor Slygah;

who, upon the protestants quitting their holds, promised them quarter,

and to convey them safe over the Curlew mountains, to Roscommon. But he

first imprisoned them in a most loathsome jail, allowing them only

grains for their food. Afterward, when some papists were merry over

their cups, who were come to congratulate their wicked brethren for

their victory over these unhappy creatures, those protestants who

survived were brought forth by the White-friars, and were either killed,

or precipitated over the bridge into a swift river, where they were soon

destroyed. It is added, that this wicked company of White-friars went,

some time after, in solemn procession, with holy water in their hands,

to sprinkle the river; on pretence of cleansing and purifying it from

the stains and pollution of the blood and dead bodies of the heretics,

as they called the unfortunate protestants who were inhumanly

slaughtered at this very time.

At Kilmore, Dr. Bedell, bishop of that see, had charitably settled and

supported a great number of distressed protestants, who had fled from

their habitations to escape the diabolical cruelties committed by the

papists. But they did not long enjoy the consolation of living together;

the good prelate was forcibly dragged from his episcopal residence,

which was immediately occupied by Dr. Swiney, the popish titular bishop

of Kilmore, who said mass in the church the Sunday following, and then

seized on all the goods and effects belonging to the persecuted bishop.