and narrow-minded obstinacy. For him heresy and treason were not just two sides of the same coin; they
were
the coin – completely mingled like metals to form the alloy of heinous offence to God and man. Referring to his problems in the Netherlands, Philip wrote:
Before suffering the slightest damage to religion and the service of God, I would lose all my estates, and a hundred lives if I had them, because I do not propose, nor do I desire to be the ruler of heretics. If it can be, I will try to settle the matter of religion without taking up arms, because I fear that to do so would lead to their total ruin. But if I cannot settle matters as I wish, without force, I am determined to go in person and take charge of everything, and neither the danger nor the destruction of those provinces, nor of all the rest I possess, can deter me from this end. 3
The Spanish Inquisition has achieved a well-deserved notoriety. Its teeth and claws were sharpened on Muslim and Jewish citizens during the
reconquista
and it had recently begun to turn its attention to rooting out Lutheran cells. Under Philip II the Holy Office became an instrument of the Spanish state for enforcing religious and political conformity. Torture, informers and all the methods of the police state were employed, even against leading churchmen. By the end of the 1550s hundreds of Spaniards had faced autos da fé in the principal cities of the realm and hundreds more had fled. Foreign nationals were not immune from investigation by the inquisitors and stories were soon spreading in England of merchants and travellers who had suffered imprisonment, trial and other indignities.
It is not surprising that throughout England a marriage alliance withSpain was regarded with indignation and horror. Many of Mary’s subjects, whatever their religious convictions, had reason to be hostile to the Habsburg match which took place in July 1554. Within months the popular mood had changed. People who had lit bonfires and cheered Mary through the streets of her capital now threw mud at members of Philip’s entourage and daubed walls with anti-Catholic graffiti. The new reign was not six months old before a widespread plot came to life. In the event, Sir Thomas Wyatt was the only one of the conspirators to take action but his march on London with a band of Kentish supporters was enough to cause serious alarm. Treasons, real and imagined, continued to trouble the regime and early in 1556 an elaborate plot led by Sir Henry Dudley, involving French troops and the support of men close to the court, came near to success.
By this time the queen’s subjects had other reasons for bitter discontent. England was dragged into the Habsburgs’ latest war with France. The crops failed. An influenza epidemic claimed tens of thousands of victims – and Mary had introduced her version of the Inquisition. She never intended to be a persecutrix and her councillors were at one with Philip in urging a softly softly approach to the religious question. But Mary was shocked to discover that she could not put the clock back. Landowners were not prepared to restore monastic property to the church. Parliament would not relinquish the authority in religious issues it had gained in the 1530s. Bold evangelical preachers could not be easily silenced. Illicit presses poured out anti-government pamphlets. Worst of all from Mary’s point of view, her subjects did not flock back with thankful hearts to the restored mass. Protestantism was driven underground, not exterminated. To the queen’s frustration over the failure of her religious ambitions was added her genuine alarm at rebellion and her growing unpopularity. To assert her authority and that of her bishops she took an increasingly hard line on heresy. Protestant asylum-seekers were expelled. Thousands of men and women were examined about their beliefs. Hundreds were imprisoned. At least 287 were burned at the stake. Over 800 convinced evangelicals fled