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Queen Mary's Treatment Of Her Sister The Princess Elizabeth

The preservation of the princess Elizabeth may be reckoned a remarkable
instance of the watchful eye which Christ had over his church. The
bigotry of Mary regarded not the ties of consanguinity, of natural
affection, of national succession. Her mind, physically morose was under
the dominion of men who possessed not the milk of human kindness, and
whose principles were sanctioned and enjoined by the idolatrous tenets
of the Romish pontiff. Could they have foreseen the short date of Mary's
reign, they would have imbrued their hands in the protestant blood of
Elizabeth, and, as a sine qua non of the queen's salvation, have
compelled her to bequeath the kingdom to some catholic prince. The
contest might have been attended with the horrors incidental to a
religious civil war, and calamities might have been felt in England
similar to those under Henry the Great in France, whom queen Elizabeth
assisted in opposing his priest-ridden catholic subjects. As if
Providence had the perpetual establishment of the protestant faith in
view, the difference of the durations of the two reigns is worthy of
notice. Mary might have reigned many years in the course of nature, but
the course of grace willed it otherwise. Five years and four months was
the time of persecution alloted to this weak, disgraceful reign, while
that of Elizabeth reckoned a number of years among the highest of those
who have sat on the English throne, almost nine times that of her
merciless sister!

Before Mary attained the crown, she treated her with a sisterly
kindness, but from that period her conduct was altered, and the most
imperious distance substituted. Though Elizabeth had no concern in the
rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyat, yet she was apprehended, and treated as a
culprit in that commotion. The manner too of her arrest was similar to
the mind that dictated it: the three cabinet members, whom she deputed
to see the arrest executed, rudely entered the chamber at ten o'clock at
night, and, though she was extremely ill, they could scarcely be induced
to let her remain till the following morning. Her enfeebled state
permitted her to be moved only by short stages in a journey of such
length to London; but the princess, though afflicted in person, had a
consolation in mind which her sister never could purchase: the people,
through whom she passed on her way, pitied her, and put up their prayers
for her preservation. Arrived at court, she was made a close prisoner
for a fortnight, without knowing who was her accuser, or seeing any one
who could console or advise her. The charge however was at length
unmasked by Gardiner, who, with nineteen of the council, accused her of
abetting Wyat's conspiracy, which she religiously affirmed to be false.
Failing in this, they placed against her the transactions of Sir Peter
Carew in the west in which they were as unsuccessful as in the former.
The queen now signified, it was her pleasure she should be committed to
the Tower, a step which overwhelmed the princess with the greatest alarm
and uneasiness. In vain she hoped the queen's majesty would not commit
her to such a place; but there was no lenity to be expected; her
attendants were limited, and a hundred northern soldiers appointed to
guard her day and night.

On Palm-Sunday she was conducted to the Tower. When she came to the
palace garden, she cast her eyes towards the windows, eagerly anxious to
meet those of the queen, but she was disappointed. A strict order was
given in London, that every one should go to church, and carry palms,
that she might be conveyed without clamour or commiseration to her

At the time of passing under London-bridge the fall of the tide made it
very dangerous, and the barge some time stuck fast against the
starlings. To mortify her the more, she was landed at Traitors' Stairs.
As it rained fast, and she was obliged to step in the water to land, she
hesitated; but this excited no complaisance in the lord in waiting. When
she set her foot on the steps, she exclaimed, "Here lands as true a
subject, being prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs; and before
thee, O God, I speak it, having no friend but thee alone!"

A large number of the wardens and servants of the Tower were arranged
in order, between whom the princess had to pass. Upon inquiring the use
of this parade, she was informed it was customary to do so. "If," said
she, "it is on account of me, I beseech you that they may be dismissed."
On this the poor men knelt down, and prayed that God would preserve her
grace, for which they were the next day turned out of their employments.
The tragic scene must have been deeply interesting, to see an amiable
and irreproachable princess sent like a lamb to languish in expectation
of cruelty and death; against whom there was no other charge than her
superiority in Christian virtues and acquired endowments. Her attendants
openly wept as she proceeded with a dignified step to the frowning
battlements of her destination. "Alas!" said Elizabeth, "what do you
mean? I took you to comfort, not to dismay me; for my truth is such,
that no one shall have cause to weep for me."

The next step of her enemies was to procure evidence by means which, in
the present day, are accounted detestable. Many poor prisoners were
racked, to extract, if possible, any matters of accusation which might
affect her life, and thereby gratify Gardiner's sanguinary disposition.
He himself came to examine her, respecting her removal from her house at
Ashbridge to Dunnington castle a long while before. The princess had
quite forgotten this trivial circumstance, and lord Arundel, after the
investigation, kneeling down, apologized for having troubled her in such
a frivolous matter. "You sift me narrowly," replied the princess, "but
of this I am assured, that God has appointed a limit to your
proceedings; and so God forgive you all."

Her own gentlemen, who ought to have been her purveyors, and served her
provision, were compelled to give place to the common soldiers, at the
command of the constable of the Tower, who was in every respect a
servile tool of Gardiner,--her grace's friends, however, procured an
order of council which regulated this petty tyranny more to her

After having been a whole month in close confinement, she sent for the
lord Chamberlain and lord Chandois, to whom she represented the ill
state of her health from a want of proper air and exercise. Application
being made to the council, Elizabeth was with some difficulty admitted
to walk in the queen's lodgings, and afterwards in the garden, at which
time the prisoners on that side were attended by their keepers, and not
suffered to look down upon her. Their jealousy was excited by a child of
four years old, who daily brought flowers to the princess. The child was
threatened with a whipping, and the father ordered to keep him from the
princess' chambers.

On the 5th of May the constable was discharged from his office, and Sir
Henry Benifield appointed in his room, accompanied by a hundred
ruffian-looking soldiers in blue. This measure created considerable
alarm in the mind of the princess, who imagined it was preparatory to
her undergoing the same fate as lady Jane Gray, upon the same block.
Assured that this project was not in agitation, she entertained an idea
that the new keeper of the Tower was commissioned to make away with her
privately, as his equivocal character was in conformity with the
ferocious inclination of those by whom he was appointed.

A report now obtained that her grace was to be taken away by the new
constable and his soldiers, which in the sequel proved to be true. An
order of council was made for her removal to the manor of Woodstock,
which took place on Trinity Sunday, May 13, under the authority of Sir
Henry Benifield and Lord Tame. The ostensible cause of her removal was
to make room for other prisoners. Richmond was the first place they
stopped at, and here the princess slept, not however without much alarm
at first, as her own servants were superseded by the soldiers, who were
placed as guards at her chamber door. Upon representation, Lord Tame
overruled this indecent stretch of power, and granted her perfect safety
while under his custody.

In passing through Windsor, she saw several of her poor dejected
servants waiting to see her. "Go to them," said she, to one of her
attendants, "and say these words from me, tanquim ovis, that is, like a
sheep to the slaughter."

The next night her grace lodged at the house of a Mr. Dormer, in her way
to which the people manifested such tokens of loyal affection, that Sir
Henry was indignant, and bestowed on them very liberally the names of
rebels and traitors. In some villages they rang the bells for joy,
imagining the princess's arrival among them was from a very different
cause; but this harmless demonstration of gladness was sufficient with
the persecuting Benefield to order his soldiers to seize and set these
humble persons in the stocks.

The day following, her grace arrived at Lord Tame's house, where she
staid all night, and was most nobly entertained. This excited Sir
Henry's indignation, and made him caution Lord Tame to look well to his
proceedings; but the humanity of Lord Tame was not to be frightened, and
he returned a suitable reply. At another time, this official prodigal,
to show his consequence and disregard of good manners, went up into a
chamber, where was appointed for her grace a chair, two cushions, and a
foot carpet, wherein he presumptuously sat and called his man to pull
off his boots. As soon as it was known to the ladies and gentlemen, they
laughed him to scorn. When supper was done, he called to his lordship,
and directed that all gentlemen and ladies should withdraw home,
marvelling much that he would permit such a large company, considering
the great charge he had committed to him. "Sir Henry," said his
lordship, "content yourself; all shall be avoided, your men and all."
"Nay, but my soldiers," replied Sir Henry, "shall watch all night." Lord
Tame answered, "There is no need." "Well," said he, "need or need not,
they shall so do."

The next day her grace took her journey from thence to Woodstock, where
she was enclosed, as before in the Tower of London, the soldiers
keeping guard within and without the walls, every day, to the number of
sixty; and in the night, without the walls were forty during all the
time of her imprisonment.

At length she was permitted to walk in the gardens, but under the most
severe restrictions, Sir Henry keeping the keys himself, and placing her
always under many bolts and locks, whence she was induced to call him
her jailer, at which he felt offended, and begged her to substitute the
word officer. After much earnest entreaty to the council, she obtained
permission to write to the queen; but the jailer, who brought her pen,
ink, and paper stood by her while she wrote, and, when she left off, he
carried the things away till they were wanted again. He also insisted
upon carrying it himself to the queen, but Elizabeth would not suffer
him to be the bearer, and it was presented by one of her gentlemen.

After the letter, doctors Owen and Wendy went to the princess, as the
state of her health rendered medical assistance necessary. They staid
with her five or six days, in which time she grew much better; they then
returned to the queen, and spoke flatteringly of the princess'
submission and humility, at which the queen seemed moved; but the
bishops wanted a concession that she had offended her majesty. Elizabeth
spurned this indirect mode of acknowledging herself guilty. "If I have
offended," said she, "and am guilty, I crave no mercy but the law, which
I am certain I should have had ere this, if any thing could have been
proved against me. I wish I were as clear from the peril of my enemies;
then should I not be thus bolted and locked up within walls and doors."

Much question arose at this time respecting the propriety of uniting the
princess to some foreigner, that she might quit the realm with a
suitable portion. One of the council had the brutality to urge the
necessity of beheading her, if the king (Philip) meant to keep the realm
in peace; but the Spaniards, detesting such a base thought, replied,
"God forbid that our king and master should consent to such an infamous
proceeding!" Stimulated by a noble principle, the Spaniards from this
time repeatedly urged to the king that it would do him the highest
honour to liberate the lady Elizabeth, nor was the king impervious to
their solicitation. He took her out of prison, and shortly after she was
sent for to Hampton court. It may be remarked in this place, that the
fallacy of human reasoning is shown in every moment. The barbarian who
suggested the policy of beheading Elizabeth little contemplated the
change of condition which his speech would bring about. In her journey
from Woodstock, Benefield treated her with the same severity as before;
removing her on a stormy day, and not suffering her old servant, who had
come to Colnbrook, where she slept, to speak to her.

She remained a fortnight strictly guarded and watched, before any one
dared to speak with her; at length the vile Gardiner with three more of
the council, came with great submission. Elizabeth saluted them,
remarked that she had been for a long time kept in solitary
confinement, and begged they would intercede with the king and queen to
deliver her from prison. Gardiner's visit was to draw from the princess
a confession of her guilt; but she was guarded against his subtlety,
adding, that, rather than admit she had done wrong, she would lie in
prison all the rest of her life. The next day Gardiner came again, and
kneeling down, declared that the queen was astonished she should persist
in affirming that she was blameless--whence it would be inferred that
the queen had unjustly imprisoned her grace. Gardiner farther informed
her that the queen had declared that she must tell another tale, before
she could be set at liberty. "Then," replied the high-minded Elizabeth,
"I had rather be in prison with honesty and truth, than have my liberty,
and be suspected by her majesty. What I have said, I will stand to; nor
will I ever speak falsehood!" The bishop and his friends then departed,
leaving her locked up as before.

Seven days after the queen sent for Elizabeth at ten o'clock at night,
two years had elapsed since they had seen each other. It created terror
in the mind of the princess, who, at setting out, desired her gentlemen
and ladies to pray for her, as her return to them again was uncertain.

Being conducted to the queen's bedchamber, upon entering it the princess
knelt down, and having begged of God to preserve her majesty, she humbly
assured her that her majesty had not a more loyal subject in the realm,
whatever reports might be circulated to the contrary. With a haughty
ungraciousness, the imperious queen replied, "You will not confess your
offence, but stand stoutly to your truth. I pray God it may so fall

"If it do not," said Elizabeth, "I request neither favour nor pardon at
your majesty's hands." "Well," said the queen, "you stiffly still
persevere in your truth. Besides, you will not confess that you have not
been wrongfully punished."

"I must not say so, if it please your majesty, to you."

"Why, then," said the queen, "belike you will to others."

"No, if it please your majesty: I have borne the burden, and must bear
it. I humbly beseech your majesty to have a good opinion of me and to
think me to be your subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but
for ever, as long as life lasteth." They departed without any heart-felt
satisfaction on either side; nor can we think the conduct of Elizabeth
displayed that independence and fortitude which accompanies perfect
innocence. Elizabeth's admitting that she would not say neither to the
queen nor to others, that she had been unjustly punished, was in direct
contradiction to what she had told Gardiner, and must have arisen from
some motive at this time inexplicable.--King Philip is supposed to have
been secretly concealed during the interview, and to have been friendly
to the princess.

In seven days from the time of her return to imprisonment, her severe
jailer, and his men were discharged, and she was set at liberty, under
the constraint of being always attended and watched by some of the
queen's council. Four of her gentlemen were sent to the Tower without
any other charge against them than being zealous servants of their
mistress. This event was soon after followed by the happy news of
Gardiner's death, for which all good and merciful men glorified God,
inasmuch as it had taken the chief tiger from the den, and rendered the
life of the protestant successor of Mary more secure.

This miscreant, while the princess was in the Tower, sent a secret writ,
signed by a few of the council, for her private execution, and, had Mr.
Bridges, lieutenant of the Tower, been as little scrupulous of dark
assassination as this pious prelate was, she must have perished. The
warrant not having the queen's signature, Mr. Bridges hastened to her
majesty, to give her information of it, and to know her mind. This was a
plot of Winchester's, who, to convict her of treasonable practices,
caused several prisoners to be racked; particularly Mr. Edmund Tremaine
and Smithwicke were offered considerable bribes to accuse the guiltless

Her life was several times in danger. While at Woodstock, fire was
apparently put between the boards and ceiling under which she lay. It
was also reported strongly, that one Paul Penny, the keeper of
Woodstock, a notorious ruffian was appointed to assassinate her, but,
however this might be, God counteracted in this point the nefarious
designs of the enemies of the reformation. James Basset was another
appointed to perform the same deed: he was a peculiar favourite of
Gardiner, and had come within a mile of Woodstock, intending to speak
with Benefield on the subject. The goodness of God however so ordered
it, that while Basset was travelling to Woodstock, Benefield, by an
order of council, was going to London; in consequence of which, he left
a positive order with his brother, that no man should be admitted to the
princess during his absence, not even with a note from the queen; his
brother met the murderer, but the latter's intention was frustrated, as
no admission could be obtained.

When Elizabeth quitted Woodstock, she left the following lines written
with her diamond on the window:--

Much suspected by me,
Nothing proved can be. Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.

With the life of Winchester ceased the extreme danger of the princess,
as many of her other secret enemies soon after followed him, and, last
of all, her cruel sister, who outlived Gardiner but three years. The
death of Mary was ascribed to several causes. The council endeavoured to
console her in her last moments, imagining it was the absence of her
husband that lay heavy at her heart, but though his treatment had some
weight, the loss of Calais, the last fortress possessed by the English
in France, was the true source of her sorrow. "Open my heart," said
Mary, "when I am dead, and you shall find Calais written there."
Religion caused her no alarm; the priests had lulled to rest every
misgiving of conscience, which might have obtruded, on account of the
accusing spirits of the murdered martyrs. Not the blood she had spilled,
but the loss of a town, excited her emotions in dying, and this last
stroke seemed to be awarded, that her fanatical persecution might be
paralleled by her political imbecility. We earnestly pray that the
annals of no country, catholic or pagan, may ever be stained with such a
repetition of human sacrifices to papal power, and that the detestation
in which the character of Mary is holden, may be a beacon to succeeding
monarchs to avoid the rocks of fanaticism!

Next: God's Punishments Upon Some Of The Persecutors Of His People In Mary's Reign

Previous: Deliverance Of Dr Sands

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