<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> <span class="subhead">1553</span> <span class="subhead">Turn of the tide—Reaction in Mary’s favour in the Council—Suffolk yields—Mary proclaimed in London—Lady Jane’s deposition—She returns to Sion House.</span></h2></div>
<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Northumberland</span> was gone. The weight
of his dominant influence was removed, and
many of his colleagues must have breathed more
freely. In the Tower Lady Jane, with those of the
Council left in London, continued to watch and
wait the course of events. It must have been
recognised that the future was dark and uncertain;
and whilst the lords and nobles looked about for
a way of escape should affairs go ill with the new
government, the boy and girl arbitrarily linked
together may have been drawn closer by the
growing sense of a common danger. Guilford
Dudley did not share his father’s unpopularity.
Young and handsome, he is said to have been
endowed with virtues calling forth an unusual
amount of pity for his premature end,<SPAN name="FNanchor_169" href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">169</SPAN> and Heylyn
declared that of all Dudley’s brood he had nothing
of his father in him.<SPAN name="FNanchor_170" href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">170</SPAN> “He was,” says Fuller, adding<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_238">238</SPAN></span>
his testimony, “a goodly and (for aught I find to the
contrary) a godly gentleman, whose worst fault was
that he was son to an ambitious father.”<SPAN name="FNanchor_171" href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">171</SPAN> The
flash of boyish ambition he had evinced in his
determination to be content with nothing less than
kingship must have been soon extinguished by the
consciousness that life itself was at stake.</p>
<p>For quicker and quicker came tidings of fresh
triumphs for Mary, each one striking at the hopes
of her rival’s partisans. News was brought that Mary
had been proclaimed Queen first in Buckinghamshire;
next at Norwich. Her forces were gathering
strength, her adherents gaining courage. Again, six
vessels placed at Yarmouth to intercept her flight,
should she attempt it, were won over to her side,
their captains, with men and ordnance, making
submission; whereat “the Lady Mary”—from whose
mind nothing had been further than flight—“and
her company were wonderful joyous.”</p>
<p>This last blow hit the party acknowledging Jane
as Queen hard; nor were its effects long in becoming
visible. In the Tower “each man began to pluck in
his horns,” and to cast about for a manner of dissevering
his private fortunes from a cause manifestly
doomed to disaster. Pembroke, who in May had
associated himself with Northumberland by marrying
his son to Katherine Grey, was one of the foremost
in considering the possibility of quitting the Tower, so<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_239">239</SPAN></span>
that he might hold consultation with those without;
but as yet he had not devised a means of accomplishing
his purpose. Each day brought its developments
within the walls of the fortress, and beyond them.
On the Sunday night—not a week after the crown
had been fitted on Jane’s head—when the Lord
Treasurer, then officiously desirous of adding a
second for her husband, was leaving the building
in order to repair to his own house, the gates were
suddenly shut and the keys carried up to the mistress
of the Tower. What was the reason? No one
knew, but it was whispered that a seal had been
found missing. Others said that she had feared
some packinge [<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">sic</i>] in the Treasurer. The days
were coming when it would be in no one’s power
to keep the Lords of the Council at their post
under lock and key.</p>
<p>That Sunday morning—it was July 16—Ridley
had preached at Paul’s Cross before the Mayor,
Aldermen, and people, pleading Lady Jane’s cause
with all the eloquence at his command. Let his
hearers, he said, contrast her piety and gentleness
with the haughtiness and papistry of her rival. And
he told the story of his visit to Hunsdon, of his
attempt to convince Mary of her errors, and of its
failure, conjuring all who heard him to maintain
the cause of Queen Jane and of the Gospel. But
his exhortations fell on deaf ears.</p>
<p>And still one messenger of ill tidings followed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_240">240</SPAN></span>
hard upon the heels of another. Cecil, with his
natural aptitude for intrigue, was engaging in
secret deliberations with members of the Council
inclined to be favourable to Mary, finding in
especial the Lord Treasurer, Winchester, the Earl
of Arundel, and Lord Darcy, willing listeners,
“whereof I did immediately tell Mr. Petre”—the
other Secretary—“for both our comfort.”<SPAN name="FNanchor_172" href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">172</SPAN>
Presently a pretext was invented to cover the escape
of the lords from the Tower. It was said that
Northumberland had sent for auxiliaries, and that
it was necessary to hold a consultation with the
foreign ambassadors as to the employment of
mercenaries.<SPAN name="FNanchor_173" href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">173</SPAN> The meeting was to take place at
Baynard’s Castle, Arundel observing significantly
that he liked not the air of the Tower. He and
his friends may indeed have reflected that it had
proved fatal to many less steeped in treason than
they. To Baynard’s Castle some of the lords
accordingly repaired, sending afterwards to summon
the rest to join them, with the exception of Suffolk,
who remained behind, in apparent ignorance of what
was going forward.</p>
<p>In the consultation, held on July 19, the deathblow
was dealt to the hopes of those faithful to the
nine-days’ Queen. Arundel was the first to declare
himself unhesitatingly on Mary’s side, and to denounce<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_241">241</SPAN></span>
the Duke, from whom he had so lately
parted on terms of devoted friendship. He boasted
of his courage in now opposing Northumberland—a
man of supreme authority, and—as one who had
little or no conscience—fond of blood. It was by
no desire of vengeance that Arundel’s conduct was
prompted, he declared, but by conscience and anxiety
for the public welfare; the Duke was actuated
by a desire neither for the good of the kingdom nor
by religious zeal, but purely by a desire for power,
and he proceeded to hold him up to the reprobation
of his colleagues.</p>
<p>Pembroke made answer, promising, with his hand
on his sword, to make Mary Queen. There were
indeed few dissentient voices, and, though some of
the lords at first maintained that warning should
be sent to Northumberland and a general pardon
obtained from Mary, their proposals did not meet
with favour, and they did not press them.</p>
<p>A hundred men had been despatched on various
pretexts, and by degrees, to the Tower, with orders to
make themselves masters of the place, in case Suffolk
would not leave it except upon compulsion; but the
Duke was not a man to lead a forlorn hope. Had
Northumberland been at hand a struggle might
have taken place; as it was, not a voice was raised
against the decision of the Council, and with almost
incredible rapidity the face of affairs underwent
a change, absolute and complete. Suffolk, so soon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_242">242</SPAN></span>
as the determination of the lords was made known
to him, lost no time in expressing his willingness to
concur in it and to add his signature to the proclamation
of Mary, already drawn up.<SPAN name="FNanchor_174" href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">174</SPAN> He was, he
said, but one man; and proclaiming his daughter’s
rival in person on Tower Hill, he finally struck his
colours; going so far, as some affirm, as to share in
the demonstration in the new Queen’s honour in
Cheapside, where the proclamation was read by the
Earl of Pembroke amidst a scene of wild enthusiasm
contrasting vividly with the coldness and apathy
shown by the populace when, nine days earlier, they
had been asked to accept the Duke of Northumberland’s
daughter-in-law as their Queen.</p>
<p>“For my time I never saw the like,” says a news-letter,<SPAN name="FNanchor_175" href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">175</SPAN>
“and by the report of others the like was
never seen. The number of caps that were thrown
up at the proclamation were not to be told.... I
saw myself money was thrown out at windows for
joy. The bonfires were without number, and, what
with shouting and crying of the people and ringing
of the bells, there could no one hear almost what
another said, besides banquetings and singing in
the street for joy.”</p>
<p>Arundel was there, as well as Pembroke, with
Shrewsbury and others, and the day was ended with
evensong at St. Paul’s.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_243">243</SPAN></span>
And whilst all this was going on outside, in the
gloom of the Tower, where the air must have struck
chill even on that July day, sat the little victim
of state-craft—“Cette pauvre reine,” wrote Noailles
to his master, “qui s’en peut dire de la féve”—a
Twelfth Night’s Queen—in the fortress that had
seen her brief exaltation, and was so soon to become
to her a prison. As the joy-bells echoed through
the City and the shouting of the people penetrated
the thick walls she must have wondered what
was the cause of rejoicing. Presently she learnt
it.</p>
<p>That afternoon had been fixed for the christening
of a child born to Underhyll—nicknamed, on account
of his religious zeal, the Hot-Gospeller—on duty
as a Gentleman Pensioner at the Tower. The baby
was highly favoured, since the Duke of Suffolk and
the Earl of Pembroke were to be his sponsors by
proxy and Lady Jane had signified her intention of
acting as godmother, calling the infant Guilford, after
her husband.</p>
<p>Lady Throckmorton, wife to Sir Nicholas, in
attendance on Jane,<SPAN name="FNanchor_176" href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">176</SPAN> had been chosen to represent her
mistress at the ceremony; and, on quitting the
Tower for that purpose, had waited on the Queen
and received her usual orders, according to royal<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_244">244</SPAN></span>
etiquette. Upon her return, the baptism over, she
found all—like a transformation scene at the
theatre—changed. The canopy of state had been
removed from Lady Jane’s apartment, and Lady
Jane herself, divested of her sovereignty, was
practically a prisoner.<SPAN name="FNanchor_177" href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">177</SPAN></p>
<p>During the absence of the Lady-in-waiting, Suffolk,
his part on Cheapside played, had returned to the
Tower, to set matters there on their new footing.
Informing his daughter, as one imagines with the
roughness of a man smarting under defeat, that
since her cousin had been elected Queen by the
Council, and had been proclaimed, it was time she
should do her honour, he removed the insignia
of royalty. The rank she had possessed not being
her own she must make a virtue of necessity, and
bow to that fortune of which she had been the sport
and victim.</p>
<p>Rising to the occasion, Jane, as might be expected,
made fitting reply. The words now spoken by her
father were, she answered, more becoming and
praiseworthy than those he had uttered on putting
her in possession of the crown; proceeding to
moralise the matter after a fashion that can only
be attributed to the imaginative faculties of the
narrator of the scene. This done she, more
naturally, withdrew into her private apartments with
her mother and other ladies and gave way, in spite<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_245">245</SPAN></span>
of her firmness, to “infinite sorrow.”<SPAN name="FNanchor_178" href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">178</SPAN> A further
scene narrated by the Italian, Florio, on the authority
of the Duke of Suffolk’s chaplain—“as her father’s
learned and pious preacher told me”—represents
her as confronted with some at least of the men who
had betrayed her, and as reproaching them bitterly
with their duplicity. Without vouching for the
accuracy of the speech reported, touches are discernible
in it—evidences of a very human wrath,
indignation, and scorn—unlikely to have been
invented by men whose habit it was to describe
the speaker as the living embodiment of meekness
and patience, and it may be that the evangelist’s
account is founded on fact.</p>
<p>“Therefore, O Lords of the Council,” she is
made to say, “there is found in men of illustrious
blood, and as much esteemed by the world as you,
double dealing, deceit, fickleness, and ruin to the
innocent. Which of you can boast with truth that
I besought him to make me a Queen? Where
are the gifts I promised or gave on this account?
Did ye not of your own accord drag me from my
literary studies, and, depriving me of liberty, place
me in this rank? Alas! double-faced men, how well
I see, though late, to what end ye set me in this
royal dignity! How will ye escape the infamy
following upon such deeds?” How were broken<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_246">246</SPAN></span>
promises, violated oaths, to be coloured and disguised?
Who would trust them for the future?
“But be of good cheer, with the same measure it
shall be meted to you again.”</p>
<p>With this prophecy of retribution to follow she
ended. “For a good space she was silent; and they
departed, full of shame, leaving her well guarded.”<SPAN name="FNanchor_179" href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">179</SPAN></p>
<p>Her attendants were not long in availing themselves
of the permission accorded them to go where
they pleased. The service of Lady Jane was, from
an honour, become a perilous duty; and they went
to their own homes, leaving their nine-days’ mistress
“burdened with thought and woe.” The following
morning she too quitted the Tower, returning to
Sion House. It was no more than ten days since
she had been brought from it in royal state.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_247">247</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />