spiracy to set her aside, and of the wonderful Providence which had preserved her and raised her to the throne; her only desire, she said, was to do her duty to God and to her subjects; and she hoped, turning as she spoke pointedly to Gardiner, that they would not forget their loyalty, and would stand by her in her extreme necessity. Observing them hesitate, she cried, 'My Lords, on my knees I implore you—' and flung herself on the ground at their feet.[1]
The most skilful acting could not have served Mary's purpose better than this outburst of natural emotion; the spectacle of their kneeling sovereign overcame for a time the scheming passions of her ministers; they were affected, burst into tears, and withdrew their opposition to her wishes.[2]
On the 30th, the procession from the Tower to Westminster through the streets was safely accomplished. The retinues of the Lords protected the Queen from insult, and London put on its usual outward signs of rejoicing; St Paul's spire was rigged with yards like a ship's mast, an adventurous sailor sitting astride on the weathercock five hundred feet in the air:[3] there was
- ↑ 'Devant les quelz elle se mist à genoulx.'—Renard to Charles V.: Rolls House MSS.
- ↑ Ibid.
- ↑ The Hot Gospeller, half-recovered from his gaol fever, got out of bed to see the spectacle, and took his station at the west end of St Paul's. The procession passed so close as almost to touch him, and one of the train seeing him muffled up, and looking more dead than alive, said, There is one that loveth her Majesty well, to come out in such condition. The Queen turned her head and looked at him. To hear that any one of her subjects loved her just then was too welcome to be overlooked.—Underhill's Narrative: MS. Harleian, 425.
