Lady Jane Grey and Her Times

by Ida A. Taylor

The argument was quickly disposed of. If, as Mr. Tytler supposes,[192] the Duke’s intention was to appeal to the sanction of the great seal affixed to Edward’s will, the judges preferred to interpret his plea, as most historians have concurred in doing, as referring to the seal used during Lady Jane’s short reign; and, thus understood, the authority of a usurper could not be allowed to exonerate her father-in-law from the guilt of rebellion. As to his second question, so long as those by whom he was to be judged were themselves unattainted, they were not disqualified from filling their office. Sentence was passed without delay, the Duke proffering three requests. First, he asked that he might die the death of a noble; secondly, that the Queen would be gracious to his children, since they had acted by his command, and not of their own free will; and thirdly, that two members of the Council Board might visit him, in order that he might declare to them matters concerning the public welfare.

The trial had been conducted on a Friday. The uncertainty prevailing as to the condition of public sentiment in the city may be inferred from the fact, that, when the customary sermon was to be preached at Paul’s Cross on the following Sunday, it was considered expedient to have the preacher chosen by the Queen surrounded by her guards, lest a tumult should ensue. The state of feeling in the capital must have been curiously mixed. Mary was the lawful sovereign, and had been brought to her rights amidst universal rejoicing. Northumberland was an object of detestation to the populace. Yet, whilst the Queen was undisguisedly devoted to a religion to which the majority of her subjects were hostile, the Duke was regarded as, with Suffolk, the chief representative and support of the faith they held and the Church as by law established. If his adherence to Protestant doctrine, as was now to appear, had been a matter of policy rather than of conviction, it had been singularly successful in imposing upon the multitude; though, according to the story which makes him observe to Sir Anthony Browne that he certainly thought best of the old religion, “but, seeing a new one begun, run dog, run devil, he would go forward,” he had been at little pains to conceal his lack of genuine sympathy with innovation.[193] When the speech was made, suspicion of Catholic proclivities would have been fatal to his position and his schemes. The case was now reversed. He was about to forfeit, by the fashion of his death, the solitary merit he had possessed in the eyes of a large section of his countrymen; to throw off the mask, however carelessly it had been worn; and to give the lie, at that supreme moment, to the professions of years.

It is said that, in consequence of the request he had preferred at his trial that he might be visited by some members of the Council, he was granted an interview with Gardiner and another of his colleagues, name unknown; that the Bishop of Winchester subsequently interceded with the Queen on his behalf, and was sanguine of success; but that, in deference to the Emperor’s advice, Mary decided in the end that the Duke must die.[194] To Arundel, in spite of the little encouragement he had received at Cambridge to hope that the Earl would prove his friend, Northumberland wrote, begging for life, “yea, the life of a dog, that he may but live and kiss the Queen’s feet.”[195] All was in vain. Prayers, supplications, entreaties, were useless. He was to die.

Of those tried together with him, two shared his sentence—Sir Thomas Palmer and Sir John Gates. Monday, August 21, had been fixed for the executions, Commendone, the Pope’s agent, delaying his journey to Italy at Mary’s request that he might be present on the occasion.[196] For some unexplained reason, they were deferred. It was probably in order to leave Northumberland time to make his recantation at leisure; for he had expressed his desire to renounce his errors “and to hear Mass and to receive the Sacrament according to the old accustomed manner.”[197]

The account of what followed has been preserved in detail. At nine in the morning the altar in the chapel was prepared; and thither the Duke was presently conducted by Sir John Gage, Constable of the Tower, four of the lesser prisoners being brought in by the Lieutenant. Dying men, three of them, and the rest in jeopardy, it was a solemn company there assembled as the officiating priest proceeded with the ancient ritual. At a given moment the service was interrupted, so that the Duke might make his confession of faith and formally abjure the new ways he had followed for sixteen years, “the which is the only cause of the great plagues and vengeance which hath light upon the whole realm of England, and now likewise worthily fallen upon me and others here present for our unfaithfulness; ... and this I pray you all to testify, and pray for me.”

After which, kneeling down, he asked forgiveness from all, and forgave all.

“Amongst others standing by,” says the narrator of the scene, “were the Duke of Somerset’s sons,” Hertford and his brother, boys scarcely emerged from childhood; watching the fallen enemy of their house, and remembering that to him had been chiefly due their father’s death.

Other spectators were some fourteen or fifteen merchants from the City, bidden to the chapel that they might witness the ceremony and perhaps make report of the Duke’s recantation to their fellows.

The news of what was going forward must have spread through the Tower, partly palace, partly dungeon, partly fortress; and men must have looked strangely upon one another as they heard that the leader principally responsible for all that had happened in the course of the last month, to whom the safety of the Protestant faith had been war-cry and watchword, had abjured it as the work of the devil. Where was truth, or sincerity, or pure conviction to be found?

Of Lady Jane, during this day, there is but one mention. The limelight had been turned off her small figure, and she had fallen back into obscurity. Yet we hear that, looking through a window, she had seen her father-in-law led to the chapel, where he was, in her eyes, to imperil his soul. But whether she had been made aware of what was in contemplation we are ignorant.