Cardinal Pole counsels the Queen.P. 300.
“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,therefore,therefore,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,” repliedPole. “Oh, Sire,” he added to Phillip, “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 gratification 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 unpardonable ingratitude. In all the highest qualifications 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 Eminence,” 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 emotions, 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.”
“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 nuptials will not long be delayed.”
“They shall never take place,” mentally ejaculated Philip. “Your Majesty 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.
HOW THE QUEEN CONSULTED WITH THE CARDINAL.
HOW THE QUEEN CONSULTED WITH THE CARDINAL.
HOW THE QUEEN CONSULTED WITH THE CARDINAL.
Praying 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 from my purpose, and declares that if I 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, possession 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 enjoyment in heaven. The bull to which you refer was sent by the Pope at the solicitation ofGardinerGardiner, to prevent theopposition 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, excommunicating 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 applies to this country as well, since his Holiness 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.”
“Provisionshallbe 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 augmentation 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 property, 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 Mary. “It is my 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 tohave 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 VIII. 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 of 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 away 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 Mary. “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,” inquired 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, I 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.
“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, Madam,” said Pole. “Your ministers, if consulted, will agree with me. This is no light question. The welfare of your kingdom 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 replied.
Meanwhile, Father Alfonso advanced, and, bowing reverently 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 effect.”
Making a profound obeisance to the Queen, he quitted the room, taking the packet with him.
OF THE MIDNIGHT MEETING IN THE CRYPT BENEATH THECHAPTER-HOUSE.
OF THE MIDNIGHT MEETING IN THE CRYPT BENEATH THECHAPTER-HOUSE.
OF THE MIDNIGHT MEETING IN THE CRYPT BENEATH THE
CHAPTER-HOUSE.
It 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 cloisters, 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 afterwards the deep bell of the abbey tolled forth 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 overhead, 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,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 towards him, upon which he quickened his steps, and soon reached the person, who, on seeing him, remained stationary. 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 subterranean 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 solidity, 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 deportment 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 affair.
“Your excellency is welcome,” said Stafford to the ambassador. “I am glad to find you bring us a recruit. What! Osbert Clinton, is it you?” he added, as the young man unmuffled 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 Protestant faith.”
“I will be true to you to the death,” replied Osbert emphatically, “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,” replied Osbert, saluting the three persons he named, “but the rest are strangers to me.”
“This is honest Master Udal, and this bold Master Staunton, 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,” replied Osbert. “They are officers to the Princess Elizabeth. I am glad to see them here.”
“They bring us messages from the Princess approving of our design,” said Dudley. “Her Highness will not write, after the danger she incurred from her intercepted correspondence 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.
“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 afforded an asylum and gave pensions to all those implicated 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 antipathy 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 inarms 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 English 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 ourauto-da-féin 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 Osbert, “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 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 Stafford. “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 Smithfield yesterday, and spoke with hundreds, who are ready for an outbreak.”
“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 Stafford. “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 tohim.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 conspirators.
“Let no one go forth, but let each man answer for himself. Where is Osbert Clinton?”
“Here,” he replied, from the door.
“Where is Sir Henry Dudley?”
“Here,” answered the person designated.
While Stafford was pursuing these inquiries, Osbert heard some one approaching, and stepped a little 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) whispered, “Release me, Sir, I command you.”
“Your commands are of no weight here, Sire,” replied Osbert. “But I will not see you assassinated. Save yourself!”
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 possibility 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 himwings, 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 maledictions, he ran up a narrow spiral stone staircase, and, reaching a small chamber, seized a rope that dangled from a hole in the ceiling, and began to ring the alarm-bell.
IN WHAT MANNER THE OUTBREAK COMMENCED.
IN WHAT MANNER THE OUTBREAK COMMENCED.
IN WHAT MANNER THE OUTBREAK COMMENCED.
Meantime, 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 opportunity. 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 enterprise 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 tellthem 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 evidently 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 together who shall aid us to dethrone thy master.”
And, as if in compliance with the request, the alarm-bell wasrungrungmore 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 arquebuses.
“What ho, my masters!” shouted the foremost of these. “Why rings the alarm-bell?”
“It rings to call you to arms,” replied Osbert, “in defence of your liberties and religion. A rising is about to take place to depose Philip and Mary, place the Princess Elizabeth 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 beingRomanists, retorted furiously, and struggles immediately began to take place between the opposing sects. As the crowd was continually on the increase, the hubbub and disturbance 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 inquisitorial 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 Stafford, 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!”shoutedshoutedseveral 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 youseveral 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 conspirators 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 dreadfulmêléenow 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 distinguished themselves by their bravery. Osbert Clinton threw himself into the thickest of the fight, encouraged his followers by word and deed, struck down three of the horsemen, 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.
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 City, liberate the prisoners for religion from Newgate 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 persecution. 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 DerrickCarver.”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 were 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.
“Ay, to the Horseferry! to the Horseferry!” cried several voices.
“We shall meet again ere daybreak, if all go well,” said Osbert to Stafford 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 occupants 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, andsufficientsufficientsmaller 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 trying the effect of a second volley, the horsemen rode back to Westminster, probably to find boats to enable them to cross the river.