None the less, the Emperor Charles V (who dropped the cause of Northumberland the moment he perceived that Mary had won the day), wishing “to show his great love for that Queen his most dear cousin,” requested the Governess of the Netherlands, Mary, Queen of Hungary, to entertain the above-named gentlemen, as well as the newly dispatched Ambassador, Bishop Wootton of Norwich, “to such a banquet as they had never partaken of before, for such carvings, and sumptuous dishes, and frequent changing of wines.” The Emperor’s Embassy, which included the Sieur de Courrières, already mentioned, Simon Renard, and several other noblemen, was amongst the first of the numerous Envoys sent from all parts of Europe to congratulate the Queen on her victory, and, as if to emphasise his affectionate interest in the Royal cousin whose cause he had so lately abandoned in favour of that of her chief enemy, the negotiations for the marriage of the Queen of England with the young widowed Prince, afterwards King Philip of Spain, were pushed forward with the utmost alacrity.
The mere idea of a union with her very Catholic cousin inflamed the imagination of the old maid sovereign with so ardent a passion as to absorb her whole being, and to bring about the sad catastrophe of her tragic life. She now “could think and speak of Philip, and of Philip only.” The most affectionate solicitude was displayed on the part of Queen Mary for the welfare and comfort of her future Consort, so that even a special clause was included, allowing him to land at the most convenient port he should choose, for he was “apt to be very sick on the sea, and most eager to be on land again.”[266]
In some way or other Lady Jane must have been kept informed of the current events and gossip of the day. Some one probably gave her an account of Elizabeth’s ride through London on 31st July, from Somerset House to Wanstead, where she joined her sister. The astute Princess had at first hesitated as to what course she should pursue, but at last, seeing Jane’s position was hopeless, she made up her mind to side with her sister, and pass through the City and Aldgate with a numerous escort. The royal prisoner must have heard of the gay decorations of the streets, brilliant with flags, and streamers, and splendid tapestries, and how wild was the popular enthusiasm for Queen Mary.
The foredoomed prisoners must have received a rude shock on 1st August, when the monotony of their existence was suddenly broken by the appearance of the Constable of the Tower, Sir John Gage, and his officials, who repaired to them severally, and read out to them the solemn indictments made against them in the Queen’s name. These indictments—the originals of which will be found in the Baga de Secretis, pouch xxiii., at the Public Record Office—were dated 1st August, and had been previously read out and endorsed at Guildhall, with all due ceremonial, earlier in the day, in the presence of Thomas White, Lord Mayor of London; Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal; the Earls of Derby and Bath; Richard Morgan, Chief Justice of Common Pleas; and other noblemen and gentlemen, not all of whom were, however, actually present, but represented by deputies. The first document, divested of its legal verbosity, declares Lady Jane Grey, Guildford Dudley her husband, Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Lords Ambrose and Henry Dudley, guilty of treason, for having seized the Tower of London,[267] on 11th July; having sought to depose their rightful sovereign, Queen Mary; and having “acknowledged and proclaimed Jane Dudley, wife of Guildford Dudley, Esq., of the parish of St. Martin’s by Charing Cross, Queen of England.” The address is curious, as it indicates that the town residence of the unfortunate couple was still Durham House, the Duke of Northumberland’s palace in the Strand.
The second indictment concerns John, Duke of Northumberland, William, Marquis of Northampton, Francis, Earl of Huntingdon, and others, for having, “between the 10th and the 17th July, first of Mary, levied men at Cambridge to march against the Queen.”
Yet a third indictment is of even greater historical interest, and charges Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, as “a false traitor to the Queen,” with providing arms for twenty men, under Barnaby Boylot, Walter Morford, and Robert Durant of Westminster, and dispatching them to Cambridge, in aid of John, Duke of Northumberland. This proves that the original indictment against Cranmer did not charge him with heresy, but merely as a political offender. Undoubtedly, as Macaulay points out, by making himself the accomplice of Northumberland in endeavouring to overcome the scruples of so amiable a young woman as Lady Jane Grey, and seducing her into treason, Cranmer committed an act of most unjustifiable wickedness.
A little later, in the early twilight of 3rd August, the flickering of hurrying lights, and the boom of cannon—“the loudest that ever was heard”—could not fail to apprise the State prisoners in the Tower that some unusual event was happening, and that the Queen and Princess Elizabeth had entered its precincts, to prepare for the obsequies of Edward VI. From her windows Lady Jane noted the flaring torches, moving hither and thither, in unwonted chambers and courtyards, and heard the tramp of feet, the heavy tread of the guards, the changing of sentinels, and the coming and going of the Ambassadors and courtiers hurrying to pay their homage to the new Sovereign—amongst them, doubtless, most of those very men who had solemnly sworn allegiance to herself!
The Protestant funeral service of Edward VI took place on 8th August, the King’s body having been removed, on the preceding evening, from Greenwich to Whitehall. A great number of children in surplices were gathered together to attend his obsequies in the Abbey, and this gave a touch of poetry to a ceremony described by Noailles as “a very shabby one, badly attended, without any lights burning, and no official invitations sent to the Ambassadors.” Archbishop Cranmer, who had organised the function, read the plain English service, from the Book of Common Prayer. Round about the coffin were a great number of standard-bearers with their standards, conspicuous among them being those of his mother, Queen Jane Seymour, and of his grandmother, Lady Seymour, as well as one with a white dragon on a red background, and yet another with a very large white greyhound, the emblem of the house of Tudor. All the banners were bowed as the little coffin was lowered into the vault in Henry VII’s Chapel, and the wands were broken and cast in upon the lid. Cranmer gave a heavy sigh as he watched it pass into the gloom, knowing full well that with that little corpse passed away all his hopes and power—that the vengeance of the Queen whose mother he had outraged was near at hand. He never officiated again at any State function; his day was over! Lady Jane heard of this particular service with considerable pleasure, for it was celebrated in accordance with her own religious views; but the details of another ceremony in suffrage of King Edward’s soul, according to the ritual and doctrine of the Church of Rome, celebrated in the Queen’s presence in the Royal Chapel of the White Tower, must have pained her not a little.[268] Mary, in residence in the Tower at this time, had organised this special Requiem Mass with all permissible pomp and ceremony, and we may take it for granted that Jane saw from her windows a good deal of the coming and going of royal personages, officials, and servants, consequent upon so elaborate a function. Pained indeed must have been the Reforming Princess to learn that Dr. George Day, the very Catholic Bishop of Chichester, had been selected to preach before Her Majesty the panegyric of her very Protestant brother!
We must now turn our attention to the Duke of Northumberland. Soon after entering the Beauchamp Tower on 25th July, he collapsed, and had to take to his bed. The fates were not, indeed, propitious to Northumberland in this respect, for his health broke down when he most needed all his physical as well as moral strength to help him through his tremendous task. Even as far back as 1550, John ab Ulmis, in a letter to Bullinger, mentioned “the Earl of Warwick’s very dangerous illness.” He would seem to have never quite recovered from this attack, for in the following August he was very ill, and again, late in September 1552, he wrote Cecil that he was “fevrish and unable to sleep.” In January 1553, Warwick told Petre or Cecil that he was much alarmed about himself, and feared he was “going to be very ill.” Throughout the year 1553 he was observed to look pale, and to walk with difficulty, but his indomitable will held him up, and he was able to do the work of a dozen men, for his energy was as admirable as its object was detestable. Northumberland is scarcely a commendable character, but there is none the less a pathos in the fact that his health was giving way under the terrible strain that crushed him. He does not deserve much sympathy, but it is impossible not to pity him in his extremity, abandoned by every one, a doomed prisoner, his last card played and lost. To his insane ambition he had sacrificed his youngest and best-loved son, and the young creature the lad had so recently married, and now an unnatural death faced him in stark horror. What nights he must have spent, hopeless and helpless, alone in that prison on every gate of which the great Italian might have written, Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate. He knew the Queen hated him with the intense and unforgiving hatred of a Spaniard. Had he not sided against her mother, and framed the pitiless and insulting documents he had forced his helpless daughter-in-law to sign, stigmatising Mary and Elizabeth as “bastards”? Reflecting on these, and a hundred other offences, he realised his case was hopeless. So bitterly did the Queen loathe him, as a matter of fact, that she actually requested Comendone, the Papal Envoy, to put off his departure for a few days, so as to witness the execution of her chief foe, and give a personal account of it to the Pope!
The trial for treason of John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, took place on August 18th in Westminster Hall. The Marquis of Northampton, and the Earl of Warwick, Dudley’s son, were arraigned at the same time. Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, sat as High Steward of England; this was, indeed, one of his last official appearances. He died in the following year (on 24th August) at Kenninghall. Several of those men who sat in Jane’s Council, and had only saved their necks by addressing their hasty submission to Mary, figured at this trial. Northumberland was very obsequious to his judges, and “protesting his faith and obedience to the Queen’s Majesty, whom he confessed grievously to have offended, said that he meant not to speak anything in defence of himself.” He then demanded of the court, first “whether a man doing an act by the authority of the Prince and Council, and by warrant of the Great Seal,[269] and doing nothing without the same, may be charged with treason for anything which he might do by warrant thereof?” and secondly, “whether any such persons as were equally culpable in that crime, and those by whose letters and commandments he was directed in all his doings, might be his judges, or pass upon him his death?” The answer returned was that the Great Seal to which he appealed was not that of the lawful Queen of the realm, but was the seal of a “usurper,” and as such had no authority; also, that though some of his judges might be equally guilty with himself, they had no attainder against them, and therefore were as fit to try him as any one else, provided the sovereign gave permission. Finding they were bent on his destruction, the unhappy man pleaded guilty, and besought the Duke of Norfolk to obtain the Queen’s pardon for him. Following suit, the Marquis of Northampton and the Earl of Warwick also pleaded guilty; the former urged, that “after the beginning of these tumults he had forborne the execution of any public office, and that all the while he, intent to hunting and other sports, did not partake in the conspiracy,” whilst Warwick begged the Queen would have his debts paid out of his confiscated goods. They were both sentenced to death, “to be had to the place that they came from, and from thence to be drawn through London unto Tyburn, and there to be hanged, and then to be cut down, and their bowels to be burnt, and their heads to be set on London Bridge and other places.”[270] When he heard this horrible sentence of death, Northumberland asked that, as a nobleman, he might be beheaded, and “begged that his children might be kindly treated.” He had the grace also to confess that Jane, so far from desiring regal honours, was only induced to accept the Crown “by enticement and force”—which confirms what we have said of her parent’s ill-treatment of her. The Duke also requested that a “learned divine” might be sent to him; and that he might have an interview with four members of the Council, “for the discovery (i.e. revelation) of some things which might concern the State.”[271] What these mysterious “things” may have been, is now unknown. Lingard says Gardiner and another member of the Council visited Northumberland in prison, and that the former interceded for him with the Queen; but there is no documentary evidence as to the purport of the State secrets the Duke had promised to divulge.