family of England, being grandson of George duke of Clarence. He gave early indications of genius, and of a noble and generous disposition, which attracted the notice of Henry the Eighth, and so effectually recommended him to his favour, that he proposed raising him to the highest ecclesiastical dignities; but when that monarch was at variance with the court of Rome, Pole refused to second his measures, and even wrote against him, in a treatise on The Unity of the Church. He was now irreparably disgraced, and became an exile from his country. But the pope and the emperor thought themselves bound to provide for a man of such eminence, who, in support of the cause of the church, had sacrificed all his prospects in his native land. Pole was therefore created a cardinal, and sent as legate into Flanders. Notwithstanding his elevation to these dignities, he only took deacon's orders, which did not oblige him to celibacy. Perhaps it was partly on this account that he was suspected of aspiring to the English crown, by a marriage with the princess Mary, even during the life of her father. Be this as it may, it is certain that she was no sooner in possession of the sovereign power, than she thought of making him the partner of her throne. But the cardinal was now in the decline of life, and those who had

access to Mary represented him as unequal to the bustle of a court, and the fatigue of business; she therefore relinquished the idea of a matrimonial connexion, still proposing to reap the benefit of his counsels in the government of her kingdom. With this view, when she transmitted to Rome the assurance of her desire that England might be reconciled to the holy see, she added a request that cardinal Pole might be appointed legate for the performance of that office. She also sent a gracious letter to the cardinal himself, pressing his return to his native country, and assuring him of her royal favour.

In minds of a certain character, the disgust arising from disappointed expectation sometimes assumes the appearance of philosophy, and such at this crisis was the experience of cardinal Pole. His influence at Rome was so great that he ventured to aspire to the papacy, and might probably have obtained it, had he not been too honest to engage heartily in the intrigues of the conclave. On the failure of his project he retired from the world, and queen Mary's letter found him in a Benedictine monastery near Verona, meditating on the vanity of earthly greatness. But his philosophic dream was chased by the brilliant prospect expanding before him:

"Revolving in his alter'd mind
The various turns of fate below,"

he determined no longer to indulge what now appeared but as the illusion of a melancholy reverie, and as soon as possible set out for England, where he was received with great honour, and placed at the head of ecclesiastical affairs. Happy would it have been for the reputation of his sovereign, if the dictates of his mild and liberal spirit had been respected as they deserved. Pole was indeed a great and good man; moderate in his opinions, and prudent in his conduct: had his firmness been equal to his judgment, he might have prevented those excesses which brought deserved reproach on the religion he professed.

His first public act was to call a council of bishops, which afforded an opportunity of observing the characters of those zealots with whom he had to contend. After discussing other topics connected with the settlement of religion, they began to debate on the treatment of heretics. "For my own part," said the cardinal, "I think we should be content with the public restoration of religion; and instead of irritating our adversaries by a rigorous execution of the revived statutes, I could wish that every bishop in his diocess would try the more winning methods of gentleness and per

suasion." He then urged the example of the emperor Charles the Fifth, who, by a severe persecution of the Lutherans, had involved himself in many difficulties and gained nothing but dishonour.

To this Gardiner replied in a very different spirit. He declared that some blood must be shed. "To shake the leaves," added he, "is of little avail. I would have the axe laid to the root of the tree: the bishops, and most forward preachers, ought certainly to die; the rest are of no consequence."

He had scarcely sat down, when the bishop of London, who always took his tone from Gardiner, started up, and pursued the subject with his characteristic fierceness and violence; concluding by offering himself to execute the severest measures they could devise. "I cannot, my lords, act canonically any where but in my own diocess, and there I shall desire no man's help or countenance. And for those who are not in my jurisdiction, let them only be sent up to me, and lodged in any of my prisons, and when I have got them there, God do so to Bonner, and more also, if one of them escape me!"

Other speakers followed in the same violent strain. The cardinal probably thought it hope

less to attempt bringing such men to reason: it is certain that he gave way, and issued a commission, empowering Gardiner, Bonner, and other bishops, to proceed against heretics, agreeably to those cruel statutes which had been annulled in the late reign, but revived by queen Mary's obsequious parliament.

Then followed times unparalleled in English story, when all sober men beheld with horror the excesses of which bigotry is capable. Fear and distrust prevailed throughout the nation, and forced men into retirement, where they mourned in secret for parents, brothers, sons, the hope and ornament of their families, singled out for their piety as victims to the reigning infatuation. But while protestants were delivered up by companies to torture and death, the fate of the three friends confined in the prison of Oxford remained suspended. This delay was at first charged upon the court of Rome; but it was afterwards found to originate with the bishop of Winchester himself.

We have noticed the secret jealousy with which he regarded Pole. The cardinal's hat and the legatine authority were already the objects of his envy; and, in the shadowy mirror of futurity, he beheld the mitre that now tottered on the brows of the devoted Cranmer, investing those of his fortunate rival. He knew