Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean - Страница 98

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MY FEARS OF SPAIN did not diminish after the return of Drake—rather naturally they increased. I knew that the Spaniards were my greatest enemy, considered to be invincible on the high seas. I knew that Philip was a fanatic as far as religion was concerned, and I had always felt that fanaticism in religion could bring about the downfall of a monarch. I had long since made up my mind that it should never be so in my case. I could never see why there should be these schisms, these differences. Surely it was enough to be a Christian, which simply meant following the teachings of Christ.

But there were few men or women who would agree with me. Religion was something they took very seriously.

Never far from my thoughts was the Queen of Scots who was still in England. I could never quite make up my mind whether she would have been more of a danger to me free than she was as my prisoner. While she lived there would always be plots about her. She was the Catholic figurehead. I had been constantly warned by men of such differing motives as Robert and Burghley that she should go. I had had my chance at the time of the Ridolfi plot, when the best of excuses had been given to me for bringing about her end. Yet I had shrunk from signing her death warrant.

None could know more than I the dangers I faced. My people were largely Protestant. They were Protestants by nature. They lacked that singleminded religious fervor which seemed to go hand in hand with Catholicism; they were tolerant by nature; they were always prepared to let things stay as they were, feeling, I am sure, that changing them might bring about unpleasantness. I understood them perfectly for after all I was one of them. Perhaps that was why we fitted each other so well.

But I must not forget that there were those who rebelled against the new order. We were a Protestant country not because I was a Protestant. I would have been ready to be a Catholic if that was what my people demanded of their monarch. The rites and ceremonies of the Church affected me little. My need was to give the people what they wanted.

My enemies were the Catholics and there was the Catholic Queen whom they were plotting to put on my throne. Before they could do so they must remove me—and consequently they plotted my assassination. The Pope had given help—financial and spiritual—to my enemies; there was constant plotting in various parts of the country and the Spaniards were just waiting for their opportunity. The French, too, had their schemes—shelved temporarily because of the courtship being conducted sporadically between myself and their little Duc d'Anjou.

And how important it was to keep that going! And how long could I manage it? For the answers to those questions I must wait and see.

In the meantime I must beware of Catholics.

New laws were made forbidding the Mass, and any caught partaking in it would be fined two hundred marks and be condemned to a year's imprisonment. Any who tried to draw my subjects from the country's religion— and this was aimed mostly at priests—were considered to be guilty of high treason.

I knew there were secret gatherings in various country houses. I knew that they kept their priests hidden in order that they could continue to conduct the Mass. In many of the old houses nooks and crannies had been turned into priests' holes into which the priests could scuttle at a moment's notice to prevent their arrest. What else did they talk of when they met in secret? I could not believe that it was only religion.

I would have been happier without these rules for I had always wanted my people to worship in a manner best suited to their needs and beliefs. The present position had been forced on me. Because of the implacable hatred of Philip of Spain, I felt it necessary to keep a watchful eye on Catholic households, and if any were caught breaking the religious laws they must be brought to trial.

Thus it was that Edmund Campion came to be arrested.

How fervently I wished in the years to come that it had never been necessary to do to him what was done. If only such men would keep to their learning, in which we all agreed they excelled. Why must they concern themselves with religion? Why could they not accept the laws of the land and do what they must in secret?

They had a certain nobility, those men, I granted them that. But they were fools; though it is true that in becoming martyrs they did more for their faith than they ever did by preaching.

Campion was a great scholar. I remembered him from when I had visited Oxford, for he had made a beautiful speech in Latin which had delighted me. I had asked about him and when he had been presented to me we conversed, he responding most gracefully and with the utmost charm. He went to Ireland where he wrote a book about that country; but it was there that he became so fervently Catholic and religion was the most important factor in his life. He had entered the Order of the Jesuits some eight years before and since then he had been in England as a missionary, whose great purpose was to turn people to his faith.

He was a celebrated man, a man much admired for his scholarship and nobility. Such men are dangerous.

He had, of course, been touring the country, staying in Catholic houses, hiding himself away in priests' holes when Walsingham's men of my secret service came prowling round.

He was caught eventually in the house of a gentleman at Lyford in Berkshire, betrayed by a man named George Eliot who had been a steward in one of the houses he had visited. Campion was taken with two other priests and lodged in the Tower.

Walsingham was sure that there were plots brewing all over the country and that the object of these was to kill me and set Mary Stuart on the throne. He suspected every Catholic priest of being a traitor. I knew this was not the case and I believed that many of these men were concerned only with religion, but they could in truth be spies and I did see the need to scent them out.

Walsingham's method, when a priest was caught, was to draw from him the names of the houses he had visited, the intention being to keep a watch on those houses for possible plotters. The priests were often reluctant to betray their friends and in some cases they had to be cruelly persuaded. Campion was one of these. I was sorry to hear this.

“He has been racked,” said Walsingham, “but even in the extremity of his pain would admit nothing.”

I did not want to hear of this man's being tortured. I could not forget his young, innocent face when he had made his Latin oration to me. He was a brilliant scholar and I hated to think of such a man's being destroyed. Surely it would have been possible to reason with him, to point out the folly of setting such store in a few differences in the same religion. He might ask the same of me, but the answer was, of course, that I served my people. The majority of them wanted a Protestant monarch, so they had one. They had had enough of Catholicism during my sister's reign, and even though it was necessary now and then to arrest and torture men like Campion, who were fundamentally good, we were not inflicting on our people the horrors which were being endured under the dreaded Inquisition.

I would fight with everything I had to keep that fanatical institution out of my country; and that was why, if it was necessary to inflict torture on those Catholics whose aim was to introduce Spanish methods into this country, we must do so. It was nothing compared with what the Catholics were doing to those whom they called heretics.

I told Walsingham that I should like to see Campion and speak to him myself.

Walsingham was taken aback and said he would be afraid for my safety if such a man were admitted to my presence.

“Afraid of Edmund Campion! My dear Moor, that man would not hurt a fly.”

“He is a fanatical Catholic, and Your Majesty knows that the Catholics plot to set the Queen of Scots on your throne.”

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