On the Third of August, the Lady Mary entered London as Mary the Queen; and truly she began to make short Work of it; for, the next Day, she restored Gardiner to his Bishopric of Winchester, and, a few Days later, made him Chancellor; and, on the Fifth, restored Bonner and Tunstall to their Sees. Ridley, Coverdale, Hooper, and the rest of our good reformed Bishops, of course, were removed; and all beneficed Men that were married, or would not abjure the reformed Faith, were put out of their Livings.
On the 13th, Miles and I went to hear what would be said at Paul's Cross. There was one Bourne, a Canon, who preached such arrant Romanism and Flattery of Bonner, now Bishop of London, to his Face, that the People hooted and cried, "Pull him down," and Miles, flinging his Cap with good Aim, hit him on the Nose. Another flung a Dagger, which just missed him, but caused him to quit his Post; and honest Master Bradford, stepping into it, spread forth his Hands with, "Good Christian People"—whereon there was great Quiet; and by his savoury and peaceifying Doctrine he allayed the Tumult. The same Day, an old Priest said Mass at St. Bartholomew's, albeit the People went nigh to pull him in Pieces.
The following Sunday, one Dr. Watson preached at Paul's Cross, and the Churchyard was lined with Soldiers, for Fear of like Tumult that was on the Sunday before. During the Week, Northumberland had been arraigned and condemned; and on the Monday next following he was to be beheaded; howbeit, he desired first to hear Mass and receive the Sacrament after the Romish Manner: thereby looking, maybe, to obtain Pardon, but in sooth only proving a Renegade and losing the Grace of a Confessor. The Lady Jane, looking forth of her Prison Window, saw him on his Way to Mass; a grievouse Thing to her pure Mind; whereof she spake next Day at Table, saying, "Wo worth him! Should I that am young and in my few Yeres, forsake my Faith for the Love of Life? Much more he should not, whose fatal Course could not long have lasted."
On the 14th Sept. good Master Latimer was sent Prisoner to the Tower. Seeing a Warder there whose Face he remembered, he cried cheerily, "What, old Friend! how do you? See, I am come to be your Neighbour again!" The good Cranmer was committed thither the same Day. But these Things were done privately: a Boat, more or less, privily shooting the Bridge and gliding aneath the Traitors' Arch, was ta'en no Note of; while the Stretes and Highways were all astir with Preparations for the Queen's Crownation, which was set for the 1st Octr. The Easterlings were providing her a mighty fine Pageant, at Gracechurch Corner, with a little Condyt that ran Wine: the Genouese had theirs in Phanechurchstrete, the Florentines at the farther End of Gracechurchstrete, with an Angel in Green and Gold, that, at pulling of a String, set a Trumpet to his Mouth and made believe to blow it,—only a real Trumpeter stood behind. With these and such-like Toys the City amused their Minds, and humoured themselves into receiving the Queen with due Loyalty.
But when she came forth ... alas! what an ill-favoured Lady! Sure, we are all as God made us, for Homeliness or Comeliness; but yet a sweet Nature may be discerned through the plainest Favour; but it could not be discerned here. And she declined her Head upon her Hand, as though for some Ache or Ail that constrained her to regard Everything done in her Honour askance and awry. 'Tis Pity o' my Life! when a Lady is so ill at Ease, she can't hold her Head strait on her Crownation-day. Doubtless crowned Heads are liable to Aches as well as those that own ne'er a Cap; and 'tis a heaven-sent Immunity when they are able as well as willing for all Public Occasions, like our Royal Lady that now rules the Land. With Bone-fires and Feastings, there were many private Families enjoyed that Day more heartily, I wot, than the Queen's Grace in her Chair of State. The Ceremonial was spun out beyond all Reason; and when she returned, 'twas with the three Swords of the three Kingdoms borne sheathed before her, and another unsheathed—alack! not the Sword of the Spirit.
Old Master Cheke dined with us next Day ... he was now a withered little old Man, with a frosty Bloom still on his thin Cheek, but no Fire in his Eye. He was mighty cast down at the late Imprisonment of his Nephew, who, though now set at large, had had a narrow Escape of it, and behoved to lie close. Wherefore, to the old Man's Thought, all Joy had vanished, the Mirth of the Land was gone: and he took up his Parable and prophesied evil Things.
"And who knows not," quod he, "whether we shall not shortly have a Romish King set over us? The Queen is in Love to Death with Reginald Pole; and although he will none of her, he may not be able to resist a matrimonial Crown. We shall have him sent for presently, and released from his Vows, as sure as London Bridge is built on Wool-packs."
Well I wot Master Cheke had the Truth on't. For the Queen's Grace, being now seven an' thirty Year old, had no Time to lose, if she minded to marry at all; and Reginald Pole, albeit now in his fifty-fourth Year, was the very handsomest Man of his Time; more by Token Michael Angiolo (the greater Shame to him!) had put in his Face for that of our Saviour in his Scholar's famous Picture of the Raising of Lazarus. Howbeit, e'en a Queen, it seemeth, may woo in vain. She sent for Pole with a legatine Power, and moreover writ private Letters unto him and to the Pope with her own Hand. But, albeit the Pope rejoiced in his Heart at the Thought of regaining England, Pole gave such manifest Signals of hanging back until the Queen were married, as that her Grace without more Ado entertained Proposals from Philip of Spain; she having, thirty Years before, been promised to his Father!
This Year, Master Hewet was made Sheriff. Well remember I young Mistress Anne, tripping down from her Closet in sky-blue Taffeta, and flirting a little Feather-fan as she passed me, crying, "Make Way for the Sheriff's Daughter! Oh, Ned, how grand I am!—
'Thereof the Mayor he was full fain,