Chapter XII: Part 12

_II.--The Fall of Wolsey's Policy_

Times were changed in England since the second Henry walked barefoot through the streets of Canterbury, and knelt while the monks flogged him on the pavement in the Chapter House, doing penance for Becket's murder. The clergy had won the battle in the twelfth century because they deserved it. They were not free from fault and weakness, but they felt the meaning of their profession. Their hearts were in their vows, their authority was exercised more justly, more nobly, than the authority of the crown; and therefore, with inevitable justice, the crown was compelled to stoop before them.

The victory was great, but, like many victories, it was fatal to the conquerors. It filled them with the vanity of power; they forgot their duties in their privileges, and when, a century later, the conflict recommenced, the altering issue proved the altering nature of the conditions under which it was fought. The nation was ready for sweeping remedies. The people felt little loyalty to the pope. The clergy pursued their course to its end. They sank steadily into that condition which is inevitable from the constitution of human nature, among men without faith, wealthy, powerful, and luxuriously fed, yet condemned to celibacy and cut off from the common duties and common pleasures of ordinary life.

Many priests spent their time in hawking or hunting, in lounging at taverns, in the dissolute enjoyment of the world. If, however, there were no longer saints among the clergy, there could still arise among them a remarkable man. In Cardinal Wolsey the king found an adviser who was essentially a transition minister, holding a middle place between an English statesman and a Catholic of the old order. Under Wolsey's influence, Henry made war with Louis of France in the pope's quarrel, entered the polemic lists with Luther, and persecuted the English Protestants.

Yet Wolsey could not blind himself to the true condition of the church, before which lay the alternative of ruin or amendment. Therefore he familiarised Henry with sense that a reformation was inevitable. Dreaming that it could be effected from within, by the church itself inspired with a wiser spirit, he himself fell the first victim of a convulsion which he had assisted to create, and which he attempted too late to stay.

Wolsey talked of reformation, but delayed its coming. The monasteries grew worse and worse. Favoured parish clergy held as many as eight benefices. Bishops accumulated sees, and, unable to attend to all, attended to none. Wolsey himself, the church reformer (so little did he really know what a reformation means), was at once Archbishop of York, Bishop of Winchester and of Durham, and Abbot of St. Albans. Under such circumstances, we need not be surprised to find the clergy sunk low in the respect of the English people.

Fish's famous pamphlet shows the spirit that was seething. He spoke of what he had seen and knew. The monks, he tells the king, "be they that have made a hundred thousand idle dissolute women in your realm." But Wolsey could interfere with neither bishops nor monks without a special dispensation from the pope. A new trouble arose from the nation in the desire of Henry to divorce Catherine of Aragon, who had been his deceased brother's wife, was six years older than himself, and was an obstacle to the establishment of the kingdom. Her sons were dead, and she was beyond the period when more children could be expected. Though descent in the female line was not formally denied, no queen regent had ever, in fact, sat upon the throne; nor was the claim distinctly admitted, or the claim of the House of York would have been unquestionable. It was, therefore, with no little anxiety that the council of Henry VIII. perceived his male children, on whom their hopes were centred, either born dead, or dying one after another within a few days of their birth.

The line of the Princess Mary was precarious, for her health was weak from her childhood. If she lived, her accession would be a temptation to insurrection; if she did not live, and the king had no other children, a civil war was inevitable. The next heir in blood was James of Scotland, and gravely as statesmen desired the union of the two countries, in the existing mood of the people, the very stones in London streets, it was said, would rise up against a king of Scotland who entered England as sovereign.

So far were Henry and Catherine alike that both had imperious tempers, and both were indomitably obstinate; but Henry was hot and impetuous, Catherine cold and self-contained. She had been the wife of Prince Arthur, eldest son of Henry VII., but the death of that prince occurred only five months after the marriage. The uncertainty of the laws of marriage, and the innumerable refinements of the Roman canon law, affected the legitimacy of the children and raised scruples of conscience in the mind of the king. The loss of his children must have appeared as a judicial sentence on a violation of the Divine law. The divorce presented itself to him as a moral obligation, when national advantage combined with superstition to encourage what he secretly desired.

Wolsey, after thirty years' experience of public life, was as sanguine as a boy. Armed with this little lever of divorce, he saw himself in imagination the rebuilder of the Catholic faith and the deliverer of Europe from ecclesiastical revolt and from innovations of faith. The mass of the people hated Protestantism as he, a true friend of the Catholic cult, sincerely detested the reformation of Luther. He believed that the old life-tree of Catholicism, which in fact was but cumbering the ground, might bloom again in its old beauty. But a truer political prophet than Wolsey would have been found in the most ignorant of those poor men who were risking death and torture in disseminating the pernicious volumes of the English Testament.

Catherine being a Spanish princess, Henry, in 1527, formed a league with Francis I., with the object of breaking the Spanish alliance. The pope was requested to make use of his dispensing power to enable the King of England to marry a wife who could bear him children. Deeply as we deplore the outrage inflicted on Catherine, and the scandal and suffering occasioned by the dispute, it was in the highest degree fortunate that at the crisis of public dissatisfaction in England with the condition of the church, a cause should have arisen which tested the whole question of church authority in its highest form. It was no accident which connected a suit for divorce with the reformation of religion.

_Anne Boleyn_

The Spanish emperor, Charles V., gave Catherine his unwavering support, and refused to allow the pope to pass a judicial sentence of divorce. Catherine refused to yield. Another person now comes into conspicuous view. It has been with Anne Boleyn as with Catherine of Aragon--both are regarded as the victims of a tyranny which Catholics and Protestants unite to remember with horror, and each has taken the place of a martyred saint in the hagiology of the respective creeds. Anne Boleyn was second daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, a gentleman of noble family. She was educated in Paris, and in 1525 came back to England to be maid of honour to Queen Catherine, and to be distinguished at the court by her talents, accomplishments, and beauty.

The fortunes of Anne Boleyn were unhappily linked with those of men to whom the greatest work ever yet accomplished in this country was committed. In the memorable year 1529, after the meeting of parliament, events moved apace. In six weeks, for so long only the session lasted, the astonished church authorities saw bill after bill hurried up before the lords, by which successively the pleasant fountains of their incomes would be dried up to flow no longer. The Great Reformation had commenced in earnest.

The carelessness of the bishops in the discharge of their most immediate duties obliged the legislature to trespass in the provinces most purely spiritual, and to undertake the discipline of the clergy. Bill after bill struck hard and home on the privileges of the recreant clergy. The aged Bishop of Rochester complained to the lords that in the lower house the cry was nothing but "Down with the church." Yet, so frightful were the abuses that called for radical reform, that even persons who most disapprove of the reformation will not at the present time wonder at their enactment, or disapprove of their severity. The king treated the bishops, when they remonstrated, with the most contemptuous disrespect. Archbishop Cranmer now adopted a singular expedient. He advised Henry to invite expressions from all the chief learned authorities throughout Europe as to the right of the pope to grant him a dispensation of dissolution of his marriage. The English universities, to escape imputations of treasons and to avoid exciting Henry's wrath, gave replies such as would please him, that of Oxford being, however, the more decided of the two. Most of the continental authorities declined to pronounce any dictum as to the powers of the pope.

_The Fall of the Great Chancellor_

The fall of Wolsey was at hand. His enemies accused him of treason to the constitution by violating a law of the realm. He had acted as papal legate within the realm. The parliaments of Edward I., Edward III., Richard II., and Henry IV. had by a series of statutes pronounced illegal all presentations by the pope to any office or dignity in the Anglican Church, under a penalty of premunire. Henry did not feel himself called on to shield his great minister, although the guilt extended to all who had recognised Wolsey in the capacity of papal legate. Indeed, it extended to the archbishops, bishops, the privy council, the two houses of parliament, and indirectly to the nation itself. The higher clergy had been encouraged by Wolsey's position to commit those acts of despotism which had created so deep animosity among the people. The overflow of England's last ecclesiastical minister was to teach them that the privileges they had abused were at an end.

In February, 1531, Henry assumed the title which was to occasion such momentous consequences, of "Protector and only Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy of England." The clergy were compelled to assent. Further serious steps marked the great breach with Rome. The annates, or first fruits, were abolished. Ever since the crusades a practice had existed in all the churches of Europe that bishops and archbishops, on presentation to their sees, should transmit to the pope one year's income. This impressive impost was not abrogated. It was a sign of the parting of the ways.

Henry laid his conduct open to the world, declaring truly what he desired, and seeking it by open means. He was determined to proceed with the divorce, and also to continue the reformation of the English church. And he was in no small measure aided in the former resolve by the recommendation of Francis, for the French king advised him to act on the general opinion of Europe that his marriage with Catherine, as widow of his elder brother Arthur, was null, and at once made Anne Boleyn his wife. This counsel was administered at an interview between the two kings at Boulogne, in October, 1532.

The pope had trifled for six years with the momentous question, and Henry was growing old. At the outset of the discussion the pope had said: "Marry freely; fear nothing, and all shall be arranged as you desire." But the pontiff, reduced to a dilemma by various causes, had fallen back on his Italian cunning, and had changed his attitude, listening to the appeals of Catherine and her powerful friends. And now he threatened Henry with excommunication.

Henry entered privately into matrimonial relations with Anne in November, 1532, and the marriage was solemnly celebrated, with a gorgeous pageant, at Westminster Abbey in the following January. On July 24 the people gathering to church in every parish read, nailed to the church doors, a paper signed Henry R., setting forth that Lady Catherine of Spain, heretofore called Queen of England, was not to be called by that title any more, but was to be called princess dowager, and so to be held and esteemed. The triumph of Anne was to last but three short years.

_Protestantism_

Wycliffe's labour had left only the Bible as the seed of a future life, and no trace remained in the sixteenth century of the Lollardry of the fourteenth. But now Protestantism recommenced its enterprise in the growing desire for a nobler, holier insight into the will of God. In the year 1525 was enrolled in London a society calling itself "The Association of Christian Brothers." Its paid agents went up and down the land carrying tracts and Testaments with them, and enrolling in the order all who dared risk their lives in such a cause.

The Protestants thus isolated were waiting for direction, and men in such a temper are seldom left to wait in vain. Luther had kindled the spark, which was to become a conflagration in Germany, at Wittemberg, on October 31, 1517, by his denunciation of indulgences. His words found an echo, and flew from lip to lip all through Western Europe. Tyndal, an Oxford student, went to Germany, saw Luther, and under his direction translated into English the Gospels and Epistles. This led to the formation of the "association" in London. The authorities were alarmed. The bishops subscribed to buy up the translations of the Bible, and these were burned before a vast concourse in St. Paul's Churchyard. But Wolsey had for two years been suppressing the smaller monasteries. Simultaneously, Protestants were persecuted wherever they could be detected and seized. "Little" Bilney, or "Saint" Bilney, a distinguished Cambridge student, was burnt as a heretic at the stake, as were James Bainham, a barrister of the Middle Temple, and several other members of the "association." These were the first paladins of the reformation, and the struggle went bravely forward. They were the knights who slew the dragons and made the earth habitable for common flesh and blood.

As yet but two men of the highest order of power were on the side of Protestantism--Latimer and Cromwell. These were now to come forward, pressed by circumstances which could no longer dispense with them. When the breach with the pope was made irreparable, and the papal party at home had assumed an attitude of suspended insurrection, the fortunes of the Protestants entered into a new phase. The persecution ceased, and those who were but lately its likely victims, hiding for their lives, passed at once by a sudden alternation into the sunshine of political favour.

Cromwell and Latimer together caught the moment as it went by, and before it was over a work had been done in England which, when it was accomplished once, was accomplished for ever. The conservative party recovered their power, and abused it as before; but the chains of the nation were broken, and no craft of kings or priests or statesmen could weld the magic links again, Latimer became famous as a preacher at Cambridge, and was heard of by Henry, who sent for him and appointed him one of the royal chaplains. He was accused by the bishops of heresy, but was on trial absolved and sent back to his parish. Soon after the tide turned, and the reformation entered into a new phase.

Thomas Cromwell, like Latimer of humble origin, was the "malleus monachorum." Wolsey discovered his merit, and employed him in breaking up the small monasteries, which the pope had granted for the foundation of the new colleges. Cromwell remained with the great cardinal till his fall. It was then that the truly noble nature which was in him showed itself. The lords had passed a bill of impeachment against Wolsey--violent, vindictive, and malevolent. It was to be submitted to the commons. Cromwell prepared an opposition, and conducted the defence from his place in parliament so skilfully that he threw out the bill, saved Wolsey, and gained such a reputation that he became Henry's secretary, representing the government in the House of Commons, and was on the highroad to power.

The reformation was blotted with a black and frightful stain. Towards the end of April, 1536, certain members of the Privy Council were engaged in secretly collecting evidence which implicated the queen in adultery. In connection with the terrible charge, as her accomplices five gentlemen were arrested--Sir William Brereton, Mark Smeton, a court musician, Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Weston, and, the accusation in his case being the most shocking, Lord Rochford, the queen's brother. The trial was hastily pushed forward, and all were executed. The queen, who vehemently and piteously appealed to Henry, passionately protesting that she was absolutely innocent, was also condemned, and was beheaded in public on Tower Hill.

Henry immediately after the tragedy married Jane, daughter of Sir John Seymour. The indecent haste is usually considered conclusive of the cause of Anne Boleyn's ruin. On December 12, 1537, a prince, so long and passionately hoped for, was born; but a sad calamity followed, for the queen took cold, and died on October 24.

In 1539 monastic life came to an end in England. The great monasteries were dissolved; the abbey lands were distributed partly amongst the old nobility and partly amongst the chapters of six new bishoprics. On January 6, 1540, was solemnised the marriage of Henry with Anne, daughter of the Duke of Cleves, and sister-in-law of the Elector of Saxony. This event was brought about by the negotiations of Cromwell. The king was deeply displeased with the ungainly appearance of his bride when he met her on her landing, but retreat was impossible. Though Henry was personally kind to the new queen, the marriage made him wretched.

Cromwell's enemies speedily hatched a conspiracy against the great statesman. He was arrested on a charge of high treason, was accused of corruption and heresy, of gaining wealth by bribery and extortion, and, in spite of Cranmer's efforts to save him, passed to the scaffold on July 28, 1540. For eight years Cromwell, who had been ennobled as Earl of Essex, was supreme with king, parliament, and convocation, and the nation, in the ferment of revolution, was absolutely controlled by him.

Convocation had already dissolved the marriage of Henry and Anne, setting both free to contract and consummate other marriages without objection or delay. The queen had placidly given her consent. Handsome settlements were made on her in the shape of estates for her maintenance producing nearly three thousand a year. In August of the same year the King married, without delay of circumstance, Catherine, daughter of Lord Edmond Howard. Brief, indeed, was her reign. In November, 1541, she was charged with unfaithfulness to her marriage vows. The king was overwhelmed. Some dreadful spirit pursued his married life, tainting it with infamy.

Two gentlemen confessed their guilty connection with the queen. They were hanged at Tyburn, and the queen and Lady Rochford, who had been her confidential companion, suffered within the Tower. Once more the king ventured into marriage. Catherine, widow of Lord Latimer, his last choice, was selected, not in the interest of politics or religion, but by his own personal judgment; and this time he found the peace which he desired.

The great event of 1542 was the signal victory of the English over a Scottish army of ten thousand men at Solway Moss. King James of Scotland had undertaken, at the instigation of the pope and of the King of France to attack the English as heretics. The Scottish clergy were ready to proclaim a pilgrimage of grace. But the English borderers, though only shepherds and agriculturists, as soon as they mounted their horses, were instantly the finest light cavalry in Europe. They so disastrously defeated the Scots that all the latter either perished in the morass by the Solway, or were captured.

Henry died on January 28, 1547. He was attended in his last moments by Cranmer, having sent specially for the archbishop.

The king did not leave the world without expressing his views on the future with elaborate explicitness. He spent the day before his death in conversation with Lord Hertford and Sir William Paget on the condition of the country. By separate and earnest messages he commended Prince Edward to the care both of Charles V. and of Francis I. The earl, on the morning of Henry's death, hastened off to bring up the prince, who was in Hertfordshire with the Princess Elizabeth, and in the afternoon of Monday, the 31st, he arrived at the Tower with Edward. The Council was already in session, and Hertford was appointed protector during the minority of Edward. Thus, the reforming Protestant party was in full power. Cranmer set the willing example, and the other prelates consented, or were compelled to imitate him, in an acknowledgment that all jurisdiction, ecclesiastical as well as secular, within the realm, only emanated from the sovereign. On February it was ordered in council that Hertford should be Duke of Somerset, and that his brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, should be Lord Seymour of Sudleye; Lord Parr was to be Marquis of Northampton; Lord Wriothesley, the chancellor, Earl of Southampton; and Viscount Lisle was to be Earl of Warwick. The Duke of Somerset was the young king's uncle, and the real power was at once in his hands. But if he was ambitious, it was only--as he persuaded himself--to do good.

_Edward's Guardian_

Under his rule the spirit of iconoclasm spread fast, and the reformation proceeded to completion. Churches were cleared of images, and crucifixes were melted into coin. Somerset gave the popular movement the formal sanction of the Government. Injunctions were issued for the general purification of the churches. The Book of Homilies was issued as a guide to doctrine, care was taken that copies of the Bible were accessible in the parish churches, and translations of Erasmus's "Paraphrase of the New Testament" were provided as a commentary.

Somerset was a brave general as well as a great statesman. He invaded Scotland during the first year of his protectorate, on account of the refusal of the Scottish government to ratify the contract entered into with Henry VIII., by which it was agreed that Mary Queen of Scots should marry Edward. At the memorable battle of Pinkie, on September 10, 1547, the Scots were completely beaten. But Somerset was hastily summoned southward. His brother, Lord Seymour, had been caballing against him, and was arrested, tried, and beheaded on Tower Hill, on March 20, 1549. But the fall of the protector himself was not long delayed, for under his administration of three years his policy gradually excited wide discontent. In various parts of the country insurrections had to be suppressed. The French king had taken away the young Scottish queen, the king's majesty's espouse, by which marriage the realms of England and Scotland should have been united in perpetual peace. Money had been wasted on the royal household. The alliance with Charles V. had been trifled away. The princely name and princely splendour which Somerset affected, the vast fortune which he amassed amidst the ruin of the national finances, and the palace--now known as Somerset House, London--which was rising before the eyes of the world amidst the national defeats and misfortunes, combined to embitter the irritation with which the council regarded him.

His great rival, John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, by constant insinuations both in and out of parliament, excited the national feeling against him to such a degree that at length the young king was constrained to sign his deposition. He seems to have entertained no strong attachment to his uncle. On December I, 1551, he was tried before the lords for high treason and condemned. He was beheaded on Tower Hill on January 22, 1582. The English public, often wildly wrong on general questions, are good judges, for the most part, of personal character; and so passionately was Somerset loved, that those who were nearest the scaffold started forward to dip their handkerchiefs in his blood. Before this event, Dudley, by whose cruel treachery the tragedy had been brought about, had been created Duke of Northumberland. The great aim of this nobleman was to secure the succession to the throne for his own family. With this purpose in view he married his son, Lord Guildford Dudley, to Lady Jane Grey, daughter of the Duchess of Suffolk, to whom, by the will of Henry VIII., the crown would pass, in default of issue by Edward, Mary, or Elizabeth.

In April, 1553, Edward, who had been removed to Greenwich in consequence of illness, grew rapidly worse. By the end of the month he was spitting blood, and the country was felt to be on the eve of a new reign. The accession of Mary, who was personally popular, was looked forward to by the people as a matter of course. Northumberland now worked on the mind of the feeble and dying king, and succeeded in persuading him to declare both his sisters incapable of succeeding to the crown, as being illegitimate. The king died on July 6. The last male child of the Tudor race had ceased to suffer.

When Lady Jane was saluted by Northumberland and four other lords, all kneeling at her feet, as queen, she shook, covered her face with her hands, and fell fainting to the ground. The next Monday, July 10, the royal barges came down the Thames from Richmond, and at three in the afternoon Lady Jane landed at the broad staircase of the Tower, as queen, in undesired splendour. But that same evening messages came saying that Mary had declared herself queen. She had sent addresses to the peers, commanding them on their allegiance to come to her.

Happily, the conspiracy in favour of Lady Jane was crushed, without bloodshed, although it had seemed for a time as if the nation, was on the brink of a civil war. But, though Mary wished to spare Lady Jane and her husband, her intentions were frustrated by the determination of Renard, ambassador of the emperor. Northumberland was sent to the Tower, and beheaded on August 22, and in the following November Lady Jane and her husband were also condemned. Mary long hesitated, but at length issued the fatal warrant on February 8, 1554, and four days later both were executed. Lady Jane was but a delicate girl of seventeen, but met her fate with the utmost heroism.

Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, became the chief instrument of the restoration of the Catholic faith under Mary. His fierce spirit soon began to display itself. In the fiery obstinacy of his determination this prelate speedily became the incarnate expression of the fury of the ecclesiastical faction, smarting, as they were, under their long degradation, and under the irritating consciousness of those false oaths of submission which they had sworn to a power they loathed. Gardiner now saw his Romanising party once more in a position to revenge their wrongs when there was no longer any Henry to stand between them and their enemies. He would take the tide at the flood, forge a weapon keener than the last, and establish the Inquisition.

_The Reign of Terror_

Mary listened to the worse counsels of each, and her distempered humour settled into a confused ferocity. Both Gardiner and she resolved to secure the trial, condemnation, and execution of her sister Elizabeth, but their plans utterly miscarried, for no evidence against her could be gathered. The princess was known to be favourable to the Protestant cause, but the attempts to prove her disloyalty to Mary were vain. She was imprisoned in the Tower, and the fatal net appeared to be closing on her. But though the danger of her murder was very great, the lords who had reluctantly permitted her to be imprisoned would not allow her to be openly sacrificed, or indeed, permit the queen to continue in the career of vengeance on which she had entered. The necessity of releasing Elizabeth from the Tower was an unspeakable annoyance to Mary. A confinement at Woodstock was the furthest stretch of severity that the country would, for the present, permit. On May 19, 1554, Elizabeth was taken up the river.

The princess believed herself that she was being carried off _tanquam ovis_, as she said--as a sheep for the slaughter. But the world thought she was set at liberty, and, as her barge passed under the bridge, Mary heard with indignation, from the palace windows, three salvoes of artillery fired from the Steelyard, as a sign of the joy of the people. Vexations began to tell on Mary's spirit. She could not shake off her anxieties, or escape from the shadow of her subject's hatred. Insolent pamphlets were dropped in her path and in the offices of Whitehall. They were placed by mysterious hands in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Her trials began to tell on her understanding. She was ill with hysterical longings; ill with the passions which Gardiner, as her chancellor, had provoked, but Paget as leader of the opposing party, had disappointed. But she was now to become the wife of King Philip of Spain. Negotiations for this momentous marriage had been protracted, and even after the contract had been signed, Philip seemed slow to arrive. The coolness manifested by his tardiness did much to aggravate the queen's despondency. On July 20, 1554, he landed at Southampton. The atmospheric auspices were not cheering, for Philip, who had come from the sunny plains of Castile, from his window at Southampton looked out on a steady downfall of July rain. Through the cruel torrent he made his way to church to mass, and afterwards Gardiner came to him from the queen. On the next Sunday he journeyed to Winchester, again in pouring rain. To the cathedral he went first, wet as he was. Whatever Philip of Spain was entering on, whether it was a marriage or a massacre, a state intrigue or a midnight murder, his first step was ever to seek a blessing from the holy wafer. Mary was at the bishop's palace, a few hundred yards' distance. Mary could not wait, and the same night the interview took place. Let the curtain fall over the meeting, let it close also over the wedding solemnities which followed with due splendour two days after. There are scenes in life which we regard with pity too deep for words.

The unhappy queen, unloved, unlovable, yet with her parched heart thirsting for affection, was flinging herself upon a breast to which an iceberg was warm; upon a man to whom love was an unmeaning word, except as the most brutal of all passions. Mary set about to complete the Catholic reaction. She had restored the Catholic orthodoxy in her own person, and now was resolved to bring over her own subjects. But clouds gathered over the court. The Spaniards were too much in evidence. With the reaction came back the supremacy of the pope, and the ecclesiastical courts were reinstated in authority to check unlicensed extravagance of opinion.

Gardiner, Bonner, Tunstal, and three other prelates formed a court on January 28, 1555, in St. Mary Overy's Church, Southwark, and Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, and Canon Rogers of St. Paul's, were brought up before them. Both were condemned as Protestants, and both were burnt at the stake, the bishop at Gloucester, the canon at Smithfield. They suffered heroically. The Catholics had affected to sneer at the faith of their rivals. There was a general conviction among them that Protestants would all flinch at the last; that they had no "doctrine that would abide the fire." Many more victims were offered. The enemies of the church were to submit or die. So said Gardiner, and so said the papal legate and the queen, in the delirious belief that they were the chosen instruments of Providence.

The people, whom the cruelty of the party was reconverting to the reformation, while the fires of Smithfield blazed, with a rapidity like that produced by the gift of tongues at Pentecost, regarded the martyrs with admiration as soldiers dying for their country. On Mary, sorrow was heaped on sorrow. Her expectation of a child was disappointed, and Philip refused to stay in England. His unhappy wife was forced to know that he preferred the society of the most abandoned women to hers. The horrible crusade against heretics became the business of the rest of her life. Archbishop Cranmer, Bishops Ridley and Latimer, and many other persons of distinction were amongst the martyrs of the Marian persecution. Latimer was eighty years of age.

Mary's miseries were intensified month by month. War broke out between England and France. For ten years the French had cherished designs, and on January 7, 1558, the famous stronghold fell into their hands. The effect of this misfortune on the queen was to produce utter prostration. She now well understood that both parliament and the nation were badly disposed towards her. But her end was at hand. After much suffering from dropsy and nervous debility, she prepared quietly for what she knew was inevitable. On November 16, at midnight, taking leave of a world in which she had played so evil a part, Mary received the last rites of the church. Towards morning she was sinking, and at the elevation of the Host, as mass was being said, her head sank, and she was gone. A few hours later the pope's legate, Cardinal Pole, at Lambeth, followed her. Thus the reign of the pope in England and the reign of terror closed together.