by Linda Porter
When it became obvious to Edward that he did not have long to live, the Devise assumed an altogether different significance. It was no longer a dissertation on what might happen; it was a practical blueprint for England and a balm for his troubled spirit. Robbed of his own future, he would now take the step that would make his sisters historical footnotes. For were they not both bastards as well as females, and therefore doubly unfit to rule? They would remain for ever as his father had originally intended at the time of Edward’s own birth, the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth, not princesses of England. It required only one small change in the wording of the Devise to bring about the result he so fervently desired.
Northumberland may not even have known that the Devise existed before June, but he now saw a way in which he could safeguard his own position and calm his king, as Edward struggled to fend off death for a few weeks longer. Instead of ‘the heirs male of the Lady Jane’, the phrase ‘the Lady Jane and her heirs male’ was inserted, probably at the duke’s suggestion. Edward’s Protestant cousin would become queen, even though her mother, the closer claimant, was still alive and still of childbearing years. Quite why Frances of Suffolk was written off in this way has never been explained, but she must not have tried to push her claim over her daughter’s. Her subsequent behaviour gives the impression of someone who was always rather anxious for her own skin, so perhaps she reasoned that if the venture did not succeed, she would be better off at one remove from it. She would obviously have been a less attractive proposition to the duke of Northumberland, who saw in this manipulation of the succession a way in which his ascendancy could continue, uninterrupted. Through a happy accident of timing, the duke’s new daughter-in-law provided him with the means to retain power when Edward was gone. Once seized by the idea, he committed to it wholeheartedly. He did not have the luxury of a period of reflection or doubt. The changes to the succession must be put in place swiftly and with unanimity, to ensure a smooth transition from Edward to Jane. There might be doubts raised, voices murmuring in corridors and corners, and they needed to be silenced. Mary and Elizabeth would object, but what could they do? And both resided close enough to London for them to be easily apprehended. When the hour of the king’s death was close, he intended to summon them to court and, once there, they would be in his power.
There were now two difficulties to be overcome and they were almost mutually contradictory. The first was to change the succession legally, with the consent of council and then through Letters Patent. More time and wider support would have been needed to get the changes agreed by Parliament, and this was clearly not an option. As it was, many of the council, and the law officers in particular, were greatly disturbed by what was being proposed. On 12 June, the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edward Montagu, caused consternation by announcing that he would not be party to anything involving changes to the succession. There was, he said, succinctly, ‘the danger of treason’. His delicate conscience and legal obstinacy infuriated Northumberland, who was never slow to offer violence in word and demeanour when opposed. He called Montagu ‘traitor before all the council and said that in the quarrel of that matter he would fight in his shirt with any man living’.6 His aggression made many present uneasy for their own safety, but still there was sufficient opposition for a compromise to be proposed. Mary should be offered the crown but must undertake not to change religion or replace any of the current ministers. This proposal showed a regard for legitimacy but was not met with much enthusiasm.
The legal wrangling angered the king. Edward refused to be thwarted; Mary must not inherit his throne, he told the judges when they appeared before him on 15 June. Neither would he countenance Elizabeth, the daughter of an adulteress, as his heir. His cousin Jane was a lady of high virtue and sound religious convictions. She would support the growth of ‘the religion whose fair foundation we have laid’. The sight of this angry, desperately ill youth summoning up the last shreds of his energy to berate them swayed the judges. No doubt they were also conscious of Northumberland scowling in the background.They capitulated, agreeing to help the king draw up his will.
When it was known that the legal establishment had submitted to the king’s demands, the doubters gave way. Reluctance was suppressed in the comfort of collective responsibility, which the king absolutely required. Opposition would have been treason, giving an excuse for a wide-scale purge that would have removed anyone who questioned the king and Northumberland. The argument that both Mary and Elizabeth were illegitimate probably carried more weight than highlighting the religious issues surrounding Mary personally. The Letters Patent were already drafted before the king’s confrontation with the judiciary. They stated that the marriages of Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn were ‘clearly and lawfully undone’.This meant that Mary and Elizabeth were ‘unto us but the half blood, and therefore by the ancient laws, statutes and customs of this realm be not inheritable unto us, although they were legitimate, as they be not indeed’. It was also easy to play on old fears about the effect of a foreign marriage, should either woman become queen. A ‘stranger’ would impose foreign laws on England, ‘which would then tend to the utter subversion of the commonwealth of this our realm, which God defend’.7 But this was not a new argument and, whatever the convoluted legalisms about the status of Edward’s sisters, the provisions of the Act of Succession of 1543 and Henry VIII’s will were being flouted. Edward VI was actually attacking legitimacy by claiming to uphold a different interpretation of it.
Northumberland also knew his colleagues on the privy council. He had it in his gift to reward as well as bluster. In mid-16th-century England, a delicate conscience meant political annihilation and personal ruin. So the duke appeased his critics with grants of lands, always so much more attractive than principles. Eventually all the council and the judges, with the exception of Sir James Hales, signed the Letters Patent, as did the mayor and alderman of London.The victory was facilitated by Northumberland, and served his own purposes, but it was still very much the king’s. Using a mixture of persuasion and threats, Edward was able to stage his own coup d’état in the final weeks of his life.
There was, however, a major difficulty, and it could not be overcome by personal pleas or the spectre of the scaffold. Although the council was sworn to secrecy, so momentous a change to the succession was impossible to conceal.Those troubled by the machinations, whether supporters of Mary or enemies of Northumberland, were careful not to be caught in open discussion, but word, inevitably, got out. The unity Northumberland tried to invoke was, as he well knew, fragile. The other steps he took to underwrite his power, the arming and provisioning of the Tower of London and the readying of the fleet, were impossible to conceal. Rumours about what would happen after Edward’s death began to circulate in southern England. Too many people knew what was intended. Northumberland’s courting of the French was also bound to attract attention in the diplomatic community. The new ambassador in London, Antoine de Noailles, relayed to Henry II what Northumberland had told him on 26 June:‘that they had provided so well against the Lady Mary’s ever attaining the succession, and that all the lords of the council were so well united, that there is no need for you, Sire, to enter into any doubt on this score’.8 This Anglo-French cosiness made the emperor very edgy. Mary had wondered for some time why her cousin was silent. It was just as well that she remained unaware of Charles V’s real assessment of her situation, since she would not have found any encouragement there.
The truth was, he gave her little chance of success. Everything he heard made him think she would be lucky to survive, let alone become queen. On 23 June he issued a long set of instructions to a special mission of three ambassadors, who were to depart immediately for England. Scheyfve was tiring of the inconsequential nature of his role in London. Mary of Hungary used him mainly in a consular, rather than an ambassadorial, capacity, and the satisfaction of sending out lurid bulletins about Edward VI’s decline, which he had done indefatigably in recent months, was beginni
ng to fade. One of the three men sent by Charles was Scheyfve’s replacement, Simon Renard, an energetic native of the Franche Comté who had previously been the imperial representative in Paris. Accompanied by Counts de Courrières and de Toulouse, who were there to add gravitas, Renard set out for England, charged with finding out as much as possible about Edward’s condition.
The emperor’s chief concern was not to bolster Mary’s chances of becoming queen but to minimise or even neutralise French influence in England. Once arrived, they should seek an audience with the king as soon as possible. ‘We are’, he wrote, ‘unwilling to allow the French to appear quicker with their sympathy … and we stand in need of no example to teach us the offices of friendship.’ But supposing it turned out that Edward was already dead when they got there? ‘In that case you must deliberate among yourselves according to the turn events shall take, and decide on the wisest course to be adopted for the safety of our cousin, the Princess, and, if it is possible, to assist her to succeed to the crown.’ His main concern was for her personal safety, not her rights, and he feared that the charge that she would marry a foreigner if she became queen would be raised against her.The ambassadors must make it clear that the emperor favoured an English match for Mary.The English lords would need plenty of reassurance on this point,‘loathed as all foreigners are by all Englishmen’. Charles V considered it impossible for Mary to have the slightest chance of being a serious contender for the throne unless she agreed to make no changes in government or religion and undertook to pardon all offences committed by those currently in power.‘If she is asked to make a promise in this sense she must make no difficulty about it, for she has no choice in the matter.’ He summed up his requirements as follows: ‘your principal objects will be to preserve our cousin’s person from danger, assist her to obtain possession of the crown, calm the fears the English may entertain of us, defeat French machinations, and further a good understanding between our dominions and the realm of England’. All this was to be done without money or men, in times of great uncertainty. It was a very tall order.9
The emperor’s natural caution tied the hands of his servants. It was not even clear how they could ensure his cousin’s welfare, and once they left Flanders they were very much on their own. As they made their way to London, an eerie calm settled over England.There was no option but to wait and see what was going to happen.Yet before they could even speak to Mary, nature intervened. On the evening of 6 July Edward expired in the arms of Sir Henry Sidney. ‘I am faint,’ he said. ‘Lord have mercy on me and take my spirit.’
Mary had passed the spring and early summer quietly at Hunsdon.Yet though there was no sign of any unusual activity there must have been much going on behind the walls of the manor. The appearance of normality, of passivity, was a feint. The princess knew from her own sources that her brother’s illness was fatal. She was also well aware of the steps that had been taken to deprive her of the crown. Closeted with her advisers, Mary decided that there was, in reality, only one course open to her: she must proclaim herself as queen and she must prepare to fight. Much of her adult life had been passed in opposition, but now there was a need for clear thinking and boldness, not protests and tears. The supreme moment had crept up on her, like the lengthening days of summer. In the last weeks of June, she could trust only Robert Rochester and his network of Catholic gentlemen - and her own conviction that God was with her. Religious faith, as well as the Tudor heritage, kept her strong. She was the daughter of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon and she would prevail.The throne of England was hers by right of law and of descent. Her courage occasionally faltered when her father was alive and she had good reason to fear the duke of Northumberland, but she did not waver now. If she stayed, he would come for her and she would almost certainly be imprisoned, perhaps worse. She commanded no army, no backers of any importance among the nobility, and Charles V had all but abandoned her. The only people who believed in Mary were her household, and even they, no matter how much affection they bore her, must have been apprehensive. But if her affinity in East Anglia would rise for her then others might follow. There could be just a glimmer of hope. Around that speck of light, careful plans were made to evade and outwit the authorities, to wrestle the initiative from the preoccupied council in London. At the very least, this would buy her time.
The decision to move was taken before Edward’s death because it was felt to be too dangerous for Mary to stay at Hunsdon.The idea that she and her advisers were naive enough to respond to the council’s summons to London, and actually got as far as Hoddesdon before being warned that it was a trap, is not borne out by contemporary sources. Instead, Mary and her small party turned north and then east on the night of 4 July. A plausible excuse for this sudden departure was invented, to the effect that her physician, Roland Scurlock, had been taken ill with a suspected attack of the plague, making it imperative for her to leave swiftly. Safe houses, owned by trusted sympathisers, had already been prepared along the route that would take her to Kenninghall in Norfolk, the former Howard house chosen as her headquarters. Riding through the hours of darkness, Mary covered almost 40 miles before she arrived at her first resting place, Sawston Manor in Cambridgeshire, the home of Sir John Huddleston and his family.When she left the next day she may have felt it safer to adopt a disguise, as some reports have her riding dressed as a servant behind one of Huddleston’s own people.
When she got to her next destination, Euston Hall, near Thetford, she was greeted by its chatelaine, Lady Burgh. It was here, on 7 July, that news of her brother’s death was first conveyed to Mary, apparently by Robert Reyns, her London goldsmith. But it could not be verified and she knew that she must wait until there was no shadow of a doubt. A premature proclamation that she was queen would be treasonable and those around her, having laid the groundwork so well, could not let her play into the hands of her enemies. The privy council, who must have hoped that she would be in their power by now, deliberately concealed the king’s death for two days. Northumberland had learned well from the experience of keeping Henry VIII’s death secret but, despite his precautions, the news was difficult to suppress.The imperial ambassadors reported it themselves on 7 July. Probably Reyns was tipped off by a friendly source within the king’s household or the privy council. Later, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton claimed that he had been Reyns’s informant. His loyalty to Mary was, however, equivocal, and by 1554 he was implicated in plots to overthrow her. She would have been entirely justified in treating his news with the greatest of caution.
By 9 July there was no longer any doubt. Mary was established at Kenninghall and the news of Edward’s death was confirmed. She had escaped Northumberland’s clutches and was ready to put the next part of the plan into action. But first, she wanted to address her household. They were gathered together, no doubt awaiting with rising excitement their lady’s entry. Many of them had been with her since the grim days of her disgrace, often fearful for her health and her safety, never quite knowing what the future held. Now she was to impart wonderful tidings. Her brother, she told them, had departed this life. ‘The right to the crown of England had therefore descended to her by divine and by human law.’ Some of those present once feared they would never hear such words from the lips of Mary Tudor. Great cheering followed as they all ‘proclaimed their dearest princess Mary as queen of England’.
There was no such enthusiasm when Mary’s letter to the privy council arrived in London the following day. She came straight to the point. Upon their allegiance, they were to ‘cause our right and title to the crown and government of this realm to be proclaimed in our city of London, and other places as your wisdom shall seem good’. Further letters and proclamations announcing her accession were already drafted and were also sent on 9 July. They called on loyal subjects to proclaim her and requested forces to come to her aid. The council were taken aback by this brisk confidence but incredulity soon gave way to unease. Following the stipulations of Edward VI’s Letters Patent on the succ
ession, Jane Grey had been proclaimed queen in London the day before Mary’s own announcement. No woman had ever ruled England in her own right before. Now, in the space of 24 hours, the country had two rival queens regnant. And it was not at all clear which of them would eventually be crowned.
Jane Grey was recuperating from an unpleasant stomach ailment at the royal manor in Chelsea when, according to tradition, one of Northumberland’s daughters came to take her to Syon House. There, where another queen, Katherine Howard, learned that her past had caught up with her in 1541, Jane was told that her future in the year of our Lord 1553 was to be the first female English monarch. It was not exactly a shock, since she had known about the proposals to change the succession for several weeks, but the enormity of it disturbed her a great deal. She neither relished nor sought the throne. But she did not refuse it, either. If God had willed her this burden, then she must bear it humbly and to the best of her ability. And that ability, at least intellectually, was considerable. Protestant writers, seeking to make mileage from the picture they painted of an innocent girl sacrificed to the forces of political opportunism and religious reaction, regarded Jane with a reverence that nearly turned her into a saint.That image has lost nothing with the passing of the centuries, but it is far from accurate. A more measured view, based on what we know of her from her own words and behaviour, reveals a devout but surprisingly hard-headed young woman. Her priggishness is unattractive but should not be viewed too harshly. Like most girls of her age in 16th-century England, she was required to grow up fast and to accept that who she was posed a danger to others, as well as to herself. Proximity to the throne was a dubious privilege. Mary had learned a comparable lesson at the same age.
