HISTORY

OF

THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

CHAPTER XXII.

MARY.-A.D. 1553.

It was not long before the Duke of Northumberland discovered the desperate nature of the adventure into which he had flung himself. The daring and ability of Dudley were never displayed more strikingly than in the strange interregnum of a fortnight, during which he struggled to lift his own family into the Throne over the unburied coffin of Edward the Sixth. But he was like a man fighting against enchantment: every weapon that he took broke in his hand. Instead of arriving in London, as he expected, and so falling into his power under the belief that she was coming to visit a still living brother, Mary, within half a day's journey of her destination, upon secret information of the trap prepared for her, suddenly swerved eastward, swept through Suffolk and Norfolk, and lay in safety behind a region that had not forgotten Ket's rebellion and the slaughter of Dussindale. Thence she despatched a letter to the Council, reproaching them with the concealment of her brother's death, and requiring them to proclaim her title

to the crown. The Duke on his part sought to involve the rest of the Council, more deeply than they were already implicated through the Will of Edward, by causing them to put their names to an answer to Mary declaratory of Jane, and to a proclamation of Jane as queen. The Council signed every paper that he laid before them, without ceasing their secret machinations to secure themselves against him. He carried the gentle girl, round whom his ambition had woven so deadly a mesh, to the Tower in splendid state: and, even as he decked her with the crown, he discovered that she would be no mere puppet of his will: for Jane denied to his son, her youthful bridegroom, the royal rank; alleging that this was not contained in the Will of her cousin Edward, and that it lay beyond her power to give. He sent heralds and trumpets to proclaim her in the city; and the people listened in silence: one youth, an apprentice, being heard to mutter that the Lady Mary had the better title. It was a skilful manoeuvre to bring Jane to the Tower, for etiquette required that the Council and other ministers of State should attend her thither: and there he had them in ward. But this was an advantage which he was soon compelled to forego.

He put a thousand men on board the fleet: and sent them to watch the eastern coast, lest Mary should escape to Flanders. The fleet ran into Yarmouth, and declared for Mary. The country rose, west, north, south, for Mary. Those of the household in London, who could, stole away, and joined the musters of the noblemen and gentlemen who were arming for Mary in every county. One of them, Peckham, the cofferer, carried with him the treasure that was under his charge, a heavy loss for the Duke. Mary's proclamations were scattered everywhere. The Duke's sons and his other emissaries returned baffled from reconnoitering. His agents at foreign

courts found themselves anticipated by messengers from Mary. In a few days it was evident that instead of arresting a fugitive he must prepare to encounter an adversary in the field.

The great adventurer exerted himself indefatigably. The offer of large pay produced an army: but composed of the retainers of his secret enemies, who engaged themselves in his service with the design of betraying or deserting him. To equip them he ransacked the stores of the Tower. It was now that he felt the imprudence with which, after the fall of Somerset, he had disarmed the Revolution by discharging the foreign mercenaries. A thousand Italian or German men-at-arms, dependent on him alone for pay, might have stood him in better stead than the six or seven thousand reluctant or perfidious Englishmen whom he was able to put into the field. Then arose the question whether he should lead them in person or depute another. Of all the Council there were but two in whom he could repose confidence: Suffolk, the father of the Lady Jane, and Northampton, the brother of the late wife of the deceased brother of his departed enemy Somerset. But Grey and Parr were the most incompetent of the whole body: Grey, the unsuccessful warden of the North, Parr, the defeated of Norwich. The approved soldiers of the Revolution, Bedford, Pembroke, Grey of Wilton, were as little to be trusted by him as Arundel or the Marquis of Winchester, his bitterest and subtlest enemies. If he went, he must leave London in the hands of those men: and this seemed so dangerous, that at first he resolved to send Suffolk. He was again frustrated by the obstinacy of the girl whom he had set upon the throne, who protested with tears that she would not be separated from her father. The Council, whom he was obliged to consult, advised him to go, urging that the terror of the

name of the foremost captain of the realm, would ensure his success on the scene of his former victories. This seemed indeed the only course: and Northumberland accepted the advice, using at the same time every precaution that was possible. He took out a written commission to be general, and caused the Council to sign it. He made them promise solemnly to send reinforcements after him with all speed. He had them all to dinner in the Tower, and entertained them with a long discourse on the duty of fidelity. "Queen Jane" said he, "is placed on the throne by your and our enticement : God will not acquit you of your oath of allegiance made freely to her. We are going to hazard our lives in the field, relying on your good faith : if you deceive us, God will not hold you innocent. Consider also God's cause, and the fear of the return of papistry.”"___"You cast your doubt too far," answered one of them, "if you mistrust us: for which of us can wipe his hands clean?"—“I pray God it may be so," answered the Duke. He gave Suffolk the command of the Tower, thus contriving at least to leave them in a sort of honourable captivity; he selected the best warrior among them, the brave Lord Grey of Wilton, to accompany him in the campaign: and removed himself to Whitehall for the night. The next morning he set forth to join the army. As he rode out at the head of his personal following of six hundred men, he remarked the sullen demeanour of the people. "They press to see us," said he, "but not one of them cries God speed us. As soon as he was gone, the Council broke out of the Tower, and proclaimed Queen Mary. London flamed with lights and ran with wine behind him, whilst he advanced on his hopeless enterprise, his army melting away at every step. He reached Cambridge: thence he contrived to struggle forward to St. Edmondsbury, where he found himself nearly alone. He returned to Cam