The natural remedy would have been war; but the division of nations was crossed by the division of creeds; and each nation had allies in the heart of every other.  If England went to war with Spain, Spain could encourage insurrection among the Catholics.  If Spain or France declared war against England, England could help the Huguenots or the Holland Calvinists.  All Governments were afraid alike of a general war of religion which might shake Europe in pieces.  Thus individuals were left to their natural impulses.  The Holy Office burnt English or French Protestants wherever it could catch them.  The Protestants revenged their injuries at their own risk and in their own way, and thus from Edward VI.’s time to the end of the century privateering came to be the special occupation of adventurous honourable gentlemen, who could serve God, their country, and themselves in fighting Catholics.  Fleets of these dangerous vessels swept the Channel, lying in wait at Scilly, or even at the Azores—­disowned in public by their own Governments while secretly countenanced, making war on their own account on what they called the enemies of God.  In such a business, of course, there were many mere pirates engaged who cared neither for God nor man.  But it was the Protestants who were specially impelled into it by the cruelties of the Inquisition.  The Holy Office began the work with the autos da fe.  The privateers robbed, burnt, and scuttled Catholic ships in retaliation.  One fierce deed produced another, till right and wrong were obscured in the passion of religious hatred.  Vivid pictures of these wild doings survive in the English and Spanish State Papers.  Ireland was the rovers’ favourite haunt.  In the universal anarchy there, a little more or a little less did not signify.  Notorious pirate captains were to be met in Cork or Kinsale, collecting stores, casting cannon, or selling their prizes—­men of all sorts, from fanatical saints to undisguised ruffians.  Here is one incident out of many to show the heights to which temper had risen.

‘Long peace,’ says someone, addressing the Privy Council early in Elizabeth’s time, ’becomes by force of the Spanish Inquisition more hurtful than open war.  It is the secret, determined policy of Spain to destroy the English fleet, pilots, masters and sailors, by means of the Inquisition.  The Spanish King pretends he dares not offend the Holy House, while we in England say we may not proclaim war against Spain in revenge of a few.  Not long since the Spanish Inquisition executed sixty persons of St. Malo, notwithstanding entreaty to the King of Spain to spare them.  Whereupon the Frenchmen armed their pinnaces, lay for the Spaniards, took a hundred and beheaded them, sending the Spanish ships to the shore with their heads, leaving in each ship but one man to render the cause of the revenge.  Since which time Spanish Inquisitors have never meddled with those of St. Malo.’