But the fault of Arran as yet had not passed beyond weakness. He was timid as a statesman. He shrunk from the odium and the possible danger of throwing himself absolutely on the support of England; and without that support he was too feeble to pursue openly an avowed English policy. He believed that he could compensate for his want of strength by dexterity of management; and he was dealing with an enemy who, in the use of such a weapon, could play with him as with a child.
Cardinal David Beton, Archbishop of St Andrew's, approached nearly to the ideal of the Romanist statesman of the age. Devoted to the Pope and to the Papacy, he served his master with the unvarying consistency, with the mingled passion and calmness which, beyond all other known institutions, the Roman Church has the power of imparting to its votaries. The sensual pleasures of which his profession as an ecclesiastic deprived him of the open enjoyment, he was permitted to obtain by private licentiousness; his indulgences were compensated by a fidelity with which they never interfered; and the surrender of innocuous vices was not demanded of a man to whom no crime was difficult which would further the interests of his cause. His scent of heresy was as the sleuth hound's, and, as the sleuth hound's, was only satisfied with blood. He was cruel when the Church demanded cruelty, treacherous and false when treachery and falsehood would serve the
noble prince and father of wisdom of all the world. His Majesty will not he trifled with in no case.'—Lisle to the Earl of Arran: ibid. p. 250.
