THE SUPREME HOUR!
To Dr. Feckenham Mary assigned the melancholy task of announcing her
hopeless position to Jane Grey. This duty he performed on 8th February,
the day before that originally fixed for the execution, at the same
time exhorting her to prepare for death. The little victim of great
iniquity is said to have learnt her doom with Christian resignation
and princely dignity. She did not fall into a consternation as
when her accession to the throne was announced to her at Sion, but
listened, dry-eyed, to the worthy prelate’s awful words. The call to
another world was more welcome, doubtless, to her weary spirit than
had been that other summons to an earthly throne. Her life, she told
Feckenham, had long been a living death, and the sooner it ended the
better--“I am ready to receive death patiently,” she said, “and in
whatever manner it may please the Queen to appoint. True, my flesh
shudders, as is natural to frail humanity, at what I have to go
through, but I fervently hope the spirit will spring rejoicingly into
the presence of the Eternal God, Who will receive it.” She pleaded
for her husband; “he was innocent,” she said, “and had only obeyed
his father in all things.” Finally, she expressed her desire to see a
minister of her own religion, and prayed that during her last hours
she might not be troubled by the presence of any Roman Catholic priest
or prelate, since “she had no time for that.” Mary, however, was
resolved that no minister of the Reformed religion should visit her
cousin, but she had made a judicious choice in sending Dr. Feckenham, a
liberal-minded man of the gentlest manners,[295] to minister spiritual
consolation to her. Though the numerous pictures representing the
tragic scene of Jane’s death generally depict Feckenham as a dignified
old man with a long white beard, he was in reality a short, stout,
“comfortable-looking” elderly gentleman, with a close-shaven red
face, and twinkling eyes. A devout Catholic, he desired, no doubt, to
convert his illustrious prisoner to his own faith, and even Pollino,
who must have been well acquainted with all that the Catholic party
had to say on the subject, says that Lady Jane and Feckenham held long
conversations on the subject of the Eucharist, one on which Lady Jane
held distinctly Protestant views: but there is no evidence that, as
some historians allege, she ever engaged in a discussion on matters
of faith and doctrines with Feckenham in a hall of the Tower set
apart for that purpose, and in the presence of an assembly of learned
Catholic prelates and theologians. We may be sure that any controversy
between Lady Jane Grey and Dr. Feckenham, either in the last week of
her life or at any other time, took place in the privacy of her own
apartment. Florio, the Protestant Italian historian, who has written
a life of Lady Jane Grey--concocted out of Foxe’s _Book of Martyrs_
and other similar works,--prints at the end of his book a dialogue
between Lady Jane and Feckenham on the subject of Transubstantiation,
and this conversation is also given in Harris Nicholas’s _Literary
Remains of Lady Jane Grey_. This is most likely a report dictated by
some one to whom Jane communicated the substance of what passed between
herself and the Benedictine. Dr. Feckenham has left his own account
of what took place, and admits that in the course of several lengthy
conversations with Jane on matters of dogma, by means of which he had
hoped to convert her to Catholicism, he had been deeply impressed by
her gentleness, her dignity, and her evident sincerity.
Feckenham obtained the respite of three days, generally given in such
cases, and the execution was postponed until Monday, 12th February. On
his informing Jane of what he had done, she is said to have replied,
“Alas, sir! I did not intend what I said to be reported to the Queen,
nor would I have you think me covetous for a moment’s longer life;
for I am only solicitous for a better life in Eternity, and will
gladly suffer death, since it is her Majesty’s pleasure.” Feckenham, it
appears, had misunderstood the phrase, “she had no time for that,” as
meaning that Jane might be disposed to listen to his religious teaching
if allowed more time for its consideration; and had therefore requested
the respite granted by the Council. But she proved no more amenable to
the worthy priest’s arguments on the last day than on the first.
Lord Guildford Dudley, unlike his stoical wife, received his sentence
with a flood of tears. Of all the victims of this terrible tragedy, he
was, in truth, the most inoffensive. The poor lad had done no harm,
except to obey the instructions of his father and mother--especially
in respect to his foolish attempt at Brussels, which was probably
the real cause of his condemnation--and there was nothing, now that
his father was removed, to be gained by putting him to death. Except
by his marriage, he was not connected with the royal family; he was
therefore not in the line of succession, and his liberation would not
have involved the slightest danger to Queen Mary or her throne. His
execution may be described as a useless murder, even a darker stain on
Mary Tudor and her advisers--the Emperor Charles V, his agent Simon
Renard, and the Council--than that of Lady Jane Grey, who certainly
might have been used again, in the near future, as the tool of some
unscrupulous statesman. Mary, as we have said, was herself perfectly
willing, almost to the last, to spare both Guildford and his wife, but
their chance of pardon was ruined by the Duke of Suffolk’s abortive
rebellion. Had he obeyed Mary’s orders, put himself at the head of her
troops, remained loyal, and defeated the rising in the Midlands, as
Huntingdon eventually did, his children’s lives would doubtless have
been spared by the grateful sovereign.
The original order, as we have seen, was that Jane and Guildford should
perish together on Tower Hill. Harris Nicholas seems to think the plan
was abandoned because the Council dreaded the effect of the prisoners’
youth and innocence on the populace. This view has been adopted by
other writers, but the real motive of the change was a matter of
political etiquette. Lady Jane was of the Blood Royal, and therefore
entitled to be executed within the precincts of the Tower, on the Green
where the two Queens of Henry VIII and the old Plantagenet Princess,
Margaret of Salisbury, had been beheaded. Guildford, on the other hand,
on the paternal side of even plebeian origin, could only be decapitated
without the Tower.
On the evening of the day originally fixed for the execution (Friday,
9th February), Jane wrote the following letter to her father, in which
she herself holds him responsible, through his rashness, for her
death:--
“FATHER,--Although it hath pleased God to hasten my death by
you, by whom my life should rather have been lengthened, yet can
I patiently take it, that I yield God more hearty thanks for
shortening my woeful days, than if all the world had been given
into my possession, with life lengthened at my own will. And albeit
I am well assured of your impatient dolours, redoubled many ways,
both in bewailing your own woe, and especially, as I am informed,
my woeful estate; yet, my dear father, if I may without offence
rejoice in my own mishap, herein I may account myself blessed,
that washing my hands with the innocence of my fact, my guiltless
blood may cry before the Lord, ‘Mercy to the innocent.’ And yet,
though I must needs acknowledge that being constrained, and, as you
know well enough, continually assayed; yet, in taking [the Crown]
upon me, I seemed to consent, and therein grievously offended the
Queen and her laws, yet do I assuredly trust, that this my offence
towards God is so much the less, in that being in so royal estate
as I was, my enforced honour never mixed with mine innocent heart.
And thus, good father, I have opened unto you the state in which
I presently stand, my death at hand, although to you it may seem
woeful, yet to me there is nothing that can be more welcome than
from this vale of misery to aspire to that heavenly throne of all
joy and pleasure, with Christ our Saviour: in whose steadfast faith
(if it be lawful for the daughter so to write to the father), the
Lord that hitherto hath strengthened you, so continue to keep you,
that at last we may meet in heaven with the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost. Amen.--I am, Your obedient Daughter till death,
JANE DUDLEY”
Jane probably spent Sunday (10th February) in prayer and meditation; or
perhaps as an unwilling listener to Feckenham’s exhortations. The next
day Gardiner, preaching before the Queen, then at Whitehall, blamed her
for what he considered her leniency. He “axed a boon of the Queen’s
Highness, that like as she had before extended her mercy particularly
and privately, so through her lenity and gentleness much conspiracy and
open rebellion was grown, according to the proverb _nimia familiaritas
parit contemptum_; which he brought then in, for the purpose that she
would now be merciful to the body of the commonwealth, and conservation
thereof, which could not be, unless the rotten and hurtful members
thereof were cut off and consumed.”[296]
Some communication seems to have reached Jane from her ruined home on
this Sunday, for in consequence of the transports of grief into which
her sister, Lady Katherine, was plunged, she wrote that evening the
following beautiful letter, on the blank pages at the end of her Greek
Testament:--
“I have sent you, good sister Katherine, a book, which, although it
be not outwardly rimmed with gold, yet inwardly it is more worth
than precious stones. It is the book, dear sister, of the laws of
the Lord; it is His Testament and last Will, which He bequeathed
unto us wretches, which shall lead you to the path of eternal joy,
and if you, with a good mind, read it, and with an earnest desire
follow it, shall bring you to an immortal and everlasting life.
It will teach you to live, and learn you to die; it shall win you
more than you should have gained by the possession of your woeful
father’s lands,[297] for as if God had prospered him, ye should
have inherited his lands, so if you apply diligently [to] your
book [_i.e._ the Bible], trying to direct your life after it, you
shall be an inheritor of such riches as neither the covetous shall
withdraw from you, neither the thief shall steal, neither yet the
moth corrupt. Desire, sister, to understand the law of the Lord
your God. Live still to die, that you by death may purchase eternal
life; or after your death enjoy the life purchased [for] you by
Christ’s death; and trust not the tenderness of your age shall
lengthen your life, for as soon, if God will, goeth the young as
the old; and labour alway to learn to die. Deny the world, defy the
devil, and despise the flesh. Delight yourself only in the Lord.
Be patient for your sins, and yet despair not. Be steady in faith,
yet presume not, and desire with St. Paul to be dissolved and to
be with Christ, with whom even in death there is life. Be like
the good servant, and even at midnight be waking; lest when death
cometh and stealeth upon you, like a thief in the night, you be
with the evil servant found sleeping, and lest for lack of oil ye
be found like the first foolish wench,[298] and like him that had
not on the wedding garment, and then be cast out from the marriage.
Resist [sin] in ye [yourself] as I trust ye do, and seeing ye have
the name of a Christian, as near as ye can, follow the steps of
your master Christ, and take up your cross; lay your sins on His
back, and always embrace Him; and as touching my death, rejoice as
I do, and assist [perhaps, ‘consider’] that I shall be delivered of
this corruption, and put on incorruption, for I am assured that I
shall for losing of a mortal life find an immortal felicity. Pray
God grant you [and] send you of His grace to live in His fear, and
to die in the love [here is an illegible passage, perhaps made so
by fast falling tears], neither for love of life, nor fears of
death. For if ye deny His truth to lengthen your life, God will
deny you, and shorten your days; and if ye will cleave to Him, He
will prolong your days, to your comfort and His glory, to the which
glory God bring mine and you hereafter, when it shall please God to
call you.
“Farewell, good sister, put your only trust in God, who only must
uphold you.--Your loving sister,
“JANE DUDLEY”
The precious volume containing this letter is fortunately the property
of the nation, deposited in the MS. department of the British Museum.
In the British Museum[299] there is also a small and beautiful MS.
vellum prayer book, imperfect in one or two pages. Four inches in
length, and nearly two inches thick, bound in red morocco, and richly
ornamented, it contains thirty-five distinctly Protestant prayers.
The catalogue of the Harleian Collection states that it “was perhaps
written by the direction of Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset and
Protector of England, upon his first commitment to the Tower of London;
and that the last five prayers were added after his second commitment,
which ended in his execution.” On the margin of several pages, not more
than three lines occupying the same leaf, are a series of interesting
autographs. The first of these is in the hand of Lord Guildford Dudley,
and runs as follows:--
“Your loving and obedient son wisheth unto your grace long life in
this world, with as much joy and comfort as ever I wish to myself;
and in the world to come, joy everlasting.--Your most humble son
till his death,
“G. DUDLEY”
It has been conjectured from this inscription that Guildford presented
the book to his father-in-law, on the occasion of his wedding with
Lady Jane; unless the inscription was addressed to his father,
Northumberland. It is also supposed that the Duke of Suffolk, having
received it from Guildford, left it behind him after his release from
his three days’ imprisonment in the Tower. Others say that Sir John
Gage, Constable of the Tower, gave it himself to his prisoners, so
that they might write something in it for him to keep in remembrance
of them. It was certainly in Jane’s possession for some time, for she
carried it with her to the scaffold; and it contains in her hand,
a solemn farewell to, and prayer for, her father, in the following
terms:--
“The Lord comfort your grace, and that in his word, wherein all
creatures only are to be comforted. And though it hath pleased God
to take ij of your children, yet think not, I most humbly beseech
your grace, that you have lost them; but trust that we, by leaving
this mortal life, have won an immortal life. And I, for my part,
as I have honoured your grace in this life, will pray for you in
another life.[300]--Your grace’s humble daughter,
“JANE DUDLEY”
Shortly before proceeding to her execution, Jane’s kindly jailor, Sir
Thomas Brydges, begged her to give him something to keep in memory
of her; whereupon she offered him this very prayer book, and at his
request wrote in a third sentence:
“Forasmuch as you have desired so simple a woman to write in so
worthy a book, good master Lieutenant, therefore I shall as a
friend desire you, and as a Christian require you, to call upon
God, to incline your heart to His laws, quicken you in His ways,
and not to take the word of truth utterly out of your mouth.
Live still to die, that by death you may purchase eternal life;
and remember how the end of Methuselah, who as we read in the
Scriptures was the longest liver that was of a manner, died at the
last. For, as the preacher saith, there is a time to be born and
a time to die; and the day of death is better than the day of our
birth.--Yours as the Lord knoweth as a friend,
“JANE DUDLEY”
Finally, at some time or other during her imprisonment, Jane wrote
three further inscriptions on the last page of this book in Latin,
Greek, and English, which run as follows:--
The Latin--“If justice is done with my body, my soul will find mercy
with God.”
The Greek--“Death will give pain to my body for its sins, but the soul
will be justified before God.”
The English--“If my faults deserve punishment, my youth at least and
my imprudence were worthy of excuse. God and posterity will show me
favour.”[301]
It was on this, the last Sunday evening of her unhappy life, that Jane
wrote the well-known prayer, which, although quoted in full by Foxe and
Howard, is not now extant in Lady Jane’s own hand, and may therefore,
like several letters, etc., attributed to her, be apocryphal.[302]
The few details we possess as to the acts of other State prisoners,
implicated in Northumberland’s plot, on the day of their execution,
are lacking in the case of Lady Jane; no record has come to us of how
she slept on her last night of life; of those who were present at her
last mournful meal. However, enough has been reported by contemporary
writers to enable us to reconstruct the events of the later portion of
the day, when the hour of the execution drew near. It is clearly stated
that Lord Guildford Dudley made an attempt to see his wife before his
death, and even informed his guards of his desire to do so. Hearing of
this, Mary sent word, on the very morning of the fatal day, that “if it
would be any consolation to them, they should be allowed to see each
other before their execution.” When this concession was communicated
to Lady Jane she declined it, saying “it would only disturb the holy
tranquillity with which they had prepared themselves for death”; and
unnerve them for the supreme moment. At the same time she sent a
message to Guildford to the effect that such a meeting “would rather
weaken than strengthen him”; that he ought to be sufficiently strong in
himself to need no such consolation; that “if his soul were not firm
and settled, she could not settle it by her eyes, nor confirm it by her
words; that he would do well to remit this interview till they met in
a better world, where friendships were happy and unions indissoluble,
and theirs, she hoped, would be eternal.” But Jane took her stand at
the window of her room to watch her husband pass, a little before ten
o’clock, to his doom on Tower Hill. Sir Thomas Brydges stood by her,
as she waved her hand to Guildford. Burke (_Tudor Portraits_) says,
but without naming his authority, that “like his father and brothers,”
Guildford Dudley, “recanted his supposed Protestantism whilst in the
Tower”; and that “he was attended to the scaffold by two Benedictine
Fathers.” Other and earlier writers do, indeed, declare that Guildford
received Communion according to the rites of the Roman Catholic Church
before his death; but _The Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary_
makes no mention of this recantation, and clearly says no minister of
any religion attended at Guildford Dudley’s execution.[303] At the
Bulwark Gate of the Tower (its outside entrance), Guildford was met
by Sir Anthony Browne and Sir John Throckmorton, and several other
gentlemen who had assembled to bid him farewell, and with whom he
shook hands “pleasantly.” Here, too, Sir Thomas Offley, the Sheriff
of Middlesex, in accordance with precedent,[304] took charge of the
prisoner. The mob that in those days invariably assembled to witness
such sinister functions, was on Tower Hill in its hundreds, nay
thousands, to see the poor boy beheaded. He looked very handsome, in
his suit of black velvet slashed with dark coloured cloth: his tall
and youthful figure impressed the people most favourably, and a murmur
of sympathy ran through the motley throng. Guildford did not attempt
to make a speech. He knelt down and said his prayers--simple prayers
he had learnt as a child--and, it was said, he shed some tears at the
thought of dying so young. But despite the youth’s natural emotion,
he faced death bravely. He begged the “good people” to pray for him;
took off his doublet himself, unfastened his collar with his own hands,
knelt on the straw, stretched out his graceful limbs, laid his head on
the block; and in an instant, with one stroke of the axe, his spirit
passed into Eternity.[305] His blood-stained corpse, covered with a
sheet, was thrown into a tumbril or handcart filled with straw, and his
head, wrapped in a cloth, was cast at its feet.
And now a horrible incident occurred. Whether by accident or
design,[306] Jane caught a glimpse of her husband’s mutilated remains
as they were carried into the Tower for interment. We have several
versions of this story: some say she saw the body taken out of the
cart[307] and carried into St. Peter’s Chapel, whilst a passage in
Grafton[308] lends colour to the belief (adopted by many historians,
including Turner and Nicolas) that she met the corpse as she was
herself proceeding to the scaffold. What most likely happened is, that
she was waiting to be summoned by the Lieutenant of the Tower and
the Sheriffs, when she heard the rumbling of cart wheels, and before
her attendants could prevent her, rushed to the window, and beheld
the hideous sight, without, however, it seems, expressing any great
emotion. “Oh Guildford, Guildford!” we are told she exclaimed, “the
antepast that you have tasted, and I shall soon taste, is not so bitter
as to make my flesh tremble; for all this is nothing to the feast that
you and I shall partake this day in Paradise.”
The direful procession which was to conduct a young and innocent
Princess of the Blood Royal, of barely seventeen summers, to the
foot of an ignominious scaffold, was formed according to established
precedent. But for some unexplained reason, it was nearly an hour late
in starting from Partridge’s house to the place of execution, opposite
the Church of St. Peter-ad-Vincula, where, since that day, countless
pilgrims from the Old and New Worlds have paused to ponder a moment
over the fate of Lady Jane Grey, and have learnt to hate Mary Tudor
with an almost personal detestation. The delay may have resulted from
the state of nervous prostration into which the unfortunate Princess
had been thrown by the sight of her husband’s mangled remains. It would
have been impossible, even in those hard times, to convey the victim
to execution if she had swooned. It was nearly eleven o’clock, then,
before the drums began to beat, and the procession fell into order.
The morning had dawned grey and misty, heavy clouds veiling the sun
that now and then shone feebly athwart them, but it was fairly fine for
London at that early season, and no rain fell throughout the day. The
bells of St. Peter-ad-Vincula, and of All Hallows’, Barking, tolled at
regular intervals, whilst the grand outline of the White Tower stood
out luminous against the threatening sky, as the dread procession
wended slowly onwards. First, came a company of two hundred Yeomen of
the Guard; then, the executioner, in a tight-fitting scarlet worsted
and cloth garment, displaying the swelling muscles of his chest, arms,
and legs;[309] his face was masked, and his head hooded in scarlet.
Beside him marched his assistant, a rough-looking man, who carried the
axe over his shoulder; then Sir John Brydges, Lieutenant of the Tower,
with Sir Thomas Brydges, Deputy-Lieutenant, and between them Sir John
Gage, Constable of the Tower, with two Sheriffs, in their robes of
office. Lastly, the young prisoner herself, dressed as on the occasion
of her trial at the Guildhall in the same 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 the waist, and a white wimple
concealing her throat; her sleeves edged with lawn, neatly plaited
round the wrists. Not wearing _chopines_ to increase her height, as
on the occasion of her State entry into the Tower, the people who had
not seen her since were greatly surprised at her diminutive stature.
On her right walked Abbot Feckenham, in his black robe, without a
surplice, and carrying a crucifix in his hand. Behind him came the
Chaplains attached to the Chapel Royal of the Tower. Lady Jane’s
ladies, Mrs. Tylney and Mrs. Ellen, and Mrs. Sarah; two other women
and a man-servant, all in deep mourning, and weeping bitterly, closed
the doleful procession. The route was a short one, and the crowd of
spectators--about five hundred--allowed to be present at the execution,
was silent and respectful. From Partridge’s house to the scaffold, the
Lady Jane continued to read the open Prayer-Book in her hand--it was
that containing the various inscriptions already mentioned--and paid
little or no heed to Feckenham’s pious exhortations, if, indeed, he
made any.
At the foot of the scaffold stood a jury of forty matrons, who had
been previously called upon to testify that the Princess was not with
child; a rumour that she was in this condition was so widespread
as to be mentioned by Radcliffe--who says, “Lady Dudley was very
brave, considering the condition she was in”--and by Fuller, Pomeroy,
Challoner, and Fox. The presence of these matrons is also mentioned
by Bishop Godwin. There is no record of the presence of the Duke of
Norfolk in his usual seat as Earl Marshal, but no doubt he was there
with Lord Mayor White and several Aldermen, Sheriffs, and noblemen.
Before ascending the three or four steps that led to the scaffold, the
Lady Jane took leave of her ladies, who sobbed bitterly; Mrs. Ellen and
Mrs. Tylney followed her on to the platform, ominously littered with
fresh straw. Here Feckenham, the executioner, and his assistant also
took their stations, with Sir Thomas Brydges. “When she appeared on
the scaffold,” writes a contemporary, “the people cried, and murmured
at beholding one so young and beautiful about to die such a death.”
Nevertheless, though the writer of _The Chronicle of Queen Jane and
Queen Mary_ says “her countenance [was] nothing abashed, neither her
eyes misted with tears,” there can be little doubt but that the long
spell of anxiety had left some trace on Jane’s sweet face. She advanced
to the edge of the scaffold, and in the dead silence spoke in a
distinct voice: “Good people, I am come here to die, and by a law I am
condemned to the same. My offence against the Queen’s Highness was only
in consenting to the device of others, which is now deemed treason; but
it was never of my seeking, but by the counsel of those who should seem
to have further understanding of such things than I, who knew little of
the law and less of the title to the Crown. The part, indeed, against
the Queen’s Highness was unlawful, and so the consenting thereunto
by me; but touching the procurement and desire thereof by me, or on
my behalf, I do wash my hands thereof in innocency before God and in
the face of you, good Christian people, this day,” and therewith she
wrung her hands in which she had her book. Then she continued, “I pray
you, all good Christian people, to bear me witness that I die a true
Christian woman, and that I look to be saved by none other means, but
only by the mercy of God, in the merit of the blood of His only Son
Jesus Christ; and I confess that when I did know the Word of God, I
neglected the same, loved myself and the world, and therefore this
plague of punishment has worthily happened into me for my sins; and
yet I thank God of His goodness that He hath thus given me a time and
respite to repent. And now, good people, while I am living, I pray you
to assist me with your prayers.”
Lady Jane’s relative, Lady Philippa de Clifford, in her little known
report,[310] adds that, “After a pause, and wiping her eyes, she
(Jane) said in a firmer voice, ‘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. Farewell,
farewell, for ever more.’ Jane, when she had finished speaking, was
much affected, and hid her face upon the neck of the old nurse who
attended her on the scaffold.” This nurse must have been Mrs. Ellen,
into whose arms she threw herself when she first perceived the towering
figure of the masked executioner, garbed from head to foot in scarlet.
Clinging to the aged woman, the poor girl sobbed convulsively. Growing
calmer, after a while, she knelt down, and asked Feckenham what prayer
she should recite--“Shall I say this Psalm?”--probably pointing to
her prayer-book as she did so. “Yes,” answered he; and then, as she
and many of the people knelt, he said the fifty-first Psalm, the
_Miserere_, in Latin, Jane repeating it after him in English. This
done, she rose, and said very courteously to Dr. Feckenham, “God
will abundantly requite you, good sir, for all your humanity to me,
though your discourses gave me more uneasiness than all the terrors
of approaching death.” Bishop Godwin says, “Just before she knelt
down, Lady Jane embraced the venerable prelate and thanked him for his
kindness to her.” She then gave her handkerchief and gloves to Mrs.
Tylney; and turning to Sir Thomas Brydges, said gently, “You asked me
for a parting memory of me,” and handed him the prayer-book which she
had been using and in which she had written her farewells.
The supreme moment had arrived. Without the assistance of her two
female attendants, who were too completely overcome to assist her,
she untied the collar of her gown. The executioner offered to help
her, but she curtly desired him to desist, and turning to her ladies,
spoke a few words to them. Mastering their emotion, they took off
her outer dress, leaving her in her kirtle, or under gown with
close-fitting sleeves. They also removed her headdress (described by
the old chroniclers as a “frose paste”) and kerchief, giving her at the
same time a handkerchief to tie over her eyes. Then the executioner
knelt and besought her pardon; she replied simply, “Most willingly.”
Now came what was perhaps the most painful episode of the horrible
ceremony--the pause of five minutes “for the Queen’s mercy.” The poor
girl had to stand, with the ghastly preparations for her approaching
death about her, for a space of time which, brief as it really was,
must have seemed an eternity to her, waiting for a clemency she no
longer expected nor desired. But no white wand was waved--there was no
mercy for Jane Grey! The five minutes ended, the executioner motioned
the unfortunate Princess to take her place upon the straw, and she,
noticing the block for the first time, began to tremble a little, and
said, as she knelt down, “I pray you dispatch me quickly,” adding,
“Will you take it off before I lay me down?”[311] “No, madam,” replied
the executioner. With her own hands she bound the handkerchief about
her eyes, and being now in that darkness from which death would soon
release her, lost consciousness of where she was, and groping about
for the block, asked eagerly, “Where is it? What shall I do? Where is
it?” Someone guided her to the fatal spot, and the “Nine Days’ Queen,”
laying herself down with her fair head upon the block, stretched out
her body, and cried aloud that all might hear her, “Lord, into Thy
hands I commend my spirit!”[312] A flash, a thud, a crimson deluge on
the straw-strewn scaffold--and, as the cannon boomed, an innocent soul
was borne towards a Throne more high, and a Justice more sure than
those of Queen or Emperor![313]
There are several conflicting accounts of what subsequently happened.
The more generally received version is that the body was handed over
to Lady Jane’s women, who reverently placed it in a common deal
coffin, and conveyed it to St. Peter-ad-Vincula, precisely as the
women of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard had conveyed the mangled
remains of those slaughtered Queens. But on the other hand, Antoine
de Noailles,[314] the French Ambassador, who had arrived in London
early in the morning, passing that way about three o’clock in the same
afternoon (he was living at Marillac’s old house on the Tower Green),
saw Lady Jane’s half-naked body lying abandoned on the scaffold, and
was amazed at the immense quantity of blood that had poured out of so
small a corpse.[315] Peter Derenzie tells us her remains “were left for
hours half naked on the scaffold streaming with blood, and were placed
in a deal coffin.” It would seem indeed that, in death as in life,
Lady Jane Grey, the moment fortune turned against her, was abandoned
by all those, even by her own mother, who by reason of natural ties
should have rallied round her in the hour of need. Thus after death
her bleeding remains were treated with corresponding neglect; the
puppet which was to have made Northumberland’s fortune was thrown
aside, with none to care for it, when once its purpose failed. This
unusual treatment of the body may not, however, have proceeded entirely
from heartlessness; but from the difficulty and uncertainty as to the
nature of the religious service to be said over the remains of one who,
though born a Catholic, had died a “heretic”; St. Peter’s Chapel having
been lately restored to the Catholics, Jane could not be buried there
without ecclesiastical licence, and to obtain this, Feckenham probably
had to see Queen Mary, or get some sort of “permit” from Archbishop
Heath. But, granting all this, the corpse might, at least, have been
decently covered. The delay as to the burial of Jane Grey’s corpse
may have given rise to the popular report that it was transported to
Bradgate, and interred there. There is no question, however, that the
body was eventually conveyed into the Church of St. Peter-ad-Vincula
and buried in the vault which already contained the mangled remains of
so many of her contemporaries.[316] Many years ago, a very small and
broken coffin was discovered in this vault, containing the remains of
a female of diminutive stature, with the head severed from the body.
The skeleton, which crumbled to ashes immediately it was exposed to the
effect of the atmosphere, was surmised to be that of Lady Jane Grey,
and the dust was enclosed in an urn and placed immediately under the
oval inscription in the chancel above, which records her death. Yet in
Leicestershire, the tradition still persists that the body was brought
to Bradgate late at night, and secretly interred in the parish church.
And with this tradition, of course, is connected the legend of the
coach with the headless occupant, said to appear before the gates of
Bradgate on the anniversary of Lady Jane’s death.
Thus, in blood and in neglect, ends the tragic story of Lady Jane Grey,
one of the most popular heroines in our history, the helpless victim of
circumstance, and of the soaring ambition of a singularly masterful and
unscrupulous man.