Crown of Blood

by Nicola Tallis

  IN DECEMBER, JANE and her family returned to Tilty. By now the Christmas celebrations were beginning to get well underway, and the Medleys had spared no expense. The twelve days of Christmas that started on Christmas Day were celebrated with full splendour, and probably began with the family attending a service at the historic local church of St Mary’s, which was next to Tilty Abbey.33 Back at the house, the festivities would be getting started, with feasting and entertainments for ‘divers of the country’ on such a scale as to rival those of the royal court.34 The kitchen staff at Tilty had been busy preparing an array of sumptuous dishes especially for the occasion: roast swan, goose, probably a peacock, cooked and then redressed in its magnificent feathers, and wild boar, the head of which adorned the Christmas table as a centrepiece. The rich aroma of spices filled the air as the family celebrated, perhaps with a wassail cup in the hope of a good production of fruit the following year.35 A delicious choice of puddings accompanied the main course, including Christmas pudding made from meat, oatmeal and a mixture of spices. Hosted by the Lord of Misrule, who was appointed to oversee all of the entertainments and festivities, the guests were treated to a masque performed by strolling players and actors in the employ of John de Vere, Earl of Oxford. Known as Oxford’s Men, the troupe were among the best actors in the country, and had staged performances in London and abroad.36 The theme of such festive masques was frequently religious, often relating to the story of Christ. Games of Blind Man’s Buff were also common, in which the whole family participated amid a wave of giggles as they tried to avoid being tagged by the one blindfolded.37 When the youngsters retired for the evening, exhausted by the excitement of the day, the adults often indulged in gambling at card games, a pastime of which Jane’s parents were particularly fond. During a later Christmas celebration, the family chaplain James Haddon publicly rebuked gambling for money from the pulpit. He had already taken Jane’s parents to task for such a vice, and though initially they agreed to abstain, Haddon soon learned that the couple ‘have secretly played with their friends in their private apartment’.38 When Haddon took to the pulpit to preach against gambling, the pointedness of his words would not have been lost on the pair. Unsurprisingly Jane’s parents did not appreciate being told what to do in their own household, and, said Haddon, ‘they thought it was my duty merely to have admonished them in private’.39

  A family of Jane’s high standing would certainly have enjoyed celebrations on this lavish scale every Christmas, and probably took it in turns to host. For Jane, this year in particular, with the trauma of losing her guardian to the headsman’s axe still relatively fresh in her mind, the magnificence of the occasion may have done much to help restore her spirits as she enjoyed the beautiful costumes of the actors, and was entertained in the company of her family.

  In addition, the festivities extended to outside of Jane’s family circle, for members of the court also began to arrive, and it was observed that great numbers of people ‘dined and supped at Tilty’.40 Jane’s parents appear to have been relatively popular among their contemporaries; they still counted Lord and Lady Cavendish among their friends – Lady Cavendish being Frances’s former lady, Elizabeth (Bess) Hardwick – as well as the Marquess and Marchioness of Northampton. The revels and entertainments continued over the next twelve days, and must have been overwhelming for the excitable youngsters. As New Year arrived, the customary gifts were exchanged between family members, and Jane’s parents had likely arranged for a suitable gift to be sent to King Edward on their behalf. This almost certainly pushed their resources to the limit, however. Despite her parents being among the greatest nobility in the land, their finances were often depleted and they were frequently in debt. This was reflected in the nature of the gifts once given to the Lady Mary. Though she gave generous, costly gifts of jewels, she received only a wrought smock in return.41

  New Year did not signal the end of the celebrations. Though the festivities reached their peak on 6 January, the Feast of the Epiphany, Jane and her family remained at Tilty until 20 January. Jane’s family was nothing if not a social one, and certainly on her father’s side the family were close and eager to spend time with one another.42 Though she must have been exhausted after visiting her family and enjoying the plentiful entertainments, Jane would no doubt have relished the opportunity to mix and socialize with her wider family. After an absence of three months, however, it was at last time to return to the seclusion of the peaceful Leicestershire countryside, and to Bradgate.

  CHAPTER 9

  I Think Myself in Hell

  WHILE THE DORSETS had enjoyed a particularly joyous Christmas, not everyone had been so fortunate. The deposed Lord Protector had spent Christmas languishing in the Tower while John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, well and truly established himself in his place. In January 1550 the Imperial ambassador, Van der Delft, wrote to the Emperor Charles V to inform him of Warwick’s increasing influence. Warwick, he said, was ‘not merely unstable, but evil and cruel too’, although he provided no precise justification for such claims.1 But Warwick had his supporters, as Van der Delft conceded: ‘the Marquis of Northampton, who has two wives, and the Marquis of Dorset, a senseless creature, belong to his crew’.2 This description of Henry highlights the generally low regard in which his contemporaries held him, as well as his perceived lack of political judgement. By the end of the month, Warwick’s power had increased still further, as Van der Delft confirmed: ‘the Earl of Warwick’s pre-eminence will be established. He is to be Great Master of England, and the Great Master (of the Household) is to be made Lord Treasurer, which was the Protector’s office. The Marquis of Northampton will be Lord Chamberlain, the Marquis of Dorset Justice Itinerant of the King’s Forests.’3 Jane’s parents were, it seemed, already reaping great benefits, and Henry probably congratulated himself on allying himself with Warwick. In time, King Edward would come to depend on the Earl utterly, and, in turn, Warwick took full advantage.

  Shortly afterwards, in February Somerset was released from the Tower. On 14 January he had been formally deprived of his title of Lord Protector, but through the intercession of some of his remaining supporters, he was released and received the King’s pardon. Before long he was allowed to resume his place on the King’s Council, but there was no mistaking that it was Warwick who was the real power behind the throne now, and Somerset was forced to comply. Thus an uneasy working relationship between the two men was established, although the King made it clear that he disliked his uncle and preferred Warwick. For the moment, political dissension continued to simmer.

  ON A WARM summer’s day in 1550, Henry and Frances Grey had ridden out into the lush woodland surrounding Bradgate Park, where they were indulging their passion for hunting. In their absence, a visitor arrived at the house. Roger Ascham, the famous scholar and tutor to the Lady Elizabeth, had arrived at Bradgate in order to bid farewell to his wife Alice, who was employed in the Grey household, and his friend John Aylmer. He was departing for a diplomatic post abroad as the secretary of Richard Moryson, the English ambassador at the court of the Emperor Charles V. On discovering that the lord and lady of the house were not at home, Ascham was instead conducted to the most senior member of the household: Lady Jane.

  As he entered the hall where Jane sat, Ascham noticed that Jane was absorbed in her book, Plato’s Phaedon Platonis. Jane was reading the book, written in Greek, ‘with as much delight as some gentleman would read a merry tale in Boccaccio’s’.4 Jane’s fondness for books had seen her progressing to ever more complex works. She could almost forget who she was and the complexities of her situation in life when she became lost in the challenging pages of Plato, whose work she read for fun.

  Ascham was surprised to discover Jane inside on such a beautifully sunny day and reading such an astonishingly advanced book. Once the formalities had been exchanged, he enquired as to why Jane was not outside enjoying the hunt with her parents. Jane replied that ‘all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I f
ind in Plato’. She added, ‘alas, good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant’.5 According to Ascham, what happened next, an account of which he published in his book The Schoolmaster, has formed the basis of Frances’s reputation as a cruel mother – it is a reputation that has lasted in excess of four hundred years. Feeling at ease in the company of one whom she admired, Jane took this opportunity, Ascham relates, to pour out all of the feelings of hurt and resentment she felt towards her parents. ‘I will tell you, and tell you a truth which perchance you will marvel at,’ she began:

  One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me is that He sent me so sharp and severe parents and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing or doing anything else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly as God made the world, or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presently sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs and other ways which I will not name for the honour I bear them, so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell till time come that I must go to Master Aylmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing whilst I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping because whatsoever I do else but learning is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto me.6

  It was a shocking declaration. Taken at face value, it is certainly damning and compelling evidence of parental cruelty, while Jane’s apparent distress is heartbreaking. Though it was not unusual for sixteenth-century children to be subjected to beatings in order to instil discipline, Jane’s supposedly heartfelt admission makes harrowing reading.7 However, when scrutinizing Ascham’s story in order to ascertain the truth of the matter, there are several factors that ought to be considered.

  Ascham was the only one of Jane’s contemporaries who ever made any mention of the physical abuse Jane allegedly suffered at the hands of her parents.8 Furthermore, he was clearly not overly disturbed by the alleged conversation, as his account was not published until 1570, by which time Jane and her parents were all dead and unable to challenge his claim. During this time Ascham’s recollections of the events that had taken place twenty years previously could have altered, though he claimed to have a good memory, stating that ‘I remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady.’9 This was seemingly the first occasion on which he had ever referred to the Dorsets’ violent behaviour, despite the fact that he had made several previous mentions of his visit to Bradgate. In a letter written to Jane several months after his visit, Ascham remarked on how impressed he had been to discover Jane pursuing her studies so diligently. What is more, he added: ‘Go on then, most accomplished maiden, to bring honour on your country, happiness on your parents, glory to yourself, credit to your tutor, congratulations to all your friends, and the greatest admiration to all strangers!’10 This indicates that Ascham believed that Jane’s parents were proud of their daughter’s abilities and achievements. Perhaps he feared retribution if he published his shocking words during their lifetime. However, it seems strange that Jane would choose to unburden herself in such a way that would prove to be so damning to her parents. It may be that she did make some form of complaint about them, which Ascham then embellished to highlight his points.

  Ascham’s version of events was written with a very specific purpose: to highlight the benefits of teaching children through kindness. His example of the nurturing care of Jane’s tutor, John Aylmer, provides a great contrast to the harsh cruelty supposedly inflicted by Jane’s parents. As Ascham himself stated, he had chosen to relate Jane’s example of ‘whether love or fear both work more in a child, for virtue and learning’ in the hope that it ‘may be heard with some pleasure, and followed with more profit’.11 His motives for damning the Dorsets so publicly are, on a personal level, perplexing. There is no record of any discord between the two parties, further evidence for which is suggested by the Dorsets having employed Ascham’s wife. He was almost certainly aware of their desire that their daughter be raised with a strong sense of morality, and may have adjusted this encounter in order to demonstrate his points.

  It is perfectly clear that Jane’s parents were strict: both of their surviving letters show how important it was to them to raise a daughter who was both modest and virtuous, but this does not mean to say that they physically beat her. They may have agreed with the views of the Spanish humanist scholar Juan Luis Vives, who had been consulted in regards to the education of Jane’s cousin Mary, on strict parenting, namely that ‘specially the daughters should be handled without cherishing’, although this too seems extreme.12 There is a difference between strict parenting and malicious physical and mental abuse, and in this case it seems possible that the boundaries have become blurred. It would be unfair to condemn Jane’s parents on the basis of one source, and one in which there are flaws. Ascham’s report is not corroborated elsewhere, and other sources suggest that the opposite is true. Indeed, the following year, John of Ulm, who had been spending time with Jane at Bradgate, related his view that in terms of her family connections Jane should be viewed with the utmost respect, nor was there anyone ‘more learned if you consider her age; or more happy, if you consider both’.13 It is true that the term ‘happy’ was probably a reference to Jane being fortunate and came from a man who was nothing but complimentary to her family, but as one who knew Jane, Ulm’s comment is nevertheless suggestive of a young woman who was enjoying a good life and was viewed with pride.

  Ascham’s account has undoubtedly contributed to the perception later writers have had of Frances. This, surely, is where the image of the cruel mother originates, a misconception that has persisted to the present day. However, the claims of several writers that Frances was, among other things, ‘a harsh, grasping, brutal woman’, and ‘arrogant and energetic’, are not borne out by any contemporary evidence.14 They are all based on the assertion that Frances was an abusive individual who terrorized her daughter Jane, and this was almost certainly not the case.

  Henry and Frances do, in fact, appear to have been proud parents, and Robert Wingfield, who was close to the family, observed that Jane was her father’s ‘favourite daughter’.15 They were well aware of Jane’s intellectual gifts, and this, coupled with her value within society, led them to have extremely high expectations of her. As James Haddon informed Heinrich Bullinger, Jane ‘is so brought up, that there is the greatest hope of her advancement in godliness’.16 When she did not meet those expectations, or began to demonstrate some of the defiant attitude so typical in teenagers, as appears to have been the case following her return from Thomas Seymour’s household, frustration may have led them to sharply rebuke her, and perhaps on occasion even inflict some mild physical punishment. Jane’s apparent refusal to go hunting seems to demonstrate that she could be wilful, and as historian Eric Ives has suggested, a typical rebellious teenager.17 However, if Jane was physically punished for her wilful displays, then no other reliable contemporary source makes any mention of it.

  Other sources suggest that Jane shared a close relationship with her parents. Jane, ‘whom her father loves as a daughter’ according to John Aylmer, probably had more in common with her father, with whom she shared similar intellectual interests, while her sisters seem to have identified more with their mother.18 This does not mean, though, that Jane did not get along with Frances, and Michelangelo Florio, who was well placed to know the truth of the matter, stated that Jane was close to her mother. Doubts have been expressed about the authenticity of Florio’s account, as it was not published until 1607, but these are somewha
t countered by the appearance of it having been composed much earlier, perhaps in 1561. As was the case with Ascham, when Florio wrote his account Jane and her parents were dead, so had he wished to malign Jane’s parents he could quite easily have done so. His account shows his fondness for Jane and sympathy for her later plight, so had her parents mistreated her he could have comfortably woven this into his narrative. Although he was a member of the Grey household, Florio had no reason to gush over his employers in the same way as John of Ulm; they had been good to him, but he was not one of Henry’s protégés. Moreover, Florio’s residence in the Grey household meant that he was privy to the everyday occurrences – Ascham was not. In Jane’s own accounts of the events of 1553 she made references to wishing to be with her mother, which seems to highlight that she craved her familiar presence and is at odds with the claim that her mother was physically terrorizing her. There is also no evidence that Jane’s younger sisters were ever physically abused, and they seem to have shared a close relationship with their mother. Similarly, none of Frances’s contemporaries ever remarked on any vicious side to her character, and there is no suggestion that she was unpopular or disliked.

  Jane’s parents were the consistent figures in her life. They had raised her, and planned meticulously for her future. They had every reason to be proud of her and her academic achievements.

  THE FOLLOWING YEAR of 1551 proved to be hugely significant for the Dorsets. It was in the opening months that the family made an almost permanent move from the quiet countryside of Bradgate Park to the hustle and bustle of London, where they installed themselves in Dorset House. The move was necessitated by the fact that Jane’s parents were beginning to spend a great deal of their time at court, where they also had lodgings. Henry in particular was being given an increasing amount of responsibility. On 25 February he was named Lord Warden of the Northern Marches, and sent to try to stave off the threat posed by the Scots as a result of the Rough Wooing. This had begun eight years earlier, following Henry VIII’s aggressive attempt to pursue a marriage between Prince Edward and the infant Mary, Queen of Scots, and tensions between the two nations were still rife.