Council, whose power was broken, and at once gave public vent to their
enthusiasm for Mary, indulging in one of those attacks of frenzied
excitement which sometimes seizes a nation,--and everywhere there were
merry-makings and rejoicings for her Catholic Majesty--except within the
Tower, where the stillness of death reigned.
Northumberland's plan had failed, and of those councillors who had
pledged their support to Jane's cause, but one remained loyal besides
her own father!
Archbishop Cranmer was the last of Jane's Council then living in the
Tower to leave it, and the leave-taking was a sad one on both sides, for
it left Lady Jane alone to meet the sad events then coming thick and
fast, with what courage she could summon.
Presently a messenger came to Suffolk, from Baynard's Castle, to tell
him that the nobles gathered together there required him to deliver up
the Tower and go to the Castle to sign Mary's proclamation, and without
a moment's hesitation the wretched man gave up the unequal struggle, and
did as he was commanded. Then he returned to the Tower to tell Jane that
her queenship was a thing of the past, although there was little need to
report so evident a fact.
With nervous excitement he rushed into the Council chamber, where he
found Jane alone, seated in forlorn dejection under the canopy of State.
"Come down from that, my child," he said. "That is no place for you,"
and then more gently than he had ever spoken to her before, he told her
all. For a moment there was silence while daughter and father stood
clasped in each other's arms in the deserted hall, through the open
windows of which could be heard, borne on the summer air, shouts of
"Long live Queen Mary!" There was a long silence, then Jane looked up
into her father's eyes and there was a gleam of hope in her own as she
asked, wistfully, "Can I go home?"
Poor little victim of the plots of over-ambitious men, never was a more
sublimely pathetic sentence uttered, and oh, the world of longing in
that simple, never-to-be-gratified request!
No sooner had Queen Mary's proclamation been heralded, than everything
was changed for Lady Jane, who was even deserted by her mother and the
Duchess of Northumberland. A few hours before, the Tower guards and
officials had treated her with extreme deference, but now showed a
marked degree of scorn for her whose sovereignty had come to an end. The
tears of her women, their whispered talk, the ominous silence of the
palace, broken only by the distant shouts of the revellers, all combined
to add to the poor girl's misery, and it would not be strange if on that
evening of July 19th, when she was removed from the State apartments, to
another Tower, and declared a prisoner, she had felt that the calmness
even of despair was preferable to the atmosphere of uncertainty of the
last few days of her struggle for a crown.
In her new quarters she was allowed several attendants of good birth, as
well as two serving maids and a lad, and though a prisoner, she was not
in solitude nor in discomfort of any kind, being allowed to walk daily
in the Queen's gardens, and "on the hill without the Tower
precincts"--her meals were those of a most luxurious captivity, and it
must be clearly understood that she was never formally arrested. She was
simply detained at the Tower, to prevent a repetition of the project to
place her on the throne. During the nine days' reign, Guilford, her
husband, seems to have sulked because she had refused to make him King,
or else Northumberland had advised him to keep out of the way, that he
might not be included in any blame for the usurpation of the crown.
However that may have been, we hear nothing of him until after Mary's
proclamation, when he too was imprisoned, but not in that part of the
Tower with Lady Jane.
Even in her secluded apartment, Jane must have heard some gossip of the
great outer world in which she no longer played a part, and doubtless
knew that Princess Elizabeth had joined her sister Mary, and was to ride
into London with her, showing that whatever difference of opinion she
had on other matters, she wished the nation to know that she upheld
Mary's succession to the throne. And too, Jane must have heard of the
flaunting decorations of the city to celebrate the royal entrance, and
of the wild enthusiasm everywhere shown for Queen Mary.
But harder still to bear must have been the visit of the Constable of
the Tower, who on the first of August visited the prisoners, and read
the solemn indictment against them in the Queen's name, charging Lady
Jane and Guilford Dudley, her husband, of treason for having seized the
Tower, for having sought to depose their rightful sovereign, Queen Mary,
and for having proclaimed Jane Dudley, Queen of England. For those
charges was Lady Jane to be brought to trial, and yet, not for one of
them could she be held responsible.
This was on the first of August, and two days later at twilight the
booming of cannon, the flare of lights, the tramp of ambassadors and
sentinels coming and going, told the State prisoners in the Tower of the
arrival of Queen Mary and the Princess Elizabeth, and leaden-hearted
Lady Jane from her windows doubtless watched the gay scene, noting how
many of those now paying homage to their new Queen had only nine days
before sworn loyalty to her.
The Queen and Elizabeth had come for the Protestant State funeral
service of King Edward, which took place on the 8th of August, and there
was also a service according to the ritual of the Church of Rome
celebrated at Mary's command, in the Royal Chapel of the Tower, where
Mary had now taken up her residence. One of her first acts as Queen was
to free a number of prisoners in the Tower, but she never lifted a
finger to the liberation of Lady Jane, her kinswoman.
On the eighteenth of August, the Duke of Northumberland was tried for
treason, and throughout his trial acted in the basest manner possible;
then seeing that whatever he might say would not save him, he confessed
his crime and begged the pardon of the judges, showing one spark of
manhood when he asserted that whatever might be his own deserts, Lady
Jane not only had not wished the crown, but was forced to accept it. For
himself he only asked the death usually accorded noblemen, and some
degree of favour for his children. On hearing that Northumberland had
been condemned, the people showed great joy, as they felt it was a just
desert for his treason, and their sentiment was clearly shown by the
crowds lining the street when he was taken from the court to his prison
in the Tower. On the next day he received news of his intended execution
which was carried out on the 22nd of August.
Meanwhile Lady Jane and her husband were still prisoners, and Jane's
conduct will forever place her name among the heroes and martyrs of the
Reformation, so calm and courageous was she during every circumstance
of her confinement, never uttering a word of complaint, but seeming
wholly concerned for the sufferings of her father and husband, and
though she must have indeed had bitter thoughts, yet she never voiced
them, but was always calm and sweet.
Through the whole month of August there were memorable struggles between
the Catholics and Protestants, each struggling for supremacy, and at
last all doubt was at an end. Queen Mary was determined to distinguish
herself as a persecutor of the Protestants.
During the last week of August she was busily preparing for her
coronation, which was to be celebrated on the first day of October, and
was marked with the usual pomp and splendour of such pageants, and still
sweet Lady Jane was in prison, separated from her husband and from her
friends. A few days after Mary's queendom was officially confirmed her
first Parliament was opened, and one of its first acts was to pass a
bill of attainder upon Lady Jane Grey and her husband,--and so destiny
swept the innocent usurper with its swift current.
The trial on a charge of high treason took place at the Guildhall on
November 13th. In all the year England has no sadder month than
November, by reason of its dull skies and heavy fogs, and in a mood not
unlike the sombre day, Lady Jane and Lord Guilford were led out from the
place where they had been for so long imprisoned. They were surrounded
by a guard of four hundred soldiers, and there was great noise and
confusion along their line of march, but Lady Jane was calmness
personified, both then and through the whole trial.
She pleaded guilty of the charge against her, poor innocent little
Queen, and presently her sentence was pronounced. She was to be burned
alive on Tower Hill, or beheaded, at the Queen's pleasure.
Notwithstanding their desire to have Mary for queen, in place of Jane,
the people on hearing this terrible sentence, burst forth in groans, and
many sobbed and bewailed her fate to such a degree that Jane turned, and
said calmly to them:
"Oh, faithful companions of my sorrows, why do you thus afflict me with
your plaints. Are we not born into life to suffer adversity and even
disgrace if necessary? When has the time been that the innocent were not
exposed to violence and oppression?" and from the example of her brave
cheerfulness, they ceased their moaning.
At that time it was generally supposed that Queen Mary would pardon Lady
Jane and Lord Guilford, and there is no doubt that this was her
intention then, and she ordered gentle treatment of them both, which
must have made their hearts beat high with hope of some time being free.
From the day of the trial Queen Mary showed an intense desire to win
Jane over to the Catholic faith, and sent a devout Catholic priest to
visit her in the Tower, with this in view; but it was utterly useless to
attempt to turn the firm little Protestant from her belief, even though
the change might have saved her head.
While Lady Jane was resisting the attempts to change her creed, Queen
Mary was deciding to make sure of a Catholic succession to the throne,
and presently announced her engagement to Philip of Spain, the son of
the Emperor Charles, which engagement when made public produced marked
discontent through the whole country, for it was feared that with a
Spanish prince for the husband of their Queen, England would become
merely a vassal to Spain, and both Protestants and Catholics were
firmly opposed to the match.
Again a chance for Lady Jane's cause! In less than a week Queen Mary's
court were alarmed by the news that the Duke of Suffolk with his two
brothers, had again organised a rebellion in several counties for the
restoration of Lady Jane to the throne. There were also at that time two
other insurrections in the kingdom, aiming at one end--the prevention of
the Queen's marriage; but of the three the most dangerous was that of
the Duke of Suffolk, and he knew that even if it should succeed, Lady
Jane would never accept the throne unless forced. A more fool-hardy
course he could not have pursued, but passing through Leicestershire, he
proclaimed Lady Jane Queen in every town through which he passed, and
seemed to sincerely believe that the people who such a short time before
had stood for the arrest and the uncrowning of his daughter, would now
stand in solid support of her claim.
With all the conflicts and intrigues of all the three insurrections
there was the noise of battle throughout the country, but every one of
them ended in defeat, and only one came anywhere near to victory, that,
the one in favour of the crowning of Lady Jane Grey. And because of
this, Mary the Queen felt that Jane was too dangerous a menace to the
safety of the nation, and to her own sovereignty, to remain alive, and
so the moment had come when Jane, so young and so full of the joy of
living, must reap what others had sown.
On the eighth of February, the news was carried to the prisoner. She
received her doom with dry-eyed dignity, but pleaded for mercy for her
husband, who she said was innocent, and had only obeyed his father in
all things, but the plea was disregarded and when the news was taken to
Guilford, unlike Lady Jane he thought only of himself, and wept and
begged and prayed for forgiveness,--but in vain!
It was originally intended that Jane and Guilford should be executed
together on Tower Hill, but this was not carried out, probably because
Lady Jane, being of blood royal, could be executed inside the precincts
of the Tower, where two queens of Henry the Eighth had been beheaded,
while Guilford, being of plebeian origin, was obliged to perish outside
the Tower walls.
While awaiting the fatal day, Jane occupied herself in writing a letter
to her father, in which she held him responsible for her death, and then
probably spent Sunday the 10th of February, in prayer and meditation,
and on the following day she wrote a beautiful letter to her sister
Katherine, of whose terrible grief on her account she had been told. The
letter was written on the blank leaves of a Greek testament, which has
fortunately been preserved, and can be seen to-day in the British
Museum.
Lord Guilford Dudley begged for an interview with his wife before their
death, but this Lady Jane declined, saying that it would unnerve them
both for the supreme moment, although she sent a message to her husband,
and on the day of the execution, at the time when he was to pass her
window on his way to the scaffold, she stood and waved her hand to him,
as he passed, in the strength of his youth and manhood, to the horrible
grave dug for him by his own father's hand, facing death bravely at the
end.
Then a ghastly accident occurred. Either by accident or by design, Jane
caught a glimpse of her husband's body as it was being carried from the
scaffold to the Tower for burial, and for a time it seemed as if her
frail young frame could not resist the strain of that agony of sorrow
and fear which overcame her; but at last Lady Jane was on her way to
meet her doom.
The bells of the churches tolled as the dread procession wound its way
slowly to the foot of the scaffold, and the young prisoner was dressed
as on the day of her trial, in a black cloth dress edged with black
velvet, a Marie Stuart cap of black velvet on her head, with a veil of
black cloth hanging to her waist and a white wimple concealing her
throat, her sleeves edged with lawn, neatly plaited around her wrists.
Before ascending the steps leading to the scaffold the Lady Jane bade
farewell to her sobbing ladies, then mounting, advanced to the edge of
the platform and spoke in a clear sweet voice, of her innocence of
treason, and begging them to bear witness that she died a true Christian
woman. Then after a pause, and wiping her eyes, she added, "Now, good
people, Jane Dudley bids you all a long farewell. And may the Almighty
preserve you from ever meeting the terrible death which awaits her in a
few minutes."
At these words, seeing the towering figure of the executioner in his
scarlet robe, she threw herself into the arms of her old nurse, who was
by her side, and sobbed and shivered with terror. Then growing calmer
she knelt while a psalm was said and prayer offered, then she said
farewell to those who had been with her to the end, and gave her prayer
book as a memento to one who had asked this favour.
The supreme moment had come. Unloosening her gown without the aid of her
attendants, who were overcome with emotion, she cast aside the
handkerchief with which she was expected to bandage her eyes, and then
with a swift glance at the executioner, she said simply:
"I pray you despatch me quickly," then kneeling down she asked, "Will
you take it off before I lay me down?"
Without any apparent emotion Lady Jane then tied the handkerchief over
her eyes. She was now blindfolded and, trying to feel for the block,
asked, "What shall I do? Where is it?"
A person near her, on the scaffold, guided her to the block, and she
instantly laid her head upon it, rested in silence for a moment, then
exclaimed:
"Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit," and a moment later the agony
was over.
The noblest, most courageous girl who was ever the victim of relentless
ambition, was gone, sacrificed to a game of chance in which she was the
royal pawn! History offers no sadder, no more thrilling story than that
of Lady Jane, the girl of seventeen, who was a "Nine Days Queen!"
GENTLE ANNIE:
A Daughter of the Regiment
FORT SUMTER had been fired on!
The whole country was in a state of flaming excitement. Up to that time
there had been a division of sentiment in the North, and many thought
that by patient effort the seceding States could be brought back into
the Union--that there would never be any serious fighting--but now all
that was changed.
In a measure the Northerners were unprepared for war, and the regular
army was then very small, but one month after the inauguration of
President Lincoln he issued a call for seventy-five thousand volunteers
for three months' service only, and the war between North and South
began in earnest.
In every part of the country there was one absorbing topic of
conversation, while men were being hastily gathered into companies,
officers were forming their regiments to march to the scene of conflict,
women were hurriedly joining hospital brigades, and the government was
rushing the purchase and manufacture of ammunition and weapons, and
collecting an adequate supply of horses and army-wagons, camp equipments
and provisions and uniforms for the soldiers.
In every State there was an individual flurry of preparation while men
and women made ready to leave homes and families, for the sake of their
country. When the first enlistment took place, Annie Etheredge, a young
woman whose childhood and early girlhood had been passed in Wisconsin,
was in Detroit visiting some friends, and the set of young women with
whom she associated became so filled with the enthusiasm of war that
nineteen of them offered themselves to go as nurses with the Second
Michigan volunteers under Colonel Richardson. This offer was accepted
and all bade brave farewells to their families and friends, and set out
with the regiment, to help and to heal wherever opportunity offered. But
theirs were hands and hearts not accustomed to such work, and at the end
of a few months, eighteen of them returned to their homes, having been
unable to bear the sights and service of the battlefield. But it was not
so with Annie Etheredge. Her brave spirit and heroic character never
gave way under the most severe strain, and as we follow her through
those sombre days, we give thanks for such a pure, strong example of
what a woman, however young, may be. To Tennessee went Annie with her
regiment, and was transferred to Michigan, where she had many friends
and was with that regiment in every battle in which they took part.
It took very little time to discover the value of her services and
General Berry, who for a long time commanded the brigade to which
Annie's regiment was attached, soon declared that the young woman was as
self-possessed under a hot fire of shot and shell as he was himself--and
that was a good deal for the gallant commander to acknowledge of one of
the opposite sex!
Annie was provided with a fine horse, a side-saddle, and saddle bags, as
well as two pistols which she carried in her holster, but never used,
and so fitted out she rode fearlessly to the front in the skirmish of
Blackburn's Ford and in the first battle of Bull Run. Her keen eye was
always quick to discover where there was need of assistance, and she
would gallop to a wounded soldier who was too severely hurt to go to the
rear, dismount, and regardless of the fire of shot and shell often
whizzing around her, would skilfully bind up his wounds, give him water
or a necessary stimulant, say a cheery word,--then gallop on to her next
patient. So tender and soothing a nurse was she that the soldiers called
her "Gentle Annie," and many an eye watched with eager affection as the
horse carrying her girlish figure came in sight following the troops.
In the second battle of Bull Run, on the 29th of August, 1861, Annie was
standing on a part of the battle-field where there was a rocky ledge,
under the protection of which some wounded soldiers had crawled. Seeing
this, Annie lingered behind the troops, helped several other injured men
to the same retreat, and was soon busy dressing their wounds. One of the
fellows was a fine looking boy whose lips were parched and his eyes
brilliant with fever. She gave him a refreshing drink, then bound up his
wounds, receiving in return a bright glance of gratitude and a faint
"God's blessing on you," just as the rebel battery literally tore him to
pieces under her very hands, while at the same moment she saw the enemy,
almost within touch, and she was obliged to make a hasty flight or she
too would have been killed.
On another part of that bloody battle-field of Bull Run, tireless in her
activity, although sick at heart from the ghastly sights and sounds of
the day, she was kneeling beside a soldier and tenderly binding up his
wounds, when she heard a gruff voice repeating her name, and looking up,
to her astonishment saw brave General Kearney, checking his horse by her
side, watching her with genuine admiration in his eyes. "That's right,"
he exclaimed. "I am glad to see you here, helping those poor fellows,
and when this is over, I will have you made a regimental sergeant,"
which meant that she would receive a sergeant's pay and rations, but as
the gallant General was killed two days later at Chantilly, Annie never
received the appointment. But she continued her care of the sick and
wounded in the same quiet manner which characterised all her actions.
When she was not busy on the field or in hospital or transport duty she
superintended the cooking at headquarters, and when the brigade moved,
she would mount her horse, and march with the ambulance and the
surgeons, ready to serve where she was most needed, or if on the
battle-field when night fell she wrapped herself in her soldier's
blanket and slept under the protecting sky with the hardihood of a true
soldier.
At Chancellorsville, on the 2nd of May, 1863, the men of the Third Corps
were in extreme danger because of a panic by which the Eleventh Corps
was broken up; and one company of the Third Michigan and also one of the
sharp-shooters were detailed as skirmishers. Annie was advised of her
danger in remaining with the regiment, but refused to go to the rear,
and instead took the lead, but met her Colonel and he peremptorily
commanded her to go back, saying the enemy was very near, and he was
every moment expecting an attack. Reluctant to obey, Annie turned and
rode along the front of a line of shallow trenches filled with Union
men. Then rising in her saddle she called out, "Boys, do your duty and
whip the rebels!"