AT EVENTIDE.

1558.

Grief, anxiety and disappointment, perpetually assailing a constitution never one of the strongest, brought the Queen to her life’s end before she was forty-three. If her naturally hopeful and buoyant temperament helped her through her bitterest trials, it was a fertile source of sorrows, as one by one, all the things upon which she had set her heart, collapsed like the fabric of a dream.

The loss of Calais inflicted the first mortal blow upon her enfeebled health, but its poignancy was for a time softened by the recurrence of the persistent hope, that even now she was about to give birth to an heir. She had waited till that hope seemed like certainty, and on the eve of realisation, before announcing it to Philip. To leave issue, and so secure a Catholic succession, had been the main incentive to her marriage; she clung to the prospect as a drowning man to a plank, and when it failed her, she would have despaired, had she not been uplifted by the faith and resignation that were stronger than all her trouble. Philip flattering her delusion had sent de Feria to congratulate her on her condition, assuring her that nothing could better console him for the loss of Calais.

Gomez Suarez de Figuera, Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, destined to play an important part in English affairs during the next few months, was, in so far as Philip ever unbent and allowed himself the luxury of a friend, his most confidential adviser, remarkably outspoken and unceremonious. He had accompanied the King from Spain, and was the one Spaniard who had followed his master’s injunction to the letter, to adopt a manner of life in conformity with English customs and prejudices. So literally did he obey, that he sought and obtained the hand of the beautiful Jane Dormer, the Queen’s favourite, and most trusted, attendant and companion.

In the various letters written by de Feria to Philip, on the Count’s return to England in the spring of 1558, he tells him how greatly Mary has lost in power and influence, during the few months that have elapsed since the King’s departure. The partisans of the new doctrines are beginning to hold up their heads again, and since the recent disasters, the people, who formerly frequented the churches through obedience or fear, are now conspicuous by their absence. This was no exaggeration, for the loss of Calais was more fatal to Mary’s government, than anything that had gone before.[684]

Persecution of the heretics had made it unpopular; misfortune caused it to be despised. Had the Queen possessed the physical strength and energy she had shown at the time of Wyatt’s rebellion, she might still have rallied round her an enthusiastic army, inspired by devotion and loyalty, to dare all for the recovery of the lost fortresses that were the key to France. But the sands of life were running low, and all she could do was to appeal to Philip, trusting that he was England’s truest friend. De Feria told him that she bore even the privation of his society patiently, understanding how grave were the circumstances which detained him in Flanders.

Nevertheless, she had ordered the fleet to cruise between Dunkirk and Dover, in the hope that he would come. By degrees, she was forced to recognise, that this hope too was a delusion, and she listened to de Feria when, in obedience to Philip’s instructions, he suggested that as the King was prevented from undertaking the journey, it would be well to send the Admiral, Lord Clinton, to him. His Majesty could thus communicate to him his displeasure against the Queen’s councillors, for their neglect in allowing Calais to be taken, and in affording him so little help. This interview with de Feria took place at Lambeth. Mary was on her way to St. James’s, and being ill, had broken her journey at the Cardinal’s palace. She expressed her willingness to let Clinton go, somewhat to the surprise of de Feria, who thought she would have shown some irritation at the proposal. It was tantamount to an announcement, that she would see her husband’s face no more.

In the Cecil papers at Hatfield, is a Memorandum drawn up by Lord Clinton, and entitled “The Cause I Was Sent for to Brussels,” all the items enumerated referring to questions concerning the harassing of the French coast by the English, and the reasons, for and against, attempting the reconquest of Calais.

De Feria had as yet not ventured to seek an interview with Elizabeth, fearing thereby to displease the Queen, but he sent his excuses to the Princess, and meanwhile begged Philip to instruct him, whether he should pay her a visit or not. Philip ordered him to do so, and on the 23rd June, the diplomatic Spaniard wrote that he had every reason to be well contented with the interview which she had granted him, and would communicate viva voce what had passed between them.[685]

This matter, too important to be penned, undoubtedly concerned the succession, and Philip’s promise of support, in case Elizabeth needed it, to make good her claim to the throne in the event of Mary’s death.

De Feria returned to Brussels, and Philip neither came nor wrote. It was said that his coldness and indifference were hurrying the Queen to her grave. Contrary to her usual symptoms, when attacked by illness, she was devoured by fever, and wearied by sleepless nights. All who surrounded her became conscious that there was something new and alarming in her condition. The first indication of this occurs in a letter from Cardinal Pole to the King, dated the 6th September, when she had partially recovered:—

“Don Juan de Acunha will report the particulars of the Queen’s indisposition, and how our Lord God granted us the grace four days ago, to free her from all feverish symptoms, and as her Majesty is not liable to them, they could not but cause us much anxiety; but the physicians were and are of opinion that through this malady, she will obtain relief from her habitual indisposition; and may it thus please the goodness of God, and may He preserve her Majesty for the welfare of this realm. During her malady, the Queen did not fail to take the greatest care of herself, following the advice of the physicians, and by continuing to do so, it is hoped that she will recover, and daily more and more establish her health; a result to which nothing can contribute more, than to receive frequent good news of his Majesty.”[686]

Pole mentions having himself been ill of a quartan ague which cannot but be regarded as serious at his age, and with his constitution, but he is resigned to what Divine Providence shall be pleased to ordain for him. In a further letter, he recommends to Philip certain individuals of his household, for whom he has not the means to provide out of his own substance.[687]

The improvement in Mary’s state was not long maintained, and on the 29th October, Surian wrote the following important letter to the Doge, from Brussels:—

“A few days ago, his Majesty received news from England that the Queen was grievously ill, and her life in danger, which intelligence, most especially at the present moment being of very great importance, so disquieted his Majesty, and all these lords, that it was immediately determined to send the Count de Feria to visit the Queen, in the name of her consort, and to treat another affair which I will narrate hereunder; but as when the Count was about to depart, a fresh advice arrived, that her Majesty’s health had improved, he therefore delayed his departure for three or four days longer, and in the meanwhile, his household at Brussels is preparing to cross over with him to England, a sign that he will not return hither so speedily.

“Now the matter to be treated by him is the marriage of Miladi Elizabeth, to keep that kingdom in any event in the hands of a person in his Majesty’s confidence. Last year King Philip gave an order to this effect to his confessor, who is very dear to the Queen, he laying before her all the considerations both of religion and piety, and of the safety of the realms, and to prevent the evils which might occur, were the Lady Elizabeth, seeing herself slighted, to choose after her Majesty’s death, or perhaps even during her lifetime, to take for her husband, some individual who might convulse the whole kingdom into confusion. For many days, during which the confessor treated this business, he found the Queen utterly averse to give Lady Elizabeth any hope of the succession, obstinately maintaining that she was neither her sister, nor the daughter of the Queen’s father, King Henry, nor would she hear of favouring her, as she was born of an infamous woman, who had so outraged the Queen, her mother and herself. Notwithstanding this, the confessor assiduously and adroitly persevering in this design, effected so much, that her Majesty consented to do what the King wished, he expressing great satisfaction at this; but two days later, the Queen changed her mind, and the confessor lays the blame on Cardinal Pole, who, as the project had not been communicated to him, may have performed some contrary office, ignoring that such was the will of the King. Now that things have been in such danger, owing to the Queen’s malady, they are sending the Count de Feria, that he may try and revive this project, and realize it, but I do not yet know whether with the Duke of Savoy or others, nor can it be known for certain, until this peace is concluded or excluded; but the Count’s instructions purport that he is to try and dispose the Queen to consent to Lady Elizabeth being married as her sister, and with the hope of succeeding to the crown, this negotiation having to be treated with the greatest possible secrecy, because these lords suspect, that were the French to come to know it, they would easily find means to thwart the project, as the greater part of England is opposed to the Queen, and most hostile to King Philip and his dependants, and much inclined towards Miladi Elizabeth, who has always shown greater liking for the French faction, than for this other, being thus habituated in the time of her brother, King Edward, when at the summit of her grandeur.”[688]

The King of Sweden had, during the preceding summer, sent a proposal for Elizabeth’s hand, and Mary had shown some displeasure which was shared by Philip, at the fact that his Majesty had not presented his demand in the ordinary way, through the Queen. But Elizabeth had refused him, and while the subject of her sister’s religion mainly preoccupied Mary during the illness which she felt would end in death, that of his sister-in-law’s marriage concerned Philip still more deeply.

In The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria it is recorded,[689] that “Queen Mary in her last sickness sent Commissioners to examine her [Elizabeth] about religion; to whom she answered, ‘Is it not possible that the queen will be persuaded I am a Catholic, having so often protested it?’ and thereupon did swear and vow that she was a Catholic. This is answerable to what Mr. Camden saith, and is likewise confirmed by the Duke of Feria’s letter to the king, who in this sickness of the queen, visited the Lady Elizabeth. He certified him that she did profess the Catholic religion, and believed the Real Presence, and was not like to make any alteration for the principal points of religion.”

The same writer gives a pathetic account of Mary’s end, and of her constant solicitude for others, which being obtained from Jane Dormer herself, must be regarded as authentic. It is necessary to dwell at some length on every known detail of this period, as some writers have given a highly coloured, grotesque, and altogether imaginative account of the Queen’s declining days. Clifford relates that “When it chanced that Jane was not well, as that she could not well attend upon the Queen, it is strange, the care and regard her Majesty had of her, more like a mother or sister, than her queen and mistress. As in the last days of this blessed queen, she being at Hampton Court, and to remove to London, Jane having some indisposition, her Majesty would not suffer her to go in the barge by water, but sent her by land, in her own litter, and her physician to attend her. And being come to London, the first that she asked for was Jane Dormer, who met her at the stairfoot, told her that she was reasonably well. The queen answered, ‘So am not I,’ being about the end of August 1558. So took her chamber and never came abroad again.

“At that time the king was in Flanders about his wars, made upon the frontiers of France, who understanding the Queen’s sickness, being then with his army before Dourlens, sent away the Duke of Feria, to serve and assist her in all that should be requisite. It pleased Almighty God, that this sickness was her last, increasing daily, until it brought her to a better life. Jane was continually about the Queen, not yet married, for the Queen would not have her marry, until the king was returned from Flanders; which occasioned the want of great gifts and rich endowments, wherewith the Queen had determined, and promised to honour the marriage, whereof did her Majesty complain. She finding herself languishing to death, told Jane, she would have been glad to have seen her marriage had been effected in her days; but God Almighty would otherwise dispose, and being sick and the king absent, she was not in case to do what she would. Her sickness was such as made the whole realm to mourn, yet passed by her with most Christian patience. She comforted those of them that grieved about her; she told them what good dreams she had, seeing many little children, like angels play before her, singing pleasing notes, giving her more than earthly comfort; and thus persuaded all, ever to have the holy fear of God before their eyes, which would free them from all evil, and be a curb to all temptations. She asked them to think that whatsoever came to them was by God’s permission; and ever to have confidence, that He would in mercy turn all to the best.”[690]

On the 12th November, Surian wrote the following despatch in cipher to his Government:—

“There are also advices from England, that the Queen is not well, and the ambassador from Florence has said to me and many others, that she is at the point of death, as known throughout the court, much to the regret of these lords, who for their own reasons would not wish it to be known that she was even indisposed, but the truth is, that her malady is evidently incurable, and will end with her life sooner or later, according to the increase or decrease of her mental anxieties, which harass her more than the disease, however dangerous it may be. The King has therefore sent to England the Count de Feria, who being a most perfect gentleman and agreeable to his Majesty, is also in great favour with the Queen, he likewise fancying himself popular there; but may God grant (in case of her Majesty’s death) that he do not experience to his detriment the perverse nature of those people, and their most inveterate detestation of foreigners, and above all of Spaniards. He took with him a Portuguese physician, who has a very great name in these parts, so as not to fail in whatever could conduce to the Queen’s health. He will at any rate attempt to carry into effect the design about which I wrote on the 29th ult. for marrying Miladi Elizabeth, to some personage in the King’s confidence, in which he hopes to succeed, but I have not yet been able to hear who will be proposed. She herself inclines towards a Scottish lord, her kinsman, a handsome and noble youth, son of a sister of Henry VIII., who was married in Scotland; he being of the same mind as this lady in the matter of religion; so were the crown to pass into her hands with that husband, it might be well-nigh surely prognosticated that the country will relapse into its former state and worse, unless the Lord God of His mercy interpose His hand.”[691]

In the meanwhile, Mary, having received Elizabeth’s protestation, sent two members of the Privy Council to the Princess, announcing that she would leave her the Crown on two conditions, the first being her promise to maintain the Catholic faith and worship in England, the second that she would undertake to pay the Queen’s debts. Both these conditions Elizabeth accepted.[692]

De Feria arrived in London on the 9th November, to find that the Queen’s recovery was despaired of by all her English and Spanish physicians. She was attended only by an Italian doctor, afterwards suspected of having poisoned her, and was growing gradually weaker every hour. A smile hovered over her face when de Feria spoke to her of her husband, but she had no strength to read the letter which he sent her, in explanation of the grave reasons for his remaining in Flanders. All she could do was to send him a ring, as a pledge of her love and fidelity.[693]

From Mary’s death-bed, the envoy passed to the Council Chamber, where he found all the members assembled except Pembroke and Paget. He noticed Masone, who was accounted one of Elizabeth’s most confidential friends, and took the opportunity of declaring in a loud voice, that the King was extremely glad, that the Princess was to succeed her sister, and that he would do all that depended on himself to help her to mount the throne. The next day, he went to express the same sentiments to Elizabeth in person. She received him in a friendly manner, but was less gracious than she had shown herself to Christopher d’Assonleville, who had visited her in August, at a moment when she felt less secure of the future, and to whom she had expressed much gratitude for Philip’s protection, at a time when she had been suspected by the Queen. In order to flatter her vanity which was great, de Feria said that the King had always been very sensible of her charms, and that if she continued in the Catholic religion, he would be disposed to seek her hand. She replied with some asperity, that the King had wished her to marry the Duke of Savoy, but that she herself could not forget how the Queen had in a great measure, lost the affection of her people through having married a foreigner.[694] In concluding his letter, de Feria remarked that Elizabeth was surrounded by persons as favourable to heresy as they were hostile to his Majesty, and that she herself, combining vanity with astuteness, would not fail soon to follow in the footsteps of her father King Henry VIII.[695]

De Feria was not alone, in paying court to the rising sun.

“Many personages of the kingdom,” wrote Surian, “flocked to the house of Miladi Elizabeth [at Hatfield], the crowd constantly increasing with great frequency.”[696]

A smaller crowd, but more mixed, gathered round Mary’s death-bed. It was composed of her most devoted friends—with the exception of Cardinal Pole, who himself lay dying—and of those who were eagerly watching for her last sigh. The end came in the gloomy dawn of the 17th November, and the sympathetic chronicler of the life of the Duchess of Feria thus describes the scene:—

“That morning hearing Mass, which was celebrated in her chamber, she being at the last point (for no day passed in her life that she heard not Mass), and although sick to death, she heard it with so good attention, zeal and devotion, as she answered in every part with him that served the Priest; such yet was the quickness of her senses and memory. And when the priest came to that part to say ‘Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi,’ she answered plainly and distinctly to every one, ‘Miserere nobis, Miserere nobis, Dona nobis pacem’. Afterwards, seeming to meditate something with herself, when the Priest took the Sacred Host to consume it, she adored it with her voice and countenance, presently closed her eyes and rendered her blessed soul to God. This, the duchess [Jane Dormer] hath related to me, the tears pouring from her eyes, that the last thing which the queen saw in this world, was her Saviour and Redeemer in the Sacramental species; no doubt to behold Him presently after in His glorious Body in heaven. A blessed and glorious passage. ‘Anima mea cum anima ejus.’”[697]

Monsignor Priuli, writing to his brother ten days later, thus describes the death of Mary and that of her friend and kinsman, Reginald Pole:—

“I wrote last week that the Queen’s life was in danger, and also that of my right reverend Lord, since when, it has pleased God, so to increase the malady of both, that on the 17th inst., seven hours after midnight, the Queen passed from this life, and my right reverend Lord followed her at 7 o’clock in the evening of the same day; and each departed with such piety as might have been expected from persons who had led such lives.

“During their illness they confessed themselves repeatedly, and communicated most devoutly, and two days before their end, they each received extreme unction, after which it seemed as if they rallied, and were much comforted, according to the fruit of that holy medicine. Although two days previously it had been intimated to his right reverend Lordship, that there was scarcely any hope of the Queen’s recovering from her infirmity, this being done, in order that the news of her demise, coming less suddenly, might prove less grievous to him, nevertheless, after the event, it was thought well to delay its announcement, until his Lordship should become more composed, though it could not have been long deferred, yet in contradiction to this understanding, one of our countrymen forgetfully told it him. On hearing it, after remaining silent for a short while, he then said to his intimate friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and to me, that in the whole course of his life, nothing had ever yielded him greater pleasure and contentment than the contemplation of God’s providence, as displayed in his own person and in that of others, and that in the course of the Queen’s life, and of his own, he had ever remarked a great conformity, as she like himself had been harassed during many years, for one and the same cause, and afterwards, when it pleased God to raise her to the throne, he had greatly participated in all her other troubles entailed by that elevation. He also alluded to their relationship, and to the great similarity of their dispositions, and to the great confidence which her Majesty demonstrated in him, saying that besides the immense mischief which might result from her death, he could not but feel deep grief thereat, yet by God’s grace, that same faith and reliance which had ever comforted him in all his adversities, greatly consoled him likewise, in this so grievous a catastrophe. He uttered these words with such earnestness that it was evident they came from his very heart, and they even moved him to tears of consolation, at perceiving how our Lord God, for such a wound received at such a moment had granted a balm so valid and efficacious, and which might soothe not only himself, but also all who loved him. His right reverend Lordship then remained quiet and silent for about a quarter of an hour, but though his spirit was great, the blow nevertheless having entered into his flesh, brought on the paroxysm earlier, and with more intense cold than he had hitherto experienced, so that he said he felt this would be his last. He therefore desired, that there might be kept near him the book containing those prayers which are said for the dying. He then had Vespers repeated as usual, and the Compline, which part of the office yet remained for him to hear; and this was about two hours before sunset, he having on the very same morning heard Mass also, as was his daily custom. In fine it was evident, that as in health that sainted soul was ever turned to God, so likewise in this long and troublesome infirmity, did it continue thus until his end, which he made so placidly, that he seemed to sleep rather than to die, as did the Queen likewise, so that had not a physician perceived the act, her Majesty would have died without any one’s witnessing it. My affection has moved me thus minutely to detail the end of this truly holy prelate and of this sainted Queen.”[698]

It is scarcely matter for surprise that Mary’s time-serving Council should have made no long lingering over their mistress’s yet warm ashes. The scene was quickly changed from St. James’s to Hatfield, where Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was the first to acquaint Elizabeth with the news of her accession.

After being embalmed, Mary’s body lay in state in the chapel of St. James’s Palace, till the 12th December, when it was removed to Westminster Abbey. Strype thus quaintly describes the funeral procession:—

“When the day was come, after this manner were her funerals performed. Her corpse was brought from St. James’s where she died, in a chariot, with a picture or image resembling her person, adorned with crimson velvet, her crown on her head, and her sceptre in her hand, and many good rings on her fingers.[699] And so up the highway went the foremost standard, with the falcon and the hart. Then came great company of mourners. And after, another goodly standard of the lion and the falcon, followed by King Philip her husband’s servants, two and two together, in black gowns; heralds riding to and fro to see all go in order. After, came the third standard with the white greyhound and the falcon. Then came gentlemen in gowns, mourners. Then came riding esquires, bearing banners of arms. Next came the lord Marquis of Winchester, on horseback, bearing the banner of the arms of England, embroidered with gold. Then Mr. Chester, the herald, bearing the helm and the crest and mantles. Then Mr. Norroy bearing the target, with the garter and the crown. Then Mr. Clarencieux, bearing the sword. And after, Mr. Garter bearing her coat armour: all on horseback. Banners were borne about her by lords and knights, with four heralds on horseback, bearing four white banners of saints, wrought with fine gold, viz., Mr. Somerset, Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Windsor and Mr. York. Then came the corpse with her picture lying over her, covered with cloth of gold, the cross silver. Then followed Mr. —— with the chief mourners. And then ladies riding, all in black trailed to the ground. In the chariot, wherein the Queen lay, rode the pages of honour with banners in their hands. Afore the corpse, her chapel, and after, all the monks, and after them the bishops in order. And all in this equipage passed by Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey, where at the great doors of the church, everybody alighted off their horses. Then were gentlemen ready to take the Queen out of her chariot: and so earls and lords went before her towards the hearse,[700] with her picture borne between men of worship. At the church door, met her four bishops and the abbot, mitred, in copes, censing the body; and so she lay all night under the hearse with watch. Item. There were an hundred poor men in good black gowns, bearing long torches, with hoods on their heads, and arms on them. And about her the guard, bearing staff-torches, in black coats. And all the way chandlers, having torches to supply them that had their torches burnt out.”[701]

The next day, being the 13th December, a Mass of Requiem was sung, and Dr. White, Bishop of Winchester, preached the funeral sermon. Mary had been dead nearly a month, and by this time it required some courage to speak of her in terms of praise, affection or gratitude. “For such offenses as he committed in his sermon at the funeralles of the late Queen,”[702] Dr. White was ordered to keep his house during the Queen’s pleasure. The sting lay in the eulogy contained in the following fragments of his discourse:—

“She was a King’s daughter, she was a King’s sister, she was a King’s wife. She was a Queen, and by the same title a King also: she was sister to her, that by the like title and right, is both King and Queen at this present of this realm. These be great gifts and benefactions of God; who in his gifts is ever to be glorified. What she suffered in each of these degrees before and since she came to the crown I will not chronicle; only this I say, howsoever it pleased God to will her patience to be exercised in the world, she had in all estates, the fear of God in her heart. I verily believe the poorest creature in all this city feared not God more than she did. She had the love, commendation and admiration of all the world.... She was never unmindful or uncareful of her promise to her realm. She used singular mercy towards offenders. She used much pity and compassion towards the poor and oppressed. She used clemency among her nobles. She restored more noble houses decayed than ever did prince of this realm, or I pray God ever shall have the like occasion to do hereafter. She restored to the Church such ornaments as in the time of schism were taken away and spoiled. She found the realm poisoned with heresy, and purged it, and remembering herself to be a member of Christ’s Church, refused to write herself head thereof.... Such was her knowledge as well as virtue; neither was there ever prince on earth that had more of both. But although she were such a one yet could she not be immortal. It pleased God, in whose hands the heart and breath, the life and death, the beginning and end of princes is, to call her from this mortal life, of the pleasures whereof (the pleasure that she took in the service of God only excepted) as no person than her, I suppose, took less, so of troubles and bitterness of the same none here for his estate taketh more.”

After giving an account of her preparation for death, and of her last moments, the preacher went on to say that, having received the blessing of the Church, “she bowed down her head and withal yielded a mild and gracious spirit into the hands of her Maker. All this I say,” he added, “if it were as pithily expressed, as she godly and devoutly did it, should be to you as it was to them that saw it, more than ten such sermons. If angels were mortal, I would rather liken this her departure to the death of an angel, than of a mortal creature. After this sort died this gracious Queen, of whom we may justly say, Laudavi mortuam magis quam viventem, and although we doubt not of her estate, yet because it is temerity to pronounce of God’s secret judgments, or to deny prayer, to deny to one which is due to all, let us again commend her soul to God, wishing to her as Tertullian teacheth refrigerium et in prima resurrectione consortium. Which prayer if it relieve not her, as one that with God’s grace and mercy hath the effect thereof already, yet shall it help us the rather before God, from whom the prayer of the faithful is never turned back or in vain.

“And as we for our parts have received worthily detriment and discomfort upon her departing, so let us comfort ourselves in the other sister, whom God hath left, wishing her a prosperous reign, in peace and tranquillity, with the blessing which the prophet speaketh of, if it be God’s will ut videat filios filiorum et pacem super Israel, ever confessing that, though God hath mercifully provided for them both, yet Mariam optimam partem elegit; because it is still a conclusion Laudavi mortuos magis quam viventes.”[703]

The displeasure which Dr. White incurred for his panegyric of Mary,[704] was but the beginning of a systematic blackening of her memory, by those, whose interest it was to stand well with Elizabeth. Eleven out of the thirty-five members who composed Mary’s Privy Council at the end of her reign became Privy Councillors under Elizabeth, a process that entailed some turning of coats for the second and even the third time. Those pamphleteers and manufacturers of low abuse, who had embittered Mary’s last days with insult and calumny might now pursue their trade unmolested, while the loose statements of reformers such as John Knox, John Foxe and John Bale,[705] afterwards too carelessly credited, and copied by Strype, Burnet and others, and elaborated by Hume and Froude, have marred beyond recognition the reputation of one who has been tardily recognised in our own day, as “amongst the best, although not the greatest of our sovereigns”.[706]

No monument has ever been raised to the memory of Queen Mary I. Two small black tablets mark the spot where she lies buried, in the north aisle of Henry VIIth’s Chapel in Westminster Abbey, at the foot of the tomb erected by James I. over the remains of Elizabeth. They bear this inscription:—

Mary’s last Will and Testament, dated the 30th April 1558, with a Codicil, added a little more than a fortnight before her death, is an interesting and characteristic document, containing many glimpses into her mind and heart. It was not only entirely ignored by Elizabeth, but lay utterly forgotten for nearly 300 years. Sir Frederick Madden printed a copy of it in 1831.[707]