Thursday, 6 July 1553 – The King is dead

“... I have been with my lord prince, whose life I pray God long to prosper and continue; for his grace is the goodliest babe that ever I set mine eyes upon. I pray God make him an old man, for I think I should never be weary of looking on him.”

(Letter from Honor Plantagenet, Lady Lisle to her husband discussing her visit to the infant Prince Edward’s household, 1538)

“I am faint: Lord have mercy upon me, and take my spirit.”

(The alleged last words of Edward VI, 6 July 1553)

On the night of 12 October 1537, London was the scene of magnificent celebrations. Bonfires were lit, feasts were held and the Tower’s guns were fired continuously. For at 2am that same day the kingdom was blessed with a male heir – the Tudor dynastic line was secure. After three marriages, two ending in tragic fashions, Henry VIII had his healthy legitimate son. When the baby was christened three days later and brought back from the chapel to be handed over to his parents, his father was recorded to have wept for joy whilst holding his son.


Now, nearly sixteen years later, the boy was dead. His end was a prolonged and undignified one. His hair and nails had fallen out; the constant vomiting had led to extreme weight loss. The smell of the vile fluid he coughed up was as potent as the puss that had seeped from his aged father’s famous leg wound. In March 1553 the Venetian ambassador had reported that the boy, though ill, was still handsome. Now he was barely recognisable. Edward made one last confession, and between eight and nine o’clock in the evening he died in the arms of Sir Thomas Worth and long-term friend Sir Henry Sidney at the palace of Greenwich. He was fifteen years old.


It was popularly claimed that he had been poisoned but then almost any time a prominent individual died, especially at a young age, foul play was cited. Despite these accusations Edward alive was far more valuable to the duke of Northumberland and his men than otherwise. There were still things to do – Mary had not yet been captured – and the conspirators needed to act fast. The same day the duke ordered provisions for the royal ships sent to patrol the waters. Unaware of her brother’s death Mary continued to press on. It has been argued by Diarmaid MacCulloch and Anna Whitelock that she arrived at Bury St. Edmunds and was welcomed by John Bourchier, the second earl of Bath at his family seat of Hengrave Hall. When Robert Wingfield recorded the events of Mary’s accession only a year later he neglected to mention her stay at Hengrave but instead infers that she travelled to the residence of Lady Burgh where she was certainly present by the 7th. Whether we accept the Hengrave story or not, the role of the earl of Bath in Mary’s cause should not be ignored. The earl had notably been absent from London at this time which meant that, rather conveniently, he could not sign in person the final version of Edward’s alterations to the succession. He was also a religious conservative and had a wife who Mary may have been familiar with for her previous husband had been Sir Richard Long, a courtier highly favoured by Henry VIII. Mary’s accession to the throne is in essence a story of the importance of ‘connections’ in Tudor political life. Whether the earl of Bath entertained her or not on the 6th, he was one the first peers to support her claim.


Northumberland’s efficiency and enthusiasm was matched by another individual in London. Robert Reyns, a goldsmith, was preparing for an important journey. His discovery of Edward's death proved valuable to Mary’s cause. For Reyns was not any simple goldsmith but one who had been previously engaged by Mary, a great lover of jewels. Evidently it did not take Reyns long to decide which queen to back. Quickly fleeing the city and probably riding at breakneck speed with few rests, he rushed to be the first to tell Mary the news of her brother’s death and her own accession. Reyns was taking a gamble; if Jane’s cause prevailed, his end would shortly come. But Reyns’s story has a happy ending. Eight months later he was appointed as the royal goldsmith by a gratified Queen Mary. He would be kept rather busy over the next five years.


(Image - detail of a portrait of Edward VI, by an unknown artist, after William Scrots, c.1547. NPG, London.)

Wednesday, 5 July 1553 – The plotting continues

“...she made a difficult and tiresome journey, hurrying at the dead of night to the home of Sir John Huddleston in Cambridgeshire, where she spent the night.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

Whilst Mary was fleeing into Cambridgeshire to seek support and get as far away from her enemies as possible, the duke of Northumberland and the King were busy trying to secure the support of the nobility. Later, when the plot failed, many alleged that they had been bullied into agreeing to the affair though their hearts had always been with Mary. Nevertheless only a few did make significant protests against the changes at the time. Happy to please their monarch and perhaps genuinely agreeing with him about how unfit Mary was to be queen, most signed the letters-patent that sought to legalise Edward’s ‘devise’ of the succession. Mary’s movements had not gone unnoticed nor did the duke trust that all in the realm would readily accept Jane as the queen. Thus in these crucial final moments, numerous fortresses, amongst them the Tower, were secured and troops accumulated. Mary could not even escape by sea for the duke had ensured that the royal fleets were assembled, ready to face any potential attacks from Mary’s relatives abroad and blockading Mary’s access to the same relations. Six of the nine ships were active around East Anglia, where the princess was based. Mary, the duke hoped, would prove to be the insignificant fly, tangled in the spider’s web.


Regardless of these developments, Mary did not resort to panic and take reckless decisions. The following evening she had travelled into Cambridgeshire and by the next day she was at the residence of Sir John Huddleston. But instead of confining the stay to a few hours, she spent the night of the 5th there, probably conversing with Sir John about a plan of action and ensuring which households she would go to next. Still she had no idea when her brother was to die and she could not be sure that the news would get to her quickly. She was also unaware of her cousin’s schemes. For while Mary was occupied with her fight for the throne, Charles V was directing his diplomats in London to try to come to some sort of agreement with the duke of Northumberland. Perhaps they could seek an agreement whereby Charles would agree to recognise Jane as queen if the duke promised not to form an alliance with the French. An Anglo-Imperial alliance was still obtainable if the duke was willing. Certainly a betrayal to Mary, but Charles had got wind of the duke’s talks with the French. Reports were now circulating that the duke was asking for French assistance in securing Jane’s accession and to reward them he would hand over Calais, England’s last territory in France. One wild report stated that he was even offering Ireland to the French. You must do anything to prevent this, Charles furiously wrote to his representatives (“You will take such steps as you think necessary to defeat the machinations of the French, and to keep them out of England”.) While these male leaders and diplomats conspired, the two women at the centre of this matter did not know how shortly they would have to wait to become queen. Indeed for one, then recovering from illness in Chelsea, she did not even know a crown was awaiting her.


(Image - Medal of Charles V, attributed to Hans Reinhart the Elder, c.1537; Leipzip, Germany. On display at the V&A, London)

Tuesday, 4 July 1553 – Plotting at the “dead of night”

“....to escape as soon as possible from the jaws of her enemies, she set out secretly from Hunsdon, giving out as reason for her change of residence that her physician Rowland Scurloch, an Irishman born to a noble disposition and well-disposed to her friends, seemed to be gravely ill. From there she made a difficult and tiresome journey, hurrying at the dead of night...”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

In late 1141, a woman secretly escaped out of London in the middle of the night. Fighting to become England’s first female ruler, the lady had unfortunately worsened her cause and lost the support of the city. She fled in disgrace having failed to crush her enemies. She would never become queen.

The woman in question was Matilda, ‘Lady of the English’, the only legitimate child of Henry I. Unlike Henry VIII who went to extraordinary lengths to ensure he would not have a female succeed him, Henry I admitted defeat and left the throne to his last surviving legitimate child. But Matilda failed to become queen; instead a cousin, Stephen of Blois, took the throne and ruled until his death upon which Matilda’s heir, Henry of Anjou, became Henry II. When Matilda fled from London it was in defeat and when Mary Tudor rushed as far away from the same capital as she could in July 1553 some worried she too was giving up. The Imperial ambassadors, who represented her cousin Charles V at the English court, were beside themselves with worry. Her cause, they wrote to Charles, was ‘well-nigh impossible’ without military aid from abroad – in other words from himself. Without significant numbers of troops, the duke of Northumberland would succeed in establishing Jane Grey on the throne and Mary would end up captured, with heaven knows what else happening to her next. And surely Mary could never raise such troops on her own. If Charles did not help his cousin, her flight would be as pathetic as Matilda’s escapade.


When Mary fled secretly on the night of 4 July from Hunsdon it was not done in shame but committed in the belief that now she must act. She had decided that the throne was rightful hers and that regardless of the risks she would find the support she needed to press her claim by force. As the Imperial ambassadors remarked, “My Lady has firmly made up her mind that she must act in this manner, and that otherwise she will fall into still greater danger and lose all hope of coming to the throne”. Charles V may have been sitting on the fence waiting to see how she fared, and his representatives may have doubted her, but Mary would not admit defeat so easily.


Thus shrouded in darkness – she cunningly chose to leave in the very late hours – Mary travelled northwards throughout Hertfordshire. However troublesome and frightening the journey was for herself and her retinue of just six, they managed to escape unnoticed, heading for Swaston Hall the residence of Sir John Huddleston. Huddleston, a devout Catholic, was awaiting Mary’s arrival with much eagerness. An excellent host, Huddleston also proved an able commander. He would shortly take as prisoner the son of one of the highest peers in the land prompting the same nobleman to abandon Jane Grey and support the princess. When it came to friends, Mary was truly blessed.


(Image - Sawston Hall, Sawston, Cambridgeshire.)

Monday 3 July 1553 – Mary must act

“At this time that most holy lady and princess whose history I have here undertaken..... was living at Hunsdon; very shrewdly she got wind of the aristocratic conspiracy aimed at her destruction, and being secretly informed by those most loyal to her of how near her brother was to his end, she took counsel for herself as wisely as she could.”

(Robert Wingfield of Brantham, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554 – a contemporary account of the circumstances of Mary’s accession)

At the start of the last week of Edward VI’s life, his sister Mary was residing at one of her favourite residences, Hunsdon, twenty miles outside the city of London. Many of the most important occasions in her life had taken place at this estate. It was here that she learnt of the destruction of her opponent, Anne Boleyn. It was at Hunsdon that Mary submitted to her father’s wishes by declaring herself to be illegitimate and denying papal supremacy. Now it was where she learnt that her brother would soon be dead and the duke of Northumberland and his allies were eager to have her in their custody. The informer’s message to her was clear: run.


Meanwhile in London, the fifteen-year-old king was rapidly deteriorated. Struggling to breathe, coughing up copious amounts of foul fluids and wracked with pain, Edward was still preoccupied with matters of state. It was clear now that he would not live long enough to see a parliament convene that could overturn the parliamentary statue that had included his sisters within the succession and that could ratify his own plans. But that did not mean his scheme would certainly fail and he was prepared to win the support of those around him before he died. Ironically, amongst the men he had to persuade was Archbishop Cranmer – the illustrious Marian martyr – who had doubts about the legitimacy of the plot. Though young, Edward was his father’s son and won Cranmer around to his way of thinking.


Whilst Jane Grey’s supporters were concerned about the success of their cause, Mary and her friends were getting worried. She was so near London; the duke could take her at any moment. And though the king’s ill health was an open secret there was uncertainty about when exactly he would die and how the conspirators would act. Different reports were circulating and Mary had to trust some over others. Should she trust the informer and move herself away from London – from the centre of power? Was the act of fleeing merely prolonging the inevitable and the duke would still get to her or would it allow her to secure significant support in East Anglia. And was her brother going to die at any moment; if he was not, and she fled, her actions could be represented as seditious and her cause further worsened. Mary had to decide quickly. She made her decision the following evening. Fortunately it was the right one.


(Image: Hunsdon, depicted in the background of a portrait of Prince Edward by an unknown artist, c.1546.)