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    <Metadata name="Content">biography of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603) by Edward Spencer Beesly, 1892</Metadata>
    <Metadata name="Page_topic">biography of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603) by Edward Spencer Beesly, 1892</Metadata>
    <Metadata name="Author">Marilee Mongello</Metadata>
    <Metadata name="Title">Secondary Sources: Queen Elizabeth by Edward Spencer Beesly, 1892: Chapter VII</Metadata>
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    <Metadata name="dc.Subject">Tudor period|Others</Metadata>
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    &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font size=&quot;7&quot;&gt;Queen Elizabeth&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
    &lt;font size=&quot;4&quot;&gt;by Edward Spencer Beesly, 1892&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;
    &lt;img border=&quot;2&quot; src=&quot;_httpdocimg_/eliz1-ermine.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; height=&quot;478&quot; alt=&quot;'The Ermine Portrait' of Elizabeth I, c1585, by Nicholas Hilliard&quot;&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;
    &lt;i&gt;&lt;font size=&quot;2&quot;&gt;'The Ermine Portrait' of Elizabeth I, c1585, by Nicholas 
    Hilliard;&lt;br&gt;from the &lt;a href=&quot;_httpextlink_&amp;amp;rl=0&amp;amp;href=http:%2f%2fwww.marileecody.com%2feliz1-images.html&quot;&gt;Portraits of Queen Elizabeth I&lt;/a&gt; website&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
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      &lt;b&gt;CHAPTER VII&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
      &lt;b&gt;THE PAPAL ATTACK: 1570-1583&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;SOVEREIGNS and statesmen in the sixteenth century are to be 
    honoured or condemned according to the degree in which they aimed on the one 
    hand at preserving political order, and on the other at allowing freedom of 
    opinion. It was not always easy to reconcile these two aims. The first was a 
    temporary necessity, and yet was the more urgent--as indeed is always the 
    case with the tasks of the--statesman. He is responsible for the present; it 
    is not for him to attempt to provide for a remote future. Political order 
    and the material well-being of nations may be disastrously impaired by the 
    imprudence or weakness of a ruler. Thought, after all, may be trusted to 
    take care of itself in the long-run. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;To the modern Liberal, with his doctrine of absolute 
    religious equality, toleration seems an insult, and anything short of 
    toleration is regarded as persecution. In the sixteenth century the most 
    advanced statesmen did not see their way to proclaim freedom of public 
    worship and of religious discussion. It was much if they tolerated freedom 
    of opinion, and connived at a quiet, private propagation of other religions 
    than those established by law. It would be wrong to condemn and despise them 
    as actuated by superstition and narrow-minded prejudice. Their motives were 
    mainly political, and it is reasonable to suppose that they knew better than 
    we do whether a larger toleration was compatible with public order. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;We have seen that under the Act of Supremacy, in the first 
    year of Elizabeth, the oath was only tendered to persons holding office, 
    spiritual or temporal, under the crown, and that the penalty for refusing it 
    was only deprivation. But in her fifth year (1563), it was enacted that the 
    oath might be tendered to members of the House of Commons, schoolmasters, 
    and attorneys, who, if they refused it, might be punished by forfeiture of 
    property and perpetual imprisonment. To those who had held any 
    ecclesiastical office, or who should openly disapprove of the established 
    worship, or celebrate or hear mass, the oath might be tendered a second 
    time, with the penalties of high treason for refusal. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;That this law authorised an atrocious persecution cannot be 
    disputed, and there is no doubt that many zealous Protestants wished it to 
    be enforced. But the practical question is, Was it enforced? The government 
    wished to be armed with the power of using it, and for the purpose of 
    expelling Catholics from offices it was extensively used. But no one was at 
    this time visited with the severer penalties, the bishops having been 
    privately forbidden to tender the oath a second time to any one without 
    special instructions. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The Act of Uniformity, passed in the first year of 
    Elizabeth, prohibited the use of any but the established liturgy, whether in 
    public or private, under pain of perpetual imprisonment for the third 
    offence, and imposed a fine of one shilling on recusants--that is, upon 
    persons who absented themselves from church on Sundays and holidays. To what 
    extent Catholics were interfered with under this Act has been a matter of 
    much dispute. Most of them, during the first eleven years of Elizabeth, 
    either from ignorance or worldliness, treated the Anglican service as 
    equivalent to the Catholic, and made no difficulty about attending church, 
    even after this compliance with the law had been forbidden by Pius IV in the 
    sixth year of Elizabeth. Only the more scrupulous absented themselves, and 
    called in the ministrations of the &amp;quot;old priests,&amp;quot; who with more or less 
    secrecy said mass in private houses. Some of these offenders were certainly 
    punished before Elizabeth had been two years on the throne. The enforcement 
    of laws was by no means so uniform in those days as it is now. Much depended 
    on the leanings of the noblemen and justices of the peace in different 
    localities. Both from disposition and policy Elizabeth desired, as a general 
    rule, to connive at Catholic nonconformity when it did not take an 
    aggressive and fanatical form. But she had no scruple about applying the 
    penalties of these Acts to individuals who for any reason, religious or 
    political, were specially obnoxious to her. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;So things went on till the northern insurrection: the laws 
    authorising a searching and sanguinary persecution; the Government, much to 
    the disgust of zealous Protestants, declining to put those laws in 
    execution. Judged by modern ideas, the position of the Catholics was 
    intolerable; but if measured by the principles of government then 
    universally accepted, or if compared with the treatment of persons ever so 
    slightly suspected of heresy in countries cursed with the Inquisition, it 
    was not a position of which they had any great reason to complain; nor did 
    the large majority of them complain. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Pope Pius IV (1559-1566) was comparatively cautious and 
    circumspect in his attitude towards Elizabeth. But his successor Pius V 
    (1566-1572), having made up his mind that her destruction was the one thing 
    necessary for the defeat of heresy in Europe, strove to stir up against her 
    rebellion at home and invasion from abroad. A bull deposing her, and 
    absolving her subjects from their allegiance, was drawn up. But while Pius, 
    conscious of the offence which it would give to all the sovereigns of 
    Europe, delayed to issue it, the northern rebellion flared up and was 
    trampled out. The absence of such a bull was by many Catholics made an 
    excuse for holding aloof from the rebel earls. When it was too late the bull 
    was issued (February 1570). Philip and Charles IX--sovereigns first and 
    Catholics afterwards--refused to let it be published in their dominions. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;After the northern insurrection the Queen issued a 
    remarkable appeal to her people, which was ordered to be placarded in every 
    parish, and read in every church. She could point with honest pride to 
    eleven years of such peace abroad and tranquillity at home as no living 
    Englishman could remember. Her economy had enabled her to conduct the 
    government without any of the illegal exactions to which former sovereigns 
    had resorted. &amp;quot;She had never sought the life, the blood, the goods, the 
    houses, estates or lands of any person in her dominions.&amp;quot; This happy state 
    of things the rebels had tried to disturb on pretext of religion. They had 
    no real grievance on that score. Attendance at parish church was indeed 
    obligatory by law, though, she might have added, it was very loosely 
    enforced. But she disclaimed any wish to pry into opinions, or to inquire in 
    what sense any one understood rites or ceremonies. In other words, the 
    language of the communion service was not incompatible with the doctrine of 
    transubstantiation, and loyal Catholics were at liberty, were almost 
    invited, to interpret it in that sense if they liked. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;This compromise between their religious and political 
    obligations had in fact been hitherto adopted by the large majority of 
    English Catholics. But a time was come when it was to be no longer possible 
    for them. They were summoned to make their choice between their duty as 
    citizens and their duty as Catholics. The summons had come, not from the 
    Queen, but from the Pope, and it is not strange that they had thenceforth a 
    harder time of it. Many of them, indignant with the Pope for bringing 
    trouble upon them, gave up the struggle and conformed to the Established 
    Church. The temper of the rest became more bitter and dangerous. The Puritan 
    Parliament of 1571 passed a bill to compel all persons not only to attend 
    church, but to receive the communion twice a year; and another making formal 
    reconciliation to the Church of Rome high treason both for the convert and 
    the priest who should receive him. Here we have the persecuting spirit, 
    which was as inherent in the zealous Protestant as in the zealous Catholic. 
    Attempts to excuse such legislation, as prompted by political reasons, can 
    only move the disgust of every honest-minded man. The first of these bills 
    did not receive the royal assent, though Cecil--just made Lord Burghley--had 
    strenuously pushed it through the Upper House. Elizabeth probably saw that 
    its only effect would be to enable the Protestant zealots in every parish to 
    enjoy the luxury of harassing their quiet Catholic neighbours, who attended 
    church but would scruple to take the sacrament. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The Protestant spirit of this House of Commons showed itself 
    not only in laws for strengthening the Government and persecuting the 
    Catholics, but in attempts to puritanise the Prayer-book, which much 
    displeased the Queen. Strickland, one of the Puritan leaders, was forbidden 
    to attend the House. But such was the irritation caused by this invasion of 
    its privileges, that the prohibition was removed after one day. It was in 
    this session of Parliament that the doctrines of the Church of England were 
    finally determined by the imposition on the clergy of the Thirty-nine 
    Articles, which, as every one knows, are much more Protestant than the 
    Prayer-book. Till then they had only had the sanction of Convocation. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;During the first forty years or so, from the beginning of 
    the Reformation, Protestantism spread in most parts of Europe with great 
    rapidity. It was not merely an intellectual revolt against doctrines no 
    longer credible. The numbers of the reformers were swelled, and their force 
    intensified by the flocking in of pious souls, athirst for personal 
    holiness, and of many others who, without being high-wrought enthusiasts, 
    were by nature disposed to value whatever seemed to make for a purer 
    morality. The religion which had nurtured Bernard and À Kempis was deserted, 
    not merely as being untrue, but as incompatible with the highest spiritual 
    life--nay, as positively corrupting to society. This imagination, of course, 
    had but a short day. The return to the Bible and the doctrines of primitive 
    Christianity, the deliverance from &amp;quot;the Bishop of Rome and his detestable 
    enormities,&amp;quot; were not found to be followed by any general improvement of 
    morals in Protestant countries. He that was unjust was unjust still; he that 
    was filthy was filthy still. The repulsive contrast too often seen between 
    sanctimonious professions and unscrupulous conduct contributed to the 
    disenchantment. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;In the meanwhile a great regeneration was going on within 
    the Catholic Church itself. Signs of this can be detected quite as early as 
    the first rise of Protestantism. It is, therefore, not to be attributed to 
    Protestant teaching and example, though doubtless the rivalry of the younger 
    religion stimulated the best energies of the older. No long time elapsed 
    before this regeneration had worked its way to the highest places in the 
    Church. The Popes by whom Elizabeth was confronted were all men of pure 
    lives and single-hearted devotion to the Catholic cause. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The last two years of the Council of Trent (1562-3) were the 
    starting-point of the modern Catholic Church. Many proposals had been made 
    for compromise with Protestantism. But the Fathers of Trent saw that the 
    only chance of survival for a Church claiming to be Catholic was to remain 
    on the old lines. By the canons and decrees of the Council, ratified by Pius 
    IV., the old doctrines and discipline were confirmed and definitely 
    formulated. One branch indeed of the Papal power was irretrievably gone. 
    Royal authority had become absolute, and the kings, including Philip II., 
    refused to tolerate any interference with it. The Papacy had to acquiesce in 
    the loss of its power over sovereigns. But as regards the bishops and 
    clergy, and things strictly appertaining to religion, its spiritual 
    autocracy, which the great councils of the last century had aimed at 
    breaking, was re-established, and has continued. The new situation, though 
    it seemed to place the Popes on a humbler footing than in the days of 
    Gregory VII. or Innocent III., was a healthy one. It confined them to their 
    spiritual domain, and drove them to make the best of it. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Until the decrees of the Council of Trent, the split between 
    Protestants and Catholics was not definitely and irrevocably decided. Many 
    on both sides had shrunk from admitting it. The Catholic world might seem to 
    be narrowed by the defection of the Protestant States. But all the more 
    clearly did it appear that a Church claiming to be universal is not 
    concerned with political boundaries. The resistance to the spread of heresy 
    had hitherto consisted of many local struggles, in which the repressive 
    measures had emanated from the orthodox sovereigns, and had therefore been 
    fitful and unconnected. But not long after the Tridentine reorganisation, 
    the Pope appears again as commander-in-chief of the Catholic forces, 
    surveying and directing combined operations from one end of Europe to the 
    other. Pius IV. had been with difficulty prevented by Philip from 
    excommunicating Elizabeth. Pius V had launched his bull, as we have seen, a 
    few months too late (1570); and even then it was not allowed to be published 
    in either Spain or France. The life of that Pope was wasted in earnest 
    remonstrances with the Catholic sovereigns for not executing the sentence of 
    the Church against the heretic Queen. Gregory XIII, who succeeded him just 
    before the Bartholomew Massacre, took the attack into his own hands. He was 
    a warm patron of the Jesuits, who were especially devoted to the 
    centralising system re-established at Trent. He and they had made up their 
    minds that England was the key of the Protestant position; that until 
    Elizabeth was removed no advance was to be hoped for anywhere. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The decline of a religion may be accompanied by a positive 
    increase of earnestness and activity on the part of its remaining votaries, 
    deluding them into a belief that they are but passing through, or have 
    successfully passed through, a period of temporary depression and eclipse. 
    Among the Catholics of the latter part of the sixteenth century there was 
    all the enthusiasm of a religious revival. In no place did this show itself 
    more than at Oxford. There the weak points of popular movements have never 
    been allowed to pass without challenge, and what is really valuable or 
    beautiful in time worn faiths has been sure of receiving fair-play and 
    something more. The gloss of the Reformation was already worn off. The 
    worldly and carnal were its supporters and directors. It no longer demanded 
    enthusiasm and sacrifice. It walked in purple and fine linen. Young men of 
    quick intellect and high aspirations who, a generation earlier, would have 
    been captivated by its fair promise and have thrown themselves into its 
    current, yielded now to the eternal spell of the older Church, cleansed as 
    she was of her pollutions, and purged of her dross by the discipline of 
    adversity. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The leader of these Oxford enthusiasts was a young fellow of 
    Oriel, William Allen. In the third year of Elizabeth, at the age of 
    twenty-eight, he resigned the Principalship of St. Mary Hall. The next eight 
    years were spent partly abroad, partly in secret missionary work in England, 
    carried on at the peril of his life. The old priests, who with more or less 
    concealment and danger continued to exercise their office among the English 
    Catholics, were gradually dying off. In order to train successors to them, 
    Allen founded an English seminary at Douai (1568). To this important step it 
    was mainly due that the Catholic religion did not become extinct in this 
    country. In the first five years of its existence the college at Douai sent 
    nearly a hundred priests to England. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;It was the aim of Allen to put an end to the practical 
    toleration allowed to Catholic laymen of the quieter sort. The Catholic who 
    began by putting in the compulsory number of attendances at his parish 
    church was likely to end by giving up his faith altogether. If he did not, 
    his son would. Allen deliberately preferred a sweeping persecution--one that 
    would make the position of Catholics intolerable, and ripen them for 
    rebellion. He wanted martyrs. The ardent young men whom he trained at Douai 
    and (after 1578) at Rheims, went back to their native land with the clear 
    understanding that of all the services they could render to the Church the 
    greatest would be to die under the hangman's knife. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Gregory XIII hoped great things from Allen's seminary, and 
    furnished funds for its support. In 1579 Allen went to Rome, and enlisted 
    the support of Mercurian, General of the Jesuits. Two English Jesuits, 
    Robert Parsons and Edward Campion, exfellows of Balliol and St. John's, were 
    selected as missionaries. Campion was eight years younger than Allen. He had 
    had a brilliant career at Oxford, being especially distinguished for his 
    eloquence. He was at that time personally known to both Cecil and the Queen, 
    and enjoyed their favour. He took deacon's orders in 1568, but not long 
    afterwards joined Allen at Douai, and formally abjured the Anglican Church. 
    He had been six years a Jesuit when he was despatched on his dangerous 
    mission to England. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Tired of waiting for the initiative of Philip, Gregory XIII. 
    and the Jesuits had planned a threefold attack on Elizabeth in England, 
    Scotland, and Ireland. In England a revivalist movement was to be carried on 
    among the Catholics by the missionaries. Catholic writers have been at great 
    pains to argue that this was a purely religious movement, prosecuted with 
    the single object of saving souls. The Jesuits have always known their men 
    and employed them with discrimination. Saving of souls was very likely the 
    simple object of a man of Campion's saintly and exalted nature. He himself 
    declared that he had been strictly forbidden to meddle with worldly concerns 
    or affairs of State, and nothing inconsistent with this declaration was 
    proved against him at his trial. But without laying any stress on statements 
    extracted from prisoners under torture, we cannot doubt that his employers 
    aimed at re-establishing Catholicism in England by rebellion and foreign 
    invasion. This was thoroughly understood by every missionary who crossed the 
    sea; and if Campion never alluded to it even in his most familiar 
    conversations he must have had an extraordinary control over his tongue. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The evidence that the assassination of the Queen was a 
    recognised part of the Jesuit plan, determined by the master spirits and 
    accepted by all the subordinate agents, is perhaps not quite conclusive. If 
    proved, it would only show that they were not more scrupulous than most 
    statesmen and politicians of the time. Lax as sixteenth century notions were 
    about political murder, there were always some consciences more tender than 
    others. It is likely enough that Campion personally disapproved of such 
    projects, and that they were not thrust upon his attention. But he can 
    hardly have avoided being aware that they were contemplated by the less 
    squeamish of his brethren. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Campion and Parsons came to England in disguise in the 
    summer of 1580. Their mission was not a success. It only served to show how 
    much more securely Elizabeth was seated on her throne than in the earlier 
    years of her reign. In his letters to Rome, Campion boasts of the welcome he 
    met with everywhere, the crowds that attended his preaching, the ardour of 
    the Catholics, and the disrepute into which Protestantism was falling. He 
    had evidently worked himself up to such a state of ecstasy that he was 
    living in a world of his own imagination, and was no competent witness of 
    facts. He crept about England in various disguises, and when he was in 
    districts where the nobles and gentry favoured the old religion, he preached 
    with a publicity which seems extraordinary to us in these days when the laws 
    are executed with prompt uniformity by means of railways, telegraphs, and a 
    well-organised police. In the sixteenth century England had nothing that can 
    be called an organised machinery for the prevention and detection of crime. 
    If an outbreak occurred the Government collected militia, and trampled it 
    out with an energy that took no account of law and feared no consequences. 
    But in ordinary times it had to depend on the local justices of the peace 
    and parish constables, and if they were remiss the laws were a dead letter. 
    There were no newspapers. The high-roads were few and bad. One parish did 
    not know what was going on in the next. Campion could be passed on from one 
    gentleman's house to another on horses quite as good as any officer of the 
    Government rode, and could travel all over England without ever using a 
    high-road or showing his face in a town. If he preached to a hundred people 
    in some Lancashire village, Lord Derby did not want to know it, and before 
    the news reached Burghley or Walsingham he would be in another county, or 
    perhaps back in London--then, as now, the safest of all hiding-places. Thus, 
    though a warrant was issued for his arrest as soon as he arrived in England, 
    it was not till July in the next year (1581) that he was taken, after an 
    unusually public and pro. tracted appearance in the neighbourhood of Oxford.
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;He had little or nothing to show for his twelve months' 
    tour, and this although the Government had, as Allen hoped, allowed itself 
    to be provoked into an increase of severity which seems to have been quite 
    unnecessary. The large majority of Catholic laymen would evidently have 
    preferred that both Seminarists and Jesuits should keep away. They did not 
    want civil war. They did not want to be persecuted. They were against a 
    foreign invasion, without which they knew very well that Elizabeth could not 
    be deposed. They were even loyal to her. They were content to wait till she 
    should disappear in the course of nature and make room for the Queen of 
    Scots. Mendoza writes to Philip that &amp;quot;they place themselves in the hands of 
    God, and are willing to sacrifice life and all in the service, &lt;i&gt;but 
    scarcely with that burning zeal which they ought to show&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;quot; &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;By the bull of Pius V, Englishmen were forbidden to 
    acknowledge Elizabeth as their Queen; in other words, they were ordered to 
    expose themselves to the penalties of treason. If the Pope would be 
    satisfied with nothing less than this, it was quite certain that he would 
    alienate most of his followers in England. Gregory XIII therefore had 
    authorised the Jesuits to explain that although the Protestants, by &lt;i&gt;
    willingly&lt;/i&gt; acknowledging the Queen, were incurring the damnation 
    pronounced by the bull, Catholics would be excused for &lt;i&gt;unwillingly&lt;/i&gt; 
    acknowledging her until some opportunity arrived for dethroning her. 
    Protestant writers have exclaimed against this distinction as treacherous. 
    It was perfectly reasonable. It represents, for instance, the attitude of 
    every Alsatian who accords an unwilling recognition to the German Emperor. 
    But the English Government intolerantly and unwisely made it the occasion 
    for harassing the consciences of men who were most of them guiltless of any 
    intention to rebel. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Amongst other persecuting laws passed early in 1581, was one 
    which raised the fine for non-attendance at church to twenty pounds a month. 
    Such a measure was calculated to excite much more wide-spread disaffection 
    than the hanging of a few priests. It was not intended to be a &lt;i&gt;brutum 
    fulmen&lt;/i&gt;. The names of all recusants in each parish were returned to the 
    Council. They amounted to about 50,000, and the fines exacted became a not 
    inconsiderable item in the royal revenue. That number certainly formed but a 
    small portion of the Catholic population. But if all the rest had been in 
    the habit of going to church, contrary to the Pope's express injunction, 
    rather than pay a small fine, the Government ought to have seen that they 
    were not the stuff of which rebels are made. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Campion, after being compelled by torture to disclose the 
    names of his hosts in different counties, was called on to maintain the 
    Catholic doctrines in a three days' discussion before a large audience 
    against four Protestant divines, who do not seem to have been ashamed of 
    themselves. He was offered pardon if he would attend once in church. As he 
    steadfastly refused, he was racked again till his limbs were dislocated. 
    When he had partially recovered he was put on his trial, along with several 
    of his companions, not under any of the recent anti-catholic laws but under 
    the ordinary statute of Edward III., for &amp;quot;compassing and imagining the 
    Queen's death&amp;quot;--such a horror had the Burghleys and Walsinghams of anything 
    like religious persecution! Being unable to hold up his hand to plead Not 
    Guilty, &amp;quot;two of his companions raised it for him, first kissing the broken 
    joints.&amp;quot; According to Mendoza (whom on other occasions we are invited to 
    accept as a witness of truth), his nails had been torn from his fingers. 
    Apart from his religious belief nothing treasonable was proved against him 
    in deed or word. He acknowledged Elizabeth for his rightful sovereign, as 
    the new interpretation of the papal bull permitted him to do, but he 
    declined to give any opinion about the Pope's right to depose princes. This 
    was enough for the judge and jury, and he was found guilty. At the place of 
    execution he was again offered his pardon if he would deny the papal right 
    of deposition, or even hear a Protestant sermon. He wished the Queen a long 
    and quiet reign and all prosperity, but more he would not say. At the 
    quartering &amp;quot;a drop of blood spirted on the clothes of a youth named Henry 
    Walpole, to whom it came as a divine command. Walpole, converted on the 
    spot, became a Jesuit, and soon after met the same fate on the same spot.&amp;quot;
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Mr. Froude's comment is that &amp;quot;if it be lawful in defence of 
    national independence to kill open enemies in war, it is more lawful to 
    execute the secret conspirator who is teaching doctrines in the name of God 
    which are certain to be fatal to it.&amp;quot; It would perhaps be enough to remark 
    that this reasoning amply justifies some of the worst atrocities of the 
    French Revolution. Hallam and Macaulay have condemned it by anticipation in 
    language which will commend itself to all who are not swayed by religious, 
    or, what is more offensive, anti-religious bigotry.&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Cruel as the English criminal law was, and long remained, it 
    never authorised the use of torture to extract confession. The rack in the 
    Tower is said to have made its appearance, with other innovations of 
    absolute government, in the reign of Edward IV But it seems to have been 
    little used before the reign of Elizabeth, under whom it became the ordinary 
    preliminary to a political trial. For this the chief blame must rest 
    personally on Burghley. Opinions may differ as to his rank as a statesman, 
    but no one will contest his eminent talents as a minister of police. In the 
    former capacity he had sufficient sense of shame to publish a Pecksniffian 
    apology for his employment of the rack. &amp;quot;None,&amp;quot; he says, &amp;quot;of those who were 
    at any time put to the rack were asked, during their torture, any question 
    as to points of doctrine, but merely concerning their plots and 
    conspiracies, and the persons with whom they had dealings, and &lt;i&gt;what was 
    their own opinion&lt;/i&gt; as to the Pope's right to deprive the Queen of her 
    crown.&amp;quot; What was this but a point of doctrine? The wretched victim who 
    conscientiously believed it (as all Christendom once did), but wished to 
    save himself by silence, was driven either to tell a lie or to consign 
    himself to rope and knife. &amp;quot;The Queen's servants, the warders, whose office 
    and act it is to handle the rack, were ever, by those that attended the 
    examinations, specially charged to use it in so charitable a manner as such 
    a thing might be.&amp;quot; It may be hoped that there are not many who would dissent 
    from Hallam's remark that &amp;quot;such miserable excuses serve only to mingle 
    contempt with our detestation.&amp;quot; He adds: &amp;quot;It is due to Elizabeth to observe 
    that she ordered the torture to be disused.&amp;quot; I do not know what authority 
    there is for this statement. Three years later the Protestant Archbishop of 
    Dublin was puzzled how to torture the Catholic Archbishop of Cashel, because 
    there was no &amp;quot;rack or other engine&amp;quot; in Dublin. Walsingham, on being 
    consulted, suggested that his feet might be toasted against the fire, which 
    was accordingly done. Some of the Anglican bishops, as might be expected 
    from fanatics, were forward in recommending torture. But Cecil was no more 
    of a fanatic than his mistress. What both of them cared for was not a 
    particular religious belief--they bad both of them conformed to Popery under 
    Queen Mary--but the sovereign's claim to prescribe religious belief, or 
    rather religious profession, and they were provoked with the missionaries 
    for thwarting them. Provoking it was, no doubt. But everything seems to show 
    that it would have been better to pursue the earlier policy of the reign; to 
    be content with enacting severe laws which practically were not put into 
    execution. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The English branch of the Jesuit attack was, for political 
    purposes, a dead failure. A few persons of rank, who at heart were Catholics 
    before, were formally reconciled to the Pope. Mendoza claims that among them 
    were six peers whose names he conceals. These peers, if he is to be 
    believed, were treasonable enough in their designs. But, even by his 
    account, they were determined not to stir unless a foreign army should have 
    first entered England. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;How far Mendoza's master was from seeing his way to attack 
    England at this time was strikingly shown by his behaviour under the most 
    audacious outrage that Elizabeth had yet inflicted on him. Some twelve 
    months before (October 1580), Drake had returned from his famous voyage 
    round the world. That voyage was nothing else than a piratical expedition, 
    for which it was notorious that the funds had been mainly furnished by 
    Elizabeth and Leicester. On sea and land Drake had robbed Philip of gold, 
    silver, and precious stones to the value of at least £750,000. In vain did 
    Mendoza clamour for restitution and talk about war. Elizabeth kept the 
    booty, knighted Drake, and openly showed him every mark of confidence and 
    favour. When Mendoza told her that as she would not hear words, they must 
    come to cannon and see if she would hear them, she replied (&amp;quot;quietly in her 
    most natural voice&amp;quot;) that, if he used threats of that kind, she would throw 
    him into prison. The correspondence between the Spanish ambassador and his 
    master shows that, however big they might talk about cannon, they felt 
    themselves paralysed by Elizabeth's intimate relations with France. She had 
    managed to keep free from any offensive alliance with Henry III. But at the 
    first sound of the Spanish cannon she could have it. She was, therefore, 
    secure. Probably the whole history of diplomacy does not show another 
    instance of such a complicated balance of forces so dexterously manipulated.
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The Irish branch of the Papal attack, the landing of the 
    legate Sanders, the insurrection of Desmond (1579-1583), the massacre of the 
    Pope's Italian soldiers at Smerwick (1580), must be passed over here. It is 
    enough to say that, in Ireland, too, the Catholics were beaten. We turn now 
    to their attempt to get hold of Scotland (1579-1582). &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Scotland was in a state of anarchy, from which it could only 
    be rescued by an able and courageous king. The nobles, instead of becoming 
    weaker, as elsewhere, had acquired a strength and independence greater even 
    than their fathers had enjoyed. Thirty years earlier, the Church had 
    possessed quite half the land of the country, and had steadily supported the 
    crown. Almost the whole of this wealth had been seized in one form or 
    another by the nobles. And though, as compared with English noblemen, they 
    were still poor in money, they were much bigger men relatively to their 
    sovereign. The power of the crown was extensive enough in theory. What was 
    wanted was a king who should know how to convert it into a reality. That was 
    more than any regent could do. Even Moray had not succeeded. The house of 
    Douglas was one of the most powerful in Scotland, and Morton, who had been 
    looked on as its head during the minority of the Earl of Angus, was an able 
    and daring man. But he had not the large views, the public spirit, or the 
    integrity of Moray. He was feared by all, hated by many, respected by none. 
    As a mere party chief, no one would have been better able to hold his own. 
    As representing the crown, he had every man's hand against him. To subsidise 
    such a man was perfectly useless. If Elizabeth was to make his cause her 
    own, she might just as well undertake the conquest of Scotland at once. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The essence of the good understanding between England and 
    France was that both countries should keep their hands off Scotland. 
    Elizabeth, knowing that if worst came to worst, she could always be 
    beforehand with France in the northern kingdom, could afford to respect this 
    arrangement, and she did mean to respect it, France, on the other hand, 
    being also well aware of the advantage given to England by geographical 
    situation, was always tempted to steal a march on her, and even when most 
    desirous of her alliance, never quite gave up intrigues in Scotland. This 
    was equally the case whatever party was uppermost at the French court, 
    whether its policy was being directed by the King or by the Duke of Guise.
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The Jesuits looked on Guise as their fighting man, who was 
    to do the work which they could not prevail on crowned heads to undertake. 
    James, though only thirteen, had been declared of age. It was too late to 
    think of deposing him. If his character was feeble, his understanding and 
    acquirements were much beyond his years, and his preferences were already a 
    force to be reckoned with in Scotch politics. His interests were evidently 
    opposed to those of his mother. But the Jesuits hoped to persuade him that 
    his seat would never be secure unless he came to a compromise with her on 
    the terms that he was to accept the crown as her gift and recognise her 
    joint-sovereignty. This would throw him entirely into the hands of the 
    Catholic nobles, and would be a virtual declaration of war against 
    Elizabeth. He would have to proclaim himself a Catholic, and call in the 
    French. It was hoped that Philip, jealous though he had always been of 
    French interference, would not object to an expedition warranted by the 
    Jesuits and commanded by Guise, who was more and more sinking into a tool of 
    Spain and Rome. A combined army of Scotch and French would pour across the 
    Border. It would be joined by the English Catholics. Elizabeth would be 
    deposed, and Mary set on the throne. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;It was a pretty scheme on paper, but certain to break down 
    in every stage of its execution. James might chaffer with his mother; but, 
    young as he was, he knew well that she meant to overreach him. He would be 
    glad enough to get rid of Morton, but he did not want to be a puppet in the 
    hands of the Marians. He did not like the Presbyterian preachers; but the 
    young pedant already valued himself on his skill in confuting the apologists 
    of Popery. He resented Elizabeth's lectures; but he knew that his succession 
    to the English crown depended on her good will, and he meant to keep on good 
    terms with her. No approval of the scheme could be obtained from Philip, and 
    if he did not peremptorily forbid the expedition, it was because he did not 
    believe it would come off. If a French army had appeared in Scotland, it 
    would have been treated as all foreigners were in that country. And finally, 
    if, &lt;i&gt;per impossibile&lt;/i&gt;, the French and Scotch had entered England, they 
    would have been overwhelmed by such an unanimous uprising of the English 
    people of all parties and creeds as had never been witnessed in our history.
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Historians, who would have us believe that Elizabeth was 
    constantly bringing England to the verge of ruin by her stinginess and want 
    of spirit, represent this combination as highly formidable. It required 
    careful watching; but the only thing that could make it really dangerous was 
    rash and premature employment of force by England--the course advocated not 
    only by Burghley, but by the whole Council. Elizabeth seems to have stood 
    absolutely alone in her opinion; but here, as always, though she allowed her 
    ministers to speak their minds freely, she did not fear to act on her own 
    judgment against their unanimous advice. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;To carry out their schemes, Guise and the Jesuits sent to 
    Scotland a nephew of the late Regent Lennox, Esmé Stuart, who had been 
    brought up in France, and bore the title of Count d'Aubigny (September 
    1579). He speedily won the heart of the King, who created him Earl, and 
    afterwards Duke of Lennox. Elizabeth soon obtained proof of his designs, and 
    urged Morton to resist them by force. But the favourite, professing to be 
    converted to Protestantism, enlisted the preachers on his side, and, by this 
    unnatural coalition, Morton was brought to the scaffold (June 1581). During 
    the interval between his arrest and execution, the English Council were 
    urgent with Elizabeth to invade Scotland, rescue the Anglophile leader, and 
    crush Lennox. She went all lengths in the way of threats. Lord Hunsdon was 
    even ordered to muster an army on the Border. But this last step at once 
    produced an energetic protest from the French ambassador; and in Scotland 
    there was a general rally of all parties against the &amp;quot;auld enemies.&amp;quot; 
    Elizabeth had never meant to make her threats good, and Morton was left to 
    his fate. She was quite right not to invade Scotland; but, that being her 
    intention, she should not have tempted Morton to treason by the promise of 
    her protection. No male statesman would have been so insensible to dishonour.
    &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The death of the man who, next to Moray, had been the 
    mainstay of the Reformation and the scourge of the Marian party, was 
    received with a shout of exultation from Catholic Europe. Already in their 
    heated imaginations the Jesuits saw the Kirk overthrown and the vantage 
    ground gained for an attack on England. Some modern historians--with less 
    excuse, since they have the sequel before their eyes --make the same 
    blunder. The situation was really unchanged. Morton, who had the true 
    antipathy of a Scottish noble to clerics of all sorts, had plundered the 
    Kirk ministers, and tried to bring them under the episcopal yoke. He had 
    quarrelled with most of his old associates of the Congregation. It was their 
    enmity quite as much as the attack of Lennox that had pulled him down. When 
    he was out of the way they naturally reverted to an Anglophile policy. The 
    weakness of the Catholic party was plainly shown by the fact that Lennox 
    himself, the pupil of the Jesuits, never ventured to throw off the disguise 
    of a heretic. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The further development of the Jesuit scheme met with 
    difficulties on all sides. Most even of the Catholic lords were alarmed by 
    the suggestion that James should hold the crown by the gift of his mother, 
    because it would imply that hitherto he had not been lawful King; and this 
    would invalidate their titles to all the lands they had grabbed from Church 
    and crown during the last fourteen years. It would seem therefore that, if 
    they had harassed the Government during all that time, it was from a liking 
    for anarchy rather than from attachment to Mary. Two Jesuits, Crichton and 
    Holt, who were sent in disguise to Scotland, found Lennox desponding. He was 
    obliged to confess that, greatly as he had fascinated the King, he could not 
    move him an inch in his religious opinions. On the contrary, James imagined 
    that his controversial skill had converted Lennox, and was extremely proud 
    of the feat. The only course remaining was to seize him, and send him to 
    France or Spain, Lennox in the meantime administering the Government in the 
    name of Mary. But to carry out this stroke, Lennox said he must have a 
    foreign army. In view of the mutual jealousy of France and Spain it was 
    suggested that, if Philip would furnish money underhand, the Pope might send 
    an Italian army direct to Scotland, via the Straits of Gibraltar. Crichton 
    went to Rome to arrange this precious scheme, and Holt was proceeding to 
    Madrid. But Philip forbade him to come. If Lennox could convert James, or 
    send him to Spain, well and good. But until one of these preliminaries was 
    accomplished he was to expect no help from Philip. Nor were prospects more 
    hopeful on the side of France. Mary from her prison implored Guise to 
    undertake the long-planned expedition. But he would not venture it without 
    the assent of his own sovereign and the King of Spain. While he was 
    hesitating, the Anglophiles patched up their differences and got possession 
    of the King's person (Raid of Ruthven, August 1582). His tears were 
    unavailing. &amp;quot;Better bairns greet,&amp;quot; said the Master of Glamis, &amp;quot;than bearded 
    men.&amp;quot; The favourite fled to France, where he died in the next year. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Thus once more had it been clearly shown that if the 
    Anglophiles were left to depend on themselves they would not fail to do all 
    that was necessary to safeguard English interests. &amp;quot;Anglophiles&amp;quot; is a 
    convenient appellation. But, strictly speaking, there was no party in 
    Scotland that loved England. There was a religious party to whom it was of 
    the highest importance that Elizabeth should be safe and powerful. She was 
    therefore certain of its co-operation. This party would not be always 
    uppermost; for Scottish nobles were too selfish, too treacherous, too much 
    interested in disorder to permit any stability. But, whether in power or in 
    opposition, it would be able and it would be obliged to serve English 
    interests. There was only one way in which it could be paralyzed or 
    alienated, and that was by a recurrence on the part of England to the 
    traditions of armed interference inherited by Elizabeth's councillors from 
    Henry VIII, and the Protector Somerset. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Such is the plain history of this Jesuit and Papal scheme 
    which we are asked to believe was so dangerous to England and so 
    inadequately handled by Elizabeth. She had not shown much concern for her 
    honour. But her coolness, her intrepidity, her correct estimate of the 
    forces with which she had to deal, her magnificent confidence in her own 
    judgment, saved England from the endless expenditure of blood and treasure 
    into which her advisers would have plunged, and prolonged the formal peace 
    with her three principal neighbours, a peace of already unexampled duration, 
    and of incalculable advantage to her country. &lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The policy which Elizabeth had thus deliberately adopted 
    towards Scotland she persisted in. The successful Anglophiles clamoured for 
    pensions, and her ministers were for gratifying them. She was willing to 
    give a moderate pension to James, but not a penny to the nobles. &amp;quot;Her 
    servants and favourites,&amp;quot; she said, &amp;quot;professed to love her for her high 
    qualities, Alençon for her beauty, and the Scots for her crown; but they all 
    wanted the same thing in the end; they wanted nothing but her money, and 
    they should not have it.&amp;quot; She had ascertained that James regarded his mother 
    as his rival for the crowns of both kingdoms, and that, whatever he might 
    sometimes pretend, his real wish was that she should be kept under lock and 
    key. She had also satisfied herself that the Scottish noblemen on whom Mary 
    counted would, with very few exceptions, throw every difficulty in the way 
    of her restoration, out of regard for their own private interest--the only
    &lt;i&gt;datum&lt;/i&gt; from which it was safe to calculate in dealing with a Scottish 
    nobleman. She therefore felt herself secure. By communicating her knowledge 
    to Mary she could show her the hopelessness of her intrigues in Scotland; 
    while a resumption of friendly negotiations for her restoration would always 
    be a cheap and effectual way of intimidating James. Thus she could look on 
    with equanimity when his new favourite Stewart, Earl of Arran, again chased 
    the Anglophiles into England ( December 1583). Arran himself urgently 
    entreated her to accept him and his young master as the genuine Anglophiles. 
    Walsingham's voice was still for war. But, with both factions at her feet 
    and suing for her favour, Elizabeth had good reason to be satisfied with her 
    policy of leaving the Scottish nobles to worry it out among themselves.&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;/font&gt;
    &lt;hr&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;font style=&quot;font-family: Times New Roman&quot; size=&quot;2&quot;&gt;From &lt;i&gt;
    Queen Elizabeth&lt;/i&gt; by Edward Spencer Beesly.&amp;nbsp; Published in London by 
    Macmillan and Co., 1892.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;/font&gt;
    &lt;font face=&quot;Times New Roman&quot; size=&quot;2&quot;&gt;
  &lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

    &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;
    &lt;a href=&quot;_httpextlink_&amp;amp;rl=1&amp;amp;href=http:%2f%2fenglishhistory.net%2ftudor%2fbeeslychaptereight.html&quot;&gt;to Chapter 
    VIII: The Protectorate of the Netherlands: 1584-1586&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;
    &lt;a href=&quot;_httpextlink_&amp;amp;rl=1&amp;amp;href=http:%2f%2fenglishhistory.net%2ftudor%2fmonarchs%2feliz1.html&quot;&gt;to the Queen 
    Elizabeth I website&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; /&amp;nbsp;
    &lt;a href=&quot;_httpextlink_&amp;amp;rl=1&amp;amp;href=http:%2f%2fenglishhistory.net%2ftudor%2frelative%2fmaryqos.html&quot;&gt;to the Mary, 
    queen of Scots website&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;_httpextlink_&amp;amp;rl=1&amp;amp;href=http:%2f%2fenglishhistory.net%2ftudor%2fsecondary.html&quot;&gt;
    to Secondary Sources&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
    &lt;/font&gt;
  


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