“When I revolve in mind (most noble Queen) the old love of Painyms to their prince and the reverent fear of the Romans to their Senate, I can but muse for my part, and blush for theirs, to see the rebellious hearts and devilish intents of Christians in names, but Jews indeed toward their anointed King. Which methinks if they had feared God though they could not have loved the State, they should for dread of their own plague have refrained that wickedness which their bounden duty to your Majesty hath not restrained. But when I call to remembrance that the devil tanquam Leo rugiens circumit querens que devorare potest, I do the less marvel, though he have gotten such novices into his professed house, as vessels without God’s grace, more apt to serve his palace, than might to inhabit English land. I am the bolder to call them his imps, for that Saint Paul saith seditiosi filii sunt diaboli, and since I have so good a buckler, I fear the less to enter into their judgment. Of this I assure your Majesty, though it be my part, above the rest, to bewail such things, though my name had not been in them, yet it vexeth me so much that the devil owes me such a hate, as to put me in any part of his mischievous instigations, whom as I profess him my foe that is all christians’ enemy, so wish I he had some other way invented to spite me, but since it hath pleased God thus to bewray their malice afore they finish their purpose, I most humbly thank him both that he hath ever thus preserved your Majesty through his aid, much like a lamb from the horns of their Basanbulls, and also stirs up the hearts of your loving subjects to resist them and deliver you to his honour, and their shame. The intelligence of which, proceeding from your Majesty, deserveth more humble thanks than with my pen I can render, which as infinite I will leave to number. And among earthly things I chiefly wish this one, that there were as good surgeons for making anatomies of hearts that might show my thoughts to your Majesty, as there are expert physicians of the bodies, able to express the inward griefs of their maladies to their patients. For then I doubt not, but know well, that whatsoever other should suggest by malice, yet your Majesty should be sure by knowledge, so that the more such misty clouds offuscate the clear light of my truth, the more my tried thoughts should glister to the dimming of their hid malice. But since wishes are vain, and desire oft fails, I must crave that my deeds may supply that my thoughts cannot declare, and they be not misdeemed there, as the facts have been so well tried. And like as I have been your faithful subject from the beginning of your reign, so shall no wicked persons cause me to change to the end of my life. And thus I commit your Majesty to God’s tuition, who I beseech long time to preserve, ending with the new remembrance of my old suit, more for that it should not be forgotten, than for that I think it not remembered.
“From Hatfield this present Sunday the second day of August, your Majesty’s obedient subject and humble sister
“Elizabeth.”[614]
The truce concluded between Philip and Henry for five years, made in despite of a treaty scarcely two months old, between the King of France and the Pope, which had for its object to drive the Spaniards out of Italy, came to an end in July of the same year. It was broken by Henry, at the instigation of the Pope’s envoy and nephew Cardinal Caraffa, who promised the King of France that his uncle should give the crown of Naples to one of his sons, and Milan to another. Philip then declared war against the Pope who imprisoned his ambassador, and proceeded to the fortification of Rome. “The Queen,” said Michiel, “by her orders still continues to maintain her neutrality, although harassed as usual, owing to the present suspicions between the Pope and her consort, on account of which, Cardinal Pole was on the point of sending an express to Rome, but apparently awaits the return of Francesco Piamontese.”
At home, justice was being administered in a manner that seemed to promise immunity from further attempts at revolution, although after events proved, that the evil was still lurking in Elizabeth’s shadow. Kingston died on his way to the Tower, of a disease from which he had long been suffering; his accomplices were tried and executed, “while all, both good and bad, said and admitted, that the execution was just and holy”. The death of Lord de la Warre, and that of three others condemned with him, was deferred from day to day, in order, said Michiel, that they might “reconcile themselves to God, and for the salvation of their souls, to which above all the Queen wishes the greatest attention to be paid, rather than because either they or others may hope for pardon, as the persons aforesaid, neither by their own deserts, nor through the intercession of persons in great favour with the Queen, and very dear to her, have been able to obtain it. According to report, although it seems improbable, Carew will adjust his affairs by payment of a fine, some persons telling me that he has already done so, by agreeing to disburse £2,000 sterling. Cheke has again demanded a conference with the theologians, after having lately dismissed them, persisting obstinately in his heretical opinions, which unless he retract them will cause him likewise to be burned in public.”[615]
On the 19th October, the ambassador announced that Peter Carew had come out of the Tower, and was released entirely, after having compounded for 2,000 marks, and had already paid a part of his debt to the Crown. Katharine Ashley was also set at liberty, but was deprived of her office in Elizabeth’s household, “and forbidden ever again to go to her ladyship,” who was expected shortly at court. Dr. Cheke recanted and was liberated. As a direct consequence of his recantation, “through the efficacy of his language,” about thirty others followed his example and saved their lives.[616] He died the next year, some said of remorse, for what he had done against the reformed religion.
The times were more full of strife and trouble for Mary than any period she had traversed since the beginning of her reign. Her confidence in her people, which had carried her undoubtingly through the anxieties of Wyatt’s rebellion, had been rudely shaken. Insult, calumny and treachery had at last opened her eyes to the extent of the disaffection that prevailed. Philip, moreover, who was to have been her sheet-anchor, and that of the nation, treated her not merely with neglect, but with ill-disguised contempt; and far from appreciating the difficulties and dangers with which she was beset, added to them, by insisting on concessions that could only be wrung from the nation at the cost of the last remnant of her popularity. Together with him, she had celebrated with inexpressible joy, what was to have been the crowning glory of her reign—the reconciliation of her kingdom with the Holy See—and now, little more than a year and a half afterwards, not only was the country a very hot-bed of political and religious revolt, but the most Catholic King himself was in open debate with the Pope, and even threatened with excommunication. She had reason enough to acknowledge herself beaten all along the line, but she would have been no Tudor had she done so. As for her constancy, no other Tudor could boast the like, and little as Philip cared for her, she clung to him as faithfully as to the principles that had been her mainstay all her life long. Her piteous plight did not escape the observation of the kindly Venetian ambassador, who in his despatch of the 23rd June, 1556, wrote: “As for many months, the Queen has passed from one sorrow to another, your Serenity can imagine what a life she leads, comforting herself as usual with the presence of Cardinal Pole, to whose assiduous toil and diligence, having entrusted the whole government of the kingdom, she is intent on enduring her troubles as patiently as she can”. Two months later, he wrote: “To say the truth, the Queen’s face has lost flesh greatly since I was last with her, the extreme need she has of her Consort’s presence harassing her, as told me, she having also within the last few days lost her sleep”. And again: “The Queen has been unwell lately, both from the great heat, the like of which no one remembers, as likewise owing to some mental vexation, and not having yet quite recovered, she has chosen to change her residence, and to-day went eight miles hence to Croydon, to a house of the most illustrious the Legate”.[617] “Before moving,” said Michiel in another letter, “the Queen chose to give orders and arrange about the prisoners, so as not to be troubled with this business during her absence, having some of them released, on giving security, others being fined, others remaining in prison where they were; to others she conceded liberty within the Tower; and the execution of those condemned to death is deferred from what I hear, until her return, perhaps in order that the King being then here may, with his usual clemency, obtain their entire release, so as to gain for himself so much the more favour and popularity.”[618]
In spite of the Queen’s resolve to treat the peace disturbers with greater severity than heretofore, her former leniency having been so much abused, it does not appear from the above that Mary had any desire for their death, but it would seem rather, as if she snatched at every pretext for sparing their lives, providing them with every possible pretext for escape. In her desolation and perplexities, she turned more than ever to the consolations of religion, and to the relief of the poor and afflicted. It was especially to the summer of 1556, part of which was spent at Croydon, that the biographer of the Duchess of Feria refers, when he describes Mary’s informal visits to her poor neighbours, and tells of the practical aid and sympathy the Queen gave them in their necessities, listening to their grievances, taking their part actively on occasion, against the injustice of her own officials, advising them as to the upbringing of their children, and doing all she could to improve their condition.[619] But it was not only during her retirement in the country, that she found time for acts of charity. In the midst of the cares of state, and the turmoil of public affairs, devotion to the poor was among the recognised duties of her daily life. It was part of her personal piety, and inseparable from her devotion to her religion, the sincerity of which, notwithstanding all the libels that have been heaped upon her memory, has never been called in question.
In Holy Week, 1556, the Dudley conspiracy had just been discovered, and the Queen was too much alarmed to allow of Cardinal Pole’s departure for Canterbury. From the despatches of the Venetian ambassador we know that she refrained for some time almost entirely from appearing in public, yet she made no alteration in the performance of the public acts of charity, which according to ancient custom she had determined to carry out at this time. Marc Antonio Faitta, secretary to Cardinal Pole, writing to a private friend in Italy, describes the ceremony of the feet-washing on Holy Thursday by the Queen. He says:—