own ambition, had been the cause of her fault. Her father was beheaded soon after; and the queen became so suspicious of almost every body, that she filled the prisons with nobles and gentlemen.

The time now arrived that had been fixed for the archduke's coming to England; but the admiral of the fleet which Mary had sent to escort him dared not take him on board, lest the sailors should commit some violence against him. Such was the detestation in which he was held.-At last he arrived: the marriage was celebrated at Westminster, and Philip, by his distant and reserved behaviour, increased the previous dislike of the English.

From this time the chief business of parliament was to guard against the encroachments of Philip; while Mary's only anxiety was to increase the power and influence of a husband, on whom she doted with a troublesome fondness, though he, on his part, could with difficulty conceal his own dislike to his unengaging partner. On one subject, however, they were perfectly agreed, namely, in the desire to extirpate heresy, by the most violent and sanguinary measures. Gardiner willingly entered into their views; but finding this work of cruelty more arduous than he had expected, he made it over to Bonner, a man of such inhumanity of nature that he even delighted to see the dying agonies of the sufferers; and would often take on himself the office of executioner, adding to the misery of the poor creatures who suffered, by a mockery and

levity, which, had it not been asserted by writers of undoubted credit, one would have thought impossible.

In the course of the next three years, nearly three hundred persons were burned alive, martyrs to their religion; many more suffered imprisonments, fines, and lesser punishments. Those two venerable and pious men, Latimer and Ridley, were amongst the first who perished, and they died exhorting each other to faith and courage. They were burnt, in the year 1555, in the public street at Oxford, near Baliol College. Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was another martyr. When he was tied to the stake, and the faggots heaped about him, the queen's pardon was placed on a stool before him, and, if he would have recanted, he might have stretched out his hand to take the pardon; but he rejected it on such a condition, and died without uttering a groan. If these scenes fill us with horror at the wickedness of Mary and her ministers, they also make us revere the constancy of the sufferers, who, sustained by faith and hope, could thus abide, without a groan, the horrors of a death of extreme torture. Far from extirpating the Protestant religion, these barbarities only set the hearts of the people the more resolutely against a church which could sanction such cruelty. The English law in regard to heretics was nevertheless too mild to satisfy the ferocity of Philip, and he made an at

tempt to introduce the Inquisition into England, but happily without success.

At the time when these executions took place, Gardiner also died; and the circumstances of his death are so remarkable, that I will detail them to you. Such was his inveteracy against Latimer and Ridley, that, on the day on which these two venerable and pious men were to be put to death, he made a vow that he would not have his dinner served up, until a messenger should arrive to inform him that fire was set to the faggots, with which they were to be burned. Though the messenger did not arrive so soon as was expected, Gardiner would not break his vow, but kept the old duke of Norfolk, who was that day his guest, waiting from eleven (the then usual dinner-hour) till three o'clock; but when the desired intelligence arrived, and dinner was served up, Gardiner did not partake of it; for he was taken suddenly ill and carried to his bed, from which he never rose. He was succeeded as chancellor by Heath, archbishop of York, a man of slender abilities, but of a furious zeal.

Gardiner's death hastened that of Cranmer. The new chancellor made no opposition to the queen's wish that he should be put to death, and he was condemned to be burned at Oxford. But the queen's resentment against him went even further; she wished to degrade him in the eyes of the whole world, and employed people to flatter him into be

lieving, that his life was so valuable to his country, that he ought to save it, if possible; and she also authorized them to promise him a pardon, if he would recant,—a promise never meant to be kept. In a moment of weakness the archbishop yielded to these insinuations, and signed a paper, in which he avowed his belief in the pope's supremacy, and in transubstantiation; but Mary sent him word this should not save his life, and that he must acknowledge his errors in the church, before the whole people.

The strength of Cranmer's mind now returned; and, when he was brought forth to the church to make his public recantation, instead of doing so, he bitterly bewailed his momentary weakness, and asserted his firm belief in the Protestant faith. He was immediately led forth to execution, and, when the faggots were set on fire, he stretched out his right hand, with which he had signed the paper, and held it in the flames until it was totally consumed, without betraying any symptom of pain, saying frequently, "This hand has offended;" then, as if his mind was more at ease for having made this atonement, his countenance became full of peaceful serenity, and he appeared insensible to all worldly suffering.

The next day the cardinal de la Pole was made archbishop of Canterbury, and he showed so much lenity towards the Protestants as to excite the displeasure of the pope.

Philip, who had soon become weary of England, went, in 1555, to Flanders; and the queen, seeing herself treated by him with indifference and neglect, spent her time in tears and lamentations, and in writing long letters to him, which he never answered, and, perhaps, never read. The more he slighted her, the more she doted on him, and to procure money, in the hope of winning him back by supplying him with it, she loaded the people with taxes.

In 1556, the emperor Charles V., wearied with the toils of royalty, which his intriguing and ambitious spirit had made a greater burden to him than to the generality of monarchs, took the extraordinary resolution of retiring from the bustle of the world to the retirement of a monastery, and resigned all his dominions to his son. Philip, who had his father's ambition, but not his talents, immediately declared war against France, and he expected England should do the same; but, the Spanish yoke being more than ever disliked, the queen could not prevail with her council to give their consent to infringe the peace. When Philip, however, came to London, and protested that he would never again set foot in England unless war was declared with France, the queen, almost frantic, pressed the matter so urgently, as to overcome the reluctance of the council. War was declared. Mary, who had already exhausted her resources in furnishing Philip with money, resorted to the