Under the gaze of the spectators, a hush descended as the charges against the accused were read out. This was the first occasion on which Jane and those alongside her had heard the full extent of the crimes of which they stood accused, and it made for harrowing listening. By ‘falsely and treacherously’ raising ‘Jane Dudley, wife of the same Guildford Dudley’ to the ‘position, title and power of the Queen of this kingdom of England’ they had attempted to ‘deprive their due mistress, the Queen [Mary], their supreme ruler, of her royal status, title, order and power of her kingdom of England, and destroy the Queen herself with finality’.38 The charges were grave, not least for the venom with which they were read out. Though they had yet to make their plea and hear their judgement, already they were told that they were ‘traitors and rebels against the most illustrious ruler, Mary’.39 They were berated as the court heard how Jane and Guildford had entered the Tower on 10 July and ‘then took possession of it falsely and treacherously, and against the said Queen and her will forcibly held it’, before ‘the same Jane then and there falsely and treacherously assumed and took up for herself the title and power of the Queen of this kingdom of England’.40 In a move to further demonstrate Jane’s role in the matter, the court heard how she had ‘signed various writings in her own hand by the following words in English: Jane the Queen’.41 In addition, Guildford was accused of ‘falsely and treacherously helping, aiding, abetting and assisting the said Jane, against his due diligence, and against the peace of the Queen, her crown and dignity’.42 There was barely time for Jane and those in the hall to absorb fully the severity of the charges against them before the defendants were expected to make their pleas. No witnesses were brought against them, neither was there anyone to speak in their defence; in cases of treason this was strictly prohibited. There was not even an opportunity for the accused to speak in their own defence, and in any case they had been given no opportunity to prepare one.
As those on the judging panel listened, and the spectators strained to hear, the accused were asked to deliver their pleas. Jane was given a brief respite, for it was Cranmer whom the court addressed first. However, he caused an outcry when he said ‘that he is no respect culpable’ of the crimes of which he was accused.43 While certain members of the panel retired to ‘speak among themselves’ regarding his claim, the rest of those in the hall waited in anxious anticipation. The atmosphere was unbearably tense, but they were not kept waiting for long. When the panel returned, certain ‘pieces of evidence’ were ‘given here in the court publicly and openly’ against Cranmer. Whatever the ‘evidence’ was, it did the trick; Cranmer changed his plea. He admitted that he ‘is guilty as charged’, and ‘expressly acknowledged those acts of treason’.44
Cranmer had admitted his sins, and now all eyes turned to Jane and Guildford. Would they too acknowledge their crimes? Those in the court waited in suspense to hear how Jane and Guildford would plea. They stood together on charges of high treason: charges that, if they were found guilty of them, could have terrifying consequences for both. Just six months earlier, the couple had stood side by side at the marital altar. Never in their worst nightmares could they have predicted how drastically, and how quickly, circumstances would change for them.
As Jane and Guildford stood on trial for their lives, they were both in the same dire peril. In just a matter of months they had been married and given the briefest taste of eminence, only for it to be snatched away. This had resulted in imprisonment, and a trial for crimes of which they were primarily innocent. In spite of all this, Jane barely knew the husband who stood by her side. Those in the courtroom now listened as she and Guildford delivered their pleas: guilty, or not guilty?
THERE WAS SILENCE in the courtroom; the atmosphere was tense as everyone waited. Then, ‘the said Guildford Dudley and Jane his wife, Ambrose Dudley and Henry Dudley charged with each and every one of the said acts of treason’ were ‘asked how they wish to acquit themselves’.45 This was the moment: the evidence against Jane and the Dudley brothers was compelling, but with Cranmer’s turncoat example before them, there was no telling how they would plead. In addition, Jane had already made it clear to the Queen that ‘although I accepted that of which I was not worth, I never sought it’.46 The judges and the spectators waited, and one by one, in a courageous and brave declaration that sealed their fates by the terms of the law, all four defendants
[s]aid that they cannot deny that they themselves supported the acts of high treason being carried out by themselves, and are each charged above in the said form, are guilty, and each expressly acknowledged these acts of treason, and each therefore placed themselves at the mercy of the Queen.47
Jane had pleaded guilty. Despite her protestations to Mary that she had been manipulated, Jane had also acknowledged that she ‘should not have accepted’ the crown, and that she considered this to be such ‘a crime’ that she was ashamed to be ‘begging to be pardoned’.48 That she did so confirms that, in her eyes, she was guilty in deed if not in thought. As she uttered the words, along with Guildford and his brothers, she knew that there could only be one outcome, and one verdict. ‘Each of them has individually’ and resignedly ‘acknowledged the said acts of treason of which they were individually charged’, and so they waited, knowing but not yet hearing what the judgement cast upon them would be.49 It must have been a painful admission for Jane, for none of the events of the summer had been of her own making, yet it was she who was forced to face the consequences. There was no eluding the terror of the situation in which Jane and Guildford now found themselves. Thus far, the most testing day of Jane’s life had been her wedding day, but it was nothing compared to this.
‘Guildford Dudley and Jane his wife’, Cranmer, Ambrose, and Harry ‘have expressly acknowledged the said acts of treason of which they were individually charged above, and each of them has individually expressly acknowledged them according to due form of law’.50 They had admitted their guilt, and as such, knew that the result was inevitable: ‘indictment and execution’.51 It had been a foregone conclusion, for in her earlier instructions to the judging panel, Queen Mary had asserted that once the truth had been discovered, ‘their execution should be ordered to take place, and you should do, exercise and carry out each and every other thing that is pertinent and required in this respect’.52
Those who observed may have watched for signs of distress, but there were none. There was barely time for breath, either for the guilty party or for the spectators, before the Duke of Norfolk read out their brutal sentence. The men heard their fates first. Guildford, his brothers and Cranmer were informed that
[e]ach of them should so be dragged, and there hung and each of them hung, and laid out rotting on the ground, and their interior organs should be brought outside their stomachs, and as these rot they should be burned. And their heads should be cut off, and their bodies, and those of any of them, should be divided into four quarters, and their heads and quarters should be placed where the Queen wishes them to be assigned.53
The appalling violence of the sentence was sickening, but it was not over. Jane’s turn was next, and in the same manner that he had done for his niece Anne Boleyn, Norfolk now read her punishment aloud to the court:
The said Jane be led off by the said Constable [Sir John Gage] of the said Tower of London to the prison of the said Queen within the same Tower, and then on the order of the Queen herself led to Tower Hill and there burned, or the head cut off, as it will then please the Queen.54
Jane and Guildford ‘were there condemned to death’ in what must have been a terrifying experience for the two young teenagers.55 But rather than being paralysed with fear, Jane showed no emotion when she heard the full extent of her sentence, and retained her composure and calm demeanour. Perhaps because she hoped that Queen Mary would show mercy; perhaps because she was in shock; or perhaps because she had prepared herself and was able to keep her feelings within. As the axe blade slowly turned towards the four men and Jane in a sign that they had all
been condemned, the outcome of the day’s proceedings may have dawned on her: she had been found guilty of high treason, and she was a condemned traitor. All of her royal blood, all of her meticulous scholarly studies, had been in vain, for even if she were granted a reprieve, what hope did the future now hold for her? The stigma of treason would stick, and she would always be a target for dissenters. There was nothing more to be said, and nothing that could be done – shockwaves resonated around the Great Hall at Guildhall as Lady Jane Grey became the youngest woman of her time to be condemned for high treason: a sentence of death loomed and the axe was poised, ready to fall.
CHAPTER 19
Fear Not for Any Pain
GOSSIP WAS CIRCULATING in the city. People whispered in the inns and stews, for it was thought that the Lady Jane Grey, lately Queen Jane, must surely die. She had been condemned at Guildhall alongside her husband; it was only a matter of time. Following their trial, Jane and Guildford, together with the three men found guilty beside them, had been led out from the Great Hall of Guildhall, back through the streets of the city to the Tower once more. This time, the blade of the axe was turned towards them in a chilling display for the citizens, who could see the penalty for traitors.
However, no date had yet been set for the executions and it was possible that it might never be. Despite the annoyance caused by Jane’s father and Queen Mary’s formal instructions to Jane’s judges, she appeared to be true to her original promise of mercy. Renard had heard that ‘when execution is to take place is uncertain, for though the Queen is truly irritated against the Duke of Suffolk, it is believed that Jane will not die’.1 Jane, Guildford, his brothers and Cranmer all resumed their separate imprisonment, and their daily lives as Tower prisoners continued.2 On the surface, little had changed.
Jane’s future had, for many months, seemed racked with anxious uncertainty, but following the court’s verdict one thing was now certain: she was a convicted traitor, and no matter what clemency Mary showed her, it was a permanent taint on her name. More alarmingly, now that Jane had been pronounced guilty, all it took was one wrong move in the future and the Queen could order her execution. The axe may have been suspended, but it still hung indefinitely and hauntingly above her.
DURING THE DARK days of her imprisonment, disturbing news reached Jane. Her first tutor, Dr Thomas Harding, who had also once been a chaplain at Bradgate, had chosen, following in the footsteps of Jane’s father-in-law, the occasion of Queen Mary’s accession to distance himself from the faith he had professed all of his life. Much to Jane’s revulsion, Harding had converted to Catholicism.3 According to Foxe, when Jane was informed,
[b]eing not a little aggrieved, and most of all lamenting the dangerous state of his soul, in sliding so away for fear from the way of truth, writeth her mind unto him in a sharp and vehement letter: which, as it appeareth to proceed of an earnest and zealous heart, so would God it might take such effect with him, as to reduce him to repentance, and to take better hold again for the health and wealth of his own soul.4
Jane took up her pen, and wrote to Harding in such a harsh manner that centuries later the Victorians were convinced that the letter must be a forgery, so far distant was it from the image of the gentle and tragic heroine whom they revered. Jane’s words were indeed shocking: ‘I cannot but marvel at thee, and lament thy case,’ Jane began,
which seemed sometime to be the lively member of Christ, but now the deformed imp of the devil; sometime the beautiful temple of God, but now the stinking and filthy kennel of Satan; sometime the unspotted spouse of Christ, but now the unshamefaced paramour of antichrist; sometime my faithful brother, but now a stranger and apostate; sometime a stout Christian soldier, but now a cowardly runaway.5
Jane was appalled that her former co-religionist had turned his back on what she perceived to be the true faith. Likewise, she was amazed at the level of hypocrisy her former family chaplain was demonstrating. ‘Wherefore past thou instructed others to be strong in Christ, when thou thyself dost now so shamefully shrink, and so horribly abuse the testament and law of the Lord?’ she berated him.
In what was undoubtedly a reflection of her own state of mind and emotions at this time, as she clung to her faith for strength, she asked Harding,
Why dost thou now show thyself most weak, when indeed thou oughtest to be most strong? The strength of a fort is unknown before the assault, but thou yieldest thy hold before any battery be made. O wretched and unhappy man, what art thou, but dust and ashes?
In an attempt to convince the chaplain of his mistake, and echoing sentiments that she herself would later emulate, Jane reminded him of ‘the saying of Christ in his gospel: Whosoever seeketh to save his life, shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it. And in the same place, whosoever loveth father or mother above me, is not meet for me.’6 These were powerful words, and Jane’s letter ended with a final petition to him to show strength: ‘Be constant, be constant; fear not for any pain: Christ hath redeemed thee, and heaven is thy gain.’7 Her words to Harding were more than a reassurance to the chaplain: they are an insight into her own devotion to her faith.
Though the authenticity of the letter has been questioned, it is undoubtedly genuine. In his message to Bullinger in March 1554, John Banks referred to Jane’s letter ‘to a certain apostate, to bring him back to Christ the Lord’, and enclosed a copy.8 The words reveal the extent of Jane’s belief and show how her faith had shaped her life. It was with sincerity that Banks continued to inform Bullinger, ‘your excellence may perceive that the pains which you have taken to enlighten that family and incite them to the love of godliness have not been ill bestowed’.9 Jane’s words to Harding had been brutal, but were a reflection of the fact that despite her youth, she would never renounce her faith for hope of earthly life. Her beliefs, as she would soon prove, were unshakeable. She believed unswervingly in ‘the shield of faith’.10
IT SEEMS LIKELY that it was Jane’s condemnation that prompted her father to take drastic action in an attempt to win Queen Mary’s favour, for just four days after her trial, Renard made an astonishing revelation: ‘The Duke of Suffolk has made his confession as to religion.’11 Henry had, apparently, forsaken everything in which he had so steadfastly believed and promoted. His devotion to Protestantism had been as celebrated as Jane’s, but not, so it appeared, as enduring. His actions directly contradicted the opinion of Northumberland’s former chaplain, John Hooper, who had once noted that Henry was ‘pious, good, and brave, and distinguished in the cause of Christ’.12 Nevertheless, his outward show of conformity to the Catholic faith appeared to have the desired effect, for Queen Mary, thrilled at this apparent reconciliation with the old religion, immediately ‘reinstated him by means of a general pardon’.13 His actions also had direct consequences for Jane, for in the same report Renard related, ‘As for Jane, I am told that her life is safe, though several people are trying to encompass her death.’14 However, it would soon become strikingly clear that Henry’s protestations in terms of religion were only surface deep. Perhaps Queen Mary hoped that Jane would follow her father’s example, but though she almost certainly heard of her father’s momentous decision, Jane remained silent. Instead she waited, anxious to see whether her unlikely champion Queen Mary would spare her. As each day in the Tower brought her no closer to freedom, there was nothing else for Jane to do to distract herself from the enormity of her situation but to immerse herself in one of the few things that brought her any pleasure: her studies.
The high expectations once placed on Jane’s young shoulders now seemed a world away as she sat reading her books in her Tower lodgings. According to Florio, much of her time was occupied by reading from the pages of her Bible, ‘the sacred books’.15 This familiar pastime no doubt brought comfort to her, and perhaps restored an element of stability to her otherwise frightening situation. John Foxe would later write,
If her fortune had been as good as was her bringing up, joined with finesse of wit: u
ndoubtedly she might have seemed comparable, not only to the house of the Vespasian’s, Sempronian’s, and mother of the Grachie’s, yea, to any other women beside that desired high praise for their singular learning: but also to the university men, which have taken many degrees of the schools.16
Though Jane was not forgotten, her father’s shock revelation in regards to religion meant that her fate was no longer a current priority for the Queen. Almost immediately after Mary’s succession, thoughts had turned to her marriage. At thirty-seven, she was considered old to be making a first marriage by contemporary standards, especially as she was also eager to produce children: Catholic heirs to reign long after her. Several potential candidates were suggested, including the recently freed Edward Courtenay, and of particular interest to Jane, her paternal uncle, Thomas Grey. It was observed that Thomas ‘so outshines Courtenay that Courtenay dares not show himself when the other is present’, and despite the earlier behaviour of his brother he was held in high favour by Mary.17 Desperate to win back Queen Mary’s favour, Henry and his former ally the Earl of Huntingdon were, according to Renard, ‘professing undying loyalty and saying that she may marry whom she pleases, for they will maintain, honour and obey her choice’.18
However, it became clear that Mary had no intention of marrying within her realm, for she cherished hopes of marriage with another: ‘it was soon learned that the Queen was inclining in favour of the Prince’.19 The Prince in question was the son of Mary’s cousin the Emperor Charles V, Philip of Spain. As the nephew of Katherine of Aragon, Charles had been Mary’s mother’s most steadfast champion during the trying days of her annulment case. Similarly, Mary had at one time been betrothed to her royal cousin, and it had always been the dearest wish of Mary’s mother that her daughter should marry into her Spanish family. Since the death of Katherine of Aragon, Mary too had shared a close relationship with the Emperor, despite the fact that she had only met him once in childhood. She too cherished a wish to marry a Spaniard, and though Charles was unavailable, his son was not. At twenty-six, Philip was eleven years Mary’s junior, but when his magnificent portrait, completed by the famous Italian artist Titian, was sent to her in September, she soon fell in love with it. She wrote to her cousin the Emperor gushing that ‘I was glad to receive because of my affection for the person represented.’20 Her feelings towards the comely likeness, with its piercing blue eyes, brown beard and moustache, and slightly protruding lower lip that was typical of his family, were already intense. However, Mary’s personal feelings of desire were of little concern to her subjects. The idea of the Queen marrying a Spaniard was extremely unpopular, for many feared that Philip would attempt to embroil England in foreign wars, while others were afraid that as an ardent Catholic like Mary, England would once more be overwhelmed and enveloped further into the clutches of the Catholic Church and the Pope in Rome. Though Mary was undoubtedly popular, by the time of her succession people had accepted the break from the Church of Rome and sovereign authority in England, and were fearful of change. With a Spanish prince by her side, there was apprehension that Mary would be persuaded to retract her promise not to force Catholicism on her people, and that papal authority would be restored.
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