the enormous difference in the amount of persecution, exercised respectively by the Protestant and the Roman Church.  It is probable that not many more than two hundred Catholics were executed as such, in Elizabeth’s reign, and this was ten score too many.  But what was this against eight hundred heretics burned, hanged, and drowned, in one Easter week by Alva, against the eighteen thousand two hundred went to stake and scaffold, as he boasted during his administration, against the vast numbers of Protestants, whether they be counted by tens or by hundreds of thousands, who perished by the edicts of Charles V., in the Netherlands, or in the single Saint Bartholomew Massacre in France?  Moreover, it should never be forgotten—­from undue anxiety for impartiality—­that most of the Catholics who were executed in England, suffered as conspirators rather than as heretics.  No foreign potentate, claiming to be vicegerent of Christ, had denounced Philip as a bastard and, usurper, or had, by means of a blasphemous fiction, which then was a terrible reality, severed the bonds of allegiance by which his subjects were held, cut him off from all communion with his fellow-creatures, and promised temporal rewards and a crown of glory in heaven to those who should succeed in depriving him of throne and life.  Yet this was the position of Elizabeth.  It was war to the knife between her and Rome, declared by Rome itself; nor was there any doubt whatever that the Seminary Priests —­seedlings transplanted from foreign nurseries, which were as watered gardens for the growth of treason—­were a perpetually organized band of conspirators and assassins, with whom it was hardly an act of excessive barbarity to deal in somewhat summary fashion.  Doubtless it would have been a more lofty policy, and a far more intelligent one, to extend towards the Catholics of England, who as a body were loyal to their country, an ample toleration.  But it could scarcely be expected that Elizabeth Tudor, as imperious and absolute by temperament as her father had ever been, would be capable of embodying that great principle.

When, in the preliminaries to the negotiations of 1587, therefore, it was urged on the part of Spain, that the Queen was demanding a concession of religious liberty from Philip to the Netherlanders which she refused to English heretics, and that he only claimed the same right of dictating a creed to his subjects which she exercised in regard to her own, Lord Burghley replied that the statement was correct.  The Queen permitted—­ it was true—­no man to profess any religion but the one which she professed.  At the same time it was declared to be unjust, that those persons in the Netherlands who had been for years in the habit of practising Protestant rites, should be suddenly compelled, without instruction, to abandon that form of worship.  It was well known that many would rather die than submit to such oppression, and it was affirmed that the exercise