Crown of Blood

by Nicola Tallis

  While her parents enjoyed their leisure pursuits and paraded themselves through the neighbourhood, their daughter Jane passed the early years of her childhood in relative obscurity. However, around the time of her fifth birthday, she began a journey that she quickly discovered would alter her whole outlook on life: her formal education.

  The fact that the Dorsets had no son did not diminish their ambitions; if anything it appears to have heightened them. They were acutely conscious of the royal status of their three daughters, and had decided to ensure that they received the best education money could buy. In the past, women’s learning had been limited, even frowned upon, but times were changing. The world around them was becoming increasingly more cultured, and a good education was considered to be of the utmost importance. Both of Jane’s cousins, the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth, were well educated, and if Jane was to make her mark on the world it was essential for her to match them. Elizabeth in particular drew the admiration of her contemporaries, one of whom observed that her ‘mind is considered no less excellent than her person’.34

  Having enjoyed an excellent education himself, learning was something that Jane’s father Henry was particularly passionate about, and he was eager for his daughters to follow his example. So highly esteemed was he for his intellect and devotion to religious reform that the Swiss reformer Heinrich Bullinger chose to dedicate his fifth Decades to ‘the most illustrious prince and lord Henry Grey’.35 The book was a religious work, and the dedication gave Henry much delight: ‘For the book for which you have published under the auspices of my name, I return you, not only for my own sake, but for that of the whole church of Christ, the thanks I ought.’36 It was little wonder, therefore, that Henry’s expectations of his daughters were so high. Little is known of Frances’s education, but as the daughter of the former French Queen she is likely to have received a good grounding in all of the traditional subjects. Her letters reveal an elegant hand, but the fact that none of her contemporaries made any reference to her intellect suggests that she was not remarkable for her scholarly abilities.

  When Jane’s first lessons began, it was not long before she discovered that she enjoyed them. Initially she was instructed in the basics: she was taught to read and write, possibly with some input from her mother, probably learning the letters of the alphabet by means of a hornbook (a primer containing the letters, often mounted on wood or sometimes horn). Most importantly, she learned to commit to heart and recite the Lord’s Prayer in English. When she had mastered these essential skills, Jane’s curriculum began to develop, along with her enthusiasm. The seeds had been sown, and her love of learning quickly blossomed. Her relationship with education was one that would continue to progress throughout her life, becoming ever stronger and providing Jane with a great source of fulfilment.

  The man initially charged with teaching Jane was one of her father’s chaplains, Dr Thomas Harding.37 He was not the main influence in her life, however, and she would later bitterly berate Harding for his conversion to Catholicism. Jane’s eagerness for learning was bolstered by the fact that her primary tutor proved to be one of the most important people in her life. The relationship that Jane shared with John Aylmer only increased her desire for knowledge, and she was at her happiest when in his company.

  John Aylmer, ‘a young man singularly well learned both in the Latin and Greek tongue’, was the protégé of Jane’s father, who would later be consecrated Bishop of London.38 Born in around 1520, his splendid education at Cambridge had been paid for by Henry. When Aylmer completed his studies, in around 1541, his patron invited him to join his household at Bradgate as his chaplain and the tutor of his daughters. Though Aylmer made no comment on the intellectual abilities of Jane’s younger sisters when they were old enough to begin their lessons, he was singularly impressed with Jane, ‘whom God has thought fit to adorn with so many excellent gifts’, and within no time the two had formed a bond cemented by their shared academic interests.39 Jane flourished under Aylmer’s thorough and careful guidance, and Jane’s parents were delighted. As Aylmer himself related:

  It has always indeed been my disposition not only to set the highest esteem upon all kinds of learning, but to regard with the greatest affection those who cultivate and profess it. For I well know how brutish this life of ours would be, were not the understanding of mankind cultivated by useful learning and liberal pursuits.40

  He encouraged Jane as far as was possible, and she was eager not to disappoint. As Jane grew, so did her enthusiasm for religious reform, and as her father and Aylmer were keen advocates, they all became part of a circle whose friendship was bonded by religion.

  The curriculum followed by Jane and her sisters was in many ways similar to that which was likely to have been prescribed for her mother, Frances, in her girlhood. Giovanni Bruto, a sixteenth-century writer on the subject of educating young women, believed that it was of the greatest importance that girls

  shall learn not only all manner of fine needlework ... but whatsoever belongeth to the distaff, spindle and weaving, which must not be thought unfit for the honour and estate wherein she was born ... and which is more, to the end that becoming a mistress she shall look into the duties and offices of domestical servants, and see how they sweep and make clean the chambers, hall and other places, make ready dinner, dressing up the cellar and buttery, and that she be not proud that she should disdain to be present ... at all household works.41

  The girls were, therefore, instructed in all of the traditional accomplishments that were thought to be fitting for ladies of high rank: the etiquette that was necessary to become a successful courtier, how to sew neatly, how to dance elegantly, and how to play their musical instruments. Jane’s maternal grandmother, the French Queen, had enjoyed dancing, and a contemporary had observed that her ‘deportment in dancing is as pleasing as you would desire’, but Jane’s skills appear to have lain elsewhere.42 Music was an integral part of everyday life at Bradgate; the musicians employed by Jane’s parents could be heard throughout the day and into the evening, strumming their instruments to the appreciation of the household. Jane was particularly fond of music, and she spent a great deal of time practising with her lute.43

  The Grey girls were also taught to read and write, and were instructed in languages and history. It was here that Jane particularly excelled: ‘Jane was very versed in Greek as well as Latin letters and was also very learned in matters of the Bible.’44 She also learned Italian under the tutelage of Michelangelo Florio, who dedicated one of his two Italian grammar books, Regole de la lingua thoscana, to her.45 Jane also learned French, and was believed to have an understanding of several other languages. According to Sir Thomas Chaloner, a Cambridge scholar who may have known Jane and wrote an elegy about her following her death, ‘If you were to number her languages, this one lady spoke eight.’46

  As Jane grew, so too did her scholarly abilities. She quickly demonstrated that when it came to learning, she was gifted. Not only did she excel in her lessons, but she enjoyed them, and found great pleasure in the pages of books. Moreover, with no friends of her own age at Bradgate with whom she could play, books filled the void, and in many ways became a kind of silent companion for Jane. Her enthusiasm and delight in learning new things were evident, and drew admiration from many of her contemporaries, not least of all her tutor.

  While her sisters played, chasing their dogs through the gardens of Bradgate, Jane could inevitably be found perusing the pages of books. Florio claimed that Jane was the most learned and religious youth in the kingdom, and on one occasion, the visiting German scholar John of Ulm, another whom Jane’s father had financially supported through his education at Oxford, even remembered that she had been busy translating a piece on marriage from Latin to Greek as a New Year’s gift for her father.47 Ulm was part of the Reformist circle in which Henry played a prominent role, and though he was naturally respectful to his patron, he did not exaggerate Jane’s talents. Her choice of gift gave Jane the opportunity
to showcase her progress and her skills as a linguist. In this Jane was not entirely unique, for her cousin the Lady Elizabeth, herself an expert linguist, also made gifts of translations in her own hand. On one occasion Elizabeth presented her stepmother Katherine Parr, who Jane later came to know well, with her English translation of Marguerite d’Angoulême’s poem, The Glasse of the Synnefull Soule, beautifully bound and embroidered.48 Nevertheless, Jane’s talent was still extraordinary for a girl of her time, and Ulm wrote admiringly that ‘For my own part I do not think there ever lived anyone more deserving of respect than this young lady.’49 Jane was grateful, thankful even, for the opportunity that her parents had bestowed upon her. As she grew, her education would continue to be an integral part of her life; it was her comfort, and she would prove to be more than worthy of the praise heaped upon her.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Imperial Crown

  WHILE JANE WAS undergoing the rigours of her education within the peaceful serenity of Bradgate Park, elsewhere in England the political climate of sixteenth-century England was undergoing significant changes – changes that would be of the utmost consequence to Jane. In February 1542, when Jane was still a small child, Queen Katherine Howard was executed on charges of adultery. She was replaced a year later by the twice-widowed Katherine Parr, whom Henry VIII married on 12 July 1543. The sister of Henry Grey’s childhood companion William, the thirty-year-old Katherine was sensible, mature and intelligent. She also proved to be a loving and considerate stepmother to the King’s three children, whom she brought to court and ensured were given some semblance of a happy, family life enjoying their father’s favour. Not only had Katherine restored domestic stability, but the King also had great faith in her abilities, for it was to her that he chose to entrust the safekeeping of his realm when he decided to invade France on a quest for military glory in 1544.

  Before he left England to embark on the campaign, however, the King’s thoughts had turned to his heirs. It was with this in mind that the Act of Succession had been passed, lest any harm should come to the King during his absence. This momentous Act, the third of that name created by Henry, had been passed in Parliament on 7 February, and stipulated in exact terms the King’s heirs. Naturally, the first of these was the King’s only son, Prince Edward. Should Edward die childless, the throne was to pass first to any children the King might have with Katherine Parr. If Katherine should fail to produce a child then the King decreed that the throne was to be inherited by his eldest daughter, Mary, who he now legally restored to her place in the succession. Mary was to be followed by any heirs of her body, and then by Henry’s younger daughter, Elizabeth, whose right was also restored, and any children she might produce. Despite their restoration as heirs to the throne, in all probability Henry never envisaged that either of his daughters would actually inherit. This is further implied by the fact that Mary and Elizabeth were not legitimated, and legally remained bastards. Though both daughters now enjoyed their father’s favour in personal terms, Henry sincerely believed that his marriages to their mothers were invalid, and in such circumstances there was no question of legitimating them. The matter of Mary and Elizabeth’s legitimacy was quite simply ignored. Little did Henry realize that by doing this he had made his daughters vulnerable, as future events would reveal. No mention was made of any other heirs, in all probability because, as with his daughters, Henry never envisaged the need at this time.

  With all thoughts of the succession settled, in July the King departed for France, leaving Queen Katherine behind as Regent. Katherine proved to be an effective regent, and amply demonstrated that a woman could rule, and rule well – lessons that were not lost on her contemporaries, particularly her stepdaughter Elizabeth. Meanwhile, most of the nobility accompanied the King on his journey, including Jane’s father. Having shown a complete lack of interest or ability in military affairs, Henry’s chagrin at having to participate may have been exacerbated by the fact that he had also contributed sixty men on horseback and 290 footmen for the campaign, stretching his already tight resources to the limit.1 When the King’s army successfully captured Boulogne on 14 September, the victory was in no way thanks to Henry’s efforts, and he would have been glad to be able to return to England and his family at the end of the month.

  In the immediate aftermath of Boulogne, life at Bradgate began to resume its normal course. But the world that Jane had been born into was continuing to evolve. On 22 August 1545, her maternal grandfather, Charles Brandon, died at Guildford Castle while the court was enjoying its summer progress. For some time the Duke of Suffolk had been suffering from dropsy, gout and rheumatism, but his final illness seems to have been of a different nature and was of short duration.2 In his will, the Duke left his daughters Frances and Eleanor £200 (£61,000) worth of plate each, which bore the ducal arms, as well as jewellery and other household items.3 This may have helped to alleviate the perilous finances of Jane’s parents, although Frances was surely deeply saddened by the loss of her father. Despite Brandon leaving instructions that he should be buried quietly in Lincolnshire, the King, devastated by the death of his lifelong companion, insisted that he should be buried in St George’s Chapel within Windsor Castle.4 Suffolk’s death meant that Jane’s half-uncle, Henry Brandon, who was just short of his tenth birthday and probably less than a year older than Jane herself, succeeded to the dukedom of Suffolk. As young Henry was still a minor who had been sharing some of Prince Edward’s lessons, Jane’s father assumed the role of unofficial head of the family. He proved to be a poor substitute for his father-in-law.

  A LITTLE OVER a year after Suffolk’s death, within the Palace of Whitehall in the final days of the year 1546, the atmosphere was tense. It was fast becoming clear that Henry VIII was gravely ill, and that his thirty-eight-year reign was coming to an end. Aware that death was approaching, the King, on 30 December, dictated his will. Six marriages had produced just three legitimate children, two girls and a boy. It is probable that the terms of the will were based on an earlier one which has not survived, but which was almost certainly made two years previously to coincide with the Act of Succession in 1544.

  In 1544 Henry had felt no need to look any further than his three children when it came to ordering the succession. But at the end of 1546 as he lay dying, the need to nominate further heirs seemed sensible. His marriage to Katherine Parr had produced no children; thus, in the new will the King reiterated that Prince Edward was to be his undoubted successor, followed by his two daughters who remained legally illegitimate, and any heirs that they might produce. The King’s thoughts then turned to the alternatives should none of his children have heirs of their own. First, the Scottish line of Henry’s elder sister Queen Margaret, who had been married to James IV, was cut out, in all likelihood because the King had no desire to see the Scots ruling England. By doing this, Henry thereby excluded both Margaret’s granddaughter, the young Mary, Queen of Scots, whom he envisaged would be later married to his son, and his niece, Margaret, Countess of Lennox, the product of Margaret’s second marriage.5 Instead, the King nominated the heirs of his younger sister Mary, Duchess of Suffolk and one-time Queen of France, probably because of their English origin. In this case, the first heir would naturally have been Mary’s eldest surviving child, Lady Frances, Jane’s mother. Interestingly, however, Henry decreed that if all three of his children were to die childless, then ‘the imperial crown ... shall wholly remain and come to the heirs of the body of the Lady Frances our niece, eldest daughter to our late sister the French queen, lawfully begotton’.6 At a stroke, Frances was completely overlooked in favour of her daughters. Moreover, should Lady Jane Grey and her sisters as Frances’s heirs also die childless, then by the terms of the will the throne was to pass to the heirs of Frances’s younger sister, Eleanor, of whom only a daughter, Lady Margaret Clifford, survived. Both of the King’s nieces, Frances and Eleanor, had been barred from ever becoming queens of England, and it is difficult to find a satisfactory explanation for this
.

  The reasons behind Henry VIII’s exclusion of his nieces have been much debated, and there is still no certain answer. After all, there is no evidence to suggest that the King’s relationship with Frances and Eleanor was anything other than amicable, even fond.7 There are two possible explanations that ought to be considered, each of which being equally likely. First, Henry had every reason to believe that at least one of his children would produce children of their own, which would thus secure the immediate future of the succession. His decision to exclude the Scottish line and instead look to the heirs of his sister Mary was always a precaution should his direct line fail to produce heirs. In 1546, Frances and Eleanor (at twenty-nine and twenty-seven years old respectively) were still of an age where they could bear male heirs. Thus, if Frances or Eleanor were to produce sons then they would, in any case, naturally take precedence over their mothers in the succession, and the King certainly may have envisaged this happening. Henry had gone to great lengths in order to produce a male heir, and was determined that a woman should not succeed to the English throne if it could be avoided. In Eleanor’s case, there was no opportunity for this to transpire, as she tragically died less than a year after the King made his will.8

  Alternatively, it is possible that Henry realized that should Frances succeed, ultimate power would be invested in her husband, Henry Grey. The King does not appear to have had a high opinion of Henry Grey, who was never awarded any form of office throughout his reign, in all probability due to his failure to demonstrate any initiative or particular skill.9 Similarly, in the provision the King made for the appointment of the Council of his young son after his death, Henry was conspicuous by his absence – a startlingly clear sign given his status. It was perhaps this that forced the King to overlook Frances, coupled with the fact that he probably never imagined that it would ever be necessary to consider either of his nieces as possible heirs.