Charles’s aim was to bring about a marriage between his son and his cousin, as soon as Mary might be sure of reigning, in the hope that their issue would exclude the next legitimate heir to the throne of England, the young Scottish Queen already betrothed to the Dauphin. On the other hand, Henry’s object was of course to defeat this project, to prevent Mary Tudor if possible from succeeding to her inheritance, to place obstacles in the way of any marriage that might be proposed, and above all to hinder by every means in his power, her union with the Prince of Spain. Mary was no politician. The diplomacy under which she had suffered had not taught her to meet treachery with dissimulation and fraud with cunning. She could arm herself at all points for defence, but she was not a good dissembler. “To be plain with you,” was an expression natural to her, and all her words and actions were plain, clean-cut and unmistakable. Her letters are a distinct contrast to Elizabeth’s monuments of mystification, framed to confuse, if not altogether to mislead. Perhaps Mary’s greatest misfortune was that she was born fifty years too late. Her virtues and her faults were those of a past, or rapidly passing, age. She belonged by every fibre of her nature to the old order, while the world about her was holding out eager arms to the Renaissance, to the new life that was so well worth living, the new learning that added a fresh impetus to intellectual pursuits, to the new religion that was to lead men away from the purgative into the illuminative way, abolishing good works as snares of the Evil One. The world was advancing; Mary with a few kindred spirits was reactionary, and if for a while, her popularity was as great, the nation’s love for her as enthusiastic as ever, it was because people were still more than half unconscious of the new forces at work among them. England was not yet Protestantised. The legislation of five or six years had not overcome the habits of thought formed by nine centuries, and although a new generation had sprung up since the rupture with Rome, believing that Pope spelt arch-enemy, the greater number of Englishmen were in all other respects Catholics by choice. But as strong as their particular fear of Rome was their general distrust of all foreigners, and especially of Spaniards; and the French ambassador took care to keep that distrust alive, and to increase it by every means in his power. Edward lay dying, but no sign was allowed to transpire of the revolution that was intended. The Council Registers are a blank, save for significant entries concerning the removal of artillery from the ships and forts to the Tower. But these ominous if silent preparations did not escape the notice of the imperial envoys, who kept close watch, to prevent a surprise.