“I did not expect such opinions as these from your Eminence,” observed Mary. “The enemies of our faith must be destroyed, or they will destroy us. A single diseased sheep will taint the whole flock. If you have an unsound limb, the surgeon will tell you that for the safety of the body it must be cut off. The preservation, therefore, of the Catholic Church requires that these tares amidst the corn be rooted up and cast into the fire.”
“These false brethren are seditious as well as heretical,” said Philip sternly; “rebels against the Queen, and enemies to the Church. No mercy ought to be shown them.”
“Your Eminence perceives that their Majesties are of my opinion,” said Gardiner to the Cardinal. “But has not our Church deep wrongs to avenge? Have we not suffered stripes and persecution from these heretics when they were in power? Have not I myself been deprived of my revenues, and imprisoned within the Tower, with the sentence of death hanging over my head, for years, until happily released by her Majesty?”
“At least, your life was spared,” observed Pole.
“It was spared more from fear than favour,” retorted Gardiner[Gardiner]. “But had King Edward lived another year, nay, a few months longer, I should not have been here now to protest against leniency towards such bitter enemies. One of the latest acts of Cranmer was to frame a sanguinary code against the professors of the ancient faith, which had it been put in force, would have been fraught with fearful consequences; but ere that code became law, King Edward died, and the weapon sharpened for our destruction fell from the maker’s hands.”
“To strike off his own head,” cried Philip, fiercely. “Your Eminence would scarcely extend your clemency to this arch-offender?” he added to the Cardinal.
“I would pardon him, if he recanted,” replied Pole.
“What, pardon Cranmer, the apostate and heretic!” exclaimed Gardiner. “Pardon him who betrayed and enslaved the Church of which he ought to have been the protector!—who manifested the most abject compliance with the will of his royal master, flattering his passions, and humouring his caprices! Pardon him who shamefully promoted and pronounced the divorce between the King and her Majesty’s royal mother, casting thereby a blemish on their daughter! Would you pardon him whose life has been one of dissimulation, and who professed and practised what in his secret heart he disbelieved and abhorred? Would you pardon a Reformer, who subscribed the terrible Six Articles, though they were directed chiefly against his own sect, and who would have subscribed any other articles enjoined by his royal master—who on King Edward’s accession declared himself in favour of the principles of Zuinglius and Calvin—who abolished the ancient worship—attacked every article of our Church—denied its traditions—stigmatised its rites—brought over foreign sectaries, however anti-Christian their tenets, as Martin Bucer, Paul Fagius, Peter Martyr, Ochinus, and others, procured them churches, and recommended them to royal favour—and who filled up the measure of his guilt by supporting the treasonable projects of Northumberland, helping him to place a usurper on the throne, and preaching against the rightful claims of our sovereign mistress? Would you spare this hypocrite, this apostate, this heretic, this double-dyed traitor?”
“His crimes are many and indefensible, but I would leave their punishment to Heaven,” rejoined Pole.
“I could forgive him every injury he has done me, except the divorce pronounced against my sainted mother,” said Mary, her cheek flushing, and her eyes kindling as she spoke. “In pronouncing that unjust sentence, he uttered his own condemnation. His fate is sealed.”