Lady Jane Grey and Her Times

by Ida A. Taylor

There was much to think of, much to do. Measures had to be taken to keep the King’s sisters at a distance, lest his old affection, for Elizabeth in particular, reawakening might frustrate the designs of those bent upon moulding events to their advantage. Above all, there was the pressing necessity of inducing the King to exclude them by will from their rightful heritage. On June 16 Noailles had again been conferring with the doctors, and had learnt that, in their opinion, Edward could not live till August. Ten days later Northumberland came from Greenwich to visit the envoy, and to prevent his going to Court. He then told the Frenchman that, nine days earlier, the King had executed his will in favour of the Duke’s daughter-in-law, Lady Jane[148]—“qui est vertueuse, sage, et belle,” reported the envoy to his master some three weeks later.[149]

Of the manner in which the will had been obtained full information is available. It was not out of love for Northumberland that Edward had yielded to his representations. The Throckmorton MS.[150] asserts that Edward abhorred the Duke on account of his uncle’s death. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, in attendance on the King, should be a good authority; on the other hand, he was opposed to the Duke’s designs. Whether or not the latter was personally distasteful to the boy, it was no difficult matter to represent the situation in a fashion to lead him to believe the sole alternative was the course suggested to him. Conscientious, pious, scrupulous to a fault, and worn by disease, the future of religion could be made to hang upon his fiat, and the thought of Mary, a devout Catholic, or even Elizabeth, who might marry a foreign prince, seated upon the throne, filled him with apprehensions for the welfare of a people for whom he felt himself responsible. Yet he, with little to love, had loved both his sisters, and the thought of the sick lad, torn between duty and affection, a tool in the hands of unprincipled and ambitious men who could play on his sensitive conscience and over-strained nerves at will, and turn his piety to their advantage, is a painful one.

The Duke’s arguments lay ready to his hand. Religion was in danger, the Church set up by Edward in jeopardy; the work that he had done might be destroyed as soon as he was in his grave. How could he answer it before God were he, who was able to avert it, to permit so great an evil? The remedy was clear. Let him pass over his sisters, already pronounced severally illegitimate by unrepealed statutes of Parliament, and entail the crown upon those who, under his father’s will, would follow upon Mary and Elizabeth, the descendants of Mary Tudor, known to be firm in their attachment to the reformed faith.

Edward yielded. Given the circumstances, the power exercised by the Duke over him, his physical condition, his fears for religion, he could scarcely have done less. With his own hand he drew up the draft of a will which, amended at Northumberland’s bidding, left the crown in unmistakable terms to Lady Jane and her heirs male. It had now to be made law and accepted by the Council.

On June 11 Sir Edward Montagu, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, Sir Thomas Bromley, another Justice of the same court, Sir Richard Baker, Chancellor of the Augmentations, and the Attorney- and Solicitor-General were called to Greenwich, and were introduced into the King’s apartment, Northampton, Gates, and others being present at the interview. If what took place on this occasion and at the other audiences of the legal officers with the King, as recorded by themselves, is naturally, as Dr. Lingard has pointed out, represented in such a manner as to extenuate their conduct in Mary’s eyes, there seems no reason to doubt that Montagu’s account is substantially true.[151]

In his sickness, Edward told them, he had considered the state of the realm, and of the succession, should he die without leaving direct heirs; and, proceeding to point out the danger to religion and to liberty should his sister Mary succeed to the throne, he ordered them to “make a book with speed” of his articles.

The lawyers demurred, but the King, feverishly eager to put an end to the business, and conscious perhaps that if the thing were not done quickly it might not be done at all, refused to listen to the objections they would have urged, dismissing them with orders to carry out his pleasure with haste. For all his gentleness and piety, Edward was a Tudor, and no less peremptory than others of his race.

Two days later—it was June 14—having deliberated on the question, the men of law acquainted the Council with their decision. The thing could not be done. To make or execute the “devise” according to the King’s instructions would be treason. The report was made to Sir William Petre at Ely Place; but the Duke of Northumberland was at hand, and came thereupon into the Council-chamber, “being in a great rage and fury, trembling for anger, and, amongst all his ragious talk called Sir Edward Montagu traitor, and further said he would fight any man in his shirt in that quarrel.” It was plain that no technical or legal obstacles were to be permitted to turn him from his purpose.

The following day the law-officers were again called to Greenwich. Conveyed in the first place to a chamber behind the dining-room, they met with a chilling reception. “All the lords looked upon them with earnest countenances, as though they had not known them;” and, brought into the King’s presence, Edward demanded, “with sharp words and angry countenance,” why his book was not made?

Montagu, as spokesman for his colleagues, explained. Had the King’s device been executed it would become void at the King’s death, the Statute of Succession passed by Parliament being still in force. A statute could be altered by statute alone. On Edward’s replying that Parliament should then shortly be called together, Montagu caught at the solution. The matter could be referred to it, and all perils saved. But this was not the King’s meaning. The deed, he explained, was to be executed at once, and was to be afterwards ratified by Parliament. With growing excitement, he commanded the officers, “very sharply,” to do his bidding; some of the lords, standing behind the King, adding that, did they refuse, they were traitors.