John rode with his friend to the Limehurst, and saw him safe home, to the great relief of Mrs Underhill, who declared that she had not had a minute's rest since he set out, expecting every hour to receive some terrible news concerning him.

Sunday, the 1st of October, was fixed for the coronation. That ceremony was almost invariably on the Lord's Day. There was no service in the Cathedral; for none but unmarried Bishops or priests would the Queen permit to officiate before her; and there were very few of the first.

Order was also issued that no married priest should minister again in any of the churches.

The Gospellers were reduced to stratagem. Since the churches were closed to them, they opened their own houses. By arrangement with Mr Rose, service was held in the Lamb on the evening of the Coronation Day, safety being secured by a preconcerted signal-tap. About forty persons gathered, exclusive of the families of the host and the minister. A small congregation; but a congregation of live souls, who were ready to yield life sooner than faith. The majority of congregations are hardly made of that material now. "If all the real Christians were gathered out of this church," once said William Romaine to his flock, "there would not be enough to fill the vestry." How frightfully uncharitable!

cries the nineteenth century--and I dare say the flock at Saint Anne's thought so too. But there is a _charity_ towards men's souls, and there is a charity towards men's feelings. If one of the two must be dispensed with, we shall wish in the great day of account that it had been the latter. The two "keeping-rooms" of the Lamb--which they called the great and little chambers, but which we, their degenerate descendants, might term the dining-room and drawing-room--were filled with this living congregation; and Mr Rose read prayers from the now prohibited Service-Book, and preached the prohibited doctrines. Before all had dispersed, Mr George Ferris made his appearance, and supped at the Lamb, as did Mr Rose and Mr Holland, with their respective families.

After supper, Mr Ferris, leaning back in his chair, suddenly said,--"If you list to know the order of her Highness' crowning, I am he that can tell you; for all this day have I been in Westminster Abbey and Hall."

He was universally encouraged to proceed.

"The Queen," said he, "came first by water to the old Palace, and there tarried she till about eleven of the clock. And thence went she afoot to the Abbey, upon blue cloth railed in on every side; and she ware the same array as she came in through London. Afore her went the Bishops (to wit, all the unwedded), their mitres on their heads and their crosiers borne afore them. She was led betwixt old Tunstal of Durham and an other Bishop, and right behind her came the Devil in the likeness of Stephen Gardiner, a-censing her and casting holy water upon her all the way, which must needs have spoiled her brave blue velvet gown ere she set foot in the Abbey. In the Abbey was the throne, covered with baudekyn; but I pray you, demand not of me a regular account of all that was done; for it was so many and sundry ceremonies that my weak head will not hold them. I know only there was kneeling and courtesying and bowing and censing, and holy water, and a deal more of the like trumpery, wherewith I am no wise compatient [the lost adjective of _compa.s.sion_]; and going up unto the altar, and coming down from it; and five several times was she led thereto, once to offer there her pall of baudekyn and twenty shillings, and once, leaving her crimson velvet mantle behind the travers, she was laid down on a cushion afore the altar, while four knights held the pall over her; and anointed with tedious and endless ceremonies; and crowned with three crowns (Saint Edward's, the imperial, and one made for her a-purpose) by the aforesaid Stephen Gardiner; and a ring of gold set on her finger; and a bracelet of precious stones and gold set upon her arm by the Master of the Jewel House; and the sceptre given her of my Lord of Arundel (the old time-server!) and the ball, of the Lord Treasurer; and the regal of gold, of the Bishop of Winchester; and the staff of Saint Edward, of my Lord of Bath; and the spurs, of my Lord of Pembroke. Come, pray you now, let me take breath!--Well, after all this, the Bishops and n.o.bles did homage to her Highness; but the time would not serve for all, seeing the homage to the altar had taken so much away; so they knelt in groups, and had a spokesman to perform for them. My Right Reverend Lord Bishop of Winchester was for himself and all other Bishops; old Norfolk stood alone as a Duke (for all the other Dukes were in the Tower, either alive or dead); the Lord Marquis of Winchester was for his order; my Lord of Arundel for the Earls, my Lord of Hereford for the Viscounts, and my Lord of Burgavenny for the Barons. All these kissed her Highness' left cheek; and all this time stood my Lord of Shrewsbury by her, aiding her to hold up the sceptre. Well then, believe it who will, my masters, but after all this came the ma.s.s. And no sooner begun, than the Bishop of Lincoln and the Bishop of Hereford marched straight out of the church, mitres and all. It was nigh four of the clock ere her Grace came from the Abbey; and she came in a gown of purple velvet, with the crown upon her head, and every n.o.ble and n.o.ble lady following in cramoisie, and on their heads crownets [the old form of the word coronet] of gold. Three swords were borne afore her, and a canopy over her, carried of the Wardens of the Cinque Ports: and in one hand she held a sceptre of gold, and in the other a ball of gold, which she twirled and turned in her hand as she came. And no sooner had she set foot in the Hall, than the people fell a-scrambling for the cloth and rails. Yea, they were not content with the waste meat cast out of the kitchen to them, but they pulled down and carried off the kitchen also."

"Come, Ferris, be reasonable in your Romaunts," said Mr Holland.

"Who did ever hear any man to be reasonable in a Romaunt?" asked he.

"But this is not romance, 'tis truth. Why, the kitchen was but cast up of boards outside the Palace, for the time and occasion; and they made it a waste indeed. It was candle-light ere her Grace took barge."

"But was there no pardon proclaimed?" said John.

"Lo' you, now! I forgat that. Ay, afore the anointing, my gracious Lord Chancellor proclaimeth her Majesty's goodly pardon unto all prisoners whatsoever and wheresoever--save and except an handful only, to wit, such as were in the Marshalsea, and the Fleet, and the Tower, and such as had order to keep their houses, and sixty-two more."

"Why, that were to except them all!" cried Mr Holland.

"Nay, they excepted not them in Newgate, nor the Counter."

"A goodly procession of pardoned men!" said John.

"Well," said Dr Thorpe, after a short pause, "the Queen's reign is now fairly established; what shall the end be?"

"Ask not me," replied Mr Ferris.

"We know what it shall be," answered Mr Rose, thoughtfully. "'I will overturn, overturn, overturn, until He come whose right it is, and I will give it Him.' Let as pray for His coming. And in the mean time have we a care that our loins be girded about, and our lamps burning; that when He cometh and knocketh, we may open unto Him immediately. We shall be unready to open immediately, if our hands be overfull of worldly matters. It were not well to have to say to Him, 'Lord, let me lay down this high post, and that public work, and these velvet robes, and this sweet cup, and this bitter one--and then I will open unto Thee.' I had rather mine hand were on the latch of the door, looking out for Him."

"But, Father Rose, men must see to public matters, and wear velvet robes, and carry weights of all fashions--why, the world would stand still else!"

"Must men do these things, Master Ferris? yet be there two ways of doing them. Believe me, there is one other thing they must do--they must meet Christ."

A jovial, merry, gallant gentleman was George Ferris; and a Protestant-- of some sort. But he outlived the persecution. It was not of such stuff as _his_ that martyrs were made. The gorgeous pageants were over, and the bitter suffering came back.

Parliament was opened on the 13th of November, with a solemn ma.s.s of the Holy Ghost, the Queen herself being present in her robes; but as soon as the ma.s.s began, the Archbishop of York, and the Bishops of Lincoln and Hereford, rose and attempted to walk out of the House. Hands were laid on the Bishop of Lincoln, and his Parliament robe taken from him; and upon confession of his faith, (which he made boldly) he was cited before the Council. The Archbishop and the Bishop of Hereford were suffered to depart for that time; but rumour ran that Hereford would soon be deprived, being a married priest. Perhaps he was not made of metal that would bear the furnace; for G.o.d took His child home, before the day of suffering came. The rough wind was stayed again in the day of the east wind. But on the 14th of November came a more woeful sight. For the prisoners in the Tower were led on foot to the Guild Hall, the axe carried before them, there to be judged. First walked the Archbishop of Canterbury, his face cast down, between two others. Then followed the Lord Guilford Dudley, also between two. After him came his wife, the Lady Jane, apparelled in black, a black velvet book hanging at her girdle, and another open in her hand. After her followed her two gentlewomen, and Lords Ambrose and Henry Dudley. The Archbishop was attainted for treason, although he had utterly refused to subscribe the King's letters patent for the disinheriting of his sisters.

Late in the evening Mr Ive looked in, to say that he hath spent all the day at the Guild Hall, and brought the sad news that the gentle Lady Jane and all the Lords Dudley were condemned to death. It was expected, however, that the Queen would not suffer the sentence to be executed on her own cousin Lady Jane. The Archbishop, Mr Ive told them, came back to the Tower, looking as joyful as he had before been cast down. He was entirely acquitted of treason, and remanded to be tried for heresy; for which he blessed G.o.d in the hearing of the Court.

"One step more," said Mr Rose to Avery, whom he met in Cheapside. "The old service-book of King Henry must now be used, and the new of King Edward put away; and in every church in London shall the ma.s.s be next Sunday or Monday. And Saint Katherine's Eve shall be processions, and Saint Nicholas shall go about as aforetime."

So, slowly and darkly, closed the black year, 1553.

Married priests forbidden to minister--the English Service-Book prohibited--orders issued for every parish church to provide cross, censer, vestments, and similar decorations of the House of Baal--ma.s.s for the soul of King Edward in all the churches of London. It was not six months since the boy had died, with that last touching prayer on his lips--"Lord G.o.d, preserve this realm from Papistry!" Was that prayer lost in the blue s.p.a.ce it had to traverse, between that soul and the altar of incense in Heaven? We know now that it was not. But it seemed utterly lost then. O Lord, we know not what Thou doest now. Give us grace to wait patiently, to be content with Thy promise that we shall know hereafter!

There was one bright spot visible to the tear-dimmed eyes of the Gospellers, and only one. The Parliament had been prorogued, and the b.l.o.o.d.y Statute was not yet re-enacted. All statutes of premunire were repealed, and all laws of King Edward in favour of reformation in the Church. But that first and worst of all the penalties remained as yet in the oblivion to which he had consigned it. But in recompense for this, there was a very black cloud darkening the horizon of 1554. The Queen had announced to her Parliament her intended marriage with Prince Philip of Spain. All the old insular prejudices against foreigners rose up to strengthen the Protestant horror of a Spanish and Popish King.

The very children in the streets were heard to cry, "Down with the Pope and the Spaniards!" Elizabeth would have known how to deal with such an emergency. But Mary was blind and deaf. Disregarding this outbreak of popular feeling, she went on, in the way which led to her ruin and England's. It was only one of the two which was irremediable. The one was followed by a summer day of glory; the other closed only in the night of death.

The first news which reached the Lamb in 1554, was the startling information--if any information can be called startling in that age of sudden and shocking events--that the night before, Mr Ive had been hastily apprehended and committed to the Marshalsea. He was soon released, unhurt; but this occurrence quickened Mr Underhill's tardy movements. He had already made up his mind to remove from the Limehurst, where his abode was too well-known to the enemy; the arrest of his friend and neighbour determined him to go at once. He took "a little house in a secret corner at the nether end of Wood Street,"

Cheapside. About Epiphany was born Susan Bertie, the only daughter of the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk. Shortly before this the Emperor's Amba.s.sadors came over to treat concerning the Queen's marriage, and were pelted with s...o...b..a.l.l.s by children in the streets of the City. The vacant sees were filled up by Popish divines; Cardinal Pole was invited to return to England (from which he had been so many years exiled), in the capacity of Legate; the Queen dissolved the Court of First Fruits, and commanded that the t.i.tle of "Head of the Church in earth" should be omitted from the enumeration of her t.i.tles in all future doc.u.ments. Permission granted to Lady Jane to walk in the Queen's garden and on Tower Hill revived for a moment the hopes of the Protestants so far as concerned her. No harm would come to her, they sanguinely repeated, if the Queen were left to herself. Possibly they were fight. But what likelihood was there that Gardiner would so leave her? and--a question yet more ominous--what might Philip of Spain require in this matter? Men not yet sixty years of age could remember the time when, previous to the marriage of Katherine of Aragon, the Earl of Warwick, last surviving male of the House of York, had been beheaded on Tower Hill. Once before, the royal blood of England had been shed at the demand of Spain: might the precedent not be repeated now? The only difference being, that the victim then was a tercel gentle, and now it would be a white dove.

In the middle of January, before his removal from the Limehurst, and when he was sufficiently recovered to "walk to London an easy pace," Mr Underhill made his appearance one afternoon in the Minories. He came with the evident intention of telling his own story.

"And would you," said he, "hear the tale of my examination and imprisonment?"

"That would we, and with a right good will," answered Dr Thorpe, speaking for all. "We do know even what Mr Ive could tell us, but nothing further."

"Then what Ive could not tell you," resumed he, "take from me [these incidents in Underhill's life are given almost entirely in his own words]. I guessed (and rightly so) what was the cause of mine arrest; to wit, a certain ballad that I had put forth against the Papists, and for that I was a Sacramentary. Well, when I came into the Tower, where the Council sat, they were already busied with Dr c.o.xe and the Lord Ferrers; wherefore I was to wait. So I and my two men went to an alehouse to dinner in the Tower, and after that repaired to the Council chamber door, to be the first taken, for I desired to know my lot. Then came Secretary Bourne to the door, looking as the wolf doth for a lamb; unto whom my two keepers delivered me, and he took me in greedily. The Earl of Bedford was chief judge, next the Earl of Suss.e.x, and Sir Richard Southwell; and on the side next me sat the Earl of Arundel and Lord Paget. By them stood Sir John Gage, the Constable, the Earl of Bath, and Mr Mason; at the board's end stood Sergeant Morgan and Secretary Bourne. And the Lord Wentworth stood in the bay window. Then my Lord of Bedford (who was my very friend, owing unto the chance that I had to recover his son, as I told you aforetime; yet would not now seem to be familiar with me, nor called me not by my name), said,--'Did not you set a ballad of late in print?'--I kneeled down, saying, 'Yes, truly, my Lord; is that the cause I am called before your Honours?'--'Marry,' said Secretary Bourne, 'you have one of them about you, I am sure.'--'Nay truly, have I not,' said I.--Then took he one out of his bosom and read it over distinctly, the Council giving diligent ear. When he had ended,--'I trust, my Lord,' said I, 'I have not offended the Queen's Majesty in the ballad, nor spoken against her t.i.tle, but maintained it.'--'You have, sir,' said Morgan. 'Yes, I can divide your ballad, and make a distinction in it, and so prove at the least sedition in it.'--'Yea,' I said, 'you men of law will make of a matter what ye list.'--'Lo!' said Sir Richard Southwell, 'how he can give a taunt! You maintain the Queen's t.i.tle with the help of an arrant heretic, Tyndale.'--'You speak of Papists there, sir,' said Mr Mason.

'I pray you, how define you a Papist?'--'Why,' said I, 'it is not long since you could define a Papist better than I.' With that some of them secretly smiled, as the Lord of Bedford, Arundel, Suss.e.x, and Paget. In great haste Sir John Gage took the matter in hand. 'Thou callest men Papists there,' said he; 'who be they thou judgest to be Papists?'--'Sir,' said I, 'I do name no man, nor I am not hither to accuse any, nor none I will accuse; but your Honours do know that in this controversy that hath been, some be called Papists and some Protestants.'--'But we will know whom thou judgest to be Papists, and that we command thee upon thine allegiance to declare.'--'Sir,' said I, 'I think if you look among the priests in Poules, ye shall find some old _mumpsimuses_ there.'--'_Mumpsimuses_, knave!' saith he, '_mumpsimuses_!

thou art an heretic knave!' and sware a great oath.--Says the Earl of Bath, 'I warrant him an heretic knave, indeed.'--'I beseech your Honours,' said I (speaking to the Lords that sat at the table, for these other that stood by be not now of the Council), 'be my good Lords. I have offended no laws, and I have served the Queen's Majesty's father and her brother long time, and in their service have spent and consumed part of my living, never having as yet any preferment or recompense, and the rest of my fellows likewise, to our utter undoing, unless the Queen's Highness be good unto us; and for my part I went not forth against her Majesty, notwithstanding I was commanded, nor liked those doings.'--'No, but with your writings you will set us together by the ears,' saith the Earl of Arundel.--'He hath spent his living wantonly,'

saith Bourne, 'and now saith he hath spent it in the King's service; which I am sorry for: he is come of a worshipful house in Worcestershire.' [Note 4]--'It is untruly said of you,' said I, 'that I have spent my living wantonly. I never consumed no part thereof until I came into the King's service, which I do not repent, nor doubted of recompense if either of my two masters had lived. I perceive you are Bourne's son of Worcester, who was beholden unto my uncle Wynter, and therefore you have no cause to be my enemy, nor you never knew me, nor I you, before now, which is too soon.'--'I have heard enough of you,' said he.--'So have I of you,' said I, 'how that Mr Sheldone drave you out of Worcestershire for your behaviour.'--With that came Sir Edward Hastings from the Queen in great haste, saying, 'My Lords, you must set all things apart, and come forthwith to the Queen.'--Then said the Earl of Suss.e.x, 'Have this gentleman unto the Fleet, until we may talk further with him.' (Although I was knave before of Master Gage.)--'To the Fleet?' saith Master Southwell, 'have him to the Marshalsea!'--'Have the heretic knave to Newgate!' saith Master Gage again.--'Call a couple of the guard here,' saith Bourne, 'and there shall be a letter sent to the keeper how he shall use him, for we have other manner of matters with him than these.'--'So had ye need,' said I, 'or else I care not for you.'--'Deliver him to Mr Garret, the Sheriff,' said he, 'and bid him send him to Newgate.'--'My Lord (said I unto my Lord of Arundel, for that he was next me, as they were rising) I trust you will not see me thus used to be sent to Newgate; I am neither thief nor traitor.'--'Ye are a naughty fellow,' said he; 'ye were alway tuting in the Duke of Northumberland's ear, that ye were.'--'I would he had given better ear unto me,' said I; 'it had not been with him then as it is now.'--Mr Hastings pushing by me (mine old adversary, with whom I had been aforetime wont to reason touching the Sacrament), I thought good to prove him, although he threatened before now.--'Sir,' said I, 'I pray you speak for me that I be not sent unto Newgate, but rather unto the Fleet, which was first named. I have not offended. I am a gentleman, as you know, and one of your fellows, when you were of this band of the Pensioners.'--Very quietly he said unto me, 'I was not at the table, Mr Underhill, and therefore I can say nothing to it.' But I think he was not content with the place I was appointed to. Well, I count Ive told you all he saw, touching my progress to Master Sheriff, and thence to Newgate. But while I waited in the Sheriff's house, my Lord Russell heard my voice, and showed very sorry for me; and sent me on the morrow twenty shillings, and every week as much while I was in Newgate. I count Ive told you moreover of my sickness."

"Ay, and of the ill savours and noise that you could not abide," said Dr Thorpe; "and of your changing of your lodging; and how Dr Record did visit you, and divers other things."

"Then he told you all," said Mr Underhill. "And now (for 'tis past nine of the clock) this great knave, rogue, and heretic, must be on his way home."

Mr Underhill left behind him a new ballad which he had lately published.

Since it probably does not exist in print now, it shall be subjoined, and in the orthography of its author.

"Love G.o.d above all thyngs, and thy neyghboure as thy selffe; Thatt this is Crist's doctryne, no mane cane it denye; Wyche litle is regarded in Yngland's common wealthe, Wherefore greate plags att hande be, the realme for to distroye.

"'Do as thow woldest be done unto,' no place here he cane have, Off all he is remised, no mane wyll hym reseave; b.u.t.t pryvate wealthe, thatt cursed wreche, and most vyle slave, Over all he is imbraced, and ffast to hym they cleave.

"He thatt hathe this world's goode, and seeth his neyghboure lake, And off hym hathe no compa.s.syone, nor showithe hym no love, Nor relevithe his nesessite, b.u.t.t suffers hym go to wrake, G.o.d dwellithe nott in thatt mane, the Scriptures playnely prove.

"Example we have by Dyves, thatt dayntilye dide fare, In worldely wealthe and ryches therein he dide excell, Off poore Lazarous' mesery he hadde theroff no care, Therfore was sodenly taken and tormentide in h.e.l.l."

[See Note 5 for explanations.]

Ten quiet days followed. For many a month afterwards, quietness was only to be remembered as a lost luxury.

"Have you the news?" inquired Mr Underhill, suddenly opening Avery's door, and coming in hastily.

"I have heard you put that question five-and-twenty times," responded Dr Thorpe.

"Well!" he answered, "you may hear it yet again so many. There is like to be some trouble."

"Then that is good news," said the doctor, sarcastically, "for during some time there hath been trouble, not there hath been like to be."

"What is it, then, Ned?" inquired John.

"Why," answered he, "the Lord Cobham and Tom Wyatt be up in Kent, and my Lord Warden of Dover, and many another, to resist the Queen's marriage, and to remove certain councillors from her, which (as I take it) is another way of spelling Stephen Gardiner's name: and my Lord of Suffolk, and his two brothers [John and Thomas Grey], are fled from Shene (on pretence of going to the Court), no man knows whither: and Rochester Bridge is taken of one set of rebels, and Exeter of them in Devon--"

"Alack the day!" cried Isoult, her Devon blood stirring.