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Here it is only necessary

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Here it is only necessary

Edward was buried at Westminster, close to his grandfather, Henry VII., and underneath the altar of Torrigiano, of which I have already told you, so that the last Roman Catholic and the first really Protestant king of England lay side by side, under the same exquisite roof, a striking commentary on the fact that the Reformation was not a complete wrench with the past, but a transition from old to new according to the unchangeable law of progress.

Mary was crowned on October 10, and on the coronation morning she journeyed in the royal barge from Whitehall to the private waterstairs of old Westminster Palace, and from thence went into the Parliament chamber, where she robed. Blue cloth covered the ground all the way from Westminster Hall to the choir in the Abbey, but here the altar blazed with cloth of gold, and rich covers hung all around, while the floor was strewn with fresh rushes, a quaint contrast to everything else. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York and the Bishop of London were already in the Tower as prisoners, so it was Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who met the queen and performed the service, at which there was much dismay among the people, for they said it had ever boded ill for England when the Archbishop did not crown the sovereign. The old coronation service with its full ceremonial was used, and the queen was very devout, kneeling long in silent prayer.

Four days later, the queen again rode to the Abbey, this time to open her Parliament. But the occasion did not pass by without some disturbances, for some who refused to kneel while the Mass was being celebrated were turned out by force.

The restoration of her religion was the object dearer than all others to Mary's heart, and her unfaltering belief that in so doing she was working the will of God, added to her passionate enthusiasm for her faith, are the only excuses we can plead for her, when we shudder at the cruel persecutions which made England a land of terror during the next few years.
to say that, as always, persecution purified and strengthened the very cause it was destined to destroy, and Mary, during her five years' reign, made her people hate her so bitterly, that nothing but her death prevented a general rebellion.

She died a wretched, lonely woman, conscious of her utter failure.

"My oppressed heart is pierced by many wounds," she said bitterly at the last  The entire room was faced with polished granite..

Her funeral took place with much state, but the only real mourners were the priests and monks, who feared for their own fate. Mary had entreated that she might not be buried in royal array. Her crown had brought her no happiness, she said, and she did not wish to be encumbered by it now. Behind her coffin rode her ladies, with black trains so long that they swept the ground. Mass was said before the High Altar for the last time, while Fakenham, the last Abbot of Westminster, as he himself well knew, preached a great sermon on the dead queen, and, in a voice trembling with deep feeling, told how she was too good for earth, a veritable angel, who had found the realm poisoned with heresy, and had purged it.

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