of abeyance.' 'Their King, being such a great prince, might not suffer the old friends of France to be oppressed and alienated from him;' nor would he suffer it to be written in books and chroniques that the Scots, who had ever been faithful friends to France, and whom his ancestors had ever defended, should in his reign be lost, and of friends made enemies.'[1]
As if this matter did not threaten sufficient complications, the Protector found leisure simultaneously to proceed with religious reforms. The ultra-Protestants, whom Henry had held sternly in hand, at once upon his death began to take the bit between their teeth. On the 10th of February the wardens and curates of St Martin's in London, 'of their own authority pulled down the images of the saints in the church.' The paintings on the walls were whitewashed, and the royal arms, garnished with texts, were set in the place of the crucifix on the roodloft. Being called before the council to answer for themselves, the parish officers protested that they had acted with the purest horror of idolatry; but the council, as yet unpurged of its Catholic elements, would not accept the excuse; the over-zealous curates were committed to the Tower, and the churchwardens were bound in recognizances to 'erect a new crucifix, within two days, in its usual place.'[2] But as soon as the Protector, and those who went along with him, had shaken off inconvenient restraints, the rising
