MARY.
{1555.} THE success which Gardiner, from his cautious and prudent
conduct, had met with in governing the parliament, and engaging them
to concur both in the Spanish match and in the reëstablishment of the
ancient religion,--two points to which, it was believed, they bore an
extreme aversion,--had so raised his character for wisdom and policy
that his opinion was received as an oracle in the council; and his
authority, as it was always great in his own party, no longer suffered
any opposition or control. Cardinal Pole himself, though more beloved
on account of his virtue and candor, and though superior in birth and
station, had not equal weight in public deliberations; and while
his learning, piety, and humanity were extremely respected, he was
represented more as a good man than a great minister. A very important
question was frequently debated before the queen and council by these
two ecclesiastics; whether the laws lately revived against heretics
should be put in execution, or should only be employed to restrain by
terror the bold attempts of these zealots. Pole was very sincere in
his religious principles; and though his moderation had made him be
suspected at Rome of a tendency towards Lutheranism, he was seriously
persuaded of the Catholic doctrines, and thought that no consideration
of human policy ought ever to come in competition with such important
interests. Gardiner, on the contrary, had always made his religion
subservient to his schemes of safety or advancement; and by his
unlimited complaisance to Henry, he had shown that, had he not been
pushed to extremity under the late minority, he was sufficiently
disposed to make a sacrifice of his principles to the established
theology. This was the well-known character of these two great
counsellors; yet such is the prevalence of temper above system, that
the benevolent disposition of Pole led him to advise a toleration of
the heretical tenets which he highly blamed; while the severe manners of
Gardiner inclined him to support by persecution that religion which, at
the bottom, he regarded with great indifference.[*] This circumstance of
public conduct was of the highest importance; and from being the object
of deliberation in the council, it soon became the subject of discourse
throughout the nation. We shall relate, in a few words, the topics by
which each side supported, or might have supported, their scheme of
policy; and shall display the opposite reasons which have been employed,
with regard to an argument that ever has been, and ever will be, so much
canvassed.
* Heylin, p. 47.
The practice of persecution, said the defenders of Pole’s opinion, is
the scandal of all religion; and the theological animosity, so fierce
and violent, far from being an argument of men’s conviction in their
opposite sects, is a certain proof that they have never reached any
serious persuasion with regard to these remote and sublime subjects.
Even those who are the most impatient of contradiction in other
controversies, are mild and moderate in comparison of polemical divines;
and wherever a man’s knowledge and experience give him a perfect
assurance in his own opinion, he regards with contempt, rather than
anger, the opposition and mistakes of others. But while men zealously
maintain what they neither clearly comprehend nor entirely believe, they
are shaken in their imagined faith by the opposite persuasion, or even
doubts, of other men; and vent on their antagonists that impatience
which is the natural result of so disagreeable a state of the
understanding. They then easily embrace any pretense for representing
opponents as impious and profane; and if they can also find a color for
connecting this violence with the interests of civil government, they
can no longer be restrained from giving uncontrolled scope to vengeance
and resentment. But surely never enterprise was more unfortunate than
that of founding persecution upon policy, or endeavoring, for the sake
of peace, to settle an entire uniformity of opinion in questions which,
of all others, are least subjected to the criterion of human reason.
The universal and uncontradicted prevalence of one opinion in religious
subjects can be owing, at first, to the stupid ignorance alone and
barbarism of the people, who never indulge themselves in any speculation
or inquiry; and there is no expedient for maintaining that uniformity
so fondly sought after, but by banishing forever all curiosity, and
all improvement in science and cultivation. It may not indeed appear
difficult to check, by a steady severity, the first beginnings of
controversy; but besides that this policy exposes forever the people
to all the abject terrors of superstition, and the magistrate to the
endless encroachments of ecclesiastics, it also renders men so delicate
that they can never endure to hear of opposition; and they will some
time pay dearly for that false tranquillity in which they have been so
long indulged. As healthful bodies are ruined by too nice a regimen, and
are thereby rendered incapable of bearing the unavoidable incidents
of human life, a people who never were allowed to imagine that their
principles could be contested fly out into the most outrageous violence
when any event (and such events are common) produces a faction among
their clergy, and gives rise to any difference in tenet or opinion. But
whatever may be said in favor of suppressing, by persecution, the first
beginnings of heresy, no solid argument can be alleged for extending
severity towards multitudes, or endeavoring, by capital punishments, to
extirpate an opinion which has diffused itself among men of every
rank and station. Besides the extreme barbarity of such an attempt, it
commonly proves ineffectual to the purpose intended, and serves only to
make men more obstinate in their persuasion, and to increase the number
of their proselytes. The melancholy with which the fear of death,
torture, and persecution inspires the sectaries, is the proper
disposition for fostering religious zeal: the prospect of eternal
rewards, when brought near, overpowers the dread of temporal
punishments: the glory of martyrdom stimulates all the more furious
zealots, especially the leaders and preachers: where a violent animosity
is excited by oppression, men naturally pass from hating the persons of
their tyrants to a more violent abhorrence of their doctrines: and the
spectators, moved with pity towards the supposed martyrs, are easily
seduced to embrace those principles which can inspire men with a
constancy that appears almost supernatural. Open the door to toleration,
mutual hatred relaxes among the sectaries, their attachment to their
particular modes of religion decays; the common occupations and
pleasures of life succeed to the acrimony of disputation; and the same
man who, in other circumstances, would have braved flames and tortures,
is induced to change his sect from the smallest prospect of favor
and advancement, or even from the frivolous hope of becoming more
fashionable in his principles. If any exception can be admitted to this
maxim of toleration, it will only be where a theology altogether new,
nowise connected with the ancient religion of the state, is imported
from foreign countries, and may easily, at one blow, be eradicated,
without leaving the seeds of future innovation. But as this exception
would imply some apology for the ancient pagan persecutions, or for
the extirpation of Christianity in China and Japan, it ought surely,
on account of this detested consequence, to be rather buried in eternal
silence and oblivion.
Though these arguments appear entirely satisfactory, yet such is the
subtlety of human wit, that Gardiner and the other enemies to toleration
were not reduced to silence; and they still found topics on which
to maintain the controversy. The doctrine, said they, of liberty of
conscience, is founded on the most flagrant impiety, and supposes such
an indifference among all religions, such an obscurity in theological
doctrines, as to render the church and magistrate incapable of
distinguishing with certainty the dictates of Heaven from the mere
fictions of human imagination. If the Divinity reveals principles
to mankind, he will surely give a criterion by which they may be
ascertained; and a prince who knowingly allows these principles to be
perverted or adulterated, is infinitely more criminal than if he gave
permission for the vending of poison, under the shape of food, to all
his subjects. Persecution may, indeed, seem better calculated to make
hypocrites than converts; but experience teaches us, that the habits of
hypocrisy often turn into reality; and the children, at least, ignorant
of the dissimulation of their parents, may happily be educated in more
orthodox tenets. It is absurd, in opposition to considerations of such
unspeakable importance, to plead the temporal and frivolous interests
of civil society; and if matters be thoroughly examined, even that topic
will not appear so universally certain in favor of toleration as by some
it is represented. Where sects arise whose fundamental principle on all
sides is to execrate, and abhor, and damn, and extirpate each other,
what choice has the magistrate left but to take part, and by rendering
one sect entirely prevalent, restore, at least for a time, the public
tranquillity? The political body, being here sickly, must not be treated
as if it were in a state of sound health; and an affected neutrality in
the prince, or even a cool preference, may serve only to encourage the
hopes of all the sects, and keep alive their animosity. The Protestants,
far from tolerating the religion of their ancestors, regard it as an
impious and detestable idolatry; and during the late minority, when they
were entirely masters, they enacted very severe, though not capital,
punishments against all exercise of the Catholic worship, and
even against such as barely abstained from their profane rites and
sacraments. Nor are instances wanting of their endeavors to secure an
imagined orthodoxy by the most rigorous executions: Calvin has burned
Servetus at Geneva; Cranmer brought Arians and Anabaptists to the stake;
and if persecution of any kind be admitted, the most bloody and violent
will surely be allowed the most justifiable, as the most effectual.
Imprisonments, fines, confiscations, whippings, serve only to irritate
the sects, without disabling them from resistance: but the stake,
the wheel, and the gibbet, must soon terminate in the extirpation or
banishment of all the heretics inclined to give disturbance, and in the
entire silence and submission of the rest.
The arguments of Gardiner, being more agreeable to the cruel bigotry of
Mary and Philip, were better received; and though Pole pleaded, as
is affirmed,[*] the advice of the emperor, who recommended it to his
daughter-in-law not to exercise violence against the Protestants, and
desired her to consider his own example, who, after endeavoring through
his whole life to extirpate heresy, had in the end reaped nothing but
confusion and disappointment, the scheme of toleration was entirely
rejected. It was determined to let loose the laws in their full vigor
against the reformed religion; and England was soon filled with scenes
of horror, which have ever since rendered the Catholic religion the
object of general detestation and which prove, that no human depravity
can equal revenge and cruelty covered with the mantle of religion.
* Burnet, vol. ii. Heylin, p. 47. It is not likely, however,
that Charles gave any such advice; for he himself was, at
this very time, proceeding with great violence in
persecuting the reformed in Flanders. Bentivoglio, part i,
lib. i.
The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul’s, a man
eminent in his party for virtue as well as for learning. Gardiner’s plan
was first to attack men of that character, whom, he hoped, terror
would bend to submission, and whose example, either of punishment or
recantation, would naturally have influence on the multitude: but he
found a perseverance and courage in Rogers, which it may seem strange
to find in human nature, and of which all ages and all sects do
nevertheless furnish many examples. Rogers, beside the care of his own
preservation, lay under other powerful temptations to compliance: he
had a wife whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet such was his
serenity after his condemnation, that the jailers, it is said, waked
him from a sound sleep when the hour of his execution approached. He had
desired to see his wife before he died; but Gardiner told him that he
was a priest, and could not possibly have a wife; thus joining insult to
cruelty. Rogers was burned in Smithfield.[*]
Hooper, bishop of Glocester, had been tried at the same time
with Rogers; but was sent to his own diocese to be executed. This
circumstance was contrived to strike the greater terror into his flock;
but it was a source of consolation to Hooper, who rejoiced in giving
testimony, by his death, to that doctrine which he had formerly preached
among them. When he was tied to the stake, a stool was set before him,
and the queen’s pardon laid upon it, which it was still in his power to
merit by a recantation; but he ordered it to be removed, and cheerfully
prepared himself for that dreadful punishment to which he was sentenced.
He suffered it in its full severity: the wind, which was violent, blew
the flame of the reeds from his body: the fagots were green, and did not
kindle easily: all his lower parts were consumed before his vitals were
attacked: one of his hands dropped off: with the other he continued to
beat his breast: he was heard to pray, and to exhort the people; till
his tongue, swollen with the violence of his agony, could no longer
permit him utterance. He was three quarters of an hour in torture, which
he bore with inflexible constancy.[**]
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 119. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 302.
** Fox, vol. iii. p. 145, etc. Burnet, vol. ii p. 302,
Heylin, p. 48, 49. Godwin, p. 349.
Sanders was burned at Coventry: a pardon was also offered him; but
he rejected it, and embraced the stake, saying, “Welcome the cross
of Christ; welcome everlasting life.” Taylor, parson of Hadley, was
punished by fire in that place, surrounded by his ancient friends and
parishioners. When tied to the stake, he rehearsed a psalm in English:
one of his guards struck him on the mouth, and bade him speak Latin:
another, in a rage, gave him a blow on the head with his halbert, which
happily put an end to his torments.
There was one Philpot, archdeacon of Winchester, inflamed with such zeal
for orthodoxy, that having been engaged in dispute with an Arian, he
spit in his adversary’s face, to show the great detestation which he
had entertained against that heresy. He afterwards wrote a treatise to
justify this unmannerly expression of zeal: he said, that he was led to
it in order to relieve the sorrow conceived from such horrid blasphemy,
and to signify how unworthy such a miscreant was of being admitted into
the society of any Christian.[*] Philpot was a Protestant; and falling
now into the hands of people as zealous as himself, but more powerful,
he was condemned to the flames, and suffered at Smithfield. It seems to
be almost a general rule, that in all religions, except the true, no
man will suffer martyrdom who would not also inflict it willingly on
all that differ from him. The same zeal for speculative opinions is the
cause of both.
The crime for which almost all the Protestants were condemned, was
their refusal to acknowledge the real presence. Gardiner, who had vainly
expected that a few examples would strike a terror into the reformers,
finding the work daily multiply upon him, devolved the invidious office
on others, chiefly on Bonner, a man of profligate manners, and of a
brutal character, who seemed to rejoice in the torments of the unhappy
sufferers.[**] He sometimes whipped the prisoners with his own hands,
till he was tired with the violence of the exercise: he tore out the
beard of a weaver who refused to relinquish his religion; and that he
might give him a specimen of burning, he held his hand to the candle
till the sinews and veins shrunk and burst.[***]
* Strype, vol iii. p. 261, and Coll. No. 58.
** Heylin, p. 47, 48.
*** Fox, vol. iii. p. 187.
It is needless to be particular in enumerating all the cruelties
practised in England during the course of three years that these
persecutions lasted: the savage barbarity on the one hand, and the
patient constancy on the other, are so similar in all those martyrdoms,
that the narrative, little agreeable in itself, would never be relieved
by any variety. Human nature appears not on any occasion so detestable,
and at the same time so absurd, as in these religious persecutions,
which sink men below infernal spirits in wickedness, and below the
beasts in folly. A few instances only may be worth preserving, in order,
if possible, to warn zealous bigots forever to avoid such odious and
such fruitless barbarity.
Ferrar, bishop of St. David’s, was burned in his own diocese and his
appeal to Cardinal Pole was not attended to.[*] Ridley, bishop of
London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates
celebrated for learning and virtue, perished together in the same
flames at Oxford, and supported each other’s constancy by their mutual
exhortations. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his companion,
“Be of good cheer, brother; we shall this day kindle such a torch
in England, as, I trust in God, shall never be extinguished.” The
executioners had been so merciful (for that clemency may more naturally
be ascribed to them than to the religious zealots) as to tie bags of
gunpowder about these prelates, in order to put a speedy period to their
tortures: the explosion immediately killed Latimer, who was in extreme
old age; Ridley continued alive during some time in the midst of the
flames.[**]
One Hunter, a young man of nineteen, an apprentice, having been seduced
by a priest into a dispute, had unwarily denied the real presence.
Sensible of his danger, he immediately absconded; but Bonner, laying
hold of his father, threatened him with the greatest severities if he
did not produce the young man to stand his trial. Hunter, hearing of
the vexations to which his father was exposed, voluntarily surrendered
himself to Bonner, and was condemned to the flames by that barbarous
prelate.
Thomas Haukes, when conducted to the stake, agreed with his friends,
that, if he found the torture tolerable, he would make them a signal to
that purpose in the midst of the flames. His zeal for the cause in which
he suffered so supported him that he stretched out his arms, the signal
agreed on; and in that posture he expired.[***] This example, with many
others of like constancy, encouraged multitudes not only to suffer, but
even to court and aspire to martyrdom.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 216.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 318. Heylin, p. 52.
*** Fox, vol. iii. p. 265.
The tender sex itself, as they have commonly greater propensity to
religion, produced many examples of the most inflexible courage in
supporting the profession of it against all the fury of the persecutors.
One execution in particular was attended with circumstances which, even
at that time, excited astonishment by reason of their unusual barbarity.
A woman in Guernsey, being near the time of her labor when brought to
the stake, was thrown into such agitation by the torture, that her belly
burst, and she was delivered in the midst of the flames. One of the
guards immediately snatched the infant from the fire, and attempted to
save it; but a magistrate who stood by ordered it to be thrown back:
being determined, he said, that nothing should survive which-sprang from
so obstinate and heretical a parent.[*]
The persons condemned to these punishments were not convicted of
teaching, or dogmatizing, contrary to the established religion: they
were seized merely on suspicion; and articles being offered them to
subscribe, they were immediately, upon their refusal, condemned to the
flames.[**] These instances of barbarity, so unusual in the nation,
excited horror; the constancy of the martyrs was the object of
admiration; and as men have a principle of equity engraven in their
minds, which even false religion is not able totally to obliterate, they
were shocked to see persons of probity, of honor, of pious dispositions,
exposed to punishments more severe than were inflicted on the greatest
ruffians for crimes subversive of civil society. To exterminate the
whole Protestant party was known to be impossible; and nothing
could appear more iniquitous, than to subject to torture the most
conscientious and courageous among them, and allow the cowards and
hypocrites to escape. Each martyrdom, therefore, was equivalent to
a hundred sermons against Popery; and men either avoided such horrid
spectacles, or returned from them full of a violent, though secret,
indignation against the persecutors. Repeated orders were sent from the
council to quicken the diligence of the magistrates in searching out
heretics; and in some places the gentry were constrained to countenance
by their presence those barbarous executions. These acts of violence
tended only to render the Spanish government daily more odious; and
Philip, sensible of the hatred which he incurred, endeavored to remove
the reproach from himself by a very gross artifice: he ordered his
confessor to deliver, in his presence, a sermon in favor of toleration;
a doctrine somewhat extraordinary in the mouth of a Spanish friar.[***]
But the court, finding that Bonner, however shameless and savage,
would not bear alone the whole infamy, soon threw off the mask; and
the unrelenting temper of the queen, as well as of the king, appeared
without control. A bold step was even taken towards introducing the
inquisition into England. As the bishops’ courts, though extremely
arbitrary, and not confined by any ordinary forms of law, appeared not
to be invested with sufficient power, a commission was appointed, by
authority of the queen’s prerogative, more effectually to extirpate
heresy.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 747. Heylin, p. 57. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
337.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 306.
*** Heylin, p. 56.
Twenty-one persons were named; but any three were armed with the powers
of the whole. The commission runs in these terms: “That since many false
rumors were published among the subjects, and many heretical opinions
were also spread among them, the commissioners were to inquire into
those, either by presentments, by witnesses, or any other political way
they could devise, and to search after all heresies; the bringers in,
the sellers, the readers of all heretical books: they were to examine
and punish all misbehaviors or negligences in any church or chapel; and
to try all priests that did not preach the sacrament of the altar;
all persons that did not hear mass, or come to their parish church to
service, that would not go in processions, or did not take holy bread or
holy water; and if they found any that did obstinately persist in such
heresies, they were to put them into the hands of their ordinaries, to
be punished according to the spiritual laws; giving the commissioners
full power to proceed as their discretions and consciences should direct
them, and to use all such means as they would invent for the searching
of the premises; empowering them also to call before them such witnesses
as they pleased, and to force them to make oath of such things as might
discover what they sought after.”[*] Some civil powers were also given
the commissioners to punish vagabonds and quarrelsome persons.
To bring the methods of proceeding in England still nearer to the
practice of the inquisition, letters were written to Lord North and
others, enjoining them “to put to the torture such obstinate persons as
would not confess, and there to order them at their discretion.”[**]
* Burnet, vol. ii. Coll. 32.
** Burnet, vol. iii. p. 243.
Secret spies, also, and informers were employed, according to the
practice of that iniquitous tribunal. Instructions were given to the
justices of peace--that they should call secretly before them one or two
honest persons within their limits, or more, at their discretion, and
command them by oath, or otherwise, that they shall secretly learn and
search out such persons as shall evil behave themselves in church,
or idly, or shall despise openly by words the king’s or queen’s
proceedings, or go about to make any commotion, or tell any seditious
tales or news. And also that the same persons, so to be appointed,
shall declare to the same justices of peace the ill behavior of lewd
disordered persons, whether it shall be for using unlawful games, and
such other light behavior of such suspected persons; and that the
same information shall be given secretly to the justices; and the same
justices shall call such accused persons before them, and examine them,
without declaring by whom they were accused. And that the same justices
shall, upon their examination, punish the offenders according as their
offences shall appear, upon the accusement and examination, by their
discretion, either by open punishment or “by good abearing.”[*] In some
respects this tyrannical edict even exceeded the oppression of the
inquisition, by introducing into every part of government the same
iniquities which that tribunal practises for the extirpation of heresy
only, and which are in some measure necessary, wherever that end is
earnestly pursued.
But the court had devised a more expeditious and summary method of
supporting orthodoxy than even the inquisition itself. They issued
a proclamation against books of heresy treason, and sedition, and
declared, “that whosoever had any of these books, and did not presently
burn them, without reading them or showing them to any other person,
should be esteemed rebels, and without any further delay be executed by
martial law.”[**] From the state of the English government during that
period, it is not so much the illegality of these proceedings, as their
violence and their pernicious tendency, which ought to be the object of
our censure.
* Burnet, vol. iii. p. 246, 247.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 363. Heylin, p. 79.
We have thrown together almost all the proceedings against heretics,
though carried on during a course of three years, that we may be
obliged as little as possible to return to such shocking violences
and barbarities. It is computed that in that time two hundred and
seventy-seven persons were brought to the stake, besides those who were
punished by imprisonment, fines, and confiscations. Among those who
suffered by fire were five bishops, twenty-one clergymen, eight lay
gentlemen, eighty-four tradesmen, one hundred husbandmen, servants, and
laborers, fifty-five women, and four children. This persevering cruelty
appears astonishing; yet is it much inferior to what has been practised
in other countries. A great author[*] computes that, in the Netherlands
alone, from the time that the edict of Charles V. was promulgated
against the reformers, there had been fifty thousand persons hanged,
beheaded, buried alive, or burnt, on account of religion; and that in
France the number had also been considerable. Yet in both countries, as
the same author subjoins, the progress of the new opinions instead of
being checked, was rather forwarded by these persecutions.
The burning of heretics was a very natural method of reconciling the
kingdom to the Romish communion; and little solicitation was requisite
to engage the pope to receive the strayed flock, from which he reaped
such considerable profit; yet was there a solemn embassy sent to Rome,
consisting of Sir Anthony Brown, created Viscount Montacute, the bishop
of Ely, and Sir Edward Carne, in order to carry the submissions of
England, and beg to be readmitted into the bosom of the Catholic
church.[**] Paul IV., after a short interval, now filled the papal
chair; the most haughty pontiff that during several ages had been
elevated to that dignity. He was offended that Mary still retained among
her titles that of queen of Ireland; and he affirmed that it belonged to
him alone, as he saw cause, either to erect new kingdoms or abolish the
old; but to avoid all dispute with the new converts, he thought proper
to erect Ireland into a kingdom, and he then admitted the title, as if
it had been assumed from his concession. This was a usual artifice of
the popes, to give allowance to what they could not prevent,[***] and
afterwards pretend that princes, while they exercised their own powers,
were only acting by authority from the papacy. And though Paul had at
first intended to oblige Mary formally to recede from this title before
he would bestow it upon her, he found it prudent to proceed in a less
haughty manner.[****]
* Father Paul, lib. v.
** Heylin, p. 45.
*** Heylin, p. 45. Father Paul, lib, v.
**** Father Paul, lib. v.
Another point in discussion between the pope and the English ambassadors
was not so easily terminated. Paul insisted that the property and
possessions of the church should be restored to the uttermost farthing;
that whatever belonged to God could never, by any law, be converted to
profane uses; and every person who detained such possessions was in a
state of eternal damnation; that he would willingly, in consideration
of the humble submissions of the English, make them a present of these
ecclesiastical revenues; but such a concession exceeded his power, and
the people might be certain that so great a profanation of holy things
would be a perpetual anathema upon them, and would blast all their
future felicity; that if they would truly show their filial piety, they
must restore all the privileges and emoluments of the Romish church, and
Peter’s pence among the rest; nor could they expect that this apostle
would open to them the gates of paradise, while they detained from him
his patrimony on earth.[*] These earnest remonstrances being transmitted
to England, though they had little influence on the nation, operated
powerfully on the queen, who was determined, in order to ease her
conscience, to restore all the church lands which were still in the
possession of the crown; and the more to display her zeal, she erected
anew some convents and monasteries, notwithstanding the low condition
of the exchequer.[**] When this measure was debated in council, some
members objected, that if such a considerable part of the revenue were
dismembered, the dignity of the crown would fall to decay; but the
queen replied, that she preferred the salvation of her soul to ten such
kingdoms as England.[***] These imprudent measures would not probably
have taken place so easily, had it not been for the death of Gardiner,
which happened about this time; the great seal was given to Heathe,
archbishop of York, that an ecclesiastic might still be possessed of
that high office, and be better enabled by his authority to forward the
persecutions against the reformed.
These persecutions were now become extremely odious to the nation; and
the effects of the public discontent appeared in the new parliament,
summoned to meet at Westminster.[****] A bill[v] was passed restoring to
the church the tenths and first-fruits, and all the impropriations which
remained in the hands of the crown; but though this matter directly
concerned none but the queen herself, great opposition was made to the
bill in the house of commons.
* Father Paul, lib. v. Heylin, p. 45.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iv. p. 312.
*** Heylin, p. 53, 65. Holingshed, p. 1127. Speed, p. 826.
**** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 322.
v 2 and 3. Phil, and Mar. cap. 4.
An application being made for a subsidy during two years, and for two
fifteenths, the latter was refused by the commons; and many members
said, that while the crown was thus despoiling itself of its revenue, it
was in vain to bestow riches upon it. The parliament rejected a bill for
obliging the exiles to return under certain penalties, and another for
incapacitating such as were remiss in the prosecution of heresy from
being justices of peace. The queen, finding the intractable humor of the
commons, thought proper to dissolve the parliament.
The spirit of opposition which began to prevail in parliament was the
more likely to be vexatious to Mary, as she was otherwise in very bad
humor on account of her husband’s absence, who, tired of her importunate
love and jealousy, and finding his authority extremely limited in
England, had laid hold of the first opportunity to leave her, and had
gone over last summer to the emperor in Flanders. The indifference
and neglect of Philip, added to the disappointment in her imagined
pregnancy, threw her into deep melancholy; and she gave vent to her
spleen by daily enforcing the persecutions against the Protestants, and
even by expressions of rage against all her subjects; by whom she
knew herself to be hated, and whose opposition, in refusing an entire
compliance with Philip was the cause, she believed, why he had alienated
his affections from her, and afforded her so little of his company.[*]
* Dépêches de Noailles, vol. v. p. 370, 562.
The less return her love met with, the more it increased; and she passed
most of her time in solitude, where she gave vent to her passion, either
in tears, or in writing fond epistles to Philip, who seldom returned
her any answer, and scarcely deigned to pretend any sentiment of love or
even of gratitude towards her. The chief part of government to which
she attended, was the extorting of money from her people, in order to
satisfy his demands; and as the parliament had granted her but a scanty
supply, she had recourse to expedients very violent and irregular. She
levied a loan of sixty thousand pounds upon a thousand persons, of whose
compliance, either on account of their riches or their affections to
her, she held herself best assured: but that sum not sufficing, she
exacted a general loan on every one who possessed twenty pounds a year.
This imposition lay heavy on the gentry, who were obliged, many of
them, to retrench their expenses and dismiss their servants, in order
to enable them to comply with her demands: and as these servants,
accustomed to idleness, and having no means of subsistence, commonly
betook themselves to theft and robbery, the queen published a
proclamation, by which she obliged their former masters to take them
back to their service. She levied sixty thousand marks on seven thousand
yeomen who had not contributed to the former loan; and she exacted
thirty-six thousand pounds more from the merchants. In order to engage
some Londoners to comply more willingly with her multiplied extortions,
she passed an edict prohibiting for four months the exporting of
any English cloths or kerseys to the Netherlands; an expedient which
procured a good market for such as had already sent any quantity of
cloth thither. Her rapaciousness engaged her to give endless disturbance
and interruption to commerce. The English company settled in Antwerp
having refused her a loan of forty thousand pounds, she dissembled
her resentment till she found that they had bought and shipped great
quantities of cloth for Antwerp fair, which was approaching: she then
laid an embargo on the ships, and obliged the merchants to grant her a
loan of the forty thousand pounds at first demanded, to engage for the
payment of twenty thousand pounds more at a limited time, and to submit
to an arbitrary imposition of twenty shillings on each piece. Some time
after, she was informed that the Italian merchants had shipped above
forty thousand pieces of cloth for the Levant, for which they were to
pay her a crown a piece, the usual imposition: she struck a bargain
with the merchant adventurers in London; prohibited the foreigners from
making any exportation; and received from the English merchants, in
consideration of this iniquity, the sum of fifty thousand pounds, and
an imposition of four crowns on each piece of cloth which they should
export. She attempted to borrow great sums abroad; but her credit was
so low, that though she offered fourteen per cent to the city of Antwerp
for a loan of thirty thousand pounds, she could not obtain it till she
compelled the city of London to be surety for her.[*] All these violent
expedients were employed while she herself was in profound peace with
all the world, and had visibly no occasion for money but to supply the
demands of a husband who gave attention only to his own convenience, and
showed himself entirely indifferent about her interests.
* Godwin, p. 359. Cowper’s Chronicle. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
359. Carte, p. 330, 333, 337, 341. Strype’s Memor vol. iii.
p. 428, 558. Annals vol. i. p. 15.
Philip was now become master of all the wealth of the new world, and
of the richest and most extensive dominions in Europe, by the voluntary
resignation of the emperor Charles V.; who, though still in the vigor of
his age, had taken a disgust to the world, and was determined to seek,
in the tranquillity of retreat, for that happiness which he had in vain
pursued amidst the tumults of war and the restless projects of ambition.
He summoned the states of the Low Countries and seating himself on the
throne for the last time, explained to his subjects the reasons of his
resignation, absolved them from all oaths of allegiance, and, devolving
his authority on Philip, told him, that his paternal tenderness made him
weep when he reflected on the burden which he imposed upon him.[*] He
inculcated on him the great and only duty of a prince, the study of his
people’s happiness; and represented how much preferable it was to
govern by affection, rather than by fear, the nations subjected to
his dominion. The cool reflections of age now discovered to him the
emptiness of his former pursuits; and he found that the vain schemes
of extending his empire had been the source of endless opposition and
disappointment, and kept himself, his neighbors, and his subjects, in
perpetual inquietude, and had frustrated the sole end of government,
the felicity of the nations committed to his care; an object which meets
with less opposition, and which, if steadily pursued, can alone convey a
lasting and solid satisfaction.
* Thuan. lib. xvi. c. 20.
{1556.} A few months after, he resigned to Philip his other dominions;
and embarking on board a fleet, sailed to Spain, and took his journey to
St. Just, a monastery in Estremadura, which, being situated in a happy
climate, and amidst the greatest beauties of nature, he had chosen for
the place of his retreat. When he arrived at Burgos, he found, by the
thinness of his court, and the negligent attendance of the Spanish
grandees, that he was no longer emperor; and though this observation
might convince him still more of the vanity of the world, and make him
more heartily despise what he had renounced, he sighed to find that all
former adulation and obeisance had been paid to his fortune, not to his
person. With better reason was he struck with the ingratitude of his son
Philip, who obliged him to wait a long time for the payment of the small
pension which he had reserved, and this disappointment in his domestic
enjoyments gave him a sensible concern. He pursued, however, his
resolution with inflexible constancy; and shutting himself up in his
retreat, he exerted such self-command, that he restrained even his
curiosity from any inquiry concerning the transactions of the world
which he had entirely abandoned. The fencing against the pains and
infirmities under which he labored occupied a great part of his time;
and during the intervals he employed his leisure, either in examining
the controversies of theology, with which his age had been so much
agitated, and which he had hitherto considered only in a political
light, or in imitating the works of renowned artists, particularly in
mechanics, of which he had always been a great admirer and encourager.
He is said to have here discovered a propensity to the new doctrines,
and to have frequently dropped hints of this unexpected alteration in
his sentiments. Having amused himself with the construction of clocks
and watches, he thence remarked, how impracticable the object was in
which he had so much employed himself during his grandeur; and how
impossible that he, who never could frame two machines that would go
exactly alike, could ever be able to make all mankind concur in the same
belief and opinion. He survived his retreat two years.
The emperor Charles had very early in the beginning of his reign found
the difficulty of governing such distant dominions; and he had made
his brother Ferdinand be elected king of the Romans, with a view to his
inheriting the imperial dignity, as well as his German dominions. But
having afterwards enlarged his schemes, and formed plans of aggrandizing
his family, he regretted that he must dismember such considerable states
and he endeavored to engage Ferdinand, by the most tempting offers,
and most earnest solicitations, to yield up his pretensions in favor
of Philip. Finding his attempts fruitless, he had resigned the imperial
crown with his other dignities; and Ferdinand, according to common form,
applied to the pope for his coronation. The arrogant pontiff refused
the demand; and pretended that, though on the death of an emperor he was
obliged to crown the prince elected, yet, in the case of a resignation,
the right devolved to the holy see, and it belonged to the pope alone to
appoint an emperor. The conduct of Paul was in every thing conformable
to these lofty pretensions. He thundered always in the ears of all
ambassadors, that he stood in no need of the assistance of any prince;
that he was above all potentates on the earth; that he would not
accustom monarchs to pretend to a familiarity or equality with him; that
it belonged to him to alter and regulate kingdoms; that he was successor
of those who had deposed kings and emperors; and that, rather than
submit to anything below his dignity, he would set fire to the four
corners of the world. He went so far as, at table, in the presence of
many persons, and even openly, in a public consistory, to say, that
he would not admit any kings for his companions; they were all his
subjects, and he would hold them under these feet: so saying, he
stamped on the ground with his old and infirm limbs: for he was now past
fourscore years of age.[*]
* Father Paul, lib. v.
The world could not forbear making a comparison between Charles V.,
a prince who, though educated amidst wars and intrigues of state, had
prevented the decline of age, and had descended from the throne, in
order to set apart an interval for thought and reflection; and a priest
who, in the extremity of old age, exulted in his dominion, and from
restless ambition and revenge was throwing all nations into combustion.
Paul had entertained the most inveterate animosity against the house
of Austria; and though a truce of five years had been concluded between
France and Spain, he excited Henry by his solicitations to break it, and
promised to assist him in recovering Naples, and the dominions to which
he laid claim in Italy; a project which had ever proved hurtful to the
predecessors of that monarch. He himself engaged in hostilities with
the duke of Alva, viceroy of Naples; and Guise being sent with forces
to support him, the renewal of war between the two crowns seemed almost
inevitable. Philip, though less warlike than his father, was no less
ambitious; and he trusted that, by the intrigues of the cabinet,
where, he believed, his caution, and secrecy, and prudence gave him the
superiority, he should be able to subdue all his enemies, and extend his
authority and dominion. For this reason, as well as from the desire of
settling his new empire, he wished to maintain peace with France; but
when he found that, without sacrificing his honor, it was impossible for
him to overlook the hostile attempts of Henry, he prepared for war with
great industry. In order to give himself the more advantage, he was
desirous of embarking England in the quarrel; and though the queen was
of herself extremely averse to that measure, he hoped that the devoted
fondness which, notwithstanding repeated instances of his indifference,
she still bore to him, would effectually second his applications. Had
the matter indeed depended solely on her, she was incapable of resisting
her husband’s commands; but she had little weight with her council,
still less with her people; and her government, which was every day
becoming more odious, seemed unable to maintain itself, even during the
most profound tranquillity, much more if a war were kindled with France,
and, what seemed an inevitable consequence, with Scotland, supported by
that powerful kingdom.
An act of barbarity was this year exercised in England, which, added to
many other instances of the same kind, tended to render the government
extremely unpopular. Cranmer had long been detained prisoner; but the
queen now determined to bring him to punishment; and in order the more
fully to satiate her vengeance, she resolved to punish him for heresy,
rather than for treason. He was cited by the pope to stand his trial at
Rome; and though he was known to be kept in close custody at Oxford, he
was, upon his not appearing, condemned as contumacious. Bonner, bishop
of London, and Thirleby of Ely, were sent to degrade him; and the former
executed the melancholy ceremony with all the joy and exultation which
suited his savage nature.[*] The implacable spirit of the queen, not
satisfied with the eternal damnation of Cranmer, which she believed
inevitable, and with the execution of that dreadful sentence to which he
was condemned, prompted her also to seek the ruin of his honor and the
infamy of his name. Persons were employed to attack him, not in the
way of disputation, against which he was sufficiently armed, but by
flattery, insinuation, and address, by representing the dignities to
which his character still entitled him, if he would merit them by a
recantation; by giving hopes of long enjoying those powerful friends,
whom his beneficent disposition had attached to him during the course of
his prosperity.[*]
* Mem. of Cranm. p. 375.
** Heylin, p. 55. Mem. p. 383.
Overcome by the fond love of life, terrified by the prospect of those
tortures which awaited him, he allowed, in an unguarded hour, the
sentiments of nature to prevail over his resolution, and he agreed to
subscribe the doctrines of the papal supremacy and of the real presence.
The court, equally perfidious and cruel, were determined that this
recantation should avail him nothing; and they sent orders that he
should be required to acknowledge his errors in church before the whole
people, and that he should thence be immediately carried to execution.
Cranmer, whether that he had received a secret intimation of their
design, or had repented of his weakness, surprised the audience by
a contrary declaration. He said, that he was well apprised of the
obedience which he owed to his sovereign and the laws; but this duly
extended no further than to submit patiently to their commands, and to
bear without resistance whatever hardships they should impose upon him:
that a superior duty, the duty which he owed to his Maker, obliged
him to speak truth on all occasions, and not to relinquish, by a base
denial, the holy doctrine which the Supreme Being had revealed to
mankind: that there was one miscarriage in his life, of which, above
all others, he severely repented; the insincere declaration of faith, to
which he had the weakness to consent, and which the fear of death alone
had extorted from him: that he took this opportunity of atoning for his
error, by a sincere and open recantation; and was willing to seal with
his blood that doctrine which he firmly believed to be communicated from
Heaven; and that as his hand had erred by betraying his heart, it should
first be punished by a severe but just doom, and should first pay the
forfeit of its offences. He was thence led to the stake amidst the
insults of the Catholics; and having now summoned up all the force of
his mind, he bore their scorn, as well as the torture of his punishment,
with singular fortitude. He stretched out his hand, and without
betraying, either by his countenance or motions, the least sign of
weakness, or even of feeling, he held it in the flames till it was
entirely consumed. His thoughts seemed wholly occupied with reflections
on his former fault; and he called aloud several times, “This hand has
offended.” Satisfied with that atonement, he then discovered a serenity
in his countenance, and when the fire attacked his body, he seemed to be
quite insensible of his outward sufferings, and by the force of hope and
resolution to have collected his mind altogether within itself, and to
repel the fury of the flames. It is pretended, that after his body was
consumed, his heart was found entire and untouched amidst the ashes; an
event which, as it was the emblem of his constancy, was fondly believed
by the zealous Protestants.
He was undoubtedly a man of merit; possessed of learning and capacity,
and adorned with candor, sincerity, and beneficence, and all those
virtues which were fitted to render him useful and amiable in society.
His moral qualities procured him universal respect; and the courage of
his martyrdom, though he fell short of the rigid inflexibility observed
in many, made him the hero of the Protestant party.[*]
After Cranmer’s death, Cardinal Pole, who had now taken priest’s orders,
was installed in the see of Canterbury; and was thus, by this office, as
well as by his commission of legate, placed at the head of the church
of England. But though he was averse to all sanguinary methods of
converting heretics, and deemed the reformation of the clergy the more
effectual, as the more laudable expedient for that purpose,[**] he found
his authority too weak to oppose the barbarous and bigoted disposition
of the queen and of her counsellors. He himself, he knew, had been
suspected of Lutheranism; and as Paul, the reigning pope, was a furious
persecutor, and his personal enemy, he was prompted, by the modesty of
his disposition, to reserve his credit for other occasions, in which he
had a greater probability of success.[***]
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 331, 332, etc. Godwin, p. 352.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 324, 325.
*** Heylin, p. 68, 69. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 327
{1557.} The great object of the queen was to engage the nation in the
war which was kindled between France and Spain; and Cardinal Pole,
with many other counsellors, openly and zealously opposed this measure.
Besides insisting on the marriage articles, which provided against such
an attempt, they represented the violence of the domestic factions in
England, and the disordered state of the finances; and they foreboded,
that the tendency of all these measures was to reduce the kingdom to
a total dependence on Spanish counsels. Philip had come to London, in
order to support his partisans; and he told the queen that, if he were
not gratified in so reasonable a request, he never more would set foot
in England. This declaration extremely heightened her zeal for promoting
his interests, and overcoming the inflexibility of her council. After
employing other menaces of a more violent nature, she threatened to
dismiss all of them, and to appoint counsellors more obsequious; yet
could she not procure a vote for declaring war with France. At length,
one Stafford, and some other conspirators, were detected in a design of
surprising Scarborough;[*] and a confession being extorted from them,
that they had been encouraged by Henry in the attempt, the queen’s
importunity prevailed; and it was determined to make this act of
hostility, with others of a like secret and doubtful nature, the
ground of the quarrel. War was accordingly declared against France; and
preparations were every where made for attacking that kingdom.
The revenue of England at that time little exceeded three hundred
thousand pounds.[**] Any considerable supplies could scarcely be
expected from parliament, considering the present disposition of the
nation; and as the war would sensibly diminish that branch arising from
the customs, the finances, it was foreseen, would fall short even of the
ordinary charges of government, and must still more prove unequal to
the expenses of war. But though the queen owed great arrears to all
her servants, besides the loans extorted from her subjects, these
considerations had no influence with her; and in order to support her
warlike preparations, she continued to levy money in the same arbitrary
and violent manner which she had formerly practised. She obliged the
city of London to supply her with sixty thousand pounds on her husband’s
entry; she levied before the legal time the second year’s subsidy voted
by parliament; she issued anew many privy seals, by which she procured
loans from her people; and having equipped a fleet, which she could not
victual by reason of the dearness of provisions, she seized all the corn
she could find in Suffolk and Norfolk, without paying any price to the
owners. By all these expedients, assisted by the power of pressing,
she levied an army of ten thousand men, which she sent over to the Low
Countries, under the command of the earl of Pembroke. Meanwhile, in
order to prevent any disturbance at home, many of the most considerable
gentry were thrown into the Tower; and lest they should be known, the
Spanish practice was followed: they either were carried thither in the
night-time, or were hoodwinked and muffled by the guards who conducted
them.[***]
* Heylin, p. 72. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 351. Sir James Melvil’s
Memoirs.
** Rossi, Successi d’Inghilterra.
*** Strype’s Eccles. Memorials, vol. iii. 377
The king of Spain had assembled an army, which, after the junction
of the English, amounted to above sixty thousand men, conducted by
Philibert, duke of Savoy, one of the greatest captains of the age. The
constable Montmorency, who commanded the French army, had not half the
number to oppose to him. The duke of Savoy, after menacing Mariembourgh
and Rocroy, suddenly sat down before St. Quintin: and as the place was
weak, and ill provided with a garrison, he expected in a few days to
become master of it. But Admiral Coligny, governor of the province,
thinking his honor interested to save so important a fortress, threw
himself into St. Quintin, with some troops of French and Scottish
gensdarmery; and by his exhortations and example animated the
soldiers to a vigorous defence. He despatched a messenger to his uncle
Montmorency, desiring a supply of men; and the constable approached the
place with his whole army, in order to facilitate the entry of these
succors. But the duke of Savoy, falling on the reënforcement, did such
execution upon them, that not above five hundred got into the place.
He next made an attack on the French army, and put them to total
rout, killing four thousand men, and dispersing the remainder. In this
unfortunate action many of the chief nobility of France were either
slain or taken prisoners: among the latter was the old constable
himself, who, fighting valiantly, and resolute to die rather than
survive his defeat, was surrounded by the enemy, and thus fell
alive into their hands. The whole kingdom of France was thrown into
consternation: Paris was attempted to be fortified in a hurry: and had
the Spaniards presently marched thither, it could not have failed to
fall into their hands. But Philip was of a cautious temper; and he
determined first to take St. Quintin, in order to secure a communication
with his own dominions. A very little time, it was expected, would
finish this enterprise; but the bravery of Coligny still prolonged the
siege seventeen days, which proved the safety of France. Some troops
were levied and assembled. Couriers were sent to recall the duke of
Guise and his army from Italy: and the French, having recovered from
their first panic, put themselves in a posture of defence. Philip, after
taking Ham and Catelet, found the season so far advanced, that he could
attempt no other enterprise: he broke up his camp, and retired to winter
quarters.
But the vigilant activity of Guise, not satisfied with securing the
frontiers, prompted him, in the depth of winter, to plan an enterprise
which France, during her greatest successes, had always regarded as
impracticable, and had never thought of undertaking. Calais was in
that age deemed an impregnable fortress; and as it was known to be the
favorite of the English nation, by whom it could easily be succored, the
recovery of that place by France was considered as totally desperate.
But Coligny had remarked, that as the town of Calais was surrounded with
marshes, which during the winter were impassable, except over a dike
guarded by two castles, St. Agatha and Newnam Bridge, the English were
of late accustomed, on account of the lowness of their finances, to
dismiss a great part of the garrison at the end of autumn, and to recall
them in the spring, at which time alone they judged their attendance
necessary. On this circumstance he had founded the design of making a
sudden attack on Calais; he had caused the place to be secretly viewed
by some engineers; and a plan of the whole enterprise being found among
his papers, it served, though he himself was made prisoner on the taking
of St. Quintin, to suggest the project of that undertaking, and to
direct the measures of the duke of Guise.
Several bodies of troops defiled towards the frontiers on various
pretences; and the whole, being suddenly assembled, formed an army, with
which Guise made an unexpected march towards Calais. At the same time,
a great number of French ships, being ordered into the Channel, under
color of cruising on the English, composed a fleet which made an attack
by sea on the fortifications. The French assaulted St. Agatha with three
thousand arquebusiers; and the garrison, though they made a vigorous
defence, were soon obliged to abandon the place, and retreat to Newnam
Bridge. The siege of this latter place was immediately undertaken,
and at the same time the fleet battered the risbank, which guarded
the entrance of the harbor; and both these castles seemed exposed to
imminent danger. The governor, Lord Wentworth, was a brave officer; but
finding that the greater part of his weak garrison was enclosed in the
castle of Newnam Bridge and the risbank, he ordered them to capitulate,
and to join him in Calais, which, without their assistance, he was
utterly unable to defend. The garrison of Newnam Bridge was so happy as
to effect this purpose; but that of the risbank could not obtain such
favorable conditions, and were obliged to surrender at discretion.
{1558.} The duke of Guise, now holding Calais blockaded by sea and land,
thought himself secure of succeeding in his enterprise; but in order to
prevent all accident, be delayed not a moment the attack of the place.
He planted his batteries against the castle, where he made a large
breach; and having ordered Andelot, Coligny’s brother, to drain the
fossée, he commanded an assault, which succeeded; and the French made a
lodgement in the castle. On the night following, Wentworth attempted to
recover this post; but having lost two hundred men in a furious attack
which he made upon it,[*] he found his garrison so weak, that he was
obliged to capitulate. Ham and Guisnes fell soon after; and thus the
duke of Guise, in eight days, during the depth of winter, made himself
master of this strong fortress, that had cost Edward III. a siege of
eleven months, at the head of a numerous army, which had that very year
been victorious in the battle of Crecy. The English had held it above
two hundred years; and as it gave them an easy entrance into France, it
was regarded as the most important possession belonging to the crown.
The joy of the French was extreme, as well as the glory acquired by
Guise; who, at the time when all Europe imagined France to be sunk
by the unfortunate battle of St. Quintin, had, in opposition to the
English, and their allies the Spaniards, acquired possession of a place
which no former king of France, even during the distractions of the
civil wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, had ever ventured
to attempt. The English, on the other hand, bereaved of this valuable
fortress, murmured loudly against the improvidence of the queen and her
council; who, after engaging in a fruitless war for the sake of foreign
interests, had thus exposed the nation to so severe a disgrace. A
treasury exhausted by expenses, and burdened with debts; a people
divided and dejected; a sovereign negligent of her people’s welfare;
were circumstances which, notwithstanding the fair offers and promises
of Philip, gave them small hopes of recovering Calais. And as the Scots,
instigated by French counsels, began to move on the borders, they were
now necessitated rather to look to their defence at home, than to think
of foreign conquests.
* Thuan. lib. xx. cap. 2.
After the peace which, in consequence of King Edward’s treaty with
Henry, took place between Scotland and England, the queen dowager, on
pretence of visiting her daughter and her relations, made a journey to
France; and she carried along with her the earls of Huntley, Sutherland,
Marischal, and many of the principal nobility. Her secret design was,
to take measures for engaging the earl of Arran to resign to her the
government of the kingdom; and as her brothers, the duke of Guise, the
cardinal of Lorraine, and the duke of Aumale, had uncontrolled influence
in the court of France, she easily persuaded Henry, and by his authority
the Scottish nobles, to enter into her measures. Having also gained
Carnegy of Kinnaird, Panter, bishop of Ross, and Gavin Hamilton,
commendator of Kilwinning, three creatures of the governor’s, she
persuaded him, by their means, to consent to this resignation;[*] and
when every thing was thus prepared for her purpose, she took a journey
to Scotland, and passed through England in her way thither. Edward
received her with great respect and civility; though he could not
forbear attempting to renew the old treaty for his marriage with
her daughter; a marriage, he said, so happily calculated for the
tranquillity, interest, and security of both kingdoms, and the only
means of insuring a durable peace between them. For his part, he added,
he never could entertain a cordial amity for any other husband whom she
should choose; nor was it easy for him to forgive a man who, at the same
time that he disappointed so natural an alliance, had bereaved him of
a bride to whom his affections, from his earliest infancy, had been
entirely engaged. The queen dowager eluded these applications, by
telling him, that if any measures had been taken disagreeable to him,
they were entirely owing to the imprudence of the duke of Somerset, who,
instead of employing courtesy, caresses, and gentle offices, the
proper means of gaining a young princess, had had recourse to arms
and violence, and had constrained the Scottish nobility to send their
sovereign into France, in order to interest that kingdom in protecting
their liberty and independence.[**]
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Keith, p. 56. Spotswood, p. 92.
** Keith, p. 59.
When the queen dowager arrived in Scotland, she found the governor very
unwilling to fulfil his engagements; and it was not till after many
delays that he could be persuaded to resign his authority. But finding
that the majority of the young princess was approaching, and that the
queen dowager had gained the affections of all the principal nobility,
he thought it more prudent to submit; and having stipulated that he
should be declared next heir to the crown, and should be freed from
giving any account of his past administration, he placed her in
possession of the power, and she thenceforth assumed the name of
regent.[*] It was a usual saying of this princess, that, provided she
could render her friends happy, and could insure to herself a good
reputation, she was entirely indifferent what befell her; and though
this sentiment is greatly censured by the zealous reformers,[**] as
being founded wholly on secular motives, it discovers a mind well
calculated for the government of kingdoms. D’Oisel, a Frenchman,
celebrated for capacity, had attended her as ambassador from Henry, but
in reality to assist her with his counsels in so delicate an undertaking
as the administration of Scotland; and this man had formed a scheme
for laying a general tax on the kingdom, in order to support a standing
military force, which might at once repel the inroads of foreign
enemies, and check the turbulence of the Scottish nobles. But though
some of the courtiers were gained over to this project, it gave great
and general discontent to the nation; and the queen regent, after
ingenuously confessing that it would prove pernicious to the kingdom,
had the prudence to desist from it, and to trust entirely for her
security to the good will and affections of her subjects.[***]
This laudable purpose seemed to be the chief object of her
administration; yet was she sometimes drawn from it by her connections
with France, and by the influence which her brothers had acquired
over her. When Mary commenced hostilities against that kingdom, Henry
required the queen regent to take part in the quarrel; and she summoned
a convention of states at Newbottle, and requested them to concur in a
declaration of war against England. The Scottish nobles, who were become
as jealous of French as the English were of Spanish influence, refused
their assent; and the queen was obliged to have recourse to stratagem
in order to effect her purpose. She ordered D’Oisel to begin some
fortifications at Eyemouth, a place which had been dismantled by the
last treaty with Edward; and when the garrison of Berwick, as she
foresaw, made an inroad to prevent the undertaking, she effectually
employed this pretence to inflame the Scottish nation, and to engage
them in hostilities against England.[****]
* 12th April, 1554.
** Knox, p. 89.
*** Keith, p. 70. Buchanan, lib. xvi.
**** Buchanan, lib. xvi. Thuan. lib. xix. c. 7.
The enterprises however, of the Scots proceeded no farther than some
inroads on the borders: when D’Oisel of himself conducted artillery
and troops to besiege the Castle of Werke, he was recalled, and sharply
rebuked by the council.[*]
* Knox. p. 93.
In order to connect Scotland more closely with France, and to increase
the influence of the latter kingdom, it was thought proper by Henry to
celebrate the marriage between the young queen and the dauphin; and
a deputation was sent by the Scottish parliament to assist at the
ceremony, and to settle the terms of the contract.