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 CAK-DINAI. I'Ol.i:.
 
 Cardinal Pole 
 
 o-A Tui: 
 
 DAYS OF PHILIP AND MARY 
 
 JN HISTORICAL ROMANCE 
 
 IJV 
 
 WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTII 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FREDERICK GILBERT. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE R O U T L E D G E AND SONS 
 
 broadwav, ludgate hill 
 
 M:\V YORK: 416 BROOME STRIiliT 
 1880
 
 BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH. 
 Uniform vr'dh this Volume. 
 
 THE TOWEK OF LONDON. 
 WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 BOOKWOOD. 
 
 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 
 <iUy FAWKES. 
 
 SAINT JAMES'S: Or, THK Court 
 OF Queen Anne. 
 
 OLD SAINT PAUL'S; A T.*.r.E OF 
 THE Plague and the Fike. 
 
 CRICHTON. 
 
 THE FLITCH OF BACON ; Or, 
 
 THE Custom of Dunmow. 
 MERVYN CLITHEROE. 
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 JACK SHEPPARD. 
 BOSCOBEL; Or, TheRoval O.tK. 
 OVINGDEAN GRANGE; A TALK 
 OF THE South Downs. 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT ; A TALE. 
 THE STAR CHAMBER. 
 PRESTON FIGHT; Or, THE In- 
 surrection OF 1715. 
 
 THE MANCHESTER REBELS 
 Or, the Fatal '45. 
 
 THE CONSTABLE OF THE 
 TOWER. 
 
 THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.
 
 INSCRIBED 
 
 TO 
 
 Ittg Jfrienb 
 
 EDWARD WATKIX P^DWAKDS, Esq.
 
 CARDINAL POLE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 PHILIP OF SPAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW A MARRIAGE WAS AGREED UPON BETWEEN MARY 
 QUEEN OF ENGLAND, AND DON PHILIP, PRINCE OF SPAIN. 
 
 HO sooner was Mary, eldest daughter of Henry 
 VIII., securely seated on the throne left vacant 
 by the premature death of her brother, Edward 
 VI., than the Emperor Charles V., already related 
 to her through his aunt, Katherine of Aragon, determined 
 to bring about a marriage between the Queen of England 
 and his son Philip. By the accomplishment of this project,, 
 which had been conceived by the Emperor during Edward's 
 last illness, the preponderance obtained in Europe by the 
 House of Austria would be largely increased, and Charles's 
 dream of universal dominion might eventually be realised. 
 
 Philip, who was then a widower — his wife, Dona Maria, 
 Princess of Portugal, having died in 1545, in giving birth 
 to a son, the unfortunate Don Carlos — readily acquiesced 
 in his father's scheme, as he fully recognised the vast im- 
 portance of the match, and Mary alone had to be con- 
 sulted. Put little apprehension could be entertained of her 
 refusal. All the advantages were on the Prince's side.
 
 2 Cardinal Pole, 
 
 Eleven years younger than the Queen, who was then thirty- 
 eight, Philip was not merely in the very flower of manhood, 
 but extremely handsome, and, as heir to a mighty monarchy, 
 unquestionably the greatest match in Europe. No princess, 
 however exalted, on whom he deigned to smile, would 
 refuse him her hand. 
 
 But there were difficulties in the way of the projected 
 alliance, only to be overcome by prudential management. 
 For many reasons the match was certain to be obnoxious to 
 the English nation, which would not unnaturally be ap- 
 prehensive of being brought under a foreign yoke. Neither 
 was the Queen altogether her own mistress. Governed by 
 her council — especially by the Lord Chancellor, Gardiner — 
 she could not act in contradiction to their decisions , and 
 some of her ministers would infallibly be hostile to the 
 alliance. However, the Emperor did not despair of silencing 
 the objectors. Neither treasure nor pains should be spared 
 to effect his darling scheme. 
 
 The moment, however, for entering upon public negotia- 
 tions of the marriage had not yet arrived. The realm was 
 still agitated by Northumberland's abortive attempt to seize 
 the crown for his daughter-in-law, the unfortunate Lady 
 Jane Grey ; religious dissensions prevailed, rendering the 
 meditated re-establishment of the old worship extremely 
 hazardous ; while the violent opposition certain to be ex- 
 perienced from the whole Protestant party, might in- 
 timidate the Queen and deter her from following her own 
 inclinations. 
 
 Proceeding with the caution required by the circumstances, 
 the Emperor enjoined his ambassador at the English court, 
 Simon Renard, a man of great subtlety, in whom he had 
 entire confidence, to sound the Queen warily as to the 
 marriage, but not to propose it to her formally until assured 
 of her assent. Acting upon these instructions, Renard soon 
 discovered that Mary's affections were fixed on her young 
 kinsman, Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire, who had been long 
 held captive in the Tower during the reign of Edward, and 
 whom she herself had liberated on her accession. The wily 
 ambassador instantly set to work to undo this knot, and by 
 his machinations succeeded in convincing the Queen that 
 the indiscreet and fickle young Earl was wholly undeserving
 
 How a Marriage was Agreed Upon. 3 
 
 of her regard, as he had become enthralled by the superior 
 fascinations of her sister Elizabeth. Courtenay was therefore 
 quickly discarded. 
 
 But another obstacle arose, which Renard had not foreseen. 
 Ashamed of the weakness she had just exhibited, the Queen 
 began seriously to think of uniting herself with Cardinal 
 Pole, at that time attainted with treason by an act passed in 
 the reign of Henry VIII., and banished from the realm. 
 Regardmg the Cardinal, she said, with feelings akin to 
 veneration, and owing him reparation for the many and 
 grievous injuries he had endured from her father, she would 
 make him amends by bestowing upon him her hand. As he 
 was only a cardinal deacon, a dispensation for his marriage 
 with her could be easily procured from the Pope. She 
 would implore his Holmess to grant her request, and to 
 send Pole as legantine ambassador to England, when the 
 nuptials might be solemnised. The union was sure to meet 
 with the approval of the Holy See, which would perceive in 
 it an earnest of the complete return of the realm to obedience 
 to the Church. Renard did not attempt to dissuade the 
 Queen from her design, feeling his efforts would then only 
 be thrown away, and might serve to confirm her in her 
 purpose, but contented himself with acquainting the Emperor 
 with her Majesty's design, suggesting that Pole shouid be 
 detained until after the marriage which they sought to bring 
 about should have taken place. 
 
 The hint was not lost upon Charles. At the hazard of 
 incurring the displeasure of the Sovereign Pontiff, Julius HI., 
 he determined to prevent the Cardinal from passing into 
 England. 
 
 No man of his time possessed higher and nobler qualities 
 than the illustrious Reginald Pole, Sanctity of manners, 
 erudition, wisdom, eloquence, combined to render him one of 
 the most shining lights of the age. Devout without bigotry, 
 tolerant, strictly conscientious, and pure-minded, he was 
 utterly free from debasing passions. Guile and hypocrisy 
 formed no part of his character. Self-denying, abstinent, 
 and laborious, he was ever generous and charitable. 
 Descended from the royal house of York, his mother being 
 Margaret, Countess of Salisbury daughter of the Duke of 
 Clarence, brother to Edward IV,, Pole attached no undue 
 I — 2
 
 4 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 importance to this adventitious circumstance, but maintained 
 an almost apostolic meekness oi deportment. At the ad 
 vanced period of lite he had attained at the period of our 
 history, his looks were in the highest degree venerable and 
 impressive, offering a complete mdex to his character. A 
 master of the Latm language, which he spoke and wrote 
 with facility and classical elegance, he had delighted in 
 earlier years in the Greek poets and philosophers, but of 
 late had confined his studies wholly to theology. At one 
 time he had enjoyed the favour of Henry V^Iil., who was 
 fully alive to his great merits, but he incurred the displeasure 
 of the tyrant by .the bold opinions he delivered as to the 
 injustice of Katherine of Aragon's divorce and the King's 
 marriage with Anne Boleyn. This opposition to his will 
 was never forgiven by the implacable monarch, and unable 
 to get Pole, who had taken refuge in Italy, into his power, 
 he deprived him of his benefice and possessions, declared him 
 guilty of high treason, laid a price on his head, and sought 
 to procure his assassination. At last, unable to accomplish 
 his fell purpose, Henry wreaked his vengeance on the 
 Cardinal's mother, the venerable Countess of Salisbury — 
 the last of the whole blood of the royal line of Plantagenet 
 — on his brother Henry Pole, Lord Montague, Sir Edward 
 Nevil, Sir Nicholas Carew, and other of his friends, all of 
 whom were attainted of high treason, and brought to the 
 block. The slaughter of the aged and unoffending Countess, 
 who was only put to death because she was Pole's mother, 
 is perhaps the deepest stain on Henry's character. These 
 wholesale murders deeply afflicted Pole, and cast a gloom 
 over the rest of his days ; but he did not cry out for 
 vengeance upon the perpetrator of the foul crimes, knowing 
 that Heaven would requite him in due season. That the 
 snares spread by the tyrant had failed to catch him — that 
 the daesers aimed at his breast had been turned aside — 
 convinced him he had work to do for which he was 
 miraculously preserved. So he resigned himself to the 
 heavy calamity that had befallen him, but though there was 
 ivo show of grief on his countenance, the deep-seated wound 
 in his heart never healed. Raised to the Purple by 
 Paul HI., on the death of that Pontiff, in 1549 (five years 
 before the date of our history), the eminent and virtuous
 
 How a Marriage was Agreed Upon. 5 
 
 Cardinal appeared the most fitting person in the conclave to 
 assume the tiara, and, in snite of the intrigues against him, 
 he was elected to the Pontifical throne ; but when the news 
 was brought him at a late hour, he modestly bade the 
 messengers wait till the morrow, and his answer being 
 construed into a refusal, another election took place, when 
 the choice fell upon Cardinal del Monte, who took the title 
 of Julius III. 
 
 This occurrence caused a little disappointment to Pole. 
 He retired to the Benedictine convent of Maguzano, on the 
 margin of the Lago di Garda, where he was visited by 
 Commendone, a secret envoy from the Pope to England, 
 and made acquainted by this discreet messenger with the 
 Queen's gracious intentions towards him. But with 
 characteristic humility he declined them, alleging that, 
 apart. from any other considerations, his age and infirmities 
 forbade him to think of marriage. Her majesty, however, 
 he added, might count upon his zealous assistance in the 
 great work she had before her, and the rest of his life 
 should be devoted to her service. 
 
 Appointed legate from the Holy See to the Queen of 
 England, the Emperor, and Henri H., King of France, 
 with lull powers and credentials, Pole set forth on his 
 mission, but by the Emperor's order he was stayed at 
 DiUinghen on the Danube. After some delay, he was 
 suffered to proceed as far as Brussels, where he received 
 a letter from Mary, telling him that matters were not yet 
 ripe for his advent, and that his appearance in England 
 might lead to a religious war. The Emperor also peremp- 
 torily enjoined him to remain where he was, but assigned 
 no reason for the mandate. 
 
 Anxious to obtain some explanation, Pole besought an 
 interview with Charles, which, at last, was reluctantly 
 accorded. When the Bishop of Arras brought him word 
 that his Imperial Majesty would receive him, alleging some 
 excuse for the delay, Pole replied, " Truly, I find it more 
 easy to obtain access to Heaven in behalf of the Emperor, 
 than to have access to the Emperor himself, for whom I 
 daily pray." The Cardinal gained nothing by the inter- 
 view, and could not even learn the cause of his detention. 
 Charles feigned anger, and taxing Pole with unnecessary
 
 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 impatience, reiterated his orders to him not to leave 
 Brussels. 
 
 Having secured Pole, who he fancied might interfere 
 with his plans if suffered to go into England, the Emperor 
 wrote to the Queen, expressing his entire approval of her 
 rejection of Courtenay, and hypocritically regretting that 
 the Cardinal's extraordinary indifference to worldly honours 
 rendered him insensible to the great dignity she designed 
 for him, concluded by offering her his son. 
 
 The proposal was well timed, Mary being in the mood to 
 receive it. She did not waste much time in consideration, 
 but sent for Renard, who was fully prepared for the 
 summons, and saw at once by the Queen's looks that his 
 point was gained. She entered upon the business in a 
 very straightforward manner, told him that, having always 
 regarded the Emperor as a father, since his Majesty had 
 graciously deigned to choose a husband for her, she should 
 not feel at liberty to reject the proposal, even if it were not 
 altogether agreeable to her. So far, however from that 
 being the case, no one could please her better than the 
 Prince of Spain. She, therefore, charged his excellency to 
 acquaint the Emperor that she was ready in all things to 
 obey him, and thanked him for his goodness. Thereupon, 
 she dismissed Renard, who hastened to communicate the 
 joyful intelligence to his imperial master. 
 
 But though the Queen had been thus won, much yet 
 remained to be accomplished, and all Renard's skill was 
 required to bring the affair on which he was engaged to a 
 triumphant issue. 
 
 Informed of the proposal of marriage which their royal 
 mistress had received from the Prince of Spain, the council, 
 with the exception of the old Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of 
 Arundel, and Lord Paget, arrayed themselves against it ; 
 and Gardiner, who had supported Courtenay, earnestly 
 remonstrated with Mary, showing her that the aUiance 
 would be distasteful to the country generally, would alienate 
 many of her well-disposed subjects, and infallibly involve 
 her in a war with France. Finding it, however, vain to 
 reason with her, or oppose her will— for she was as firm of 
 purpose as her royal sire — the Chancellor desisted, and 
 being really solicitous for the welfare and safety of the
 
 Ho-iv a Marriage was Agreed Upon. 7 
 
 rea,lm, proceeded to frame such a marriage-treaty as should 
 ensure the government from all danger of Spanish inter- 
 ference, and maintain inviolate the rights and liberties of 
 the people. 
 
 So much obloquy having been heaped upon the memory 
 of this great prelate and statesman, it is right that his 
 conduct in this important transaction, and the care taken 
 by him to guard the country from foreign intervention, 
 should be clearly understood. That Bishop Gardiner was 
 subsequently led into acts of unjustifiable severity towards 
 the adherents of the new doctrines, and became one of 
 the chief instruments in the terrible persecution of the 
 Protestant martyrs, cannot be denied. But it should be 
 borne in mind, that he himself had suffered much for his 
 religious opinions, and the harshness and injustice with 
 which he had been treated in the late reign, chiefly at the 
 instigation of his enemy, Cranmer, the sequestration of his 
 revenues, and long imprisonment in the Tower, had not 
 tended to soften his heart. Neither side when in power 
 showed much pity for its opponents. But whatever 
 judgment may be formed of Gardiner's acts towards the 
 Protestant party, and his desire to extirpate heresy and 
 schism by fire and blood, it must be conceded that he was 
 one of the ablest statesmen of the day, and that Mary was 
 singularly fortunate in choosing him for her chancellor and 
 prime minister. He speedily replenished an exhausted 
 treasury, repealed obnoxious taxes, and conducted the 
 administration of the kingdom with so much zeal and 
 ability, that, making himself both feared and respected, he 
 obtained the greatest influence at home and abroad. The 
 best proof of his capacities is to be found in the confusion 
 that reigned after his death, and the impossibility on the 
 moment of finding an adequate successor. Even Cardinal 
 Pole, who was by no means favourably disposed towards 
 him, declared that, as a minister, his loss was irreparable. 
 
 All-powerful as he was in the government, and high as he 
 stood in the Queen's favour, Gardiner was not free from 
 jealousy and distrust, and Pole's appointment as legate from 
 the Holy See to England filled him with uneasiness lest he 
 should be superseded on the Cardinal's arrival. Like the 
 Emperor, he did not give that lowly-minded man entire
 
 8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 credit for disinterestedness and disdain of worldly honours. 
 Persuading his royal mistress that the legate's presence in 
 the kingdom at a juncture when nothing was settled, would 
 be fraught with infinite peril to herself and to the Church, 
 Gardiner induced her to write to Pole to delay his coming 
 to a more convenient season ; and her letter furnished the 
 Emperor with a plausible pretext for continuing to detain 
 Pole at Brussels. 
 
 Obviously it was Charles's interest to win over Gardiner, 
 who, if so minded, might unquestionably mar the marriage- 
 project, even though it had gone thus far, and Renard was, 
 therefore, instructed to spare no pains, and to hesitate at 
 no promises calculated to propitiate the Chancellor. By 
 the wily arts of the imperial ambassador, a certain under- 
 standing was arrived at with Gardiner, who thenceforward 
 withdrew his opposuion, and warmly promoted the match ; 
 satisfied he could do so without sacrificing the interests of 
 the country. The concurrence of others was procured by 
 promises of pensions and gifts, and Charles V. remitted the 
 vast sum of four hundred thousand crowns of the sun to his 
 ambassador for this purpose. 
 
 Matters, therefore, being in good train, an extraordinary 
 embassy, consisting of the Counts D'Egmont and Lalain, 
 the Lord of Courriferes, and the Sieur de Nigry, v/ere 
 despatched by the Emperor to the EngUsh Court, to 
 demand formally the Queen's hand in marriage. In 
 anticipation of their arrival, a treaty was prepared by 
 Gardiner, its terms having been already discussed with 
 Renard, 
 
 The chief stipulations of this treaty were, that the govern- 
 ment of the realm should remain, as heretofore, absolutely 
 and entirely with the Queen, so that, although Philip would 
 have the name of King, he would have no regal authority 
 whatever, and no power to dispose of lands, offices, 
 revenues, and benefices. Spaniards were to be strictly 
 excluded from the government, and from all court offices. 
 The Queen could not be taken out of her kingdom save at 
 her own desire. A jointure of sixty thousand pounds a 
 year, secured on lands in Spain and the Netherlands, was 
 to be settled on her Majesty by Philip. If there should be 
 no issue, and Philip should survive his consort, he engaged
 
 How a Marriage ivas Agreed Upon. 9 
 
 to make no cL-sim to the succession. The cro'^'n was to 
 descend as provided by the laws of the country. A 
 perpetual league was agreed upon between England and 
 Spain, and the league already subsisting between the former 
 country and France was not to be disturbed. 
 
 These conditions, insisted upon by Gardiner, and sub- 
 mitted to by the imperial ambassador, were, it must be 
 owned, sufficiently advantageous to England. Count 
 D'Egmont and his companions returned with the treaty 
 to the Emperor, who was well enough content with it, 
 being determined to obtain the throne of England for his 
 son at any price. 
 
 So far all had gone tolerably smoothly, but a storm was 
 brewing, and soon afterwards burst forth, threatening to 
 dash to pieces this well-planned fabric. 
 
 Amongst the powers dissatisfied with the projected match, 
 the most adverse to it was France. Henri II,, the reigning 
 monarch of that country, and the Emperor's inveterate foe, 
 had already secured the youthful Queen of Scotland, Mary 
 Stuart, for his eldest son ; but the union between Philip and 
 the Queen of England would be more than a counterpoise 
 to his own anticipated aggrandisement. x\t all hazards, 
 Henri was determined to thwart the alliance. 
 
 He therefore secretly instructed his ambassador at the 
 English court, Antoine de Noailles, whose genius for 
 intrigue eminently qualified him for the task, to stir up a 
 revolt among the discontented nobles, the object of which 
 should be to depose Mary, and place the Princess Elizabeth 
 on the throne. De Noailles was authorised to assure all 
 such as entered into the plan, that France and Scotland 
 would lend them aid. By this adroit intriguer's machina- 
 tions, aided by those of the Venetian ambassador, an ex- 
 tensive conspiracy was soon formed to oppose Philip's 
 landing, to marry Courtenay to the Princess Elizabeth, and 
 proclaim them King and Queen of England. Already 
 indisposed to the match, the people were easily set violently 
 against it. Every imputation that could be cast upon 
 Philip and on the Spanish nation, was employed by the 
 conspirators to excite the popular unimosity. An army of 
 imperialists, it was asserted, was about to invade the 
 English shores and enslave the people. The terrible
 
 lo Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Inquisition would be introduced into the countrj', and 
 atrocities worse than those committed by Torquemada, 
 the first inquisitor-general, who burnt eight thousand, eight 
 hundred heretics and Jews, would be perpetrated. By such 
 representations as these, aided by the undisguised hostility 
 of the Protestant part)^, the nation became greatly disturbed, 
 and an insurrection seemed inmiinent. 
 
 The Duke of Suffolk, father of Lady Jane Grey, with his 
 brothers, the Lords John and Thomas Grey, entered into 
 the plot. Courtenay, dazzled by the prospect of a crown 
 and the hope of wedding Elizabeth, engaged to put himself 
 at the head of the rebels, but, as the hour approached, he 
 shrunk from the perilous enterprise, and confessed the 
 design to Gardiner. Thus betrayed, the conspirators were 
 obhged to precipitate their plans, which were not intended 
 to have been put into execution till the arrival of Philip. 
 A rising was attempted at Exeter by Sir Peter Carew, but 
 met with little support, and v/as quickly suppressed by the 
 Earl of Bedford. Several of the conspirators were appre- 
 hended, and Carew fled to France. The Duke of Suffolk 
 and his brothers were equally unfortunate, and after a futile 
 attempt to make a stand in Leicestershire, were arrested and 
 lodged in the Tower. 
 
 A far more successful attempt was made by Sir Thomas 
 Wyat in Kent. Speedily rallying a large force round his 
 standard, he marched towards London, and defeated the 
 veteran Duke of Norfolk, who was sent to oppose him. 
 The rebellion had now assumed a formidable aspect. Wyat 
 was in Southwark, at the head of fifteen thousand men, 
 menacing the metropolis, in which he expected to find an 
 immense number of supporters. 
 
 Undismayed by the danger, the Queen repaired to Guild- 
 hall, addressed the Lord Mayor and citizens in language so 
 stirring and energetic, that they promised to defend her to 
 the last ; and when Wyat, designing to take the city by 
 assault, was prevented by the Tower batteries from crossing 
 London Bridge, but subsequently effected a passage higher 
 up the river, and so approached the capital from the west, 
 his partisans became alarmed at the vigorous preparations 
 made for then- reception, and began to desert him. An 
 engagement took place at Charing Cross, which resulted in
 
 How a Marriage ivas Agreed Upofi. i j 
 
 the defeat of the insurgents, and though Wyat gallantly 
 fought his way with a few followers to Ludgate, none rose 
 to join him, and he was compelled to retreat to Temple 
 Bar, where he surrendered to Sir Maurice Berkeley, by 
 whom he was taken to the Tower. 
 
 By this rebellion, in which she had no share, the ill-fated 
 Lady Jane Grey was sacrificed with her husband. Even 
 Ehzabeth was placed in great jeopardy. Both she and 
 Courtenay were sent to the Tower, the dungeons of which 
 were crowded with those implicated in the conspiracy. The 
 Emperor counselled severe measures, representing to the 
 Queen, through his ambassador, that she would never be 
 safe while those who could be put forward by the disaffected 
 as claimants of the crown were permitted to live. But 
 ^Nlary, though tlius urged by Charles, and by the imperial 
 faction in the council, was reluctant to put her sister to 
 death, and Gardiner encouraged her feelings of clemency, 
 as well towards Elizabeth as Courtenay. Neither of them, 
 therefore, though their complicity in the plot was in- 
 dubitable, were brought to trial, but Elizabeth, after a brief 
 confinement, was sent under a strong guard, and in charge 
 of Sir Henry Bedingfield, to Woodstock, and Courtenay 
 was taken to Fotheringay Castle. The Duke of Suffolk, 
 with his brothers, paid the penalty of their treasonable acts 
 with their lives, dying unpitied. But Wyat's fate excited 
 much commiseration, his daring and gallantry having won 
 him the sympathy even of his opponents. Many rebels of 
 lesser note were hanged in different parts of the country, 
 but multitudes received pardon on expressing contrition for 
 their offence. 
 
 In this manner was the insurrection crushed. Its con- 
 triver, De Noailles, remained unmolested, though Renard 
 denounced him to the council, declaring that he had 
 forfeited his privilege as an ambassador by fomenting 
 rebellion. But the Queen did not desire war with France, 
 which would have certainly followed the plotting minister's 
 arrest Emboldened by this apparent immunity from, 
 personal risk, and utterly regardless of the calamities he 
 might bring on others, De Noailles continued his secret 
 intrigues as actively as ever, encouraging faction, and 
 hoping to the last to defeat the alliance.
 
 12 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 The rebellion, however, was serviceable to Mary. It 
 confirmed her authority, and enabled her to perform many 
 acts which she had not hitherto ventured upon. Above all, 
 it elicited undoubted manifestations of loyalty from the 
 great body of the people, and though the dislike to the 
 Spanish match could not be extinguished, the Queen's 
 emphatic declaration that regard for her husband should 
 never interfere with her duties to her subjects, was held a 
 sufficient guarantee for the security of the country. 
 
 The negotiations in regard to the marriage, so rudely 
 interrupted by the outbreak, were now renewed, and Count 
 D'Egmont and the other ambassadors returned to the 
 English court, vdth the treaty duly ratified and signed by 
 the Emperor. Introduced by the Lord High Admiral and 
 the Earl of Pembroke to the royal oratory, they there found 
 her Majesty surrounded by the lords of the council. After 
 an address from the Queen, delivered with a dignity and 
 feeling that powerfully moved the auditors, she exchanged 
 the ratification of the treaty with the Count D'Egmont, who 
 now acted as Philip's proxy. No better representative oi 
 the proud Prince of Spain could have been chosen than 
 D'Egmont, himself one of the first lords of the Low Coun- 
 tries, and as distinguished for graces of person as he was 
 for military genius and prowess in the field. 
 
 Kneeling at the altar beside the Queen, D'Egmont 
 espoused her on the part of the Prince ; and at the close ot 
 the ceremonial, which was performed by Gardiner, the 
 Count placed on her Majesty's finger a diamond ring ot 
 great value, sent to her by the Emperor. 
 
 His mission completed. Count D'Egmont repaired to 
 Spain to confer with Philip, who was then at Valladolid. 
 
 Gardiner's next step was to have an act confirming the 
 marriage-treaty passed by both Houses of Parliament, and 
 this was accomplished without delay. Lords and Commons 
 were equally satisfied with the provisions of the treat)', and 
 unanimously agreed to it, assuring the Queen that the Prince 
 of Spain would be heartily welcomed on his arrival by all 
 her dutiful subjects. 
 
 All being now arranged, the Earl of Bedford, lord privy- 
 seal, and Lord Fitzwaters, with other noblemen and gentle- 
 men, were sent to Spain to conduct Philip to England.
 
 How a Marriage was Agreed Upon. 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 Landing at Corunna, the ambassadors proceeded to Santiago, 
 then the capital of GaUcia, where they waited for the Prince, 
 who was journeying towards them, with a large train ot 
 attendants, by easy stages from Valladolid. During their 
 stay at Santiago, the ambassadors were sumptuously enter- 
 tained by the Marquis de Sara, and by others of the Sjjanish 
 nobility. 
 
 On Philip's arrival at Santiago, high mass having been 
 performed in the ancient cathedral, containing the shrine of 
 St. James of Compostella — the patron saint cf Spain — the 
 Prince, in the presence of a large assemblage of giandees, 
 dignitaries of the Cl.urch, and other important ofiicials, 
 received the treaty of marriage from the Earl of Bedford, 
 ratified it, and solemnly vowed to abide by its conditions. 
 
 After a day or two devoted to feasting and pastime, 
 Philip set out for Corunna, and on the 13th July, 1554, all 
 being ready for his departure, he embarked for England in 
 the "Santissiraa Trinidada," the finest vessel in the Spanish 
 navy. He was escorted by a hundred and fifty ships, well 
 provided with men and ordnance, and had with him many 
 of the chief nobility of Spain. 
 
 During all this time, De Noailles continued his intrigues, 
 vainly endeavouring to excite a fresh revolt, and to his 
 agency may be traced an imposture, which created an extra- 
 ordinary sensation in London, and might — if it had not 
 been speedily detected — have led to dangerous popular 
 tumults. 
 
 A man and his wife, occupying an old tenement in the 
 heart of the city, forming part of a despoiled religious 
 establishment, declared that from a stone wall adjoining 
 their habitation an unearthly voice was heard to issue, pro- 
 claiming many strange and terrible things. Ere long, as 
 may be supposed, a curious crowd collected within the court, 
 and the assemblage was gratified by hearing the spirit 
 denounce the approaching marriage of the Queen, which it 
 declared would be full of bale and mischief to the realm. 
 Some of the bystanders called out, " God save Queen Mary ! " 
 whereupon the spirit was silent. When they mentioned the 
 Prince of Spain, a deep groan was the response; but wlien 
 Elizabeth was named, the voice loudly replied, " So be it ! " 
 Furthermore, on the question being propounded, '' What is
 
 14 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 the mass?" it discreetly answered, "Idolatry;" with many 
 other utterances to the same purpose. 
 
 A report of this wondrous circumstance quickly spread 
 throug,hout the city, and on the following day, upwards of 
 seventeen thousand persons assembled in the neighbourhood 
 of the structure whence the mysterious voice proceeded. 
 Such as were able to get near the wall heard many treason- 
 able speeches against the Queen, and fresh denunciations of 
 her marriage, which they repeated to those further off, so 
 that the sayings of the spirit were circulated amongst the 
 immense crowd. Much excitement being caused and tumults 
 apprehended, the persons belonging to the house were 
 arrested, and strict search being made, a girl, named 
 Elizabeth Crofts, was discovered, artfully hidden in a hole 
 contrived in the thickness of the wall, whence she had 
 managed to speak through a crevice, with the help of a 
 small trumpet. The impostor was very leniently dealt with, 
 being only made to do public penance for the offence at 
 Saint Paul's. 
 
 Another incident occurred about the same time, which, 
 though ridiculous in itself, is worthy of note, as showing 
 that aversion to the Spanish match pervaded all classes, and 
 was even shared by the young. Some three hundred boys, 
 armed with clubs and staves, assembled in Finsbury Fields, 
 and got up a mock fight, which they styled " The Queen 
 against Wyat." Though intended as a sport, the conflict 
 was carried on with so much good will, that several were 
 wounded on either side, and the boy who represented Philip 
 of Spain, being taken prisoner by the opposite party, was 
 hanged to a tree, and only cut down just in time to save 
 his life. 
 
 Calculating on the unconquerable antipathy to the match 
 manifested in so many ways, De Noailles pursued his 
 schemes, persuaded that, when Philip set foot on the 
 English shores, the people by whom he was so much 
 detested would rise against him, and massacre him and his 
 attendants. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lord Clinton, the Lord High Admiral, who 
 himself had no special liking for the Spaniards, or for the 
 Spanish match, though he was full of loyalty towards the 
 Queen, was cruising about the Channel, with eight-and-
 
 How a Marriage was Agreed Upon, 15 
 
 twenty of the tallest ships in the English navy, to protect 
 the Prince, in case any attempt should be made by the 
 French to attack him on his way, it being reported that 
 four Gascon regiments had been ordered to Rouen, to 
 attempt a descent upon the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth. 
 Lord Clinton was accompanied by the Count de la Chapelle, 
 the Vice-Admiral of the Low Countries, with some fifteen 
 ships, which, however, the rough Englishman did not rate 
 very highly, but called them in derision " mussel-shells." 
 
 As the time drew nigh when the Prince's arrival might 
 be expected, Mary exhibited an impatience foreign to her 
 character, but by no means unnatural under the circum- 
 stances. Sumptuous presents had been provided for her 
 intended husband by her order, and preparations on a mag- 
 nificent scale were made for the marriage ceremonial, which 
 it was arranged should take place at Winchester. All the 
 principal nobility were bidden to the solemnity, and the 
 chief officers of the royal household, and, indeed, all con- 
 nected with the court, had parts assigned them in the grand 
 reception to be given to the Prince, and in the celebration 
 of the nuptials. 
 
 Many, therefore, shared in the Queen's anxiety for Philip's 
 safe and speedy arrival. Up to this time the breezes had 
 been propitious, but contrary winds might arise, and delay 
 the royal bridegroom on his voyage. Some, indeed, prayed 
 that the vessel that bore him might founder, and would 
 have exulted in such a catastrophe, and deemed it a special 
 interference of Providence. 
 
 Their prayers were unheard. Tidings were brought by 
 the Marquis de las Naves, the Prince's avant-courier, who 
 landed at Plymouth, . to the effect that his royal master 
 might be daily looked for, and this welcome intelligence 
 was immediately communicated to the Queen, and served to 
 allay her anxiety. 
 
 Escorted by a strong guard, and attended by a sumptuous 
 retinue, she forthwith proceeded to Guildford, where the 
 Marquis de las Naves was presented to her by Renard, and 
 gave her most satisfactory accounts of the Prince. Next 
 day she continued her journey, and, on reaching Winchester, 
 the loyal inhabitants of that fine old city welcomed her with 
 very demonstration of joy. Well cleased by her reception
 
 i6 
 
 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 she took up her abode at the Bishop's palace, which had 
 been prepared for her by Gardiner. 
 
 At the same time, De Noailles, accompanied by some 
 trusty agents, whom he required for a dark scheme he had 
 hatched, journeyed secretly to Southampton, where the 
 Prince meant to disembark.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW THE SPANISH FLEET ENTERED THE SOLENT SEA, 
 
 ?ARLY on the morning of the 19th of July, 1554, 
 the long-looked-for Spanish fleet, conveying the 
 royal bridegroom to our shores, was descried from 
 the loftiest hill of the Isle of Wight, and presented 
 a most magnificent spectacle as it neared that lovely island. 
 Consisting, as we have intimated, of a hundred and fifty 
 sail — a third of the number being vessels of large size — the 
 fleet formed a wide half-moon, in the midst of which rode 
 the stately ship bearing Philip and the principal nobles 
 of his suite. The '•' Saniissima Trinidada" rose like a 
 towered castle from the water. From the lofty crenellated 
 turret at the stern floated a broad banner, embroidered in 
 gold, with the arms of Castile and Aragon ; its masts, and 
 the turret at the forecastle, corresponding with that at the 
 stern, were gaudily painted ; and the sides elaborately carved 
 and covered with devices, were so richly burnished, that the 
 waves shone with their glow. Armed with the heaviest 
 guns then in use, this splendid vessel had on board, besides 
 her crews and the Prince's suite, three hundred fully equipped 
 arquebusiers. 
 
 Other ships there w-ere scarcely inferior to the " Santissima 
 Trinidada " in size and splendour, displaying banners and 
 streamers, and richly painted and decorated according to 
 the Spanish fashion, and all well provided with men and 
 ordnance. 
 
 Never before had such a superb fleet ploughed those 
 waters ; and when, at a later hour in the day, the Lord
 
 T 8 Cai-di7ial Pole. 
 
 High. Admiral caught sight of it, he was sore angered, and 
 internally vowed to lower the Spaniard's pride. 
 
 A soft westerly breeze filling the sails, impelled the ships 
 gently on their way, though the surface of the sea was but 
 little agitated. Having risen with the dawn, Philip was 
 now on deck with the Duke of Alva, enjoying the ravishing 
 beauty of the morning, and gazing at the land he was 
 approaching. He could not help being struck by the bold 
 outline and precipitous cliffs of the island in his immediate 
 vicinity, and noted with wonder the tall sharp-pointed rocks, 
 detached from these cliffs, that sprang like pinnacles from 
 the sea. 
 
 Passing the Needles, the fleet entered the Solent Sea. 
 On a far-projecting causeway on the left was Hurst Castle, a 
 fortress erected by Henry VIII., and on the right loomed 
 Yarmouth, with its castle. Salutes were fired from both 
 forts. The scenery of the coast now possessed great beauty. 
 On the mainland, noble woods, formmg part of the New 
 Forest, at that time of great extent, and full of deer, grew 
 down to the very margin of the lake-like sea ; occasional 
 creeks and openings exhibiting sylvan scenes of extraordi- 
 nary loveliness, and affording glimpses of ancient towns or 
 sequestered habitations. On the other hand, the verdant 
 slopes and groves of the island formed a delicious picture 
 wholly different from that presented by the bold cliffs on its 
 southern coast. Here all was softness and beaut)', and to 
 eyes accustomed to the arid and sunburnt shores of Spain, 
 such verdure had an inexpressible charm. 
 
 For some time Philip remained wrapped in contemplation 
 of the enchanting scenery of the island, unable to withdraw 
 his eyes from it. At last he exclaimed, "And this is Eng- 
 land ! the land I have so longed to behold. How deliciously 
 green is yonder island, and what a contrast it offers to our 
 own coasts ! And yon noble woods on the left, which they 
 say are those of the New Forest, where William Rufus 
 hunted and was slain ! What magnificent timber ! We 
 have nothing like those oaks." 
 
 " It may be not, your Highness," replied Alva ; " but I 
 prefer our olives and vines and chestnut-groves to those 
 woods, and our bare brown mountains to those green slopes. 
 If the sun scorches our herbage and burns our soil to brick-
 
 How the Spanish Fleet Entered the Solent Sea. 1 9 
 
 dust, it makes abundant compensation. We have oil and 
 wine and a thousand luxuries that these English lack, to say 
 nothing of our fiery men and dark-eyed women." 
 
 " Your excellency is a true Spaniard," replied the Prince ; 
 "but you forget that as soon as I set foot on these shores I 
 shall become an Englishman." 
 
 " Heaven forfend ! " exclaimed Alva ; then checking him- 
 self, he added, " I crave your Highness's pardon. Inasmuch 
 as the country will belong to you, you may be right to call 
 yourself an Englishman." 
 
 " But I shall be King of England only in name," said 
 Philip. '' As you know, I am debarred by the marriage- 
 treaty from any share in the government, neither can I 
 appoint you, nor any of my nobles, to a post." 
 
 " Out on the treaty ! " cried Alva. " Your Highness, I 
 trust, will Httle regard its terms. Once wedded to the Queen 
 of England, the country will be under your control. This 
 the Emperor well knew, or he would have spurned the con- 
 ditions proposed to him by the wily Gardiner. Bind you as 
 they may, the council cannot hold you fast, and ere long you 
 will have supreme sway. In two years' time England will 
 be as much a province of Spain as the Netherlands is now. 
 Then you will reap abundantly the harvest you are sowing. 
 Moreover, by that time the crown of Spain and the imperial 
 diadem may grace your brow." 
 
 " Why do you think so, Alva? " demanded Philip, quickly. 
 " My father suffers much from gout ; but gout, physicians 
 tell me, keeps off all other ailments, and those afflicted with 
 it live long in consequence. When he last wrote to me, the 
 Emperor reported himself in good case." 
 
 " Saints keep him so !" cried the Duke. "Yet, as I have 
 just said, ere two years are over, your Highness will surely 
 be King of Spain and Emperor of Germany." 
 
 " What means this prediction ? " inquired Philip looking 
 inquiringly at him. 
 
 " It means that the Emperor your father, tired with 
 the cares of government, designs to surrender his kingdoms 
 to you." 
 
 " Has he said aught of his intent to you, Alva ? — or is it 
 mere surmise on your part? " demanded the Prince, unable 
 to disguise the interest he took in the question. 
 2 — 2
 
 20 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Your Highness will excuse me if I decline to state how 
 I obtained the information," rejoined the Duke; "but I will 
 stake my life on its correctness." 
 
 Philip said nothing more, but remained for some time 
 with his hand upon his lips, absorbed in thought. The flush 
 that overspread his cheeks showed he was much excited. 
 Alva kept his keen eye fixed upon him, and seemed to read 
 what was passing in his breast. After a while, Philip broke 
 the silence. 
 
 "It may be as you say," he remarked ; " yet I do not think 
 my father will part lightly with his crown. In a moment of 
 weariness he may talk of abdicating in my favour — but 
 when the fit is over, the design will pass away with it. 
 How would he spend his days if not employed by state 
 affairs?" 
 
 " In retirement and holy meditation — in preparation for 
 eternity. Such is his Majesty's intent." 
 
 " If it be so it is a praiseworthy resolution ; and it 
 is to be hoped that Heaven may keep him in it. How- 
 ever, all is uncertain — the firmest man may change his 
 mind." 
 
 " Your Highness says right. Therefore, it will be well to 
 secure a crown in case of accident. Neither do I despair of 
 your doing so. The English nation, they say, hate us 
 Spaniards. What matter ? They cannot hate us worse than 
 we hate them. They fear our yoke. Yet us give them 
 reason for their fears by ruling them so severely that they 
 shall not dare to move hand or foot, save at our pleasure. 
 With such a people nothing but hard and sanguinary 
 measures will do. Their late King, Henry VIII., knew 
 that well, and his subjects obeyed him, crouching at his feet 
 like beaten hounds. But to impose our yoke upon them, we 
 must go beyond the despot Henry. We must pour forth 
 the blood of the English nobles like water, seize upon their 
 possessions, and assume their titles. Do this, extirpate 
 heresy, establish the Inquisition, and your Highness need 
 fear no rebellion." 
 
 Alva's eyes blazed as he gave this counsel, and his counte- 
 nance assumed an expression so terrible that even Philip 
 regarded him with awe. 
 
 " The time is not yet come for acting thus," observed the
 
 How the Spanish Fleet Entered the Sohnt Sea. 2 1 
 
 Prince. " I must first try to ingratiate myself with the 
 people, and win over the council and the nobles by gifts and 
 promises. If those fail, I may have recourse to other 
 means." 
 
 "There, to my mind, your Highness is wrong," rejoined 
 Alva, " Begin as you mean to go on. You cannot make 
 yourself beloved by this perfidious nation, but you may easily 
 make yourself dreaded. Hesitate not to shed blood — the 
 best blood. Strike boldly, and at the highest. If you have 
 any misgivings, let me do the work for you, and it shall be 
 done eftectually, I shall not object to be grand justiciary of 
 the realm." 
 
 And again his features wore the terrible look we have just 
 noticed. 
 
 " It is too soon to talk of this," said Philip. " We will 
 speak of it hereafter." 
 
 " It may then be too late," rejoined Alva, in a sombre 
 tone. " Once again, I counsel your Highness not to delay. 
 As soon as you are fairly wedded, throw off the mask." 
 
 " And be driven disgracefully from the kingdom," cried 
 Philip, " No ; I shall adopt a safer course, A time may 
 come — and that at no distant date — when I may profit by 
 your counsels, and ask your aid," 
 
 And he turned to watch the numerous white-sailed little 
 barques steering towards him from Portsmouth.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF THE AFFRONT OFFERED TO THE SPANIARDS BY THE LORD 
 HIGH admiral; and OF THE PRINCE's ARRIVAL AT 
 SOUTHAMPTON. 
 
 HARLES V. has been described as more of a 
 Fleming than a Spaniard, and his son PhiHp as 
 more of a Spaniard than a Fleming. Eut the 
 Prince bore a strong resemblance to his sire, 
 though he was not so tall as the Emperor, and more slightly 
 and elegantly formed than that martial monarch. Appa- 
 rently, Philip must have looked like a Scotsman, since he 
 was compared by a Highlander, John Elder, "the Red- 
 shank," who saw him on his entrance mto London, to 
 " John Hume, my Lord of Jedward's kinsman." The Red- 
 shank seems to have been greatly struck by the royal 
 Spaniard's personal appearance and deportment, for he says, 
 " his pace is princely, and gait so straight and upright as he 
 loses no inch of height ; " adding, " he is so well-propor- 
 tioned of body, arm, and leg, as nature cannot work a more 
 perfect pattern." 
 
 But we have Philip actually brought before us as he lived 
 and moved at the period in question in the portraits of 
 Titian and Sir Antonio More. There we see his slight and 
 singularly elegant figure, and admire his striking costume. 
 There we may peruse his remarkable lineaments, every trait 
 of which has been preserved by the great painters with 
 extraordinary fidelity. Philip's face was a perfect oval, and 
 all the features good, except the mouth, the lower lip of
 
 Of the Affront Offered to the Spaniards. 23 
 
 which was too full, and projected beyond the upper — a 
 defect inherited by the Prince from his latlier, who was con- 
 siderably under-jawed. Philip's complexion was fair, of 
 almost feminine delicacy and clearness, his eyes large and 
 blue, and shaded by thick brows meeting over the nose. 
 His hair, worn short, according to the Spanish mode, was of 
 a golden yellow — a circumstance which, no doubt, caused 
 the Redshank to liken him to "my Lord of Jedward's kins- 
 man \ " — and his pointed beard of the same hue. His fore- 
 head was lofty, and white as marble, and his nose long, 
 straight, and perfectly proportionetl. In regard to his attire, 
 he was extremely particular, affecting dark colours, as they 
 best suited him ; and he had the good taste to dispense 
 with embroidery and ornament. On the present occasion 
 he had in no wise departed from his rule. Black velvet 
 haut-de-chausses, black taffetas hose, velvet buskins, doublet 
 of black satin, all fitting to perfection, constituted his habili- 
 ments. Over all, he wore a short black damask mantle 
 furred with sable. His neck was encircled by the collar of 
 the Golden Fleece, and on his head sat a black velvet cap, 
 having a small chain of gold as its sole ornament. 
 
 This costume, chosen with great judgment, was admirably 
 calculated to display the graces of his person, and set off 
 the extreme fairness of his complexion. Moreover, the 
 Prince's demeanour was marked by extraordinary loftiness, 
 and an ineffable air of the highest breeding pervaded his 
 every look and gesture. 
 
 Philip was only nineteen when he was first married. 
 Dona Maria of Portugal, the Princess to whom he was then 
 united, died in giving birth to a son, the half-crazed and 
 savage-natured Don Carlos, whose fate is involved in mys- 
 tery, though it is supposed he was poisoned by his father's 
 orders. It will be seen, as we proceed, how Philip treated 
 his second consort ; but we may mention that to neither of 
 those who succeeded her — he was twice again married — did 
 he manifest much affection. To his third wife, the young 
 and beautiful Elizabeth de Valois, eldest daughter of Henri 
 II. and Catherine de Medicis, he was unaccountably in- 
 different, repaying her tenderness and devotion by constant 
 neglect and infidelities. At all times, he seems to have 
 preferred any other female society to that of the one
 
 24 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 entitled to his regard. His fourth wife, Anne of Austria, 
 was but little better treated than her predecessors. Philip 
 long survived her, and would have married again if he 
 could have found among the royal families of Europe an 
 alliance sufficiently tempting. The sole being he entirely 
 loved was the Infanta Isabella, his daughter by his third 
 wife. She served him as his secretary, during his retire- 
 ment in the Escurial in his latter days, and when dying, he 
 commended her to his son and successor in these terms : 
 "Philip, I charge you to have always the greatest care 
 of the Infanta, your sister. She has been the light of my 
 eyes." 
 
 At the period under consideration, the darker qualities 
 inherent in Philip's mature had not become developed. He 
 grew more impassive, sterner, and severer, as he gained 
 power, and advanced in years. He was a profound dissem- 
 bler, and his designs were inscrutable. None knew when 
 they had forfeited his favour. He caressed those he 
 meant to destroy ; whence it was said that there was no 
 difference between the King's smile and the knife. His 
 self-restraint offered a striking contrast to the fiery im- 
 petuosity of his father. His policy was subtle, perfidious. 
 Machiavellian. He had not Charles's sagacity, nor Charles's 
 towering ambition, but he had more craft and hypocrisy 
 than the Emperor, equal love of power, and equal capacity 
 for rule. His industry was astonishing, and w'hen his 
 mighty monarchy devolved upon him, comprehending Spain, 
 Flanders, Burgundy, the Two Sicilies, the Indies, and the 
 New World, he passed many hours of each day, and often 
 of each night, in reading petitions, annotating upon memo- 
 rials, writing dispatches, and other toils of the cabinet. 
 No sovereign ever wrote so much as PhiHp. Everything 
 was submitted to his inspection. In hatred implacable, in 
 severity unrelenting, fickle in friendship — if, indeed, he 
 could form a friendship — he was equally mconstant in love 
 matters, so that no syren could long hold him in her thrall. 
 His aftairs of gallantry, like all the rest of his proceedings, 
 were shrouded in mystery. To none did he give his full 
 confidence, and not even his confessor was allowed to peer 
 into the inmost recesses of his breast. More inflexible than 
 his father, if he had once formed a resolution, whether for
 
 Of the Affront Offered to the Spaniards. 25 
 
 good or ill, it was unalterable. But he was slow in coming 
 to a decision. In religion he was bigoted, and firmly 
 believed he was serving the cause of the Romish Church by 
 the rigour he displayed towards heretics. He declared he 
 ^vould rather put to death a hundred thousand people than 
 the new doctrines should take root in his dominions. 
 Throughout his reign the terrible tribunal of the Inquisition 
 was constantly in action. Such was the detestation felt for 
 him in the Low Countries and in England, that he was 
 called the " Demon of the South ; " while his Spanish sub- 
 jects spoke of him, under their breath, as the "Father of 
 Dissimulations." Despite, however, his perfidy, his bigotry, 
 and his severity, he was a great monaich, and raised the 
 power of Spain to its highest point After him its splendour 
 began to decline. 
 
 In his latter years, Phihp led the life of a religious 
 recluse, shutting himself up almost entirely in the Escurial, 
 and performing devotional exercises, vigils, fastings, and 
 penances, with as much zeal as a brother of some severe 
 order. Yet, notv/ithstanding this austere life, he continued 
 to the last to conduct the afiairs of state from his closet. 
 His end was a grand and solemn scene, of which full details 
 have been left us. 
 
 After receiving extreme unction, Philip said to his son, 
 "I have sent for you that you may know what death is." 
 He then caused his coffin, which had already been prepared, 
 to be brought into the chamber where he lay, and the 
 crown to be placed on a death's head on a table beside him. 
 Then taking from a coffer a priceless jewel, he said to the 
 Infanta, " Isabella Eugenia Clara, my daughter, this jewel 
 was given me by the Queen, your mother. It is my parting 
 gift to you." He next gave a paper to his son, saying, 
 "You will see, from this, how you ought to govern your 
 kingdom." A blood-stained scourge was then brought him, 
 and taking it in his hand, he said, "This blood is mine, yet 
 it is not mine own, but that of my father, who used the 
 discipline. I mention this, that the relic may be the more 
 valued." After another paroxysm, he again received extreme 
 uncdon, and feeling his end approach, he asked for a cruci- 
 fix, which the Emperor held in his hands when he breathed 
 his lasr, and which he also desired to hold when dying. In
 
 26 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 another hour he became speechless, and so continued to the 
 end, his dying gaze being fixed on a taper of Our Lady oi 
 Montserrat, burning on the high altar of the church, which 
 was visible through the open door. 
 
 We have stood in the little chamber in the church of the 
 Escurial in which Philip died, and have looked from it at 
 the altar whereon burnt the sacred flame that attracted his 
 last regards. 
 
 Philip's suit, as we have already intimated, comprised 
 several nobles of the highest importance, who had been 
 ordered to attend upon him by the Emperor. Besides the 
 Duke of Alva, there was the scarcely less important Duke 
 de Medina Celi, Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, Prince of Eboli, 
 the Admiral of Castile, who was in command of the fleet, 
 the Marquis de Pescara, the Marquis del Valle, the Marquis 
 D'Aguillara, the Conde de Feria, the Conde Olivares, the 
 Conde de Saldana, the Count D'Egmont, and several others 
 equally distinguished. Each of these haughty hidalgos had 
 a train of attendants with him. 
 
 With the Prince, also, was the Alcalde of Galicia, the 
 Bishop of Cuenga, Father Alfonso de Castro, and several 
 other priests. 
 
 Moreover, he had a great painter in his train, Sir Antonio 
 More, who had been previously sent into England to take 
 the Queen's portrait (which may still be seen in the gallery 
 at Madrid), and had now the honour of accompanying the 
 Prince on his voyage. 
 
 Two other important personages had preceded PhiHp to 
 England — namely, the Marquis de las Naves, previously 
 referred to, and Don Juan Figueroa, Regent of the Council 
 of Aragon, a nobleman much in the Emperor's confidence, 
 and to whom an important part had been assigned in the 
 approaching ceremonial. 
 
 Shortly after his discourse with the Duke of Alva which we 
 have reported, Philip withdrew to his state cabin to perform 
 his orisons, and listen to a discourse from the Bishop of 
 Cuenca. On his reappearance, he found most of his nobles 
 assembled on deck, making, as they were all superbly 
 attired, a very gallant show. Only three or four of their 
 number removed their plumed and jewelled caps on tlie 
 Prince's approach. The rest being grandees of Spain, and
 
 Of the Affront Offered to the Spaniards. 27 
 
 entitled to remain covered in the presence of royalty, asserted 
 their privilege. Foremost in the group were the Duke of 
 Alva, the Duke of Medina Celi, Ruy Gomez de Silva, and 
 the valiant Marquis de Pescara — one of the great captains 
 of the age. All these had the cross of Santiago on their 
 mantles. Some of the assemblage were Knights of Cala- 
 trava, others Knights of St, Lazarus, or of St John of 
 Jerusalem, and all wore their orders. Numbering about 
 fifteen, they presented a remarkable array of noble-looking 
 figures, all more or less characterised by pride of look and 
 haughtiness of deportment. It would have been easy to 
 discern at a glance that they belonged to the most vain- 
 glorious people then existing — a people, however, as valiant 
 as they were vain-glorious. 
 
 As we cannot describe these haughty personages in detail, 
 we shall select one or two from the group. The most 
 striking among them was undoubtedly the Duke of Alva, 
 whose remarkable sternness of look arrested attention, and 
 acted like a spell on the beholder. There was a fatal ex- 
 pression in Alva's regards that seemed to forbode the 
 atrocities he subsequently committed in the Low Countries. 
 His gaze was fierce and menacing, and the expression of his 
 countenance truculent and bloodthirsty. His complexion was 
 swarthy, and his short-clipped hair and pointed beard were 
 jet-black. His figure was lofty, well proportioned, and 
 strongly built, and his manner excessively arrogant and 
 imperious. His attire was of deep-red velvet and damask. 
 His mantle was embroidered with the Cross of Santiago, 
 and round his neck he wore the collar of the Golden 
 Fleece. 
 
 Full as noble-looking as Alva, and far less arrogant, was 
 the Count D'Egmont, whose tall and symmetrical figure was 
 arrayed in a doublet of crimson damask. His hose were of 
 black taftetas, and his boots of bronzed chamois. His black 
 silk mantle was passmented with gold, and his velvet hat 
 was adorned with a tall panache of black and white 
 feathers. Like Alva, he wore the order of the Golden 
 Fleece. 
 
 Next to D'Egmont stood Sir Antonio More, for whom the 
 Count had a great friendship. The renowned pamter was a 
 man of very goodly appearance, and richly dressed, though
 
 28 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 not with the magnificence that characterised the hidalgos 
 around him. A doublet of black satin, paned with yellow, 
 with hose to match, constituted his attire; his hair and 
 beard being trimmed in the Spanish fashion. 
 
 Such was the assemblage which met the Prince, as he 
 came forth for the second time that morning. Returning 
 their salutations with the dignity and solemnity of manner 
 habitual to him, he seated himself on a throne-like chair, 
 covered with purple velvet, which had been set for him on 
 the raised deck. 
 
 By this time the fleet had passed the Solent Sea, and was 
 off Cowes. The extreme beauty of the Isle of Wight, as 
 seen from this point, might have excited Philip's admiration, 
 had not his attention been drawn to the English and Flemish 
 fleets, which could now be seen advancing to meet him. On 
 came the two armaments, proudly and defiantly, as if about 
 to give him battle, or oppose his progress. When ihey got 
 within a mile of the Prince, the English ships were ordered 
 to heave to, and soon became stationary ; but the Flemish 
 squadron continued to advance until it met the Spaniards, 
 when it wore round and came on with them. 
 
 As yet no salute had been fired by the Lord High Admiral. 
 
 " I do not understand such matters," said the Duke of 
 Alva, approaching the Prince ; " but it seems to me that 
 the English Admiral gives your Highness but a cold 
 reception." 
 
 Phihp made no reply, but, after a moment, observed, 
 •' Those are fine ships." 
 
 "They are so," replied Alva; "but their commander 
 should be taught to show due respect to his sovereign," 
 
 Just then an incident occurred which caused the utmost 
 astonishment, not unmixed with indignation, throughout the 
 Spanish fleet. A shot was fired by the Lord High Admiral 
 across the bows of the Spanish ship nearest him. Philip 
 was made instantly aware of the occurrence, and for a 
 moment exhibited unwonted emotion. His pale cheek 
 flushed, and he sprang from his seat, seeming about to give 
 an angry order, but he presently became calmer. Not so the 
 grandees around him. They were furious ; and the Duke 
 of Alva counselled the Prince immediately to fire upon the 
 insolent oflender.
 
 Of the Affront Offered to the Spaniards. 29 
 
 "I am as eager to resent the affront as the Duke," said 
 Count D'Egmont; "but first let an explanation be 
 demanded." 
 
 "Make the inquiry with our cannon," said Alva, fiercely; 
 adding, with a scornful look at D'Egmont, " timid counsels 
 smack of treason." 
 
 Regarding the Duke with a glance as disdainful as his 
 own, D'Egmont said, " My loyalty to the Emperor has been 
 often approved. His Highness will be better served by pru- 
 dence than by rashness. There must be some mistake." 
 
 "There can be no mistake, and no explanation ought to 
 be accepted," cried Alva, yet more fiercely. " The affront 
 is a stain upon the honour of our country, and can only be 
 avenged by the destruction of that insolent fleet. Count 
 D'Egmont is not a Spaniard, and therefore does not feel 
 it." 
 
 "I should regard the matter differently, if I could believe 
 that insult was intended," rejoined D'Egmont. " But I 
 cannot think so." 
 
 " Here comes the explanation," said Philip, as the 
 Admiral of Castile approached. " How now, my lord?" 
 he added to him. " What means this interruption ? For 
 what reason was that shot fired ? " 
 
 " Because our topsails were not lowered in deference to 
 the English navy in these narrow seas," repHed the Admiral. 
 " It is the custom to exact this homage to the flag, and Lord 
 Clinton will not abate a jot of his demands. I am come to 
 ascertain your Highness's pleasure." 
 
 " Pour a broadside into the insolent fellow," said Alva. 
 " That is the only answer to return consistent with your 
 Highness's dignity." 
 
 " It is not for me to offer counsel," said D'Egmont ; "but 
 it is better, methinks, to submit to this aflront, which, after 
 all, may not be intended as such, than to hazard the loss of 
 a prize that is so nearly gained." 
 
 Philip looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, in 
 an authoritative tone, " Let the topsails be lowered — in this 
 ship — and throughout the fleet. Since the demand is war- 
 ranted, we ought to comply with it." 
 
 The Admiral instantly gave the requisite orders to the 
 officers near him, and ere another minute the topsails were
 
 30 Cardifial Pole. 
 
 lowered, amid the murmurs of the Spanish grandees, 
 whose glowing cheeks and flashing eyes proclaimed their 
 wrath. 
 
 " I did not think this affront would have been endured," 
 cried Alva. 
 
 " Nor I," cried the Marquis de Pescara, and some others. 
 
 " Be patient, my lords — be patient," observed Philip, sig- 
 nificantly. " Our turn will come anon," 
 
 In another minute all the vessels in the Spanish fleet had 
 followed the example of the "Santissima Trinidada." 
 
 This was no sqoner done than a loud salute was fired 
 from all the guns in the English navy. 
 
 Before the smoke had rolled away, the Spanish fleet 
 replied by a deafening roar of artillery. Lusty cheers were 
 then given by the sailors thronging the ropes and cross-bars 
 of the English ships, and amid the beating of drums and 
 the shriller music of the fife, a large boat was lowered from 
 the Lord High Admiral's ship, in which Lord Clinton, 
 attended by several ofhcers of distinction, was rowed 
 towards the " Santissima Trinidada." 
 
 On coming on board, the Lord High Admiral was cere- 
 moniously received by Count D'Egmont, who acted as the 
 Prince's major-domo, and, after a brief interchange of com- 
 pliments, on the Admiral's request to be presented to his 
 Highness, he was ushered through two lines of bronze- 
 visaged and splendidly-equipped harquebuzeros to the bulk- 
 head, where Philip was seated, with his nobles drawn up on 
 either side. By all the latter, Clinton was regarded haughtily 
 and menacingly, but, apparently heedless of their displeasure, 
 he made a profound reverence to the Prince, who received 
 him with a graciousness that offered a marked contrast to 
 the defiant looks of his entourage. 
 
 "In the Queen's name, I bid your Highness welcome to 
 her dominions," said the Admiral ; " and I trust I shall be 
 excused if I have appeared uncourteous in the discharge of 
 my duty, which is to maintain her Majesty's sovereignty in 
 these seas." 
 
 " No need of apologies, my lord," replied Philip. " The 
 fault was ours, not yours. We ought to have recollected 
 that we are now in English waters. How fares her 
 Majesty?"
 
 Of the Affront Offered to the Spatiiards. 31 
 
 "Right well," said the Admiral, "and only anxious for 
 your Highness's safe arrival." 
 
 " Is she at Southampton ? " pursued Philip. 
 
 " No, my lord," rejoined the Admiral. " Her Grace came 
 these two days past to Winchester, where she will await 
 your Highness's coming. I had tidings of her so late as 
 yester-morn, brought by my nephew, who is now with me." 
 
 " Is this your nephew, my lord ? " inquired Philip, glancing 
 at a tall, well-proportioned young man, standing behind the 
 Admiral. 
 
 The blooming complexion, clear blue eyes, brown waving 
 locks, and features of this very handsome young man, pro- 
 claimed his Saxon origin. 
 
 " Ay, my lord, this is my nephew, Osbert Clinton," replied 
 the Admiral, eyeing the youth with a pride which the good 
 looks and gallant bearing of the latter might perhaps justify, 
 " He is fresh from her Majesty's presence, as I have just 
 declared to your Highness. Stand forward, Osbert, and 
 tell the Prince all thou knowest." 
 
 On this, the young man advanced, and bowing gracefully 
 to Philip, gave him particulars of the Queen's journey from 
 London, of her stay at Guildford, of her meeting with the 
 Marquis de las Naves, and of her arrival at Winchester — to 
 all of which the Prince listened with apparent interest. 
 
 " What office do you fill at court, young Sir, for I conclude 
 you have some post there ? " demanded Philip, when young 
 Clinton had done. 
 
 " I am merely one of her Majesty's gentlemen," replied 
 Osbert. 
 
 " I would willingly have made a seaman of him," inter- 
 posed the Admiral, " and but that he disUkes the service, 
 he might now be in command of one of yon gallant ships. 
 Sorry am I to say that he prefers a court life." 
 
 '• He is in the right," said PhiHp. " Unless I am mis- 
 taken, he has qualities which will be better displayed in that 
 field than in the one your lordship would have chosen for 
 him — qualities which, if properly employed, must lead to 
 his distinction." 
 
 " Your Highness judges me far too favourably," said 
 Osbert, bowing profoundly. 
 
 " Not a whit," rejoined Philip ; " and to prove my con-
 
 32 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 fidence in you, I will attach you — if you list — to my own 
 person." 
 
 " My nephew cannot quit the Queen's service without 
 her Majesty's consent," said the Admiral, in a tone which, 
 though deferential, showed his dishke of the proposition. 
 
 " That is always implied," said Philip. " But supposing 
 her Majesty agreeable, what says the young man to the 
 arrangement ? " 
 
 " I am entirely at your Highness's commands," replied 
 Osbert, overwhelmed with gratitude. 
 
 "And ready to become a Spaniard, and forswear your 
 country, if need be, I make no doubt," observed the 
 Admiral, gruffly. 
 
 " I shall violate no duty to the Queen by serving her 
 consort," said his nephew ; " and England and Spain will 
 be so closely linked together by this most propitious union, 
 that they will become as one land, wherein there will be no 
 divided service or interests." 
 
 " That time is not yet arrived, and never will arrive," 
 muttered the Admiral. 
 
 "You are doubtless anxious to return to your ship, my 
 lord," said Philip. " I will no longer detain you." 
 
 "I thank your Highness," replied the Admiral. "We 
 will make all haste we can, but there is little wind, 
 and I fear it will be somewhat late ere we can reach 
 Southampton.'' 
 
 " It matters not," said Philip. " I shall not disembark 
 till to-morrow." 
 
 "Your Highness will exercise a wise discretion in the 
 delay, as a better reception can be given you," returned the 
 Admiral. " I humbly take my leave. Come, nephew." 
 
 " It is my pleasure that your nephew should remain with 
 we, my lord," said Philip. 
 
 " But I am about to despatch him in a swift galley to her 
 Majesty," remonstrated the Admiral. 
 
 " You must find a fresh messenger, my lord," said Philip. 
 " I have other business for him. However, I would place 
 no constraint upon the young man. He can depart with 
 your lordship if he is so minded." 
 
 " Nay, I desire nothing so much as to remain with your 
 Highness," cried Osbert, eagerly.
 
 The Affront Offered to the Spaniards. 
 
 oo 
 
 " The Prince was right in saying he was born a courtier," 
 muttered the Admiral. " I can do nothing with him." 
 
 Making another obeisance, he then quitted the Prince's 
 presence, and, being formally conducted by D'Egmont to 
 the head of the vessel's stairs, re-entered the boat, and was 
 rowed back to his ship, in no very good humour. 
 
 On reaching it, he immediately issued orders to his fleet 
 to make all way to Southampton, and the noble vessels were 
 soon bending in that direction. The Spanish and Flemish 
 fleets followed in the same track. But so slight was the 
 breeze, that some time elapsed before they passed Calshot 
 Casile and entered Southampton Water. 
 
 As the Admiral had predicted, evening was at hand ere 
 the fleets had cleared the broad and beautiful estuary, at 
 the northern end of which stood the ancient and then 
 highly picturesque town of Southampton. The grey walls 
 circling the town, the spires of the churches, and the castle 
 on the hill, were glowing in the last rays of the setting 
 sun. 
 
 Crowds could be seen gathered upon the quays, and upon 
 every point of observation. A loud salvo was fired Irom 
 the castle batteries, and from the ordnance placed on the 
 walls and on the gates. Except the " Santissima Trinidada," 
 the Lord High Admiral's ship, and that commanded by the 
 V ice-Admiral of the Netherlands, all the ether vessels now 
 cast anchor. The three laige vessels got as near the port 
 as they could, and then came likewise to an anchor, the 
 ship containing the Prince occupying the foremost position. 
 These movements excited great interest amongst the 
 spectators, whose shouts were loud and continuous. 
 
 Intimation having been given to the authorities of the 
 town that the Prince's disembarkation would not take place 
 till next day, his Highness needing repose after his long 
 voyage, no one went on board the royal ship. The cere- 
 monial of the reception, and all public rejoicings and 
 festivities connected with it, were postponed to the morrow ; 
 but it was not until it grew dusk, and they had in some 
 measure satiated their curiosity by gazing at the suj erb 
 vessel which had brought the illustrious stranger to their 
 port, that the crowd on the quays be^aB to disperse and 
 return to their own dwellings. 
 
 3
 
 34 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 It was at this hour that Philip called Osbert Clinton to 
 his state cabin, and, dismissing his attendants, said to the 
 young man, as soon as they were gone, — 
 
 " I intend to go ashore, incognito, to-night, and pass an 
 hour in Southampton. I would judge with ray own eyes ot 
 the people I shall have to govern. You shall go with me — 
 I thiok I can trust myself with you." 
 
 " I will guard your Highness with my life," said Osbert, 
 resolutely. " But I cannot conceal from you that it is a 
 hazardous step you are about to take." 
 
 " Hazardous or not, I am resolved upon it," said Philip. 
 " I like a nocturnal adventure, and the opportunity for one 
 now offers, under circumstances that heighten its zest. My 
 nobles would infallibly oppose my design, and therefore 
 must know nothing of it. One person alone can be trusted, 
 the Count D'Egmont, and he will lend me aid. I must 
 about t at once, for it grows late." 
 
 " Your Highness will be in tmie, for this will be a night 
 of revel and rejoicing in the town," said Osbert. "Pray 
 Heaven no ill may come of the adventure ! " 
 
 D'Egmont was then summoned, and on his appearance 
 the Prmce disclosed his plan to him. The Count strongly 
 opposed it, representing its danger, as Osbert had done, but 
 in the end he was obliged to yield. 
 
 " B'or an hour you and I will change parts," pursued 
 Philip to D'Egmont. "You shall be the Prince, and I the 
 Count. The Count will remain here, and the Prince will go 
 ashore with this young Englishman as if sent o-^ some 
 special errand. None will be the wiser — not even Alva or 
 Ruy Gomez. Go, order a boat to be got ready instantly. 
 Make some change in your attire. Put on the long dark 
 mantle I have seen you wear at night, and a black cap with- 
 out a plume. Speak to the attendants as you pass, and tell 
 them you are going ashore." 
 
 " It shall be done," replied the Count, departing. 
 
 While he was gone, Philip retired into an inner chamber 
 and made some change in his own apparel. Just as he had 
 comoleted his preparations, D'Egmont returned, habited as 
 the Prince had directed. Philip took the Count's mantle, 
 and wrapping himself in it, said, so as to be heard by the 
 attendants, " See the Count D'Egmont and the English
 
 The Affro7it Offered to the Spaniards. 35 
 
 caballero to the boat, and let watch be kept for their return. 
 Till then I would not be disturbed." 
 
 Having uttered these words, he mufifled up his features 
 and went forth, followed by Osbert. The ushers took him 
 for the person lie represented, and attended him to the 
 stairs. 
 
 In this manner the Prince and his companion got into the 
 boat without stoppage of any kind, and were rowed to a 
 landing-place at the quay near the South-gate of the town. 
 
 3— «
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SOUTHAMPTON IN 1 554. 
 
 IIRDED round by high embattled walls, flanked with 
 numerous towers, all in good repair, and well 
 ordnanced, old Southampton had a proud and 
 detiant look, especially when viewed from the 
 water. Within the walls, situated on an elevated point on 
 the north-west, stood the castle, now totally destroyed, the 
 donjon of which, erected at the time of the Coriquest, if not 
 before, commanded with its guns all the approaches to the 
 harbour, as well as the country to the north. This strongly 
 fortified town possessed no less than eight gates, besides 
 posterns. It was defended on the north and east by a moat 
 of extraordinary width and depth, crossed by drawbridges 
 connected with the gates, and on the south and west by the 
 sea, -which washed the foot of its walls; and it contained 
 many large and important mansions, amongst which may be 
 noted the antique palace of Canute, besides several fine 
 churches, hospitals, religious establishments, conduits, and 
 great storehouses, together with a long and goodly street, 
 described by old Leland, in his Itinerary, "as one of the 
 fairest streets that is in any town of all England." 
 
 From the summit of the castle magnificent views were 
 obtained of the lovely Isle of Wight in the distance ; of the 
 vast woody region known as the New Forest ; of the broad 
 estuary spread out like a lake before it, almost always 
 thronged with craft, and sometimes, as now, filled with 
 larger vessels ; of the ruthlessly-despoiled but still beauteous 
 abbey of Netley, embosomed in its groves ; of the course of
 
 Southainplon /« 1554. yj 
 
 the Itchen, on the one side, and of the Test on the other ; 
 or, looking inland towards the north of a marshy tract, caused 
 by the overflowing waters of the Itchen ; of more marshes 
 on the low ground further on, then more forest scenery, with 
 here and then a village and an ancient castellated mansion, 
 until the prospect was terminated by Saint Catherine's and 
 Saint Giles's hills near Winchester. 
 
 Situated at the point of a piece of high land lying between 
 the confluence of the two rivers just mentioned, namely, the 
 Itchen and the Test, old Southampton was completely insu- 
 lated by the deep ditch connecting these streams on the 
 north, and continued along the east side of the walls. With- 
 out the walls, on the east, lay an extensive suburb, occupying 
 the site of a still older town, which had been sacked and in 
 a great part burnt by French and Genoese pirates in the 
 time of Edward III. — a disaster that caused the second town 
 to be as strongly fortified as we have described it. 
 
 And now let us examine the gates, the noblest of which, 
 the Bar-gate, happily still exists. Built at different epochs, 
 the two semicircular towers composing the north frontage 
 being added to the central arch, which dates back at least as 
 far as the Conquest, this stately structure, which formed the 
 sole entrance to the town from the north, surpassed all the 
 other gates in size and grandeur. Even now, crowded as it 
 is with habitations, and standing in the midst of a busy 
 throughfare, it 's very imposing. Its massive towers, 
 reverent with age, and carrying back the mind of the be- 
 holder to a remote period, are strongly machiolated, and 
 retain much of their pristine character, but the once beau- 
 tiful pointed archway between them has been disfigured by 
 enlargement. Anciently, there was a double moat on the 
 north of this gate, crossed by a stone bridge and a draw- 
 bridge. On the parapets of the first of these bridges the 
 lordly sitting lions now guarding the archway were set. 
 
 We may complete our description of the Bar-gate by men- 
 tioning that it contains the Guildhall of the town, or Domus 
 Civica, as old Leland terms it. Underneath, below the level 
 of the moat, there was formerly a dungeon. 
 
 It may be questioned whether the good folk of South- 
 ampton are half so proud of their noble gate as of two 
 extraordinary paintings hanging on the right and left of the
 
 3S Cardinal Pole. 
 
 central arch, which represent the renewed Sir Bevis, the 
 legendary hero of the town, and the giant Ascapart, who, 
 according to tradition, being conquered by the doughty 
 Danish knight, became his squire. We do not quarrel with 
 these paintings, or with their position, but why should not 
 pictorial representations be likewise given of the peerless 
 Princess Josyan, of whom Sir Bevis was enamoured, and of 
 his marvellous charger, Arundel ? The pictures, we venture 
 to suggest, might serve to screen the grievous disfigurements 
 on the south side of the Bar-gate. 
 
 The Water-gate and the South-gate, both of which faced 
 the harbour, though inferior in size and grandeur of appear- 
 ance to the Bar-gate, were very strongly built, machiolated, 
 provided with double portcullises, and flanked by towers. 
 The other five gates were nearly similar in character ; the 
 most important being the East and West-gates. 
 
 High, and of great solidity, the walls were further 
 strengthened on the south and west sides by huge buttresses, 
 as may still be seen in the picturesque remains left in these 
 parts of the modern town. The parapets were embrasured, 
 and had bastions at the angle of the walls. Towers were 
 also built for the protection of the flood-gates required to 
 admit the sea to the trenches. 
 
 All the fortifications, as we have said, were in good condi- 
 tion, having been repaired and strengthened by Henry VIII., 
 who was a frequent visitor to the town, and, still more re- 
 cently, in the reign of Edward VI. The batteries were fur- 
 nished with fresh artillery by the former monarch, and a 
 large piece of ordnance, graven with his name and title of 
 " Fidei Defensor," is still preserved. 
 
 Separated from the town by the broad deep moat which 
 was traversed in this quarter by a couple of large draw- 
 bridges, the quay extended along the shore to some distance 
 on the east, and was laid out in wharves, and provided with 
 cranes and other machines for landing or embarking cargoes. 
 The harbour was marked out by huge piles driven into the 
 banks, like those which may be seen in the shallow lagunes 
 of Venice. Ordinarily the quay was a very busy scene, but 
 its busiest and blithest time was on the arrival of the Flan- 
 ders galleys, which came twice or thrice a year, laden with 
 rich freights. Then all the wealthy merchants of South-
 
 Southampion in 1554. 39 
 
 hampton, with their clerks and serving-men, and even with 
 their wives and daughters, repaired to the platform eager 
 to inspect the goods and rare articles brought by the fleet. 
 
 Inhabited by a body of merchants who traded largely 
 with Venice and the East, and almost rivalled the merchants 
 of London m wealth, Southampton gave abundant evidence 
 in its buildings of power and prosperity. In English-street, 
 now known as the High-street, dwelt the chief merchants of 
 the place, and though their habitations were not marble 
 palaces, like those of the Venetians with whom they traded, 
 nor stately structures, like those of the Flemings, who 
 brought rica cargoes to their port, they were substantial 
 timber houst^s, with high roofs, picturesque gables, and bay- 
 window?. Not only did these houses possess large entrance- 
 halls, and spacious chambers panelled with black oak, hung 
 with costly arras, and otherwise luxuriously furnished, 
 according to the taste of their wealthy owners, bat they 
 boasted, in many cases, large, dry. well-arched vaults, stored 
 ■with casks of good Bordeaux, Xerez, Malaga, Alicant, 
 Malvoisie, and Gascoigne wines. Some of these famous 
 old cellars yet exist. Let us hope they are as well stocked 
 as of yore. 
 
 Most of the houses in English-street were remarkable 
 for the elaborate carvings adorning their woodwork, while 
 the handsome porches were embellished with shields and 
 escutcheons charged with armorial bearings. In all cases 
 the upper stories projected beyond the lower, so as to over- 
 hang the footways. It is satisfactory to add that the 
 Southampton merchants of that day were noted for the 
 libera. iiy of their dealings, u.s well as for their princely 
 hospitality to strangers. 
 
 About midway in English -street stood Holyrood Church, 
 an aniique pile, of which we shall have occasion to speak 
 anon ; and contiguous to the South-gate, which then 'ormed 
 one of the outlets to the harbour, uas the Domus Dei, or 
 God's House, an ancient hospital, in the cliapel of which, 
 now used as a place of worship by French Prote>tants, 
 were buiied the three lords, Cambridge, Scope, and Giey, 
 beheaded for conspiring against Henry V., as that warhke 
 prince wa^ about to embark f .r France to win the glorious 
 battle 01 Aginco.irt. And while on this theme, let us not
 
 40 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 forget that it was likewise from Southampton that the 
 victors of Cressy sailed. 
 
 Such was Southampton in the middle of the sixteenth 
 century. It was during the reign of Henry VIII. that its 
 power and importance as a seaport culminated. At the 
 period of which we treat it had begun to decline, though the 
 vast M ealth previously acquired by its merchants helped for 
 a while to sustain it But its trade continued sensibly to 
 diminish in Elizabeth's time, while its rival, Portsmouth, 
 grew in consequence. However, a great future was in store 
 for Sou hampton. The present century has witnessed its 
 revival and restoration to far more than its mediaeval pros- 
 perity. With its secure harbour and noble docks, wherein 
 ride the superb steamers that connect it with the East and 
 West Indies, and indeed with the whole world, few ports in 
 the kingdom can now vie with that of fair Southampton.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THE PRINCE OF SPAIN OBTAINED A SIGHT OF SIR BEVIS OF 
 SOUTHAMPTON AND HIS HORSE ARUNDEL, OF THE GIANT 
 ASCAPART, THE PRINCESS JOSYAN, KING CANUTE, AND 
 ANOTHER NOTABLE PERSONAGE. 
 
 HE platform on which the Prince of Spain and 
 young Clinton stood, after leaving the boat, was 
 entirely deserted, the vast concourse, recently 
 assembled there, having returned, as already stated, 
 to the town. Here and there a sentinel, in steel cap and 
 breastplate, and armed with a halberd, strode to and fro 
 along the solitary quay. One cf these sentinels challenged 
 the Prince and his companion on their landing, but a word 
 from Osbert caused the man to retire. 
 
 As Philip first set foot on English ground a thrill of ex- 
 ultation ran througli his breast, but he allowed no outward 
 manifestation of the feeling to escape him ; but after a 
 momentary halt, signified his desire to Osbert to enter the 
 town. 
 
 The night was dark, but clear and perfectly calm. Be- 
 hind, on the smooth sea, which reflected the stars shining 
 brilliantly above, and the lights of the large lanterns hang- 
 ing at the poops of the vessels, lay the " Santis^ma Trini- 
 dada," with her scarcely less colossal companions beside her, 
 looming like leviathans in the darkness. Here all seemed 
 buried in repose, for no sound arose from the mighty shijis, 
 or from the squadron in their rear. But in front there was 
 a strong light [iroceeding from a blazing barrel of pitch set 
 on the top of the \Vater-gate, the flames of which, rising to
 
 42 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 a great height, illumined the battlements and keep of the 
 castle, as well as the steeples of the churches and the roofs 
 of the loftier buildings, casting a ruddy glare on the mout 
 beneath, and making the adjacent walls and towers look 
 perfectly black. Moreover, a loud hum, with other sounds 
 arising from the interior of the town, showed that its inhabi- 
 tants were still astir. 
 
 Traversing a drawbridge, near which another sentinel was 
 stationed, Osbert and his royal companion speedily reached 
 the Water-gate. Three or four halberdiers were standing 
 beneath the archway, and advanced to question them, but 
 satisfied with young Clinton's explanation, one of them struck 
 his pole against the massive door, whereupon a wicket was 
 opened, and the pair entered the town. 
 
 They were now at the foot of English-street, with the 
 principal features of which the reader is familiar. Active 
 preparations of various kinds were here being made for the 
 anticipated ceremonial of the morrow. Mer* were employed 
 in decorating scaffolds erected near the gate, and other arti- 
 ficers were occupied in adorning the fronts of the houses. 
 Though the hour was late, owing to the bustle of preparation, 
 and the numerous strangers within the town, few of the in- 
 habitants of this quarter had retired to rest. Festivities 
 seemed to be going on in most of the houses. Lights 
 streamed from the open casements, while joyous shouts, 
 laughter, and strains of music resounded from within. 
 
 All was strange to Philip — the quaint and picturesque 
 architecture of the habitations, the manners, and to some 
 extent the very dresses of the people. But though he was 
 amused by the novelty of the scene, the rudeness, noisy talk, 
 boisterous merriment, and quarrels of the common folk, were 
 by no means to his taste. Naturally, his own arrival in the 
 harbour and expected disembarkation on the morrow formed 
 the universal topics of discourse, and he heard remarks upon 
 himself and his nation, sucli as he had not hitherto conceived 
 that any one would venture to utter. Little did the heedless 
 talkers imagine that the haughty-looking stranger, with his 
 face closely muffled in his mantle, who passc^d them in the 
 street, or lingered for a moment beneath a porch to waich 
 their proceedings, was the Prince of Spain. Well was it, 
 indeed, for Philip that he was not recognised, since there
 
 How the Prince saw some Notable Personages. 43 
 
 were some discontented folk abroad that night who might 
 not liave held his royal person sacred. 
 
 PhiUp took no notice of his opprobrious discourse to his 
 conductor, who would fain have shut his ears to it, but he 
 said within himself, "I begin to understand these people. 
 They are msolent, audacious, and rebellious. Alva was right. 
 They must be ruled w.th an iron hand." 
 
 As he walked along, the Prince glanced through the open 
 windows into the duiing-chambers of some of the laiger 
 houses, and seeing the tables covered with flasks and fiagons, 
 and surrounded by guests, whose condition proclaimed that 
 they nad be jn drink. ng deeply, he inquired of Os lert whether 
 his countrymen usually committed such excesses ? 
 
 "They are somewhat prone to conviviality, I must admit," 
 replied the young man. " But joy at your Highness's safe 
 arrival has doubtless made them carouse lunger than their 
 wont to-night. Iksides, there are many strangers in the 
 town, and the hospitality of the Southampton merchants 
 knows no limit." 
 
 Whether this explanation was entirely satisfactory to the 
 Prince may be doubted, but he made no further remark. 
 
 By this time, Philip and his conductor had arrived within 
 a short distance of Holyrood Cnurch. An arch had here 
 been thrown across the street, which some young women 
 were decorating with flowers and ribbons; w.iile a knot of 
 apprentices, in jerkins of grey or russet serge and fiat caps, 
 were superintending their operations, and holding torches 
 for tiiem. 
 
 All at once a great shouting was heard in the u'per part 
 of the s.reet, whereupon the maidens suspended their task, 
 and called out gleefully to the youths tnat Sir Bevis and 
 Ascapart were coming. At this intimation the a prentices 
 drew back, and with some others ot the townsfolk who 
 were assembled there, ranged themselves on euhe^" side of 
 the arcli. 
 
 Presently the clamour increased, showing that the knight 
 of Southampton and his gigantic squire must be close at 
 hand, and m order to get out of the way of the crow^i, the 
 Prince and his companion withdrew into a porch, whence 
 they could see what was going on without molestation. 
 
 Scarcely had they thus ensconced themseves, when a
 
 44 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 tumultuous throng burst through the arch. These were 
 followed by a troop of Moors — for such they seemed, from 
 their white garments, turbans adorned with the crescent, 
 and blackened features. The foremost of these Paynims 
 bore torches, but three of them, who marched in the rear, 
 had golden fetters on their wrists, and crowns on their heads. 
 After these captive monarchs rode their conqueror, bestrid- 
 ing his mighty war-horse, Arundel. Sir Bevis, who was of 
 gigantic proportions, was equipped in an enormous steel 
 corslet, with greaves to match, and had on his head a white- 
 plumed helm, the visor of which being raised, disclosed a 
 broad, bluff, bearded visage. Arundel was of extraordinary 
 size and strength, as he had need to be with such a rider, and 
 had a tufted chamfron on his head, with housings of red velvet. 
 
 On the right and left of Sir Bevis strode two personages, 
 whose frames were as gigantic as his own. One of these, 
 clad in a tunic of chain armour, which fully developed his 
 prodigious amplitude of chest, wore a conical helmet sur- 
 mounted by a crown, and having a great nasal in front, 
 which gave peculiar effect to his burly features. This was 
 the Anglo-Uanish King, Canute. His majesty bore on his 
 hip a tremendous sword, the scabbard of which was inscribed 
 with mystic characters, and carried in his hand a spear that 
 would have suited Goliath. His shield was oval in form, 
 with a spiked boss in the centre. 
 
 Loftier by half a head than the royal Dane was the giant 
 Ascapart, who marched on the other side of the valorous 
 knight of Southampton. Ascapart's leathern doublet was 
 studded with knobs of brass ; a gorget of the same metal 
 encircled a throat thick as that of a bull ; his brawny legs 
 were swathed with bands of various colours ; and on his 
 shoulders, which were even broader than those of Canute or 
 of his master Sir Bevis, he carried a ponderous club, which 
 it would have puzzled an ordinary man to lift. At his back 
 hung a dragon's head, no doubt that of the terrific monster 
 slain by Sir Bevis. Despite his attire and formidable club, 
 there was nothing savage in Ascapart's aspect. On the con- 
 trary, his large face had a very good-humoured expression ; 
 and the same may be asserted both of Sir Bevis and Canute. 
 It was evident from the strong family likeness distinguishing 
 them that the three giants must be brothers.
 
 JIow the Prince saw some Notalle Personages. 45 
 
 As if to contrast with their extraordinary stature, these 
 Anakim were followed by a dwarf, whose appearance was 
 hailed with universal merriment by the spectators. A 
 doublet and cloak of silk and velvet of the brightest hues, 
 with a cap surmounted by a parti-coloured plume of ostrich 
 feathers, lormed the attire of this remarkable mannikin. A 
 rapier, appropriate to his size, Avas girt to his thigh, and a 
 dagger, tiny as a bodkin, hung from his girdle. He rode 
 a piebald horse, and behind him on a pillion sat a plump 
 little dame, representing the Princess Josyan, whose trans- 
 cendant beauty had bewitched Sir Bevis, and softened the 
 adamantine heart of the ferocious Ascapart. It can scarcely 
 be affirmed that the Princess's charms were calculated to 
 produce such effects on men in general, but there was doubt- 
 less a sorcery about her, which operated more potently on 
 certain subjects than on others. To ordinary eyes she 
 appeared a fat little woman, neither very young nor very 
 tempting, with a merry black eye and a comical expression 
 of countenance. Princess Josyan's gown was of green 
 velvet, and her embroidered cap had long lappets covering 
 the ears. In her hand she carried a fan made of peacock's 
 feathers. 
 
 In Sir Bevis and his companions Osbert Clinton at once 
 recognised (as perhaps some of our readers may have done) 
 three well-known gigantic warders of the Tower, yclept Og, 
 Gog, and Magog, who, on account of their prodigious stature, 
 were constantly employed in state pageants and ceremonials, 
 while in the consequential looking pigmy riding behind them 
 lie did not fail to detect the Queen's favourite dwarf, Xit, 
 who of late, having received the honour of knighthood from 
 her Majesty, had assumed the tide of Sir Narcissus le Grand. 
 The plump little occupant of the pillion, Osbert felt sure 
 must be Lady le Grand, formerly Jane the Fool, whom the 
 Queen had been graciously pleased to bestow in marriage 
 upon Xit. While young Clinton was detailing these circum- 
 stances to the Prince, an incident occurred that brought a 
 smile to Philip's grave countenance. 
 
 As Og, the representative of Sir Bevis, was passing 
 through the arch, which his plumed helmet well-nigh 
 touched, he perceived a very comely damsel looking down 
 from a ladder on ^^hich she was standing, and laughing at
 
 46 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 him. Without more ado, he raised hiraself in his stirrups, 
 and putting his arm round her neck, gave her a sounding 
 salute. Indignant at this proceeding, the damsel requited 
 him with a buffet on the cheek, but in so doing she lost her 
 balance, and would have fallen if the giant had not caught 
 her, and placed her behind him on the broad back of Arun- 
 del, which done, he secured his prize by passing his belt 
 round her waist. 
 
 Great was the amusement of the bystanders at this occur- 
 rence, and several of them clapped their hands and called 
 out, " The Princess Josyan ! — the Princess Jo yan ! " One 
 young gallant, however, did not share the general mirth, 
 but, shouting to Sir Bevis to set the damsel down, made an 
 effort to release her. But he was thwarted in his purpose 
 by Magog, or rather, we should say, by the terrible Asca- 
 part, who, seizing him by the jerkin, notwithstanding his 
 struggles, handed him to Sir Bevis, and by the latter he was 
 instantly transferred to the highest step of the ladder which 
 the damsel had just quitted. Satisfied with what he had 
 done. Sir Bevis rode on, carrying away with him his fair 
 captive, amid the plaudits and laughter of the spectators. 
 Highly incensed at the treatment he had experienced, the 
 youth was preparing to descend, when he perceived Xit 
 beneath him, and stung to fury by the derisive laughter and 
 gestures of the dwarf, who was mightily entertained by what 
 had taken place, he pulled off his thick flat cap, and threw 
 it with such force, and so true an aim, that hitting Xit on 
 the head, it nearly knocked him off his horse. 
 
 Greatly ruffled by the indignity thus offered him, Xit, as 
 soon as he recovered his equilibrium, drew his sword, and 
 shrieking out to the apprentice that he should pay for his 
 insolence with his life, bade him come down instantly. But 
 the youth did not care to comply, but joined in the laughter 
 of the spectators, all of whom were prodigiously entertained 
 by the enraged dwarfs cries and gesticulations. At last, 
 Xit, who was preparing to scale the ladder and attack his 
 foe, yielded to the solicitations of Lady le Grand, and rode 
 on, delivering this parting menace : " We shall meet again, 
 thou craven flat-cap, when I shall not fail to avenge the 
 insult offered me." 
 
 He then quickened his pace, for the laughter and jests of
 
 How the Prince saw some Notable Personages. 47 
 
 the bystanders displeased him, and speedily overtook the 
 cavalcade. On coming up with it, he found that the damsel, 
 who was universally saluted as the Princess Josyan, still 
 maintained her position behind SirBevis,and, indeed, seemed 
 perfectly reconciled to it, as she was now chatting in a very 
 amicable manner with her captor. Perhaps her vanity was 
 a little excited by the effect she evidently produced upon the 
 lookers-on. This may account for the proffer she voluntarily 
 made to Sir Bevis, to enact the Princess Josyan on the 
 morrow — a proffer which the courteous knight readily 
 accepted, provided the matter could be accommodated with 
 Lady le Grand, who had a prior claim to the part. 
 
 Great was the tribulation of the luckless apprentice who 
 had thus lost his sweetheart. From his elevated position he 
 watched her progress down the street, and could perceive 
 that she manifested no disposition to dismount. But he 
 soon lost sight of her, since, before reaching the bottom of 
 English-street, Sir Bevis and his cortege turned off on the 
 right in the direction of the West-gate.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHAT PASSED BETWEEN MASTER RODOMONT BITTERN AND 
 
 THE PRINCE. 
 
 S soon as the street was clear, Osbert inquired 
 whether his Highness would proceed as far as 
 the Bar-gate, but Philip having now seen enough, 
 declined, and they began to retrace their steps. 
 The tipplers in the houses were still at their cups. Some of 
 them, it is true, had staggered to the windows on hearing 
 Sir Bevis and his cortege pass, but by this time they had got 
 back to the bottle. However, a party of half-inebriate 
 guests issued from a large house so suddenly, that the Prince 
 and Osbert had no time to get out of their way, but were 
 instantly .surrounded. 
 
 " Ah ! who have we here ? " cried one of these rovslerers, 
 struck by Philip's haughty air. " By the life of the Emperor 
 Charles V., a Spanish grandee ! Perchance, one of the 
 Prince's suite." 
 
 "You are right, Sir," interposed Osbert; "this noble 
 cavalier is but newly-arrived at Southampton with his High- 
 ness the Prince of Spain, and, having come ashore on busi- 
 ness, is now returning to his ship." 
 
 " How does the noble cavalier style himself?" demanded 
 the other. 
 
 "Call me Don Philip— that will sufifiice/' said the Prince, 
 haughtily. 
 
 " Bezo las raanos, Senor Don Felipe," rejoined the other, 
 taking off his cap. " Your lordship is right welcome to
 
 What Passed Between Bittern and the Prince. 49 
 
 Southampton. Suffer me to introduce myself to you as 
 Master Rodomont Bittern, a caballero y hombre de honor, 
 who will be pr ud to do your lordship a service. These are 
 my friends, Nick Simnel and Jack Holiday — both cabala ros 
 like myself, and courageous and haughty as bulls. Be known 
 to Don Philip, senores. If your lordship will permit us, we 
 will escort you to the quay." 
 
 "Ay, and go on board with his lordship, an he likes our 
 company," cried Simnel. " We are in tlie humour for an 
 adventure." 
 
 "I am leady for aught, save the couch," said Jack Holi- 
 day. " Don Philip will fmd us jolly cocks, that I promise 
 him." 
 
 " Why should not Don Philip, if he be not pressed, enter 
 worthy Master Tyrrell's house, and c ush a Hask of Bour- 
 deaux ? " said another of the party. " He sha.l be welcome, 
 I will answer for it." 
 
 "Ah, that he shall, good Master Huttoft," cried the host, 
 who was standing in his doorway, and heard what was 
 passing. " He shall have the best my cellar can produce. 
 I pray you, noble Sir, come in." 
 
 " Enter by all means," said Rodomont to the Prince. 
 "Master Tyrrell is well worth knowing. He is the richest 
 merchant we have — richer than the Italian merchants Nico- 
 lini and Guidotti, who dwell near St. John's. Master 
 Tyrrell is a descendant of the famous brothers Gervase and 
 Protasius, who founded the hospital of God's House. Plis 
 daughter, Constance, is surnamed the Pearl of Southampton. 
 A ravishing creature, I vow. You will lose your r.cart the 
 instant you behold her. Your Andalusian beauties are 
 nothing to her." 
 
 " What do you know of Andalusian beauties, Sir ? " said 
 Philip. 
 
 " By the mass ! a good deal," rejoined Rodomont, signifi- 
 cantly; "as your lo:dship will guess, when I tell you I have 
 been at Seville. That is how 1 knew you for a grandre. I 
 could not be deceived. Enter, I pray you, and make Master 
 Tyirell's acquaintance. You will find his daugl iter as I have 
 described her — the fauest creature you ever clapped eyes on. 
 Not, however, that you will see her tonight, for she is at her 
 devotions. She is as pious as Saint Elizabeth. Had 1 the 
 4
 
 so 
 
 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 choice, I would take Constance Tyrrell in preference to our 
 Queen, whom tbe Prince, your master, has come hither to 
 marry — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 And the laughter in which he indulged was echoed by his 
 companions, 
 
 " Heaven grant that the Prince may not have raised his 
 expectations too high on the score ot his consort's beauty, or 
 he is like enough to be disappointed," pursued Rodomont. 
 " Hath your lonlship ever beheld her Majesty?" 
 
 " How could I, Sir?" replied Philip, " since I have never 
 set foot in England before this hour. But 1 have seen her 
 portrait by Sir Antonio More." 
 
 "Sir Antonio is a court painter, and has doubtless flattered 
 her," said Rodomont. " By my beard ! she is as thin as a 
 whippmg-post, and as sour as verjuice." 
 
 This sally was followed by a shout of laughter from the 
 
 party. 
 
 " Let me impress upon you the necessity of a little caution, 
 Master Bittern," said Osbert. " You seem to forget that 
 Don Philip is attached to his Highness's person." 
 
 "But he is not going to marry the Queen, therefore the 
 question of her good or ill looks can have no interest to him," 
 laughed Rodomont. " After all, tastes differ, and the Prince 
 may think hei Majesty charming, though I do not." 
 
 " Are you allowed to talk thus freely of great personages 
 in England, Sir?" demanded Philip, sternly. 
 
 *' For the present we are, Senor Don FeUpe, but there's no 
 saying what we may come to, now the Prince, your master, 
 is about to take us in hand, and teach us manners. Ere 
 long, w-i shall have a padlock placed upon our mouths, I 
 make no doubt. They say we are to have the Inquisition, 
 and an Auto-da-fd once a month to purge us of heresy, and 
 bring back the stray lambs to the fold. What with the 
 Prince, your master, and Cardinal Pole, who is shortly ex- 
 pected we are likely to have a pleasant time of it. Familiars 
 of the Holy Office will become too familiar with us, and after 
 a few m -nths passed in secret cells, with red-hot pincers and 
 the rack for recreation, we shall be burnt alive in the 
 market places, shrouded from head to foot in a san benito, as 
 I have myself seen done in your dehghtful city of Seville." 
 " Yuu aie trying to frighten us by these horrid descriptions
 
 W/iaf Passed Between Bittern and the Prince. 5 1 
 
 of red-hot ]nncers and the rack. Rodomont,'' said Simnel. 
 " But it won't do. Such things will never come to pass m 
 England." 
 
 " Be not too sure of that, Nick," rejoined Bittern. " You 
 yourself may march at the head of a procession of penitents 
 to Smithfield before the year is out." 
 
 " May be I shall," rejoined Simnel ; " but if I am burned 
 at the stake, you will bear me company. However, I refuse 
 to believe that the Prince of Spain has any such fell designs 
 as you calumniously attribute to him. Don Philip will give 
 us an assurance to the contrary. Doubtless he is in his 
 Highness's confidence. I pray your lordship to contradict 
 him. Give him the lie direct." 
 
 "Set your mind at ease. Sir," rejoined Philip. "The 
 Prince is a ;.;ood Catholic, but that you need nut be told. But 
 even his abhorrence of heresy will not induce him to inter- 
 fere with the religious affairs of this realm, which belong, of 
 right, to the Queen and the Church. You need not fear the 
 establishment of the Inquisition." 
 
 As the words were uttered, a passer-by, vvho had lingered 
 to hear what was going forward, exclaimed, " 'Tis he ! " and 
 then, hurrying on his way, speedily disappeared. 
 
 The exclamation troubled Philip, and he felt the necessity 
 of instant departure. 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot longer continue this discourse, 
 gentlemen," he said, " neither can I accept IMaster Tyrrell's 
 hospitality. I bid you all good-night." 
 
 And bowing to the party with a dignity that strongly 
 impressed them, and prevented them from attempting to 
 accompany him, he walked away with Osbert. 
 
 "My mind misgives me," said Rodomont, looking after 
 him. " Did I not feel sure the Prince must be on board the 
 ' Santissima Trinidada,' I should think this haughty hidalgo 
 was he. What an air he has ! " 
 
 "A princely air, indeed !" exclaimed Simnel. 
 
 "Who was it cried "Tis he?'" demanded Bittern. 
 
 " Nay, I know not," returned Jack Holiday. " Whoever 
 the fellow might be, he went away quickly." 
 
 " From the glimpse I caught of him, he looked like the 
 French Ambassador," observed Huftoft " His Excellency is 
 in Southampton. I saw him this morning." 
 4—2
 
 52 Cardinal Vole. 
 
 . "The French Ambassador!" exclaimed Rodomont. "Nay," 
 then, my suspicions are well founded. Gentlemen, we have 
 been conversing with the Prince of Spain." 
 
 Expressions of incredulity arose Irom the whole party. 
 
 " If It be the Prince of Spain, I would not give much for 
 your ears, Rodomont," said Simnel, laughing. " Bethink 
 you how disrespectfully you spoke of the Queen." 
 
 " I but affirmed the truth in saying she was not a beauty," 
 rejoined Bittern. 
 
 "Ay, but the truth must not be spoken when hei 
 Majesty's looks are in question," observed Simnel. "You 
 are in for it, friend Rodomont." 
 
 "Bah! I am not afraid," cried Bittern, "The Prince 
 will be of my opinion when he beholds his royal consort. 
 Mark what I say. There is not a gallant in the Two 
 Castiles fonder of a pretty woman than Don Philip — a 
 pretty woman, d'ye heed? How then will he reconcile 
 himself to one so much the reverse of beautiful as the 
 Queen? But we must watch over his Highness's safety. The 
 French Ambassador is the Prince's worst enemy, and 
 capable of doing him a mischief. Good-night, worthy 
 Master Tyr.ell. We will have another merry bout to- 
 morrow. Come along, gentlemen— but caution !— caution ' 
 — The Prince must not perceive that he is followed." 
 
 With this, they all marched down the street.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE DEVOTEE IN' THE CHAPEL OF 'JHE DOMUS DEI. 
 
 [NSTEAD of proceeding to the Water-gate, near 
 which a noisy th.ong was still assembled, Philip 
 and his conductor turned off on the left, with the 
 intention of making their exit from the town by 
 the South-gate, 
 
 Passing through a Gothic archway, they entered a narrow 
 sombre street, or alley, witli old monastic looking buildings 
 on either side. In this street stood, and still stands, the 
 Bomiis Dei, or God's House, a hospital founded in the reign 
 of Henry III. by two brothers, Gervase and Piolasius, mer- 
 chants of Southampton, and dedicated by them to Saint 
 Julian, the patron of travellers. Connected with this hos- 
 pital, ancient even at the period of our history, was a 
 beautiful little chapel, where, as we have already mentioned. 
 the three conspiring lords weie buried after their decapita- 
 tion. 
 
 Vespers were being celebrated within the sacred pile as 
 Philip and his conductor passed it; perceiving which, tlie 
 Prince determined to go in and perform his devotions. 
 Accordinulv, they entered the little edifice. 
 
 Dimly lighted by the tapers bu-ning at the altar, its mas- 
 sive round pillars, semicircular arches, small windows, and 
 deeply-recessed doorway, could only be imperfectly seen. 
 Within the chancel, the arch of which was of great beauty, 
 three black marble flags told where the traitororous nobles
 
 54 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 were laid. Here, also side by side, were recumbent statues 
 of the tounders of the fane, sculptured in alabaster. 
 
 Except the officiating priest and his assistants, tiiere were 
 only two female devotees in the chapel, both of whom were 
 kneeling betore the altar. 
 
 Philip 10 k a place near them. For some minutes he was 
 so absorbed in his devotions that, he did not notice the person 
 beside him, further than remarking that she was young; 
 but as he raised his eyes, he caught sight of a face that at 
 once riveted his attention. Never had he beheld features so 
 exquisitely beautiful, or so sweet in expression. No nun 
 could have a hoUer or purer look. A tender melancholy 
 pervaded this angelic countenance, adding an inexpressible 
 charm to it. The face was seen by the Prince in profile, but 
 the attitude served to display the classic regularity of the 
 lineaments, the noble brow, white as murble, the delicately- 
 chiselled nose, the short upper lip, and rounded chin. The 
 complexion of the lovely devo'ee was of dazzling fairness, 
 which lent additional effect to her resplendent black eyes, 
 her finely-pencilled brows and dusky and luxuriant tresses. 
 Her figure was slender, and its perfect symmetry was defined 
 by her black taffetas dress. From her girdle hung a silver 
 rosary. A small ruff encircled her swan-like throat, and a 
 velvet hood fastened to a coverchief lay at the back of her 
 head. 
 
 Totally unconscious of the effect produced by her charms, 
 she pursued her devotions, and it was only towards the close 
 of the service, that she became aware of the Prince's 
 propinquity, and of the ardent gaze he fixed upon her. The 
 discovery gave her evident annoyance. Whispering to her 
 attendant, she arose hastily, with the design of quitting the 
 chapel. She could not avoid Osbert, who was leaning 
 against a pillar directly in her way. Young Clinton had 
 been as much struck by her beauty as the Prince, and with 
 looks betokening the extent of his admiration, he bowed to 
 her respectfully as she passed. Coldly returning the salute, 
 and drawing the hood over her head, she went forth, followed 
 by her attendant. 
 
 Phiiip did not move till the fair devotee had quitted the 
 chapel. He then arose, and with undisturbed gravity of 
 deportment left the bui-ding. As he issued into the street,
 
 The Devotee in the Chapel of the Domus Dei. 55 
 
 which we have stated was dark and narrow, the two females 
 could nowhere be discerned. Yet, feeling confident they 
 must have proceeded towards the main street, he speeded in 
 that direction. Osbert went with him, but was not sorry to 
 find, on reaching the archway opening into English titreet, 
 that nothing was to be seen of them. 
 
 " Whither can she have gone ? " cried Philip, in a tone of 
 fierce disappointment ; and then, without waitmg for au 
 answer, he added, " But perhaps you know her." 
 
 Osbert replied in the negative. 
 
 " I did not believe the world contained such a paragon," 
 cried Philip. " But to lose htr would be intolerable. Stay! 
 the priest can tell us who she is. Let us go back and 
 question him." 
 
 "Such a step would excite the holy man's suspicions, and 
 infallibly seal his lips," replied Osbert, "To-morrow I will 
 obtain information for your Highness." 
 
 *' But I must be satisfied to-night," cried Philip. '* I can- 
 not rest till I feel sure I shall behold her again." 
 
 " She appears to have made a great impression upon your 
 Highness," observed Osbert, in a tone that slightly evinced 
 his dissatisfaction. 
 
 " More than I like to confe^^s," rejoined the Prince. " I 
 am not accustomed to be thwarted. I must find out who 
 she is, and that without delay." 
 
 " I see not how your desiie can 1 e gratified," said Osbert 
 "We have lost all traces of her for the momen*^." 
 
 " Yuu seem reluctant to do my bidding, Sir," said Philip. 
 "Are you smitten with her 30urself? Take heed ! I will 
 endure no rival." 
 
 " Far be it from me to dream of rivalry with your High- 
 ness," rejoined Osbert. " I am ready to execute any orders 
 you may deign to give me, but I cannot blind raysei to the 
 risk of continuing this quest." 
 
 " You are too young to talk of risk, Sir," said Philip. 
 "Difficulties and dangers only add zest to an affair of this 
 kind." 
 
 " That would be quite true, were I alone concerned in it," 
 rejoined Osbert. "But it is risk to your Highness, and not 
 to myself that I dread. You would not care to have it 
 known that you have privily visited Southampton to-night.
 
 56 Cardinal PjIc. 
 
 Yet it may become so, without due caution. Even now 
 niethinks, we are watched. Cast your eyes across the street, 
 and beneath t:ie gate of yonder convent of Grey Friars you 
 w.ll perceive the party of tipsy revellers from whom we have 
 but just escaped. Unless I am mistaken, they are playing 
 the spy upon us." 
 
 "By Heaven you are right !" cried Philip, looking in the 
 direction indicated, and remaiking the group beneath the 
 convent gate. " If we go on, we shall have those fellows at 
 our heels, or they will join us, which will be worse." 
 
 ''Not a doubt of it," replied O^bert. "And to speak 
 truth, I am not without uneasiness on another score. That 
 sudden exclamation of a passer-by would seem to indicate 
 that you were recognised — perhaps by an tnemy. If I may 
 be so bold, I would counsel your instant return to the sh.p." 
 "And leave this adventure unfinshed!" exclaimed 
 Phih'p. "It goes aganst my inclination. 'Tis not the 
 custom with us Spaniards to halt on the threshold of a love 
 afiair. But I yield to the prudence of your suggestion." 
 
 "Heaven be thanked!" mentally ejaculated Osbert. 
 " He shall never behold her again, if i can help it." 
 
 On this, they once more tiacked the dark and narrow 
 street. In another moment they w^^re near the little chapel, 
 and Osbert would have hurried on, but the Prince paused to 
 consider the locality. Po>sibly the damsel might be still 
 thereabouts, or she might have entered the hospital which 
 adjoined the chapel, and indeed wa^ connected with it. A 
 lateral passage led to a small quadrangular court, and down 
 this passage Philip went, hoping to make some discovery. 
 Nor was he this time destined to disappointment. On gain- 
 ing the court, he found that the fair object of his search was 
 advancing towards him with her attendant. She had evi- 
 dently just left the hospital, as the door was being closed at 
 the moment by an ancient porter, carrying a lamp. 
 
 "At last I have found you, Madam!" exclaimed the 
 Prince, springing towards her. " I have looked for you 
 everywhere in vain. But I thought fortune would not 
 present such a treasure to my view, only to rob me of it 
 instantly." 
 
 "Let me pass, I entreat you, Sir," cried the terrified 
 maiden.
 
 The Devotee in the Chapel of the Domus Dei. 5 7 
 
 "Not till I have told you of the passion which your 
 charms have inspired in my breast," pursued Philip, detain- 
 ing her. " You must — you shall hear me." 
 
 "Not another word," cried the damsel, haughtily; "I 
 command you to let me go You will repent this rudeness. 
 Know you whom you thus insult?" 
 
 " Pray Heaven she do not tell him who she is 1 " said 
 Obbcrt, inlernally. 
 
 "I know you for the fairest creature I have ever beheld," 
 said Philip, "and if I offend you by my speech, blame me 
 not tor it, but rather blame your own charms, wh ch compel 
 me to give utterance to my feelings. Did I but know your 
 nane, I would at once release you." 
 
 "Then learn to your confusion, forward Sir," interposed 
 the old attendant, "that ray young lady is Mis'resS Constance, 
 daughter of Master Tyrrell, the rich merchant of English 
 Street, whom you must know by repute." 
 
 "What! the Pearl of Soudiamptoii ! " exclaimed the 
 Prince. " By my faith, the title is well b;;stovved. She does 
 not belie her refutation." 
 
 "Ay, the Pearl of Southampton," cried the old woman. 
 "And a jjcarl she is, above all price, I can tell you, and not 
 to be meddled with by profane gallants like you, when she 
 is engaged on works of charity." 
 
 " What goodly work has your fair mistress been employed 
 in ?" inquired Philip. 
 
 " In ministering to the sick within this hospital," replied 
 the old woman. " But she is alwa\ s occupied in zo'^A works, 
 and hath no time for idle vanities. You would do wlU to 
 follow her example. When the Prince of Spain arrived in 
 the harbour this evening, and all the town flock d to the 
 quay to welcome him, what did my pious darling do but hie 
 to yon little chapel to return thanks to Heaven for giving 
 him a safe voyage." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Philip. "The Prince ought to be 
 much beholden to her. I thank you in his name. Madam," 
 he added to Constance. 
 
 "You are a Spaniard, then, Sir?" said Constance, for the 
 first time rai.->ing her eyes towards him. 
 
 " One of his Highness's suite," replied Philip. " I am sure 
 it will delight the Prince that one so fair should take an
 
 5 8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 interest in him. I trust you will again remember him in 
 your prayers." 
 
 " I have prayed for him," said Constance — " prayed that 
 having arrived here in safety, he may escape all danger 
 from the disaffected — prayed that his marriage with our 
 Queen may be fraught with happiness to both of them, and 
 conduce to the welfare of the realm, and the benefit of 
 religion." 
 
 " I rejoice to hear such sentiments fall from your lips. I 
 have heard it.'N like them since I landed. You wish well to 
 the Prince of Spain ? " 
 
 " I wish well to him because he is to be the Queen's hus- 
 band, and she has no more loyal subject than myself. I 
 could not wish him better than to be ihe chosen spouse of 
 so excellent a Princess," 
 
 " He might be better pleased, Madam, if her Majesty 
 resembled you," observed Philip. 
 
 "The Prince cannot be of your opinion, Sir," returned 
 Constance, "for I hear he is singularly devout. He will 
 require no other graces in her Majesty save those of her 
 mind and heart." 
 
 "You have been rightly informed as to the Prince's zeal 
 in religious matters, Madam," said Philip. " He is as 
 strict as you appear to be ; but he is by no means in- 
 different to beauty, and I am certain he could not behold 
 you unmoved." 
 
 "You do him wrong. Sir," said Constance. "The Queen 
 must now exclusively occupy his heart. A thought of any 
 other would be sinful, and a pious prince would never 
 indulge such a thought." 
 
 "A very pertinent remark. I trust he may profit by it," 
 muttered Osbert. 
 
 " The sin being involuntary, would lie lightly on his con- 
 science," observed Philip. "But I must prevail on ihe 
 Prince to mention your name to the Queen. She ought to 
 be made acquainted with your merits, and might, possibly, 
 find some place for you near her royal person." 
 
 " I pray you, Sir, do not. I have no desire to emerge from 
 my present obscurity. But for my father, I should embrace 
 the life of a cloister. That is my real vocation." 
 
 " It must not be, Madam ! " exclaimed Osbert, unable to
 
 The Devotee in the Chapel of the Domus Dei. 59 
 
 restrain himself. "You would do a wrong to society to 
 deprive it of its chief ornament." 
 
 " You see, Madam, that this gentleman is as much opposed 
 to the step as I myself should be," observed Philip. "You 
 must not quit a world you are so well calculated to adorn. 
 No, no ; you must be one of her Majesty's attendants — you 
 must grace a court." 
 
 " I grace a court ! " exclaimed Constance. " I am not fit 
 for it. Bat you are mocking me, Sir." 
 
 " By Saint lago I am not ! " cried Philip. '* I was never 
 more serious in my life. I will prove to you I am in 
 earnest " 
 
 " Nay, I desire no such proof. Sir," interrupted Constance, 
 alarmed by his impassi-ned tone. "I must go. Do not 
 detain me. I have stayed too long already discoursing with 
 a stranger." 
 
 " It will be your own fault if I continue a stranger to you, 
 sweet Constance," said Philip, " Rather than you should 
 doubt my sincerity, 1 will declare myself." 
 
 "Hold!" exclaimed Osbert. "Pardon me," he added to 
 the Prince ; " I feel it my duty to interpose." 
 
 " It would avail me nothing to know your name and 
 quality. Sir," said Constance. "Henceforth we must be 
 entire strangers to each other." 
 
 "Not so ! — not so! sweet Constance!" cried the Prince. 
 "Will you not suffer me to attend you to your home?" 
 
 " I am too well known to need an escort," she rejoined. 
 "Nay, I am peremptory," she added, seeing the Prince 
 meant to accompany her, "You will not, I am sure, dis- 
 oblige me. Come, Dorcas. Fare you well, Sir." 
 
 "Adieu, sweet Constance !" exclaimed the Prince ; adcl'ng, 
 as she disappeared with her attendant, " notwithstanaing 
 your interdiction, we shalt meet again."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OF THE MURTHEROUS ATTACK MADE UPON THE PRINCE IN 
 THE COURT OF THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 CONSIDERING that I have been little more than 
 an hour in England, I have employed my time 
 not unprofitably," remarked the Prince, gaily. 
 " If your Highness was in search of an adven- 
 ture, you have certainly been lucky in meeting with one," 
 observed Osbert. " Bat I presume you are now content, 
 and disposed to go on board." 
 
 " Presently," replievi Philip. " But I must pause for a 
 moment to think over the interview — to recall her words, 
 and the music of her voice. She has cast a spell upon 
 me." 
 
 " So it would seem," muttered Osbert. " Hah ! she is 
 here again !" he exclaimed, as Constance and her attendant 
 suddenly re entered the court. 
 
 " Returned so soon !" exclaimed Philip, springing joyfully 
 towards the damsel. Then remarking her agitntion, he 
 added, " Bat what has happened ? 
 claim our esco: t ? " 
 
 " I am ccme to warn you," she replied, trembling. 
 life is in danger." 
 
 " The danger is welcome, since it procures me the happi- 
 ness of seeing you again," said the Prince 
 
 "Oh ! trifle not thus," she rejoined 
 peril. Listen to me, I beseech you. There are some evil- 
 minded men in the street, whose design, I am certain, is to 
 
 Have you come to 
 "Your 
 
 '"Tis no imaginary
 
 Of the ATurtlicrous At lack upon the Prince. 6i 
 
 set upon you as you come forth. They have weapons in 
 their hands, and their talk leit rne no doubt as to their 
 sanguinary purpose." 
 
 "But why should they lie in \vait for me?" rejoined 
 Philip, carelessly. *' However, be that as it may, I am 
 infinitely obliged to them for proving to me that you are 
 really interested in my safety." 
 
 " How could I fail to be, when I learnt from some words 
 that fell from these miscreants, what I might have conjec- 
 tured before, that you are no less exalted a personage than 
 the Prince of Span ? " 
 
 "In what way did the villains obtain the information?" 
 cried Philip. "It must be mere guess-work on their part. 
 But make yourself easy, sweet Constance. They will not 
 dare to assault me; or, if they do, I shall know how to 
 defend myself. Besides, I am not alone. This gentleman, 
 Master Osbert Clinton, I make no doubt, is a tolerable 
 swordsman, and will help me to give a good account of the 
 rogues." 
 
 " Your Highness may depend on me," said Osbert. 
 "But you must not place yourself in this jeopardy. The 
 street is dark and lonely, and favourable to a murtherous 
 attempt of this kind. Already, more than one foul deed 
 has been perpetrated within it." 
 
 "The wretches are lying in ambush ready to attack you 
 unawares," said Constance. " I saw them extinguish the 
 only lamp in the street, and then retire behind a buttress in 
 the wall." 
 
 " By Holy Mary ! my young mistress speaks the truth," 
 said old Dorcas, her teeth chattering with fright. " I 
 counted the villains. There are six ot them." 
 
 "Then they will be three to two,' rejoined the Prince, 
 lightly. "We can manage that odds, eh. Master Clinton?" 
 
 " Your Highness must not thus expose yourself," said 
 Constance. " It will be impossible to escape them. I pray 
 you to be ruled by me, and enter the hospital till a guard 
 be procured." 
 
 " I am well content to do so, if you will tarry with me," 
 answered Philip. " But who will bring the guard?" 
 
 •' Be that task mine," cried Osbert. " As soon as your 
 Highness is in safety, I will fly to procure assistance."
 
 62 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "Nay, you must not go, Sir," said Constance. "The 
 peril will be as great to you as to the Prince himself. You 
 will only throw away your life in the attempt. I will 
 summon the watch. I shall run no risk." 
 
 " She will, at least, pity me if I fall — I will go ! " mentally 
 ejaculated Osbert. 
 
 " I will procure your Highness instant admittance to the 
 hospital," said Constance, " and then " 
 
 " Nay, you must bear me company, or I will not enter,' 
 interrupted Philip. 
 
 Osbert waited till they had nearly reached the door of the 
 hospital, and then, drawing his sword, rushed down the 
 passage leading to the street. 
 
 " Ah ! rash young man ! " exclaimed Constance, in accents 
 of pity which might have gratified Osbert if he could have 
 heard them. " He is rushing to certain destruction." 
 
 Scarcely were the words uttered, when the clashing of 
 steel was heard without, accon)panied by other sounds, 
 proving that a desperate conflict was going on, 
 
 " I must leave you, Constance, and fly to his assistance," 
 cried the Prince, plucking his rapier from its sheath. 
 
 *'No," she rejoined, holding him. "Your life is too pre- 
 cious to be thus sacrificed — too precious to the Queen." 
 
 " I will strike down these assassins in her name," rejoined 
 Philip. '* I am proof against their blades. The son of 
 Charles V. is not destined to perish thus obscurely." 
 
 " 'Twere far better you sought an asylum here ; but, if go 
 you will, may Heaven and all good saints guard you ! " 
 
 And as she relinquished her hold of him, and sought to 
 enter the hospital, she found the door was fastened. 
 
 Perceiving this, old Dorcas knocked against it, calling out 
 lustily, " Within ! I say, within ! " But there being no 
 answer to the summons, she added despairingly, " Deaf old 
 Absalom, the porter, must have gone to bed. What will 
 become of us ? " 
 
 Meanwhile, the Prince had quickly divested himself of 
 his cloak, and, wrapping part of it round his tr,ft arm, leaving 
 the other half hanging down, he flew to the passage, rapier 
 in hand. On reaching it, he found it occupied by Osbert 
 and his assailants. The young man was defending himself 
 like a lion against his opponents, one of whom he had
 
 Of the Murtherous Attack upon the Prince. 63 
 
 already disabled, but he was compelled to retreat; his 
 position being such, that for the moment the Prince could 
 render him no assistance. But the foremost of the assassin 
 band caught sight of Philip, and shouting out to his com- 
 rades, — 
 
 " There stands the accursed Spanish Prince who would 
 enslave us ! We have him now — we have him!" Where- 
 upon, incited by the words, they attacked Osbert so furiously 
 that they drove him down the passage. 
 
 "Ah ! why do I find your Highness here?" cried young 
 Clinton, despairingly, as the Prince joined him, and helped 
 him to keep off his assailants. 
 
 "You hear what he says, comrades," cried the leader of 
 the band, a formidable-looking ruffian in a buff jerkin and 
 steel cap, who looked hke a disbanded soldier. " I was 
 not mistaken, you see. 'Tis the Prince in person. 'Tis the 
 bloodthirsty tyrant who would rob us of our liberties, and 
 place us under a foreign yoke ; who would force us by fagot 
 and fire and other severities, conceived in hell, to return to 
 the Romish idolatries we have abjured. But he has been 
 delivered into our hands ere the wicked devices of his heart 
 can be accomplished. It is Heaven's will that he should 
 die, and in putting him to death we shall earn the gratitude 
 of our country." 
 
 "Besides the hundred rose-nobles each that we are to 
 have for the deed," cried one of his comrades. 
 
 "I would do the deed for nothing," shouted another of 
 the band, "for it will redound to our credit. So have at 
 him ! " 
 
 " Harkye, young Sir," cried the leader of the band, ad- 
 dressing Osbert. "We do not desire your life— nay, we 
 would willingly spare you. Our sole object is to crush this 
 spawn of hell. Retire, and leave him to our justice." 
 
 " Think you I will stand tamely by and see you execute 
 your ruthless purp(se.?" cried young Clinton. "No; I 
 will defend the Prince to my last gasp." 
 
 " Your blood be upon your own head, then," rejoined the 
 ruffian. "Upon them, comrades ! Strike, and spare not." 
 
 "Thou, at least, will never be executioner," cried the 
 Prince. 
 
 And as the ruffian made a desperate lunge at him, he
 
 64 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 dexterouslv caught his sword in the hanging part of his 
 cloak, and relurning with a full thrust, transfixed his antago- 
 nist with his rapier. 
 
 " This conies of Spanish practices," groaned the wretch, 
 as he tell to the ground. " Had he fought like an English- 
 man, without the cloak, I had killed him. Revenge me, 
 comrades," he added, with his last breath, 
 
 " 1 have done thee too much honour in killing thee, vile 
 caitiff," cried Philip, spurnmg the body with his foot. 
 
 The death of the leader caused a momentary pause in the 
 assault. But determined to make sure of their prey, three 
 of the ruffians now attacked the Prince, leaving the fourth 
 engaged with Osbert. Jiut for his activity and address it 
 might now have fared ill with Philip. His cloak saved him 
 from many a deadly thrust aimed at his breast, and dis- 
 tracted his assailants. Strange to say, he was entirely un- 
 touched, though all three of his opponents had felt the point 
 of hs weapon. He tried to separate them, but without suc- 
 cess. They were too wary to be caught by the stratagem. 
 
 In this way, he was driven back towards the door of the 
 hospital, beiore which stood Constance and old Dorcas, 
 unable to gain admittance, and filling the court with cries 
 for help. Presently at this juncture, and as if to afford liim 
 a means of retreat, the door of the hospital was thrown open 
 by old Absalom, the porter, who held a lamp in his hand, 
 and was shaking with terror. While stepping nimbly back- 
 wards in the hope of passing through the docrway, Philip 
 encountered some obstacle, and fell, thus lying at the mercy 
 of his opponents. 
 
 In another moment all had been over with him, if Con- 
 stance had not heroically thrown herself before him, and the 
 ruffians, having some touch of manhood in their breast?, for- 
 bore to strike. Wiih terrible oaths, however, they ordered 
 her to stand aside, but, with unshaken re-.olution, she main- 
 tained her place, and they were preparing to execute their 
 fell purpose in spite of her, when a loud clatter in the pas- 
 sage leadmg to the street warned them that succour was at 
 hand, and made them pause The next moment Rodomont 
 Bittern and his friends, shouting and flourishing their swords, 
 and accompanied by two or three torch-bearers, rushed into 
 the court.
 
 ClJNSTANCK TVRREI.I. SAVRS THE I.ll-E OF TIIK PlilNCE OF SpAIN. 
 
 1'. '^4
 
 4$
 
 Of the Murtheroiis Attack zip on the Priiice. 65 
 
 "A Rodomont to the rescue ! " roared Bittern. " Where 
 is Don PhiHp ? Pleaven be praised, we are not too late ! " 
 he exclaimed, perceiving the Prince, who by this time had 
 regained his feet. " Down with your swords, villains ! " he 
 added to the ruffians. " Down with them instantly, or we 
 will hack you to minced-meat." 
 
 "Know you whom you aid?" cried one of the men, 
 regarding him fiercely. " It is the Prince of Spain — the 
 arch-foe of England. But for this foolish damsel we had 
 already destroyed him ! " 
 
 '* Soh ! you unblushingly confess your villany?" rejoined 
 Rodomont. " A precious rascal, truly ! " 
 
 " Ay, and I should have exulted in the deed, if I had 
 accomplished it," retorted the man. " A day will come 
 when you will re^jret this interference. Think not to detain 
 me." 
 
 " Stay him ! kill him ! suffer him not to escape ! " shouted 
 Rodomont to his companions. 
 
 But, in spite of the many weapons directed against him, 
 the man fought his way desperately towards the passage, 
 and was close upon it, when a cut on the head staggered 
 him, and he was captured and disarmed. He was followed 
 by his two comrades, both of whom were more successful 
 than himself, and effected a retreat. The ruffian who had 
 been engaged witr. Osbert likewise escaped, having broken 
 away amid the confusion caused by the arrival of Rodomont 
 and his party. Some pursuit was made after the miscreants, 
 but it was ineffectual. 
 
 No sooner was Philip freed from his assailants, than he 
 turned to express his gratitude to Constance. 
 
 " I owe my life to you," he said ; " nay, more, you have 
 risked your own life to preserve mine. How can I requite 
 you ? " 
 
 "By forgetting that you have ever beheld me," she 
 replied. 
 
 "That were impossible," he rejoined. "Ask something 
 that I can perform." 
 
 " 1 desire nothing," she returned ; " and, indeed, I do not 
 merit your gratitude. It is the hand of Heaven that has 
 guarded your Highness, not mine — guarded you for the 
 Queen, to whom your safety is dearer than her own life, and 
 
 5
 
 66 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 who might not have survived your loss, I must now retire 
 for a short space, to compose myself ere I return home. 
 Once more, I implore you to forget me. Farewell for 
 ever ! " 
 
 And without another word, and in spite of Philip's 
 appealing looks, she entered the hospital with Dorcas. 
 
 " It would be well if I could forget her," thought Philip, 
 as Constance disappeared ; " but that is beyond my power. 
 I could not tear her from my heart without a pang greater 
 than I could endure. Yet it would be a crime to trouble 
 the peace of one so pure and holy-minded. No matter ! I 
 should be wretched without her. Come what will, we must 
 meet again."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DERRICK CARVER. 
 
 ROM these thoughts he was recalled to what was 
 going on by Rodomont, who called out, " Here 
 is one srf the murtherous villains who attacked 
 your Highness. Will it please you to question 
 him ? " 
 
 Philip turned at the words, and by the light of the 
 torches which were held towards him, was enabled to 
 examine the captive. The man, whose hands were tied 
 behind his back by a belt, was of middle height, and rather 
 powerful frame, and seemed to be decently attired ; but his 
 garments were sullied with blood, which flowed from several 
 bodily wounds, as well as from a deep gash across the 
 temple. His head was uncovered, and his matted black 
 locks were dabbled in gore. His features, which were 
 strongly marked, and remarkably stern in expression, were 
 of a ghastly hue ; but notwithstanding the smarting ot his 
 wounds and evident faintness from loss of blood, his looks 
 were resolute and his black eyes blazed fiercely. He did 
 not quail in the least before the searching and terrible glance 
 fixed upon him by the Prince. 
 
 "Do any of you know this man?" demanded Philip, 
 after regarding him stedfaslly for a short space. 
 
 " By the body of Saint Alphonso, which reposes at 
 Zamora ! I should blush to avow myself acquainted with 
 the felon hound," rejoined Rodomont. " But luckily I have 
 never seen him before ; and everyone else appears to be in 
 the same predicament. Plow art thou called, fellow ? 
 
 5—2
 
 68 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Speak out, or the thumb-screw shall force the truth from 
 thee." 
 
 "Torture would not make me speak," replied the man, 
 firmly. " But I have no desire to conceal my name. It 
 will profit you little to know it. I am called Derrick 
 Carver, and I am of Brightelmstone, in Sussex." 
 
 *' Derrick, thou art most appropriately named Carver," 
 rejoined Rodomont; "but instead of carving his Highness, 
 as was thine atrocious design, thou shalt thyself be carved 
 by the knife of the executioner." 
 
 " By whom wert thou instigated to this attempt ? " de- 
 manded Philip. " Some greater hand than thine own is 
 manifest in the design." 
 
 "A far greater hand," rejoined Derrick Carver. ''The 
 hand of Heaven is manifest in it." 
 
 " Deceive not thyself, insensate villain," rejoined Rodo- 
 mont. " 'Tis the Prince of Darkness who hath inspired 
 the black design. He has deserted thee, as he deserts all 
 his servants." 
 
 " I am no bond slave of Satan, but a faithful servant of 
 the Most High," said Carver. " It was Heaven's wish that 
 I should fail ; but though my sword has been turned aside, 
 there are others left that shall find the tyrant out." 
 
 " There is clearly some conspiracy on foot," said Osbert, 
 who by this time had joined the Prince. " I have my own 
 suspicions at its author, which I will presently communicate 
 to your Highness. But that these are hired assassins is 
 certain. By their own showing, they were to have a 
 hundred rose-nobles each for the deed " 
 
 "Said I not right that Beelzebub was at the bottom -of 
 it? " cried Rodomont. "A hundred rose-nobles ! Is that 
 the sum for which thou hast bartered thy soul, thou 
 damnable Derrick ? Wert thou to be paid in French coin — 
 ha! Carver?" 
 
 "Your suspicions tend the same way as mine own, I 
 perceive, Sir," observed Osbert. 
 
 " Mine tend towards the French Ambassador, M. de 
 Noailles," rejoined Rodomont. " I speak it openly. I'll 
 be sworn this attempt is his excellency's contrivance." 
 
 " Like enough," said Philip. '* But the truth must be 
 wrung from that villain's lips."
 
 Derrick Carver. 69 
 
 " Nothing can be extorted from me, seeing I have nothing 
 to confess," rejoined Derrick Carver, boldl}'. " I cannot 
 answer for the motives that actuated those engaged with 
 me, but my own were righteous in intent. I meant to free 
 the Protestant Church from its deadliest enemy, and my 
 country from subjection to Spain. I have failed; but, I say 
 again, others will not fail, for there are many to take my 
 place. The blood of the saints will not be shed in vain, 
 but will cry out incessantly for vengeance." 
 
 "Peace, blasphemer!" exclaimed Rodomont, "or we 
 will have thy tongue plucked forth." 
 
 " Hear me out, and then deal with me as you list," said 
 Derrick Carver. " I am no hired assassin. Scarce half an 
 hour ago I was lamenting the perilous condition of the 
 Church and the realm, when I heard that the enemy of both 
 was in Southampton, almost unattended. Those who told 
 me this designed to slay him, and I unhesitatingly joined 
 them, without fee or promise of reward, being moved 
 thereto, as I deemed, by a divine impulse. That is all I 
 have to say." 
 
 " Let him be kept in some place of security till he can be 
 further interrogated," said the Prince. " And let the clothes 
 of the villain who fell by my hand be searched to see 
 whether there are any papers about him that may lead to 
 the discovery of his employer." 
 
 " It shall be done," replied Rodomont. " As to this 
 Derrick Carver, he shall be clapped in the dungeon below 
 the Bar-gate, the strongest prison in Southampton, and if we 
 have to put him to the question, ordinary and extraordinary, 
 we will have the truth from him. But your Highness may 
 take my word for it, 'tis a French design." 
 
 " I thank you for your zeal, good Master Bittern," said 
 Philip, " and in consideration of the services you have 
 rendered me, I am content to overlook the freedom of 
 speech in which you indulged a little while since. But I 
 must enjoin you to be more careful in future." 
 
 " I shall not fail," replied Rodomont, bowing respectfully. 
 " My excuse is, that I knew not whom I was addressing. 
 Your Highness may ever count on my loyalty and devotion," 
 he added, placing his hand upon his heart. 
 
 At this juncture the priest, who had officiated in the little
 
 70 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 chapel of the Domus Dei during PhiHp's visit to it, entered 
 the court with his assistants, and after inchning himself 
 reverently before the Prince, proceeded to congratulate him 
 on his miraculous preservation. 
 
 Replying in suitable terms, Philip declared he was so 
 fully convinced of Heaven's interposition in his behalf, that 
 he desired at once to offer up thanks for his providential 
 deliverance, and prayed the holy father to accompany him 
 to the chapel for that purpose. 
 
 The priest readily assented, and led the way to the sacred 
 edifice, into which, after a brief delay, Philip, with Osbert 
 and the rest of the assemblage, including even Derrick 
 Carver, were admitted. 
 
 Again the tapers were lighted at the altar, and again the 
 Prince knelt down before it; but this time there was no 
 fair devotee beside him to distract his thoughts, and his 
 prayers were full of fervour and gratitude. 
 
 It was a strange and solemn scene, and impressed even 
 Rodomont and his companions, whom recent events had 
 served to sober. 
 
 The demeanour of Derrick Carver was stern and unmoved; 
 but when the priest uttered a heartfelt prayer for the 
 Prince's deliverance, he could not repress a groan. As 
 Osbert looked round at this moment, he fancied he could 
 discern, within the deep recess of the doorway, the figure 
 of Constance Tyrrell. If it were so, however, she had 
 vanished before the others quitted the chapel. 
 
 His devotions over, Philip arose, and in taking leave of 
 the priest, promised the holy man an offering to Saint 
 JuUan, the patron saint of the chapel. He then bowed to 
 the others, and declining further attendance, passed forth 
 with Osbert, and proceeding to the quay, entered the boat 
 which vvas waiting for him, and returned to the "Santissima 
 Trinidada." 
 
 At the same time Derrick Carver was conveyed by Rodo- 
 mont and the others to the Bar-gate, and locked up in one 
 of the gloomiest cells of its subterranean dungeon.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE MEETING AT THE GUILDHALL. 
 
 O suspicion whatever had been entertained of the 
 Prince's absence from the ship. He was supposed 
 to be alone in the state-cabin, where, as we know, 
 the Count D'Egmont had been left as his repre- 
 sentative, and, after the strict orders given to that effect, 
 the Count remained entirely undisturbed. As time wore on, 
 and midnight drew near, D'Egmont began to feel uneasy, and 
 it was a relief to him when, shortly afterwards, the Prince 
 appeared with Osbert. 
 
 " I fear you must be fatigued with waiting for me. Count," 
 said PhiUp, as soon as the usher had retired, "I have 
 stayed longer on shore than I intended." 
 
 " I trust your Highness has been amused," observed 
 D'Egmont, assisting the Prince to take off his mantle. 
 " Heavens ! what do I see ? " he exclaimed. " The cloak is 
 
 laughing. " It has 
 
 cut in pieces. 
 
 •' Not unlikely," replied Philip, 
 warded off more than one deadly thrust. Your cloak has 
 done me good service, Count. Without it, Queen Mary 
 might have wanted a husband, and the Emperor an heir to 
 his dominions." 
 
 " Your Highness has acted rashly and unwisely in thus 
 exposing yourself," cried D'Egmont. " Recollect how much 
 hangs upon your hfe. The destinies of the world would be 
 changed if aught befel you. The saints have guarded you 
 at this moment of peril, and will continue to guard you,
 
 7 2 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 but it is tempting Heaven to jeopardise your safety unne- 
 cessarily." 
 
 " You assume that I have acted rashly, D'Egmont," re- 
 joined Phihp, " but 1 did not provoke the conflict. Set 
 upon by assassins, I was compelled to defend my life. 
 Thanks to your cloak and to ray own right hand, I have 
 come off without a scratch." 
 
 " I do not presume to ask for particulars," said the Count, 
 " But I trust you have not been recognised. If so, your 
 secret visit to the town will be known to all within it to- 
 morrow, and will assuredly be reported to the Queen." 
 
 " I have thought of that," rejoined the Prince. " Pre- 
 cautions must be taken lest any idle tale be told her 
 Majesty. No tidings of the occurrence can reach her to- 
 night, and at daybreak you shall convey a letter to her, 
 wherein I will inform her that I landed privily with the 
 design of hastening to Winchester to throw myself at her 
 feet, when my purpose was prevented by this untoward 
 circumstance. Osbert Clinton shall accompany you. Hav- 
 ing been with meat the time of the attack, he will be able 
 to answer any questions the Queen may put to him relative 
 to it." 
 
 " Your Highness will be pleased to give me my lesson 
 previously," remarked Osbert. " I presume I must say 
 nothing of Constance Tyrrell ? " 
 
 " Nothing but what will recommend her to the Queen," 
 rejoined Philip. " Her Majesty will be pleased to learn that 
 the damsel preserved my life by stepping between me and 
 the weapons of the assassins." 
 
 " And did she so ? " inquired D'Egmont. 
 
 "Ay, in good sooth," returned Philip; "and it was worth 
 the risk I ran to be so protected. Constance Tyirell is the 
 fairest creature my eyes ever lighted on. Her charms have 
 completely enthralled me." 
 
 "Then let me counsel your Highness to shake off the 
 fascination as speedily as possible," said D'Egmont, gravely. 
 " It was an unlucky chance that threw the temptress in your 
 way at this juncture." 
 
 "Lucky or not, I shall not relinquish her," rejoined 
 Philip, "Were you to preach to me as energetically as 
 Father de Castro, you would produce no effect, so you may
 
 The Meeting at the GiiildhaU. 73 
 
 spare your breath. And now to prepare the letter to the 
 Queen." 
 
 So sayinjT, he withdrew into an inner chamber, from which 
 he presently emerged with the letter, sealed with a broad 
 seal, and tied with a silken thread. 
 
 " This for her Majesty's own hands,'' he observed, with a 
 smile, while delivering it to D'Egmont. '• Be it your 
 business to obtain an audience before any messenger from 
 Southampton can reach her. All will then go well. As 
 you serve me discreetly," he added, significantly to Osbert, 
 "so shall you prosper." 
 
 With this he dismissed them, and summoning his groorn 
 of the chamber, prepared to retire to rest. 
 
 In obedience to the Prince's commands, Count D'Egmont, 
 accompanied by Osbert and a small train of attendants, 
 went ashore at an early hour in the morning, and as soon as 
 horses could be procured, started for Winchester. 
 
 A glorious day dawned upon Southampton. A morning 
 gun, fired from the batteries of the castle, awoke the slum- 
 bering town into sudden animation, while another gun from 
 the English admiral's ship had a similar effect upon the 
 crews of the combined fleets studding the smooth waters. 
 Men could be seen on the decks, or amidst the rigging, 
 actively employed in decorating the vessels with banners 
 and streamers. Hundreds of boats came ashore to obtain 
 fresh meat, bread, fruit, vegetables, and milk; and the 
 quays, which were speedily thronged, became a perfect 
 Babel. Horses and mules, bearing heavy panniers, laden 
 with provisions, crossed the drawbridges, and were soon 
 sent back for fresh stores, the supply being far from equal to 
 the demand. 
 
 In the town all was bustle and excitement. The church 
 bells began to peal joyously, and the streets were soon 
 thronged wth townsfolk, clad in holiday attire. But there 
 was considerable misgiving amongst those who were aware 
 of the occurrence of the previous night. At an early 
 hour the mayor and aldermen repaired to the Guildhall, 
 which, as we have previously mentioned, occupied the 
 interior of the Bar-gate, and here they found the Earl of 
 Arundel, Lord Steward of the Queen's Household, the 
 Marquis of Winchester, Lord High Treasurer, and other
 
 74 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 noblemen, who had met to investigate the attempt upon the 
 Prince's life, and to consider the measures necessary to be 
 adopted to ensure his Highness's safety on his disembark- 
 ation. 
 
 Nothing, it appeared on inquiry, had been found upon 
 Derrick Carver; but on the body of the man slain by 
 Philip, a letter, written in the French language, was dis- 
 covered, which, though very cautiously worded, bore evident 
 reference to the dark transaction. The plan, no doubt, had 
 been precipitated by the recognition of the Prince during 
 his secret visit to the town. Diligent, but hitherto fruitless, 
 search had been made for the four other ruffians engaged in 
 the attack. These daring miscreants being yet at large, it 
 was possible some further attempt might be made, and no 
 precaution, said the Earl of Arundel, who presided over the 
 meeting, must be neglected to ensure the Prince's safety. 
 The guard must be doubled, and persons of assured loyalty 
 must be placed near his person, while the slightest attempt 
 at outbreak or commotion must be instantly repressed. 
 
 " It would have been a lasting disgrace to the country," 
 continued the Earl, " if the Prince whom our Queen has 
 chosen as her spouse, and whom we are all bound to love, 
 honour, and defend, had been basely assassinated on setting 
 foot on our shores, and we may be thankful that we have 
 been spared that foul reproach — thankful, also, that the 
 design was not conceived by an Englishman. But for the 
 present, for reasons which will be apparent to you all, a veil 
 must be thrown over the mysterious occurrence. Out of 
 these walls none of you will speak of it. The preservation 
 of public tranquility necessitates this caution. Some 
 rumours of the attempt may be bruited abroad, but it will 
 be best to discredit them. Doubtless the Prince desires to 
 keep his nocturnal visit to the town secret. Nothing, there- 
 fore, must be publicly said of it. This you will carefully 
 observe. Bear in mind, also, that you will have many 
 Spaniards in your town to-day. They are a fiery nation, 
 easily roused to anger, and if this unlucky affair be talked 
 about, they may resent it, and quarrels and bloodshed will 
 ensue. It is the Queen's desire that all who come with her 
 destined consort be cordially welcomed. As loyal subjects, 
 I am sure you will carry out her wishes."
 
 The Meeting at the Giiildhall. 75 
 
 The mayor and the town authorities having promised 
 comphance with his lordship's instructions, the meeting 
 broke up. 
 
 Before leaving the Bar-gate, however, the Earl of Arundel 
 desired to see the prisoner. Accordingly, he was conducted 
 by the mayor to the subterranean dungeon, where, in a daik 
 and noisome cell, the floor of v.hich was humid with the 
 drippings from the stone walls, they found the miserable 
 wretch stretched upon a few trusses of straw. His wounds 
 had been bound up, but little beyond had been done for his 
 comfort. Pained by the light of the lamp flashed upon him 
 by the officer in attendance on the visitors, he tried to turn 
 aside his head, but ineffectually. 
 
 " Raise him, that I may look at him," said the Earl of 
 Arundel to the ofiicer. 
 
 The execution of the order gave the poor wretch so much 
 pain that he could not repress a groan. But though he was 
 suft'ering excruciating agony, his courage did not desert him, 
 and his answers to the interrogations put to him showed 
 unfaltering resolution. Threats of torture could wring 
 nothing from him, and he sternly refused to betray his 
 accomplices. 
 
 *' I gave no orders to have his wounds dressed," said the 
 mayor. " By whom hath he been tended. Piers ? " 
 
 "By Master Malvvood, the chirurgeon," replied the 
 officer. 
 
 " I thank him not for his care," said the prisoner. '' Had 
 he let me be, I had ere this escaped man's malice." 
 
 " He speaks the truth, an please your worship," observed 
 Piers. " Master Malwood declared, that if left to himself, 
 the poor wretch would die before the morning." 
 
 " But who sent for Master Malwood, answer me that. 
 Sirrah ? " demanded the mayor. 
 
 " Nay, I am not to blame, your worship," rejoined Piers, 
 humbly. "The chirurgeon was sent by Mistress Constance 
 Tyrrell, at her proper charge." 
 
 " This is the second ill turn she hath done me," said 
 Derrick Carver. " But for her, the idolatrous tyrant had 
 not escaped me, and now she preserves me for a lingering 
 death." 
 
 " Thou art like the wild beast, who would tear the hand
 
 76 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 put forth to succour him," cried the mayor, in disgust. 
 " Will it please your good lordship to question him 
 further?" 
 
 "Not now," returned the Earl of Arundel. "AVho is 
 this Mistress Constance Tyrrell of whom he has just 
 spoken ? " 
 
 "The daughter of one of our wealthiest merchants," 
 replied the mayor. "A very pious damsel, and ever 
 engaged in acts of charity." 
 
 " Is she a heretic?" demanded the Earl. 
 
 " Not so, my lord ; she is a most zealous Catholic, and it 
 is most like she will enter a nunnery," replied the mayor. 
 
 " Accursed be she, then ! " cried Derrick Carver. " Had 
 I known this, I would have resisted the chirurgeon." 
 
 " Let us hence, my good lord," cried the mayor. " If he 
 continues these blasphemies, we shall have the walls fall 
 upon us and crush us," 
 
 "Before your worship goes, I would fain know whether I 
 may admit Mistress Constance Tyrrell to the prisoner," said 
 Piers, " She hath asked to see him, but I would not grant 
 the request till I had your worship's sanction." 
 
 " Let her not come near me," cried Derrick Carver. 
 " Her presence will trouble me." 
 
 " For that very reason she shall have admittance to thee," 
 rejoined the mayor. "She hath helped to cure. thy body — 
 may she now help to save thy soul ! " 
 
 "I need not her aid," rejoined Derrick Carver, "She 
 hath more need of my teaching than I have of hers." 
 
 " If I thought thou wouldst taint her v/ith thy heresies, I 
 would keep her from thee," said the mayor. " But I have 
 no such fear. Admit her when she will, Piers." 
 
 And he quitted the cell with the EarL
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OF Philip's public disembarkation at Southampton. 
 
 EFORE noon the preparations for the Prince's 
 reception were complete. All the houses in 
 High-street had been hung with carpets and costly 
 stuffs, and otherwise decorated. From the 
 Water-gate to the porch of Holyrood Church, where high 
 mass was to be performed for the Prince, the street was kept 
 clear by archers and arquebusiers fully equipped, and 
 drawn up on either side, their steel caps and breastplates 
 glittering in the brilliant sunshine. 
 
 By-and-by a grand cavalcade of richly-apparelled nobles, 
 well mounted, and followed by long trains of esquires and 
 pages wearing their liveries, rode towards the quay. Notice- 
 able amongst these Avere the Earls of Shrewsbury, Derby, 
 and Sussex, but the personage who attracted most attention 
 was the Duke of Norfolk, 
 
 This venerable peer, whose long confinement in the 
 Tower, commencing at the latter part of the reign of Henry 
 VIH., and extending throughout that of his son, Edward 
 VI., had neither broken his spirit nor impaired his bodily 
 vigour, rode a high-spirited charger, which he managed with 
 all trie address and grace of a youthful cavalier. Norfolk's 
 attire was of almost regal magnificence, being of purple 
 velvet, edged with miniver, and richly embroidered, and his 
 charger was trapped in cloth of gold, of red and yellow 
 sheen. Behind him rode eighteen pages, each mounted on 
 a handsome courser, and each clad in cloth of gold.
 
 78 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 After the Duke of Norfolk and his attendants had ridden 
 by, six mounted trumpeters, with the royal badge on their 
 scarlet surcoats, came on, and made the welkin ring with 
 the din of their silver clarions. After the trumpeters walked 
 a troop of lacqueys, sumptuously attired in silk and velvet. 
 Then came other nobles and gentlemen of the train, all 
 superbly mounted, and vying with each other in the 
 splendour of their apparel, and the number of their page's 
 and esquires. 
 
 Next came a band of minstrels playing upon tambours 
 and rebecs. Then more lacqueys in the royal liveries, and 
 after them Sir Edward Hastings, Master of the Horse, who 
 was followed by two grooms leading a Spanish jennet, 
 caparisoned in cloth of silver, the bridal, poitral, and saddle 
 being studded with silver roses. This beautiful animal had 
 been sent by the Queen for her intended consort. 
 
 Next came Sir Robert Rochester, Comptroller, and after 
 him rode the Marquis of Winchester and the Earl of 
 Arundel. Each of these noblemen was magnificently 
 attired, and followed by a long train of attendants. Then 
 came a mounted guard, preceding the town authorities, who 
 marched two abreast, this part of the procession being 
 closed by the mayor on horseback. 
 
 Passing through the Water-gate, on the summit of which 
 the royal standard now floated, the whole of the splendid 
 cavalcade crossed the drawbridge, and proceeded to that 
 part of the quay where it was intended the disembarkation 
 should take place. A vast concourse had here assembled, 
 but a wide space near the water was kept clear by the 
 guard, and within this the procession drew up. 
 
 It was now high tide, and close to the strand lay the 
 Queen's barge, gorgeously decorated, and having a broad 
 banner embroidered with the arras of England on the 
 stern. 
 
 The Earl of Arundel with the Duke of Norfolk, the 
 Marquis of Winchester, and the prmcipal nobles, having 
 dismounted, entered this barque, and were immediately rowed 
 by two banks of oarsmen to the Prince's ship. In front of 
 the royal barge stood six trumpeters. Four other gilded 
 barges followed. The course of these gorgeous barques was 
 watched with momently-increasing interest by the thousands
 
 Of Pldlifs Public Disembarkation at Southampton. 79 
 
 of spectators on the quays, on the town walls, and on other 
 points of observation. 
 
 With her decks crowded with arquebusiers in their full 
 accoutrements, and banners floating from her turrets, the 
 "Santissima Trinidada" made a most gallant show, exciting 
 the wonder and admiration of all who gazed upon her. 
 Her companions on the right and left were likewise 
 splendidly decorated, and, indeed, every vessel within sight 
 fluttered with banners and streamers. 
 
 As the royal barge approached the Prince's ship, loud 
 fanfares were sounded by the trumpeters, and immediately 
 several oflicials in rich habiliments, and bearing white 
 wands, appeared at the head of the stairs. On gaining 
 the deck, the Earl of Arundel and the other nobles were 
 conducted with the utmost ceremony to Philip, whom they 
 found surrounded by the Dukes of Alva and Medina Cell, 
 Don Ruy Gomez, and the rest of the grandees composing 
 the Prince's suite. 
 
 On this occasion Philip had laid aside his customary 
 black habiliments, and wore a doublet and hose of crimson 
 silk, with a robe of cloth of gold. His boots were decked 
 with golden strings, and bordered with pearls. All the 
 grandees forming his entourage were dressed with extra- 
 ordinary magnificence, and made a most splendid display. 
 
 Philip received the English nobles with the greatest 
 courtesy, and being informed that the Earl of Arundel was 
 the bearer to him, from her Majesty, of the insignia of the 
 most noble Order of the Garter, he immediately bowed his 
 head, and while the collar was passed over his neck by the 
 Earl, the Duke of Norfolk buckled on the garter. ^Vhen 
 this ceremony had been performed, and an interchange of 
 formal salutations had taken place between the English 
 nobles and the Spanish grandees, the Prince was conducted 
 to the royal barge, the English nobles entering it with him. 
 The Spanish grandees, with various officials, gentlemen, and 
 pages, in attendance upon the Prince, went ashore in the 
 other boats. 
 
 On the part of the quay reserved for the disembarkation, 
 a rich Turkey carpet had been laid, and upon this stood 
 four henchmen in parti-coloured attire of crimson velvet and 
 yellow silk, sustaining an embroidered canopy of red
 
 8o Cai'dinal Pole. 
 
 damask, fringed with golden thread. The pages, esquires, 
 and other officials having first landed, the royal barge was 
 brought close to the strand, and a railed plank, covered 
 v;ith striped cloth, being laid upon it, offered an easy 
 passage to the Prince, whose deportment as he slowly 
 traversed it, was singularly haughty and majestic. 
 
 On the instant that Philip stepped ashore a royal salute 
 was fired from the castle batteries, the roar being prolonged 
 by every gun in the English fleet. At the same time 
 vociferous acclamations arose from the spectators. 
 
 ** Heaven save your Highness ! — welcome to England ! " 
 exclaimed a voice from amidst a group near the canopy. 
 
 The voice sounded familiar to Philip, and glancing in the 
 direction of the speaker, he recognised Rodomont Bittern, 
 who, with his friends, had managed to obtain a position 
 with the mayor and the town authorities. Rodomont's 
 exclamation, uttered in a loud voice, and with unmis- 
 takable heartiness, found many an echo. Pleased by the 
 cordiality of the welcome, Philip bowed graciously around, 
 and in so doing addressed a slight smile of recognition to 
 Rodomont. 
 
 A brief pause now ensued, but as soon as the grandees 
 had landed, and ranged themselves behind him, Philip 
 drew his sword, holding it aloft till he got beneath the 
 canopy, when he again stood still, and returned the blade 
 to the scabbard. This action surprised all the lookers-on, 
 and gave rise to many comments. 
 
 " By Saint Jude ! a strange proceeding ! " observed Jack 
 Holiday to his companions. "Are we to understand that 
 the Prince intends to rule England with the sword ? " 
 
 " By the mass ! it looks like it," rejoined Simnel. 
 
 "Tut ! you are wrong in your surmise," cried Rodomont. 
 " His Highness draws the sword in the defence of our 
 country. That I take to be the meaning of the act." 
 
 Attended by the aldermen, the mayor now advanced 
 towards the Prince, and reverentially presented him with 
 the keys of the town, laid upon a velvet cushion. 
 
 Philip did not take the keys, but graciously bidding the 
 mayor arise, said in clear and distinct accents, " I thank 
 you. Sir, and I thank all those with you for this welcome. 
 You know what has brought me here. I come not in
 
 Of Philip's Public Disembarkation at Southampton. 8 1 
 
 search of men or treasure, having sufficient of both in the 
 country I have left. As the chosen husband of your wise 
 and virtuous Queen, I come to dwell among you, not as a 
 foreigner, but as a native Englishman. To you, my good 
 lords," he added to the English nobles, who were ranged 
 on either side of the canopy, " I am much beholden for 
 the assurances of loyalty and devotion which you have 
 already proffered me, and I here publicly declare that you, 
 and all her Majesty's faithful subjects, shall ever find me 
 anxious to promote the welfare of the kingdom, to observe 
 its laws, conform to its customs, and defend it against all 
 enemies." 
 
 Then, turning to the Spanish grandees, who were stand- 
 ing behind him, he said, '-'My lords, you all, I am well 
 assured, share the gratification I experience at the very 
 friendly reception that has been given me. Hitherto, you 
 have been strangers to the people of England, but this 
 must be so no longer. Spaniards and Enghshmen must 
 henceforth be brethren, bound together by ties of strictest 
 amity. It shall be my aim to encourage and maintain a 
 good understanding between the two nations, and, seconded 
 by you, and by these noble English lords, I cannot fail in 
 my design." 
 
 "We are ready to obey your Highness in all things," 
 said the Duke of Alva, with a haughty inclination of his 
 head, while the other grandees made similar professions. 
 
 " He may talk till he is tired," muttered the Lord 
 Admiral. " There will be no cordial understanding 
 between us." 
 
 This opinion was shared by several others. Indeed, the 
 English nobles were deterred by the arrogance of the 
 Spanish grandees from making advances towards them. 
 
 "It is my wish to observe all good old English customs," 
 pursued the Prince. " If I unintentionally neglect any of 
 them, I hope to be made aware of the omission. I would 
 fain drink a health to all present." 
 
 " A cup of wine for his Highness ! " cried the Earl ot 
 Arundel. 
 
 "Nay, my good lord, let me have a flagon of English 
 ale," said the Prince. "I should prefer your national 
 beverage."
 
 82 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 '•As your Highness pleases," rejoined Arundel, bowing. 
 " A flagon of ale on the instant." 
 
 The Prince's choice caused considerable merriment, and 
 warmed many a heart towards him. 
 
 "A cup of ale!" exclaimed Simnel. "This is carrying 
 complaisance to the highest point." 
 
 " His Highness is resolved to become an Englishman, 
 that I can plainly perceive," observed Rodomont, "and 
 takes what he conceives to be the shortest way to his object. 
 Heaven bless him ! he is a most gracious Prince." 
 
 At this juncture, a silver flagon, filled with ale, was 
 brought on a salver, and presented by the Earl of Arundel 
 to the Prince, who, taking the cup, bowed graciously 
 around. 
 
 " His Highness drinks to you all, good Sirs ! " cried the 
 Earl of Arundel, in a loud voice. 
 
 " To all, of whatever degree ! " said the Prince, raising the 
 goblet to his lips. 
 
 Most opportunely, at the moment, another discharge was 
 fired from the castle guns, followed by a loud flourish of 
 trumpets and drums. From the shouts that were also 
 raised, it was evident that the Prince was rising rapidly in 
 popular favour. 
 
 " How does your Highness like the beverage ? " inquired 
 the Earl of Arundel, as he took back the goblet. 
 
 *• It will improve upon acquaintance, I make no doubt," 
 replied Philip. " At present, I find it somewhat too 
 potent." 
 
 " A strong head is needed to stand it," observed the Lord 
 Admiral, with an ill-disguised sneer. 
 
 After this, Philip remained for some little time beneath 
 the canopy, conversing with the English nobles, and 
 evidently striving to propitiate them, and he appeared to be 
 successful in his efforts. He showed himself extremely easy 
 of access, and amongst other persons presented to him was 
 Rodomont Bittern. 
 
 "This is not the first time we have met. Sir," observed 
 Philip, to the surprise of most who heard him. 
 
 " Since your Highness deigns to recollect the circumstance, 
 be assured I shall never forget it," replied Rodomont. 
 " Nay, you have rendered me a great service," said the
 
 Of Philip's Public Disemlmj'kation at Southampton. 83 
 
 Prince, " and it shall not pass unrequited. Is Master Tyrrell 
 here?" 
 
 " Ay, your Highness," replied Rodomont. " He is yonder, 
 with the town-council." 
 
 " Let him come forward. I would speak with him," said 
 Philip. 
 
 Accordingly, the worthy merchant, much to his dismay, 
 was brought before the Prince. He was so confused that 
 he would have neglected the necessary obeisance, if he had 
 not been prompted by Rodomont, who, indeed, half forced 
 him to incline his person. 
 
 ** I am glad to see you again, good Master Tyrrell," said 
 Phihp, smiling, " and have to thank you for your hospitable 
 intentions towards me last night." 
 
 " Your Highness will forgive me. I knew not whom I 
 was addressing," stammered Tyrrell. " It is true that I 
 subsequently learnt from my daughter " 
 
 " That she had rendered me a most signal service, which 
 I trust adequately to requite," interrupted the Prince. " No 
 more of that now. Sir. But rest assured that her INIajesty will 
 not be less grateful than myself to fair Mistress Constance." 
 
 " I am not quite so sure of that," thought Rodomont. 
 
 With further assurances of his consideration, the Prince 
 then dismissed Master Tyrrell, who retired with Rodomont, 
 both being charmed with his Highness's affability. 
 
 Though the foregoing conversation was not altogether 
 intelligible to the Spanish grandees, it caused them great 
 surprise, and even disquietude. 
 
 " As I live, his Highness seems to know these people," 
 observed Alva to the Duke of Medina Celi. " Where can 
 he have met them ? " 
 
 " I am as much in the dark as yourself," replied the other. 
 " But, in my opinion, he must have gone ashore secretly last 
 night." 
 
 " By my faith ! you are right," rejoined Alva, bending his 
 heavy brows. "Some idle affair of gallantry, I'll be sworn. 
 He is ever engaged in such adventures. I must inquire into 
 the matter, and take him to task for his imprudence." 
 
 The English nobles, who were somewhat better ac- 
 quainted than the Spaniards with the Prince's proceedings, 
 laughed amongst themselves at what was passing. 
 6—2
 
 84 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Influenced by their royal master's deportment, the Spanish 
 grandees showed a disposition to relax from their stiffness 
 and hauteur, and ere long engaged in friendly discourse with 
 the English nobles, though their manner still continued 
 grave and formal. 
 
 Meantime, another boat had come ashore, bringing the 
 Bishop of Cuenga, and Father Alfonso de Castro, the Prince's 
 confessor. On landing, these ecclesiastics immediately knelt 
 down and recited a prayer, and as he arose, the bishop pro- 
 nounced a solemn benediction on the assemblacre. 
 
 Several other boats followed, filled with Spanish arque- 
 busiers, who, being very fine-looking men and splendidly 
 accoutred, excited much curiosity as they ranged themselves 
 on the platform. The object of this guard was made speedily 
 apparent by the arrival of some thirty large coffers, each 
 enveloped in a cover bearing the Prince's escutcheon. These 
 coffers, supposed to contain gold in bullion, were subsequently 
 conveyed to the castle under the guard of the arquebusiers. 
 Many speculations were indulged in as to how this treasure 
 was to be employed — the general impression being, that it 
 would be used in bribing certain of the council and of the 
 nobility. 
 
 As soon as the treasure was landed, the Prince mounted 
 his jennet, the Master of the Horse holding the stirrup, and 
 the cortege returned to the town. Richly-caparisoned 
 chargers were brought for the Spanish grandees who rode 
 behind the Prince, while the English nobles preceded him.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW THE PRINCE HEARD HIGH MASS IN HOLYROOD CHURCH; 
 
 AND HOW HE ONCE MORE BEHELD SIR BEVIS AND HIS 
 
 COMPANIONS. 
 
 MID the thunder of cannon, the ringing of bells, 
 the beating of drums, the braying of trumpets, the 
 clash of cymbals, the waving of scarves and ker- 
 chiefs, accompanied by joyous acclamations, 
 Philip entered Southampton by the Water-gate. 
 
 Bending lowly in return for the clamorous welcome given 
 him by the occupants of the gallery adjoining the gate, the 
 Prince continued to bow gracefully right and left as he rode 
 slowly up the street. Philip was never seen to greater ad- 
 vantage than on horse-back, and his stately figure now com- 
 manded universal admiration. As he went on, he descried 
 many a comely damsel at the windows, but she he most 
 desired to behold was not visible. 
 
 Passing through the triumphal arch reared across the 
 streets, which, now that it was completed, had a charming 
 effect, he dismounted at the Gothic porch of Holyrood 
 Church, near which the English nobles were ranged to re- 
 ceive him. 
 
 Internally, the church presented an imposing appearance, 
 being richly decorated for the occasion. The aisles were 
 densely crowded, but the broad nave was kept clear, and 
 along it a crimson cloth was stretched. The pillars were 
 also covered with embroidered cloths, and ornamented with 
 paintings. Superb vessels of gold and silver, chalices, rcli-
 
 86 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 quaries and pixes, decked the altar, above which stood an 
 image of the Virgin, then but newly set up. Large tapers 
 burnt on either side. Priests and deacons in their stoles, 
 with white-robed choristers and incense-bearers, filled the 
 chantrj^ 
 
 As Philip, preceded by the Bishop of Cuenga and Father 
 de Castro, and followed by a splendid train of English and 
 Spanish nobles, marched along the nave, the priests ad- 
 vanced to meet him, while the air was filled with fragrance. 
 At the same time the roof resounded with jubilant sympho- 
 nies. A large velvet cushion had been i^laced on the right 
 of the altar for the Prince, and on this he knelt down, while 
 the English and Spanish nobles grouped themselves on 
 either side. Mass was then solemnised, the Bishop of 
 Cuenga and Father de Castro officiating with the English 
 priests. 
 
 On issuing from the church, Philip was greeted with loud 
 acclamations from the crowd, which he graciously acknow- 
 ledged. Mounting his jennet, and attended by a gallant 
 train, consisting of the English and Spanish nobles, he pro- 
 ceeded along High Street towards the Bar-gate, where he 
 was told by the Earl of Arundel that a pageant awaited 
 him. 
 
 The same manifestations of popular satisfaction that had 
 hitherto attended him continued during this part of his 
 course, and no untoward incident occurred to mar the general 
 harmony. 
 
 On approaching the Bar-gate, Philip perceived beneath its 
 archway the gigantic Sir Bevis of Southampton, armed as 
 he had appeared on the previous night, and seated on his 
 mighty charger Arundel. Royal Canute was stationed on 
 the right of the puissant champion, and savage Ascapart on 
 the left. Behind were the Moorish kings. 
 
 Thus placed, the gigantic figures had a very picturesque 
 effect, and harmonised well with the ancient structure. A 
 trumpet being sounded, a fancifully-attired dwarf issued from 
 a postern in one of the flanking towers, and strutted towards 
 the Prince. 
 
 "Who art thou, and what is thy business?" demanded 
 Philip, as the dwarf made him a very ceremonious obeisance. 
 
 " My name may perchance have reached your Highness's
 
 How the Prince heard High Mass in Holy rood. 07 
 
 ears," replied the mannikin, proudly. " I am called Sir 
 Narcissus le Grand, and am one — perchance not the least 
 distinguished — of her Majesty's attendants." 
 
 " I am aware that her Majesty has a dwarf to divert her," 
 replied the Prince, laughing. " But I fancied the diminutive 
 valet's name differed from thine." 
 
 "There is no other dwarf but myself in her Majesty's 
 household," returned the mannikin. "Before I received the 
 honour of knighthood, I was called Xit, and I am still 
 occasionally so designated by those who are on familiar 
 terms with me." 
 
 " That name has brevity to recommend it, and therefore 
 suits thee better than the other," observed the Prince. 
 
 "Nay, an your Highness thinks so, I am ready to resume 
 the appellation. Xit is a name of which I have no reason to 
 be ashamed, seeing I have ever borne it with honour. Per- 
 chance your Highness designs some distinction for me. The 
 Cross of Santiago, or the Toison d'Or, would not be ill 
 bestowed." 
 
 " By Saint Anthony ! a modest proposition ! " exclaimed 
 Phihp. " I marvel thou dost not ask to be made a grandee 
 of the first class." 
 
 " That is indeed my ambitiom," rephed Xit. " I shall then 
 be privileged to remain covered in your Highness's presence, 
 like the proud lords I see yonder. But, though dazzled by 
 the thought, I must not forget the business in hand, which 
 is to acquaint your Highness that the Knight of South- 
 ampton, the redoubted Sir Bevis, with his slave Ascapart, 
 and the regal Canute, all of whom you behold under yon 
 archway, welcome you to England, and shout with me ' God 
 save Prince Philip ! '" 
 
 " God save Prince Philip ! " vociferated the three giants 
 in concert. 
 
 "Thanks for the welcome," replied PhiUp. "Your pageant 
 is good, but it lacks its chief character. Where is the Prin- 
 cess Josyan ? — she should be with Sir Bevis." 
 
 " Highness," said Xit, somewhat embarrassed, " there are 
 two princesses, and since they cannot agree as to which shall 
 take precedence, it was deemed best that neither should 
 appear. They are within the Bar-gate. If you desire it, 
 they can be summoned."
 
 88 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Bring forth the youngest and fairest of them," rejoined 
 Philip. 
 
 Xit bowed, and hastened to execute the Prince's command. 
 
 In another instant he reappeared, leading by the hand a 
 comely young damsel, attired in a kirtle of green velvet, and 
 having a glittering caul on her head, in whom Philip was at 
 no loss to recognise the captive made by Sir Bevis on the 
 previous night. A bright blush suffused her cheeks, serving 
 to heighten the effect of her charms, but otherwise she did 
 not seem much abashed, but tripped gaily with her little 
 conductor towards the Prince. 
 
 "Highness," said Xit, as he presented her, "in this damsel, 
 ordinarily known as Lilias Ringwood, you behold the Prin- 
 cess Josyan." 
 
 Scarcely were the words uttered, than a lattice, immedi- 
 ately above the central arch of the Bar-gate, was thrown 
 open, and an angry female face appeared. 
 
 "'Tis false !" screamed Lady le Grand, for she it was — 
 " 'tis false, I say ! T am the real Princess Josyan, and no 
 one shall usurp the part. I am shut up here under lock and 
 key, or I would soon strip that vile hussy of her attire, 
 which belongs of right to me. Doff it at once, minion." 
 
 "Retire on the instant, I command you, Madam," screamed 
 Xit, shaking his hand furiously at her. 
 
 " I shall obey no orders of thine, thou contemptible little 
 monster," rejoined Lady le Grand, in a shrill voice. " Let 
 me out, or it shall be worse for thee. How dare you put 
 another woman in my place ? Lihas Ringwood shall not 
 enact the part assigned to me." 
 
 " Marry, but she shall," rejoined Xit. " His Highness 
 desired that the youngest and fairest of the two claimants 
 should be brought forth. Thou art neither so young nor so 
 lovely as Lilias, and art consequently superseded. Retire, 
 I say." 
 
 Before Lady le Grand could make any further rejoinder, 
 Philip interposed. 
 
 " But what says Sir Bevis himself? " he demanded. 
 " Since he is chiefly concerned in the matter, the choice of 
 a princess ought to rest with him. Methinks he cannot 
 hesitate." 
 
 "Assuredly not, your Highness," rejoined the gigantic
 
 Holu the Prince heard High Mass in Holy rood. 89 
 
 warrior, inclining his head. " I am right glad of the 
 exchange." 
 
 " Then take fair Lilias to him," said Philip. " Remember 
 the fate of the strong man of Israel," he added to Sir Bevis, 
 " and be not subdued like him. Otherwise, thou mayst have 
 reason to repent thy choice." 
 
 '* No Dehlah shall enslave me, your Highness," rejoined 
 the giant, as the damsel was placed behind him by 
 Ascapart. 
 
 "That remains to be seen," laughed Lilias, as she settled 
 herself on the pillion. 
 
 Mortified by the success of her young rival. Lady le Grand 
 retreated from the window, amid the jeers and laughter of 
 the beholders, all of whom were mightily entertained by the 
 incident. 
 
 No sooner was this important point settled, than Sir Bevis 
 rode forth from the archway with the fair Lilias behind him, 
 her countenance radiant with triumph. Bending in knightly 
 fashion to the Prince, the gigantic warrior bade his com- 
 panions attend him, and struck into a street on the right. 
 Calling for his piebald steed, Xit followed the procession, 
 without troubling himself further about Lady le Grand.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE ABBESS OF SAINT MARY. 
 
 HILTP next proceeded to the castle, in the principal 
 court of which he found his arquebusiers drawn 
 up. Long before this, the treasure had been 
 locked up in one of the strongest chambers of the 
 donjon. Not being familiar with a Norman castle, the 
 Prince examined the ancient fortress with much interest, and, 
 ascending to the summit of the keep, enjoyed the magnifi- 
 cent view commanded from it. 
 
 His inspection of the castle completed, Philip was con- 
 ducted to a public place in the centre of the town, which 
 derived its name of Saint Michael's Place, from a venerable 
 and beautiful church standing in the midst of it. Facing the 
 east end of this reverend pile was the habitation designed 
 for his temporary abode. 
 
 In Saint Michael's Place, as elsewhere, a large crowd had 
 congregated, who cheered the Prince lustily on his appear- 
 ance, and did not seem inclined to disperse even when he 
 had dismounted and entered his lodgings. 
 
 The quaint architecture of the habitation, the bay-windows 
 filled with painted glass, the low-raftered roofs, the walls 
 panelled with oak darkened by age, the numerous small 
 apartments, the stiff cumbrous furniture — all so difterent from 
 the vast gilded saloons and open courts suited to another 
 clime, with which he was familiar — were far from displeasing 
 to Philip, and when the Earl of Arundel apologised for the 
 scant accommodation of the place, the Prince courteously
 
 The Abbess of Saint JMary. 91 
 
 assured him that the house was very much to his taste. 
 "What sufiliced for your great monarch, Henry VIII.," he 
 said, " may well suffice for me." 
 
 Pleading fatigue, he then retired to a private chamber, 
 and was not disturbed until the return of the Count 
 D'Egmont and Osbert Clinton from Wmchester, when they 
 were immediately admitted to his presence. 
 
 D'Egmont brought a letter from the Queen, which he de- 
 livered to the Prince, but, without manifesting any impatience 
 to ascertain its contents, Philip laid it on the table beside 
 which he was seated, and proceeded to question the Count 
 as to his visit. 
 
 " Pass by all other matters," he said, " and come to the 
 point. What did her Majesty think of my nocturnal 
 adventure ? Was she satisfied with the explanation offered 
 her?" 
 
 " Not entirely, I fear, your Highness," replied D'Egmont, 
 "though she said little to warrant such a conclusion." 
 
 " You were careful not to alarm her ? " said Phihp, turn- 
 ing to Osbert. 
 
 " She pressed me very shrewdly," replied the young man, 
 "but I trust I succeeded in allaying her suspicions, which 
 were evidently aroused by the description I was obliged to 
 give of your fair deliverer, Constance Tyrrell. Her Majesty 
 inherits something of the disposition of her august sire, and 
 is inchned to jealousy." 
 
 "That does not augur well for my future comfort. 
 Jealousy in a wife is intolerable," replied Philip. " Let us 
 see what is said in her letter," he added, opening it. 
 "There is nothing here but congratulations on my safe 
 arrival, and deep concern at the attack upon my person. 
 Not a word as to my intended visit to Winchester. Appa- 
 rently, her Majesty does not attach much credence to that 
 part of the story," 
 
 " She is not easily imposed upon," observed D'Egmont. 
 "It must be admitted that your Highness has given her just 
 cause for suspicion. She will not believe that eagerness to 
 behold her induced you to quit the ship privily at night. 
 Her penetration pointed to a diliferent motive, and all she 
 heard seemed to confirm her doubts. At one moment she 
 had resolved to come over to Southampton, but fortunately
 
 92 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 she relinquished that design. Mischief might else have been 
 made by the opponents to the marriage." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I have no fears on that score," said Philip. 
 " But I am glad she did not come. She might have inter- 
 fered with my plans," 
 
 At this moment an usher entered, stating that Mistress 
 Constance Tyrrell was without, and besought an audience of 
 the Prince. 
 
 " By Saint lago ! this is better than I expected," cried 
 Philip, overjoyed. " Is she alone ?" 
 
 " No, your Highness," replied the usher. " The lady 
 abbess of St. Mary, Winchester, is with her." 
 
 " I would the lady abbess were in her nunnery, or any- 
 where but here ! " exclaimed PhiUp, in a tone of pique. 
 "Admit them." 
 
 On this the usher withdrew, and the next moment Con- 
 stance entered the room, accompanied by a religious dame 
 of very stately deportment. The abbess of Saint Mary was 
 attired in a long black gown, the ample folds of which swept 
 the ground. The sleeves of her robe were loose, and over 
 her shoulders was spread a sable mantle, with a hood, 
 attached to it. A barbe of plaited linen covered the lower 
 part of her face, and, with the close-drawn hood, effectually 
 concealed her features. On the entrance of the two ladies, 
 D'Egmont and Osbert retired. 
 
 Stepping quickly towards Constance, Philip took her hand, 
 preventing her from making the lowly obeisance she con- 
 templated. After greeting her very courteously, he turned 
 to the abbess, and saluting her respectfully, said, — 
 
 " Holy mother, to what am I indebted for this visit ? Can 
 I serve you in aught ? " 
 
 "For myself I seek nothing, Prince," replied the abbess, 
 in a voice that vibrated through Philip's breast, occasioning 
 him an uneasy feeling. " I am a messenger from the Queen 
 to this young maiden. Her Majesty, having been informed 
 that, under Heaven, the chief instrument of your preserva- 
 tion from a great peril was Mistress Constance Tyrrell, who 
 heroically shielded you from the weapons of assassins, has 
 sent me to bring the damsel to Winchester. This is my 
 mission, which I was enjoined to execute without delay; but 
 I have consented to defer my departure for a short space,
 
 The Abbess of Saint Mary. 93 
 
 as INIistress Constance hath a request to prefer to your 
 Highness." 
 
 " I thank you for your consideration, holy mother," rephed 
 Phihp. " The fair Constance can ask nothing of me that I 
 will not readily grant." 
 
 " Make no rash promises, Prince," remarked the abbess. 
 " First hear her request." 
 
 " I pray you speak, then, fair mistress," said Philip, in an 
 encouraging tone to Constance. " You need not apprehend 
 a refusal." 
 
 " The boon is greater than I ought to ask," said Constance, 
 trembling. " Yet I must summon courage to make it. In 
 a word, then, your Highness, I would solicit pardon for the 
 miserable wretch who dared to raise his sacrilegious hand 
 against your royal person." 
 
 "Pardon for that miscreant!" exclaimed the abbess. 
 "Impossible !" 
 
 " For myself I would willingly grant your request," replied 
 Phihp, in a troubled tone, "but I have not the power. The 
 Queen alone can pardon this offender against her laws. You 
 must appeal to her."' 
 
 " But your Highness will second me," observed Constance. 
 "A word from you, and it will be done." 
 
 " Be not too sure of that," said the abbess, sternly. " The 
 Queen is compassionate, but just. To pardon a wretch 
 like this would be fraught with evil consequences. It may 
 not be." 
 
 The force and decision with which these words were pro- 
 nounced struck the Prince, and he looked hard at the abbess. 
 But her features were wholly undistinguishable. 
 
 " The lady abbess is right," he said, after a pause. " I 
 fear the appeal to the Queen will be in vain. Yet say to her 
 that, if possible, I would have the man spared." 
 
 " The man is a heretic, as I understand," remarked the 
 abbess. "If he will abjure his errors, and discover his 
 accomplices, mercy may, perchance, be shown him — not 
 otherwise." 
 
 " I fear, then, he must die," replied Constance. " He is 
 obstinate in his opinions." 
 
 "Then he deserves to perish," rejoined the abbess, "and 
 you are wrong in seeking to save him."
 
 94 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 **My hope is to make him profitable to the Catholic 
 Church," said Constance. " If he be put to death now, he 
 will be deemed a martyr by those of his own faith. In time 
 I may bring about his recantation." 
 
 "Twere a good act, if you could accomplish it, fair Con- 
 stance," observed Philip ; " but I fear you deal with im- 
 practicable material. But how comes it you take so much 
 interest in this Derrick Carver, for such, if I recollect aright, 
 is the caitiffs name ?" 
 
 " I know not whence my compassion for him springs," she 
 replied. " But I have visited him in his cell, and fancy I 
 can discern something of good in him." 
 
 " Be not deceived, damsel," said the abbess. " There can 
 be no good in one capable of the crime which this man hath 
 attempted. But if you are in earnest as to his conversion, I 
 promise you you shall have an opportunity of attempting 
 the work. I have interest enough with the Queen for that." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so, holy mother," observed 
 the Prince. "And I shall rejoice if the fair Constance 
 succeeds in her attempt. But be this as it may, I do not 
 feel reheved from the weight of obligation I am under to 
 her. When you present her to the Queen, say I shall be 
 well pleased if her Majesty can place her among her gentle- 
 women." 
 
 "I will do more," rejoined the abbess. ''I will use all 
 the influence I possess with her Majesty to see the damsel 
 well bestowed in marriage." 
 
 " Not if I can prevent it," thought Philip. 
 
 A suspicion in regard to the abbess, which the Prince had 
 begun to entertain, being confirmed, he begged a word with 
 her in private, and on her ready assent, led her into the deep 
 recess of a bay-window. 
 
 Entirely changing his manner towards her, he then said, 
 " I know not how to account for it, holy mother, but while 
 talking to you I could almost imagine myself engaged in 
 converse with her Majesty." 
 
 "A strange supposition," observed the abbess, in a 
 blander tone than before. 
 
 " It is the highest compliment I could pay you," pursued 
 Philip. "That you should resemble so admirable a sovereign 
 is the best proof of your merit."
 
 The Abbess of Saint Mary. 95 
 
 " I am much flattered by your Highness's good opinion," 
 returned the abbess, still more blandly; " but how can you 
 tell that I am like the Queen, since you have never beheld 
 her Majesty?" 
 
 " I can perfectly judge by the many descriptions given 
 me of her," said the Prince. " In disposition I am sure 
 you are exactly like her. Remove your hood, I pray 
 you, that I may see whether the resemblance extends to 
 feature." 
 
 " I cannot comply with your Highness's request, as I have 
 a vow which prohibits me from disclosing my countenance 
 to any of your sex," she replied ; " but I will own that I 
 am like the Queen." 
 
 " I was quite sure of it," said Philip. " Permit me for a 
 moment to address you as her Majesty." 
 
 " 'Tis a strange whim," replied the abbess, complacently, 
 "and I ought not to consent to it. But your Highness is 
 singularly persuasive. I am not without curiosity to know 
 what you would say to the Queen." 
 
 "What I have to say may sound like the language 
 of passion, and may not suit your ears," rejoined 
 Philip. 
 
 "But, as the Queen, I may listen to it," she rejoined, 
 with something of tenderness in her tones. 
 
 " Then I would throw myself at your feet, as I do now," 
 cried Philip, kneeling as he spoke. " I would press your 
 hand to my lips, and assure you of my unalterable love and 
 fidelity. I would tell you how I have burned with impa- 
 tience to behold you — how I have counted the hours of my 
 'ong voyage, and have rejoiced as each day brought me 
 flearer to you. In the strongest terms I could employ I 
 would express my sense of the honour you have conferred 
 upon me in choosing me for your husband, and I would 
 endeavour to convince you that it will be the chief business 
 of my life to increase your felicity and to extend your power. 
 '!Tot a cloud shall overshadow your future existence if I 
 can drive it away — but all shall be serenity and sunshine. 
 This is what I would say to the Queen," he added, 
 rising. 
 
 " Your language is so impassioned, Prince," she returned, 
 ** ♦hat I am almost as much moved as her Majesty could be
 
 96 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 by your words. For the moment, I will suppose mj'self the 
 Queen " 
 
 "It is so understood," interrupted Philip, 
 
 "I fear you feign this passion, Prince," she continued. 
 " To love one unknown, unseen, with the ardour you pro- 
 fess, is impossible, and yet I ought not to say so, for though 
 I have never beheld you till now, your image has long 
 occupied my breast. I hope you may not be disappointed 
 in me. It shall be my anxious study to win your affection 
 by entire devotion and submission to your will, and I trust, 
 with Heaven's grace, to succeed." 
 
 "Doubt it not," replied the Prince, fervently. "You are 
 sole mistress of my heart, and will ever maintain paramount 
 sway over it." 
 
 " I am foolish to ask it," she said, "yet I would fain have 
 your assurance that it is not my crown that has enticed you 
 hither?" 
 
 "Rest easy on that score," rejoined the Prince. "You 
 yourself are the magnet that has attracted me. You would 
 have been as much prized without your kingdom as with it." 
 
 " I cannot believe you ; yet the assurance is so sweet, that 
 I will yield to the delusion," she rejoined. " But I must 
 listen to these honeyed words no longer. Once more I 
 must become the abbess." 
 
 "To others, but not to me," rejoined Philip. 
 
 On this, they left the recess, and returned to where Con- 
 stance was standing. 
 
 " What shall be done for this damsel? " said Philip. " It 
 pains me that I cannot grant her request." 
 
 " Her request is most unreasonable. Still, she has a great 
 claim upon you," replied the abbess. " I make no promise, 
 but order the prisoner to be brought here for examination, 
 and I will consider what can be done." 
 
 Thanking her with a smile, Philip instantly summoned 
 Osbert Clinton, and bade him bring Derrick Carver before 
 liim with all possible dispatch. He likewise ordered the 
 immediate attendance of the Bishop of Cuenga and Father 
 de Castro. 
 
 With a profound obeisance, Osbert departed on his 
 mission. 
 
 While this was passing, the abbess proceeded to the table.
 
 The Abbess of Saint Mary. 97 
 
 on which writing materials were placed, and wrote a few 
 words on a sheet of paper, which she folded up, and, de- 
 livering it to the Prince, observed, in a significant tone, 
 " You may need this anon. Not a word," she added, with 
 a gesture of caution. 
 
 After glancing at the paper, Philip placed it within his 
 doublet.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FATHER ALFONSO DE CASTRO. 
 
 HORTLY afterwards, the usher announced the 
 Bishop of Cuenga and Father Alfonso de Castro. 
 No fitting opportunity having hitherto occurred of 
 describing these two personages, we will now say 
 a few words respecting them. The Bishop of Cuenga was 
 a perfect courtier, polished in manner, witty, sarcastic, and 
 a bo7i vivant. His features were handsome, and his looks 
 intelligent, but wily. His attire was as elegant as his 
 position as an ecclesiastic permitted. His person was tall, 
 well formed, his complexion olive, his eyes dark and 
 intelligent. 
 
 A far more striking personage than the bishop was Father 
 Alfonso de Castro. He possessed one of those austere 
 countenances in which the old Spanish painters delighted. 
 In age he was about sixty, and his long life seemed to have 
 been spent in practices of penance and devotion. A few 
 scattered locks, marked by the tonsure, clothed his reverend 
 head. His figure, once tall and erect, was now bent, and 
 his gait feeble and slow. His complexion was sickly, and 
 his eyes deep sunken, but still full of lustre. 
 
 Father de Castro was a profound theologian, and had 
 •written much against heresy, menacing the professors of the 
 new doctrines with such severe punishments, that he had not 
 unjustly acquired the title of '■'■ Haresio-masirix acerrhfuis." 
 
 A grave salutation passed between the Bishop of Cuen9a 
 and the abbess, but, when the Prince presented his con- 
 fessor to her, she said, —
 
 Father Alfonso de Castro. 99 
 
 " I am already acquainted with Father de Castro through 
 his writings. I have perused his learned commentary on 
 the Twelve Minor Prophets, and his homiUes on the Psalms. 
 I have also read his three books on the Just Punishment of 
 Heresy, and I entirely agree with him. But the work that 
 has afforded me the deepest gratification is his masterly 
 treatise on the Validity of the Marriage between Henry 
 Vni. and Katherine of Aragon. That treatise has been the 
 Queen their daughter's constant companion, and has solaced 
 her during many an hour of affliction." 
 
 " I grieve to hear that so excellent a Princess has endured 
 so much," replied Father de Castro ; " but it was the con- 
 sciousness that truth and justice were on her side, and not 
 my poor production, that sustained her during her trials. 
 Yet I must rejoice that I have been able to pour balm into 
 her soul. However, her sorrows are now over, and she will 
 reap the reward of her long suffering and patience. Heaven's 
 blessing will descend upon her head and upon her people. 
 She will be happy in her marriage, and from her loins 
 princes shall spring, who shall govern this realm wisely and 
 well, and maintain it in the true faith." 
 
 " Heaven grant it may be so ! " exclaimed the abbess, fer- 
 vently. " As the old religion has been restored by the 
 Queen, her most earnest desire is that it should be so firmly 
 established that no fears need be entertained of a relapse 
 into schism." 
 
 " Having read my treatise on the Punishment of Heretics, 
 holy mother, you know the measures I recommend," replied 
 Father de Castro. "To prevent the further spreading of 
 this pestilence, it must be thoroughly rooted out." 
 
 "That will be a work of much time and difficulty. Father," 
 replied the abbess, with a sigh. " But I do not despair of 
 its full accomplishment." 
 
 " An Auto-da-Fe', such as we have in Spain, of frequent 
 occurrence, would soon sweep off the tainted," observed the 
 Bishop of Cuenga, " I trust to see the Holy Inquisition 
 established in this country." 
 
 "That can never be, my lord," replied the abbess. 
 
 "Wherefore not, good sister?" demanded the bishop, 
 
 " Because Englishmen would never submit to it," rejoined 
 the abbess. " Such an attempt would cause a rebellion 
 7—2
 
 loo Cardinal Pole. 
 
 which nothing could put down. On this point, Romanists 
 and Protestants would unite. The throne would not be 
 secure, and in the confusion heresy might again become 
 triumphant. Heaven avert such a contingency ? But there 
 is nothing to apprehend. The Queen will never yield to 
 such counsels." 
 
 "You appear to be in Her Majesty's confidence, holy 
 mother," observed the bishop, drily. 
 
 " I am so far in her confidence, my lord," replied the 
 abbess, " that I know her to be decidedly adverse to the 
 Inquisition, and that she will never authorise its introduction 
 in her kingdom." 
 
 ''Possibly the Prince her husband may incline her to 
 diflferent views," remarked the bishop. 
 
 " No, my lord," replied the abbess ; " the Queen is not 
 accustomed to change her mind, and will never act contrary 
 to her judgment." 
 
 The bishop looked surprised at the vivacity of the abbess, 
 but Philip hastened to interpose, and said, "The lady abbess 
 is right, my lord. I shall never seek to influence her Ma- 
 jesty's opinions in aught that concerns her kingdom. That 
 I have sworn — and by my oath I shall abide." 
 
 " Unless his Holiness shall grant you absolution," muttered 
 the bishop. 
 
 Philip then briefly explained to the bishop and to his con- 
 fessor why he had sent for them, and had just made an end, 
 when Count D'Egmont entered, and said that M. de Noailles 
 was without, and besought a moment's audience of his 
 Highness. 
 
 " What ! the perfidious assassin ! how dares he approach 
 me ? But he shall rue his temerity," cried Philip, placing 
 his hand on his sword. Then instandy becoming calm, he 
 added, " but he could not have come more opportunely 
 for my purpose. Admit him, D'Egmont. Once within this 
 chamber, he is my prisoner. Place a guard at the door, and 
 let him not go forth without my order." 
 
 "No harm must be done him," said the abbess, in a low, 
 deep voice. 
 
 " I have not sent for him," rejoined Philip. " If he rushes 
 to his own destruction it is not my fault." 
 
 "It was madness in him to come here at all," said
 
 Father Alfonso de Castro. loi 
 
 D'Egmont. " The Duke of Alva, who has heard of the 
 attempt, and suspects De Noailles of its contrivance, is in 
 the ante-chamber." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," replied Philip. " The Duke will 
 know how to act," he added, with a significant glance at 
 D'Egmont. 
 
 *' If any injury be done the ambassador, there will be 
 war with France," observed the abbess, in the same low, 
 deep tone as before. 
 
 " No harm shall befal him, if he be not proved guilty of 
 this foul plot," rejoined Philip. " But, if it be his con- 
 trivance, he shall not escape the punishment he merits. 
 Admit him, Count."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR. 
 
 il'EGMONT withdrew, and almost instantly re- 
 appeared with the French ambassador. 
 
 M. de Noailles made a very gallant appear- 
 ance, being splendidly attired in white and silver. 
 He removed his plumed and jewelled cap as he entered the 
 room, and advanced with a very smiling and confident air 
 towards Philip. While he was being presented to the 
 Prince by the Count D'Egmont, the Duke of Alva entered 
 the room. At the same time, two Spanish halberdiers 
 stationed themselves near the door. 
 
 Philip received the ambassador with freezing politeness. 
 
 " Considering the relations unfortunately subsisting be- 
 tween my father, the Emperor, and the King, your master, 
 I scarcely expected this visit from your excellency," he said. 
 
 " I do not appear before your Highness in my quality of 
 ambassador, but as a simple gentleman," replied De Noailles, 
 " I could not hear of the felon attack made upon you last 
 night without desiring to offer my congratulations on your 
 escape ; but I might have hesitated to do so if rumour, with 
 its customary maUce, had not sought to fix the contrivance 
 of the dark deed on me." 
 
 " No one who knows your excellency could for a moment 
 suspect you of planning such an affair," rejoined Philip. 
 " You would never strike a dishonourable and cowardly 
 blow. Others may suspect you — I do not."
 
 The French Ambassador. 103 
 
 "He does not suspect him, because he is sure of his 
 guilt," muttered Alva. 
 
 "Having received this most gratifying assurance from 
 your Highness, I will retire," said De Noailles, slightly 
 alarmed, " entreating you to believe that though placed by 
 circumstances in an inimical position, I rejoice in your 
 auspicious arrival in this country, and trust that Heaven 
 may guard you from all ill, and shed its blessings upon you 
 and her Majesty." ' 
 
 " Perfidious villain ! I marvel that lies of such magnitude 
 choke him not," exclaimed the Duke of Alva, involuntarily 
 clutching his poniard. 
 
 " I thank your excellency for your good wishes, which I 
 am convinced are as sincere as your vehement denial of all 
 complicity in this black affair," rejoined Philip. " But I 
 must detain you a few minutes longer. You have come 
 most a. propos. I am about to interrogate one of my 
 assailants, and shall be glad that you should be present 
 during the examination." 
 
 " The villain, as I have heard, is confined in the dungeon 
 of the Bar-gate," replied De Noailles. " I will attend 
 there whenever your Highness may desire." 
 
 " He is uneasy, and would fain get away," muttered Alva, 
 who was watching the ambassador narrowly. 
 
 " I shall not need to give you that trouble," remarked 
 Philip. " The examination will take place here." 
 
 "In this chamber," exclaimed De Noailles, startled. "I 
 thought the man was desperately wounded and Uke to die." 
 
 " It is true he is badly hurt, but he hath life enoi:gh in 
 him to speak, as your excellency will find. He will be here 
 anon," observed Philip. 
 
 " But the scene will be disagreeable to me," cried the 
 ambassador. " I must crave your permission to withdraw." 
 
 And without waiting for consent, he turned to depart ; but 
 D'Egmont and Alva planted themselves in his way. 
 
 " A prisoner," he ejaculated, in consternation. 
 
 "Ay, a prisoner at his Highness's pleasure," rejoined 
 Alva. 
 
 " I protest against such violation of my privilege," cried 
 De Noailles, with mingled terror and anger. 
 
 " You can claim no privilege," rejoined the Duke, sternly.
 
 1 04 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "You stated expressly that you came here as a private 
 gentleman, and not as an ambassador. Back Sir, at your 
 peril." 
 
 Seeing there was no possibility of escape, De Noailles 
 tried to assume a bold and unconcerned demeanour ; but his 
 nerves sustained another and yet severer shock as the door 
 was thrown open, and a litter, the curtains of which were 
 closely drawn, was borne into the room, under the conduct 
 of Osbert Clinton. In attendance upon the wounded man 
 was Malwood, the chirurgeon. 
 
 Behind the litter came Rodomont Bittern, and the four 
 bearers were Rodomont's friends, who had voluntarily under- 
 taken the office, in order to be present at the examination.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE EXAMINATION. 
 
 FTER consulting the Prince by a look, Osbert 
 caused the litter to be set down in the middle of 
 the chamber. As the curtains were drawn aside 
 by Rodomont, and the livid features of Derrick 
 Carver were fully revealed to view, Philip narrowly watched 
 the effect of the ghastly spectacle on De Noailles ; but he 
 stood the ordeal firmly. 
 
 " Raise thyself. Carver," cried Rodomont to the prisoner. 
 " Where am I ? " groaned the wretched man. 
 
 presence of the Prince of Spain," rejoined 
 " Art thou prepared to answer his interroga- 
 
 "In the 
 
 Rodomont. 
 tions ? " 
 
 " I am too feeble to talk," replied Derrick Carver, sinking 
 backwards. 
 
 " I have a potent elixir with me which will restore his 
 natural forces," said Malwood. 
 
 " Give me the phial. I will administer the dose," cried 
 Rodomont, pouring a few drops down the prisoner's throat. 
 
 " Enough ! — enough ! " exclaimed Malwood, staying his 
 hand. 
 
 " By the girdle of Saint Francis ! it acts like magic," cried 
 Rodomont. " The colour is coming to his cheeks, and his 
 eyes look brighter," 
 
 " His pulse begins to beat firmly," said Malwood. " He 
 is now able to answer any question your Highness may 
 desire to put to him," he added to the Prince.
 
 io6 Cardifial Pole. 
 
 At a sign from Philip, Father de Castro here approached 
 the litter. 
 
 •' Who art thou ? " demanded Derrick Carver, slightly 
 raising himself, and regarding the priest sternly. 
 
 " I am the confessor of the Prince of Spain," replied the 
 other; "and lost as thou now art, steeped in sin, it will 
 gladden me to reconcile thee to Heaven. Dire as is thine 
 offence, and justly as it calls for condign punishment, I will 
 strive to intercede for thee with his Highness, provided thou 
 wilt make clean thy breast and recant thine errors." 
 
 " Think not to move me," repUed Derrick Carver. " I 
 have the stuff in me of which martyrs are made, as you will 
 find. If I be doomed to a death of torture. Heaven w'ill 
 give me constancy to bear it. I grieve not for myself, but 
 for my fellow countrymen, who have much bitter persecution 
 to endure." 
 
 " Pity is wasted on him. Father," said Rodomont. 
 
 "No, my son," rejoined De Castro. "Our Church is 
 never without commiseration for the most hardened sinner, 
 who may be received into its bosom even at the last hour." 
 
 " You prate of pity, yet would enforce obedience to your 
 doctrines by torture and burnings," said Derrick Carver. 
 *' If I mistake not, you are the ruthless Father de Castro, 
 who hath written and preached on the punishment of 
 heretics, and hath been the means of consigning many true 
 believers in the Gospel to the flames." 
 
 " I am he you suppose, unhappy man," replied De Castro. 
 " I am a physicion to those who are sick of soul. If the 
 only remedy for their disease be fire, ought I to hesitate to 
 prescribe it ? " 
 
 " Then treat me as thou hast treated others, merciless 
 priest," rejoined Derrick Carver. "Thou wilt see what will 
 ensue. Cast abroad my ashes to the winds, and they will 
 cause a tempest which will crush thee and the Prince thy 
 master." 
 
 "Hold thy peace, thou crazy fellow! Thou ravest," cried 
 Rodomont. 
 
 " Not at thy bidding, base hireling of Spain," rejoined 
 Derrick Carver. " I hold thee in utter contempt. I am an 
 Englishman, and will bend to no foreign yoke — a Protestant, 
 and will never abandon my faith. I give my life for my
 
 The Examination. 107 
 
 country and ray religion. Wilt thou give thy dog's life for 
 either?" 
 
 " My patriotism and religious zeal do not lead me to turn 
 assassin, Carver," rejoined Rodomont. " Neither doth it 
 become thee, who hath sold thyself for French gold, to talk 
 of subserviency. I am a loyal subject to the Queen, and a 
 foe to traitors, of whom thou, Derrick, art the vilest." 
 
 "Thou accusest me falsely," rejoined Carver. "No French 
 gold has ever touched my hand." 
 
 " Answer the question I am about to put," said the 
 Prince, approaching ; " and beware ! for thy life depends 
 upon thy truthfulness. It is useless to deny that thou wert 
 hired for this deed. Name thy employer, and I will obtain 
 thy pardon from the Queen. I promise it on my royal 
 word." 
 
 " You will not credit what I say," rejoined Carver. "Why, 
 therefore, should I speak ? " 
 
 " Look round this assembly," pursued Philip, " and say 
 whether anyone within it is known to thee." 
 
 " I see none but Spanish nobles and priests," rejoined 
 Carver, in accents of contempt. 
 
 " Look again, Derrick," said Rodomont. "They are not 
 all Spaniards. There is a Frenchman among them." 
 
 " It may be," replied the wounded man. " What is that 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Much," replied Rodomont. 
 
 " I pray your excellency to approach the litter," said 
 Philip to the French ambassador. 
 
 " Readily," replied De Noailles, advancing. " Have you 
 ever beheld me before ? " he said to the prisoner. 
 
 " Equivocate not, but answer plainly, Derrick," said 
 Rodomont. "Have you ever beheld his excellency 
 before?" 
 
 " I have," replied the prisoner. " I saw him last night, 
 in a house near the West-gate." 
 
 " You are mistaken. Sirrah ; you cannot have seen me ! " 
 cried De Noailles. 
 
 "Truth only will avail you," said the Prince to the 
 prisoner. "What passed between you and his excellency ?" 
 
 " Not a word — not a look. I do not think he even noticed 
 me," rejoined Carver.
 
 I o8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " But there were others with you whom he did notice ? " 
 said the Prince. " Trifle not with me. It imports me to 
 know who they were, and what occurred." 
 
 " The villain's statement respecting me is utterly false," 
 cried De Noailles. " I did not stir from my lodgings last 
 night." 
 
 " Your excellency must needs be in error there," remarked 
 Rodomont, " since you were seen and recognised in the 
 High Street, about half an hour before this murtherous 
 attack took place, thus allowing ample time for its concoc- 
 tion. Moreover, this letter found on the body of the ruffian 
 slain by the Prince, may serve to prove your share in the 
 dark transaction." 
 
 " I deny the charge altogether," cried De Noailles. " 'Tis 
 a device of my enemies. When the matter is regularly 
 investigated, and before a competent tribunal, I can easily 
 clear myself." 
 
 "Justice shall be done you. Sir, of that you need not 
 doubt," said Philip, sternly. " As to you, fellow," he added 
 to the prisoner, " little as you deserve it, you shall have a 
 pardon. But understand. You owe life and freedom to 
 Mistress Constance Tyrrell — not to me." 
 
 "Are no conditions annexed to the pardon?" inquired 
 Derrick Carver. 
 
 " None ; it is unconditional," replied the Prince. " Here 
 is her Majesty's order," he added, giving Rodomont the 
 paper, signed by the abbess. " Are you content ? " he added 
 to Constance, who had approached at the moment. 
 
 " I am," she replied, with a look of unutterable gratitude. 
 
 " With your Highness's permission," said Rodomont, 
 " the prisoner shall be taken to the hospital of the Domus 
 Dei, where he can remain till his wounds be healed, and if 
 there be a spark of gratitude in his breast, the residue 
 of his life will be devoted to extolling your Highness's 
 clemency." 
 
 " I trust he may become a good Catholic through your 
 instrumentality," said the Prince to Constance. "Take him 
 away," he added to Rodomont. 
 
 Upon this Rodomont directed the bearers to remove the 
 litter, and making a profound obeisance to the Prince, he 
 followed it out of the room.
 
 The Examination. 109 
 
 " My part in this strange performance is now over, I 
 presume," observed De Noailles to the Prince. 
 
 " Your excellency is at liberty to depart," rejoined Philip, 
 coldly. "Attend him," he added, glancing at Alva and 
 D'Egmont. 
 
 The look was so significant that it did not escape the 
 ambassador, and caused him to pause. 
 
 " No treacher)', I trust, is intended ? " he said. " Your 
 Highness will bear in mind that my person is sacred." 
 
 •'So is mine," rejoined Philip, sternly. "Yet that cir- 
 cumstance did not save me from attack." 
 
 " Your Highness would not insinuate " 
 
 " I insinuate nothing," said Philip. " Go, Sir, Heaven go 
 with you ! " 
 
 Seriously alarmed, the ambassador did not dare to stir a 
 step. The terrible looks of the Duke of Alva froze the 
 blood in his veins. While he stood irresolute, the lady 
 abbess went up to him, and said, " I will go with you." 
 
 " It seems, then, that I am really in danger," stammered 
 De Noailles. 
 
 " Wiihout me you will never quit this place alive," replied 
 the abbess. 
 
 And signing to Constance to follow her, she left the room 
 with the ambassador, the Duke of Alva and the Count 
 D'Egmont having gone out before them. 
 
 As De Noailles and the two ladies entered the ante- 
 chamber, they found it full of armed men, while both the 
 Duke and D'Egmont had drawn their swords. 
 
 " Pass on, holy mother, and take your charge with you," 
 said Alva to the abbess and Constance. " We must have a 
 word with his excellency." 
 
 " I will not affect to misunderstand your purpose, my 
 lord Duke," said the abbess, "but it must not be. I for- 
 bid it." 
 
 " You, holy mother ! " 
 
 "Yes, I, the Queen !" she rejoined. 
 
 " The Queen ! " exclaimed Alva, sheathing his sword. 
 "Nay, then, we must needs obey. Your excellency will 
 excuse this momentary interruption. Pray pass on."- 
 
 As may be supposed, the ambassador was not slow to 
 avail himself of the permission.
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE ROYAL NUPTIALS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 OLD WINCHESTER FROM SAINT CATHERINE'S HILL. 
 
 NOW you the fair hill, crowned by a clump of 
 
 trees, with a zone around its waist, and a carpet 
 
 of smooth turf spread out upon its banks, arising 
 
 ^ from the well-wooded and well-watered meads in 
 
 immediate vicinity of the ancient city of Winchester? 
 
 are a Wykehamist, you know it well. Graven on 
 
 the 
 
 If you 
 
 the brow of the hill is a labyrinth, or maze, the work of a 
 poor student, who, being debarred from the delights of 
 home during the holiday season, occupied his weary hours 
 in this strange task, while his heart-sickness found relief in 
 a ditty, still sung by his successors at Wykeham's famous 
 school. The legend goes on to relate that the hapless 
 youth, who thus carved a memorial on the hill, pined away 
 and died beneath one of the trees on its summit. If so, 
 his gentle spirit must still haunt the spot ! Lower down, an 
 entrenchment, deeply cut in the chalk, and attributed to 
 the Dane, encompasses the hill. The base of the mount is 
 washed by the silver Itchen — a stream dear to old Izaak 
 Walton, whose remains have rested, ever since his " ninety
 
 Old Winchester f?-om Saint Cai/ierine's Hill. in 
 
 years and more" were told, in the adjacent cathedral. 
 Other hills there are hard by — as Saint Giles's, whereon the 
 greatest fair in England was annually held from the period 
 of the Conquest to the reign of Henry VI. ; and Saint 
 Mary Magdalene's, on which the Empress Maud and the 
 valorous prelate Henry de Blois, brother of King Stephen, 
 met to treat — but neither of these eminences are comparable 
 in beauty of form, or in charm of situation, to fair Saint 
 Catherine's Hill. 
 
 If you are a Wykehamist, we repeat, you well know 
 Saint Catherine's Hill, Oft, in happy, bygone days — far too 
 soon flown — have you wended, with a joyous band of your 
 schoolfellows, across the meadows and by the brink of the 
 meandering Itchen towards your favourite hill. Oft, in 
 summer-tide, have you plunged into the deep pool hard by 
 the mill — oft have you thrown the line upon the glassy 
 water and dragged forth the speckled trout — oft have you 
 lingered on the rustic bridge and watched the light skiff, 
 rowed by a comrade, shoot swiftly under it — oft have you 
 joined the merry groups seated on the banks at the foot of 
 the hill, or started in the mimic chase with the fleetest 
 runners of the crew — oft have you climbed the steep sides 
 of the eminence, have tracked its circling trench, threaded 
 the intricacies of its maze, or, reclining beneath the shade of 
 its tree, enjoyed the glorious prospect of the ancient city 
 commanded from the point. Oft thence have you gazed 
 upon the turrets and crocketed pinnacles of the venerable 
 pile, erected by your benefactor, the revered William of 
 Wykeham. Deep is the debt you owe him. Nobler seat of 
 learning there cannot be than Winchester College ; second 
 only in architectural beauty to regal Eton. Well-nigh five 
 hundred years has your famous school endured. May it last 
 five hundred more ! 
 
 Beautiful, most beautiful, is, now-a-days, the view from 
 Saint Catherine's Hill; but in the middle of the i6th cen- 
 tury, when we must now regard it, it was infinitely more so. 
 From this height, the fine old city, skirted on the south by 
 lordly trees, was beheld in its highest perfection. Thronged 
 with convents, colleges, hospitals, churches, and other build- 
 ings of ancient date, and great beauty of architecture, and 
 boasting one of the grandest cathedrals in the kingdom,
 
 112 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Winchester had then a grave, monastic air — something of 
 which it yet retains, despite the many and grievous changes 
 it has undergone. True, its rehgious communities and 
 charitable estabhshments had been suppressed by Henry 
 VIIL, and their revenues seized upon, but the spoiler had 
 spared the edifices. Most of these monasteries and con- 
 vents were restored by Mary, and the long exiled monks 
 and nuns had just got back to their old abodes. 
 
 The aspect of Winchester, however, at the epoch in 
 question, was martial, as well as monastic. Besides well- 
 fortified walls, flanked by numerous towers, and defended 
 by bastions, the city possessed two large castles, one of 
 which, built by William the Conqueror, occupied a com- 
 manding position on the south-west, and covered a vast 
 area with its works and outworks. This fine old Norman 
 castle, eventually demolished by Cromwell, was besieged 
 and taken by the Dauphin of France in the reign of John, 
 but it held out gallantly against Simon de Montfort and the 
 barons in the days of Henry IH. In Mary's time it was 
 in good repair, and well supplied with ordnance and men. 
 
 Wolvesey Castle, as the other fortress was called, stood 
 in the lower part of the city, to the south-east of the 
 cathedral. Though less advantageously situated than the 
 upper strong-hold, it rivalled it in magnitude. The two 
 giants tried their strength in the time of the warlike Henry 
 de Blois, but were too well matched for any decided result 
 to ensue. Wolvesey Castle was built by the valiant prelate 
 we have just mentioned on the site of the old Saxon 
 palace wherein Egbert, Alfred, Edgar, and Canute had 
 dwelt, and derived its name from the tribute of wolves' 
 heads exacted from the Welsh princes by Edgar, and paid 
 at the palace gates. Soon after the completion of Wolvesey 
 by De Blois, it was attacked by the Empress Maud, who 
 had possession of the upper fortress, and was invested at 
 the same time by the Earl of Gloucester, and David, King 
 of Scotland, but it held out against all its assailants. 
 During this conflict the city suffered much from the con- 
 tending parties, but especially from the adherents of 
 Stephen. Fire-balls thrown from Wolvesey Castle caused a 
 tremendous conflagration, whereby the Abbey cf Saint 
 Mary, the royal palace, the suburb of Hyde, with its superb
 
 Old Winchester from Saint Catherines Hill. 1 1 3 
 
 monastery of Saint Grimbald, commenced by Alfred the 
 Great, and a multitude of churches were destroyed. Dis- 
 mantled by Henry II., who dreaded its strength, Wolvesey 
 was restored and refortified at a later period, and afforded 
 shelter from the barons to the half-brothers of Henry III. 
 During all this time, and for upwards of another century, 
 Wolvesey was occupied by bishops, who belonging to the 
 church militant, kept it in a good state of defence. Later 
 on, it became less of a fortress, and more of an episcopal 
 palace, and such it was at the period of our history, for 
 though none of its fortifications were destroyed, and its 
 walls, towers, and donjon were still standing, the buildings 
 were devoted to pacific purposes. Great trees were allowed 
 to grow up in its courts, and fair gardens were laid out 
 beneath its walls. The principal apartments were in the 
 keep, and here Mary was now lodged, while her large 
 retinue found ample accommodation in the numerous 
 towers and out-buildings. Gardiner had fitted up the 
 palace splendidly for his royal mistress's reception. 
 During her stay at Wolvesey, unbounded hospitality reigned 
 there; and never at any time — not even in 1522, when 
 Henry VIII. feasted the Emperor Charles V. in its halls — 
 had greater profusion been displayed within the castle. Of 
 this vast and stately pile, demolished by Cromwell, some 
 picturesque ruins, o'ergrown with ivy, are still left, attesting 
 its former extent and grandeur. 
 
 Wolvesey Castle was connected by a subterranean passage 
 with the cathedral, so that communication could be kept up 
 with that edifice during a seige. Opposite the gate-tower 
 was the noble entrance to Wykeham's College. Near at 
 hand was another college, founded by John de Pontissara, 
 and still nearer, the hospital called " La Caritc," apper- 
 taining to the cathedral. Tall trees sheltered these edifices, 
 and added to their beauty. Indeed, this part of the city 
 was so densely planted with timber, that it looked like a 
 grove. 
 
 The most striking object in old Winchester, as in ^he 
 existing city, was the cathedral. This ancient and splendid 
 structure demands a far more lengthened description than 
 we are able to afford it. The scene of many highly im- 
 portant events, it has been the olace of coronation of our 
 8
 
 114 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 earlier kings, and their mausoleum. Egbert, Edmund the 
 son of Alfred the Great, Edred, Canute, and Hardicanute, 
 found here a sepulchre. Alfred's honoured remains, 
 temporarily deposited within the cathedral, were afterwards 
 removed to the adjacent abbey of Hyde, which he com- 
 menced, but did not live to complete. Here, amongst 
 other holy personages, Saint Swithun, Bishop of Winchester 
 in the ninth century, the patron saint of the city and the 
 cathedral, found a grave. Elere, also, lie the bones of 
 many an illustrious prelate — Bishops Walkelin, Edyngton, 
 and VVykeham ; Bishops de Blois and Waynfiete, Cardinal 
 Beaufort, Prior Silkstede, Bishop Fox, and Gardiner him- 
 self, of whom our story treats. Built at different epochs, 
 Winchester Cathedral offers examples of various styles of 
 architecture, which, though dissimilar, produce a magnificent 
 whole. Upon its site stood a more ancient church, reared 
 by the Saxon king, Kenewalch, which was partially pulled 
 down in the iilh century, when the present edifice was 
 commenced by Bishop Walkelin, who preserved such 
 portions of the original fabric as suited his design. The 
 greater part of the east end of the existing structure, 
 including the massive central tower, is Walkelin's work ; 
 and that tower, though somewhat heavy, is a noble 
 specimen of Norman architecture. Considerable altera- 
 tions were next made, towards the close of the 12th 
 century, by Bishop Godfrey de Lucy, who rebuilt the Lady 
 Chapel. About 1350, a new nave was commenced by 
 Bishop Edyngton, and the work was continued by the 
 illustrious William of Wykeham, and after him by Cardinal 
 Beaufort, and brought to a completion by Bishop Wayn- 
 flete. The vast and lofty columns on either side of the 
 nave, each pillar being about twelve feet in diameter, 
 produce a grand effect, and the coup (foiil of the interior 
 from the great western portal is superb beyond description. 
 The transepts, wherein may still be seen the huge round 
 pillars and vast circular arches, piled one upon another to 
 the roof — the original work of Walkelin — constitute, 
 perhaps, the most interesting part of the edifice. 
 
 Brief allusion can only be made to the marvels of the 
 choir ; to its elaborately carved stalls with their viiserercs, 
 canopies, pinnacles, and other ornaments; to the magnificent
 
 Old Winchester from Saint Catherine's Hill. 115 
 
 carved screen behind the altar-piece ; to the glories of the 
 great east and west windows ; to the superb chantries of 
 Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop Waynflete, and Bishop Fox, all 
 of extraordinary beauty and richness. On the south side of 
 the nave, and exhibiting infinite richness of ornament and 
 extreme delicacy of carving, is the mortuary chapel of 
 William of Wykeham, in which may be seen a recumbent 
 marble statue of that venerated personage, his head 
 supported by angels, and three kneeling figures at his feet. 
 In the north aisle, near the presbytery, is the mortuary 
 chapel of Bishop Gardiner, In the Silkstede Chapel, in the 
 south transept, will be found the lowly grave of gentle 
 Izaak Walton. 
 
 And now a word in regard to the city itself. The early 
 history of Venta, Caer Gwent, or the White City, as Win- 
 chester was originally called, is lost in obscurity, but the 
 remote antiquity of the place is unquestionable. The Celt, 
 the Roman, the Saxon, the Dane, and the Norman, have 
 successively occupied the spot. Whether good King Arthur 
 held his court in the White City, and banqueted his peer- 
 less knights at the Round Table, still preserved in the 
 castle hall, may be doubted. But it is certain that, as the 
 residence of our great Saxon kings, and the seat of their 
 government, Winchester was the most important city in the 
 island. In the days of Cerdic it was the capital of the 
 West Saxons, and, on the dissolution of the Heptarchy, it 
 became the metropolis of England. The most illustrious 
 name connected with Winchester is that of Alfred the 
 Great. Compelled to abandon the city for a while to the 
 Danes, this great monarch and lawgiver retook it, restored 
 it to its pristine splendour, and dwelt within it to his latest 
 day. Canute also had his palace in Winchester, and died 
 there. From Egbert to Edward the Confessor — a period 
 of two hundred and forty years— all our old Saxon kings 
 were crowned within the cathedral, and most of them found 
 graves in its vaults. William the Conqueror loved Win- 
 chester, and strengthened it by the proud castle on the hill. 
 William Rufus was buried in the cathedral, and the saints 
 deposited there, resenting the intrusion of so impious a 
 monarch upon their resting-place, caused the great tower to 
 fall down. During the usurpation of Stephen, Winchester 
 8—2
 
 1 1 6 Cardifial Pole. 
 
 became, as we have shown, the scene of dire conflicts 
 between the Empress Maud and Bishop do Blois. Henry 
 III., surnaraed of Winchester, was born within the city ; 
 and so was Arthur, eldest son of Henry VH., but the latter 
 died too young to do credit to his birth-place. Edward I. 
 held divers parliaments in the city, and p?,rtially restored 
 its consequence. Great feasting occurred in Wolvesey 
 Castle, with jousting and triumphs, when the Emperor 
 Charles V., as we have previously related, was for a week 
 the guest of Henry VHI. Of the crushing effect produced 
 upon the city by the Reformation we have already spoken. 
 It was now just recovering from the blow. Modern Win- 
 chester comes not within our scope. But the city is still 
 beautiful, still picturesque. Though reft of more than half 
 of its olden attractions, it still boasts its grand cathedral, its 
 famous college, and its exquisite and unique hospital of 
 Saint Croix. Retaining these, the city of Egbert, of Alfred, 
 and Canute, must ever be one of the most interesting in the 
 kingdom.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SAINT CATHERINES CHAPEL. 
 
 T the period of our history the finishing-point to the 
 beauty of Saint Catherine's Hill was given by an 
 exquisite Gothic chapel placed upon its summit. 
 Erected in the 13th century, this little temple was 
 much resorted to by the devout on account of the rehques 
 it contained of Saints Birinus, Swithun, and Ethelwold. 
 Within in might also be seen a ploughshare which, while red 
 hot, had been trodden upon without injury by the beautiful 
 Queen Emma, mother of Edward the Confessor. Constant 
 pilgrimages were made to the shrine, and on the festival of 
 Saint Catherine, to whom the chapel was dedicated, a long 
 procession of religious personages of both sexes, headed by 
 the Bishop of Winchester, and accompanied by an immense 
 concourse, came forth from the city and ascended the hill, 
 when the Bishop and those with him entering the chapel, 
 placed rich gifts upon the altar. At such times, the spec- 
 tacle of the vast assemblage kneeling around the little 
 fane, or raising the choral hymn to heaven, must have been 
 highly impressive. Formerly, Saint Catherine's Chapel had 
 been well endowed, but its revenues were appropriated by 
 Wolsey to his " twins of learning," Ipswich and Oxford. 
 From this time, until the return to the old worship under 
 Mary, the place was completely neglected. Restored by 
 Gardiner, an aged priest. Father Jerome, who had officiated 
 within it in former days, was appointed to its care. At the
 
 1 1 8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 same time its precious reliques were brought back. Luckily, 
 during the season of its desecration, it had sustained no 
 material injury — its extraordinary reputation for sanctity 
 having probably saved it — and it was now nearly as beautiful 
 as ever. As least, its custodian, good Father Jerome, 
 thought so. 
 
 In the olden time, it had been customary with devotees, 
 after early immersion in the clear waters of the Itchen, to 
 repair to Saint Catherine's Chapel, hear matins, and perform 
 other devotional exercises. This practice, healthful alike to 
 body and soul, was now revived. Welcome to Father 
 Jerome were all who came there to pray. 
 
 At an early hour on the morning of the third day after 
 the Prince of Spain's public entry into Southampton, a re- 
 markably handsome young gallant — tall, graceful in figure 
 and deportment, and very becomingly attired in a doublet of 
 green velvet, slashed with white silk, and wearing a small 
 velvet beret of the some colour, adorned with a white plume, 
 on his head — issued from the south gate of Winchester, and 
 passing through the grove of stately elms, colonised by 
 rooks, then environing this side of the ancient city, struck 
 across the charming valley watered by the Itchen. 
 
 The morning was lovely enough to have tempted the 
 veriest sluggard to quit his couch, and our handsome young 
 galhard seemed fully alive to its beauties. The sun had but 
 just o'ertopped sweet Saint Catherine's Hill. The grass was 
 heavy with dew, and a thin haze hung in some parts of the 
 valley, but this quickly disappeared. All nature looked 
 bright and smiling. The warblers of the grove carolled 
 blithely, the larks soared aloft rejoicingly, and a cloud of 
 clamorous rooks, quitting the tall trees near the city, winged 
 their way towards the marsh lands further south. Scared 
 by the young man's approach, the stately heron started from» 
 the river in which he was fishing, while other aquatic fowl 
 dived beneath the green water-weeds and disappeared. 
 
 At no time are we so susceptible to Nature's beauties as 
 at early morn. Our senses of delight are quicker then than 
 at any other season, and invigorated by the freshness of the 
 atmosphere, we find something to charm in every object we 
 behold. So it was with the young gallant in question. He 
 was familiar with the scene around him, yet he discovered
 
 Saitit Caiherin^s Chapel. 1 1 9 
 
 beauties in it of which he had been hitherto unconscious. 
 His eye ranged along the valley through which strayed the 
 winding Itchen, pleased with all it encountered, until his 
 gaze settled on the secluded hospital of Saint Croix. 
 
 Never before, it seemed to him, had the ancient edifice 
 looked so lovely, so sequestered, as it did now. Though par- 
 tially screened by trees, enough was visible to evidence its 
 size and architectural beauty — the lofty gateway, the roofs 
 of the quadrangular courts, and the square tower of the 
 reverend church. A slight mist, enveloping but not hiding 
 the outline of the pile, gave it a dreamlike character. 
 
 The hospital of Saint Croix was even then more than 
 three hundred years old, having been erected in 11 36 by 
 Bishop Henry de Blois, of whom previous mention has been 
 made. It was subsequently enlarged by Cardinal Beaufort, 
 and is still, we are happy to say, in an admirable state of 
 preservation. Here the hospitality of monkish times is still 
 practised on a small scale. Like many other similar insti- 
 tutions in Winchester and elsewhere. Saint Croix was de- 
 prived of its rents and revenues by Henry VIII., but suffi- 
 cient was fortunately saved from the spoiler's grasp to pre- 
 serve it from utter extinction. New life was communicated 
 to the decaying old hospital by Mary, and it was the thought 
 of its unexpected revival that gave it special interest in the 
 eyes of the young man who now gazed upon it. Contrasting 
 its present condition with the past, he rejoiced that a fabric 
 so lovely, and designed for such benevolent purposes, should 
 have escaped destruction. 
 
 After indulging in these reflections for a brief space, he 
 walked on, bestowing a glance as he crossed the wooden 
 bridge over the Itchen at the trout shooting through the 
 clear stream. He had now reached the foot of Saint 
 Catherine's Hill, whither, apparently, he was bound, and 
 disdaining to take the easy but circuitous path conducting 
 to the little chapel, he speeded up the steepest part of 
 the accUvity, across the Danish entrenchment, and did not 
 halt for a moment till he gained the summit of the hill. He 
 then turned to enjoy the splendid prospect commanded from 
 the spot of the ancient city and its environs, which we have 
 already endeavoured to bring before the reader. 
 
 While he was thus occupied, the door of the little chapel
 
 12 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 was opened by a priest ot venerable and benevolent aspect, 
 who stepped towards him, bade him a kindly good morrow, 
 and bestowed a benison upon him. 
 
 " What brings Master Osbert Clinton to Saint Catherine's 
 Hill so early ? " inquired the old priest. 
 
 "Nothing more than to hear matins in your chapel, 
 good Father Jerome," repHed Osbert. '' I trust I am in 
 time." 
 
 " You are in ample time, my son," repUed the old priest, 
 smiling. " Matins have not yet been said, and will not com- 
 mence for half an hour. Except myself, you are the first 
 on Saint Catherine's Hill this blessed morning. Indeed, I 
 marvel to see you here so soon. That a young gallant hke 
 Master Osbert Clinton, engaged in all the gaieties of court, 
 should have come to this httle chapel to pray at so early an 
 hour, argues a strength of devotion for which, I own, I 
 scarcely give him credit." 
 
 " I will not attempt to deceive you, good father," returned 
 Osbert. " It is not merely the desire to pray within your 
 chapel that has brought me here, but the hope of meeting a 
 
 fair maiden " 
 
 " Dare you make such an avowal to me, young Sir? " in- 
 terrupted Father Jerome, in a tone of stern rebuke. 
 
 " Nay Father, be not angry with me," said Osbert. " You 
 will pardon me, I am sure, when you know my motive. Mv 
 object is to caution the damsel, and this is the only oppor- 
 tunity I may have of doing so." 
 
 " Methinks I know the damsel you allude to, my son," 
 returned Father Jerome. " Mistress Constance Tyrrell, is it 
 not ? She was here yesterday, and after performing her 
 devotions, poured forth the secrets of her heart to me, and 
 besought my counsel." 
 
 "You are aware, then, of the perilous position in which 
 she is placed, and of the necessity of extricating her from it 
 without delay ? " 
 
 " I know she is beloved by some exalted personage, and 
 
 that she is full of apprehension " 
 
 " Well may she be so, holy Father," said Osbert. " I dare 
 not tell you by whom she is beloved. Suffice it, that her 
 position at court is fraught with peril. But it shall be my 
 business to guard her."
 
 Sai?it Catherines Chapel. 121 
 
 " You love her, then, my son ?" observed Father Jerome. 
 
 "Passionately," replied Osbert. "Eut I have not yet 
 ventured to tell her of my love." 
 
 " You are encouraging a hopeless passion, my son, and I 
 beseech you to check it while you can. But what tidings do 
 you bring of the Prince of Spain ? When comes he from 
 Southampton ? " 
 
 " This very day," returned Osbert. " I am to form part 
 of the train which will escort his Highness hither. We shall 
 set forth at noon, at which hour the Prince, with a large 
 cavalcade, will leave Southampton, so we shall meet him 
 midway." 
 
 " I am told he is a well-favoured Prince, but haughty and 
 reserved of manner," remarked Father Jerome. 
 
 "I have not found him so," repUed Osbert. "Tome 
 he has been singularly condescending, and, indeed, he is 
 gracious to all." 
 
 " I am right glad to hear it. That speaks well for him. 
 Long and earnestly have I prayed that our good Queen's 
 union may be happy. Much does our holy Church owe her. 
 Look down upon that city, my son. Regard those monas- 
 teries, convents, and hospitals. They have all been restored 
 by her. Once more within yon noble cathedral mass is cele- 
 brated, and all the rites of the Romish Church performed. 
 To Queen Mary we owe this blessed change. By her Saint 
 Croix has likewise been restored, and it is to her benign in- 
 fluence that this little chapel has been again opened for 
 worship — that the reliques of the saints liave been brought 
 back to it — and that I, myself, am enabled to officiate within 
 it. By Queen Mary heresy and schism have been over- 
 thrown, and our holy Church delivered from bondage. May 
 Heaven long preserve her ! She is our hope and strength — 
 our pillar and defence." 
 
 "I cry 'Amen' to that prayer with all my heart," said 
 Osbert. " Heaven grant the Prince may prove a good hus- 
 band to her!" 
 
 " You speak as if you doubted it, my son," rejoined Father 
 Jerome. " But I cannot tarry for further converse. I must 
 leave you now. The hour for matins is at hand. After 
 prayers, if you have aught further to say to me, I shall be at 
 your service."
 
 122 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 With this, he re-entered the chapel, and presently a beli 
 began to ring. ^Many persons, chiefly country-folk, obeyed 
 the summons, coming from different parts of the valley, 
 and entered the chapel, the door of which now stood 
 open. 
 
 Osbert, however, did not enter with them, as he had 
 caught sight of two female devotees slowly ascending the 
 hill, in whom he recognised Constance Tyrrell and her old 
 attendant, Dorcas. He waited till they gained the brow of 
 the eminence, and then advancing towards the damsel, 
 respectfully saluted her. Her appearance surprised and 
 distressed him. She looked sad and pale, and traces of 
 recent tears were on her cheeks. Scarcely returning his 
 salutation, she entered the chapel, followed by old Dorcas, 
 who appeared to be as full of affliction as her young mis- 
 tress. Osbert went in after them, and knelt down by the 
 side of Constance at the altar. But she did not once look 
 towards him, and, indeed, seemed wholly unconscious of his 
 presence. 
 
 At the close of the service, Osbert quitted the chapel with 
 the country-folk, and waited outside, thinking Constance 
 would soon come forth. But he was doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. INIore than an hour elapsed, and she did not appear. 
 At the expiration of that time the chapel door was opened 
 by Father Jerome, who looked very grave. Addressing 
 Osbert, the old priest said, "Do not tarry here longer, my 
 son. iviistress Constance Tyrrell has much to say to me, 
 and seeks my ghostly counsel." 
 
 " But I will wait for her, good Father," cried Osbert. " I 
 care not how long I stay. I mitst speak with her." 
 
 " Impossible ! my son," replied Father Jerome. " I enjoin 
 you to depart. Constance does not desire to see you. Stifle 
 the unfortunate passion you have conceived for her. It can 
 never be requited." 
 
 " In Heaven's name what has happened, good Father ? 
 Tell me, I adjure you?" cried Osbert. 
 
 " Question me not, but go !" said Father Jerome, authori- 
 tatively. " Constance will not come forth while you remain 
 here. I myself will accompany her to Winchester." 
 
 " But will you tell me nothing more ? Will you not give 
 me a hope ? " ejaculated Osbert, despairingly.
 
 Saint Catherine's Chapel. 
 
 123 
 
 The old priest shook his head, and, with a compassionate 
 glance at him, closed the door, and bolted it inside. 
 
 Osbert was half inclined to force an entrance into the 
 chapel, but feeling the impropriety of such a proceeding, he 
 tore himself away, and rushed wildly down the hill, scarcely 
 knowing whither he went.
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 HOW THE PRINCE OF SPAIN RODE FROM SOUTHAMPTON 
 TO WINCHESTER ; HOW HE HEARD HIGH MASS AT THE 
 CATHEDRAL, AND VISITED THE QUEEN PRIVATELY AT 
 WOLVESEY CASTLE. 
 
 HILIP prolonged his stay at Southampton from 
 Friday, the 20th of July, 1554, the day on which 
 he made his public entry into the town, till the 
 following Monday. Before leaving, he dismissed 
 his fleet, which set sail for Cadiz, under the command of the 
 Admiral of Castile. The Flenjish squadron also departed 
 at the same time. Nothing was allowed to transpire publicly 
 in regard to the Queen's secret visit to Southampton. After 
 protecting the French ambassador from the Prince's ven- 
 geance, in the manner previously related, Mary returned to 
 Winchester, taking Constance Tyrrell with her. Next day, 
 the Count D'Egmont, attended by Osbert Clinton, brought 
 her Majesty a set of diamonds, of inestimable value, as a 
 present from Philip. Somewhat later in the same day, the 
 noble Spanish dames, the Duchess of Medina Cell, the 
 Marchionesses Pescara, de Farria, and del Valle, the 
 Countesses OHvares, de Saldana, and de Modica, with 
 several other gentlewomen, who had accompanied their 
 consorts to be present at the approaching solemnity, arrived 
 at Wolvesey Castle in magnificent chariots and litters pro- 
 vided for them by the Queen. 
 
 Meantime, Southampton continued in a fever of excite- 
 ment, nothing being thought of in the town but revelry and
 
 How the Prince Rode to Winchester. 125 
 
 rejoicing. On Sunday, Philip heard mass in Saint Michael's 
 Church, and rode forth afterwards with his train to Netley 
 Abbey, then in possession of the Marquis of Winchester, 
 Lord High Treasurer, to whom it had been granted on the 
 dissolution of the monasteries, and after being sumptuously 
 entertained by his noble host, he returned, in the cool of a 
 most delicious evening, by water to Southampton. 
 
 About noon on Monday, the 22nd, the Prince quitted 
 Southampton, attended by a magnificent escort, comprising, 
 in addition to his own suite, the Duke of Norfolk, the 
 Marquis of Winchester, the Earls of Arundel, Derby, 
 Worcester, Bedford, Rutland, Pembroke, and Surrey ; with 
 the Lords Clinton, Cobham, Darcie, Matravers, Talbot, and 
 many others, numbering, with their gentlemen and esquires, 
 upwards of two thousand horse. Never before had such a 
 vast and splendid cavalcade passed through the Bar-gate. 
 Stationed at the gate were Sir Bevis, with the Princess 
 Josyan seated behind him on the broad back of Arundel, 
 Ascapart, Canute, and Xit — the latter mounted on his little 
 piebald horse — and when the royal cortege had passed by, 
 these personages followed it at a short distance. Hundreds 
 of persons on foot accompanied the cavalcade, which pro- 
 ceeded at a slow pace, half way to Winchester, when it 
 encountered another large company of noblemen and gentle- 
 men sent to meet it by the Queen. Amongst these were 
 the Count D'Egmont and Osbert Clinton. Swelled by this 
 addition, the cavalcade, which had now assumed the pro- 
 portions of an army, pursued its course towards Winchester, 
 the trees by which the valley of the Itchen was shaded 
 affording protection from the scorching sunbeams. Ere 
 long Philip came upon the hospital of Saint Croix, the 
 secluded beauty of which might have attracted more of his 
 attention had not Winchester itself, at the same moment, 
 burst upon his view. Cries of admiration broke from the 
 Spaniards as they caught sight of the ancient and pictur- 
 esque city. 
 
 From Saint Croix to the South-gate the road was lined 
 on either side by well-tiressed spectators of both sexes, who 
 cheered the Prince loudly as he rode by on his Andalusian 
 barb. A roar of artillery from the castle batteries announced 
 his entrance into the city to the Queen.
 
 12 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Philip was now close to the cathedral, which rose before 
 him in all its majesty. Passing through a gateway, he 
 reached the great western entrance, in the wide place in 
 front of which some fifteen hundred horsemen were now 
 drawn up, forming a most imposing spectacle. 
 
 Beneath the central portico, with its noble arch supported 
 by clustered columns, and its tabernacles containing statues 
 of the saints Peter and Paul, stood Gardiner, in his full pon- 
 tificals, mitre, stole, chasuble, rochet, alb, and amice. His 
 crosier was borne by a priest, who stood behind him. 
 Beetle-browed, swarthy of complexion, hook-nosed, and 
 harsh of feature, Gardmer, notwithstanding his forbidding 
 looks and stern, searching glances, which seemed to read 
 the hearts of those he looked upon, and inspired more dread 
 than love, had a countenance replete with intelligence, while 
 his imperious looks and manner, untamed by reverse of 
 fortune, showed the confidence he felt in his own mental 
 powers and resources. With Gardiner were Bonner, Bishop 
 of London, Tonstal, Bishop of Durham, Day, Bishop of 
 Chichester, Thirlby, Bishop of Ely, Heath, Bishop of Wor- 
 cester, and other prelates, all in mitres and copes. Behind 
 the bishops were the clergy belonging to the cathedral in 
 their vestments. 
 
 As Philip dismounted before the porch, and bent the 
 knee to Gardiner, who advanced to meet him, the bishop 
 spread his arms over him, pronouncing a solemn benediction 
 upon his head. 
 
 After bowing with profound respect to the other prelates, 
 all of whom reverently returned his salutation, the Prince 
 entered the cathedral and proceeded towards the choir, 
 Gardiner and the other bishops leading the way. Ere many 
 minutes, the nave was half filled by the nobles and gentle- 
 men composing Philip's retinue. The furthest stall on the 
 right of the choir was assigned to the Prince by Gardiner. 
 Every other stall had a noble occupant ; the one next to 
 Philip being tenanted by the Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 High mass was then celebrated, Gardiner and the bishops 
 officiating at the altar. After Te Deum had been solemnly 
 sung, Philip retired into the sacristy adjoining the Silkstede 
 Chapel with Gardiner, where a brief, but very kindly, con- 
 ference took place between them. To the Prince's inquiries
 
 How the Prince Rode to Winchester. 127 
 
 as to when he might be permitted to see the Queen, Gardiner 
 repHed, that the public presentation could not, according to 
 court etiquette, take place till the morrow, but that he 
 would engage to procure his Highness a private interview 
 with her Majesty that evening. 
 
 On quitting the cathedral, the Prince was ceremoniously 
 conducted by the Earl of Arundel to the deanery, which 
 had been prepared for his reception. Here a grand banquet 
 was subsequently served, at which the Lord Chancellor and 
 all the principal English and Spanish nobles sat down. 
 
 In the evening, while Philip was alone, the Earl of 
 A.rundel and the Grand Chamberlain, Sir John Gage, were 
 introduced, and informed him that they were enjoined by 
 her Majesty to conduct him to her presence. Expressing 
 the liveliest satisfaction, the Prince said he was ready to 
 accompany them at once, and, immediately arising, he went 
 forth with them into the deanery garden, whence, by a pri- 
 vate way, he was brought to a postern in the walls of 
 Wolvesey Castle. Of this postern Sir John Gage possessed 
 the key, and the door being unlocked, gave them admittance 
 to the gardens of the castle. 
 
 After tracking a long arcade of formally clipped yew- 
 trees, they came upon a wide glass-plot, soft as velvet to the 
 foot, laid out in front of the keep-tower, wherein, as we liave 
 already stated, were the Queen's apartments. Close to this 
 charming lawn were parterres, embelhshed with knots of 
 flowers, in the taste of the period. At the farther end stood 
 the stately donjon reared by stout Henry de Blois, between 
 which and the grass-plot lay a broad terrace-walk. This 
 scene, beautiful at all times, was now rendered doubly beau- 
 tiful by the light of a full summer moon hanging right above 
 the keep, and flooding the place with radiance. 
 
 As the Prince and his attendants entered this fairy region, 
 three persons were walking upon the grass-plot. These 
 were the Queen, Gardiner, and one of her Majesty's ladies — 
 the latter, however, being at some distance from the other 
 two. 
 
 "There is her ^Majesty," observed the Lord Chamberlain. 
 "Shall I announce your Highness?" 
 
 Receiving Philip's prompt assent. Sir John Gage advanced 
 towards Mary, and after an instant's consultation with her,
 
 12 Cardinal Fok. 
 
 Philip was formally presented — the Lord Chamberlain with- 
 drawing as soon as he had performed his office. Gardiner 
 also retired with the lady in attendance, and the royal pair 
 were left alone together. Mary was very richly attired, and, 
 viewed by this witching light, really looked attractive. 
 Some excuse may therefore be found for the impassioned 
 admiration which Philip expressed on beholding her fea- 
 tures, now for the first time revealed to his gaze. 
 
 Mary was small of stature, with beautiful hands and feet. 
 Her person was well made, but too thin, and her carriage, 
 though majestic, was exceedingly stiff, and lacked the grace 
 which ease alone can impart. In her younger days she had 
 been accounted good-looking, but she could scarcely be 
 considered so now. Her eyes were large and grey, and her 
 glances keen and steady. Her face was round, her tresses 
 inchning to red, if they did not even actually attain that 
 hue, and the nose too fiat and large. Her lips, too, were 
 thin and compressed. Altogether, there was a hardness and 
 severity about her face that destroyed its pleasing character, 
 while premature wrinkles about the eyes and brow gave her 
 
 If Mary did not inherit the beauty either of her father or 
 mother, she had many of the qualities by which both were 
 characterised. She had the courage, firmness, and obstinacy 
 of Henry VIII., and she had all the virtues belonging to the 
 unfortunate Katherine of Aragon. Her conduct under the 
 trials to which she was exposed was most exemplary, and 
 even her enemies could find no fault with it. Firmly 
 attached to the principles of the Catholic religion, in which 
 she had been brought up, she never wavered for a moment 
 in her adherence to her faith, but would have suffered 
 martyrdom rather than renounce it. When commanded by 
 the council under Edward VI., to desist from the perform- 
 ance of mass, she still continued to celebrate it in private. 
 
 Mary spoke well in public, and possessed a voice so 
 sonorous that she could be distinctly heard by a large 
 assemblage. Her stirring address to the citizens at Guild- 
 hall gave the coup de grace to Wyat's formidable rebellion. 
 She also possessed many accomplishments, playing so well 
 upon the lute and spinet as to astonish and delight professed 
 musicians by her skill She also greatly excelled in em-
 
 Hoiv the Prince Rode to Winchester. 129 
 
 broidery, and in other female work. Her intellectual accom- 
 plishments were of a high order, though they did not excite 
 so much astonishment in those days of learned ladies as 
 they would in our own. She spoke French and Spanish 
 perfectly, and read Italian with ease, though she did not 
 speak it. She was also mistress of Latin. At the request 
 of Catherine Parr, she translated into English Erasmus's 
 Paraphrase of the Gospel of St. John. Since her accession 
 to the throne, all her time, except the hours of devotion, 
 had been given to affairs of state. She arose at daybreak, 
 performed her religious duties, heard mass, and thencefor- 
 ward devoted herself to public business, being easy of access 
 to all who desired to approach her. Bigoted Mary was, 
 intolerant and severe towards those Avho differed with her 
 on points of faith ; but she had many redeeming qualities,, 
 which should have saved her from the obloquy to which she 
 has been subjected. 
 
 Such was Mary when she met her affianced husband on 
 that lovely moonlight night in the garden of Wolvesey 
 Castle — a night ever after cherished in her memory as the 
 happiest of her existence. Blissful, indeed, were her feelings 
 as she paced to and fro upon that soft sward with her royal 
 lover, listening to the vows he breathed in low and pas- 
 sionate tones, and believing all he said. Philip felt his 
 power, and exercised it. From that moment to the latest 
 of her existence, she fondly loved him. Ingrate that he 
 was, he but poorly requited her affection. 
 
 We shall not record the words he uttered. Idle words 
 were they, such as feigned passion has ever at command, 
 but they produced the effect designed. Suspicious as Mary 
 was by nature, she had no suspicion nov.'. She persuaded 
 herself that Heaven had rewarded her at last for all her 
 sufferings by bestowing upon her a fond and faithful spouse. 
 
 Two hours elapsed before their moonlight walk was over — 
 two happy, happy hours to the Queen. Then she re-entered 
 ihc keep, while Philip, attended by the Earl of Arundel and 
 Sir John Gage, returned to the deanery,
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF THE PUBLIC MEETING BETWEEN THE ROYAL PAIR. 
 
 having been 
 
 arranged 
 
 that the public meeting 
 between the royal pair should take place on the 
 following day, six richly carved and gilt chariots, 
 covered with cloth of gold, drawn by horses 
 trapped in white velvet embroidered with silver lions, and 
 ridden by pages of honour attired in the royal liveries, were 
 sent- to convey the Prince and his suite to Wolvesey Castle. 
 Attendant upon the chariots were a number of henchmen, 
 likewise habited in the royal liveries, and mounted on richly- 
 caparisoned horses, and besides these there was a guard of 
 two hundred arquebusiers, fully equipped. 
 
 Precisely at noon Philip came forth from the deanery, 
 attended by all his grandees, gorgeously attired, and glitter- 
 ing with jewels, and entered the chariot appointed for him. 
 The Dukes of Alva and Medina Celi had places beside him. 
 Preceded by mounted trumpeters and kettle-drums, making 
 a loud bruit, the train moved towards Wolvesey Castle, the 
 Prince being everywhere greeted by acclamations from those 
 who witnessed his progress. At the noble gateway of Wyke- 
 ham's College were stationed the warden and fellows in their 
 gowns, and ranged by the side of the walls in files two deep 
 stood the scholars, who shouted lustily and waved their caps 
 as the Prince passed by. The young Wykehamists were 
 still vociferating as the chariot containing the Prince passed 
 beneath the arched gate-tower then forming the main 
 entrance to Wolvesey Castle. At this gate, above which
 
 Of the Meeting Between the Royal Pair. 131 
 
 floated the royal standard, stood Og, Gog, and Magog, 
 towering by the head and shoulders above the other hal 
 berdiers. The giants had now resumed their ordinary garb 
 of yeomen of the guard, but were instantly recognised by 
 the Prince. 
 
 Before the principal entrance of the keep stood a vast 
 number of gentlemen, esquires, and pages, all splendidly 
 apparelled, and, as Philip's chariot drew up. Sir John Gage, 
 Grand Chamberlain, with Sir Henry Jerningham, Vice- 
 Chamberlain, bearing their wands of office, came forth to 
 assist his Highness to alight. The entrance-hall was filled 
 with noble personages, amongst whom were the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earls of Arundel and Derby, 
 Sir Edward Hastings, Master of the Horse, the Earl of 
 Bedford, Lord Privy Seal, the Lord Paget and Sir William 
 Petre, both Secretaries of State, with many others. Bowing 
 graciously as he passed through this splendid throng, the 
 Prince was conducted by Gardiner to the great hall, where 
 he found the Queen surrounded by a bevy of lovely dames. 
 Mingled with the English ladies and contrasting strongly 
 with them, from their rich Southern complexion, dark eyes 
 and jet-black tresses, were the noble Spanish dames, making 
 altogether a most dazzling group. At the further end of 
 the hall, which was hung with costly arras, and otherwise 
 gorgeously decorated, was a cloth of estate, embroidered 
 with the arms of England and Spain. Under it were two 
 velvet fauteuils. 
 
 On perceiving the Queen, Philip flew towards her, and, 
 without tarrying for a formal presentation by Sir John Gage, 
 embraced her, kissing her lovingly, to the amusement of all 
 the ladies around, and then, taking her hand, led her towards 
 the canopy at the further end of the hall, no one presuming 
 to follow them. As the royal pair seated themselves on the 
 fauteuils, and entered into tender converse, many a curious 
 eye was directed towards them. However, they heeded not 
 observation, but seemed entirely engrossed by each other. 
 
 Thus they continued discoursing for more than an hour. 
 The Queen then rose, and the Prince rising likewise, Sir 
 John Gage and Sir Henry Jerningham marshalled them into 
 an adjoining chamber, where a grand banquet was laid out 
 Here they both sat down at the high table, and were waited 
 9—2
 
 132 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 upon by Gardiner, the rest of the company occupying the 
 lower tables. Near the royal pair stood a cupboard filled 
 with splendid salvers, flagons, and other vessels of gold and 
 silver. In the course of the banquet, a goblet of wine 
 being filled for the Queen by Gardiner, she drank from 
 it to Philip ; after which, the Prince pledged her in return 
 from the same loving cup. At the close of the banquet, the 
 Queen and Prince, attended by all the company, adjourned 
 to the grass plot, where they walked for some time, enjoying 
 the cool air. A concert in the great hall, at which many 
 skilful musicians and singers assisted, brought the evening 
 to an end. Attended by his grandees, Philip then returned 
 to the deanery. 
 
 No meeting took place between the royal pair next day, 
 the Queen being occupied in preparations for the marriage 
 ceremonial, which was appointed for the morrow. 
 
 Philip passed his time in visiting several places in and 
 about the city. At Wykeham's College, whither he first 
 repaired, he was received by the warden and fellows, and 
 shown over the ancient structure, appearing to be much 
 struck by the great hall, the beautiful chapel, the cloisters, 
 and the refectory. In the hall the whole of the students 
 were assembled, and a Latin address was recited to him by 
 the senior scholar. On his departure, the Prince ordered the 
 contents of a well-filled purse to be distributed amongst the 
 youths, and the walls of the old quadrangle resounded with 
 the joyous shouts of the recipients of the gift. 
 
 Accompanied by the Bishop of Cuenga and Father de 
 Castro, Philip next visited " La Carit^," with several other 
 religious establishments and hospitals, and left large presents 
 behind him. This done, at the head of a brilliant retinue, 
 consisting of the chief English and Spanish nobles, he rode 
 up to William the Conqueror's Casde, and examined it 
 throughout, mounting to the top of the donjon, whence he 
 beheld Southampton, and the Isle of Wight in the far dis- 
 tance. In the great hall of the fortress he was shown King 
 Arthur's Round Table, at which his august sire, the 
 Emperor Charles V., had sat when he was the guest of 
 Henry VIIL 
 
 " I was honoured with a seat at the Round Table on that 
 ever-memorable occasion, your Highness," observed the old
 
 Oj the Meeting Between the Royal Pair. 133 
 
 Duke of Norfolk. " Seldom hath such a party assembled — 
 not perhaps since the days of good King Arthur himself. 
 Both your royal father and my late gracious master — whose 
 soul God preserve ! — played the boon companion, and bandied 
 so many merry jests, that we could scarce contain ourselves 
 for laughter. And yet they were nowise displeased, for state 
 was banished from the Round Table, no one being able to 
 say who sat above the other. On yonder wall, I mind me, 
 was inscribed this distich in letters of gold: 
 
 ' Carolus, Henricus vivant ; defensor uterque, 
 Henricus fidei, Carolus ecclesise.' " 
 
 "You describe an enviable banquet, my lord Duke," 
 replied Philip ; " and I marvel not it lives in your memory. 
 But you shall sit again at that board, and as my guest ; and 
 though I cannot hope to rival my father, or your late royal 
 master, as a boon companion, I will put no constraint upon 
 your mirth." 
 
 The Duke of Norfolk bowed his thanks, and they quitted 
 the hall. From the castle, Philip rode with his train to the 
 Hospital of Saint Croix, with the beautiful and secluded 
 situation of which he had been much struck as he approached 
 Winchester. Passing through the ancient gateway, he dis- 
 mounted in the court, where were drawn up the brotherhood 
 in their long dark gowns, adorned with a silver cross — vest- 
 ments and badges still retained by the fraternity. After 
 examining the Hundred Men's Hall, and noting the statue of 
 Cardinal Beaufort in a niche in the upper part of the cham- 
 ber, Philip proceeded to the venerable church, where he heard 
 mass. Well pleased with his visit, he caused a piece of gold 
 to be given to each of the brethren. 
 
 On quitting Saint Croix, the Prince did not return at 
 once to Winchester, but crossing the valley, and fording the 
 Itchen at a place pointed out to him by Osbert Clinton, 
 who acted as his guide, he rode up Saint Catherine's Hill. 
 Good Father Jerome, who had watched the train ascending 
 the mount, advanced to meet him. Courteously saluting 
 the old priest, Philip put several questions to him respecting 
 the chapel. 
 
 "Will it please your Highness to alight and view the 
 reliques?" said Father Jerome.
 
 134 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Readily assenting, Philip dismounted, Osbert holding his 
 bridle the while. 
 
 The Prince then entered the chapel with Father Jerome, 
 leaving all his suite outside to contemplate the magnificent 
 prospect of the city. His first act was to prostrate himself 
 before the altar, and in this pious posture he remained for 
 several minutes, fervently occupied in prayer. 
 
 "Apparently he is devout," thought Father Jerome, as he 
 stood behind him, with his hands meekly folded upon his 
 breast. "And yet unholy passions rule his heart." 
 
 When Philip had concluded his devotions. Father Jerome 
 unlocked a casket, and exhibited the various saintly reliques 
 it contained, which the Prince regarded with due reverence. 
 The old priest next displayed the wonderful ploughshare 
 which had proved harmless to Queen Emma, and related the 
 legend connected with it. While looking about the chapel, 
 Philip noticed upon the credence-table near the altar a little 
 tablet of gold, with an agate on either side, garnished with 
 rubies, and having a large pearl pendant. 
 
 " How came this trinket here, father? " he inquired, fixing 
 a stedfast look on the old priest. " It was my gift to a 
 damsel who preserved my life." 
 
 " I know it. Highness," replied Father Jerome. " But the 
 maiden felt she could not keep the tablet, and hath left it as 
 an offering to Saint Catherine's shrine. In my humble mind 
 she has done well." 
 
 " Has she confessed to you, father ? " demanded 
 PhiHp. 
 
 " I am not bound to answer that question, even to your 
 Highness," replied Father Jerome. " Nevertheless, I will 
 answer it. She has confessed." 
 
 " Then you know all ? " 
 
 "All, Highness. And I pity her from my soul." 
 
 "And you blame me?" 
 
 " I said not so, Highness," replied the priest, somewhat 
 evasively. 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Philip, after a pause, and in tones 
 of deep emotion. 
 
 " Highness," replied Father Jerome, " she has returned 
 to Southampton, where she is about to bury her woes in a 
 convent. I applaud her determination."
 
 Of the Meeting Between the Royal Pair. 135 
 
 " Father, this step must be prevented," rejoined Phih'p. 
 " She must not take the vows." 
 
 " I do not think she will yield to any persuasions to the 
 contrary," replied Father Jerome. "Her resolution is 
 taken." 
 
 " Make the attempt — I command you," cried Philip, im- 
 periously. " See her without delay. Use all the arguments 
 you can employ. If you succeed, count on my gratitude." 
 
 " Your Highness shall be obeyed, although I confess I 
 like not the task," said Father Jerome, bowing his reverend 
 head. 
 
 "And as an earnest of my good will, take this purse, and 
 employ its contents as you list." 
 
 " I take it, only to bestow its contents on the poor," said 
 the priest, as Philip quitted the chapel. 
 
 Philip then mounted his jennet, and rode down the hill 
 with his train. The changed expression of his countenance 
 did not escape notice, but no one ventured to remark upon 
 it. Under the guidance of Osbert Clinton, the prince made 
 his way along the banks of the Itchen, to the old stone 
 bridge, said to be the work of St. Swithun, and crossing it, 
 re-entered the city by the eastern gate, and proceeded to 
 the deanery, halting by the way to examine the ancient City 
 Cross, 
 
 While Philip was making the various visits we have 
 described, most of the inhabitants had opportunities of 
 beholding him, and all were favourably impressed by his 
 youth, his handsome person, his proud yet affable deport- 
 ment, and, above all, by the grace and skill with which he 
 managed his fiery Andalusian barb. 
 
 That evening, the Prince had a long conference with 
 Simon Renard, the Spanish ambassador, and Don Juan de 
 Figueroa, Regent of the Council of Aragon, a nobleman 
 much in the Emperor's confidence, and who had been sent 
 to England, charged with a most important mission, which 
 he had hitherto kept secret, but which he now proceeded to 
 disclose to the Prince. The revelation then made seemed 
 to yield Philip extraordinary satisfaction.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THE ROYAL NUPTIALS WERE CELEBRATED IN 
 WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL. 
 
 AT NT JAMES'S DAY had been appointed for the 
 marriage, that saint being the patron of Spain. 
 Brighter or more beautiful morning never rose on 
 Winchester than on this auspicious day. Ma'^ni- 
 ficent preparations had been made for the event. Two 
 triumphal arches spanned the High-street, and all the houses 
 were hung with cloths of gold and silver, velvet and arras, 
 while minstrels were everywhere engaged. The pinnacles 
 of the graceful Cross, which belongs to the time of Henry 
 VI., and still adorns the city, were hung with garlands of 
 flowers, and the statue of Saint Lawrence, placed under its 
 exquisite canopied niche, was garnished with beads, chains, 
 and other articles of goldsmith's work. The conduits ran 
 Avith white and red wines. All the poor were publicly 
 feasted ; and at night great bon-fires were lighted on the 
 adjacent hills. 
 
 The city was fuller of strangers than it had ever been 
 known. Not only were the hostels crowded to overflowing, 
 but the religious houses and colleges were thronged with 
 guests. At an early hour of the day thousands of persons, 
 who had travelled all night, began to arrive from various 
 quarters —from Southampton, from Bishop's Waltham, from 
 Alresford, from Stockbridge, from Romsey, and even from 
 Salisbury — in short, from every place within a circuit of
 
 IIo7ii the Royal Nuptials w.re Celebrated. 137 
 
 twenty miles. These new comers found scant accomoda- 
 tion, but booths were erected on Saint Giles's Hill, and on 
 Saint Mary Magdalene's Hill, as during fair-time, to which 
 they resoi ted. 
 
 Loud reports of ordnance were continually heard from 
 the batteries of the castle, and the bells of all the churches 
 pealed joyfully. As the hour appointed for the ceremony 
 approached, a grand procession began to enter the cathedral, 
 First came the mayor and aldermen of Winchester, in 
 scarlet gowns, followed by the officers of the city, apparelled 
 in velvet and silk, carrying long staves. Then, after a short 
 pause, came thirty gendemen belonging to the Spanish 
 ambassadors, clad in doublets of yellow velvet striped with 
 red. These were followed by Simon Renard and Don Juan 
 de Figueroa, both sumptuously apparelled. Then came a 
 numerous body of sergeants and officers of arms, and after 
 them gentlemen, esquires, and knights, all richly attiied, 
 and ranged according to their degrees. On reaching the 
 steps leading to the choir, all these passed into the north 
 transept, which, ere long, was complete y filled. Then came 
 another long train of gentlemen and esquires belonging to 
 various noblemen, all in rich liveries of divers colours, and 
 making a splendid show. Then came the Duke of Norfolk, 
 the Earls of Arundel, Sussex, Huntingdon, Shrewsbury, 
 Pembroke, and Derby, in their robes of estate of crimson 
 velvet furred with ermine, and powdered according to their 
 degrees. All such as were Knights of the Garter wore the 
 collar and the lesser badge of the order. These were 
 followed by the lords of the council in robes of scarlet. 
 After them came the choir of the cathedral, solemnly singing 
 as they passed along ; then the clergy, in their copes and 
 gowns ; then came the incense bearers, with great silver 
 thuribles, censing the way. Then followed the Bishops of 
 London, Durham, Ely, Lincoln, Chichester, and other 
 prelates, in copes and mitres. After them came two priests, 
 each bearing a large silver cross, followed by another priest 
 with a crosier. Next came Gardiner himself, in his full 
 pontificals. 
 
 Before proceeding, let us cast an eye around the interior 
 of the cathedral, and note the extraordinary splendour of 
 its decorations. The mighty pillars lining each side of the
 
 138 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 broad nave were covered to the height of twelve feet with 
 crimson velvet, entwined with golden wreaths, while the 
 intercolumniations were filled up with arras and rich hang- 
 ings. Every pillar was further decked with flags and 
 pennons. The aisles and transepts were likewise adorned 
 with hangings, and the Lady Chapel, wherein the marriage 
 ceremony was about to be solemnised, was hung with cloth 
 of gold. Along the nave, as far as the choir, was stretched 
 a cloth of ray, with rails on either side. Over the high altar 
 was reared an immense silver cross, and the altar itself 
 glittered with silver and gems. From an early hour in the 
 morning, all portions of the cathedral allotted to the public 
 were thronged to excess. Some thousands were present on 
 the occasion. The precincts of the sacred pile were equally 
 crowded, and the wide area in front of the grand western 
 portal presented a dense mass of human beings. 
 
 At ten o'clock the royal bridegroom left the deanery, 
 attended by the whole of his grandees, whose gorgeous 
 habiliments glittered with priceless jewels. Cloth of ray 
 had been laid down from the deanery to the great western 
 entrance of the cathedral, and on this Philip and his nobles 
 walked. Their path was further protected by rails, outside 
 of which archers and halberdiers were stationed. 
 
 Philip's bridal attire was magnificent, and attracted 
 universal admiration. His doublet and hose were of white 
 satin, richly embroidered with gold, and over all he wore a 
 gorgeous mantle of cloth of gold, presented to him by the 
 Queen, and thickly covered with pearls and precious stones. 
 His white velvet cap was studded with diamonds, rubies, and 
 emeralds. Over his shoulders he wore the collar of the 
 Garter, while the lesser badge of the order encircled his 
 knee. Splendid, however, as was his attire, it hardly out- 
 shone the habiliments of his grandees, all of whom wore the 
 collar of the Golden Fleece, or the insignia of some other 
 order. 
 
 As Philip entered the cathedral with his train, trumpets 
 were loudly sounded, and the martial bruit continued as he 
 advanced along the nave. Midway he was met by the Earl 
 of Arundel and other nobles, and ceremoniously conducted 
 to a traverse, prepared for him in the south transept, wher^ 
 he awaited the Queen's arrival.
 
 Hoiv the Royal Nuptials were Celebrated. 139 
 
 This was not long delayed. A peal of artillery, accom- 
 panied by reiterated shouts, announced that her Majesty had 
 reached the precincts of the cathedral. Already, indeed, the 
 foremost of her immediate attendants were passing through 
 the grand portal. First came Garter King at Arms in his 
 gorgeous tabard, followed by the other heralds, and attended 
 by a band of trumpeters, with their silver clarions at their 
 lips. Then came the Grand Chamberlain, Sir John Gage, 
 his lofty figure seen to great advantage in a scarlet robe 
 open before, and edged with ermine. Sir John Gage had the 
 collar of the Garter round his neck, and carried his wand of 
 ofitice in his hand. He was accompanied by the Vice- 
 Chamberlain, Sir Henry Jerningham, likewise in his robes 
 of ofhce, and bearing a white wand. Then followed a long 
 train of pages attired in liveries of white and blue satin, 
 which had a charming effect. Then followed the three 
 gigantic yeomen of the guard, in scarlet, with the royal 
 badge embroidered at the front and back of their doublets. 
 
 Fresh acclamations from without, continued by the crowd 
 within the cathedral, proclaimed the entrance of the Queen. 
 Mary walked beneath a canopy of cloth of gold, the gilt 
 staves of which were borne by four knights, chosen for the 
 purpose from their goodly presence, attired in crimson satin, 
 with points of blue and red on their sleeves. 
 
 The Queen was arrayed in a gown of white cloth of tissue, 
 the stomacher of which was encrusted with diamonds and 
 precious stones, and her mantle of crimson velvet, bordered 
 with ermine, and embroidered with gold, was borne by six 
 noble dames, all magnificently attired. Her hair was un- 
 bound, as was then the custom of brides — and a beautiful 
 custom it was — and on her head she wore a coif, encircled 
 with gold, and studded with orient pearls and gems. Mary 
 marched with a firm step along the nave, and really pre- 
 sented a very majestic appearance. She was followed by a 
 long train of ladies, whose sweeping velvet mantles, furred 
 and embroidered, were borne by pages in rich liveries. 
 
 As the Queen advanced along the body of the cathedral, 
 Philip, who had been apprised of her coming, and, indeed, 
 could not be unaware of it from the braying of trumpets and 
 shouting, came from the traverse with his retinue, and met 
 her just as she reached the steps of the choir. Saluting her
 
 140 Cardinal Pcle. 
 
 with a warm demonstration of affection that savoured little 
 of ceremony, he took her hand, and they ascended the steps 
 together, Sir John Gage and the Vice-Chamberlain preceding 
 them. 
 
 At this moment Gardiner and the other prelates came 
 forth fro:n the choir, and while the royal pair were standing 
 there with the Bishop of Winchester, in full view of the 
 immense assemblage, Don Juan de Figueroa, attended by 
 Simon Renard, came towards them, and, bending the knee to 
 Philip, presented a scroll to him. 
 
 "What means this, your excellency?" demanded the 
 Prince, with a well-feigned look of astonishment. 
 
 "It means, your Highness," replied Figueroa, as he arose, 
 ^'that your august sire, the Emperor, deeming it beneath the 
 dignity of so high and mighty a sovereign as the Queen of 
 England to wed with one of rank inferior to her own, has by 
 this act resigned to your Flighness the crown of Naples and 
 Sicily, with the Duchy of Milan, and divers other seats and 
 signories. From this moment. Sire, you are King of Naples, 
 and as such her Majesty's equal." 
 
 "A right noble and gracious act, and worthy of my 
 great father ! " exclaimed Philip. " Does not your Majesty 
 think so?" 
 
 " Nobly done, indeed. Sire!" cried Mary. "I joy that you 
 are King of Naples, but you could not be dearer to me than 
 as Prince of Spain." 
 
 " The Emperor's great and generous act must be made 
 known to the entire assemblage," said Gardiner. 
 
 " Be that task mine," rejoined Simon Renard. 
 
 Whereupon silence being called by sound of trumpet, the 
 Spanish ambassador advanced towards the edge of the steps, 
 and in a loud voice, distinctly heard by the thousands con- 
 gregated within the nave, announced what the Emperor had 
 done for his son. 
 
 Tremendous acclamations followed, and the roof resounded 
 with cries of " Long live the Emperor ! Long live the King 
 of Naples ! " 
 
 No sooner had Simon Renard retired than Garter King at 
 Arms advanced with a couple of trumpeters, and proclaimed 
 the styles and titles of the two sovereigns in the following 
 formula : —
 
 Ho7u the Royal Nuptials were Celebrated. 141 
 
 " Philip and Mary, by the grace of God, King and Queen 
 of England, France, Naples. Jerusalem, and Ireland; De- 
 fenders of the Faith ; Princes of Spain and Sicily ; Arch- 
 dukes of Austria ; Dukes of Milan, Burgundy, and Brabant ; 
 Counts of Hagsburg, Flanders, and Tyrol." 
 
 This proclamation being made, the trumpets were sounded, 
 and the acclamations of the assemblage were renewed. 
 
 Preceded by Gardiner and the other prelates, cere- 
 moniously marshalled by the Grand Chamberlain and Vice- 
 Chamberlain, and attended by the principal nobles, English 
 and Spanish, forming an assemblage of unrivalled splendour, 
 the royal pair — now equals in dignity — marched hand in 
 hand to the beautiful Lady Chapel built by Bishop Godfrey 
 de Lucy, where the marriage was solemnised by Gardiner, 
 assisted by the other prelates, the royal bride being given 
 away in the name of the realm by the Marquis of Winchester 
 and the Earls of Pembroke and Derby. 
 
 In all respects the ceremony was admirably performed. 
 The prelates gathered round the richly-decked altar, the 
 royal couple kneeling before it on velvet faldstools, the grand 
 assemblage of English and Spanish nobles grouped around, 
 the proud dames of both nations filling the galleries on either 
 side of the chapel — all constituted a superb picture. 
 
 The solemnity ended, the royal couple returned to the 
 choir, where a cloth of estate had been prepared for them, 
 beneath which they sat while Te Deiini was solemnly sung. 
 Here the picture was even grander than that exhibited in 
 the Lady Chapel, because it comprehended so nuich more of 
 the cathedral. Fortunately, it could be seen by the vast 
 crowd in the nave. 
 
 All being concluded, the royal couple quitted the sacred 
 edifice, walking hand in hand beneath the canopy. Before 
 them marched the Earls of Pembroke and Derby, each 
 bearing a sword of state. 
 
 In this manner, amid the thunder of artillery, the sounding 
 of trumpets, and the shouts of the crowd, they returned to 
 Wolvesey Castle, where a grand banquet was given, followed 
 by a state ball.
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 HOV/ PHILIP, WITH POUR-AND-TWENTY NOBLE GUESTS, 
 
 DINED AT Arthur's round table in Winchester 
 
 CASTLE ; and how THE FEAST ENDED. 
 
 HE royal couple sojourned at Wolvesey Castle for 
 a week, and during that time a series of grand 
 entertainments were given to all the nobility who 
 had attended the marriage ceremony. Pageants 
 were exhibited in the city, and in the pleasant meads 
 beyond the South-gate sports and pastimes of various kinds 
 took place — to wit, archery, horse-races, foot-races, throwing 
 of heavy weights, wrestling, rowing and swimming matches 
 in the Itchen, bear-baiting, badger-baiting, bull-running, cock- 
 fighting, duck-hunting in the river, and other diversions, in 
 which our ancestors delighted. These sports, many of 
 which were novel to them, afforded much amusement to 
 Phihp and the Spanish nobles. 
 
 Mindful of his promise to the Duke of Norfolk to feast 
 his grace at Arthur's Round Table in Winchester Castle, 
 Philip appointed the day before his departure for the 
 banquet. Twenty-four guests were invited, half of whom 
 were English nobles, and the other half Spanish grandees. 
 
 In the midst of the great hall of the castle, which was 
 more than a hundred and fifty feet long, and with a lofty 
 roof of open rafters, richly sculptured, was placed 
 
 -the pride of warlike years, 
 
 Old Arthur's board—"
 
 How Philip Dined at Arthur s Round Table. 143 
 
 in other words, the famous Round table, at whick King 
 Arthur and his illustrious knights had often feasted. 
 
 Framed by Uter Pendragon, Arthur's royal sire, who 
 flourished early in the 6th century, or more than twelve 
 hundred years ago, this wondrous table was given by him to 
 King Leodegraunce of Camelyard, wlio held it in high 
 esteem. When Leodegraunce bestowed his fair daughter, 
 the lovely but erring Guenever, upon Arthur, he sent him at 
 the same time, as the richest present he could bestow, the 
 royal table, causing it to be conveyed by a hundred knights. 
 Enchanted with the gift, Arthur forthwith instituted the 
 order of the Round Table (the earliest military order of 
 knighthood), and had the places apjDointed for himself and 
 his twenty-four knights blessed by the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury. So runs the legend. But by whomsoever fashioned, 
 the Round Table was at least remarkable for antiquity in 
 the time of Henry VIIL, who had it fresh painted for use at 
 the banquet given by him to the Emperor Charles V. It 
 still exists, as we have already intimated, and is constructed 
 of stout oaken planks, painted in parti-coloured rays, on the 
 borders of which 
 
 '* Some British pen has sketched the names renowned. 
 In marks obscure, of Arthur's deathless peers." 
 
 Obscure as are the characters, the names of Sir Tristram, 
 Sir Launcelot, Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, Sir Gawaine, Sir 
 Ector, Sir Eors, and other peerless knights, may be read 
 upon this scroll of fame. In Cromwell's time the Round 
 Table narrowly escaped destruction from the parliamentary 
 soldiers, who never lost an opportunity of committing sacri- 
 lege of some kind. They set it up as a target, and per- 
 forated it with bullets. In the centre ot the board is the 
 Tudor rose, and the sovereign's place is indicated by a full- 
 length portrait of Henry VIIL, seated under a canopy with 
 an ermine mantle over his shoulders, and holding the orb 
 and sword. 
 
 The great hall in which the Round Table was set was 
 hung with ancient and somewhat faded arras, representing 
 in one place the interview of the twelve Roman knights 
 with Arthur, and in another the renowned British king 
 receiving his sword Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake.
 
 144 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Five-and-tvventy suits of armour of colossal size were 
 placed on stands against the walls, while the intervals \\ere 
 tilled with trophies composed of shields, spears, swords, 
 battle-axes, maces, and other weapons. The cushion of 
 each chair was embroidered in letters of gold with the name 
 of its occupant. A curiously carved oak chair, in which 
 bluff King Hal had sat was assigned to Philip. On his 
 right sat the Lord Chancellor, and on the left the Duke of 
 No'folk. The place next to Gardiner was allotted to the 
 Duke of Alva, while Norfolk's neighbour was the Duke of 
 Medina Celi. In this wise were the twenty-four guests 
 disposed — English and Spanish nobles alternately. 
 
 No diaper covered the capacious board. But it was loaded 
 with salvers, dishes, goblets, and plates of gold and silver. 
 Sideboards, also, glittering with plate and drinking vessels, 
 were ranged around the hall. A multitude of pages, esquires, 
 and gentlemen were in attendance. The banquet consisted 
 of five courses, and comprised calvered salmon, stewed 
 lampries, slices of sturgeon, a porpoise in armour, soused 
 pike and bream, trout from the Itchen — pronounced delicious 
 — roast cygnets, a roast heron, wild-boar pie, a roast haunch 
 of venison, a roast kid, ruffs, dotterels, bitterns, and many 
 other good things. No restraint was placed upon his guests 
 by the King, who, by his easy and jovial deportment, seemed 
 to invite familiarity. The Spanish grandees declared they 
 had never before seen their royal master so full of mirth, 
 and the Duke of Norfolk vowed that he equalled the Emperor 
 in good fellowship. Certes, his Majesty jested as much, and 
 laughed as heartily as the rest of the company. So infectious 
 was the merriment, that even the stern features of the Duke 
 of Alva relaxed into a smile. 
 
 At the close of the repast, and as soon as the chargers 
 and other dishes had been removed, an immense silver bowl, 
 covered by a lid, was placed upon the table by the three 
 gigantic yeomen of the guard, Og, Gog, and Magog — a task 
 not accomplished without some difficulty — amidst the 
 laughter of the guests, who eyed the stupendous vessel with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " If that bowl be filled with hippocras. Sire," exclaimed 
 the Duke of Norfolk, "there must be enough liquor within 
 it to drown us all, or to float a man-of-war."
 
 How Philip Dined at Arthur'' s Rormd Table. 145 
 
 Before any reply could be made, the attention of the 
 company was attracted by a ringing sound proceeding from 
 the vessel. 
 
 All the guests looked towards their royal host as if for 
 explanation. 
 
 " I know not what it means," said the King, who ap- 
 peared as much surprised as the rest. " Take off the lid, 
 and let us see." 
 
 The order was obeyed by Og, whose countenance wore a 
 broad giin, and as he raised the cover, the cause of the 
 strange sounds became manifest. In the midst of a sea of 
 hippocras floated a silver boat, in which was seated Xit, in 
 the guise of the Enchanter Merlin, and holding in his hand 
 a silver ladle, with which he had struck the sides of the bowl, 
 to intimate his presence. Raising himself carefully, so as 
 not to upset the frail barque in which he was placed, the 
 dwarf bowed as gracefully as circumstances would permit, to 
 Philip, and said, " Doubtless your Majesty is surprised to 
 see me here, but I trust I shall not incur your sovereign dis- 
 pleasure when I say that my desire to be present at your 
 banquet led me to adopt this expedient to gain admittance. 
 Besides, I may be useful," he added, flourishing the ladle. 
 
 " Thou art we'come, thou sprightly imp," replied Philip, 
 laughing. " Keep our goblets filled, that is all we require 
 from thee." 
 
 "Gramercy, Sire, I will endeavour to perform the office of 
 butler to your entire satisfaction," replied Xit, filling the cup 
 extended to him by the King. 
 
 After all the guests had been served with great expedition 
 and skill, Philip said to the dwarf, "Now, kirrah, a toast." 
 
 "I am greatly honoured by the command. Sire," replied 
 Xit. " My toast, I am well assured, will be drunk with 
 enthusiasm, both by your Majesty and your illustrious 
 guests. I will give your royal consort, and our most gra- 
 cious mistress, the Queen. May Heaven shed its choicest 
 blessings upon her! " 
 
 " Well said, thou merry knave ! " cried Philip. " No toast 
 could be more agreeable to us. My lords, we will dedicate 
 this cup to the Queen." 
 
 The toast was rapturously drunk by the assemblage, but 
 just as the goblets were emptied an unexpected incident 
 10
 
 14.6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 occurred. In the excitement of the moment, and while 
 waving the ladle, Xit lost his balance, and plunged head- 
 foremost into the vinous flood beneath him. As he emerged 
 the next moment, his half-drowned appearance caused shouts 
 of laughter from the company, which were echoed by all the 
 pages, esquires, and other attendants. 
 
 " Marry, thou hast had a bath such as few men have 
 enjoyed," observed Philip, laughing. 
 
 "I would rather it had iDeen water, Sire," spluttered Xit. 
 "I shall never enjoy the flavour of hippocras again, I pray 
 you let me- be taken hence." 
 
 " There is no hurry," cried the Duke of Norfolk, laughing 
 immoderately. "We cannot let thee go yet. Make the 
 most of thy position, and quaff thy fill. The wine is spoiled 
 for all but thee." 
 
 "Were I to quaff more than I have already done, I should 
 become a sorry spectacle, your grace, and might off"end this 
 noble company," observed Xit. " I have no desire to die 
 the death of the Duke of Clarence." 
 
 "Take him hence," said Phihp, who thought the jest had 
 lasted long enough ; " but let him not out of the bowl till 
 its contents be emptied," 
 
 On this, the three giants, lifting the mighty bowl from the 
 table, conveyed it to another part of the hall, where they 
 set it down. The King's commands were scrupulously 
 obeyed. Notwithstanding Xit's piteous entreaties to be set 
 free, he was detained a prisoner till the whole of the 
 hippccras had been drunk. To this end the giants lent 
 their best assistance, but before it could be fully ac- 
 complished, the King and his noble guests had departed. 
 So ended the banquet at Arthur's Round Table. 
 
 Next day Philip and Mary, attended by their whole 
 court, and by the Spanish grandees, quitted Winchester, 
 and proceeded by easy stages to Windsor.
 
 CHAPTER VI I. 
 
 Of PHILIP S PUBLIC ENTRY INTO LONDON, 
 
 HE court had not been long at Windsor Castle, ere 
 most of the Spanish grandees who had accom- 
 panied PhiHp, finding that ov/ing to the terms of 
 the marriage-treaty, which were strictly enforced 
 by Gardiner and the council, no posts could be given them 
 in the government, quitted England in disgust. As the 
 Duke of Alva took leave of the King, he observed, " I am 
 loth to leave your Majesty with this people, but as you 
 have no present need of my services, while I may be of use 
 to the Emperor, I deem it best to go." 
 
 " Have no fears for me, my lord Duke," replied Philip. 
 " I am perfectly secure. I have paid a heavy price for the 
 support of the English nobles — but I think I can count 
 upon it." 
 
 " Do not trust them, Sire. The English nobles are 
 treacherous as corrupt, and will fall off when most needed. 
 Had your Majesty but listened to me, and pursued the bold 
 course I suggested, you might now be King of England — 
 not in name, merely, but in reality. It is not yet too late. 
 Say the word and I remain." 
 
 " No ; you must go, Alva. I grieve to part with you, as 
 with my other nobles, but your presence here is prejudicial 
 to my plans." 
 
 " I see not how that can be. Sire. You yield too much 
 to English prejudices. Pardon me for saying so, but you 
 lO — 2
 
 148 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 ought to be lord and master in your own house, and not 
 subject to your wife — albeit she is a Queen." 
 
 " Why so I am, Alva," replied the King, smiling. " Her 
 Majesty refuses me nothing." 
 
 " Except the matrimonial crown, Sire," said the Duke, 
 bluntly. " She will not give you that. Neither will she 
 place the supreme power of government in your hands, nor 
 cause you to be declared presumptive heir to the crown." 
 
 "She dare not do so, Alva," observed Philip, coldly. 
 
 " I know not that," said the Duke. '' For such a result 
 all should be dared." 
 
 " Her Majesty will accede to my wishes in due time," 
 said the King. " Should there be an heir to the throne, all 
 difficulties will be removed." 
 
 "Ay, if there should — but the event may never occur," 
 ■cried Alva, impatiently. " Again I say, why wait ? With 
 such a prize within your grasp, why hesitate to seize it ? 
 Oh ! that your Majesty would leave the work to me." 
 
 " I could not trust you," said the King. " You would 
 ruin all by precipitancy. My plan is slow, but sure. Fare- 
 well, my lord Duke. The saints give you a good journey 
 to Brussels, Commend me in all love and duty to the 
 Emperor, and say that in due time I trust he will have a 
 grandson." 
 
 " Would I could add that heresy were completely extir- 
 pated from the realm, and the papal supremacy re-estab- 
 lished," observed Alva. 
 
 " That will follow immediately on the arrival of Cardinal 
 Pole," said Philip. " Most of the English nobles and men 
 of wealth, as you know, have shared in the monstrous 
 spoliation of the Church that occurred during the two 
 previous reigns, and these persons will never acknowledge 
 the supreme authority of the Pontiff, unless their ill-gotten 
 possessions are secured to them. Until this point be 
 conceded by his Holiness, the Lord Chancellor assures me 
 it will be futile and even dangerous to propose the measure. 
 Mauriquez has been dispatched to Rome to argue the 
 matter with the Pope, and, till the question be decided, 
 Cardinal Pole must be detained at Brussels. This you will 
 explain to the Emperor." 
 
 " Humph ! " exclaimed Alva. " I half hope the Pop«
 
 Oj Philifs Public Entry into LondojJ. 149 
 
 may refuse your Majesty's request, and then you will be 
 compelled to have recourse to me to force these robbers 
 to disgorge their plunder. 'Tis a dreadful wrong to the 
 Church." 
 
 "I feel the injustice as keenly as you can do, Alva," 
 rejoined the King \ •' but since the grievance cannot be re- 
 dressed, it must be borne in patience." 
 
 " Well, we must hope for better days, when these plun- 
 derers will meet their deserts on the scaftbld and the 
 gibbet," said Alva. " I now take my leave of your 
 Majesty." So saying, he departed. 
 
 That any assumption of regal power on the part of 
 Philip would be resisted, was shown by a slight incident 
 which occurred shortly afterwards. On the King's instal- 
 lation as a Knight of the Garter, in order to give greater 
 importance to the proceeding, the royal arms of England 
 were taken down in St. George's Chapel by the chief 
 herald, at the instance of Simon Renard, and the arms of 
 Castile and Aragon set up in their stead. But as soon as 
 the change was discovered by the Earl of Arundel and Sir 
 John Gage, they sharply reprimanded the herald, and, at 
 the risk of offending Philip, caused the Spanish arms to be 
 forthwith taken down and those of England restored. 
 
 Philip had many secret enemies, but none so active or so 
 dangerous as the French ambassador. Notwithstanding 
 the ill success of his previous plot, and the narrow escape 
 he had run, De Noailles continued his intrigues among the 
 factious and discontented. As Mary could not refuse to 
 receive him at court without embroiling herself with France, 
 he had opportunities of carrying out a design which he had 
 conceived, of occasioning a rupture between the King and 
 Queen. Aware of Philip's infidelities, and of the Queen's 
 jealousy of disposition, he did not despair of accomplishing 
 this project. By means of spies, who were well paid for 
 the service, he kept a strict watch over the King's proceed- 
 ings, hoping to make some discovery that might serve his 
 purpose. 
 
 From a cause which we shall proceed to explain, Philip 
 began to lose the popularity he had acquired on his first 
 arrival. Though he continued extremely affable and con- 
 descending to the English nobles — far more so than he was
 
 150 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 to those of his own nation — and though he made them 
 large gifts, in the hope of securing their friendship, he 
 never could overcome their distrust, which was kept alive 
 by the subtle practices of the French ambassador. More- 
 over, Spanish usages began to prevail at court, and these 
 were highly distasteful to the English. Greater etiquette 
 and formality were observed. The doors were not thrown 
 open as they used to be, and those who desired an audience 
 of their Majesties, even on matters of urgency, were 
 detained long in the ante-chambers. So that although the 
 King did not meddle with the government — at all events 
 not directly — it was soon felt that the court was absolutely 
 under his control. None but those high in his favour were 
 admitted to him without much form and ceremony, which 
 was especially irksome to the older English nobles, who 
 had enjoyed easy access to the sovereign in the reign of 
 Henry VIII. And there was every appearance that this 
 strictness would increase rather than diminish. 
 
 Philip's public entry into London was not made until the 
 latter end of August. Preparatory to the ceremony, the 
 royal pair removed to Richmond Palace, where they stayed 
 for two or three days, and then proceeded by water in a 
 state barge, attended by all their retinue in other barges, to 
 the Bishop of Winchester's palace at Southwark. They 
 were received with great ceremony by Gardiner, and passed 
 the night under his roof. 
 
 Next day, accompanied by a numerous and magnificent 
 cortege, comprising all the chief officers of the court, together 
 with many of the nobility, the royal pair passed over 
 London Bridge into the City. The Queen, whose splendid 
 attire of cloth of gold blazed with jewels of inestimable 
 value, sat in a gilt chariot, drawn by six horses in housings 
 of white satin, embroidered with gold, ridden by pages of 
 honour in crimson satin. Her Majesty was accompanied by 
 three of her principal ladies. Mounted on his fiery Anda- 
 lusian barb, which was trapped with black taffetas, guarded 
 with silver lace, Philip appeared to great advantage in his 
 black velvet doublet, short mantle bordered with pearls, and 
 berret with black and white plumes. He was attended by 
 fifty horsemen in trappings of crimson velvet, with the 
 arms of Spain embroidered on them in gold, with edges of
 
 Of Philip's Public Entry into Lo?idon. 151 
 
 silk and gold, and fringe of the same. Besides these, there 
 were fifty pages in liveries of carnation satin, passmented 
 with silver and black lace, and black silk caps, adorned 
 with carnation and black plumes. A troop of halberdiers 
 in full equipments formed the vanguard of the royal pro- 
 cession, and another brought up the rear. In front of the 
 cortege rode a large band of musicians, consisting of trumpets, 
 clarions, kettle-drums, and other martial instruments. These 
 musicians were accoutred in scarlet mandillions, guarded 
 with gold, and had the royal badge on the front and at the 
 back. The pennons of the trumpets and clarions were 
 likewise embroidered with the royal arms, and all the horses 
 were caparisoned in scarlet satin, guarded with gold lace. 
 As the procession passed over London Bridge, a loud peal 
 of ordnance burst from the Tower batteries, and was con- 
 tinued by the guns of all the ships moored off the wharves. 
 
 At the gate then defending the entrance to the City from 
 the bridge, the three gigantic yeomen of the guard were 
 stationed, who reverently saluted the King and Queen as 
 they passed by, and at the conduit of Gracechurch Street, 
 which had been newly decorated for the occasion, was a 
 large painting representing the nine Worthies. Noticeable 
 amongst these august personages was Henry VIII., who was 
 portrayed in armour. The idea of the artist had been to 
 depict the great Defender of the Faith in the act of pre- 
 senting the Bible to his son and successor, Edward VI., the 
 sacred volume being inscribed in large characters Verbum 
 Dei; but the device gave great offence to Gardiner, who 
 ordered the limner, on pain of losing his ears, to obliterate 
 this part of the picture, which he accomplished more 
 effectually than tastefully, by brushing out the King's right 
 hand. 
 
 In Cheapside there was another large picture, representing 
 the " Five Philips " — namely, Philip of Macedon, Philip the 
 Emperor, Philip the Bold, Philip the Good, and Philip, 
 Prince of Spain and King of England. 
 
 Many pageants were exhibited to the King and Queen on 
 their way through the City. All the houses were decorated 
 with cloth of gold and silver, arras and velvet, while 
 thousands flocked forth to welcome the Queen and her royal 
 consort. Owing to the frequent stoppages, the progress of
 
 152 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 the cortege was slow, and it did not reach Whitehall for some 
 hours. 
 
 Philip was by no means satisfied with the reception he 
 had met with. The populace had cheered him but slightly ; 
 and murmurs against Spain, and allusions to the Inquisition, 
 occasionally reached his ears. Moreover, he remarked 
 that many persons regarded him with ill-concealed looks of 
 aversion. 
 
 " These citizens do not like me," he thought, " Ere long, 
 they shall be taught to fear me." 
 
 Soon after this, a gloom was thrown over the court by 
 the death of the Duke of Norfolk. The Queen went into 
 mourning for the venerable nobleman, to whom she was 
 sincerely attached, and all festivities were suspended. 
 Their Majesties removed to Hampton Court, where Philip 
 environed himself more and more in Spanish form and 
 etiquette. Difficult of access before, he was now almost 
 unapproachable.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW CONSTANCE TYRRELL EMBRACED THE 
 REFORMED FAITH. 
 
 E will now see what had befallen Constance Tyrrell. 
 When Father Jerome, in obedience to Philip's in- 
 junctions, went over to Southampton to see her, 
 he found her in the Hospital of the Domus Dei, 
 in attendance upon Derrick Carver. So far from attempting 
 to dissuade her from entering a convent, and devoting her 
 life to Heaven, the good priest urged her strongly to carry 
 out her design, but, to his great affliction, he found that a 
 sudden and most unexpected change had come over her. 
 The earnest exhortations addressed to her by the enthusiastic 
 Derrick Carver had already produced a sensible impression, 
 and she seemed more than half dispose d to secede from the 
 Church of Rome, and embrace the Reformed Faith. In 
 vain Father Jerome remonstrated with her, and urged her to 
 fly from the mischievous influence to which she w^as exposed. 
 Failing in his endeavours, he repaired to Master T\ rrell, and 
 informed him of his daughter's danger ; but the old merchant 
 treated the matter with indifference, and the worthy priest 
 departed with a sad heart. 
 
 Sorely perplexed how to act for the best. Father Jerome, 
 after much hesitation and delay, caused a communication to 
 be made to the Queen, through her confessor, of the lament- 
 able change that had taken place in Constance's religious 
 opinions. 
 
 Mary manifested great surprise and displeasure at the
 
 154 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 intelligence, and directed that Constance should be brought 
 to Hampton Court, where her Majesty was then sojourning, 
 in order that she might confer with the unhappy maiden in 
 person, and see how far the mischief had proceeded, and 
 what could be done for its cure. 
 
 Constance accordingly was summoned from Southampton, 
 and had several private interviews with the Queen, who soon 
 discovered that Derrick Carver had succeeded in effecting 
 her conversion. By the advice of her Majesty's confessor, 
 who felt sure he could bring back the stray lamb to the 
 fold, Constance was detained for a time within the 
 palace. 
 
 No mention having been made of this proceeding to 
 Philip, it was only by accident that he became aware that 
 Constance was an inmate of the palace. On making the 
 discovery, he went, wholly unattended, to the apartments 
 wherein he had ascertained she was lodged. On entering 
 the ante-chamber, he found old Dorcas, who appeared 
 terrified at the sight of him, and who, without stopping to be 
 questioned, exclaimed that her young mistress was unable to 
 see his Majesty. 
 
 "But I must see her," rejoined Philip, authoritatively. 
 " Go in at once, mistress, and tell her I am here." 
 
 Seeing from the King's manner that remonstrance would 
 be useless, the old woman complied, and drawing aside a 
 piece of tapestry, entered the inner room. In another 
 moment she returned, and prayed his Majesty to step in. 
 
 Passing through the tapestry, Philip entered the room, 
 where he found Constance alone. She was attired in black, 
 and looked pale as death, and was evidently greatly agitated. 
 She made the King a profound reverence, but did not raise 
 her eyes towards him. 
 
 "So you have been here for some days, I find," cried 
 Philip, "and have allowed me to remain in ignorance of 
 your presence, though you know how anxious I have been 
 to behold you again. I began to fear I had lost you for 
 ever, and that you had really carried your threat into execu- 
 tion, and buried your charms in a convent." 
 
 "A great change has come over me. Sire," rejoined Con- 
 stance. " I have wholly abandoned that intention." 
 
 "I rejoice to hear it," cried the King. " I dispatched
 
 
 
 's? '^i> L*lV ), 
 
 
 Ql-EEN MaRV DISCOVEKS the I'EKFIUV OF THE KiNC. 
 
 P. 155-
 
 Hoiv Constance Embraced the Reformed Faith. 155 
 
 Father Jerome to you, and I suppose his arguments pre- 
 vailed ? " 
 
 " No, Sire," rejoined Constance. " I have been turned 
 aside from my purpose by better arguments than any Father 
 Jerome could employ." 
 
 " Nay, I care no^t who dissuaded you," replied Philip, " I 
 am content with the resolution you have taken. I have 
 been wretched— most wretched, since we parted, Con- 
 stance," 
 
 "Your Majesty cannot have been half so wretched as I 
 have been," she rejoined. "However, I have in some 
 degree recovered my peace of mind, and I beseech you not 
 to plunge me into misery again." 
 
 " I must tell you how passionately I adore you," exclaimed 
 the King. " The love which you kindled in my breast when 
 I first beheld you burns fiercer than ever, and cannot be 
 extinguished. By my hopes of Paradise, fair Constance, I 
 love you — only you," 
 
 " Cease, Sire, cease ! " cried Constance, " I cannot listen 
 to you — I must not." 
 
 " But you must — you shall listen to me," cried Philip, 
 still more passionately, " You shall hear how constantly I 
 have thought of you. Your image has been ever before me. 
 I have tried to stifle my love, but without success. It has 
 mastered me, as it masters me now. Behold me at your 
 feet, sweet Constance ! " he added, prostrating himself 
 before her ; " not the King — but your suppliant — your 
 slave ! " 
 
 " Rise, Sire, I intreat you, from this unworthy posture," 
 cried Constance. " Think of your duty to the Queen — all 
 your love should be given to her." 
 
 " Such love as I bear for you, sweet Constance, I cannot 
 give to her Majesty," rejoined Phihp. "for as I have just 
 declared, you have sole possession of my heart. You need 
 fear no rival in the Queen." 
 
 " Oh ! hush. Sire — hush ! " exclaimed Constance, with the 
 utmost alarm. "You are overheard ! ha !— her Majesty ! " 
 
 " The Queen here ! " exclaimed Philip, springing to his 
 
 feet. 
 
 And turning, he perceived that the Queen was pushing 
 aside the hangings, and about to enter the room. Close be-
 
 156 Cardinal Pole, 
 
 hind her Majesty, whose looks proclaimed the depth of her 
 indignation, came Sir John Gage. For a moment, Philip 
 seemed embarrassed, but he quickly recovered himself. 
 Mary regarded her faithless consort with flashing eyes, but 
 repressed the bitter reproaches that rose to her lips, though 
 her heart swelled almost to bursting, and the veins on her 
 brow distended with rage. 
 
 It was an awful moment, and Sir John Gage looked 
 greatly troubled. The silence was broken by Constance, who 
 flung herself at the Queen's feet, exclaiming : 
 
 " Do not judge me harshly, gracious Madam. Do not 
 suppose that I have failed in duty to your Majesty. Do not 
 deem that I have been a consenting party to this meeting. 
 On my soul I have not. The King will confirm my asser- 
 tion. Speak, Sire, speak ! " 
 
 Unable to resist this appeal, Philip said, " It is the truth. 
 Madam. I alone am to blame." 
 
 '•'You hear, gracious Madam," cried Constance, "his 
 Majesty acquits me. My sole crime is, that I have unhap- 
 pily attracted his attention." 
 
 " And that is crime enough, minion," said Mary, regarding 
 her fiercely. " You shall expiate the offence with your life. I 
 will show you no mercy. Call in the guard, Sir John," she 
 added to Gage. 
 
 " Take heed how you obey that order, Sir John," inter- 
 posed Philip. " I am equal in authority here, and I forbid 
 you. Your Majesty will do well to pause," he added, with 
 stern significance, to the Queen, "ere a breach be made be- 
 tween us that cannot be closed." 
 
 " Oh ! do not let me be the cause of misunderstandinsr 
 between yourself and the Kmg your consort, gracious 
 Madam," cried Constance. " I am not worth it. If my life 
 will restore the peace T have unhappily disturbed, take it. I 
 will lay it down freely." 
 
 " It will be best to let her go, Madam," observed Sir John 
 Gage in a low tone. 
 
 There was a pause, during which it was evident that Mary 
 was struggling hard with her feelings. Constance, who still 
 remained in a kneeling posture, watched her countenance 
 with the keenest anxiety. Folding his arms on his breast, 
 PhiliD looked on coldly. Mary at length spoke.
 
 Ho7v Constance Embraced the Reformed Faith. 157 
 
 ** You have said truly, minion," she observed. " You are 
 not worth a quarrel between the King and myself. His 
 Majesty has sought to screen you, by taking all blame upon 
 himself, but I am not to be deceived. If nothing more, you 
 have been indiscreet." 
 
 " Indiscretion is d very venial fault," rejoined Philip. 
 " But even that cannot justly be laid to this damsel's charge. 
 Since her presence annoys you, let her leave the palace and 
 return to her family," 
 
 " She shall leave the palace, and that without delay," re- 
 joined Mary. " But she will be more secure in some reli- 
 gious house than with her family." 
 
 " I pray you let me return to my father," implored Con- 
 stance, who had risen to her feet. "I will die rather than 
 give you further cause of anxiety. But, as your Majesty is 
 aware, I have quitted the Church of Rome." 
 
 "A heretic !" exclaimed PhiUp, aghast at the unexpected 
 declaration. "To what is this sad change attributable? 
 When I first beheld you, you were zealous and devout." 
 
 " I am zealous and devout still, I trust. Sire," rejoined 
 Constance. " But my eyes have been opened, and I reject 
 as idolatrous and superstitious the worship which I formerly 
 practised." 
 
 " I lament to hear it," replied Philip, with a look of pious 
 horror. My confessor. Father Alfonso, shall take you in 
 hand. He will convince you of your errors." 
 
 " Nothing will shake me," said Constance. " My belief 
 is fixed. I would rather endure martyrdom than peril my 
 salvation." 
 
 " Your firmness may be put to the test," observed the 
 Queen severely. " Your Majesty, methinks," she added to 
 Philip, " will scarcely attempt to defend her now." 
 
 "I am horror-stricken ! " exclaimed the King. " I could 
 not have believed in so sudden and sad a defection. Who 
 is the author of this evil work ? To whose baneful counsel 
 have 30U listened ? Is it from the would-be assassin, Der- 
 rick Carver, that you have imbibed these pernicious 
 opinions?" 
 
 " I have heard the truth from his lips. Sire," returned 
 Constance. 
 
 "I guessed as much," said Philip; " and it is from this
 
 ^58 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 polluted source that you expect the water of life to flow. I 
 did not believe you capable of such weakness. I can no 
 longer oppose her Majesty's design of placing you in some 
 religious house, where discipline and good counsel may bring 
 you back to the faith from which you have swerved." 
 
 " If mild measures prove ineffectual, others must be 
 adopted," observed Mary. 
 
 " Do with me as you will," said Constance, resignedly. 
 " I am in 5'our Majesty's hands, and am prepared to seal 
 my faith with my blood." 
 
 " Were anything wanting to convince me of the necessity 
 of utterly extirpating heresy from the realm, I should now 
 be satisfied," remarked Mary. " An example shall be made 
 of this mischievous Derrick Carver. He shall be delivered 
 over to the religious tribunals, to be dealt with according to 
 his deserts. Prepare for immediate departure," she added 
 to Constance. " I myself will give instructions respecting 
 you." 
 
 Constance bowed submissively. 
 
 By this time the Queen's anger towards her consort had 
 somewhat subsided, and she said to him in a somewhat kind- 
 lier tone, " Your Majesty can have no further business here. 
 I will pray you to accompany me." 
 
 Philip bowed. As he quitted the chamber with the 
 Queen, he cast a parting glance at Constance, who remained 
 in the same humble attitude, with her eyes fixed upon the 
 ground.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHAT MANNER CONSTANCE FLED FROM HAMPTON COURT 
 
 PALACE. 
 
 iHE unhappy girl was still alone in the chamber, 
 having scarcely moved since the departure of the 
 royal pair, when the fold of tapestry that masked 
 the doorway was drawn quickly aside, and Osbert 
 Clinton stood before her, pale and agitated. 
 
 " I have come to save you," he cried, abruptly. "I know 
 what has occurred. The Queen designs to send you to a 
 convent." 
 
 "True," she rejoined, sadly. "Her Majesty may deal 
 with me as she thinks fit. But all efforts to compel me to 
 return to the faith I have abjured will prove ineffectual." 
 
 "But this is not the real danger by which 3^ou are 
 threatened," he continued. " The King will not permit her 
 Majesty's intentions to be carried out, and has ordered me 
 to convey you away privately to a secure retreat, where 
 there will be no risk of discovery by his jealous consort. 
 You will escape the convent, but only to encounter a worse 
 fate." 
 
 " I will die rather than submit," she cried, despairingly. 
 " Pity me, kind Heaven ! pity me ! " 
 
 "Hear me, Constance," he cried. "The avowal lam 
 about to make is wrung from me by the circumstances in 
 which you are placed. I love you to desperation, and would 
 plunge my sword in Philip's heart rather than you should 
 fall a sacrifice to him. Dismiss all doubts, and trust yourself 
 with me. I will lay down my life for you."
 
 1 6 o Ca 7-dinal Pole. 
 
 "If I consent, whither would you take me?" she de- 
 manded. " But no ! I cannot — dare not fly with you." 
 
 "You wrong me by these suspicions, Constance," he cried, 
 half reproachfully. " Loving you as I do, could I do aught 
 to injure you? " 
 
 " But the King himself professes to love me " 
 
 "He loves you not — his vows are false," interrupted 
 Osbert, bitterly. "Shun him as you would shame and dis- 
 honour. If you have any love for him, tear it from your 
 breast — no matter what the pang ! — it can only lead to guilt 
 and remorse." 
 
 " I have no love for him now," she rejoined ; " and if for 
 a moment I yielded credence to his vows and passionate 
 declarations, I have expiated the offence by tears and contri- 
 tion. My constant prayer has been never to behold him 
 more." 
 
 " All further peril may be averted if you will confide in 
 me. Give me a husband's right to defend you, and not all 
 the world shall tear you from me. You cannot return to 
 your father. He would not dare to give you shelter. And 
 to enable me to watch over and protect you without damage 
 to your fair fame, we must be bound together by sacred 
 ties." 
 
 " Speak of this hereafter," she rejoined. " You have con- 
 vinced me of your sincerity, and I will trust you. Take me 
 hence — whither I care not — so I am freed from the King." 
 
 " Come then," rejoined Osbert. "No one will stay us. 
 I have an order from the King, which will prevent all 
 hindrance." 
 
 " But you will endanger yourself by the step you are 
 about to take," she said, hesitating, 
 
 " Heed not that," he rejoined. " I am prepared for the 
 worst. ■ Come ! " 
 
 They were about to quit the chamber, Avhen they were 
 stopped by old Dorcas, to whom her mistress hastily ex- 
 plained the necessity of flight. 
 
 " I can help you in this extremity," exclaimed the old 
 woman. " I will show you a ready means of leaving the 
 palace without traversing the corridor. While lifting the 
 hangings against yon wall, I discovered a secret door open- 
 ing upon a starcase, which I had the curiosity to examine,
 
 How Constance Fled from Hampton Court. i6i 
 
 and found it led through a small postern to the garden. I 
 meant to tell you of my discovery." 
 
 " You could not have reserved it for a better moment," 
 said Osbert. " Adopt this plan, it will be safest," he added 
 to Constance. 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" she exclaimed. "I can now 
 escape without imperilling you ! " 
 
 "Think not of me," he rejoined. "Pass through the 
 secret door at once, but do not enter the garden till night, 
 when I will meet you in the yew-tree alley. Meanwhile, I 
 will make preparations for your conveyance to a place 
 of safety. Delay not, I beseech you. Each moment is 
 precious." 
 
 Thus urged, Constance snatched up a mantle and a few 
 other articles, and declared she was ready to depart ; where- 
 upon Osbert drew back the hangings, while old Dorcas 
 touched the spring of the secret door, which was artfully 
 contrived in the oak panels. Casting a grateful look at her 
 preserver, Constance disappeared with her old attendant. 
 
 Another minute and it would have been too late. Scarcely 
 had the tapestry fallen to its place, when sounds proclaimed 
 that several persons had entered the ante-chamber, and the 
 next moment Sir John Gage presented himself, accompanied 
 by Father Alfonso. They both looked surprised on finding 
 Osbert alone. 
 
 " You are too late. Sir John ! " cried the young man, 
 forcing a laugh. "The bird has flown." 
 
 " Flown ! not out of the window, I presume ; though I see 
 not how she can otherwise have escaped," rejoined Gage. 
 *' She cannot have passed through the corridor, or we must 
 have met her. Where can she be ? " 
 
 " Nay, I can give you no information. Sir John," rejoined 
 Osbert. " On my arrival here a few moments ago, I found 
 the room vacant, that is all I know." 
 
 " She appears to have taken her old attendant with her," 
 said Gage. " However, we shall easily discover her hiding- 
 place. She -cannot have quitted the palace." 
 
 "Stay! is there no closet in the room?" said Father 
 Alfonso, peering round. " Ha ! here is one — but it is 
 empty," he added, on opening it 
 
 -" We must seek her elsewhere," observed Gage. ** I shall 
 
 31
 
 i62 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 not be sorry if she has got away altogether," he added in a 
 low tone to Osbert, as they quitted the room, followed by 
 Father Alfonso. " But what will her Majesty say to it? " 
 
 " Rather, what will the King say," rejoined Osbert. " He 
 will be furious." 
 
 " It may be his contrivance," remarked Gage, " I suspect 
 you know more about the matter than you choose to tell, 
 and could find the damsel if you thought proper." 
 
 All search for the fugitives proved fruidess. The secret 
 staircase was not detected. 
 
 When Constance's disappearance was reported to the 
 Queen, her Majesty was greatly irritated, and her suspicions 
 fell upon the King. Philip was equally angry, and equally 
 at fault, attributing Constance's evasion to the Queen's 
 agency, and believing that her Majesty had had recourse to 
 this stratagem to baffle his designs. 
 
 Not until after midnight, and when all was still within 
 the palace, did Osbert Clinton venture into the garden. 
 Fortunately the night was dark and cloudy. On hearing 
 his footsteps, Constance and her attendant came from out 
 the alley in which they were hidden, and followed him noise- 
 lessly along various grassy paths to a gate opening upon the 
 park. 
 
 In a few moments more the party had reached the banks 
 of the Thames, when Osbert gave a signal. Immediately 
 the plash of oars was heard on the other side of the river, 
 and a wherry, rowed by two men, could be descried through 
 the gloom, pulling towards them, 
 
 Constance and her old attendant were quickly placed 
 within the boat by Osbert, and this was no sooner accom- 
 plished, than the boatman, without a moment's delay, pushed 
 off, and dashed swiftly down the stream. 
 
 Osbert listened till the sound of the oars could no longer 
 be heard, and then returned with a light heart to the palace, 
 entering it as secretly as he had come forth. 
 
 As Osbert had foreseen, messengers were dispatched by 
 the Queen to Southampton, to ascertain whether Constance 
 had sought refuge with her father. If so, she was instantly 
 to be brought back. After three days' absence, the messen- 
 gers returned, bringing with them Master Tyrrell, He 
 could give no account of his daughter, but pledged himself
 
 How Constance Fled from Hampton Court. 163 
 
 to deliver her up at once to the Queen in case she might 
 reappear. On this understanding he was immediately 
 released. 
 
 Another circumstance which occurred at this juncture con- 
 tributed to heighten the Queen's displeasure. She had 
 instructed the messengers sent to Southampton to arrest 
 Derrick Carver ; but on the very day before their arrival, 
 the enthusiast, who by this time had recovered from his 
 wounds, had quitted the hospital of the Domus Dei, and, it 
 was thought, had passed over to France, as a vessel had 
 just sailed thither from the port. In whatever way it was 
 accomplished, Carver's escape was a source of vexation to 
 the Queen. 
 
 xi--a
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHERE CONSTANCE FOUND A PLACE OF REFUGE. 
 
 N old habitation situated on the banks of the rivei 
 between the gardens of Durham-place and the 
 Savoy Hospital, then recently restored by Mary, 
 served Constance as an asylum. Thither she had 
 been brought, after remaining a few days in a little hostel 
 near Richmond. 
 
 The house had been long uninhabited, and was in a very 
 dilapidated state. At the back there was a tolerably ex- 
 sen sive garden, facing the river, and containing several fine 
 trees, but, like the house to which it appertained, it was 
 much neglected. Three or four back rooms, looking upon 
 the garden, had been hastily furnished ; but no change was 
 made in the front of the habitation, for fear of exciting 
 suspicion. Luckily, the garden was not overlooked, being 
 bounded on the west by the high walls of Durham-place. 
 
 Though shut out from the world, Constance was far from 
 finding her present mode of existence wearisome. Her 
 time was fully employed either in her devotions, in reading, 
 or in some feminine occupation. She never ventured forth 
 except into the garden, and only took exercise there at 
 night. 
 
 Of necessity, Osbert's visits were rare, and stealthily paid. 
 As the safest course, he approached the house by water, 
 landed in a wherry at the stairs of Durham-place, and then 
 scaled the garden wall. These short and stolen visits, which 
 were always paid at night, could not be otherwise than 
 agreeable to Constance, and she looked forward to his
 
 Where Consta7ice Found a Place of Refuge. 165 
 
 coming with interest ; and if, as sometimes chanced, he did 
 not appear at the usual hour, she retired sadly. 
 
 Under such circumstances, it will not appear surprising 
 that the gratitude felt by the damsel for her preserver 
 should ripen into a warmer feeling. After the first ardent 
 declaration of his passion made to her, Osbert refrained for 
 a while from renewing his suit ; but at length, emboldened 
 by the evident change in her manner, he ventured again, 
 with as much impassioned earnestness as before, to pour 
 forth his protestations of affection, coupled with entreaties 
 to her consent to a speedy union. 
 
 To these oft-repeated solicitations she at last replied that 
 she would not attempt to disguise her feelings, but would 
 frankly own that he was now absolute master of her heart, 
 yet still there was a serious obstacle to their marriage. 
 
 " An obstacle ? " exclaimed Osbert. " Of what nature ? 
 Can it not be overcome? Speak ! speak ! " 
 
 " Herein, then, it hes," she rejoined. " Our creeds are 
 different. I have abjured the errors and idolatries of 
 Rome, while you still cling to them." 
 
 " Granted," replied Osbert; "but this need be no hindrance 
 to our union. I shall not quarrel with you on account of 
 your religion. AVho knows," he added lightly, " but that in 
 due time you may convert me ? " 
 
 " Heaven grant me power to do so ! " she exclaimed, 
 fervently. "Oh ! that I could withdraw you from the paths 
 of error, and bring you to those of truth. But much as I 
 love you — much as I owe you — till you are converted, I 
 never can be yours. I have scruples of conscience which 
 cannot be overcome. I should not be happy if I felt there 
 was a barrier between us which neither could pass. Better 
 far we should never come together than be hereafter es- 
 tranged. I could not respect you — could not love you with 
 my whole heart, if you continued a papist." 
 
 " But I have said I may possibly be converted," said Osbert. 
 
 "Your conversion must take place before our marriage," 
 rejoined Constance. "On that condition alone will I con- 
 sent." 
 
 " Well, then, commence the good work," he said. " I 
 promise to be a patient listener, and will strive to profit by 
 your exhortations."
 
 1 6 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Gladly she obeyed, and proceeded to employ the argu- 
 ments which had proved so prevailing in her own case, and 
 with every prospect of success, her influence over her hearer 
 being unbounded. 
 
 But though this difficulty was overcome, another arose. 
 Constance declared that her father's sanction to her mar- 
 riage was indispensable. In vain Osbert remonstrated. 
 She remained firm, and finding she could not be moved, he 
 at last set out for Southampton, to see Master Tyrrell on the 
 subject. 
 
 The old merchant was indisposed to listen to him. He 
 was deeply offended with his daughter. He bewailed her 
 apostacy, and declared he would neither receive her under 
 his roof, nor hold any intercourse with her, so long as she 
 entertained heretical opinions. If she returned, he should 
 deliver her to the Queen, in fulfilment of his pledge. As a 
 staunch Romanist, he could not conscientiously support a 
 heretic, even though she we^e his own flesh and blood. Let 
 Constance recant the religious opinions she had so impru- 
 dently adopted, and he would receive her with open arms. 
 Till such time, she must not come near him. He concluded 
 his tirade by refusing consent to the marriage. 
 
 Deeply disappointed at his want of success, Osbert re- 
 turned to London. On seeking Constance's place of shelter, 
 he found to his surprise, that there was a guest in the 
 house. This was Derrick Carver, who it will be remem- 
 bered, disappeared from Southampton just before the order 
 for his arrest arrived, and had escaped, as was supposed, to 
 France. Instead of flying his country, however, Carver 
 had proceeded along the coast to his native place, Brightelm- 
 stone, where he remained for a short time, but, fearing 
 discovery, he removed to Lewes, and thence to London, 
 
 Being nearly destitute, he had endured great hardship, 
 and was driven almost to extremity, when he accidentally 
 met old Dorcas, who was purchasing provisions, and follow- 
 ing her, made himself known, as soon as he could do so 
 with safety. Touched by his miserable condition, the kind- 
 hearted old dame took him home with her. He was joyfully 
 received by Constance, and offered an asylum, which he 
 gratefully accepted. 
 
 Such a guest, it will be easily conceived, was by no means
 
 Where Constance Found a Place of Refuge. 167 
 
 agreeable to Osbert, and he would gladly have got rid of 
 him, had it been possible. Carver's presence introduced a 
 new element of danger by increasing the chances of dis- 
 covery, while his society had a very perceptible effect upon 
 Constance's spirits and manner. Before his arrival, she 
 had quite regained her serenity. But the sternness and 
 austerity of the religious fanatic had cast a gloom over her, 
 which could not be dispelled. The greater part of her time 
 was passed in prayer, in the perusal of godly books, or in 
 listening to Carver's exhortations. 
 
 Osbert was obhged to inform her that he had failed in 
 obtaining her father's consent, but he earnestly besought 
 her to fulfil her promise, and make him happy by becoming 
 his bride. 
 
 Before assenting, she consulted Derrick Carver, who 
 at once decided that under such circumstances the 
 marriage could not take place. She must perforce wait 
 The enthusiast's aim seemed to be to alienate her thoughts 
 from things of this world, and wean her, as he said, from 
 all carnal affections. No wonder Osbert regarded him with 
 dislike. 
 
 But the unhappy lover had another and more serious 
 cause of disquietude. He had trusted that distractions of 
 various kinds would efface Constance's image from the 
 King's breast. But he was deceived. Though constantly 
 engaged in some little affair of gallantry, concerning which 
 he made no secret to Osbert, Philip often spoke of her, and 
 in terms showing that his passion was unabated. Osbert's 
 jealous rage at these confidences well-nigh caused him to 
 betray himself, and his anger was not lessened when the 
 King expressed his firm conviction that Constance must 
 sooner or later fall into his power. Though Osbert deemed 
 such a mischance improbable, the apprehension of it filled 
 him with uneasiness. 
 
 One day Philip, who treated him with great familiarity, 
 jestingly remarked : — 
 
 " So you have got some secret love affair on hand, I hear, 
 and nightly visit your inamorata." 
 
 "Who can have told your Majesty this absurd story ? " 
 rejoined Osbert, trying to hide his confusion by a 
 laugh.
 
 i68 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " No matter how I learnt it," said Philip. "Your manner 
 convinces me it is true. But why should you be ashamed 
 to confess the affair ? Most of the young court gallants 
 plume themselves upon their successes, and talk openly of 
 them." 
 
 " I am not one of those senseless boasters," observed 
 Osbert, gravely. 
 
 " Now, by my faith, you take the matter so seriously, that 
 I am satisfied there is more in it than I supposed," cried the 
 King. " My curiosity is piqued. I must know who has 
 thus enslaved you. Does she belong to the city or the 
 court ? " 
 
 "Your Majesty will pardon me, but I Cannot answer 
 these questions." 
 
 " As you please, Sir. I will press you no further. But 
 take care. I shall find out the lady. Nothing escapes me, 
 as you well know. Had you told me who she is, I should 
 have been satisfied, but since you attempt concealment, look 
 to yourself — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Though Philip laughed while saying this, there was a 
 half-menace in his tone that increased Osbert's alarm. 
 
 Apprehensive that his movements might be watched, 
 Osbert refrained that night from his customary visit to 
 Constance, but embarking as usual, instead of proceeding 
 to Durham-place, crossed to the other side of the river. 
 That he had acted wisely, was proved by the fact of another 
 boat following him ; and it soon became evident that he 
 was watched. Next night he acted with like caution, but 
 nothing occurred to excite his suspicions. 
 
 On the following night, therefore, he ventured to repair 
 to Constance's hiding-place. But, instead of proceeding 
 thither by water, he took a circuitous route, so as to mislead 
 those who watched him, if any such there were. 
 
 Constance, who had been extremely uneasy at his un- 
 wonted absence, was yet more alarmed when she learned 
 the cause of it ; but he succeeded in allaying her fears, by 
 telling her he would speedily find her another and yet more 
 secure asylum, where she would be free from all risk of 
 molestation. 
 
 "Methinks you magnify the peril," observed Derrick 
 Carver. " Howbeit, if Mistress Constance elects to quit this
 
 Where Constance Found a Place of Refuge. 169 
 
 house, and seek another place of refuge, I will go with her. 
 You may trust her to my care." 
 
 " I am content to do so," replied Osbert. '* The danger 
 is greater than you seem to imagine. After what has 
 occurred, I do not think she can tarry longer in London ; 
 but by to-morrow night I will have arranged some 
 definite plan, and, meantime, you must prepare for 
 departure." 
 
 " I am ready at any moment," cried Constance. "Now — 
 if you deem it expedient." 
 
 " Nay, there is no such haste," rejoined Osbert. "By 
 flying without due preparation, you would incur yet 
 greater risk. Two days hence you shall be in perfect 
 safety." 
 
 " Alas ! " exclaimed Constance, " my mind misgives me, 
 and I fear some dire calamity is in store for me." 
 
 " If it be so, you must bear it with fortitude," said 
 Derrick Carver. " It has been my earnest endeavour to 
 strengthen you for such an hour, and I trust ray efforts 
 have not been in vain, but that you may be equal to what- 
 ever trial you are subjected. Nay, even should you be 
 called upon to attest your devotion to the Gospel by 
 enduring fiery torments, I am assured your courage will 
 not forsake you, but that you will earn a crown of mar- 
 tyrdom." 
 
 " Heaven, in its mercy, grant ihe may be spared any such 
 terrible trial ! " exclaimed Osbert, shuddering. 
 
 "Rather than deny my faith, and return to that which I 
 have abjured, I will suffer death in any shape," said 
 Constance, " even accompanied by the most cruel tor- 
 ments." 
 
 "Your words fill me with joy, daughter," rejoined Carver, 
 "and prove that my teaching has not been thrown away. 
 Thus prepared, you need have no fear." 
 
 " I am resigned to whatever may happen," said Con- 
 stance. 
 
 " Self-preservation is as much a duty as any other," said 
 Osbert, "and ought not to be neglected. Though prepared 
 for the worst, you must not expose yourself to needless 
 risk." 
 
 "I have said I am ready to depart whenever you may
 
 170 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 enjoin me to do so," replied Constance, " and will go where- 
 soever you may direct." 
 
 " I neither oppose her going, nor counsel her tarrying 
 here," said Derrick Carver. "Act as we may, Heaven's 
 designs will be fulfilled." 
 
 After some further discourse to the like effect, Osbert 
 took leave, promising to return at the same hour on the 
 following night.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW Constance's retreat was discovered. 
 
 HE next day passed as usual with Constance. At 
 night she was alone in the room, the windows of 
 which have been described as opening upon the 
 garden, and anxiously expecting Osbert's coming. 
 She was seated at a small table, perusing by the light oi a 
 single taper, which dimly illuminated the large but scantily- 
 furnished apartment, one of the controversial tracts of the 
 day, and essaying, but in vain, to fix her thoughts on what 
 she read. Ever and anon she arose, and, going to the 
 window, looked forth. The night was profoundly dark, and 
 nothing was discernible except the trees skirting the lawn. 
 
 " He is later than usual," she thought, as time went on. 
 " Will he not come ? " 
 
 Scarcely had she asked herself the question, when she 
 distinctly heard footsteps without, and, concluding it must 
 be Osbert, she passed through the window, and flew to 
 meet him. She could just descry a figure wrapped in a 
 mantle, advancing towards her from beneath a tree. 
 
 In another moment this person, whom she took to be her 
 lover, reached her, and seized her hand. Startled by the 
 proceeding, she involuntarily exclaimed, "Is it you?" 
 
 "Yes, 'tis I — Osbert," rejoined the other, under his 
 breath. 
 
 " I had almost given you up," she returned. " I feared 
 something had occurred to prevent your coming." 
 
 The person she addressed made no reply. He had
 
 172 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 recognised her voice, and mentally ejaculated, '' Can it be 
 possible that it is Constance Tyrrell ! " 
 
 " You do not answer," she said, after a pause. " and your 
 manner seems strange — very strange." 
 
 " 'Tis she, by all the saints ! " muttered the other. '* Let 
 us go in ! " he added, drawing her through the open window 
 into the room. 
 
 No sooner were they within the influence of the light 
 than the countenance of him she most dreaded on earth 
 was revealed to Constance. 
 
 " The King ! " she exclaimed, in accents of affright. 
 
 "Ay, the King,' rejoined Philip, regarding her with fierce 
 exultation. "So, I have found you at last, and where I 
 looked for you least. Little did I deem you were the 
 beauty secluded with such jealous care by Osbert Clinton. 
 Little did I expect, when I took the trouble to ascertain 
 who he kept concealed, that I should be so richly rewarded. 
 Never for a moment did I suppose that he would dare to 
 rob me of my chief treasure. But he shall pay dearly for 
 his audacity and treachery." 
 
 "Be not unjust towards him, Sire," rejoined Constance. 
 " In Osbert's place, you would have acted as he has acted. 
 He loved me, and seeing the peril in which I stood, did not 
 hesitate to deliver me." 
 
 "And you have not proved ungrateful for the service," 
 retorted Philip, bitterly. "You have requited his devo- 
 tion. The love refused to me has been bestowed freely on 
 him." 
 
 " Osbert's love for me was not dishonourable, Sire," she 
 replied, "and in requiting it I committed no crime. I 
 could not return your Majesty's love without guilt. By this 
 time the passion I was unhappy enough to inspire you with 
 must have subsided, and you will view my conduct less 
 harshly." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Madam," rejoined Philip, sternly. 
 " I have never ceased to love you. I cannot regard you 
 with indifference — even though you deserve that I should 
 do so. You are necessary to my happiness. You must — 
 you shall be mine." 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Constance, energetically. 
 
 " Hear me," pursued the King ; " you are now wholly in
 
 How Constance's Retreat was Discovered. 173 
 
 my power. Having found you, be assured I shall not part 
 with you again. I am willing to excuse your conduct — to 
 pardon your lover's disobedience and deceit — nay, more, to 
 continue my favour towards him — but this consideration on 
 my part must be met by complaisance on yours." 
 
 "I reject the proposal without a moment's hesitation, 
 Sire," cried Constance, with scorn. 
 
 "Then mark what I have to say further," rejoined Philip. 
 " I repeat, you are wholly in my power. Nothing can de- 
 liver you. On your decision hangs your lover's life. You — 
 you will cause his immediate arrest — his imprisonment, 
 torture — ay, torture — and death." 
 
 " Oh, say not so, Sire ! " she cried, all her firmness desert- 
 ing her. "What has he done to deserve such barbarous 
 treatment ? " 
 
 " He has dared to disobey me," rejoined Philip. " He 
 has stepped between me and the object of my desires. 
 But for your sake I am content to forego revenge — nay, 
 to heap greater favours on his head. Will you cast him 
 into a dungeon ? Will you doom him to torture and 
 death?" 
 
 " I cannot save him by the sacrifice you propose, Sire," 
 she rejoined, in tones of anguish. "Neither would he con- 
 sent to be so saved." 
 
 "You have avouched the truth, Constance," exclaimed 
 Osbert, springing through the open window, and placing 
 himself between her and the King. " A thousand deathf 
 rather than such a sacrifice." 
 
 " My clemency, I find, is thrown away," said Philip, 
 haughtily. "Yet I will give you a few minutes for reflec- 
 tion. Perhaps your resolution may change." And he 
 moved towards the window. 
 
 " It is needless, Sire," rejoined Osbert. " Our determina- 
 tion is taken." 
 
 "Then prepare to part for ever," said Philip, sternly. 
 "As to you, audacious and insensate traitor, you shall learn 
 whose anger you have braved. It will be small alleviation, 
 methinks, to your imprisonment to know that your mistress 
 is in my power." 
 
 " Fear not the threat, Osbert," said Constance. " I will 
 never yield to him,"
 
 1^4 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " I do not ask your consent," rejoined Philip, derisively, 
 "You are caught in a net from which there is no escape," 
 
 "Sooner than this shall be, my sword shall free the 
 country from a tyrant," cried Osbert, plucking his rapier 
 from its sheath. 
 
 " Ha ! do you dare to raise your hand against me, 
 traitor?" exclaimed Philip, stepping towards him, while 
 Constance flung her arms about her lover, so as to prevent 
 any movement on his part. 
 
 " Let him go," continued the King, after a pause, during 
 which he sternly regarded the pair. *' He wants the courage 
 to play the assassin." 
 
 "You are right, Sire," rejoined Osbert. "Draw, and 
 defend your life." 
 
 " Peace, madman 1 " cried Philip, disdainfully. " Think 
 you I will deign to cross swords with you ? " 
 
 " Heaven grant me patience, I am driven to the verge of 
 frenzy ! " ejaculated Osbert, distractedly. 
 
 "At last you are beginning to comprehend your true 
 position," observed Philip, in a taunting tone, "and per- 
 ceive that you are utterly without help." 
 
 "Not utterly," cried a deep voice. And Derrick Carver 
 strode into the room. " Heaven will not desert them in 
 their need. Thou hast uttered threats against them which 
 thou wilt never live to execute. Thou has ventured into 
 this dwelling, but wilt never return from it. My hand 
 failed me when I first struck at thee, but it will not fail 
 me now." 
 
 " Make the attempt, then, if thou think'st so, assassin ! " 
 cried Philip, keeping his eye steadily upon him. 
 
 " Hold ! " exclaimed Osbert " His life is sacred." 
 
 " Not in my eyes," rejoined Carver. " It were a crime 
 to my country and to my religion to spare their deadliest 
 foe. He shall die by my hand." 
 
 " I say it must not be," cried Osbert. " No harm must 
 be done him. Persist, and I come to his defence." 
 
 "Fool! you destroy yourself, and her who should be 
 dearer to you than life, by this mistimed weakness," rejoined 
 Derrick Carver. " Leave him to me." 
 
 "Again I say, forbear?" cried Osbert. 
 
 " I owe you no obedience, and will show none," retorted
 
 How Constance^ s Retreat was Discovered. 175 
 
 Carver, fiercely. " Have at thy heart, tyrant ! " he ex- 
 claimed, drawing his sword. 
 
 But ere he could make the meditated attack, Philip placed 
 a silver whistle to his lips, and sounding it, Rodoraont Bit- 
 tern, with his sword drawn in his hand, and followed by half 
 a dozen halberdiers, entered through the window. The 
 party instantly fell upon Derrick Carver, and, after a brief 
 struggle, disarmed him. 
 
 "By Saint Thomas!" exclaimed Rodomont, regarding 
 the enthusiast with surprise, "this is the murtherous villain 
 whom we caught at Southampton. I cannot be mistaken in 
 his ill-favoured visage." 
 
 "I will not deny myself," rejoined the other. "I am 
 Derrick Carver. Heaven has permitted thee to thwart my 
 righteous purpose for the second time." 
 
 " A plain proof that thy purpose is damnable, and that 
 Heaven is against thee, thou bloodthirsty villain," rejoined 
 Rodomont. "What is your Majesty's pleasure concerning 
 him ? " he asked of the King. 
 
 " Take him to the Tower," said Philip. 
 
 " It shall be done, Sire. Have you any further com- 
 mands ? " 
 
 " Ay," replied Philip. " An hour ago I would not have 
 believed that Osbert Clinton would raise his hand against 
 me, but he has done so, and his life is forfeit. Take him 
 also with you." 
 
 " Here is my sword. Sir," said Osbert, delivering it to 
 Rodomont. "I am ready to attend you." 
 
 Seating himself at the table, on which ^vriting materials 
 were placed, Philip took a paper from his doublet and pro- 
 ceeded to sign it. Just as he was about to consign the 
 warrant to Rodomont, Constance, who had appeared trans- 
 fixed with terror, rushed forward and threw herself at his feet. 
 
 " Have mercy on him. Sire ! " she cried. " Full well I 
 know what will be his fate if sent to the Tower. Oh spare 
 him ! spare him ! " 
 
 " I cannot listen to your entreaties," rejoined Philip, 
 coldly, "He has been guilty of high treason, and must 
 pay the penalty of his offence." 
 
 " Do not intercede for me, Constance," said Osbert " It 
 is useless ; he has no pity in his nature."
 
 176 Cardmal Pole. 
 
 " I have none for those who deceive me," rejoined Philip, 
 sternly. " Take him hence, Sir," he added to Rodomont. 
 '•Here is your warrant." 
 
 " Oh no ! let him not go thus ! " shrieked Constance, 
 starting to her feet, and falling into her lover's arms, " You 
 will not separate us, Sire ? " 
 
 " AVherefore not ? " demanded Philip. " Is he your hus- 
 band ? " 
 
 "Ay, in the eyes of Heaven. I am affianced to him," 
 she repUed. 
 
 " Even were you wedded to him you could not accompany 
 him," rejoined the King. " But no marriage will ever take 
 place between you. Bid him a lasting farewell. You will 
 meet no more on earth." 
 
 " No more ! You cannot mean it. Sire. Oh, unsay those 
 terrible words ! " shrieked Constance. 
 
 Philip remained inflexible. 
 
 " Calm yourself, Constance," said Osbert. "I heed not 
 what may happen to myself. My sole distress is in leaving 
 you." 
 
 " Fear nothing on my account," she rejoined, in a low 
 tone. " Heaven will protect me. Yet I will make one last 
 effort to save you. Oh, Sire," she added, approaching the 
 King, " as you are great and powerful, be generous and 
 merciful. Forgive him. He will offend no more. I am 
 the cause of his disobedience. When I am gone he will be 
 faithful as ever." 
 
 " On one condition I will spare him," said Philip, in a 
 low tone. 
 
 " I dare not ask your Majesty what that condition is ? " 
 rejoined Constance, trembling. 
 
 " You may easily guess it," returned Philip. *' Be 
 
 mme." 
 
 " Then all hope is over," sighed Constance. " I will die 
 rather than assent." 
 
 " So you think now," muttered Philip ; " but I will find 
 means to shake your stubbornness. Take hence the 
 prisoners," he added aloud to Rodomont. 
 
 " I am equally guilty — if guilt there be," cried Constance, 
 with a loud voice. " I take all present to witness that I 
 utterly reject the doctrines of the Romish Churc.c, and hold
 
 How Constance's Retreat was Discovered. 177 
 
 its ceremonies to be vain, superfluous, superstitious, and 
 abominable." 
 
 " Be silent, imprudent girl," cried Philip, 
 
 "Be not afraid to speak out, daughter," cried Derrick 
 Carver, " Truly you have profited by my exhortations," 
 
 " I will never forsake my opinions," cried Constance, 
 firmly, " but will maintain them at any tribunal before 
 which I may be brought. After this declaration and 
 confession, your Majesty must send me with the other 
 prisoners," 
 
 " You have indeed put it out of my power to befriend 
 you," rejoined Philip, angrily. " Since you ask to be 
 brought before a religious tribunal, you shall have your 
 wish." 
 
 " I have succeeded in my design," whispered Constance 
 to Osbert, " I shall not be separated from you. Your 
 Majesty has conferred a boon upon me by this decision," 
 she added to the King, " and I humbly thank you for it. 
 Now, Sir," to Rodomont, "you can take me to the Tower 
 with my friends." 
 
 "Is such your Majesty's pleasure?" demanded Rodo- 
 mont. 
 
 " No," replied Philip. " Let her be conveyed to some 
 place of imprisonment, but not to the Tower." 
 
 " An please your Majesty, there is the Lollards' Tower at 
 Lambeth Palace, where heretics are oft confined," observed 
 Rodomont. " No better prison lodgings can be found than 
 the cells therein.* 
 
 " Are the cells strong and secure ? " demanded the 
 King, 
 
 " Marry, as strong and secure as the dungeons of the 
 Tower, Sire," replied Rodomont. 
 
 " I have heard of those prison chambers in the Lollards' 
 Tower," rejoined Philip, " but did not bethink me of them at 
 the moment. Take Mistress Constance Tyrrell forthwith to 
 Lambeth Palace, and see her safely bestowed — safely, I say, 
 but with all comfort and convenience that the prison will 
 admit of — d'ye heed ? Take Derrick Carver also thither, 
 and let him be securely lodged. The ecclesiastical court 
 shall deal with him. No intercourse whatever m.ust be 
 allowed between the prisoners." 
 12
 
 1^8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Your injunctions shall be strictly obeyed, Sire," replied 
 Rodomont. 
 
 " I have changed my mind in regard to Osbert Clinton," 
 pursued Philip. " In consideration of the important 
 services he has heretofore rendered me, I am disposed 
 to overlook the grave offence he has committed. He is 
 pardoned." 
 
 There was a brief pause, but no word of gratitude escaped 
 Osbert. 
 
 " Do you not hear, Sir ? " said Rodomont, as he gave 
 back the sword to Osbert. " Have you no thanks for the 
 grace vouchsafed you by his Majesty ? " 
 
 "The grace is unsolicited by me, and claims no thanks," 
 rejoined Osbert, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Leave him alone," said Philip ; " his mind is disordered. 
 When the fit has passed, and he is become calm, he will 
 think differently. Away at once to Lambeth Palace with 
 the prisoners." 
 
 " Constance ! " exclaimed Osbert, rushing towards her. 
 " Farewell for ever ! " she rejoined. " Do not grieve_ for 
 me. Now I know you are free, I can bear any sufferings 
 that may be inflicted upon me." 
 
 " My freedom shall be employed for your preservation," 
 he whispered. " I will accomplish your liberation, or perish 
 in the attempt." 
 
 " I forbid it," she returned. " Henceforward I shall strive 
 to shake off all earthly ties, and fix my thoughts entirely 
 upon Heaven. Farewell for ever ! " 
 
 With this she disengaged herself from him, and passed 
 forth from the room with Derrick Carver, attended by the 
 guard, and followed by Rodomont. Two armed attendants, 
 stationed near the window, remained with the King. 
 
 " A word before I go," said PhiUp, approaching Osbert, 
 and speaking in a tone so low and deep as to be inaudible 
 by the attendants. " On peril of your life, I_ charge you to 
 hold no further intercourse of any kind with Constance. 
 Look upon her as dead— for dead she is to you. Return to 
 your duty, and I will think no more of what has just 
 occurred." 
 
 So saying, he quitted the room with his attendants, leaving 
 Osbert overwhelmed by despair.
 
 How Constances Retreat luas Discovered. 179 
 
 While Philip returned in his barque to Whitehall Palace, a 
 barge conveyed the two prisoners to Lambeth Palace. 
 
 On arriving there, they were detained for a short time in 
 the guard-room of the ancient gateway, and as soon as all 
 had been made ready, they were lodged in the prison cham- 
 bers assigned them in the Lollards' Tower. 
 
 i£nt( of t!jc Scconti Boofe. 
 
 12 — 9
 
 BOOK III. 
 LAMBETH PALACE. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 HOW CARDINAL POLE ARRIVED IN ENGLAND, AND KOW HE 
 
 WAS WELCOMED BY THE KING AND QUEEN. 
 
 ilHE court returned to Whitehall in November,. 
 Parliament being about to meet in the middle of 
 that month. 
 
 One morning, as the royal pair were walking: 
 together in the west gallery overlooking the garden, the Lor^ 
 Chancellor presented himself with a despatch in his hand. 
 It was easy to perceive, from the joyous expression of his- 
 countenance, that he brought good tidings. 
 
 " Welcome, my good lord," said Mary. *• I see you have- 
 satisfactory intelligence to communicate. Have you heard 
 from Rome ? " 
 
 " I have just received this transcript of the decree which 
 has been sent to Cardinal Pole by the Pope," replied Gar- 
 diner, " in which his Holiness, after due deliberation, has 
 agreed to extend the privileges of the Legate, so as to enable 
 him to act on all occasions with the same plentitude of power 
 as the Pope himself. In regard to church revenues and 
 goods, his Holiness fuUv recognises the great difficulty of 
 the question, feeling it to be the main obstacle to the nation's
 
 How Cardinai Pole Arrived in England. i8i 
 
 •recognition of the Papal supremac}', and he therefore invests 
 ills Eminence with the most ample power to agree and com- 
 pound with the present owners ; to assure to them their 
 possessions, on whatever title they may hold them ; and to 
 exempt them from any duty of restitution." 
 
 "This is glad news indeed!" exclaimed the Queen, 
 "'=' Parliament meets in a few days. Your first business must 
 ■^be to repeal the attainder of the Cardinal, who will then be 
 free to return to his own country, and aid us with his coun- 
 ■sels. Hasten his arrival, I pray you, my lord, by all means 
 tin your power. I shall not feel perfectly happy till I behold 
 him ! " 
 
 " There shall not be a moment's needless delay, rely 
 4ipon it, gracious Madam," replied Gardiner. " The repeal 
 of the attainder may be considered as already accomplished, 
 ^since no opposition will now be made to the measure. 
 Meantime, an escort shall be immediately despatched to 
 Brussels to bring over his Eminence with all honour to this 
 •country." 
 
 Having nothing more to lay before their Majesties, he 
 ■then bowed and withdrew. 
 
 Parliament was opened by the King and Queen in person, 
 -2 sword of state and a cap of maintenance being borne be- 
 fore each of them as they went in state to the House of 
 Lords. Everything proceeded as satisfactorily as had been 
 anticipated by Gardiner. The first bill brought before the 
 Lords was that for reversing Pole's attainder, which, being 
 quickly passed, was sent down to the Commons, and read 
 thrice in one day ; after which it received the royal assent, 
 the impression of the great seal being taken off in gold. 
 
 Meantime, in confident anticipation of this event, a 
 brilliant escort, comprising Lord Paget, Sir Edward Hastings, 
 Sir William Cecil, and forty gentlemen of good birth, had 
 been despatched to Brussels, to bring back the illustrious 
 ■exile to his own country. As soon as intimation was re- 
 ceived by Pole that he was free to return, he took leave of 
 the Emperor, and set out with his escort for England. 
 
 Among the Cardinal's suite was one of whom some account 
 may be necessary. Years ago, while studying at the cele- 
 brated university of Padua, Pole contracted a friendship with 
 Ludovico PriulL a voune Venetian noble, distinguished for
 
 1 82 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 his personal accomplishments, refined manners, and love of 
 learning. From this date the two friends became insepar- 
 able. Possessed of an ample fortune, Priuli, from his posi- 
 tion, might have filled the highest offices in the Venetian 
 Republic, but he preferred sharing Pole's labours, and 
 proved a most valuable coadjutor to him. Chosen as suc- 
 cessor to the Bishop of Brescia by Pope Julius III., Priuli 
 declined to exercise his functions, and even refused the 
 purple rather than quit his friend. He had remained with 
 Pole during his retirement at the convent of Maguzano, had 
 attended him to Brussels and to Paris, whither the Cardinal 
 went to negotiate terms of peace between Spain and France, 
 and of course accompanied him to England. Besides the 
 Lord Priuli, Pole was attended by his secretary, Floribello, 
 an excellent scholar, together with the Signori Stella and 
 E-ollo, both men of learning and piety, though somewhat 
 advanced in years. 
 
 Owing to the infirm state of his health, the Cardinal was 
 unable to proceed far without resting, and after a week's 
 slow travel he reached Calais (then, it need scarcely be 
 said, in possession of England, though soon afterwards 
 lost), where he was received by the governor with a 
 distinction rarely shown to any other than a crowned 
 head. 
 
 Pole attended high mass at the cathedral, and the popu- 
 lace clad in holiday attire, flocked thither to receive his 
 blessing. One circumstance occurred which was regarded 
 as a most favourable omen. For more than a week strong 
 adverse winds had prevailed in the Channel, but a favour- 
 able change suddenly took place, promising a swift and 
 pleasant passage to the Cardinal. 
 
 A royal vessel awaited him, in which he embarked with 
 his train, and escorted by six men-of-war, well armed, and 
 under the command of the Lord High Admiral, he sailed 
 on a bright sunny day for England, and, impelled by a 
 fresh wind, arrived in a few hours at Dover. 
 
 A royal salute was fired from the guns of the castle as 
 the Cardinal landed, and he was received by his nephew, 
 Lord Montague, son of his elder brother, who had been 
 put to death by Henry VIII. With Lord Montague were 
 several other noblemen and gentlemen, amongst whom
 
 How Cardinal Pole Arrived in Engla7id. 183 
 
 were the mayor and the town authorities, and besides these 
 there was a vast miscellaneous concourse. 
 
 No sooner did the Cardinal set foot on the mole, closely- 
 followed by his other nephew. Sir Edward Hastings, and 
 Lord Priuli, than the whole assemblage prostrated them- 
 selves before him. Spreading his arms over them, Pole 
 gave them his solemn benediction. All eyes were fixed on 
 the venerable and majestic figure before them — all ears 
 were strained to catch his words. The noble cast of the 
 Cardinal's countenance, proclaiming his royal descent — his 
 reverend air, increased by the long grey beard that 
 descended to his waist — the benignity and sweetness of his 
 looks — the stateliness of his deportment — all produced an 
 indescribable effect on the spectators. Lofty of stature, 
 and spare of person — the result of frequent fastings — Pole, 
 notwithstanding the ailments under which he laboured, 
 carried himself erect, and ever maintained a most dignified 
 deportment. To complete the picture we desire to 
 present, it may be necessary to say that his garments were 
 those proper to his eminent ecclesiastical rank, namely, a 
 scarlet soutane, rochet, and short purple mantle. His silk 
 gloves and hose were scarlet in hue, and from his broad 
 red hat depended on either side long cords, terminating 
 in tassels of two knots each. These garments became 
 him well, and heightened the imposing effect of his 
 presence. 
 
 Behind him stood his friend. Lord Priuli, who was nearly 
 of his own age, though he looked full ten years younger, 
 and appeared scarcely past tlie prime of life. The noble 
 Venetian had a countenance which Titian would have 
 delighted to paint, so handsome was it, so grave and full of 
 thought. Priuli was attired in black taffetas, over which he 
 wore a long silk gown of the same colour, and had a black 
 skull-cap on his head. 
 
 Signor Floribello, Pole's secretary, was a Roman, and 
 had a massive and antique cast of countenance, which 
 might have become one of his predecessors of the Augustan 
 age. He had a grave, scholar-like aspect, and was attired 
 in dark habiliments. With him were the Cardinal's other 
 attendants, Stella and RoUa, neither of whom merit special 
 description. The former was the Cardinal's steward, and
 
 1^4 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 the latter his comptroller, and each wore a gold chain 
 around his neck. 
 
 Lord Montague was a very goodly personage, and bore 
 such a remarkable resemblance to his ill-fated father, that 
 Pole exclaimed, as he tenderly embraced him, " I could 
 almost fancy that my long-lost and much-lamented brother 
 had come to life agam. I doubt not you possess your 
 father's excellent qualities of head and heart, as well as his 
 good looks." 
 
 " I trust I am no degenerate son, dear and venerated 
 uncle," replied Montague. " But I would my father had 
 lived to see this day, and to welcome you back to the 
 land from which you have been so long and so unjustly 
 exiled." 
 
 " Heaven's will be done ! " ejaculated Pole, fervently. 
 " I do not repine, though I have never ceased to lament 
 the calamities and afifiictions I have brought upon my 
 family." 
 
 " Think not of them now, dear uncle," rejoined Lord 
 Montague. " They are passed and gone. The tyrant who 
 inflicted these injuries is in his grave. Happier days have 
 dawned upon us. Your brother yet lives in me, to honour 
 and serve you. Perchance your martyred mother now 
 looks down from that heaven which her destroyer shall 
 never enter, and joys at her son's return." 
 
 " It may be," replied the Cardinal, glancing upwards, 
 ''and ere long I hope to join her, for my sojourn in this 
 Vale of Tears is nearly ended ; but I have much to do 
 while I tarry here. Oh ! my good nephew ! what mixed 
 emotions of joy and sorrow agitate my breast — ^joy at 
 returning to the country of my birth — sorrow for the 
 relatives and friends I have lost. Many a time and oft, 
 during my long banishment, have I besought Heaven to 
 allow me to return and lay my bones in my native land ; 
 and now that my prayers have been granted, I tremble and 
 am sad, for I feel like a stranger." 
 
 " You will not be a stranger long, dear uncle," returned 
 Lord Montague. " There is not one of this throng who 
 does not feel that Heaven has sent you to us to give us a 
 blessing, of which we have so long been deprived." 
 
 As he spoke, the crowd, which had been pressing oa
 
 How Cardmat Pole Arrived in England. 185 
 
 them, could no longer be kept back, but completely 
 surrounded the Cardinal; those nearest him throwing them- 
 selves at his feet, kissing his garments, trying to embrace 
 his knees, and making every possible demonstration of 
 Tcverence. Little children were held up to him ; old men 
 ■struggled to approach him ; and it was long before he could 
 extricate himself from the throng, which he did with great 
 gentleness and consideration. 
 
 Graciously declining the hospitality proffered by the 
 mayor, the Cardinal proceeded with his suite to the Priory 
 ■of Saint Martin, where he tarried for the night. 
 
 On the next day, attended by an immense cortege, and 
 ■having two great silver crosses, two massive silver pillars, 
 and two silver pole-axes borne before him, as emblems of 
 his Legantine authority, he journeyed to Canterbury, 
 "Here he heard mass in the magnificent cathedral, of 
 which he was so soon to become head, and rested at 
 :the palace. 
 
 On the second day he proceeded to Rochester, his escort 
 increasing as he went on ; and on the third day he reached 
 Gravesend, where he was met by the Bishop of Durham, 
 the Earl of Shrewsbury, and other important personages, 
 •who had been dispatched by their Majesties to offer him 
 their congratulations on his safe arrival in England, and at 
 the same time to present him with a copy of the act by 
 •which his attainder was reversed. 
 
 At Gravesend he again tarried for the night, and next 
 -morning entered a royal barge, richly decorated, lined with 
 tapestry, and containing a throne covered with gold 
 brocade. At the prow of this barge a silver cross was 
 fixed, which attracted universal attention as he passed up 
 the river, attended by several other gorgeous barges convey- 
 ing his retinue. 
 
 As the Cardinal approached the metropolis, the river 
 swarmed with boats filled with persons of all ranks eager 
 to welcome him, while crowds collected on the banks to 
 gaze at his barge with the great silver cross at the prow. 
 
 While passing the Tower, and gazing at the gloomy 
 fortress where the terrible tragedies connected with his 
 family had been enacted, the Cardinal became a prey to 
 saddening thoughts. But these were dispelled as he
 
 1 86 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 approached London Bridge, and heard the shouts of the 
 spectators, who greeted him from the windows of the lofty 
 habitations. The next objects that attracted his attention 
 were Baynard's Castle and Saint Paul's, and he uttered 
 aloud his thanksgivings that the ancient rites of worship 
 were again performed in the cathedral. 
 
 Sweeping up the then clear river, past the old palace of 
 Bridewell, Somerset House — built in the precedmg reign 
 by the Lord Protector, and which the Cardinal had never 
 before seen — past Durham-place and York House, attended 
 by hundreds of barques, he at length approached the 
 palace of Whitehall, and was taken to the privy stairs. 
 
 At the head of the stairs stood Gardiner, ready to receive 
 him, and after they had interchanged a most amicable greet- 
 ing, and Pole had presented his friend Priuli, Gardiner 
 conducted the Cardinal through two lines of attendants 
 apparelled in the royal liveries, all of whom bowed reveren- 
 tially as Pole passed on to the principal entrance of the 
 palace, where the King, with the chief personages of his 
 court, awaited his coming. 
 
 As the Lord Legate slowly approached, supported by 
 Gardiner, Philip advanced to meet him, and, embracing him 
 affectionately, bade him welcome, saying how anxiously both 
 the Queen and himself had looked for his coming. To these 
 gracious expressions Pole replied : 
 
 "I have rejoiced at the union her Majesty has formed, 
 Sire, because I regard it as a presage of my country's future 
 felicity. Inasmuch as a nuptial disagreement between an 
 English monarch and a Spanish queen led to a most lament- 
 able breach with the Holy See, so the marriage of a Spanish 
 king and an English princess will serve to heal the breach. 
 Most assuredly my countrymen will reap the benefit of this 
 auspicious alliance, and so far from finding any yoke placed 
 upon them, as they once apprehended, will recognise the 
 difference between your Majesty and that Prince who chas- 
 tised them with so heavy a rod." 
 
 " With the aid of your Eminence in all spiritual matters, 
 and with that of the Lord Chancellor in temporal affairs," 
 replied Philip, " I doubt not I shall be able, through the 
 Queen's Highness, to contribute to the welfare and prosperity 
 of the realm. Such has been my constant endeavour since I
 
 How Cardinal Pole Arrived in England. 187 
 
 have been here. And now suffer me to lead you to her 
 Majesty, who is all impatience to behold you." 
 
 Hereupon they ascended the grand staircase, the King 
 graciously giving his arm to the Lord Legate. At the head 
 of the staircase they found the Queen, who exhibited the 
 liveliest marks of delight on seeing the Cardinal, and gave 
 him a most affectionate greeting. 
 
 Pole could not fail to be deeply moved by so much kind- 
 ness, and with streaming eyes, and in broken accents, sought 
 to express his gratitude. He soon, however, regained his 
 customary serenity, and attended the Queen to the privy- 
 chamber, whither they were followed by the King and the 
 Lord Chancellor. He then delivered his credentials to her 
 Majesty, and they had a long discourse together, in which 
 both the King and the Lord Chancellor took part. 
 
 Before withdrawing, Pole besought permission to present 
 his friend Lord Priuli, and Mary kindly assenting, the noble 
 and learned Venetian was introduced to their Majesties, and 
 very graciously received by both. After this the Cardinal took 
 leave, and, attended by Gardiner, re-entered his barge, and 
 was conveyed in it to Lambeth Palace, which had been pre- 
 pared for his residence. 
 
 On the same day a grand banquet was given at Whitehall 
 in honour of the Lord Legate, at which all the nobles vied 
 with each other in paying him attention. Indeed, since 
 Wolsey's palmiest days no such distinction had been shown 
 to an ecclesiastic. Priuli, also, came in for some share of 
 the tribute of respect paid to his illustrious friend. 
 
 On the following day, in order to celebrate Pole's arrival 
 publicly, a grand tournament was held in the court of the 
 palace, where galleries were erected, adorned with rich hang- 
 ings, having two canopies of crimson cloth of silver, embroi- 
 dered with the royal arms, prepared for their Majesties — 
 a chair for the Cardinal being set near that of the Queen. 
 Precisely at two o'clock her Majesty issued from the palace 
 in company with the Cardinal, attended by her ladies, and 
 took her place beneath the canopy, Pole seating himself be- 
 side her. The galleries on either side presented a magnifi- 
 cent sight, being thronged with all the beauty and chivalry 
 of the court — high-born dames and noble gallants, all richly 
 apparelled.
 
 c 8 8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 The lists were under the governance of the Lord Cham" 
 Ijerlain, Sir John Gage, who was clad in russet armour, and 
 mounted on a powerful and richly-caparisoned steed ; and as 
 soon as the Queen and the Cardmal had taken their places, 
 loud fanfares were blown by a bevy of trumpeters stationed 
 on the opposite side of the court. 
 
 At this summons two champions immediately rode into 
 the ring, attracting great attention. One of them was the 
 King. He was clad in a suit of richly chased armour inlaid 
 with gold, and his helm was adorned with a panache of 
 red ostrich plumes. His courser was trapped with purple 
 satin, broached with gold. As he rode round the tilt-yard 
 and saluted the Queen, a buzz of applause followed his 
 course. 
 
 His opponent was Osbert Clinton, whom his Majesty had 
 'Challenged to a trial of skill. Osbert wore a suit of black 
 armour, with a white plume, and was mounted on a power- 
 ful charger, with bases and bards of black cloth of gold of 
 'damask . 
 
 As soon as the champions had taken their places, the 
 signal was given by Sir John Gage, and dashing vigorously 
 against each other, they met in mid-career, both their lances 
 rbeing shivered by the shock. As no advantage had been 
 gained on either side, fresh lances were brought, and they 
 immediately ran another course. In this encounter, Osbert 
 had the best of it, for he succeeded in striking off the King's 
 helmet, and was consequently proclaimed the victor, and re- 
 ceived a costly owche as a prize from the hands of the Queen. 
 
 Other courses were then run, and spears broken, all the 
 combatants demeaning themselves valiantly and like men of 
 prowess. Amongst the Spaniards, those who most distin- 
 guished themselves were Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, Don 
 Prederic de Toledo, and Don Adrian Garcias ; whilst amongst 
 the Englishmen the best knights were accounted the Lord 
 Admiral and Sir John Perrot. The King was more fortu- 
 nate in other courses than in those he had run with Osbert 
 Clinton, and received a diamond ring from her Majesty, amid 
 the loud plaudits of the spectators. 
 
 After this, Sir John Gage called upon them to disarm, the 
 trumpets sounded, and graciously bowing to the assemblage, 
 the Queen withdrew with the Cardinal.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THE RECONCILIATION OF THE REALM WITH THE SEE 
 
 OF ROME. 
 
 few days afterwards, in consequence of the Queen's, 
 indisposition, which, however, was not supposed 
 to be of a nature to inspire uneasiness, both. 
 Houses of ParUament were summoned to the 
 palace of Whitehall, and assembled in the presence-chamber. 
 Mary, who was so weak at the time that she had to be 
 carried to her throne, was placed on a hautpas, beneath bx 
 rich canopy embroidered with the royal arms in gold. 
 
 On her left hand was seated the King, attired in black 
 velvet, over which he wore a robe of black cloth of gold, 
 bordered with pearls and diamonds. The collar of the Garter 
 was round his neck, and the lesser badge studded with 
 gems, beneath his knee. 
 
 On the Queen's right, and on the haut-pas, but not beneath 
 the canopy, sat Cardinal Pole. His robes were of the richest 
 scarlet, and he wore a mantle of fine sables about his neck. 
 He was attended by four gentleman ushers, all richly clad, 
 and having heavy chains ot gold round their necks. Two of 
 these carried the large silver crosses, and the other two bore 
 the silver pillars. Behind the Queen stood Sir John Gage, 
 in his robes of office as Grand Chamberlain, and holding a 
 white wand, and with him were the Vice-Chamberlain and 
 other officers of the royal household. All the Queen's ladies 
 were likewise grouped around the throne. 
 
 Near to the Lord Legate stood Gardiner, and as soon as ali
 
 1 9 o Cardinal Pole* 
 
 were in their places, and the doors had been closed by the 
 ushers, he addressed both Houses, informing them that the 
 Right Reverend Father in God, the Lord Cardinal Pole, 
 legate a latere, who was now present before them, had come 
 as ambassador from Pope Julius III. to the King and Queen's 
 Majesties on a matter of the utmost importance, not only to 
 their Highnesses, but to the whole realm. As representatives 
 of the nation, they were called there to listen to the declara- 
 tion about to be made to them by the Lord Legate. 
 
 When Gardiner concluded his address and retired, every 
 eye was fixed upon the Cardinal, and a hush of expectation 
 fell upon the assemblage. After a moment's pause, Pole 
 arose, and with a dignified bow to their Majesties, com- 
 menced his address, in tones that vibrated through every 
 breast. 
 
 " Long excluded from this assembly," he said, " and exiled 
 from my native country by laws upon the severity and in- 
 justice of which I will not dwell, I have most heartily to 
 thank you, my Lords of the Upper House, and you, good 
 Sirs, of the Nether House, for reversing the sentence pro- 
 nounced upon me, and enabling me to appear before you 
 once more. I rejoice that I am able to requite the great 
 service you have rendered me. You have restored me to my 
 country and to my place amongst the highest nobility upon 
 earth. I can restore you to a heavenly kingdom, and to a 
 Christian greatness, which you have unhappily forfeited by 
 renouncing a fealty annexed to the true Church. Bethink 
 you of the many evils that have occurred to this land since 
 its lamentable defection. Estimate aright the great boon 
 now offered you. Until the late most unhappy schism, the 
 English nation ever stood foremost in the regard of the See 
 of Rome, abundant proofs of which I can offer you. While 
 reminding you of your past errors, let me exhort you to a 
 sincere repentance, and to receive with a deep and holy joy 
 the reconciliation with the Church of Rome, which I, as 
 Legate, am empowered to impart to you. To reap this 
 great blessing it only needs that you should repeal whatever 
 you have enacted against the Holy See, and those laws by 
 which you have severed yourselves from the body of the 
 faithful." 
 
 Delivered in tones of mellifluous sweetness and per-
 
 Of the Recojiciliation with Rome. 191 
 
 suasion, this discourse was listened to with profound atten- 
 tion, and produced an unmistakeable eflect upon the 
 auditors. As the Cardinal resumed his seat, Gardiner 
 advanced towards him, 
 
 " I thank your Eminence," he said, " in the name of their 
 Majesties and the Parliament, for the good offices you have 
 rendered the nation. The members of both Houses will at 
 once deliberate upon what you have proposed, and will 
 speedily acquaint you with their determination, which, I 
 nothing doubt, will be favourable to the cause of our holy 
 religion." 
 
 Upon this, the Lord Legate arose and retired with his 
 attendants into an adjoining chamber, there to await the 
 decision of the Parliament. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Gardiner again addressed the 
 assemblage in these terms : " Heaven hath spoken to you by 
 the lips of the holy man to whom you have just listened. I 
 can confirm the truth of all he has uttered. I acknowledge 
 myself to be a great delinquent, but I have deeply and sin- 
 cerely repented of my errors, and I beseech you to do so 
 likewise. Rise from your fallen estate, and dispose your- 
 selves to a complete reconciliation with the Catholic 
 Church, and a return to its communion. Are ye all agreed 
 to this?" 
 
 " We are all agreed," replied the whole assemblage, with- 
 out a moment's hesitation, 
 
 "I rejoice to hear it," replied Gardiner. "If you have 
 erred, you at least make amends for your error." 
 
 The promptitude and unanimity of this decision gave great 
 satisfaction to their Majesties, and the King, calling Gardiner 
 to him, held a brief conference with him, after which Sir 
 John Gage, with the Earl of Arundel, six knights of the 
 Garter, and the like number of bishops, were sent to 
 summon the Lord Legate. As Pole again entered the 
 presence-chamber, the whole of the assemblage arose. The 
 Cardinal having resumed his seat, Gardiner called out, in a 
 loud voice, — 
 
 " I again ask you, in the presence of the Lord Legate, 
 whether you sincerely desire to return to the unity of the 
 Church, and the obedience due to her chief pastor ? " 
 
 " We do ! — we do ! " cried the entire assemblage.
 
 192 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 A radiant smile passed over Pole's benign countenance at 
 these exclamations, and he raised up his hands in thankful- 
 ness to Heaven. 
 
 "This moment repays me for all I have suffered," he 
 murmured. 
 
 Then Gardiner turned towards the King and Queen, and, 
 making a profound obeisance to them, said : — 
 
 " On behalf of the members of both Houses of Parliament^ 
 representatives of the whole realm, I have to express to your 
 Majesties their sorrow for the former schism, and for what- 
 ever they have enacted against the See of Rome and the 
 Catholic religion, all which they now annul ; and would 
 humbly beseech you to obtain from the Lord Legate pardoii 
 and restoration to that body from which they had separated 
 themselves by their misdeeds." 
 
 " We pray your Eminence to grant the pardon and re- 
 conciliation thus humbly sued for ? " said Phihp, turning 
 towards the Cardinal. 
 
 " Right joyfully will I accede to your Majesty's request," 
 replied Pole. 
 
 The Cardinal's assent having been communicated to the 
 assemblage by Gardiner, they all advanced towards Pole, 
 who arose as they approached, and said : — 
 
 "Thanks are due to Divine goodness for granting you 
 this opportunity of cancelling your past offences. If your 
 repentance be answerable to the importance of the occasion 
 and the heinousness of the fault, great, indeed, must be the 
 joy of the saints at your conversion." 
 
 It being now evident that the Cardinal was about to pro- 
 nounce the absolution, the whole assemblage, with the excep- 
 tion of the King and Queen, fell upon their knees. Extend- 
 ing his arms over them, Pole, in a clear and distincS. voice, 
 said : — 
 
 " As representative of Christ's Vicegerent, I here absolve 
 all those present, and the whole nation, and the whole 
 dominion thereof, from all heresy and schism, and all judg- 
 ments, censures, for that cause incurred, and restore them 
 to the communion of the Holy Church, in the name of the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 
 
 To this the whole assemblage responded " Amen ! " 
 
 Nothing could be more solemn and impressive than the
 
 Of the Reco7iciliation with Rome. 195, 
 
 Cardinal's manner while pronouncing this absolution, and 
 his words penetrated all hearts. The Queen and most of 
 her ladies shed tears. As the assembly rose from their 
 kneeling posture, they embraced each other, and gave utter- 
 ance to their satisfaction. 
 
 The King and Queen, with their attendants, then pro- 
 ceeded to the royal chapel to return thanks, and were 
 followed by the Cardinal, Gardiner, and the entire assem- 
 blage. A solemn mass was then performed, and Te Deum 
 sung. 
 
 IS
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 OF THE EVENTS THAT FOLLOWED THE RESTORATION OF 
 THE PAPAL AUTHORITY. 
 
 i!0 sooner was the nation's reconciliation with the 
 See of Rome completed, than an express was sent 
 by Cardinal Pole to Pope Julius III., acquainting 
 his Holiness with the joyful event. On receipt of 
 the intelligence, public rejoicings on the grandest scale were 
 held at Rome, religious processions paraded the streets, 
 masses were performed in all the churches, and a solemn 
 service was celebrated at Saint Peter's by the Pontiff in 
 person. The event, indeed, was a signal triumph to the 
 Pope, and in reply to Cardinal Pole he thanked him heartily 
 for the great service he had rendered the Church, and warmly 
 commended his zeal and diligence. Moreover, he issued a 
 bull granting indulgences to all such persons as should 
 openly manifest their satisfaction at the restoration of the 
 Papal authority in England. 
 
 Public rejoicings also took place in London, and in other 
 towns, but they were productive of mischief rather than 
 good, as they led to many serious brawls and disturbances. 
 Though compelled to submit to their opponents, who were 
 now in the ascendant, the Reformers were far from subdued, 
 but were quite ready for outbreak, should a favourable op- 
 portunity occur for attempting it. The triumphant demon- 
 strations of the Romanists were abhorrent to them, and 
 constant collisions, as we have said, took place between the 
 more violent adherents of the opposing creeds. In these
 
 Of the Events that Followed. 195 
 
 encounters, the Protestants, being the less numerous, got 
 the worst of it, but they promised themselves revenge on a 
 future day. 
 
 On the Sunday after the reconciliation, a sermon was 
 preached by Gardiner at Paul's Cross, before the King and 
 Cardinal Pole. A large crowd collected to hear him. On 
 this occasion, in spite of the presence of a strong guard, some 
 interruptions occurred, proving that there were dissentients 
 among the auditors. Evidently there was a growing feeling 
 of dislike to Philip and the Spaniards, fostered by the mal- 
 contents, and many a fierce glance was fixed upon the King, 
 many a threat breathed against him, as, surrounded by a 
 band of halberdiers, he listened to Gardiner's discourse. 
 
 But if Philip was hated even by the Romanists, who after 
 all were as true lovers of their country as those of the ad- 
 verse sect, and equally hostile to the Spaniards, the universal 
 feeling was favourable to Cardinal Pole, whose benevolent 
 countenance pleased the Reformers, as much as his dignified 
 deportment commanded their respect. He and the King 
 rode together to Saint Paul's, and after hearing the sermon, 
 returned in the sam.e way to Whitehall. Philip had the 
 sword of state borne before him, but the Cardinal contented 
 himself with the silver cross. 
 
 A few days afterwards, intimation was sent by the council 
 to Bonner, Bishop of London, that the Queen was in a 
 condition to become a mother. Command was given at the 
 same time that there should be a solemn procession to Saint 
 Paul's, in which the Lord Mayor, the aldermen, and all 
 the City companies, in their liveries, should join, to offer 
 up prayers for her Majesty's preservation during her time of 
 travail, coupled with earnest supplications that the child 
 might be a male. 
 
 This announcement, which, as may be supposed, was 
 quickly bruited abroad throughout the City, gave great 
 satisfaction to the Romanists, but it was anything but 
 welcome or agreeable to the Reformers, who saw in it an 
 extension of power to their enemies, and an increase of 
 danger to themselves. If an heir to the throne should be 
 born, Philip's authority in England would be absolute. 
 Such was the general impression, and its correctness was 
 confirmed by a petition made to the King by both Houses, 
 13—2
 
 196 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 which prayed " that if it should happen otherwise than weir 
 to the Queen, he would take upon himself the government 
 of the realm during the minority of her Majesty's issue.*" 
 As may be supposed, Philip readily assented, and an act 
 was immediately passed carrying out the provisions above- 
 mentioned, and making it high treason to compass the' 
 King's death, or attempt to remove him from the govern- 
 ment and guardianship confided to him. 
 
 Under these circumstances the solemn procession to Saint 
 Paul's took place. Vast crowds encumbered the street? 
 as the civic authorities proceeded from Guildhall to the 
 cathedral, headed by ten bishops in their robes, the pix 
 being borne before them under a canopy. This gave such 
 offence, that had not a strong military force kept the 
 populace in awe, it is certain that the procession would have 
 been molested. As it was, expressions of antipathy to 
 Phihp could not be checked. "England shall never be 
 ruled by the Spaniard," was the indignant outcry, which 
 found an echo in many a breast, whether of Romanist or 
 Reformer. 
 
 In spite of all these clamours, the procession reached 
 Saint Paul's in safety, and high mass was celebrated by 
 Bonner and the other bishops, after which prayers were 
 offered up for the Queen, in accordance with the council's 
 mandate. The mass of the assemblage joined heartily in 
 these supplications, but there were some who refused to 
 recite them, and secretly prayed that Philip's hopes of an 
 heir might be frustrated. 
 
 The reader is already aware that Cardinal Pole, immedi- 
 ately on his arrival in London, had been put in possession 
 of Lambeth Palace. This noble residence, with the 
 revenues of the Archbishopric of Canterbury, confiscated 
 on the condemnation of Cranmer for high treason, was 
 bestowed on the Cardinal by the King and Queen ; but 
 Pole could not be promotedito the archiepiscopal see while 
 Cranmer lived. 
 
 One of the Cardinal's first acts on taking possession of 
 the palace was to summon all the bishops and principal 
 clergy before him, and, after listening to their expressions 
 of penitence for the perjuries, heresies, and schisms they had 
 committed during the late reigns, he gave them absolution.
 
 Of the Events that Followed. 197 
 
 And now, before proceeding further, it may be desirable 
 to give a brief description of the ancient edifice occupied 
 by the Cardinal, 
 
 The present vast and irregular pile, known as Lambeth 
 Palace, was preceded by a much smaller mansion, wherein 
 the archbishops of Canterbury were lodged, and to which a 
 chapel was attached. This building was pulled down in 
 1262 by the turbulent Archbishop Boniface, and a new and 
 more important structure erected in its place. Of Boniface's 
 palace little now remains save the chapel and crypt. So 
 many additions were made to the palace by successive arch- 
 bishops, and so much was it altered, that it may almost be 
 said to have become another structure. A noble hall, sub- 
 sequently destroyed in the time of the Commonwealth, was 
 built by Archbishop Chichely, who flourished in the reign 
 of Edward IV. ; while the chief ornament of the existing 
 pile, the gateway, was reared by Cardinal Archbishop 
 Morton, towards the end of the 15th century. The 
 Steward's Parlour, a chamber of large dimensions, was 
 added by Cranmer, and a long gallery and other buildings 
 were erected by Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Before entering the palace, let us pause to examine the 
 gateway, a structure of almost unrivalled beauty, and con- 
 sisting of two large square towers, built of fine brick, em- 
 battled, and edged with stone. The archway is pointed, and 
 has a groined roof springing from four pillars, one in each 
 corner. Spiral stone staircases lead to the upper chambers, 
 and from the leads of the roof a wonderful prospect of the 
 surrounding metropolis is obtained. Connected with the 
 porter's lodge is a small prison-chamber, having a double 
 door, and high, narrow-grated windows. The walls are 
 cased with stone, and of prodigious thickness, while three 
 heavy iron rings fixed in them attest the purpose to which 
 the room was formerly applied. 
 
 Passing through the principal court, we enter the great 
 hall, rebuilt by Archbishop Juxon on the exact model of 
 the old hall, demolished during the Protectorate, so that it 
 may be considered a counterpart of Archbishop Chichely's 
 banqueting-chamber. Nearly a hundred feet in length, pro- 
 portionately wide and lofty, this noble room has a superb 
 pendant timber roof, enriched with elaborate carvings, and
 
 198 Cardijial Pole. 
 
 lighted by a louvre. In the great bay-window, amidst the 
 relics of stained glass, recovered from the original hall, may 
 be discerned the arms of Philip of Spain, painted by order 
 of Cardinal Pole. At the present day the hall is used as 
 the palace library, and its space is somewhat encroached 
 upon by projecting bookcases, filled with works of divinity. 
 At the upper end is the archbishop's seat. 
 
 From the great hall we may proceed to the gallery and 
 guard-chamber, the latter of which was once used as the 
 armoury of the palace. It has an ancient timber roof, with 
 pendants, pointed arches, and pierced spandrels. Here are 
 portraits of many of the archbishops of Canterbury, among 
 which may be seen that of Cardinal Pole, copied from the 
 original by Raffaelle, preserved in the Barberini Palace at 
 Rome. 
 
 Pass we by the presence-chamber and other state-rooms, 
 and let us enter the long gallery erected by Cardinal Pole 
 — a noble room, lighted by windows enriched with stained 
 glass. 
 
 Hence we will proceed to the chapel erected by Boniface. 
 Lighted by three lancet-shaped windows on either side, and 
 divided by an elaborately carved screen, on the inner side 
 of which is the archiepiscopal stall, this chapel contains but 
 little of its pristine character, and is disfigured by a flat- 
 panelled ceiling, added by Archbishop Laud. 
 
 Beneath the chapel, and corresponding with it in size, is 
 an ancient crypt, with a groined roof, once used as a place 
 of worship. In this part of the palace is a large room built 
 by Cranmer, and now called the Steward's Parlour, and 
 close to it are the servants' hall and the great kitchen. 
 
 We now come to a part of the palace to which interest of 
 a peculiar nature attaches. This is the Lollards' Tower, a 
 large stone structure, erected by Archbishop Chichely, which 
 derives its name from being used as a place of imprison- 
 ment for the followers of Wicklifife, called Lollards. This 
 time-worn tower faces the river, and on its front is a small 
 niche or tabernacle, formerly occupied by an image of 
 Thomas k Becket. 
 
 In the lower part of the Lollard's Tower is a gloomy 
 chamber of singular construction, the heavy timber roof 
 being supported by a strong wooden pillar standing in the
 
 Of the Events that Followed. 199 
 
 centre of the chamber, whence the place is called the Post 
 Room. Tradition asserts that the unfortunate Lollards, 
 confined in the chamber above, were tied to this pillar and 
 scourged. The Post Room is lighted by three low pointed 
 windows looking towards the Thames, and its flat-panelled 
 ceiling is ornamented at the intersections with grotesque 
 carvings. 
 
 Ascending by a narrow spiral stone staircase, we reach 
 the prison-chamber just referred to, which is guarded by an 
 inner and outer door of stout oak, studded with broad- 
 headed nails. A strange, strong room, that cannot fail 
 powerfully to impress the visitor. Wainscot, ceiling, floor, 
 every part of the chamber is boarded with dark oak of great 
 thickness. Fixed to the wainscot, breast-high from the 
 ground, are eight massive rings. The boards adjoining them 
 are covered with inscriptions — mementoes of the many un- 
 fortunates confined there. The prison-chamber is lighted 
 by two small grated windows, narrowing outwardly, one of 
 which looks upon the river. 
 
 Attached to the palace are a park and gardens of con- 
 siderable extent, and in the olden time of great beauty. 
 Within the gardens, up to the commencement of the present 
 century, grew two singularly fine fig trees, ])lanted by Car- 
 dinal Pole, and trained against that part of the palace which 
 he erected. 
 
 Lambeth Palace came into Pole's hands in a very habita- 
 ble condition, having been well kept up by his predecessor, 
 Cranmer. So well pleased was the Cardinal with the man- 
 sion, that he not only embelHshed it in many ways, but 
 enlarged it, as we have previously mentioned. He also took 
 great delight in the gardens, and laid them out in the Italian 
 
 style. 
 
 Unostentatious of character, and simple in his tastes and 
 habits, Pole felt it due to his elevated position "to maintain 
 princely state in the residence assigned to him by their 
 Majesties, and employ his large revenues in hospitality and 
 charity. When complete, which it was within a month after 
 his occupation of the Palace, Pole's household was as 
 numerous and magnificent as Wolsey's, and comprised a 
 high-chamberlain and vice-chamberlain, twelve gentlemen 
 ushers steward, treasurer, comptroller, coherer, three mar-
 
 ^oo Cardinal Pole. 
 
 shals, two grooms, and an almoner. In his chapel he had 
 a dean, a sub-dean, twelve singing-priests, and the like 
 number of quiristers. Besides these, there were his cross- 
 bearers, his pillar-bearers, and two yeomen to bear his 
 poleaxes. The inferior officers were almost too numerous to 
 particularise, comprehending purveyors, cooks, sewers, cup- 
 bearers, yeomen of the larder, of the buttery, of the ewery, 
 the cellar, the laundry, the bakehouse, the wardrobe, the 
 chandry, the wood yard, and the garden. Of gardeners, 
 indeed, there were several. Besides these, there were a 
 multitude of pages and grooms, a sumpter-man, a muleteer, 
 and sixteen grooms of the stable, each of whom had four 
 horses. Then there were tall porters at the gate, yeomen 
 • ef the chariot, and yeomen of the barge. Nor were these 
 all. In addition to those previous enumerated, there were 
 a physician, two chaplains, and two secretaries. 
 
 Such was the magnificent establishment maintained by 
 Pole during his residence at Lambeth Palace. His hos- 
 pitality may be judged of by the fact that three long tables 
 were daily laid in the great hall, abundantly supplied with 
 viands, and ever thronged with guests. At the upper table 
 sat the Cardinal, generally surrounded by nobles or eccle- 
 siastical dignitaries. A place at this table, not far from his 
 illustrious friend, was always reserved for Lord Priuli. 
 
 Apartments in the palace were, of course, assigned to 
 Priuli, who had likewise his own attendants. The entire 
 control of the vast establishment devolved upon the noble 
 Venetian, who undertook the office in order to relieve the 
 Cardinal of a portion of his labours. 
 
 Amidst all this profusion the poor were not forgotten. 
 Dole was daily distributed at the palace gate, under the 
 personal superintendence of Pole and Priuli. The wants of 
 the necessitous were relieved, and medicines were delivered 
 to the sick. None who deserved assistance were ever sent 
 empty-handed away by the Cardinal. 
 
 Amongst the Cardinal's officers were our old acquaintances 
 Rodomont Bittern, Nick Simnel, and Jack Holiday, the first 
 of whom had been recommended to Pole by the King him- 
 self. Rodomont was appointed captain of the palace guard, 
 and his two friends were made lieutenants. On state occa- 
 sions they formed part of the Cardinal's body-guard.
 
 Of the Events that Followed. 201 
 
 One fine morning, at an early hour, these three personages 
 had scaled the lofty gate-tower, in order to enjoy the goodly 
 prospect it commanded. Before them flowed the Thames, 
 then a clear and unpolluted stream, its smooth surface 
 speckled, even at that early hour, by many barques. A ferry- 
 boat, laden with passengers and horses, was crossing at the 
 time from Lambeth to Westminster. On the opposite side 
 stood the ancient Abbey, with the Parliament House, the 
 Star Chamber, the beautiful gates of Whitehall, designed by 
 Holbein, the royal gardens, and the palace. Further on 
 cold be observed the exquisite cross at Charing, subse- 
 quently destroyed by fanatical fury. Then following the 
 course of the river, the eye lighted upon York-place, Durham- 
 place, the Savoy, and the splendid mansion then but recently 
 completed by the aspiring Duke of Somerset. Further 
 on was the ancient palace of Bridewell, and beyond, Baynard's 
 Castle, while above the clustering habitations of the City 
 rose the massive tower and lofty spire of old Saint Paul's. 
 
 London at the period of which we treat was singularly 
 picturesque and beautiful. The walls encircling it were well 
 fortified and in good repair, and most of its oldest and most 
 remarkable edifices were still standing, no terrible conflagra- 
 tion having as yet touched them. Numberless towers, 
 churches, and picturesque habitations, with high roofs and 
 quaint gables, excited the admiration of those who stood that 
 morn on the gateway of Lambeth Palace ; but perhaps the 
 object that pleased them best was London-bridge, which, 
 with its gates, its drawbridges, its church, and lofty habita- 
 tions, proudly bestrode the Thames. Having gazed their 
 fill at this wondrous structure, or rather collection of struc- 
 tures, they turned towards the Surrey side of the river, and 
 noted Saint Mary Overy's fine old church, the palace of the 
 Bishop of Winchester, the Ring, at that time much fre- 
 quented, in which bulls and bears were baited, and the 
 adjacent theatre, wherein, at a later date, many of the plays of 
 our immortal bard were represented. Content with this distant 
 survey, they then looked nearer home, and allowed their 
 gaze to wander over the park and gardens of the palace, and 
 finally to settle upon the various courts, towers, and buildings 
 composing the pile. 
 
 " By my faith, 'tis a stately edifice, this palace of Lam-
 
 202 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 beth ! " exclaimed Rodomont. " Our lord and master the 
 Cardinal is as well lodged as the King and Queen at White- 
 hall." 
 
 *' Were it not for yonder ague-bringing marshes the 
 palace would be a marvellous pleasant residence," observed 
 Nick Simnel. 
 
 " Why should a sturdy fellow like you, Nick, fear ague ? " 
 cried Rodomont. " Lord Priuli tells me that his Eminence 
 enjoys better health here than he has done since he left the 
 Lago di Garda — a plain proof that the place cannot be in- 
 salubrious, as you would have it." 
 
 " Follow my example, Nick, and fortify yourself against 
 the morning mists with a thimbleful of aqua vitas," remarked 
 Jack Holiday, with a laugh. "Tis a sovereign remedy 
 against ague. But see ! yonder are the Cardinal and the 
 Lord Priuli, taking an early walk in the garden. They seem 
 engaged in earnest discourse." 
 
 " I warrant their discourse relates to the recusant Pro- 
 testant divines, who have just been excommunicated by the 
 ecclesiastical commissioners, and are to be burnt," observed 
 Rodomont. " There will be rare doings at Smithfield ere 
 long, if Gardiner and Bonner have their way. But our good 
 lord the Cardinal is averse to persecution, and may succeed 
 in checking it." 
 
 "Heaven grant he may !" exclaimed Jack Holiday, " If 
 once the fires are lighted at Smithfield, there's no saying 
 when they may be extinguished, or who may perish by therru 
 'Tis a marvel to me that the late occupant of this palace, 
 Cranmer, has so long been spared. If the ecclesiastical 
 commissioners desire to deal a heavy blow against the 
 Reformers, why not strike their leader now they have him 
 in their power ? " 
 
 " I will tell you why," rejoined Rodomont. " In this high 
 place none can overhear us, so we may talk freely. Gar- 
 diner would fain be Archbishop of Canterbury, but he knows 
 that if Cranmer be burnt, our lord the Cardinal will at once 
 be appointed to the archiepiscopal see. Therefore Cranmer 
 is allowed to live, in the hope that Pole may be recalled to 
 Rome by his Holiness. But the crafty Bishop of Winchester 
 will be disappointed, for the Cardinal is not likely to leave 
 his native country again."
 
 Of the Eve7its that FoUowea. 203 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it," said Simnel. " We could 
 ill spare him. The Cardinal is the pillar of the Romish 
 church in England." 
 
 " By our Lady, he is a pattern to all," cried Rodomont. 
 " There lives not a better man than his Eminence. Even 
 the Queen, they say, is governed by his advice. He has 
 more influence with her than the King himself." 
 
 " Like enough," observed Jack Holiday, " for they do say 
 that the royal couple, like other married folk, have an occa- 
 sional quarrel. Her Majesty is plaguily jealous." 
 
 " And not without reason," said Rodomont, with a laugh. 
 " It was not to be expected that the King, who is of an 
 amorous complexion, as all the world knows, should continue 
 faithful to a woman eleven years older than himself, and ill- 
 favoured into the bargain. He wants something younger 
 and better-looking." 
 
 " Like poor Constance Tyrrell," said Nick Simnel ; " she 
 who is shut up yonder," he added, pointing to the Lollard's 
 Tower. 
 
 " Ay, and she will never get out unless she yields to the 
 King's wishes," observed Jack Holiday. 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that," rejoined Rodomont " It 
 will be her own fault if she remains here another twenty- 
 four hours." 
 
 " How so ? — who will unlock the door for her ? — not her 
 gaoler ? " said Holiday. 
 
 " Not her gaoler, fool," rejoined Rodomont, "but her lover, 
 Osbert Clinton. Since he can't unlock the door, he will un- 
 bar the window. You are both too generous to betray him, 
 I know, and therefore I'll e'en tell you what occurred last 
 night. While making my rounds, a little after midnight, 
 I entered the outer court, and was standing near the ^Vater 
 Tower, when looking up, I espied a head above yon ivied 
 wall, which divides the court from the river. In another 
 moment a body became visible as well as a head, and before 
 I could count twenty a man dropped from the top of the wall 
 into the court. It was Osbert Clinton. I recognised him 
 even in that imperfect light, or I should have challenged 
 him. Guessing his purpose, I retired, placing myself so 
 that I could watch his movements without being perceived. 
 As I expected, his errand was to the Lollard's Tower, though
 
 504 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 how he hoped to gain admittance to Constance's cell passed 
 my comprehension." 
 
 "And did he gain admittance to her?" inquired 
 Holiday. 
 
 " You shall hear," replied Rodomont. "Yon small grated 
 window in the upper part of the tower belongs to her cell. 
 How, think you, he contrived to reach it ? " 
 
 " Nay, I can't say," replied Holiday. " He could scarcely 
 climb up to it." 
 
 " Climb up a tower ! No, I should think not. But for 
 the ivy, he would never have got over yonder wall. He 
 reached the window by means of a rope-ladder which he had 
 brought with him. How the plan had been preconcerted is 
 more than I can tell you, but it was evident Constance 
 •expected him. A slight cough served to announce her 
 lover's presence to her. At the signal, a cord was imme- 
 diately let down from the window of the cell, and as soon as 
 dt came within Osbert's reach, he caught it, and fastening 
 the rope-ladder to it, the cord was quickly drawn up again, 
 taking the ladder with it. In another minute the ladder was 
 made fast to the bars of the window, and this done, up 
 sprang Osbert, and was soon only separated from the object 
 of his affections by the grating." 
 
 "A pize upon the grating!" exclaimed Holiday. "I 
 would there had been no envious bars between them." 
 
 " That was exactly my feeling," said Rodomont. " Their 
 discourse was in whispers, but I heard enough to learn that 
 Osbert proposed some means of escape to her, but judged 
 from his expressions of disappointment that she would not 
 consent to the plan. Fear of discovery compelled him to cut 
 short the interview, however he might have desired to pro- 
 long it, but before descending he promised to come again 
 to-night. The ladder being unfastened, he was quickly over 
 ■the wall, and in another minute must have regained the boat, 
 which I conclude was waiting for him. Now, what say you, 
 my masters ? Shall we not aid him in his efforts to get this 
 poor girl away ? " 
 
 " I will gladly do so," replied Holiday. 
 
 " So will I," said Simnel. 
 
 " Then we will forthwith set our wits to work, and some- 
 thing must come of it," rejoined Rodomont. " If she remains
 
 Of the Events that Followed. 205; 
 
 here, she is lost. But see ! the poor folk are beginning to 
 crowd round the gate in expectation of their dole. How 
 many, think you, are daily fed by the Cardinal ? " 
 
 "Fifty or sixty, it may be," replied Simnel. 
 
 " Upwards of a hundred," said Rodomont. " Yonder 
 comes his Emminence, with Lord Priuli. Let us go down. 
 This keen morning has given me a rare appetite, and I pro- 
 pose that we hie to the great hall, and break our fast with a 
 cold chine and a flagon of humming ale." 
 
 " Agreed," replied the others. 
 
 Whereupon they descended to the court, and bowing 
 reverentially to the Cardinal and Lord Priuli as they passed 
 them, proceeded to the banqueting-chamber, where prepara- 
 tions were already made for a substantial repast. Sitting. 
 down at a side-table, they fell to work with right good will.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF THE UNCEREMONIOUS VISIT PAID BY THEIR MAJESTIES TO 
 CARDINAL POLE AT LAMBETH PALACE. 
 
 N the same day, at a late hour, in a large room of 
 the palace, panelled with dark oak, and lighted 
 by a deep bay-window filled with stained glass, 
 beside a table covered with books and papers, 
 sat Cardinal Pole and Lord Priuli. They were engaged in 
 conversation. Pole wore his scarlet soutane and lawn 
 rochet, and had a red silk calotte on his head. Priuli was 
 in black velvet, which set off his noble figure to great 
 advantage. 
 
 " An embassy is about to be dispatched in a few days to 
 Rome," observed Pole. " It will consist of ray nephew, 
 Lord Montague, the Bishop of Ely, and Sir Edward Came. 
 If you have any desire to return to your beloved Italy, you 
 can do so in their company. Do not let any consideration 
 for me weigh with you, I entreat. I am not without mis- 
 giving that this chill climate, and, above all, the exhalations 
 from the marshes near the Palace, may be prejudicial to 
 your health. I need not say how greatly I shall miss you, 
 but I shall be reconciled to the deprivation by feeling that 
 you are better off than with me." 
 
 " If I can serve you by accompanying this embassy to 
 Rome, I will readily do so, dear friend," rejoined Priuli; 
 " but I have no desire to return to Italy. It would be idle 
 to say that I do not prefer sunshine and an exhilarating
 
 The Unceremonious Visit Fata by Their Majesties. 207 
 
 atmosphere to a cold and brumous climate like that of Eng- 
 land. Undoubtedly, I would rather dwell in Rome than m 
 London, but, deprived of your society, Italy, with its blue 
 sky and noble monuments, would be a blank to me. I am 
 happier here than I should be at the Vatican without you. 
 Say no more, therefore, to me on that head, I beseech you. 
 But you yourself may be compelled to return to Rome. Not 
 improbably you maybe elected to the Pontifical Throne ! " 
 
 " Should it be so, I should decUne the dignity," replied 
 the Cardinal. "You, my good friend, who know my senti- 
 ments perfectly, are aware that I have little ambition, and 
 that all my exertions have been directed to the welfare of 
 our holy Church. This cause I can best serve by remaining 
 here, and I trust Heaven may spare me for the complete 
 fulfilment of my task. I do not delude myself with any 
 false hopes. I shall never behold Rome again, and it is 
 from this conviction that I would not hinder your return." 
 
 " I will remain with you to the last," rejoined Priuli. 
 " My life is Hnked with yours. Nothing but death can 
 divide us." 
 
 At this juncture an usher announced the Lord Chancellor, 
 and the next moment Gardiner entered the room. Both the 
 Cardinal and Priuli rose to receive him. After courteous 
 but grave salutations had passed between them, Gardiner 
 remarked, " Your Eminence desires to speak to me about 
 those recusants who were yesterday excommunicated by the 
 ecclesiastical tribunal, and delivered to the secular power. 
 I may as well state at once that nothing can be advanced in 
 arrest of the judgment certain to be passed upon them. 
 They obstinately persisted in their heresy, and firmly refused 
 to subscribe to the doctrines of the Church." 
 
 "I grieve to hear it," replied Pole. " Yet I trust they 
 will not be severely dealt with." 
 
 " They will be dealt with as they deserve — they will be 
 burnt at the stake," rejoined Gardiner. 
 
 " But not without time allowed them for reflection, I trust, 
 my lord," said the Cardinal. "Undue severity will injure 
 our cause rather than serve it. These men will be accounted 
 martyrs, and held up as an example to others. Policy, 
 therefore, would dictate milder measures." 
 
 " Mild measures have been tried, and have proved in-
 
 2o8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 effectual," rejoined Gardiner. "We must now make a terrible 
 example of these obstinate and dangerous heretics." 
 
 Again the usher entered, and this time to inform the Car- 
 dinal that their Majesties had arrived at the palace, and 
 were already in the courtyard. Hereupon Pole instantly 
 arose, and followed by Priuli, repaired to the ante-chamber. 
 Scarcely had he entered it, when the royal pair, preceded by 
 Sir John Gage, and attended by several officers of the courts 
 appeared at the outer door. The Cardinal immediately 
 hurried forward to bid them welcome, and thank them 
 for the distinguished honour conferred upon him by the 
 visit. 
 
 '• Had I been aware of your coming, gracious Madam," he 
 said to the Queen, "I would have been at the gate to receive 
 you." 
 
 " It is not a visit of ceremony," replied Mary, " therefore 
 we did not deem it necessary to send intimation of our de- 
 sign. If your Eminence is at leisure, the King and myself 
 will gladly pass an hour in your society, and profit by your 
 counsels." 
 
 " I am entirely at your Majesty's disposal," replied the 
 Cardinal, bowing. " I pray you enter. And you, too, Sire," 
 he added, conducting them to the inner room. 
 
 Mary looked ill and lauguid, and moved slowly and with 
 difficulty, requiring the King's support. But her illness being 
 attributed to her condition, occasioned no alarm. 
 
 On reaching the inner room, the Queen seated herself on 
 a high, carved oak chair proffered her by the Cardinal, while 
 Philip occupied a fauteuil on her left. As their Majesties 
 would not allow the Cardinal to remain standing, he took a 
 seat on the other side of the Queen. At a little distance 
 from the royal pair stood Gardiner, Priuli, and Sir John 
 Gage. All the other attendants withdrew. 
 
 " I did not expect to find you here, my lord," the Queen 
 observed to Gardiner, after bowing to him and Priuli. 
 
 " I was sent for, gracious Madam," replied the Lord Chan- 
 cellor. " The Cardinal desired to confer with me on an 
 important matter connected with the maintenance of the 
 Established Church, in which his Eminence and myself differ 
 in opinion. In most matters I should readily defer to his 
 Eminence's better judgment. But I cannot do so in this in-
 
 The Unceremonious Visit Paid by Their Majesties. 209 
 
 stance. I am glad your Majesty has come, as I feel certain 
 you will support my views." 
 
 " Whence arises this difference of opinion ? " demanded 
 Mary. " I should have thought your lordship and the Car- 
 dinal must infallibly agree on all points touching the welfare 
 of the Church." 
 
 "The question between us, gracious Madam," said Pole, 
 "is whether, on the score of humanity and policy, it would 
 not be better to deal leniently rather than severely with 
 those who profess heretical opinions. I allude particularly 
 to the ministers of the Reformed Church who have just been 
 excommunicated and degraded, and delivered over to the 
 secular power, and who, unless mercy be shown them, will 
 suffer a dreadful death." 
 
 Mary's brow darkened. 
 
 " Surely your Eminence would not pardon them if they 
 persist in their heresies ? " she cried. 
 
 " I would not put them to death," rejoined Pole, "but 
 would endeavour to convince them of their errors by argu- 
 ment and instruction. Failing in this, I would resort to such 
 measures as might be deemed best adapted to meet the exi- 
 gencies of the case — but those measures should be tempered 
 with mercy." 
 
 " I did not expect such opinions as these from your Emi- 
 nence," 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 mercv 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 
 14
 
 2 1 o Cardinal Pole. 
 
 hanging over my head, for years, until happily released by 
 her Majesty?" 
 
 '* At least, )'Our Hfe was spared," observed Pole. 
 
 "It was spared more from fear than favour," retorted 
 Gardener. " 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 failh, which had it been 
 put in force, would have been fraught with fearful conse- 
 quences ; 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," repHed Pole. 
 
 "What, pardon Cranmer, the apostate and heretic ! " ex- 
 claimed 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 pro- 
 nounced 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 dissimula- 
 tion, 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, 
 nelping him to place a usurper on the throne, and preaching
 
 The Unceremojiioiis Visit Paid by Their Majesties. 2 it 
 
 against the rightful claims of our sovereign mistress ? V.'ould 
 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." 
 
 " Why has the punishment he so richly merits been so 
 long delayed ? " demanded Philip. 
 
 " His offences. Sire, are of so heinous a nature," responded 
 Gardiner, " and so fraught with injury to our holy religion 
 in its most vital part, that it has been necessary to refer 
 them to that supreme tribunal before which such inquests 
 can only properly be held. His case has been laid before 
 the Pope, who has appointed the Bishop of Gloucester and a 
 commission to try him. On their report, judgment will be 
 pronounced in solemn consistory by his Holmess. What 
 that judgment will be, cannot for a moment be doubted. 
 Cranmer will beexcommunicatedandanathematised, deprived 
 of the archbishopric of Canterbury, and of all ecclesiastical 
 privileges. Furthermore he will be degraded and delivered 
 to the secular power, and your Majesties will be required by 
 his Holiness to proceed towards him as the law directs." 
 
 " For his offences the law prescribes death by fire, and by 
 that death he shall die," said Mary. 
 
 "Alas, that it should be so!" muttered Pole. "When 
 will the true spirit of the Gospel, which inculcates toleration, 
 charity, and forgiveness of injuries, be understood, and its 
 principles practised? I wouL! make a last appeal to your 
 Majesties in behalf of those unfortunates," he added to the 
 Queen. 
 
 Before replying, Mary consulted the King by a look. 
 His stern expression of countenance confirmed her. 
 
 " It is in vain," she replied. " My heart is steeled against 
 them." 
 
 14—2
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BISHOP BONNER. 
 
 HORTLY afterwards, the Bishop of London was 
 announced by the usher. A brief preUininary 
 description of this remarkable prelate may be 
 necessary. 
 
 Edmond Bonner, Bishop of London, whose severity to- 
 wards the Protestants has caused his memory to be justly 
 detested, was by no means the savage-looking or repulsive 
 personage generally supposed. Of middle height, stout, and 
 of fresh complexion, he had rather a jovial countenance, 
 being fond of good cheer, and his features, except when 
 inflamed by passion, as they not unfrequently were, had a 
 pleasant expression. But he was exceedingly hot-tempered, 
 and when excited, lost all control of himself, and became 
 perfectly furious. Neither did his anger, though easily 
 roused, quickly subside. In some respects he resembled his 
 Toyal niaster, Henry VHL His disposition was cruel and 
 vindictive, and he never forgot or forgave an injury. To 
 the Reformers, whom he bitterly hated, he proved, as is well 
 known, a terrible scourge. 
 
 Born towards the close of the 15th century, Bonner was 
 now near upon sixty, but though he had undergone many 
 hardships, and had endured more than four years' imprison- 
 ment in the Marshalsea, his spirit was unbroken, and his 
 health unimpaired. During his long captivity he had been 
 supported by the conviction that the ancient worship would 
 be restored, and his enemies be delivered into his hands.
 
 Bishop Bonner. 213; 
 
 What he had hoped for, and prayed for, having come to 
 pass, he promised himself ample compensation for the 
 afflictions he had endured. Learned and acute, Bonner 
 had early attracted the attention of Wolsey, by whom he 
 was much employed ; and being subsequently appointed 
 chaplain to Henry VIII., he rose rapidly in favour, as he 
 accommodated himself without scruple to the King's caprices. 
 Instrumental in furthering the divorce with Katherine of 
 Aragon, Bonner co-operated in the religious changes accom- 
 plished by his royal master, and was also entrusted by him 
 with several missions of great delicacy, which he fulfilled 
 very satisfactorily, rendering himself altogether so useful, 
 and continuing so subservient, that, though often rebuffed 
 by the monarch — as who was not ? — he never entirely lost 
 his good graces. 
 
 But when Edward VI. mounted the throne, all was 
 changed. Opposed to the Reformation, though he did not 
 dare openly to manifest his hostility to it, Bonner was 
 regarded with suspicion and dislike by the chiefs of the 
 Protestant party, who determined upon his overthrow. 
 Cited before an ecclesiastical commission, of which Cranmer 
 was the head, notwithstanding an energetic defence, appeals 
 to the King against the illegality of the tribunal, and the 
 injustice of his sentence, Bonner, at that time Bishop of 
 London, was deprived of his see and benefices, and im- 
 prisoned in the Marshalsea, whence he was only liberated on 
 Mary's accession. Restored to his diocese, and reinstated 
 in power, he burned to avenge himself on his enemies, chief 
 amongst whom he reckoned Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer. 
 But now that they were safe in prison, he was content to 
 wait. The cup of vengeance was too sweet to be hastily 
 drained. 
 
 Bonner's appearance at this juncture was hailed with 
 satisfaction by Gardiner, who could count upon his support 
 against Pole, and he therefore remarked, after the bishop 
 had made his obeisance to their Majesties, " My associate in 
 the ecclesiastical commission concurs with me that no mercy 
 whatever should be shown to heretics." 
 
 " Mercy to heretics ! " exclaimed Bonner, surprised. " It 
 were mistaken clemency to spare such dangerous offenders. 
 Rigorous measures will alone check the spread of the pesti
 
 214 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 lence by which your kingdom is unhappily affected, gracious 
 Madam," he added to the Queen. " Now is the time to 
 strike terror into the hearts of these false brethren — to 
 exterminate them by fire and sword," 
 
 "The Lord Cardinal does not think so," rejoined Mary. 
 " He is of opinion that those convicted of heretical pravity 
 should be leniently dealt with." 
 
 "You amaze me, Madam," cried Bonner. 
 
 " The object your Majesty has in view," said Pole, " being 
 to bring back those who have strayed from the paths of 
 truth, and not to drive them yet further off, gentleness, and 
 not force, should be employed. By severity you will increase 
 the evil instead of curing it. Fear will make hypocrites, 
 not converts." 
 
 " No matter," cried Bonner. " Let the sacramentarians 
 conform outwardly. We care not to search their hearts. 
 Enough for us if they profess themselves Catholics." 
 
 "I grieve to hear you say so, my lord," rejoined the 
 Cardinal. " It is better to have an open enemy than a false 
 friend. Our Church does not desire to encourage dissimula- 
 tion, put to eradicate error and schism. I beseech your 
 Majesty to pause before you proceed further in a course 
 which I foresee is fraught with danger. Hitherto, all has 
 gone well. Your enemies are confounded. Your people are 
 loving and loyal, willing to make any sacrifices for you, save 
 those of conscience. The faith of your forefathers is restored 
 in its integrity. Your kingdom is reconciled to the Holy 
 See. Is this an opportune moment for persecution ? Would 
 you sully the snowy banner of the Church with blood ? 
 Would you destroy a tithe of your subjects by fire and 
 sword — by burning and massacre ? Yet this must be done 
 if persecution once commences. Such means of conversion 
 are as unwarrantable as impolitic — contrary to the will of 
 Heaven, and likely to provoke its wrath, I defy the advo- 
 cates of severity towards heretics to produce a single passage 
 from the Gospel that would authorise Christians to burn 
 their fellow-men for questions purely of conscience. As, 
 therefore, such rigour cannot be sustained by appeal to 
 Holy Writ, neither can it be upheld by any other considera- 
 tion. It will increase the evil complained of, rather than 
 mitigate it."
 
 Bishop Bonner. 215 
 
 " Your Eminence forgets how much we have suffered from 
 the Reformers," remarked Bonner. 
 
 " If they have done ill, ought we to imitate them in ill- 
 doing?" rejoined Pole. "Let us prove to them that we 
 are better Christians than they are. Your Majesty may 
 trust me, that the true way to convert the Protestants is to 
 reform our own clergy, whose ill-regulated conduct has led 
 to heresy and backsliding. Better this remedy than the 
 stake." 
 
 "All this shall to the Pope," observed Gardiner, in a 
 low tone, to Bonner. "His Eminence will be speedily 
 recalled." 
 
 " It is high time he should be recalled, if he entertains 
 these opinions," rejoined the other, in the same tone. 
 
 " Nothing that has been urged will shake my purpose," 
 said Mary. " I will free my kingdom from the curse that 
 has so long afflicted it, even though I inundate the land with 
 blood. But I agree with your Eminence that much reform 
 is needful in our own clergy, whose manners provoke scandal, 
 and encourage infidelity. I will address myself to the task. 
 To you, my Lord Chancellor, and to you, my Lord Bishop," 
 she added to Gardiner and Bonner, " I commit the extirpa- 
 tion of heresy. Relax not in your efforts." 
 
 "Rest assured we will not, gracious Madam," replied 
 Gardiner. 
 
 " Your Eminence seems to think," observed Bonner to the 
 Cardinal, " that the Lord Chancellor and myself have not 
 used proper means of weaning back these misguided men 
 from their errors. As there are two prisoners confined 
 within the Lollards' Tower for religious offences, may I ven- 
 ture to inquire whether you have succeeded in accomplishing 
 their conversion ? " 
 
 " Not as yet," replied Pole ; " but I do not despair of 
 ultimate success." 
 
 "What prisoners do you refer to?" demanded Mary. 
 "I have not heard of them." 
 
 The Cardinal was about to reply, when a look from the 
 King stopped him. 
 
 " Who are they, I repeat ?" cried Mary, somewhat sharply, 
 surprised at Pole's disinclination to answer. 
 
 " One of them is the unhappy Constance Tyrrell, and the
 
 2 1 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 other the half-crazed fanatic, Derrick Carver," replied the 
 Cardinal. 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Mary. "Was your Majesty aware 
 that these persons are confined here ? " she added to the 
 King. 
 
 "They were sent hither by my orders," rejoined Pliilip, 
 coldly. 
 
 '•'And why was I not informed of the matter?" asked 
 Mary. 
 
 " Because I did not deem it needful," replied the King. 
 
 " Not needful ! " exclaimed Mary. " By my soul, but it 
 was needful ! 'Twas a strange step to take without my 
 knowledge or privity." 
 
 " You heat yourself unnecessarily, Madam," interrupted 
 Philip. " 'Twas to spare you annoyance that I kept the 
 matter secret from you." 
 
 " How so ? " demanded Mary. " The unaccountable dis- 
 appearance of this girl troubled me, as you know, and 
 Carver's supposed escape was equally displeasing to me." 
 
 " You would have been informed of all in good time," 
 said Philip. "How I discovered their hiding-place, and 
 why I sent them hither, shall be explained anon." 
 
 " I trust the explanation will prove satisfactory," replied 
 Mary, " Meantime, I will see the prisoners myself, and 
 interrogate them." 
 
 " Shall they be brought before you ? " inquired Pole. 
 
 " No," returned the Queen ; " I will proceed to the Lol- 
 lards' Tower. Your Eminence will attend me thither." 
 
 " 'Twere better not. Madam," said Philip. "Be ruled by 
 me, and let alone this visit." 
 
 " You have some motive," rejoined Mary, in alow tone — 
 " some powerful motive for wishing me not to see Constance 
 Tyrrell. I will see her. I will question her. I will learn 
 the truth." 
 
 " Well, then, learn the truth, Madam," said Philip. " If 
 you are pained by it, it is not my fault." 
 
 " You have deceived me," continued Mary — " shamefully 
 deceived me. Of that I am convinced." 
 
 " Reserve these remarks for a more fitting opportunity, 
 Madam," said the King. " Since you are bent upon going 
 to the Lollards' Tower, I will not interfere to prevent you.
 
 Bishop Bonner. 217 
 
 But at least put some guard upon yourself, and breed not 
 scandal by your causeless suspicions." 
 
 Without making any reply, Mary arose. The King offered 
 his arm, but she rejected it, saying she needed not support. 
 Philip, however, was determined to accompany her, and they 
 went forth together, attended by the Cardinal. No one else 
 ventured to follow them, and Gardiner and Bonner, fearing 
 the King might be offended with them, thought it best to 
 retreat, and hastily quitted the palace.
 
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 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW CONSTANCE TYRRELL WAS BROUGHT BEFORE THE 
 QUEEN IN THE LOLLARDS' TOWER. 
 
 RECEDED by Rodomont Bittern and others of 
 the guard, and attended by the Cardinal, their 
 Majesties crossed the court to the Lollards' 
 Tower. As the Queen was slowly ascending the 
 steps leading to the entrance, a sudden faintness seized her, 
 and she paused. 
 
 " Better turn back, gracious Madam, if you feel ill," 
 observed the Cardinal, noticing her extreme paleness. 
 
 " No, it will pass in a moment," she replied. 
 
 Resolved not to give way, she went on ; but the effort 
 was too much for her, and she had no sooner gained the 
 Post Room than she sank on a chair completely exhausted. 
 
 " What place is this ? " she asked, in a feeble voice, and 
 glancing around. 
 
 " It is called the Post Room, Madam, from that wooden 
 pillar in the centre," rephed Pole. 
 
 " It looks like a torture-chamber," observed Philip. 
 
 " It has been put to a similar purpose, I fear," said the 
 Cardinal. " Yon pillar has not served merely to support 
 the roof." 
 
 " Where is Constance Tyrrell ? " demanded Mary. 
 
 " In the prison-chamber overhead," replied Pole. "The 
 staircase is steep and difficult. 'Twould be hazardous to 
 your Majesty to mount it." 
 
 " Let her be brought down," said the Queen.
 
 How Constance was Brought Before the Queen. 219 
 
 Upon this, Rodomont Bittern, who, with Simon Mallet, 
 keeper of the tower, stood waiting for orders, immediately- 
 disappeared through an arched doorway at the further end 
 of the sombre apartment. Shortly afterwards they returned, 
 bringing with them Constance Tyrrell. This done, they 
 retired. 
 
 Constance looked thin and pale, but her colour heightened 
 as she beheld Philip seated near the Queen. The blush, 
 however, quickly faded away, and was succeeded by a 
 death-like pallor, but she did not lose her self-possession. 
 Advancing towards her, the Cardinal said, in a low tone, — 
 
 " Kneel to her Majesty. Peradventure, you may move 
 her compassion." 
 
 Constance did as she was bidden, and threw herself at 
 the Queen's feet, cr} ing, — 
 
 " If I have offended your Majesty, I implore your forgive- 
 ness." 
 
 " What have I to forgive you, minion ? — what have you 
 done?" said Mary, fixing a searching look upon her. "I 
 know nothing of your proceedings since you fled from 
 Hampton Court. Where have you hidden yourself? Why 
 were you brought here ? Speak ! " 
 
 " It is a long story to tell. Madam," cried Constance, 
 troubled by the stern gaze of the King. 
 
 " On peril of your life, I command you to conceal nothing 
 from me ! " cried Mary, with a burst of uncontrollable fury. 
 " Confess your guilt, or I will wrest the avowal of it from 
 you by torture. Speak out, and you have nothing to fear 
 — but hesitate, equivocate, palter with me, and you are 
 lost." 
 
 "As I hope for salvation. Madam," rejoined Constance, 
 " I have nothing to confess." 
 
 " It is false !" cried the Queen, with increasing fury. " I 
 read your guilt in your looks. You cannot regard me in the 
 face, and declare you have not injured me." 
 
 " I can look Heaven itself in the face, and declare I am 
 innocent of all offence towards your Majesty," rejoined 
 Constance. 
 
 "The King, no doubt, will confirm your assertions," 
 observed Mary, bitterly. 
 
 " If I did not, I should belie the truth," replied Philip.
 
 220 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " By whose contrivance did you fly from Hampton 
 Court ? " demanded Mary. 
 
 " Not by the King's, Madam. I fled with Osbert 
 Clinton." 
 
 " Tut ! Osbert Clinton was merely a tool," exclaimed 
 Mary, incredulously. " Did his Majesty know of your 
 hiding-place?" 
 
 " Assuredly not. Madam," replied Constance. *' He it 
 was I dreaded most." 
 
 " Ha ! we are coming to it now,"'Cried Mary. " Why did 
 you dread him ? " 
 
 " Nay, Madam, persist not in these inquiries, I entreat 
 you," interposed the Cardinal. " You will gain nothing by 
 them, and will only torture yourself" 
 
 " Though each word should wound me to the quick, I 
 will have it," said Mary. " Why did you fear the King ? " 
 
 "Oh! bid me not answer that question. Madam — I 
 cannot do it." 
 
 " I will answer it for you," said Mary. " Contradict me 
 if you can. You thought that the King loved you, and 
 .would pursue you." 
 
 " If she believed so, her flight was justifiable, and merits 
 not reproach from your Majesty," observed the Cardinal. 
 " Pardon me if I say you are unjust towards this maiden. 
 I am satisfied you have no real ground of complaint against 
 her." 
 
 " At least, she has been the cause of much trouble to 
 me," cried Mary. 
 
 " The innocent cause," said Pole. 
 
 " Ay, truly so," said Constance. " I have never wronged 
 your Majesty in act or thought. Beset by dangers, I fled 
 from them, and, if I did wrong, it was from error in judg- 
 ment, and not from ill intent. Had I stayed But I will 
 
 not dwell upon what might have happened. Your Majesty's 
 reproaches cut me to the soul. I do not deserve them. 
 Rather, indeed, am I an object of pity than reproach. Six 
 months ago I was happy. My life was unclouded — but a 
 change came suddenly, and since then all has been darkness 
 and misery." 
 
 " You could not expect happiness, since you have fallen 
 from your faith," said the Queen, severely. " You have
 
 How Constance was Brought Before ine Queen. 221 
 
 justly provoked the wrath of Heaven, and cannot wonder 
 that you have felt the effects of its displeasure. From what 
 you have said, and from what his Eminence has urged in 
 your behalf, I do not believe you have been culpable towards 
 me. But you have cost me many a pang," she added, 
 placing her hand upon her breast. 
 
 " Yield to the pitying emotions which I can see sway 
 your breast, gracious Madam," interceded Pole, "and forgive 
 her." 
 
 " For the affliction she has caused I do forgive her," 
 replied the Queen, with an effort ; " but if her conduct 
 towards myself is free from blame, as you represent it, in 
 other respects it is reprehensible. She was nurtured in the 
 true faith, and was once a model of piety — nay, even con- 
 templated devoting herself to a religious life. But she has 
 listened to the baneful exhortations of one of these teachers 
 of heresy, and has become a proselyte to the new doctrines. 
 What shall be done with her ? " 
 
 " Leave her to me, Madam," rejoined the Cardinal. " I 
 do not despair of accomplishing her cure. My hand shall 
 lead you back," he added to Constance. " My voice shall 
 direct you. It cannot be that one of a devout nature like 
 yourself, imbued from childhood in the principles of our 
 Holy Church, familiar with its rites and worship, can efface 
 its doctrines from your breast, and abandon them for 
 another creed. Your conscience must be troubled. The 
 sure way to regain serenity is to abjure your errors." 
 
 " Time was when every word uttered by your Eminence 
 would have found a response in my breast," rejoined Con- 
 stance. " But the rites I formerly practised seem to me 
 idolatrous, and the doctrines then taught me unwarranted 
 by the Gospel. I cannot go back to the faith of Rome." 
 
 "You shall be forced back, Mistress, if you continue 
 perverse," cried the Queen, sharply. 
 
 " Hold, Madam ! " exclaimed Pole. " In this instance 
 let me have my way. I would win back this maiden by 
 gentleness, and not by coercion. I would appeal to her 
 reason and judgment, and not to her fears. Her cure may 
 be the work of time, because the disorder under which she 
 labours is obstinate, but I do not think it will baffle my 
 skill."
 
 2 22 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " If I could be persuaded by anyone to return to the 
 faith I have abjured, it would be by your Eminence," said 
 Constance, yielding to the kindly influence of his manner. 
 
 "You see, Madam, I have already made some little im- 
 pression," observed Pole to the Queen. "Mildness is more 
 efficacious than violence. As she was enticed from the 
 fold, so must she be lured back to it." 
 
 " Well, have your way with her," replied Mary. " Where 
 is the other prisoner. Derrick Carver ? " 
 
 " In a dungeon beneath this room," replied Pole. *' He 
 was placed there in order that no communication should 
 take place between him and Constance Tyrrell. They have 
 not seen each other since they were brought to the Lollards' 
 Tower." 
 
 " Such were my orders," observed Philip. 
 
 *' It is well," rejoined the Queen. " They shall see each 
 other now. Let him be brought before me."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN ACCUSER, 
 
 f,N being brought into the room by Rodomont and 
 Mallet, Derrick Carver made a profound reverence 
 to the Queen, but none to Philip and the Cardinal. 
 Then addressing himself to Constance, he said, 
 " Welcome, daughter ! is the time come for our deliverance 
 from bondage ? " 
 
 " Not yet," she replied. 
 
 " How long, O Lord ! wilt thou suffer thy saints to be 
 persecuted?" exclaimed the enthusiast. " It would be glad 
 tidings to me to learn that the end of my weary pilgrimage 
 was near at hand." 
 
 "Are you prepared to meet the death you seem to 
 covet ? " asked Pole. 
 
 " I trust so," replied Carver. " I have prayed long and 
 deeply." 
 
 "And repented of your sins — of your murtherous 
 designs against the life of his Majesty?" pursued 
 Pole. 
 
 " I do not regard that design as sinful," said Carver. 
 "Repentance, therefore, is uncalled for." 
 
 "And you believe yourself to be religious, mistaken 
 man," rejoined Pole. " I tell you, if you die in this im- 
 penitent state, you will perish everlastingly. You are so 
 blinded by pride and vain-glory that you cannot discern 
 evil from good, and persuade yourself that you are actuated
 
 2 24 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 by high and noble motives, when in reality your motives 
 are sinful and damnable. You are nothing more than an 
 execrable assassin ; so hardened in guilt that your heart is 
 inaccessible to virtuous and honourable feelings. True 
 religion you have none. You profess to believe in the 
 tenets of the Gospel, yet practise them not. Our blessed 
 Saviour would never number you among his followers, 
 but would cast you off as an unprofitable and faithless 
 servant. You reject truths you do not understand, treat 
 sacred rites as superstitious, and revile those who differ 
 from you in opinion. Go to ! you ask for death, and yet 
 you are unfit to die." 
 
 " It is not for you to pass sentence upon me," said 
 Carver. " Heaven, to whom my secret motives are known, 
 will judge me." 
 
 " And condemn you, if you repent not," said Pole, "for 
 your soul is charged with heavy offences. As I am in- 
 formed by those who have heard you, you have prayed for 
 her Majesty's destruction." 
 
 "I have prayed Heaven to touch her heart, so as to 
 cause her to abandon idolatry, or to abridge her days," 
 rejoined Carver. " Better she be removed than false gods 
 be set up in our temples," 
 
 " And know you not that by giving utterance to such a 
 prayer you incur the doom of a traitor ? " said Pole. 
 " Your offences are so rank and monstrous, that unless you 
 exhibit some penitence, I cannot intercede in your behalf 
 with her Majesty." 
 
 " I ask for no grace from her, and expect none," replied 
 Carver. "Had I twenty lives, I would lay them down 
 for my religion and for my country. We have been 
 delivered to a foreign yoke. But it will not bind us 
 long." 
 
 " Peace ! " cried Rodomont. " Knowest thou not that 
 thou art in the presence of the King ? " 
 
 " I know it well, and therefore I speak out," rejoined 
 Carver, " I tell this proud Prince of Spain that England 
 will never submit to his hateful and tyrannous rule. The 
 country will rise up against him, and cast him off. He 
 persuades himself that a son will be born to him, and 
 that through that son he will govern. But he is
 
 An Accuse/-. 225 
 
 puffed up with vain hopes. Heaven will refuse him 
 
 issue," 
 
 " Ha ! this passes all endurance," cried Philip. 
 
 " Have I touched thee, tyrant ? " pursued Carver, exult- 
 ingly. " Heaven, I repeat, will refuse ihee issue. The 
 support on which thou countest will be taken from thee. 
 Didst thou dare make the attempt, the accursed Inquisition 
 would at this moment be established amongst us. Thou 
 hast it in reserve for a future day, but ere that day arrives 
 thy perfidy will be discovered. False to thy oaths, faithless 
 to thy Queen, treacherous to all, thou shalt meet thy just 
 reward." 
 
 " Faithless to me ! " exclaimed INIary. " What wouldst 
 thou dare insinuate, thou foul-mouthed villain ? " 
 
 " That which 1 will dare maintain," rejoined Carver — 
 " that the consort you have chosen and have placed 
 on the throne beside you is false to his marriage 
 vows." 
 
 " Away with him ! " cried Philip, furiously. 
 
 "Stay!" exclaimed Mary. "I would question him 
 further." 
 
 " Forbear, I beseech you, Madam," interposed Pole. 
 " You only give him power to level his poisonous shafts 
 against you." 
 
 " His tongue ought to be torn from his throat for giving 
 utterance to the lies his black heart has conceived ! " cried 
 Philip. 
 
 " My tongue has uttered no lies," said Carver. " I have 
 shown the Queen how she has been deceived." 
 
 "Thou hast simply proved thine own wickedness and 
 malevolence," said Pole. "Her Majesty despises thy 
 slander." 
 
 " But it cannot pass unpunished " said Philip. " Let 
 the false villain instantly retract the calumnies he has 
 uttered, or he shall be tied to yon post and scourged till he 
 shall confess himself a liar and a slanderer. Let him be 
 forced to recite the prayer for her Majesty's safe deliverance, 
 on pain of further torture. And, until he manifest con- 
 trition for his offences, let his chastisement be daily 
 repeated." 
 
 "I will do none of these things," rejoined Carver, reso- 
 15
 
 226 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 lutely. " Scourge me to death, and I will not retract a 
 single word I have uttered. I will not pray that the 
 Queen, whom thou hast deceived and wronged, may bear 
 ttiee a son, and so confirm thine authority. But I will pray 
 to the last that my country may be delivered from oppres- 
 sion, that the Papal power may be overthrown, and the 
 Protestant rehgion be re-established." 
 
 " Thy resolution shall be tested," said Philip. 
 
 '•Your Majesty is justly incensed against this miserable 
 man," said Pole to the King. *' Yet would I step between 
 him and your anger, and entreat you to spare him the 
 chastisement you have ordered to be inflicted upon him. I 
 do not seek to extenuate his offences, they are many and 
 heinous, and he must bear their punishment. But spare 
 him additional suffering. Spare him the scourge and the 
 rack." 
 
 " I will spare him nothing unless he retract," replied 
 Philip, sternly. 
 
 " 1 would accept no grace procured by thee," said Carver 
 to Pole. "As the representative of Antichrist, I regard 
 thee with loathing and detestation, and will take nothing 
 from thee." 
 
 "Were not thy mind distraught, thou couldst have no 
 antipathy to one who would befriend thee," replied the 
 Cardinal. "My religion teaches me to bless those that 
 curse us, to pray for them that use us despitefuUy. Be 
 assured I shall not forget thee in my prayers." 
 
 Carver regarded him steadily, but made no answer. 
 
 " I shall pray that thy heart may be softened," pursued 
 Pole, "that thou mayst understand thy sinfulness, and truly 
 repent of it ere it be too late. Once more I beseech your 
 Majesty to spare him the torture." 
 
 " Be it as you will. I can refuse your Eminence nothing," 
 replied Philip. 
 
 " This is all the revenge I would take," said Pole, turning 
 to Carver. "You have declared that you hate me — that 
 you regard me as the representative of Antichrist. You 
 profess yourself to be a behever in the Gospel. My 
 practice is, at least, more conformable to its precepts than 
 yours." 
 
 Carver made no reply, but his lip slightly quivered.
 
 j4n Accuser. 227 
 
 " Miserable man," continued Pole, looking at him com- 
 passionately, " I pity you, and would save you if I could. 
 I see the struggle going on in your breast. Wrestle with 
 the demon who would gain the mastery over your soul, and 
 cast him from you. Pride stifles the better emotions of 
 your heart. Do not restrain them." 
 
 " If I listen to him much longer, my resolution will 
 tail me," murmured Carver. " I cannot resist his influ- 
 ence." 
 
 "Ere long you will be in a better frame of mind," con- 
 tinued Pole, " and more accessible to the arguments I would 
 employ." 
 
 "Think it not," interrupted Carver, at once recovering 
 his sternness. " You will never convert me to Popery and 
 idolatry." 
 
 "I may at least make you sensible of your errors, and 
 lead you to repentance," said Pole. "The rest lies with 
 Heaven," 
 
 " He shall remain in your Eminence's charge during a 
 short space," said Mary, " in the hope that you may be able 
 to bring him to a full sense of his enormities, and prepare 
 him for his end. His life is forfeited." 
 
 " So the death to which I am doomed be the same as that 
 wherewith the staunchest adherents of our faith are menaced, 
 I am content," said Carver. 
 
 " Thou shall have thy wish," rejoined Mary. " Thy death 
 shall be by fire." 
 
 "Then I shall gain my crown of martyrdom," cried 
 Carver, exultingly. 
 
 " Fire will not purge out your sins," said the Cardinal. 
 "Those will cling to the soul, which is indestructible. 
 Therefore repent." 
 
 "And speedily," added Mary, "for thy time is 
 short." 
 
 Hereupon her Majesty arose, and, quitting the Post Room, 
 proceeded to the chapel, to which, as we have jncviously 
 intimated, there was access from the lower part of the 
 Lollards' Tower. 
 
 Here mass was performed, and, by the Queen's express 
 orders, both Constance Tyrrell and Derrick Carver were 
 brought into the chapel during the service. At its close 
 15—2
 
 228 
 
 Cardinal Pote. 
 
 they were taken to the cells, while the royal pair proceeded 
 with the Cardinal to the banquetting chamber, where a 
 collation was prepared. 
 
 The Queen, however, declined to partake of the repast, 
 saying she felt faint and ill, and two ladies who had accom- 
 panied her to the palace being hastily summoned, she retired 
 with them.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOW THE QUEEN CONFIDED HER GRIEFS TO THE CARDINAL. 
 
 HILIP, who exhibited little uneasiness at the 
 Queen's indisposition, was still seated at table 
 with Pole, when the Cardinal's physician, Doctor 
 Forest, came in, and informed his Eminence that 
 her Majesty desired instant speech with him. 
 
 "The Queen is not seriously ill, I trust, Sir?" said Philip, 
 alarmed by the physician's grave looks. 
 
 "She appears to have received a severe shock, Sire," 
 replied Forest, " but I trust no ill consequences may ensue. 
 Her Majesty Avishes to see your Eminence — alone," he added 
 to the Cardinal. 
 
 " Go to her at once," said PhiHp. *' If my hopes of suc- 
 cession should be blighted, it will be grievous indeed. But 
 you have no such fears. Sir?" he added quickly to the 
 physician. 
 
 " I shall have no fear if her Majesty's mind can be tran- 
 quilised," replied Forest — " and that, I trust, his Eminence 
 will be able to accomplish." 
 
 " My reliance, then, is upon you," said Philip to the 
 Cardinal. "A few words from your lips will not fail to 
 calm her." 
 
 Thereupon Pole hastened to the apartment where the 
 Queen had been conveyed. On entering it, he found her 
 reclining on a couch, and attended by her ladies, who, on his 
 appearance, immediately withdrew. 
 
 "I am much concerned to see your Majesty thus," ol>-
 
 230 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 served Pole. " It will be a real affliction if your visit to me 
 should be productive of ill consequences to yourseli." 
 
 " I am sorry I came," replied Mary. "The words of that 
 malignant heretic have sunk deep into my breast. He said 
 that I shall never be a mother." 
 
 " Let not his words trouble you for a moment, gracious 
 Madam," said Pole. "They are of no account. He but 
 gave utterance to the evil wishes of his heart — nothing more. 
 Dismiss all fears from your breast, and look joyfully and 
 confidently forward to the moment which will crown a 
 nation's satisfaction in your marriage by giving it a 
 prince." 
 
 " Your words are comforting," replied Mary, faintly ; " but 
 I cannot shake off my fears. Something whispers in mine 
 ear that the fond hopes I have indulged will prove vain. 
 And what will happen then ? " she continued, with a shudder. 
 '* I shall lose my husband." 
 
 " Oh ! think not so, gracious Madam — think not so ! " 
 cried Pole. " If the consummation you dread were to 
 happen — which Heaven, in its goodness, avert ! — and fill the 
 land with sorrow — the King, your husband, would be more 
 devoted to you fhan ever." 
 
 " Hear me, my Lord Cardinal," said iMary, grasping his 
 arm convulsively. " I have already lost my husband's love, 
 if I ever possessed it, which I more than doubt. Were I to 
 disappoint his expectations now, he would leave me." 
 
 " Leave you, gracious Madam ! Impossible ! " 
 
 " I say he would," rejoined the Queen. " This is the only 
 tie that binds us together. I cannot give him my kingdom, 
 and if I fail to give him an heir, through whom he may 
 exercise the sovereignty, he will return to Spain." 
 
 " I cannot believe him so ungrateful," cried Pole. " Your 
 Majesty does him injustice." 
 
 " His conduct towards me leaves no doubt as to his inten- 
 tions," rejoined Mary. " On our first meeting he vowed he 
 loved me, but his vows were false. I am not blind to my 
 defects. I know that I have few charms of person to attract 
 him — that I have neither youth nor beauty. But I gave him 
 a deep, true love. Moreover, I gave him a kingdom. How 
 has he requited me? — by neglect, by harshness, by infi- 
 delity."
 
 Hoiv the Qtieen Confided Her Griefs. 2.31 
 
 "Oh! Madam, I would willingly discredit what I hear," 
 cried Pole. " If it be as you represent, I pity you from the 
 bottom of my heart." 
 
 " My sainted mother, Queen Katharine of Aragon, was 
 most unhappy," pursued Mary ; " but I am little less un- 
 happy. Neglected, injured, scorned as I am by my hus- 
 band, I cannot, despite the efforts I make, shake off the love 
 I bear him. I summon pride to my aid, but in vain. My 
 heart is wrung with jealousy, but I hide my torments. What 
 shall I do if I lose him ? " 
 
 "You will not lose him, gracious Madam — fear it not," 
 exclaimed Pole. "I will remonstrate with him. I will 
 convince him of the wickedness of his conduct." 
 
 " Proceed with caution, or you will only make matters 
 worse," said Mary. " Were I to lose him, I should die." 
 
 " Do not distress yourself thus, Madam," said Pole. 
 " Exalted as is your station, it does not exempt you from 
 the ordinary sufferings of humanity — nay, it exposes you to 
 greater ills than fall to the lot of those less loftily placed. 
 The King is unworthy of your love, I grant, but I counsel 
 you not to resent his neglect, nor to reproach him. Bear 
 yourself ever gently towards him, ever maintaining your own 
 dignit)', and if you win not back his love, you are certain to 
 gam his esteem." 
 
 "Perchance I have reproached him overmuch," cried 
 Mary, " But, as I have already said, my heart has been 
 wrung by jealousy." 
 
 " Crush all such feelings, at whatever cost," rejoined Pole. 
 ** Give him no grounds of complaint." 
 
 "But his unkindness makes me wretched," cried Mary. 
 " Would I could hate him — despise him ! " 
 
 " It is sad that love like yours should meet so poor a 
 return," sighed Pole ; " and the King is blind to his own 
 happiness that he does not estimate the treasure he casts 
 away, to set up worthless baubles in its place. Pray con- 
 stantly and fervently to Heaven to bless you with a son, 
 and if your prayers are granted, you will be happy." 
 
 " But if Heaven should deny me the blessing ? " 
 
 "Heaven will compassionate you," said the Cardinal. 
 * It will not be deaf to prayers like yours." 
 
 "Yet my mother's prayers were unheard, though her
 
 232 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 wrongs and sufferings were greater than mine. She died 
 neglected, heart-broken. Such may be my fate." 
 
 "The indulgence of these thoughts is like to bring about 
 the very calamity you would avert, Madam," said Pole. 
 "You know and feel how much depends upon the event we 
 so much desire, and your physician will tell you that to a 
 favourable issue freedom from agitation and anxiety are 
 essential. You will undo all the good if you harass yourself 
 thus unnecessarily." 
 
 " I will try to follow your counsel," replied M-ary. "And 
 now, my good Lord Cardinal, answer me one question. 
 Have I \vrongfully suspected Constance Tyrrell?" 
 
 " Madam, I truly think so," replied Pole. 
 
 " Then send for her instantly, that I may repair the wrong 
 I have done," cried Mary. 
 
 The Cardinal readily complied, and ere long Constance 
 made her appearance. 
 
 " Come hither, child," said the Queen, m a kind voice, 
 on seeing her. *' I have done you injustice. But I will 
 make amends. You told me that you fled from Hampton 
 Court with Osbert Clinton. Why did you trust him } " 
 
 " I trusted him because — because he loved me, gracious 
 Madam," replied Constance. " Since then we have been 
 affianced." 
 
 "Is the King aware of your betrothal?" inquired Mary, 
 
 " He is, Madam," replied Constance. " But he has for- 
 bidden Osbert, on pain of death, to see me again." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Mary. " Then I cannot aid you 
 as I should wish to do. You must think of Osbert no 
 more." 
 
 "I cannot obey you in that respect. Madam," replied 
 Constance. "He is never absent from my thoughts." 
 
 "Poor child!" exclaimed Mary. "Your fate is as sad 
 as my own. We are both doomed to unhappiness." 
 
 " But it is in your Majesty's power to make me happy — 
 to make Osbert happy," cried Constance. 
 
 "Alas ! child, you give me credit for more power than I 
 possess," rejoined Mary. "I dare not oppose the King in 
 this matter. Osbert must not see you again. Should he do 
 so, I cannot save him from the King's resentment. But I 
 will do all I can for you. You shall be released from con-
 
 How the Queen Confided Her Griefs. 233 
 
 finement, but you must remain for a time with the good 
 Cardinal, who, I am sure, will be a father to you." 
 
 " I will willingly take charge of her," said Pole. " She 
 shall have free range of the palace." 
 
 " But she must not quit it without my consent," said 
 Mary. " Neither must she see Osbert Clinton." 
 
 "I will answer for her," rejoined the Cardinal. 
 
 "Nay, I will answer for myself," cried Constance. "I 
 thank your Majesty from the bottom of my heart, and will 
 faithfully obey your injunctions." 
 
 "■ It will be a period of probation, that is all," said the 
 Queen. " You will be better and happier for it in the end — 
 at least, I trust so. And now, child, you may retire. Re- 
 member what I have said about Osbert Clinton." 
 
 _ " I shall not fail, gracious Madam," she replied. And 
 kissing the hand extended to her by the Queen, she with- 
 drew. 
 
 Some further conversation then took place between Mary 
 and the Cardinal, which had the effect of restoring the 
 Queen to comparative cheerfulness, and she declared that 
 she now felt quite able to return to Whitehall. By her 
 desire, Pole then summoned her ladies, and, on their ap- 
 pearance, quitted her to communicate the glad intelligence 
 of her recovery to the King.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FRANCISCAN. 
 
 HILIP remained for some little time in thebanquet- 
 ing-chamber, expecting the Cardinal's return, but 
 as Pole did not appear, the King at last sallied 
 forth into the court, where several of the Cardinal's 
 retinue were assembled. Perceiving Rodomont Bittern 
 among them, he signed to him to approach, and then walk- 
 ing apart with him, said, with a certain significance — 
 
 " Since Constance Tyrrell has been imprisoned in the 
 Lollards' Tower, no communication has passed between her 
 and Osbert Chnton ?— ha ! " 
 
 " Access to her while shut up in yon tower were im- 
 possible without consent of the keeper. Sire," replied 
 Rodomont ; " and he is faithful." 
 
 " Difficult it may be, but not impossible," rejoined the 
 King. "Yon ivied wall would not be difficult to scale. 
 Her prison-chamber has a window which might be reached 
 by a rope ladder." 
 
 " Can he suspect ? " thought Rodomont, uneasily. 
 
 " Such plans are common enough in Spain, where walls, 
 bolts, and bars, and even watchful gaolers, cannot shut out 
 lovers," pursued Philip. " Osbert Clinton is rash enough — 
 enamoured enough to attempt anything." 
 
 "Your Majesty is a better judge of such matters than I 
 can pretend to be," said Rodomont ; " but I would risk life 
 and limb for no woman, were she twice as lovely as Con- 
 stance Tyrrell. The danger of the enterprise would effec-
 
 The Franciscan. 235 
 
 tually cool my ardour. Osbert Clinton well knows that he 
 would incur your Majesty's severe displeasure were he to 
 make any such attempt." 
 
 " Danger, I repeat, will not deter him," said the King, 
 '' It is not enough that Constance is shut up in yon tower — 
 that the doors of her cell are locked, and the windows 
 barred. I tell you, he will find a way to her — if he has not 
 done so already." 
 
 " I dare not contradict your Majesty," replied Rodomont. 
 "It may be as you suspect. What more would you have 
 done?" 
 
 "That tower must be strictly watched at night," said 
 Philip, " and you must be the watcher." 
 
 " I am ready to obey your Majesty," replied Rodomont ; 
 "but such an office will somewhat interfere with my duties 
 to the Cardinal." 
 
 "Heed not that!" said Philip. "I will hold you ex- 
 cused with his Eminence. You will commence the watch 
 to-night." 
 
 " To-night, Sire ? " 
 
 " Should Osbert Clinton venture hither, arrest him, and 
 keep him in close confinement till you learn my pleasure." 
 
 "May I make bold to inquire if your Majesty has any 
 reason to suspect that he will come ? " said Rodomont. 
 
 " It matters not what I suspect. Do as I command you." 
 
 "Your injunctions shall be obeyed. Sire," returned Rodo- 
 mont. " And for his own sake I hope Master Osbert Clinton 
 may keep away." 
 
 At this moment a tall Franciscan friar, with the cowl of 
 his grey robe drawn over his head, was seen marching 
 slowly along the court-yard. He directed his steps towards 
 the Lollards' Tower, and on reaching it stayed at the door- 
 way, where he remained in converse with Mallet, the keeper. 
 
 "Who is yon monk, and what is his errand?" demanded 
 the King, who had been watching him with some curiosity. 
 
 " I know him not, Sire — he is a stranger," replied Rodo- 
 mont. " Apparently he is seeking admittance to one of the 
 prisoners, which Mallet, the keeper, is unwilling to grant. 
 Perchance, it may be Mistress Constance Tyrrell whom he 
 desires to see." 
 
 " Bring him before me, I will question him," said Philip.
 
 236 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Rodomont instantly obeyed, and shortly afterwards re- 
 turned with the friar and Mallet. The Franv-iscan made 
 a humble obeisance to the King, but did not attempt to 
 raise his hood. 
 
 "An please your Majesty, this holy man is from Win- 
 chester," said ]Mallet. " He is charged by Father Jerome 
 of Saint Catherine's Chapel on the Hill, with a message to 
 I\listress Constance Tyrrell. Is it not so? " he added to the 
 monk. 
 
 The Franciscan bowed his head. 
 
 " Is Father Jerome aware that she to whom he has sent 
 you has lapsed from the faith ?" said the King. 
 
 " He is, Sire," rephed the monk, in tones that sounded 
 strangely hollow, " but he hopes she may still be reclaimed. 
 With the design of rendering some aid in the good work, I 
 have come hither. Great success has hitherto attended my 
 efforts \ and therefore it is that good Father Jerome, who is 
 deeply interested in Mistress Constance's spiritual welfare, 
 hath selected me for the ofhce." 
 
 "An opportunity shall be afforded you of making the 
 attempt," said the King. "There can be no reason why 
 this holy man should not be admitted to her," he added to 
 Mallet. "Take him to her cell." 
 
 " Mistress Constance is not in her cell at present, Sire," 
 observed Mallet. 
 
 " Where ii she, then ? " cried the King, sharply. 
 
 "She is with her Majesty, Sire," replied Mallet. 
 
 " With the Queen ? " exclaimed Philip, surprised. " Go 
 into the tower, good father, and await her return." 
 
 " Ha, here comes Mistress Constance," exclaimed Rodo- 
 mont, as the damsel, escorted by Simnel and Holiday, issued 
 from the palace, and made her way towards the Lollards' 
 Tov/er. Bowing humbly to the King, she would have 
 passed on, had he not stopped her. 
 
 "You have been with her Majesty, as I understand?" he 
 said. " How fares it with her now ? " 
 
 " As well as you could desire, Sire," she replied. " Her 
 Majesty has quite recovered." 
 
 "I would fain reward you for your good tidings," said 
 Phihp. "It rests with yourself whether your imprisonment 
 in this tower shall be prolonged."
 
 The Franciscan. 237 
 
 " My term of durance is at an end, Sire," she rejoined. 
 " I am a prisoner, it is true, but only restricted to the 
 limits of the palace. I desire no greater freedom. The 
 Queen has conferred this grace upon me." 
 
 " Her Majesty has only anticipated my intentions," said 
 Philip. " It grieved me to think you should have been 
 confined withm that dreary cell. But why did you not 
 appeal to me, when you well knew that a word would have 
 procured you full liberty ?" 
 
 " But I could not utter that word, Sire," she rejoined, 
 coldly. 
 
 "Tarry a moment," said the King, checking her depar- 
 ture. " This holy man has been sent by Father Jerome, 
 to whose ghostly counsels you once gave heed, in the hope 
 that he may restore you to the Catholic Church." 
 
 " I am much beholden to Father Jerome for his kindly 
 concern in my behalf," she rejoined; "and it pains me to 
 dismiss the good friar he has sent without a hearing. But a 
 conference would be profitable to neither of us, and I must 
 therefore decline it." 
 
 " How kno.v \ou that such a conference would be unpro- 
 fitable, daughter ? " said the friar, in tones that trembled 
 with emotion. " I pray you send me not away unheard." 
 
 At the sound of his voice Constance started, and was 
 seized with a trepidation which she could hardly conceal, 
 
 " Can he have ventured here in this disguise?" she mur- 
 mured. " Imprudent that he is, he will sacrifice himself 
 t y his rashness ! No, no," she added aloud, " I cannot 
 consent to a conference with you without the Cardinal's 
 sanction. I am under his charge." 
 
 " If that be all, his Eminence's sanction can be readily 
 procured, for here he comes, ' said Philip. 
 
 " The Cardinal here, then he is lost !" mentally ejaculated 
 Constance. "You have come on a vain errand," she added, 
 to the monk. 
 
 "Nay, let us hear what his Eminence has to say to the 
 matter," observed Phil p. And, as Pole came up at the 
 moment, he told him what had occurred. 
 
 '■Father Jerome must have much confidence in this friar 
 if he iruagines he will succeed where we have failed," re- 
 marked Pole. " I will question him, and judge of his fitness
 
 23S Cardinal Pole. 
 
 for the task. Bring him to me anon," he added to Rodo- 
 mont, 
 
 "I do not desire to confer with him," cried Constance, 
 distractedly. " Send him away ! — Send him away ! " 
 
 "What means this strange emotion?" thought the 
 Cardinal. "A word with you, daughter," he added, taking 
 her aside. "Who is this monk? I must know the truth. 
 Attempt to deceive me, and I will compel him to raise his 
 hood." 
 
 "In mercy spare him," she reioined "If the King be- 
 holds his features he is lost." 
 
 " Then it is Osbert Clinton," said the Cardinal. " I will 
 not betray him, but you must promise to hold no converse 
 with him." 
 
 "I do — I do," she rejoined. 
 _ " Control yourself, or you will excite the King's suspi- 
 cions," pursued the Cardinal. "I am glad I made this 
 discovery in time. I shall warn this rash youth not to come 
 here again. If he does, he must not count on my protec- 
 tion. And now," he added, so as to be heard by the 
 King, "retire to your cell till a chamber can be prepared 
 for you in the palace. I will speak with this friar anon, and 
 act as may seem best to me in regard to him." 
 
 Thanking him for his goodness, and making an obeisance 
 to the King, Constance withdrew. 
 
 Philip and the Cardinal then hastened to the Queen, and 
 shortly afterwards the royal pair embarked in the barge 
 awaiting them, and returned to Whitehall.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OF THE COUNSEL GIVEN TO OSBERT CLINTON BY THE 
 
 CARDINAL. 
 
 |HEIR Majesties had not long quitted Lambeth 
 Palace, when the Franciscan friar was summoned 
 by Rodomont to the presence of the Cardinal. 
 While crossing the court with the monk, 
 Rodomont paused for a moment, and directed his com- 
 panion's attention to the Lollards' Tower. 
 
 "You would imagine the prisoners must be secure in that 
 tower, holy father," he remarked. 
 
 " Unquestionably so, my son," replied the friar. 
 
 " His Majesty, however, is not of that opinion," rejoined 
 Rodomont. " He is under the impression that a certain 
 young gallant, whose brain seems turned by love, would be 
 rash enough to cUmb, by means of a rope-ladder, to the 
 window of the cell wherein his mistress is confined." 
 
 " Does the King suspect this?" inquired the monk, un- 
 easily. 
 
 " So shrewdly, that he has ordered me to keep strict watch 
 to-night, and to arrest the love-sick gallant should he appear. 
 The task is not to my liking, but I must obey his Majesty's 
 orders. Some men will run any risk for those they love — 
 but you, father, cannot understand such matters. You would 
 reprove Osbert Clinton — for so the gallant is named — for his 
 rashness and folly." 
 
 " I should pity him, rather than blame him," said the friar. 
 
 " And you would not deem it wrong if I were to aid him, 
 eh, father? Certes, I should be loth to betray him — but he 
 is so imprudent that he might betray himself. 'Tis a 
 miracle that he 'scaped detection by the King j ust now."
 
 24c Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " What mean you, my son ?" cried the monk, alarmed. 
 
 " I mean that Master Osbert CHnton has been rash enough 
 to venture hither," said Rodoniont ; "and though luckily 
 his Majesty did not see through his disguise, I was not 
 equally blind." 
 
 "You knew me, then?" said Osbert Clinton. 
 
 " My suspicions of the truth were roused from the first, 
 and were speedily changed to certainty," rejoined Rodoniont. 
 " 'Twas marvellous, I repeat, that you imposed upon the 
 quick-sighted King, but I do not think the Cardinal was 
 deceived. However, you have not much to fear from his 
 Eminence, who is too kind-hearted to do more than chide you 
 for your indiscretion. Had things continued as they were, 
 and Mistress Constance been kept a prisoner in yon tower, I 
 would have helped you to liberate her. But a change for 
 the better has occurred. The doors of her cell are opened, 
 and she is free to go where she lists within the palace. Let 
 that content you. And now I must bring you before his 
 Eminence." 
 
 With this they entered the palace, and after passing 
 though the vestibule, where a number of persons belonging 
 to the household were collected, they proceeded to a spacious 
 chamber, with a carved oak ceiling, windows filled with 
 painted glass, and walls furnished with book-shelves stored 
 with goodly tomes, where they found the Cardinal seated at 
 a table. He was writing at the moment, and only suspended 
 his task to look up, and then resumed it. When he had 
 finished his letter and sealed it, he delivered it to Rodomont, 
 bidding him give it to I^ord Montague's messenger, who was 
 waiting to receive it. As soon as they were alone, he turned 
 to Osbert, and assuming a grave and severe expression of 
 countenance, ordered him to throw back his hood ; and, as 
 the young man complied, he said, '"Tis as I suspected. You 
 are Osbert Clinton." 
 
 " Yes, I am he," replied the other. " It was my intention 
 to avow myself to your Eminence — to explain my motives in 
 coming hither, and to crave your pardon." 
 
 "It is needless to explain your motives," said Pole ; " I am 
 fully aware of them. Neither, though I blame your rashness, 
 shall I refuse you pardon. But this indiscretion must not be 
 repeated. If you come here again, you must take the con-
 
 Of the Cardinal's Coiinselio Oshert Clinton. 241 
 
 sequences of your folly. You are free to go as you came — 
 but again I say, you must not return." 
 
 " Ere I go, your Eminence's goodness emboldens me to 
 ask your permission for a brief interview with Constance 
 Tyrrell." 
 
 " I cannot grant your request," replied the Cardinal, 
 " though it pains me to refuse it. I pity both you and Con- 
 stance, but I cannot aid you in the dilemma in which you are 
 placed. Patience is difficult, especially to a young and ardent 
 lover ; but you must perforce practise it. Be not cast down. 
 If Fortune refuses to smile on you now, she may do so here- 
 after. Be hopeful, be courageous, be trustful ; and if your 
 love survives these trials, you will be rewarded in due season. 
 Rashness and precipitancy will destroy all. Constance will 
 be safe with me — safe as with her own father ; nay, safer, 
 for I have more power than he can possess. If I cannot 
 give her to you — if I cannot even allow you to approach her 
 — I can protect her. Seek not then to disturb her, or to 
 plunge yourself into difficulties from which none can extri- 
 cate you. I shall employ the same arguments with Con- 
 stance. I will tell her that your enforced separation will 
 only be for a time — that she must not despair, but may con- 
 fidently look forward to to a meeting with you on some future 
 day.^' 
 
 "I am fully sensible of the wisdom of your Eminence's 
 counsel, and will endeavour to profit by it," said Osbert. 
 ''Though the separation will be hard to bear, it will be shorn 
 of much of its anguish by the reflection that she has found a 
 sanctuary with you." 
 
 " And such, in truth, it is, for she will be protected from 
 all danger," rejoined Pole. " Henceforth you may picture 
 her, not as the inmate of a narrow cell, condemned to pass 
 her hours in seclusion, but as my guest, free to go where she 
 will within this mansion ; not coerced in matters of religion, 
 though I shall try by all proper means to lead her back to 
 her former faith ; subject to no harsh discipline or regula- 
 tions ; not compelled to perform any severe penance, but left 
 to her own free will — such will be the course I shall pursue 
 with her, and I trust it may tend to her comfort and benefit." 
 
 " It cannot fail," said Osbert. " Under your Eminence'.'? 
 benignant influence she must be happy." 
 16
 
 242 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 '•' She will at least find a refuge from the terrible storm 
 which is at hand, and which might overwhelm her as it will 
 many others," said the Cardinal. • " Be thankful, therefore, 
 that she is not exposed to this great peril, and is not likely 
 to be numbered amongst the victims of the religious persecu- 
 tion, which, I fear, is at hand. And now fare you well. Sir. 
 Take my blessing with you. No words of gratitude are 
 needed. You shall thank me hereafter, when I restore Con- 
 stance to you." 
 
 With this, he struck a small silver bell which stood upon 
 the table beside him. Before the summons could be 
 answered, Osbert had drawn the cowl over his head. 
 
 " Conduct this monk to the gate," said the Cardinal to 
 Rodomont, as the latter entered the room, "and suffer him 
 not to talk with anyone by the way." 
 
 " It shall be done as your Eminence enjoins," said Rodo- 
 mont. " Come, Father ! " 
 
 And he quitted the room with Osbert.
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ^i 
 
 ^^^H^^ 
 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 
 1 ^»-^W^.<t^;^wifeJt;,J^l^^^itt 
 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW CONSTANCE PASSED HER TIME IN LAMBETH PALACE. 
 
 IHE good Cardinal acted up to his promise in regard 
 to Constance. An apartment was assigned her in 
 a wing of the palace overlooking the garden, and 
 that nothing might be wanting to her comfort, 
 search was made for her old attendant, Dorcas, whose re- 
 treat being discovered, without much difiiculty, by Rodo- 
 mont, she was brought to the palace, and reinstated in her 
 former position witli her young mistress. 
 
 Ever since the night when Constance had been carried off 
 to the Lollards' Tower, the poor old woman had been incon- 
 solable. Her joy, therefore, on finding her young mistress 
 again, may be imagined. She strained her to her breast 
 with all a mother's affection, wept over her, and could 
 scarcely cease her demonstrations of regard. The Cardinal, 
 who witnessed the meeting, was much touched by it, but at 
 last deemed it proper to moderate the old woman's transports 
 of delight. But this only turned the tide of her gratitude 
 upon him. She fell down at his feet, embraced his knees, 
 and prayed that his goodness might be rewarded. 
 
 Treated with paternal kindness and consideration by the 
 Cardinal, Constance could not but feel profound gratitude 
 towards him ; and as the virtues of his character became 
 more fully revealed to lier, she began to regard him with 
 feelings akin to veneration. 
 
 They had frequent discourses together on points of faith, 
 1 6 — 2
 
 244 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 and, though Constance's adherence to the new doctrines 
 remained unshaken, she hstened with attention to the Car- 
 dinal's able and profound exposition of the tenets of the 
 Church of Rome. The differences between their respective 
 creeds appeared shghter than she had at first supposed, and 
 if all Romish priests and prelates were like the Cardinal, 
 lived as he lived, and taught as he taught, she felt that there 
 might, indeed, be one universal Church. 
 
 The calmness of Pole's manner, the clearness of his judg- 
 ment, his profound theological learning, contrasted strongly 
 with the fanaticism and fiery zeal of Derrick Carver, who 
 had as little toleration for the Romanists as they had for 
 him. Her mind, over-excited by the stimulative discourses 
 of the enthusiast, acquired a healthier tone from the exhor- 
 tations of the Cardinal, and she felt like one who had re- 
 covered from a fever. 
 
 Perfectly resi^^ned to her position, strengthened in all her 
 good resolutions by Pole, and allowed the free exercise of her 
 own religious opinions, she became composed and cheerful, 
 and, if not quite happy, was at least free from despondency. 
 Her personal appearance improved in the same ratio, and, 
 ere many weeks had flown, she had quite recovered her 
 beauty. Her life might appear dull and monotonous, but its 
 very monotony was not without a charm to her, who from 
 early years had meditated the seclusion of a convent. Caring 
 little for the world, or its pleasures and vanities, she was 
 well content with her present existence, and scarcely desired 
 to change it. Not that the Cardinal's palace, with its 
 princely establishment, its numerous and important guests, 
 was devoid of the stir and bustle of active life, but in this 
 she took no part. She did not mingle with the household, 
 and was never seen by the Cardinal's numerous guests. 
 
 The garden was open to her, with its long terraces, its 
 alleys and groves, and therein she took her walks at morn. 
 At such times she often met Pole and Priuli, and discoursed 
 with them. In argument Priuli displayed the same modera- 
 tion and clearness of judgment as his friend, though he did 
 not equal him in profundity of intellect or learning. Per- 
 haps Pole was disappointed that he did not produce a more 
 sensible impression upon his pupil, and bring her to express 
 contritioa for her errors, and a desire for reconciliation with
 
 How Constance Passed Her Time. 245 
 
 the Church of Rome, but he did not manifest any impatience; 
 still less did he employ harshness or threats. Attendance 
 at the chapel at matins or evensong, or during the celebra- 
 tion of mass, was not compulsory on Constance, nor was she 
 forced to assist at any of the rites or observances of the 
 Church of Rome. 
 
 Not unfrequently the Cardinal spoke to her of Osbert 
 Clinton, and held out to her, as he had done to her lover, the 
 hope of a meeting at some future day. 
 
 Shortly after Constance's partial restoration to freedom, 
 the Cardinal dispatched Rodomont to Southampton to ac- 
 quaint Master Tyrrell with the steps he had taken in his 
 daughter's behalf, and inviting him to come and see her. 
 
 Rodomont would fain have brought the old merchant back 
 with him, but Tyrrell decHned. His anger against Constance 
 had not yet abated. Unless she renounced her errors, she 
 need not hope to see him again, he declared. He left her 
 entirely in the Lord Cardinal's hands, satisfied that if her 
 conversion could be accomplished it would be by his Emi- 
 nence. The old merchant, it was clear, was so apprehen- 
 sive of being implicated with his daughter, and suspected of 
 heretical pravity himself, that he was resolved not to go 
 near her. 
 
 Rodomont seized the opportunity of ascertaining his senti- 
 ments in regard' to her union with Osbert Clinton. But on 
 this point the old merchant was equally obstinate. " I will 
 not consent to her marriage — I will not give her my blessing 
 — I will not see her till she recants, and returns to the faith 
 of her forefathers," he cried. *■ Then she shall be my daugh- 
 ter once more." 
 
 " It is well for her that she has found a father in the Car- 
 dinal, since her own father deserts her in her need," observed 
 Rodomont. 
 
 " Why, what would you have me do ? " cried Tyrrell. 
 
 " Go see her ! comfort her ! persuade her to conform," 
 rejoined Rodomont. 
 
 " And be suspected of heresy, and cited before the ecclesi- 
 astical commissioners — mayhap burnt before my own door," 
 said Tyrrell. " No, I thank you. I mean to keep out of 
 harm's way." 
 
 "Well, if you can reconcile such conduct to your con-
 
 246 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 science, I have no more to say," observed Rodomont ; " ex- 
 cept, that if you escape burning in this world, you stand a 
 good chance of burning in the next. So you positively de- 
 cline to go back with me to Lambeth Palace— eh ?" 
 
 " Positively," replied Tyrrell. " As a good Catholic, the 
 Cardinal will applaud my conduct." 
 
 " There you are mistaken," rejoined Rodomont. "You 
 little understand his Eminence, if you suppose him dead to 
 the feelings of human nature, as you appear to be. He can 
 but entertain one opinion of your conduct — disgust." So 
 saying he left him. 
 
 On his return to Lambeth Palace, Rodomont informed the 
 Cardinal what had passed between himself and Master 
 Tyrrell. Pole could scarcely credit the relation, so astounded 
 was he at the old merchant's extraordinary indifference to 
 his daughter. However, the effect produced upon him by 
 Tyrrell's stoical conduct, was to increase the fatherly con- 
 cern he already felt in Constance, and make him more anxious 
 than ever for her conversion. 
 
 How he prospered in his efforts we have already seen.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW THE CARDINAL VISITED DERRICK CARVER IN HIS CELL 
 IN THE LOLLARDS' TOWER. 
 
 jjUT there was another person besides Osbert Ch'nton 
 in whom Constance took deep interest, and whose 
 perilous position occasioned her profound anxiety. 
 This was Derrick Carver. True, since her inter- 
 course with Pole, her admiration of the enthusiast had 
 somewhat abated, but she could not forget the benefits 
 he had conferred upon her. All that she could learn re- 
 specting Carver was, that he had been removed from the 
 underground dungeon to the prison-chamber in the Lollards' 
 Tower, which she herself had occupied, and that he was 
 still confined there. She also ascertained, by means of 
 old Dorcas, that he had been several times examined by 
 Bonner, and had been severely handled by them for his 
 contumacy. Fain would she have obtained an interview 
 with him — fain would she have prayed with him and con- 
 soled him — but this was not permitted. Pole, who con- 
 sidered the fanatic's influence over her to be most per- 
 nicious, refused her solicitations, and in a manner that 
 did not allow her to renew the request. The Cardinal de- 
 clared that, finding Carver impracticable, he had surrendered 
 him to the ecclesiastical commissioners, and he was now 
 entirely in their hands. 
 
 Constance, therefore, had no hope oi beholding the enthu- 
 siast again in this world. Strange to say, she did not alto- 
 gether deplore his fate, but in moments of exaltation almost
 
 248 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 envied him the martyrdom which it appeared certain he 
 would have to endure. 
 
 Throughout this time of trial, Carver's resolution had 
 never deserted him — had never even wavered. The prison 
 chamber to which he had been removed was a great improve- 
 ment upon the dismal dungeon wherein he had been pre- 
 viously immured. In fact, as his movements were not 
 restrained, and he was allowed writing materials, with a 
 Bible and a book of prayer, he was well enough content with 
 his lodging. To the mementoes of the many sufterers for 
 conscience' sake who had preceded him in this cell, and 
 had carved their names on the stout oak panels lining the 
 walls, he added his own name, with these words: "Approved 
 
 BV STRIPES, IMPRISONMENT, AND DEATH." 
 
 His cell was by no means gloomy. 'Through the narrow 
 grated window looking upon the Thames, and at which 
 Osbert had conversed with Constance, he obtained a 
 glimpse of the river, and of some structures on its opposite 
 banks, while he could hear the dash of oars in the water, 
 and the cheerful voices of the boatmen. But the stern 
 enthusiast bestowed but little thought on the external 
 world. His time was now entirely occupied in preparation 
 for eternity, and in fortifying himself for the fiery ordeal by 
 which his faith was to be approved. 
 
 On several occasions, as we have already stated, he had 
 been inteiTOgated by Bonner, but neither promises of grace, 
 nor threats of torture, could move him. He resolutely re- 
 fused to subscribe the recantation proffered him by the 
 bishop ; and when the latter, exasperated by his obstinacy, 
 had him taken to the Post Room, stripped to the girdle, 
 tied to the wooden pillar in the centre of the chamber, and 
 severely scourged, he uttered no cry, but persisted in his 
 refusal. 
 
 Determined to try the effect of greater severity, and 
 having means and appliances at hand, Bonner ordered him 
 to be chained to the walls of his cell till he should show 
 signs of submission. 
 
 This was done. The unfortunate captive was fastened to 
 two of the ponderous iron rings which may still be seen in 
 the walls of the prison, and kept in such a position that he 
 could neither lie down nor stand erect.
 
 Hoiv the Cardinal Visited Derrick Carver. 249 
 
 In this woful plight he remained for three days and three 
 nights, debarred of his chief solace, the Bible, and unable 
 to kneel in prayer without putting himself to excruciating 
 agony, but his constancy was unsubdued, and when Bonner 
 again visited him, thinking he must needs be overcome, he 
 found him unyielding as ever. 
 
 What further barbarities might have been practised by 
 the savage prelate upon the unfortunate captive can only 
 be imagined, but happily his victmi was snatched from his 
 clutches by Pole. Made aware how severely the prisoner 
 had been treated, the Cardinal instantly interfered, caused 
 the poor wretch's chains to be taken off, and interdicted 
 any further application of torture. Bonner sullenly 
 acquiesced, as indeed he was obliged to do, but he 
 promised himself to report the Cardinal's culpable leniency 
 — for such he esteemed it — to their Majesties, and also to 
 the Pope. 
 
 " His Eminence is an abettor of heresy, instead of an up- 
 rooter of it," muttered the bishop. " If he be not recalled 
 by the Pope, he will undo all we have done." 
 
 Not altogether satisfied with the report he had received 
 of the prisoner's condition, Pole resolved to visit him in his 
 cell, and was accompanied in the errand of mercy by 
 Priuli. The ascent of the narrow spiral stone staircase 
 leading from the Post Room to the prison-chamber was 
 somewhat painful to the Cardinal, and he was compelled 
 to pause for a few moments to recover himself as he 
 reached the arched entrance of the cell. This gave him an 
 opportunity of examining the doable doors, which we have 
 already described as of oak, bound with iron, and studded 
 with broad-headed nails ; and he pointed out the immense 
 thickness of the planks to Priuli. 
 
 Neither of them had been before in the upper part of the 
 Lollards' Tower, and, as they entered the prison-chamber, 
 they looked around it with melancholy interest. The oak 
 panels, dark almost as ebony, the black boarded roof, the 
 black boarded floor, the small grated windows, the ponder- 
 ous iron rings fastened in the walls, the prisoner seated on 
 a stool at a table of similar material and similar hue to the 
 panels, all constituted a picture that powerfully impressed 
 them.
 
 250 Car dina: Pole. 
 
 Derrick Carver was engaged in reading the Bible, and so 
 profoundly engrossed, that he did not raiie his eyes on 
 their entrance. The Cardinal signed to Mallet, by whom 
 they were attended, not to disturb him. The rugged 
 features and gaunt frame of the fanatic had undergone little 
 change, but his beard was grizzled, and his locks had be- 
 come snow white. 
 
 The Cardinal and Priuli contemplated him for some time 
 with profound interest, and in perfect silence, but at last an 
 observation made by the latter, though uttered in a low 
 tone, reached the ears of the prisoner, and caused him to 
 look up. When he perceived who were in his cell, he tried 
 to rise, but was compelled by pain and weakness to 
 relinquish the attempt. 
 
 "The man is really too feeble to stand," remarked 
 Mallet. " Shall I bring your Eminence a chair ? " 
 
 Pole declined the offer, saying he could stand well 
 enough. 
 
 "Leave the room, and remain without till you are 
 summoned," he added to Mallet, who immediately obeyed 
 the injunction, closing the door after him as he went out. 
 
 " You are weak and ill, my poor friend," said Pole, in a 
 sympathetic tone. " Wine and nourishing food shall be 
 sent to recruit your strength." 
 
 " I do not need them," replied Carver. " Herein I find 
 new life and vigour," he added, pointing to the Bible. 
 " For three days and three nights, while fastened to yon 
 wall, was I deprived of this consolation, and I account it 
 the worst part of my suffering. I lack nothing now." 
 
 " I am sorry you have been treated with so much 
 severity," observed the Cardinal. 
 
 "I do not complain," replied Carver. " I may not have 
 been lawfully punished with the scourge, or lawfully fastened 
 to yon iron rings, but there is little law or justice in 
 England now, since we are under Spanish rule." 
 
 " You are mistaken, friend," replied Pole. " The statutes 
 against heresy and schism, which were in force when this 
 prison-chamber was built by Archbishop Chicheley, in the 
 time of Henry IV., more than a hundred years ago, have 
 been revived, and though your punishment has been severe, 
 t has not been contrary to law."
 
 How the Cardmal Visited Derrick Carver. 251 
 
 "I have said I do not complain," rejoined Carver. "We 
 have provoked Divine displeasure, and must endure our 
 merited chastisement till the wrath of Heaven be appeased. 
 Were I called upon to suffer all the persecutions endured 
 by holy Paul, I would cheerfully bear them for the sake of 
 the Gospel." 
 
 " I admire your resolution, friend," said Pole ; " but I 
 beseech you to consider well whether you may not be in 
 error." 
 
 "I cannot be in error, when I rely solely on the truths of 
 Scripture," rejoined Carver. 
 
 " But there are doctrinal points upon which men are not 
 agreed," said the Cardinal. 
 
 "There are," replied Carver, "and my principles are 
 those of the Reformed Church. I abominate the Church 
 of Rome, and regard it as the synagogue of Satan, and the 
 very sink of all heresy, superstition, and idolatry. I will 
 have no masses, no auricular confession with penance, no 
 image-worship. I deny the real presence in the sacrament. 
 And I also deny that the Pope is the head of the Christian 
 Church, and utterly reject his authority." 
 
 " But if I can prove to you that you are wrong," said 
 Pole ; " if I can convince you that the Pope's authority is 
 derived from Saint Peter, and through him from our Saviour 
 himself, will you not admit that you have formed erroneous 
 conclusions?" 
 
 " I believe the Romish faith to be anti-Christian and 
 naught," rejoined Carver. "I cannot worship at its altars. 
 and were I to do so I should place my soul in jeopardy. 
 It is in vain to argue w'ith me. Threats or fair promises 
 will be alike ineffectual. I am not be moved." 
 
 "But if you obstinately close your ears, how can you ever 
 learn the truth ? " said the Cardmal. 
 
 " I have learnt the truth," rejoined Carver, "and am proof 
 against fallacy and delusion. I have enough regard for 
 your Eminence to wish you were of my mind." 
 
 " Well, try to convince me. Let me hear what you have 
 to say m defence of your faith," observed Pole. 
 
 " 'Twere to show him too much indulgence," said Priuli. 
 
 " I could say much in defence of my faith, ' observed 
 Carver, " but i know you would not listen to me, and I
 
 252 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 should therefore only throw away my time. "But let me not 
 appear ungrateful. I am assured that your Eminence is 
 actuated by a sincere desire for my welfare." 
 
 " I would save you, if possible, from the terrible death 
 by which you are menaced," said the Cardinal. " Conform, 
 and I will obtain your pardon. Reflect on what I have said." 
 
 " I need no reflection," rejoined the other. " I could not 
 conform with hypocrisy, and I will never belie my con- 
 
 science." 
 
 " Have you no ties that bind you to earth ? — none for 
 whom you desire to live ? " said the Cardinal. 
 
 " I have a wife and children, and an aged mother," replied 
 Carver ; but I gave up all when I entered the service of my 
 Heavenly Master." 
 
 "And would you leave them without a protector?" said 
 Pole. 
 
 " Heaven will watch over them," rejoined the other. 
 
 "This man appears callous to all human emotions and 
 sympathies," observed Priuli. 
 
 " There you do not judge me rightly," said Carver. " My 
 breast is not devoid of aftection. I love my wife and chil- 
 dren — I love my mother — dearly — very dearly. But I am a 
 soldier of Christ, and having been summoned to the fight, 
 must obey the call. If I die in His cause, those dear to me 
 will not be deserted. You cannot touch me. There is no 
 weak part in my armour." 
 
 " Then you do not desire to confer with me further ? " said 
 Pole. " You have nothing to ask of me ? " 
 
 " There is one favour I would solicit," said Carver. " Be- 
 fore I am taken hence I would fain have a last interview 
 with Constance Tyrrell." 
 
 " I cannot grant it," replied Pole. " I hope to accomplish 
 her conversion, and your influence might counteract my 
 efforts." 
 
 " But she continues stedfast in her faith ? — Tell me that ? " 
 cried Carver, anxiously. 
 
 " I cannot answer the question," returned Pole ; " would 
 not, if I could." 
 
 "She does ! — I am sure she does ! " exclaimed the enthu- 
 siast. " She is my spiritual daughter. Her conversion was 
 my work, and I glory in it. Having opened her eyes to the
 
 How The Cardinal Visited Derrick Carver. 253 
 
 light, she will not relapse into darkness — never. No ; I 
 have no misgivings about Constance." 
 
 *' Be not too confident," rejoined Pole. " My hope is to 
 bring her back to the fold from which she has strayed. You 
 have preferred a request to me which I am compelled to 
 refuse, but I will grant you a favour which you have not 
 solicited, I desire to benefit you as far as I can, and 
 will lighten the irksomeness of your confinement. In a 
 few days you will have recovered your strength, and will 
 be able to go forth. Pledge me your v/ord to return early 
 in the evening, and you shall be allowed liberty during the 
 daytime." 
 
 " Vvhat is this I hear?" cried Carver, astounded. " Is it 
 possible that your Eminence will allow me to go where I list 
 during the daytime ? " 
 
 " You shall go forth wholly unattended on your promise 
 to return," rejoined the Cardinal. 
 
 "I never looked for such indulgence as this," said Carver, 
 much affected. " When I have heard the voices of the boat- 
 men on the river, and other gladsome sounds, I have longed 
 to join my fellow-men, but I have checked the feeling, know- 
 ing it could not be gratified. But now your Eminence ofters 
 me this great boon — a boon I should not have dared to ask 
 — and with no conditions annexed to it." 
 
 " None save that I mentioned," rephed Pole. " You 
 shall be free to go forth, but you must come back to your 
 cell at eventide," 
 
 For a few moments Carver covered his face with his hands, 
 and tears trickled down his rugged cheeks. After a while 
 he looked up and, in broken accents, said, " I did not think 
 to weep again either for joy or grief. But your Eminence's 
 goodness has touched me to the heart, and opened fountains 
 which I deemed fast sealed. You shall not find me unworthy 
 of the confidence reposed in me. The j)romise you exact 
 shall be religiously fulfilled. If I am sul^ered to go abroad, 
 I will assuredly return." 
 
 " Is it safe to let him out?" observed Priuli. "He is 
 seditious and perilous." 
 
 " I will trust him," replied Pole. 
 
 Upon this he called in Mallet, and informed him of the 
 permission he had granted the prisoner.
 
 254 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " But, your Eminence," remonstrated the keeper, " I am 
 responsible for his sife custody to Bishop Bcnner. If this 
 unheard-of hcense bu granted him, the man will never come 
 back." 
 
 " Set your mind at ease on that score, good friend," ob- 
 served Carver. " I have plighted my v/ord to the Lord 
 Cardinal, and I will die rather than brck it." 
 
 *'But what am I to say to the bishop? I shall never be 
 able to face him." 
 
 " Say that you act by my orders," returned the Cardinal. 
 " Refer the bishop to me." 
 
 " Such a thing was never done before," said Mallet. "As 
 well let loose a ravening wolf among a flock of sheep as 
 liberate this man," 
 
 " Let my bidding be done," said Pole. " If blame there 
 be, it will rest on my head. — Farewell, friend," he added to 
 Carver, "do not abuse the hcense given you." 
 
 " Your Eminence shall have no cause to repent' your trust 
 in me," said Carver. 
 
 On this the Cardinal and Priuli quitted the cell, 
 
 " Methinks you have shown too much consideration to 
 this man," observed Priuli. " He does not deserve your 
 kindness." 
 
 " Time will show," replied Pole. " I have faith in him — 
 hope in his conversion."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HOW DERRICK CARVER FULFII LED HIS PROMISE. 
 
 HREE days afterwards, Derrick Carver, upon whom 
 the Cardinal's goodness had operated like a 
 sovereign cordial, giving him new life and energy, 
 ™ announced that he was strong enough to avail 
 him.self of the permission he had received, and, accordingly, 
 the door of his cell was unlocked by Mallet, who accompanied 
 him to the palace gates, and there let him go, never expec- 
 ting, as he frankly avowed, to behold him again. 
 
 " It may be well to follow him and see what he is about." 
 observed Rodomont, who was standing by. 
 
 " Nay, his Eminence has strictly forbidden that," said 
 Mallet. " The man is to be left to his own devices. If 
 he come back, I shall esteem him a greater fool than 
 heretic." 
 
 "Tut, he will return," said Rodomont. ** His Eminence 
 understands him better than you do." 
 
 "Well, we shall see," rejoined the other. 
 
 On that very day, it chanced that Bishop Bonner came to 
 Lambeth Palace, and proceedmg straightway to the Lol- 
 lards' Tower, inquired for the prisoner. On learning that 
 he had been allowed to go forth, he flew into a violent 
 passion, and declared he would have the keeper punished 
 for his gross breach of duty. Mallet excused himself, and 
 referred the infuriated bishop to the Cardinal, but Bonner 
 could not obtain an audience till his rage had had time to 
 subside. Pole listened to his complaints and then replied, 
 calmly, —
 
 256 Cardiiial Pole. 
 
 " It is true, I have let the man go on his promise to 
 return in the evening." 
 
 " But what is the promise of such a false knave worth ? " 
 cried Bonner, contemptuously. " He will infallibly break 
 it." 
 
 " I do not think so," rejoined the Cardinal. " But tarry 
 with me till eventide, and you will see." 
 
 Bonner agreed, dined with the Cardinal in the banqueting- 
 hall, and, as there were many other important guests that 
 day, he made merry, and thought no more about the 
 prisoner. While he was sitting, however, with his host 
 and Priuli, Rodomont Bittern entered, and, bowing to the 
 Cardinal said, — 
 
 " Your Eminence desired to be informed when Derrick 
 Carver came back. As the clock struck five, he returned to 
 his cell." 
 
 Pole smiled, and, turning to the Bishop, observed, — 
 
 " I was right in my judgment of him, you perceive." 
 
 " I cannot deny it," rephed Bonner. " Nevertheless, 
 I would advise your Eminence to recall your permission. 
 Most assuredly he will do much mischief out of doors." 
 
 "If it turn out so, he shall be kept within his cell," re- 
 joined Pole. 
 
 Shortly after this, Bonner took leave of the Cardinal, but, 
 before quitting the palace, he satisfied himself, by personal 
 inspection, that Carver was safe in his cell. He found him, 
 as usual, reading the Bible, and, if he had dared, would 
 have vented his rage upon him by causing him to be tied to 
 the whipping-post in the chamber beneath and scourged. 
 
 " I will have him burnt as soon as possible," he observed 
 to Mallet. " It is monstrous that such a vile wretch should 
 be treated with so much leniency. And what of the 
 Cardinal's other cade-lamb. Mistress Constance Tyrrell? 
 Has she been brought back from her apostacy ? " 
 
 "I cannot say, in sooth, my lord," replied Mallet. "But 
 I incline to think not, seeing she doth not attend mass." 
 
 " Not attend mass ! Then she is still defiled by heresy," 
 cried Bonner. "We will have her at Smithfield in spite of 
 the Cardinal." And with this amiable resolve he departed. 
 
 Next morning Carver went forth again, returning punc- 
 tually at five o'clock in the evening, and he pursued the
 
 How Derrick Carver Fulfilled his Froviisc. 257 
 
 same course for nearly a week, rather anticipating his time 
 than staying beyond it. One evening, however, he did not 
 appear as usual. 'J~hree hours more went by, and still he 
 came not, and then Mallet thought it right to acquaint the 
 Cardinal with his prolonged absence. The information 
 caused Pole to look grave. 
 
 " Something must have happened to him," he said. "I 
 do not believe he would have stayed away of his own accord, 
 still less do I deem he has any design of evasion. Send 
 Rodomont Bittern to me." 
 
 On Rodomont's arrival, the Cardinal ordered him to make 
 immediate inquiries after the prisoner, and to take any 
 persons with him who might aid in the quest. 
 
 " My own opinion is that the man has fallen into a snare." 
 Pole said. " But I leave it to your shrewdness to discover 
 what has become of him." 
 
 " In obedience to your Eminence's injunctions, his move- 
 ments have not been watched," replied Rodomont, " so that 
 we have no clue to guide us. Nevertheless, I will essay to 
 find him." 
 
 "About the business forthwith, and with a good heart," 
 said the Cardinal. "You are quick-witted, and your pene- 
 tration will put you on the right track." 
 
 Taking with him his lieutenants. Jack Holiday and Nick 
 Simnel, Rodomont set out on his mission. Revolving what 
 the Cardinal had said while dismissing him, he came to the 
 conclusion that he should get on the right track by going to 
 Bonner, who, he suspected, had a strong motive for keeping 
 the prisoner out of the way. 
 
 Accordingly, he entered the Cardinal's barge with his 
 friends, bidding the oarsmen row them with all possible 
 dispatch to the stairs at Paul's chain, where, landing, they 
 made the best of their way to the palace of the Bishop of 
 London — a large edifice, which then stood on the north-west 
 side of the cathedral. 
 
 From the porter at the palace gate they ascertained that 
 Bonner was attending vespers in Saint Paul's, where they 
 could speak with him on the conclusion of the service. 
 Rodomont then inquired from the porter whether any 
 heretics had been arrested that day. The man replied that 
 several had been taken at a conventicle in Foster-lane, and 
 17
 
 258 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 that the chief sacramentary, who had been holding forth to 
 the others, was detained in a strong-room in the gate till 
 the lord bishop should decide what was to be done with him. 
 
 Rodomont then explained to the porter that he was an 
 officer in Cardinal Pole's household, and with his companions 
 was in search of an heretical prisoner named Derrick Car- 
 ver, and this perchance might be he. 
 
 " Marry, 'tis the very man," replied the porter. 
 
 Whereupon, he unlocked the door of the strong-room, 
 and showed them Carver within it, seated on a bench, with 
 his hands tied behind his back with cords. Rodomont 
 would fain have carried him off at once, but this the porter 
 would not permit, saying they must tarry till the bishop 
 returned from Saint Paul's. 
 
 Half an hour elapsed before Bonner made his appearance, 
 and when he found Rodomont and his comrades there he 
 was exceedingly wroth, and refused to give up the prisoner. 
 
 " The knave was taken at a conventicle in Foster-Lane," 
 ne said, "where he was preaching heretical doctrines, 
 praying against her Majesty, and giving the communion 
 according to the prohibited book of service. I greatly 
 marvel that the Cardinal should allow such a pestilent 
 wretch to go forth to spread contagion abroad. Depart 
 now, and tell his Eminence that I will bring back the man 
 to him to morrow. He is safe here, as ye can bear 
 witness." 
 
 " Our orders are to bring him back wherever we may find 
 nim," rejoined Rodomont, "and those we must obey." 
 
 " What ! " cried Bonner. " Will ye take him from me by 
 force?" 
 
 " We trust your lordship will not drive us to that ex- 
 tremity," replied Rodomont. "We claim this man as the 
 Lord Cardinal's prisoner, and we require your lordship to 
 deliver him up to us. If you resist, the fault will rest with 
 you." 
 
 " E'en take him, then," rejoined Bonner furiously. "But 
 ye may rest assured I will not be robbed of my prey. He 
 is a preacher of heresy and sedition, a blasphemer and 
 traitor, and I will burn him in spite of the Cardinal. It 
 shall go hard if I burn not Mistress Constance Tyrrell at 
 the same time."
 
 How Derrick Carver Fulfilled his Promise. 259 
 
 Rodomont and his comrades stayed to hear no more, but 
 carried off the prisoner, and placing him in the barge, 
 conveyed him to Lambeth Palace. On arriving there they 
 took him at once before the Cardinal, and Rodomont ex- 
 plained what had occurred. 
 
 " Your Eminence will perceive that I was forcibly de- 
 tained," said Carver. *' Had it not been so, I should have 
 returned at the appointed hour." 
 
 " I sent you not forth to propagate heresy and sedition," 
 said Pole, severely. ''You have broken the compact 
 between us, and abused my confidence. You can go forth 
 no more." 
 
 Carver bowed his head in submission, and was taken to 
 his cell in the Lollards' tower. 
 
 lExCis of tf)c 2ri)iiti ISooft. 
 
 
 17 — 2
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 S M I T H F I E L D. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW A SOLEMN PROCESSION WAS FORMED AT SAINT PAUl's, 
 AND. SET FORTH TOWARDS SMITHFIELD. 
 
 IVE Protestant divines, amongst whom were 
 Hooper, the deprived Bishop of Gloucester, and 
 Rogers, a prebend of Saint Paul's, having been 
 excommunciated and delivered to the sheriffs, 
 and continuing firm in the maintenance of their opinions, they 
 were doomed to death at the stake. It was appointed that 
 Hooper should suffer at Gloucester, and Rogers at Smith- 
 field, and it was furthermore appointed that Rogers should 
 be the first to die. Rogers, we may mention, was one of the 
 first theological scholars of the age, and had assisted Tyndal 
 in translating the Bible in the time of Henry VHI. 
 
 At the earnest solicitation of Gardiner and Bonner, the 
 King consented to be present at the celebration of this act 
 of faith, but Cardinal Pole refused to attend it, stating that 
 he would not countenance such a proceeding. Enraged at 
 his opposition, the two prelates took the only revenge in 
 their power, and procured a warrant from the Queen, autho- 
 rising them to comipel the attendance at the terrible cere- 
 monial of any heretical prisoners they might designate.
 
 How a Procession was Formed at St. PaiiVs. 261 
 
 Armed with this warrant, on the night previous to the execu- 
 tion they gave notice to the Cardinal that they should send for 
 Derrick Carver and Constance Tyrrell at an early hour on 
 the morrow. 
 
 That night, as enjoined by the Cardinal, and as her own 
 leelings would have prompted without the injunction, Con- 
 stance never sought her couch, but spent the hours in prayer 
 and meditation. Before daybreak she awoke old Dorcas, 
 who was slumbering tranquilly, and with her aid attired 
 herself carefully in dark habiliments, and, thus prepared, 
 patiently awaited the anticipated summons. Ere long, a 
 gentle tap was heard without, and the door being opened by 
 Dorcas, the Cardinal entered. 
 
 " I have come to see you before you set out, daughter," 
 he said. "My own heart is sad. I have passed the night 
 in vigil and prayer, yet I do not feel comforted. I cannot 
 divest myself of the dread that this day will be prejudicial 
 to our religion. A just man is about to be sacrificed, and 
 his blood will cry out for vengeance. But here come the 
 guard," he added, as Rodomont and his companions 
 appeared at the doorway. " xVre you ready ? " 
 
 " Quite ready," she replied. " But before I leave, let me 
 crave a blessing from your Eminence." 
 
 " You have it, daughter," he replied, extending his arms 
 over her. " May Heaven sustain you during the awful 
 scene you will be compelled to witness ! " 
 
 Quitting the room, she followed Rodomont and the 
 others to the outer court. At the Lori:;.ius' Tower they 
 were joined by Derrick Carver, who was brought forth by 
 Mallet. On beholding Constance, the enthusiast uttered a 
 joyful exclamation, but he was not permitted to converse 
 with her, and the party proceeded in silence to the wharf 
 without the palace gate, where lay a barge, which had been 
 sent for the prisoners by Bonner. 
 
 Within this vessel were two Dominicans, an officer of 
 the guard, and a couple of halberdiers. At the prow was 
 displayed a black banner, on which was inscribed the 
 words : Exurge, Domine, et judica causam tuam, et 
 
 DISSIPENTUR IM.MICI FiDEI. 
 
 The prisoners having entered the barge with Rodomont 
 Bittern, who had been enjoined by the Cardinal to attend
 
 262 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 them, the vessel was pushed off, and moved down the 
 stream. 
 
 The morning was dark and raw. A fog hung over the 
 river, partly concealing the objects on its banks. Officers 
 and men maintained a moody silence, and the only sound 
 heard was a doleful hymn chanted by the Dominicans, and 
 taken up by the occupants of some skiffs that had accom- 
 panied the barge from Lambeth. 
 
 At Paul's Wharf the prisoners were landed, and conducted 
 thence up Bennet's Hill and Paul's Chain to the Cathedral. 
 
 ]\Iatins were just over, and within the broad nave of the 
 noble fane a great number of priests, attired in their robes, 
 were assembled, prior to marching in solemn procession to 
 Smithfield. 
 
 In the aisles, guarded by halberdiers, were collected groups 
 of recusants of both sexes, brought thither to give effect to 
 the ceremonial. Apart from these, but likewise brought 
 from prison to grace the procession, were several deprived 
 divines of the Protestant Church, some of whom afterwards 
 testified to their faith at the stake, while others were starved 
 in their cells, or died from ill treatnient. Many who then 
 met on that melancholy morn, and exchanged a friendly 
 greeting, or a few words of comfort, saw each other for the 
 last time on earth. But in the faces of these stout-hearted 
 champions of the Protestant Church no traces of doubt or 
 discouragement could be discerned. They were evidently 
 prepared to meet their fate with resolution. Neither did 
 they manifest sorrow for the brother about to suffer, regard- 
 ing him as one whose trials were well-nigh over, and who 
 was certain of meeting his reward. 
 
 Within the nave and aisles were congregated a vast num- 
 ber of spectators of the solemn scene. 
 
 Close to one of the enormous columns lining the south 
 aisle of the magnificent fane stood Constance. She was 
 looking with a wistful eye at the deprived Protestant divines, 
 when her own name was breathed in her ear by some one 
 close behind. 
 
 Not doubting who spoke, she partly turnfd her head, and 
 perceived Osbert CUnton, who, screened from the guard by 
 the pillar, had contrived to approach her. The only person 
 who noticed the manoeuvre was Rodomont, but the kind-
 
 Ho'cV a Procession ivas Fortncd at St. FauPs. 26 
 
 o 
 
 hearted fellow looked another way, and tried not to hear 
 what was passing. 
 
 Not much was said — but the icvf words spoke of the 
 young man's wretchedness at the protracted separation from 
 her he loved. 
 
 " Be patient," she said. " All will be well in the end." 
 
 " Talk not to me of patience," he rejoined. " I am un- 
 able to practice it. IMy heart will burst in the effort. I 
 cannot live without you, Constance. Commit yourself to 
 me, and I will free you. You will be gone before the guard 
 can notice your absence ; and once mingled with the throng, 
 you will be safe. Come ! " 
 
 " I cannot — dare not go," she replied. " What would the 
 good Cardinal think of me if I complied ? " 
 
 " Heed him not, but think of me, whom you doom to 
 misery by hesitation. Do not throw away this chance. 
 Another may not occur." 
 
 " Pass if you will," interposed the friendly Rodomont, in 
 a low voice. "I shall hear and see nothing." 
 
 Squeezing his arm by way of thanks, Osbert renewed his 
 entreaties to Constance. 
 
 " No, I cannot do it," she rejoined. " My word to the 
 Queen restrains me." 
 
 " What ? not gone ! " exclaimed Rodomont, looking round. 
 " Peste ! it is now too late." 
 
 Just then a movement took place in the nave, and the 
 attention of the guard was drawn to the prisoneis. 
 
 Clad in his full robes, wearing his mitre, and carrying his 
 crosier, Bonner issued from the sacristy. Before him were 
 borne two large silver crosses, and the pix under a rich 
 canopy. At the same time, the procession was marshalled 
 by the priests. Long wax tapers were lighted and distri- 
 buted among the recusants, who were compelled to carry 
 them ; the Protestant divines being alone exempted from 
 this degrading office. 
 
 As soon as the procession was formed, the halberdiers at 
 the head of it marched through the great western portal of 
 the cathedral, and were followed by a long line of recusants, 
 men and women, bearing lighted tapers. Amongst these 
 were Constance and Derrick Carver. 
 
 Then came the deprived Protestant clergy, walking two
 
 264 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 and two. They were succeeded by monks and friars in the 
 habits of their orders. Then came priests in their robes, and 
 lastly Bonner himself, attired as we have described, and pre- 
 ceded by the large silver crosses and the pix. On either 
 side of the sacramentaries were halberdiers to keep off the 
 crowd. Nor was this the only precaution taken. Outside 
 the cathedral there was a detachment of mounted aique- 
 busiers to clear the way for the train, while a band of archers 
 brought up the rear. 
 
 As the procession issued forth from Saint Paul's, the bells 
 of Saint IMartin's, Ludgate, and other churches on the line 
 of way, began to toll slowly and solemnly.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HALT AT NEWGATE. 
 
 T was a day of triumph to Bonner, and his heart 
 swelled with pride and gratified vengeance as he 
 marched along. The precincts of the cathedral 
 were crowded with spectators, as indeed were all 
 the streets traversed by the cortege on its way to Smithfield. 
 The majority of the beholders being Romanists, they 
 prostrated themselves devoutly as the host went by, while 
 the priests accompanying the bishop sprinkled them with 
 holy water. 
 
 However, there were many who refused to kneel, and who 
 were only restrained by fear from giving utterance to their 
 abhorrence of the ceremony. As the train was passing 
 through Ludgate, a man called out in a stentorian voice, 
 " So, my masters, at last we have got the Inquisition in 
 England ! " But scarcely had the words escaped him, when 
 he was seized and dragged off. 
 
 Arrived at Newgate, where Prebend Rogers had been 
 kept since his condemnation, the cortege came to a halt, and, 
 after a short delay, the prisoner was brought forth. He was 
 a man of middle age, tall of stature, thin, but well-built, 
 dark-complexioned, and possessing a grave, intelligent coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 He looked peifectly composed, and remarked, as he 
 noticed the extent of the cortege, " Ye make as great a show
 
 266 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 as if ye were about to conduct me to a festival, and not to 
 the stake." 
 
 While the sheriffs, who had charge of the doomed man, 
 and who wore their robes and chains, were mounting their 
 horses, a painful incident occurred. With loud cries, that 
 ought to have moved every breast, a woman, having a young 
 child in her arms, and with several other terrified children 
 clinging to her, burst through the ranks of the halberdiers, 
 exclaiming, " For Christ our Saviour's sake, let me bid a 
 last farewell to my husband ! " 
 
 " Get hence, importunate and troublesome woman ! " cried 
 one of the sheriffs, named Woodroofte, in loud and harsh 
 tones. "This man is not thy husband." 
 
 " I protest to you he is, Sir," she rejoined, in extremity 
 of anguish, "ray lawful husband, and these are our 
 children." 
 
 " Spawn of the devil ! " shouted Woodrooffe. " Away 
 with all thy brood of Satan, or the men shall drive you 
 hence with their halberds. You ought to know that a priest 
 cannot marry." 
 
 " We have been married these fourteen years. Sir," said 
 Rogers. " I pray you suffer her to come to me. 'Twill be 
 a comfort to her and to the children to say farewell, and 
 receive my blessing, Our parting will be short. If you are 
 a husband and a father yourself, you will not be deaf to my 
 appeal." 
 
 " I am both, yet will I not suffer her or her base-born 
 brats to come near thee," roared Woodrooffe. " Push them 
 away with your pikes if they will not retire peaceably," he 
 added to the guard. 
 
 " Heaven forgive you ! " exclaimed Rogers, as his wife 
 and children were thrust aside. " 'Twas the sole consolation 
 I asked, and that is denied me." 
 
 Shortly after this interruption, the cortege moved forward 
 again, the condemned, closely attended by the sheriffs and 
 their ofiicers, following next after Bonner. 
 
 On either side of the doomed man walked a priest with a 
 crucifix in his hand, one or other of whom was constantly 
 dinning exhortations to repentance into his ears. To these 
 he would not listen, but recited aloud the Miserere. His 
 firm deportment and serene countenance — for he speedily
 
 The Hal' at Newgate. 
 
 267 
 
 recovered his composure — produced a strong effect upon 
 the beholders. 
 
 The bell of Saint Sepulchre's tolled solemnly as the pro- 
 cession wended its way along Giltspur Street, and the bells 
 of the two churches dedicated to Saint Bartholomew filled 
 the air with the like dismal clangour, as the head of the 
 cavalcade rode into Smithfield.
 
 
 M 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^m^^^^imm 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SMITHFIELD IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ^O part of London is richer in historical recollections 
 of various kinds than Smithfield. In -this en- 
 closure, which in old times was a broad and 
 pleasant field, lying without the City walls on the 
 north-west, were held jousts and tournaments on the most 
 splendid scale, and attended by kings, foreign potentates 
 and ambassadors, nobles, knights, and dames of the highest 
 rank and peerless beauty. Barriers were frequently set up 
 in Smithfield by Edward III., and here a grand tournament, 
 which lasted for a week, was given by the same monarch, in 
 the latter part of his reign, in honour of the beautiful Alice 
 Perrars, by whose charms he was bewitched. Another grand 
 tournament was held here by Richard II., on which 
 occasion sixty knights on richly-caparisoned coursers, and 
 each attended by a lady of honour mounted upon a palfrey, 
 rode from the Tower to Smithfield, where, in the presence 
 of the King and Queen and chief nobles, many commend- 
 able courses were run. In the same reign, the Earl of Mar 
 came from Scotland to challenge the Earl of Nottingham, 
 and the trial of skill took place at Smithfield, resulting in 
 the overthrow of Mar, who was so severely hurt by his 
 opponent that he died on the way back. In the time of 
 Henry IV., the Earl of Somerset, Sir John Cornwall, Sir 
 Richard Arundel, and others, tilted with certain Frenchmen ; 
 and in the same reign a duel took place between Gloucester 
 and Arthur, which would have terminated fatally but for the 
 King's interference. In the succeeding reign, Sir Robert
 
 Sinithfield in the Sixteenth Century. 269 
 
 Carey fought an Aragonese knight at Smithfield, and slew 
 him. Several desperate combats occurred here in the reign 
 of Henry VI., but we cannot dwell upon them, and must 
 conclude our brief summary by allusion to the famous 
 encounter between Lord Scales and the Bastard of Burgundy, 
 held before Edward IV., at which the English noble had the 
 advantage, both mounted and on foot, with poleaxe as well 
 as with spear. 
 
 Many judicial combats were likewise fought at Smithfield, 
 and here it was that the armourer was slain by his false 
 servant — a picturesque incident introduced with admirable 
 effect by Shakespeare in the Second Part of "Henry VI." 
 Other occurrences of a yet more tragical character are not 
 wanting to deepen the interest of the spot. At the north of 
 the field, and between a large pool and a track of marshy 
 land, grew some gigantic elms, and amidst these stately 
 trees stood a permanent gallows, at which the great Scottish 
 hero, William Wallace, was barbarously hanged, and, while 
 yet breathing, disembowelled and quartered. In the centre 
 of the field the Lollards were burnt, and on the same spot, 
 at a later date, numberless victims of the tyrant Henry's 
 rage perished in the same fearful manner. 
 
 The darkest page, however, in the annals of Smithfield, 
 belongs to the period under consideration. 
 
 But Smithfield has lively as well as sombre traditions. 
 Here the famous Bartholomew Fair was held, the humours 
 of which have been painted by IJcn Jonson. Though the 
 amusements of this annual City carnival might scandalise 
 the present decorous generation, they suited our forefathers, 
 who had no objection to a little riotous excess. In the last 
 century, when Bartholomew Fair was at its zenith, excellent 
 theatrical representations were given there, and Fielding 
 himself had a booth at Smithfield.* However, tastes 
 changed. Bartholomew Fair lost its attraction, was voted a 
 nuisance, and finally abolished, though it lingered on till 
 within the last few years. 
 
 At the period of our history, Smithfield retained most of 
 its original features. It was still an open field without the 
 
 * See Mr. Morley's " Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair " — a work full of 
 curious research and delightfully written.
 
 270 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 walls, resorted to by the citizens for purposes of recreation, 
 and was constantly used, as at an earlier date, for grand 
 military displays and for public executions. The grove of 
 giant elms, with the gallows in the midst, was still standing 
 near the pool, and no part of the broad enclosure had as yet 
 been encroached upon. 
 
 On the east side of the area, partially screened by a large 
 mansion, stood the Priory of Saint Bartholomew, a noble 
 religious institution, founded in the time of Henry I., by 
 Rahere, the King's minstrel, and which flourished until the 
 dissolution of the monasteries, when it was granted by 
 Henry VHI. to his Attorney-General, Sir Richard Rich. 
 The size and importance of the priory will be understood, 
 when it is stated that in addition to the abode and dormi- 
 tories of the prior and monks, the establishment comprised 
 a large conventual church, refectory, hall, cloisters, courts, 
 and numerous offices, together with extensive gardens — 
 among which was a mulberry-garden. The splendid church 
 was partially pulled down, and the materials sold, but, on the 
 accession of Queen Mary, the remnant of the sacred ' pile, 
 together with other portions of the monastery, were restored 
 to the brotherhood of Black Canons, from whom they had 
 been wrested, and continued in their hands till the time of 
 Elizabeth, when the fraternity was ejected. 
 
 In front of the priory, as above stated, was a large and 
 picturesque mansion, which delighted the eye with its high 
 pointed roof, carved gables, richly-sculptured portals, and 
 mullioned windows. Adjacent to this habitation v/as an 
 ancient gateway, leading to the conventual church, over the 
 pointed arch of which was a tabernacle containing a statue 
 of Saint Bartholomew holding a knife. On the north of the 
 priory ran a long narrow lane, with detached houses and 
 gardens on either side of it, communicating with Aldersgate 
 Street. 
 
 On the south side of Smithfield stood the old hospital 
 belonging to the priory, at the rear of which was the church 
 of Saint Bartholomew the Less. On the west of the area 
 were a few scattered habitations, amongst which were three 
 renowned hostels, the Saint Catherine's Wheel, the King's 
 Head, and the Rose. Here another narrow lane, skirted by 
 small tenements, ran down to Holborn.
 
 Smii/ijield in tJic Sixieentk Century. 
 
 271 
 
 The best view of Smithfield was from the ground near the 
 old ehivtrees. Standing there, and looking towards the 
 City, the prospect was exceedingly striking. On the left 
 was the priory, surmounted by the square tower of the con- 
 ventual church, and contiguous to it the ancient hospital — a 
 highly picturesque structure. Further on was Saint Sepul- 
 chre's. The north-western angle of the ancient City walls, 
 with its ramparts and battlements, was seen to great advan- 
 tage from this point. Hundreds of lofty and slender spires, 
 graceful steeples, crocheted pinnacles, and embattled towers, 
 long since destroyed, met the gaze. But the grand object of 
 all was the venerable Gothic cathedral, with its spire, up- 
 wards of five hundred feet in height, which could here be 
 surveyed in all its majesty and beauty.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHAT PASSED IN SAINT BARTHOLOMEW'S CHURCH. 
 
 GREAT crowd had assembled in Smithfield to 
 witness the sad spectacle, but a circular space 
 was kept clear in the centre of the area exactly 
 opposite the ancient gateway leading to the 
 priory. 
 
 Within this ring, which was guarded by a double line of 
 halberdiers, stood a stout square oak post, about nine feet 
 high, driven securely into the ground, and having a heavy 
 iron chain attached to it by a staple. Hard by was an 
 immense pile of fagots, with some blocks of wood. A Httle 
 further off there was another pile, consisting of bundles of 
 dried reeds. 
 
 Close by the stake stood three men, of savage and 
 repulsive aspect, clothed in leathern jerkins and tight-fitting 
 hose of blood-red hue, having long iron prongs in their 
 hands. 
 
 As the cortege entered Smithfield, and the intended martyr 
 was descried, a murmur of commiseration rose from those 
 who sympathised with him, but it was instantly drowned 
 by a hurricane of fierce and exulting yells from the 
 Romanists. 
 
 Meantime, the mounted arquebusiers having cleared a 
 passage through the crowd, the long line of priests with 
 their banners and crosses, the recusants with the tapers, the 
 deprived Protestant divines, Bonner and the condemned, 
 passed through the gateway, and, traversing the court, pro-
 
 What Passed in Saint Bart holoinevjs Church. 273 
 
 ceeded to the ancient conventual church, the bell of wliich 
 sounded dolefully the while. 
 
 At the portal they were met by the prior of the Black 
 Canons, with several of the brethren in their sable robes, 
 and conducted to the places appointed for them in the sacred 
 edifice. 
 
 The recusants were ranged on one side, and the Protestant 
 divines on the other, while the Romish priests proceeded to 
 the presbytery. A chair opposite the pulpit was assigned to 
 the doomed man, on which he sat down, with two halber- 
 diers standing behind him. 
 
 On a faldstool near the altar sat Philip, who had come 
 there quite privately, and was only attended by his confessor, 
 Father Alfonso de Castro. In the choir lat Gardiner, with 
 some members of the council. 
 
 Beneath a circular arch, resting on massive cylindrical 
 pillars, near the north transept, stood Osbert Clinton, who, 
 having accompanied the cortege from Saint Paul's, had 
 entered the church at the same time with it, and stationed 
 himself where he could best see Constance without beinsr 
 observed by the Kmg. She soon became aware of his 
 presence, but only ventured occasionally to look towards 
 him, and then her glances yielded him little comfort. 
 
 After a brief delay, Bonner ascended the pulpit, and 
 taking for his text Saint Paul's words to the Galatians, "/ 
 U'Oidd they were C2it off that trouble you,^'' he preached a 
 violent sermon on the necessity of punishing heretics and 
 false brethren with death, citing many authorities in favour 
 of his views, and asserting that to maintain that heresy 
 ought to go unpunished would be to maintain that the 
 worst crimes should be unchastised. " Heresy," he said, 
 " being treason against Heaven, deserves the punishment of 
 treason. As such a traitor," he added, turning to Rogers, 
 " thou wilt be consigned to a fire, which will be to thee a 
 ioretaste of the flames in which thou shalt burn everlast- 
 ingly. Thy fate will be a terrible lesson to all wlio think 
 with thee." 
 
 " It will be a lesson to them how to testify to their faith," 
 rejoined the prebend. 
 
 Bonner having descended from the pulpit, a votive mass 
 for taking away schism was performed by Gardiner, who 
 18
 
 274 ^"^ rdinal Pole. 
 
 solemnly pronounced the oration : — Dens qui errata corrigis, 
 et dispersa congregas, et cotigregata conservas ; qucesimms, super 
 populmn Christiamim tucB imiofiis grafiam demaiter infu7ide: 
 ut divisione rejecta, vero Pastori Ecdcsice iuce se venies, tibl 
 digue valeat famulari. 
 
 Mass ended, the Dies Ircz was sung by the choir of the 
 Black Canons, and, while this was proceeding, the cortege 
 began to move, passing slowly before the altar, preparatory 
 to quitting the church. 
 
 As before, a long array of priests with banners walked 
 with noiseless tread, bowing reverently as they passed the 
 altar. Then came the recusants, carrying their lighted 
 tapers, but not a knee was bent amongst them, not a head 
 inclined. 
 
 Last amongst these walked Constance, alone. She had 
 to pass close by Philip, who was seated on the faldstool, 
 with Gardiner and Father Alfonso beside him, and as she 
 approached him, her strength began to fail, and her knees 
 •tottered. She tried to summon all her energies, but in vain. 
 In another moment she felt she must sink. Philip's gaze 
 was fixed steadily upon her. A desperate effort to pass 
 deprived her of the little strength left, and with a cry she 
 let fall the taper, and would have sunk upon the pavement 
 if the King himself had not caught her. 
 
 " Oh that I could die ! " she gasped. 
 
 " No, you must live for me, Constance," whispered Philip, 
 passionately. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment with mingled fear and 
 aversion, and then closed her eyes. 
 
 "She has swooned," said the King, consigning her to 
 Rodomont, who had been marching behind her. " Take her 
 where she can be tended." 
 
 In obedience to the injunction, Rodomont bore her to the 
 sacristy, where restoratives were applied by a monk, who 
 acted as physician to the brotherhood of the Black Canons. 
 
 This incident, as may be supposed, had not passed un- 
 noticed by Osbert Clinton, whose eyes had never quitted 
 Constance for a moment. As she tottered and fell into the 
 King's arms, his agony became almost insupportable ; and 
 when she was borne to the sacrisity by Rodomont, he would 
 have flown instantly to her assistance if he had dared.
 
 IV/iat Passed in Saint Bai-tJwIomad's Chwch. 275 
 
 Meanwhile the cortege continued to pass slowly by the 
 King. The Protestant divines made him an obeisance as 
 they passed, but sedulously abstained from bowing to the 
 altar. Lastly came the intended martyr, who walked with 
 a firm step, and head erect. 
 
 As he came near, Gardiner commanded him to stop, and 
 thus addressed him : "John Rogers, somewhile priest, but 
 now an excommunicate person, we have striven to convert 
 thee, and by wholesome admonitions to reduce thee again 
 unto the true faith and unity of the universal CathoHc 
 Church, but we have found thee obstinate and stiff-necked, 
 stedfastly continuing in thy damnable opinions and heresies, 
 and refusing to return to the lap of the holy mother church. 
 Wherefore, not being willing that thou shouldst infect the 
 Lord's flock with thine heresy, we have cast thee out from 
 the Church as an obstinate, impenitent sinner, and have 
 left thee to the judgment of the secular power, by whom 
 thou hast been justly condemned to perish by fire. The 
 punishment is inflicted upon thee for the salvation of 
 thine own soul, and as a step towards the extirpation of 
 heresy." 
 
 " What consequences may follow my punishment, my 
 lord, none of us can tell," rejoined Rogers; " but I am fully 
 prepared to die." 
 
 " Sinner as thou art, wilt thou be converted and live ? " 
 cried Gardiner. " Here is her Majesty's pardon," he added, 
 showing him a scroll. 
 
 "I reject it," said Rogers, stoutly. " I maintain that the 
 Catholic Church of Rome is the Church of Antichrist. Item, 
 that in the sacrament of the altar " 
 
 " A truce to thy blasphemies," interrupted Gardiner, 
 furiously. "Away with him to the stake !" 
 
 " I am ready," said Rogers. " I bid you all to my funeral 
 pile. You shall see how a true believer can die. If I 
 blench, proclaim me a renegade." 
 
 Hereupon, the Protestant divines, who had listened with 
 great satisfaction, moved on, and Rogers followed them 
 with a firm step. 
 
 While this occurred, Osbert Clinton had contrived to 
 steal unperceived to the sacristy. Constance had just re- 
 covered from her swoon. Luckily, no one was with her but 
 18—2
 
 276 Card'uial Pole. 
 
 Rodomont, the monk who had tended her having just 
 quitted the chamber. 
 
 "Why have you come here, Sir?" cried Rodomont. 
 " Matters were bad enough before, but your imprudence 
 will make them ten times worse. If the King discovers 
 you, you are lost." 
 
 " I care not what happens to me," replied Osbert. " I 
 could not keep away. Fear nothing, Constance," he added, 
 " I will not quit you more," 
 
 "This is madness," cried Rodomont. "The King is 
 certain to come hither, and then you will be arrested. Hide 
 yourself in this cupboad," he added, opening the door of a 
 large oak ambry reared against the wall. " It only con- 
 tains a few priestly vestments, and you can stand upright 
 within it." 
 
 But Osbert refused to move. 
 
 " Do as he recommends, I implore you," said Constance 
 to him. " You will throw away your life by staying with rne." 
 
 "To be sure he will," rejoined Rodomont, dragging him 
 away, and forcing him into the ambry, the door of which 
 he shut. 
 
 The step was only just taken in time. In another 
 moment, the King came into the sacristy, and seeing that 
 Constance had recovered, he signed to Rodomont to leave 
 the chamber. 
 
 " I have much to say to you, Constance," he began, " but 
 this 13 not the moment for it. Are you still in the same 
 mood as when I saw you last. Has no change been 
 wrought in your sentiments ?" 
 
 " None, Sire," she replied. " I am quite happy in the 
 life I lead with the good Cardinal, and only pray it may 
 continue." 
 
 " But you still maintain your heretical opinions ? " said 
 the King. 
 
 " Firmly as ever, Sire." 
 
 " And does not this awful ceremonial shake you ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, it strengthens my convictions." 
 
 "All heretics are alike — all obstinate and contumacious," 
 muttered Philip. " Constance, you cannot go back to the 
 Cardinal. He is much too lenient to you. I shall deliver 
 you to Bishop Bonner, who will treat you very differently."
 
 What Passed in Saint Bartholomew's ChincJi. 277 
 
 "Oh! Sire, do not deliver me to that cruel man. Let 
 me go back to the good Cardinal, who has been as a father 
 to me. Have compassion upon me." 
 
 "You have no compassion upon me, Constance," rejoined 
 Philip. " You care not for my sufterings. Relent towards 
 me, and I will be less rigorous towards you." 
 
 "It cannot be, Sire," she rejoined, 
 
 " Be not hasty. Reflect. If I consign you to Bonner, 
 your fate is certain. After the execution, the sight of 
 which I will spare you, I will return for your answer. A 
 guard will be placed at the door to prevent your exit, but 
 no one shall disturb you. Again, I say, reflect. On your 
 own decision hangs your fate." 
 
 So saying, he quitted the sacristy, the door of which was 
 locked outside.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PROTO-MARTYR OF THE PROTESTANT CHURCH. 
 
 HE solemn proceedings we have described as 
 taking place in the conventual church of Saint 
 Bartholomew occupied more than an hour, and 
 during this time the concourse within Smith field 
 had considerably increased. Every available inch of ground 
 commanding a view of the place of execution was by this 
 time occupied. The- roofs and windows of all the habitations 
 overlooking the enclosure were filled, and the giant elm-trees 
 near the pool had hundreds among their branches. 
 Romanists and Protestants could be readily distinguished 
 from each other by their looks — the countenances of the 
 former being fierce and exulting in expression, while those 
 of the other bespoke sorrow and indignation. 
 
 On the left of the gangway leading to the priory and oppo- 
 site the stake, a large scaffold had been erected. It was 
 covered with black cloth, and in front was an immense cross 
 embroidered in silver, underneath which was inscribed, Unus 
 DoMiNus, UNA FIDES, UNUM BAPTiSMA. This scaffold was in- 
 tended for the recusants and Protestant divines, and was 
 guarded by mounted arquebusiers. 
 
 On the right of the gateway was reared a long covered 
 gallery, hung with crimson cloth of gold, and emblazoned 
 with the royal arms. This gallery was approached from the 
 upper windows of the mansion against which it was set, and 
 was reserved for the King, the bishops, and the council. It 
 was likewise guarded by mounted men-at-arms.
 
 The Proto-Martyr of the Protestant Church. 279 
 
 The patience of the densely-packed crowd, eager for the 
 exciting spectacle it had come to witness, was well-nigh ex- 
 hausted, when the solemn tolling of the bell of the conventual 
 church announced that, at last, the intended martyr was 
 coming forth. Then all noise and tumult suddenly ceased, 
 and deep silence fell upon the throng. 
 
 In the midst of this hush the doleful hymn chanted by 
 the monks could be distinctly heard. Every eye was then 
 directed towards the gateway. Presently the priests emerged, 
 carrying the crucifixes and banners, and mounting the scaf- 
 fold, they ranged themselves in front of it. They were 
 followed by the recusants with lighted torches, who were 
 placed at the back of the scaffold, while the middle seats 
 were allotted to the Protestant divines. 
 
 All these proceedings were watched with deep interest by 
 the spectators. Many an eye was then cast towards the 
 royal gallery, but it was still vacant. 
 
 As yet nothing had been seen of the doomed man, but 
 now the sheriffs rode forth from the gateway, and in another 
 moment Rogers came after them, still maintaining his 
 firmness of deportment. He was preceded by half-a-dozen 
 halberdiers, and followed by two officers, with drawn swords 
 in their hands. 
 
 At this moment Philip came forth, and sat down in the 
 fauteuil prepared for him in the centre of the gallery. Close 
 behind him stood Father Alfonso, while on his right were 
 Gardiner and Bonner, and other prelates, and on his left the 
 principal members of the council. 
 
 As Philip appeared, a half-suppressed murmur arose 
 among the spectators, and had not their attention been 
 diverted by what was going on below, stronger manifesta- 
 tions of dislike might have been made. Philip frowned as 
 these murmurs greeted him, but made no remark. 
 
 Meanwhile, Rogers continued to march resolutely towards 
 the place of execution — some of the spectators pitying and 
 comforting him, others flouting and reviling him. His firm- 
 ness, however, was exposed to a sore trial at the last. His 
 unhappy and half-distracted wife having followed him with 
 her children to Smithfield, had managed to force her way 
 close up to the ring of halberdiers encircling the stake ; and 
 as he came up, aided by some charitable persons near her,
 
 2 8 o Cardinal Pole. 
 
 who drew aside to let her pass, she burst forth, and ere she 
 could be prevented, flung herself into his arm% and was 
 strained to his breast, while his children clung to his 
 knees. 
 
 Eut this agonising scene, which moved most of those who 
 beheld it, whatever their religious opinions might be, was of 
 brief duration. Seeing what had occurred. Sheriff W'ood- 
 roofte turned fiercely round, and roared out, " What ! here 
 again, thou pestilent woman ! Pluck her from him, and 
 take her and her children from the ground." 
 
 "Go, dear wife and children," cried Rogers. " We shall 
 meet again in a better world, where none will trouble us. 
 Farewell for a little while— only a little while ! My bless- 
 ing be upon you ! " 
 
 " I will not leave you. I will die with you," shrieked his 
 unhappy wife. 
 
 " Let these cruel men kill us also," cried one of the younger 
 children — a little girl. " AVe do not desire to live." 
 
 " Pluck them away instantly, I say," roared Woodroofife. 
 "Why do you hesitate? Do you sympathise with these 
 heretics ? " 
 
 "Gently Sirs, gently," said Rogers. "See ye not she 
 faints. Farewell, dear wife," he continued, kissing her 
 marble cheek. "You can take her now. She will not 
 struggle more. Be of good cheer, my children. We shall 
 meet again in heaven. Once more, farewell." 
 
 As his swooning wife and weeping children were taken 
 away, he covered his face with his hands, and wept aloud, 
 but, roused by the angry voice of the sheriff, he lifted up his 
 head, and, brushing the tears from his eyes, marched with 
 firm footsteps into the ring, in the midst of which was planted 
 the stake. No sooner had he come there than a priest 
 advanced towards him, and, holding up a crucifix, besought 
 him to repent. 
 
 But Rogers pushed him aside, and, turning to the assem- 
 blage, called out with a loud voice, — 
 
 " Good people, having taught you nothing but God's holy 
 word, and such lessons as 1 have learnt from His blessed 
 book, the Holy Bible, I am come hither to seal my faith 
 with my blood." 
 
 *' Have done, thou false knave ! " cried Woodroofife, " or I
 
 The Proto-Martyr of the P iciest ant Church. 28 1 
 
 will have thy lying tongue torn from thy throat. Make 
 ready. Thou hast detained us long enough." 
 
 " Nay, treat him not thus harshly," interposed the priest. 
 Again, I implore you to renounce your errors." 
 
 "You waste time with him, good father," cried the sheriff. 
 
 "Not so," rejoined the priest. "Perchance, even now, 
 Heaven mrny soften his heart." 
 
 " I pray you let me be," said Rogers, taking a Prayer- 
 book from his breast, and turning the leaves. 
 
 "Thou shalt not read that book," cried the sheriff, 
 snatching it from him. " I will cast it into the fire with 
 thee. Make ready, I say," 
 
 On this Rogers went up to the stake, and pressing his 
 lips fervently to it, exclaimed, " Welcome the cross of 
 Christ ! Welcome eternal life ! " 
 
 On turning round, he would have addressed a few more 
 words to the people, but the sheriff, perceiving his design, 
 authoritatively forbade him. 
 
 Then one of the men standing near the stake came up 
 and besought his forgiveness. 
 
 " Forgiveness for what ? " rejoined Rogers. " Thou hast 
 done me no injury that I know of." 
 
 " I am one of those appointed to burn you," replied the 
 man. 
 
 " Nay, then, I freely forgive thee, good fellow," replied 
 Rogers. "And I will give thee thanks also, if thou wilt 
 heap plenty of wood about me." 
 
 With that he took off his gown and doublet, and bestowed 
 them upon the man. Then, kneeling down by the stake, he 
 passed a few moments in deep and earnest prayer ; after 
 which he arose, and said, in a firm voice, '" I am ready." 
 
 Thereupon, a smith and his man, who were in attendance 
 with the sheriffs, stepped forward, and putting the chain 
 around him, fastened it at the back of the stake. An iron 
 hoop was likewise passed around his body, and nailed to 
 the post. 
 
 Then the men with the prongs begin to pile the faggots 
 around him, mingling them with bundles of reeds. 
 
 "Are your fagots dry ? " he inquired, as they were thus 
 engaged. 
 
 " Ay, marry are they," replied the man to whom he Iind
 
 282 Cardi?tal Pole. 
 
 given his cloak and doublet. " You shall not be long a- 
 burning, I'll warrant you." 
 
 When sufficient fagots had been heaped around him, 
 Sheriff Woodrooffe called for torches, which were brought, 
 but ere they could be applied, the priest again interposed. 
 
 " Hold yet a moment," he exclaimed. 
 
 Then advancing towards the martyr, who, chained to the 
 stake and half covered by the fagots, regarded him 
 steadily, he displayed a warrant to him, and said, " Here is 
 the Queen's pardon. Recant, I conjure thee, and thou 
 shalt be spared." 
 
 " Away with thee, tempter ! " exclaimed Rogers. " I take 
 you all to witness," he added, with a loud voice, "that I die 
 in the Protestant faith." 
 
 " Kindle the pile instantly ! " vociferated the sheriff. 
 
 Three blazing torches were then applied to the bundles of 
 reeds, and the next moment the flames leaped up and 
 enveloped the martyr. 
 
 Many of the beholders shouted and exulted at the terrific 
 spectacle, but groans and lamentations burst from others. 
 
 Then the flame fell for a moment, and the serene counte- 
 nance of the martyr could be descried, his lips moving in 
 prayer. But not a groan or a cry escaped him. 
 
 The fagots now began to crackle and blaze. The flames 
 mounted higher and higher, and again wrapt the martyr 
 from view. 
 
 At this moment the sheriff threw the Prayer-book into the 
 fire, commanding the assistants to heap on fresh fagots as 
 fast as the others were consumed ; and this was continued 
 till the sufferer was reduced to ashes. 
 
 Thus died the Proto-martyr of the Protestant Church. 
 
 3Sn^ of X\)t dTouttJ) 33ocfe.
 
 BOOK V. 
 THE INSURRECTION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHAT PASSED BETWEEN OSBERT AND CONSTANCE IN THE 
 
 SACRISTY. 
 
 UN the King's departure from the sacristy, as pre- 
 viously narrated, Constance immediately released 
 Osbert from the ambry, and the unhappy lovers, 
 rushing into each other's arms, forgot for a short 
 space the perilous position in which they were placed. At 
 last, Osbert, partially disengaging himself from the mistress 
 of his heart, exclaimed with bitterness, — 
 
 " What have we done that we should suffer thus severely ? 
 Heaven seems never weary of persecuting us. Yet we have 
 committed no fault save that of loving each other." 
 
 " Alas ! " cried Constance, " it would seem that we are 
 never to be united on earth, since we meet only for a mo- 
 ment, to be torn asunder. We must look for happiness 
 beyond the grave." 
 
 "That is but cold comfort, Constance," cried Osbert. "I 
 cling to life and hope. I yet hope to make you my bride, 
 and to spend years in your society — happy, happy years, 
 which shall make amends (or all the misery we have under- 
 gone."
 
 2S4 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " It would indeed be bliss to dwell together as you say," 
 replied Constance; "but fate opposes us, and to struggle 
 against our destiny would be vain. The trials we experience 
 are given us for our benefit, and ought to be borne cheer- 
 fully. At this very moment, within a short distance of us, a 
 martyr is purchasing, by a cruel death, a crown of glory and 
 a place in heaven. Hark to those cries !" she exclaimed, as 
 shouts were heard without ; " perchance he is now bound to 
 the stake. I am thankful to be spared the frightful spectacle, 
 but I can pray for him here." 
 
 And she knelt down on the pavement, and prayed aloud. 
 
 AVhile she was thus engaged, Osbert glanced anxiously 
 around in search of some means of escape, but could dis- 
 cover none. The sacristy was lighted by two lancet-shaped 
 windows, but they were narrow, and barred outside. 
 
 " Despair ! " he exclaimed, in half-frenzied accents, as his 
 search concluded. " Flight is impossible. We are lost." 
 
 But Constance's thoughts were with the martyr in Smith- 
 field, and the appalling scene seemed to be passing before 
 her eyes. Suddenly she shrieked out, " The fire is kindled. 
 I can see the red reflection of the flames through yonder 
 windows. Oh, it is horrible. Would I were back with the 
 good Cardinal ! " 
 
 " Would you were ! " ejaculated Osbert. " But I fear you 
 will never behold him more. The King will be here pre- 
 sently, and will require an answer. What will you say to 
 him ? " 
 
 " Say ! What shall I say ? " cried Constance, bewildered. 
 
 "Ask me not," rejoined Osbert, in a sombre voice. " Take 
 this dagger," he added, placing a poignard in her hand. 
 '■ Conceal it about your person. You may need it." 
 
 " This dagger !" she cried, regarding the weapon. " What 
 am T to do with it ?" 
 
 " Should the worst befall, plunge it in the King's heart, or 
 your own," he rejoined. 
 
 " I cannot," she replied, letting the poignard fall upon the 
 pavement. " I will not commit a crime that would doom me 
 to perdition. Were I, in a moment of desperation, to do as 
 you suggest, all hope of our reunion in a better world would 
 be over. Then, indeed, I should be lost to you for ever." 
 
 "But this inexorable demon will be here anon," cried
 
 What Passed Between Osbert and Constance. 285 
 
 Osbert, picking up the dagger. "The thought drives me 
 mad. Would that these strong walls would crack asunder 
 to let us pass, or the floor yawn and swallow us up. Any- 
 thing to avoid him." 
 
 " Fresh shouts ! more light against yon windows ! They 
 are adding fuel to the fire ! " cried Constance. " 'Twill be 
 over soon." 
 
 "And then the King will come hither," said Osbert. 
 " Are you prepared for him ? " 
 
 "Fully prepared," she rejoined. " Return to your place 
 of concealment, lest he should appear suddenly." 
 
 "No, I will remain here, and brave his anger," said 
 Osbert. 
 
 " Oh, do not act thus rashly !" she exclaimed. "You can 
 render me no aid, and will only place yourself in needless 
 peril." 
 
 " I have no desire to live. Let the tyrant ^\Teak his ut- 
 most vengeance upon me if he will. Ha ! he comes," he 
 cried, as the key grated in the lock, and the door opened. 
 
 It was not the King, however, but Rodomont Bittern who 
 entered. 
 
 " Just as I expected !" exclaimed Rodomont. " Prudence 
 is not to be looked for in a lover. I was certain 1 should 
 find you talking to your mistress, and therefore I came to 
 warn you that the King will be here directly. Back to the 
 ambry at once." 
 
 "No more hiding for me," returned Osbert. "I shall 
 ■ remain where I am." 
 
 "And be sent to the Tower, and have your head chopped 
 oif for your pains," observed Rodomont. " What service 
 will that do to jMistress Constance ? " 
 
 " It will only tend to make me more wretched," she 
 rejoined. " If you love me," she added to Osbert, " you will 
 not expose yourself to this great danger.'' 
 
 "There, you cannot resist that!" cried Rodomont. 
 " Back to the ambry at once," he continued, pushing him 
 towards it. " And as you value your head, do not stir till 
 the coast is clear." 
 
 " I cannot answer for myself," remarked Osbert, as he got 
 into the cupboard. " A word from the King will bring me 
 forth."
 
 2 86 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Then I'll answer for you," said Rodomont, locking the 
 ambry, and taking away the key. " That's the only chance 
 of keeping him out of harm's way. Be not cast down, fair 
 mistress," he added to Constance. "The Cardinal will 
 protect you." 
 
 " Were I with him, I should have no fear," she repUed. 
 "He would shield me against all wrong; but I am now in 
 the King's power, and he has threatened to deliver me to 
 Bishop Bonner." 
 
 "And if his Majesty should so dispose of you, 'twill be 
 but a brief confinement, for the Cardinal will speedily have 
 you back. So be of good cheer. But hist ! there is a stir 
 within the church. The dread ceremony is over. I must 
 leave you, or the King will find me here. Keep up your 
 courage, I say." 
 
 With this he quitted the chamber, and made fast the door 
 outside.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW FATHER ALFONSO INTERPOSED IN CONSTANCE'S BEHALF. 
 
 FTER a brief interval, but which appeared like an 
 age to Constance, the door was again thrown 
 open, and PhiHp entered the sacristy. To judge 
 by his looks, no one would have supposed that he 
 was fresh from the terrible spectacle he had just witnessed, 
 
 " One would think that burning must be pleasant to those 
 tainted with heresy," he observed. '* The wretch who has 
 just suffered for his contumely smiled as the pile was lighted. 
 But it was not to speak of him that I came here, but of your- 
 self, Constance. Have you reflected ? " 
 
 " I did not need to reflect, Sire. ]\Iy determination was 
 instantly formed, and is unalterable." 
 
 "You will regret it, Constance — bitterly regret it. Con- 
 sider what you sacrifice — life, and all that can render life 
 attractive — for a solitary cell, and a fiery death in Smith- 
 field." 
 
 " I require no consideration, Sire. I choose the dungeon 
 and the stake." 
 
 "Yet a moment," urged Philip. " Bishop Bonner is with- 
 out, but I am unwilling to summon him." 
 
 " Do not hesitate, Sire. I have said that my determina- 
 tion is unalterable." 
 
 After regarding her stedfastly for a few moments, and 
 perceiving that she manifested no symptoms of relenting, 
 Philip moved slowly towards the door, and, on reaching it, 
 paused, and again looked at her fixedly. But, as she still
 
 2 83 Cani'mal Pole. 
 
 continued firm, he summoned Bonner, who immediately 
 afterwards entered with Father Alfonso. The bishop's 
 features were flushed with triumph, but the Spanish friar 
 appeared grave and sad, and his cheeks were almost livid 
 in hue. 
 
 " Here is another obstinate heretic for you, my lord," said 
 the King, pointing to Constance. " Take her, and see what 
 you can do with her." 
 
 " If the Lord Cardinal and your Majesty have failed in 
 bringing her to reason, I shall stand but a poor chance of 
 doing so," replied Bonner. " Nevertheless, I will essay. 
 You must not expect the same gentle treatment from me, 
 mistress," he added, in a harsh voice, to Constance, " that 
 you have lately experienced from the Cardinal," 
 
 *' I do not expect it, my lord," she rejoined. 
 
 " He has been far too indulgent," pursued Bonner. "You 
 have been free to roam about the palace gardens — have had 
 your own attendants and your own chamber, as if you were 
 the Cardinal's guest, and not his prisoner — have been 
 exempted from mass, and other privileges, wholly incon- 
 sistent with your state. None of these immunities will you 
 enjoy with me. You will have no garden to walk in, but a 
 prison court with high walls — no dainty and luxurious 
 chamber, but a close cell — no better fare than bread and 
 water — no attendant save the gaoler — none to converse with 
 except the priest. This is the plan I shall pursue with you. 
 If it fails, and you continue obstinate, you need not be 
 reminded of your doom." 
 
 For a moment there was a pause. Constance then 
 addressed herself to the King, and, speaking with a spirit 
 which she had never previously displayed before him, said, 
 *• I protest against this course. Sire. If I am a prisoner at 
 all, I am the Lord Cardinal's prisoner. I was placed in his 
 Eminence's charge by the Queen's Majesty, and I demand 
 to be taken back to him. If I be not, but be illegally and 
 unjustly detained by the bishop, let his lordship look to it, 
 for assuredly he will have to render a strict account to the 
 Cardinal I have been brought hither in virtue of a warrant 
 from her Majesty, which compels my attendance at this 
 execution, but the warrant declares that I am to be taken 
 back, and this the bishop engaged to do."
 
 How Father Alfonso Interposed. 2 89 
 
 "Is this so?" demanded Philip. 
 
 "I cannot deny it," replied Eonner; "but your Majesty 
 can overrule the order." 
 
 " The King will not follow such ill counsel," said Con- 
 stance. " If I be not taken back in accordance with the 
 warrant, both her Majesty and the Cardinal will be sore 
 displeased." 
 
 "The damsel speaks boldly yet truthfully, Sire," inter- 
 posed Father Alfonso, " and has right on her side. The 
 bishop admits that she was brought here under her Majesty's 
 warrant, and does not deny that h-e undertook to take her 
 back to the Cardinal. If this be not done, his Eminence 
 will have just ground of displeasure. Furthermore, since 
 Mistress Constance was placed by the Queen under the 
 Cardinal's charge, her Majesty's consent must be obtained 
 ere she can be removed." 
 
 " But the King can set at nought the warrant," cried 
 Bonner, " and can remove the damsel from the Cardinal's 
 charge if he thinks fit." 
 
 " Doubtless his Majesty can act as he may deem meet," 
 rejoined Father Alfonso ; " but your lordship can scarce 
 expect to escape blame in the affair. The Queen is certain 
 to resent the disrespect shown to her authority, and the 
 Cardinal will be equally indignant at the interference with 
 him. Both will visit their displeasure on your head." 
 
 " But you will hold me harmless, Sire ? " said Bonner. 
 
 " Nay, my lord, I care not to quarrel with the Cardinal," 
 rejoined Philip. " You must bear the brunt of his anger." 
 
 "And also of the Queen's displeasure," remarked Father 
 Alfonso. " Her Majesty takes great interest in this damsel, 
 and hnd a special design in placing her under the Cardinal's 
 care. If her plan be thwarted " 
 
 " Enough, good father, enough ! " interrupted Bonner. 
 " Unsupported by your Majesty, I dare not act in opposition 
 to the Queen and the Cardinal, and consequently Mistress 
 Constance must go back to Lambeth Palace." 
 
 "Thank Heaven I am saved!" exclaimed Constance, 
 clasping her hands fervently. 
 
 " Be not too sure of tliat," muttered Bonner, with the 
 growl of a tiger robbed of his prey. 
 
 "Your lordship is right," observed Philip, who for a 
 19
 
 290 Card'mal Pole, 
 
 moment had been buried in thought. " Direct opposition 
 to the Cardinal might be fraught with ill consequences. 
 Let Mistress Constance go back to Lambeth Palace. But 
 ere many days — perchance to-morrow — the Cardinal shall 
 be compelled to yield her up to you. The Queen herself 
 shall give you the order." 
 
 " I do not think her Majesty will sign such an order," 
 observed Father Alfonso. 
 
 " Be content, my lord, you shall have it," said the King 
 significantly to Bonner. 
 
 " There is another prisoner in the Lollards' Tower whom 
 I would fain have. Sire," observed the bishop. 
 
 "You mean the crazy fanatic, Derrick Carver," rejoined 
 Philip. " He shall be given up to you at the same time as 
 Constance. Come to Whitehall betimes to-morrow, and I 
 will procure you the warrant from her Majesty. Meanwhile, 
 let Constance go back." 
 
 "Your injunctions shall be obeyed. Sire. Ere long, I 
 hope to offer your Majesty a grand auto-da-fe at Smithfield." 
 
 " If his Majesty will be guided by me, he will not attend 
 another such dreadful execution as we have this day wit- 
 nessed," observed Father Alfonso. 
 
 "Why so, father?" demanded the King. 
 
 " Because you will infaUibly lose your popularity with the 
 nation, Sire," said Father Alfonso. " The odium of these 
 executions will attach to you, instead of to their authors," 
 
 " There is something in this," observed Philip, thought- 
 fully. "We will talk of it anon. Farewell, ray lord. To- 
 morrow morning at Whitehall." And with a glance at 
 Constance, he quitted the sacristy, attended by his con- 
 fessor. 
 
 After addressing a few harsh words to Constance, for 
 whom he seemed to have conceived an extraordinary anti- 
 pathy, Bonner likewise quitted the chamber. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Rodomont entered, and hurrying to 
 the ambry, unlocked it, and set Osbert free. 
 
 Again the unhappy lovers rushed into each other's arms, 
 but Rodomont thought it necessary to interpose, saying 
 there was no time for the indulgence of such transports now, 
 but urging them to bid each other farewell. 
 
 " You heard what has passed just now," remarked Con-
 
 How Father Alfonso Interposed. 291 
 
 stance to Osbert; "I am to be taken back to the good 
 Cardinal." 
 
 "True ; but to-morrow he will be compelled to surrender 
 you to Bonner," rejoined Osbert. 
 
 " Do not believe it, fair mistress," said Rodomont. " His 
 Eminence will protect you. You have escaped many diffi- 
 culties, and may be equally fortunate now. You are to 
 return with the procession to Saint Paul's, after which you 
 will be taken to Lambeth Palace." 
 
 " Farewell, Constance," said Osbert, straining her to his 
 breast. 
 
 " Make haste ! " cried Rodomont, impatiently, " or we 
 shall have the guard here, and then there will be a fresh 
 entanglement. Methinks I hear their footsteps. Quick ! 
 quick ! " 
 
 " I come," rejoined Constance. 
 
 And tearing herself from her lover, she followed him out 
 of the sacristy. The door being left open, Osbert allowed 
 a brief interval to elapse, and then issued lorth into the 
 church, which by this time was well-nigh deserted. 
 
 19 — 2
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW OSBERT WAS INDUCED TO JOIN A CONSPIRACY, 
 
 ^MONGST those who witnessed the burning of 
 Rogers was the French ambassador. On quitting 
 
 rehgioue 
 
 for 
 
 Smithfield, he repaired to the court adjoining the 
 conventual church, and was watching the 
 procession set out on its return to Saint Paul's, 
 when he noticed Osbert Clinton, whose eyes were following 
 the retreating figure of Constance. Approaching him, De 
 Noailles said, in a low voice, " I am sorry to see poor 
 Constance Tyrrell among those recusants. Has she been 
 delivered over to Bonner's chamh-e ardente ? " 
 
 "Not as yet," rejoined Osbert, in a troubled tone. 
 
 " I trust she never may be," said De Noailles, 
 Bonner has no pity for a heretic. Youth and beauty 
 weigh very little with him. 'Tis enough to drive one mad 
 to think that so lovely a creature should be his victim ! " 
 
 "She never shall be !" exclaimed Osbert, moodily. 
 
 " How will you hinder it?" said De Noailles. " Can you 
 snatch her from his grasp if he once secures her ? Can you 
 unlock the prison in which she will be immured ? Dare 
 you e\en approach her now ? How, then, will you be able 
 to free her, when she is led to the stake, escorted by a 
 guard as strong as that which accompanied the poor wretch 
 who has just been sacrificed?" 
 
 "Torture me not thus !" cried Osbert. "I feel as though 
 I could sell myself to perdition to accomplish her deliver- 
 ance."
 
 How Osbert was Induced to Join a Conspiracy. 293 
 
 " You shall not need to do that," observed De Noailles, 
 perceiving that Osbert was in the right frame of mind for 
 his purpose. "Now listen to me. A plot is hatching, 
 having for its object the overthrow of Phihp, the deposition 
 of Mary, and the restoration of the Protestant faith, as a 
 guarantee for which the Princess Elizabeth is to be pro- 
 claimed Queen. Widr this movement all the heads of the 
 Protestant party are connected, and only await a favourable 
 moment for an outbreak. That moment is at hand. The 
 execution which has just taken place is but the prelude to 
 others equally dreadful. In a few days Bishop Hooper will 
 be burnt at Gloucester, Saunders at Coventry, and Taylor 
 at Hadley ; and, ere the month be out, others will swell the 
 fearful catalogue. Thoroughly alarmed, the Protestants 
 feel that, if they do not offer prompt and effectual resistance, 
 they will be exterminated. It is certain, therefore, that 
 they will all rise when called upon, and, if well managed, 
 the scheme cannot fail of success." 
 
 "What has this plot to do with Constance Tyrrell?" 
 demanded Osbert. 
 
 " Much," replied the other. "Join us, and I will engage 
 to procure her liberation." 
 
 " On those terms I will join you," said Osbert. " What 
 would you have me do ? " 
 
 " I cannot explain our plans now. But meet me to 
 morrow, at midnight, in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, 
 and I will introduce you to the chief conspirators." 
 
 " I will be there at the hour appomted," said Osbert. 
 " Till then, farewell ! " 
 
 And moving away, he followed the procession to Saint 
 Paul's, leaving De Noailles well satisfied with his manoiuvre.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHAT PHILIP HEARD WHILE CONCEALED BEHIND 
 THE ARRAS. 
 
 EXT day in the forenoon, Bishop Bonner repaired 
 to Whitehall Palace, and found the King in a 
 cabinet communicating with the great gallery. 
 Philip was seated at a table covered with dis- 
 patches, and near him stood Rodomont Bittern, with whom 
 he was conversing. 
 
 " I am glad you are come, my lord," said the King to 
 Bonner, as the latter entered the cabinet. " This gentle- 
 man is the bearer of a letter from the Lord Cardinal to her 
 Majesty, in which his Eminence solicits an audience of her 
 on a matter of importance. The Cardinal will be here at 
 noon, and the important matter on which he comes relates 
 to the delivery of Constance Tyrrell to your lordship. Is it 
 not so, Sir?" he added to Rodomont. 
 
 " It is, my hege," replied the other. " His Eminence is 
 unwillin'J to give up tlie maiden, and desires to ascertain 
 the Queen's pleasure on the subject. As I have already 
 told your Majesty, the Cardinal was much troubled on 
 learning from Mistress Constance what had befallen her, 
 and he declared that unless he had the Queen's positive 
 commands to that effect he would not surrender her to the 
 ecclesiastical commissioners. I do not think I ever saw 
 him more moved." 
 
 " I make no doubt that his Eminence blamed me, Sir," 
 remarked Bonner.
 
 What Philip Heard while Behind the Arras. 295 
 
 *' To speak truth, my lord, he did," rephed Rodomont ; 
 '■'■ and he said plainly to Lord Piiuli that you should not 
 have the damsel." 
 
 "Your Majesty hears that?" cried Bonner. ''This proud 
 Cardinal defies your authority." 
 
 " Nay, there was no defiance on his Eminence's part of 
 the King's Highness," observed Rodomont, " but only of 
 your lordship. The representative of his Holiness, he said, 
 should not be insulted with impunity, and he added some 
 words which I care not to repeat, but they spoke of repri- 
 mands, censures, and possible privation of dignity." 
 
 " His Eminence takes up the matter with great warmth," 
 observed Bonner, uneasily. 
 
 " I have never known him so put out before," said Rodo- 
 mont. " He paced to and fro within his chamber for an 
 hour, and the Lord Priuli could scarce pacify him. This 
 morning, after an interview with Mistress Constance, his 
 anger broke out afresh, and he dispatched me with a letter 
 to her Majesty, craving an audience at noon. This is all I 
 have to state. I have thought it right to warn your lord- 
 ship that if you think fit to persist in the matter, you may 
 know what to expect." 
 
 " Enough, Sir," observed the King. *' You may with- 
 draw." 
 
 Rodomont bowed and retired, laughing in his sleeve at 
 the fright he had given Bonner. " Heaven forgive me for 
 making a bugbear of the good Cardinal,'' he muttered ; 
 " but the trick seems to have succeeded." 
 
 "So, the Cardinal is determined to try his strength with 
 us," observed Philip, as soon as he and Bonner were left 
 alone." 
 
 " I must beg to retire from the contest, Sire," replied the 
 bishop. " Whoever wins, I am sure to lose by it." 
 
 "Tut! I will bear you harmless," rejoined the King. 
 " But the Cardinal will be here anon. I must prepare the 
 Queen for his arrival." 
 
 "I would your Majesty could be prevailed upon to 
 abandon this design," observed Bonner. " It will lead to 
 nothing save trouble and confusion. Ever after I shall 
 have the Cardinal for an enemy." 
 
 " You alarm yourself needlessly," rejoined Philip. "That
 
 296 Caj'dinal Pole. 
 
 knave purposely exaggerated his master's anger. The C.ir- 
 dinal knows full well that the act is mine, and not your 
 lordship's." 
 
 With this, he passed through a side-door, and, accom- 
 panied by the bishop, entered a large and magnificently 
 furnished apartment, embellished with portraits of Henry 
 VIII. and his family. No one was within this superb room, 
 and after traversing it, the King and Bonner reached an 
 ante-chamber, in which were assembled a number of pages, 
 esquires, and ushers in the royal livery. 
 
 On seeing the King, these personages drew up and bowed 
 reverently as he passed, while two gentleman ushers, each 
 bearing a white wand, marshalled him ceremoniously towards 
 the entrance of the Queen's apartments, before which stood 
 a couple of tall yeomen of the guard with halberds in their 
 hands. 
 
 As he approached this door, Sir John Gage came forth, 
 and Philip inquired if the Queen was alone. The Lord 
 Chamberlain replied in the affirmative, but added that Car- 
 dinal Pole was momentarily expected, and that he himself 
 had come forth to receive his Eminence. 
 
 " It is well," replied Philip. " When the Cardinal comes, 
 do not mention to him that I am with her Majesty. I pray 
 your Lordship to remain here till you are summoned," he 
 added to Bonner. 
 
 With this he passed through the door, which was thrown 
 open by the ushers, and entered the Queen's chamber — a 
 spacious apartment, richly furnished, hung with tapestry, 
 and adorned with many noble pictures, chief among which 
 were portraits of the Queen's ill-fated mother by HolbeiUy 
 and of her royal husband by Sir Antonio More. 
 
 Mary was seated at a table placed near a deep bay- 
 window. She occupied a large armed-chair, and was 
 reading a book of devotions. Her attire was of purple 
 velvet, and a coif set with precious stones adorned her head. 
 A smile lighted up her pallid countenance on the King's 
 entrance. 
 
 " I give your Majesty good-day," she said. " To what do 
 I owe the pleasure of this visit ? " 
 
 " You expect the Cardinal," rejoined Philip, abruptly and 
 Sternly. *' Do you know what brings him here ? " 
 
 \
 
 Wihai Philip Heard while Behind the Arras 297 
 
 " I do not," she answered, *' But I shall be glad to see 
 him, as I desire to consult him as to the restitution of the 
 Church property vested in the crown during the King my 
 father's reign." 
 
 " Reserve that for another occasion, Madam," said Philip. 
 " The Cardinal's errand relates to Constance Tyrrell." 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed Mary, startled. " What has he to 
 say concerning her?" 
 
 " That you will learn on his arrival," rejoined Philip. 
 "But it is my pleasure that she be removed from his custody 
 and delivered to Bishop Bonner." 
 
 "Then his Eminence has failed to reclaim her?" 
 
 " Signally. Nothing remains but to try extreme rigour, 
 and if that will not effect her conversion, the laws she has 
 offended must deal with her." 
 
 " I pity this unhapny maiden, albeit she continues obsti- 
 nate," said Mary. " Be not angry if I tell you that I 
 designed to marry her to your secretary, Osbert Clinton, to 
 whom she is betrothed." 
 
 "She shall never wed him," said Philip, harshly. "Why 
 should you meddle in the matter? Has Osbert Clinton 
 dared to prefer this request to you ?" 
 
 " No, on my soul," replied Mary. " But I know the girl 
 loves him tenderly, and, had she recanted, it was my design 
 to reward her with the husband of her choice." 
 
 "But she does not recant, I tell you. Madam," cried 
 Philip, " so it is idle to speculate on what might have 
 been. It is my will that she be delivered up to Bonner. 
 But the order must proceed from yourself, not from me. 
 Thus, when the Cardinal comes, you will be prepared with 
 an answer to him." 
 
 "But let me first hear what he has to urge," objected 
 the Queen. 
 
 " No matter what he urges," rejoined Philip. " Lay your 
 commands upon him, as I have intimated. Nay, I will be 
 obeyed," he added, authoritatively. 
 
 Mary sighed, but made no further remonstrance. 
 
 " The Cardinal must be at hand," continued Philip. "By 
 your leave, I will be an unseen witness of the interview," 
 
 And he stepped behind the arras, near which the Queen 
 was seated.
 
 298 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " He distrusts me," murmured Mary ; " and, in sooth, he 
 has imposed a most painful task upon me." 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the Cardinal was announced, and, 
 greeting him kindly, the Queen begged him to take a seat 
 by her side. 
 
 " If your Majesty has heard what occurred yesterday in 
 Saint Bartholomew's Church at Smithfield," premised Pole, 
 " you will guess the object of my visit. Constance Tyrrell, 
 whom you confided to my charge, and whom I yet hope to 
 reclaim, is to be wrested from me. But I shall refuse to 
 deliver her up." 
 
 "Your Eminence must needs comply with my order," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " True, Madam," replied the Cardinal, " But I do not 
 believe you will give any such order, when I say that in 
 surrendering her I shall only be consigning her to infamy 
 and dishonour." 
 
 " I pray your Eminence to explain yourself," said Mary, 
 «' It is painful to me to speak out," replied Pole, *' but I 
 cannot allow this unhappy maiden to be sacrificed. She 
 has opened her heart to me, and has confessed all. Blinded 
 by an insane and wicked passion for her, the King, since his 
 first accidental meeting with her at Southampton, has never 
 ceased to persecute her with his dishonourable solicitations. 
 Yesterday, during that dread ceremonial, when, terrified and 
 fainting, she was borne into the sacristy of Saint Bartho- 
 lomew's Church, he renewed his unholy suit, and bade her 
 choose between his love and deliverance up to Bishop 
 Bonner. I doubt not that she would sustain this trial, as 
 she has sustained others. I do not think that imprisonment 
 or torture would shake her. But why should she be exposed 
 to such treatment. INIadam, this is not the case of an 
 heretical offender, Constance Tyrrell is to be imprisoned, 
 is to be tortured, is perhaps to suffer a fiery death, not on 
 account of her religious opinions, but because she has virtue 
 enough to resist the King, Madam, such wrong shall not 
 be, wlrile I can raise my voice against it," 
 
 "It shall not be," said Mary. "Is Bonner a party to 
 this foul transaction ? If so, as I live, I will strip him of 
 his priestly robes." 
 
 "No, Madam," replied Pole. "I must acquit Bonner of
 
 W/iat Philip Heard while Behind the Arras. 299 
 any complicity in the affair. He merely looks for a 
 
 victim." 
 
 " He shall not find one in Constance Tyrrell," said Mary, 
 *' My heart bleeds for her." 
 
 "Well it may, Madam," replied Pole. **A sad fatality 
 has rested upon her ever since the King's arrival in South- 
 ampton, when her marvellous beauty attracted his attention, 
 and excited a passion which nothing apparently can 
 subdue." 
 
 " He saw her before he beheld me, and loved her better 
 than he loved me ! " cried Mary, bitterly. " Something of 
 this I suspected, but I thought 1 had removed her from his 
 influence by taking her with me to Winchester." 
 
 " Ay, but the King contrived to obtain a secret interview 
 with the damsel before your departure," said Pole, " and 
 this is the only part of her conduct that deserves censure. 
 Moved by his passionate words and captivating manner, 
 which few could resist, she listened to him, and at last 
 owned she loved him, or thought she loved him." 
 
 " Oh, I know his power ! " cried Mary. " He exercised 
 the same fascination over me." 
 
 " But withdrawn from his baneful influence, poor Con- 
 stance bitterly repented of the error into which she had been 
 led, and, by the advice of Father Jerome, the good priest of 
 Saint Catherine's chapel at Winchester, to whom she con- 
 fessed her fault, she left with him a tablet of gold, enriched 
 with-precious stones, which had been given her by the King 
 as a gage of love. By Father Jerome's advice, also, she 
 quitted Winchester and returned to her father at South- 
 ampton, the good priest dreading lest, if she remained with 
 your Majesty, she might be exposed to further temptation." 
 
 " Father Jerome did right," said Mary ; " and, perchance, 
 he saved her from dishonour." 
 
 " Up to this time, Constance had been a zealous 
 Catholic," pursued Pole ; " but, while attending Derrick 
 Carver at the Hospital of the Domus Dei at Southampton, 
 she imbibed his pernicious doctrines, and embraced the 
 Reformed faith. This deplorable change, I fear, is 
 attributable to the King." 
 
 " Methinks your Eminence is unjust there," observed 
 Mary.
 
 300 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " My grounds for the opinion are these," replied Pole. 
 "Constance's nature is devout and impressionable. Full of 
 grief and remorse, she was thrown into the way of Carver, 
 who took advantage of her troubled state of mind to accom- 
 plish her conversion. Had I met her at that time she would 
 not have been lost to us, and I still trust she may be re- 
 covered. With the rest of her history your Majesty is 
 acquainted. It is a series of misfortunes ; neither does it 
 seem likely she will ever be wedded to him she loves. 
 Happy had it been for her that she had never excited the 
 King's love ! Happy had it been for her that her faith had 
 not been unsettled, and that she had been able to pass her 
 life in holy and tranquil retirement. But her destiny was 
 otherwise. She has abjured her religion — she has lost her 
 father's affection — she has endured imprisonment — but, 
 though sorely tempted, she has not sinned. Be it yours, 
 gracious Madam, to preserve her from further suffering — 
 from further temptation." 
 
 "What can I do?" cried Mary. " I have promised the 
 King an order for her removal from your Eminence, and 
 deliverance up to Bonner." 
 
 " Madam, if that order be given and acted upon, I shall 
 resist it," replied Pole. 
 
 " Heaven aid me ! " exclaimed the Queen. "I am sorely 
 perplexed, and know not how to act for the best," 
 
 *' Consult the King, your husband, Madam," rejoined the 
 Cardinal. "Tell him what I have told you, and of my 
 resolution." 
 
 "I shall not need to be told," said Philip, coming from 
 behind the arras. " I have heard all that has passed be- 
 tween you and her Majesty." 
 
 "I shrink from nothing I have uttered. Sire," rejoined 
 Pole. " I should have spoken with equal freedom had you 
 stood before me. But I beseech you pursue not this matter 
 further. Consequences you may not foresee will flow from 
 it. You will array against you a force stronger than you 
 can resist. I may be compelled to yield, but my voice will 
 be heard, and its echoes may shake your throne to its 
 foundations." 
 
 " Your Eminence menaces me," cried Philip, sternly. 
 
 "No, Sire, I warn you," rejoined the Cardinal, with dig-
 
 Cakuinai. Pui.k col NSKLS IHK tjl een. 
 
 1'. ;cu.
 
 IV/ia/ Philip Heard while Behind the Arras. 301 
 
 nity. " You are on a perilous path, from which it were wise 
 to turn back." 
 
 " Your Eminence seems to have forgotten your former 
 experiences, and how you fared in your struggle with her 
 Majesty's royal father," observed Philip. " In those days 
 the priesthood received a lesson from the crown which it 
 would be well if they remembered. The proudest of them, 
 Wolsey, was hurled from his high place. I warn you, there- 
 fore of your danger before you enter upon a conflict with 
 me. What Henry VIII. accomplished may be done again. 
 If the priesthood wax insolent they may be crushed. The 
 Papal authority has been just restored, but it can be easily 
 shaken off again. Your Eminence has but recently returned 
 from a long exile, and you may have to endure a second 
 banishment." 
 
 " I shall do my duty without fear, Sire," replied Pole, 
 firmly. " I well know what my resistance to the will of 
 King Henry cost me. Because he could not reach me he 
 struck at those most dear to me — at my sainted mother, the 
 Countess of Salisbury, at my beloved brother, the Lord 
 Montague, at my friends the Marquis of Exeter and Sir 
 Edward Nevil, and at the young and gallant Earl of Surrey, 
 On all these he wreaked the vengeance which ought to have 
 alighted on my head. But I shall not fly now. I shall stay 
 to answer for my acts in person." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed Philip, changing his tone. *' Your 
 Eminence takes the matter too seriously. I desire no quarrel 
 with you, or with the Church. It would be idle to do so on 
 an affair so trifling as the present." 
 
 " The affair is not trifling. Sire," rejoined Pole. " The 
 liberty, the honour, the life of a poor damsel are at 
 stake," 
 
 "That is your Eminence's version of the business," said 
 Philip. " You are simply protecting a heretic. I counsel 
 you to give up the girl peaceably. 'Twill be best." 
 
 " I have already stated my determination. Sire," rejoined 
 Pole. " Madam, I take my leave." 
 
 " Stop, my Lord Cardinal," cried Mary. " Depart not 
 thus, I beseech you. For my sake, tarry a few minutes 
 longer. Perchance his Majesty may relent." 
 
 "I would tarry till midnight if I thought so," replied
 
 302 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Pole. "Oh, Sire," he added to PhiUip, "let me make a 
 final appeal to the latent generosity and goodness of your 
 nature. You have many high and noble qualities, inherited 
 from your august father. Let me sway you now. Be not 
 governed by wild and unhallowed passions, the gratifica- 
 tion of which will endanger your eternal welfare. If you 
 sin, you must not hope to escape chastisement; and as 
 your sin will be great, so will your chastisement be severe. 
 Wrongs, such as you would inflict upon her Majesty, are 
 visited with Heaven's direst wrath, and years of prayer 
 and penance will not procure you pardon. Cast off these 
 delusions and snares. You are fortunately united to a 
 Queen as eminent for virtue as for rank, whose heart is 
 entirely given to you, and who has just proved that she 
 will obey you in all things. In every respect she is worthy 
 of your love. She is your equal in birth, devout and 
 pure, a loving wife, and a great Queen. To sacrifice her 
 true and holy affection for lighter love would be un- 
 pardonable ingratitude. In all the highest quaUfications 
 of a woman, as purity, piety, judgment, discretion, dignity, 
 none can surpass your consort, and you must be insensible 
 indeed not to estimate her merits aright." 
 
 " I do estimate them — estimate them at their true worth," 
 cried Philip. " Your Eminence has roused the better nature 
 in me, and made me sensible of my faults, and ashamed of 
 them. Forgive me, Madam," he added to Mary. 
 
 And as he spoke he approached the Queen, who threw 
 her arms fondly about his neck, exclaiming, " Oh, my good 
 Lord Cardinal, I owe this happiness to you." 
 
 " I am equally beholden to his Emmence," said Philip. 
 " He has spoken the truth to me, and awakened me to a 
 sense of my folly." 
 
 " I have called your Majesty's good feelings into play, that 
 is all," rejoined Pole. " Henceforth, I trust that nothing 
 will disturb the good understanding that ought to subsist 
 between you and your royal consort. Pardon me if I press 
 you further. Sire. Your heart being opened to kindly emo- 
 tions, you will not refuse to listen to me. It is in your 
 power to make ample amends to poor Constance Tyrrell for 
 the misery she has endured, by giving your consent to her 
 marriage with Osbert Clinton."
 
 W/iat Philip Heard while Behind the Arras. 303 
 
 *' I will add my entreaties to those of the Cardinal," said 
 the Queen. " Let it be so, I pray you." 
 
 " If your Eminence will reclaim her from heresy I will not 
 refuse my consent," replied Philip. 
 
 "I ask no more," rejoined Pole; '"'and I trust their nup- 
 tials will not long be delayed." 
 
 "They shall never take place," mentally ejaculated Philip. 
 "Your ]^Iajesty may desire some private converse with his 
 Eminence," he added to the Queen. "I will go and dismiss 
 Bonner, who is waiting without. He will not trouble your 
 Eminence further." 
 
 And he quitted the chamber.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THE QUEEN CONSULTED WITH THE CARDINAL. 
 
 |RAYING the Cardinal to resume his seat by her, 
 Mary said, " There is a matter on which I desire 
 to consult your Eminence. I cannot reconcile 
 it to my conscience to retain the revenues arising 
 from the Church lands, which were unlawfully vested in 
 the crown during the late schism ; but the Lord Chancellor, 
 to whom I have spoken on the subject, seeks to dissuade 
 
 me Irom my purpose, and declares that if 1 part with 
 these large revenues, which amount to well-nigh a hundred 
 thousand pounds a year, I shall not be able to maintain 
 my dignity. To this objection, I replied in all sincerity, 
 that I value my salvation more than ten crowns like that 
 of England, and that I would not endanger my heavenly 
 inheritance for all the wealth the world can offer. Still 
 Gardiner opposes me, and says that the giving up of my 
 revenues will be taken ill by those who are in possession 
 of the abbey lands and other property of the Church, pos- 
 session of which has been secured to them by the papal bull 
 sent to your Eminence. But I see not why I should not 
 set the holders of these ill-gotten treasures a good example. 
 Peradventure some of them may follow it." 
 
 " I trust so, Madam," replied Pole ; " and I applaud your 
 resolution, for though you may impoverish your exchequer, 
 yet you will lay up a far greater treasure for future enjoy- 
 ment in heaven. The bull to which you refer was sent by 
 the Pope at the solicitation of Gardener, to prevent the
 
 How the Queen Consulted with tJie Cardinal. 305 
 
 opposition of certain nobles to reconciliation with the See of 
 Rome, but his Holiness's real sentiments may be judged by 
 another bull which he has just sent into Germany, excom- 
 municating all who may keep any abbey or church lands, 
 and placing under the like ban all princes, prelates and 
 magistrates, who shall refuse to assist in the execution of 
 the bull. Though the bull is addressed to Germany, it 
 undoubtedly appUes to this country as well, since his Holi- 
 ness can never regard those with favour who have enriched 
 themselves with the spoils of the Church. Moreover, the 
 Church is poor, and some provision must be made for its 
 wants." 
 
 " Provision shall be made for it," replied Mary. " I feel 
 with horror that I myself may be excommunicated. But 
 the load shall be removed from my soul. All the crown 
 revenues, derived from the source I have mentioned, shall 
 be relinquished, and placed at the disposal of your Eminence, 
 to be applied in such manner as you may deem fit, for the 
 benefit of the clergy, and the augm.entation of small 
 livings." 
 
 "Your Majesty will do a great and disinterested act, 
 which will for ever redound to your credit, and secure you 
 the prayers of the whole Church," said Pole. " I will take 
 care that the revenues entrusted to me are properly 
 applied." 
 
 " I would I could go still further," observed Mary, 
 " and procure an act to compel the restoration of Church 
 profjerty, in whatever hands it may be. Think you it could 
 be done ? " 
 
 " I do not believe such an act could be procured, Madam," 
 replied Pole. " Certain I am that it would not be prudent 
 to attempt to obtain it at this juncture. Let us wait to see 
 the effect of your own great action." 
 
 "I yield to your judgment," said ]\Iary. "It is ray 
 intention to re-establish three monasteries dissolved by the 
 King, my father — namely, the Grey Friars at Greenwich, 
 the Carthusians at Sheen, and the Briggittines at .Sion." 
 
 " Heaven has stirred your heart to much good work, 
 Madam," said the Cardinal. *' The Church will have cause 
 to bless your name." 
 
 " Yet another matter," observed the Queen. " I desire to 
 20
 
 3o6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 have masses said for the repose of my father's soul, and 
 would fain endow a church for that especial purpose." 
 
 "Alas! Madam, I cannot aid you there," replied Pole. 
 " His Holiness will never permit the endowment of a church 
 for the benefit of the soul of so determined a foe to the See 
 of Rome as Henry VHI. No priest will pray for him." 
 
 " But I can pray for him, and do so daily," rejoined Mary. 
 " I trust his heavily-laden soul is not beyond the reach ot 
 intercession. Since I may not endow a church to say masses 
 for him, I will augment the revenues of the college he 
 re-founded at Cambridge, in the hope that those who are 
 taught there may pray for the soul of their benefactor." 
 
 " A pious act. Madam," said Pole, " and I trust it may be 
 profitable to your father's soul." 
 
 "All these things I do, my Lord Cardinal," pursued 
 Mary, " in preparation for my hour of travail, when I may 
 be called a\vay suddenly from this transitory life. If I 
 should be, you will religiously fulfil my designs." 
 
 " By Heaven's grace, Madam, I will accomplish the work 
 you confide to me," said the Cardinal. "The goods of the 
 Church shall be restored to holy uses, and all other things 
 done as you have appointed." 
 
 " One question more, and I have done," said IMary. " I 
 am about to make my will, and propose to settle the crown 
 on the King my husband, after my decease." 
 
 " Is his Majesty aware of your intention, Madam," in- 
 quired the Cardinal. 
 
 " It is his wish that I should do so," replied Mary. 
 
 "So I suspected," said Pole. "Madam, as your kinsman 
 and faithful counsellor, as your loyal and loving subject, 1 
 implore you not to make the will you propose. Englishmen 
 will never accept a Spaniard as their sovereign, and if you 
 bequeath your kingdom to your husband, your will will 
 assuredly be set aside." 
 
 " But the King has caused the will to be prepared," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " Ha! has it gone so far as that?" cried Pole. 
 
 " It will be brought to me this very day for my signature," 
 replied Mary. 
 
 " Have you consulted the Lord Chancellor and the 
 council, Madam ? " demanded Pole.
 
 How the Qiieen Consulted with the Cardinal. 307 
 
 *' I have consulted no one," she replied. '-'The King 
 enjoined me not to do so. But I could not help confiding 
 the matter to your Eminence, knowing your affection for 
 me." 
 
 " By that affection, of which you know the depth and 
 sincerity, I charge you not to execute that will, ]\Iadam," 
 said Pole. " Your ministers, if consulted, will agree with 
 me. This is no light question. The welfare of your king- 
 dom is at stake." 
 
 At this moment a side-door opened, and Father Alfonso 
 appeared at it, with a packet in his hand. On seeing the 
 Cardinal, he would have retired, but the Queen signed to 
 him to come forward, and he was compelled to obey. 
 
 " It is the will," she observed in an under tone to Pole. 
 
 " It is providential that I am here," he rephed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Father Alfonso advanced, and, bowing rever- 
 ently to the Queen and the Cardinal, laid the packet on the 
 table. 
 
 " Here is the document for your Majesty's signature," he 
 said. " The witnesses await your summons without." 
 
 " The scheme is carefully planned, but I will thwart it," 
 mentally ejaculated Pole. " The witnesses may be dismissed. 
 The Queen will not sign this document," he added, aloud. 
 
 " What do I hear, Madam," cried Father Alfonso. " His 
 Majesty expects " 
 
 " I say the Queen will not sign it," interrupted Pole, 
 taking up the will, " nor any other document to the like 
 ehect." 
 
 ]\Iakmg a profound obeisance to the Queen, he quitted 
 the room, taking the packet with him. 
 
 20 — 2
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF THE MIDNIGHT MEETING IN THE CRYPT BENEATH THE 
 
 CHAPTER-HOUSE. 
 
 JlT was on the stroke of midnight that Osbert 
 Clinton, muffled in a long black cloak, and armed 
 with rapier and dagger, arrived at the place of 
 rendezvous appointed by De Noailles. The 
 night was bright and beautiful, and the moon, nearly at the 
 full, and hanging above the north side of the noble Gothic 
 fane, silvered its hoary battlements and buttresses, and 
 glittered upon the tinted panes of the great pointed 
 windows. 
 
 Passing through an arched doorway, he entered the clois- 
 ters, and marched slowly along the south ambulatory. No 
 one was there. Having thus tracked one side of the square, 
 and glanced down the alley on the left, he stood still and 
 listened, but no sound reached his ears, until shortly after- 
 wards the deep bell of the abbey tolled f 3rth the hour of 
 midnight. Then all again relapsed into solemn silence, and 
 had there been even a light footfall on the pavement, Osbert 
 must have heard it. 
 
 Again he moved slowly on. His thoughts were too much 
 occupied with the business he had on hand, or he might 
 have noted the vaulted and richly-ornamented ceiling over- 
 head, or the pillared openings at the side, through which 
 the moonlight streamed upon the pavement, but though he 
 was not wholly unconscious of these architectural beauties,
 
 The Midnight Meeting in the Crypt. 309 
 
 they produced little effect upon him, neither did the serene 
 loveliness of the night, or the hushed tranquility of the spot, 
 soothe his perturbed spirits. 
 
 He had reached another angle of the cloisters, and was 
 proceeding along the alley, which was here plunged in gloom, 
 when he fancied he discerned a dark figure advancing to- 
 wards him, upon which he quickened his steps, and soon 
 reached the person, who, on seeing him, remained sta- 
 tionary. It was De Noailles. Like Osbert he was muffled 
 in a cloak, and his broad-leaved hat was pulled over his 
 brows. 
 
 " You have not changed your mind, I perceive," observed 
 De Noailles, "but are resolved to go on with the enterprise." 
 
 " I am," replied Osbert. 
 
 " Follow me, then," rejoined the French ambassador, "and 
 I will introduce you to those in league with us." 
 
 Marching quickly but noiselessly along, he conducted 
 Osbert towards the chapter-house. On reaching it, they 
 descended a flight of stone steps which seemed to lead to a 
 vault, but further progress was arrested by a door, against 
 which De Noailles tapped gently. At this summons the 
 door was cautiously opened by a man, who appeared to be 
 well-armed, and they were admitted into a large subterra- 
 nean chamber. 
 
 This crypt, for such it was, was dimly illumined by an 
 iron lamp fixen to a pillar standing in the centre of the 
 vault. The stone walls were of great solidit)', in order to 
 sustain the weight of the chapter-house, and the roof, which 
 likewise formed the floor of the superstructure, was of stone, 
 ribbed, and groined, and supported by the pillar to which 
 the lamp was fixed. 
 
 In this crypt were assembled some eight or nine young men, 
 all of good condition, judging from their attire and deport- 
 ment. As De Noailles and Osbert entered the vault, a tall, 
 richly-dressed man detached himself from the group with 
 whom he was conversing, and advanced to meet them. As he 
 advanced, Osbert instantly knew him to be Thomas Stafford, 
 second son to Lord Stafford, and grandson of the Duke of 
 Buckingham, a disaffected personage who had been engaged 
 in Wyat's rebellion, but had escaped owing to want of proof 
 of his complicity in the aftair.
 
 o 
 
 lo Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Your excellency is welcome," said Stafford to the am- 
 bassador. " I am glad to find you bring us a recruit. What ! 
 Osbert CUnton, is it you ? " he added, as the young man un- 
 muffled his countenance. "You are, indeed, an important 
 accession to our ranks. But you must take the oath of 
 fidelity. Our object is to deliver our country from the 
 tyranny of Spain, to depose Mary, to place Elizabeth on the 
 throne and wed her to Courtenay, and to restore the Protes- 
 tant faith." 
 
 " I will be true to you to the death," replied Osbert em- 
 phatically, " and will aid you to the utmost of my power — 
 this I solemnly swear." 
 
 " Enough," replied Stafford ; " and now I will present you 
 to my associates in this great and holy cause. Some of them 
 you know." 
 
 " I know Sir Henry Dudley, Sir Anthony Kingston, and 
 Sir Nicholas Throckmorton," rephed Osbert, saluting the 
 three persons he named, "but the rest are strangers to me." 
 
 " This is honest Master Udal, and this bold Master Staun- 
 ton, both good Protestants, and hearty haters of the Spaniard 
 and Popish idolatry," said Sir Henry Dudley. And after 
 salutations had passed by Osbert and the persons indicated, 
 he went on: "These gentlemen," bringing forward two 
 others, "are Masters Peckham and Werne. You have heard 
 of them, I make no doubt ? " 
 
 " Ay, marry have I, oftentimes," rephed Osbert. " They 
 are officers to the Princess Elizabeth. I am glad to see 
 them here." 
 
 " They bring us messages from the Princess approving of 
 cur design," said Dudley. " Her Highness will not write, 
 after the danger she incurred from her intercepted correspon- 
 dence with Wyat." 
 
 " Her Grace is very favourable to your cause, as I have 
 already stated, Sir Henry," observed Peckham, " and wishes 
 it all possible success." 
 
 " She has need to do," said Sir Anthony Kingston. •' If 
 we succeed, we shall place the crown upon her head." 
 
 " There is yet another gentleman whom you have not made 
 known to me. Sir Henry," said Osbert, indicating a dark, 
 sinister-looking personage, in a philemot-coloured mantle 
 and doublet, who stood aloof from the others.
 
 The Midnight Meeting in the Crypt. 311 
 
 "Ha! this is a very useful person," replied Dudley, 
 " This is M. de Freitville, a secret agent of the King of 
 France, who promises to aid our enterprise with men and 
 money." 
 
 *' I hope he will fulfil his promises better than those made 
 by him to Wyat," remarked Osbert, regarding Freitville 
 distrustfully. 
 
 " Had Wyat held out a few days longer, he would not 
 have lacked support," rejoined Freitville. " My royal master 
 aftbrded an asylum and gave pensions to all those unplicated 
 in the rebellion who fled to France. His Excellency M. de 
 Noailles will tell you that his Majesty has ever been hostile 
 to this Spanish alliance, and that, failing in preventing it, he 
 is now determined to drive the Queen and her husband from 
 the throne, and set up the Princess Elizabeth in their stead." 
 
 " Has he no other views ? " said Osbert. 
 
 " None averse to this country," said De Noailles, "that I 
 can declare emphatically. It would be idle to assert that my 
 royal master is influenced by the same motives that you are ; 
 but the end is the same. You both seek the dissolution of 
 this marriage and the overthrow of Philip — he as the avowed 
 enemy of Spain, you as suffering from the tyranny of Philip, 
 and anxious to restore the Reformed religion. Our interests, 
 therefore, are identical, and we make common cause together 
 against the foe. For my own part, I have a personal anti- 
 pathy to Philip. He has done me a grievous injury, and I 
 will never rest till I requite him. Some day or other 
 his life will be in my hands and then he shall feel my 
 vengeance." 
 
 " My wrongs are greater than yours," cried Osbert. " I 
 have thrown off all allegiance to him, and am henceforth his 
 deadly foe. He has stepped between me and her whom I 
 love dearer than life, and has sought to sacrifice her to his 
 unhallowed desires. He is unworthy to be the Queen's 
 consort — unworthy to govern Englishmen. I will shed my 
 heart's blood in the attempt to drive him from the throne." 
 
 " Why not plunge a dagger in his breast," said Freitville, 
 " and so rid the country of a tyrant ? " 
 
 " I am no assassin," replied Osbert. " Deeply as I hate 
 him, I would not slay him save in fair fight. No, we must 
 rouse our countrymen to a sense of their danger, and rise in
 
 312 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 arms against him, and put him justly to death, or drive him 
 from the country." 
 
 " His design is to subjugate England, and reduce us to the 
 condition of Flanders and Burgundy," cried Stafford. " If 
 he is allowed to remain on the throne for another year, he 
 will become absolute master of our liberties. The twelve 
 strongest fortresses in England — the Tower itself included — 
 are to be delivered up to him by the misguided and unworthy 
 Queen, and garrisoned by twenty thousand Spaniards." 
 
 " I can scarce think the Queen would be thus false to her 
 country," said Osbert. 
 
 " It is so. Sir, and I will tell you more," pursued Stafford. 
 "Alva is to be governor of the Tower, and ere he has been 
 there many months more noble EngUsh blood will drench 
 the scaffold than ever dyed it in King Harry's days. The 
 Inquisition, also, is to be established." 
 
 " It is already established among us," cried Sir Henry 
 Dudley. " We had our auto-da-fe in Smithfield yesterday." 
 
 " The Queen is so infatuated by her love for the King," 
 pursued Stafford, " that she can deny him nothing. You, 
 Sir," he added to Osbeit, "who have been in attendance upon 
 him, must know how shamefully he abuses her regard, and 
 the scandalous infidelities he practises." 
 
 " It is true," replied Osbert. " It is true, also, that her 
 Majesty can refuse him nothing. He has incited her to settle , 
 her crown upon him by her will in the event of her decease 
 during her time of travail." 
 
 "Can she be so blind as not to perceive that by making 
 such a will she ensures her own death by poison ? " observed 
 De Noailles. " But her senseless passion deprives her of all 
 judgment." 
 
 " Now is the time to strike," cried Stafford. " Men's 
 minds are so excited that a single spark will set the whole 
 city of London in a flame. All the Protestants are ripe for 
 outbreak. Let us raise the standard of revolt in Smithfield, 
 on the very spot where Rogers was martyred, proclaim the 
 Princess Elizabeth Queen, the deposition of Philip and Mary, 
 and restoration of the Reformed religion. We can only 
 number a handful of men at first, but what matters that? 
 Thousands will soon rally round us, and ere night we shall 
 be masters of the City."
 
 The Midnight Meeting in the Crypt. 313 
 
 " The enterprise is desperate," said Osbert, " but the 
 moment is propitious. I am with you." 
 
 " So are we all ! " cried the others. 
 
 " Our cry shall be, ' Down with Philip and Mary ! Down 
 with the mass and idolatry ! Long live Queen Elizabeth, 
 the head and defender of the Protestant Church ! ' " said 
 Staftbrd. " Every Protestant will respond to the call." 
 
 "If we fail, we throw away our lives in a righteous 
 cause," rejoined Osbert. 
 
 " We shall not fail," cried Sir Henry Dudley. " I was at 
 Smithtield yesterday, and spoke with hundreds, who are 
 ready for an outbieak." 
 
 "So did I," added Sir Anthony Kingston. " I can vouch 
 for the detestation with which the King is regarded. Let 
 not the attempt be delayed." 
 
 "It shall be made to-morrow," said Stafiford. "I can 
 muster fifty well armed men." 
 
 "And I half that number," said Dudley. 
 
 " And I twenty," said Kingston. 
 
 " I can bring no one with me," said Osbert. " But I will 
 gain a thousand followers before the day is over." 
 
 "At what hour shall we meet to-morrow?" said 
 Dudley. 
 
 "At noon," replied Stafford, " Give me your hand upon 
 it, Osbert Clinton." 
 
 " Readily," rejoined the other, grasping the hand stretched 
 out to him." 
 
 At this moment the lamp was suddenly thrown down, and 
 the crypt plunged in darkness. 
 
 "Traitors, before to-morrow you shall be all clapped in 
 the Tower ! " cried a voice. 
 
 "'Tis the King!" mentally ejaculated Osbert Clinton. 
 And he sprang towards the door. 
 
 " Perdition ! we have a spy among us," cried Stafford. 
 " Seize him and put him to death ! " 
 
 And, as he spoke, swords were drawn by the con- 
 spirators. 
 
 " Let no one go forth, but let each man answer for himself. 
 Where is Osbert Clinton ? " 
 
 " Here," he replied, irom the door. 
 
 "Where is Sir Henry Dudley?"
 
 314 Cardinal Pole, 
 
 " Here," answered the person designated. 
 
 While Stafford was pursuing these inquiries, Osbert heard 
 some one approaching, and stepped a Httle aside. It was 
 well he did so, as otherwise a rapier would have transfixed 
 him. As it was, the point of the weapon merely pierced the 
 side of his doublet, without doing him any injury. But at 
 the same moment Osbert seized the arm that had dealt the 
 blow. After vainly struggling to free himself from the iron 
 grasp in which he was held, the King (for it was he) whis- 
 pered, " Release me, Sir, I command you." 
 
 "Your commands are of no weight here. Sire," replied 
 Osbert. " But I will not see you assassinated. Save your- 
 self ! " 
 
 And letting go his hold as he spoke, the King instantly 
 passed through the door, and made good his retreat. 
 
 At the noise occasioned by his exit, all was confusion and 
 alarm among the conspirators. Amid fierce shouts and 
 exclamations a general rush was made to the door, and had 
 they not reached it quickly, the whole party would have been 
 made prisoners without the possibiUty of escape, for some 
 one was trying to lock them in. 
 
 Made aware of their approach by the noise, this person 
 fled, without having accomplished his purpose, but, while 
 hastily mounting the steps, he became entangled in his gown 
 — for his garments were those of a monk — and fell. The 
 first of the conspirators to issue from the crypt, were Stafford 
 and Dudley, and on catching sight of the monk, who was 
 getting up as quickly as he could, they recognised Father 
 Alfonso de Castro. 
 
 " By Heaven ! it is the King's confessor who has been 
 playing the spy upon us," exclaimed Stafford. 
 
 "He shall not escape to tell the tale," roared Dudley. 
 " My sword shall stop his preaching in future." 
 
 And they dashed up the steps. Ere they could reach him, 
 however, Father Alfonso had regained his feet, and speeded 
 across the court, shouting lustily for help. 
 
 His object was to gain a small tower, then standing near 
 the cloisters, on the summit of which tower, under a wooden 
 pent-house, hung the alarm-bell. As Father Alfonso was 
 aware, the door of this building was always left open, and if 
 he could only reach it, he would be safe. Fear lent him
 
 The Midnight Meeting in the Crypt. 
 
 315 
 
 wings, and he had passed through the door, shut it, and 
 barred it inside before his pursuers came up. 
 
 While they were venting their disappointment in maledic- 
 tions, he ran up a narrow spiral stone staircase, and, reach- 
 ing a small chamber, seized a rope that dangled from a hole 
 in the ceiling, and began to ring the alarm-bell. 
 
 V
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHAT MANNER THE OUTBREAK COMMENCED. 
 
 EANTIME, all the conspirators had come forth 
 from the crypt, and were gathered together in the 
 court, considering what should be done under the 
 circumstances. The sudden and violent ringing 
 of the alarm-bell seemed to leave them no alternative but 
 flight. 
 
 " We must separate and beat a retreat," cried Stafford. 
 "The meeting must not take place as appointed to-morrow 
 at Smithfield, but must be deferred to some other oppor- 
 tunity. That cursed Spanish friar has overheard our plans, 
 and will reveal them. You will all best consult your safety 
 by keeping out of the way for the present. The great enter- 
 prise has been thwarted for the moment, but it will not be 
 abandoned." 
 
 "Assuredly not," cried Dudley. " Would there were some 
 means of silencing that infernal clatter." 
 
 " If it goes on it will rouse up half the town," cried Sir 
 Anthony Kingston. 
 
 "Why should it not serve as the signal for the rising?" 
 cried Osbert, who felt the necessity of immediate action. 
 " Why should we not commence the great enterprise now ? 
 To-morrow we shall all be proscribed, and a price set upon 
 our heads. Let us act to-night. That bell will spread alarm 
 through all this quarter of the town, and the people will 
 soon come flocking hither to learn its import. Let us tell
 
 hi What Mafiner the Outbreak Commenced. 317 
 
 them that a rising takes place this night against the Spanish 
 domination," 
 
 "Agreed !" exclaimed several voices. 
 
 " I approve of the plan," said De Noailles, who was evi- 
 dently much alarmed ; " but I cannot be seen in the matter. 
 You know where to find me, gentlemen. Success attend 
 you!" 
 
 And he hastily retired with Freitville. 
 
 Meanwhile, the alarm-bell continued to ring violently, and 
 it was evident, from the shouts and noises heard without, 
 that the people were roused, and were flocking towards the 
 spot. 
 
 " I hear them. They are coming now," cried Stafford. 
 " Let us forth to meet them. Ring that bell as loudly as 
 thou canst, thou pestilent friar ! It shall bring those to- 
 gether who shall aid us to dethrone thy master." 
 
 And, as if in compliance with the request, the alarm-bell 
 was run more violently than ever. 
 
 The conspirators then marched, sword in hand, into the 
 Dean's-yard, where some of that dignitary's servants were 
 collected, but on seeing them these persons immediately 
 retreated. But the next moment there burst through the 
 gateway a troop of citizens, hastily and imperfectly attired, 
 and armed with various weapons, swords, pikes, and arque- 
 buses. 
 
 "What ho, my masters !" shouted the foremost of these. 
 " Why rings the alarm bell ? " 
 
 " It rings to call you to arms," repHed Osbert, "in defence 
 of your liberties and religion. A rising is about to take 
 place to depose Philip and Mary, place the Princess EHza- 
 beth on the throne, and restore the Reformed Religion, as 
 established by King Edward VI., of blessed memory." 
 
 "Hear you that, my masters?" cried the man. "The 
 mass is to be put down, and the Protestant faith restored." 
 
 It so chanced that the whole of the persons addressed 
 were Protestants, so they cheered lustily, and shouted, 
 "Down with the mass !" 
 
 Meanwhile, the bell never for a moment ceased its 
 clamour, and numbers of other persons, armed like those 
 who had first appeared, answered the summons. Many of 
 these joined in the cries against Popery, but others being
 
 3 1 8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Romanists, retorted furiouslj', and struggles immediately 
 began to take place between the opposing sects. As the 
 crowd was continually on the increase, the hubbub and dis- 
 turbance grew louder and louder, and a general engagement 
 was threatened. 
 
 Just then, a party of twenty-five or thirty men, armed with 
 pikes and carrying lanterns, came up, shouting, " Down with 
 the mass ! Down with Antichrist ! " Thus reinforced, the 
 Protestants laid about them stoutly, and soon drove off their 
 opponents. 
 
 This victory gained, they began to shout lustily, and called 
 out for a leader, whereupon Osbert Clinton leaped upon a 
 stone bench, and waving his sword above his head, cried out 
 in a loud voice, so as to be heard by all, " I am ready to 
 lead you, and if you will stand firmly by me and my 
 associates, we will deliver you from Spanish tyranny and 
 oppression, and re-establish your religion. No more in- 
 quisitorial practices — no more ecclesiastical commissions — 
 no more burnings at Smithfield. We will release all those 
 imprisoned for heresy." 
 
 " We will release our preachers and pastors," cried Staf- 
 ford, leaping upon the bench, " and punish their judges. We 
 will hang Gardiner and Bonner." 
 
 Shouts and terrific yells responded to this proposition. 
 
 " Here come the arquebusiers ! " shouting several voices, 
 as the trampling of horses and the clanking of arms were 
 heard. 
 
 " Close up, and stand firm ! " cried Osbert, springing from 
 the bench and making his way towards the head of the 
 crowd, which now, in obedience to his commands, had 
 formed itself into a compact mass. 
 
 The next moment a troop of arquebusiers galloped up, 
 with their swords drawn, and drew up in front of the 
 mob. 
 
 After commanding a halt, their captain rode up to the 
 front ranks of the crowd, and called out, " In the Queen's 
 name, as good and loyal subjects of her Majesty, I command 
 you to disperse, and go peaceably to your homes." 
 
 A general refusal was the response. 
 
 "You had best not be obstinate," retorted the captain of 
 the guard. " Mark what I say. You have got amongst you
 
 In What Manner the Outbreak Conwmiced. 3 1 9 
 
 several traitors, who are conspiring against their Majesties 
 and against the safety of the realm." 
 
 " We are all traitors and conspirators," cried several 
 voices. " We have thrown off our allegiance to the Queen 
 and the Pope. We will have no Spaniard for King." 
 
 " Hear me," shouted the officer. " If you do not instantly 
 deliver to us Sir Henry Dudley, Sir Anthony Kingston, 
 Thomas Stafford, Osbert Clinton, and other traitors and con- 
 spirators whom ye have among you, we will cut you to 
 pieces, and take them." 
 
 " Make good your threat, Sir," rejoined Osbert. " I am 
 one of those you have named. Advance and take me if you 
 can." 
 
 The officer instantly pushed forward his horse, but at that 
 moment a bullet from an arquebuse, fired behind Osbert, 
 crashed into his brain, and he fell heavily to the ground. 
 
 On seeing their leader fall, the arquebusiers instantly 
 charged the mob, cutting at them with their swords and 
 hewing down a considerable number. Still, as the sturdy 
 citizens, encouraged by their leaders, stood firm, and 
 received their assailants on their pikes, less mischief was 
 done them than might have been expected. 
 
 A dreadful viclcc now took place, which endured for nearly 
 a quarter of an hour ; and while it was going on fresh 
 parties, both of Protestants and Romanists, arrived at the 
 scene of strife, and at once engaged in the conflict. 
 
 At first, it seemed as if the insurgents must be speedily 
 routed ; but though the arquebusiers did great damage in 
 the early part of the fray, they were completely discomfited 
 in the end, most of their horses being killed under them. 
 
 During the fight, all the leaders of the outbreak distin- 
 guished themselves by their bravery. Osbert Clinton threw 
 himself into the thickest of the fight, encouraged his fol- 
 lowers by word and deed, struck down three of the horse- 
 men, and mainly contributed to the victory eventually gained 
 by the insurgents. In little more than a quarter of an hour 
 after the commencement of the conflict, the arquebusiers 
 were dismounted and discomfited, and the Romanists driven 
 off. 
 
 The alarm-bell, which had ceased during the raging of the 
 conflict, began to ring again more violently than ever.
 
 3 2 o Cardinal Pole. 
 
 A brief consultation was then held among the leaders of 
 the outbreak as to the course that should next be pursued, 
 when it was agreed that they should march on past Charing 
 Cross and along the Strand, and if they received sufficient 
 accession to their forces, should break down Temple Bar, 
 enter the Cit}^, liberate the prisoners for religion from New- 
 gate and the Marshalsea, and march on to the Tower. 
 " I will lead on this party," said Stafford, 
 " I will set free the prisoners from the Gate House here 
 at Westminster," said Sir Henry Dudley. 
 
 " I will crave to be allowed to pass over to Lambeth 
 Palace," said Osbert, '• and set free Constance Tyrrell and 
 Derrick Carver. This done, I will cross London-bridge and 
 join you. Let me have fifty men for the enterprise." 
 
 "Take double that number," said Stafford. "We shall 
 find plenty of others as we march along. Harkye, my 
 masters ! " he called out to the crowd. " I want a hundred 
 men to go to Lambeth Palace." 
 
 "What to do?" demanded a burly citizen. "Not to 
 harm Cardinal Pole. He is a just man, and against persecu- 
 tion. We will hang Bonner and Gardiner, and the rest of 
 the Romish prelates, but we won't hurt a hair of the good 
 Cardinal's head." 
 
 "Right, Master Rufford, we won't hurt Cardinal Pole," 
 cried a man near him. 
 
 " I would not have him harmed," replied Osbert. " My 
 sole object is to liberate two Protestant prisoners — Constance 
 Tyrrell and Derrick Carver. 
 
 " Derrick Carver is confined in the Lollard's Tower," said 
 Rufford; "it was he who spoke to me of the Cardinal's 
 goodness. If it be merely to free him and Constance Tyrrell, 
 we are with you." 
 
 "Ay, any of us will go with you on that errand," cried 
 several voices. 
 
 " I also will go with you," said Udal. 
 A hundred men were then told quickly off, all of whom 
 Avere armed with pikes and other weapons. 
 
 "How are we to get across the river?" demanded 
 Rufford. 
 
 " We will make the best of our way to the Horseferry, 
 where we shall find boats enow," replied Osbert.
 
 In What Man7icr the Outbreak Commeticed. 321 
 
 "Ay, to the Horseferry ! to the Horseferry ! " cried 
 several voices. 
 
 "We shall meet again ere daybreak, if all go well," said 
 Osbert to Staftbrd and the others. 
 
 Then, putting himself at the head of his party, he led them 
 at a quick pace round the south-west precincts of the abbey, 
 and quickly gaining the banks of the river, proceeded to the 
 Horseferry. 
 
 Up to this time they had been unopposed. The occu- 
 pants of the scattered habitations on the road opened their 
 windows to watch them pass, but none came forth to join 
 them. As Osbert expected, they found the large ferry-boat, 
 two barges, and sufficent smaller craft to transport them 
 across the river, and the whole party having embarked in 
 these boats, they pushed off and began to row towards 
 Lambeth. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had they got a bow-shot from the shore, 
 when a band of mounted archers rode up to the ferry station, 
 and finding they were too late, and that all the boats had 
 been taken away by the insurgents, they fired a volley at 
 them, but without doing them any injury. Without tr) ing 
 the effect of a second volley, the horsemen rode back to 
 Westminster, probably to find boats to enable them to cross 
 the river. 
 
 31
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 HOW THE INSURGENTS PROCEEDED TO LAMBETH PALACE. 
 
 EANTIME, Osbert and his party were more than 
 half across the Thames. 
 
 Before them rose the stately palace of Lambeth, 
 with its towers and gateway, looking like a black 
 mass relieved against the clear sky. The serene beauty of 
 night, which contrasted forcibly with the agitating events 
 that were taking place, was not without eftect upon Osbert. 
 As he stood at the prow of the barge, leaning upon his sword 
 and contemplating the scene, its holy calmness insensibly 
 softened him, and he began to feel compunction for what he 
 had done. But it was now too late to recede. The step 
 was taken, and he must go on. He must either perish as 
 a traitor, or live as the liberator of his countr}'. Stifling all 
 remorseful feelings, he tried to fix his thoughts on the latter 
 contingency. 
 
 As the insurgents approached Lambeth Palace, it was 
 evident from the hghts gleaming from the windows, and the 
 sounds heard from the courts, that its inmates were alarmed 
 and astir. 
 
 In another moment the little squadron reached the wharf. 
 Osbert was the first to land, and leaped ashore sword in 
 hand. Udal and Rufford followed him, but such expedition 
 was used that only a few minutes elapsed before the whole 
 party had disembarked. 
 
 Meantime, their movements were watched from the battle-
 
 Hotv the In stir gents Proceeded to Larnheth Palace. 323 
 
 ments of the gatewa)' by Rodomont Bittern and his two 
 lieutenants. As soon as the insurgents had landed, and 
 were drawn up, Osbert marched at their head towards the 
 gateway, but before he reached it, Rodomont called out in a 
 loud voice : — 
 
 " Who are ye. Sirs, and what seek ye, that ye approach 
 the palace of the Lord Cardinal in this hostile fashion? 
 State your business without parleying, that I may report it 
 to his Eminence. But I warn you that you can have no 
 admittance at this hour." 
 
 " We will obtain admittance for ourselves if our request 
 be refused," replied Osbert. " We require Constance Tyrrell 
 and Derrick Carver, both detained within the palace, to be 
 delivered up to us." 
 
 " By whose warrant do you make this demand ? " inquired 
 Rodomont. 
 
 " By mine own," replied the other, " which thus backed, 
 shall answer as well as any other, were it even the Queen's." 
 
 "None but her Majesty's own order will procure their 
 liberation," rejoined Rodomont; "and since you possess 
 not that, you are likely to go away empty-handed. Though 
 I would fain disbelieve it, methinks it is Master Osbert 
 Clinton who speaks to me." 
 
 " I am he you suppose," replied Osbert. " Use dispatch, 
 good Rodomont, and convey my message to the Lord 
 Cardinal." 
 
 " If you are turned rebel, as I suspect from the tone you 
 adopt, and the armed rout at your heels," rejoined Rodo- 
 mont, " I must pray you to cease all familiarity with me. 
 But I will make your demand known to the Lord Cardinal." 
 
 " Fail not to add, that if they be not delivei ed up, we will 
 enter the palace and take them," said Osbert. 
 
 "I will communicate your exact words," rejoined Rodo- 
 mont, " but I warn you, that if you make the attempt you 
 will assuredly be hanged." 
 
 With this he quitted the battlements. 
 
 While he was gone, Osbert employed the time in explain- 
 ing to the insurgents what must be done in the event of the 
 Cardinal's refusal. 
 
 After a brief delay, a wicket in the gate was opened, and 
 Rodomont Bittern came forth. 
 21 — 2
 
 324 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "What answer bring you from the Lord Cardinal?" 
 demanded Osbert, on seeing him." 
 
 " His Eminence will answer you in person," said Rodo- 
 mont. " But if you will take the advice of one who was 
 once your friend, and is still your well-wisher, you will 
 pursue this matter no further." 
 
 "A truce to this," cried Osbert, sternly. '*'T must have 
 the Cardinal's answer without delay, or I shall proceed to 
 action. I have no time to waste." 
 
 " You are peremptory, Sir," observed Rodomont dryly. 
 
 "So peremptory, that I a'/// have the prisoners," rejoined 
 Osbert, fiercely. 
 
 " You must discuss that point with the Lord Cardinal 
 himself," rejoined Rodomont. 
 
 As he spoke, the falling of heavy bars withinside pro- 
 claimed that the gates were being unfastened, and in another 
 moment the ponderous valves swung aside and disclosed the 
 Cardinal standing beneath the archway. 
 
 Close behind him stood Priuli with Constance Tyrrell, 
 habited in black, and looking deathly pale, and a little 
 further removed was Derrick Carver, with Mallet, the 
 keeper of the Lollard's Tower. 
 
 No guard was near the Cardinal ; the only persons with 
 him besides Simnel and Holiday being some half-dozen 
 attendants bearing torches. Pole's features wore a grave 
 and somewhat severe expression. He manifested no ap- 
 prehension whatever, but fixed a searching though somewhat 
 sorrowful glance upon Osbert and the insurgent crew drawn 
 up behind him. 
 
 Seen by the light of the torches which gleamed upon 
 the Cardinal's majestic figure, upon Constance's pallid but 
 lovely features, upon Priuli's noble countenance, and Derrick 
 Carver's rugged physiognomy — upon Osbert, who, sword in 
 hand, confronted the Cardinal, and upon the insurgents with 
 their pikes — the whole picture was exceedingly striking. 
 
 The conference was opened by Pole, who, eyeing Osbert 
 severely, and speaking in a stern tone, said, " I have caused 
 my gates to be thrown open to you, Sir, in order to show 
 you that I have no fear. By what authority do you demand 
 the liberation of the persons committed to my charge ? " 
 
 " I have no authority for the demand I make," replied
 
 How the Lisurgents Proceeded to Lambeth Palace. 325 
 
 Osbert, " but I have the power to enforce compliance, and 
 that must suffice. You have done well in throwing open 
 your gates to us, Lord Cardinal, for we design you no 
 injury. Let Constance Tyrrell and Derrick Carver, both of 
 whom I see with you, be delivered up to us, and we will 
 trouble you no further," 
 
 "And what will you do if I refuse?" said the Cardinal, 
 sternly, 
 
 "We will take them," rejoined Osbert. "But I beseech 
 your Eminence not to compel us to have recourse to 
 violence." 
 
 "Hear me, misguided man," said Pole; "and hear me 
 all of ye," he continued, addressing the insurgents in a 
 louder tone, " I will not affect to misunderstand the cha- 
 racter in which you come. You are rebels and traitors to 
 the Queen, and have risen in arms against her." 
 
 "None would be more loyal and devoted subjects of her 
 Majesty than we, were our rights and liberties respected," 
 said Osbert : " but we have thrown off our allegiance 
 because we will not submit to be governed by a Spanish 
 king. We will not sufter our preachers and pastors to be 
 burnt at the stake as heretics and infidels, nor our country 
 to be enslaved. But we have not come hither to make 
 known our grievances to your Eminence, or to ask for 
 redress, which we well know we cannot obtain from you. 
 We have not come hither to do you injury of any sort, for 
 we hold you in profound respect, and wish there were many 
 of your creed like you. Our object is to liberate all 
 prisoners for religion, and we therefore recjuire the release 
 of the two persons in your custody." 
 
 " Before you proceed to extremities," rejoined Pole, "let 
 me counsel you to pause and consider what you are about. 
 You are engaged in a rash enterprise, which will in no way 
 benefit your cause, but will infallibly lead to your destruction. 
 By this outbreak you will give your rulers a plea for further 
 oppression. I do not hesitate to say that I am averse to 
 religious persecution, and would gladly see an end put to it, 
 but this is not the plan to pursue. In a few hours your 
 outbreak will be crushed, and then the party you represent 
 will be worse off than ever. To all such as are peaceably 
 disposed among y^u, whose families are dear to them, and
 
 326 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 who would avoid bloodshed and ignominious death, I would 
 say disperse quietly, go to your homes, and come not forth 
 again on a Hke pretext. To you, Osbert Clinton, who have 
 been unwise enough to place yourself at the head of this 
 insurrection, I must hold other language. Your only safety 
 is in flight. A price will be set on your head, and, if taken, 
 you will die the death of a traitor." 
 
 " I am aware of it," replied Osbert. '' But I have sworn 
 to free my country and my religion, or perish in the attempt. 
 I have no thoughts of flight, neither will my followers desert 
 me. But we have talked long enough. You know our 
 determination. Are we to have the prisoners peaceably, or 
 must we take them by force ? " 
 
 " I should be loth to provoke you to bloodshed," replied 
 the Cardinal. " Here are the two prisoners, as you see. I 
 will place no restraint upon them. If they choose to go 
 with you, it is well. If not, you will depart without them," 
 
 "I readily agree to the terms, and thank your Eminence 
 for sparing me the necessity of violence," replied Osbert. 
 " I do not think they will hesitate. Derrick Carver, you 
 have heard what has passed. We wait for you." 
 
 But, to Osbert's great surprise, the enthusiast did not 
 move. 
 
 " I cannot go unless I am set free by the Cardinal," he 
 said. 
 
 "How?" cried Osbert. 
 
 " His Eminence suffered me to go forth on my promise to 
 return," replied Carver, " and I will now prove to him that 
 I am to be relied on," 
 
 " I cannot prevent your departure," said Pole; "neither 
 can I set you free." 
 
 "Then I stay," rephed Carver. 
 
 " I am not disappointed in you," observed Pole, approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 "If such be your determination when freedom is ofiered 
 you, you must have taken leave of your senses," said Osbert. 
 " Constance, I call upon you — and shall not, I am sure, call 
 in vain." 
 
 " I cannot leave the good Cardinal, who has sheltered and 
 protected me, without his consent, even at your bidding, 
 Osbert," she replied.
 
 Holu the Insurgents Proceeded to Lambeth Palace. 327 
 
 " And my consent must be refused," said Pole. " Alas ! 
 misguided man," he continued to Qsbert. "You little know 
 what you have done. Just as the King has assented to 
 your union with Constance, you yourself raise an insuperable 
 obstacle to it. Now Constance is lost to you for ever." 
 
 " It is too true, Osbert ! — it is too true," she cried. 
 " Why did you come hither thus ?" 
 
 "Ah! why?" he cried, striking his head with his clenched 
 hand. " Perdition on my folly ! " 
 
 " Save yourself by instant flight — that is the best advice I 
 can give you," said the Cardinal. 
 
 " Desert my friends — never!" exclaimed Osbert. "The 
 die is cast, and I must £:tand the issue. Constance, by all the 
 love you profess to bear me, I implore you to come with me." 
 
 "Alas ! alas I I cannot obey you," she rejoined. 
 
 " Then I will carry you off in spite of your resistance," 
 cried Osbert. " Forward, friends, forward ! " 
 
 Some few advanced at the summons, but the majority, 
 upon whom the Cardinal's harangue, combined with sub- 
 sequent circumstances, had produced a powerful impression, 
 held back. 
 
 As Osbert stepped forward, Rodomont and his two com- 
 rades placed themselves in his way. 
 
 "Back, misguided man !" cried the Cardinal. "Another 
 step, and you rush on certain destruction. The sanctity of 
 this asylum shall not be violated with impunity." 
 
 Just then loud shouts were heard, and some of the insur- 
 gents rushing forth to see what was the matter, immediately 
 returned to say that a large number of the royal guard were 
 landing from boats, and that some of them were already on 
 the wharf. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " cried several voices. 
 
 "Give them battle," rejoined Osbert, in a loud voice. 
 "Farewell, Constance," he added; "if I fall, think that I 
 came to save you. Now, friends, to the wharf ! — to the 
 wharf!" 
 
 Hereupon, all the insurgents, headed by Osbert, rushed 
 forth simultaneously from the archway, shouting, " Down 
 with King Philip ! — down with the Pope !" 
 
 As soon as they were gone, the gates were closed by order 
 o. the Cardinal.
 
 328 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Some thirty or forty archers had already disembarked 
 from the boats that had^ brought them, and others were 
 leaping ashore, as Osbert and his partisans appeared on the 
 wharf. Fierce shouts were raised on both sides, and in 
 another instant a desperate conflict commenced. By a 
 sudden dash, Osbert hoped to drive the enemy into the 
 river ; but the archers stood their ground well, and being 
 quickly reinforced by their comrades from the boats, they 
 not only repelled the attack made upon them, but forced the 
 insurgents to retire. 
 
 It soon became evident to Rodomont and his lieutenants, 
 who had mounted to the summit of the gateway to watch 
 the conflict, that it must speedily terminate in favour of the 
 archers, who were more than a match for their brave but 
 undisciplined opponents. And so it turned out. In les? 
 than ten minutes the conflict was over, and the insurgents 
 dispersed or made captive. Osbert fought desperately to 
 the last, but finding it in vain to struggle longer, followed by 
 three or four others, among whom were Udal and Ruftord, 
 he leaped into a boat, and, pushing off, was borne swiftly 
 down the river. 
 
 Half-a-dozen other boats, manned by archers, instantly 
 started in pursuit, and frequent shots were fired at the 
 fugitives. Whether any of these took effect could not be 
 ascertained by Rodomont and his comrades, who watched 
 the chase with great interest from the battlements ; but, at 
 all events, the flying barque held on its course, and seemed to 
 gain upon the others. At last, pursued and pursuers dis- 
 appeared from view. 
 
 ''As the Queen's loyal subject I ought not to wish well to 
 a traitor and a rebel," remarked Rodomont, "and yet I 
 cannot help hoping that Osbert Clinton has escaped." 
 
 In this wish both his comrades concurred. 
 
 32nti of tlje dFiftfj liooit*
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE LEWES MARTYR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE TARTIXG BETWEEN DERRICK CARVER AND CONSTANCE. 
 
 [jHE attempt made by the conspirators to cause a 
 general rising proved completely abortive. Staf- 
 ford and his party received some accessions to 
 their numbers as they marched along, but before 
 they reached Charing Cross they were attacked and dis- 
 persed by a troop of mounted arquebusiers, who issued from 
 Whitehall. Several persons were arrested, among whom 
 were the two officers of the Princess Elizabeth's household, 
 Peckham and Werne, but the ringleaders managed to escape. 
 Next day, Stafford, Dudley, Kingston, Udal, Osbert Clinton, 
 and the rest of the party, were publicly proclaimed as out- 
 laws, rebels, traitors, and disturbers of the peace, and a large 
 reward offered for their capture. 
 
 Nothing, however, was said about the French ambassador. 
 Only to Gardiner did Philip avow that he had been secretly 
 present with Father de Castro at the meeting in the crypt, 
 and the Chancellor counselled him not to allow this circum- 
 stance to transpire publicly, as they had proof enough 
 against the conspirators without it ; above all, Gardiner was
 
 330 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 opposed to any proceedings being taken against De Noailles. 
 Thus the wily ambassador escaped with impunity as on pre- 
 vious occasions. A strict v.'at^ch, however, was kept upon his 
 movements. 
 
 It was confidently anticipated, both by the King and 
 Gardiner, that before many days all the chief conspirators 
 would be arrested, but in this expectation they were dis- 
 appointed. No traces of any of them could be discovered. 
 Some doubts were entertained as to the fate of Osbert 
 Clinton. Two persons were shot in the boat in which he 
 escaped from Lambeth, and their bodies thrown into the 
 Thames, and it was thought he was one of them ; but this 
 was by no means clear. 
 
 While the search for the leaders of the outbreak was thus 
 being actively, though unsuccessfully, prosecuted, Peckham 
 and Werne were taken to the Tower and put to the torture, 
 in order to compel them to accuse the Princess Elizabeth of 
 complicity in the affair, but nothing could be v/rung from 
 them, and, with twenty other luckless personages who had 
 been captured at the same time, they were hanged, drawn, 
 and quartered, and their heads set upon the north gateway 
 of London Bridge. 
 
 Meanwhile, the religious persecution continued with un- 
 abated rigour. Bishop Hooper, with two others, had under- 
 gone martyrdom at different places, and six more prisoners, 
 excommunicated by Bonner, and dehvered over to the civil 
 power, were about to perish in the same manner. 
 
 Conscious of the odium attaching to these sanguinary 
 measures, Gardiner prudently resigned his post at the eccle- 
 siastical tribunal to Bonner, who thenceforward acted as 
 supreme judge, and was undeterred by scruples of any sort. 
 
 A momentary check was, however, given to his severity 
 from an unexpected quarter. From the various manifesta- 
 tions made towards him by the Protestant party, and from 
 other circumstances, Philip could not fail to perceive that if 
 he took any further part in these barbarous proceedings, he 
 should raise up a host of determined enemies, so he caused 
 Father Alfonso to preach publicly, before him and the court, 
 a sermon strongly condemnatory of religious persecution. 
 The plan completely answered the King's expectations, it 
 being felt that such a sermon could not have been preached
 
 Of the Parting Between Carver- and Cvnstanee. 331 
 
 without his sanction, and it was argued, therefore, that he 
 must disapprove of the course pursued by Bonner. 
 
 The effect of this remarkable discourse — remarkable, in- 
 deed, as emanating from one who had been designated " The 
 Scourge of Heresy " — was to stay the bitter persecution for 
 a while, but, though momentarily checked, it revived with 
 a greater fury than before. The six unfortunate persons 
 excommunicated by Bonner were consigned to the flames, 
 and urged to greater activity by the Marquis of Winchester, 
 and other members of the council, the zealous prelate looked 
 out for fresh victims. 
 
 Bonner had long burned to wreak his vengeance upon 
 Derrick Caiver, and was at last able to gratify his desire. 
 Having procured a warrant from the Queen for the deliver- 
 ance up to him of the prisoner, who was still confined in the 
 Lollards' Tower, he immediately acted upon it. Before he 
 was taken away. Carver, by permission of the Cardinal, was 
 allowed to bid farewell to Constance Tyrrell. The interview 
 took place in the Post Room in the Lollards' Tower, and in 
 order that there might be no check upon their freedom of 
 discourse, they were left alone together. 
 
 "Daughter," said Carver, who appeared more subdued 
 than usual, "I am about to win the crown of martyrdom lor 
 which I have so long striven, and to inscribe my name upon 
 that scroll which shall hereafter be a guide to our Church. 
 In quitting you for a while, I expect you to remain stedlast 
 in the faith. Be not shaken by the arguments of the Car- 
 dinal, who, though a good man, has been brought up in 
 superstition and idolatry, and cannot free himself from the 
 errors of his creed." 
 
 " Have no fear for me," replied Constance. " I shall soon 
 follow in the same path you are about to tread," 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed Carver, with an irrepressible 
 shudder, " Oh ! Constance, while alone in my cell, I have 
 communed with myself, sounding my breast to its depths, 
 and weighing every thought and action, and I reproach my- 
 self that I have led you too far. 1 have kindled a holy fer- 
 vour in your breast like that which animates my own, and 
 which incites you to bear witness to your faith by death." 
 
 " True. But surely you should rejoice that you have 
 kindled such a flame," she rejoined.
 
 232 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " No ; I would quench it," he cried. " Seek not martyr- 
 dom. Rush not upon fiery torments— but Uve— live a godly 
 
 life." 
 
 " These words are strange from you, who have so often 
 painted the glories of martyrdom to me, and urged me to 
 share them with you." 
 
 "I repent that I did so," he rejoined. "Were you to 
 suffer with me, your torments would afflict me a thousand 
 times more than my own. 'Twere terrible that a frame so 
 fair as yours should be consumed by fire. It must not be. 
 You are young and beautiful. You love, and are beloved. 
 Live and be happy. Live for Osbert Clinton." 
 
 " Alas ! " exclaimed Constance, "I know not if Osbert still 
 lives. It is thought he perished on that fatal night when he 
 came here to liberate us. He has not been heard of since. 
 But if he lives, it is as a proscribed rebel, with a price set on 
 his head, and if he be taken, his doom is certain. I have 
 nothing left but to die." 
 
 " No, you must live," said Carver, solemnly. |' Osbert 
 Clinton is not dead. He did not perish on that disastrous 
 night, as you suppose. I have seen and spoken with him at 
 the window of my cell, which he reached as he did when you, 
 dear daughter, were its occupant. He and his friends are 
 not disheartened by the ill success of their enterprise. It 
 was rash and precipitate, and failed in consequence. But 
 they are planning another insurrection, and I pray Heaven 
 to crown it with success, since it has for its aim the restora- 
 tion of our religion and the downfall of Philip ! " 
 
 " I rejoice to hear that Osbert still lives," said Constance ; 
 " but I fear these plots will eventually conduct him to the 
 
 scaftbld." 
 
 " If he should so perish, then seek for a mirtyr's crown, < 
 if you will," said Carver ; " but while he lives, live for him. I 
 Something tells me you will yet be united." 
 
 " I dare not hope so," she rejoined. 
 
 *' If my last prayers will avail to ensure your happiness, 
 you shall have them," said Carver. "And now we must 
 part. Once more I exhort you to continue stedfast in the 
 faith. But be not influenced by the desire of vain-giory, 
 which, perchance, may be my own besetting sin. And now 
 receive my blessing ! "
 
 Of the Parting Belween Carver and Constance. 333 
 
 And as she bent before him, he spread his arms over her 
 head, and pronounced a solemn benediction. 
 
 There was then a deep silence, broken only by Constance's 
 sobs. 
 
 "Weep not, dear daughter," he said. "Our parting 
 ought to be joyous rather than sad, seeing that my trials are 
 well-nigh over, and I am about to reap my reward. Fare- 
 well ! " he added, taking her hand, and pressing his lips to 
 it. " Forget not what I have said to you." 
 
 " Fear me not ! " she rejoined, sinking upon a bench. 
 "Farewell!" 
 
 Carver cast a compassionate look at her, and then striding 
 resolutely towards the door, he called out that he was ready, 
 whereupon Mallet instantly appeared. 
 
 Without hazarding another glance at Constance, he then 
 quitted the chamber, and was taken by Mallet to the gate, 
 where he was delivered to the officers sent for him by 
 Bonner. 
 
 A barge awaited him, and in this conveyance he was taken 
 to Paul's Wharf. Thence he was escorted to the consistory 
 at Saint Paul's, where Bonner was sitting in judgment with 
 the Lord ^Nlayor, the sheriffs, and several members of the 
 council
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW DERRICK CARVER WAS TAKEN TO LEWES. 
 
 HEN Derrick Carver was brought before the 
 tribunal, Bonner eyed him with a smile of 
 malignant satisfaction, and observed to Sheriff 
 Woodrooffe, who was sitting near him, — 
 
 " At last I have got this pestilent fellow, whom the Car- 
 dinal has so long screened from justice. He shall not escape 
 now. I will deal roundly with him." 
 
 On this, he caused the minutes of the prisoner's previous 
 examinations to be read to him by an officer in the court, 
 which being done, Bonner said, in a bitter and derisive tone, 
 
 " Such were the detestable and damnable opinions pro- 
 fessed by thee, Derrick Carver, when thou wert last interro- 
 gated in the Lollards' Tower ; but doubtless the exhortations 
 and persuasions of the Lord Cardinal have wrought a bene- 
 ficial change, and thou art now willing to confess thine 
 errors and abjure them." 
 
 " My op nions have undergone no change," replied Carver. 
 " But if any Romanist could have converted me, it would be 
 Cardinal Pole." 
 
 " Ah ! you admit so much," cried Bonner. "Why should 
 Cardinal Pole prevail with you more than others ? Hath he 
 more zeal — more devotion — more theological learning than 
 others have ? " 
 
 " I know not whether he hath more Zealand learning than 
 your lordship, but he has more Christian charity," replied
 
 How Derrick Carver was Taken to Lewes. 335 
 
 Carver. " He understands the Gospel, and is guided by its 
 precepts, which you are not." 
 
 " BeUke you deem his Eminence less rigid, less orthodox 
 than I am ? " said Bonner. 
 
 " My tenets are not his tenets," replied Carver ; " yet I 
 hold him to be a good man, though, unhappily, blinded to 
 the truth. Your lordship may be the more orthodox Catholic 
 of the two, but you are the worse man." 
 
 "I thank thee for the admission, thou foul-mouthed knave," 
 cried Bonner. "You all hear that he charges the Cardinal 
 with unsoundness of opinion," he added to the court. 
 
 " I charge thee with attempting to pervert my words," 
 retorted Carver. " I meant to say that Cardinal Pole is the 
 chief living light and glory of the Church of Rome, whereas 
 thou art its shame and reproach. In after times, when this 
 bitter persecution of the faithful is spoken of, Reginald Pole 
 will be remembered for mildness and toleration, while thou 
 wilt be execrated as the ' bloody Bishop Bonner ' — a name 
 that shall cling to thee for ever ! " 
 
 " I would rather have thy censur^than thy commendation," 
 rejoined Bonner. " Had the Cardinal treated thee with due 
 severity, thou wouldst never have lauded his virtues. But 
 thou hast said enough to convince us thou art obstinate and 
 impenitent. Therefore I shall not take up the time of the 
 court by questioning thee further, Down on thy knees 
 while sentence of excommunication is pronounced upon 
 thee." 
 
 " I kneel only to Heaven," replied the prisoner, firmly. 
 
 At a sign from the bishop, two officers seized him, and, in 
 spite of his resistance, forced him upon his knees, detaining 
 him in this posture while the sentence was read to him by 
 Bonner. This done, he was permitted to rise, and the 
 ofticers left him. 
 
 " Thou art now accursed," pursued Bonner, "and hence- 
 forward, if any man shall eat with thee, or drink with thee, 
 or otherwise help thee or comfort thee, he will be a partaker 
 in the curse." 
 
 " You have put me out of the communion of a Church 
 which I have quitted of my own accord for these ten years," 
 said Carver. " As to your anathemas, they affright me not. 
 May they recoil with added strength on your own head."
 
 33^ Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "Away, thou miserable blasphemer!" cried Bonner, 
 furiously. " I have done with thee for ever." 
 
 "No, not for ever, thou unrighteous judge," rejoined 
 Carver. " I summon thee to appear with me before the 
 Judgment Throne of Heaven to answer for the blood thoa 
 art about to shed." 
 
 So awful was the tone in which these words were uttered 
 that a profound impression was upon all the hearers, and 
 even Bonner trembled. But he quickly shook off his trepi- 
 dation, and exclaimed, — 
 
 "The gates of Heaven will be fast closed to you, unless 
 you repent. You will now be delivered to the sheriffs, and 
 by them will be taken to Newgate, where you will remain 
 until after your trial. If you are condemned, as I nothing 
 doubt you will be, you will be burned at Lewes, from the 
 neighbourhood of which place you come, and where we 
 learn there are many tainted with false doctrines, to whom 
 your death may prove a salutary warning." 
 
 " It will strengthen them in their faith, when they see how 
 a believer in the Gospel can die," rejoined Carver. 
 
 "Away with him!" cried Bonner, impatiently. ''Away 
 with him ! " 
 
 On this, the prisoner was removed from the court, and 
 conveyed with two others, who had been examined before 
 his arrival at the consistory, to Newgate. 
 
 _ By command of Sheriff Woodroofte, who accompanied 
 him to the prison, he was placed in a noisome dungeon, and 
 only allowed bread and water. After a few days' confine- 
 ment, he was brought up for trial, and, as had been foretold 
 by Bonner, condemned to death at the stake. 
 
 Orders were then given by Sheriff Woodroofife that he 
 should be taken to Lewes, under a sufficient guard, for 
 immediate execution, and on the following day the little 
 cavalcade set out on its journey, stopping for the first night 
 at Croydon. The inhabitants of the place flocked forth to 
 see the prisoner, and many of them expressed great 
 commiseration for him, but he was not permitted by the guard 
 to speak to them, or to receive any refreshments offered 
 him. 
 
 " Avoid him I " cried Father Josfrid, a Dominican friar 
 by whom he was accompanied; "he is excommunicated.
 
 How Derrick Carver was Taken to Lewes. 337 
 
 and if ye give him aught, ye will share in the heavy curse 
 under which he labours." 
 
 From the exhortations of this zealous monk Carver was 
 never for a moment free, though they produced no other 
 effect upon him than annoyance. The escort was com- 
 manded by an officer named Brand, who had been selected 
 for the business by Sheriff Woodroofte on account of his 
 hatred to the Protestant party. He was a sullen, sour- 
 tempered personage, and showed his ill will to the prisoner 
 both by word and blow. Carver, however, bore this harsh 
 usage without a murmur. 
 
 On the second day the party reached East Grinstead, 
 where they passed the night, a cellar with a truss of straw 
 laid on the floor being allotted to Carver ; and starting early 
 on the following morning, they reached Ditchling about noon, 
 and, after an hour's halt, commenced the ascent of the downs. 
 
 On arriving at Ditchling, the prisoner earnestly besought 
 Captain Brand to take him to Brightelmstone, in order that 
 he might bid farewell to his wife and children, and aged 
 mother ; but the petition was refused, the officer declaring 
 he would not go half-a-dozen miles out of his way to pleasure 
 a heretic, 
 
 "They can come and see you burned at Lewes to- 
 morrow, if they list," he added, with a savage grin. 
 
 Hearing what passed, a young man, mounted on a strong 
 iron-grey horse, who had entered the inn-yard almost imme- 
 diately after the little cavalcade, inquired the nearest road 
 to Brightelmstone, and immediately galloped off in that 
 direction. 
 
 Having mounted the steep hill-side, and passed Ditchling 
 Beacon, the party proceeded along the brow of the downs, 
 whence such magnificent views of the weald of Sussex are 
 obtained, though these now received little attention, until 
 they came to Mount Harry, on whose verdant slojjes was 
 fought the great battle between Henry HI. and the Barons 
 under Simon de Montfort, when the ancient and picturesque 
 town of Lewes, with its towering castle and ruined priory, 
 its numerous churches, gates, and circling walls, burst upon 
 their view. 
 
 " Welcome ! thou city of refuge," exclaimed Carver, 
 stretching out his hands towards the town. "Thou art 
 22
 
 338 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 gladsome to mine eyes as was Ramoth Gilead to the fugitives 
 from Jordan. There shall I be at rest." 
 
 " There will be a rare bonfire in that old town to-morrow," 
 observed Captain Brand, in a jeering tone, to the prisoner — 
 "a bonfire such as the townsfolk have seldom seen, and which 
 they are likely long to recollect. 'Twill be a grand spectacle 
 to those who look on," he added with stern significance. 
 
 " I had rather be the chief actor in the spectacle than a 
 beholder of it," replied Carver; "and I trust those who 
 witness it will long remember it." 
 
 On this, Brand rode on, and Father Josfrid resumed the 
 exhortation which he had been obliged for the nonce to 
 suspend.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW DERRICK CARVER WAS PLACED IN A VAULT BENEATH 
 THE STAR INN AT LEWES. 
 
 T the period of our history, Lewes, as we have just 
 intimated, was surrounded by walls built of stone, 
 and of considerable strength, though few traces of 
 these fortifications are now left. At the west 
 gate of the town the party was met by the high sheriff", Sir 
 Richard de Warren, and Master Piddinghoe, the head- 
 borough, attended by a large posse of men armed with 
 halberds. Besides these, there were many burgesses and 
 priests, who had come forth to see the prisoner. At this 
 place Derrick Carver was delivered over to the high sheriff 
 by Captain Brand, who at the same time handed to Sir 
 Richard the warrant for the prisoner's execution. 
 
 " All shall be ready for the ceremonial to-morrow morn- 
 ing," said De Warren. " We cannot lodge him in the castle, 
 but we will place him in a vault beneath the Star Inn, where 
 he will be perfectly secure." 
 
 " I have fulfilled mine office in delivering him into your 
 hands. Sir Richard," replied Brand. " But my orders from 
 Sherift" Woodroofife are to tarry here till the sentence is 
 carried out." 
 
 "You will not be detained beyond to-morrow morning, 
 Sir," said De Warren. 
 
 On this the party passed through the gate, and began to 
 move slowly down the High Street, w-hich formed a gradual 
 descent towards the centre of the town. On either side the 
 
 2 2 — 2
 
 34° Cardinal Tole. 
 
 street \v.}re habitations of various sizes, but all of quaint and 
 picturesque architecture. As the train advanced, the in- 
 habitants came forth to see the prisoner, to many of whom 
 he was personally known, and these loudly expressed their 
 commiseration, and their abhorrence of his persecutors. 
 
 By the time the train had reached the massive Norman 
 gate of the castle, so large a crowd had collected that the 
 progress of the party was impeded, and the high sheriff's 
 attendants had to use the poles of their halberds to effect a 
 passage. l\\ spite, however, of the exertions of the officers 
 and men, the thfong could not be kept back, but forced 
 themselves up to the prisoner, and catching hold of his gar- 
 ments, and clinging to his horse, besought his blessing. 
 
 "Stand back! — touch him not!" cried Father Josfrid. 
 "He is excommunicated." 
 
 Little attention however, was paid to the priest. In vain 
 Carver besought those nearest him to retire — in vain the 
 officers commanded them to stand back— they would not 
 stir. At last, force vvas employed, they were thrust violently 
 aside, and amid shrieks of terror and groans and yells ot 
 indignation, Carver was hurried along, and finally convcytxl 
 through a gateway into a large yard at the rear of the Star 
 Inn. As soon as this had been accomplished the gate was 
 shut, and a guard placed in front of it. 
 
 This ancient hostel, which still exists, though it has under- 
 gone many transformations, was then a large and substantial 
 structure, capable of accommodating a great number of 
 guests, and was managed by Dame Dunster, a buxom widow, 
 whose boast it was that the best mutton in Sussex, the fattest 
 capons, the most perfectly seasoned venison pasties, the most 
 delicious stewed eels, and the brightest sack and claret, were 
 to be had at the Star at Lewes. Besides these good things, 
 and many others, those who lodged with Dame Dunster had 
 the luxury of linen white as snow, and fragrant of lavender. 
 Nothing, in short, was wanting at the Star — a comely and 
 good-humoured landlady, young and not ill-favoured hand- 
 maidens, and active drawers — these for the guests, while for 
 their steeds there were good stables and good provender. 
 
 Beneath the hostel there existed, and indeed still exists, a 
 large vault, wherein, as the high sheriff had intimated to 
 Captain Brand, it was intended to place Derrick Carver for
 
 How Derrick Carver ivas Placed in a Vault. 341 
 
 the night. The subterranean chamber was of great strength, 
 the roof high and arched, and the walls of solid stone. It 
 was of great antiquity, and had originally belonged to a 
 monastic edifice. On one side, at a considerable heiglit from 
 the ground, was an an glazed window or aperture, contrived 
 for the admission of air and light. This aperture was placed 
 on a level with the street, and was secured by stout iron 
 bars, fixed horizontally and close together. This singular 
 vault is still much in the same state as we have described it, 
 though it is now used for other purposes than as a place of 
 detention of prisoners, being, in fact, a very cool and com- 
 modious cellar. 
 
 When Derrick Carver was taken into the inn-yard, as 
 already related, he became so faint that he was obliged to 
 sit down on a horse-block for a few minutes to recover him- 
 self. Noticing his feeble condition, Dame Dunster who had, 
 come forth to look at him, kindly sent for a cup of sack, and 
 offered it to him. But Father Josfrid again interposed, and 
 bade her take the wine away, if she would not fall under the 
 same ban as the miserable wretch before her. But the kind- 
 hearted hostess persisted, whereupon the priest snatched the 
 cup from her, and dashed its contents on the ground. 
 
 " You must have a heart utterly void of compassion, or 
 you could not act thus," cried Dame Dunster to Father 
 Josfrid. " You would see the poor man die, and not raise 
 a hand to help him. It would be happy for him, indeed, if 
 he were to die, as in that case he would escape further 
 cruelty." 
 
 *' I am better now," replied Derrick Carver, raising him- 
 self to his feet by a great eftbrt. " I lack not the wine you 
 would have given me to drink, but I thank you heartily for 
 the kind intent, and invoke Heaven's blessings upon your 
 house." 
 
 "Thy blessings will prove curses, thou outcast from 
 Heaven," cried the priest. 
 
 "Be not troubled by his words, good sister," said Carver. 
 " Be mindful of what I say to you. Avoid idolatry and 
 superstition. Place your faith in the Gospel, and you shall 
 live. Pray for me, sister, and 1 will pray for you." 
 
 Dame Dunster and her maidens turned away weeping, 
 while Carver descended a flight of stone steps leading to the
 
 342 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 vault, the door of which being unlocked he was rudely thrust 
 into the subterranean chamber. A few trusses of straw for 
 a couch, with bread-and-water for sustenance, being supplied 
 him, he was left alone, and the door locked outside. 
 
 After glancing round the vault, noting its size, and the 
 solidity of its walls. Carver turned his attention to the 
 barred opening, already described as being on a level with 
 the street. Through this opening noises reached his ears, 
 but no one was allowed to approach and hold converse with 
 him, a guard being placed outside the inn. 
 
 Carver took a few turns in the vault, and then sitting 
 down upon a wooden bench, which constituted its sole furni- 
 ture, took out his Bible, which had been happily spared him, 
 and began to read it. He had been occupied in this manner 
 tor some time, when the strokes of a pickaxe dealt upon the 
 stones in the street disturbed him, and he raised his head to 
 listen. By-and-by the clatter of a shovel was heard — then 
 there was a great noise as if several men were carrying a 
 heavy mass, which appeared to be plunged into a hole that 
 had just been digged ; and then there was a dull, dead, 
 thumping sound, as if t!ie earth were being beaten down by 
 a ram. 
 
 Suspecting what was going forward, but desiring to know 
 the truth. Carver placed the bench immediately below the 
 window, and, mounting upon it, raised himself so that he 
 could just look through the bars into the street. He then 
 found that his conjectures were correct, and that the noises 
 he had heard were caused by men who were planting the 
 stake in the ground to which he was to be attached en the 
 morrow. With a mournful curiosity he watched them at 
 their work, and did not withdraw till the stake was firmly 
 secured, and a heavy iron chain attached to it. He had just 
 got down, when he heard Captain Brand, whose harsh voice 
 he instantly recognised, giving directions to the men. 
 
 " Take care that plenty of fagots are provided," he said;' 
 "and, furthermore, I must?have an empty tar-barrel large 
 enough to hold the prisoner. He boasts of his firmness," 
 added Brand with a bitter laugh. *' We will see whether 
 we cannot shake it." 
 
 It would seem that he was likely to be disappointed in his 
 expectation, for Carver heard the order given Avithout the
 
 How Derrick Carver was Placed in a Vault. 343 
 
 slightest feeling of dread, but calmly resumed the ])erusal of 
 the sacred volume at the point where he had laid it aside. 
 Neither did he desist until it grew dark, and he was unable 
 to read longer. 
 
 He then knelt down and prayed fervently, continuing his 
 vigils until long after midnight, when weariness overcame him, 
 and flinging himself upon the straw, he presently fell asleep. 
 
 He was roused from his slumbers by a stone which fell 
 upon the floor of the vault not far from where he was lying, 
 and as he stirred he heard a voice calling to him from the 
 barred window, and looking in that direction, he could just 
 distinguish the figure of a man. 
 
 "Who speaks?" he demanded rising to his feet. 
 
 " A friend," rephed the other. "Come nearer — quick!" 
 
 "The voice seems familiar to me," observed Carver, "and 
 if I did not deem it impossible, I should say it was " 
 
 " It is he you suppose," interrupted the speaker, " Cone 
 as near me as you can, and come quickly, for I may be 
 discovered." 
 
 Thus adjured. Carver mounted the bench, and was then 
 only separated by the bars from the person outside, whom 
 he now recognised as Osbert Clinton. 
 
 "Why have you incurred this danger on my account, oh, 
 rash young man ? " he cried. 
 
 " I have somewhat to impart," replied Osbert ; " but I 
 must be brief, for though the man on guard has quitted his 
 post, he may return. In a word, then, I shall make an 
 attempt to deliver you from these bloodthirsty tigers to- 
 morrow. I have half a dozen friends with me, and when 
 you are brought forth for execution, we will fall upon the 
 guard and set you free." 
 
 " I forbid you to make the attempt, my son," replied 
 Carver. " I am fully prepared to die, and would not accept 
 a pardon from my enemies were it offered me. By freeing 
 me as you propose, you would wrest from me the crown of 
 martyrdom which I hope to win at yonder stake. My race 
 IS almost run, and the goal is at hand. I have done with 
 the world, and would not be brought back to it. My last 
 sufferings will be sharp, but they will be speedily over, and 
 I rejoice that I am able to bear them. Again, I say, this 
 attempt must not be made."
 
 344 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "Since you will have it so, 1 must needs obey," rejoined 
 Osbert, in a mournful tone. "And yet I would try to move 
 you." 
 
 " It would be in vain," said Carver. " Our moments are 
 precious. Let them not be wasted in idle discussion. I will 
 not fly from the deatli prepared for me. The stake is ready, 
 and shall not want tlie victim. I know you will readily do 
 me a service. Seek out my poor wife and children at 
 Brightelmstone, and bid them farewell for me." 
 
 "I have already seen them," replied Osbert. "Your 
 wife is ill — too ill to leave the house — and I enjoined her 
 not to come here to-morrow." 
 
 "You did right — quite right," rejoined Carver. "What 
 of my aged mother ? " he demanded, in a voice of profound 
 enr.otion. 
 
 " I ought to have no concealment from you now," said 
 Osbert. "Your mother is no more." 
 
 " I thought so," replied Carver, after a pause. " She 
 appeared to me just now during my slumber. Her counte- 
 nance wore a heavenly smile, and methought her lips 
 opened to address me, but I could not catch the words she 
 uttered. Her spirit was still hovering nigh me when you 
 woke me from the blissful dream." 
 
 There was a deep, solemn pause, after which Carver 
 continued : " And now, Osbert Clinton, I have some 
 counsel to give you. The success of the great enterprise on 
 which you are engaged will depend on the prudence with 
 which it is conducted. Be not rash. Wait for a favourable 
 opportunity to strike the blow, and take heed that you do 
 not p'ace confidence in traitors." 
 
 " We expect men and money from France," said 
 Osbert. 
 
 " France will play you false, as she has done before," 
 leplied Carver. 
 
 " But we are obliged to trust to that power, since we 
 have now no other resources," said Osbert. "All our 
 possessions have been seized and sequestered, and we have 
 not wherewithal to pay the host we could raise. We have 
 men, but not money. We lack as many chests of gold as 
 were brought from Spain by Philip when he landed at 
 Southampton."
 
 Ho'lU Derrick Carver was Placed in a Vault. 345 
 
 " What became of that Spanish bullion ? " demanded 
 Carver. 
 
 " Part of it has been expended in bribes to our venal 
 nobles," replied Osbert. " But the rest is deposited in the 
 Tower." 
 
 "Is there much of the treasure left?" inquired Carver. 
 
 " Half is left, as I understand," replied Osbert. 
 
 " AVlvy not seize upon it, then ? " cried the other. '"Tis 
 lawful spoil. Instead of being employed to corrupt mer- 
 cenary nobles to enslave their country, let it be used to free 
 the land from Spanish thraldom and Popish tyranny. 
 Have no scruples. Seize upon it, I say. It was brought 
 into England to forge golden fetters for our rulers, let it be 
 turned into avenging swords." 
 
 " That treasure, indeed, would accomplish all we seek, if 
 we could obtain possession of it," said Osbert. "But I 
 have told you it is safely deposited in the Tower." 
 
 "And I say to you that it must be your business to get it 
 thence," rejoined Carver. 
 
 " You Avould not have me lay siege to the Tower to 
 obtain it ? " said Osbert. 
 
 "By stratagem you may accomplish what you desire," 
 returned Carver. " I have no plan to suggest ; but if you 
 weigh the matter carefully over, one is sure to occur to 
 you." 
 
 "I will give it due consideration," said Osbert. "Have 
 you aught more to say ? " 
 
 " Only to wish you happiness with her you love," replied 
 Carver. " My last words to Constance were to urge her to 
 look forward confidently to the day when she will be united 
 to you. For that day will come. It may not come so soon 
 as you anticipate and desire, but come it will. One word 
 more, and I have done. Should this insurrection jKosper, 
 and your enemies fall into your hands, let no harm befal 
 Cardinal Pole. And now tarry no longer, my son. Take 
 ray blessing with you, and depart." 
 
 " It is time," replied Osbert. " I hear the footsteps of 
 the guard. I sliall be near you at the stake. Adieu ! '■' 
 
 So saying, he disappeared, while Carver, descending from 
 the bench, knelt down and prayed fervently. 
 
 His devotions ended, he arose, and bethinking him of
 
 346 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 the vision he had seen during his slumber, he called out, 
 " Spirit of her from whom I derived my being, if thou art 
 indeed permitted to visit me, and art nigh me now, as I 
 think, I adjure thee to manifest thyself to me in the same 
 angelic form, and with the same angeHc aspect, as I beheld 
 thee in my dream. Appear before me in this celestial guise 
 if thou canst, and cheer and comfort me with thy smile ! " 
 
 At the close of this invocation, which he uttered with 
 great fervour, he looked around, half hoping that the spirit 
 would become visible, but nothing met his gaze except the 
 gloomy walls of his prison. He fancied, however, that he 
 heard something like a soft, low sigh, and felt a breath of 
 cool air upon his brow. 
 
 " It may not be," he said. " Thou canst not reveal thy- 
 self to me, or mine eyes are unable to discern thee. But I 
 must have patience. In a few short hours I shall be as 
 thou art, and we can then hold the communion together 
 which is denied us now." 
 
 He then resumed his devotions, and continued in earnest 
 prayer till dawn glimmered through the bars of the v/indow, 
 and ere long filled the vault with light. 
 
 Then some slight stir began to be heard in the street, 
 and by-and-by those on guard peered in at the bars of the 
 window. They beheld the prisoner seated upon the bench, 
 with the Bible open on his knee, profoundly occupied in its 
 perusal.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PROCESSION TO THE CALVARY, 
 
 LOVELY morning dawned upon Lewes. The sun, 
 which ere it reached its meridian was destined to 
 shine upon a terrible ceremonial, rose brilliantly 
 over Mount Caburn, glittering upon the brow of 
 that majestic eminence, and on the smooth summits of the 
 adjacent hill, and filling the wide valley, watered by the 
 meandering Ouse, with radiance. Kingston Hill with the 
 heights, enclosing the valley on the west, and extending to 
 Newhaven, glowed with roseate lustre, as did lordly Mount 
 Harry and his subject hills at the rear o. the town. The 
 noble amphitheatre of downs, by which the town is 
 surrounded, were seen in all their beauty, and no one 
 unacquainted with what was passing, would have supposed 
 that a morn so auspicious could usher in other than a joyous 
 
 day. 
 
 At an early hour the bells of the difierent churches began 
 to toll solemnly, announcing to the inhabitants that a sad 
 ceremonial was about to take place, and shortly after six 
 o'clock a religious procession, consisting oi a number of 
 Cluniac monks, with the clergy and authorities Oi the place, 
 the high sherid, the under-sherifis, the chief burgesses, 
 with the headborough and constables, assembled in the 
 High Street, and proceeded to the Star Inn, where Derrick 
 Carver was brought out, and ordered to join it. The train 
 was headed by the Cluniac monks, who were attired in the
 
 348 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 habits of their order, and after them walked the prisoner, 
 with Father Josfrid beside him. Next came the sheriff 
 with Captain Brand, then the local clergy and authorities, 
 while the head-borough and constables brought up the rear. 
 The procession descended the steep street leading to the 
 East Gate, through which it passed, and then, turning off 
 on the right, and skirting the old walls, which were 
 thronged with spectators, crossed the valley to Southover, 
 and shaped its course towards the singular mount rising 
 on the east of the ruined priory of St. Pancras. On the 
 summit of this eminence, a large crucifix, with the figure 
 of the Saviour nailed to it, was then reared, forming, from 
 its commanding position, a conspicuous object for miles 
 around. 
 
 On reaching the summit of the mount, the monks pros- 
 trated themselves at the foot of the cross, and began to 
 recite a prayer, while the rest of the procession assumed an 
 equally reverential posture. Derrick Carver, however, re- 
 fused to kneel, and on this occasion his prejudices were 
 respected. As he remained standing amidst the kneeling 
 assemblage, he cast his eyes around, and surveyed the fair 
 scene of which he was about to take leave for ever. To one 
 less firmly constituted, it might have seemed hard to quit so 
 lovely a world. But his thoughts were fixed on heaven, and 
 though nature put on her most tempting aspect, she could 
 not lure him back to earth. 
 
 Immediately beneath him lay the ruins of the once noble 
 priory of St. Pancras, demolished by the Vicar-General 
 , Cromwell, in the reign of Henry VIII., and as he looked at 
 the fragments of this vast and stately pile, Carver rejoiced 
 in its destruction. Adjoining these ruins was an immense 
 dovecot, built in the form of a cross, above which thousands 
 of pigeons were circling or alighting on its roof. On his 
 right, across a woody valley, climbing the side of a hill, and 
 with its picturesque habitations intermingled with trees, 
 was the town with whose annals his name was thenceforward 
 to be associated. Beautiful it looked on that bright clear 
 morning, and proudly towered its old Norman castle — grey 
 walls, quaint houses, and church-towers, glittering in the 
 sunbeams, and all seeming to claim attention ; but Carver 
 turned from them to gaze at the downs, and as his eye
 
 The Procession io the Calvary. 349 
 
 wandered over those fair hills, thoughts of other days 
 rushed upon him. 
 
 Many and many a happy hour had he spent upon those 
 downs. Familiar with all their beauties, his imagination 
 carried him from point to point, till it brought him to the 
 little fishing-town where he was born, and where the greater 
 part of his life had been spent. For a moment only did he 
 yield to the emotions awakened within his breast. They 
 were sharp and poignant, but he instantly checked them, 
 and resumed his former stoicism. 
 
 Just then, the monks having finished their prayer, arose, 
 and began to chant a hymn to the blessed Virgin, in which 
 all those with them joined. IMany of the inhabitants of the 
 town had followed the procession to the calvary, and by this 
 time a large concourse had assembled on the sides and at 
 the base of the mount. All these persons joined in the 
 choral hymn ; and the eft'ect of so many voices linked 
 together in harmony was inexpressibly fine. 
 
 At the conclusion of the hymn the monks began slowly 
 to descend the mount, chanting lugubrious strains as they 
 moved along. The others followed in the same order as 
 before. As Derrick Carver marched on, many of the 
 spectators expressed their sympathy for him, but no one 
 was suffered to approach him, or exchange a word with 
 him. 
 
 Amongst those who had followed the procession to the 
 mount were some half-dozen young men on horseback, who 
 had hitherto kept aloof from the crowd ; but just as Derrick 
 Carver reached the foot of the mount, one of them suddenly 
 dismounted, and leaving his steed with his companions, 
 forced himself into a front place amid the line of spec- 
 tators. 
 
 The movement attracted the attention of the prisoner, 
 who instantly recognised Osbert Clinton, and signified to 
 him by his gestures that no change had taken place in his 
 sentiments. 
 
 Osbert's imprudent movement, however, had not escaped 
 the notice of Captain Brand, who, moreover, detected the 
 glance of intelligence that passed between the young man 
 and Carver. When Osbert shortly afterwards rejoined his 
 companions and remounted his horse, Brand directed the
 
 s:)"- 
 
 Cardi7ial Pole. 
 
 sheriff's attention to the group, and inquired if he knew the 
 young men. 
 
 De Warren rephed in the negative, declaring they must 
 be strangers. 
 
 " I am certain I have seen that young man before," ob- 
 served Brand, " though I cannot, for the moment, give him 
 a name. Ha ! I have it ! " he exclaimed, quickly. " It is 
 Osbert Clinton." 
 
 "What! he who was engaged in the last rising?" cried 
 the sheriff, surprised. 
 
 "The same," replied Brand. "I am sure of it. And 
 now I look at the others, I cannot doubt but that they are 
 the ringleaders in that treasonable affair. A heavy price is 
 set on all their heads, and I must call upon you to aid me 
 in their capture, Sir Richard." 
 
 " I will readily do so," replied De Warren; '-but even 
 supposing you are right in your suspicions, we must act 
 with prudence. They are all well mounted, and on the 
 slightest movement will be off, and easily baffle pursuit upon 
 these downs. Alarm them not. They are following the 
 procession. Once in the town, we can easily secure 
 them." 
 
 " They are evidently come to witness the execution," said 
 Brand, " and may design to rescue the prisoner." 
 
 " Fear nothing ; we shall have them safe enough if we 
 proceed with caution," rejoined the sheriff". " I will pre- 
 sently give instructions concerning them to Master Pidding- 
 hoe, the headborough." 
 
 " Leave the matter to me, I pray you. Sir Richard," said 
 Brand. "I can manage it without the headborough's 
 aid." 
 
 '' You desire to obtain the whole reward, eh. Cap- 
 tain Brand?" observed De Warren. "Well, as you 
 please." 
 
 The whole of this conversation had reached the ears of 
 Derrick Carver, who marched in front of the speakers, and 
 the danger incurred by Osbert and his friends caused him 
 great uneasiness. Fain would he have warned them of their 
 peril by look or gesture, but no opportunity of doing so 
 occurred. 
 
 Meantime, the procession moved on, and, pursuing a
 
 The Procession to the Calvary. 
 
 351 
 
 the 
 
 different course on its return, entered the town by 
 Water-gate, and then ascending the steep and narrow 
 thoroughfare called Saint Mary's Lane, came forth into the 
 High Street, exactly opposite the Star Inn. To his great 
 satisfaction. Captain Brand remarked that Osbcrt Clinton 
 and his companions had likewise passed through the Water- 
 gate.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOV/ CAPTAIN BRAND SOUGHT TO CAPTURE THE 
 CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 N being brought back to the hostel, Derrick Carver 
 was again conducted to the vault, there to remain 
 till the hour appointed for his execution. He 
 was so much troubled in spirit, owing to his 
 anxiety for the safety of Osbert Clinton and his companions, 
 that he could not address hin)self to prayer, and was pacing 
 to and fro, when the door was unlocked, and the hostess 
 entered. Her first business was to set down a little basket 
 which she had concealed under her mantle, and she then 
 informed Carver that she had brought him some wine and 
 food. " I have prevailed on Master Piddinghoe to grant 
 me admittance to you," she said, "and I have managed to 
 bring in this basket unperceived by the guard. Eat, I pray 
 you, if only a morsel, and drink a cup of wine. It will 
 strengthen you." 
 
 " I thank you heartily, good mistress," replied Carver, 
 "but I shall eat and drink no more. There is, however, 
 one great service which you can render me, if you are so 
 minded." 
 
 And he looked at her wistfully. 
 
 "What is it?" she replied. "Tell me, and I will do it. 
 You may perfectly confide in me." 
 
 Carver then, in a few words, informed her of the danger 
 of Osbert Clinton and his friends, and after describing their 
 appearance, entreated her to warn them speedily.
 
 The A tiempt to Capture the Conspirators. 353 
 
 "I will do your bidding without an instant's delay," she 
 replied. " I have seen the gentlemen you describe, and will 
 find them out, and urge them to mstint flight. This 
 accounts for the orders I heard given to Master Piddinghce 
 by Sir Richard de Warren, that all the town gates are to 
 be closed, and no one allowed to go forth without a pass- 
 word. Luckily, I overheard it, and will give it to your 
 friends." 
 
 " You have removed a load of anxiety from my breast, 
 good mistress," said Carver. " If they are safe, 1 shall die 
 content." 
 
 "Then let no anxiety on their account trouble you fur- 
 ther," she rejoined. " Ere many minutes they shall be out 
 of Lewes. Farewell ! " 
 
 "Farewell, sister; my blessing go with you." 
 
 Hereupon the hostess quitted the vault, and Carver, whose 
 bosom was no longer oppressed, knelt down and resumed his 
 devotions. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dame Dunster, quitting the hostel privily, 
 went in search of Osbert and his companions ; but she could 
 discover nothing of them, and at last came to the conclusion 
 that they had already flown. She ascertained, however, 
 that in obedience to the sheriff's orders, all the town gates 
 where shut and guarded. 
 
 The hour appointed for the execution was now at hand. 
 The bell of Saint Michael's Church began to toll solemnly. 
 A great crowd was already collected in front of the Star Inn,, 
 but a clear space was kept by the constables around the stake. 
 
 The din and confusion in the street, though it reached his 
 ears, did not distract the prisoner from his devotions, and 
 he continued in earnest prayer, until at last the door of his 
 cell was thrown open, and the sheriff, with Captain Brand, 
 Father Josfrid, and two officers provided with halberds, 
 entered the vault. On seeing them. Derrick Carver imme- 
 diately arose from his knees, and told them in a firm voice, 
 that he was ready. 
 
 " I cannot hold out any hope of pardon to you," said De 
 Warren, " but I would fain hope that you will not die 
 impenitent." 
 
 " I shall die. Sir, as I have lived, in the faith I have pro- 
 fessed and defended," replied Carver. 
 
 2i
 
 354 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Perad venture, you are of opinion that an attempt will 
 be made to liberate you ? " observed Brand. " It is well 
 you should be undeceived. The dangerous rebels who have 
 ventured here have fallen into a snare." 
 
 " Are they taken ? " cried Carver. 
 
 " They soon will be," replied Brand. " Thou thyself 
 mayst possibly behold their capture. We hold them in our 
 hands. Their retreat is cut off. It will be my business to 
 convey them to the Tower." 
 
 "Alas ! why did they come hither? " groaned Carver. 
 
 "That is best know to themselves," rejoined Brand; 
 "but they have done me a good turn by coming." 
 
 " Have you aught to confess or declare concerning them ? " 
 demanded the sheriff. 
 
 "An idle question," rejoined Carver. "Think you I 
 would say aught to their detriment ? " 
 
 Thereupon, the sheriff, Taidding the officers bring forth 
 the prisoner, quitted the cell, and was presently followed by 
 the others. Several persons were assembled in the inn- 
 yard, and amongst them were Dame Dunster and her 
 handmaidens, weeping bitterly, to whom Carver bade an 
 eternal adieu, bidding them be comforted. 
 
 The gates, which had been hitherto kept closed, were then 
 thrown open, and the prisoner becoming visible to a portion 
 of the vast assemblage collected in the street, loud cries 
 arose. 
 
 The stake, as we have already mentioned, was planted in 
 the middle of the High-street, exactly opposite the Star Inn, 
 where the throughfare was w'dest. Around the place of 
 execution a large circular space was kept clear by the 
 constables and other officers armed with halberds, and within 
 this ring was heaped up a great pile of fagots with bundles 
 of dried gorse. In front of the stake stood the large empty 
 tar-barrel, commanded by Captain Brand. It was reared 
 on end, and the top had been staved in. Such were the 
 preparations made for the terrible ceremonial. 
 
 Into this ring Derrick Carver marched with firm footstep, 
 and his appearance was greeted with outcries of various 
 kinds from the beholders. He was closely attended by 
 Father Josfrid, who continued to press exhortations upon 
 him, to which he refused to listen. At this juncture Captain
 
 The Attempt to Capture the Conspirators. 355 
 
 Brand came up to him, and said, " Thy life shall be spared 
 for a few minutes, that thou mayst know the fate of thy 
 friends." He then added to the officers : " Chain him not 
 to the stake till you receive the sheriff's signal from yonder 
 window." 
 
 And he pointed, as he spoke, to a large open window on 
 the first floor of the inn, which, unlike all the other windows 
 of the house, was destitute of spectators. Every spot, 
 mdeed, commanding a view of the place of execution was 
 occupied. The entrance to St. Mary's-lane was blocked up 
 by a small party of horsemen, who, it need scarcely be said, 
 were Osbert Clinton and his friends. They had stationed 
 themselves at this point in order to secure a retreat in case of 
 need, but were wholly unaware that a party of armed men 
 were slowly ascending the narrow throughfare in their rear. 
 
 On quitting Derrick Carver, Captain Brand returned to 
 the inn-yard, where he had left his officers, and, putting 
 himself at their head, was about to sally forth and make the 
 arrest h? meditated, when his plan was most unexpectedly 
 thwarted by Dame Dunster, who, suddenly appearing at the 
 open window which we have described as reserved for the 
 high sheriff and his attendants, leaned from it, and Avaving 
 a kerchief to attract the attention of Osbert and his friends, 
 called out to them in a loud voice, — 
 
 "Save yourselves! — save yourselves! — you are be- 
 trayed ! " 
 
 Thus warned, the horsemen turned instantly to ride down 
 the hill, but at once perceived that their retreat in this 
 direction was cut off. Osbert did not hesitate a moment, but 
 calling out lustily to the crowd, " Make way, friends ! — 
 make way ! " a passage was instantly opened for him and 
 his companions, and, ere any hindrance could be offered 
 them, they were all wuthin the ring, and close to the 
 prisoner. 
 
 "You will not see this good man barbarously put to 
 death, my masters," cried Osbert, "but will aid him to 
 escape." 
 
 Several voices instantly answered the appeal, and a great 
 tumult arose amid the crowd. 
 
 "Think not of me, but save yourself!" cried Carver to 
 Osbert. " I shall not quit this spot." 
 23—2
 
 3 5 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 So suddenly had the daring deed we have described been- 
 executed, that surprise took away the power of opposition 
 from the constables and halberdiers, but they now took 
 heart, and encircled the horsemen, who had drawn their 
 swords, and kept them off. At the same time. Captain 
 Brand, who was issuing from the inn-yard with his men, 
 vociferated, — 
 
 "Stay them, in the Queen's name ! — let them not pass ! — 
 they are rebels and traitor ! " 
 
 " Touch us not, good friends," cried Osbert. " We are 
 true men, and would deliver you from Spanish bondage and 
 Popish thraldom." 
 
 Upon this several of the crowd called out, — 
 
 " We are for you, masters. This way ! — this way ! " 
 
 And, seconding their words by deeds, they threw them- 
 selves upon the constables in front of them, and speedily 
 opened a passage, through which Osbert and his com- 
 panions got out of the ring, and dashed up the High-street. 
 
 A number of persons instantly started in pursuit, and as 
 the West-gate was closed, it was thought that the fugitives 
 must infallibly be captured ; but those who entertained the 
 notion were wrong, since instead of seeking an exit by that 
 gate, Osbert and his companions turned off on the left, and 
 dashing down another thoroughfare as steep and narrow as 
 St. Mary's-lane, descended it in safety, and on reaching the 
 bottom of the hill, found that the Water-gate was open, and 
 rode through it ere the warder had time to shut it. Being 
 now out of the town, and all admirably mounted, they set 
 pursuit at defiance, and in less than an hour were safe on 
 the other side of Kingston Hill,
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MARTYRDOM OF DERRICK CARVER. 
 
 ^O great was the confusion in the High Street after 
 the flight of Osbert Clinton and his companions, 
 and so threatening were the language and atti- 
 tude of the populace, that it became a question 
 with the sheriff whether it would not be prudent to postpone 
 the execution to the following day. As a matter of precau- 
 tion, Derrick Carver was taken into the entrance-hall of the 
 hostel, the door of which was closed, and a guard placed 
 before it. 
 
 Here he was kept for nearly an hour, when Captain 
 Brand returned with the intelligence that he had failed in 
 capturing the rebels. These were joyful tidings to Derrick 
 Carver, and he exclaimed, " Now I shall die content ! " 
 
 After a brief consultation between the sheriff and Brand, 
 it was decided that the execution should be proceeded with, 
 upon which Brand went forth with his men, and soon suc- 
 ceeded in clearing a space, as before, round the stake. 
 
 This done. Derrick Carver was again brought forth, and 
 when he appeared on the threshold of the inn, a great cry 
 arose from the people, and it became evident from the 
 violence of their gestures and vociferations that another 
 disturbance was at hand. 
 
 Alarmed by these menacing demonstrations. Sir Richard 
 de Warren, who was of a somewhat timid nature, ordered 
 the prisoner to be taken back, but Brand insisted that the 
 sentence must be carried out 
 
 " We must not yield to intimidation," he said. " The law 
 must be carried out at all risks."
 
 358 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Still the sheriff hesitated, when Derrick Carver inter- 
 posed : — 
 
 " I pray you, Sirs, let me speak to them," he said. '' They 
 will listen to me." 
 
 " Speak to them if thou wilt," rejoined Brand. " But say 
 nought to inflame them further, or it shall be worse for 
 thee." 
 
 Having obtained this permission, Carver called out in a 
 loud voice to the assemblage, that he desired to address 
 them, upon which the tumult and clamour instantly ceased. 
 
 " Hear me, good friends," he cried, amidst the sudden 
 silence. " I am come here to give testimony by my death 
 to truth and pure religion against Antichrist and false 
 doctrines, and I beseech you, if you hold with me in the 
 faith, to let me die in peace. I would have my ending 
 profitable to you, and not the cause of bloodshed and 
 destruction even of my enemies." 
 
 This address produced the effect desired, and from that 
 moment the crowd became tranquil, and offered no further 
 interruption to the proceedings. 
 
 Seeing that order was restored, the sheriff committed the 
 further conduct of the ceremonial to Brand, and withdrew 
 to the upper window overlooking the street, whence he 
 could contemplate the tragical spectacle as from a tribune. 
 
 Meantime, Derrick Carver, pushing aside Father Josfrid, 
 marched up to the stake, and after embracing it tenderly, 
 knelt down, and in tones of the utmost fervour prayed for 
 strength and heavenly grace that he might by his death 
 glorify the Saviour's holy name, ratify his Gospel, comfort 
 the hearts of the weary, confirm his Church, and convert 
 such as were to be converted. He further prayed for 
 support during the grievous torments to which he was about 
 to be subjected, offering himself up as a willing sacrifice and 
 burnt-offering, and concluded by imploring that the blessing 
 of the Word, of which the realm was at present unhappily 
 deprived, might be once more vouchsafed to it. This prayer, 
 uttered aloud and with great earnestness, produced a pro- 
 found impression on all who heard it. 
 
 Seeing this, and anxious to efface the impression. Father 
 Josfrid advanced towards him and said, — 
 
 •' Wretched man, thy last hour is arrived ; but there is
 
 The Marty tdom of Derrick Carver. 359 
 
 yet time to save thy soul if thou wilt recant thine heresies, 
 and return to the Church thou hast abandoned, but which is 
 willing to receive thee." 
 
 " Hence with thee, tempter ! " cried Carver, rising to his 
 feet. " Wert thou to offer me all the riches of the earth, I 
 would not become an idolater." 
 
 Thus rebuked, Father Josfrid withdrew, and his place was 
 taken by two rough-looking men, one of whom rudely 
 ordered the prisoner to make ready. 
 
 Upon this, Carver proceeded to divest himself of a portion 
 of his apparel, and while he was thus employed, several 
 persons among the crowd called out to him for a memorial, 
 upon which he threw his garments amongst them, and they 
 were instantly seized upon by a hundred eager hands, and 
 rent in pieces, the fragments being carefully preserved by 
 those who were fortunate enough to secure them. 
 
 As he was taking off his doublet, the sacred volume which 
 had been the solace of his long imprisonment, and which 
 he had kept about him to this moment, fell to the ground ; 
 seeing which. Captain Brand, who was standing by, picked 
 it up, and with a look of disdain, tossed it into the tar-barrel 
 near the stake. 
 
 The two rough-looking men, who had remained near the 
 prisoner, now took hold of him, and raising him in their 
 arms, set him within the barrel. Thus disposed, Carver's 
 first business was to take up the Bible, and after pressing his 
 lips to it, he threw it amidst the crowd. 
 
 Greatly enraged by the act, Captain Brand called out in a 
 furious voice to the person who had secured the prize to 
 restore it instantly on pain of death, whereupon it was Hung 
 back, and was subsequently consigned to the flames. 
 
 A heavy chain was then passed around Carver's body and 
 made fast to the stake. Left to himself for a moment, the 
 martyr then called out in a loud voice, "Farewell, dear 
 brethren, farewell ! Our Church is encompassed about by 
 deadly enemies, who seek its destruction, and it is for the 
 restoration of that Church that my blood is this day freely 
 poured forth. It will not be shed in vain. Comfort ye amid 
 your troubles, and remain stedfast in your faith ! Happier 
 days shall soon dawn upon you. Farewell, O, farewell !" 
 No sooner had he concluded this valediction which was
 
 360 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 responded to by loud lamentations from the majority of the 
 assemblage, than the men began to heap fagots around him, 
 filling the barrel with dry gorse and brushwood. 
 
 Before the pile, which was heaped up to his shoulders, 
 could be lighted, the martyr exclaimed, " Blessed are they 
 who die in the Lord. Thrice blessed are they who die in 
 the Lord's cause. Fear not them that kill the body, for 
 they cannot kill the soul. He that shall lose his life for 
 my sake shall find it, saith our blessed Saviour, in the which 
 hope I now die. Again, dear brethren, I bid you farewell ! " 
 
 *' A truce to thy blasphemy ! " cried Brand, seizing a torch 
 and applying it to the pile. 
 
 Fast and fierce burnt the fire, and quickly mounted the 
 iiame, but, to judge from the serene expression of his 
 countenance, it might have been as innocuous to the martyr 
 as was the blaze of the burning fiery furnace to the three 
 Israelites. Not a groan escaped Derrick Carver, and his 
 last words were, " I go to obtain my reward." 
 
 Captain Brand was as good as his word. A rare bonfire 
 v/as seen that day at Lewes, Fagots and brushwood were 
 heaped upon the pile till the flames rose up higher than the 
 upper windows of the old hostel, and the heat was so great, 
 tiiat those nearest the blazing mass drew back half scorched. 
 
 When the fire had burnt out, all that remained was a heap 
 of ashes, in the midst of which stood a charred stake with 
 an iron chain attached to it. 
 
 Such was the martyrdom of Derrick Carver. 
 
 His memory is not forgotten in Lewes ; and on the fifth 
 of November in each year, a great torchlight procession, 
 composed of men in fantastic garbs and with blackened 
 visages, and dragging blazing tar-barrels after them, parades 
 the High Street, while an enormous bonfire is lighted 
 opposite the Star Inn, on the exact spot where Derrick 
 Carver perished, into which, when at its highest, various 
 effigies are cast. A more extraordinary spectacle than is 
 presented by this commemoration of the Marian persecutions 
 in Lewes it has never been our lot to witness. 
 
 iSnti of t^e Siit5 ISoofe.
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 THE TREASURE-CHESTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LOVES OF OG AND LILIAS. 
 
 T will probably be recollected under what singular 
 circumstances the acquaintance began between 
 Og the gigantic and Lilias the fair. From the 
 very moment when the damsel, seated behind the 
 giant on the broad back of Arundel, passed her arm round 
 his waist, a flame was kindled in his breast never afterwards 
 to be extinguished. 
 
 A magnetic influence was exercised over him by 
 Lilias, and he speedily became so much enthralled by 
 her fascinations as was Sir Bevis of Southampton, 
 whom he then represented, by the charms of the 
 peerless Princess Josyan. When he and his gigantic 
 brothers, with Sir Narcissus and Lady le Grand, proceeded 
 to Winchester to take part in the pageants displayed there 
 during the royal nuptials, Lilias accompanied them, and, 
 before many days had elapsed, her conquest of Og was com-
 
 362 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 plete. She had him, as Gog confidentially remarked to 
 Magog, " entirely under her thumb." 
 
 "Will he be fool enough to marry her, think you, 
 brother ? " observed Magog, shrugging his shoulders, and 
 thinking of Dame Placida. 
 
 " Hum ! I cannot say, but I shall do my best to dissuade 
 him from the step," rejoined Gog. 
 
 So the brothers laid their huge heads together, and the 
 result was that they devised a plan by which they hoped to 
 get rid altogether of the fair syren, and cure Og of his ridi- 
 culous passion, as they deemed it. Their plan was to send 
 back Lilias to Southampton, and persuade Og that she had 
 left him of her own accord to return to her former admirer, 
 and they managed the matter so adroitly, that Og was com- 
 pletely duped, and, after a tremendous burst of indignation 
 against the fickleness of the sex, vowed he would never think 
 of the false jillflirt again. His brothers commended his 
 resolution, and told him he had had a narrow escape. 
 
 " If you are wise, you will take warning by me, and never 
 marry," said Magog. 
 
 " If he must needs marry, let him choose a buxom widow, 
 and not a tricksome girl like Lilias." 
 
 " I don't mean to marry at all," cried Og, resolutely. 
 
 But the fangs of disappointment gnawed his heart. He 
 grew moody and dull, and avoided the society of his 
 brothers. 
 
 After a month's absence from the Tower, the three 
 gigantic warders returned there, and resumed their ordinary 
 duties. But Og's melancholy increased, and his brothers at 
 last began to feel uneasy about him, and to regret the part 
 they had played. 
 
 " It would be a grievous thing were he to break his heart 
 for this silly girl," remarked Gog. " He seems pining away 
 for her." 
 
 " He may be pining away," observed Magog : " but he is 
 in good case still, and his appetite is not amiss, judging by 
 the havoc he made with the cold chine of beef and lumbar- 
 pie at breakfast this morning, to say nothing of the stoup of 
 ale which he managed to empty. Nevertheless, I agree with 
 you, brother Gog, that he is not himself, and hath quite lost 
 his old pleasant humour. He never jests, as was his wont.
 
 The Loves of Og and Lilias. 365 
 
 and I have not heard a hearty laugh from him since we sent 
 Lilias away." 
 
 "I begin to think we did wrong in meddling in the 
 matter," observed Gog. " I shall never cease to reproach 
 myself if anything sho.ild hap^-^rn to him." 
 
 •'Well, we acted for the best," said Magog. "I only 
 wish my marriage had been prevented," he added, with a 
 groan. " Let us see how he goes on. Perchance, he may 
 recover." 
 
 But Og did not recover, and, although he did not exhibit 
 any of the usual symptoms of despairing love, as loss of 
 appetite, or flesh, a lacklustre eye, and disordered manner, 
 still he became more gloomy and sullen than ever, and rarely 
 exchanged a word with his brothers. 
 
 Nearly eight months had now flown since he had beheld 
 Lilias, and stiil her image was constantly beiore him, and 
 the witcheiy she had practised upon him by her fascinations 
 and allurements had not lost a jot of its power. He was 
 still as much under her sway as if she had been with him all 
 the time. 
 
 One evening, while he was taking a solitary walk upon 
 the ramparts, and thinking of Lilias, he sajv? ili': hastening 
 towards him, and would have avoided him, but the dwarf 
 stopped him, saying, — 
 
 "Give thee good e'en, Og. I was looking for thee. I 
 bring thee good news." 
 
 " Out of my way," rejoined the giant, gruflfly. " I am in 
 no humour for jesting." 
 
 " I know chou art become as surly as a bear with a sore 
 head," replied Xit; "but thou hadst best not provoke a 
 quarrel wich me, or thou wilt rue it." 
 
 "Pass on," roared Og, "and exercise thy wit at the 
 expense of those v/ho are amused by it — my brothers 
 for example. But meddle not wth me. I am danger- 
 ous." 
 
 " Big words do not terrify me," rejoined Xit, with a mock- 
 ing laugh. " Furious as thou art, I can tame thee with a 
 word. I have but to pronounce the name of ' Lilias Ring- 
 wood,' and thou wilt straight become as gentle as a lamb. 
 Ha ha ! ha ! Was I not right ? " 
 
 " Hast thou aught to tell me concerning Lilias ? " cried
 
 364 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Og. suddenly becoming as meek as the animal to which he 
 had been likened. " 11 so, speak quickly .' " 
 
 "Soh ! thou art in the mood for converse now, and my 
 jests do not appear tiresome to thee," rejoined Xit; "but I 
 will not gratify thee. Thou art dull company. I will go to 
 thy brothers." 
 
 " Nay, but Xit, sweet Xit, if thou hast any love for me, 
 tell me what thou knowest of Lilias." 
 
 " Thou dost not deserve that I should tell thee aught, 
 uncourteous giant," said Xit. " Nevertheless, out of com- 
 passion for thy miserable state, I will speak. Know, 
 then, most amorous Titan, that I have seen the lady of thy 
 
 love " 
 
 " Thou hast seen Lilias ! " interrupted Og, " Oh ! thou 
 art ray best friend. How doth she look ? Is she comely 
 as ever ? Or is she changed and married to another ? 
 Tell me the worst. It may break my heart — but spare me 
 not." 
 
 " I will tell thee the best and the worst as quickly as may 
 be," rejoined Xit. "The best is, that Lilias is still true to 
 thee, and looking lovelier than ever — and the worst is, that 
 she is coming to the Tower in a few days, and therefore 
 thou wilt soon behold her again." 
 
 "Why, the worst is best of all!" cried Og, transported 
 with delight. 
 
 "Nay, it is worst," rejoined Xit; "because, when she 
 comes, thou wilt be compelled to marry her." 
 
 " But I say to thee again that it is best, for I desire nothing 
 so much as marriage with her. But thou art not making 
 merry with me all this while? 'Twere a sorry jest to trifle 
 with me thus." 
 
 " I am not trifling with thee, incredulous giant," replied 
 Xit. " If the hand of the fair Lilias will make thee happy, 
 thou shalt have it. That I promise thee. Now listen. 
 Compassionating thy woful condition, I have been to South- 
 ampton, and seen the mistress of thy affections, and finding 
 her still unfettered by matrimonial ties, still amiably dis- 
 posed towards thee, I proposed marriage to her in thy name, 
 and the offer was — accepted." 
 
 " Thou hast done me an incalculable service ! " cried 
 Og, taking him in his arms, and hugging him tightly.
 
 The Loves of Og atid Li lias. 365 
 
 " And so thou hast been to Southampton, and seen Lilias, 
 and won her for me — eh ? I have missed thee for the 
 last week, but fancied thou wert with her Majesty at White- 
 hall." 
 
 "Set me down, and I will talk to thee," replied Xit. 
 "Thou hast almost squeezed the breath out of my body;" 
 and as Og placed him gently on the ground, he continued, 
 " 1 will now let thee into a secret. But first promise not to 
 be angry." 
 
 " I am far too happy to be angry with any one 
 now," rejoined Og. "Speak out. What hast thou to 
 reveal ? " 
 
 " I must set thee right upon one point. When Lilias 
 quitted thee so suddenly at Winchester, it was not, as 
 thou wert led to suppose, from a desire to be reconciled 
 to her first lover. Her disappearance was contrived 
 by Gog and Magog, who did not wish thee to wed the 
 damsel." 
 
 " Thunder and lightning ! was it so ? " roared Og, with 
 sudden fury. 
 
 " Remember thy promise," said Xit. 
 
 " Well, proceed," cried Og, trying to calm himself. 
 
 "Perceivin.^ the mischief they had occasioned, and des- 
 pairing of remedying the matter, thy brothers applied to 
 me, and out of my love for them and thee, I offered to go 
 to Southampton to see what could be done with Lilias. 
 Accordingly I went, and how I succeeded in my mission 
 thou art already aware." 
 
 "I am for ever beholden to thee," said Og. "And so 
 Lilias will certainly be here in a few days. Why didst thou 
 not bring her with thee ? " 
 
 " I would fain have done so," replied Xit ; " but she had 
 preparations to make before her departure. However, she 
 will be escorted by a young gentleman whom you may 
 remember, Captain Rodomont Bittern, of Cardinal Pole's 
 household." 
 
 " Rodomont Bittern ! " exclaimed Og, knitting his bushy 
 brow. " Why should he escort her ? " 
 
 " Because he chances to be coming up to London at the 
 «ame time — nothing more, thou jealous and suspicious fool," 
 rejoined Xit. " Captain Bittern's errand to Southampton
 
 366 Cardiiial Pole. 
 
 was very different from mine. He did not go to propose a 
 marriage, but to attend a funeral. You remember Constance 
 Tyrrell?" 
 
 " Daughter of a wealthy Southampton merchant," replied 
 Og. "Yes, I remember her. It was whispered that the 
 King was enamoured of her, but that she preferred young 
 Osbert Chnton, She is now at Lambeth Palace, under the 
 guardianship of Cardinal Pole." 
 
 " I see you are well informed about her," replied Xit. 
 *' Well, old Tyrrell, her father, is just dead, and has made a 
 very singular will. Since his daughter has become tainted 
 with heresy, he has lost all affection for her, and has now 
 disinherited her, and left the whole of his immense riches to 
 — whom think'st thou ? " 
 
 " Nay, I cannot guess," replied Og. " Not to Rodomont 
 Bittern, I trust?" 
 
 " No, not to him," returned Xit. *' He has made Cardinal 
 Pole his heir, and the sum he has bequeathed is such as not 
 even a Cardinal need despise. This was the reason why 
 Rodomont Bittern and others of the Cardinal's household 
 were sent down to Southampton to bury the old merchant 
 and take possession of his property, and as I chanced to be 
 there at the same time, I naturally came in contact with 
 them, and on acquainting Captain Bittern with mine errand, 
 he proffered his services, and accompanied me when I called 
 on Lilias. It is but justice to him to add, that he pleaded 
 thy cause with the damsel as warmly as I could do myself. 
 When the affair was arranged, and Captain Bittern found 
 that a longer stay at Southampton was inconvenient to me, 
 he obligingly undertook to escort thy destined bride to 
 London. Thus thou hast now the whole affair before thee. 
 Methinks I have some little claim on thy gratitude. So 
 if you will come with me to thy brothers, and assure them 
 they are forgiven, I shall deem myself amply requited." 
 
 Og readily assented, and quitting the ramparts, they 
 proceeded to the Byward Tower, where they found Gog and 
 Magog at supper, an immense pasty, with a cold ham, a 
 mountainous loaf, and a mighty mazer filled with ale, being 
 set before them. 
 
 As Og and Xit entered, they both rose from the table at 
 which they were seated, and seeing there were no traces of
 
 The Loves of Og and Lilias. 367 
 
 anger on their brother's countenance, they held out theii 
 hands to him, which Og, so far from refusing, shook very 
 cordially. 
 
 In a i&w moments all explanations were over, and the 
 brothers amicably seated at the table, discussing the pasty, 
 ever and anon applying to the mazer, and talking, when 
 they were able to talk at all, of the approaching marriage.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THE MEETING BETWEEN OG AND LILIAS ON TOWER-GREEN, 
 
 RECISELY at the time that Lihas was expected, the 
 King paid a visit to the Tower. He came from 
 Whitehall by water, and was attended by Sir John 
 Gage and Sir Henry Jerningham. On landing, he 
 was received by the Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Henry 
 Bedingfeld, and a guard, among whom were the gigantic 
 warders, and by his own desire was at once conducted to the 
 Jewel House, where his chests of bullion were deposited. 
 
 This building was situated in a court belonging to the old 
 palace, its precise position being on the south of the White 
 Tower, between the Queen's lodgings and the Cold Harbour 
 Tower. At the door of the Jewel Tower, the King was re- 
 ceived by Master Thomas Lovel, the keeper, who seemed to 
 expect his Majesty, and took him forthwith to the strong- 
 room containing the treasure. After satisfying himself that 
 the coffers were safe, Philip informed Lovel that he was 
 about to place them in the Exchequer, and gave him some 
 directions respecting their removal. 
 
 Before leaving the Jewel House, the King had some pri- 
 vate converse with Lovel, who, it appeared, had an important 
 communication to make to him. Having given further in- 
 structions in secret to the keeper, Philip proceeded to the 
 White Tower, where he ascended to the great council- 
 chamber, and after surveying it with much curiosity, re- 
 paired to the ancient Norman chapel dedicated to Saint John, 
 the Evangelist, and passed some time in devotion within it.
 
 Of the Meetmg Betiveen Og and Li Has. 369 
 
 His examination of the White Tower ended, the King was 
 proceeding with Sir Henry Bedingfeld towards the lieuten- 
 ant's lodgings, and they had just reached the Tower Green, 
 which was then, as now, shaded by noble trees, when lively 
 strains greeted their ears, and other joyous sounds pro- 
 claimed that some festivities were going on. Turning to Sir 
 Henry Bedingfeld, Philip inquired the cause of this rejoicing, 
 but the latter looked perplexed, and being unable to obtam 
 any information from those about him, despatched a warder 
 to ascertain the meaning of the gleeful sounds. While the 
 man was gone on his errand, Philip occupied himself in ex- 
 amining the exterior of the Beauchamp Tower, opposite 
 which he had halted. In another minute the warder re- 
 turned, with a broad grin upon his face, and imparted some- 
 thing to Sir Henry Bedingfeld, which at once caused a 
 corresponding smile to illumine the lieutenant's grave coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " An please your Majesty," said Sir Henry, addressing 
 Phihp, "I have just ascertained that those sounds of rejoicing 
 are occasioned by the arrival from Southampton of the des- 
 tined bride of one of our gigantic warders, Og — there he 
 stands to answer for himself, if your Majesty will deign to 
 question him." 
 
 " From Southampton ! " exclaimed Philip. " I should not 
 be surprised if it were the fair damsel I beheld there at the 
 time of my arrival, who enacted the part of the Princess, 
 when the giant himself personated the redoubted Sir Bevis." 
 
 "Tis the very same. Sire," repUed Og, advancing towards 
 the King, and making a profound obeisance. " 'Tis Lilias 
 Ringwood, whom your Majesty deigns to remember. It 
 would appear she has just arrived, though I myself have not 
 had the gratification of beholding her." 
 
 •' Thou shalt have the gratification anon," returned Philip; 
 "but where are thy brothers? They were with thee just 
 now. Are they with Lilias ? " 
 
 " I conclude so, Sire," replied Og. " While your Majesty 
 was in the White Tower, they were summoned by Xit, with 
 what intent I knew not then, though I can guess it now. 
 They are giving Lilias a joyful welcome preparatory to our 
 meeting. Under these circumstances, may I crave your 
 gracious permission to join my intended bride ?" 
 
 24
 
 3 7 o Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "Control thine impatience for a moment, and answer me 
 one question," said Philip. " How long is it since thou hast 
 seen her? " 
 
 " Not since your Majesty was espoused to the Queen at 
 Winchester," rephed Og. 
 
 " And she has not changed her mind during that long in- 
 terval? By my faith, she is a very model of constancy ! " 
 exclaimed Philip, laughing. " Sir Henry Bedingfeld," he 
 added to the lieutenant, " I would fain witness the meeting 
 between this loving pair. Let the damsel be brought 
 hither." 
 
 Whereupon an order to that effect was instantly given by 
 Bedingfeld. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the sound of a tabour and fife were 
 heard, while the trampling of feet and other confused noises 
 announced that a number of persons were coming up the 
 road leading from the Bloody Tower to the Green, and in 
 another moment a little procession came in view. 
 
 At the head of the train strutted Xit, in a jerkin and 
 mantle of crimson velvet, embroidered with gold, and carry- 
 ing in his hand a pole decorated with ribbons of various 
 colours, and hung with bells. Behind the mannikin marched 
 Gog and Magog, sustaining between them a chair, in which 
 sat Lilias Ringwood, arrayed in a very becoming green 
 kirtle, and her pretty countenance suffused with blushes. 
 Some twenty or thirty persons in holiday attire followed the 
 bride, amongst whom were Rodomont Bittern, and his 
 friends Nick Simnel and Jack Holiday. Besides Lady le 
 Grand and Magog's wife, Dame Placida, there was a troop 
 of young damsels, several of whom had considerable preten- 
 sions to beauty 
 
 As soon as the procession reached the green it came to a 
 halt, and Xit advancing alone towards the King, and making 
 a very ceremonious obeisance to his Majesty, desired to 
 know his pleasure. 
 
 " Let the damsel approach," said Philip. 
 
 Whereupon Xit signed to the two giants to advance with 
 their fair burden, and as they drew near, the King bade Og 
 go forward and help her to alight. It is needless to say that 
 the command was promptly obeyed. With a few mighty 
 strides Og cleared the space between him and his mistress.
 
 Of the Meeting Between 0^ and Lilias. 371 
 
 while his brothers elevated the chair on which she was 
 seated, as if to place her out of his reach. Lilias, however, 
 did not hesitate to spring from the giddy height into her 
 gigantic lover's outstretched arms, and was instantly clasped 
 to his mighty breast. After gazing on her rapturously for a 
 moment, and uttering a few passionate words, he deposited 
 her gently on the ground, amid the shouts and laughter of 
 the beholders. 
 
 " Welcome ! — thrice welcome !" he cried. "This moment 
 amply repays me for all the misery I have endured." 
 
 " And have you really been unhappy without me ? " in- 
 quired Lilias. 
 
 "Unhappy !" exclaimed Og ; "I have been so wretched 
 that it is a marvel I didn't drown myself in the Tower moat. 
 However, it's all right now." 
 
 " To be sure it is," interposed Xit. " You will have 
 plenty of time for explanations hereafter. Your first busi- 
 ness is to present your bride to his Majesty." 
 
 " Come, then," said the giant, taking her hand, and lead- 
 ing her towards the king. 
 
 Lilias displayed no bashfulness, but tripped gracefully by 
 the side of her gigantic admirer, and made a profound 
 reverence to his Majesty as she was presented to him. 
 
 " By my faith, good fellow, thou art to be envied," said 
 Philip. " I would not advise thee to let this fair creature 
 out of thy sight in future." 
 
 "I do not intend to give him the opportunity. Sire," 
 replied Lilias, demurely. 
 
 "Wisely resolved," rejoined Phihp, laughing. "As I 
 chanced to witness the commencement of your love affair, I 
 am glad to see it brought to such a satisfactory conclusion. 
 Make merry with your friends, and that you may do so 
 without scruple, here is that shall help to pay for the 
 wedding feast." 
 
 So saying, he took a well-filled purse from the velvet pouch 
 depending from his girdle, and gave it to Sir Henry 
 Bedingfeld, by whom it was handed to Og. 
 
 " We thank you most heartily for your bounty. Sire," said 
 Og, bowing as he received the princely gift, "and shall not 
 fail to drink long life to your Majesty." 
 
 "Ay, long life to his Majesty," cried Gog, in a stentorian 
 24 — 2
 
 372 Cardinal Pole, 
 
 voice, "and may Heaven shower its choicest blessings on 
 his head. Shout, friends, shout !" he added, turning to the 
 others, who instantly responded by loud cries of " Long 
 live the King ! " 
 
 Bowing graciously in acknowledgment, Phihp moved 
 away with his attendants, and proceeding to the lower end 
 of the Green, entered the lieutenant's lodgings, where he 
 remained for sbme little time. 
 
 No sooner was the King gone, then Xit called out, in his 
 shrillest tones, — 
 
 "A dance ! a dance ! Let us not separate without some 
 mirthful pastime suited to the occasion. A dance, I say, 
 and as the merriest and best, let us begin with a brawl." 
 
 The proposition meeting with general concurrence, the 
 minstrels began to play a very lively air, while the entire 
 assemblage, with three exceptions, took hands, and formed 
 an immense ring. The three persons excepted were the 
 giants, whose stature forbade them to join in the dance; but 
 as the others wheeled round them, they found it impossible 
 to keep their limbs quiet, and began to execute such gro- 
 tesque movements that the dancers were scarcely able to 
 proceed for laughter.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BY WHOM THE WEDDING BREAKFAST WAS INTERRUPTED. 
 
 |HE next day was a joyous one for Og, since it saw 
 him indissolubly bound to the object of his 
 affections. The marriage took place in the little 
 chapel on the Tower Green, and the edifice was 
 crowded during the ceremonial. 
 
 At its close, the happy couple adjourned, ^vith their kins- 
 folk and friends, to the Stone Kitchen, where a copious and 
 excellent repast had been prepared by Peter Trusbut, the 
 pantler, who still exercised his vocation as purveyor to the 
 warders of the Tower ; and it need scarcely be said that full 
 justice was done to the many good things provided by him 
 on this auspicious occasion. 
 
 It was always agreeable to Peter Trusbut and his worthy 
 dame to see their guests enjoy themselves, and the rapidity 
 and gusto with which the dishes were now demolished per- 
 fectly satisfied them. Gog and Magog ate more than usual 
 in honour of their brother's marriage, and the bridegroom's 
 prowess was hardly inferior to their own. 
 
 Of course Xit had been present at the wedding, and was 
 likewise a principal guest at the breakfast that followed it. 
 He was in high spirits, and diverted the company by his 
 lively sallies. When the dishes had been removed, he 
 leaped upon the table, goblet in hand, and, in appropriate 
 terms, proposed the health of Og and his bride — a toast 
 which was drunk with great cheers. While they were in the 
 very midst of enjoyment, the door suddenly opened, and a
 
 374 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 man of exceedingly sinister aspect, and habited in a tight- 
 fitting leathern doublet, appeared at it. At the sight of this 
 ill-favoured personage, the countenances of the company 
 fell, and their laughter ceased. 
 
 " Who is that strange man ? " inquired Lilias of Og, in an 
 under tone. 
 
 "It is Mauger, the executioner," replied her husband. 
 " What brings thee here ? " he added, half angrily, to the 
 headsman. 
 
 " I am come to congratulate you on your marriage," 
 replied Mauger. " Am I not welcome ? " 
 
 " Sit down, and take a cup of wine," rejoined Og, filling 
 a goblet. 
 
 " Here's health to the bonny bride ! " cried Mauger, 
 eyeing her curiously as he raised the flagon to his lips. 
 
 " I do not like his looks," said Lilias, clinging to her 
 husband. " I wish he had not come." 
 
 " Harkye, Mauger," cried Xit, who was still standing 
 upon the table, " thy presence is unsuited to this festive 
 occasion, and we can, therefore, dispense with thy society." 
 
 " I shall not go at thy bidding, thou malapert knave," 
 rejoined Mauger. " I came to see the bride, not thee." 
 
 And he was about to seat himself in the chair left empty 
 by the dwarf, when the latter prevented him, exclaiming, — 
 
 " That chair is mine. Begone instantly, if thou wouldst 
 not be unceremoniously thrust from the room." 
 
 Og seemed inclined to second the dwarfs threat, but his 
 wife interposed, saying, — 
 
 " Let him not be turned out, or it may bring us ill luck." 
 
 "It will bring you ill luck if I be so dealt with, fair 
 mistress," rejoined Mauger, with an uncouth attempt at 
 gallantry. 
 
 And, pushing Xit aside, he sat down in the vacant chair. 
 
 " I have a present for you, fair mistress," pursued the 
 headsman to Lilias. " Here it is," he added, producing a 
 silver box from his doublet. " This pomander was given 
 me by Queen Catherine Howard on the day of her 
 execution, and I have kept it about me ever since, but I 
 will now bestow it upon you, and I will tell you why. You 
 have a neck as long, and as white, and as snowy as Queen 
 Catherine's, and she had the whitest and slenderest throat
 
 By Whom the Wedding Breakfast was Interrupted. 375 
 
 my axe ever touched — therefore you well deserve the box. 
 Take it, and if you ever need my services," he continued, 
 with a grim smile, "you shall give it me back again. 
 Smell to it — it is filled with delicate perfumes — ambergris, 
 storax, benjoin, labdanum, civet and musk. You will find 
 it a preservative against infection." 
 
 " It seems to me to smell of blood," said Lilias, tossing 
 back the box. " I will not have it." 
 
 "As you please," said Mauger, returning it to his doublet. 
 *' Yet it is not a gift to be despised." 
 
 " Enough of this," said Og, somewhat sternly. " Do you 
 not perceive that you interrupt our festivities ? My wife 
 thanks you for your intended present, but declines it." 
 
 " I have nothing else to offer her, unless it be an earring 
 worn by Queen Anne Boleyn " 
 
 " I would not touch it for the world," cried Lilias, recoil- 
 ing with horror. 
 
 ""You know not what you refuse," said Mauger, testily; 
 " but it is in vain that I try to render myselt agreeable. 
 Since I am an unwelcome guest, I will go. But I will tell 
 you a word in parting. This day has begun blithely 
 enough, but it will not end so merrily." 
 
 "What meanest thou?" cried Og, angrily. "Wouldst 
 thou insinuate that something is about to happen to me and 
 my bride ?" 
 
 "Or to me — or to any other among us?" added Xit, 
 with equal fierceness. 
 
 " No, I mean not that," replied Mauger. " But I tell 
 you that the day will end differently from what you expect." 
 
 "Pshaw! thou art only saying this to frighten the women," 
 said Og. "Sit down again and take another cup of wine." 
 
 "No, I have had enough," rejoined Mauger, in a surly 
 tone. " I came here with presents to the bride — presents 
 such as none other in the Tower could offer her — and they 
 have been scornfully rejected. Be it so. A day may come 
 for some of you when it may be necessary to bespeak my 
 favour." 
 
 And casting a stern and vindictive look around, he 
 limped out of the room. 
 
 "I am glad he is gone," observed Lilias. "And yet I 
 wish he had not left us in anger."
 
 37^ Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " Pshaw ! heed him not," rejoined Og. " His odious 
 office causes him to be generally shunned, and hence he is 
 sour-tempered. He is gentler than usual to-day." 
 
 " Then he must, indeed, be savage," said Lilias, forcing 
 a laugh. 
 
 " He is strangely superstitious," pursued Og, " and pre- 
 tends he has warnings beforehand of the persons he is to 
 put to death. From what he let fall just now, I fancy he 
 has had one of those warnings." 
 
 " Saints preserve us ! I hope not ! " cried Lilias, turning 
 pale. " I declare I feel quite ill. Did you not remark that 
 he compared my neck to that of Queen Catherine Howard." 
 
 "Nay, he meant that as a compliment," said her husband. 
 " In good sooth, thou hast a dainty neck, sweetheart." 
 
 " Dainty or not, I like not the comparison," said Lilias. 
 "When he looked at me, it seemed as if I felt the sharp 
 edge of the axe — oh ! take me into the air, or I shall faint." 
 
 Og instantly took her in his arms, saying, as he carried 
 her forth, " If aught betide thee, sweet chuck, the day 
 shall not end merrily for Mauger." 
 
 " Do nothing to him, I charge you," rejoined Lilias, 
 faintly. " We have offended him enough already."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW THE TREASURE-CHESTS WERE CARRIED TO 
 traitors' GATE. 
 
 I HE bride's sudden indisposition naturally put an 
 end to the breakfast, and ere many minutes all 
 the guests had quitted the Stone Kitchen. On 
 being brought into the open air, Lilias speedily 
 revived, and the bloom which had temporarily deserted 
 them returned to her cheeks. A stroll on the green 
 completely restored her, though she was nearly made ill 
 again by an injudicious remark of Xit, who pointed 
 out to her the spot whereon the scaffold was usually 
 erected. 
 
 In order to divert her from the gloomy thoughts which 
 seemed to have been inspired by Mauger, Og took her to 
 the palace and showed her over the royal apartments, with 
 the size and splendour of which she was much astonished. 
 They next visited the garden, with which she was also 
 delighted, and were crossing the outer court towards the 
 Cold Harbour Tower, when they encountered Lovel, the 
 keeper of the Jewel Tower, who, courteously saluting the 
 bride, volunteered to show her the treasures under his 
 custody. 
 
 Lilias gratefully accepted the offer, and was taken with 
 her husband and the whole party into the Jewel House, 
 where the many precious articles contained in it were dis- 
 played to them. After they had feasted their eyes on this 
 rich collection, Lovel said to the bride, —
 
 378 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "You shall now see the coffers containing the bulh'on 
 deposited here by his Majesty. This is the only opportunity 
 you will have of viewing them, for they are to be removed 
 to the Exchequer to-night." 
 
 Upon this he unlocked the door of the strong-room, and 
 showed them fifteen mighty chests piled within it. Each 
 chest was wrapped in a cover emblazoned with the arms ot 
 Castile and Aragon. Removing the cover from one of 
 them, Lovel disclosed a handsome coffer made of walnut, 
 strengthened by bands of brass, and secured by two 
 locks. 
 
 •'' Oh ! how I should like to see what is inside it ! " cried 
 Lilias, after she had examined the exterior of the box. 
 
 And she looked so beseechingly at Lovel that he could 
 not refuse to gratify her curiosity. 
 
 " It is against my orders to open the chests," he said. 
 " Nevertheless, I will yield to your wishes," 
 
 And taking a bunch of keys from his girdle, he unlocked 
 the coffer, and raising the lid, revealed the bars of gold to 
 Lilias's admiring gaze. 
 
 " Oh ! how beautiful they look ! " she cried, clapping her 
 hands. " Cannot you spare one of them ? — it would never 
 be missed," 
 
 " Were the gold mine, you should have one, and wel- 
 come, fair mistress," replied Lovel, gallantly. " But this is 
 the King's treasure, and I am bound to guard it." 
 
 " But suppose it were carried off by force, what would 
 you say then ? " pursued Lilias, playfully. 
 
 "I cannot entertain any such supposition," he replied, 
 shutting down the lid, and locking the coffer. " There ! 
 now I have removed temptation," he added, with a smile. 
 
 " That chest must be enormously heavy," observed Lilias 
 to her husband. " Do you think you could lift it, Og ? " 
 
 "I don't know," he repUed; "but if Master Lovel will 
 allow me, I will try." 
 
 " Make the attempt, and welcome," replied Lovel, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 Seizing hold of the chest with a herculean grasp, Og 
 threw it over his shoulder. 
 
 " There, now you have got possession of it, away with 
 you," cried Lilias " Master Lovel will not prevent you."
 
 How the Trcasiire-Chesis were Removed. 379 
 
 " Hold ! hold I " exclaimed the keeper of the treasure. 
 " This is carrying the jest rather too far." 
 
 " Did you really think I was making off with the chest, 
 Master Lovel?" cried Og, setting it down with a great 
 laugh. 
 
 "Well, it looked like it, I must own," returned the other. 
 " But you couldn't go very far with such a burden as 
 that." 
 
 " Couldn't I ?" rejoined Og. " You don't know what I 
 could do if I tried. Why, I would carry the chest from the 
 Tower to Whitehall, if the King would only bestow it upon 
 me for my pains," 
 
 And he burst into another tremendous laugh, in which 
 his brothers heartily joined. 
 
 " That were a feat worthy of Samson," observed Lovel, 
 dryly. " Suppose I put your strength to the test." 
 
 " Do so," rejoined Og. "What would you have me per 
 form ? You have just told us that the chests are to be 
 removed to the P^xchequer to-night. You don't want me 
 to carry them to Westminster Hall ?" 
 
 "No, no! I don't want that," said Lovel, laughing. 
 "They are to be transported by water, and it will save 
 time if they are taken at once to Traitor's Gate, where 
 they will be embarked." 
 
 " Say no more— we'll do it, won't we ? " cried Og, turn- 
 ing to his brothers, who readily assented. 
 
 Without more ado, he again took up the ponderous 
 coffer, and called out, " Now, I'm ready." 
 
 "So are we," cried Gog and Magog, as they each 
 shouldered a chest. 
 
 Upon this, the whole party went out of the chamber, 
 the door of which was carefully locked by the keeper. It 
 was a striking sight to see the three giants, laden in the 
 manner we have described, cross the court of the palace, 
 and descend with slow but firm footsteps the slope lead- 
 ing to the Bloody Tower, each having upon his broad 
 shoulders a weight sufficient to call into activity the lull 
 lorces of three ordinary men, and yet bearing it — if not 
 easily — yet stoutly. It was true that the muscles of their 
 bull throats and brawny legs were tremendously developed, 
 and looked almost as large as cables, but these were the
 
 3 So Cardinal Pole. 
 
 only evidences of the strain put upon them. LiHas walked 
 by the side of her husband, enchanted by this display of his 
 strength, while Xit strutted in front, as if the giants were 
 under his command. 
 
 State offenders, as is well known, were formerly brought 
 into the Tower through a gloomy archway, spanning a sluice 
 from the river — the sluice being protected by a ponderous 
 wooden gate, constructed of huge beams of wood, worked 
 by machinery in the superstructure. This massive portal 
 was popularly known as " Traitors' Gate." A flight of stone 
 steps offered a _ landing-place from the channel, which was 
 capable of holding some three or four large boats, and led to 
 the outer ward of the fortress, but the approach was guarded 
 by another ponderous wooden portal. Within the archway 
 on the right of the steps was a stone platform, whence there 
 was access through a narrow arched passage to a guard-room 
 in the building above, which was known as Saint Thomas's 
 Tower, These details are necessary for the understanding 
 of what is to follow. 
 
 It was upon the platform just described that Lovel caused 
 the giants to deposit the chests. This done, they immediately 
 went back to the Jewel Tower for a fresh supply, and paused 
 not in their exertions till the fifteen ponderous coffers had 
 been laid upon the platform. Love), of course, superintended 
 their task, and, when their labours were over, proposed an 
 adjournment to the Stone Kitchen, to which the giants made 
 no objection, so the gate being locked, and instructions given 
 to Croyland, the warder who had charge of Saint Thomas's 
 Tower, the whole party proceeded in search of refreshment. 
 On reaching the Stone Kitchen, Lovel called for a plentiful 
 supply of hydromel, which being quickly brought by Peter 
 Trusbut, the giants were enabled to quench their thirst. By 
 her husband's desire, Lilias sipped a few drops from his 
 brimming goblet ere he emptied it. 
 
 " I tell you what. Master Lovel," observed Magog. " I 
 have some misgiving about that treasure. Do you think it 
 quite safe where you have left it ? " 
 
 " Ay, marry," replied the other ; " as safe as in the Jewel 
 House itself. Who can meddle with it? Traitors' Gate 
 will not be opened by Croyland without my order." 
 
 "True," rejoined Magog. "Still, with a treasure lil:e
 
 How the Treasure- Chests were Removed. 381 
 
 that, no precautions ought to be neglected. To make 
 matters sure, I will go to Saint Thomas's Tower, and 
 stay there till all the chests are fetched away." 
 
 "Then you will have to stay there till night," said 
 Lovel. 
 
 " No matter," rejoined Magog, getting up. " Peter Trus- 
 but will send me a few flasks of wine, and I shall be just as 
 comfortable there as anywhere else. Are you coming with 
 me, Gog ? " he added to his brother. 
 
 " I will follow in a few minutes, and bring the wine with 
 me," rephed Gog. 
 
 "And I will join you later on — as soon as Lilias can 
 spare me," laughed Og. 
 
 " Nay, then, there can be no doubt the treasure will be 
 well guarded," said Lovel. 
 
 And, bowing to the company, he quitted the Stone 
 Kitchen with Magog.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SHOWING WHO WAS CONCEALED IN THE JEWEL HOUSE. 
 
 |FTER accompanying Magog along the outer ward 
 to the entrance of Saint Thomas's Tower, where 
 he left him, Lovel passed under the gloomy arch- 
 way of the Bloody Tower, and, ascending the hill, 
 made his way to the Jewel House. 
 
 Arrived there, he did not proceed to that part of the 
 building which we last visited, but sought his private cham- 
 ber, and having entered it, and bolted the door inside, he 
 tapped at the door of a small inner room, and called out 
 " You may come forth, Sir." 
 
 The summons was promptly obeyed by a young man, 
 who stepping quickly towards him, said, "You have been 
 long absent, Lovel. What news do you bring ? " 
 
 " Excellent news, good Master Osbert Clinton," replied 
 the other. "If all goes well, you will have the treasure to- 
 night. It will delight you to hear that the coffers have 
 been transported by the gigantic warders to Traitor's Gate, 
 and are now lying there, ready for you and your friends to 
 take them away. So far all has gone well — far better than 
 could have been expected — and I hope the rest will turn 
 out equally prosperously. Indeed, it can scarcely fail to do 
 so, unless from ill management." 
 
 " What course do you advise us to pursue, Lovel ? " de- 
 manded Osbert. 
 
 " First of all, there must be no delay in the execution of
 
 Showing ivho was Concealed iii the Jewel House. 3S3 
 
 the project," replied the other. "The business must be 
 done to-night. A boat capable of containing the chests must 
 be brought to Traitors' Gate. I shall be in Saint Thomas's 
 Tower, and after going through the usual formalities, will 
 cause the great wooden gate to be opened. If no untoward 
 circumstance occurs, the coffers can thus be readily carried 
 off and conveyed to a place of safety." 
 
 " Once out of Traitors' Gate, all the rest will be easy," 
 said Osbert. " Your plan promises well, good Lovel, and I 
 trust nothing will occur to mar it. Possessed of this gold, 
 we shall be able to carry into immediate eftect our grand 
 enterprise. It may be wrong to seize this treasure, but 
 neither I nor my associates have any scruples on the sub- 
 ject. We know that this gold is intended to be employed to 
 bribe our nobles to enslave the country, and we consider it 
 lawful plunder, of which we may rightfully possess ourselves 
 by force or stratagem." 
 
 " I take precisely the same view of the matter as yourself, 
 Sir," said Lovel ; "and, as you, know, have engaged in this 
 enterprise without fee or reward. I am anxious, as you and 
 your friends are, to see the country delivered from Spanish 
 thraldom, and the Protestant religion restored. While 
 martyrs are giving up their lives in testimony of their faith, 
 I do not hesitate to jeopardise mine to benefit the same 
 cause. If this Spanish gold can be employed against our 
 enemies, instead of being used by them to our disadvantage, 
 I shall be content." 
 
 " In three day's time there will be a rising in Essex and 
 Suffolk," said Osbert ; " and in less than a week an army of 
 insurgents, larger than that commanded by Wyat, will be 
 marching to London, its battle-cry being, ' Down with the 
 Spaniard and the Pope ! ' This gold will give us all we 
 need. And so you positively refuse any reward for the great 
 service you are rendering us, Lovel ? " 
 
 "Were I to take a reward, I should consider that I had 
 violated my trust," replied the other. " My object is to 
 serve my country, and if it be freed from oppression I shall 
 be amply rewarded. Put now to proceed with the business. 
 No time must be lost in communicating with Sir Henry 
 Dudley, Sir Anthony Kingston, Master Udal, and the rest of 
 your associates."
 
 384 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " That can be quickly done," replied Osbert. " They 
 are close at hand — at the ' Rose and Crown,' on Tower 
 Hill. There can be no difficulty as to a boat, since one has 
 been already provided. At what hour ought the attempt to 
 be made ? " 
 
 "Let me see," said Lovel, reflecting. "The tide will 
 serve at nine. The boat should be at Traitor's Gate at 
 that hour." 
 
 " Good," returned Osbert. " Now then to communicate 
 with my friends." 
 
 "Leave that to me," said Lovel; "you cannot quit the 
 Tower with safety, as, if you should be seen and recognised, 
 your instant arrest would follow. I v^ill go to the ' Rose 
 and Crown' at once, and give full iiistructions to your 
 friends. Retire to the inner room, and do not stir forth 
 from it till my return." 
 
 And as Osbert complied, the keeper of the treasure left 
 the Jewel House, and set out on his errand.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW THE PLOT WAS DISCOVERED BY XIT, AND DISCLOSED 
 BY HIM TO MAGOG. 
 
 i^iEANTIME, Magog, with whom Lovel had parted 
 at the entrance of Saint Thomas's Tower, had 
 gone in, and made his way through the side- 
 passage, previously described, to the interior of 
 Traitors' Gate. He found the chests lying upon the plat- 
 form, just as they had been laid there by himself and his 
 brothers, and sitting down upon one of them, presently fell 
 asleep, and made the vaulted roof resound with his deep 
 breathing. How long he remained in this state he could 
 not say, but he was roused by feeling something crawling, 
 as he thought, over his face, and supposing it to be a 
 gigantic water-rat — the place being infested with such 
 vermin — he put out his hand, and catching hold of the 
 noxious creature, as he deemed it, was about to throw it 
 into the water, when a shrill cry admonished him that the 
 fancied water-rat was no other than Xit. 
 
 "Wouldst drown me, Magog?" shrieked the dwarf, 
 clinging to him. 
 
 " Drown thee — not I ! " replied the giant, laughing. " But 
 I took thee for a rat or an otter." 
 
 " None but a sleepy dolt like thyself would have made 
 such a mistake," said Xit. " I could not waken thee with- 
 out plucking thy beard. Call'st thou this keeping guard 
 over the treasure ? I call it gross negligence." 
 25
 
 3 86 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 "Well, well, I am vigilant enough now," rejoined Magog. 
 " What hast thou to say to me ? " 
 
 " Something that will keep thee wakeful, I trust," said 
 Xit. " Lend me thine ears, and I will disclose it to thee. I 
 have discovered a plot." 
 
 " Poh ! thou art always making some silly discovery that 
 leads to nothing," rejoined Magog. 
 
 " But this will lead more than one man to the scaffold," 
 pursued Xit, mysteriously. " 'Tis an important discovery I 
 have made." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Magog, with some curiosity. 
 "What is it ? Let me hear and judge." 
 
 " It relates to the chests on which thou art sitting," re- 
 plied Xit. " There is a plot to carry them off. Master 
 Lovel, the keeper of the treasure, is concerned in it, but the 
 principal contrivers are Osbert Clinton, Sir Henry Dudley, 
 Sir Anthony Kingston, Udal, and the others connected with 
 the late outbreak." 
 
 "Ah, this is indeed important!" cried Magog. "And 
 how didst thou make this discovery ? " 
 
 " You shall hear," replied Xit. "Suspecting all was not 
 right, I followed Lovel to his lodging, and by listening at 
 the keyhole, managed to overhear a conversation between 
 him and Osbert Clinton, who is at present concealed in the 
 Jewel House. From this I learnt that the treasure is to be 
 carried off by the traitors, in order to assist them in getting 
 up another insurrection of a far more formidable character 
 than the last. Their plan is to bring a boat to Traitors' 
 Gate at nine o'clock to-night, when, feigning to be officers 
 sent by the King to remove the treasure to the Exchequer, 
 they will present a warrant, and Master Lovel, being their 
 accomplice, the coffers will be delivered to them — so at least 
 they calculate." 
 
 "A well-devised plan, I must own," observed Magog, 
 "and like enough to have succeeded." 
 
 " It would infallibly have succeeded but for my shrewd- 
 ness in detecting it," said Xit. 
 
 "Well, thou wilt, doubtless, receive due credit for thy 
 penetration from Sir Henry Bedingfeld, to whom the matter 
 must be forthwith communicated," observed Magog, getting 
 up.
 
 How the Plot was Discovered by Xit. 387 
 
 " What art thou about to do, thou foolish giant ? " cried 
 Xit. " We can manage this affair without Sir Henry 
 Bedingfeld's assistance. Recollect that a heavy price is set 
 upon the heads of all these oftenders, and if we can effect 
 their arrest — as we shall do if my counsels be followed — 
 the reward will be ours. We must take them all, like fish 
 in a net. Not one must be allowed to escape. Listen to 
 me, and I will show thee how it can be done. The moment 
 the barge is admitted into this place, Traitor's Gate must be 
 closed by thee or by thy brothers, and we shall then have 
 them like rats in a trap. Though they may offer some re- 
 sistance at first, they will soon be forced to surrender. 
 Osbert Clinton is sure to be on the spot with Lovel, and we 
 can arrest them both at the same time. What think'st thou 
 of my plan ? " 
 
 " By my faith, it promises well," replied Magog. 
 
 " We shall need assistance," pursued Xit ; " and besides 
 Og and Gog, I propose to call in the aid of Captain Bittern 
 and his friends. They are men of discretion, and can be 
 relied on. Care must be taken not to awaken Lovel's 
 suspicions, or our plan will be defeated. And now let us 
 quit this damp place. I am half choked by the mist. I 
 wonder thou couldst sleep m it. Come ! There is no fear 
 of the treasure being carried off just yet." 
 
 Upon this Magog arose, and they adjourned to the guard- 
 chamber. 
 
 Xit's plan was carried out. About eight o'clock in the 
 evening, Og tore himself from his bride, promising faithfully 
 to return to supper, and, accompanied by Gog, Rodomont 
 Bittern, Holiday, and Simnel, to all of whom the dwarf's 
 important discovery had been communicated, repaired to 
 Saint Thomas's Tower, and mounted to an upper chamber 
 overlooking the river, where they held themselves in readi- 
 ness for whatever might occur, beguiling the tedium of wait- 
 ing with some flasks of wine which they had brought from 
 the Stone Kitchen. 
 
 Xit, meanwhile, had kept watch over Lovel's movements. 
 He saw the keeper of the treasure return from his errand to 
 Tower Hill, and cautiously following him, and adopting the 
 same plan of espionage which he had previously employed, 
 he heard him inform Osbert Clinton that he had seen 
 25—2 ♦
 
 388 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 Sir Henry Dudley and the other conspirators, who were 
 well pleased with the arrangement, and undertook to bring 
 a barge to Traitor's Gate at the appointed hour that night. 
 
 " The coffers once secured," pursued Lovel, " your friends 
 propose to take them up the river to Chelsea and land them 
 there. No time must be lost in disposing of the treasure, 
 for the moment it becomes known that it has been carried 
 off, a general search will be made." 
 
 "Once in our possession, the treasure will never find its 
 way to the royal Exchequer — of that you may be quite 
 certain, Lovel," replied Osbert. " But what do you propose 
 to do? Your connection in the affair will assuredly be 
 suspected." 
 
 " I shall provide for my safety by flight," said Lovel. 
 *' This very night I shall quit the Tower secretly, and remain 
 in concealment till your proposed insurrection will enable 
 me to appear with safety." 
 
 " If we succeed, as I trust under Heaven we shall, your 
 services shall not be forgotten, Lovel," observed Osbert. 
 "You shall have a better post under Elizabeth than that 
 which you now occupy under Philip and Mary." 
 
 " I have said that I do not seek reward," rejoined Lovel ; 
 "but since, in abandoning this post, I shall sacrifice all, it is 
 but just that I should have some compensation." 
 
 "You shall have compensation in full, doubt it not, 
 Lovel," said Osbert. " And now let us finally arrange 
 our plans for to-night. How many persons are there in 
 Saint Thomas's Tower ? " 
 
 " Only three," replied Lovel. " Croyland, the keeper of 
 the gate, his man, and a sentinel. Stay ! I had forgotten. 
 One of the gigantic warders, Magog, is there at this 
 moment, but I do not think he will remain there till 
 night, and if he should, he will be no hindrance to us, since 
 all will be conducted with so much formality that suspicion 
 will be disarmed. We will go together to Saint Thomas's 
 Tower, and if my instructions to Sir Henry Dudley are 
 carefully carried out, no difficulty will be experienced." 
 
 What answer was made to this by Osbert, Xit could not 
 tell. Fancying he heard a movement towards the door, he 
 beat a hasty retreat, and left the Jewel House, perfectly 
 content with the information he had obtained.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW THE CONSPIRATORS WENT IN AT TRAITORS' GATE 
 
 BUT CAME NOT OUT AGAIN. 
 
 IGHT, anxiously expected both by plotters and 
 counter-plotters, arrived at last. Within the 
 lower chamber of Saint Thomas's Tower were 
 Magog and Xit, but the two other gigantic 
 warders, with Rodomont Bittern and his comrades, kept out 
 of sight, lest Lovel's suspicions should be awakened. 
 
 Croyland, the keeper of the Tower, had been made a 
 party to the plan, and consented to act as Xit directed. 
 The night was dark, and the mist hanging over the river, 
 and almost shrouding Saint Thomas's Tower from view, was 
 favourable to the project of the conspirators. 
 
 Some quarter of an hour before the time fixed for the 
 arrival of the barge, Lovel, accompanied by Osbert, who 
 was well armed, and wrapped in his cloak, quitted the 
 Jewel House, and proceeded to Saint Thomas's Tower. 
 The door was opened by Croyland, who had a lamp in his 
 hand, which he raised for a moment to survey Osbert, and 
 then, apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, ushered them 
 into the guard-chamber, which done, he returned to fasten 
 the door. 
 
 Within the guard-chamber were Xit and Magog. The 
 giant appeared to be fast asleep, with his huge head resting 
 on a table, and did not move on their entrance ; but Xit 
 immediately arose, and after a word with Lovel, was 
 informed by the latter that the gentleman with him was an
 
 390 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 officer sent by his Majesty to take charge of the treasure. 
 With this information the dwarf seemed perfectly content, 
 and bowed ceremoniously to Osbert, who slightly returned 
 the salutation. In another moment Croyland returned with 
 a lamp, and taking it from him, Lovel beckoned to Osbert 
 to follow him, and led the way to the platform on which the 
 chests were laid. 
 
 No sooner were they gone than Magog raised his head, 
 and said in a whisper to Xit, " Is it Osbert Clinton? " 
 
 The dwarf replied in the affirmative, but added, " Don't 
 ask any more questions, or you will be overheard. Here 
 they are coming back. Down with your head ! " 
 
 On this, Magog resumed his previous posture. Next 
 moment Lovel reappeared with the lamp, but Osbert 
 remained in the passage, so as not to expose himself to 
 observation. 
 
 " The coffiers are all right, I perceive," remarked Lovel, 
 as he set down the lamp upon the table. " I sha'n't be 
 sorry when they are gone," he added, with a laugh. " They 
 have been a great source of anxiety to me." 
 
 " I daresay they have," replied Xit. " Your office 
 wouldn't suit me at all. Master Lovel." 
 
 " Wherefore not ? " demanded the other. 
 
 "Because my honesty would never be proof against the 
 temptation I should be exposed to. The sight of so much 
 treasure would exercise a baneful influence over me, and I 
 should long to appropriate it to my own use. Whereas, 
 you, worthy Lovel, are of an incorruptible nature, and can 
 see gold without coveting it. You would never dream of 
 making free with the contents of those coffers." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Lovel. 
 
 " Therein we differ," pursued Xit. " Had those coffers 
 been confided to me, I should have fallen. The Arch 
 Enemy could not find a more certain means of destroying 
 me than they would afford him. Knowing my own frailty, I 
 respect your honesty the more, worthy Lovel. You can 
 touch gold without being defiled by it. Unluckily, such is 
 not my case." 
 
 Ere Lovel could reply, Osbert called out from the 
 passage : — 
 
 "The barge is at hand. I hear a noise outside in the river."
 
 Holu the Conspirators Went in at Traitors'' Gate. 391 
 
 And, as he spoke, the bell hanging above the outer arch 
 of Traitors' Gate was rung. 
 
 " Here they are ! " cried Xit, shaking Magog, " Rouse 
 thyself, thou great sluggard." 
 
 " Who are here ? " cried the giant, pretending to waken 
 from a sound sleep. 
 
 " Why, the officers sent by the King to take away the 
 treasure," rejoined Xit. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " ejaculated Magog, with a prodigious 
 yawn. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lovel, followed by Croyland, had mounted a 
 spiral stone staircase, which quickly brought them to the 
 summit of the round projecting tower at the western angle 
 of the fortification. On reaching the battlements, they 
 could discern through the gloom a large barque lying in the 
 river immediately beneath them. The barge was rowed by 
 four stalwart oarsmen, and its head was brought close up to 
 Traitors' Gate. 
 
 At the prow stood a tall man, apparently in command of 
 the party, and who was no other than Sir Henry Dudley. 
 The barge had already been challenged by the sentinel, and 
 a short parley had taken place, but when Lovel and 
 Croyland appeared, Dudley called out in a loud, authorita- 
 tive voice : — 
 
 " Open the gate quickly. We are officers sent by the 
 King to bring away the treasure." 
 
 " Have you a warrant for its removal ? " inquired Lovel. 
 " Ay," returned Dudley, " a warrant you will not care to 
 dispute." 
 
 " Enough," answered Lovel. "The gate shall be opened 
 immediately." 
 
 With this he disappeared from the battlements, while 
 Dudley, turning to his companion in the barge, said in a 
 low, exulting tone, "The prize will soon be ours. We shall 
 get in without difficulty." 
 
 " Heaven grant we may get out as easily ! " rejoined Sir 
 Anthony Kingston, who was standing near him. " More 
 people go in at Traitors' Gate than come out from it." 
 
 As he spoke, the ponderous wooden valves, worked by 
 some machinery in the upper part of the tower, began 
 slowly to revolve upon their hinges, disclosing the interior
 
 392 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 of the passage, which was now illumined by torches held by 
 Magog and Croyland, who, with Lovel and Xit, were 
 stationed near the head of the steps. In the background, 
 partly concealed by the coffers, stood Osbert Clinton. 
 
 As soon as the valves had opened wide enough to admit 
 the barge, Dudley, who was all impatience to secure the 
 prize, called to the oarsmen to push in, and the order being 
 promptly obeyed, the barge entered the channel, and was 
 propelled to the foot of the steps. Sir Henry Dudley then 
 leaped ashore, and was followed by Sir Anthony Kingston 
 and some four or five others. 
 
 " Here is the order for the delivery of the treasure, Sir,"* 
 said Dudley, presenting a paper to Lovel, who advanced to 
 meet him. 
 
 Lovel glanced at it for a moment, and then, apparently 
 satisfied by the inspection, observed, — 
 
 " We have been expecting you, Sir. The chests are all 
 ready, as you see." 
 
 "That is well," said Dudley, scarcely able to conceal his 
 satisfaction. " Let them be embarked at once." 
 
 While this brief dialogue occurred, Traitor's Gate was 
 noiselessly returning to its place, and in another minute was 
 closed. The conspirators, however, were too much occupied 
 with what they had in hand to notice this suspicious circum- 
 stance. The oarsmen now got out of the barge, and were 
 preparing to place the uppermost chest on board, when 
 Osbert Clinton suddenly stepped forward, and said, in a 
 low voice, to Sir Henry Dudley, — 
 
 " We are betrayed. See you not that the gate is 
 shut?" 
 
 " Ha ! so it is ! " cried Dudley. " Why is this. Sir?" he 
 added, fiercely, to Lovel. " How comes it that yon gate is 
 closed ? " 
 
 " I did not know it was so," replied the other. " There 
 must be some mistake. But I will cause it to be reopened 
 instantly." 
 
 " There is no mistake," cried Xit, in his loudest and most 
 important voice ; " it is by my orders that Traitors' Gate 
 has been shut, and it will not be opened again. Traitors, ye 
 are caught in a trap. Ye have come here, with wicked and 
 felonious intent, to carry off the King's treasure, but instead
 
 How the Conspirators Wait in at Traitors' Gate. 393 
 
 of departing with your plunder to stir up rebellion, you will 
 be lodged in the dungeons of the Tower, and ere long expiate 
 your manifold and dire offences on the scaffold." 
 
 At this address the conspirators stared aghast, and laid 
 their hands upon their swords. 
 
 Osbert Clinton, however, signed to them to keep quiet, 
 and said to Lovel, " What means this. Sir? Is it some ill- 
 timed jest?" 
 
 " I will tell you what it means. Master Osbert Clinton," 
 interposed Xit. " It means, that you, and all those with 
 you, are my prisoners. I arrest you all for high treason. 
 You yourself, Master Osbert Clinton — you Sir Henry Dud- 
 ley — you. Sir Anthony Kingston — you, blaster Udal, and all 
 the rest of you. Deliver up your swords." 
 
 "This is droll," cried Osbert Clinton, forcing a laugh ; 
 **but the jest may prove no laughing matter for thee. Get 
 the gate opened," he added to Lovel. " We will have the 
 treasure in spite of them." 
 
 "Traitors' Gate shall not be opened," screamed Xit. " I 
 forbid it, and ye shall find whether or not I shall be obeyed. 
 Stir a single foot, thou traitor Lovel, and thou art a dead 
 man." And drawing his sword, he presented it at the breas-t 
 of the keeper of the treasure, exclaiming, "I arrest thee, 
 also, on a charge of conspiracy and treason." 
 
 " An end must be put to this folly," cried Osbert, fiercely. 
 " By the time you have got the treasure on board I will have 
 the gate opened," he added to Dudley. Then drawing his 
 sword, he commanded Xit to stand out of the way. 
 
 " Help me, my faithful giants ! " cried Xit, retreating. 
 " Help me ! " 
 
 And at the words, Og and Gog issued from the passage 
 where they had remained concealed, and with their halberds 
 opposed Osbert's advance. 
 
 " Back ! " roared Magog, in a voice of thunder, " or you 
 rush upon your death." 
 
 " You had better yield," cried Xit. " You cannot escape. 
 You will more easily cut your way through the solid beams 
 of Traitors' Gate than you will hew a passage through these 
 hving walls." 
 
 " I will cut a way through both sooner than surrender/* 
 rejoined Osbert. " Follow me, friends."
 
 394 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 And he was about to fling himself upon the giants, who 
 awaited his attack unmoved, when his desperate purpose 
 was averted by the sudden ringing of the alarm-bell. This 
 sound, which proclaimed that the fortress was alarmed, para- 
 lysed his energies, and caused him to drop the point of his 
 sword, while the rest of the conspirators looked equally dis- 
 heartened. Other sounds, calculated to increase their 
 apprehensions, were now heard, and the trampling of feet, 
 accompanied by the clatter of arms, showed that a number 
 of men were collecting in the outer ward. It was plain that 
 the conspirators were betrayed, and the glances they ex- 
 changed betokened that they felt so. 
 
 " You had better yield with a good grace," cried Xit, 
 *' and not compel us to take your swords from you by force." 
 
 " I will die rather than yield," cried Osbert Clinton. 
 
 " So will we all," responded the others. 
 
 "Resistance is in vain," cried Lovel, suddenly changing 
 his manner. " It is time to tlirow off the mask. You are 
 prisoners to the King." 
 
 " Ha ! it is thou who hast brought us into this snare," 
 cried Dudley. " Take the reward of thy treachery," he 
 added, passing his rapier through his body. 
 
 " Ha ! I am slain ! " exclaimed Lovel, as he fell back- 
 wards into the water. 
 
 At this moment the massive portal communicating with 
 the outer ward was opened, and an astounding spectacle 
 revealed. 
 
 Beneath the gloomy archway of the Bloody Tower stood 
 the King, the torchlight flashing upon his stately figure, 
 and communicating to his countenance a stern and sinister 
 expression. 
 
 With him was Sir Henry Bedingfeld. At the back of the 
 archway rose a grove of pikes, while on the right and left 
 was ranged a strong guard of halberdiers, several of whom 
 held torches, which gleamed upon the steel caps, corslets, 
 and partisans of their comrades. 
 
 At this unlooked-for spectacle the conspirators recoiled in 
 confusion and dismay. Flight was impossible, and as 
 Bedingfeld advanced towards them with an officer, and 
 demanded their swords, telling them they were his prisoners, 
 they had no alternative but submission.
 
 How the Conspirators Went in at Traitors' Gate. 395 
 
 By the King's commands, the conspirators were then 
 brought before him, and he surveyed them tor some 
 moments with a smile of gratified vengeance. 
 
 "Soh, traitors !" he exclaimed, at length, " you thought 
 you had devised a cunning scheme to carry ott my treasure. 
 But you have been outwitted. Your plans have been re- 
 vealed to me, and I have allowed you to proceed thus far in 
 order to ensnare you all. You have fallen like wolves into 
 the trap set for you." 
 
 " The wretch who betrayed us has met his reward," cried 
 Sir Henry Dudley. " He has perished by my sword." 
 
 "Is Lovel slain?" exclaimed Philip. "I am sorry for 
 it." 
 
 " He richly deserved his fate," cried Osbert. " I see now 
 how we have been duped." 
 
 At this moment Xit made his way towards the King, and 
 said, "An please your Majesty, these rebels and traitors 
 were captured by me. I claim the reward." 
 
 " Retire, thou presumptuous and intrusive varlet," cried 
 Bedingfeld. "This matter is too serious for thy inter- 
 ference." 
 
 "But for my interference, Sir Henry," rejoined Xit, 
 proudly and indignantly, " the plot would not have been 
 discovered." 
 
 "There thou art wrong," rejoined Bedingfeld ; " the plot 
 has been all along known to his Majesty, It was revealed 
 to him by Lovel, who, it seems, has gone to his account." 
 
 " Level is killed, sure enough," said Xit. " But I trust 
 my services will not go unrewarded." 
 
 "Thy claims shall be considered hereafter," said Philip. 
 And as Xit, satisfied with this assurance, bowed and retired, 
 he addressed the conspirators : " For the heinous crimes and 
 oft'ences you have committed, you cannot doubt what your 
 sentence will be." 
 
 " We are all prepared for our fate," said Dudley, reso- 
 lutely. " In engaging in this enterprise we well knew the 
 risk we incurred. Having failed, we are ready to pay the 
 penalty." 
 
 " Do you deem your base attempt consistent with the prin- 
 ciples you profess ? " demanded Philip, contemptuously, 
 
 "Ay," rejoined Dudley. " Your gold has been one of the
 
 396 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 chief weapons used against this unhappy land, and it was 
 the part of true Englishmen — as we are — to deprive you 
 of it." 
 
 " Ye are robbers and felons, and shall die the death of 
 such vile miscreants," said Philip, coldly. "By this foul 
 act you have forfeited your privileges as gentlemen." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Osbert Clinton. " Are we to die 
 like common felons ? " 
 
 "Such will be your doom," rejoined Philip, sternly. 
 
 "Your Majesty is too magnanimous to stoop to such an 
 unworthy revenge," said Osbert Clinton. "Let us die upon 
 the scaffold. 'Tis the sole grace we ask of you." 
 
 "Ay, spare them this ignominious ending, I beseech you, 
 Sire," said Mauger, advancing from the guard, among whom 
 he was standing, " and let them fall by my hand." 
 
 " I owe thee a guerdon," rejoined Philip, "and will give 
 thee their heads. As to you, Osbert Clinton," he added, 
 " I could devise no worse torture for you than your own 
 bitter reflections will furnish. Had you not engaged in 
 this last design, you might have been pardoned your former 
 offences, have been restored to my favour, and have wedded 
 Constance Tyrrell. Reflect upon this when you are alone 
 in your dungeon." 
 
 " This is only said to torture me ! " cried Osbert. 
 
 "It is said that you may be aware of the happiness you 
 have so recklessly thrown away," rejoined the King. "At 
 the intercession of Cardinal Pole, I had consented to pardon 
 you, and, moreover, had promised his Eminence not to 
 oppose your marriage with Constance. But there will be 
 no pardon for you now — no Constance." 
 
 Osbert made no reply, but covered his face with his 
 hand. 
 
 After a brief pause, the King turned to Sir Henry 
 Bedingfeld, and ordered him to remove the prisoners to 
 their dungeons. " To morrow they will be privately inter- 
 rogated," he said, " after which their arraignment, con- 
 demnation, and execution will speedily follow. You will 
 not have to wait long for your fees," he added to Mauger. 
 
 " I humbly thank your Majesty," replied the headsman. 
 
 On this, the conspirators were led off by the guard, and 
 placed in diff"erent state prisons in the inner ward, a cell in
 
 How the Conspirators Went in at Traitors' Gate. 397 
 
 the Flint Tower being assigned to Osbert Clinton. Shortly 
 afterwards, the King rode back to Whitehall, attended by a 
 mounted escort. 
 
 As soon as tranquility was restored, Og returned to his 
 bride, whom he had left in the care of Dame Trusbut, at 
 the Stone Kitchen. A very substantial supper was in 
 readiness for him, and to this he sat down with his 
 brothers, Xit, Rodomont Bittern, Simnel, and Holiday, 
 and, despite the previous occurrences, they made a right 
 merry night of it. 
 
 Next day, the treasure-chests, which had been left on the 
 platform in Traitors' Gate, were removed from the Tower, 
 and safely deposited in the Exchequer. 
 
 iSn^ of \\)i Sfbc- tfj ISoofe.
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 CONSTANCE TYRRELL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE IMPORTANT DISPATCH RECEIVED FROM THE 
 EMPEROR BY PHILIP. 
 
 BOUT a month must now be allowed to elapse. 
 During this time, the whole of the conspirators, 
 with the exception of Osbert CHnton, had 
 suffered death on Tower Hill. But though 
 Osbert's execution was thus delayed, no hope of pardon 
 was held out to him. On the contrary, he was told by Sir 
 Henry Bedingfeld, who visited him almost daily, that his 
 sentence would infallibly be carried out, and that he ought 
 to be prepared for a sudden summons to the scaffold. " I 
 will give you notice when I am sent for by his Majesty," he 
 said. " That will be an intimation to you that the hour is 
 at hand." 
 
 The Queen's accouchement being now daily expected, 
 great preparations were made for the important event; 
 religious processions thronged the streets, prayers were 
 offered for her Majesty's safe deliverance, and couriers kept 
 in constant readiness to bear the gladsome tidings to
 
 Of the Important Dispatch Received by Philip. 399 
 
 foreign courts. While all were on the tenter-hooks of 
 expectation, the Romanists were gratified, and the 
 Protestants deeply chagrined, by the sudden and, as it 
 turned out, unfounded intelligence that her Majesty had 
 given birth to a son. The news spread with extraordinary 
 rapidity, not only in London, but throughout the whole 
 kingdom. Public rejoicings were made. Bonfires were 
 lighted in the streets. Tc Dcimi was sung in the churches, 
 and one preacher — the priest of St. Anne's in Aldersgate — 
 went so far as to describe the personal appearance of the 
 new-born Prince, depicting him as a miracle of beauty and 
 proportion. But next day all was changed. The Romanists 
 were mortified by the authoritative contradiction of the 
 report, whilst the Protestants exulted. Other rumours 
 were then circulated, and it was said that the Queen had 
 died in child-bed. But this statement was soon discovered 
 to be false, and it eventually became known that the 
 disease under which her Majesty was labouring, and which 
 had deceived her physicians, was dropsy. 
 
 For some days Mary continued in a very precarious 
 state, and serious apprehensions of a xatal result were 
 entertained ; but these dangerous symptoms abated, and in 
 less than a Aveek she was pronounced out of danger. 
 During her illness she had been sedulously attended by 
 Constance Tyrrell, for whom she had sent when she 
 supposed herself sinking, and it was to Constance's un- 
 wearying attentions that she mainly attributed her 
 recovery. 
 
 Naturally, the Queen's state of health had been a source 
 of the deepest anxiety to Cardinal Pole, and the news of 
 her amendment was a proportionate relief to him. Having 
 received permission to wait upon her, he immediately 
 repaired to Whitehall, and on arriving at the palace he was 
 met by Doctor Ford, the Queen's physician, who conducted 
 him to her Majesty's presence. 
 
 Mary was in her cabinet, reclining in a large easy-chair, 
 propped up by cushions, wrapped in a loose gown ot 
 purple velvet, lined with miniver, and with her feet sup- 
 ported by a tabouret. Her leatures were swollen, and her 
 complexion turbid, and she had an air oi extreme lassitude 
 and debility. The only person by whom she was attended
 
 400 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 was Constance Tyrrell, who likewise looked extremely pale 
 and ill. 
 
 Having accompanied the Cardinal to the door of the 
 cabinet, Doctor Ford retired. 
 
 " I am glad to see your Eminence," said Mary, as the 
 Cardinal approached her. " Sit down beside me, I pray 
 you. At one time I feared I should never behold you 
 again ; but I am better, and I owe my preservation, under 
 Heaven, to the ministry of this damsel. Without her I 
 believe I should have died, and I never can forget the 
 services she has rendered me — never sufficiently requite 
 them." 
 
 "Your Majesty overrates my poor services,'' said Con- 
 stance. 
 
 " She has poured balm into my wounded heart, as well 
 as helped me to sustain my bodily sufferings," pursued 
 Mary. " Oh, my good Lord Cardinal, how can I have so 
 deeply offended Heaven that I should be thus severely 
 afflicted ! — that the boon I have so earnestly prayed for 
 should be denied me. What have I done to merit this 
 chastisement ? — how have I sinned ? I have searched my 
 breast, but can discover no wickedness therein. I have 
 swerved from no duty. It cannot be a crime to love the 
 King my husband — though, perchance, I have made him an 
 idol. But enjoin me any penance you please. I will 
 perform it." 
 
 "I enjoin you only resignation to the decrees of Heaven, 
 gracious Madam," returned Pole. " Your afflictions have 
 been given you for some wise but inscrutable purpose, and 
 must be patiently borne." 
 
 ** I have borne them with patience," rejoined Mary ; "yet 
 it is hard to be deprived of blessings which are vouchsafed 
 to the meanest of my subjects. How many a poor cottager's 
 wife can clasp her offspring to her breast ! — while I, alas ! 
 am childless." 
 
 "Your grief is shared by all your subjects. Madam," 
 observed the Cardinal. 
 
 "Not by all," rejoined Mary, with asperity. "There are 
 many who exult in my distress, who have prayed that I 
 might have no issue, but that the sceptre might pass from 
 my iiands to those of my sister Elizabeth. And their
 
 Of the Lnportant Dispatch Received by Philip. 401 
 
 prayers would seem to be heard, while mine are rejected. 
 Oh, what happiness would have been mine had a son been 
 granted me, for I feel all a mother's tenderness in my 
 breast. A son would have compensated me for all my 
 troubles — for the neglect I have experienced, and for the 
 desertion which will ensue — but now I shall go to my grave 
 broken-hearted." 
 
 "Be comforted. Madam, be comforted," said Pole. "All 
 will yet be well. The King will ?iot leave you." 
 
 " He 7£^/// leave me, that is certain," rejoined Mary. " And 
 then will come the severest part of my trial. When he is 
 gone, all will be a blank to me. I would fain bury my woes 
 in a cloister." 
 
 " No, Madam, you must rouse yourself," said Pole. " You 
 must not give way to this excess of grief. It has pleased 
 the Supreme Disposer of events to deprive you, and the 
 country placed under your governance, of a great blessing ; 
 but do not repine on that account. Rather rejoice that you 
 have been afflicted. Devote all your energies to the welfare 
 of your kingdom, and to the maintenance of religion. Peace 
 will then be restored to your breast — peace, which nothing 
 can disturb." 
 
 "I do not expect to find peace on this side of the grave," 
 sighed Mary; "but I will try to follow your Eminence's 
 counsel." 
 
 "In time your wounds will be healed," rejoined Pole; 
 "and you will then understand why they have been in- 
 flicted." 
 
 " I humbly resign myself to Heaven's decrees," said Mary. 
 '■'■Fiat voluntas tua." 
 
 At this juncture, without being announced, the King 
 entered the cabinet, followed by Count D'Egmont. His 
 Majesty's features did not wear their customary sombre 
 expression, but were radiant with joy, and his deportment 
 evinced considerable excitement. 
 
 Advancing quickly towards the Queen, and bowing reve- 
 rently to the Cardinal, he said, — 
 
 "Count D'Egmont has just brought me a most important 
 letter from the Emperor, and I lose not a moment in laying 
 its contents before your Majesty." 
 
 Then, turning to Pole, who was about to withdraw, he 
 26
 
 402 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 added, *' I pray your Eminence not to retire. The matter is 
 one that will interest you. Not to keep you in suspense, I 
 will state at once, and in a word, the purport of the dispatch. 
 The Emperor is about to abdicate, and resign his hereditary 
 dominions to me." 
 
 "What do I hear?" exclaimed Mary, in extremity of sur- 
 prise. " The Emperor about to abdicate ! " 
 
 " 'Tis exactly as I have stated, Madam," cried Philip. " I 
 have it here under his own hand." 
 
 "His Imperial Majesty has for some months meditated 
 this step, gracious Madam," interposed D'Egmont, bowing 
 to the Queen, " but it is only recently that his final resolu- 
 tion has been taken. Of late a profound melancholy has 
 seized upon him, which he finds it impossible to shake off. 
 Tired of pomp and state, sated with glory and conquest, 
 wearied with the cares of government, racked by a cruel 
 disease, which allows him little respite from suffering, his 
 august Majesty is about to put off the purple robe and 
 crown, and, clothing himself in the lowly garb of a monk, to 
 pass the remainder of his days in seclusion. I have been 
 sent by the Emperor to announce his determination to his 
 royal son, into whose hands he designs to relinquish his vast 
 dominions." 
 
 " You hear. Madam — you hear what my father intends," 
 cried Philip, with irrepressible delight. 
 
 "Yes, I hear it," rejoined Mary, mournfully. 
 
 " The solemn ceremony of abdication will take place at 
 Brussels," pursued D'Egmont, " in the presence of all the 
 nobles and deputies of Flanders, who, at the Emperor's 
 request, will transfer their allegiance to his son. Subse- 
 quently, the sovereignty of Castile and Aragon will be ceded 
 to King Philip." 
 
 "And what of the crown of Germany?" demanded 
 Philip. 
 
 " That will deck the brows of your uncle Ferdinand, King 
 of the Romans," said D'Egmont. " The Empire of Germany 
 will be resigned in his favour." 
 
 "Is such my father's intent?" said Phihp. 
 
 *' I believe so. Sire — nay, I am sure," returned D'Egmont. 
 " To prove the motives by which your august sire is actuated 
 in his retirement, it will be enough to state, that out of his
 
 Of the Importajit Dispatch Received by Philip. 403 
 
 immense revenues he only intends to reserve himself a pen- 
 sion of a hundred thousand ducats." 
 
 "Only so much," cried Mary. "Why, 'tis less than a 
 noble's revenue." 
 
 "It is more than the Emperor will need, Madam, in the 
 solitary life he designs to lead," observed D'Egmont, 
 
 " I am filled with amazement," observed Pole. " That 
 Charles V., the foremost monarch of Christendom, the 
 greatest warrior of the age, who holds in his hands the des- 
 tinies of Europe, should retire in the plenitude of his power, 
 is indeed a wondrous circumstance, to which there is no 
 parallel, save in the instance of Diocletian. May the 
 Christian monarch be as happy in his retirement as was the 
 heathen Emperor in his garden at Salona. Heavy, indeed, 
 must be the weight of a crown, since its wearer desires to 
 put it off thus." 
 
 "In his letter to me, the Emperor explains the motives of 
 his intent to abdicate," said Philip. "Referring to the 
 troubled and agitated life he has led, to his great fatigues 
 and exposure, his frequent travels in Europe and Africa, the 
 constant warfare in which he has been engaged, and his in- 
 cessant labours for the public welfare and for religion, he 
 observes : ' As long as my strength would allow me, I have 
 fulfilled my duties, but now my infirmities counsel — nay, 
 command — repose. Ambition, and the desire to rule, no 
 longer sway my breast. The remainder of my days will be 
 consecrated to holy thought and preparation for eternity. 
 To you, my son, and to your care, I shall resign my vast 
 possessions, conjuring you never to relax in your efforts for 
 the welfare of the people committed to your charge. 1 he 
 time may come when, exhausted, loaded with infimities, and 
 praying for release, you may desire to imitate your father's 
 example.' " 
 
 " May that day be long distant!" cried D'Egmont. "A 
 brilliant career is before your Majesty." 
 
 " Yet let the Emperor's words never be forgotten. Sire," 
 remarked Pole, solemnly. " Lay them to heart, and be 
 guided by them ; and so, when you arrive at that period 
 which your august sire has reached, when earthly glories 
 shall fade away and become as nothing in your sight, you 
 will derive comiort from the happiness and prosperity you 
 26 — 2
 
 404 Cardinal Pcle. 
 
 have conferred upon your people. Rarely has a crown been 
 similarly bestowed. Never could crown be more richly 
 graced. Wear it, Sire, as it has hitherto been worn — wear 
 it as your great father has worn it, and when you put it off^ 
 you will do so, like him, without a sigh." 
 
 " Once mine, I shall be in no haste to part with it," 
 observed Philip. " But have I no congratulations from your 
 Majesty?" he added to the Queen. "Do you not rejoice 
 with me on my good luck ? " 
 
 " Your good luck is my misfortune," rejoined Mary. 
 "This unlooked-for act of the Emperor must cause our 
 separation." 
 
 "Only for a season," returned Philip. "I must needs 
 obey my father's summons to Brussels ; but I shall speedily 
 return." 
 
 " Impossible !" cried Mary. "As King of Spain, you will 
 have much to do, and cannot quit your dominions, even if 
 you should be so minded. No ! I am not to be deceived. 
 / cannot go to Spain, or to Flanders, and you will not come 
 to England. Henceforward we must dwell apart." 
 
 " Nay, nay, you are wrong. Madam — by my faith, you 
 are ! " cried Philip. " I shall return before three months 
 have elapsed. Meantime, I confide you to the care of his 
 Eminence, who, I trust, will be rarely absent from you. It 
 is my wish," he added, " that the Lord Cardinal be appointed 
 chief of the Privy Council, and that nothing concerning 
 the government of the realm be concluded without his 
 sanction." 
 
 " All shall be done as you desire," rejoined Mary. 
 
 " Nay, Sire, I must decline a post for which I am unfitted," 
 said Pole, " and which, as it would necessarily engage me in 
 concerns of the world, is little suited to the spiritual cha- 
 racter with which I am invested." 
 
 "But I will take no refusal," said Philip. "You must, at 
 least, accept the post till her Majesty is perfectly restored to 
 health." 
 
 " I shall have only your Eminence to look to when the 
 King is gone," said Mary. "If need be, I must lay my 
 positive commands upon you." 
 
 " In that case I have no alternative but submission," 
 rejoined the Cardinal. " The sole condition I would annex
 
 Of the Important Dispatch Received by Philip. 405 
 
 to my consent is, that I may be allowed to exercise my 
 religious functions as heretofore." 
 
 "Far be it from me to interfere with them," said Mary. 
 *' Apartments shall be assigned you in the palace, so that I 
 may have an opportunity of seeing you more frequently, and 
 profiting by your counsels."
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HOW SIR HENRY BEDINGFELD CAME FOR OSBERT S DEATH- 
 WARRANT : AND WHAT HE OBTAINED. 
 
 T this moment an usher entered, and informed the 
 King that Sir Henry Bedingfeld was without, 
 having come to Whitehall in obedience to his 
 Majesty's commands. 
 
 " Admit him straight," replied Philip. And as the usher 
 withdrew, Philip approached the Queen, and spoke a few 
 words to her in a low tone. What he said was inaudible to 
 the others, but its import could be gathered from Mary's 
 troubled looks. She attempted some remonstrance, but the 
 King appeared inflexible. 
 
 While this was passing, Constance stole softly towards the 
 Cardinal, and said to him in a whisper, " Sir Henry Beding- 
 feld is come for Osbert's death-warrant. I am sure of it, 
 from the look given me by her Maiesty, Oh ! my Lord 
 Cardinal, intercede for him with the King — intercede for 
 him, I implore of you." 
 
 " I wall do what I can," replied Pole, in the same tone. 
 
 Meantime, Philip continued urgent with the Queen, his 
 manner becoming stern and peremptory. 
 
 " Must it be done at once ? " inquired Mary. 
 
 "Ay, at once," rejoined the King. " I will have his head 
 before my departure to-morrow. Then I shall be sure that 
 my injunctions are obeyed. Here is the warrant," he added, 
 placing a scroll of parchment before her. "Sign it."
 
 How Bed.tigfeld Came for Osberfs Death-warrant, 407 
 
 Mary, however, manifested great reluctance, and was still 
 appealing to the King, who continued inflexible, when Sir 
 Henry Bedingfeld appeared, and making a profound obei- 
 sance to the royal pair, said, " I await your Majesty's com- 
 mands." 
 
 " I shall be ready for you in an instant, good Sir Henry," 
 rejoined the King. " Sign it, Madam — sign it," he added 
 quickly to the Queen. " Why do you hesitate? " 
 
 " Because " And she glanced towards Constance, 
 
 who had now turned aside, weeping. " I owe my life to 
 her," she added. " Ought I to requite her thus ? " 
 
 " I have said I will not depart without assurance of this 
 traitor's death," rejoined Philip ; " and your reluctance 
 shows how my orders would be obeyed in my absence. Sir 
 Henry Bedingfeld awaits the warrant." 
 
 Thus urged, Mary took up the pen, when Pole interposed. 
 
 "A moment, Madam," he cried. "Ere you sign that 
 death-warrant, I crave permission to say a few words to his 
 Majesty." 
 
 "I am entirely at your Eminence's disposal," rejoined 
 Philip, advancing towards him. 
 
 "Sire," said Pole, "you will, I am assured, acknowledge 
 that Heaven's bounties have been bestowed upon you with a 
 lavish hand." 
 
 Philip assented, and Pole went on. "You have been sum- 
 moned to the greatest throne in Europe, and while your 
 heart is naturally elated by what you have gained, it should 
 be opened to the kindliest and most generous emotions. Let 
 your first act be one which shall show you are influenced by 
 such feelings." 
 
 "What would you have me do?" replied Philip, somewhat 
 coldly. " I am about to testify my gratitude to Heaven by 
 public prayer and thanksgiving in Westminster Abbey, by 
 largesses to my attendants, by liberal donations of alms to 
 the poor, and in various other ways, as my confessor shall 
 direct, and as I trust will meet with your Eminence's 
 a/)proval." 
 
 " All this is well," replied the Cardinal ; " and yet your 
 heart may not be touched as I would have it. Perform a 
 noble deed. Osbert Clinton has deeply oflended you. His 
 life is in your hands. Pardon him."
 
 4o8 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 " I cannot pardon him," replied Phiip. " I have sworn 
 that he shall die." 
 
 " I will absolve you of your oath," said the Cardinal. 
 " The occasion is one that demands from you some self- 
 sacrifice, and you must make it." 
 
 " I would do aught in my power to gratify your Eminence, 
 to whom I am infinitely beholden, but I cannot forego an 
 act of just vengeance," replied Philip. "I have purposely 
 delayed this execution, not from any intention of sparing the 
 traitor, but because I would prolong his punishment. To- 
 morrow he dies. Press me no more, for I must perforce 
 refuse your request. I will not be balked of my revenge." 
 
 " It is well. Sire," replied Pole. " But I warn you that 
 you will repent your indulgence of this evil passion." 
 
 " You plead the cause of a rebel and traitor," cried Philip, 
 impatiently. " Osbert Clinton has been justly condemned 
 for his crimes." 
 
 " Search your heart, Sire," said the Cardinal, in a severe 
 tone, " and you will find why Osbert became a rebel and a 
 traitor. He was loyal and devoted till his wrongs — ay, 
 wrongs. Sire — made him what he is." 
 
 " But he rose in rebellion against the Queen," cried Philip. 
 
 " I pardon him for his offences against me — fully and freely 
 pardon him," interposed Mary; "and I pray your Majesty 
 to pardon him likewise." 
 
 PhiUp made no reply, but his looks continued inexorable. 
 
 " Essay what you can do," said Pole, in a low voice to 
 Constance. 
 
 "Alas, I despair of moving him," she rejoined. " Never- 
 theless, I will make the attempt." And casting herself at 
 PhiHp's feet, she said, "Oh, Sire, if this sentence be carried 
 out, and Osbert perish on the block, you will have my life to 
 answer for as well as his, since I shall not long survive him. 
 The blow which strikes him will reach me also. I am the 
 cause of all Osbert's treasonable acts. But for his love for 
 me, he would have been loyal and devoted to you and to her 
 Majesty. Oh, that you had never seen me, Sire ! Oh, that 
 chance, on your arrival in this country, had not brought you 
 rear me ! Since that fatal hour nothing but calamity has 
 attended me. But now that you are departing, Sire, leave 
 me not to wretchedness and despair. Pity Osbert, Sire —
 
 How Bedingfeld Came for Osherfs Death-warrant. 409 
 
 overlook his offences, and pardon him. By so doing, you 
 will save yourself from a remorse which no penitence will 
 remove, but which will ever haunt you if you doom us both 
 to death. But no. Sire, I see you relent — your nobler and 
 better feelings triumph — you are yourself — the worthy son 
 of Charles V, You forgive me — you pardon Osbert 
 Clinton?" 
 
 " Arise, Constance," said Philip, taking her hand and 
 raising her; "you have conquered. That I have done you 
 much wrong, and caused you great unhappiness, I freely 
 confess. That I may have goaded Osbert Clinton into the 
 commission of the offences of which he has been guilty, I 
 will not attempt to deny. But I will make amends. He 
 shall have a pardon." 
 
 " Nobly done, Sire ! " ejaculated Pole. " Nobly done ! " 
 
 " To make sure that Osbert is worthy of the grace be- 
 stowed upon him," said Philip, " he shall accompany me to 
 Brussels, and thence to Spain, and when I have proved him, 
 I will send him back to reap his reward." 
 
 *' Oh, Sire, you overwhelm me with gratitude ! " cried 
 Constance. " Happiness, so long a stranger to me, begins 
 to smile on me again." 
 
 " On his return, it will be for your Eminence to complete 
 the work by bestowing upon him the hand of your ward," 
 said Philip to the Cardinal. 
 
 " And at the same time I shall surrender the fortune 
 which I hold in trust for her," said Pole. 
 
 " Sir Henry Bedingfeld," said Philip to the Lieutenant of 
 the Tower, whose looks manifested the lively interest he 
 took in what was passing, " you will return to the Tower, 
 not with a death-warrant, but with an order for Osbert's 
 immediate Hberation." 
 
 " Here it is. Sir Henry," said Mary, tracing a few lines on 
 a sheet of paper, and giving it to Bedingfeld. " Tell him 
 that he has our full pardon." 
 
 " I shall not fail, gracious Madam," rejoined the Lieu- 
 tenant of the Tower, with a profound obeisance. 
 
 And he moved towards the door. Before reaching it, 
 however, he was stopped by an usher, who placed a packet 
 in his hands, saying it was important, and had just been 
 brought from the Tower. The packet contained a letter,
 
 '"^lo Car d'mal Pole. 
 
 enclosed within which was a small piece of paper. On 
 glancing at the letter, Bedingfeld started, and his countenance 
 fell. 
 
 " What is the matter, Sir Henry ? " demanded the King, 
 remarking his altered looks. 
 
 " The prisoner, Sire i — the prisoner ! " faltered Bedingfeld. 
 
 '• What of him ? " shrieked Constance, in tones that 
 chilled those v;ho heard her. " What has happened ? " 
 
 " Read, Sire," said Bedingfeld, handing the missive he 
 had just received to the King. 
 
 " Ha ! is it so ? " cried Philip, his countenance changing 
 as he read the dispatch. " Remove her, I pray you, my 
 Lord Cardinal," he added to Pole. 
 
 " I will not go till I learn the truth," cried Constance, 
 distractedly. "Speak, Sir, I conjure you," she added to 
 Bedingfeld. 
 
 " Better let her know the truth, be it what it may," said 
 Pole. 
 
 " Ay, speak, Sir Henry — keep her not in suspense," said 
 the Queen. "The prisoner was well when you left the 
 Tower— ha ? " 
 
 " He was, Madam, but " 
 
 " But what ? " demanded Mary. 
 
 "Since then he has died by poison," said Philip, 
 
 " By poison ! how could it be procured ? " asked the 
 Queen. 
 
 " It appears to have been contained in a ring which he 
 was unluckily allowed to wear," replied Philip. 
 
 " Is there no poison left for me, that I may join him ?" 
 cried Constance. 
 
 " Kind Heaven support her ! " exclaimed Pole. " Her 
 reason wanders." 
 
 " No, I am calm enough now," she rejoined. 
 
 "Then you may bear to hear that Osbert's last thoughts 
 were given to you," said Philip. " This scrap of paper was 
 found clutched in his dying grasp. On it are written the 
 words, ' Farewell for ever, beloved Constance !'" 
 
 Taking the piece of crumpled paper from the King, she 
 gazed at it for a few moments, and then pressed it convul- 
 sively to her lips. 
 
 " Farewell, Osbert — farewell for ever ! " she cried.
 
 How Bcdingfeld Came for Osberfs Death-warrant. 41 1 
 
 " No, not for ever," rejoined Pole, solemnly. " You will 
 be united in a better world." 
 
 Praying the Cardinal to stay with her and console her, 
 the King withdrew with D'Egmont and Bedingfeld. 
 
 Left alone with Pole and the Queen, Constance was 
 permitted by them to indulge her grief without restraint 
 before any attempt at consolation was made ; but when 
 these paroxysms were over, and she became calmer, the 
 good Cardinal poured balm into her bruised spirit, and 
 ceased not till his efforts were successful. 
 
 From that moment Constance became perfectly resigned 
 — and though all youthful gaiety and lightness of heart 
 deserted her, and her features wore an unvarying expression 
 of melancholy and sadness, she never uttered a murmur. 
 She would fain have spent the rest of her life in soUtude 
 and retirement, but the Queen refused to part with her, and 
 retained her with her to the close of her days. 
 
 With remarkable consideration, Mary did not interfere 
 with her religious observances, but allowed her what she 
 denied all others, freedom of conscience. This concession, 
 however, on the Queen's part, was made on the earnest 
 recommendation of Cardinal Pole. Thus Constance con- 
 tinued unshaken in her faith. By her gentle assiduities she 
 was enabled materially to alleviate the anguish of mind 
 endured by the Queen during Plulii)'s absence, and when at 
 length Mary sank after protracted suffering, her last moments 
 were soothed by Constance Tyrrell.
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 TWO LIGHTS EXTINGUISHED. 
 
 PWARDS of three years had flown since the 
 occurrences last narrated — three terrible years, 
 during which religious persecution never ceased. 
 Bradford and Marsh had perished at the stake, so 
 had Ridley and Latimer, with many others, and Cranmer 
 had won a martyr's crown. Gardiner had long gone to his 
 account, being stricken with a mortal disease, while reading 
 a letter describing the torments of Ridley and Latimer. 
 He lingered for a month, and then dying, was buried with 
 great pomp in Winchester Cathedral. But though Gardiner 
 was gone, Bonner yet lived, and the barbarous proceedings 
 against the Protestants were unrelaxed. 
 
 On Cranmer's death, Pole was immediately created Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and began to put into execution the 
 plan he had long designed for reforming the abuses of the 
 Church. Notwithstanding the opposition of the clergy, 
 aided as they were by Paul IV., the then ruling Pontiff, 
 whose displeasure Pole had incurred, he succeeded in 
 effecting many beneficial changes, and would doubtless have 
 accomplished much more, had he been spared, but in the 
 very midst of his exertions he was attacked by a quartan 
 ague, engendered by the pestilent exhalations from Lambeth 
 marshes. By its extreme violence, the fever threatened from 
 the first a fatal termination. 
 
 Though not unconscious of his danger, and, indeed
 
 Two Lights Extinguished. 413 
 
 scarcely entertaining a hope of recovery, the Cardinal 
 continued his labours during the intervals when he was free 
 from fever. His chief cause of concern at this moment 
 was, that the Queen also was lying upon a sick couch, from 
 which it was scarcely probable she could rise. Foreseeing 
 the disastrous consequences to the Church of Rome which 
 must inevitably ensue from her death, he felt so troubled in 
 spirit that his mental anxiety added force to the attacks of 
 the ague. 
 
 Throughout the Cardinal's illness, Priuli watched over 
 him with unremitting solicitude, and such entire reliance had 
 Pole in the judgment and devotion of his friend, that he 
 confided everything to him. One day, when the Cardinal 
 was free from fever, and he and Priuli were alone together 
 in the library of Lambeth Palace, he requested his friend to 
 unlock a small coffer which he pointed out, and at the same 
 time gave him a key. Priuli obeyed, and on opening the 
 coffer perceived within it a parchment, so endorsed as to 
 leave him no doubt as to its nature. 
 
 " That is my will," said Pole. " I desire you to read it." 
 
 On perusing the document, Priuli found that the Cardinal 
 had appointed him his sole heir and executor, whereupon, 
 looking Pole earnestly in the face, he said, " I am glad you 
 have consulted me on this matter, dear friend, and allowed 
 me the opportunity of expressing my opinion upon it. It 
 would have grieved me to disobey your injunctions, and yet 
 I cannot conscientiously fulfil them. Readily will I under- 
 take the office to which you have appointed me, and will 
 carefully attend to your directions as to the distribution of 
 your property, but with regard to the rich inheritance you 
 would bestow upon me, I must peremptorily decline it. I 
 cannot — will not accept any part of it. I thank you for the 
 intent, but I am rich enough without this augmentation of 
 my worldly goods." 
 
 " Distribute my possessions among the poor, or build 
 churches and hospitals with them," rejoined the Cardinal. 
 " Whatever you do, will, I am sure, be for the best. But if 
 you decline my bequest, at least accept some slight object, 
 be it only a jewel or ring, to be kept as a memorial of our 
 long friendship." 
 
 " I desire neither jewel nor ring, nor any other memorial
 
 414 
 
 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 richer than the breviary you constantly use," replied Priuli. 
 " Of all gifts, I should value that the most." 
 
 *' It shall be yours, dear friend," rejoined Pole. *' I shall 
 keep it as long as my eyes are able to fix upon it — as long 
 as my hands will hold it — then take it. May it afford you 
 the comfort it has ever afforded me, and draw you towards 
 Heaven, as it has never failed to draw me." 
 
 Pole was constant in his inquiries after the Queen, and 
 on her part Mary was equally anxious for information as to 
 the state of his health. Messengers were continually 
 passing between Lambeth Palace and Whitehall, but from 
 neither place were the tidings satisfactory. On the contrary, 
 the reports of the condition of both illustrious sufferers 
 grew worse, and it became a question as to which of the 
 two would be the survivor. Pole prayed that he might be 
 the first to depart — but it was not so ordained. 
 
 The grief felt by every member of the Cardinal's vast 
 establishment for the deprivation which they felt they must 
 soon undergo, was sincere and profound, but no one 
 deplored his exalted master's precarious condition more 
 deeply than Rodomont Bittern, The poor who thronged 
 the gates of the palace, and received alms and food from 
 Priuli, put up earnest prayers for their benefactor's recovery. 
 
 But the fever abated not, and though its attacks were 
 somewhat mitigated in severity, still the Cardinal's debili- 
 tated frame was less able to withstand them. He daily 
 grew weaker and weaker. 
 
 Notwithstanding his prostration, however, he was carried 
 twice in each day to the chapel to hear mass. One evening 
 after vespers, the large easy-chair in which he reclined was 
 wheeled into the library, and Priuli, who now seldom left 
 him, took his accustomed place by his side. Four days 
 having elapsed since the Cardinal's last attack, it was certain 
 that the night would not pass without a return of the fever. 
 Notwithstanding this, Pole was conversing cheerfully with 
 his friend, when Rodomont Bittern entered to say that 
 Mistress Constance Tyrrell was without, and desired to see 
 his Eminence. 
 
 "Admit her straight," replied Pole. "She is ever 
 welcome." 
 
 And the next moment Constance came in. The
 
 Two Lights Extinguished. 415 
 
 expression of her countenance, which was as pale as death, 
 struck Priuli, but did not appear to attract Pole's attention. 
 Moving noiselessly towards the Cardinal, Constance knelt 
 before him, while he spread his thin white hands over her 
 head, and in feeble tones gave her his benediction. 
 
 " How fares the Queen ? " inquired Pole, as Constance 
 arose. " She was somewhat easier this morning, as I under- 
 stand." 
 
 "Her Majesty is easier now," replied Constance. "She 
 is free from ail pain." 
 
 " Is she gone ? " inquired Pole, while a premonitory 
 shiver shook his wasted frame. 
 
 "She is gone," rejoined Constance. "The heart that 
 has so long suffered has ceased to beat." 
 
 " May the angels of Heaven receive her soul and present 
 it before the Lord ! " exclaimed Pole. " And may whatever 
 sin she has committed in life through human frailty be for- 
 given her ! Did her spirit pass away easily ? " 
 
 " Most easily," replied Constance. " Her sole concern 
 was for the welfare of her Church." 
 
 " The chief pillar of the Church is broken," cried Pole, in 
 a voice of anguish; "and my hand, which might have helped 
 to support the falling structure, is also powerless. Domine, 
 salva nos, pcrijnus I Salvator Mimdi, salva Ecclesiam 
 tiiain." 
 
 For some moments he remained in fervent prayer, after 
 which he seemed calmer, and inquired if the Queen had 
 said aught concerning the King her husband. 
 
 " She spoke not of him at the last," replied Constance, 
 " but it would seem that the loss of Calais produced a deep 
 impression on her, for she said, ' My physicians seek to 
 know the cause of my malady. Let them open my breast, 
 and they will find "Calais" graven on my heart.'" 
 
 " It was not the loss of Calais that broke her heart," said 
 Pole. Heaven forgive him who has brought her prematurely 
 to the tomb. England has lost a great sovereign, and our 
 Church its chief defence. Elizabeth is now Queen, and 
 with her the Protestant Church will be restored. For- 
 tunately, I shall not live to see that day. Farewell, dear 
 daughter. My blessing be ever upon you ! " 
 
 Finding that the fever was coming on, he caused himself
 
 4 1 6 Cardinal Pole. 
 
 to be transported to his chamber, and was laid upon the 
 couch which he was never again to leave with life. 
 
 Towards morning his condition became alarming, and he 
 received extreme unction, the last rites being performed by 
 the Bishop of Asaph. This done, after some words to 
 Priuli, he clasped to his breast the crucifix, which he had 
 ever with him, and seemed to sink into a gentle slumber. 
 And so he breathed his last. 
 
 Crucifix and breviary were kept as sacred relics by 
 Priuli. 
 
 In the chapel of Saint Thomas k Becket, which he 
 himself built in Canterbury Cathedral, rests the saintly 
 Reginald Pole. This simple inscription is placed over his 
 tomb : — 
 
 Deposituim Cardinalis Poll 
 
 ^ L^ 
 
 LONDON : 
 WHIIING AND COMPANT, LIMITED, SARDINIA STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS.
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 CI 39 
 
 UCSD Libr.
 
 UCSOUTHERNRf " J- 
 
 .o A RV FACILITY 
 
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