The Greek empire became extinct when Constantinople was taken by the Turks, in 1453. On its ruins, the Ottoman power was raised. At the close of the fifteenth century, the Turkish arms were very powerful, and Europe again trembled before the Moslems. Greece and the whole of Western Asia were obedient to the sultan. But his power did not reach its culminating point until a century afterwards.

Such were the various states of Europe when the Reformation broke out. Maximilian was emperor of Germany, and Charles V. had just inherited, from his father, Philip the Fair, who had married a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, the kingdom of Spain, in addition to the dominion of the Netherlands.

By the death of Maximilian, in 1519, the youthful sovereign of Spain and the Netherlands came into possession of the Austrian dominions; and the electors, shortly after, chose him emperor of Germany.

He was born at Ghent, A. D. 1500, and was educated with great care. He early displayed his love of government, and, at fifteen, was present at the deliberations of the cabinet. But he had no taste for learning, and gave but few marks of that genius which he afterwards evinced. He was much attached to his Flemish subjects, and, during the first year of his reign, gave great offence to the grandees of Spain and the nobles of Germany by his marked partiality for those men who had been his early companions.

It is difficult to trace, in the career of Charles V., any powerful motives of conduct, separate from the desire of aggrandizement. The interests of the church, with which he was identified, and the true welfare of his subjects, were, at different times, sacrificed to his ambition. Had there been no powerful monarchs on the other thrones of Europe, his dreams of power might possibly have been realized. But at this period there happened to be a constellation of princes.

[Sidenote: Wars between Charles and Francis.]

The greatest of these, and the chief rival through life of Charles, was Francis I. of France. He had even anticipated an election to the imperial crown, which would have made him more powerful than even Charles himself. The electors feared both, and chose Frederic of Saxony; but he declined the dangerous post. Charles, as Archduke of Austria, had such great and obvious claims, that they could not be disregarded. He was therefore the fortunate candidate. But his election was a great disappointment to Francis, and he could not conceal his mortification. Peace could not long subsist between two envious and ambitious princes. Francis was nearly of the same age as Charles, had inherited nearly despotic power, was free from financial embarrassments, and ruled over an united and loyal people. He was therefore no contemptible match for Charles. In addition, he strengthened himself by alliances with the Swiss and Venetians. Charles sought the favor of the pope and Henry VIII. of England. The real causes of war were mutual jealousies, and passion for military glory. The assigned causes were, that Charles did not respect the claims of Francis as king of Naples; and, on the other hand, that Francis had seized the duchy of Milan, which was a fief of the empire, and also retained the duchy of Burgundy, the patrimonial inheritance of the emperor.

The political history of Europe, for nearly half a century, is a record of the wars between these powerful princes, of their mutual disasters, disappointments, and successes. Other contests were involved in these, and there were also some which arose from causes independent of mutual jealousy, such as the revolt of the Spanish grandees, of the peasants in Germany, and of the invasion of the empire by the Turks. During the reign of Charles, was also the division of the princes of Germany, on grounds of religion—the foundation of the contest which, after the death of Charles, convulsed Germany for thirty years. But the Thirty Years' War was a religious war—was one of the political consequences of the Reformation. The wars between Charles and Francis were purely wars of military ambition. Charles had greater territories and larger armies; but Francis had more money, and more absolute control over his forces. Charles's power was checked in Spain by the free spirit of the Cortes, and in Germany by the independence of the princes, and by the embarrassing questions which arose out of the Reformation.

It would be tedious to read the various wars between Charles and his rival. Each of them gained, at different times, great successes, and each experienced, in turn, the most humiliating reverses. Francis was even taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, in 1525, and confined in a fortress at Madrid, until he promised to the victors the complete dismemberment of France—an extorted promise he never meant to keep. No sooner had he recovered his liberty, than he violated all his oaths, and Europe was again the scene of fresh hostilities. The passion of revenge was now added to that of ambition, and, as the pope had favored the cause of Francis, the generals of Charles invaded Italy. Rome was taken and sacked by the constable Bourbon, a French noble whom Francis had slighted, and cruelties and outrages were perpetrated by the imperial forces which never disgraced Alaric or Attila.

Charles affected to be filled with grief in view of the victories of his generals, and pretended that they acted without his orders. He employed every artifice to deceive indignant Christendom, and appointed prayers and processions throughout Spain for the recovery of the pope's liberty, which one stroke of his pen could have secured. Thus it was, that the most Catholic and bigoted prince in Europe seized the pope's person, and sacked his city, at the very time when Luther was prosecuting his reform. And this fact shows how much more powerfully the emperor was influenced by political, than by religious considerations. It also shows the providence of God in permitting the only men, who could have arrested the reformation, to spend their strength in battling each other, rather than the heresy which they deplored. Had Charles been less powerful and ambitious, he probably would have contented himself in punishing heretics, and in uniting with his natural ally, the pope, in suppressing every insurrection which had for its object the rights of conscience and the enjoyment of popular liberty.

The war was continued for two years longer between Francis and Charles, with great acrimony, but with various success, both parties being, at one time, strengthened by alliances, and then again weakened by desertions. At last, both parties were exhausted, and were willing to accede to terms which they had previously rejected with disdain. Francis was the most weakened and disheartened, but Charles was the most perplexed. The troubles growing out of the Reformation demanded his attention, and the Turks, at this period a powerful nation, were about invading Austria. The Spaniards murmured at the unusual length of the war, and money was with difficulty obtained.

Hence the peace of Cambray, August 5, 1529; which was very advantageous to Charles, in consequence of the impulsive character of Francis, and his impatience to recover his children, whom he had surrendered to Charles in order to recover his liberty. He agreed to pay two millions of crowns for the ransom of his sons, and renounce his pretensions in the Low Countries and Italy. He, moreover, lost reputation, and the confidence of Europe, by the abandonment of his allies. Charles remained the arbiter of Italy, and was attentive to the interests of all who adhered to him. With less chivalry than his rival, he had infinitely more honor. Cold, sagacious, selfish, and ambitious, he was, however, just, and kept his word. He combined qualities we often see in selfish men—a sort of legal and technical regard to the letter of the law, with the constant violation of its spirit. A Shylock might not enter a false charge upon his books, while he would adhere to a most extortionate bargain.

Charles, after the treaty of Cambray was signed, visited Italy with all the pomp of a conqueror. At Genoa, he honored Doria with many marks of distinction, and bestowed upon the republic new privileges. He settled all his difficulties with Milan, Venice, and Florence, and reestablished the authority of the Medici. He was then crowned by the pope, whom he had trampled on, as King of Lombardy and Emperor of the Romans, and hastened into Germany, which imperatively required his presence, both on account of dissensions among the princes, which the reformation caused, and the invasion of Austria by three hundred thousand Turks. He resolved to recover the old prerogatives of the emperor of Germany, and crush those opinions which were undermining his authority, as well as the power of Rome, with which his own was identified.

[Sidenote: Diet of Spires.]

A Diet of the empire was accordingly summoned at Spires, in order to take into consideration the state of religion, the main cause of all the disturbances in Germany. It met on the 15th of March, 1529, and the greatest address was required to prevent a civil war. All that Charles could obtain from the assembled princes was, the promise to prevent any further innovations. A decree to that effect was passed, against which, however, the followers of Luther protested, the most powerful of whom were the Elector of Saxony, the Marquis of Brandenburg, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Duke of Lunenburg, the Prince of Anhalt, and the deputies of fourteen imperial cities. This protest gave to them the name of Protestants—a name ever since retained. Soon after, the diet assembled at Augsburg, when the articles of faith among the Protestants were read,—known as the Confession of Augsburg,—which, however, the emperor opposed. In consequence of his decree, the Protestant princes entered into a league at Smalcalde, (December 22, 1530,) to support one another, and defend their religion. Circumstances continually occurred to convince Charles, that the extirpation of heresy by the sword was impossible in Germany, and moreover, he saw it was for his interest—to which his eye was peculiarly open—to unite all the German provinces in a vigorous confederation. Accordingly after many difficulties, and with great reluctance, terms of pacification were agreed upon at Nuremburg, (1531,) and ratified in the diet at Ratisbon, shortly after, by which it was agreed that no person should be molested in his religion, and that the Protestants, on their part, should assist the emperor in resisting the invasion of the Turks. The Germans, with their customary good faith, furnished all the assistance they promised, and one of the best armies ever raised in Germany, amounting to ninety thousand foot, and thirty thousand horse, took the field, commanded by the emperor in person. But the campaign ended without any memorable event, both parties having erred from excessive caution.

[Sidenote: Hostilities between Charles and Francis.]

Francis soon availed himself of the difficulties and dangers of his rival, formed an alliance with the Turks, put forth his old claims, courted the favor of the German Protestants, and renewed hostilities. He marched towards Italy, and took possession of the dominions of the duke of Savoy, whom the emperor, at this juncture, was unable to assist, on account of his African expedition against the pirate Barbarossa. This noted corsair had built up a great power in Tunis and Algiers, and committed shameful ravages on all Christian nations. Charles landed in Africa with thirty thousand men, took the fortress of Goletta, defeated the pirate's army, captured his capital, and restored the exiled Moorish king to his throne. In the midst of these victories Francis invaded Savoy. Charles was terribly indignant, and loaded his rival with such violent invectives that Francis challenged him to single combat. The challenge was accepted, but the duel was never fought. Charles, in his turn, invaded France, with a large army, for that age—forty thousand foot and ten thousand horse; but the expedition was unfortunate. Francis acted on the defensive with admirable skill, and was fortunate in his general Montmorency, who seemed possessed with the spirit of a Fabius. The emperor, at last, was compelled to return ingloriously, having lost half of his army without having gained a single important advantage. The joy of Francis, however, was embittered by the death of the dauphin, attributed by some to the infamous Catharine de Medicis, wife of the Duke of Orleans, in order to secure the crown to her husband. War did not end with the retreat of Charles, but was continued, with great personal animosity, until mutual exhaustion led to a truce for ten years, concluded at Nice, in 1538. Both parties had exerted their utmost strength, and neither had obtained any signal advantage. Notwithstanding their open and secret enmity, they had an interview shortly after the truce, in which both vied with each other in expressions of esteem and friendship, and in the exhibition of chivalrous courtesies—a miserable mockery, as shown by the violation of the terms of the truce, and the renewal of hostilities in 1541.

[Sidenote: African Wars.]

These were, doubtless, facilitated by Charles's unfortunate expedition against Algiers in 1541, by which he gained nothing but disgrace. His army was wasted by famine and disease, and a tempest destroyed his fleet. All the complicated miseries which war produces were endured by his unfortunate troops, but a small portion of whom ever returned. Francis, taking advantage of these misfortunes, made immense military preparations, formed a league with the Sultan Solyman, and brought five armies into the field. He assumed the offensive, and invaded the Netherlands, but obtained no laurels. Charles formed a league with Henry VIII., and the war raged, with various success, without either party obtaining any signal advantage, for three years, when a peace was concluded at Crespy, in 1544. Charles, being in the heart of France with an invading army, had the apparent advantage but the difficulty of retreating out of France in case of disaster, and the troubles in Germany, forced him to suspend his military operations. The pope, also, was offended because he had conceded so much to the Protestants, and the Turks pressed him on the side of Hungary. Moreover, he was afflicted with the gout, which indisposed him for complicated enterprises. In view of these things, he made peace with Francis, formed a strong alliance with the pope, and resolved to extirpate the Protestant religion, which was the cause of so many insurrections in Germany.

[Sidenote: Council of Trent.]

In the mean time, the pope resolved to assemble the famous Council of Trent, the legality of which the Protestants denied. It met in December, 1545, and was the last general council which the popes ever assembled. It met with a view of healing the dissensions of the church, and confirming the authority of the pope. The princes of Europe hoped that important reforms would have been made; but nothing of consequence was done, and the attention of the divines was directed to dogmas rather than morals. The great number of Italian bishops enabled the pope to have every thing his own way, in spite of the remonstrance of the German, Spanish, and French prelates, and the ambassadors of the different monarchs, who also had seats in the council. The decrees of this council, respecting articles of faith, are considered as a final authority by the Roman church. It denounced the reform of Luther, and confirmed the various ecclesiastical usurpations which had rendered the reformation necessary. It lasted twenty-two years, at different intervals, during the pontificate of five popes. The Jesuits, just rising into notice, had considerable influence in the council, in consequence of the learning and ability of their representatives, and especially of Laynez, the general of the order. The Dominicans and Franciscans manifested their accustomed animosities and rivalries, and questions were continually proposed and agitated, which divided the assembly. The French bishops, headed by the Cardinal of Lorraine, were opposed to the high pretensions of the Italians, especially of Cardinal Morone, the papal legate; but, by artifice and management, the more strenuous adherents of the pope attained their ends.

About the time the council assembled, died three distinguished persons—Henry VIII. of England, Francis I., and Luther. Charles V. was freed from his great rival, and from the only private person in his dominions he had reason to fear. He now, in good earnest, turned his attention to the internal state of his empire, and resolved to crush the Reformation, and, by force, if it were necessary. He commenced by endeavoring to amuse and deceive the Protestants, and evinced that profound dissimulation, which was one of his characteristics. He formed a strict alliance with the pope, made a truce with Solyman, and won over to his side Maurice and other German princes. His military preparations and his intrigues alarmed the Protestants, and they prepared themselves for resistance. Religious zeal seconded their military ardor. One of the largest armies, which had been raised in Europe for a century, took the field, and Charles, shut up in Ratisbon, was in no condition to fight. Unfortunately for the Protestants, they negotiated instead of acting. The emperor was in their power, but he was one of those few persons who remained haughty and inflexible in the midst of calamities. He pronounced the ban of the empire against the Protestant princes, who were no match for a man who had spent his life in the field: they acted without concert, and committed many errors. Their forces decreased, while those of the emperor increased by large additions from Italy and Flanders. Instead of decisive action, the Protestants dallied and procrastinated, unwilling to make peace, and unwilling to face their sovereign. Their army melted away, and nothing of importance was effected.

[Sidenote: Treachery of Maurice.]

Maurice, cousin to the Elector of Saxony, with a baseness to which history scarcely affords a parallel, deserted his allies, and joined the emperor, purely from ambitious motives, and invaded the territories of his kinsman with twelve thousand men. The confederates made overtures of peace, which being rejected, they separated, and most of them submitted to the emperor. He treated them with haughtiness and rigor, imposed on them most humiliating terms, forced them to renounce the league of Smalcalde, to give up their military stores, to admit garrisons into their cities, and to pay large contributions in money.

The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse, however held out; and such was the condition of the emperor, that he could not immediately attack them. But the death of Francis gave him leisure to invade Saxony, and the elector was defeated at the battle of Muhlhausen, (1547,) and taken prisoner. The captive prince approached the victor without sullenness or pride. "The fortune of war," said he, "has made me your prisoner, most gracious emperor, and I hope to be treated ——" Here Charles interrupted him—"And am I, at last, acknowledged to be emperor? Charles of Ghent was the only title you lately allowed me. You shall be treated as you deserve." At these words he turned his back upon him with a haughty air.

[Sidenote: Captivity of the Landgrave of Hesse.]

The unfortunate prince was closely guarded by Spanish soldiers, and brought to a trial before a court martial, at which presided the infamous Duke of Alva, afterwards celebrated for his cruelties in Holland. He was convicted of treason and rebellion, and sentenced to death—a sentence which no court martial had a right to inflict on the first prince of the empire. He was treated with ignominious harshness, which he bore with great magnanimity, but finally made a treaty with the emperor, by which, for the preservation of his life, he relinquished his kingdom to Maurice.

The landgrave was not strong enough to resist the power of Charles, after all his enemies were subdued, and he made his submission, though Charles extorted the most rigorous conditions, he being required to surrender his person, abandon the league of Smalcalde, implore pardon on his knees, demolish his fortifications, and pay an enormous fine. In short, it was an unconditional submission. Beside infinite mortifications, he was detained a prisoner, which, on Charles's part, was but injury added to insult—an act of fraud and injustice which inspired the prince, and the Protestants, generally, with unbounded indignation. The Elector of Brandenburg and Maurice in vain solicited for his liberty, and showed the infamy to which he would be exposed if he detained the landgrave a prisoner. But the emperor listened to their remonstrances with the most provoking coolness, and showed very plainly that he was resolved to crush all rebellion, suppress Protestantism, and raise up an absolute throne in Germany, to the subversion of its ancient constitution.

To all appearances, his triumph was complete. His great rival was dead; his enemies were subdued and humiliated; Luther's voice was hushed; and immense contributions filled the imperial treasury. He now began to realize the dreams of his life. He was unquestionably, at that time, the most absolute and powerful prince Europe has ever seen since Charlemagne, with the exception of Napoleon.

But what an impressive moral does the history of human greatness convey! The hour of triumph is often but the harbinger of defeat and shame. "Pride goeth before destruction." Charles V., with all his policy and experience, overreached himself. The failure of his ambitious projects and the restoration of Protestantism, were brought about by instruments the least anticipated.

[Sidenote: Heroism of Maurice..]

[Sidenote: Misfortunes of Charles..]

The cause of Protestantism and the liberties of Germany were endangered by the treachery of Maurice, who received, as his reward, the great electorate of Saxony. He had climbed to the summit of glory and power. Who would suppose that this traitor prince would desert the emperor, who had so splendidly rewarded his services, and return to the rescue of those princes whom he had so basely betrayed? But who can thread the labyrinth of an intriguing and selfish heart? Who can calculate the movements of an unprincipled and restless politician? Maurice, at length, awoke to the perception of the real condition of his country. He saw its liberties being overturned by the most ambitious man whom ten centuries had produced. He saw the cause, which his convictions told him was the true one, in danger of being wrecked. He was, moreover, wounded by the pride, coldness, and undisguised selfishness of the emperor. He was indignant that the landgrave, his father-in-law, should be retained a prisoner, against all the laws of honor and of justice. He resolved to come to the rescue of his country. He formed his plans with the greatest coolness, and exercised a power of dissimulation that has no parallel in history. But his address was even greater than his hypocrisy. He gained the confidence of the Protestants, without losing that of the emperor. He even obtained the command of an army which Charles sent to reduce the rebellious city of Magdeburg, and, while he was besieging the city, he was negotiating with the generals who defended it for a general union against the emperor. Magdeburg surrendered in 1551. Its chieftains were secretly assured that the terms of capitulation should not be observed. His next point was, to keep the army together until his schemes were ripened, and then to arrest the emperor, whose thoughts now centred on the council of Trent. So he proposed sending Protestant divines to the council, but delayed their departure by endless negotiations about the terms of a safe conduct. He, moreover, formed a secret treaty with Henry II., the successor of Francis, whose animosity against Charles was as intense as was that of his father. When his preparations were completed, he joined his army in Thuringia, and took the field against the emperor, who had no suspicion of his designs, and who blindly trusted to him, deeming it impossible that a man, whom he had so honored and rewarded, could turn against him. March 18, 1552, Maurice published his manifesto, justifying his conduct; and his reasons were, to secure the Protestant religion, to maintain the constitution of the empire, and deliver the Landgrave of Hesse from bondage. He was powerfully supported by the French king, and, with a rapidly increasing army, marched towards Innspruck, where the emperor was quartered. The emperor was thunderstruck when he heard the tidings of his desertion, and was in no condition to resist him. He endeavored to gain time by negotiations, but these were without effect. Maurice, at the head of a large army, advanced rapidly into Upper Germany. Castles and cities surrendered as he advanced, and so rapid was his progress, that he came near taking the emperor captive. Charles was obliged to fly, in the middle of the night, and to travel on a litter by torchlight, amid the passes of the Alps. He scarcely left Innspruck before Maurice entered it—but too late to gain the prize he sought. The emperor rallied his armies, and a vigorous war was carried on between the contending parties, to the advantage of the Protestants. The emperor, after a while, was obliged to make peace with them, for his Spanish subjects were disgusted with the war, his funds were exhausted, his forces dispersed, and his territories threatened by the French. On the 2d of August, 1552, was concluded the peace of Passau, which secured the return of the landgrave to his dominions, the freedom of religion to the Protestants, and the preservation of the German constitution. The sanguine hopes of the emperor were dispelled, and all his ambitious schemes defeated, and he left to meditate, in the intervals of the pains which he suffered from the gout, on the instability of all greatness, and the vanity of human life. Maurice was now extolled as extravagantly as he had been before denounced, and his treachery justified, even by grave divines. But what is most singular in the whole affair, was, that the French king, while persecuting Protestants at home, should protect them abroad. But this conduct may confirm, in a signal manner, the great truth of history, that God regulates the caprice of human passions, and makes them subservient to the accomplishment of his own purposes.

[Sidenote: Treaty of Passau.]

The labors and perplexities of Charles V. were not diminished by the treaty of Passau. He continued his hostilities against the French and against the Turks. He was obliged to raise the siege of Metz, which was gallantly defended by the Duke of Guise. To his calamities in France, were added others in Italy. Sienna revolted against his government, and Naples was threatened by the Turks. The imperialists were unsuccessful in Italy and in Hungary, and the Archduke Ferdinand was obliged to abandon Transylvania. But war was carried on in the Low Countries with considerable vigor.

Charles, whose only passion was the aggrandizement of his house, now projected a marriage of his son, Philip, with Mary, queen of England. The queen, dazzled by the prospect of marrying the heir of the greatest monarch in Europe, and eager to secure his powerful aid to reestablish Catholicism in England, listened to his proposal, although it was disliked by the nation. In spite of the remonstrance of the house of commons, the marriage treaty was concluded, and the marriage celebrated, (1554.)

[Sidenote: Character of Charles V.]

Soon after, Charles formed the extraordinary resolution of resigning his dominions to his son, and of retiring to a quiet retreat. Diocletian is the only instance of a prince, capable of holding the reins of government, who had adopted a similar course. All Europe was astonished at the resolution of Charles, and all historians of the period have moralized on the event. But it ceases to be mysterious, when we remember that Charles was no nearer the accomplishment of the ends which animated his existence, than he was thirty years before; that he was disgusted and wearied with the world; that he suffered severely from the gout, which, at times, incapacitated him for the government of his extensive dominions. It was never his habit to intrust others with duties and labors which he could perform himself, and he felt that his empire needed a more powerful protector than his infirmities permitted him to be. He was grown prematurely old, he felt his declining health; longed for repose, and sought religious consolation. Of all his vast possessions, he only reserved an annual pension of one hundred thousand crowns; resigning Spain and the Low Countries into the hands of Philip, and the empire of Germany to his brother Ferdinand, who had already been elected as King of the Romans. He then set out for his retreat in Spain, which was the monastery of St. Justus, near Placentia, situated in a lovely vale, surrounded with lofty trees, watered by a small brook, and rendered attractive by the fertility of the soil, and the delightful temperature of the climate. Here he spent his last days in agricultural improvements and religious exercises, apparently regardless of that noisy world which he had deserted forever, and indifferent to those political storms which his restless ambition had raised. Here his grandeur and his worldly hopes were buried in preparing himself for the future world. He lived with great simplicity, for two years after his retreat, and died (1558,) from the effects of the gout, which, added to his great labors, had shattered his constitution. He was not what the world would call a great genius, like Napoleon; but he was a man of great sagacity, untiring industry, and respectable attainments. He was cautious, cold, and selfish; had but little faith in human virtue, and was a slave, in his latter days, to superstition. He was neither affable nor courteous, but was sincere in his attachments, and munificent in rewarding his generals and friends. He was not envious nor cruel, but inordinately ambitious, and intent on aggrandizing his family. This was his characteristic defect, and this, in a man so prominent and so favored by circumstances, was enough to keep Europe in a turmoil for nearly half a century.

* * * * *

REFERENCES.—Robertson's History of Charles V. Ranke's History of the Reformation. Kohlrausch's History of Germany. Russell's Modern Europe. The above-mentioned authors are easily accessible, and are all that are necessary for the student. Robertson's History is a classic, and an immortal work.



CHAPTER IV.

HENRY VIII.

The history of Europe in the sixteenth century is peculiarly the history of the wars of kings, and of their efforts to establish themselves and their families on absolute thrones. The monotonous, and almost exclusive, record of royal pleasures and pursuits shows in how little consideration the people were held. They struggled, and toiled, and murmured as they do now. They probably had the same joys and sorrows as in our times. But, in these times, they have considerable influence on the government, the religion, the literature, and the social life of nations. In the sixteenth century, this influence was not so apparent; but power of all kinds seemed to emanate from kings and nobles; at least from wealthy and cultivated classes. When this is the case, when kings give a law to society, history is not unphilosophical which recognizes chiefly their enterprises and ideas.

[Sidenote: Rise of Absolute Monarchy.]

The rise of absolute monarchy on the ruins of feudal states is one of the chief features of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There was every where a strong tendency to centralization. Provinces, before independent, were controlled by a central government. Standing armies took the place of feudal armies. Kings took away from nobles the right to coin money, administer justice, and impose taxes. The power of the crown became supreme and unlimited.

But some monarchs were more independent than others, in proportion as the power of nobles was suppressed, or, as the cities sided with the central government, or, as provinces were connected and bound together. The power of Charles V. was somewhat limited, in Spain, by the free spirit of the Cortes, and, in Germany, by the independence of the princes of the empire. But, in France and England, the king was more absolute, although he did not rule over so great extent of territory as did the emperor of Germany; and this is one reason why Francis I. proved so strong an antagonist to his more powerful rival.

The history of France, during the reign of this monarch, is also the history of Charles V., since they were both engaged in the same wars; which wars have already been alluded to. Both of these monarchs failed in the objects of their existence. If Charles did not realize his dream of universal empire, neither did Francis leave his kingdom, at his death, in a more prosperous state than he found it.

Francis I. was succeeded by his son Henry II., a warlike prince, but destitute of prudence, and under the control of women. His policy, however, was substantially that of his father, and he continued hostilities against the emperor of Germany, till his resignation. He was a bitter persecutor of the Protestants, and the seeds of subsequent civil wars were sown by his zeal. He was removed from his throne prematurely, being killed at a tournament, in 1559, soon after the death of Charles V. Tournaments ceased with his death.

[Sidenote: Henry VIII.]

The reign of Henry VIII., the other great contemporary of Charles V., merits a larger notice, not only because his reign was the commencement of a new era in England, but, also, because the affairs, which engaged his attention, are not much connected with continental history.

He ascended the throne in the year 1509, in his eighteenth year, without opposition, and amid the universal joy of the nation; for his manners were easy and frank, his disposition was cheerful, and his person was handsome. He had made respectable literary attainments, and he gave promise of considerable abilities. He was married, soon after his accession, to Catharine, daughter of the King of Spain, and the first years of his reign were happy, both to himself and to his subjects. He had a well-filled treasury, which his father had amassed with great care, a devoted people and an obedient parliament. All circumstances seemed to conspire to strengthen his power, and to make him the arbiter of Europe.

But this state did not last long. The young king was resolved to make war on France, but was diverted from his aim by troubles in Scotland, growing out of his own rapacity—a trait which ever peculiarly distinguished him. These troubles resulted in a war with the Scots, who were defeated at the memorable battle of Flodden Field, which Sir Walter Scott, in his Marmion, has immortalized. The Scotch commanders, Lenox and Argyle, both perished, as well as the valiant King James himself. There is scarcely an illustrious Scotch family who had not an ancestor slain on that fatal day, September 9, 1513. But the victory was dearly bought, and Surrey, the English general, afterwards Duke of Norfolk, was unable to pursue his advantages.

[Sidenote: Rise of Cardinal Wolsey.]

About this time, the celebrated Cardinal Wolsey began to act a conspicuous part in English affairs. His father was a butcher of Ipswich; but was able to give his son a good education. He studied at Oxford, was soon distinguished for his attainments, and became tutor to the sons of the Marquis of Dorset. The marquis gave him the rich living of Limington; but the young parson, with his restless ambition, and love of excitement and pleasure, was soon wearied of a country life. He left his parish to become domestic chaplain to the treasurer of Calais. This post introduced him to Fox, bishop of Winchester, who shared with the Earl of Surrey the highest favors of royalty. The minister and diplomatist, finding in the young man learning, tact, vivacity, and talent for business, introduced him to the king, hoping that he would prove an agreeable companion for Henry, and a useful tool for himself. But those who are able to manage other people's business, generally are able to manage their own. The tool of Fox looked after his own interest chiefly. He supplanted his master in the loyal favor, and soon acquired more favor and influence at court than any of the ministers or favorites. Though twenty years older than Henry, he adapted himself to all his tastes, flattered his vanity and passions, and became his bosom friend. He gossiped with him about Thomas Aquinas, the Indies, and affairs of gallantry. He was a great refiner of sensual pleasures, had a passion for magnificence and display, and a real genius for court entertainments. He could eat and drink with the gayest courtiers, sing merry songs, and join in the dance. He was blunt and frank in his manners; but these only concealed craft and cunning. "It is art to conceal art," and Wolsey was a master of all the tricks of dissimulation. He rose rapidly after he had once gained the heart of the king. He became successively dean of York, papal legate, cardinal, bishop of Lincoln, archbishop of York, and lord chancellor. He also obtained the administration and the temporalities of the rich abbey of St. Albans, and of the bishoprics of Bath and Wells, Durham and Winchester. By these gifts, his revenues almost equalled those of the crown; and he squandered them in a style of unparalleled extravagance. He dressed in purple and gold, supported a train of eight hundred persons, and built Hampton Court. He was the channel through which the royal favors flowed. But he made a good chancellor, dispensed justice, repressed the power of the nobles, encouraged and rewarded literary men, and endowed colleges. He was the most magnificent and the most powerful subject that England has ever seen. Even nobles were proud to join his train of dependants. There was nothing sordid or vulgar, however, in all his ostentation. Henry took pleasure in his pomp, for it was a reflection of the greatness of his own majesty.

[Sidenote: Magnificence of Henry VIII.]

The first years of the reign of Henry VIII., after the battle of Flodden Field, were spent in pleasure, and in great public displays of magnificence, which charmed the people, and made him a popular idol. Among these, the interview of the king with Francis I. is the most noted, on the 4th of June, 1520; the most gorgeous pageant of the sixteenth century, designed by Wolsey, who had a genius for such things. The monarchs met in a beautiful valley, where jousts and tournaments were held, and where was exhibited all the magnificence which the united resources of France and England could command. The interview was sought by Francis to win, through Wolsey, the favor of the king, and to counterbalance the advantages which it was supposed Charles V. had gained on a previous visit to the king at Dover.

The getting up of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold" created some murmurs among the English nobility, many of whom were injured by the expensive tastes of Wolsey. Among these was the Duke of Buckingham, hereditary high constable of England, and connected with the royal house of the Plantagenets. Henry, from motives of jealousy, both on account of his birth and fortune, had long singled him out as his victim. He was, also, obnoxious to Wolsey, since he would not flatter his pride, and he had, moreover, insulted him. It is very easy for a king to find a pretence for committing a crime; and Buckingham was arrested, tried, and executed, for making traitorous prophecies. His real crime was in being more powerful than it suited the policy of the king. With the death of Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, in 1521, commenced the bloody cruelty of Henry VIII.

Soon after the death of Buckingham, the king made himself notorious for his theological writings against Luther, whose doctrines he detested. He ever had a taste for theological disputation, and a love of the schoolmen. His tracts against Luther, very respectable for talent and learning, though disgraced by coarse and vulgar vituperation, secured for him the favor of the pope, who bestowed upon him the title of "Defender of the Faith;" and a strong alliance existed between them until the divorce of Queen Catharine.

The difficulties and delays, attending this act of cruelty and injustice, constitute no small part of the domestic history of England during the reign of Henry VIII. Any event, which furnishes subjects of universal gossip and discussion, is ever worthy of historical notice, inasmuch as it shows prevailing opinions and tastes.

Queen Catharine, daughter of Ferdinand, King of Spain, was eight years older than her husband, whom she married in the first year of his reign. She had been previously married to his brother Arthur, who died of the plague in 1502. For several years after her marriage with Henry VIII., her domestic happiness was a subject of remark; and the emperor, Charles V., congratulated her on her brilliant fortune. She was beautiful, sincere, accomplished; religious, and disinterested, and every way calculated to secure, as she had won, the king's affections.

[Sidenote: Anne Boleyn.]

But among her maids of honor there was one peculiarly accomplished and fascinating, to whom the king transferred his affections with unwonted vehemence. This was Anne Boleyn, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who, from his great wealth, married Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the first duke of Norfolk. This noble alliance brought Sir Thomas Boleyn into close connection with royalty, and led to the appointment of his daughter to the high post which she held at the court of Queen Catharine. It is probable that the king suppressed his passion for some time; and it would have been longer concealed, even from its object, had not his jealousy been excited by her attachment to Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland. The king at last made known his passion; but the daughter of the Howards was too proud, or too politic, or too high principled, to listen to his overtures. It was only as queen of England, that she would return the passion of her royal lover. Moreover, she resolved to be revenged on the all-powerful cardinal, for assisting in her separation from Percy, whom she loved with romantic attachment. The king waited four years, but Anne remained inflexibly virtuous. He then meditated the divorce from Catharine, as the only way to accomplish the object which now seemed to animate his existence. He confided the matter to his favorite minister; but Wolsey was thunderstruck at the disclosure, and remained with him four hours on his knees, to dissuade him from a step which he justly regarded as madness. Here Wolsey appears as an honest man and a true friend; but royal infatuation knows neither wisdom, justice, nor humanity. Wolsey, as a man of the world, here made a blunder, and departed from the policy he had hitherto pursued—that of flattering the humors of his absolute master. Wolsey, however, recommended the king to consult the divines; for Henry pretended that, after nearly twenty years of married life, he had conscientious scruples about the lawfulness of his marriage. The learned English doctors were afraid to pronounce their opinions, and suggested a reference to the fathers. But the king was not content with their authority; he appealed to the pope, and to the decisions of half of the universities of Europe. It seems very singular that a sovereign so unprincipled, unscrupulous, and passionate, and yet so absolute and powerful as was Henry, should have wasted his time and money in seeking countenance to an act on which he was fully determined, and which countenance he never could reasonably hope to secure. But his character was made up of contradictions. His caprice, violence, and want of good faith, were strangely blended with superstition and reverence for the authority of the church. His temper urged him to the most rigorous measure of injustice; and his injustice produced no shame, although he was restrained somewhat by the opinions of the very men whom he did not hesitate to murder.

[Sidenote: Queen Catharine.]

Queen Catharine, besides being a virtuous and excellent woman, was powerfully allied, and was a zealous Catholic. Her repudiation, therefore, could not take place without offending the very persons whose favor the king was most anxious to conciliate especially the Emperor Charles, her nephew, and the pope, and all the high dignitaries and adherents of the church. Even Wolsey could not in honor favor the divorce, although it was his policy to do so. In consequence of his intrigues, and the scandal and offence so outrageous an act as the divorce of Catharine must necessarily produce throughout the civilized world, Henry long delayed to bring the matter to a crisis, being afraid of a war with Charles V., and of the anathemas of the pope. Moreover, he hoped to gain him over, for the pope had sent Cardinal Campeggio to London, to hold, with his legate Wolsey, a court to hear the case. But it was the farthest from his intention to grant the divorce, for the pope was more afraid of Charles V. than he was of Henry VIII.

[Sidenote: Disgrace and Death of Wolsey.]

The court settled nothing, and the king's wrath now turned towards Wolsey, whom he suspected of secretly thwarting his measures. The accomplished courtier, so long accustomed to the smiles and favors of royalty, could not bear his disgrace with dignity. The proudest man in England became, all at once, the meanest. He wept, he cringed, he lost his spirits; he surrendered his palace, his treasures, his honors, and his offices, into the hands of him who gave them to him, without a single expostulation: wrote most abject letters to "his most gracious, most merciful, and most pious sovereign lord;" and died of a broken heart on his way to a prison and the scaffold. "Had I but served my God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs"—these were the words of the dying cardinal; his sad confessions on experiencing the vanity of human life. But the vindictive prince suffered no word of sorrow or regret to escape him, when he heard of the death of his prime minister, and his intimate friend for twenty years.

[Sidenote: More—Cranmer—Cromwell.]

Shortly after the disgrace of Wolsey, which happened nearly a year before his death, (1529,) three remarkable men began to figure in English politics and history. These were Sir Thomas More, Thomas Cranmer, and Thomas Cromwell. More was the most accomplished, most learned, and most enlightened of the three. He was a Catholic, but very exemplary in his life, and charitable in his views. In moral elevation of character, and beautiful serenity of soul, the annals of the great men of his country furnish no superior. His extensive erudition and moral integrity alone secured him the official station which Wolsey held as lord chancellor. He was always the intimate friend of the king, and his conversation, so enlivened by wit, and so rich and varied in matter, caused his society to be universally sought. He discharged his duties with singular conscientiousness and ability; and no one ever had cause to complain that justice was not rendered him.

Cranmer's elevation was owing to a fortunate circumstance, notwithstanding his exalted merit. He happened to say, while tutor to a gentleman of the name of Cressy, in the hearing of Dr. Gardiner, then secretary to Henry, that the proper way to settle the difficulty about the divorce was, to appeal to learned men, who would settle the matter on the sole authority of the Bible, without reference to the pope. This remark was reported to the king, and Cranmer was sent to reside with the father of Anne Boleyn, and was employed in writing a treatise to support his opinion. His ability led to further honors, until, on the death of Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, he was appointed to the vacant see, the first office in dignity and importance in the kingdom, and from which no king, however absolute, could eject him, except by the loss of life. We shall see that, in all matters of religion, Cranmer was the ruling spirit in England until the accession of Mary.

Cromwell's origin was even more obscure than that of Wolsey's; but he received his education at one of the universities. We first hear of him as a clerk in an English factory at Antwerp, then as a soldier in the army of the Constable Bourbon when it sacked Rome, then as a clerk in a mercantile house in Venice, and then again as a lawyer in England, where he attracted the attention of Wolsey, who made him his solicitor, and employed him in the dissolution of monasteries. He then became a member of the house of commons, where his address and business talents were conspicuous. He was well received at court, and confirmed in the stewardship of the monasteries, after the disgrace of his master. His office brought him often into personal conference with the king; and, at one of these, he recommended him to deny the authority of the pope altogether, and declare himself supreme head of the church. The boldness of this advice was congenial to the temper of the king, worried by the opposition of Rome to his intended divorce, and Cromwell became a member of the privy council. His fortune was thus made by his seasonable advice. All who opposed the king were sure to fall, and all who favored him were sure to rise, as must ever be the case in an absolute monarchy, where the king is the centre and the fountain of all honor and dignity.

With such ministers as Cranmer and Cromwell, the measures of Henry were now prompt and bold. Queen Catharine was soon disposed of; she was divorced and disgraced, and Anne Boleyn was elevated to her throne, (1533.) The anathemas of the pope and the outcry of all Europe followed. Sir Thomas More resigned the seals, and retired to poverty and solitude. But he was not permitted to enjoy his retirement long. Refusing to take the oath of supremacy to Henry, as head of the church as well as of the state, he was executed, with other illustrious Catholics. The execution of More was the most cruel and uncalled-for act of the whole reign, and entailed on its author the execrations of all the learned and virtuous men in Europe, most of whom appreciated the transcendent excellences of the murdered chancellor, the author of the Utopia, and the Boethius of his age.

[Sidenote: Quarrel with the Pope.]

The fulminations of the pope only excited Henry to more decided opposition. The parliament, controlled by Cromwell, acknowledged him as the supreme head of the Church of England, and the separation from Rome was final and irrevocable. The tenths were annexed to the crown, and the bishops took a new oath of supremacy.

The independence of the Church of England, effected in 1535, was followed by important consequences, and was the first step to the reformation, afterwards perfected by Edward VI. But as the first acts of the reformation were prompted by political considerations, the reformers in England, during the reign of Henry VIII., should be considered chiefly in a political point of view. The separation from Rome, during the reign of this prince, was not followed by the abolition of the Roman Catholic worship, nor any of the rites and ceremonies of that church. Nor was religious toleration secured. Every thing was subservient to the royal conscience, and a secular, instead of an ecclesiastical pope, still reigned in England.

[Sidenote: Abolition of Monasteries.]

Henry soon found that his new position, as head of the English Church, imposed new duties and cares: he therefore established a separate department for the conduct of ecclesiastical affairs, over which he placed the unscrupulous, but energetic Cromwell—a fit minister to such a monarch. A layman, who hated the clergy, and who looked solely to the pecuniary interests of his master, was thus placed over the highest prelates of the church. But Cromwell, in consulting the pecuniary interests of the king, also had an eye to the political interests of the kingdom. He was a sagacious and practical man of the world, and was disgusted with the vices of the clergy, and especially with the custom of sending money to Rome, in the shape of annates and taxes. This evil he remedied, which tended greatly to enrich the country, for the popes at this time were peculiarly extortionate. He then turned his attention to the reform of the whole monastic institution, but with an eye also to its entire destruction. Cromwell hated the monks. They were lazy, ignorant, and debauched. They were a great burden on the people, and were as insolent and proud as they were idle and profligate. The country swarmed with them. The roads, taverns, and the houses of the credulous were infested with them. Cranmer, who sympathized with the German reformers, hated them on religious grounds, and readily cooeperated with Cromwell; while the king, whose extortion and rapacity knew no bounds, listened, with glistening eye, to the suggestions of his two favorite ministers. The nation was suddenly astounded with the intelligence that parliament had passed a bill, giving to the king and his heirs all the monastic establishments in the kingdom, which did not exceed two hundred pounds a year. Three hundred and eighty thus fell at a blow, whereby the king was enriched by thirty-two thousand pounds a year, and one hundred thousand pounds ready money—an immense sum in that age. By this spoliation, perhaps called for, but exceedingly unjust and harsh, and in violation of all the rights of property, thousands were reduced to beggary and misery, while there was scarcely an eminent man in the kingdom who did not come in for a share of the plunder. Vast grants of lands were bestowed by the king on his favorites and courtiers, in order to appease the nation; and thus the foundations of many of the great estates of the English nobility were laid. The spoliations, however, led to many serious riots and insurrections, especially in Lincolnshire. At one place there were forty thousand rebels under arms; but they were easily suppressed.

[Sidenote: Suppression of Monasteries.]

The rapacious king was not satisfied with the plunder he had secured, and, in 1539, the final suppression of all the monasteries in England was decreed. Then followed the seizure of all the church property in England connected with monasteries—shrines, relics, gold and silver vessels of immense value and rarity, lands, and churches. Canterbury, Bath, Merton, Stratford, Bury St. Edmonds, Glastonbury, and St. Albans, suffered most, and many of those beautiful monuments of Gothic architecture were levelled with the dust. Their destruction deprived the people of many physical accommodations, for they had been hospitals and caravansaries, as well as "cages of unclean birds." Neither the church nor the universities profited much from the confiscation of so much property, and only six new bishoprics were formed, and only fourteen abbeys were converted into cathedrals and collegiate churches. The king and the nobles were the only gainers by the spoil; the people obtained no advantage in that age, although they have in succeeding ages.

After renouncing the pope's supremacy, and suppressing the monasteries, where were collected the treasures of the middle ages, one would naturally suppose that the king would have gone farther, and changed the religion of his people. But Henry hated Luther and his doctrines, and did not hate the pope, or the religion of which he was the sovereign pontiff. He loved gold and new wives better than the interests of the Catholic church. Reform proceeded no farther in his reign; while, on the other hand, he caused a decree to pass both houses of his timid, complying parliament, by which the doctrines of transubstantiation, the communion of one kind, the celibacy of the clergy, masses, and auricular confession, were established; and any departure from, or denial of, these subjected the offender to the punishment of death.

[Sidenote: Execution of Anne Boleyn.]

But Henry had new domestic difficulties long before the suppression of monasteries—the great political act of Thomas Cromwell. His new wife, Anne Boleyn, was suspected of the crime of inconstancy, and at the very time when she had reached the summit of power, and the gratification of all worldly wishes. She had been very vain, and fond of display and of ornaments; but the latter years of her life were marked by her munificence, and attachment to the reform doctrines. But her power ceased almost as soon as she became queen. She could win, but she could not retain, the affections of her royal husband. His passion subsided into languor, and ended in disgust. The beauty of Anne Boleyn was soon forgotten when Jane Seymour, her maid of honor, attracted the attention of Henry. To make this lady his wife now became the object of his life, and this could only be effected by the divorce of his queen, who gave occasion for scandal by the levity and freedom of her manners. Henry believed every insinuation against her, because he wished to believe her guilty. There was but a step between the belief of guilt and the resolution to destroy her. She was committed to the Tower, impeached, brought to trial, condemned without evidence, and executed without remorse. Even Cranmer, whom she had honored and befriended, dared not defend her, although he must have believed in her innocence. He knew the temper of the master whom he served too well to risk much in her defence. She was the first woman who had been beheaded in the annals of England. Not one of the Plantagenet kings ever murdered a woman. But the age of chivalry was past, and the sentiments it encouraged found no response in the bosom of such a sensual and vindictive monarch as was Henry VIII.

The very day after the execution of that accomplished lady, for whose sake the king had squandered the treasures of his kingdom, and had kept Christendom in a ferment, he married Jane Seymour, "the fairest, discreetest, and most meritorious of all his wives," as the historians say, yet a woman who did not hesitate to steal the affections of Henry and receive his addresses, while his queen was devoted to her husband. But Anne Boleyn had done so before her, and suffered a natural retribution.

Jane Seymour lived only eighteen months after her marriage, and died two days after giving birth to a son, afterwards Edward VI. She was one of those passive women who make neither friends nor enemies. She indulged in no wit or repartee, like her brilliant but less beautiful predecessor, and she passed her regal life without uttering a sentence or a sentiment which has been deemed worthy of preservation.

[Sidenote: Anne of Cleves—Catharine Howard.]

She had been dead about a month, when the king looked round for another wife, and besought Francis I. to send the most beautiful ladies of his kingdom to Calais, that he might there inspect them, and select one according to his taste. But this Oriental notion was not indulged by the French king, who had more taste and delicacy; and Henry remained without a wife for more than two years, the princesses of Europe not being very eager to put themselves in the power of this royal Bluebeard. At last, at the suggestion of Cromwell, he was affianced to Anne, daughter of the Duke of Cleves, whose home was on the banks of the Rhine, in the city of Dusseldorf.

The king no sooner set his eyes on her than he was disappointed and disgusted, and gave vent to his feelings before Cromwell, calling her a "great Flanders mare." Nevertheless, he consummated his marriage, although his disgust constantly increased. This mistake of Cromwell was fatal to his ambitious hopes. The king vented on him all the displeasure which had been gathering in his embittered soul. Cromwell's doom was sealed. He had offended an absolute monarch. He was accused of heresy and treason,—the common accusations in that age against men devoted to destruction,—tried by a servile board of judges, condemned, and judicially murdered, in 1540. In his misfortunes, he showed no more fortitude than Wolsey. The atmosphere of a court is fatal to all moral elevation.

But, before his execution, Anne of Cleves, a virtuous and worthy woman, was divorced, and Catharine Howard, granddaughter of the victor of Flodden Field, became queen of England. The king now fancied that his domestic felicity was complete; but, soon after his marriage, it was discovered that his wife had formerly led a dissolute life, and had been unfaithful also to her royal master. When the proofs of her incontinence were presented to him, he burst into a flood of tears; but soon his natural ferocity returned, and his guilty wife expiated her crime by death on the scaffold, in 1542.

Henry's sixth and last wife was Catharine Parr, relict of Lord Latimer, a woman of great sagacity, prudence, and good sense. She favored the reformers, but had sufficient address to keep her opinions from the king, who would have executed her, had he suspected her real views. She survived her husband, who died four years after her marriage, in 1547.

[Sidenote: Last Days of Henry.]

The last years of any tyrant are always melancholy, and those of Henry were embittered by jealousies and domestic troubles. His finances were deranged, his treasury exhausted, and his subjects discontented. He was often at war with the Scots, and different continental powers. He added religious persecution to his other bad traits, and executed, for their opinions, some of the best people in the kingdom. His father had left him the richest sovereign of Europe, and he had seized the abbey lands, and extorted heavy sums from his oppressed people; and yet he was poor. All his wishes were apparently gratified; and yet he was the most miserable man in his dominions. He exhausted all the sources of pleasure, and nothing remained but satiety and disgust. His mind and his body were alike diseased. His inordinate gluttony made him most inconveniently corpulent, and produced ulcers and the gout. It was dangerous to approach this "corrupt mass of dying tyranny." It was impossible to please him, and the least contradiction drove him into fits of madness and frenzy.

In his latter days, he ordered, in a fit of jealousy, the execution of the Duke of Norfolk, the first nobleman of the kingdom, who had given offence to the Earl of Hertford, uncle to the young prince of Wales, and the founder of the greatness of the Seymours. But the tyrant died before the sentence was carried into effect, much to the joy of the good people of England, whom he had robbed and massacred. Several thousands perished by the axe of the executioner during his disgraceful reign, and some of them were the lights of the age, and the glory of their country.

Tyrannical as was Henry VIII., still he ever ruled by the laws. He did not abolish parliament, or retrench its privileges. The parliament authorized all his taxes, and gave sanction to all his violent measures. The parliament was his supple instrument; still, had the parliament resisted his will, doubtless he would have dissolved it, as did the Stuart princes. But it was not, in his reign, prepared for resistance, and the king had every thing after his own way.

[Sidenote: Death of Henry VIII.]

By nature, he was amiable, generous, and munificent. But his temper was spoiled by self-indulgence and incessant flattery. The moroseness he exhibited in his latter days was partly the effect of physical disease, brought about, indeed, by intemperance and gluttony. He was faithful to his wives, so long as he lived with them; and, while he doted on them, listened to their advice. But few of his advisers dared tell him the truth; and Cranmer himself can never be exculpated from flattering his perverted conscience. No one had the courage to tell him he was dying but one of the nobles of the court. He died, in great agony, June, 1547, in the thirty-eighth year of his reign, and the fifty-sixth of his age, and was buried, with great pomp, in St. George Chapel, Windsor Castle.

* * * * *

REFERENCES.—The best English histories of the reign of Henry VIII. are the standard ones of Hume and Lingard. The Pictorial History, in spite of its pictures, is also excellent. Burnet should be consulted in reference to ecclesiastical matters, and Hallam, in reference to the constitution. See also the lives of Wolsey, Sir Thomas More, and Cranmer. The lives of Henry's queens have been best narrated by Agnes Strickland.



CHAPTER V.

EDWARD VI. AND MARY.

[Sidenote: War with Scotland.]

Henry VIII. was succeeded by his son, Edward VI., a boy of nine years of age, learned, pious, and precocious. Still he was a boy; and, as such, was a king but in name. The history of his reign is the history of the acts of his ministers.

The late king left a will, appointing sixteen persons, mostly members of his council, to be guardians of his son, and rulers of the nation during his minority. The Earl of Hertford, being uncle of the king, was unanimously named protector.

The first thing the council did was to look after themselves, that is, to give themselves titles and revenues. Hertford became Duke of Somerset; Essex, Marquis of Northampton; Lisle, Earl of Warwick; the Chancellor Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. At the head of these nobles was Somerset. He was a Protestant, and therefore prosecuted those reforms which Cranmer had before projected. Cranmer, as member of the council, archbishop of Canterbury, and friend of Somerset, had ample scope to prosecute his measures.

The history of this reign is not important in a political point of view, and relates chiefly to the completion of the reformation, and to the squabbles and jealousies of the great lords who formed the council of regency.

The most important event, of a political character, was a war with Scotland, growing out of the attempts of the late king to unite both nations under one government. In consequence, Scotland was invaded by the Duke of Somerset, at the head of eighteen thousand men. A great battle was fought, in which ten thousand of the Scots were slain. But the protector was compelled to return to England, without following up the fruits of victory, in consequence of cabals at court. His brother, Lord Seymour, a man of reckless ambition, had married the queen dowager, and openly aspired to the government of the kingdom. He endeavored to seduce the youthful king, and he had provided arms for ten thousand men.

The protector sought to win his brother from his treasonable designs by kindness and favors; but, all his measures proving ineffectual, he was arrested, tried, and executed, for high treason.

[Sidenote: Rebellions and Discontents.]

But Somerset had a more dangerous enemy than his brother; and this was the Earl of Warwick, who obtained great popularity by his suppression of a dangerous insurrection, the greatest the country had witnessed since Jack Cade's rebellion, one hundred years before. The discontent of the people appears to have arisen from their actual suffering. Coin had depreciated, without a corresponding rise of wages, and labor was cheap, because tillage lands were converted to pasturage. The popular discontent was aggravated by the changes which the reformers introduced, and which the peasantry were the last to appreciate. The priests and ejected monks increased the discontent, until it broke out into a flame.

The protector made himself unpopular with the council by a law which he caused to be passed against enclosures; and, as he lost influence, his great rival, Warwick, gained power. Somerset, at last, was obliged to resign his protectorship; and Warwick, who had suppressed the rebellion, formed the chief of a new council of regency. He was a man of greater talents than Somerset, and equal ambition, and more fitted for stormy times.

As soon as his power was established, and the country was at peace, and he had gained friends, he began to execute those projects of ambition which he had long formed. The earldom of Northumberland having reverted to the crown, Warwick aspired to the extinct title and the estates, and procured for himself a grant of the same, with the title of duke. But there still remained a bar to his elevation; and this was the opposition of the Duke of Somerset, who, though disgraced and unpopular, was still powerful. It is unfortunate to be in the way of a great man's career, and Somerset paid the penalty of his opposition—the common fate of unsuccessful rivals in unsettled times. He was accused of treason, condemned, and executed, (1552.)

[Sidenote: Rivalry of the Great Nobles.]

Northumberland, as the new dictator, seemed to have attained the highest elevation to which a subject could aspire. In rank, power, and property, he was second only to the royal family, but his ambition knew no bounds, and he began his intrigues to induce the young king, whose health was rapidly failing, and who was zealously attached to Protestantism, to set aside the succession of his sister Mary to the throne, really in view of the danger to which the reformers would be subjected, but under pretence of her declared illegitimacy, which would also set aside the claims of the Princess Elizabeth. Mary, Queen of Scots, was to be set aside on the ground of the will of the late king, and the succession would therefore devolve on the Lady Jane Grey, granddaughter of the Duke of Suffolk and of the French queen, whom he hoped to unite in marriage with his son. This was a deeply-laid scheme, and came near being successful, since Edward listened to it with pleasure. Northumberland then sought to gain over the judges and other persons of distinction, and succeeded by bribery and intimidation. At this juncture, the young king died, possessed of all the accomplishments which could grace a youth of sixteen, but still a tool in the hands of his ministers.

[Sidenote: Religious Reforms.]

Such were the political movements of this reign—memorable for the rivalries of the great nobles. But it is chiefly distinguished for the changes which were made in the church establishment, and the introduction of the principles of the continental reformers. No changes of importance were ever made beyond what Cranmer and his associates effected. Indeed, all that an absolute monarch could do, was done, and done with prudence, sagacity, and moderation. The people quietly—except in some rural districts—acquiesced in the change. Most of the clergy took the new oath of allegiance to Edward VI., as supreme head of the church; and very few suffered from religious persecution. There is no period in English history when such important changes were made, with so little bloodshed. Cranmer always watched the temper of the nation, and did nothing without great caution. Still a great change was effected—no less than a complete change from Romanism to Protestantism. But it was not so radical a reform as the Puritans subsequently desired, since the hierarchy and a liturgy, and clerical badges and dresses, were retained. It was the fortune of Cranmer, during the six years of Edward's reign, to effect the two great objects of which the English church has ever since been proud—the removal of Roman abuses, and the establishment of the creed of Luther and Calvin; and this without sweeping away the union of church and state, which, indeed, was more intimate than before the reformation. The papal power was completely subverted. Nothing more remained to be done by Cranmer. He had compiled the Book of Common Prayer, abolished the old Latin service, the worship of images, the ceremony of the mass, and auricular confessions. He turned the altars into communion tables, set up the singing of psalms in the service, caused the communion to be administered in both kinds to the laity, added the litany to the ritual, prepared a book of homilies for the clergy, invited learned men to settle in England, and magnificently endowed schools and universities.

The Reformation is divested of much interest, since it was the work of authority, rather than the result of popular convictions. But Cranmer won immortal honor for his skilful management, and for making no more changes than he could sustain. A large part of the English nation still regard his works as perfect, and are sincerely and enthusiastically attached to the form which he gave to his church.

The hopes of his party were suddenly dispelled by the death of the amiable prince whom he controlled, 6th of July, 1553. The succession to the throne fell to the Princess Mary, or, as princesses were then called, the Lady Mary; nor could all the arts of Northumberland exclude her from the enjoyment of her rights. This ambitious nobleman contrived to keep the death of Edward VI. a secret two days, and secure from the Mayor and Alderman of London a promise to respect the will of the late king. In consequence, the Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen of England. "So far was she from any desire of this advancement, that she began to act her part of royalty with many tears, thus plainly showing to those who had access to her, that she was forced by her relations and friends to this high, but dangerous post." She was accomplished, beautiful, and amiable, devoted to her young husband, and very fond of Plato, whom she read in the original.

[Sidenote: Execution of Northumberland.]

But Mary's friends exerted themselves, and her cause—the cause of legitimacy, rather than that of Catholicism—gained ground. Northumberland was unequal to this crisis, and he was very feebly sustained. His forces were suppressed, his schemes failed, and his hopes fled. From rebellion, to the scaffold, there is but a step; and this great nobleman suffered the fate of Somerset, his former rival. His execution confirms one of the most striking facts in the history of absolute monarchies, when the idea of legitimacy is firmly impressed on the national mind; and that is, that no subject, or confederacy of subjects, however powerful, stand much chance in resisting the claims or the will of a legitimate prince. A nod or a word, from such a king, can consign the greatest noble to hopeless impotence. And he can do this from the mighty and mysterious force of ideas alone. Neither king nor parliament can ever resist the omnipotence of popular ideas. When ideas establish despots on their thrones, they are safe. When ideas demand their dethronement, no forces can long sustain them. The age of Queen Mary was the period of the most unchecked absolutism in England. Mary was apparently a powerless woman when Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed queen by the party of Northumberland, and still she had but to signify her intentions to claim her rights, and the nation was prostrate at her feet. The Protestant party dreaded her accession; but loyalty was a stronger principle than even Protestantism, and she was soon firmly established in the absolute throne of Henry VIII.

Then almost immediately followed a total change in the administration, which affected both the political and religious state of the country. Those who had languished in confinement, on account of their religion, obtained their liberty, and were elevated to power. Gardiner, Bonner, and other Catholic bishops, were restored to their sees, while Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, Hooper Coverdale, and other eminent Protestants, were imprisoned. All the statutes of Edward VI. pertaining to religion were repealed, and the queen sent assurances to the pope of her allegiance to his see. Cardinal Pole, descended from the royal family of England, and a man of great probity, moderation, and worth, was sent as legate of the pope. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, was made lord chancellor, and became the prime minister. He and his associates recommended violent councils; and a reign, unparalleled in England for religious persecution, commenced.

[Sidenote: Marriage of the Queen.]

Soon after the queen's accession, she married Philip, son of the Emperor Charles, and heir of the Spanish monarchy. This marriage, brought about by the intrigues of the emperor, and favored by the Catholic party, was quite acceptable to Mary, whose issue would inherit the thrones of Spain and England. But ambitious matches are seldom happy, especially when the wife is much older than the husband, as was the fact in this instance. Mary, however, was attached to Philip, although he treated her with great indifference.

This Spanish match, the most brilliant of that age, failed, however, to satisfy the English, who had no notion of becoming the subjects of the King of Spain. In consequence of this disaffection, a rebellion broke out, in which Sir Thomas Wyatt was the most conspicuous, and in which the Duke of Suffolk, and even the Lady Jane and her husband, were implicated, though unjustly. The rebellion was easily suppressed, and the leaders sent to the Tower. Then followed one of the most melancholy executions of this reign—that of the Lady Jane Grey, who had been reprieved three months before. The queen urged the plea of self-defence, and the safety of the realm—the same that Queen Elizabeth, in after times, made in reference to the Queen of the Scots. Her unfortunate fate excited great popular compassion, and she suffered with a martyr's constancy, and also her husband—two illustrious victims, sacrificed in consequence of the ambition of their relatives, and the jealousy of the queen. The Duke of Suffolk, the father of Lady Jane, was also executed, and deserved his fate, according to the ideas of his age. The Princess Elizabeth expected also to be sacrificed, both because she was a Protestant and the next heiress to the throne. But she carefully avoided giving any offence, and managed with such consummate prudence, that she was preserved for the future glory and welfare of the realm.

[Sidenote: Religious Persecution.]

The year 1555 opened gloomily for the Protestants. The prisons were all crowded with the victims of religious persecution, and bigoted inquisitors had only to prepare their fagots and stakes. Over a thousand ministers were ejected from their livings, and such as escaped further persecution fled to the continent. No fewer than two hundred and eighty-eight persons, among whom were five bishops, twenty-one clergymen, fifty-five women, and four children, were burned for religious opinions, besides many thousands who suffered various other forms of persecution. The constancy of Ridley, Latimer, and Hooper has immortalized their names on the list of illustrious martyrs: but the greatest of all the victims was Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. The most artful and insinuating promises were held out to him, to induce him to retract. Life and dignities were promised him, if he would consent to betray his cause. In an evil hour, he yielded to the temptation, and consented to sell his soul. Timid, heartbroken, and old, the love of life and the fear of death were stronger than the voice of conscience and his duty to his God. But, when he found he was mocked, he came to himself, and suffered patiently and heroically. His death was glorious, as his life was useful; and the sincerity of his repentance redeemed his memory from shame. Cranmer may be considered as the great author of the English Reformation, and one of the most worthy and enlightened men of his age; but he was timid, politic, and time-serving. The Reformation produced no perfect characters in any country. Some great defect blemished the lives of all the illustrious men who have justly earned imperishable glory. But the character of such men as Cranmer, and Ridley, and Latimer, present an interesting contrast to those of Gardiner and Bonner. The former did show, however, some lenity in the latter years of this reign of Mary; but the latter, the Bishop of London, gloated to the last in the blood which he caused to be shed. He even whipped the Protestant prisoners with his own hands, and once pulled out the beard of an heretical weaver, and held his finger in the flame of a candle, till the veins shrunk and burnt, that he might realize what the pain of burning was. So blind and cruel is religious intolerance.

But Providence ordered that the religious persecution, which is attributed to Mary, but which, in strict justice, should be ascribed to her counsellors and ministers, should prepare the way for a popular and a spiritual movement in the subsequent reign. The fires of Smithfield, and the cruelties of the pillory and the prison, opened the eyes of the nation to the spirit of the old religion, and also caused the flight of many distinguished men to Frankfort and Geneva, where they learned the principles of both religious and civil liberty. "The blood of martyrs proved the seed of the church"—a sublime truth, revealed to Cranmer and Ridley amid the fires which consumed their venerable bodies; and not to them merely, but to all who witnessed their serenity, and heard their shouts of triumph when this mortal passed to immortality. Heretics increased with the progress of persecution, and firm conviction took the place of a blind confession of dogmas. "It was not," says Milman, "until Christ was lain in his rock-hewn sepulchre, that the history of Christianity commenced." We might add, it was not until the fires of Smithfield were lighted, that great spiritual ideas took hold of the popular mind, and the intense religious earnestness appeared which has so often characterized the English nation. The progress which man makes is generally seen through disaster, suffering, and sorrow. This is one of the fundamental truths which history teaches.

[Sidenote: Character of Mary.]

The last years of the reign of Mary were miserable to herself, and disastrous to the nation. Her royal husband did not return her warm affections, and left England forever. She embarked in a ruinous war with France, and gained nothing but disgrace. Her health failed, and her disposition became gloomy. She continued, to the last, most intolerant in her religious opinions, and thought more of restoring Romanism, than of promoting the interests of her kingdom. Her heart was bruised and broken, and her life was a succession of sorrows. It is fashionable to call this unfortunate queen the "bloody Mary," and not allow her a single virtue; but she was affectionate, sincere, high-minded, and shrunk from the dissimulation and intrigue which characterized "the virgin queen"—the name given to her masculine but energetic successor. Mary was capable of the warmest friendship; was attentive and considerate to her servants, charitable to the poor, and sympathetic with the unfortunate, when not blinded by her religious prejudices. She had many accomplishments, and a very severe taste, and was not addicted to oaths, as was Queen Elizabeth and her royal father. She was, however, a bigoted Catholic; and how could partisan historians see or acknowledge her merits?

[Sidenote: Accession of Elizabeth.]

But her reign was disastrous, and the nation hailed with enthusiasm the accession of Elizabeth, on the 17th of November, 1558. With her reign commences a new epoch, even in the history of Europe. Who does not talk of the Elizabethan era, when Protestantism was established in England, when illustrious poets and philosophers adorned the literature of the country, when commerce and arts received a great impulse, when the colonies in North America were settled, and when a constellation of great statesmen raised England to a pitch of glory not before attained?

* * * * *

REFERENCES.—See Hume's, and Lingard's, and other standard Histories of England; Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England; Burnet's History of the Reformation; Life of Cranmer; Fox's Book of Martyrs. These works contain all the easily-accessible information respecting the reigns of Edward and Mary, which is important.



CHAPTER VI.

ELIZABETH.

Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII., by Anne Boleyn, was in her twenty-sixth year when she ascended the throne. She was crowned the 15th of June, 1559, and soon assembled her parliament and selected her ministers. After establishing her own legitimacy, she set about settling the affairs of the church, but only restored the Protestant religion as Cranmer had left it. Indeed, she ever retained a fondness for ceremonial, and abhorred a reform spirit among the people. She insisted on her supremacy, as head of the church, and on conformity with her royal conscience. But she was not severe on the Catholics, and even the gluttonous and vindictive Bonner was permitted to end his days in peace.

As soon as the Protestant religion was established, the queen turned her attention towards Scotland, from which much trouble was expected.

[Sidenote: Mary, Queen of Scots.]

Scotland was then governed by Mary, daughter of James V., and had succeeded her father while a mere infant, eight days after her birth, (1542.) In 1558, she married the dauphin, afterwards King of France, by which marriage she was Queen of France as well as of Scotland.

[Sidenote: John Knox.]

According to every canonical law of the Roman church, the claim of Mary Stuart to the English throne was preferable to that of her cousin Elizabeth. Her uncles, the Guises, represented that Anne Boleyn's marriage had never been lawful, and that Elizabeth was therefore illegitimate. In an evil hour, she and her husband quartered the arms of England with their own, and assumed the titles of King and Queen of Scotland and England. And Elizabeth's indignation was further excited by the insult which the pope had inflicted, in declaring her birth illegitimate. She, therefore, resolved to gratify, at once, both her ambition and her vengeance, encouraged by her ministers, who wished to advance the Protestant interest in the kingdom. Accordingly, Elizabeth, with consummate art, undermined the authority of Mary in Scotland, now distracted by religious as well as civil commotions. Mary was a Catholic, and had a perfect abhorrence and disgust of the opinions and customs of the reformers, especially of John Knox, whose influence in Scotland was almost druidical. The Catholics resolved to punish with fire and sword, while the Protestants were equally intent on defending themselves with the sword. And it so happened that some of the most powerful of the nobility were arrayed on the side of Protestantism. But the Scotch reformers were animated with a zeal unknown to Cranmer and his associates. The leaders had been trained at Geneva, under the guidance of Calvin, and had imbibed his opinions, and were, therefore, resolved to carry the work of reform after the model of the Genevan church. Accordingly, those pictures, and statues, and ornaments, and painted glass, and cathedrals, which Cranmer spared, were furiously destroyed by the Scotch reformers, who considered them as parts of an idolatrous worship. The antipathy to bishops and clerical vestments was equally strong, and a sweeping reform was carried on under the dictatorship of Knox. Elizabeth had no more sympathy with this bold, but uncouth, reformer and his movements, than had Mary herself, and never could forgive him for his book, written at Geneva, aimed against female government, called the "First Blast of a Trumpet against the monstrous Regiment of Women." But Knox cared not for either the English or the Scottish queens, and zealously and fearlessly prosecuted his work, and gained over to his side the moral strength of the kingdom. Of course, a Catholic queen resolved to suppress his doctrines; but nearly the whole Scottish nobility rallied around his standard, marching with the Bible in one hand, and the sword in the other. The queen brought in troops from France to support her insulted and tottering government, which only increased the zeal of the Protestant party, headed by the Earls of Argyle, Arran, Morton, and Glencairn, and James Stuart, Prior of St. Andrews, who styled themselves "Lords of the Congregation." A civil war now raged in Scotland, between the queen regent, who wished to suppress the national independence, and extinguish the Protestant religion, and the Protestants, who comprised a great part of the nation, and who were resolved on the utter extirpation of Romanism and the limitation of the regal power. The Lords of the Congregation implored the aid of England, which Elizabeth was ready to grant, both from political and religious motives. The Protestant cause was in the ascendant, when the queen regent died, in 1560. The same year died Francis II., of France; and Mary, now a widow, resolved to return to her own kingdom. She landed at Leith, August, 1561, and was received with the grandest demonstration of joy. For a time, affairs were tolerably tranquil, Mary having intrusted the great Protestant nobles with power. She was greatly annoyed, however, by Knox, who did not treat her with the respect due to a queen, and who called her Jezebel; but the reformer escaped punishment on account of his great power.

[Sidenote: Marriage of Mary—Darnley.]

In 1565, Mary married her cousin, Lord Darnley, son of the Earl of Lennox,—a match exceedingly distasteful to Elizabeth, who was ever jealous of Mary, especially in matrimonial matters, since the Scottish queen had not renounced her pretensions to the throne of her grandfather, Henry VII. The character of Elizabeth now appears in its worst light; and meanness and jealousy took the place of that magnanimity which her admirers have ascribed to her. She fomented disturbances in Scotland, and incited the queen's natural brother, the Prior of St. Andrews, now Earl of Murray, to rebellion, with the expectation of obtaining the government of the country. He formed a conspiracy to seize the persons of Mary and her husband. The plot was discovered, and Murray fled to England; but it was still unremittingly pursued, till at length it was accomplished.

Darnley, the consort of Mary, was a man of low tastes, profligate habits, and shallow understanding. Such a man could not long retain the affections of the most accomplished woman of her age, accustomed to flattery, and bent on pursuing her own pleasure, at any cost. Disgust and coldness therefore took place. Darnley, enraged at this increasing coldness, was taught to believe that he was supplanted in the queen's affections by an Italian favorite, the musician Rizzio, whom Mary had made her secretary. He therefore signed a bond, with certain lords, for the murder of the Italian, who seems to have been a man of no character. One evening, as the queen was at supper, in her private apartment, with the countess of Argyle and Rizzio, the Earl of Morton, with one hundred and sixty men, took possession of the palace of Holyrood, while Darnley himself showed the way to a band of ruffians to the royal presence. Rizzio was barbarously murdered in the presence of the queen, who endeavored to protect him.

Darnley, in thus perpetrating this shocking murder, was but the tool of some of the great lords, who wished to make him hateful to the queen, and to the nation, and thus prepare the way for his own execution. And they succeeded. A plot was contrived for the murder of Darnley, of which Murray was probably the author. Shortly after, the house, in which he slept, was blown up by gunpowder, in the middle of the night.

[Sidenote: Bothwell—Civil War in Scotland.]

The public voice imputed to the Earl of Bothwell, a great favorite of the queen, the murder of Darnley. Nor did the queen herself escape suspicion. "But no inquiry or research," says Scott, "has ever been able to bring us either to that clear opinion upon the guilt of Mary which is expressed by many authors, or guide us to that triumphant conclusion in favor of her innocence of all accession, direct or tacit, to the death of her husband, which others have maintained with the same obstinacy." But whatever doubt exists as to the queen's guilt, there is none respecting her ministers—Maitland, Huntley, Morton, and Argyle. Still they offered a reward of two thousand pounds for the discovery of the murderers. The public voice accused Bothwell as the principal: and yet the ministers associated with him, and the queen, entirely exculpated him. He was brought to a trial, on the formal accusation of the Earl of Lennox, in the city of Edinburgh, which he was permitted to obtain possession of. In a place guarded by his own followers, it was not safe for any witnesses to appear against him, and he was therefore acquitted, though the whole nation believed him guilty.

Mary was rash enough to marry, shortly after, the man whom public opinion pronounced to be the murderer of her husband; and Murray, her brother, was so ambitious and treacherous, as to favor the marriage, with the hope that the unpopularity of the act would lead to the destruction of the queen, and place him at the helm of state. No sooner was Mary married to Bothwell, than Murray and other lords threw off the mask, pretended to be terribly indignant, took up arms against the queen, with the view of making her prisoner, and with the pretence of delivering her from her husband. Bothwell escaped to Norway, and the queen surrendered herself, at Carberry Hill, to the insurgent army, the chiefs of which instantly assumed the reins of government, and confined the queen in the castle of Lochleven, and treated her with excessive harshness. Shortly after, (1567,) she resigned her crown to her infant son, and Murray, the prime mover of so many disturbances, became regent of the kingdom. Murray was a zealous Protestant, and had the support of Knox in all his measures, and the countenance of the English ministry. Abating his intrigue and ambition, he was a most estimable man, and deserved the affections of the nation, which he retained until his death. M'Crie, in his Life of Knox, represents him as a model of Christian virtue and integrity, and every way worthy of the place he held in the affections of his party.

[Sidenote: Captivity of Queen Mary.]

The unfortunate queen suffered great unkindness in her lonely confinement, and Knox, with the more zealous of his party, clamored for her death, as an adulteress and a murderer. She succeeded in escaping from her prison, raised an army, marched against the regent, was defeated at the battle of Langside, fled to England, and became, May, 1568, the prisoner-guest of her envious rival. Elizabeth obtained the object of her desires. But the captivity of Mary, confined in Tutbury Castle, against all the laws of hospitality and justice, gave rise to incessant disturbances, both in England and Scotland, until her execution, in 1587. And these form no inconsiderable part of the history of England for seventeen years. Scotland was the scene of anarchy, growing out of the contentions and jealousies of rival chieftains, who stooped to every crime that appeared to facilitate their objects. In 1570, the regent Murray was assassinated. He was succeeded by his enemy, the Earl of Lennox, who, in his turn, was shot by an assassin. The Earl of Mar succeeded him, but lived only a year. Morton became regent, the reward of his many crimes but retribution at last overtook him, being executed when James assumed the sovereignty.

[Sidenote: Execution of Mary.]

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Mary pined in hopeless captivity. It was natural for her to seek release, and also for her friends to help her. Among her friends was the Duke of Norfolk, the first nobleman in England, and a zealous Catholic. He aspired to her hand; but Elizabeth chose to consider his courtship as a treasonable act, and Norfolk was arrested. On being afterwards released, he plotted for the liberation of Mary, and his intrigues brought him to the block. The unfortunate captive, wearied and impatient, naturally sought the assistance of foreign powers. She had her agents in Rome, France, Spain, and the Low Countries. The Catholics in England espoused her cause, and a conspiracy was formed to deliver her, assassinate Elizabeth, and restore the Catholic religion. From the fact that Mary was privy to that part of it which concerned her own deliverance, she was brought to trial as a criminal, found guilty by a court incompetent to sit on her case, and executed without remorse, 8th February, 1587.

Few persons have excited more commiseration than this unfortunate queen, both on account of her exalted rank, and her splendid intellectual accomplishments. Whatever obloquy she merited for her acts as queen of Scotland, no one can blame her for meditating escape from the power of her zealous but more fortunate rival; and her execution is the greatest blot in the character of the queen of England, at this time in the zenith of her glory.

Next to the troubles with Scotland growing out of the interference of Elizabeth, the great political events of the reign were the long and protracted war with Spain, and the Irish rebellion. Both of these events were important.

Spain was at this time governed by Philip II., son of the emperor Charles, one of the most bigoted Catholics of the age, and allied with Catharine de Medicis of France for the entire suppression of Protestantism. She incited her son Charles IX. to the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and Philip established the inquisition in Flanders. This measure provoked an insurrection, to suppress which the Duke of Alva, one of the most celebrated of the generals of Charles V., was sent into the Netherlands with a large army, and almost unlimited powers. The cruelties of Alva were unparalleled. In six years, eighteen thousand persons perished by the hands of the executioner, and Alva counted on the entire suppression of Protestantism by the mere force of armies. He could count the physical resources of the people, but he could not estimate the degree of their resistance when animated by the spirit of liberty or religion. Providence, too, takes care of those who strive to take care of themselves. A great leader appeared among the suffering Hollanders, almost driven to despair—the celebrated William of Nassau, Prince of Orange. He appeared as the champion of the oppressed and insulted people; they rallied around his standard, fought with desperate bravery, opened the dikes upon their cultivated fields, expelled their invaders, and laid the foundation of their liberties. But they could not have withstood the gigantic power of the Spanish monarchy, then in the fulness of its strength, and the most powerful in Europe, had it not been for aid rendered by Elizabeth. She compassionated their sufferings, and had respect for their cause. She entered into an alliance, defensive and offensive, and the Netherlands became the great theatre of war, even after they had thrown off the Spanish yoke. Although the United Provinces in the end obtained their liberty, they suffered incredible hardships, and lost some of the finest of their cities, Antwerp among the rest, long the rival of Amsterdam, and the scene of Rubens's labors.