We having no good opportunity afore this time have proclaimed this day in the City of London, our sovereign lady Queen Mary to be in just and lawful possession of the imperial crown of this realm, as by the proclamation sent to you herewith more plainly shall appear.20
Upon hearing Mary’s name, the crowds were so joyous that the Earl was unable to conclude his speech, and ‘he himself who was wearing a cap of great value, covered with gold and precious stones, threw it up into the air, which use is observed when they give went to an exceptional joy’.21 It may not have been quite the scene described by Mary’s supporters, whereby people were ‘leaping and dancing as though beside themselves’, and there was ‘such a clamour and din and press of people in the streets’ as men ‘ran hither and thither, bonnets flew into the air, shouts rose higher than the stars, fires were lit on all sides, and all the bells were set a-pealing’, but all of the sources agree that the news of Mary’s accession was greeted with jubilation.22
John Stow related that ‘some cast money abroad and some made bonfires throughout ye whole city’, while before long ‘a great number of bells was heard ringing’, and many of the lords proceeded to the great St Paul’s Cathedral where a Te Deum was sung in celebration.23 Even Julius Terentianus, a Protestant eyewitness, observed that,
[a]t the proclamation of Jane they displayed nothing but grief. At the proclamation of Mary, even before she was proclaimed at London, and when the event was still doubtful, they gave such demonstrations of joy, as to spare nothing. They first of all made so much noise all the day long with clapping their hands, that it seems still to linger in my ears; they then, even the poorest of them, made voluntary subscriptions, and mutually exhorted each other to maintain the cause of Mary; lastly, at night they had a public festival, and threatened flames, hanging, the gallows and drowning, to all the gospellers.24
As the bells of the city’s churches rang, the Imperial ambassadors triumphantly reported that ‘the Lady Mary was proclaimed Queen of England amid the greatest rejoicing it is possible to imagine’.25 England had a new queen, and to her supporters ‘it seemed as if all had escaped from the evil world, and alighted in Heaven’.26 By the same token, they considered it to be ‘all the more marvellous for coming so unexpectedly’.27
Amid the celebrations, the Earl of Arundel and Sir William Paget set out for Framlingham to declare the joyous news to Mary, taking the great seal of England with them.28
The Council now took the opportunity to send ‘nearly 1000 reliable men to the Tower, by various secret ways, to force the Duke of Suffolk to come out’.29 They were concerned that Henry would resist all attempts to see reason, and would continue to fight for his daughter’s cause. Determined to speak to Henry in person, the Councillors travelled the short distance to the Tower. They avoided Jane, whose authority they had never truly respected, and instead sought a meeting with Henry. As he stood in front of them, wasting no time, they informed Henry of their decision: Jane was no longer queen, news which was ‘very painful to him on account of his daughter’.30 However, realizing that without the support of his colleagues there was now nothing more that he could do, and that ‘owing to the number of men who had entered the Tower, if he refused to obey, he would be taken out by force, he resolved to go’.31 Knowing that his daughter’s cause was now irretrievably lost, and that he must break the news to Jane, with a sorrowful countenance Henry proceeded to the Royal Apartments.
As Jane sat at supper that evening with Guildford and her attendants, her father appeared in the doorway. Upon entering Jane’s chamber, the room fell silent, sensing in nervous apprehension that the news he brought was not good. Approaching his daughter as she sat beneath the royal canopy of state, the tension in the room heightened. Hesitating for a moment, words failed the Duke, who – the Imperial ambassadors were later assured – instead grabbed at the canopy. In a dramatic gesture, he tore down the symbol of royal majesty, ripping the golden silk as it fell to the floor. Finding his tongue, Henry delivered the final blow to Jane and the shocked diners: he told her ‘that this place did no longer belong to her, having to submit to Fortune as changeable and envious of its own gifts’.32Allowing Jane only a moment to digest this disastrous news, Henry continued: ‘you must put off your royal robes and be content with a private life’.33 As those in the room tried to absorb the scene, all eyes were on Jane as they waited anxiously for her reply. When it came, it was calm, composed, and dignified:
I much more willingly put them off than I put them on. Out of obedience to you and my mother, I have grievously sinned and offered violence to myself. Now I do willingly and obeying the motions of my own soul relinquish the crown and endeavour to solve those faults committed by others if, at least, so great faults can be solved, by a willing and ingenuous acknowledgement of them.34
Everyone in the room was stunned by her declaration. Yet for Jane, her relief at the removal of the heavy burden of queenship that had been placed on her shoulders was evident, and heartfelt. She had never desired the crown, and had broken down with the emotional strain when she had been forced to wear it.
As her father’s words rung in Jane’s ears, the future seemed even more uncertain than it had been since that fateful evening at Syon, when Jane had been handed the poisoned chalice of queenship. She had tried her best to assert her authority, and to earn the respect and the acceptance of the English people. Ultimately, though, love for her rival had prevailed, and Jane had sunk in a world in which the support of fickle men was crucial. From the start she had been faced with an incredibly difficult task, for though she had been acknowledged as queen by the lords of the Council and referred to as such, she had never been an acceptable monarch in the eyes of the people, who championed King Henry’s daughter. Allowing Northumberland to leave London, however, had been a fatal mistake. With no firm hand to steady their resolve, the Councillors had no respect for Jane’s position, or the authority of her father. When they saw that the tide was turning in Mary’s favour, they were easily able to extricate themselves from the affair. Combined with this was Northumberland’s unpopularity throughout the kingdom, which deterred men from rallying to Jane’s cause, and was seized upon by her rival to her great advantage. Besides that, Jane’s supporters could not have foreseen that Mary’s flight to East Anglia would be such a huge factor in her success. There she was a well-known and popular landowner, and this grounding gave her an excellent base from which to drum up further support. Her fighting spirit and determined perseverance, as well as her ingrained belief in her right to rule, were all important factors; what was more, the people of England believed in Mary’s right too – they had never believed in Jane’s.
Mary had won, and Jane was now at her mercy. Though her reign had in fact lasted for thirteen days, four of these had been conducted behind closed doors, and as a contemporary observed, to the public ‘Thus Jane was queen for only nine days, and those most turbulent ones.’35 She had worn the crown, and now it was irretrievably lost; but Jane did not mourn for it.
IN SPITE OF the celebrations without, inside the Tower’s walls the atmosphere was one of panic as its inhabitants, like drowning rats fleeing from a sinking ship, prepared to abandon the seventeen-year-old girl who now sat under a fallen canopy in the Royal Apartments. As the people cheered enthusiastically for Queen Mary, no thought was spared for the girl who had been openly proclaimed queen in Mary’s place just nine days earlier, and whose reception had been icily cold.
As the sun began to set over the city on 19 July, the jubilation of the people at the news of Queen Mary’s accession showed no sign of abating. The Londoners indulged in the free wine that ran from fountains throughout the city, and soaked up the celebratory atmosphere. They were not alone, for back in the Tower, overcome with relief at the news that her thirteen-day reign was at an end and that she was Queen Jane no longer, Jane looked to her father. There was only one question on her lips: ‘May I go home?’ Home was the place Jane had always longed for, her only security, but her
father, knowing what lay ahead and unable to bring himself to answer her truthfully, simply turned and walked away. As he left the dining chamber, the truth dawned on Jane: the Tower of London, so recently her palace, was now her prison.
CHAPTER 16
Shut Up in the Tower
THE SCENE IN the Royal Apartments following the declaration of Jane’s father was one of panic that spread like wildfire to those few who remained, now desperate to escape. Lady Anne Throckmorton, who had just returned to the Tower from the nearby church of All Hallows, where she had played the role of Jane’s deputy, was shocked to discover that ‘the Cloth of Estate was taken down, and all things defaced. A sudden change!’1 In the midst of it all, still seated beneath the torn canopy, was Jane. Having made her acknowledgement of her abruptly altered status, ‘she withdrew to a private room with her mother and other Ladies, though with deep sorrow, but bearing the ill fate with great valour and endurance’.2 She had remained calm and composed amid the confusion that was happening around her – a reaction that was almost certainly due to shock, and uncertainty as to what was expected of her. Still, she made no attempt to try to flee from the scene of disaster that had so recently unfolded before her. To the world she was, once again, just Jane: a fallen queen.
But Jane did not find comfort in her mother’s arms for long. Duke Henry soon made it clear to the Duchess Frances, and to Jane’s mother-in-law, the Duchess of Northumberland, who had had no choice but to watch the recent scene, that ‘they had to withdraw, recognising as Queen the one who had recently been proclaimed’.3 There was no other option for the two Duchesses: they would have to leave, ‘and so they did’.4 The Duchess Frances, who not only shared her royal blood with the new Queen Mary, but had until now also enjoyed a close relationship with her, realized that time was of the essence if her family were to stand any chance of survival amid the wreckage of Jane’s disastrous queenship. Together with her husband, Frances prepared to flee the Tower and throw herself and her family upon the Queen’s mercy: it was their only chance and their only choice.
Heartbreaking though the prospect of leaving Jane behind may have been for Frances, there was no question of Jane coming too. Within a short space of time ‘the guard of the Tower and subsequently of the Lady Jane was entrusted to the Lord Warden’, Sir Thomas Cheyne, who now assumed the post of jailer until he received further orders; for the moment at least, Jane would have to remain ensconced in the Tower’s walls.5
Jane’s father, Henry, hurriedly gave instructions that all of the ladies, who had, just a short time ago, waited on Jane as queen, were now free to leave the Tower if they wished. Unlike their mistress, they were given the opportunity to free themselves from the tangled web of intrigue, and to walk away from the memories of the past nine days at the Tower. With that, Jane’s former ladies and her parents ‘left all for their own homes, abandoning Jane’.6 Though the future was uncertain, neither Jane, nor her mother, had any idea that they would never see one another again.
Jane’s father was also worried about the plight of his daughter, and as he left the Tower, he encountered William Paulet, the Lord Treasurer, who had so recently placed the crown on Jane’s unwilling head. Henry begged him, as a friend, to ‘obtain the Queen’s pardon to save him and his family’, so concerned was he for their welfare.7 Paulet, who considered his own situation to be equally desperate and could now only think of his own safety, nevertheless assured Henry that he would do all that he could. There was nothing further Henry could do, and with that he finally left, leaving his daughter at the Queen’s mercy.
There was no sign of the Duchess Frances as Henry emerged from the Tower’s walls and commanded his men to drop their weapons, ‘saying that he himself was but one man’.8 Perhaps she had hurried ahead of him, anxious to be reunited with the youngest of her three daughters, Jane’s sister Mary, at the Charterhouse.9 Maybe she had, for the time being, entrusted Henry with the task of proclaiming the family’s loyalty to the new regime. Aware that in order to save both himself and his family submission to Mary was compulsory, Henry made one strident attempt to prove his new loyalty. Making his way the short distance to Tower Hill, ‘that historical and blood-stained ground to the north-west of the Tower’ on which traitors had been executed for centuries, Henry swallowed any remaining pride and proclaimed Mary the rightful queen in front of the assembled crowds of Londoners.10 He had done his duty: he had accepted that Jane was queen no longer, and turning away from the Tower that still held his daughter inside, Henry left to join his family at the Charterhouse, and to wait on events.11
The Royal Apartments were now almost deserted. Any who remained were those for whom flight was not an option: Jane and Guildford. Similarly, despite Henry having given her earlier instructions to withdraw, as guards began to take up posts at the doors, Guildford’s mother the Duchess of Northumberland had been forbidden from leaving, almost certainly by the Lord Warden, Sir Thomas Cheyne. She too could now only wait for news of her fate. It seems improbable that Jane found any solace in the arms of her husband, or of his mother; any comfort she did receive was most likely found in prayer. As evening drew in, Queen Mary’s guards arrived to remove the young couple. So recently appointed to protect her person, they were now ordered to ensure that Jane remain a prisoner. Unlike her queenly predecessors Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard, both of whom had spent their final days in the Royal Apartments, there was no question that Jane would be allowed to remain there. She was an upstart, who, though unwillingly, had tried to usurp the rightful place of Queen Mary, whose arrival at the Tower would soon be expected, and who would occupy the apartments in which Jane now stood. Neither was there any question of Jane remaining with Guildford, and though their fates inevitably lay intertwined, they were now escorted to separate prisons. For Guildford, his new lodging was in the thirteenth-century Beauchamp Tower, the walls of which were already covered with the personal carvings of those who had been unfortunate enough to be imprisoned there, and to which he would perhaps add his own memorial.12 Jane was not far away, for she was to be lodged on Tower Green in the house of the Gentleman Gaoler Nathaniel Partridge, in whose custody she now remained to await the Queen’s orders as to her future. Partridge’s house lay next to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, but contrary to later accounts Jane was never actually lodged in the Lieutenant’s house itself, although she may have visited it.13 The Lieutenant of the Tower served directly under the Constable, and was responsible for the care of the Tower’s prisoners. Jane and Guildford’s quarters had no doubt been chosen for their proximity to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, which made them ideal locations for important prisoners.
‘The other Queen has renounced all her honours, and has been shut up in the Tower with her husband and the Duke’s wife, though all the rest are outside,’ the Imperial ambassadors wrote to the Emperor.14 There was no mistaking the fact that everyone in London now knew that Jane and Guildford were prisoners. The events of the past thirteen days had been overwhelming for Jane; she had gone from heir to queen in the blink of an eye, and from queen to prisoner almost as quickly. With none save Partridge and three ladies, Mistress Ellen, Mistress Tilney and Mistress Jacob, appointed to wait on her for company, Jane would have been forgiven for thinking of the past, and the steps which had brought her to such a fateful moment, and seemingly doomed conclusion.15 She was consciously aware of who she was – a lady of the royal house of Tudor – but it was not an inheritance she had sought, or indeed, wished to pursue.
Jane’s claim to the throne and the hopes that her parents had had for her were now permanently dashed as she contemplated events from her prison in the Tower – she could only watch, helpless to control the events of the future. A little over a hundred miles from the Tower, in the leafy countryside of East Anglia, lay the mighty Norman stronghold of Framlingham Castle. Though Mary had written to the Council demanding their allegiance, a week later she was still unaware of the news that Jane’s claim had collapsed and that she herself had been proclaimed qu
een in London. Preparing for a fight, Mary was rallying her troops. On 20 July, at four o’clock in the afternoon, Mary rode out of the castle
[t]o muster and inspect this most splendid and loyal army. While her majesty was approaching, the white horse which she was riding became rather more frisky at the unaccustomed sight of such an army drawn up in formation than her womanly hesitancy was prepared to risk, so she ordered her foot-soldiers, active and dutiful men, to lift up their hands to help their sovereign until she got ready to get down; obedient to their gentle mistress’s request, they brought the queen down to the ground. Once she had got down from her horse, the good princess first gave warning in an order that no harquebusier should fire his gun, nor any archer release his arrows until her majesty had inspected her army. When this order was given, such was the respect that everyone felt for their sovereign that no harquebusier nor archer fired after her command; but the soldiers bowed low to the ground and awaited their beloved mistress’s arrival with as great an obeisance as they could manage. When she came along, they offered her such reverence that I had serious doubts whether they could have given greater adoration to God if he had come down from Heaven.16
It was an encouraging sight, but one which would prove to be unnecessary. As she returned to the castle and the evening drew in, two men rode into the courtyard at Framlingham, and were quickly admitted to Mary’s presence. One was Jane’s uncle, the forty-year-old Henry FitzAlan, Earl of Arundel, ‘a nobleman of much worship and among the good men of this kingdom’, accompanied by his slightly older colleague, Sir William Paget.17 Both men had been members of Jane’s short-lived Council, but now that Jane’s reign had collapsed, like so many others, their foremost concern was the preservation of their own lives and influence, and it was this which had hurried them to Mary’s side. Finally, in the presence of the woman who they had now declared their rightful queen, they informed Mary of her proclamation in the capital, and were obliged to beg for
Crown of Blood Page 21