Some of Lady Jane's last Words
I do not like to think of how the soul of my dear young mistress was
harassed during those last few days by the visits and arguments of
Queen Mary's chaplain, Dr. Feckenham.
Mistress Ellen, who had been sent for to keep my dear lady company
during my illness, and who remained with us until the end, and I sat,
with our needlework, at one end of the apartment, whilst these
conferences were going on. We did not hear all that was said, but
only enough to show that, learned and clever as was Lady Jane's
opponent, he was beaten over and over again by the wise and able
manner in which she answered his arguments.
Sometimes a few of her sayings reached us, to be treasured up in our
minds, as, for instance, when she replied to his arguments about
transubstantiation. Her words were these: 'Where was Christ when He
said, "Take, eat, this is My body"? Was He not at the table when He
said so? He was at that time alive, and suffered not till the next
day.
'What took He but bread? What brake He but bread? Look, what He
took He brake, and look, what He brake He gave, and look, what He
gave they did eat; and yet all this while He Himself was alive and at
supper before His disciples, or else they were deceived.'
But the priest would not admit that she was right in that, or in the
other statements she made so clearly and forcibly; he was, however,
so won by her gentle and courteous demeanour that he prevailed upon
the queen to allow her to live three days longer than the time at
first specified, that he might be able more effectually to convince
her mind.
This short reprieve was the only good he did, to my thinking. But
Lady Jane said that having to answer his arguments strengthened and
fortified her mind against all doubts, because whilst searching in
her Bible for the right answers to give him she gained a deeper
insight into the Truth.
'You must remember always, dear Margery,' she said to me, 'that a
really good thing does not lose by being examined. For examination
only reveals more and more of its intrinsic worth.'
The fact was that she answered all Dr. Feckenham's arguments with
such strength and clearness and such firm conviction as showed
plainly that religion had been her chief study, and that now it
fortified her, not only against the fear of death, but also against
all doubts and apprehensions.
It was always with relief, however, that we saw the priest depart,
for the strain of all this arguing upon our lady's mind was extremely
great, and indeed she was looking worn and tired out.
On the Sunday evening, which was to be her last in this world, she
wrote a letter in Greek to her sister Catherine, and put it with a
New Testament in the same language which she was bequeathing to her.
At my request she translated for me the first part of her letter,
which ran, as nearly as I can remember, as follows;--
'I am sending you, my dear sister Catherine, a book which, though not
outwardly trimmed with gold or curious embroidery made by the most
artful fingers, yet intrinsically is worth more than all the precious
mines of which this world can boast. It is the book, my best loved
sister, of the law of the Lord; it is His Testament and last Will,
which He has bequeathed to us--it will lead you to the path of
eternal joy, if you read it desiring to follow its counsels, and will
bring you to an immortal, everlasting life. It will teach you how to
live and how to die.'
It was in our last talk together, before the fatal day of her
execution, that my dear lady bestowed upon me her beloved Plato,
advising that I should learn to read it in the language in which it
was written.
'I cannot teach you Greek now, dear Margery,' she said, 'but there
will be others.'
I made a gesture of despair. What should I care for others when she
had gone? I could not speak without breaking down, so I said
nothing. And Lady Jane seemed to understand, for she was very sweet
and kind.
'It will always be a consolation to you, Margery,' she said, 'to
remember that you have been the greatest comfort to me. Ever since I
first saw your sweet face entering the drawing-room at Sion House I
have loved you dearly. I had been praying for some one to come to me
who was young like me--I feel old now, dear, though it is scarcely a
year since then, but so much that is sad has happened.'
I stroked her hand and kissed it, for I could not speak, and if I had
spoken my poor words might have spoiled the interview.
And then it was that she asked me to write an account of that last
year of her life, relating exactly how it happened that she was made
queen, and how the throne passed away from her, leaving in its stead
a scaffold; also describing how it came about that the head which had
worn a crown was forfeited, and that for an error of her mind her
poor frail body was killed, adding, 'Margery, others may write more
learnedly of the matter, but I would fain be represented to posterity
as I am rather than as I am supposed to be. And God will help you,
if you ask Him,' she said, seeing my fear and dread that I should not
be able to do it properly.
'It is not fine writing that is wanted,' she went on, 'but a plain,
unvarnished statement of the facts. And, Margery,' she said in
conclusion, 'you must also tell the story of brave Sir Thomas Wyatt's
insurrection and of your dear knight's gallant efforts to cause me to
reign over this land, and to gain back the throne for me. I have
been thinking, dear, that I was hard upon them always in my great
desire to be left alone. But since you told me that Sir Thomas
Wyatt's object was against Queen Mary's Spanish marriage and that Sir
Hubert's motive was to save England from bigoted Roman Catholicism
and Spain and the Inquisition, I have come to view the matter
differently, and so will others, if you tell them exactly what they
thought. Come, Margery, look up, dear one, for you have a great work
before you, and you must take heart and live to do it. You have to
vindicate the honour of two noble knights and of your mistress, and
clear their names, which have been smirched and blackened by the
tongues of powerful enemies. No one can do it but you, dear, in
exactly the same way, for your loving eyes have seen us as we are and
not as we are supposed to be; and you possess Love, the master-key,
which can explain all that has appeared so wrong and presumptuous and
rebellious in our lives. You must do this for me, Margery, and for
your dear knight, Sir Hubert, and for Sir Thomas Wyatt.'
I promised that I would, and she blessed and thanked me very
solemnly, saying that she was sure that God would give me strength
and wisdom for the task.
And I thought then that this must be the special work which Master
Montgomery said might be given me to do when I left home and went to
London.