THE COMING OF THE QUEEN.

1553.

The hereditary enmity between Charles V. and the King of France, which in its earliest stages had deluged Europe with blood, and had made of the city of Rome a shambles, was in its later developments the cause of most of the troubles of Mary’s reign. Scarcely was it whispered that Edward lay dying, when England became at once the political battlefield of their conflicting interests.

Charles opened the campaign by sending over from Brussels three envoys extraordinary, ostensibly to visit the King, but really to watch Mary’s case in the interest of the empire. These envoys were Jean de Montmorency Sieur de CorriÈres, Jacques de Mornix Sieur de Toulouse, and last, though by no means the least, Simon Renard, who was destined to play an important part in Mary’s future. France too was immediately in the field, and Henry II. despatched two envoys to the coast, with instructions to remain at Boulogne till further orders, while de Noailles, his ambassador in England, made overtures to Northumberland of French aid in the event of foreigners attempting to disturb the tranquillity of the realm.

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.

The young King breathed his last on the evening of the 6th July, but it had been arranged that the event should be kept secret, till all was in readiness for the great stroke. The guards were doubled in the palace, and every care was taken that the outer world should still ask anxiously for news from the sick chamber. Nevertheless, that same night, Mary was informed of her brother’s death. She had ridden from Hunsdon, where she was then residing, towards London, and was expected by the conspirators at court, whence she would have been at once transferred in safe custody to the Tower.

At Hoddesden, however, she was met by a secret messenger, bringing the fateful news. Putting spurs to her horse, she rode into the eastern counties, with the intention of gaining Kenninghall, a house in Norfolk left to her by Henry VIII., the gift being confirmed by a grant of the second year of Edward VI. On the way, she stopped to rest at the house of Mr. Huddleston of Sawston, and in consequence of her prompt action, while she was under this hospitable roof, the bubble blown by Northumberland burst sooner than had been intended. On leaving Sawston, Mary looked back from the summit of a neighbouring hill, and saw smoke rising from the house that had sheltered her. The rebels had set fire to it, thinking that she was still there. It was burned to the ground, but after the rebellion, the Queen granted to Mr. Huddleston the materials from the ruins of Cambridge Castle, with which to rebuild his home.[287] Hengrave Hall was the next halting-place, whence John Bourchier, Earl of Bath, accompanied her with a considerable force to Kenninghall. [288] From thence, she sent proclamations into all parts of the country, announcing her accession, and calling her loyal subjects to her aid. Among the muniments of Condover Hall, Shropshire, is a letter from Mary dated six days after Edward’s death, and addressed to the Mayor of Chester, summoning the inhabitants of that part of the county to raise as great a force as possible, and repair to her at Kenninghall, or elsewhere in Norfolk, “wherefore right trusty and well-beloved, as ye be true Englishmen, fail ye not”.

With her were the Earl of Sussex, the Lord Mordaunt, Sir William Drury, Sir John Shelton, Sir Henry Bedingfeld, Sir Henry Jerningham, besides the Earl of Bath and his contingent. As her whereabouts became known, numbers flocked to her standard. In two days, she found herself at the head of 30,000 men, and while the conspirators were taking possession of the Tower, of the Crown, of the Crown jewels and the revenues, Mary without a single accessory of royalty, without arms or money, was gathering round her the flower of the nobility, and was issuing manifestoes to the whole kingdom, as calmly as if she were already undisputed mistress of the realm. When it became known that the Duke of Northumberland was advancing with an army, she removed her quarters to Framlingham, a strongly fortified house belonging to the Duke of Norfolk, who had been a prisoner in the Tower ever since 1546.[289] A report was circulated that the Council was about to execute him, together with the rest of the State prisoners, Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, deprived for religion, and Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter who was beheaded in the same cause in 1538.[290] On the 10th July, Jane was proclaimed Queen.

“Item the x. day of the same month, after vii. o’clock at night was made a proclamation at the Cross in Cheap by three herolds and one trumpet, with the King’s Sheriff of London, Master Garrard, with divers of the guards, for Jane, the Duke of Suffolk’s daughter to be Queen of England (but few or none said ‘God save her’) the which was brought the same afternoon from Richmond unto Westminster, and so unto the Tower of London by water.”[291] At the same time, the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth were declared illegitimate, and all estates and degrees were called upon to be obedient to their lawful sovereign, Queen Jane. A vintner’s boy in the crowd ventured to protest against the usurpation, and for his temerity was nailed to the pillory by the ears, both of which were amputated before he could be set free.[292]

Earlier in the day, the demise of the Crown had been announced in London, and when the Lady Jane arrived at the Tower, she was surrounded with as much state as was possible. The Lord Treasurer presented her ceremoniously with the Crown; all knelt as she passed by; her train was carried by her mother, the Duchess of Suffolk. But the space at the disposal of the new court was extremely limited, the Tower being crowded with prisoners, as well as with the members of the new government, who were all lodged there for safety.

In spite of the lack of enthusiasm, and the silence with which Jane was received, even in Protestant London, the imperial ambassadors thought Mary’s determined attitude “strange, difficult and dangerous,” fearing that in four days she would be in the hands of the Council. Though the people hated Northumberland for his ambition, and dreaded him for his tyranny, and though they gave credit to the rumours that Edward had been poisoned,[293] even Mary’s friends were of the opinion that it would be necessary to appeal to the Emperor to place her on the throne. This, the ambassadors thought, would in no wise diminish the affection of the country for her, so entirely was she beloved by the people. [294] Their view of the desperate character of her resistance was strengthened by the information that Northumberland had sent his son Lord Henry Dudley into France, to solicit troops, and that 6000 French soldiers were expected shortly to embark at Dieppe and Boulogne.

On the 11th, a letter from Mary, addressed to the Lords of the Council was brought to the Tower. It ran as follows:—

This display of courage made no impression on the conspirators, and they made answer:—

Then follow the signatures of all the members of the Council, thus:—

“Thomas Canterbury, the Marquis of Winchester, John Bedford, Will. Northampton, Thomas Ely, chancellor; Northumberland, Henry Suffolk, Henry Arundel, Shrewsbury, Pembroke, Cobham, R. Rich, Huntingdon, Darcy, Cheney, R. Cotton, John Gates, W. Peter, W. Cecill, John Cheeke, John Mason, Edward North, R. Bowes”.[295]

The confident tone of the above letter concealed the real sentiments of the conspirators. The Duke of Suffolk had been commissioned by Northumberland to march into Norfolk, seize Mary’s person, and bring her a prisoner to London. But Jane besought her father with tears not to leave her, and Northumberland reluctantly took the command of the rebel troops himself. As they marched through Shoreditch, he observed to Sir John Gates, “The people crowd to look upon us, but not one exclaims God speed ye!”[296]

He had no illusions about the attitude of the citizens, and trusted more to an eloquent and fiery appeal to their Protestantism, than to the hope of overawing them with the shadow of a sovereignty, for which they evinced undisguised contempt. Before leaving London, therefore, he charged the ministers of religion to expatiate in their sermons on the benefits to be derived from the reign of a Protestant queen, and thus work on their religious feelings. Ridley, Bishop of London, was the preacher at Paul’s Cross on the 16th July. He declaimed violently against Mary, and sought to persuade his hearers that she would bring in foreign power, and subvert all Christian religion already established. He stigmatised her religion as a “popish creed,” and herself as “the idolatrous rival” of Queen Jane. He related the story of his visit to her at Hunsdon, and remarked on the significance of her refusal to listen to his preaching, adding that “notwithstanding in all other points of civility, she showed herself gentle and tractable, yet in matters that concerned truth, faith and doctrine—so stiff and obstinate that there was no other hope of her to be conceived, but to disturb and overturn all that which with so great labours had been confirmed and planted by her brother afore”.[297]

The people listened in unwonted and unsympathetic silence. They had not yet learned to associate the claims of inheritance with those of religious convictions. It would have seemed to them preposterous, that Mary should forfeit her right to reign, because she professed the religion practised by every one of her predecessors, with the single exception of Edward, who had died before escaping from tutelage. Ridley’s language was reported seditious, and when, after Mary’s proclamation, the Bishop of London hastened to Framlingham to stultify all that he had said, by laying his homage at the Queen’s feet, he was arrested at Ipswich, deprived of his dignities, and sent to the Tower.[298]

The Duke of Northumberland, meanwhile, reached Bury with an army of 8,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry, only to find that he had been declared a rebel, and that a price had been put upon his head. He would have pushed on towards Framlingham, but disheartened by the hourly desertion of his followers to Mary’s standard, he ordered a retreat to Cambridge. Six ships, fully armed and manned, had been sent to lie in wait off Yarmouth, in order to intercept Mary should she attempt to fly the realm. Sir Henry Jerningham, who was raising troops in her behalf, boarded them each in turn, and would have taken their captains prisoners, the whole of the crews declaring for Mary, and expressing themselves willing to deliver them up:—

“Then the mariners axed master Gernyngham what he would have, and whether he would have their captains or no, and he said ‘yea marry’. Said they ‘ye shall have them, or else we shall throw them to the bottom of the sea’. The captains, seeing this perplexity, said forthwith they would serve Queen Mary gladly, and so came forth with their men, and conveyed certain great ordinance, of the which coming in of the ships, the lady Mary and her company were wonderful joyous, and then afterward doubted greatly the Duke’s puissance.”[299]

Scarcely had Northumberland left the Tower, when the news was brought that Mary had been proclaimed at Norwich, that Sir Edward Peckham and Sir Edward Hastings, Lord Windsor and others were out proclaiming her in Buckinghamshire, and worst news of all, that the ships had surrendered instantly to Jerningham. “Each man then,” says the Chronicle of Queen Jane, “began to pluck in his horns,” and when a messenger arrived from Oxfordshire, with tidings that Sir John Williams was holding the county for Mary, the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Thomas Cheney tried to get out of the Tower to feel the pulse of London. But Suffolk kept all the members of the Council in a sort of honourable captivity,[300] and the matter required some nice handling. The Council Registers, which contain no entries relating to the Lady Jane’s brief reign, certify that on the 16th July, Queen Mary’s friends in four counties, numbering in all 10,000, assembled at Paget’s house at Drayton, and marched to Westminster, where they took possession of the arms and ammunition stored in the palace, “for the better furnishing of themselves in the defence of the Queen’s Majesty’s person and her title”. Money was so scarce that no regular pay could be given to the soldiers, the captain of each band being charged to relieve at his own discretion those who were plainly necessitous, “but in such sort that it appear not otherwise but to be of his own liberality”.[301]

Paget, it appears from the above, though shut up in the Tower, was in friendly communication with the loyalists; and it is evident from Cecil’s own account of his submission, that the moment Northumberland had left, the various members of the Council began to plot against him. On the 19th July, the Lords Treasurer, Privy Seal, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Pembroke, with Sir Thomas Cheney and Sir John Masone succeeded, under pretext of receiving the French ambassador, in getting out of the Tower, and having communicated with the Lord Mayor, were at once joined by that dignitary, the Recorder, and a deputation of aldermen. They assembled at Baynard’s Castle, and the Earl of Arundel opened the proceedings by censuring Northumberland’s ambition. As he finished speaking, Pembroke, drawing his sword, exclaimed: “If the arguments of my lord Arundel do not persuade you, this sword shall make Mary queen, or I will die in her quarrel”. Shouts of applause answered him, and the Duke of Suffolk, who had been sent for, signed the proclamation. The summons had convinced him that all was lost, and he ordered his men to leave their weapons behind them. He proclaimed Mary on Tower Hill, before joining the other members of the Council. They then all rode through the City, and proclaimed her at Paul’s Cross, after which Arundel and Paget were despatched to lay the submission of the Council at her feet.[302]

According to the Grey Friars’ Chronicle, “The choir sang Te Deum with the organs going and the bells ringing, as most parts all. And the same night had the [most] part of London to dinner, with bonfires in every street of London, with good cheer at every bonfire; and the bells ringing in every parish-church, for the most part all night till the next day to None.”

A newsletter in Ralph Starkey’s collection says, “Great was the triumph here at London; for my time I never saw the like, and by the report of others, the like was never seen. The number of caps that were thrown up at the proclamation were not to be told. The Earl of Pembroke threw away his cap full of angellettes. I saw myself, money was thrown out at windows for joy. The bonfires were without number, and what with shouting and crying of the people, and ringing of the bells, there could no one hear almost what another said, besides banquettings and singing in the street for joy.”[303]

Even Foxe, Mary’s bitterest enemy, admitted that “God so turned the hearts of the people to her, and against the Council, that she overcame them without bloodshed, notwithstanding there was made great expedition against her both by sea and land”.[304]

Jane, having left her apartments in ignorance of what was happening, to stand sponsor at the baptism of the child of Edward Underhill in St. John’s Chapel, found on her return that the cloth of estate, and other insignia of royalty had disappeared from her presence chamber, by order of the Duke of Suffolk himself. The Crown had passed for ever from her, and there was no alternative but a hasty retreat into that private life, from which it would have been well for her had she never been drawn.

So much extravagant language has been employed by the partisans of the Lady Jane Grey, in describing her virtues and accomplishments, while her youth and tragic end make her so interesting a figure, that it is scarcely wonderful if we find it difficult to form a sober opinion of one, who appeared for a moment in our annals, and as the price of that appearance, laid her fair young head upon the block. The charm that failed to draw even a murmur of applause from her contemporaries, when she was thrust upon them as Queen has been potent ever since, and there are few who do not unconsciously canonise her on account of her misfortunes.

She had been educated severely, in the same kind of intellectual school as that, in which the daughters of Henry VIII. and the learned family of Sir Thomas More had also distinguished themselves. She was a good Latin and Greek scholar, and was further well versed in the doctrines of the Genevan Reformers. The instrument of Northumberland’s ambitious schemes, she had passively acquiesced in the dignity conspired for her, but once raised to the throne, the timid girl of sixteen had suddenly displayed the obstinacy which she had inherited from her Tudor grandmother, and had evinced spirit and determination enough to refuse to share her supposed title with her husband.[305] Had the bold stroke succeeded, which placed the Crown for a moment in her hands, her father-in-law might have lived to repent his temerity.

It would be obviously unfair to hold Jane responsible for all that was done in her name, but although Mary’s temper showed itself the reverse of vindictive, it must have cost the Queen an effort, to forgive the nine days’ usurper the letter which purported to have been written by her to the Marquis of Northampton, announcing her accession, and requiring his allegiance and defence of her title, against “the feigned and untrue claim of the Lady Mary, bastard daughter to our great-uncle, Henry the Eighth of famous memory”. The draft of this letter, in Northumberland’s hand, and endorsed by Cecil “First copy of a letter to be written by the Lady Jane when she came from the Tower,” is in the British Museum, as is also the copy made by a clerk and signed by Jane. This second copy was afterwards endorsed by the Duke “Jana non Regina”.[306] On the news reaching the Duke of Northumberland that the Council had submitted to Mary, and that immediately the troops had testified their satisfaction in a volley of artillery, he saw that further resistance would be suicidal. He threw up his cap and shouted, “Long live Queen Mary! so laughing that the tears ran down his face with grief”.[307] In less than an hour, he was summoned to disband his army, and commanded not to approach London within ten miles. He remained at Cambridge, and when that place, following the example of Great Yarmouth, Colchester and Bury declared for Mary, he was arrested by the municipality, but released on the Queen’s proclamation, ordering every man to go to his own home, till further orders. Scarcely however did he breathe freely, when the Earl of Arundel arrived to apprehend him on a charge of high treason. Over and above the guilt which he shared with the whole Council, he had borne arms against his lawful sovereign, and was suspected of having offered Calais to the French as the price of their support. At once guessing why Arundel had come, he fell on his knees, and with a craven spirit begged him to be good to him for the love of God. “And consider,” he added, “I have done nothing but by the consent of you all, and all the whole Council.” He went to the Tower, guarded by 4,000 soldiers, and was lodged in the Beauchamp Tower, whence he wrote abjectly to Arundel: “Oh that it would please her good Grace to give me life, yea the life of a dog, if I might live and kiss her feet; and spend both life and all in her humble service, as I have the best part already, under her worthy brother and most glorious father”.

Northumberland was, justly enough, the scapegoat; but as he had said, no member of the Council came out of the matter with clean hands. All had signed the will which the Duke had dictated to Edward, enfeebled by his mortal disease, and dexterously worked up to a pitch of fanaticism that made him oblivious of justice. But Cecil’s proceedings were, by his own showing, perhaps the most despicable. In his written submission[308] to Queen Mary, after beseeching her clemency, he went on to confess that his conduct throughout the plot had been guided by the one consideration of saving his skin whole. He had shuffled as long as he dared brave the Duke’s irritation, and had given in only, when the odds in favour of the conspirators seemed overwhelming. But when Northumberland had charged him to proclaim the Lady Jane, he had shifted the responsibility of the act on to Throckmorton, “whose conscience I saw was troubled therewith, misliking the matter”. The document ends with the pious invocation:—

Sir William Petre had also tried to make compromises with the Duke, but had succumbed, on being told that unless he agreed to the whole plan he could no longer retain his office of Secretary of State. Each day brought Mary fresh conquests. After a nine days’ rebellion, without a single blow having been struck in her defence, she was proclaimed Queen in every town in England. Her journey to London was a triumphal progress. Antoine de Noailles, the French ambassador, who had so lately conspired with Edward’s Council, and who was to be the evil genius of the new reign, rode twenty-five miles into the country to meet and congratulate the Queen in his master’s name, offering her the whole of the French forces, in support of her right. At Wanstead, she was joined by the Lady Elizabeth, who had prudently abstained from taking sides, till it should be clear where success lay. She had declined Northumberland’s overtures, and offers of large sums of money, but had equally avoided moving a finger in Mary’s cause, pleading an illness, which however allowed her to recover opportunely, when the Queen was about to take possession of her capital. Mary greeted her affectionately, embraced all her ladies, and assigned her the next place in the royal cortÈge after herself.[309] Together they entered the City of London at Aldgate, on the 3rd August, and rode through the densely crowded streets, the multitude rending the air with shouts of joy. Elizabeth was too clever not to estimate at its real value the contrast presented by the two sisters on this striking occasion. In spite of their loyalty and enthusiasm in realising the reward of their long devotion, the people could not fail to observe, that the Queen at thirty-seven, worn with trouble and sickness, was eclipsed by Elizabeth’s twenty years.

Elizabeth was tall and majestic, more gracious than beautiful, pale of complexion, with fine eyes, and hands that were admired for their whiteness and elegance. It was noticed that she knew how to use them effectively.[310]

At the Tower, where according to custom, the Queen was to reside pending her brother’s obsequies, the State prisoners of the two preceding reigns were kneeling on the Green, in front of the scaffold. These were the Duchess of Somerset, who had been in captivity since the execution of her husband; the aged Duke of Norfolk; Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter, beheaded in 1538; Tunstal and Gardiner, the deprived Bishops of Durham and Winchester. Gardiner, in the name of them all, congratulated Mary on her accession, and without complaining of the injustice of their detention expressed their joy at seeing her victorious over her enemies.[311]

“Ye are my prisoners!” exclaimed the Queen, bursting into tears. Embracing them all, she ordered them to be released at once, and took them with her to the royal apartments. Their goods, their rank, their sees were restored. The next day, Gardiner was sworn a member of the Privy Council, and three weeks later, was made Lord Chancellor of England.

The names of twenty-seven persons concerned in the rebellion were handed to the Queen. Of these she struck out sixteen, leaving eleven to be tried. These were again reduced to seven—the Duke of Northumberland, his son the Earl of Warwick, the Marquis of Northampton, Sir John Gates, Sir Henry Gates, Sir Andrew Dudley and Sir Thomas Palmer. The law then took its course, and they were condemned to death. But Mary again intervened; four were reprieved, and three only of the ringleaders, the Duke of Northumberland, Sir John Gates and Sir Thomas Palmer, his chief advisers, were executed. The Emperor urged her in vain to include the Lady Jane in the number of those to be tried for high treason. The Queen spoke warmly in her defence, and declared that she was less guilty than he believed her to be. Usurper though she had been, she was but a tool, and Mary would not have her punished for another’s crime. She had returned to the Tower as a prisoner, along with her husband, but was allowed great freedom within its precincts. The danger of her pretensions was, Mary declared, imaginary, but every precaution should be taken before she was restored to liberty.[312] With unprecedented mildness, the Queen had been inclined to pardon even Northumberland, but Charles put pressure on her to sign his death-warrant. The Duke made no defence at his trial, and on the scaffold admitted his crime, expressed penitence, and declared that he died a member of the Catholic and Roman Church.[313]

Whether Mary was persuaded of Jane’s innocence on the ground that the girl was scarcely a free agent, or whether the letter which Jane wrote to her as a prisoner,[314] turned the balance in her favour, is not clear, but it is certain that the Queen’s treatment of her rival at this time was magnanimous to imprudence, as the sequel showed. As for the other delinquents, no rebellion had ever been quenched with so little effusion of blood. Far otherwise had been Henry’s reprisals after the northern rising, far other the crushing of the insurgents in Edward’s reign. Had the punishment of the rebels rested entirely with Mary, she would have signalised her advent with a full and general amnesty. The Duchess of Suffolk had thrown herself at the Queen’s feet, imploring the pardon and release of her husband, both of which she obtained immediately; but strange as it appears, it is not on record that she even attempted to plead for her daughter.[315]

More stringent measures at the outset would no doubt have averted the serious disturbances of the following year, and afterwards; and the opinion of Charles V., that to punish the authors of sedition was to nip the revolution in the bud, was justified in the event. He had insisted on the execution of Northumberland and his lieutenants, but more than this he had not obtained. The people had little respect or gratitude for a clemency which they did not understand.