Whether Jane had written her own script for the scene at Greenwich, or not, there can be no doubt about the effect. 'Henry's love and desire . . . was wonderfully increased,' the delighted Marchioness informed Chapuys. '[Jane] had behaved most honourably,' Henry said. 'To show that he only loved her honourably,' he continued, 'he did not intend henceforth to speak with her except on the presence of some of her kin.' Cromwell was moved out of his lodging at Court, which was connected to the King's apartments by secret galleries. And Jane's eldest brother Edward and his wife Anne, née Stanhope, were moved in. With such sympathetic chaperones, Henry could still see Jane to his heart's content.
11
From this moment, Jane was Henry's wife-in-waiting.
And, thanks to Cromwell's brutal efficiency and Anne's ill luck, she did not have to wait long.
* * *
Anne's arrest, however, brought about a temporary separation. Henry could hardly protest about Anne's supposed misconduct if he were seen to be paying open court to another woman. So, for decency's sake, Jane was removed from Court. The choice of her refuge has its own significance. She was sent to Beddington, Carew's luxurious house and garden near Croydon. And it was also Carew who was sent to bring her back to the neighbourhood of the capital on 14 May, the day before Anne's trial. She was lodged at Chelsea, Sir Thomas More's former house, which was on the river, only a short boat-ride from York Place.
12
All this looks like a formal recognition of Carew's role as Jane's sponsor. He was Pygmalion. She was the statue to whom he had given life and speech. His reward would come when, as he hoped, she continued to deliver his lines after she was Queen.
Jane now had the throne in all but name. 'She is splendidly served by the King's cook and other officers,' Chapuys reported. 'She is [also] most splendidly dressed.' But the last hours of Anne's life still stood between Jane and her King. They could not wait to get Anne out of the way. On the morning of the 14th, Henry informed Jane that at 3 o'clock he would send her news of Anne's condemnation. At the appointed hour, Bryan turned up with the glad tidings. Other good news followed in quick succession. On the 17th, Cranmer, as we have seen, pronounced Henry and Anne's marriage null and void. On the 19th, he issued a dispensation for Henry and Jane to marry, despite the fact that they were related in 'the third degree of affinity' – perhaps, as it has been guessed, through one of Henry's former mistresses. That same day came the best news of all: Anne was beheaded.
13
According to Chapuys, 'the King, immediately on receiving news of the decapitation of [Anne], entered his barge and went to [Jane]' at Chelsea. We do not know how she reacted. But, at the least, she showed no compunction in stepping to the throne over the headless corpse of her rival. Anne might
talk
of killing Catherine; the gentle Jane went further and was an accessory-after-the-fact to the judicial murder of her predecessor.
14
* * *
The following day, Saturday, 20 May, Henry and Jane were betrothed: at 9 a.m. at York Place, according to Chapuys, and 'secretly at Chelsea', according to the chronicler Wriothesley who, as both a herald and the cousin of Cromwell's right-hand man, Thomas Wriothesley, was very well informed.
15
At this point, the breakneck speed of events was slowed – not because Henry had cooled but because the precipitance of his new union with Jane 'sounded ill in the ears of the people'. Jane probably remained in seclusion at Chelsea for another ten days. On Tuesday the 30th she was brought to York Place, where she was married 'in the Queen's Closet'. On Friday, 2 June, so Russell informed Lisle, 'the Queen sat abroad as Queen [at dinner], and was served with her own servants. And they were sworn that day.'
16
In the afternoon, the King and his third wife took boat for Greenwich. There, on Whitsunday, 4 June, Jane was formally proclaimed Queen, and processed with Henry to mass. '[She] went in procession', Wriothesley reports, 'after the King, with a great train of ladies following after her, and also offered at Mass as Queen.' Then she dined in state 'in her Chamber of Presence'. She sat 'under the Cloth of Estate' and in the chair which, only five weeks earlier, had been occupied by Anne.
17
Two days later, as the Seymour cup of honour ran over, Jane's brother Edward was created a peer, taking, after personal consultation between Henry and Garter King of Arms, the title of Viscount Beauchamp.
18
* * *
Henry's first divorce took seven years; his second, less than as many weeks. This was Cromwell's work and, on 18 June, he had his reward. Wiltshire, Anne's father, was stripped of the office of Lord Privy Seal, which was given to Cromwell. Three weeks later, on 9 July, the shearman's son was created Lord Cromwell of Wimbledon.
19
It remained only to determine the nature of the new regime. The Reformers feared the worst and, on 23 May, Shaxton added his urgent voice to Cranmer's more measured pleading. 'I beseech you, Sir,' he wrote to Cromwell, 'that ye will now be no less diligent in setting forth the honour of God and his Holy Word, than when the late Queen was alive, and often incited you thereto.' 'Leave not off, for God's sake,' he continued, 'though she by her misconduct have sore slandered the same.'
20
The emphasis on Anne's role is striking – both for what it says about her and also, indirectly, what it presumes about Jane. For Shaxton was only too aware that Jane would not be 'inciting' Cromwell to Reform. Indeed, he had every reason to fear that she would do the opposite.
And Shaxton's fears were complemented by the hopes of Carew, the Exeters and the rest of the conservative high nobility. Anne, the Reformer, was dead; Jane, the pious, as well as the pacific, was Queen –
their
Queen.
* * *
As so often in the sixteenth century, ceremony told its own story. It had already been decided that the ultimate ceremony – Jane's coronation – would be postponed until the autumn when, it was hoped, she would be pregnant. Nevertheless, a series of events combined to launch the new reign in a blaze of pageantry. The first was the opening of the new Parliament, which had been summoned to undo the Boleyn marriage.
21
The ceremonial began with a river procession from Greenwich to York Place on Wednesday, 7 June. It was modelled, of course, on Anne's pre-coronation river pageant. But its message was the opposite. Then, a Frenchman had acted as image-consultant. Now, Chapuys dominated the scene and gave the Emperor's benediction to the new marriage.
The ambassador had set up a ceremonial pavilion at Rotherhithe, where he had a house, conveniently mid-way between the City and Greenwich. The Emperor's arms were on top of the tent and banners hung on poles around it. Chapuys himself was dressed in a rich gown of purple satin, with a suite of gentlemen dressed in velvet. As the royal procession passed Limehouse and came into sight, he sent two boats of musicians to salute the King and Queen. There were trumpets in one boat and wind-instruments in the other. Then, on land, a forty-gun salute was fired.
22
A few moments later, there came an even mightier sound when the Tower shot four hundred guns. Only a few weeks earlier, it had been a place of desolation, its scaffolds running with the blood of Anne and her alleged accomplices. Wyatt had watched the scene from his cell and it left an indelible impression.
These bloody days have broken my heart.
My lust, my youth did then depart,
And blind desire of estate.
Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.
Of truth,
circa regna tonat
[around the throne the lightning strikes].
The Bell Tower showed me such a sight
That in my head sticks day and night.
There did I learn out of a grate,
For all favour, glory or might,
That yet,
circa regna tonat
.
But now the mighty fortress presented its other face and 'all the Tower walls towards the water side were set with great streamers and banners'. The storm had passed; the sun shone and all was fair in the world:
So the King passed through London Bridge, with his trumpets blowing before him, and shawms and sackbuts and drumslades playing also in barges going before him. Which was a goodly sight.
23
Did Jane, as she passed the Tower where her predecessor was barely cold in her grave, think that the weather could change again? That the spring of royal favour could turn into the bitter winter of indifference and contempt? Or did she somehow feel exempt?
The following day, Jane stood in the new Gate-house at York Place to watch her husband ride out in procession to open the Parliament that would give the succession to her children. But first, as was customary, the King and the Lords heard the Mass of the Holy Ghost. The mass was celebrated in the newly completed Henry VII Chapel. Henry was met by the Abbot and the monks in copes of cloth of gold. The Abbot presented him with St Edward's sceptre and four monks held a canopy of cloth of gold over him.
24
It was almost like a second coronation.
Then the King processed to the Parliament Chamber for the opening proper. Audley made the speech, 'which', Wriothesley noted with some surprise, 'continued half an hour large'. For there was, after all, a lot to explain. Since the last Parliament, Audley said, Anne's abominable treasons had come to light. Reluctantly, and only at the petition of the nobility, Henry had remarried a wife who was 'chaste, pure and fertile'. Now, concerned as ever for the welfare of his subjects, he wished to provide for their security by re-establishing the succession. Finally, Audley offered up a prayer for the King.
Let us pray God to send offspring to our most excellent Prince; let us give thanks that He has preserved him for us safe from so many and so great dangers . . . and leave us thus to his posterity.
25
Whether this prayer would be fulfilled depended largely, of course, on Jane.
A week later, on Corpus Christi Day, 15 June, Henry rode in procession once more from York Place to the Abbey. But this time he was accompanied by Jane and her ladies. In the Abbey, the King and Queen, with the Parliament and the Court, joined in procession to honour the Real Presence in the Sacrament.
For once, Henry was not the focus. Instead, four Grooms of the Privy Chamber bore the cloth of gold canopy over the monstrance with the consecrated wafer. The monstrance was carried by Richard Sampson, Bishop of Chichester and Dean of the Chapel Royal, who wore a rich cope and mitre and was supported by the sub-Dean. And another four Grooms walked round him, carrying flaring torches.
26
It would be hard to think of a clearer signal of the limits of Reform. Other things might change. But Henry's belief in the miracle of the mass remained unshaken. And let any who denied it tremble.
Jane, by her presence and her known orthodox piety, lent her enthusiastic support.
* * *
Jane's smooth ascent produced near euphoria among Mary's supporters. 'The joy shown . . . at the hope of [Mary's] restoration is inconceivable,' Chapuys reported. Mary's leading partisans were the new Queen's patrons and promoters. And Jane herself, quite unfeignedly, was a Mary loyalist. 'She bears great love and reverence to [Mary]', Chapuys had informed Perennot. Even before Anne's arrest, Chapuys heard, Jane had begged Henry for Mary's restoration. She got little thanks. 'She was a fool,' Henry snapped. '[She] ought to solicit the advancement of the children they would have between them, and not any others.' But Jane stood her ground. She was doing what Henry asked, she replied. '[For], in asking for the restoration of [Mary as] Princess, she conceived she was seeking the rest and tranquillity of the King, herself, her future children, and the whole realm'. 'For,' she dared to continue, without Mary's restoration 'neither [Charles V] nor this people would ever be content'.
27
Chapuys naturally returned to the subject when he had his first audience with Jane on 6 June at Greenwich. 'It was not her least happiness', he informed her in his most courtly style, 'that, without having had the labour of giving birth to her, she had such a daughter as [Mary].' He begged her to favour Mary's interest. And she said she would.
It was at this sensitive point that Henry had intervened to cut the conversation short. But, as soon as Chapuys had gone, Cromwell informed the ambassador, Jane had returned to the attack. 'She had spoken to the King as warmly as possible in favour of [Mary].' She had also extolled the power and greatness of Mary's family connexions.
Chapuys had another important interview at Court that day with Jane's brother, Edward Seymour. A satisfactory solution to the question of Mary's status would do good both to the Seymours and Christendom, he explained. Seymour seemed convinced, and Chapuys left him 'sure he will use his good offices therein'.
28
So far, despite Henry's initial slapping down of Jane, all seemed to be going to plan. And Mary, above all, dared to hope. Mary and Elizabeth were now staying at Hunsdon, an agreeable royal house a few miles to the south-west of Bishop's Stortford in Hertfordshire. And there, in the third week of May, Lady Kingston, fresh from accompanying Anne to the scaffold, had gone with the good news. Mary had immediately written to Cromwell. She would have asked him to intercede for her with Henry before, she wrote. 'But I perceived that nobody durst speak for me as long as
that woman
lived.'
But Anne was gone, 'whom I pray our Lord of his great mercy to forgive'. And the world looked brighter. Almost flippantly, Mary apologised for her 'evil writing'. 'For I have not done so much this two year and more, nor could have found the means to do it at this time but by my Lady Kingston's being here.'
29