uncensured, but even taken into favour, the malignancy of the prosecution was easily seen through. Sentence of high treason was, therefore, pronounced against him; but it was not then executed, as this venerable man was reserved for a more dreadful punishment. Shortly after, Peter Martyr, a German reformer, who had in the late reign been invited over to England, seeing how things were likely to go, desired leave to return to his native country. But the zeal of the catholics, though he had escaped them, was malignantly, though harmlessly, wreaked upon the body of his wife, which had been interred some years before at Oxford: it was dug up by public order, and buried in a dunghill. The bones also of Bucer and Fagius, two foreign reformers, were about the same time committed to the flames at Cambridge. The greater part of the foreign protestants took early precautions to leave the kingdom; and many arts and manufactures fled with them. Nor were their fears without foundation; a parliament, which the queen called soon after, seemed willing to concur in all her measures; they at one blow repealed all the statutes with regard to religion, which had passed during the reign of her predecessor; so that the national religion was again placed on the same footing on which it stood at the death of Henry the Eighth.

While religion was thus returning to its pristine abuses, the queen's ministers, who were willing to strengthen her power by a catholic alliance, had been for some time looking out for a proper consort. The person on whom her own affections seemed chiefly placed was the earl of Devonshire; but that nobleman, either disliking her person, or having already placed his affections on her sister Elizabeth, neglected all overtures to such an alliance. Pole, who, though a cardinal, was not a priest, and was therefore at liberty to marry, was proposed as a husband for the queen, as he was a person of high character for virtue, generosity, and attachment to the catholic religion. But, as he was in the decline of life, Mary soon dropped all thoughts of him. The person last thought of, and who succeeded, was Philip prince of Spain, son of the celebrated Charles the Fifth. In order to avoid any disagreeable remonstrances from the people, the articles of marriage A. D. were drawn as favourably as possible to the interests 1554 and honour of England; and this, in some measure, stilled

the clamours that had already arisen against it. It was agreed, that, though Philip should have the title of king, the administration should be entirely in the queen; that no foreigner should be capable of enjoying any office in the kingdom; that no innovation should be made in the English laws, customs, and privileges; that her issue should inherit, together with England, Burgundy and the Low-Countries; and that if Don Carlos, Philip's son by a former marriage, should die, the queen's issue should enjoy all the dominions possessed by the king. Such was the treaty of marriage, from which politicians foresaw very great changes in the system of Europe; but which in the end came to nothing, by the queen's having no issue.

The people, however, who did not see so far, were much more just in their surmises that it might be a blow to their liberties and religion. They loudly murmured against it, and a flame of discontent was kindled over the whole nation. Sir Thomas Wyatt, a Roman catholic, at the head of four thousand insurgents, marched from Kent to Hyde Park, publishing, as he went forward, a declaration against the queen's evil counsellors, and against the Spanish match. His first aim was to secure the Tower; but this rashness undid him. As he marched forward through the city of London, and among the narrow streets, without suspicion, care was taken by the earl of Pembroke to block up the way behind him by ditches and chains thrown across, and guards were placed at all the avenues, to prevent his return. In this manner did the bold rebel pass onward; and he supposed himself ready to reap the fruits of his undertaking, when, to his utter confusion, he found that he could neither go forward, nor yet make good his retreat. He now perceived that the citizens, from whom he had expected assistance, would not join him; and, losing all courage in this exigency, he surrendered at discretion.

The duke of Suffolk was not less guilty also; he had joined in a confederacy with sir Peter Carew, to excite an insurrection in the counties of Warwick and Leicester; but his confederate's impatience engaging him to rise in arms before the day appointed, the duke vainly endeavoured to excite his dependents. He was so closely pursued by the earl of Huntingdon, that he was obliged to disperse his followers; and, being dis

covered in his retreat, was led prisoner to London, where he, together with Wyatt, and seventy persons more, suffered by the hand of the executioner. Four hundred were conducted before the queen with ropes about their necks; and, falling on their knees, received pardon, and were dismissed.

But what excited the compassion of the people most of all, was the execution of lady Jane Grey, and her husband, lord Guilford Dudley, who were involved in the punishment, though not in the guilt, of this insurrection. Two days after Wyatt was apprehended, lady Jane and her husband were ordered to prepare for death. Lady Jane, who had long before seen the threatened blow, was no way surprised at the message, but bore it with heroic resolution; and, being informed that she had three days to prepare, she seemed displeased at so long a delay. On the day of her execution, her husband desired permission to see her; but this she refused, as she knew the parting would be too tender for her fortitude to withstand. The place at first designed for their execution was without the Tower; but their youth, beauty, and innocence, being likely to raise an insurrection among the people, orders were given that they should be executed within the verge of that fortress. Lord Dudley was the first that suffered; and, while the lady Jane was proceeding to the place of execution, the officers of the Tower met her, bearing along the headless body of her husband streaming with blood, in order to be interred in the Tower chapel. She looked on the corpse for some time without any emotion; and then, with a sigh, desired them to proceed. Sir John Gage, constable of the Tower, as he led her to execution, desired her to bestow on him some small present, which he might keep as a perpetual memorial of her. She gave him her tablets, where she had just written three sentences on seeing her husband's dead body, one in Greek, one in Latin, and one in English, importing that human justice was against his body, but divine mercy would be favourable to his soul; and that God and posterity, she hoped, would do justice to them and their cause. On the scaffold she made a speech, in which she alleged that her offence was, not the having laid her hand upon the crown, but the not rejecting it with sufficient constancy; that she had less erred through ambition than filial obedience; that she willingly accepted death, as the only atonement she

could make to the injured state; and was ready, by her punishment, to show that innocence is no plea in excuse for deeds that tend to injure the community. After speaking to this effect, she caused herself to be disrobed by her women, and with a steady serene countenance submitted to the executioner.

The enemies of the state being thus suppressed, the theatre was now opened for the pretended enemies of religion. The queen, being freed from apprehensions of an insurrection, began by assembling a parliament, which, upon this as upon most occasions, seemed only met to give countenance to her various severities. The nobles, whose only religion was that of the prince who governed, were easily gained over; and the house of commons had long been passive under all the variations of regal caprice. But a new enemy had started up against the reformers, in the person of the king, who, though he took all possible care to conceal his aversion, yet secretly influenced the queen, and inflamed all her proceedings. Philip had for some time been in England, and had used every endeavour to increase that share of power which had been allowed to him by parliament, but without effect. The queen indeed, who loved him with a foolish fondness, that sat but ill on a person of her years and disagreeable person, endeavoured to please him by every concession she could make or procure; and, finding herself incapable of satisfying his ambition, she was not remiss in concurring with his zeal; so that heretics began to be persecuted with inquisitorial severity. The old sanguinary laws were now revived: orders were given that the bishops and priests who had married should be ejected; that the mass should be restored; that the pope's authority should be established; and that the church and its privileges, all but their goods and estates, should be put upon the same foundation on which they were before the commencement of the Reformation. As the gentry and nobles had already divided the church-lands among them, it was thought inconvenient, and indeed impossible, to make a restoration of these.

At the head of those who drove such measures forward, but not in an equal degree, were Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and cardinal Pole, who had lately arrived in England from the continent. Pole, who was nearly allied by birth to

the royal family, had always conscientiously adhered to the catholic religion, and had incurred Henry's displeasure, not only by refusing his assent to his measures, but by writing against him. It was for this adherence that he was cherished by the pope, and now sent over to England as legate from the holy see. Gardiner was a man of a very different character: his chief aim was to please the reigning prince, and he had shown already many instances of his prudent conformity. He now perceived that the king and queen were for rigorous measures; and he knew that it would be the best means of paying his court to them, even to outgo them in severity. Pole, who had never varied in his principles, declared in favour of toleration; Gardiner, who had often changed, was for punishing those changes in others with the utmost rigour. However, he was too prudent to appear at the head of a persecution in person; he therefore consigned that odious. office to Bonner, bishop of London, a cruel, brutal, and igno

rant man.

This bloody scene began by the martyrdom of Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, and Rogers, prebendary of St. A. D. Paul's. They were examined by commissioners ap- 1555. pointed by the queen, with the chancellor at the head of them. It was expected that by their recantation they would bring those opinions into disrepute which they had so long inculcated but the persecutors were deceived; they both continued steadfast in their belief; and they were accordingly condemned to be burned, Rogers in Smithfield, and Hooper in his own diocese at Gloucester. Rogers, besides the care of his own preservation, lay under very powerful temptations to deny his principles, and save his life; for he had a wife whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; but nothing could move his resolution. Such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailors, we are told, waked him from a sound sleep upon the approach of the hour appointed for his execution. He desired to see his wife before he died; but Gardiner told him, that being a priest he could have no wife. When the fagots were placed around him, he seemed no way daunted at the preparation, but cried out, "I resign my life with joy, in testimony of the doctrine of Jesus!" When Hooper was tied to the stake, a stool was set before him with the queen's