# History of England (Froude)/Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII.
SCOTLAND AND IRELAND.
WHOEVER has attended but a little to the phenomena of human nature has discovered how inadequate is the clearest insight which he can hope to attain into character and disposition. Every one is a perplexity to himself and a perplexity to his neighbours; and men who are born in the same generation, who are exposed to the same influences, trained by the same teachers, and live from childhood to age in constant and familiar intercourse, are often little more than shadows to each other, intelligible in superficial form and outline, but divided inwardly by impalpable and mysterious barriers.
And if from those whom we daily meet, whose features are before our eyes, and whose minds we can probe with questions, we are nevertheless thus separated, how are the difficulties of the understanding increased when we are looking back from another age, with no better assistance than books, upon men who played their parts upon the earth under other outward circumstances, with other beliefs, other habits, other modes of thought, other principles of judgment! We see beings like ourselves, ​and yet different from ourselves. Here they are acting upon motives which we comprehend; there, though we try as we will, no feeling will answer in unison. The same actions which at one time are an evidence of inhumanity may arise in another out of mercy and benevolence. Laws which, in the simpler stages of society, are rational and useful, become mischievous when the problem which they were meant to solve has been complicated by new elements. And as the old man forgets his childhood—as the grown man and the youth rarely comprehend each other—as the Englishman and the Frenchman, with the same reasoning faculties, do not reason to the same conclusions—so is the past a perplexity to the present; it lies behind us as an enigma, easy only to the vain and unthinking, and only half solved after the most earnest efforts of intellectual sympathy, alike in those who read and those who write.
Such an effort of sympathy, the strongest which can be made, I have now to demand on behalf of Scotland, that marvellous country so fertile in genius and chivalry. so fertile in madness and crime, where the highest heroism coexisted with preternatural ferocity; yet where the vices were the vices of strength, and the one virtue of indomitable courage was found alike in saint and sinner. Often the course of this history will turn aside from the broad river of English life to where the torrents are leaping, passion-swollen, down from the northern hills. It will open out many a scene of crime and terror; and again, from time to time, it will lead us up into the keen air, where the pleasant mountain breezes ​are blowing, and the blue sky is smiling cheerily. But turn where it may in the story of Scotland, weakness is nowhere; power, energy, and will are everywhere. Sterile as the landscape where it will first unfold itself, we shall watch the current winding its way with expanding force and features of enlarging magnificence, till at length the rocks and rapids will have passed—the stream will have glided down into the plain to the meeting of the waters, from which, as from a new fountain, the united fortunes of Great Britain flow on to their unknown destiny.
Experience sufficiently stern had convinced the English Government that their northern neighbours would never stoop to the supremacy which they had inflicted upon Wales. The Welsh were Celts, a failing and inferior race. The lowland Scots were Teutons, like the Saxons; and a people who showed resolutely that they would die to the last man before they would acquiesce in servitude; that they might be exterminated, but could not be subdued. After the battle of Bannockburn the impossible task had been tacitly relinquished, and the separate existence of Scotland as an independent kingdom was no longer threatened. The effects of the attempts of the Edwards, nevertheless, survived their failure. The suspicions remained, though the causes had ceased; and though of the same race with the English, speaking the same language, and living for the most part under the same institutions, the Scots, as a security for their freedom, contracted a permanent alliance with 'the antient enemies' of their rivals across ​the Channel, and settled into an attitude of determined, and only occasionally suspended, hostility against the 'Southrons.' For twenty miles on either side of the Border there grew up a population who were trained from their cradles in licensed marauding. Nominal amity between the two countries operated as but a slight check upon habits inveterately lawless; and though the Governments affected to keep order, they could not afford to be severe upon offences committed in time of peace, by men on whom they chiefly depended for the defence of the frontiers in war. The scanty families in the fortified farms and granges in Roxburgh and Northumberland slept with their swords under their pillows, and their horses saddled in their stables. The blood of the children by the fireside was stirred by tales of wild adventure in song and story; and perhaps for two centuries no boy ever grew to man's estate, along a strip of land forty miles across and joining the two seas, who had not known the midnight terror of a blazing homestead—who had not seen his father or brother ride out at dusk harnessed and belted for some night foray, to be brought back before morning gory and stark across his saddle, and been roused from his bed by his mother to swear with his child lips a vow of revenge over the corpse. And the fierce feuds of the moss-troopers were but an expression in its extreme form of the animosities between the two nations. The English hated Scotland because Scotland had successfully defied them: the Scots hated England as an enemy on the watch to make them slaves. The hereditary ​hostility strengthened with time, and each generation added fresh injuries to the accumulation of bitterness.
Fortunately for mankind the relations between nations are not eventually determined by sentiment and passion. The mutual sufferings inflicted by the existing condition of things produced its effect in minds where reason was admitted to influence; and after the accession of the Tudors to the English throne there grew up in the princes and ministers of the new dynasty a desire to prepare the way for a union of the kingdoms. As more roads were opened, and intercourse between place and place became more easy, the geographical position of the two countries was more sensitively felt. Two nations in one small island must either be friends or they would eventually destroy each other; and in an intermittent period of quiet.which followed the exposure of Perkin Warbeok's imposture, Henry VII. succeeded in arranging a marriage between the fourth James Stuart and his daughter Margaret. A commencement was thus happily formed, and a better feeling began to make its way. But the fair weather was of brief duration. On the breaking out of the war of 1513 between France and England, the usual overtures were made to the Scottish King from the Court of Paris. The old associations were appealed to with the usual success. Fatally for himself—fatally for his country—James invaded Northumberland in the absence of his brotherin-law, and Scotland paid for his fault in the defeat of Flodden, in which the King and the flower of the nobility perished miserably.
​By this overwhelming blow the Scots were prostrated; and Henry VIII., returning from victory in France with an ample exchequer and the martial spirit of the English thoroughly roused, might with no great difficulty have repeated the successes of Edward I. He could have overrun the Lowlands, have stormed or starved out the fortresses and placed Southern garrisons in them, and thus have for the time provided one solution of the Scottish difficulty. But Henry profited by Edward's ultimate failures. He was aware that he might succeed for a time, but he was aware also that such success was really none; and he took advantage of the depression of the nation which followed Flodden rather to conciliate their friendship by forbearance than to pursue his advantage by force. The dead King had left two sons—the eldest, James V., then but two years old; the second an infant. In a Parliament held after the battle, the widowed Queen Margaret was declared Regent; the Government was re-established without interference from England, yet indirectly under English influence; and, by a judicious temperance at a critical time, the nucleus of a Southern party was formed at the Court which never after was wholly dissolved.
The time, however, was still far distant when the national enmity could even begin really to yield, and the French faction would, sooner or later, have recovered from the unpopularity which had followed upon their great disaster. A reaction at last could not have been avoided, but it arrived sooner than was anticipated through the conduct of the Queen Regent. Margaret ​of England, whose life and behaviour reflect little credit either on her country or her lineage, within a year of her husband's death married the young Earl of Angus, the head of the house of Douglas. Her tenure of power had been limited to her widowhood. The Scottish lords could not tolerate in one of themselves the position of husband of the Regent, and a second Parliament immediately pronounced her deposition, and called in as her successor the late King's cousin, 1515.the Duke of Albany, who, in the event of the deaths of the two princes, stood next in blood to the Crown. Albany, who had lived from his infancy on the Continent—French in his character and French in his sympathies—brought with him a revolution inimical in every way to English interests. His conduct soon gave rise to the gravest alarm. The royal children were taken from the custody of their mother, who with her husband was obliged for a time to find refuge in England; and the Duke of Rothsay, the younger of the two, dying immediately after, suspicions of murder were naturally aroused. The prince was openly said to have been assassinated; the remaining brother who lay between Albany and the Crown it was expected would soon follow; and a tragedy would be repeated which England as well as Scotland had too lately witnessed.
​The sustained and powerful remonstrances of Henry at the Court of France at length produced an effect. Albany remained nominally Regent, and French garrisons were maintained in Dunbar and Dumbarton; but he was obliged to leave Scotland. Margaret and her husband had previously been enabled to return, and the country was governed by a congress of deputies, consisting of Angus, the Earls of Arran, Huntley, and Argyle, and the Archbishops of St Andrew's and Glasgow. This arrangement was a compromise which could be of no long continuance. The Archbishop of St Andrew's, James Beton, was devoted to France; Angus was true to England; while in spite of a superficial reconciliation, a blood- feud, deep and ineffaceable, divided the Douglases and the Hamiltons. For centuries the law in Scotland had been too weak to reach the heads of powerful clans or families. The great nobles avenged their own injuries by their own swords; and, where justice could only be executed by crime, each act of violence provoked fresh retaliation. A plot was laid by the Earl of Arran, supported by Beton, to seize Angus in Edinburgh. The latter had with him but a small train of half-armed followers, not more than eighty or a hundred; but they were all knights and gentlemen; they were popular in the city; and, when the fray commenced, the citizens, seeing them defending themselves with their swords, reached them lances out of the windows. The Douglases gained the advantage; and after ​a severe skirmish, in which Sir Patrick Hamilton, Arran's brother, was killed, the defeated Earl and his confederates escaped for their lives, and Angus remained master of the field and of the Government.
But the oscillations of fortune were rapid, and again Queen Margaret's conduct was the cause of a change most adverse to the interests which she ought to have defended. She had married hastily, and as hastily grown weary of her choice. She had allowed the Duke of Albany, after her return from England, to steal his way into her affections. She had exposed herself to dishonourable remarks, which she shaped her behaviour laboriously to justify; 1521.and failing, through the bad terms on which she had placed herself with Angus, to recover her authority as Regent, she united with the faction of the defeated lords, and wrote to the King of France, entreating him, if he valued the regard of the people, to restore the Duke.
Francis at once acquiesced. He was himself on the edge of a rupture with England. The opportunity of securing his old allies was not to be neglected; and again the Duke of Albany appeared in Edinburgh. The old Scotch jealousies were blown into flame. The cry was raised that the country was betrayed to slavery ​by the Douglas; and, as the Regent resumed his power, Angus was again banished. The revolution was complete, but, as before, it was transient. Henry treated the reappearance of so dangerous a person as a breach of an engagement with himself. He despatched a herald to require the Duke's departure, and the demand being disregarded, he refused to acknowledge a peace with Scotland while Scotland acknowledged Albany, The Borders on both sides were wasted with the usual recklessness; the Regent levied an army to invade England. But he was one of those imbecile persons who can take no advantage of the turns of fortune; his musters forsook him as incapable; and a truce being arranged for a few months, he stole away once more into France for direction and assistance.
His weakness in the midst of danger, and his haste to escape from it, slackened the enthusiasm which had been raised for him; Henry took the opportunity of his absence to make another effort at conciliation. Preparing for either alternative which the Scots might prefer, he sent Lord Surrey to the Border with ten thousand men, while, with a practical and statesmanlike moderation, he followed his father's policy, and offered them an alliance which, had it been accepted, would have been a noble termination of the quarrel. The vanity of the weaker nation might be flattered with the thought that they had given a king to their haughty neighbours. Henry at that time possessed but a single daughter. He proposed that she should be betrothed to James, and the uncertainties of the succession might be determined at ​once and for ever. Should the Princess Mary die, and the Scottish sovereign claim to inherit as a right, every English sword would be drawn to resist him; could the betrothal be arranged, he might come in peaceably under a parliamentary sanction, and the enmity of centuries would terminate in the union of the Crocus. 'It was not his fault,' Henry wrote to the Scottish council, 'that there was not perpetual amity between the two kingdoms;' he was not seeking to gratify any poor ambition. He desired nothing but the real welfare of Scotland; and 'the Scots, if they accepted his proposal, would not come over to the Government of the English, but the English to that of the Scots.'
Although the Earl of Angus was in exile, there were statesmen in Edinburgh not wholly deaf to reasonable arguments. In a discussion of the English overtures, it was admitted that, after all, the Scots and English were one people, 'born in the same island, brought up under the same climate, agreeing in language, manners, laws, and customs.' They were rather one nation than two, while they differed from the French in soil and climate, and character. The hostility of France could not injure Scotland; the friendship of France could scarcely be of benefit to her; while England must be either her most valuable ally or most dangerous enemy. But although reason could make itself heard, sentiment was still too strong for it. Constant, like the English, to their traditionary habits, the ​majority of the Edinburgh convention adhered to their foreign associations; and their patriotism was judiciously kept alive by gratuities and pensions. Prudence was thrust aside. The Estates remained faithful to Albany and to Francis, and defied Henry to do his worst against them. The Duke meanwhile had transferred his inclination to a fresh mistress. Margaret, jealous and exasperated, was no longer under a temptation to be false to her brother, and kept the Earl of Surrey informed of the disposition of the nobility. They were careless, she said, of the hurt which he might do upon the Borders, knowing that the Borderers could retaliate in kind. She urged his advance upon Edinburgh, where a thousand men with artillery would make the Parliament vote as he pleased. The military judgment of Margaret was on a par perhaps with the rest of her understanding. Surrey, besides, was unprovided with stores or means of transport for so long an expedition. Instead of marching on Edinburgh, he confined himself to the districts which paid habitually ​for the nation's offences. September.He carried fire and sword through Teviotdale, as soon as the harvest had been gathered in, and could be utterly destroyed; he burnt Jedburgh, and remained for some days within the Scotch frontier wasting and pillaging.
October.At length, in October, Albany came back in high hopes and confidence, this time bringing with him six thousand French men-at-arms. The exasperation of the people with the English increased the cordiality with which he was received, and hastily placing himself at the head of as large a force as could be collected, he marched immediately to the Borders, expecting, or being expected, to revenge Jedburgh and destroy Surrey. But Albany was a man who carried failure written in his very demeanour. 'When he doth hear anything contrarious to his pleasures,' Lord Surrey said, 'his manner is to take his bonnet suddenly off his head and throw it in the fire. My Lord Dacre doth affirm that at his being last in Scotland he did burn above a dozen bonnets in that manner.' This was not a temper to cope successfully with the ablest of living generals. 'If he be such a man,' Surrey wisely judged, 'with God's grace, we shall speed the better with him.'
The weather was foul.… Snow had already fallen heavily, and the rivers were swollen and dangerous; but Surrey's name was a talisman in the northern counties.… Lord Dorset, Lord Latimer, the Earl of ​Northumberland, Darcy, Clifford, and all the gentlemen of Yorkshire hastened to the rescue. The musters of Lancashire, Cheshire, Nottingham, and Derby were not far behind: a second Flodden was looked for—an action so considerable as should decide the fate of Scotland for the lifetime of the existing generation. The only fear in the English camp was that Albany's courage would fail him. The Scotch army came down upon the Tweed opposite Newark, which was held by Sir William Lisle and a small garrison. The river was high, but Albany had guns with him, which played on the castle across the water. A detachment of the French came over in boats, and, under cover of the fire, attempted to storm. They were beaten off with loss; and an express having been sent off to Surrey, the ​whole English, power came up with forced marches. 'In all my life,' said the gallant Earl, 'I never saw so many Englishmen so well willed as those who were with me, from the highest to the lowest.'
The Scots were as eager as their enemies. 'The gentlemen of the Border' gathered about Albany, entreating him to do something worthy of his mighty preparations, and give them their revenge for their wasted harvests and blackened villages. But at the prospect of a general action the Duke's cowardice was too much for him. An order was issued for retreat; and, in their rage and disappointment, 'the said gentlemen being evil contented,' tore the badges of their craven Regent from their breasts, and dashed them on the ground. 'By God's blood,' they cried, 'we will never serve you more. Would to God we were all sworn English.'
Albany's disgrace was followed by universal disruption. Henry again offered peace, on condition of his expulsion; while the Regent and his friends imagined measure after measure, which they wanted resolution to execute. But their despair was dangerous; and in the failure of their open policy they were tempted to fall back upon crime. NovemberThe Queen sent warning that the life of the young King was in danger. December.In the beginning of December it was expected either that he would be poisoned ​or that Albany would carry him away to France. On the 27th a stormy council was held at Stirling, where Albany attempted his usual shift in difficulty, and required five months' leave of absence to go to Paris. This time the nobles refused to be left to bear the consequences of the Regent's weakness. If he went again, his departure should be final; nor should he depart at all, unless the French garrisons were withdrawn. The Duke, 'in marvellous great anger and foam,' agreed to remain; but his cause sank daily, and misfortunes thickened about him. He was without the means to support the French auxiliaries, they were obliged to shift as they could for their own security. Some escaped to their own country; others, sent away in unseaworthy vessels, were driven among the Western Islands, engaged in piracy, and were destroyed in detail. MayAt length, for the last time, on the 20th of May, Albany turned his back upon the country with which he had connected himself only to his own and others' misery. He sailed away, and came again no more.
The friends of the English alliance were now ​recovering the ascendant. The young King was twelve years old. It was concerted between Margaret and Henry that the minority should be considered at this point to have expired. No fresh regency should be established, and the Government should be conducted in the King's own name. James was in Stirling Castle, virtually a prisoner in the hands of the Duke of Albany's friends. Henry wrote to him with encouragement and promises of help; and the queen-mother, pressing to know explicitly to what extent she might rely on support from England if she attempted a coup d'état, was told that she might expect unlimited assistance in men, in money, and in advice, which she equally needed. This was enough. July.On the 26th of July she escaped through Stirling gates, carrying her son with her, and made her way to Edinburgh. A convention of the lords was immediately summoned; and with almost unanimous consent they pronounced the Regent deposed, and swore fealty to the King. The Archbishop of St Andrew's and the Bishop of Aberdeen, who alone remained constant to Erance, were committed to custody in Edinburgh Castle. Negotiations were at once set on foot for the betrothal of James and the Princess Mary, and now at length all obstacles seemed to be removed, and quarrels five centuries old promised to be finally buried.
Scotland has suffered much from vicious queens. The licentiousness of a profligate woman was permitted to spoil the opportunity and obscure the clearing sky. The Earl of Angus, on hearing of the revolution, left ​France, and repaired with his brother, Sir George Douglas, to the English Court, preparatory to his return to his own country. Margaret, whose honour had already once been compromised, had again, in the first giddiness of her success, committed herself in such a manner as to make the reappearance of her husband the worst of misfortunes. She had surrounded herself with a circle of frivolous young men, the most worthless of whom, Henry Stewart, afterwards Lord Methuen, she had chosen as her peculiar favourite. Careless alike of her good name, her interest, or even of ordinary decency, she dared to write to her brother, threatening that, if Angus was again forced upon her, she would turn elsewhere for help before she would allow him 'to trouble her in her living.' She affected to colour her objections with stories of Angus's injuries to herself, and of his unpopularity with the nobles. Her liaison with Stewart being as yet a secret from the world, the English Government did not understand the motive of her urgency: they were anxious to avoid fresh complications or difficulties; and Wolsey replied that, if the return of Angus was so distasteful to her, he would find some pretext to detain him in London till affairs had settled down into a more regular train. At the particular moment both Henry and his minister were desirous to be on good terms with the queen-mother, in the hope that through her influence they might obtain possession of the persons of the two imprisoned bishops, ​whose French, tendencies they dreaded, and for whom Berwick appeared a more secure place of confinement than Edinburgh.'
This, however, was not easy. Margaret was now the instrument of her paramour, and politically was again not to be depended on. She pretended, and perhaps with justice, that the Scotch council would never entrust to the English Government the custody of their own State-prisoners; but she was entangled in her private intrigues, and Methuen and his friends preferred to retain in their hands the means of making themselves formidable. September.The Earl of Surrey, now Duke of Norfolk, began, to comprehend the Queen's character, and with the assistance of spies to understand her motives. So far from Angus being unpopular, he ascertained that half the realm would take his part if he returned, and he suggested to Wolsey that it would be well if a priest could be found to give Margaret some wholesome counsel. She was playing an underhand game with the Harniltons in order to be secured from her husband; 'the grudge was universal against her for her ungodly living' and open infidelity. The extent of her fault was even yet scarcely credited at the English Court; but at least it was not thought desirable to detain Angus longer. Both he and his brother were impatient to be again in Scotland. The Earl promised Henry that he would not force himself into his sister's presence without her consent; that in any disputes ​which might arise with her he would submit to be guided by the English Government, he would forget his personal feuds and quarrels, and would bend himself wholly to carry out the policy which he had learnt to be best for his country. Sir George Douglas accepted the same obligations, and under these engagements the brothers repaired to the Border to the English camp, and Norfolk was directed to interpose no obstacle in the way of their return.
And in Scotland there was no little need of the presence of honourable men. The nobles were playing severally their own game for their own advantage. Such government as existed was conducted by the Earl of Arran and the Queen; the Hamiltons were altogether French; and Margaret, in whom hatred of her husband and an infatuated passion for Methuen had superseded every other consideration, had fallen off, as she had threatened, in the same direction. October 6.As soon as she was assured that Angus was really on his way, she threw off all concealment. She wrote insolently to the Duke of Norfolk, saying that the King of England might act as he pleased, but he would do wisely to consider other interests besides the pleasure of Lord Angus; 'and as to my part,' she added, 'if his desires be more regarded than mine, I will labour no more to the pleasure of the King my brother, but look the best way I may for myself.' Acting upon her menace, she released the imprisoned prelates from the ​Castle: David Beton, the nephew of the Archbishop of St Andrew's, was accredited to the Court of France: again the stone which had been dragged with so much labour to the crest of the hill, was bounding helplessly back into the plain.
Opposition of policy in Scotland generally, when it grew hot, took the form of an attempt at assassination. Before the approaching return of the Douglases had been announced, the Earls of Lennox, Argyle, Murray, and Glencairn, the leaders in the absence of Angus of the English faction, informed the Duke of Norfolk that, if he was detained any further, they did not intend to tolerate the present scandalous Government. Angus, if he came, could give peace to Scotland; but, peace or no peace, there should be a change of some kind. They might have waited his arrival but for the haste of the Queen. The liberation of the bishops, however, put an end to their forbearance. Lennox collected five hundred horse three miles from Edinburgh. They had scaling ladders ready prepared, and the intention was to surprise Holyrood and kill Arran; and probably Methuen. The design was well laid, and would in all likelihood have succeeded, but it was betrayed by the treachery of a confederate; a certain 'unhappy James Pringle,' as Norfolk called him, in deep regret at the ​failure, 'let a good deed to have been done for the welfare of Scotland and of England.'
Lennox having missed his aim, the Government sat the firmer in their seats for it, especially as having earned the support of the Church by the release of the Archbishop. Dr Magnus, an English diplomatist, had been sent by Henry to observe and report on his sister's conduct and, if possible, reconcile her with her husband. He reached Edinburgh at the end of October, and on the 1st of November was admitted to an interview. In the opening conversation Margaret was tolerably moderate, and Magnus had hopes that, after all, he might win her back to some sense of propriety; but he soon found the uselessness of his labour. The day following he reported that she was clean gone from all her first concessions. 'A certain young man' was at the bottom of the change; she would listen to no advice except it was approved by Methuen, with whom she was so infatuated as to have induced the King to make over to him the seals of State and all such powers as went along with them. Methuen was devoted to Arran and Archbishop Beton, and Arran and the Archbishop were devoted to France. Margaret was thus wholly committed to the faction most inimical to England; supported by the whole ecclesiastical strength of Scotland, the ruling faction believed that they could defy her brother with ​impunity, and to feel the real temper of the people they summoned the Estates to meet at Edinburgh on the 15th of November.
Henry was profoundly angry. The behaviour of the queen-mother, he said, 'sounded openly to her extreme reproach an the blemishing of the royal house and blood whereof she descended. He accounted her rather like an unnatural and transformed person than like a noble princess or a woman of wisdom or honour.' For the present, however, he was forced to leave events to their own course, and to wait for the effect of the restoration of the Douglases. November.The French faction only among the nobility answered to the call of the camarilla; those exclusively who shared their schemes and sympathies. The remainder, either acting under Angus's advice or because they disdained to pay even outward obedience to the authority which had summoned them, held a separate convention by themselves, and prepared to assert their influence in a more effective manner. The Parliament had sat for eleven days. On the 26th of November, Angus, Lennox, the Laird of Buccleugh, and several hundred followers, scaled the walls of Edinburgh at four in the morning. They took possession of the gates, and when the day broke, the citizens, looking out into the twilight, saw the dark mass of horsemen drawn up in arms at the cross before St Giles's Church. The two Earls were come (so ran their manifesto) to claim their rights, their ​place, and privileges as barons of the realm. They presented themselves before the council, protesting against the faction by whom the King was governed; and saying that they had come thus into the city 'to do no displeasure to any person,' but to invite the nobility to put an end to a shameful scandal.
The Queen was at Holyrood. It was expected every moment that she would set the Castle guns playing upon her husband's followers; and Dr Magnus, at the entreaty of the council, hastened down to anticipate the danger. He found the palace in confusion: dense throngs of men were arming and preparing their horses. He pushed his way into Margaret's presence, but she ordered him at once to be gone, and not to meddle in matters of no concern to him. A moment after the heavy boom of a cannon told him that the order had been given. The shot was intended for the Douglases, but it was ill- aimed. Two tradesmen, a priest, and a woman were killed by it; and the mistake was more effective than the English minister in preventing a fresh experiment. All day the two parties lay watching one ​another, each waiting to be attacked. At dusk Angus withdrew to Dalkeith, and amidst the glare of torches the Queen and the young King were seen sweeping up out of the palace, behind the stronger shelter of the Castle wall. Civil war appeared to be imminent; but, happily, civil wars are not always possible; and where a nation is to suffer, the passions of the nation must first be interested in the quarrel. The French and English factions were each of them strong; but neither was the French nor the English feeling so strong as to make a compromise impossible. Money and promises had been freely distributed by Francis. Angus hesitated at drawing the sword openly against his wife; and Margaret consented to be reconciled to him if he would agree to a divorce. Anxious for entire possession of Methuen, she contrived a plea that her first husband was alive at the time of her second marriage, which was therefore of no validity. The ecclesiastical courts accepted the extraordinary story as the ground of a suit; and the technical difficulties could be overcome the more easily, if the husband offered no opposition. Peace was ​thus possible; but at the price of increasing scandal to the queen-mother. Perhaps her profligacy had become too patent for endurance; perhaps her interest was becoming of less importance. At any rate, as the factions drew together, even the Archbishop of St Andrew's consented to unite with Angus and Argyle in a representation to Henry on the character of the person whom his sister allowed to associate with the King, with an entreaty that, if his mother was to remain in authority, 1525. January.she should consent to have 'discreet and honourable persons appointed for the high offices of State and for the chairs of the judges.' Margaret herself had almost resolved upon concessions. She ventured on one last effort to escape the hard necessity. Her husband and Lennox remained at Dalkeith: she implored the Earl of Cassilis and Lord Murray to attack and destroy them. But the two lords refused to undertake a crime which had no object but the gratification of a woman's revenge: she agreed to treat; and while the terms were being discussed, the Edinburgh citizens, on the 14th of February, shortened the debate by ​throwing ing open their gates and inviting Angus's presence among them. Three weeks of consultation terminated, at last, in the formation of a Council of Eight, who should govern Scotland in the King's name under the nominal presidency of the Queen. The Church was represented by the two Archbishops of St Andrew's and Glasgow, the Bishops of Aberdeen and Dunblane; the half-reconciled parties among the nobles by Angus and Lennox, Arran and Argyle.
The friends of England, though not absolute, were thus once more of considerable weight; and the future relations of the two countries could now be deliberated on with a hope of settlement. As yet so much as a formal peace had not been concluded. The war had closed with a truce which, as it expired, had been renewed for limited periods. The final treaty had been postponed till it could be conceived upon a basis which promised perpetuity. The proposals of Henry were brought forward by Dr Magnus. With his 'poor reasonings' he dwelt 'upon the nigh marching together of the two realms within one isle, and of one speech and language;' upon 'the proximity in blood between the King's Highness of England and the young King his tender nephew;' upon 'the said young King's possibility of inheritance to the two crowns;' and, finally, upon 'the great likelihood he had to be preferred afore all others to the marriage of the lady princess, if favourably and in loving manner his Grace could and would use him towards the King his uncle.' These points at once invited union, and showed the possibility ​of it; but the outstanding differences, Magnus urged, if they were to be settled satisfactorily, must be settled between themselves without the intervention of a third party; and he desired the new council, as an evidence of their good intentions, to agree at once to a perpetual peace with England, in which France should not be comprehended.
MarchScotland was as much interested as the sister kingdom in the acceptance of the English minister's overtures; but the necessary confidence was still, as it seemed, impossible; and 'there was a great personage, neither favourable in word nor countenance.' The Bishop of Aberdeen replied in the name of the council. He declined to consider Henry's political philosophy, confining himself to facts. He desired security before his country would commit itself to a treaty. Let the marriage between their young King and the Princess Mary, which was held out to them as a temptation, be converted into a fact—let there be a formal and legal betrothal—and then, he said, 'the whole realm of Scotland was minded and inclined utterly to abandon and leave France, and wholly to be conjoined with England.… Else, remembering their old leagues with France, continued by the space of five or six hundred years, it was thought to the lords of Scotland to be greatly to the reproach of their honour to agree to peace, either perpetual or temporal.' Neither Government would venture a step upon trust. ​The King of England required evidence of a sincere desire for peace on the part of the Scotch before he would determine the succession to the English throne in favour of his nephew. The Scotch would not sacrifice their old allies till the bargain which was to purchase them was concluded beyond recall.
The Edinburgh council were immovable; and delay could not now be avoided, for three years must pass before James would be of age to be a party to a valid contract. The immediate difficulty of the unsettled war was disposed of by a treaty of peace to last for that time. When the three years were expired the whole question should be re-opened. Possibly the temper of Scotland would not have permitted a more satisfactory conclusion; but the young James, weary to his heart of the heartburnings and quarrels which surrounded him, told Magnus he wished he was in England with the King his uncle.
Something had been gained in this negotiation. A partial respect had been paid to good sense; and the principles had been acknowledged at least outwardly and in a limited degree which ought to govern the counsels of the two kingdoms. October.But no sooner was the treaty determined than the lords and gentlemen made haste to indemnify themselves for their temporary interval of sanity. The English minister found himself, he knew not why, an object of general suspicion. The fall of the year was wild and wet, the ​harvest was in danger, and a rumour went abroad that Magnus was an enchanter who in years past, by a diabolic art, had blighted the vines in France and Flanders, and had now overlooked Scotland with an evil eye. As he walked through the streets of Edinburgh the women 'banned, cursed, and wirried' him and his servants 'openly to their faces; and gave them the most grievous maledictions that could be.' He entreated to be allowed to return home at once, and abide no longer 'in that cumbrous country where ever was confusion without trust, disdain, slander, malice, and cruelty, without virtue, or dread of God or man.'
The departure of the ambassador was a signal for the dissolution of the short-lived coalition. In the caprices of passion and humour we look vainly for any guiding principle. Every one did what was right in his own eyes, and his estimate both of interest and fitness varied from day to day. 1526.In the beginning of 1526 Arran and Angus quarrelled. Angus, supported now by Archbishop Beton, kept possession of the Government and the person of the King. Then James, instructed by his mother, complained that he was held in thraldom, and threw himself on the loyalty of the nobles. The friends of Angus fell off; but he was still powerful. Sir George Douglas kept guard at the King's door night and day, to prevent an attempt at capture. Suddenly the partners changed in the game. September.On the 2nd of September Angus and Arran had been reconciled; Lennox and ​the Archbishop had dropped away to the party of France, and the feud of the Hamiltons with the Lennoxes bursting into sudden flame, there was a battle at Linlithgow, where Lennox himself was killed, with the Abbots of Melrose and Dunfermline, the brother and nephew of the primate, and two Stewarts, brothers of the worthless Methuen. Anarchy now followed. Gordon of Lochinvar killed the Laird of Bumbie at the door of St Giles's church, and though Parliament was sitting, appeared openly in the streets, unchallenged by any one. Angus, with his English friends, was able at intervals to maintain, by mere violence, some shadow of authority; but order was limited to places immediately controlled by his own dependents. The will of every man was every man's law—the tribunal of justice his inclination—the executive government his own arm and sword. The sister island remained the ideal of confusion, but Scotland was earning rapidly the secondary merit of successful imitation.
1528.Angus continued dominant till the summer of 1528. In the spring of that year the Court of Rome, which at the moment, we are assured by Catholic historians, was engaged in defending the sacredness of matrimony against the licentious demands of Henry VIII., April 2.gave its sanction, nevertherless, to the most impudent request for a divorce ever prosecuted in a court of justice: and forth ​with the Queen married Methuen, and shut herself up with him in Stirling Castle. The dismissed husband was able partially to revenge this final insult to his honour. He surrounded Stirling, compelled Methuen to surrender, and threw him into prison. But it was the last effort of his waning power, and precipitated his fall. The Archbishop of St Andrew's supported the dignity of the Church's judgment; and the united strength of the ecclesiastics proved always, in the long run, too much for the resistance of a section of the divided lords. A revolution followed, which restored Margaret and her lover to each other's arms, and replaced James in their edifying custody. With the assistance of the bishops, and of every one with whose self-indulgent tendencies the late Government had interfered, they recovered an absolute superiority. An assembly called a Parliament met at Edinburgh on the 2nd of September, composed of the personal enemies of the Earl of Angus. The two Douglases, Sir George and the Earl, were accused of having betrayed their country to the English, and were attainted of treason. Their lands were confiscated, and given away among the profligate companions of the Queen's paramour.
Angus did not yield without an effort. He fell ​back upon the Castle of Tantallon, where he was followed by Margaret's friends. Once he sallied out, drove off his besiegers, and seized their artillery. But his means were small; and two years of power had exhausted his popularity. The commons had found him scarcely better able to maintain order than his predecessors, and saw no reason to risk their lives or properties in his defence. Henry vainly interceded for him; and the French alliance being at that moment of importance to himself, he could not impair its stability by declaring war against the friends of France in Scotland. Angus therefore gave way to necessity. He retired a second time into exile; and the nation settled back into its old suspiciousness, which it disguised under the name of independence.
James meanwhile was growing towards manhood, and with his increasing years assumed in full proportions the distinguishing characteristics of his countrymen. He was brave, high-spirited, and chivalrous; but he was moved generally by sentiment, rarely guided by judgment. In the miserable examples which surrounded him he learnt early the lesson of licentiousness, as well as the easy terms which he could secure for his indulgences, by devotion to the Church and to orthodoxy. He was possessed of every quality which interests without commanding respect. Like the rest of his unfortunate family, he seemed to be formed by nature to choose the wrong side—to pursue a conduct fatal to himself and mischievous to Scotland; yet, at the worst, retaining the affection even of those ​who regarded his career with the saddest displeasure.
Inevitably, being what he was, when the ruffle of the Reformation arose in England, James inclined to the Papacy. As the English were then on friendly terms with France, their antagonism, diverted from its old quarter, was directed against the Pope and the Emperor: the King of Scotland, therefore, or his advisers, followed with a corresponding opposition. The Emperor humoured his new friend with the prospect of an alliance. The Queen Regent of the Netherlands was suggested to the boy-bridegroom as a venerable wife; and although James continued to write respectfully to his uncle, his efforts were all bent steadily, in a mischievous direction, towards the revival of the animosities which Henry had so temperately laboured to overcome. The sea, from the Humber to the Forth, was infested with Scotch pirates; the rough night-riders of the Borders perceived the leanings of the Court, and were swift to indulge in excesses for which they assured themselves of impunity. 1531.Still Henry continued patient, till James arrived at an age when he could be treated as responsible; and then, at last, he wrote to him a letter of moderate remonstrance, following it up with the despatch of a herald, for special complaint on the disorders of the Marches, and with the following message, which ought to have been received as it was intended. 'The herald,' so the King said, 'need use no accumulation of words, save only to put his nephew in remembrance, ​and to exhort him, like a wise young prince, to look upon the King his uncle's deeds towards him, and consider whether they had tended to kindness or not; adding thereunto, the sort and fashion how his nephew and his realm have demeaned themselves again towards his Highness. Which things well pondered by wise men, it shall be facile to perceive whether to the King's Highness can be asserted the least scruple or spark of the name of an unkind uncle, or whether the King of Scots, laying apart the excuses of minority, might be suspected with the name of an unkind nephew. Wherein shall need no further rehearsal, seeing that the King's very trust is that, like as his said dearest nephew increaseth and groweth in years of knowledge and wisdom, so he will and shall more and more perceive and better discern the King's many and many gratuities past.'
November.The spirit which is here expressed was that which uniformly dictated Henry's early behaviour to James. But the nature of the young King was a destiny to him. He perhaps had no deliberate desire to quarrel with England; but he listened instinctively to the advisers who most sought to make the quarrel perpetual. The cause of nationality was identified now with the cause of the faith, and Henry was far off, and the Catholic clergy were on the spot. The Spanish alliance was eagerly courted. Instead of seeking for a recognition of his place on the line of ​succession to the English crown from the English Parliament, he boasted in public of a promise which the Emperor had made to him, of the title of Duke of York. He fell into correspondence with the Irish rebels, and allowed McConnell of the Isles to cross over to them with assistance. At length, in the winter of 1532–3, it became necessary to resent his own or his subjects' excesses with something more severe than words. Efforts at conciliation, persisted in till their repetition was an invitation to insult, had failed utterly. War again broke out; and in two desolating invasions the Earl of Northumberland and Sir Thomas Clifford read to the Scotch lords, at the sword's point, those lessons of moderation which had been vainly urged with gentleness.
The struggle lasted for a year and a half. It terminated, through weariness of enduring and inflicting suffering, on the 11th of May, 1534. 1534.The two Kings signed a treaty of peace, which was to last so long as they both lived, and a year beyond the death of either. It was but a cessation of hostility, not a return to friendship. It was the best which was possible at the moment, but promised little when the recollection of misfortune should have been displaced by desire of revenge. Henry, however, was steadily on the watch to recommence his overtures and pave the way to a real and sound alliance. The council of Scotland had refused to enter upon a course, during the King's minority, from which they could not retire. The minority was now expired, and Lord William Howard, ​the brother of the Duke of Norfolk, went down to Edinburgh to renew the advances which had been twice made and twice rejected. The burial of ill-will on all sides—a forgiveness to Margaret on the part of England—an intercession for the Douglases, especially for Angus, 'who had ever in heart been as true and loyal unto his sovereign lord as any of his house had been afore time'—a remonstrance against the encouragement which had been given to Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, softened by the avowal of a belief that it 'had proceeded rather of the obstinacy and malice of his nephew's subjects, than by his mind, will, and consent'—formed the object and material of Howard's commission, and the overtures were gracious enough to have been accepted, following upon a victorious campaign. The Garter was sent to James, 'the King's Highness minding by some noble means, to declare the integrity of his heart towards him;' and, finally, he was informed that his uncle desired nothing so much as to see his person, 'to have communication and conference in matters that should redound to both their honours and glory, and the weal of their realms and subjects.'
This time the King of Scots replied frankly, and apparently with sincerity. The proposal for an interview grew from a suggestion into a settled purpose. Lord Howard returned to England, and went again to Edinburgh to make concluding arrangements; and James not only replied in his own person, to the ​ambassador's satisfaction, but desired his mother—who had by this time repented of her past misdoings—to write to Henry in his name, Dec. 12.'that not only he would meet, and commune with and visit the King of England, but also would love his Grace better than any man living next himself, and would take his part in his person, and within his realm, against all living creatures.' The council had made difficulties, but he would not listen to them. His uncle had only to settle, by his own convenience, the time and place of meeting, and on his part there should be no failure. The language was as warm as could be desired; and though past failures must have forbidden Henry to be sanguine, he showed no signs of suspicion. It was possible that the happy change was at last approaching; and in a letter to James himself he expressed his confidence that his nephew's words and doings would at last be found conformable; in which case, he said, 'you shall in fine reign in such honour, and govern your realm in such quiet, as shall be correspondent to our desire, and for your renown and glory.'
Had the confidence been justly grounded, the reign of James V. would have been as fertile in utility as, in fact, it was fertile in folly and sin. He would have saved Scotland from a century of wretchedness, and his daughter and his daughter's grandson from the scaffold. Leaning to England, he would have learnt to feel like ​an Englishman; and English influences would have surrounded the cradle of his child and of his race. But it might not be. The house of Stuart, like the house of Atreus, could not escape its destiny of blood and calamity. The meeting continued to be talked of. As late as March, 1536, James professed to be steady to his resolution. He was environed with 'spiritual, unghostly councillors, who,' wrote an English minister from Edinburgh, 'if they might destroy us with a word, their devilish endeavours should nothing fail.' But the King, he said, was 'bonæ indolis,' of honest disposition; 1536. March 16.and on the 16th of that month the queen-mother assured her brother that 'her son was still constant to the meeting, and would not be solicited therefrom by no person.' To sustain him in his purpose Henry at this time proposed to do for him what the Emperor had idly boasted that he would do to create him Duke of York, and nominate him by Act of Parliament in the line of inheritance. Unluckily, 'the unghostly councillors' were strong, and James was weak. They were many, and he stood alone; and an interview between their King and a monarch whose name made the blood run cold in the veins of every priest in the three kingdoms, was too dreadful a peril to be endured. With the whole energy of their united powers the clergy flung themselves into an opposition. From their pulpits they poured out ​execrations against heresy and the arch-heretic Henry of England; and the old Archbishop Beton especially, with his nephew David, appealed to the King's superstition to avoid the desperate temptation. Religion would be betrayed. The ancient Church of the true saints would be exposed to ruin; and with the Church would fall the kingdom. At the moment, too, when the Catholic world was rising in arms for the faith, it was no time for a King of Scotland to take the hand of its enemy. Finally, the clergy were rich, the King was poor: golden promises were thrown into the scale till it turned as they desired; and in April the English ambassadors were obliged to report that James's tone was less favourable, and that they knew not what to expect. They had been required to give a particular statement in writing of the subjects which Henry desired to discuss with him; and a further difficulty was raised on the time and the place of the meeting. York had been originally fixed upon; but the King of Scotland could go no further beyond his own frontier than Newcastle. ​Nor could he leave his country before Michaelmas, which to his uncle he knew would be inconveniently late.
It seemed as if he was creating difficulties to relieve himself of the burden of a direct refusal. But should the patience of Henry be too much for his manœuvres, he had provided himself with another expedient. When weak men change their resolutions, they mistake passion for strength, and their changes are always in excess. James persuaded himself that he was to be betrayed to the English, and carried prisoner to London. May.He reproached his mother with being accessory to treachery; and, finally, to escape his promise, should the fulfilment of it still be exacted from him, he sent 'a clerk' 'to procure of the Bishop of Rome a brief to encharge him by commandment that he should agree to no meeting.' Henry spared him the discredit of employing the last excuse. If the King of Scotland would come to York fourteen days before Michaelmas, he repeated his proposal to meet him there. He could not travel later in the season; and unless James consented, the interview must be considered ​broken. James answered that the time named was too early for his convenience, and that York was too distant from his frontier. September.As if purposely to expose the shallowness of both pretences, when September came, he sailed away to France to meet another sovereign, to choose a bride where England least desired, and to proclaim his contemptuous indifference by marrying in silence, without caring to send to London even the ordinary communications of courtesy.
The uncertain prince had taken his part, as it seemed, finally with the Catholics; and he chose a time for the decisive rupture with Henry when the insurrection was blazing through the northern counties, and when Pole's mission was in contemplation to France and Flanders. He lingered at the Court of Francis for many months. 1537. January.On the 1st of January Magdalen de Valois became Queen of Scotland at Notre Dame. On Christmas-eve the sword and cap were consecrated at St Peter's. In this miserable result the forbearance of twenty years, through unexampled provocation, had at length concluded.
Meanwhile the queen-mother was reaping the harvest of her own folly. There had been a moment when it rested with her to have anticipated the union of the kingdoms, and to have coloured (it is impossible to conjecture how deeply) the complexion of their fortunes. Had she played her part, the marriage would have been arranged between James and Mary. An Act of Parliament would have declared them, should no male heir be born to the King, joint inheritors ​of the two crowns. Then there would have been no divorce of Catherine; for there would have been no object for a divorce. The declining years of Henry would have escaped the scandals which will envelop them for ever. Perhaps there would have been no breach with Rome, and no Reformation in the form which it in fact assumed. On the behaviour of such poor creatures as Margaret events of so mighty moment at times depend. Her own condition, as might have been expected, was become entirely deplorable. She was growing old; her pleasant vices had lost their charms. She was neglected by her son, despised by the Court, ill-treated by her husband. Methuen had valued in his intrigue only the influence which he gained by it. When the power departed from the queen-mother his interest in her departed also. He spent her money, he involved her in debt, and ventured during James's absence on coarse ill-usage. She had squandered in profligacy her opportunity of being of use to England. In her misfortune she remembered her birth, and cried out passionately for protection to her brother.
Provoked as Henry had been with her conduct, he would not leave her in distress. He made inquiry into the circumstances of which she complained; and, although the accounts of others scarcely tallied with her own, he sent Sir Ralph Sadler privately to Edinburgh to ascertain her real condition. Sadler assured himself ​that Margaret's story was generally true. Her principal desire was now for a divorce from Methuen. The ​grounds on which the new petition was founded are not stated. She had, perhaps, ascertained by this time that the rumour of the protracted life of James IV. had been ill-founded; but any means seemed admissible which would liberate her from a disgraceful connection. If not divorced, she might be formally separated; and on Sadler's return to London, Henry, who was bound to sympathize in matrimonial calamities, sent him into France to request James to interpose his authority in his mother's defence.
At the moment of Sadler's arrival the King of Scotland was preparing to return home with his bride. The weak health of the Queen being likely to suffer from a voyage which might possibly be protracted, an application had been made to Henry, through the French ambassador, for permission for herself and her husband to pass through England. There was some hesitation, for the state of the country was critical, and James's general behaviour had not entitled him to confidence. The Duke of Norfolk considered, nevertheless, that the signs of wealth and prosperity which he would witness in his journey might produce a wholesome effect upon him; and the required favour might, perhaps, have been granted eventually, had not James interpreted the delay into refusal, and sailed resentfully for Scotland. As he passed up the Yorkshire coast he received deputations from parties of the late insurgents, and he was heard to say that he trusted, 'before a year was out, to ​break a spear on an Englishman's breast.' In such a humour he was not likely to look more affectionately on his mother, or attend to Henry's representations on her behalf. May.On his arrival in Scotland, 'omitting all manner of his usual pastimes,' he spent his time with unknown intentions in military preparations. Margaret, in addition to her other misfortunes, found herself suspected and hated as a spy of England. She hud contrived to carry her suit for a divorce to the verge of a successful termination in a Scotch Ecclesiastical Court. But Methuen, who lived upon her dowry, which he would have lost if she escaped him, persuaded the King that she intended to retire across the Border, and rejoin the Earl of Angus. James forbade the sentence to be pronounced, and, as the queen-mother declared—but, it is to be hoped, misled by misery—he shared with Methuen the proceeds of her property. Eventually this last grievance was brought to an end. She was parted from her husband; and the rest of her story may be concluded in this place. She struggled on ​through life for four years longer; and after the King's second marriage to Mary of Guise she was treated at the palace with some increase of courtesy; but her worst enemies, her pitiable folly and vanity, continued to adhere to her till the 24th of November, 1541, when she was suddenly struck with paralysis, and died—died, we are told, penitent. 'When she perceived that death did approach, she did desire the friars that were her confessors that they should set on their knees before the King, and beseech him that he would be good and gracious unto the Earl of Angus; and did extremely lament and ask God mercy that she had offended the said Earl as she had.'
Well might she lament her behaviour to Angus. She had dishonoured him as his wife, she had driven him from his country to fret out his life in banishment, she had taught her son to suspect and dread the worthiest subject that he possessed; and in this one only point he had remained obedient to her influence. Not only did James share his mother's hate of Angus, but he extended his animosity to his kindred. Almost his first act on his return from France was to order an execution, for which charity must hope, with difficulty, that some just cause existed. He landed in May. In July the Earl's sister Lady Glamis, his brother-in-law the Master of Forbes, and Archibald Campbell, Lady Glamis' second husband, were accused of conspiracy against the King's life. They protested their innocence; they had not ​been at the Court or near it: and the people saw in the accusation the offences of Angus rather than of his relations; but they were condemned peremptorily. Campbell attempted to escape out of Edinburgh Castle: the rope was too short, he fell and was killed. The Master of Forbes died on the scaffold, 'attainted of such matter as he at his death did take upon him that he was sackless.' Lady Glamis was burnt alive, 'to the great commiseration of the spectators.' 'The nobleness both of herself and of her husband did much affect the beholders. She was, in the vigour of her youth, much commended for her beauty, and in her punishment she shewed a manlike fortitude.'
The relations between the Scotch and English Governments, meanwhile, were in a condition of negative hostility. As long as the war lasted between France and the Empire, the Pope's much-desired combination against Henry was impossible. It was not till after the pacification of Nice that better prospects seemed to open. Magdalen de Valois died rapidly in the inhospitable northern atmosphere. Her place was filled immediately after by a princess whose steady devotion to the Catholic cause gave consistency to James's weakness. Mary, daughter of the Duke of Guise, and widow of the Duke ​do Longueville, landed in Scotland on the 16th of June, 1538. Her person was a link which bound the country to France and the Papacy. Her character, at once fearless and cunning, passionately religious, and unembarrassed with moral scruples, qualified her in no common degree for the remarkable part which she was to play. A coadjutor devout and treacherous as herself, and even more able, came forward at the same time, in the person of David Beton, who had succeeded his uncle in the archbishopric of St Andrew's, and had been raised by the discretion of those who had discerned in small services the greatness of his powers, to the dignity of a cardinal. These two, the Queen and Beton, became the supporters of the throne; and, except for brief luminous intervals, were thenceforward the directors of Scottish policy.
1539.In the winter of 1538–9 earnest messages were going to and fro between Holyrood, Flanders, Paris, and Rome; and in the end of March, when the mysterious fleet was arming in the harbours of the Netherlands, English spies reported from Edinburgh that Francis had desired James to have an army in readiness by the 15th of May, either to co-operate with an invading force, or to distract the attention of Henry, while French and Imperial troops were landed at some point on the southern coast. It was added that James had hesitated, and that Beton had in consequence gone to Pans to learn in detail the nature of the proposed measures, and whether or how far Scotland would be supported should the invasion fail, and should she, ​after being tempted into a participation in the quarrel, be left exposed to English vengeance. The information was the more important from the caution with which it was given. It spoke of likelihood, not of certainty, and recommended the application of a test to prove its accuracy. 'Let the Duke of Norfolk send to the King of Scots,' the informants added, 'and say by his writings that he trusts the King of Scots will not suffer any men of war to land in his realm against England; and by the King's answer shall be known whether these sayings be true or not.' The communication was laid before Henry, who adopted the last advice; and the skilful Sir Ralph Sadler was again commissioned to Edinburgh, if possible to pour oil over the waters, or at least to ascertain the truth. March.The language of his instructions was courteous, but plain. The King said he knew by good authority the efforts which were made by the Pope to create a coalition of ​the Catholic princes against England. He had been obliged to place the realm in a state of defence; and he took the present opportunity of assuring the Scotch Government that the additional garrisons and fortifications at Berwick were a consequence of the threatened attack upon him, and were meant in no way for a demonstration against his neighbours. He believed, notwithstanding, that the Pope, regardless of everything but the success of his own schemes, had endeavoured to entangle his nephew in the conspiracy. The King of Scots, he trusted, would be too wise to condescend to such purposes; 'but because his realm adjoined unto England, and as a prince and king on whose peril they had not much regard,' the Pope and cardinals 'designed to make him a ringleader and chief setter forth of hostility against his uncle, not caring whether both uncle and nephew should consume each other,' so they might have their way. Let James consider whether the conduct of England towards him for the last twenty years deserved that he should lend himself to its enemies. Let him weigh well what the amities of other princes had cost him, and 'foresee what might chance if he should fortune, for other men's pleasure, to attempt any enterprise, specially where the matter which his Highness defended was God's and his Word's own cause.'
The verbal message was supported in a manner to give it emphasis. The Duke of Norfolk advanced from York to Berwick, and his dreaded name carried with it a panic across the Border. The Catholic league gazed ​wistfully from Flanders at their intended prey, half drew their swords, and, faint-hearted, thrust them back into the scabbards. They dared not land upon the English shores; and James and his advisers dared not offer them Scotland as a basis of operations. The excommunications, the intrigues, the embassies, the preparations, exploded in vapour. The lesson, as Henry believed, would not be lost. He supposed that James must have seen the risk which he would have incurred, had he been drawn into the dangerous quarrel; and allowing him a few months to reflect, again, at the close of the year, he sent the same ambassador on a similar errand, not only this time to warn the Scotch Government against acts of aggression, but to induce the King at last, if possible, to relinquish Beton and the Papacy; to fulfil his old promise of visiting England, where he might learn of his uncle to reform his own Church. 1540.Once more James was reminded how splendid a prospect might open to his ambition, would he really and heartily attach himself to the English alliance. Henry had but one legitimate child; and though he hoped 'by God's grace to have better store of issue,' yet he was now 'stricken in years,' he said, and he was empowered by Act of Parliament to determine the succession in his will. Not from any fear that 'either the French King or the Emperor would now move him to any such attempt as should utterly banish him for ever out of the favour of his Majesty and the realm,' but from goodwill to himself, from a hearty desire for his welfare, and, above all, ​for the peace and happiness of the two countries, the King of England implored his nephew to meet his overtures with the frankness with which they were made.
There was an element of good sense in James, which might have prevailed had he been free; but he was under the spell of the Cardinal and the Queen, which he could not break, and the Scotch nation was as unmanageable as himself. Sadler carried down the gracious message, but only to fail at the Court and to be insulted by the people. The provost of Edinburgh refused him a lodging for his train; and it was not till the King interfered that they could be entertained. Although in some of the younger noblemen—in the young Earls of Argyle and Ruthven, and in Sir David Lindsay—he found a sounder feeling, the Church on one side, and national pride on the other, were too strong to give a chance of success to the English advances. Policy had ​laboured for a union, and had laboured fruitlessly. It was not till a new power had been introduced, and a bond of concord had arisen between the two nations in a common Protestantism, that the inveterate antagonism consented at length to give way. Here too, by a mischievous fatality, the spirit of disagreement contrived to enter; but the uniting influence was stronger than the separative, and the work of fusion was accomplished at last, though painfully and arduously. The political condition of Scotland has been traced downwards to a point where it runs parallel to the general current of the story. I must go back a few years, to follow to its fountain the already visible stream of the spiritual Reformation.
​In Ireland it was observed that the heresy laws were inoperative, because unneeded. In the midst of infinite license of conduct, neither priest nor layman, chieftain nor serf, in that country, indulged himself in liberty of thought. The Roman Catholic religion satisfied the intellectual desires of the Irish nation, which on this one point forgot its besetting inconstancy. Between Scotland and Ireland there was much superficial resemblance. The O'Neils and O'Donnells were indeed of an inferior mettle to the Bruces and the Wallaces. The Milesian Celts never rose into a national consciousness—never in any sense were a people with a cause and a country—until enmity to England was sanctified by religious separation. On the other hand, the feuds of the Scottish chiefs were superseded by their patriotism, whenever the liberty of the nation was imperilled. They were a 'people' in the distinctive sense of the word. They had bought their freedom with the sword; and with the sword they continued to defend it. Yet their independence was an isolated virtue, compatible with unrestrained indulgence in crime and licentiousness: the annals of the sister island are not more rich in aimless feuds, murders, and conspiracies than those of the country which we are describing; and if the Scots had remained as a nation under similar spiritual trammels with the Irish, they would have come down into the modern world equally shrouded in misery—equally the despair of the statesman, the problem of the moralist. But there was a something in all races of the Teutonic blood which rose in rebellion against so barren ​a destiny. The seeds of liberty were scattered simultaneously in England and in Scotland; and the initial symptoms of growth in both countries are visible together. When the first Acts of Parliament were passed by the Lancastrian princes against the Lollards—perhaps even earlier—heretics, by the Scotch law, were consigned to the stake. The Glasgow register shows that in 1422, and again in 1431, various persons suffered death for their religion; and under James IV. as many as thirty were indicted whose fate is not discoverable.
1505In the reign of the same King, in the year 1505, an event occurred of vaster consequence. In the house of a retainer of the Earl of Bothwell, in the suburbs of Haddington, there was born into the world an infant who became, perhaps, in that extraordinary age its most extraordinary man, and whose character became the mould in which the later fortunes of his country were cast. John Knox was forty years old before Scotland knew him as more than a poor priest, a plain yeoman's son: it is chiefly through his eyes, however, that the religion of the Scottish people is visible to us from his early manhood. He grew himself ​with the growth of the spirit of the Reformation; and the history of the outward occurrences is the history of them in the effect which they worked in shaping the mind of the Reformer.
1525.The world went smoothly with the Church for the first quarter of the century. The bishops and abbots ate, and drank, and sinned, and married their children, and believed their houses would continue for ever; till suddenly Luther started up in Germany, and the expanding circles of the great wave which he had created penetrated into Scotland. Patrick Hamilton, the Earl of Arran's nephew, a youth little more than twenty years old, was among the first of her children who was shaken with the undulation. The young abbot (he was the titular superior of Ferns) crossed to the Continent, 'to see that great sight.' He spoke with Luther himself; he spoke with Melancthon; 1527.and in the beginning of the year 1527 he carried back the lessons which he had learnt to his countrymen. It was a time when there was neither law nor order, when the strong trampled on the weak, and the ruling powers of the Church were happy in their adulteries, and there was no justice but to the strong. But authority, unequal to the protection of men's lives and properties, could rouse itself in defence of their souls. A friend of Hamilton, an Alexander Campbell, with whom he had shared his treasure, whispered the news that heresy was in Scotland. The rank of the offender made him peculiarly dangerous. He was seized, and convicted of Lutheranism before ​Archbishop Beton; 1528.and on the last of February, in front of the old college of St Andrew's, he was brought out to be burnt. He bore himself with a courage worthy of the cause of which he was the protomartyr. 'At the place of execution,' says Knox, 'he gave to his servant, who had been chamberchield to him of a long time, his gown, his coat, and his bonnet. They will not profit in the fire; they will profit thee; I have no more to give now but the example of my death. Think well on that. It seems to be dreadful; but it is the gate of eternal life.'
The bishops killed him, hoping that they had done service both to God and to themselves. It seemed that they had failed. From each drop of his blood sprung up a fresh heretic. But as in England, so in Scotland, it was rare that men of the rank of Patrick Hamilton went astray after his example. Among the poorer commons chiefly 'the new learning' found a home. It was they who came in contact with superstition in its grossest form, and who suffered at once from the vices of the clergy and their avarice. Their understandings were too direct to sublimate absurdities into mysteries; and they had plain tongues, which spoke their feelings without disguise. There was little or nothing transcendental in the first religious confessors of Scotland; little or nothing doctrinal; the Calvinist gloom was of later birth; and Knox, a man pre-eminently of facts, and ​untroubled with theological subtleties, has sketched the popular feeling in a series of scenes shining with laughter and humorous defiance, but so free from bitterness, that even anger seems to melt into contemptuous pity.
There was no occasion to look far for scandal. In Scotland all the chiefest ecclesiastical vices were in the bloom of maturity, coarse, patent, and palpable. The scattered pictures of them which Knox has left are, in fact, the history of Scottish Protestantism.
In a skirmish in one of the Border wars a certain Alexander Ferrier was taken prisoner, and being unransomed, remained several years in captivity. On returning home, at last, he found that 'a priest, according to the charity of kirkmen, had entertained his wife, and wasted his substance.' He was loud in his outcries, and in consequence was 'delated' for heresy, and cited before a tribunal of bishops at St Andrew's. The following sketch appears to have been a literal transcript of the scene which took place in the court: 'Mr Alexander,' being brought in, 'leapt up merrily upon the scaffold, and casting a gamound, said, 'Where are the rest of the players?' Mr Andrew Oliphant (the clerk of the court), offended therewith, said, 'It shall be no play to you, sir, before you depart;' and so began to read his accusation, the first article whereof was that he despited the mass. His answer was, 'I hear more masses in eight days than the bishops there sitting say in a year.' Accused, secondly, for contempt of the sacraments. 'The priests,' he said, 'were the most ​common contemncrs of the sacraments, and especially of matrimony,' and that he witnessed by many there present of the priests, and named the men's wives with whom they had meddled; 'and because,' he said, 'I complain of such injuries, I am here summoned and accused as one that is worthy to be burnt. For God's cause,' said he, 'will ye take wives of your own, that I and others, whose wives ye have abused, may be revenged upon you.' The old Bishop of Aberdeen, thinking to justify himself, said, 'Carle, thou shalt not know my wife.' Alexander answered, 'My lord, ye are too old; but with the grace of God, I shall drink with your daughter before I depart.' And thereat was smiling of the best and loud laughter of some, for the Bishop had a daughter married in the same town. Then the bishops bade away with the carle. 'Nay,' he answered, 'I will not depart this hour; for I have more to speak against' the vices of priests than I can express the whole day.' After divers purposes they commanded him to burn his bill; and he demanding the cause, they said, 'Because ye have spoken those articles whereof ye are accused.' 'The muckle devil bear away them that first and last spake them,' he said. He took the bill, and chewing it, spit it in Mr Oliphant's face, saying, 'Now burn it, or drown it, whether ye will; you shall hear no more of me. But I must have somewhat of every one of you, to begin my pack again, which a priest and my wife, a priest's whore, have spent.' And so every prelate and ​rich priest, glad to be quit of his evil tongue, gave kiru somewhat, and so he departed; for he understood nothing of religion.'
Tetzel carried on a trade in pardons. The Scotch bishops sold bills of excommunication—more innocent, if not more effective. A friar entering an alehouse on a Sunday, at Dunfermline, found a number of peasants drinking. He proposed to join them. 'Yea, father,' said one, 'ye shall drink, but ye mun first resolve a doubt which has risen among us—to wit, what servant will serve a man best on least expenses?' 'The good angel,' said the friar, 'who is man's keeper, who makes great service without expense.' 'Tush,' said the peasant, 'we mean no such high matters. 'What honest man will do greatest service for least expense?' While the friar was musing, the peasant said again, 'I see, father, the greatest clerks are not the wisest men. Know ye not how the bishops and their officials serve us husbandmen? Will they not give us a letter of cursing for a plack to last for a year to look over our dyke? And that keeps our corn better nor the sleeping boy that will have three shillings of fee, a sark, and a pair of shoon by the year.'
1530.In these scenes, and the scenes which they suggested and from which they arose, lay the secret of Scotland's second life, and it was swiftly growing. Whatever the truth of God might be, it was not in the doctrines of these priests; nor could any human soul, ​to whom, truth was dearer than falsehood, believe any longer that his hopes of heaven lay in listening to profligate impostors. The bishops burnished up their arms. Another victim died at St Andrew's who had called Patrick Hamilton a martyr. Catherine, Patrick's sister, was called before the Bishop of Ross at Holyrood, and examined on 'justification.' No man, she said, could be saved by water; but only by the grace of God. A learned lawyer expounded to her the mysteries of 'works,' of works of 'condignity' and works of 'congruity.' 'Work here,' she cried, 'and work there, what kind of working is all this? No work can save me but the work of Christ my Saviour.' It would have gone hard with her had not James interfered. She escaped her persecutors and found a shelter in England. Thither also many others were flying from the same danger, so long as Cromwell lived, secure of protection. Henry, too, himself showed occasional favour to these exiles. One of them, Andrew Charteris, a priest, had called the Scotch clergy 'children of the devil.' 'When they perceive any man take up their craft and falsehood,' he said, 'or challenge them of fornication, incontinently they accuse him of heresy. If Christ Himself were in Scotland He should be made more ignominious by our spiritual fathers than He was of old by the Jews.' Henry heard of the words, and sent for Charteris, and talked with him for an hour. At the end of the conversation the King dismissed him with a phrase which in Henry's mouth contained the ​highest compliment. 'It is a pity,' he said to him, 'that ever you were a friar.'
But the attitude of the Scotch Government naturally threw upon the Romanizing bishops an increase of power, and they grew more vindictive as the times grew dangerous. Religion and politics had become so identified, that Protestants were not only hated in themselves, but they were allies of the English, traitors to the Commonwealth, to be hunted down and annihilated. 1534.In 1534 a fisherman named David Straiton was burnt. He had been required to pay tithe of what he caught. If the priests would rob him, he said, they might come for their tithe to the place where he got it; and as each tenth fish came up, he flung it back into the sea. He was excommunicated for disrespect; the lighter punishment soon drew after it the worst; he was executed at the stake.
1538.In 1538, the conduct of the persecution fell into the hands of David Beton, and in him ultramontanism became absolute in its most relentless form. The attempt was no longer to conquer heresy, but to exterminate it; nor can it be said that a process which in Spain was absolutely successful, was in itself unwisely calculated. 1537.If the Scotch had been a people over whom bodily terror could exert a power, they would have yielded as the Spaniards yielded.
But Beton had to deal with dispositions as hard as ​his own; and borne up also, as perhaps his disposition was not, by a consciousness of the sacredness of their cause. He could break, but he could not bend; he could burn, but he could not melt. 'This is your hour,' a Glasgow friar cried at the stake; 'the powers of darkness sit as judges, and we are unrighteously accused; but the day comes which will show our innocency, and you, to your everlasting confusion, shall see your blindness. Go on, fill up the measure of your iniquity.' Forret, the Yicar of Dolor, was tied among the faggots waiting for the fire. 'Will ye say as we say,' exclaimed a learned abbot to him, 'and keep your mind to yourself and save yourself?' 'I thank your lordship,' he answered; ' you are a friend to my body, but not to my soul. Before I deny a word which I have spoken, you shall see this body of mine blow away with the wind in ashes.' To give Forret a last chance they 'wirried and burnt' another victim before him, that he might profit by the spectacle. The man died quickly. 'Yea, yea,' the vicar only said, 'he was a wylie fellow; he knew there were many hungry folks coming after him, and he went before to cause make ready the supper.'
Happy contrast to the Court, with its intrigues and harlotries, its idle and paltry schemings. We need not wonder at the regeneration of Scotland, when she had such men as these among her children. When the battle was begun and was fought in such a spirit, the issue was certain: the first death was an earnest of ​victory. 1535. September.But our story must now turn to another country, which contained no such leavening element, and which had longer to wait for the tide of misfortune to change.
The Irish difficulty, under the Plantagenets, the Tudors, the Stuarts, and the House of Hanover, has preserved one uniform characteristic. The country has exerted a magical power of transformation upon every one connected with it. The hardest English understanding has given way before a few years of residence there; the most solid good sense has melted under the influence of its atmosphere.
On the close of the rebellion of Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, Lord Leonard Grey, to whom he surrendered, repaired with his prisoner to London; and after receiving a handsome present as the reward of his services, returned to his post as marshal of the army. In his absence the deputy, Sir William Skeffington, and Lord James Butler extinguished the remains of disaffection which were still smouldering in the southern counties. They made an armed progress through Tipperary and Cork into Limerick, receiving the submission of the leading chiefs. Dungarvon, which had been fortified by the Earl of Desmond, and was intended as a place of landing for the Spaniards, attempted a resistance; but a few English fishing-vessels, accidentally on the coast, blockaded the harbour. Skeffington had cannon with him; and after six hours' bombardment the garrison ​yielded. Opposition had everywhere ceased. O'Brien, calling himself Prince of Thoinond, wrote a letter to the King, professing his obedience, and only entreating that the Duke of Richmond, or some English nobleman of rank, might be sent over to govern; and on the 3ist of December the Master of the Rolls and Mr Justice Aylmer were able to tell Cromwell that 'since the first conquest Irishmen were never in such fear.' Sessions had been held, and the royal writs respected in five additional shires; eighteen thieves had been hanged in Kildare. And 'there, as well as manywheres else,' they said, 'the poor earth tillers do peaceably occupy the earth, and fear not to complain upon them by whom they be hurted.'
Leaving the country in this improved condition, Skeffington, who had suffered long from ill-health, retired at once from his office and from life—he died on the last day of the year—and, according to O'Brien's desire, a person of higher birth was chosen to succeed him. Lord Leonard Grey, brother of the Marquis of Dorset, and brother-in-law of the Earl of Kildare, formed as it were a connecting link between the two kingdoms, and seemed fitted by rank and circumstances to be a successful administrator of Ireland. His personal character remained to be brought out by authority. In past years he had dabbled in dangerous arts, and had been connected with treasure-seekers; but he was then young: he had followed in his errors the respectable ​example of the Duke of Norfolk, and he had since distinguished himself as a hardy adventurous soldier, no slight qualification for so dangerous a command.
He found Ireland outwardly quiet; but his position, it soon appeared, would require a strong head as well as a strong hand. 1536, June.In June, 1536, the Earl of Desmond and O'Brien were again conspiring; and the English soldiers were in mutiny for want of pay. The King had been encouraged to believe that, when the insurrection was over, their numbers might be reduced, and that the Irish revenues would support as many as would remain. It was found that the revenue existed only in the imagination of the treasurer. Neither rent of crown lands, nor customs dues, nor taxes could be collected. The Irish Parliament could grant no money, for the people, exhausted by the war, had none to give; while not a man could be spared from the force at the command of the deputy. The Irish chiefs had but paused to take breath, or had been tranquil as a variation of amusement from the monotony of war; and, when Henry expected to hear that the country would be self-supporting, he was informed that 'the English blood was worn out, and the Irish blood ever more and more increased.' If peace was to be maintained permanently, three armies would be needed instead of one, to invade simultaneously north, south, and west, to build fortresses and garrison them, ​and to hold the people under military rule. Evil tongues whispered, also, that difficulties had brought disputes where there ought to have been only cordiality;, that the deputy was arbitrary, and his subordinates more anxious to prove him to be wrong than to teach him what was right. Whether this was calumny the future would show: for the present, all parties hurried to deny the existence of so early a disagreement. There were enemies by this time in the field, and Lord Leonard was at least a soldier. He composed the mutiny for a time with promises, and he resolved to escape the dissensions of Dublin, and distinguish, by some marked success, the first year of his command. Henry had sent him orders to break, if possible, the coalition in the west. July.In July he marched with a thousand men into Kilkenny, and thence turning towards Limerick, he took possession of a deserted castle belonging to Desmond, in an island on Lough Gryr. Carrigogonnell, a strong fortress on the Shannon, fell next into his hands. He placed it in the custody of an Irish chief who was supposed to be faithful; and, pausing for a day in the town of Limerick, he set himself to destroy the celebrated bridge at Castle Connell, a few miles distant, which O'Brien had thrown across the river to command the ingress from Clare into Munster. His way led up the southern bank of the Shannon. On reaching the spot he found four arches of the bridge broken down. On the portion of it which was left ​standing there were two castles, one of them 'very strong, builded all of hewn marble;' the other, on the Clare side, less formidable, but only to be approached through the first. 'The gunners,' wrote the council who accompanied the expedition, 'bent all their ordnance upon the castle, shooting at it all day; but it was of such force that the ordnance did in manner no hurt, for the wall was at the least twelve or thirteen feet thick, and both the castles were well warded with gunners, gallowglass, and horsemen, having made such fortifications of timber and hogsheads of earth as the like had not been seen in that land. They had one great piece of iron which shot bullets as great in manner as a man's head. They had also a ship piece, a Portugal piece, certain 'hagbushes,' and 'hand-guns.''
Lord Leonard, finding his cannon made no impression, fell back on the rough material of the English soldier. He gave his men the night to rest themselves. At daybreak every one was directed to prepare a faggot of wood a fathom long, 'to fill that part of the water between the land and the castle.' A party of volunteers were told off as a forlorn hope, who, with ladders in their hands, plunged across the chasm, and, 'with plain manhood and force,' scaled the bridge. The spectacle was sufficient: the garrison did not wait to make closer acquaintance with men who would venture such an enterprise. 'They scope out at the other end by footmanship,' leaving their guns and both castles in the ​hands of the English. The exploit passed as more than an ordinary success. 'O'Brene's Bridge' was so potent an instrument of mischief, that it was regarded in the neighbourhood with a kind of superstitious terror. The mayor and alderman of Limerick came out to witness the demolition, as the German burghers crowded about the body of the dragon; and remaining too long examining the castles the joists were suddenly loosened, the arches fell, and the city dignitaries were precipitated into the Shannon. Two lives were lost; there were boats at hand which rescued the remainder.
The victory thus closed in misfortune, and a worse followed. Henry had desired that, if the season allowed, the army should advance into Thomond, and bring O'Brien to his senses in his own country. Grey was ready to go forward; but the troops believed that they had done enough till they were paid with coin more substantial than words. The northern horse, the best men that he had, drew aside, and declared fiercely that, if their arrears were given them, they would go where the deputy would lead; if they were to be cheated of their right, though in the midst of an enemy's country, and in a moment of victory, they refused to stir another step. Payment on the spot was of course impossible; and Grey's triumph was snatched from him. Fortunately, the threats of the men exceeded slightly their intentions, or the expedition might have ended in a serious disaster. The warden of Carrigogonnell, ​hearing of the mutiny, turned traitor, and declared for O'Brien. The castle was a formidable structure; but the soldiers were prevailed upon at least to maintain their conquests and revenge an act of treachery. They returned under the walls, and sent in a message that, if the Irish would surrender, they might depart with their lives; if they resisted, they should die, man, woman, and child. There were seventy of them—all men, it would seem; so that the latter part of the menace was needless. They believed themselves secure, and replied with a defiance. The place was assaulted instantly. Thirty English were killed; but the defence, though desperate, was useless. 'I suppose I kept promise with them,' wrote the deputy in his despatch to the King; 'and there was such an order taken as I trust all Irish rebels will take heed how they keep castles or holds? against your Grace's power.' The garrison had 'the pardon of Maynooth,' and were hanged to a man.
In this campaign Grey had done well. He had succeeded so far as success was in his power; and he was not to blame because the Irish treasury was bankrupt; or because the treasurer, with the national desire to say whatever was most immediately pleasing, had sent to the King such a splendid account of his expected revenue that no preparations had been made for the deficit. But the disappointment from his failures was greater than the enjoyment of his achievements. He returned to Dublin, irritated at the behaviour of the men, the mutilation of the enterprise which it had caused, and the neglect of those whose reports had been ​so unfaithful; and reproached, on the other side, by the council, with mistaking the character of the people, with trusting those whom he ought to suspect, and making 'skurrs of light matters.' Thus the expedition, brilliant as it had been, was followed by heartburnings and bickerings; and those whose reasonable faculties, at their highest strain, would have sufficed imperfectly for the work of governing Ireland, spent their time in quarrelling, thwarting, and calumniating each other. Grey, haughty and passionate, could control neither his temper nor his language. He would start on his feet in the council-chamber, lay his hand on his sword, and scatter carelessly invectives and opprobrious epithets. The council, who, amidst their many faults, understood Ireland better than the deputy, complained to Cromwell that he would never listen to their advice. The deputy retorted with stories against the council; he declared that he was haunted with detraction; that 'it was predestinate to that country to bring forth sedition, invention, and lies.' To add to the embarrassment, the Irish Parliament, then in their session, continued recalcitrant in money matters. The proctors who were returned to Convocation, not being more than seven or eight in number, claimed to be a part of the general legislature, with a right of veto on every measure which might be proposed; 'and certain ringleaders and ​bellwethers, presuming to have more excellent wit than those in England,' caused the rejection of the 'Act for ​the Suppression of the Religious Houses,' although the discipline, it was said, was even more relaxed, the religious personages less continent or virtuous, than in England—keeping no hospitality saving to themselves, their concubines, and children.'
1537. March.The King, who personally knew Grey, and liked him, believed at first that the fault was rather with the council than the deputy. Cromwell entreated the latter, if there was any truth in the accusations of the other party, to acknowledge it. 'I need not tell you,' he said, 'how much the King's Highness delighteth in plain-dealing; how much he abhorreth occult handling of things.' But Grey protested that he had written nothing but truth; and Henry, accepting his word, sent orders in his imperious style, that the discord of which he had heard should cease. The council should submit to the deputy; the deputy should take advice of the council; above all, those who were ​maintained in their places to reduce a barbarous country into order, should not set an example of anarchy. A more serious matter than paltry wranglings and quarrels lay in the misrepresentations which had been made to him on the finances. He wrote angrily, expatiating upon the sums which he had spent, and the gulf into which they seemed to have been thrown. 'For all this,' he said, 'what have we gotten since the first stay of the violence of the late rebellion of Thomas Fitzgerald? In words you say we have now great revenues, and so indeed we have; but when anything is there to be paid, we see not what stead the same do stand us in, or to what purpose they serve. Good councillors,' he continued, 'should before their own private gains have respect to their prince's honour, and to the public weal of the country whereof they have charge. A great sort of you—we must be plain—desire nothing else but to reign in estimation, and to fleece from time to time all that you may catch from us.' The rebuke was partially deserved. In part it arose from the misrepresentations of the deputy, whose hasty accusations fell in for the present with the King's anxiety and vexation. On the same authority, Henry singled out for especial admonition Archbishop Brown, who had succeeded the murdered Allen—a man who was perhaps as foolish as he was supposed to be, but he was tolerably right-minded, and scarcely merited the tone in which he was addressed.
'We have advanced you,' the King said, 'in ​consequence of your supposed good qualities; yet nevertheless, as we do both partly perceive, and partly by sundry advertisements be informed, the good opinion that we have conceived of you is in manner utterly frustrate, for neither do you give yourself to the instruction of our people there in the Word of God, ne frame yourself to stand us in any stead for the furtherance of our affairs. Such is your lightness in behaviour, and such is the elation of your mind in pride, that, glorying in foolish ceremonies, and delighting in 'we' and 'us,' in your dreams you compare yourself so near to a prince in honour and estimation, that all virtue and honesty is almost banished from you. Reform yourself therefore with this gentle advertisement. Do first your duty towards God in the execution of your office; do then your duty towards us in the advancement of our affairs, and we shall put your former negligence in oblivion. If this will not serve, but that ye will still persevere in your fond folly, let it sink into your remembrance that we be able, for the not doing of your duty, to remove you again, and to put another man of more virtue and honesty in your place.'
The King's interference did not soothe the disagreements. He trusted too absolutely to Grey; and Grey, who at the outset seems to have divided the blame with the council, was every day deserving a larger share of it. Through this period of Irish history there is one standard which will rarely mislead the judgment. The ​relation in which any man in high office placed himself towards the Earl of Ormond, was a sure measure either of his understanding or his loyalty; and to the deputy's misfortune, either through personal antipathy, or because in his connection with the Geraldines he shared the Geraldine prejudices, he would neither accept Ormond for an adviser, nor could be brought to regard him except with passionate dislike. He even ventured to suggest a suspicion to Henry that Ormond was disloyal; and the King now felt that, if he was capable of so considerable an error, he could no longer himself be absolutely free from blame.
July.To ascertain the true state of things, therefore, if truth in Irish matters was ascertainable at all, a commission was appointed on the 3ist of July, composed of George Paulet, a brother of Lord St John, two gentlemen named Moyle and Berners, and Sir Anthony St Leger. These four, taking with them funds to satisfy the claims of the army, were instructed to proceed to Dublin, and—after settling with the men as moderately as might be possible, but 'so as they might be contented, without grudge or murmur,'—to dispose of the plans of conquest, by disbanding all except three hundred and forty of the best troops. The expense of a large force could no longer be endured, until the Irish revenues became productive. Costly expeditions wore a fair appearance in a despatch; but meanwhile O'Brien's Bridge had been reconstructed, and O'Brien himself was independent and indifferent. The money was gone; the result was nothing. After dismissing ​the soldiers, the commissioners were to survey the Crown estates, to examine the treasurer's accounts, noting down accurately the receipts and disbursements; to inquire into the real conduct of the deputy, the council, the judges, 'how far every man was doing his duty in his degree;' whether there were complaints of bribery, extortion, or oppression, or whether such complaints were well founded; and generally they were to avail themselves of all means of information as to the condition and prospects of the country and the conduct of the Irish Government.
On arriving in Dublin they found themselves in a chaos of quarrel, calumny, and contradiction. Moderation seemed the one impossible and unimagined virtue. The loyalists in the council, who had done good service in the Geraldine rebellion, were in the humour of the modern Orangemen. The deputy, goaded by opposition and unreason, had dashed into toleration of the rebels. Immediately after the landing of the commissioners, an occurrence took place which illustrated the temper in which they would find Lord Grey, who but two years before had been a rational English nobleman. AugustIn the August of the same summer an expedition was ordered into King's County against O'Connor; and the knights and landowners of the Pale as usual were in attendance on the deputy. The weather had ​been wet, the rivers were in flood, and on coming to a dangerous ford Lord Leonard insisted on swimming his horse across the water. Being powerfully mounted he passed safely, although with some difficulty; and immediately, although there was no enemy to be sought or peril to be escaped, no object to be gained either in time or convenience, he insisted that the whole force should follow him. They objected reasonably to incurring a needless risk. Whereupon 'his lordship did not only revile them, calling them traitors, but also caused his marshals to spoil and take away from the Baron of Delvin, being an old man and an ancient captain, Viscount Gormanstone, and the other lords and gentlemen, their horses, harness, and weapons, they then being in the midst of an enemy's country, and left them, to the peril of their enemies and danger of their lives, to travel home on foot through bogs and mire.' The Irish nature had made deep inroads upon the deputy. If the lords and gentlemen had broken the articles of war, they should have been brought home and tried for it. 'My Lord Deputy,' said Sir John Allen, 'is a nobleman and a good gentleman; but it should be good to reduce him to rule by order and counsel. I would have the King's deputy remember whose person he representeth; be sober in language, being more displeased with the offence than with the person. He ought to be the mirror both of justice and chivalry. It is not seeming to his estate and nobility to use vile language, which doth not ​conquer his enemy, but rather exasperate him to more malice; and, to be plain, unless my Lord Deputy use another moderation than he hath done of late, he shall be more meet to be ruled than rule, for he hath lost the hearts of English and Irish, friend and foe.'
Allen, the writer of this passage, was, with the exception of Ormond and his son, the only person in Ireland competent to furnish the commission with any tolerable information; and the Butlers were supposed to be interested parties, and open to exception as witnesses. On the Master of the Rolls, therefore, St Leger chiefly depended; and with his assistance soon saw his way, not to Lord Leonard's removal, but to a limitation of the confidence which had been placed in him. Allen and St Leger together might have struck out some reasonable plan of action, if left uncontrolled. Unluckily, the commission was composite. Paulet, who belonged to the party in opposition to Cromwell in England, attached himself in Ireland to the deputy; and the reports sent home by the different commissioners contradicted each other little less than those which had before perplexed the English Government. It appeared, however, at least, that the revenue ought to be something, though it was actually nothing. It depended chiefly on the rents of lands confiscated for rebellion, which the tenants would not pay unless they were compelled; and with a diminished army would be diminished the means of compulsion. This was a fact which both ​ factions admitted, and to which Henry must resign himself. He was encumbered with a country from which he could not retreat; which he could not govern; which was incapable of a noble independence, and incapable equally of a noble submission; which remained, and would remain, in a chronic disorder, exhausting alike to the English exchequer and the English patience. In other respects, as the Reformation advanced in England, Romanism with the Irish was deepening into a national principle. 'Irishmen,' said Allen, 'have long supposed that the royal estate of Ireland consists in the Bishop of Rome for the time being; and the lordship of the Kings of England to be but a governance under the same.' The Anglo-Irish of the Pale, and the Celts of the provinces, shared so far in the same convictions; and the commissioners concluded that the spirit was too strong to subdue. The King might conquer the country as often as he pleased; but his victories did but wound the air, which would close again behind his sword. The Archbishop of Dublin could find no spiritual man in all his diocese who would preach the word of God or declare the King's supremacy. The Butlers alone among the ​resident noblemen could be depended on for English sympathies or English opinions; and the deputy, though afraid to avow his Papal bearings, yet exhibited his tendency in the insults which he heaped upon the Archbishop; and in the oblique encouragement of the opposite faction.
St Leger, though he was too wise to commit himself, comprehended tolerably the condition of the various matters which he was sent to inspect. Especially he consulted Ormond, and carried away with him Ormond's views.
1538. April.He returned with his companions in the April, spring of 1538; but the different conclusions at which they had arrived prevented any active resolution on the part of Henry, and the deputy, the council, and the country were again left to their own guidance. The slender restraints which had been imposed by the presence of the commissioners disappeared on their departure. The Bishop of Meath from his pulpit railed 'against the Archbishop of Dublin, calling him heretic and beggar, with other rabulous revilings.' The Archbishop was present, but his brother prelate, nevertheless, spoke of him 'with such a stomach that the three-mouthed Cerberus in hell could not have uttered it more viperiously.' A priest of St Patrick's neglected ​to read the prayer for the King in the Church-service. The Archbishop put him in confinement. Lord Leonard Grey immediately set him at liberty. The 'stations' which had been closed were reopened. The pardoners resumed their trade, and were not to be checked; and the Archbishop wrote to Cromwell, imploring that he might be supported or else be allowed to resign.
The conservative reaction in England which, two years later, overthrew the Privy Seal, was gaining strength at the time; and the deputy, it appeared, possessed the confidence of the Duke of Norfolk and his friends, and looked to their support. George Paulet had told him that Cromwell was on the edge of destruction, and he, perhaps, believed himself safe in acting on the expectation. But a clearer brain than belonged to Lord Leonard Grey was required to tread safely the narrow ridge which divided reaction from treason. The deputy was encouraged to oppose the semi-Lutheran Protestants; he dared at last to countenance the Romanists. The home Government had nominated a Dr Nangle to the Bishopric of Clontarf. The Pope, in opposition, appointed one of the Bourkes of Clanrickard. Nangle was expelled from the See; and the deputy, though ordered to prosecute the intruder under the Statute of Provisors, left him quietly in possession. Following the same policy, he had come to an open rupture with Lord Ormond and his son, and as he advanced further along his perilous road his Irish ​connections gained increasing influence over him. He ceased to hold communications with the council, and selected a private circle of advisers from the partisans and relations of the Earl of Kildare. Gerald Mac Gerald, who had been a prominent leader in the rebellion, was appointed marshal of the army; and Geraldine marauders, who had been in prison, were let loose from their cages, and returned to their old habits. Kildare's two sons-in-law, O'Connor and O'Carroll, were received into favour; and Grey's Irish tendencies had developed themselves so rapidly, that at the Midsummer of 1538, four months after St Leger had left Dublin, Lord James Butler wrote, 'My Lord Deputy is the Earl of Kildare newly born again, not only in destroying of those that always had served the King's Majesty, but in maintaining the whole sect, band, and alliance of the said Earl, after so vehement and cruel a sort as hath not been seen.' The frontier fortresses which had been built for the defence of Kilkenny were taken out of the hands of the Earl of Ormond, and bestowed on O'Carroll. The family retainers of the Butlers could not appear in Dublin streets without danger of being insulted. 'If all Ireland,' Lord Butler said, 'should devise to enfeeble the Englishry of this land, and by a mean under-colour of indifferency to strengthen the Irishry, they would not imagine more earnester ways than my Lord Deputy now doth.' Desmond, through his connivance, was stronger than ever in the south. ​'Through comfort of him' O'Neil again levied black rent in Meath, Mac Morrough in Wexford and Kilkenny, O'Carroll in Tipperary. Finally, Lord Butler declared that he would never again 'take harness' under Lord Leonard, unless with special orders from the King; and the old Earl of Ormond, who four years before had saved Ireland, was with difficulty prevented from crossing the Channel, sick and dying though he was, and being carried to London in a horse-litter to lay his complaints before the throne. Ormond was true as steel; wilful falsehood never crossed his lips, and charges which he guaranteed by his own knowledge may be assumed to have been certainly true. His evidence furnishes, with Sir John Allen's, the single firm spots of ground on which we can place our feet in the quaking morass of Irish State papers.
Desmond was at this moment contriving the scheme, which he had laid before the Pope, of another insurrection, to be supported by the Spaniards, and was busy consulting the Irish chiefs, and reconciling their feuds with one another. The O'Neils in the north had been checked hitherto by their hereditary rivals the O'Donnells. Religion was rapidly obliterating this and similar ​dissensions, and weaving a Catholic confederacy. The union promised well throughout the island; and Desmond's exertions were ably seconded by a sister of the late Earl of Kildare. Lady Eleanor Fitzgerald had been the wife of McCarty Reagh, of Minister. In the fastnesses of the Cork mountains she had given a shelter to her nephew Gerald, Lord Thomas's brother, and now titular earl. Her husband dying, she resolved to gain over another powerful clan to the common cause, by giving her hand to the chief of the O'Donnells. The marriage was regarded as the sacrament of the general reconciliation. It was arranged at a conference which her son the McCarty, the Earl of Desmond, and Lord Gerald held with ambassadors from O'Neil. When the meeting was over, Lady Eleanor began, without delay, her progress to the north to her future husband, and, taking her nephew with her, she paid a visit first to O'Brien in Thomond. Thence she went into Galway to the Bourkes, and so through Sligo to O'Donnell's own country. O'Neil, who had married her sister, joined her there; and thus the interests of the young Gerald were adopted by a coalition of all the great Irish leaders. A body-guard of four-and-twenty men was assigned to him, as a security against attempts at assassination; and the chiefs took an oath never to rest till they had restored him to his rank and estates. This was the opportunity which Lord Leonard Grey had chosen to play into the hands of the Geraldines of the Pale, to put ​important fortresses into the hands of his Irish neighbours, June 25.to strengthen Desmond at the expense of the Butlers. The follies of the council may have been great; but if the deputy was to be acquitted of treason, his own were incomparably greater.
His other proceedings were not calculated to restore the confidence of the loyalists. He could not have been ignorant of the confederacy. But he imagined that he might gain the hearts of the Irish by placing himself in their power. The chiefs, who could not desire to see the Government at Dublin in more convenient hands, were delighted to encourage him with hospitality. He accepted a safe-conduct from them—an action of itself dangerously culpable—and crossed with a small retinue, under an escort from O'Connor, into Connaught. Here he was met by Desmond, whose usurpation of authority in Cork and Kerry he recognized and sanctioned. With the rebel Earl for a companion, he then paid a visit into Thomond, where, with his servants in the King's uniform, he accompanied O'Brien in an attack upon a bordering clan. Following the steps of Lady Eleanor, he went next to Galway, to the Bourkes, where he received the rival Bishop, whom he had allowed to supersede Dr Nangle in the See of Clontarf. In the expedition to Limerick, two years before, he had left his heavy guns under the care of the mayor. The guns ​were shipped at Limerick by his order, brought round, and left among the Irish. Wherever he went, so far as his ability or knowledge extended, Lord Leonard deposed and deprived every person well affected to the English, of whatever power or authority they possessed, and replaced them with adherents of Kildare.
After these achievements, represented as I have described them by those who wished well to England, he returned to Dublin, and sent a report of his expedition to the King, relating it as a brilliant success—a triumphal progress—in which the Irish chieftains, being reasonably dealt with, had conducted themselves like reasonable men, and had promised and had given pledges that ever after they would be loyal subjects to the Crown. Lord Grey's story was supported by his confidential servant Ap Parry, who attended the progress, and furnished the Government with an account of it. Viscount Gormanstone, on the other hand, who was also one of the party, and was a disinterested witness, confirmed the story of Aylmer and Allen, and shook the credit of ​the follower as well as his master, by mentioning that he had shared in the bribes which had been largely offered to both of them, and had been as largely received. The deputy asserted that he had gone by the advice of the council; the council absolutely disclaimed the responsibility; while Gormanstone again gave the inconvenient opinion that his safety and seeming success were due solely and entirely to his connection with the Geraldines.
Among so many contradictions, the King knew not what to believe. Grey had powerful friends among the English noblemen; and the experience of the last few years had wearied the patience both of Henry and Cromwell. Their hands were already full, and they were without leisure for a minute investigation. It was more easy to distribute the fault among all parties; and instead of entering on the merits of the quarrel, they addressed a rebuke both to the deputy and the Earl of Ormond, who was his chief accuser, commanding them to be reconciled without delay, and to show in future better temper and better judgment. The points in which Ormond professed to have been injured should be settled by arbitration of the Chancellor, the Master of the Rolls, and the Lord Treasurer. The order was ​peremptory, and was in form obeyed. The Earl, Lord Butler, the council, and the deputy met in Dublin. Lord Leonard had called the Butlers traitors he was required to prove his words; and he and Ormond brought forward their respective charges in writing. The arbitrators, under Cromwell's direction, decided that on both sides the accusations should be dropped. The Earl and his son should swear to serve in future loyally under the deputy; the deputy should accept the Butlers as faithful subjects. August.The proud noble men consented with haughty reluctance. They shook hands, and there was outward peace. But it was a peace which was ill founded and ill cemented. The Irish confederacy remained, though the personal quarrel was at an end. If on each side there had been faults of manner, the essence and reality of the fault had been confined to one. Ormond was a loyal nobleman and a sensible man. The conduct of Grey can be interpreted only as rising out of treachery, or from a folly which approached insanity. The Master of the Rolls, in reporting to Cromwell the result of the meeting, assured him, again and again, that the Earl had been entirely correct in his account of the expedition into the west that the reconciliation could not be of long endurance; and that if the King desired an effective administration of Ireland, he must recall Lord Leonard Grey.
​It would have been well for the deputy had he been spared further opportunity of doing injury. But Henry determined to give him another chance. The discovery of Desmond's intrigues with Paul III. made further trifling in that quarter impossible; and, believing in Grey's loyalty, he trusted that, when his eyes were opened, his abilities as a soldier would be useful. The intentions of the Irish, indeed, no longer were open to any uncertainty. Messengers were found to be passing to and fro between O'Neil, James of Scotland, and the Pope. 1539. March.In the spring of 1539 they March. had drawn out a plan of an intended campaign, in combination with the movements which were then contemplated in Europe. When the Emperor and Francis landed in England, the King of Scots was to cross into Ulster, and would descend on Dublin with the force of the North. The Geraldine clan would rise in the Pale, and sweep the English into the sea; and O'Neil would proclaim himself King of Ireland on Tara Hill. If James was required on his own Border, as he might be, he could be dispensed with. The chiefs were resolute, and equal to the work of themselves. 'The friars and ​priests of all the Irishry did preach daily that every man ought, for the salvation of his soul, to fight and make war against the King's Majesty and his true subjects; and if any of them did die in the quarrel, his soul that so should be dead should go to heaven, as the souls of St Peter and St Paul, which suffered death and martyrdom for God's sake.' The enterprise in Ireland, as elsewhere, terminated abortively, the Emperor, who was its central spring, declining to be set in motion. The Celtic chiefs, however, who, had the business become serious, would not perhaps have been the most effective of the confederates, were the last to relinquish the agitation. July.Their menaces continued loud till the summer; and in July Desmond 'began the dance' by attacking Kilkenny. Lord Leonard, who for the time had recovered his senses, now found O'Connor, whom the year before he had called 'his right hand,' to be the rankest of traitors. He thought there was more falsehood in the Irish 'than in all the devils in hell;' and he had so weakened the Earl of Ormond that it was doubtful whether any part of Munster could be protected.… He was roused at last, it seemed. The plan of the rebels was that O'Neil and O'Donnell should make their way with young Fitzgerald to Maynooth. Desmond was then to join them; and they calculated that the name of Kildare would set the ​country about Dublin in a flame. Lord Leonard, accompanied by Allen, who was now Lord Chancellor, anticipated the move by meeting O'Neil on the borders of Ulster. OctoberAn action followed, attended with the usual results; the gallowglass could not stand before the English men-at-arms; they fled hopelessly, and the coronation of O'Neil at Tara was for a time deferred. The Butlers, with more difficulty, kept at bay the Earl of Desmond. The clans were prevented from joining; and at length, in the autumn, having accomplished nothing, they settled back into quiet.
Community of danger, and apparent community of desire to act rightly, for the moment reconciled the deputy and the council, and restored the former to the respect of Ormond. In the winter Lord Leonard made a progress in Munster, undoing, so far as he was able, his previous mistakes; and the Earl, on the 20th of December, wrote in better spirits to Cromwell, saying that the old differences were at last forgotten, and, 'God willing,' should neither be revived nor remembered. The deputy wrote with equal cordiality. The council united in a joint despatch, extolling Grey's gallantry in the insurrection, and entreating the King to confer upon him some mark of approbation; and Henry, eager to encourage the improvement which at last seemed real, replied with a New-year's gift. But the moral state of Ireland was as fickle as its climate, ​and tempests quickly alternated with sunshine. In the midst of the general goodwill, Lord Leonard sent home a request that he might be allowed a few days' or weeks' respite from his labours. He was anxious to marry, he said, and, if only for a short time, to breathe English air again. The council endorsed his petition; and Henry, in acquiescing, showed so little intention of remembering bygone failures, that he advised him, if he was coming over, to lose no time; in May operations would recommence against the Irish, and his presence would be required. In the interval between the presentation of the request and the arrival of the King's reply, dissension had returned in all its fury; and with dissension, one of the periodic fits of what may be called madness in the deputy. It seems that the English residents at or near Dublin, with the majority of the army, were inclined to treat the Irish as an inferior race—as a nation of treacherous, cowardly slaves, who deserved neither the privileges nor the respect of free, honourable men. The King had insisted that all his loyal subjects, whatever was their blood, were equal before the law, and equal in his own estimation. But ​his injunctions were imperfectly attended to; he was contending with a feeling which the reluctant subjugation of an alien race rendered inevitable in their conquerors—at once conscious of the weakness of their numbers, and proud of their personal superiority. The antagonism of English and Irish could be understood and partially excused; and although the deputy, who was related by blood to both peoples, ought to have held the balance between them impartially, his error, if he had inclined to one side or the other, would at least have been intelligible. But Lord Leonard, to his misfortune, treated such Irishmen as were out of favour with the Geraldines with English insolence and tyranny. Under pretence of doing equal justice, he allowed the Geraldine dependents to avenge their own real or imagined injuries on the settlers of the Pale with their own hands. 1540. March.At the close of his administration he ventured on an act which only his own confession would have obliged us to credit. In a list of accusations to which he pleaded guilty is the following clause:—
Whereas it is ordained by authority of Parliament that, if any person shall draw, incite, or procure, by any manner of means, any Irishman to come in hostility into the King's dominion, to rob or spoil any of the King's subjects, or consent to the same, either by comforting or abetting any such Irishman before the act, or, after the same committed, shall aid, favour, and ​maintain, by any manner of mean, such malefactors, shall be deemed traitor of high treason, and suffer the penalties of the same; the Lord Leonard, nevertheless, comforted and abetted one Kedagh O'More, an Irishman, with a company of horsemen and footmen, to come twenty miles within the county of Kildare, to rob the barony of Oughtryn, and safely to return with the prede and spoil of the country, the like whereof hath not been seen. And a servant of his lordship's, called Edmund Asbold, was guide and conductor to the said malefactors, commanding the men of war of the country not to stir in the resistance of the same, for it was my Lord Deputy's commandment the same acts should be committed. And the said Asbold, with the principal malefactors, after the same act committed, and after they were for the same indicted of high treason, were as conversant and familiar with his Lordship as they were before, without attaching; and the inhabitants of the county, if the justices would have received the indictment, did present my lord as principal in the act committed. And touching the same, my lord confessed with advisement, in open council, sufficient matter to convict him of the same. And because the matter of itself is so evident against my lord, the King's council and justices ordered that his lordship should be chargeable to the poor people for their losses.'
After this exploit, and after having, in addition, released from Dublin Castle a number of Irish prisoners ​convicted of high treason, Grey represented to the King that the country was profoundly quiet. He reduced the army, and bequeathing as a legacy to Sir William Brereton, who was left as lord justice in his absence, to trust no one of the council, or he would be undone, he sailed for England. No sooner was he gone than the quiet of which he had spoken was turned to uproar. On the 30th of April O'Connor was killing and burning on the West Marches. On the 7th of May the Wicklow freebooters were cattle-driving under the walls of Dublin. 'To be plain with your lordship,' Brereton wrote to Cromwell, 'the deputy hath left this land in marvellous evil sort and danger;' and Ormond confirming the same story, and details of Grey's late extravagances reaching the Government at the same time, the King could endure it no longer. Exasperated by disappointment, the waste of money, and the hopelessness of the whole miserable business, he determined at all events that he would know the truth. He sent Grey to the Tower, and he wrote to Ormond, Sir John Allen, and Brabazon to repair to his presence on the instant for an examination of their own and the deputy's conduct.
The tongues of Lord Leonard's enemies were instantly loosed; accusations, wise and foolish, poured in from, every side. Archbishop Brown remembered that once in Lord Leonard's presence he had called Reginald Pole a Popish cardinal, and the deputy in return had ​called liim 'a polshorn knave friar.' He hinted that the King's cannon had been left at Galway for Pole or Pole's friends to find them there. Stories came out of secret dealings with Irish chiefs. The King's representative had taken bribes; he had assisted O'Neil to destroy a chief named McGuire, who had been a friend to the English; he had set at large convicted traitors; he had favoured the Geraldines, and corresponded with his nephew the pretended Earl of Kildare. Ormond and the chancellor, when they crossed the Channel, carried with them an indictment of ninety counts, each one of which, if proved, would bring destruction with it.
The charges were laid before Parliament, and in the first displeasure a bill of attainder was presented in the House of Lords. It was withdrawn four days after; perhaps because the confusion and distress which had followed Grey's departure, and had lasted into the summer, had prevented a temperate inquiry. Sir Anthony St Leger was appointed deputy, and Henry, in sending him to his government, directed him to complete the investigation.
It was done—done, as St Leger's character forbids us to doubt, with judgment and impartiality; and it resulted in the establishment of a case against Grey, which admitted only the palliation of possible insanity. Originally unfit for a position of command, he was sent ​to govern a country which had tried the brain and wrecked the reputation of many a wiser man. His recommendation had been his connection with a powerful native family; and the choice of a relation of the Geraldines implied a desire on the part of the English administration to conciliate. But to pursue prudently a policy of conciliation towards a half-conquered insubordinate race is the most arduous task which a ruler can be called on to discharge, and the connection had only surrounded him with seductive influences. His official advisers were, for the most part, little wiser than himself; and his mind yielded to a burden to which it was fundamentally unequal. His complicated embarrassments unhinged a disposition which nature had imperfectly balanced. After each and all the articles of accusation had been sifted, five of the most important were considered to have been substantiated.
December.In a meeting of the English privy council, on the 15th of December (after Cromwell had fallen, it is to be remembered, and when the peers had recovered their weight), 'It was agreed, after long and mature consideration, that the Lord Leonard Grey, late the King's deputy in Ireland, being led by the affection which he bare to the Geraldines, by reason of the marriage between his sister and the late Earl of Kildare, had done and committed heinous offences against the King's Majesty, and especially in the five points following, that is to say:—
'1. The entertaining of Margaret O'Connor, O'More's sons, Prior Walsh and his brother, knowing ​the same to be the King's traitors, rebels, and enemies, and that before they had any pardon.
'2. The setting up of Fergananym O'Carroll, the King's enemy, and the destruction of McGuire, the King's friend, with the taking of his castle.
'3. The setting at liberty Talbot Fitz Piers, Fitzgerald, and the Dean of Deny, being the King's subjects, and committed by the council to ward upon heinous points of treason.
'4. The procuring and maintenance of O'More's sons to rob and spoil the King's subjects.
'5. The entertaining of Edmund Asbold, after that he knew that the said Edmund was indicted of treason, with his word unto him bidding him to shift for himself.'
'Unless the said Lord Leonard could make better answer for himself unto these things he was in great danger.'
Lord Leonard had attempted to defend himself by reviving a counter-charge of treason against Ormond. He could not disprove his own offences; he failed to make good his case against another. He was sent to trial, and, feeling his position hopeless, he spared the jury the duty of pronouncing against him by pleading guilty, and throwing himself on a mercy which was not extended to him. His fate might be pitied, but could not be condemned in an age in which peers and ​commoners were unequal in the eye of justice, and responsibility was increased in proportion to the rank of the offender.
With Lord Leonard Grey the chapter of Irish misfortunes for the time was closed. The rule of folly was over—the rule of prudence commenced, and for the remaining years of the reign of Henry VIII. Ireland settled down, apparently for ever, into an attitude of quiescent obedience. 1541.Something of the improvement was due to the judgment of the ablest statesman who as yet had undertaken the administration of the country; something, also, to the skill with which Henry threw a bait to the Celtic chieftains, which they swallowed with unreluctant greediness. Their devotion to the Pope was considerable in quantity, and in substance was moderately genuine. It was not proof, however, against the temptation of a share in the spoils of 'religion.' In a full Parliament held by St Leger in Dublin, at which O'Neil, Desmond, O'Brien, O'Donnell, Mac William, and the other most turbulent Irish leaders were present, the religious houses, which five years before had been saved by the clergy, were condemned to the same fortune which they had experienced in England. The lands were distributed among the Irish nobles on terms so easy as to amount to a present; and the participation in the sacrilege, and the actual accomplishment of the suppression, if it did not inspire the Celtic leaders with gratitude towards England, yet suspended the ​friendliness of their relations with the recusant priests at home and with the Romanists abroad. While digesting the heavy meal they were contented to be at rest—and in a general interchange of cordialities and courtesies the late confederates, who had sworn to drive the English from the country, conferred on Henry the title of King of Ireland. Henry in return distributed peerages on those who had most deserved them by persevering hostility; while the amity was completed by the appearance of Donough O'Brien, Morrough O'Brien, and Ulick Bourke, to partake of the splendid hospitalities of Greenwich, and to receive their investitures respectively as Baron of Ibrachain and Earls of Thomond and Clanrickard.
* ↑ Flodden was fought September the 9th, 1513. Margaret's second marriage was on the 9th of August, 1514.
* ↑ 'In like manner as one of the royal princes has been put to death, so also will he (the King of France) rid himself of the only one remaining, in order that the Duke of Albany may inherit the kingdom.'—Giustiniani's Letters from the Court of Henry VIII., vol. i. p. 110.
* ↑ Calderwood's History of the Kirk of Scotland, vol. i p. 62.
* ↑ 'The quene, by evill and senistre counseill, is mekill inclinet to the pleasure of the duke in al maner of thingis, and are never sundrie, but every day to gidre owther forrowe nowe or after, and as it is supposed he is intendit a divorse betwix the Earl of Angus and the quene. In manner they set not by who know it; and if I durst say it for fear of displeasure of my sovereign, they are over tendre.'—Ellis, second series, vol. i. p. 285.
* ↑ Buchanan, vol. ii. p. 138.
* ↑ 'Ye know how the lords are blinded with the Duke of Albany for gifts of benefices (and all is at his gifts), and that he gives to hold them at his opinion with part of money that the French King sendeth them at his request.' State Papers, vol. iv. p. 3.
* ↑ The immediate object was to liberate the young King from the control of Albany's faction. 'The lords set not by the hurt of poor folks, but laugh at the same,' wrote Margaret. 'Wherefore, my lord, either come to Edinburgh, or near about it, and I shall take upon me that the lords shall send to you and make offer themselves and put forth the King: for I assure you a 1000 men with artillery may do with Edinburgh and the lords in the same as they will. And failing of this ye will neither get the King forth nor yet the hand of France destroyed.—State Papers, vol. iv. p. 26.
* ↑ Buchanan, vol. ii.
* ↑ The Earl of Surrey to Wolsey: Ellis, first series, vol. i. pp. 226, 227.
* ↑ 'Of likelihood no man living shall ever see the Scots attempt to invade this realm with the powers of Scotland if they be well resisted now.'—Ellis, first series, vol. i. pp. 226, 227.
* ↑ 'The Duke sent over 2000 Frenchmen in boats to give assault to the place, who with force entered the base court, and by Sir William Lisle, captain of the castle, with a hundred with him, were right manfully defended by the space of one hour and a half, without suffering them to enter the inner ward, hut finally the said Frenchmen entered the inner ward, which perceived, the said Sir William and his company freely set upon them, and not only drove them out of the inner ward, but also out of the outer ward, and slew of the said Frenchmen ten persons; and so the said Frenchmen went over the water.'—The Earl of Surrey to Henry VIII.: Ellis, first series, vol. i. p. 233. In a subsequent letter to Wolsey the Earl says: 'At the assault of Newark the captain of the first band of French footmen that came into Scotland was slain, with nine more with him; and the same night died twenty-two more, and eight score sore hurt. I assure your Grace never men did better than they within the castle did, which were but one hundred; and there was within the base court above a thousand Frenchmen and five hundred Scots.'—State Papers, vol. iv. p. 52.
* ↑ Surrey to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 52.
* ↑ 'I see great appearance of evil and danger to the King my son's person, when that they that are true lords to the King my son be put from him; and them that loveth the governour put to him, and that I know perfectly would bare my son destroyed for the pleasure of the Duke.'—Queen Margaret to Surrey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 57.
* ↑ Surrey to Wolsey: ibid. p. 63.
* ↑ 'A party of the Frenchmen that the said Duke despatched home again into France, were found in the out isles of Scotland, driven with stormy weather, and many of them were famished for lack of victuals, and the residue of them made war in the said out isles for getting of victuals to sustain them with, and so there were famished and killed of them there to the number of four or five hundred.'—Dacre to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 70.
* ↑ State Pagers, vol. iv. p. 83.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iv. pp. 122–130.
* ↑ Norfolk to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. pp. 146–149.
* ↑ 'Queen Margaret to the Duke of Norfolk: State Papers, vol. iv. pp. 167, 168.'
* ↑ 'The noblemen and commons do much desire the amity of England, and the commons universally hate the Duke of Albany of all men living. The Earl of Angus is desired universally amongst them.'—Norfolk, Dacre, and Magnus to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 188.
* ↑ Norfolk to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 189.
* ↑ 'He keepeth, as is said, all the seals, and ordereth all causes in such a manner as is without any other counsel either of wisdom, honour, or reputation.'—Magnus to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 215.
* ↑ Wolsey to Norfolk: ibid. p. 219.
* ↑ This disaster was the occasion of an Act of Parliament in the session which followed. 'It is statut and ordanit that for sa mekle as the lords of counsale and utheris our Soverane Lord's lieges resortand and repairand to the toun of Edinburgh may be invadit, pursewit, or trublit be evill avisit persouns being in the Castell of Edinburgh be schot of gun, that therefore the capitain of the said castell suffirs na gunis to be schot furth of the samin to the hurt, damage or skaith of ony of our Soverane Lord's lieges: ne that be suffirs nane of the artilyery gunis, pulder, bullets, or uther municiouns now being in the castell forsaid to be remuvit furth of the samyn to ony uther place, bot be the avise and comand of the lords chosin of counsale under the pane of treasoun. And that na gunaris pass to the Castell of Edinburgh without comand and charge of the said lords under the pane of deit.'—Acts of Parliament of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 290.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iv. p. 258.
* ↑ 'The French King will give unto her Grace (the queen-mother), to be of favourable inclination to his desire, a great country in France; and the said King hath sent great sums of money to the lords.'—State Papers, vol. iv. p. 283.
* ↑ 'The Queen's Grace sueth fast for a divorce between her said Grace and the Earl of Angus, surmitting her cause to be that she was married to the said Earl, the late King of Scots her husband being alive, and that the same King was living three years after the field of Flodden.'—Magnus to Wolsey; ibid. p. 385.
* ↑ 'Our Sovereign Lady the Queen now taking and having the care and guideship of her son, as well of his most noble person as of his rents and profits, is by certain indisposed persons, not able nor worthy sic any charge, so misguided that her Grace, in all matters concerning the commonwealth, proceeds upon will and not upon reason; where through our said Sovereign Lord is drawn and inclined to mischiefs and unvertuous usages; and therewith justice is all entirely neglected; slaughters, murders, reiffs, depredations, and other crimes are common, and many committed about the place of their residences, and no correction nor punition is made therefore,' &c.—Beton, Angus, Argyle, Lennox, &c., to Henry VIII.; State Papers, vol. iv. p. 312.
* ↑ Magnus to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 335.
* ↑ Evidently Margaret.—State Papers, vol. iv.
* ↑ Ibid.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iv.
* ↑ Magnus to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 406
* ↑ Magnus to Wolsey; State Papers, vol. iv. p. 458.
* ↑ Sir Christopher Dacre to Lord Dacre; ibid p. 46.
* ↑ The divorce of Margaret from the Earl of Angus, demanded, as I have said, on the plea of the legend of the escape of James IV. from Flodden, was not huddled over in a provincial court in Scotland. It was decided in Italy after two years' deliberation, with all the usual solemnities.—State Papers, vol. iv. p. 491. The moderate surprise which I experienced on reading the speeches of Roman Catholic members of Parliament in the late debate on the Divorce Bill was increased to wonder at the silence with which the assertions of the purity of the Papal courts were allowed to pass unchallenged.
* ↑ Lord Dacre to Wolsey: State Papers, vol. iv. p. 490.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iv. p. 576.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iv. p. 590.
* ↑ Henry VIII. to Lord William Howard: State Papers, vol. v. pp. 1–6.
* ↑ Queen Margaret to Henry VIII.: State Papers, vol. v. pp. 10, 11; Queen Margaret to Cromwell: ibid. pp. 12, &c.
* ↑ Henry VIII. to James V.: ibid. p. 6.
* ↑ Barlow to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. v. p. 36.
* ↑ Margaret to Henry VIII.: ibid. p. 39.
* ↑ Buchanan, vol. ii. p. 161.
* ↑ Melville's Memoirs.
* ↑ 'They shew themselves in all points to be the Pope's pestilent creatures, very limbs of the devil, whose Popish power violently to maintain, these lying friars cease not in their sermons, we being present, blasphemously to blatter against the verity, with slanderous reproach of us.'—Barlow to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. v. p. 37.
* ↑ Paul's first Pastoral Letter for a crusade against England had been issued about two months.
* ↑ With these engines they battered James's mind, which of itself was inclined enough to superstition: and, moreover, they corrupted those courtiers who could the most prevail with him, desiring them in their names to promise him a great sum of money, so that by these artifices they wholly turned away his mind from the thought of an interview.'—Buchanan, vol. ii. p. 163; and see Melville.
* ↑ 'The delay of time and the new appointment of the place is for none other purpose than to provoke that your Grace, by such occasion, should break off without any default to be suspected of his part; and lest this colour might fail, he hath sent a clerk, Master John Thornton, who passed through your realm to procure of the Bishop of Rome a brief, to encharge him by commandment that he agree to no meeting with your Grace. The Queen, because she hath so earnestly solicited in the cause of meeting, is in high displeasure with the King her son, he bearing her in hand that she received gifts of your Highness to betray him.'—Howard and Barlow to Henry VIII.: State Papers, vol. v. p. 46.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. v. p. 63.
* ↑ Sadler's mission was in January, 1537, just at the time of the second rising in Yorkshire and Cumberland; and two curious letters written by him to Cromwell during the journey are printed in the State Papers, vol. i. pp. 526–529. He spent a night at Darlington, which he describes thus: 'My chance was to come into the town in the evening, about six of the clock, or somewhat afore; and when I alighted at my lodging, I think there was not passing three or four persons standing about the inn door. Assuring your lordship that I was scant ascended up a pair of stairs into my chamber but there was about thirty or forty persons assembled in the street afore my chamber window, with clubs and bats; and there they came running out of all quarters of the street, and stood together on a clump, whispering and rounding together. Wherefore I called unto me mine host, who seemed to be an honest man, and I asked him what the people meant to assemble so together. He answered me that when they saw or heard of any coming out of the south, they used always so to gather together to hear news. I told him it was ill suffered of them that were the heads of the town to let them make such unlawful assemblies together in the street; and that it was a very ill example, and hard to judge what inconveniences might follow or what attemptates they would enterprise when such a number of light fellows were assembled. He answered me by his faith the heads of the town could not rule them, ne durst for their lives speak any foul word unto them. But, quoth he, I think myself to be in some credit with them; and ye shall see, quoth he, that I shall cause them to scatter abroad, and every man to go to his home bye and bye. Marry, quoth I, if ye do well ye should set some of them by the heels. No, quoth he, God defend, for so might we bring a thousand men in our tops within an hour; but ye shall see me order them well enough with fair words. And thereupon he went to the route in the street as they stood whispering together, and with his cap in his hand, prayed them to leave their whispering, and every man to go home. And then came they all about him, and asked him who I was, whence I came, and whither I would. Mine host told them I was the King's servant, and going from his Highness in ambassade into Scotland, whereunto one of them replied, and said that could not be true, for the King of Scots was in France. Nevertheless, in fine, mine host so pacified them, that every man went his way; but much ado he had, as he told me. I assure your lordship the people be very tickle, and methinketh in a marvellous strange case and perplexity, for they gape and look for things, and fain would have they cannot tell what.'
* ↑ Henry VIII. to Sadler: State Papers, vol. v. p. 70.
* ↑ Sir Thomas Clifford to Henry VIII.: State Papers, vol. v. p. 80.
* ↑ 'Dearest Cousin, I must make my complaint to you how I am heavily done to in this realm, for I have obtained my cause of divorce betwixt me and my Lord of Meffen; and it is so far past that the judge has concluded and written my sentence ready to be pronounced, and the King my son has stopped the same and will not let it be given; and he promised me, when I gave him my manor of Dunbar for a certain money, that I should have the same sentence pronounced.… They cause the King my son to believe that an the Lord of Meffen be my husband, that he may give the King my lands and living as long as he is my husband; and through this way he thinks to hold me daily in trouble, and to make him master of my lands.'—Queen Margaret to the Duke of Norfolk: State Papers, vol. v. p. 103.
* ↑ Ray to the Privy Council: State Papers, vol. v. pp. 193–4.
* ↑ Sir T. Clifford to Henry VIII.: State Papers, vol. v. p. 95.
* ↑ Buchanan, vol. ii. p. 165. Buchanan adds: 'Their accuser was William Lyon, their near relative. He afterwards, perceiving so eminent a family was like to be ruined by his false information, repented when it was too late, and confessed his offence to the King; yet he could not prevent the punishment of the accused or hinder their estates from being confiscated.'
* ↑ Duke of Norfolk to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. v. p. 154. Sir Thomas Wharton to the Duke of Norfolk: ibid. p. 156.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 156.
* ↑ His instructions are printed in the first volume of the Sadler Papers, and in the fifth volume of the State Papers, p. 81. The date of the document, as usual, must be determined by internal evidence; and the editor of the Sadler Papers has given it to the year 1541: the editor of the State Papers, to 1537. The latter has shown that the first date is wrong. I believe it is as certain that he is mistaken himself. From the matter of the instructions, it is clear that the Papal Bull had been published, which was not till the close of 1538. It was at a time when an invasion was looked for, when Pole, in the Pope's name, was urging the Emperor to declare war against England, and the Emperor's refusal was not yet known. It was, therefore, before the breaking up of the Flanders fleet in April, 1539, and Pole's disappointment at Toledo.
* ↑ Sadler Papers, vol. i. p. 3, &c.
* ↑ The provost said the town was full. James mentioned a particular house which might be made over to the English embassy. The provost said the Bishop of Ross lodged there. 'I say,' quoth the King, 'in the foul evil dislodge the Bishop, and see that the house be furnished against the ambassador's coming.'—Ibid.
* ↑ Sadler relates a grotesque illustration of the suspicion with which he was regarded. His stay was protracted into Lent. 'They raised a bruit here that I and all my folks did eat flesh here as heretics and Jews, and thereupon open proclamation was made by the commandment of the Cardinal, that whosoever should buy an egg or eat an egg, within those dioceses, should forfeit no less than his body to the fire to be burnt as an heretic, and all his goods confiscate to the King. And because they bruited that I and my folks did eat flesh (wherein they falsely belied me, whereupon, as I gather, the proclamation was made), I seemed not to be content withal, and complained thereof in honest sort to such gentlemen of the Court as resorted to me, insomuch that the King had knowledge thereof, and incontinently sent Rothsay the herald to me declaring that, whatsoever publications were made, the King's pleasure was I should eat what I would, and that victuals should be appointed for me of what I would eat. I thanked humbly his Grace, and said I was belied and untruly said of. 'For,' quoth I, 'I eat no flesh nor none of my folks, nor,' quoth I, 'is it permitted in England in the Lent. Marry,' quoth I, 'I confess I eat eggs and white meats, because I am an evil fishman, and I think it none offence; for if it were,' quoth I, 'I would be as loth to eat of it as the holiest of your priests that thus have belied me.' 'Oh!' quoth he, 'know ye not our priests? a mischief on them all. I trust,' quoth he, 'the world will amend here once.' Thus I had liberty to eat what I would. Another bruit they made that all my men were monks; that I had them out of the abbeys of England, and now they were serving men. I gave a Greek word on my men's coat sleves, which is μόνιῳ ἄνακτι δουλεύω, the Latin whereof is Soli regi servio. Now the bishops here have interpreted my word to be, as they called, monachulus, which, as they say, is in English 'a little monk,' as a diminutive of monachus, and thus they affirmed for a verity. Whereupon they bruited that all my men were monks; but it appeareth they are no good Grecians. And now the effect of words is known, and they be well laughed for their learned interpretation.'—Sadler to ——: Sadler Papers, vol. i. pp. 47, 48.
* ↑ 'Hæretici debent comburi,' is to be found in the Regiam Majestatem; but the date of that treatise, or the introduction into it of particular phrases, is uncertain. In the Parliament held at Perth, in 1398, 'cursed men heretics' were directed to be put forth from the kirk, and specially punished: the form of the penalty was not specified.—Acts of Parliament of Scotland, vol. i. p. 211. The word 'heretic,' which to contemporaries was the one expression fraught with the deepest associations of horror, is sought for eagerly among the Records by the modern historian as the green blade of promise bursting out of the barren soil.
* ↑ Knox says the last of February. Calderwood, the last week in March the first in April.
* ↑ History of the Reformation, p. 7.
* ↑ Equivalent to pleading guilty and appealing for mercy.
* ↑ Knox's History of the Reformation, p. 16.
* ↑ Knox, ibid. p. 14.
* ↑ Spotswood: History of the Church of Scotland, pp. 65, 66.
* ↑ Calderwood, vol. i.
* ↑ Knox's History of the Reformation.
* ↑ Spotswood
* ↑ Calderwood, vol. i. p. 129.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 288, &c.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 287.
* ↑ Confession of a Monk of St Bennett's, addressed to Wolsey, touching his dealing with spirits: Rolls House MS. second series 64.
* ↑ Lord Deputy and Council of Ireland to Cromwell: State Papers, voL ii. p. 318; Cowley to Cromwell: ibid. p. 323.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 349.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. pp. 347–353.
* ↑ See the Corresondence of the Deputy and Council with the English Government: State Papers, vol. ii. pp. 382–501.
* ↑ This very Irish feature in our constitutional history deserves particular attention. 'The frowardness and obstinacy of the proctors of the clergy,' the deputy and treasurer wrote to Cromwell, 'from the beginning of this session, hath been such that we can do no less than advertise your lordship thereof. After the assembly of the Parliament at this session, some bills were past the Common House, and by the speaker delivered to the High House to be debated there. The spiritual lords thereupon made a general answer that they would not commune nor debate upon any bill till they knew whether the proctors in the Convocation had a voice or not.… My lord, it were well done that some mean may be devised whereby they may be brought to remember their duties better. Except the mean may be found that these proctors may be put from voice in the Parliament, there shall but few things pass for the King's profit, for hitherto have they showed themselves in nothing conformable. We think that no reasonable man would judge them to have such a pre-eminence in a Parliament, that though the King, the Lords, and Commons assent to an Act, the proctors in the Convocation House (though they were but seven or eight in number, as sometimes they be here no more) shall stay the same at their pleasure, be the matter never so good, honest, and reasonable. It doth well appear that it is a crafty cast devised betwixt their masters the bishops and them. It is good that we have against the next session a declaration from them under the King's great seal of England of this question whether the proctors have a voice in the Parliament or not? and that every Act passed without their assents is nevertheless good and effectual.'—State Papers, vol. ii. pp 438–9.The reply of the Crown, as embodied in an Act of Parliament (Irish Statutes, 28 Henry VIII. cap. 12), is a good authority as to the constitutional, as distinct from the ecclesiastical, theory of the functions of Convocation. The Irish and English practice, however, before the Reformation, seems to have been curiously different. In England custom allowed the clergy to constitute themselves an independent legislative body. In Ireland the proctors seem to have regarded themselves as returned to the Parliament, like the bishops and abbots. 'Forasmuch,' says the Act, 'as at every Parliament begun and holden within this land, two proctors of every diocese within the same land have been used and accustomed to be summoned and warned to be at the same Parliament, which were never by the order of law, usage, custom, or otherwise, any member or parcel of the whole body of the Parliament, nor have had any voice or suffrage in the same, but only to be there as councillors and assistants to the same, and upon such things of learning as should happen in controversy, to declare their opinions, much like as the Convocation within the realm of England is commonly at every Parliament begun and holden by the King's special license, as his Majesty's judges of his said realm of England, and other substantial and learned men, having groundedly examined the root and first establishment of the same, do clearly determine; and yet, by reason of this sufferance and by the continuance of time, and for that most commonly the said proctors have been made privy to such matters as within this land at any time have been to be enacted and established and their advices taken to the same, they now of their ambitious minds do temerariously presume and take upon themselves to be parcel of the body, in manner claiming that without their assent nothing can be enacted at any Parliament within this land: wherefore, be it ordained and established by authority of this present Parliament,' &c. The conclusion from such a preamble may be easily supplied.
* ↑ Cowley to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. ii. p. 371.
* ↑ Henry VIII. to the Deputy and Council of Ireland: State Papers, vol. ii. p. 422.
* ↑ Henry VIII. to Archbishop Brown: State Papers, vol. ii. p. 465.
* ↑ 'Instructions by the King's Majesty unto his trusty and wellbeloved servants Anthony St Leger, George Paulet, Thomas Moyle, and William Berners, Esqrs., whom his Grace sendeth into his land of Ireland.'—State Papers, vol. ii. p. 452.
* ↑ Articles of the Enormities of the Lord Leonard Grey: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 37.
* ↑ Articles of the Enormities of the Lord Leonard Grey: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 488.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 535.
* ↑ 'Neither by gentle exhortation, evangelical instruction, neither by oaths of them solemnly taken, nor yet by threats of sharp correction, can I persuade or induce any, either religious or secular, once to preach the word of God, or the just title of our most illustrious prince. And yet before that our most dread sovereign were declared to be (as he ever was in deed) supreme head over the Church, they that then could, and would, even till the right Christians were weary of them, preach after the old fashion, will not now open their lips; but in corners and such company as them liketh they can full earnestly utter their opinions.'—Archbishop Brown to Cromwell: ibid. p. 539.
* ↑ 'The King's Majesty hath one champion, the Lord Butler, that dare repugne against the abusions of such sects as this miserable land is overflown withal.'—White to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. ii. p. 567.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 539.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 562–3.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. p. 2
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 551, &c.
* ↑ Cowley to Cromwell: ibid. vol. iii. p. 51.
* ↑ Lord Butler to Cowley: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 32.
* ↑ Ormond to Cowley: ibid. p. 53.
* ↑ 'My Lord Deputy hath so strengthened this James of Desmond, that all the captains of Munster, in effect, are of his band; and is of greater strength by means of my Lord Deputy than any Earl of Desmond that has been these many years. And as I am credibly informed, he hath counselled the said Desmond to make war upon me for such lands as my son James hath in his wife's right.'—Ormond to Cowley: ibid. p. 54.
* ↑ Lord Butler to Cowley: ibid, p. 30; Ormond to Cromwell: ibid. p. 93.
* ↑ Ormond to the Council: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 44
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. p. 54, &c.
* ↑ 'For a certain reward which O'Brien gave to my Lord Deputy he is gone with the said O'Brien and James of Desmond to war upon Murrough O' Brien with all his host; and have promised, for a like reward, to go with Ulick Bourke upon Mac William.'—Ormond to Cowley: ibid. p. 48.
* ↑ 'The late O'Carroll being deceased, he preferred to his room Fergananym O'Carroll, son-in-law of the late Earl of Kildare, delivering the whole strengths and garrisons of the country into his hands; and, as we be informed, took divers garrisons in Ormond, delivering the same to O'Connor and O'Carroll's friends, being of the Geraldine band. Being in Counaught, he hath put down Mac William, and hath made one Ulick de Burgh captain, which Ulick is of the Geraldine band.'—Brabazon, Aylmer, and Allen to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 56.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. p. 57. The value of the pledges was not considerable. O'Brien, for instance, put in his son, but stipulated that he should remain in the hands of the Earl of Desmond.—Ibid. p. 59.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. p. 62, note.
* ↑ 'As concerning this journey that he made, there was none of the King's council privy that he would have gone any further than O'Carroll's country, neither can we hitherto know the cause or ground thereof. It was in God's hands that he ever returned, for he had not with him above a hundred Englishmen, and most of them without harness.'—Brabazon, Aylmer, and Allen to Cromwell: ibid. p. 83.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 62.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. pp. 74–82.
* ↑ 'We have communed with the Earl of Ormond and his son for proof of their book; they say the most part of the matter is so notorious that it needeth no further proof. But we must be plain to your lordship that, as far as we can perceive, this agreement will not long endure between my Lord Deputy and them. Neither can we perceive (whereof we be sorry) that my Lord Deputy is meet to make longer abode here, for lie is so hawte and chafing that men be afeared to speak to him, doubting his bravish lightness, nevertheless, it is much pity of him, for he is an active gentleman."—State Papers, vol. iii. p. 83.
* ↑ 'The Bishop of Rome is the only author of their detestable purpose, and the King of Scots a special comforter and abettor. There passeth daily messengers from them to Scotland, and from thence to Rome.'—Allen to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 136.
* ↑ Confession of Connor More O'Connor: ibid. pp. 139, 140.
* ↑ Confession of Thomas Lynch: State Papers, vol. iii. pp. 140, 141.
* ↑ 'I think certainly there is no ranker traitor inwardly in his heart than he is, whatsoever he sayth outwardly.'—Lord Leonard Grey to Cromwell; ibid. p. 144.
* ↑ Ibid.
* ↑ Cowley to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 149.
* ↑ Ormond to Cromwell: ibid. p. 154.
* ↑ The Council of Ireland to Henry VIII.: ibid. p. 173.
* ↑ Henry VIII. to Grey: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 194.
* ↑ 'Forasmuch as we be credibly informed that sundry of our retinue there doth both in words and deeds misbehave themselves towards our good and loving subjects of that country, as in calling them traitors, and in violently taking their goods and commodities from them, our pleasure and commandment is that you shall cause a proclamation to be made, commanding by the same, upon pain of death, that no man be so hardy so to misuse himself in word or deed towards any of our said good subjects of the birth of that our land.'—Henry VIII. to Grey: ibid. p. 195.
* ↑ 'The Lord Leonard never made recompense of any wrong that ever he did to any Irishman.'—State Papers, vol. iii. p. 259.
* ↑ Articles of Accusation against Grey: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 259
* ↑ State Papers, vol. ii. p. 200.
* ↑ Archbishop Brown to Cromwell: State Papers, vol. iii. p. 208.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 249, &c.
* ↑ Lords Journals, 32 Henry VIII. July 17.
* ↑ Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council, vol. vii. pp. 90, 91.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 88.
* ↑ State Papers, vol. iii. p. 473. For the suppression of the religious houses and the distribution of the lands, see Irish Statutes, 32 Henry VIII. cap. 5; and State Papers, vol. iii. pp. 295–6, 334, 339, 392, 463–5. 474.