THE COMING OF THE KING.

January-July, 1554.

Courtenay was still on the horns of a dilemma, where the weakness and natural timidity of his character kept him irresolute. While he did not hesitate to play with treason, listening to the French ambassador’s flattering suggestions that he should marry Elizabeth, set up his standard in the south-west, and gather round it the disaffected, he hesitated, in the faint hope that the Queen might yet raise him by a safer path to the throne. Never was ambition supported by less courage, moral or physical. De Noailles was in despair as much on account of Courtenay’s want of decision as because of his loose conduct.[378]

It had cost Paget and Renard much trouble to persuade Mary to simulate a belief, which she was now far from entertaining, in Elizabeth’s loyalty. But at last, her sister’s collusion with traitors could no longer be ignored, and remembering all that she had suffered at the hands of Anne Boleyn, the Queen would have been credulous indeed, if she had continued to place confidence in Anne Boleyn’s daughter.[379] The awakening had involved a shock, but Renard and the Spanish party in the Council, consisting of the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel and Lord Paget, prevailed on her to control her indignation, in order to pave the way for her marriage; and it is probable that the idea, which now suggested itself to the Queen and Paget, of marrying Elizabeth to Courtenay,[380] originated in the wish to propitiate those who were opposed to the Spanish match. Half the objection to the Queen’s union with a foreigner would, they thought, vanish, if it were clearly understood, that in the event of her death without issue, not Philip of Spain, but the English heirs of Elizabeth and Courtenay would succeed to the throne. It was a strange coincidence that the same idea should have occurred both to the Queen and her friends, and to her bitterest foe the French ambassador. He thought thereby to create a strong party for Elizabeth and Courtenay, while the loyalists hoped to put an end to the discontent. But the Emperor, to whom of course the plan was at once referred, nipped it in the bud. He saw that to promote such a marriage would be suicidal, for it would constitute the contracting parties natural heads of the conspiracy, and furnish them with a strong motive for plotting against the Queen’s life.[381]

Elizabeth, who was now at Hatfield, and eager to prove the sincerity of her conversion, wrote to her sister for copes, chasubles and everything necessary for Catholic worship in her chapel; but it was remarked that she surrounded herself exclusively with those of the new doctrines, and that she was considerably hampered by the constant supervision under which she lived. “Toutefois, je vous laisse À penser Sire,” wrote de Noailles, “si ladite dame Elisabeth est en peyne d’estre si prÈs ÉclairÉe (watched) ce qui n’est fait sans quelque raison, car je vous puis asseurer Sire, qu’elle dÉsire fort de se mettre hors de tutelle, et À ce que j’entends, il ne tiendra qu’À lord Courtenay qu’il ne l’espouse, et qu’elle ne le suive jusques au pays de Dampschier (Devonshire) et de Cornouailles, oÙ il se peult croire que s’ils y estoient assemblez, ils seroient pour avoir une bonne part a ceste couronne.... Mais le malheur est tel, que ledit de Courtenay est en si grande craincte, qu’il n’ose rien entreprendre. Je ne vois moyen qui soit pour l’empeschier sinon la faute de cueur.”[382]

On the 2nd January 1554, the imperial envoys, Counts Egmont and Lalain, Jean de Montmorency, Lord of CorriÈres, and the Sieur de Nigry, Chancellor of the Order of the Golden Fleece, arrived in England, “for the knitting up of the marriage of the Queen to the King of Spain, before whose landing there was let off a great peal of guns in the Tower”. At the Tower wharf they were met by Sir Anthony Browne, “he being clothed in a very gorgeous apparel,” and on Tower Hill, the Earl of Devon, and others received them, “in most honourable and familiar wise”. Courtenay gave his right hand to Count Egmont, “and brought him throughout Cheapside, and so forth to Westminster; the people nothing rejoicing held down their heads sorrowfully. The day before his coming in, as his retinue and harbingers came riding through London, the boys pelted them with snowballs, so hateful was the sight of their coming in to them.”[383]

The Council and the municipality of London did their best to counteract the impression conveyed by the attitude of the people, and the next day, the Lord Mayor and the Lord Chamberlain waited on the envoys, and presented them with various rich gifts. On the 9th, they were invited to a banquet given by the Lords of the Privy Council. On the 10th they went to Hampton Court.[384] In an audience, at which the whole court was present, they formally demanded Mary’s hand for the Prince of Spain. The Queen replied, that it became not a woman to speak in public, on so delicate a matter as her own marriage, but that they might confer with her ministers, who would make known to them her resolution; but, fixing her eyes on the ring that had been placed on her finger at her coronation, she told the envoys to bear in mind that her realm was her first husband, and that no consideration would induce her to violate the faith she had already pledged.[385]

The terms of the marriage treaty, which had already been settled between Gardiner and Renard, were in every way most honourable to the English nation, safeguarding the national interests in a manner far beyond all other royal marriage treaties before or since. It was stipulated, that Philip should observe strictly the rights and privileges of all classes, and that foreigners should be excluded from public offices; that he should have no claim on English ships, ammunition or treasure, that he should not involve the country in the war which he and the Emperor were carrying on against Henry II., and that as far as lay in his power, he would promote peace between England and France.[386] If there were issue of the marriage, the eldest child was to inherit Burgundy and the Low Countries, a valuable appanage to the Crown of England; and if the Queen predeceased her husband, Philip was to resign the guardianship of the child into English hands. Moreover, this child, male or female, was also, in the event of the death without issue of Don Carlos, Philip’s son by his first marriage, to inherit the kingdoms of Spain and Sicily, the Duchy of Milan, and all Philip’s other dominions. Sixty thousand pounds a year (equal to about a million of present money) was to be settled on Mary as her jointure, to be paid by Spain, if she outlived her husband. Besides this, she was to share with him equally all his titles, honours and dignities, which were to be mentioned in all official documents, after their first titles of King and Queen of England.[387]

No political combination could have been more advantageous to England as a make-weight against the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with the Dauphin. For it was not only desirable that England should seek the protection of the Empire against this important coalition, but as Elizabeth had been virtually declared illegitimate by two Acts of Parliament, Mary Stuart was heir presumptive to the throne, and it was necessary to raise an effectual barrier against the possibility of England becoming a mere appendage to France.

Philip was to have nothing but the empty title of King, the only advantages accruing to him from the marriage being the geographical position of England, its political friendship as a counterpoise to the alliance between France and Scotland, and the hope that Mary would give birth to an heir. By the first he would secure an unmolested passage through the English Channel, for his ships sailing between Spain and the Netherlands; by the second the balance of power in Europe would be restored, and by the third he would checkmate his enemy. Further than this he would reap no benefit. England, with the exception of London, was poor, and only just recovering from the consequences of a debased currency, while the religious troubles of the last seventeen years, dating from the Pilgrimage of Grace, had made revolt and popular risings far too frequent for the prosperity of the country.

During the first half of the sixteenth century, England had played but a subordinate part in the politics of Europe, and during Edward’s reign, the Government had been so weak that Charles V. had been able to demand Mary’s religious rights without compromise. France and the Empire had disputed the honours, the wealth, the prestige of the civilised world, and Mary had some reason to hope that by her marriage, she would raise her country to the rank of a first-rate power. But de Noailles and his friends had sown the seeds of discord too carefully, party and religious feeling ran too high for dispassionate counsels to prevail, and when, on the 14th and 15th January, the Chancellor read aloud the articles of the treaty, first in the Upper, then in the Lower House, calling attention in each, to the favourable terms stipulated for, and to the provisions made to secure the national independence, no satisfaction was expressed.[388] Immediately afterwards, the French King ordered his ambassador to demand an audience, and to represent to Mary his master’s grief at her projected union with his enemy, “having desired more than anything in this world, to perpetuate friendship with her all their lives”. Nevertheless, Henry wanted not peace, but England as well as Scotland, for his daughter-in-law’s dowry, for together, France, England and Scotland would have formed a compact bulwark against the Empire. Spain and the Netherlands would have been completely sundered, with no possibility of intercourse, and the Low Countries would have fallen a facile prey to France.[389] At the very time when he was charging his ambassador to reproach the Queen with a want of friendship, de Noailles was secretly interviewing a number of the malcontents, and organising a plot so widespread in its ramifications, that had it succeeded, Mary must have been utterly undone. Devonshire and Cornwall were to rise under Sir Peter Carew, in favour of Elizabeth and Courtenay; Sir Thomas Wyatt, a young Kentish gentleman, son of the poet of that name, was to disaffect the home counties. The Duke of Suffolk was to incite to rebellion his tenantry in the Midlands; Sir James Croft undertook to cause a revolt on the borders of Wales, while the French fleet was under orders to be in readiness to help the insurgents wherever the need should be greatest. De Selve, formerly French ambassador in England, now envoy at Venice, wrote to the Constable of France, advising him to do his utmost to stir up and keep alive the discontent in England. This was done by circulating the grossest and most self-contradictory falsehoods. It was reported that Edward was still alive, that the Spaniards were coming with an army of 8,000 men to take possession of the Tower, the ports and the ships, that they possessed every vice and evil propensity that could enslave and disgrace a nation, that the Queen had been false to her promises not to make any change in religion or to marry a foreigner.[390] Had there been unity of purpose and design among the leaders, and above all, had Courtenay possessed one spark of courage, their success would have been certain. But some were for immediate action, while others had regard to the bad and almost impassable state of the country roads, and to the difficulty of a combined movement in mid-winter.

Finally, it was decided that nothing should be done till the spring, when Philip was expected to arrive. At the first sign of his approach, they were to arm, oppose his landing, marry Elizabeth to Courtenay, and have them proclaimed King and Queen in Devonshire. But the suspicions of the Council were roused by the visits to Elizabeth of a mysterious person, representing himself to be a French pastor. He had several conferences with her, the officers of her household taking him for an emissary of the disaffected. The Council urged Mary to secure Elizabeth’s person, but in vain, and Gardiner sent a message to the Princess, entreating her to be loyal to the Queen.[391] Elizabeth immediately posed as a victim, but Courtenay was wax in the Chancellor’s hands. Gardiner summoned him to an interview, and began by reproaching the thankless recipient of Mary’s bounty with his manner of life, and with the company he frequented, warning him that if he continued to forget his duty to the Queen, he would assuredly have cause for repentance. He should be on his guard, the Chancellor insinuated, against the French, and other interested people, adding that her Majesty wished that he should go and make the acquaintance of the Emperor. Hereupon Courtenay became alarmed, fancying himself already handed over to the just punishment of his crime. He pretended to confess all, declared that certain persons had tried to persuade him of things touching religion and the Queen’s marriage, but that he had been unwilling to listen to them; that he had resolved to live and die in the Queen’s service; that a marriage with Madam Elizabeth had been proposed to him, but that he would rather be sent back to the Tower than be united to her; and that he was willing to accept the proposed mission to the Low Countries.[392] This was all that Renard committed to writing of the interview, but the news spread like wildfire among the conspirators, that Courtenay had revealed the plot, and de Noailles informed Henry of the fact. Renard as usual importuned Gardiner for Elizabeth’s imprisonment, but the Chancellor made an evasive answer, to the effect that he would see to it when the Prince of Spain should be in England. The plotters decided to bring matters to an immediate crisis, although it was fully six weeks before the time fixed for action. On leaving London, Wyatt and Croft resolved to warn Elizabeth, but the letter which Wyatt wrote to her fell into the hands of the Council. In this letter, he urged her for greater safety to leave her house at Ashridge, and to retire to her castle of Donnington, thirty miles farther from the capital. On the day after Wyatt’s appearance openly in arms at Maidstone, the Queen wrote to Elizabeth:—

Elizabeth returned a verbal answer, saying that she was too ill to travel at that time, but that she would come as soon as she was able. She neither removed to Donnington, in compliance with Wyatt’s letter and Croft’s reiterated entreaties, nor made any attempt to obey Mary’s summons, but fortified herself at Ashridge, and took to her bed, either because she was really ill, or to give some colour to her assertion. De Noailles told Henry II. that she had surrounded herself with people “À sa devotion,” and was suspected. Renard also noted that she had summoned armed men to her defence.[394]

The Earl of Devon remained at court closely watched, presenting a pitiable figure, but stoutly maintaining his loyalty and devotion to the Queen.

In spite of the determination, boldness and assurance with which the plot had been laid, the conspirators were mistaken in the measure of the national discontent. Even the Devonshire men, supposed to be staunch adherents of Courtenay’s house, were apathetic, and when it became apparent that the young Earl would fail to come himself and lead them, their last spark of enthusiasm died out. The Earl of Bedford, who was sent against them, took a few of the leaders prisoners, Carew with some of his companions escaping to France. Sir James Croft was closely pursued, when he left London to spread revolt among his tenantry on the banks of the Severn, and before one seditious word could be uttered, his designs were nipped in the bud. He was arrested in his bed and conveyed to the Tower.

The part taken by the Duke of Suffolk was particularly odious. If he displayed a less craven spirit than Courtenay, his ingratitude for past favours was far more glaring. The principal mover after Northumberland, in the plot to deprive Mary of the Crown, he had been freely and frankly forgiven, after only three days’ imprisonment, being permitted to suffer for his treason neither in body nor estate. So great moreover was the distinction accorded to his wife by Mary, that the Queen sometimes gave her precedence over her own sister; and if his daughter and her husband were still captives, it was owing to the fact of the disturbed state of London, and its neighbourhood, the direct result of his own and his friends’ treachery. There is little doubt that there had been no further movement to raise the Lady Jane to the throne, and had her father remained faithful, although sentence of death had been passed on her, she would shortly with her husband have regained complete liberty. None suspected Suffolk’s fidelity, for with consummate deceit, the Duke feigned the deepest attachment to the person of the Queen, giving repeated assurances of the same, and of his approval of her marriage. So entirely was Mary deceived, that it was thought she contemplated placing him at the head of her troops.[395] The following account of his departure for the Midlands shows how little she doubted him:—

“The 25th day of January, the Duke of Suffolk, the lord John Gray and the Lord Leonard Gray fled (from his house at Sheen). It is said that the same morning that he was going, there came a messenger to him from the Queen, that he should come to the Court. ‘Marry,’ quoth he, ‘I was coming to her Grace. Ye may see, I am booted and spurred, ready to ride, and I will but break my fast and go.’ So he gave the messenger a reward, and caused him to be made to drink, and so thence departed himself, no man knoweth whither. Sir Thomas Palmer, servant to the Earl of Arundel said on the morrow following, to a friend of his, that the complot between the French king and the said Duke of Suffolk was now come to light.”[396]

Suffolk went into Warwickshire with his brothers, and about fifty followers, and was accused of having proclaimed the Lady Jane at Leicester, and in other places, but according to Holinshed, he only called on the inhabitants of the towns through which he passed, to rise and fight for their liberties, which were at the mercy of Spain.[397] But as in the first rebellion, the people listened to him in stolid and indifferent silence, even refusing the money which he scattered in profusion among them. The Earl of Huntingdon, who was sent in pursuit as soon as Suffolk’s intentions were known, encountered the Duke near Coventry, and after a slight skirmish obliged him to fly for his life. He was betrayed by one of his own tenants, with whom he had taken refuge, and delivered over to his pursuers.

Thus the triple cord was utterly broken in less than a fortnight, and Mary and her advisers might now concentrate all their energies on the only one of the chief plotters who seemed likely to prove dangerous. This was Sir Thomas Wyatt, whose name has become identified with the rebellion. In courage, skill and enterprise he far exceeded the other conspirators, and when it was known that he had risen, furnished with arms and ammunition by the Venetian ambassador, consternation filled the hearts of the loyal. Fifteen thousand Kentish men gathered round his standard, in the fields bordering the great highway that runs from London to Dover. They harassed the Flemish and Spanish merchants, travelling from the coast inland, in such sort, that those who escaped with their lives thought themselves fortunate.

So great was the terror which he inspired, that if Wyatt had at once pushed on to London, the city would have fallen resistless into his hands.

“The 26th day of January,” says Machyn, “began watching at every gate, in harness, for tidings came the same time to the Queen and her Council, that Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir George Harper, Sir Hare Isseley, Master Cobham, and Master Rudston and Master Knevett, and divers other gentlemen and commons were up, and they say because [of] the Prince of Spain coming in to have our Queen, for they keep Rochester Castle, and the bridge and other places.”[398]

By six o’clock in the evening, a small force of about five hundred men had been collected at Leadenhall, and the next day marched towards Gravesend, under Captain Brett, as if to fight the Kentish men, while the Earl of Huntingdon set out with another company “to take the Duke of Suffolk”. The Duke of Norfolk, lieutenant of the army, was supported by the Earl of Ormond, and Sir Henry Jerningham, Captain of the Guard, with a considerable number of men under him. But the loyalty of Brett and his men was feigned, and the following account relates the story of their treason:—

“And before the setting forward of these men, the Duke sent a herald into Rochester, with the Queen’s proclamation, that all such as would desist their purpose should have frank and free pardon; who came upon the bridge, and would have gone through into the city, but they that kept the bridge would not suffer him, till that the captain came, who at last granted the same to be read in the city. But the same being ended, each man cried they had done nothing whereof they should need any pardon, and that quarrel which they took, they would die and live in it. Nevertheless, at the last, Sir George Harper received the pardon outwardly, and being received under the Duke of Norfolk’s protection, came on forward against the Kentish men; and even as the company was set in a readiness, and marched forward toward the bridge, the said Bret being captain of the five hundred Londoners, of which the more part were in the forward, turned himself about, and drawing his sword said by report these or much like words. ‘Masters, we go about to fight against our native countrymen of England and our friends, in a quarrel unrightful and partly wicked, for they, considering the great and manifold miseries which are like to fall upon us if we shall be under the rule of the proud Spaniards or strangers, are here assembled to make resistance against the coming in of him or his favourers.’”

Then followed the usual highly coloured description of the state of slavery to which England was to be reduced by the Queen’s marriage, a picture that had been so often held up before the people by de Noailles, that it was no wonder if they had come to believe in the reality of the horrors portrayed. “‘Wherefore,’ continued Brett, ‘I and these (meaning by them such as were in that rank with him) will spend our blood in the quarrel of this worthy captain, master Wyatt, and other gentlemen here assembled.’ Which words once pronounced, each man turned their ordnance against their fellow. The Londoners thereupon cried ‘a Wyatt! a Wyatt!’ of which sudden noise, the duke, the earl of Ormond and the captain of the guard, being abashed, fled forthwith. Immediately came in master Wyatt and his company, on horseback, rushing in amongst them, saying as well to the guard, Londoners, as to all the rest. ‘So many as will come and tarry with us shall be welcome; and so many as will depart, good leave have they.’ And so all the Londoners, part of the guard, and more than three parts of the retinue went into the camp of the Kentishmen, where they still remain. At this discomfiture, the Duke lost eight pieces of brass, with all other munition and ordnance, and himself with the earl of Ormond, and Jerningham and others fled to London. Ye should have seen some of the guard come home, their coats turned, all ruined, without arrows or string in their bow, or sword, in a very strange wise; which discomfiture, like as it was a heartsore, and very displeasing to the Queen and Council, even so it was almost no less joyous to the Londoners, and most part of all others.”[399]

Wyatt then marched to a house belonging to Lord Cobham near Rochester, made himself master of it, and obliged the owner with his two sons to join his band. His next movement was towards London. The Queen ordered the bridges over the Thames to be destroyed, to the distance of fifteen miles. The numbers of the insurgents increased daily, lashed into a fury of fear by inflammatory words, such as the following incident relates:—

William Cotman, afterwards committed, declared that “William Ishley Gent. eldest son Sir William Ishley, Knt., came this morning to his shop, two hours before day, to shoe his horse, where he tarried the making of a shoe, and there used these words: ‘that the Spaniards were coming into the realm, with harness and hand-guns, and would make us Englishmen worse than enemies and viler; for this realm should be brought to such bondage by them, as it was never afore, but should be utterly conquered!’ And at his taking of his horse, he said with a loud voice, that all the street might hear it, it being scarce day: ‘Smith, if thou beest a good fellow, stir and encourage all the neighbours to rise against these strangers, for they should have lawful warning and help enough!...’ ‘Why,’ quoth the smith, ‘these be marvellous words, for we shall be hanged if we stir.’ ‘No,’ quoth Ishley, ‘ye shall have help enough, for the people are already up in Devonshire and Cornwall, Hampshire and other counties.’”[400]

The Council, the Court, the loyal citizens of London were panic-stricken, armed men patrolled the London streets; friends and foes were scarcely to be distinguished in the surging, vociferous crowds that thronged the open spaces day and night. Confusion and terror reigned. The government sued Wyatt for terms, thereby only increasing his audacity. He replied by undertaking to lay down his arms, provided that the Queen placed the Tower of London, and four of her principal advisers in his hands, as guarantees of her promise to marry an Englishman. Mutual distrust gave rise to futile recriminations at the Council Board. Gardiner was reproached on the one hand for his precipitancy in restoring the ancient religion; the Spanish ambassadors, on the other, were blamed for advising the Queen’s marriage with Philip, to which the Chancellor had always been opposed. The ambassadors fled in dismay, disguised as merchants—all but Renard, who refused to desert the Queen.

Mary was at Whitehall and Westminster Palace, during the whole time of the horrible panic, the only calm and self-possessed figure, amid the confusion and dire distress of her friends. She could easily pass from one palace to the other by means of the inside galleries which connected the Holbein Gate at Whitehall, with the Old Palace at Westminster, on the site of the present Houses of Parliament. When her ministers urged her to seek safety in flight, she as usual consulted Renard, who advised her to remain, if she would not lose her crown.[401] A meeting of the citizens to discuss measures for the defence of London, was convened at the Guildhall, on the 1st February. Mary’s coming to the city and her address to the people are thus described by Wriothesley:—

“The same day in the afternoon, being Candlemas Even, all the Commons of the City were assembled in their liveries at the Guildhall. The Queen’s Majesty, with her lords and ladies, riding from Westminster to the said Guildhall, came thither by 3 of the clock the same afternoon. First she went up to the Council Chamber, where the aldermen use to sit, and there paused a little, the Lord Mayor and aldermen receiving her Majesty at the steps going up to the Lord Mayor’s Court. Then her Majesty came down into the great hall, up into the place of the hustings, where was hanged a rich cloth of estate, she standing under it, with her own mouth declared to the audience there assembled, the wicked pretence of the traitor Wyatt, which was utterly to deprive her of her crown and to spoil the City; which was so nobly and with so good spirit declared, and with so loud a voice, that all the people might hear her Majesty, and comforting their hearts with so sweet words, that made them weep for joy to hear her Majesty speak. This done, she came down, and went up again into the Council Chamber, and drank, and then departed, and rode through Bucklersbury to the Crane in the Vinetree, and there took her barge, and so to Westminster by water.”[402]

Foxe gives the Queen’s speech at the Guildhall “as near out of her own mouth as it could be penned”. She said: “I am come unto you in mine own person to tell you that which already you see and know; that is, how traitorously and rebelliously a number of Kentishmen have assembled themselves against us and you. Their pretence (as they said at the first) was for a marriage determined for us, to the which, and to all the articles thereof, ye have been made privy. But since, we have caused certain of our privy council to go again unto them, and to demand the cause of this their rebellion; and it appeared then unto our said council, that the matter of the marriage seemed to be but a Spanish cloak to cover their pretended purpose against our religion; for that they arrogantly and traitorously demanded to have the governance of our person, the keeping of the Tower, and the placing of our councillors. Now, loving subjects, what I am ye right well know. I am your queen, to whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left off) you promised your allegiance and obedience unto me. And that I am the right and true inheritor of the crown of this realm of England, I take all Christendom to witness. My father, as ye all know, possessed the same regal state, which now rightly is descended unto me: and to him always ye showed yourselves most faithful and loving subjects; and therefore I doubt not, but ye will show yourselves [such] likewise unto me, and that ye will not suffer a vile traitor to have the order and governance of our person, and to occupy our estate, especially being so vile a traitor as Wyat is, who most certainly as he hath abused mine ignorant subjects which be on his side, so doth he intend and purpose the destruction of you, and spoil of your goods. And I say to you on the word of a prince, I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for I was never the mother of any, but certainly if a prince and governor may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects, as the mother doth love the child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you. And I, thus loving you, cannot but think that ye as heartily and faithfully love me; and then I doubt not but that we shall give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow. As concerning the marriage, ye shall understand that I enterprised not the doing thereof without advice, and that by the advice of all our privy council, who so considered and weighed the great commodities that might ensue thereof, that they not only thought it very honourable, but also expedient, both for the wealth of the realm, and also of you our subjects. And as touching myself, I assure you, I am not so bent to my will, neither so precise nor affectionate, that either for mine own pleasure I would choose where I lust, or that I am so desirous, as needs I would have one. For God, I thank him, to whom be the praise therefore, I have hitherto lived a virgin, and doubt nothing, but with God’s grace, I am able so to live still. But if, as my progenitors have done before me, it may please God, that I might leave some fruit of my body behind me, to be your governor, I trust you would not only rejoice thereat, but also I know it would be to your great comfort. And certainly, if I either did think or know, that this marriage were to the hurt of any of you my commons, or to the impeachment of any part or parcel of the royal state of this realm of England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry while I lived. And on the word of a queen, I promise you, that if it shall not probably appear to all the nobility and commons, in the high court of parliament, that this marriage shall be for the high benefit and commodity of the whole realm, then will I abstain from marriage while I live. And now good subjects, pluck up your hearts, and like true men, stand fast against these rebels, both our enemies and yours, and fear them not, for I assure you I fear them nothing at all. And I will leave with you, my lord Howard, and my lord treasurer, who shall be assistants with the mayor for your defence.”[403]

As Mary finished this oration, “which she seemed perfectly to have conned without book,” the hall resounded with cheers and acclamations. “God save Queen Mary!” shouted the citizens, and some even added, “and the Prince of Spain”. The Chancellor, who was standing by, exclaimed: “Oh, how happy are we, to whom God hath given such a wise and learned prince!” Enthusiasm took the place of depression, and 20,000 men at once enrolled themselves for the defence. The Queen’s noble confidence in the strength and righteousness of her cause communicated itself to the people, and the approach of the rebels was henceforth met with steady preparations for a determined resistance. On the last day of January, Wyatt was at Dartford. While Mary was rousing the citizens to fervour at the Guildhall, he was passing through Greenwich and Deptford, but his company was suffering hourly from desertions, and that same night Lord Cobham gave himself up, and was taken to the Tower as a prisoner.

“On Saturday in the morning, being the 3rd of February, there came forth a proclamation, set forth by the Queen’s Council, wherein was declared that that traitor Wyatt educed simple people against the Queen. Wherefore, she willed all her loving subjects to endeavour themselves to withstand him; and that the Duke of Suffolk with his two brethren were discomfited by the Earl of Huntingdon, and certain of his horsemen taken, and the Duke and his two brethren fled in servingman’s coats; and that Sir Peter Carew was fled into France; and that Sir Gawen Carew, Gibbs and others were taken and remain in Exeter; and that the whole city of Exeter and commons thereabout, were at the Queen’s commandment, with their power to the death. And that she did pardon the whole camp except Wyatt, Harper, Rudston and Iseley; and that whoever could take Wyat, except the said four persons, should have an hundred pounds a year, to them and to their heirs for ever.”[404]

Nevertheless Wyatt pushed on boldly, in spite of his daily decreasing numbers, and the disorganised state of his band, weary with trudging day after day along the miry high-roads, exposed to the inclemency of the prolonged winter. He reached Southwark, which he ravaged during four terrible days, seeking how he might cross the river and capture London. But the bridge had been hewn down, and he was obliged, after his men had pillaged Gardiner’s house, and destroyed his library, “so that a man might have gone up to the knees in the leaves of books cut out and thrown under feet,”[405] to move out of the reach of the batteries placed on the Tower walls. He marched up to Kingston, where he effected a crossing. Here also the bridge had been partially destroyed, but he swam over the Thames, and procured a boat, in which he, with a few others, worked so successfully at its restoration that by eleven o’clock at night his 7,000 men were able to pass over it. The audacity of the feat filled London once more with consternation. Gardiner threw himself on his knees, and entreated Mary to retire into the Tower for safety. She replied, that if the Earl of Pembroke and Lord Clinton, who had charge of the defence, would do their duty, she would assuredly remain at her post. But she was the only calm person in the whole panic-stricken palace. “The Queen’s ladies,” said Underhill,[406] “made the greatest lamentations that night; they wept and wrung their hands, and from their exclamations may be judged the state of the interior of Whitehall. Alack! alack! they said, some great mischief is toward. We shall all be destroyed this night. What a sight is this, to see the queen’s bedchamber full of armed men! The like was never seen or heard before!”

The struggle began at four o’clock in the morning (7th February), and all through the day, Mary’s presence animated the courage of the soldiers, and restored the confidence of the citizens; for “it was more than marvel to see that day the invincible heart and constancy of the queen”.[407] The way in which these were displayed adds to the force of the picture. Mary might well have ridden up and down the ranks, speaking gracious words, or have herself led her soldiers to battle. She chose a more womanly way. “The Queen,” says Bishop Christopherson, “while the field was fighting, was fervently occupied in praying. And when as tidings was brought her that by treason all was lost, she like a valiant champion of Christ, nothing abashed therewith, said that she doubted not at all, but her Captain (meaning thereby our Saviour Jesus Christ) would have the victory at length. And falling to her prayer again, anon after, had she word brought her that her men had won the field, and that Wyatt, her enemy’s captain was taken.”[408]

The story of that memorable day has been often told. Wyatt arrived near the spot now covered by St. George’s Hospital, at Hyde Park Corner, at about nine o’clock in the morning, and set up his standard in a field. The numbers of his Kentish yeomanry, and burghers of Maidstone, Canterbury and Rochester, had still further diminished during the past night, many being glad to avail themselves of the pardon extended to them in the Queen’s proclamation. Those who still remained lost heart, when they saw the preparations that had been made to receive them. Ten thousand infantry, fifteen hundred mounted troops, and a formidable battery of cannon, lay between the insurgents and the gates of the city. Wyatt, valiant to the last, resolved to fight his way through, in the hope of being succoured by his friends within the walls. The ranks of the Queen’s soldiers opened to let him pass, with about four hundred of his men, then closed again, and having separated the leader from the main body of his army, fell upon the wavering lines, and cut them to pieces. Nearly five hundred of them were made prisoners, many were wounded, and about a hundred were slain. Wyatt with his four hundred men was allowed to proceed unchallenged. Halting at St. James’s, to insult the gates of the palace, he then passed on towards Charing Cross, where he encountered Sir John Gage, with a detachment of the Queen’s Guards, and a number of gentlemen. Among them was Courtenay. Either from fear, or with treacherous intent, at sight of Wyatt, he fled in the direction of Whitehall, crying “All is lost!” Lord Worcester and the Guards followed helter skelter, taking up the cry, and causing a fresh panic, which was increased when they met a company of Wyatt’s soldiers in search of their leader. These let fly a shower of arrows into the palace windows, so that those within thought that an attack was being made. But the Queen, indifferent to danger, came out on to a balcony and cried that she was ready to descend into the arena, and to die with those who remained faithful to her.

Wyatt had by this time, reached Ludgate, ignorant that his greatest opportunity lay behind him. Had he retraced his steps, pursued Courtenay and the Guards, he would have rejoined his men, and could easily have captured the Queen. But in the meanwhile, he had suffered under the fire of another detachment of Guards, which the Earl of Pembroke was sending to Mary’s assistance, and his followers, fagged and spiritless, numbered barely three hundred, when he knocked at Ludgate for admittance.

His demand to be let in, on the lying ground that “the Queen had granted all his petitions,” was met by the defiant answer of Lord William Howard, “Avaunt traitor, thou shalt not come in here!” “And then,” continues the Chronicle, “Wyat awhile stayed, and as some say, rested him upon a seat [at] the Bellsavage gate; at last seeing he could not come in, and belike being deceived of the aid which he hoped out of the city, returned back again in array towards Charing Cross, and was never stopped till he came to Temple Bar, where certain horsemen which came from the field met them in the face; and then began the fight again to wax hot, till an herald said to master Wyat, ‘Sir, ye were best, by my counsel, to yield. You see this day is gone against you, and in resisting ye can get no good, but be the death of all these your soldiers, to your great peril of soul. Perchance ye may find the Queen merciful, and the rather if ye stint so great a bloodshed as is like here to be.’ Wyat herewith being somewhat astonished (although he saw his men bent to fight it out to the death) said ‘Well, if I shall needs yield, I will yield me to a gentleman’. To whom Sir Morice Barkeley came straight up, and bade him leap up behind him; and another took Thomas Cobham, and William Knevet, and so carried them behind them upon their horses to the court. Then was taking of men on all sides. It is said that in this conflict, one pikeman setting his back to the wall at Saint James, kept seventeen horsemen off him a great time, and at last was slain. At this battle, was slain in the field, by estimation on both sides, not past forty persons, as far as could be learned by certain that viewed the same; but there was many sore hurt, and some think there was many slain in houses. The noise of women and children, when the conflict was at Charing Cross, was so great and shrill, that it was heard to the top of the White tower; and also the great shot was well discerned there out of Saint James’ field. There stood upon the leads there the lord Marquess [of Northampton], Sir Nicholas Poyns, Sir Thomas Pope, Master John Seamer and others. From the battle, when one came and brought word that the Queen was like to have the victory, and that the horsemen had discomfited the tale of his enemies, the lord Marquess for joy gave the messenger ten shillings in gold, and fell in great rejoicing. Note that when Wyat was perceived to be comen to Ludgate, and the mayor and his brethren heard thereof, thinking all had not gone well with the Queen’s side, they were much amazed, and stood as men half out of their lives, and many hollow hearts rejoiced in London at the same.”[409]

According to another account, on “the 8th February, being Ash Wednesday, early in the morning, the Earl of Pembroke, Lieutenant of the Queen’s army, with the horsemen and footmen of the noblemen, gathered their armies together with the Queen’s ordinance, and pitched their field by St. James beyond Charing Cross, to abide the said traitor Wyatt and his rebels. The Lord Mayor and the Lord Admiral set the citizens in good array at Ludgate, Newgate, and from Cripplegate to Bishopsgate, lest the rebels would draw to Finsbury field, they to defend that side. Then Wyatt with his rebels came to the park pale by St. James about 2 of the clock in the afternoon, and Knevett one of his captains, with his rebels went by Tothill through Westminster, and shot at the Court gates. But Wyatt, perceiving the great army of the Queen’s camp, and ordinance bent against him, suddenly returned by the wall of the park at St. James, toward Charing Cross, with the lightest of his soldiers, when the Earl of Pembroke’s men cut off his train, and slew divers of the rebels. But Wyatt himself, with divers other came in at Temple Bar, and so through Fleetstreet to the Bell Savage, crying ‘A Wyatt! a Wyatt! God save Queen Marie.’ But when he saw that Ludgate was shut against him and the ordinance bent, he fled back again, saying ‘I have kept touch;’ and by Temple Bar was taken, with the Lord Cobham’s son, and other of his captains and rebels, and brought to the court gate, and from thence sent by water to the Tower of London.”[410]

The next day, a solemn Te Deum in thanksgiving for the Queen’s victory was sung at St. Paul’s, and in every parish church the bells were rung for joy.[411]

Mary, by her courage and great heart, had a second time triumphed over the revolution. On the first occasion, she had magnanimously thought to disarm, and win over the factious by an almost universal pardon. Three victims only suffered the just punishment of their crimes; two were held over as hostages for the peaceable behaviour of the others; the rest obtained a full and free forgiveness. Such clemency was a complete innovation. If Mary cannot be said to have been in advance, or even abreast of her time, in many ways, she often rose above it, with the inevitable result that she was misunderstood by some, and repaid by others with the grossest ingratitude. The world has never been ripe for a clemency such as she had extended to the insurgents after the first rebellion. The elementary laws of rewards and punishments were alone grasped by the people, accustomed to the frequent spectacle of revolt followed by swift vengeance. The butchery with which Henry VIII. had replied to the northern rising, though an everlasting blot on his name, made him feared, and his authority respected. Elizabeth’s ruthless punishment of the Catholics of the north, after their abortive efforts to bring back the Mass, resulted in peace for the remainder of the reign.

Mary’s wholesale forgiveness of the insurgents had been interpreted as weakness, by a people who had not yet learned that mercy “becomes the thronÈd monarch better than his crown”. Charles V. had insisted that it should be seasoned with a larger measure of justice, but in this one point Mary had disregarded his advice. Now her eyes were opened. Had the rebels been treated with proper severity, there would have been no second outbreak. Had Suffolk fallen with Northumberland, as the consequence of his share in Jane’s usurpation, his daughter would not have constituted a danger to the State six months later. Even those who had been implicated in the first plot were loud in maintaining that there would now be no safety for the realm while Jane lived.[412]

Both she and her husband had already been found guilty by Parliament of high treason, and sentence of death was passed in November 1553, although but for Suffolk’s action they would undoubtedly both have been pardoned. Now, however, recognising the disastrous consequences of her mildness, Mary allowed herself to be guided by those who had from the beginning advocated a policy of rigid justice; and on the day after Wyatt’s arrest, she signed the warrant for their execution.

Modern writers have not hesitated to accuse Mary of cruelty and vindictiveness in causing the death of two persons who, although usurpers, were but tools in masterful and unscrupulous hands. This opinion does not appear to have been shared by her contemporaries, who threw the blame generally, not on the Queen, but on the Duke of Suffolk, “who would have died more pitied for his weakness, if his practices had not brought his daughter to her end”.[413] They argued, that to lay claim to a throne is a matter of so deep an import, that even in deploring the necessity of executing the Lady Jane and her husband, “their death being not easily consented to, not even by the Queen herself,” they could not help exculpating Mary, who adopted the measure for State reasons and not from personal animosity.[414] It is strange that, with so great a personal reputation for clemency, in the midst of a ferocious age, Mary should have come to be regarded as an example of unparalleled cruelty, by all subsequent generations. When we remember that during nearly the whole of Elizabeth’s reign, the rack, the thumbscrew and the terrible instrument known as “the Scavenger’s Daughter” were never at rest, and that under Mary, contrary to the custom of every court of justice in Europe, torture was seldom applied to an accused person, the unfairness with which she has been treated by historians is unmistakeably apparent. Contemporaneous annalists, such as Holinshed and Stow, are guiltless of the injustice; Foxe was the first of Mary’s libellers, and Strype, who wrote at the end of the seventeenth century, was not only biassed by Foxe, but was embittered by the mass of calumny heaped upon her memory by Anabaptists and Iconoclasts.

The Bishop of Winchester, preaching before her on the 11th February, “axed a boon of the Queen’s highness, that like as she had before time extended her mercy particularly and privately, so through her lenity and gentleness much conspiracy and open rebellion was grown, according to the proverb nimia familiaritas parit contemptum; which he brought then in for the purpose that she would now be merciful to the body of the commonwealth, and conservation thereof, which could not be, unless the rotten and hurtful members thereof were cut off and consumed”.[415]

The next day, Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guildford Dudley were beheaded, he on Tower Hill, in presence of the people, she within the Tower precincts, in consideration of her royal descent. Mary had sent them permission to take leave of each other, but Jane declined the favour, saying that they would meet soon in heaven. Before laying her head on the block, she acknowledged in a few words her guilt in having consented to her father-in-law’s treason, although she had not been one of the original conspirators.

Brett, with twenty other prisoners, was taken into Kent to be executed. On leaving the Tower, he expressed himself in these words: “I am worthy of no less punishment than I do now go to suffer; for besides mine offence, I refused life and grace three times when it was offered; but I trust God did all for the best for me, that my soul might repent, and thereby after this life attain to the more mercy and grace in his sight”.[416]

When the extreme penalty of the law had been suffered by about sixty of the most prominent rebels, a general pardon was extended to the mass of the Kentish insurgents. Four hundred prisoners, with halters round their necks, rode into the tilt yard at Whitehall, where the Queen, from a balcony pardoned them, and ordered them to return home in peace. Of those who still remained in the Tower, eight were pardoned by her prerogative alone. Renard in his despatch of the 27th March says with curious logic:—

“Sire, the Queen of England sent for me last Saturday, and told me that persuaded by the Comptroller, Southwell, Petre, and those who had examined the prisoners, she had pardoned eight of them, having found no ground for suspecting or accusing them of treason in the late rebellion. Among others were the Marquess of Northampton, affirming that he had returned to the old religion, Cobham and his eldest son, Davet (Daniel) and four others whom she did not name, and added that from time immemorial, it had been the custom for the kings of England, on Good Friday to pardon some prisoners. To this I answered that since it had pleased her to dispense mercy, I could not and ought not to make any objection, especially as she had done it by the advice of her Councillors, but that she might have deferred the pardon till it had been ascertained whether they were concerned in the plot or no; for if they were, she had only thus increased the number of her enemies by so many persons, setting them at liberty to strengthen Elizabeth’s party.”[417]

He then goes on to say, that he had expressed doubts regarding the coming of Philip, on account of the divisions in the Council, objecting that he could not come in arms, and yet that if anything befell him, it would be a most disastrous and lamentable scandal. He had advised that the greatest precautions should be taken for his safety, and the Queen had replied with tears in her eyes, that she would rather never have been born, than that any harm should happen to the Prince, that the Council would do their utmost to receive him worthily, that they were making great expense with that object, that the Council should be reformed and reduced to six members, a measure advised by Paget and Petre, and that she, herself, would do all she could, to conciliate her subjects in the matter. The people, she thought, were anxious for the coming of his Highness, and she would exert every effort to have the proceedings against Elizabeth and Courtenay concluded before his arrival.[418] These proceedings had arisen from Wyatt’s behaviour in the Tower, which was singularly at variance with his dashing courage during the revolt. Being questioned with regard to two intercepted notes which he had addressed to Elizabeth, the one advising her to remove to Donnington, the other informing her of his triumphant arrival at Southwark, Wyatt admitted having written to her more than once. Lord Russell, only son of the Earl of Bedford, owned to having carried letters between him and the Princess, and Croft confessed that he had urged her to go to Donnington. All this, together with an intercepted packet containing three letters from de Noailles to Henry II., and a copy of a letter from Elizabeth to the Queen, in answer to one which Mary had sent her, added to Elizabeth’s refusal to obey Mary’s summons, constituted strong presumptive evidence that she was in league with the rebels.[419] Wyatt then denounced Courtenay, who was at once arrested and brought to the Tower, where the two were confronted with each other, Wyatt accusing him of being as great a traitor as himself. He further declared that the object of his rising was to place Courtenay and Elizabeth on the throne. He subsequently repeated the statement, and the second time added, that Monsieur d’Oysel, who came to London in January, on his way to Scotland to take up his functions as ambassador of France at that court, had united his efforts to those of de Noailles, and that they had conspired with Croft to prevent the Queen’s marriage, and to compass her death. The King of France, to enable them the more easily to carry on the chief enterprise, having promised them men and money, was to attack Calais and Guisnes, the moment they set foot in London. Besides this, he was to organise a descent from Scotland, with which object he had already sent some officers to that country, to prepare the way, and he purposed despatching the Vidame de Chartres, with artillery, ammunition, money and soldiers, to begin the war in conjunction with the Scots.[420]

It was not until Wyatt had directly accused Elizabeth of connivance with Henry II. that Mary was convinced of the necessity of securing her person. More than a fortnight had elapsed since the Princess had declared herself unable to travel, and there was still no sign of her coming. The Queen now repeated the summons, but not, as Foxe would have us believe, with inconsiderate cruelty, and rough haste. Lord William Howard, her uncle, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, who were sent to escort her, treated her throughout with courtesy and consideration. The Queen’s two physicians accompanied them, in order to decide whether she were well enough to travel, and that she might accomplish the journey with the greatest amount of comfort possible, Mary sent her own litter.

“The Lord Admiral, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallays to the Queen.

“In humble wise. It may please your Highness to be advertised, that yesterday immediately upon our arrival at Ashridge, we required to have access unto my Lady Elizabeth’s Grace, which obtained, we delivered unto her your Highness’s letter, and I the Lord Admiral, declared the effect of your Highness’s pleasure, according to the credence given to us, being before advertised of her estate by your Highness’s physicians, by whom we did perceive the estate of her body to be such, that without danger to her person, we might well proceed to require her in your Majesty’s name (all excuses set apart) to repair to your Highness, with all convenient speed and diligence. Whereunto, we found her Grace very willing and conformable, save only that she much feared her weakness to be so great, that she should not be able to travel and to endure the journey without peril of life, and therefore desired some longer respite, until she had better recovered her strength; but in conclusion, upon the persuasion as well of us as of her own council and servants, whom we assure your Highness, we have found very ready and forward to the accomplishment of your Highness’s pleasure in this behalf, she is resolved to remove her hence to-morrow, towards your Highness, with such journeys as, by a paper herein enclosed, your Highness shall perceive, further declaring to your Highness that her Grace much desireth, if it might stand with your Highness’s pleasure, that she might have a lodging, at her coming to the Court, somewhat further from the water than she had at her last being there; which your physicians, considering the state of her body, thinketh very meet, who have travailed very earnestly with her Grace, both before our coming and after, in this matter. And after her first day’s journey, one of us shall await upon your Highness to declare more at large the whole estate of our proceedings here.”[421]

The distance from Ashridge to Westminster is thirty-three miles. It was decided to accomplish the journey in five days, so that Elizabeth might have ample time to rest on the road, but on her reaching Highgate, she was so ill from some unknown cause, some declaring from poison, others from apprehension, remorse and anger, others again imputing a still more disgraceful reason for her malady, that a week passed before the last stage could be undertaken. By some indeed it was maintained that she was not ill at all, but that the delay was occasioned by Lord William Howard’s desire to screen her, and by his hope that the Queen’s anger might subside before she reached Westminster.[422]

Elizabeth was fully aware, not only of the danger of her situation, on account of the depositions of the conspirators in the Tower, but also of the reports circulated against her honour, and her courage rose as her need became desperate. She had long been an adept in the art of self-defence, and it was on occasions such as this, that her talents shone most brightly. On the 22nd February, between four and five o’clock in the afternoon, escorted by 200 gentlemen of the Queen’s court, she descended the steep hill that lies to the north-west of London, and proceeded to Westminster. The people flocked in immense crowds to meet her, lining both sides of the road, and testifying, now by a mournful silence, now by sighs and groans, their sympathy with her condition.

Renard thus describes the scene:—

“The lady Elizabeth arrived here yesterday, clad completely in white, surrounded by a great assemblage of the servants of the Queen, besides her own people. She caused her litter to be uncovered, that she might show herself to the people. Her countenance was pale, her look proud, lofty and superbly disdainful; an expression which she assumed to disguise the mortification she felt. The Queen declined seeing her, and caused her to be accommodated in a quarter of her palace, from which neither she nor her servants could go out, without passing through the guards. Of her suite, only two gentlemen, six ladies and four servants are permitted to wait on her; the rest of her train being lodged in the city of London. The Queen is advised to send her to the Tower, since she is accused by Wyatt, named in the letters of the French ambassador, suspected by her own councillors, and it is certain that the enterprise was undertaken in her favour. And assuredly, Sire, if now that the occasion offers, they do not punish her and Courtenay, the Queen will never be secure; for I have many misgivings that if, when she sets out for the parliament, they leave Elizabeth in the Tower, some treasonable means will be found to deliver either Courtenay or her, or both, so that the last error will be worse than the first.”[423]

Parliament had been summoned to meet at Oxford, on the 2nd April, and after the session Mary thought of establishing herself at York, in the midst of a Catholic population, a convenient port being in the vicinity. But the Londoners viewed her proposed withdrawal from their city with alarm. The removal of the seat of government from Westminster would deprive them of that consideration which they had always enjoyed; the absence of the court would divest them effectually of their prestige, and the transference of commerce from the Thames to the Tees and the Humber would involve them in financial ruin. This triple loss was apparently to be the only result to them of the blood that had been shed in the cause of independence, and for which they had been largely responsible. The anticipation of it did more to awaken their loyalty, than the spectacle they had lately witnessed of Mary’s queenly courage in the midst of dangers that had paralysed them with fear, or her noble words to them on the eve of the contest at the Guildhall. Overshadowed by the prospect of substantial material losses, they forgot the bugbears with which the French ambassador had threatened them, if the Spaniards should come—forgot that they were to be reduced to slavery, to have the Inquisition forced upon them, and to suffer dishonour and untold horrors, the common heritage of a subjugated race. They petitioned the Queen humbly to remain in their midst, promising to render her all the help in their power, and to welcome whatever marriage she desired.[424]

In consequence of this petition, Parliament met at Westminster, and the Queen abandoned her intention of removing the court to the north. The Royal Marriage Bill was discussed, and passed unanimously in both Houses, after which Mary dissolved Parliament in person, delivering an address that was frequently interrupted by cheers and acclamation. Both Lords and Commons assured her at its close, that the Prince of Spain would be welcomed on his arrival by a dutiful and affectionate people.[425]

The preliminary formalities between the contracting parties, interrupted by the rebellion, had been resumed. Count Egmont had returned to England, bringing with him the ratification of the marriage treaty, and a letter of instructions from Charles. He was to represent to Mary, that as God had been pleased once more to give her the victory over her enemies, and to deliver them into her hands, she should, as they had before so largely abused the clemency with which she had treated them, and in case they had not yet been brought to execution, not delay to do so, but that their chastisement should be prompt, and that she should rid herself of those whose will was so evil towards her, that she might strike terror into the hearts of others. Those who were to be pardoned should be pardoned also promptly, that their fears being removed, they might the sooner lose the desire to attempt anything further against her. Courtenay and Elizabeth should be secured,[426] and the Queen should reflect that in the matter of so manifest a conspiracy against her person, the smallest evidence of guilt might be taken into account, and the persons suspected should be put into a place where they would have no longer the opportunity of doing harm. He added that if the Privy Council could not be induced to proceed against Courtenay, he would be better out of the kingdom than in it, for if the people no longer saw him they would soon forget him. He ought to be either shut up in the Tower or got rid of.

With regard to the mischievous practices of the French ambassador, Egmont was to represent to the Queen, that it would be well, either to send him back to France at once, or to imprison him till he should be recalled, to prevent his doing further harm, giving the French King to understand in either case, what grave cause she had to proceed severely, he having acted in such a manner as to lose altogether his privileges as ambassador. Egmont was also to advise Mary to obtain the recall of the Venetian ambassador, Sorranzo. [427]

With unparalleled effrontery, both the French and Venetian ambassadors presented themselves at court, and congratulated Mary on her victory. The Council thought it advisable that the Queen should conceal her indignation for a time, and she, therefore, received them courteously. De Noailles was, however, closely watched, a measure which he was not slow to perceive, and complain of, whereupon Mary in an audience of the 1st March, reproached him vehemently with having stirred up the late rebellion, and with continuing the same line of conduct with respect to some of Wyatt’s accomplices who had fled into France, meaning probably the Carews and their friends.

De Noailles, of course, denied all that he dared, promised to give entire satisfaction as to the rest, and proceeded forthwith to concoct schemes, by which his promises would be entirely stultified. All that he relates henceforth touching the Queen’s marriage, the punishment of the rebels, and the restoration of the Catholic worship, is coloured by personal animosity, and must be received with caution, his new resentment and annoyance rendering his testimony less trustworthy than before.

On the day after Elizabeth’s arrival at Westminster, the Duke of Suffolk was beheaded on Tower Hill. He confessed his guilt, and expressed a hope that the Queen would forgive him.

“My Lord, her grace hath already forgiven and prayeth for you,” said Dr. Weston, his confessor. “Then,” continued the Duke, “I beseech you all good people, to let me be an example to you all for obedience to the Queen and the magistrates, for the contrary thereof hath brought me to this end.”[428] He called them to witness that he died “a faithful and true Christian, believing to be saved by none other but only by Almighty God through the Passion of his Son Jesus Christ”. His brother Thomas, who was believed to have incited him to rebellion, was also executed, but the Lord John Grey, who was taken with him, was pardoned by the Queen.

At his trial, Wyatt pleaded guilty, and made no defence. He referred his interrogators to his written declaration, and refused to enter into further details. He was condemned to death, but his execution was deferred for a month, in the hope of his giving further information as to the other implicated persons. His accusation of Elizabeth made it necessary that she should be examined, but the result obtained might have been a foregone conclusion. When the Chancellor, with nine members of the Council, went to Westminster, and charged her with complicity in the plot, she replied boldly that she knew nothing of it whatever. Gardiner entreated her for her own sake to throw herself on the Queen’s mercy, and to crave her pardon. But she answered proudly that this would be to confess a crime, and that forgiveness was only extended to the guilty. First, her guilt must be proved, in which case she would follow the Chancellor’s advice.[429] They were obliged to leave without having gained anything by their visit. The councillors were more than ever divided. Those among them who secretly favoured Elizabeth maintained that the legal proof against her was insufficient to justify her being sent to the Tower; the Spanish party were for giving her short shrift. Others again thought that she ought to be closely guarded, but not imprisoned. Mary availed herself of this loophole, and caused each lord of the Council in succession to be asked to undertake the custody of the Princess in his own house. Not one was willing to accept the dangerous office, and when all had refused it, a warrant was made out for her committal to the Tower.[430]

Thoroughly alarmed, and fully expecting to suffer the same fate as her unfortunate mother, Elizabeth denied with oaths and curses that she had ever had any letter from Wyatt, that she had ever written to the French King, or consented to anything that might endanger the Queen’s life. Haughtily she begged those who brought her the news to remember who she was. An hour later, the Earl of Sussex and two other members of the Council dismissed her suite, leaving her only one gentleman, three ladies and two servants. Guards were placed in her antechamber, and in the garden under her windows. The next morning, Saturday, 17th March, the Earl of Sussex and the Marquis of Winchester announced that her barge was in attendance to convey her to the Tower. Her scornful mood having changed to one of deep depression, she entreated to be allowed to wait for the next tide. Lord Winchester answered her tritely, that time and tide waited for no man, whereupon she begged that they would at least permit her to write a few lines to the Queen. Winchester again refused, but the Earl of Sussex, more friendly, gave her leave, and swore that he himself would deliver her letter, and bring her back the answer. She was so long in writing it, that the tide no longer served, and Elizabeth scored her usual point of delay. She obtained, indeed, twenty-four hours respite, for her guards would not risk the midnight tide, for fear of a rescue under cover of the darkness. Mary, extremely displeased, exclaimed with some bitterness that in her father’s time they would not have dared to take upon themselves such disobedience, and vouchsafed no answer to Elizabeth’s letter.

The next day being Palm Sunday, at nine o’clock the warrant was executed, and the Princess conducted through the guards to her barge, which was moored at the water entrance to the palace. Foxe says,[431] “Being come forth into the garden, she did cast her eyes towards the window, thinking to have seen the Queen, which she could not: whereat she said, she marvelled much what the nobility of the realm meant, which in that sort would suffer her to be led into captivity, the Lord knew whither, for she did not,” a remark which, perhaps, savoured of treason more than anything else she allowed to escape her.

According to the chronicler already often quoted:—

“The 18th March, being 1553 [1554], the lady Elizabeth’s grace, the queen’s sister, was conveyed to the Tower, from the court at Westminster, about ten of the clock in the forenoon, by water; accompanying her the Marquis of Northampton [probably a mistake for Winchester] and the Earl of Sussex. There was at the Tower to receive her, the lord Chamberlain. She was taken in at the drawbridge. It is said when she came in, she said to the warders and soldiers, looking up to heaven, ‘Oh Lord, I never thought to have come in here as prisoner; and I pray you all, good friends and fellows, bear me witness, that I come in no traitor, but as true a woman to the Queen’s Majesty as any is now living; and thereon will I take my death’. And so, going a little further, she said to my lord Chamberlain, ‘What, are all these harnessed men here for me?’ And he said, ‘No, Madam’. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know it is so; it needed not for me, being alas! but a weak woman.’ It is said that when she was in, the lord Treasurer and the lord Chamberlain began to lock the doors very straitly; then the Earl of Sussex with weeping eyes said, ‘What will ye do, my lords? What mean ye therein? She was a king’s daughter, and is the queen’s sister; and ye have no sufficient commission so to do; therefore go no further than your commission, which I know what it is.’”[432]

Elizabeth’s trial began five days after her committal. Gardiner, accompanied by nine members of the Privy Council, proceeded to an interrogatory, concerning what had passed between the Princess and Sir James Croft, as to her proposed removal from Ashridge to Donnington. She feigned at first not to know that she had such a house as Donnington, but after a moment’s reflection, said that she did remember having such a place, but that she had never been inside it. Confronted with Croft, she was asked what she had to say of him, and she replied, that she had no more to do with him than with any of the other prisoners in the Tower, declaring with great dignity that if they had done ill, and had offended the Queen’s Majesty, it was their business to answer for it; and she begged that she might not be associated with criminals of that sort.

“Concerning my going to Donnington Castle,” she continued, “I do remember that Master Hoby and mine officers, and you, Sir James Croft, had such talk. But what is that to the purpose, my lords, but that I may go to my houses at all times?”[433]

Nothing further could be obtained from her; and the Emperor demanded in vain that she should be executed. Mary, although personally convinced of her guilt, as were so many others, would not have her condemned on the evidence of the intercepted letters, because they were written in cypher, which easily lent itself to forgery.[434] In her first Parliament, she had restored the ancient constitutional law of England, by which overt or spoken acts of treason must be proved, before any English person could be convicted as a traitor; and from this position the Queen would not move. She told Renard, that she herself, and her Council, were labouring to discover the truth, but that the law must be maintained.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth’s enemies neither slumbered nor slept, and if we may trust the author[435] of a book called England’s Elizabeth, published in 1631, a warrant was actually handed in at the Tower, for her execution, under the Queen’s seal, but without her signature. The Lieutenant, Sir John Bridges, in the absence of the Constable, suspecting foul play, hastened with it to the Queen, who denied all knowledge of the warrant, and expressed great indignation against the Chancellor, who was probably responsible. According to this author, the Queen summoned Gardiner, and several others to her presence, and “blamed them for their inhuman usage of her sister, and took measures for her greater security”. But as the story is unsupported by any corroboration, it seems likely that it was, in its circumstantial points, an invention. Gardiner was known to protect Elizabeth against the clamour of the imperial ambassador for her execution, and indeed he befriended her all through. Nevertheless, there was a very general impression, that her life would have been in danger but for Mary’s determination that the law should not be infringed. It was for Elizabeth’s greater safety that Mary appointed Sir Henry Bedingfeld to be her custodian in the Tower, giving her at the same time leave to walk in the Queen’s lodging, provided that she did not look out through any of the windows, there being so many prisoners in the Tower at that time. A little later, leave was given to her to take the air in the garden, the doors and gates being shut. Here, the child of one of the warders was allowed to come and talk to her sometimes, until it was suspected that Courtenay contrived to communicate with her, by means of a basket of flowers and figs, whereupon the indulgence was withdrawn.

Mary’s solemn betrothal to Philip had taken place on the return of Count Egmont from Brussels, with the Emperor’s ratification of the marriage treaty. The members of the Privy Council having waited on the Queen at Whitehall, Mary proceeded to her oratory, when Egmont was introduced by the Lord Admiral, and the Earl of Pembroke. She knelt down before the altar, and called God to witness the truth of the words she was about to speak. Then rising, and turning towards the assistants (most of whom were in favour of the marriage, and therefore not to be cajoled by her words into toleration of it), she declared that she had not resolved to marry through dislike of celibacy, nor had she chosen the Prince of Spain through any respect of kindred, her chief object being the furtherance of the honour and tranquillity of the realm. She had, she said, pledged her faith to her people on her coronation day, and it was her steadfast resolve to redeem that pledge. She would never permit affection for her husband to seduce her from the performance of this, the first and most sacred of her duties. As Mary ceased speaking, Egmont advanced, and placed on her finger a costly ring, sent by the Emperor on behalf of his son.[436]

Renard, in the meanwhile, took great credit to himself for the promptness with which the rebellion had been quelled. It was no doubt partly due to his advice to the Queen, to remain at her post, at a critical moment, when all other counsellors were entreating her to fly, that the rebels had been put to rout. With great self-complacency, he informed the Emperor, that all the members of the Queen’s Privy Council had become very intimate with him, and admitted that “the firmness of the said Lady had alone gained the victory, for in leaving London, she would have involved the kingdom in danger and ruin”. He remarked however, on the admirable conduct of the English nobility, at the battle of London, and dealt a passing blow at Courtenay, and the young Earl of Worcester, whose cowardice had prompted them to remain always in the rear, without once charging the enemy, but spreading the alarm that the rebels had the advantage, crying out that all was lost, the wish being father to the thought.[437]

But when he went on to express satisfaction at seeing peace re-established, Wyatt discredited by the people, a large number of the nobility well-disposed towards the marriage, and the popular prejudice against it less acute, his credulity clearly overstepped the boundary of facts. The people’s prejudice, thanks to the agitators, was certainly not less acute, the vexed question of the marriage being still inextricably involved in that of religion. To express their hatred of both, the London rabble hung a cat on the gallows in Cheapside “clothed like a priest, and that same day, held it up before the preacher at Paul’s Cross”.[438] During a procession in Smithfield, a man tore the consecrated Host out of the priest’s hand, and drew a dagger. He was seized and taken to Newgate.[439] A musket was discharged at a priest during a sermon, when he was surrounded by nearly four thousand people.

No wonder that Philip delayed his coming! If he escaped the arrow flying by day, how could he guard himself against the hidden enemy that might be lurking in the dish and the cup? Even Renard at last ceased to cry “peace” when all the time there was no security. “It is well-nigh impossible to foresee what the English may do,” he wrote to the Emperor, and advised him to send over a competent steward, “against the arrival of his Highness,” a man of good appearance, adroitness and experience, to superintend the preparing of his food, and to make acquaintance with the officials, and with the customs of the country; otherwise dire confusion and danger would ensue. The want of understanding between Renard and the Queen’s English advisers increased the difficulties at every step. Mary and her Council were for treating the peace disturbers as heretics. The enormities which they practised were all directed against religion, and it seemed just that the punishment should be adapted to the offence. But Renard knew full well that this mode of procedure would but increase the public irritation against Spain, which was at the bottom of the disturbances, and still further complicate the political situation. He never ceased admonishing the Queen to have these outrages dealt with as seditious, and on the 22nd March wrote:—

“Things are in such disorder, that we know not who is well-disposed or ill-disposed, constant or inconstant, loyal or traitorous. One thing is certain, that the Chancellor has been extremely remiss in proceeding against the criminals, and most ardent and hot-headed in the affairs of religion, being so hated in this kingdom, that I have doubts whether the detestation against him will not recoil on the Queen. Assuredly, Sire, I have never ceased to admonish her as to the necessity of a prompt punishment of the prisoners. I have given her Thucydides translated into French, so that she may understand what advice he gives, and what kind of punishment ought to be inflicted on rebels.”[440]

Renard’s natural dislike of Gardiner, and the divergence of their aims, probably spoke here more eloquently than the fact justified. Other evidence will show that Gardiner was not hated, even by the reformers, with the exception of Foxe.

But there was ample ground for Renard’s fear lest Mary’s popularity should decline, and not least among the reasons for such a decline was the fact, that she had abrogated the law framed by her father, by which libels on the sovereign were punishable by death. The country was inundated, at this time, with foul and scurrilous sermons and pamphlets, the perpetrators screening themselves behind the Queen’s strictly constitutional mode of government, knowing that the utmost penalty for language that would be an insult to the meanest woman in the land, and which they freely indulged in to vilify their Queen, would but cause them a brief and slight inconvenience. Thus we hear of two men in the pillory in Cheapside “for horrible lies and seditious words against the Queen’s Majesty and her Council,”[441] and this kind of punishment became now of frequent occurrence, although most of the slanders were anonymous, and could never be traced to their authors.

As to Renard’s constant refrain that “the prisoners,” meaning of course Elizabeth and Courtenay, should be promptly punished, it must be admitted that he spoke with full knowledge of the danger they represented. Their names were ever on the lips of the rebels, and on the 7th April a letter was found dropped in the street, in favour of the Princess, “as seditious as could possibly be conceived”. Even Gardiner confessed that there was no hope of peace or tranquillity for the realm while she was in it, and he advised that she should be sent abroad, and placed under the care of the Queen of Hungary, the Emperor’s sister.

Sir Thomas Wyatt was brought to the scaffold on the 12th April,[442] and so contradictory are the statements as to his conduct and words at the moment of death, concerning the guilt of the accused pair, that absolutely nothing can be deduced from them. According to the sheriffs who were present at his last interview with Courtenay, Wyatt asked his pardon for accusing him. According to Lord Chandos, who was also present, he urged Courtenay to confess his crime. On the scaffold he is said to have uttered these words: “Where it is noised abroad, that I should accuse the Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Courtenay, it is not so, good people; for I assure you, neither they nor any other now yonder in hold, was privy of my rising before I began, as I have declared no less to the Queen’s Council, and that is most true”. Upon this, however, Weston said: “Mark this, my masters, that that which he hath shown to the Council of them in writing is true,” and Wyatt by his silence implied that he consented to what Weston had said.[443] But as no fresh evidence was forthcoming, and as the case against Elizabeth had not been formally proved, she was released from the Tower on the 18th May, exactly two months after her committal. As she left, three volleys of artillery were discharged from the Steelyard in sign of rejoicing and congratulation.[3] A few days later Courtenay was also released, and sent to Fotheringhay.

Sir Henry Bedingfeld had already for some time had the charge of the Princess, and it was to his care, and that of the Lord Williams of Thame, that she was confided, on her removal to Woodstock. Foxe’s account of the supposed insults offered to her by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, totally unsupported by any other evidence, falls into the region of romance, the source of much that has been written about Elizabeth at this period. When she came to the throne Bedingfeld frequently appeared at court and was on the best terms with her, she playfully styling him her jailer.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth was very closely kept and watched during the months of her captivity at Woodstock, allowed to see none but those appointed to be near her, and deprived of materials for writing, even to Mary, unless with direct permission. It would, however, have been very unlike what we know of her astuteness, if she had not contrived means of communication with her friends. It was shortly before leaving Woodstock, that she wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass, the famous three lines, two of which sum up the whole case for and against her:—

At last Philip showed signs of leaving Spain. On the 19th June, arrived his precursor, the Marquis de las Naves, bringing presents for the bride. These were: “A great table diamond mounted as a rose, in a superb gold setting, and valued at 50,000 ducats; a necklace of eighteen brilliants, worth 32,000 ducats; a great diamond, with a fine pearl pendant from it, worth 25,000 ducats, and other jewels, pearls, diamonds, emeralds and rubies of inestimable value, for the Queen and her ladies”.

Philip left Valladolid on the 4th May, and his progress through the north-western provinces of Spain was a splendid pageant, for the crowds of spectators that flocked to meet him, with demonstrations of intense and passionate devotion. He remained several days at Compostella to pay homage to the patron saint of Spain. Here, he signed his marriage contract, brought from England by the Earl of Bedford, and then proceeded to Corunna, where a flotilla of more than a hundred sail was anchored in the bay.

Accompanied by 4,000 picked troops, destined for the Netherlands, he embarked with a numerous suite, including the Flemish Counts, Egmont and Horn, the Dukes of Alva and Medina Coeli, the Prince of Eboli, the Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, and all the flower of the Spanish nobility, together with their wives, their vassals, musicians, and even jesters, and a number of useless servants, in order to swell his train, add to the splendour of his cortÈge, and impart a notion of his magnificence.

The imperial ambassador in London had advised him to come with as little state as possible, “in order not to excite the jealousy of the English,” but perhaps the philosophy of the younger man was deeper than that of the statesman. The good-will of a people may be won by frank simplicity; their ill-will is rarely conquered but by a display of power and circumstance, which commands their respect.

After an agreeable sail of a few days, the Spanish fleet encountered that of England, commanded by Lord William Howard, who was lying in wait for the Prince, in order to conduct him into British waters. The Admiral at once offended the Spaniards, by speaking of their ships as mussel-shells; and it was reported, that on nearing the Spanish fleet, he ordered a salvo of cannon to be fired, to oblige the Spaniards to lower their flag in returning the salute, thereby acknowledging the supremacy of the English. If these reports reached Philip’s ears, they would be eloquent to him of the spirit stirring beneath the apparent cordiality of his welcome. But there was nothing in the grave courtesy of his manner, and in the high breeding which gave dignity to his slight and otherwise almost insignificant figure, to indicate that he was not solemnly satisfied with all that he heard and saw.

On the 19th July, the united fleets anchored in Southampton water. Immediately, a number of small craft put out, and foremost among them the Queen’s own yacht, superbly decorated, and manned with officers wearing the royal livery of green and white, to bring the Prince to land.[444]