church history

The Armada, part 1

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While Mary Stuart, the Roman Catholic Queen of Scots, lived, Rome’s hope of bringing England back under the control of the Catholic Church centered in her. Their death, however, effectively put an end to all of these hopes. The papal decree ordering all Christian princes to actively work for the destruction of Protestantism still remained as one of the infallible canons of the Council of Trent and was still acknowledged by the kings of the Catholic world. The plot to bring about the overthrow of Protestant England now took a new shape in the form of the invincible Armada.

It required no supernatural insight to recognize the approaching storm. Sixtus V, who even among popes was outstanding for his craft and daring, was just beginning his reign. Cold, selfish, hungry for power, and dedicated to the overthrow of Protestantism, Phillip II was on the throne of Spain. No Jesuit could be more dedicated in purpose, nor shrewd in disguising his purposes. His great ambition was that after-generations should be able to say of him that in his days and by his arms, heresy had been exterminated.

The Jesuits were operating throughout Europe, working to inflame the minds of kings and statesmen against the Reformation, seeking to organize them into armed combinations to put it down. Protestantism had been effectively purged from Spain and Italy. Worst of all, even among the friends of Protestantism there was fragmentation and disagreement. The spiritual influence, which like a mighty wave had rolled across all Christendom in the first half of the century, bearing on its swelling crest scholars, statesmen, and nations, was now on the ebb, and Catholicism was struggling to gain back that which it had lost. Luther, Calvin, Knox, Cranmer, and Coligny were all off the stage of action; and their successors, though men of faith and ability, were not of the same stature as those who had laid the foundation of the Reformation. In terms of facilities that generally determine the strength of a nation, there was little to compare between those who favored the Reformation and those who opposed it. To all human appearances, it seemed that the flame of the Reformation, which but a few years earlier had burned so brightly, must soon flicker and die.

Before her powerful enemies, England, with her little population of four million, and Holland, with even less, appeared completely vulnerable before the mighty armies of the Catholic world, enriched with their gold plundered from the New World. While the friends of the Reformation were divided, irresolute, cherishing illusions of peace, and making little or no preparations, there were omens that only too clearly betokened the coming conflict.

In 1584, two years before the execution of Mary Stuart, Phillip began preparations for building a fleet, the likes of which the world had never seen. For such an effort and for such a glorious cause, money and effort were now object. Stretching along nearly two thousand miles of coast line there was not a harbor or river’s mouth that could be utilized which was not taken advantage of for the building of ships that were to bear the Spanish soldiers of the Inquisition to the shores of heretical England.

The completed fleet had provisions for six months, as well as quantities of power, shot, all of the other materials that would be needed for an invasion. The Armada numbered 130 vessels, great and small. On board were 8,000 sailors in addition to 20,000 soldiers. This group was augmented by many noblemen and gentlemen who had volunteered to serve. The armor consisted of 2,650 pieces of ordnance; its burden was 60,000 tons. This was an immense tonnage at the time when the English navy consisted of twenty-eight ships and an aggregate weight that did not exceed the tonnage of a single, modern seagoing vessel.

The Spanish ships were of great capacity and amazing strength. Their strong ribs were lined with planks four feet in thickness, through which it was thought impossible that a cannon ball could pierce. Cables smeared with pitch were wound around the masts to enable them to withstand the fire of the enemy. Sixty-four of the total number of ships were galleons. Armed with heavy brass, they towered above the waves like castles.

During the time that the vast fleet was being built, Spain did everything that could possibly be done to conceal the knowledge of it from England. With poor, if any, postal communications, secrecy was more easily attainable than today. It was impossible however, to keep a complete secret. In order to ease the concerns of the English, Philip resorted to dissimulation. It was said at one time that the new fleet’s purpose was to sweep from the seas certain pirates that gave annoyance to Spain and had captured some of her ships. Later, it was said that Philip meant to punish certain unknown enemies on the far side of the Atlantic. All that craft and lying could do was done to allay the suspicions of the people of England. Even Walsingham, one of the most discerning and clear sighted of the queen’s ministers, expressed belief—just fifteen days before the Armada sailed—that it never would invade England and that Philip’s hands were too full at home to leave him leisure to conquer kingdoms abroad.

In reality, there were two Armadas being prepared to attack an unsuspecting England. In the Netherlands, at that time in the possession of Philip, there was a scene of activity nearly as great as that which was taking place in Spain. Philip’s governor in Belgium, the duke of Parma, was perhaps the most able general of his age. His instructions were to prepare an army and fleet to cooperate with the Spanish force as soon as it arrived in the English Channel.

The whole of the Spanish Netherlands suddenly burst into activity. Assembling 28 warships, along with several hundred smaller vessels, the duke gathered regiments of soldiers from every Catholic nation in Europe. There was scarcely a noble house of Spain that was not represented within the camp of Parma. Believing that the last hour of England had come, they assembled to witness her fall.

During this time of preparation, every imaginable deception was practiced toward Elizabeth and the statesmen who served her to hide from them their great danger until it should overtake them. She sent her commissioners to the Low Countries, but Parma protested, with tears in his eyes, that there lived not on earth anyone who more sincerely desired peace than himself. Did not his prayers morning and night ascend for its continuance? And as regarding the wise and magnanimous sovereign of England, there was not one of her servants that cherished a higher admiration for her than did he. This monumental hypocrisy was not without effect. The English commissioners returned, after three month’s absence, in the belief that Parma’s intentions were peaceful and confirmed Elizabeth and her ministers in dreams of peace. England did not fully awaken from this illusion of peace until just days before the guns of the Spanish Armada were heard in the English Channel.

To aid in the war effort, Sixtus V issued a bull against Elizabeth in which he confirmed the previous one by Pius V, absolving her subjects of their allegiance and conferring her kingdom upon Philip II, to have and to hold as tributary and feudatory of the papal chair. While the pope with one hand took away the crown from Elizabeth, he conferred with the other the red hat upon Father Allen. Already the archbishop of Canterbury, Allen was at once both the archbishop of Canterbury and, by order of the pope, papal legate. Allen now had the pope’s bull translated into English, intending that upon arrival of the Spanish fleet, it should be published in England.

Suddenly, as if from a deep sleep, England awoke to her great danger just before the Spanish ships were to arrive. How was the invasion to be met? England had but a handful of soldiers and a few ships to oppose the host that was coming against her.

The total English force was just over 150,000. This force was split into three groups with one group stationed for the defense of the capital, one for the personal defense of the queen, and the third was to guard the south and east as the place most likely to be selected by the enemy for landing. Beacons were prepared to be lighted at the first landing of the of the enemy on English soil, notifying the rest of the troops at what point to converge.

The English fleet that sailed to oppose the Armada consisted of thirty-four ships of small tonnage carrying 6,000 men. Besides these, the city of London provided thirty ships. In all the port towns, merchant vessels were converted into warships, bringing the total to possibly as many as 150 vessels, with a crew of 14,000. Though the total number of vessels nearly matched that of the Spanish, the figures on paper give a far more favorable appearance than is warranted. The English fleet was, in comparison to the Spanish fleet, but a collection of six or eight oared boats along with a few slightly larger vessels.

This force was divided into two squadrons: one, under Lord Howard, high admiral of England, consisting of seventeen ships which were to cruise the Channel and there wait for the arrival of the Armada. The second squadron, under Hawkins, consisting of fifteen ships, was stationed at Dunkirk to intercept Parma should he attempt to cross with his fleet from Flanders. Sir Francis Drake, in his ship the Revenge , had a following of about thirty privateers. After the war broke out, the fleet was further increased by ships belonging to the nobility and the merchants, hastily armed and sent to sea; though the brunt of the fight, it was foreseen, must fall on the queen’s ships.

England’s inferior army was simply militia, insufficiently drilled, poorly armed, and, except in spirit, could not compare in any way with the soldiers of Spain who had been seasoned on the field of battle. The Spanish army alone was deemed more than sufficient to conquer England; and how easy would the conquest become when that Armada should be joined by the mighty force under Parma, the flower of the Spanish army! England, with her long lone of coast, her unfortified town, and her four millions of population, including many thousands of Roman Catholics ready to rise in insurrection as soon as the invader had made good his landing, was at that hour in supreme peril. It was not England alone whose existence was in question. Its success or failure was the standing or falling of Protestantism. Should Philip succeed in his enterprise, Spain would replace England as the teacher and guide of the nations, some idea of the consequence of such an outcome may be seen by contrasting the political, religious, social, and moral conditions today of Latin America with those of Protestant North America.

For some time after the ships of the Armada had been collected in Lisbon, ready to sail, they were unable to move, waiting for favorable weather. When the wind finally shifted, the proud galleons spread their canvas and began their voyage toward England. For three days—May 28-30, 1588—galleon followed galleon, till it seemed the ocean must surely be filled with them. It was a breathtaking sight, as with sails spread to the breeze and banners and streamers gaily unfurled, it made its way along the coast of Spain. The twelve principal ships of the Armada bound on this holy enterprise had been baptized with the names of the twelve apostles. On board the St. Peter was Don Martin Allacon, administrator and vicar-general of the holy office of the Inquisition; and along with him were 200 barefooted friars and Dominicans. Though the guns of the Armada were to begin the conquest of heretical England, the spiritual arms of the Fathers were to complete it.

Just as the Armada was about to sail, the Marquis Santa Cruz, who had been appointed to the chief command, died. He had been thirty years in Philip’s service and was beyond doubt the most capable sea captian Spain had. Another had to be found to fill the place of the “Iron-Marquis,” and the duke of Medina Sidonia was selected for the job. The main recommendation of Medina Sidonia was his vast wealth. The “Golden Duke” was there simply to provide the armament; the real head of the expedition was to be the duke of Parma, Philip’s commander in the Netherlands and the ablest of his generals. As soon as the Armada should arrive off Calais, the duke was to cross from Flanders and, uniting his numerous army with the vast fleet, to descend like a cloud upon the shore of England.

The Armada was three weeks at sea. The huge ships, so disproportioned to the small sails, made windward progress wearisomely slow. They floated well enough upon a calm sea, but as they were about to open the Bay of Biscay, the sky began to be overcast, and dark clouds came rolling up from the southwest. The swell of the Atlantic grew into mountainous billows, tumbling around those towering structures whose bulk only exposed them all the more to the buffeting of the great waves and furious winds. The Armada was scattered by the gale. As the weather moderated, the ships reassembled and again began to move toward England. A second and more severe storm soon burst upon them. The waves, dashing against the lofty turrets at stem and stern, sent a spout of white water up their sides and high into midair, while the racing waves, coursing across the low bulwarks amidships, threatened every moment to engulf the galleons. One of the greatest of them went down with all on board, and another two were driven to the coast of France.

The storm subsiding, the Armada once more gathered itself together, and on July 29, it entered the Channel. The next day England had her first sight of the long expected enemy. Instantly the beacon fires were kindled, announcing that the Spanish had arrived. On the afternoon of July 30, the Armada could be seen from the high ground above Plymouth Harbor, advancing slowly from the southwest in the form of a crescent, the two horns of which were seven miles apart. As one massive hull after another came out of the blue distance, it was seen that rumor of its size had not been exaggerated in the least. On his great galleon, the St. Martin, in his shot-proof fortress stood Medina Sidonia, casting proud glances around him.

The night that followed was a night long to be remembered in England, as another and yet another hilltop lighted its fires in the darkness and the ever-extending line of light flashed the news of the Armada’s arrival from the shores of the Channel across all of England and Scotland. In this moment of destiny, the hearts of men were drawn together by the sense of a common terror. All controversies were forgotten in one absorbing interest; and the cry of the nation went up to God that He would place His protection over England and not suffer her to be destroyed.

Meanwhile, the harbor of Plymouth was in a fever of excitement. The moment the news arrived that the Armada had been sighted, Howard, Drake, and Hawkins began their preparations; and the rest of the night was spent in preparing the ships for sea. By morning, sixty ships had been towed out of the harbor. Their numbers were little more than a third of those of the Armada, and their inferiority in size was even greater; but manned by patriotic crews, they hoisted sail and went forth to meet the enemy. On the afternoon of the same day, the two fleets came in sight of each other. The wind was blowing from the southwest, bringing with it a drizzling rain and choppy seas. The waves of the Atlantic came tumbling into the Channel; and the galleons of Spain, with their heavy ordnance and their numerous squadrons, rolled uneasily and clumsily. The English ships, of smaller size and handled by expert seamen, bore finely up before the breeze, taking a close survey of the Spanish fleet, and then, standing off to windward, became invisible in the haze. The Spaniards knew that the English fleet was in the vicinity, but the darkness did not permit battle to be joined that night.

The End

Persecution Revived: Enter in Through the Right Gate

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After Henry died in 1547, young and reforming Edward succeeded him to the throne. The Popish faction was still powerful. Had Edward VI lived, it is probable that many things in the worship of the Church of England, borrowed from the Roman Church, would have been removed.

It was a great work that was accomplished in England during Edward’s reign, especially when we consider that it was all accomplished in six short years. Before the Reformation was to be firmly established in England, however, it would yet pass through another severe trial and test.

Following the death of Edward, July 17, 1553, Mary daughter of Henry VIII, began to reign at thirty-seven years of age. Her accession was met with satisfaction, if not with enthusiasm, by the great majority of the nation. It was the general belief that the throne was rightfully hers, though an earlier parliament had annulled her right of succession on the grounds of the unlawfulness of Henry’s marriage to Catherine. Later, another parliament had restored it to her, which was in keeping with Henry’s last will and testament. Under this arrangement, she placed next after Edward, Prince of Wales, and heir to the crown. Few indeed anticipated the terrible changes that would soon sweep the nation. Mary’s education had been conducted mainly by her mother, who had taught her little besides a strong attachment to the Roman Catholic faith. No sooner had the way to the throne been cleared for her than she sent a message to the pope to the effect that she was his faithful daughter and England had returned to Rome. The knowledge of the joy of this would bring to the Eternal City enabled the messenger to make the trip in nine days, something that had taken Campeggio three months to accomplish when he came to pronounce Henry’s divorce.

Realizing that these same tidings would be far from welcome in England, Mary hid her true feelings. To the Reformers of Suffolk, who before espousing her cause sought a commitment from her as to the course she intended to pursue, she bade them put their minds at rest; no man would be molested on the grounds of his religion. Upon entering London, she sent the Lord Mayor the message that she meant not to compel other people’s consciences otherwise than God should persuade their hearts of truth. By these words, her right to the throne was confirmed. No sooner, however, was she firmly established than she threw off all disguise and left no one in doubt that it was her settled purpose to suppress the Protestant faith.

All of the circumstances that had made progress of the Reformation so difficult in England worked in Mary’s favor as she sought to restore the Catholic religion. Large numbers of the people were still attached to the ancient beliefs, as there had not been sufficient time for the light to fully dispel the darkness. A large portion of the clergy, though professing the Protestant faith because of the pressure that had been applied to them as a result of the laws passed during Henry’s reign, were still papal at heart.

Throughout all of England, all men who held any position of influence and who were known to be favorable to the Reformation were removed. During the months of August and September, Ridley, Bishop of London; Rogers; Latimer, the most eloquent preacher in all of England; Hooper of Gloucester; Coverdale; Bradford; Saunders; and others were deprived of their liberty. In addition, some noblemen and gentlemen were deprived of their lands which the king had given them. Many churches were changed, altars were set up, and masses said, even before a law had been passed making it legal.

All of the foreign Protestants were given passports, with orders to leave the country. Nearly 1,000 Englishmen under various guises left with them. Providence had arranged that just as the storm was about to break in England, it had begun to abate on the Continent.

Soon after being confirmed to the throne, Mary considered a marriage to the emperor’s son, Philip of Spain. Parliament begged the queen not to marry a stranger; and the queen, not liking to have her matrimonial interests interfered with, dismissed the members and sent them to their homes. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chancellor of England, learning that a galleon loaded with gold had just returned to Spain from South America, wrote the emperor, suggesting that for the price of a few millions of his wealth he might be able to buy sufficient votes of influential men, thereby assuring that England would be rescued from heresy. At the same time, it was suggested that it would be an opportunity to add another to the many kingdoms that were already under the Spanish scepter. The idea was agreed to and plans for a wedding moved ahead.

With the year 1555, the stake returned to England. Secret informers were appointed in each district to report on all who did not attend the mass or who otherwise failed to conduct themselves as good Catholics. Among the first victims to suffer for their faith were Rogers and Hooper. The men who were burned during Mary’s reign died mainly because of their denial in the belief of transubstantiation—the actual presence of the body of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. The question was direct and there was no reasoning the matter. “What sayest thou?” was the question put to each of them. If in answer they said “flesh,” they were acquitted; if in reply they said “bread,” they were condemned to be burned.

Rogers had been an associate of Tyndale and Coverdale in translating the Scriptures. On the morning of February 4, he was awakened and led to Smithfield. In the crowd he saw his wife with their eleven children, the smallest still an infant. His persecutors thought that his fatherly instincts might prevail where they had failed, but in this they were mistaken. Refusing the pardon that was offered him, he replied; “That which I have preached will I seal with my blood.” Accused of being a heretic, he calmly replied that this would be determined at the last day.

After this beginning, the work moved ahead rapidly. In order to strike terror to the populace as a whole, stakes were raised all over England. The clergy, thinking that seeing their pastors burned would terrorize the flock, arranged to have the Reformers burned in various places throughout England. Little did they realize that the people might be moved to pity by the sight and, admiring their heroism, would come to despise the tyranny that doomed them to such an awful death. A thrill of horror swept the nation.

Hooper, who had been a companion of Rogers at his initial trial, had expected to accompany him to the stake. Instead, however, he was told that he was to be transported back to Gloucester where he had been bishop. Though he welcomed the privilege of dying anywhere for Christ, to seal his testimony before the flock to which had preached filled him with joy. Arriving in Gloucester, he was met by a crowd of tearful people. Three days were allowed him before his execution. On February 9, he was led out. It was market day and not less than 7,000 people assembled to watch. He did not address those assembled, as he had been forced to give his promise to remain silent by the threat of having his tongue cut out. His courage and the serenity of his countenance, however, preached a more eloquent sermon than any words he might have framed.

Men were able to contrast the leniency with which the Romanists had been treated under Edward VI with the fierce cruelty of Mary. When Protestantism was in the ascendancy, not a single papist had died for his religion. A few priests had been deprived of their offices and revenue, but the vast majority had saved their livelihood by conforming. Now that popery had revived, no one could be a Protestant but at the peril of his life. All over England fires raged. From the child, to the elderly, without regard to sex, the victims were brought, sometimes singly, at other times by the dozens. An England that till now had placed a small price on the Reformation, awoke to a better idea of the value what Edward VI and Cranmer had given it.

The gloomiest year in the history of England was the last year of Mary. Drought and tempests had brought about a scarcity of food. Famine brought plague in its wake. Strange maladies attacked the population and a full half of the inhabitants fell sick. Many towns and villages were almost depopulated, and a sufficient number of laborers could not be found to even reap the fields. In many places the grain, instead of being carried to the barn, stood rotting in the fields. The kingdom was rapidly becoming a satrapy of Spain, and its prestige was year by year sinking in the eyes of foreign powers.

Between February 4, 1555, when Rogers was burned at Smithfield, and November 15, 1558, when five martyrs were burned in one fire at Canterbury just two days before Mary died, no less than 288 persons were burned alive at the stake.

Mary breathed her last on the morning of November 17, 1558. On the same day, but a few hours later, Cardinal Pole died. He along with Carranza, the Spanish priest who had been Mary’s confessor, had been chief counselor in carrying out the deeds that were to crown her reign with such infamy in England. The news of Mary’s death spreading rapidly through London caused general rejoicing. Wherever the news was told, it was heralded with great joy. The nation awoke as from a horrible nightmare.

Elizabeth ascended the throne with the sincere purpose of restoring the Protestant religion. She was faced, however, with a work that was as difficult as it was great. The learned and eloquent preachers who had been the strength of Protestantism in the reign of her brother Edward had perished at the stake or been driven into exile, leaving the pulpits in the possession of the Roman Catholic clergy. On all sides she was surrounded by great dangers. The clergy of her realm were mostly of the Catholic faith. As the daughter of one of those wives of Henry that they disputed, in the eyes of these bishops her claim to the throne was more than doubtful. Abroad, the dangers were equally great.

During the first year of Elizabeth’s reign, the qualified Protestant clergy in England were few indeed, but their numbers rapidly increased as the news reached the cities to which they had been driven by persecution. Their arrivals in England greatly strengthened the work of restoring the Reformation.

As long as Scotland was Catholic in faith, it was a threat to Protestant England. The establishment of its Reformation in 1560 under John Knox, however, made it one in policy, as in faith, with England. At the time when Elizabeth was weakest, this sudden conversion of an ancient foe into a firm ally brought her unexpected help.

The Reformer, John Knox, landed in Scotland on May 2, 1559. A messenger immediately set off to bear the unwelcome news to the Scottish queen. A few days later, by royal proclamation, he was declared a rebel and an outlaw. If the proclamation accomplished nothing else, it succeeded in electrifying all of Scotland with the news.

Until the coming of Knox, a close alliance had existed between Scotland and France, a union of the gravest concern to Elizabeth. Francis II, upon ascending the throne of France, had openly assumed the title and arms of England. He made no secret of his purpose to invade the country and place his wife, Mary Stuart, heiress of the Scottish kingdom, upon its throne. The most obvious way to achieve his purpose, as it appeared to him, was to pour his soldiers into his wife’s hereditary kingdom of Scotland and then descend on England from the North. The scheme was proceeding with every promise of success, when the progress of the Reformation in Scotland and the consequent expulsion of the French from that country of France and converted that very country, in which the Papists trusted to be the instrument of Elizabeth’s overthrow, into her firmest ally.

It now became clear to Pope Pius V that the Reformation was centering itself in England, and, from there, influencing all of Europe. In the throne of England, Protestant forces were finding a focus and developing into a more consolidated and effective Protestantism than had ever before existed in Christendom. It was here, therefore, that the great battle must come which would determine whether the Reformation of the sixteenth century was to establish itself or to end in failure.

On May 3, 1570, Pius V issued his bull excommunicating Queen Elizabeth. Nearly three years before, the Jesuits had begun to infiltrate England. Professing themselves to be Protestant clergymen, they worked to widen the differences and create animosities between the various Protestant groups, eventually breaking the union and peace that had so largely prevailed in England during the first ten years of Elizabeth’s reign. The Massacre of St. Bartholomew, which occurred soon after, in 1572, sent a thrill of terror through the nation. The doom of the Huguenots taught Elizabeth and the English Protestants that Roman Catholic pledges and promises of peace were no security whatever against sudden and wholesale destruction.

To counter the influence of the Reformation movement in England, the Catholic Church founded a university at Douay in the northeast of France. To this school a small group of English youth came to be educated as seminary priests and later were employed in undermining the Reformation in their native land. The Pope so completely approved of the entire plan that he created a similar institution in Rome—the English College.

Before these foreign seminaries had had sufficient time to complete the work of training qualified agents, two students of Oxford, Edward Campion and Robert Parsons, traveled to Rome. While there, they arranged with the Jesuits to carry out the execution of the Pope’s bull against Queen Elizabeth. Returning to England in 1580, they began operations. Assuming new names and different dress each day of the week, they began to traverse England. In their travels, they lodged in the houses of Catholic nobles, seeking to arouse Roman Catholic zeal and the spirit of mutiny. At length, Campion addressed a letter to the Privy Council, boldly avowing to revive in England “the faith that was first planted, and must be restored,” and boasting that the Jesuits of all countries were leagued together for this object. He concluded by demanding a disputation at which the queen and members of the Privy Council should be present. A warrant was issued for his arrest, and he was seized while in the disguise of a soldier and taken to the Tower. According to the act already passed, he was found guilty and, along with Sherwin, Kirby, and Briant, his accomplices, was executed for high treason.

Rome recognized that any hope of reestablishing the faith of Rome in England was hopeless as long as Elizabeth reigned. Finding themselves unwilling to wait for natural causes to make vacant her throne, they watched their opportunity to accomplish her removal. The record of England during the years following 1580 is a continuous record of these murderous attempts, all springing out of and justifying themselves by the bull of excommunication. Not a year passed, after the arrival in England of the Jesuits Campion and Parsons, that there was not a plot to insurrection in some part of the queen’s dominions.

In 1586 came the Babington conspiracy. It originated with John Ballard, a priest who had been educated in the seminary at Rheims. Respecting the bull of excommunication as the product of infallibility, he held that as Elizabeth had been excommunicated by the Pope, for him to deprive her of both her life and throne would be the most acceptable service he could do to God and the surest way of earning a crown in Paradise. The affair was to begin with the assassination of Elizabeth. The Catholics in England were then to be summoned to arms; and while the flames of insurrection were raging within the kingdom, a foreign army was to land upon the coast, besiege and sack the cities that opposed them, raise Mary Stuart of Scotland to the throne, and establish the Catholic religion in England.

By means of intercepted letters and the information of spies, Walsingham, one of Elizabeth’s leading secretaries, early learned of the secret. Soon he was in possession of as clear and exact a knowledge of the plot as the conspirators themselves. Quietly he stood by, watching the conspiracy develop until all was ready. He then stepped in and crushed it. The Englishmen who had plotted to extinguish the religion and liberties of their native land in the blood of civil war and the fury of foreign invasion paid for their crimes on the scaffold. The life of Mary, Queen of Scots, ended for her, not on the throne of England but with a headsman’s ax.

An attempt has been made to present the men executed for their share in this, and similar conspiracies, as martyrs for religion. The fact is, however, that it is impossible to show that a single individual was put to death under Elizabeth simply because he believed in or professed the Roman Catholic faith. In every case, the charges were for promoting or practicing treason. Surely had the Protestant government of Elizabeth thought to put to death Catholics for their faith, those others who had acted such prominent parts in the bloody tragedies under Mary would have been the first to fall. But these men who had murdered hundreds were never called to account for the deeds they had done. Instead, they lived out their lives in ease and peace amid the relations and contemporaries of the men they had dragged to the stake.

As the Bible began to freely circulate in Britain, it soon changed the character of the people, putting an end to the barbaric and bloodthirsty methods that had been the tools long employed by the Church of Rome to suppress all who were in opposition to her authority. In some instances it might be argued that Roman Catholics were treated with unnecessary cruelty, but it must be remembered that England was in a period of transition. The nation was just emerging from the Romish school of blood after centuries of training. Britain and North America are today what the Bible made them; Spain and Latin America are what Romanism made them.

The End