The supreme moment had arrived. Without the assistance of her two female attendants, who were too completely overcome to assist her, she untied the collar of her gown. The executioner offered to help her, but she curtly desired him to desist, and turning to her ladies, spoke a few words to them. Mastering their emotion, they took off her outer dress, leaving her in her kirtle, or under gown with close-fitting sleeves. They also removed her headdress (described by the old chroniclers as a “frose paste”) and kerchief, giving her at the same time a handkerchief to tie over her eyes. Then the executioner knelt and besought her pardon; she replied simply, “Most willingly.” Now came what was perhaps the most painful episode of the horrible ceremony—the pause of five minutes “for the Queen’s mercy.” The poor girl had to stand, with the ghastly preparations for her approaching death about her, for a space of time which, brief as it really was, must have seemed an eternity to her, waiting for a clemency she no longer expected nor desired. But no white wand was waved—there was no mercy for Jane Grey! The five minutes ended, the executioner motioned the unfortunate Princess to take her place upon the straw, and she, noticing the block for the first time, began to tremble a little, and said, as she knelt down, “I pray you dispatch me quickly,” adding, “Will you take it off before I lay me down?”[311] “No, madam,” replied the executioner. With her own hands she bound the handkerchief about her eyes, and being now in that darkness from which death would soon release her, lost consciousness of where she was, and groping about for the block, asked eagerly, “Where is it? What shall I do? Where is it?” Someone guided her to the fatal spot, and the “Nine Days’ Queen,” laying herself down with her fair head upon the block, stretched out her body, and cried aloud that all might hear her, “Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!”[312] A flash, a thud, a crimson deluge on the straw-strewn scaffold—and, as the cannon boomed, an innocent soul was borne towards a Throne more high, and a Justice more sure than those of Queen or Emperor![313]
There are several conflicting accounts of what subsequently happened. The more generally received version is that the body was handed over to Lady Jane’s women, who reverently placed it in a common deal coffin, and conveyed it to St. Peter-ad-Vincula, precisely as the women of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard had conveyed the mangled remains of those slaughtered Queens. But on the other hand, Antoine de Noailles,[314] the French Ambassador, who had arrived in London early in the morning, passing that way about three o’clock in the same afternoon (he was living at Marillac’s old house on the Tower Green), saw Lady Jane’s half-naked body lying abandoned on the scaffold, and was amazed at the immense quantity of blood that had poured out of so small a corpse.[315] Peter Derenzie tells us her remains “were left for hours half naked on the scaffold streaming with blood, and were placed in a deal coffin.” It would seem indeed that, in death as in life, Lady Jane Grey, the moment fortune turned against her, was abandoned by all those, even by her own mother, who by reason of natural ties should have rallied round her in the hour of need. Thus after death her bleeding remains were treated with corresponding neglect; the puppet which was to have made Northumberland’s fortune was thrown aside, with none to care for it, when once its purpose failed. This unusual treatment of the body may not, however, have proceeded entirely from heartlessness; but from the difficulty and uncertainty as to the nature of the religious service to be said over the remains of one who, though born a Catholic, had died a “heretic”; St. Peter’s Chapel having been lately restored to the Catholics, Jane could not be buried there without ecclesiastical licence, and to obtain this, Feckenham probably had to see Queen Mary, or get some sort of “permit” from Archbishop Heath. But, granting all this, the corpse might, at least, have been decently covered. The delay as to the burial of Jane Grey’s corpse may have given rise to the popular report that it was transported to Bradgate, and interred there. There is no question, however, that the body was eventually conveyed into the Church of St. Peter-ad-Vincula and buried in the vault which already contained the mangled remains of so many of her contemporaries.[316] Many years ago, a very small and broken coffin was discovered in this vault, containing the remains of a female of diminutive stature, with the head severed from the body. The skeleton, which crumbled to ashes immediately it was exposed to the effect of the atmosphere, was surmised to be that of Lady Jane Grey, and the dust was enclosed in an urn and placed immediately under the oval inscription in the chancel above, which records her death. Yet in Leicestershire, the tradition still persists that the body was brought to Bradgate late at night, and secretly interred in the parish church. And with this tradition, of course, is connected the legend of the coach with the headless occupant, said to appear before the gates of Bradgate on the anniversary of Lady Jane’s death.
Thus, in blood and in neglect, ends the tragic story of Lady Jane Grey, one of the most popular heroines in our history, the helpless victim of circumstance, and of the soaring ambition of a singularly masterful and unscrupulous man.
CHAPTER XXI
THE FATE OF THE SURVIVORS
The Reforming Leaders, who had so flattered Lady Jane Grey when they saw a chance of her becoming Queen, do not seem to have felt much concern at her death. In a letter of 3rd April 1554, addressed to Bullinger, Peter Martyr says, “Jane, who was formerly Queen, conducted herself at her execution with the greatest fortitude and godliness”; Burcher, writing on 3rd March 1554 to Bullinger, casually remarks, “I have heard, too, that the Queen has beheaded his [Suffolk’s] daughter Jane, together with her husband; that Jane, I mean, who was proclaimed Queen”; lastly, a less well-known Reformer named Thomas Lever wrote to Bullinger in the April of 1554, that Jane had been beheaded.[317] As to the Imperial Ambassadors, Montmorency Marnix, Jehan Schefer, and Simon Renard, they were one and all jubilant over the death of Lady Jane, her father, and Northumberland. There was not much sympathy ever expressed for Lady Jane among the people. No doubt her execution was the main topic of chatter in all the taverns of London, as well in the little darksome dens, down by the wharves, where seafaring men congregated, as in the luxurious hostelries in Cheapside, the Strand, Holborn, and Westminster, where rich gossips forgathered; but of demonstrative sympathy there was none. Yet the erection on that fateful Monday of some fifty gibbets intended for the hanging of the Wyatt rebels did impress the hardened populace with a sense of horror and anxiety. It marked the beginning of the reaction against Mary, which set in violently a few months later on with the burnings in Smithfield, to blast her name for ever by the fearful epithet of—“Bloody.”
Let us give a parting glance to the remaining actors in this tragedy. Jane’s father, Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, was brought to trial for high treason in Westminster Hall on 17th February. The indictment was for levying war against the Queen, adhering to Sir Thomas Wyatt, in order to depose the Queen and set the Crown on his daughter Jane; and having opposed the Earl of Huntingdon when the latter was in command of the Queen’s forces.[318] The Duke’s defence was, that he had not attempted to proclaim Jane during his expedition of January 1554, and had only gone out to rouse the people against the Spaniards, which, as a peer of the Realm, he claimed he was entitled to do. As to the accusation of opposing Huntingdon, he answered that he did not know that nobleman was acting under the Queen’s orders: he also took refuge behind his brother Thomas, who, he said, had advised him to go into the country, where he would be safe among his tenants, whereas if he remained in London he would be sent to the Tower again. This feeble defence was not accepted; and Henry Fitzallan, Lord Maltravers (Lord Arundel), the Queen’s Lord Steward, who had brought the record into court, pronounced sentence of death, as a traitor, on that Henry Grey who had so greatly injured his sister, Lady Katherine Fitzallan, his first and neglected wife, from whom he was never legally divorced. He had his hour of revenge at last! The Duke was “much confounded at his condemnation”; contemporaries inform us that when he left the Tower he went “stoutly and cheerfully enough,” but when he re-entered Traitor’s Gate “his countenance was heavy and pensive.” He had not to wait long for his coup de grâce. On the following Friday (23rd February) he was brought out of the Tower, between nine and ten in the morning, to be executed on Tower Hill. He had some trouble with Dr. Weston, the Roman Catholic priest Mary had appointed to accompany him to the scaffold. When they arrived at its foot, the Duke refused to listen to him, and even went so far as to prevent his ascending the steps. Dr. Weston, however, insisted in the Queen’s name; whereupon, with an expressive gesture of resignation, Suffolk submitted to his presence, but the attempt to change his religious convictions failed utterly. Dr. Weston told him in a loud voice that the Queen forgave him, to which the Duke replied, “God save her Grace!” and the people murmured, and some said they hoped he (Weston) would have a like pardon. The Duke at last made a brief speech, saying simply, “Masters, I have offended the Queen, and her laws, and thereby I am justly condemned to die, and am willing to die, desiring all men to be obedient; and I pray God that this my death may be an example to all men, beseeching you all to bear me witness that I die in the faith of Christ, trusting to be saved by His blood only, and by no other (sic) trumpery: the which died for me, and for all men that truly repent and steadfastly trust in Him. And I do repent, desiring you all to pray to God for me, that when ye see my breath depart from me, you will pray to God that He may receive my soul.”[319] After this, kneeling and raising his hands in supplication to Heaven, he repeated the Miserere—the very Psalm his daughter had said under like circumstances a week or so before. Then, rising, he continued—also as she had done—saying, “Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.” Just as he was about to make his final preparations for death a very human incident occurred. A man to whom he was deeply in debt stood up and asked him, “Who will now pay me my money?” “Well,” quoth the Duke, “ask not me now, but go and see my officers, who will, I doubt not, satisfy you.” On this the man departed, saying, “God save your soul, Sir!” Suffolk now removed his cap and neck-cloth, and to the headsman’s usual appeal for forgiveness, replied, “God forgive thee, and I do; and when thou dost thine office, I pray thee, do it quickly, and God have mercy on thee.”[320] Lastly, having tied a handkerchief over his eyes, he knelt down and recited the Lord’s Prayer aloud, and appealing for mercy to the Throne of Grace, Henry Grey laid his head on the block, and on the stroke of the headsman’s axe expired. Suffolk’s body was laid to rest in St. Peter’s Chapel; but his head, for some reason which has never been explained, was sent to the Church of the Holy Trinity in the Minories.[321] Here it was embalmed after a fashion, by being placed in a small vault by the altar, in the dust of oakwood, which, as it contains a quantity of tannin, is a strong preservative; and when unearthed about fifty years ago, it was sufficiently perfect for the mark of a blow made by the axe above the actual place of severance (rather low on the neck), to be still visible. Sir George Scharf was greatly struck by the resemblance between this head and the portrait of Suffolk now at Hatfield and the copy of it in the National Portrait Gallery. The author has himself inspected the relic closely, and recognised the resemblance to the portrait: the exceedingly arched eyebrows and the rather weak chin are identical: three of the teeth are perfect, the eyes are closed, the mouth open, the head beardless and bald.
Lady Jane’s uncle, Lord Thomas Grey, shared the fate of his brother of Suffolk and of Lord Leonard Grey. At the time of the Duke’s rising, he attempted to escape to the Continent by way of Wales; but he got no farther than the borders of the Principality, where he was captured, according to a contemporary, “through his great mishap and folly of his man who had forgot his cap case with money behind him in his chamber one morning at his inn, and, coming for it again, upon examination what he should be, it was mistrusted that his master should be some such man as he was indeed, and so he was stopped, taken, and brought up to London.” Lord Thomas, however, took no very prominent part either in the rebellion in Warwickshire, or in the previous attempt to establish Lady Jane on the throne; and it is difficult to understand why he should have been sacrificed, especially when Lord John Grey, who had been caught as it were red-handed in hiding with the Duke of Suffolk at Ashley, was released after two trials.[322] However, the mention of the Lord Thomas by Suffolk at his trial was distinctly damaging to him; perhaps also Mary had some personal grudge against him, or his unloving sister-in-law, the Duchess of Suffolk, who, despite her husband’s action, was much in favour with Mary, may have prejudiced the Queen against him. According to Noailles, Thomas Grey frankly avowed his determination to see Courtney, Earl of Devonshire, King, or to be King himself. He did not explain how this was to be achieved; but added, “If I am not King, I’ll be hanged.” He was beheaded instead! This reference to Courtney gives support to Suffolk’s admission, that the Wyatt rebellion and his own expedition had for their immediate object the proclamation of Elizabeth as Queen. Curiously enough, Lord Thomas Grey, unlike his relatives, always remained a Catholic, and is said to have asked for a confessor before he died. After being brought to trial at Westminster on 9th March 1554, as Machyn says: “The xxviij day of April was beheaded on Tower hill, between ix and x of the clock before noon, my lord Thomas Gray, the Duke of ‘Suffoke-Dassett[’s]’ brother, and buried at Allalow’s [All Hallows’], Barkyne, and the head ...” (the sentence is unfinished).[323]
