View allAll Photos Tagged Culpability,
i just want to kill this Ugly Motherfucker
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZME6eZJF-I
El y sus amigos son los culpables de que mi Jardín este a punto de morir. Se le conoce como Gallina ciega.
igual la foto es súper tranquila. Pero no saen ná que igual le aplicamos al hardcore y al mosh y el charly es súper romántico porque me llegan patás en la cara y después me dice con un FUI YO! que el culpable de esa patá fue el, lo único que quiere es bacilar un tema que nunca lo tocan XD pero igual somos súper emo a ratos y swing life away .
Traders work on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) in New York City, July 6, 2023.Brendan McDermid | ReutersA sweeping change sought by the Securities and Exchange Commission would take fund managers' culpability a step further than current standards if they don't effectuate a greater standard of care. The rule change involves lowering the bar for indemnification of fund managers to "ordinary negligence" from "gross negligence." The latter, current standard, allows limited partners to sue general partners only for recklessness or disregard to obvious risk. But if that were changed to "ordinary negligence," then LPs may be able to sue for simpler mistakes, making it easier for them to bring claims against GPs. "It would monumentally change the relationship between fund managers and investors," said Marc Elovitz, partner and chair of the regulatory practice at Schulte Roth & Zabel, in an interview for the Delivering Alpha Newsletter. "The ability for fund managers to take risks and to be protected for their simple day to day conduct is fundamental to having an investment strategy that has potentially higher rewards, " said Schulte's Elovitz, whose law firm represents investment funds. "If you're going to have funds that offer potentially higher returns, there are going to be risks associated with that. And investment managers are going to have a hard time protecting themselves from being on the hook for those risks." Even
nbmsports.com/sec-seeks-rule-change-that-could-cause-fund...
History and Theory of New Media Lecture with Ahmed Ghappour on 2/11/2016 on Machine Generated Culpability
MADRES Y ABUELAS DE PLAZA DE MAYO.
Juicio a Von Wernich
7 homicidios
42 secuestros
32 torturas y tormentos
........................................
juicioavonwernich.wordpress.com/
hmlaplata@yahoo.com
Regalo para la banda que no puedo dejar de escuchar
(culpable: www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=1g3ib...)
Esta foto la sake subiendo ala zapatilla, no pudimos terminar con setiño, no faltaba casi nada, otra ves fueron las balticas y drogas las culpables...y logicamente no tener permiso...Maldita Policia !
September 30, 2018
Winnipeg, Manitoba
A round dance was held at Portage and Main to commemorate the damage wrought by the Canadian Indian residential school system.
Residential schools were boarding schools run by Canada's Department of Indian Affairs in conjunction with Christian churches, from about 1870 to 1996. Both Anglican and Catholic churches were culpable.
Attendance at residential schools was compulsory, and Indigenous children were forcibly removed from their homes by government agents. That made both the Government of Canada and the Church collaborators in one of the largest mass kidnappings in history.
The function of the schools was to 'erase the Indian' by forcing children into speaking English or French. Severe punishment was given to those who disobeyed and continued to speak their own language.
The residential schools also became known for unchecked and widespread physical and emotional abuse by clergy. St. Anne’s Indian Residential School even had its own electric chair, something the Canadian government was aware of and didn’t stop. This was only one of the horrors students were forced to endure. High rates of child mortality within the nationwide system went uninvestigated, with many of the dead buried in unmarked graves.
Within the last week, a Saskatchewan radio station broadcast an advertisement paid for by the Frontier Centre for Public Policy (FCPP), a Winnipeg-based organization. The ad, featuring Roger Currie, claims that the indignities perpetrated by residential schools are a myth. The terrible claims made by former students have been independently investigated and found to be true. The Church and the Government of Canada have both since apologised for their roles, with the latter having unilaterally paid financial recompense to those remaining survivors who were victimized by the system.
The generational ramifications of the Canadian Indian residential school system are still visible today; indigenous men and women are marginalised and discriminated against in what are becoming public spectacles. Despite promises made by our current Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, very little has been done by his government to find common ground with the Indigenous population. At times it seems as though the Government of Canada is still at odds with the Indians, as it was in the old days.
By the country at large the sudden marriages were regarded with suspicion. “The noise of these marriages bred such amazement in the hearts of the common people, apt enough in themselves to speak the worst of Northumberland, that there was nothing left unsaid which might serve to show their hatred against him, or express their pity for the King.”146 Overbearing and despotic, the merciless “bear of Warwick,” as he was nicknamed, was so detested that by some the failure of his scheme was afterwards ascribed rather to his unpopularity than to love for Mary. Yet it was Northumberland who, with the blindness born of a sanguine ambition, was to trust, six weeks later, to the populace to join with him in dispossessing the King’s sister, for whom they had always shown affection, and in placing his daughter-in-law and her boy-husband upon the throne. So glaring a misapprehension of the situation demands explanation, and it is partly201 supplied by a French appreciation of the Duke’s character. According to M. Griffet, he was more heedful to conceal his own sentiments than capable of discerning those of others; a man of ambition who neither knew whom to trust nor whom to suspect; who, blinded by presumption, was therefore easily deceived, and who nevertheless believed himself to possess to the highest degree the gift of deceiving all the world.147 Such as he was, he had deceived himself to his undoing.
Meantime Lady Jane’s marriage had made for the moment little change in her manner of life. She had answered the purpose for which she was required, and was permitted temporarily to retire behind the scenes. It is said—and there is nothing unlikely in the assertion—that, the ceremony over and obedience having been rendered to her parents’ behest, she entreated that she might continue with her mother for the present. She and her new husband were so young, she pleaded. Her request was granted. She was Guilford Dudley’s wife, could be the wife of no other man, and that was, for the moment, sufficient.
There was much to think of, much to do. Measures had to be taken to keep the King’s sisters at a distance, lest his old affection, for Elizabeth in particular, reawakening might frustrate the designs of those bent upon moulding events to their202 advantage. Above all, there was the pressing necessity of inducing the King to exclude them by will from their rightful heritage. On June 16 Noailles had again been conferring with the doctors, and had learnt that, in their opinion, Edward could not live till August. Ten days later Northumberland came from Greenwich to visit the envoy, and to prevent his going to Court. He then told the Frenchman that, nine days earlier, the King had executed his will in favour of the Duke’s daughter-in-law, Lady Jane148—“qui est vertueuse, sage, et belle,” reported the envoy to his master some three weeks later.149
Of the manner in which the will had been obtained full information is available. It was not out of love for Northumberland that Edward had yielded to his representations. The Throckmorton MS.150 asserts that Edward abhorred the Duke on account of his uncle’s death. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, in attendance on the King, should be a good authority; on the other hand, he was opposed to the Duke’s designs. Whether or not the latter was personally distasteful to the boy, it was no difficult matter to represent the situation in a fashion to lead him to believe the sole alternative was the course suggested to him. Conscientious, pious, scrupulous to a fault, and worn by disease,203 the future of religion could be made to hang upon his fiat, and the thought of Mary, a devout Catholic, or even Elizabeth, who might marry a foreign prince, seated upon the throne, filled him with apprehensions for the welfare of a people for whom he felt himself responsible. Yet he, with little to love, had loved both his sisters, and the thought of the sick lad, torn between duty and affection, a tool in the hands of unprincipled and ambitious men who could play on his sensitive conscience and over-strained nerves at will, and turn his piety to their advantage, is a painful one.
The Duke’s arguments lay ready to his hand. Religion was in danger, the Church set up by Edward in jeopardy; the work that he had done might be destroyed as soon as he was in his grave. How could he answer it before God were he, who was able to avert it, to permit so great an evil? The remedy was clear. Let him pass over his sisters, already pronounced severally illegitimate by unrepealed statutes of Parliament, and entail the crown upon those who, under his father’s will, would follow upon Mary and Elizabeth, the descendants of Mary Tudor, known to be firm in their attachment to the reformed faith.
Edward yielded. Given the circumstances, the power exercised by the Duke over him, his physical condition, his fears for religion, he could scarcely have done less. With his own hand he204 drew up the draft of a will which, amended at Northumberland’s bidding, left the crown in unmistakable terms to Lady Jane and her heirs male. It had now to be made law and accepted by the Council.
On June 11 Sir Edward Montagu, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, Sir Thomas Bromley, another Justice of the same court, Sir Richard Baker, Chancellor of the Augmentations, and the Attorney- and Solicitor-General were called to Greenwich, and were introduced into the King’s apartment, Northampton, Gates, and others being present at the interview. If what took place on this occasion and at the other audiences of the legal officers with the King, as recorded by themselves, is naturally, as Dr. Lingard has pointed out, represented in such a manner as to extenuate their conduct in Mary’s eyes, there seems no reason to doubt that Montagu’s account is substantially true.151
In his sickness, Edward told them, he had considered the state of the realm, and of the succession, should he die without leaving direct heirs; and, proceeding to point out the danger to religion and to liberty should his sister Mary succeed to the throne, he ordered them to “make a book with speed” of his articles.
The lawyers demurred, but the King, feverishly eager to put an end to the business, and conscious205 perhaps that if the thing were not done quickly it might not be done at all, refused to listen to the objections they would have urged, dismissing them with orders to carry out his pleasure with haste. For all his gentleness and piety, Edward was a Tudor, and no less peremptory than others of his race.
Two days later—it was June 14—having deliberated on the question, the men of law acquainted the Council with their decision. The thing could not be done. To make or execute the “devise” according to the King’s instructions would be treason. The report was made to Sir William Petre at Ely Place; but the Duke of Northumberland was at hand, and came thereupon into the Council-chamber, “being in a great rage and fury, trembling for anger, and, amongst all his ragious talk called Sir Edward Montagu traitor, and further said he would fight any man in his shirt in that quarrel.” It was plain that no technical or legal obstacles were to be permitted to turn him from his purpose.
The following day the law-officers were again called to Greenwich. Conveyed in the first place to a chamber behind the dining-room, they met with a chilling reception. “All the lords looked upon them with earnest countenances, as though they had not known them;” and, brought into the King’s presence, Edward demanded, “with sharp words and angry countenance,” why his book was not made?
Montagu, as spokesman for his colleagues, explained.206 Had the King’s device been executed it would become void at the King’s death, the Statute of Succession passed by Parliament being still in force. A statute could be altered by statute alone. On Edward’s replying that Parliament should then shortly be called together, Montagu caught at the solution. The matter could be referred to it, and all perils saved. But this was not the King’s meaning. The deed, he explained, was to be executed at once, and was to be afterwards ratified by Parliament. With growing excitement, he commanded the officers, “very sharply,” to do his bidding; some of the lords, standing behind the King, adding that, did they refuse, they were traitors.
The epithet was freely bandied about in those days, yet it never failed to carry a menace; and Montagu, in as “great fear as ever he was in all his life before, seeing the King so earnest and sharp, and the Duke so angry the day before,” and being an “old weak man and without comfort,” began to look about for a method of satisfying King and Council without endangering his personal safety. In the end he gave way, consenting to prepare the required papers, on condition that he might first be given a commission under the great seal to draw up the instrument, and likewise a pardon for having done so. Northumberland had won the day.
It was afterwards reported that when the will was207 signed a great tempest arose, with a whirlwind such as had never been seen, the sky dark and fearful, lightning and infinite thunder; one of the thunderbolts accompanying that terrible storm falling upon the miserable church where heresy was first begotten.... “This accident was observed by many persons of sense and prudence, and was considered a great sign of the avenging justice of God.”152
The Council, undeterred by the manifestations of divine wrath, were not backward in endorsing the deed. Overborne by the Duke, probably also influenced by the apprehension of a compulsory restoration of Church spoils should Mary succeed, they unanimously acquiesced in the act of injustice. To a second paper, designed by the Duke to commit his colleagues further, twenty-four councillors and legal advisers set their hands. By June 21 the official instrument had received the signatures of the Lords of the Council, other peers, judges, and officers of the Crown, to the number of 101. The Princesses had been set aside, and the fatal heritage, so far as it was possible, secured to Lady Jane. The King, at the direction of her nearest of kin, had in effect affixed his signature to her death-sentence.
When Northumberland was assured of success he gave a magnificent musical entertainment, to which the French ambassador was bidden. Three days earlier it had been reported to Noailles that208 Edward was at the point of death, and he was surprised at the merry-making and the good spirits prevalent. The affair, it was explained to him, was in honour of the convalescence of the King, who had been without fever for two days, and whose recovery appeared certain.153 The envoy doubtless expressed no incredulity, and congratulated the company upon the good tidings. He knew that Edward was moribund, and understood that the rejoicings were in truth to celebrate the approaching elevation to the throne of Northumberland’s daughter-in-law.
Was she present? We cannot tell; but it was the Duke’s policy to make her a prominent figure, and Noailles’ description of her beauty and goodness implies a personal acquaintance.
It only remained for Edward to die. All those around him, with perhaps some few exceptions amongst his personal attendants, were eagerly awaiting the end. All had been accomplished that was possible whilst he was yet alive, and Northumberland and his friends were probably impatient to be up and doing. His sisters were at a distance, his uncles dead, Barnaby Fitzpatrick was abroad, and he was practically alone with the men who had made him their tool. The last scene is full of pathos. Three hours before the end, lying with his eyes shut, he was heard praying for the country which had been his charge.
209“‘O God,’ he entreated, ‘deliver me out of this miserable and wretched life, and take me among Thy chosen; howbeit not my will, but Thine, be done. Lord, I commend my spirit to Thee. O Lord, Thou knowest how happy it were for me to be with Thee. Yet, for Thy chosen’s sake, send me life and health, that I may truly serve Thee. O my Lord God, bless Thy people and save Thine inheritance. O Lord God, save Thy chosen people of England. O Lord God, defend this realm from Papistry and maintain Thy true religion, that I and my people may praise Thy holy Name, for Jesus Christ His sake.’
“Then turned he his face, and seeing who was by him, said to them:
“‘Are ye so nigh? I thought ye had been further off.’
“Then Doctor Owen said:
“‘We heard you speak to yourself, but what you said we know not.’
“He then (after his fashion, smilingly) said, ‘I was praying to God.’”154
The end was near.
“I am faint,” he said. “Lord, have mercy upon me, and take my spirit”; and so on July 7, towards night, he passed away. On the following day Noailles communicated to his Court “le triste et piteux inconvénient de la mort” of Edward VI., last of the Tudor Kings.
210
CHAPTER XVI
1553After King Edward’s death—Results to Lady Jane Grey—Northumberland’s schemes—Mary’s escape—Scene at Sion House—Lady Jane brought to the Tower—Quarrel with her husband—Her proclamation as Queen.
ABOY was dead. A frail little life, long failing, had gone out. That was all. Nevertheless upon it had hung the destinies of England.
Speculations and forecasts as to the consequences had Edward lived are unprofitable. Yet one wonders what, grown to manhood, he would have become—whether the gentle lad, pious, studious, religious, the modern Josiah, as he was often called, would have developed, as he grew to maturity, the dangerous characteristics of his Tudor race, the fierceness and violence of his father, the melancholy and relentless fanaticism of Mary, the absence of principle and sensuality of Elizabeth. Or would he have fulfilled the many hopes which had found their centre in him and have justified the love of his subjects, given him upon credit?
It is impossible to say. What was certain was that his part was played out, and that others were to take his place. Amongst these his little cousin Jane211 was at once the most innocent and the most unfortunate.
Hitherto she had looked on as a spectator at life. Her skiff moored in a creek of the great river, she had watched from a place of comparative calm the stream as it rushed by. Here and there a wave might make itself felt even in that quiet place; a wreck might be carried past, or she might catch the drowning cry of a swimmer as he sank. But to the young such things are accidents from participation in which they tacitly consider themselves exempted, regarding them with the fearlessness due to inexperience. Suddenly all was to be changed. Torn from her anchorage, she was to be violently borne along by the torrent towards the inevitable catastrophe.
As yet she was ignorant of the destiny prepared for her. Under her father’s roof, she had pursued her customary occupations, and by some authorities her third extant letter to Bullinger—another tribute of admiration and flattery, and containing no allusion to current events—is believed to belong to the interval occurring between her marriage and the King’s death. The allusion to herself as an “untaught virgin,” and the signature “Jane Grey,” seem to give it a date earlier in the year. The time was fast approaching when leisure for literary exercises of the kind would be lacking.
It would have been difficult to trace her movements212 precisely at this juncture were it not that she has left a record of them in a document—either directly addressed to Mary from her prison or intended for her eyes—in which she demonstrated her innocence.155 Notwithstanding the promise made by the Duchess of Northumberland at her marriage that she should be permitted to remain at home, she appears to have been by this time living with her husband’s parents, and, upon Edward’s death becoming imminent, she was informed of the fact by her father-in-law, who forbade her to leave his house; adding the startling announcement that, when it should please God to call the King to His mercy, she would at once repair to the Tower, her cousin having nominated her heir to the throne.
The news found her totally unprepared; and, shocked and partly incredulous, she refused obedience to the Duke’s commands, continuing to visit her mother daily, in spite of the indignation of the Duchess of Northumberland, who “grew wroth with me and with her, saying that she was determined to keep me in her house; that she would likewise keep my husband there, to whom I should go later in any case, and that she would be under small obligation to me. Therefore it did not seem to me213 lawful to disobey her, and for three or four days I stayed in her house, until I obtained permission to resort to the Duke of Northumberland’s palace at Chelsea.” At this place—the reason of her preference for it is not given—she continued, sick and anxious, until a summons reached her to go to Sion House, there to receive a message from the King. It was Lady Sydney, a married daughter of the Duke’s, who brought the order, saying, “with more gravity than usual,” that it was necessary that her sister-in-law should obey it; and Lady Jane did not refuse to do so.
Sion House, where the opening scene of the drama took place, was another of the possessions of the Duke of Somerset, passed into the hands of his rival. A monastery, founded by Henry V. at Isleworth, it had been seized, with other Church property, in 1539, and had served two years later as prison to the unhappy child, Katherine Howard. The place had been acquired by Somerset in the days of his power, when the building of the great house, which was to replace the convent, was begun. The gardens were enclosed by high walls, a triangular terrace in one of their angles alone allowing the inmates to obtain a view of the country beyond.156 In 1552 it had, with most of the late Protector’s goods and chattels, been confiscated, and during the following year, the year of the King’s death, had214 been granted to Northumberland. It was to this place that Lady Jane was taken to receive the message said to be awaiting her from the King.
Her destination reached, Sion House was found empty; but it was not long before those who were pulling the strings arrived. The message from the King had been a fiction. Edward’s gentle spirit was at rest, and he himself forgotten in the rush of events. There was little time for thought of the dead. The interests of religion and of the State, as some would call it, the ambition of unscrupulous and unprincipled men, as it would be named by others, demanded the whole attention of the steersmen who stood, for the moment, at the helm.
It had been decided to keep the fact of the King’s death secret until measures should have been taken to ensure the success of the desperate game they were playing. To secure possession of the person of his natural successor was of the first importance; and a letter had been despatched to Mary when her brother was manifestly at the point of death which it was hoped would avail to bring her to London and would enable her enemies to fulfil their purpose. Stating that the King was very ill, she was entreated to come to him, as he earnestly desired the comfort of her presence.
Mary must have been well aware of the risk she would run in responding to the appeal; and it says much for her courage and her affection that she did215 not hesitate to incur it. A fortunate chance, however, frustrated the designs against her. Starting from Hunsdon, where the tidings had found her, she had reached Hoddesden on her way to Greenwich, when she was met by intelligence that determined her to go no further. The King was dead; nor was it difficult to discern in the urgent summons, sent too late to accomplish its ostensible purpose, a transparent attempt to induce her to place herself in the power of her enemies.
Opinions have differed as to the means by which Northumberland’s scheme was frustrated. Some say that the news was conveyed to the Princess by the Earl of Arundel. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton also claims credit for the warning. According to this account of the matter, a young brother of his, in attendance upon Northumberland, had become cognisant of the intended treachery, and had come post-haste to report what was a-foot at his father’s house. A few words spoken by Sir John Gates, visiting the Duke before he had risen, were all that had reached the young man’s ears, but those words had been of startling significance, the state of affairs being what it was.
“What, sir,” he had heard Gates say, “will you let the Lady Mary escape, and not secure her person?”
A consultation was hurriedly held at Throckmorton House, between the father and his three sons. Sir Nicholas, who had been present at the King’s216 death, was too well aware of the circumstances to minimise the importance of his brother’s story, and, summoning the Princess Mary’s goldsmith, it was decided to entrust him with the duty of conveying a caution to his mistress, and stopping her journey. Sir Nicholas’s metrical version of what followed may be given.157
Mourning, from Greenwich did I straight depart,To London, to a house which bore our name.My brethren guessèd by my heavie hearte,The King was dead, and I confess’d the same:The hushing of his death I didd unfolde,Their meaning to proclaime Queene Jane I tolde.
* * * * *
Wherefore from four of us the newes was sentHow that her brother hee was dead and gone;In post her goldsmith then from London went,By whom the message was dispatcht anon.Shee asked, “If wee knewe it certainlie?”Who said, “Sir Nicholas knew it verilie.”
The first stroke hazarded by the conspirators had resulted in failure. Mary, after some deliberation, turned her face northwards, and escaped the snare laid for her by her enemies.
The next object of Northumberland and his friends was to obtain the concurrence of the City to the substitution of his daughter-in-law for the rightful heir. Various as were the views of the best means of ensuring success, all the Council were agreed on one point, namely, “that London was the hand which must reach Jane the crown.”158 London was to217 be made to do it. On July 8 the Lord Mayor, with six aldermen, six “merchants of the staple, and as many merchant adventurers,” were summoned to Greenwich, were there secretly informed of the King’s death, and of his will by letters patent, “to which they were sworn and charged to keep it secret.”
All this had been done before Lady Jane was summoned to Sion House. It was time for the stage Queen to make her appearance, and at Sion the facts were made known to her.159
Of her reception of the great news accounts vary. A graphic picture, painted in the first place by Heylyn, has been copied by divers other historians. The learned John Nichols, unable to trace it in any contemporary documents or records, has decided that it must be classed amongst “those dramatic scenes in which historical writers formerly considered themselves justified in indulging.”160
He is probably right; yet an early and generally accepted tradition has a value of its own, and may be true to the spirit, if not to the letter, of what actually occurred. Mary herself afterwards told the envoy of Charles V. that she believed her cousin to have had no part in the Duke of Northumberland’s218 enterprise; and, supposing her to have been ignorant, or only dimly cognisant, of the plot, the revelation of it may easily have occasioned her a shock. It has been constantly asserted that, in this first interview with those who, calling themselves her subjects, were practically the masters of her fate, she began by declining to be a party to their scheme; and if her letter, written at a later date, from the Tower to Mary, does not wholly confirm the assertion, it points to an attitude of reluctant assent. Her mother-in-law had given her hints of what was intended, but, like the announcement made by the Duke at Durham House of her approaching greatness, they were too incredible to be taken seriously; and the fact that when she was joined at Sion by the Dukes of Northumberland and Suffolk they did not at once make the matter plain, but confined the conversation for a time to indifferent subjects, seems to indicate a doubt upon their part of her pliability. There was, nevertheless, a change in their demeanour and bearing giving rise in her mind to an uneasy consciousness of a mystery she had not fathomed; whilst Huntingdon and Pembroke, who were present, treated her with even more incomprehensible reverence, and went so far as to bow the knee.
On the arrival of her mother, together with the Duchess of Northumberland, the explanation of the riddle took place. The tidings of the King’s death219 and of her exaltation was broken to her, together with the reasons prompting Edward to set aside his sisters in her favour. The nobles fell upon their knees, took her formally for their Queen, and swore—it was shortly to be proved how little the oath was worth—to shed their blood in defence of her rights.
“Having heard which things,” pursues Lady Jane in her apology, “with infinite grief of spirit, I call to witness those lords who were present that I was so stunned and stupefied that, overcome by sudden and unexpected sorrow, they saw me fall to the ground, weeping very bitterly. And afterwards, declaring to them my insufficiency, I lamented much the death of so noble a prince; and at the same time turned to God, humbly praying and beseeching Him that, if what was given me was in truth and legitimately mine, He would grant me grace and power to govern to His glory and service, and for the good of this realm.”161
There is, as Dr. Lingard points out, nothing unnatural in this description of what had occurred; whereas the grandiloquent language attributed to her by some historians is most unlikely to have been used at a moment both of grief and excitement. According to these authorities, not only did she defend Mary’s right, and denounce220 those who had conspired against it, but delivered a lengthy oration upon the fickleness of fortune. “If she enrich any, it is but to make them the subject of her sport; if she raise others, it is but to pleasure herself with their ruins. What she adored yesterday, to-day is her pastime. And if I now permit her to adorn and crown me, I must to-morrow suffer her to crush and tear me to pieces”—proceeding to cite Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn as examples of those who had, to their own undoing, worn a crown. “If you love me sincerely and in good earnest,” she is made to say, “you will rather wish me a secure and quiet fortune, though mean, than an exalted condition exposed to the wind, and followed by some dismal fall.”
Poor little plaything of the fortune she is represented as anathematising, the designs of those who were striving to exalt her were due to nothing less than a sincere love. Any other puppet would have answered their purpose equally well, so that the excuse of royal blood was in her veins. But Jane, willing or unwilling, was to be made use of for their ends, and it was vain for her to protest.
On the following day, July 10, the Queen-designate was brought, following the ancient custom of Kings on their accession, to the Tower; reaching it at three o’clock, to be received at the gate by Northumberland, and formally presented with the keys in the presence of a great crowd who looked221 on at the proceedings in sinister silence and gave no sign of rejoicing or cordiality.
Shortly after, the Marquis of Winchester, in his capacity of Treasurer, brought the crown jewels, with the crown itself, “asking me,” wrote Jane, “to put it on my head, to try whether it fitted me or not. Who knows well that, with many excuses, I refused. He not the less insisted that I should boldly take it, and that another should be made that my husband might be crowned with me, which I certainly heard unwillingly, and with infinite grief and displeasure.”162
The idea that young Guilford Dudley, with no royal blood to make his claim colourable, was intended to share her dignity appears to have roused his wife, somewhat strangely, to hot indignation. She at least was a Tudor on her mother’s side; but what was Dudley, that he should aspire so high? Had she loved her boy-husband she might have taken a different view of his pretensions; but there is nothing to show that she regarded him with any special affection, and she was disposed to use her authority after a fashion neither he nor his father would tolerate.
At first Guilford, taken by surprise, appeared inclined to yield the point, and in a conversation between the two, when Winchester had withdrawn, he agreed that, were he to be made King, it should222 be only by Act of Parliament. Thereupon, losing no time in setting the matter on a right footing, Jane sent for the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke, and informed them that, if she were to be Queen, she would be willing to make her husband Duke; “but to make him King I would not consent.”
Though Arundel and Pembroke were probably quite at one with her on the question, that she should show signs of exercising an independent judgment was naturally exasperating to those to whom it was due that she was placed in her present position; and when the Duchess of Northumberland became aware of what was going forward she not only treated Lady Jane, according to her own account, very ill, but stirred up Guilford to do the like; the boy, primed by his mother, declaring that he would in no wise be Duke, but King, and, holding sulkily aloof from his wife that night, so that she was compelled, “as a woman, and loving my husband,” to send the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke to bring him to her, otherwise he would have left in the morning, at his mother’s bidding, for Sion. “Thus,” ends the poor child, “I was in truth deceived by the Duke and Council, and badly treated by my husband and his mother.”
The discussion was premature. Boy and girl were all too soon to learn that it was not to be a question of crowns for either so much as of heads to wear them. Whilst the wrangle had been carried223 on in the Tower, the first step had been taken towards bringing the disputants to the scaffold. The death of the King had been made public, together with the provisions of his will, and Jane had been proclaimed Queen in two or three parts of the City.
“The tenth day of the same month,” runs the entry in the Grey Friar’s Chronicle, “after seven o’clock at night, was made a proclamation in Cheap by three heralds and one trumpet ... for Jane, the Duke of Suffolk’s daughter, to be Queen of England. But few or none said ‘God save her.’”
There was a singular unanimity upon the subject amongst the citizens of London. It is said that upon the faces of the heralds forced to proclaim the new Queen their discontent was visible;163 and a curious French letter sent from London at the time states, after mentioning the absence of any acclamation upon the part of the people, that a moment afterwards they had broken out into lamentation, clamour, tears, sighs, sadness, and desolation impossible to describe.
Thus inauspiciously was Lady Jane’s nine days’ reign inaugurated. On a great catafalque in Westminster Abbey the dead boy-King was lying, guarded day and night by twelve watchers until he should be given sepulture. But there was little leisure to attend to his obsequies on the part of224 the men who had made him their tool, and had staked their lives and fortunes upon the success of their plot. For the present all had gone according to their hopes. “Through the pious intents of Edward, the religion of Mary, the ambition of Northumberland, the simplicity of Suffolk, the fearfulness of the judges, and the flattery of the courtiers”—thus Fuller sums up the causes to which the situation was due—“matters were made as sure as man’s policy can make that good which in itself is bad.” It was quickly to be seen to what that security amounted.
225
CHAPTER XVII
1553Lady Jane as Queen—Mary asserts her claims—The English envoys at Brussels—Mary’s popularity—Northumberland leaves London—His farewells.
TO enter in any degree into the position of “Jane the Queen” during the brief period when she was the nominal head of the State, the time in which she lived, as well as the prevalent conception of royalty in England, must be taken into the reckoning.
In our own days she would not only have been a mere cipher—as indeed she was—but would have been content to remain such, so far as actual power was concerned. Royalty, stripped of its reality, is largely become a mere matter of show, a part of the pageant of State. In the case of a child of sixteen it would wear that character alone. But in the days of the Tudors a King was accustomed to govern; even in the hands of a minor a sceptre was not a mere symbolic ornament.
And Lady Jane was precisely the person to take a serious view of her duties. Thoughtful, conscientious, and grave beyond her years, she226 had no sooner found herself a Queen than she had asserted her authority in opposition to that of the man who had invested her with the dignity by announcing her intention of refusing to allow it to be shared by his son—already, it appears by letters from Brussels, recognised there as Prince Consort—and shut up in the gloomy fortress to which she had been taken she was occupied with the thought of her duty to the kingdom she believed herself to be called to rule over, of the necessity of providing for the wants of the nation, and more especially for the future of religion. Whilst, perhaps, all the time there lingered in her mind a misgiving, lifting its head to confront her from time to time with a paralysing doubt, torturing to a sensitive and scrupulous nature; was she indeed the rightful Queen of England?
Mary had lost no time in asserting her claims. On July 9—the day before that of Jane’s proclamation—she had written a letter to the Council from Kenninghall in Norfolk, expressing her astonishment that they had neither communicated to her the fact of her brother’s death, nor had caused her to be proclaimed Queen, and requiring them to perform this last duty without delay. The rebuke reaching London on the morning of January 11 “seemed to give their Lordships no other trouble than the returning of an answer,”164 which they did in terms227 of studied insult, reminding her of her alleged illegitimacy, and exhorting her to submit to her lawful sovereign, Queen Jane, else she should prove grievous unto them and unto herself. This unconciliatory document received the signature of every one of the Council, including Cecil, who was afterwards at much pains to explain his concurrence in the proceedings of his colleagues; and Northumberland, as he despatched it, must have felt with satisfaction that it would be difficult for those responsible for the missive to make their peace with the woman to whom it was addressed.
The terms in which the defiance was couched show the little importance attached to the chances that Henry VIII.’s eldest daughter would ever be in a position to vindicate her rights. Once again her enemies had failed to take into account the stubborn justice of the people. Though by many of them Mary’s religion was feared and disliked, they viewed with sullen disapproval the conspiracy to rob her of her heritage. And Northumberland they hated.
The sinister rumours current during the last few years were still afloat; justified, as it seemed, by the course of recent events. It was said that the Duke had incited Somerset to put his brother to death, and had then slain Somerset, in order that, bereft of his nearest of kin, the young King might the more easily become his victim. The reports of foul228 play were repeated, and it was said that Edward had been removed by poison to make way for Northumberland’s daughter-in-law. That he had not come by his death by fair means was indeed so generally believed that the Emperor, writing to Mary when she had defeated her enemies, counselled her to punish all those that had been concerned in it.165
The charge of poisoning was not so uncommon as to make it strange that it should be thought to have been instrumental in removing an obstacle from the path of an ambitious man. In Lady Jane’s pitiful letter to her cousin she stated—doubtless in good faith—that poison had twice been administered to her, once in the house of the Duchess of Northumberland—when the motive would have been hard to find—and again in the Tower, “as I have certain evidence.” What the poor child honestly believed had been attempted in her case, the angry people imagined had been successfully accomplished in the case of their young King, and his death was another item laid to the charge of the man they hated.
The news of what was going forward in England had by this time become known abroad. Though letters had been addressed by the Council to Sir Philip Hoby and Sir Richard Morysine, ambassadors at Brussels, announcing the King’s death and his229 cousin’s accession, the tidings had reached them unofficially before the arrival of the despatches from London. As the envoys were walking in the garden, they were joined by a servant of the Emperor’s, Don Diego by name, who, making profession of personal good will towards their country, expressed his regret at its present loss, adding at the same time his congratulations that so noble a King—meaning, it would seem, Guilford Dudley—had been provided for them, a King he would himself be at all times ready to serve.
The envoys replied that the sorrowful news had reached them, but not the joyous—that they were glad to hear so much from him. Don Diego thereupon proceeded to impart the further fact of Edward’s will in favour of Lady Jane. With the question whether the two daughters of Henry VIII. were bastards or not, strangers, he observed, had nothing to do. It was reasonable to accept as King him who had been declared such by the nobles of the land; and Diego, for his part, was bound to rejoice that His Majesty had been set in this office, since he was his godfather, and—so long as the Emperor was in amity with him—would be willing to shed his blood in his service.166
This last personal detail probably contained the explanation of Don Diego’s approbation of an arrangement which could scarcely be expected to230 commend itself to his master, and likewise of the curiously subordinate part awarded to Lady Jane in his account of it. But whatever might be the opinion of foreigners, it had quickly been made plain in England that the country would not be content to accept either the sovereignty of Jane or of her husband without a struggle.
Of the temper of the capital a letter or libel scattered abroad, after the fashion of the day, during the week, is an example. In this document, addressed by a certain “poor Pratte” to a young man who had been placed in the pillory and had lost his ears in consequence of his advocacy of Mary’s rights, love for the lawful Queen, and hatred of the “ragged bear,” Northumberland, is expressed in every line. Should England prove disloyal, misfortune will overtake it as a chastisement for its sin; the Gospel will be plucked away and the Lady Mary replaced by so cruel a Pharaoh as the ragged bear. Her Grace—in marked contrast to the sentiments commonly attributed to the Duke—is doubtless more sorrowful for her brother than glad to be Queen, and would have been as glad of his life as the ragged bear of his death. In conclusion, the writer trusts that God will shortly exalt Mary, “and pluck down that Jane—I cannot nominate her Queen, for that I know no other Queen but the good Lady Mary, her Grace, whom God prosper.” To those who would Mary to be Queen poor231 Pratte wishes long life and pleasure; to her opponents, the pains of Satan in hell.167
Such was the delirious spirit of loyalty towards the dispossessed heir, even amongst those who owed no allegiance to Rome. It was not long before the Council were to be taught by more forcible means than scurrilous abuse to correct their estimate of the situation and of the forces at work, strangely misapprehended at the first by one and all.
News was reaching London of the support tendered to Mary. The Earls of Sussex and of Bath had declared in her favour; the county of Suffolk had led the way in rising on her behalf; nobles and gentlemen, with their retainers, were flocking to her standard; it was becoming clearer with every hour that she would not consent to be ousted from her rights without a fierce struggle.
Measures for meeting the resistance of her adherents had to be taken without delay; and Northumberland, wisely unwilling to absent himself from the capital at a juncture so critical, had intended to depute Suffolk to command the forces to be led against her; to gain, if possible, possession of her person, and to bring her to London. This was the arrangement hastily made on July 12. Before nightfall it had been cancelled at the entreaty of the titular Queen.
232It is not difficult to enter into the Lady Jane’s feelings, threatened with the absence of her father on a dangerous errand. With her nervous fears of poison, her evident dislike of her mother-in-law, and ill at ease in new circumstances and surroundings, she may well have clung to the comfort and support afforded by his presence; nor is it incomprehensible that she had “taken the matter heavily” when informed of the decision of the Council. Her wishes might have had little effect if other causes had not conspired to assist her to gain her object, and it has been suggested that those of the lords already contemplating the possibility of Mary’s success, and desirous of being freed from the restraint imposed by Northumberland’s presence amongst them, may have had a hand in instigating her request, proffered with tears, that her father might tarry at home in her company. The entreaty was, at all events, in full accordance with their desires, and pressure was brought upon Northumberland to induce him to yield to her petition—leaving Suffolk in his place at the Tower, and himself leading the troops north.
Many reasons were urged rendering it advisable that the Duke should take the field in person. He had been the victor in the struggle with Kett, of which Norfolk had been the scene, and enjoyed, in consequence, a great reputation in that county, where it seemed that the fight with Mary and her233 adherents was to take place. He was, moreover, an able soldier; Suffolk was not. On the other hand, it was impossible for Northumberland to adduce the true motives prompting his desire to continue at headquarters; since chief amongst them was the wisdom and prudence of remaining at hand to maintain his personal influence over his colleagues and to keep them true to the oaths they had sworn. In the end he consented to bow to their wishes.
“Since ye think it good,” he said, “I and mine will go, not doubting of your fidelity to the Queen’s Majesty, which I leave in your custody.”
More than the Queen’s Majesty was left to their care. The safety, if not the life, of the man chiefly responsible for the conspiracy which had made her what she was, hung upon their loyalty to their vows, and Northumberland must have known it. But Lady Jane was to have her way, and the Council, waiting upon her, brought the welcome news to the Queen, who humbly thanked the Duke for reserving her father at home, and besought him—she was already learning royal fashions—to use his diligence. To this Northumberland, surely not without an inward smile, answered that he would do what in him lay, and the matter was concluded.
At Durham House, next day, the Duke’s retinue assembled.168 In the forenoon he met the Council,234 taking leave of them in friendly sort, yet with words betraying his misgivings in the very terms used to convey the assurance of his confidence in their good faith and fidelity.
He and the other nobles who were to be his companions went forth, he told the men left behind, as much to assure their safety as that of the Queen herself. Whilst he and his comrades were to risk their lives in the field, their preservation at home, with the preservation of their children and families, was committed to those who stayed in London. And then he spoke some weighty words, the doubts and forebodings within him finding vent:
“If we thought ye would through malice, conspiracy, or dissension, leave us your friends in the briars and betray us, we could as well sundry ways forsee and provide for our own safeguards as any of you, by betraying us, can do for yours. But now, upon the only trust and faithfulness of your honours, whereof we think ourselves most assured, we do hazard and jubarde [jeopardize] our lives, which trust and promise if ye shall violate, hoping thereby of life and promotion, yet shall not God count you innocent of our bloods, neither acquit you of the sacred and holy oath of allegiance made freely by you to this virtuous lady, the Queen’s Highness, who by your and our enticement is rather of force235 placed therein than by her own seeking and request.” Commending to their consideration the interests of religion, he again reiterated his warning. “If ye mean deceit, though not forthwith, yet hereafter, God will revenge the same,” ending by assuring his colleagues that his words had not been caused by distrust, but that he had spoken them as a reminder of the chances of variance which might grow in his absence.
One of the Council—the narrator does not give his name—took upon him to reply for the rest.
“My Lord,” he answered, “if ye mistrust any of us in this matter your Grace is far deceived. For which of us can wipe his hands clean thereof? And if we should shrink from you as one that is culpable, which of us can excuse himself as guiltless? Therefore herein your doubt is too far cast.”
It was characteristic of times and men that, far from resenting the suspicion of unfaith, the sole ground upon which the Duke was asked to base a confidence in the fidelity of his colleagues was that it would not be to their interest to betray him.
“I pray God it may be so,” he answered. “Let us go to dinner.”
After dinner came an interview with Jane, who bade farewell to the Duke and to the lords who were to accompany him on his mission. Everywhere we are confronted by the same heavy atmosphere of impending treachery. As the chief236 conspirator passed through the Council-chamber Arundel met him—Arundel, who was to be one of the first to leave the sinking ship, and who may already have been looking for a loophole of escape from a perilous situation. Yet he now prayed God be with his Grace, saying he was very sorry it was not his chance to go with him and bear him company, in whose presence he could find it in his heart to shed his blood, even at his foot.
The words, with their gratuitous and unsolicited asseveration of loyal friendship, must have been remembered by both when the two met again. It is nevertheless possible that, moved and affected, the Earl was sincere at the moment in his protestations.
“Farewell, gentle Thomas,” he added to the Duke’s “boy,” Thomas Lovell, taking him by the hand, “Farewell, gentle Thomas, with all my heart.”
The next day Northumberland took his departure from the capital. As he rode through the city, with some six hundred followers, the same ominous silence that had greeted the proclamation of Lady Jane was preserved by the throng gathered together to see her father-in-law pass. The Duke noticed it.
“The people press to see us,” he observed gloomily, “but not one sayeth God speed us.”
When next Northumberland and the London crowd were face to face it was under changed circumstances.
237
CHAPTER XVIII
1553Turn 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.
NORTHUMBERLAND 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,169 and Heylyn declared that of all Dudley’s brood he had nothing of his father in him.170 “He was,” says Fuller, adding238 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.”171 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.
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.”
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, so239 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 [sic] 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.
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.
And still one messenger of ill tidings followed240 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.”172 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.173 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.
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 denounce241 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.
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.
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 soon242 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.174 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.
“For my time I never saw the like,” says a news-letter,175 “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.”
Arundel was there, as well as Pembroke, with Shrewsbury and others, and the day was ended with evensong at St. Paul’s.
243And 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.
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.
Lady Throckmorton, wife to Sir Nicholas, in attendance on Jane,176 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 royal244 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.177
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.
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 spite245 of her firmness, to “infinite sorrow.”178 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.
“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 broken246 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.”
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.”179
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.
247
CHAPTER XIX
1553Northumberland at bay—His capitulation—Meeting with Arundel, and arrest—Lady Jane a prisoner—Mary and Elizabeth—Mary’s visit to the Tower—London—Mary’s policy.
THE unanimous capitulation of the Council, in which he was by absence precluded from joining, sealed Northumberland’s fate. The centre of interest shifts from London to the country, whither he had gone to meet the forces gathering round Mary. The ragged bear was at bay.
Arundel and Paget had posted northwards on the night following the revolution in London to inform the Queen of the proceedings of the Council and to make their peace with the new sovereign; Paget’s success in particular being so marked that the French looker-on reported that his favour with the Queen “etait chose plaisante à voir et oir.” The question all men were asking was what stand would be made by the leader of the troops arrayed against her. That Northumberland, knowing that he had sinned too deeply for forgiveness, would yield without a blow can scarcely have been contemplated by the most sanguine of his opponents, and the singular248 transmutation taking place in a man who hitherto, whatever might have been his faults or crimes, had never been lacking in courage, must have taken his enemies and what friends remained to him by surprise.
“Bold, sensitive, and magnanimous,” as some one describes him,180 he was to display a lack of every manly quality only explicable on the hypothesis that the incessant strain and excitement of the last three weeks had told upon nerves and spirits to an extent making it impossible for him to meet the crisis with dignity and valour.
Hampered with orders from the Council framed in Mary’s interest and with the secret object of delaying his movements until her adherents had had time to muster in force, he did not adopt the only course—that of immediate attack—offering a possibility of success, and had retreated to Cambridge when the news that Mary had been proclaimed in London reached him. From that instant he abandoned the struggle.
On the previous day the Vice-Chancellor of the University, Doctor Sandys, had preached, at his request, a sermon directed against Mary. Now, Duke and churchman standing side by side in the market-place, Northumberland, with the tears running down his face, and throwing his cap into the air, proclaimed her Queen. She was a merciful woman, he told Sandys, and all would doubtless share in her249 general pardon. Sandys knew better, and bade the Duke not flatter himself with false hopes. Were the Queen ever so much inclined to pardon, those who ruled her would destroy Northumberland, whoever else were spared.
The churchman proved to have judged more accurately than the soldier. An hour later the Duke received letters from the Council, indicating the treatment he might expect at their hands. He was thereby bidden, on pain of treason, to disarm, and it was added that, should he come within ten miles of London, his late comrades would fight him. Could greater loyalty and zeal in the service of the rising sun be displayed?
Fidelity was at a discount. His troops melted away, leaving their captain at the mercy of his enemies. In the camp confusion prevailed. Northumberland was first put under arrest, then set again at liberty upon his protest, based upon the orders of the Council that “all men should go his way.” Was he, the leader, to be prevented from acting upon their command? Young Warwick, his son, was upon the point of riding away, when, the morning after the scene in the market-place, the Earl of Arundel arrived from Queen Mary with orders to arrest the Duke.
What ensued was a painful spectacle, Northumberland’s bearing, even in a day when servility on the part of the fallen was so common as to be almost a250 matter of course, being generally stigmatized as unworthy of the man who had often given proof of a brave and noble spirit.181 As the two men met, it may be that the Duke augured well from the Queen’s choice of a messenger. If he had, he was to be quickly undeceived. Arundel was not disposed to risk his newly acquired favour with the sovereign for the sake of a discredited comrade, and Northumberland might have spared the abjectness of his attitude; as, falling on his knees, he begged his former friend, for the love of God, to be good to him.
“Consider,” he urged, “I have done nothing but by the consents of you and all the whole Council.”
The plea was ill-chosen. That Arundel had been implicated in the treason was a reason the more why he could not afford to show mercy to a fellow-traitor; nor was he in a mood to discuss a past he would have preferred to forget and to blot out. It is the unfortunate who a
Recital de la banda de periodistas "Culpables de la Verdad" en octubre de 2002 en la Peatonal Sarmiento, Mendoza.
Manifest pel 25N de la Lluna del Clot:
Carmen, Leydi Yuliana, Rosa, Fadwa, Felicidad, María, Marisela, Nom no conegut, Nom no conegut, Sharita , Amparo, Nom no conegut, Paula.
Totes aquestes dones i moltes més podrien ser ara aquí, entre nosaltres, lluitant als carrers dels seus barris, però no hi són, les han matades, les han assassinades. I matant-les a elles ens maten una mica a totes, perquè qualsevol dia podríem ser nosaltres.
Aquest any s’han enregistrat 91 casos d’assassinats masclistes a l’estat espanyol. La xifra oficial no reflecteix la realitat. La realitat és que a Catalunya, el masclisme mata el doble de dones de les oficialment reconegudes als registres.
Avui, 25 de novembre de 2017, 57 anys després de l’assassinat de les germanes Mirabal a mans del govern de Trujillo, ens reunim aquí per a denunciar que el nombre de feminicidis segueix sent una problemàtica preocupantment vigent malgrat el pas del temps. Tot i això, els assassinats no són més que la part visible, la que arriba a les TV, i, malgrat arribar-hi, arriba esbiaixada: NO, no hem mort, ens maten, ens assassinen pel simple fet de sentir-se’n en el dret com a homes en aquesta societat patriarcal. I això és només la punta del iceberg; quantes vegades ens han piropejat?, quantes vegades hem hagut de fer veure que parlàvem per telèfon tornant de festa?, quantes vegades ens han jutjat per la roba? Quants cops hem tornat a casa de nit amb un ull al darrere? Quantes vegades ens han fet creure que no som suficient? Que no som prou per ells? Quantes vegades ens han titllat d’exagerades per dir no a l’humor masclista? I quantes vegades ens han fet sentir culpables en patir una violació? La llista no ha fet més que començar.
El pitjor de tot és la manca de resposta per part de la justícia, com ho exemplifica el cas de la manada, en què cinc energúmens, entre els quals trobem un militar i un guàrdia civil, van violar a una noia durant les festes de San Fermín de 2016. Al judici s’han denegat unes proves més que contundents i a més a més s’ha posat en dubte la violació de la noia per uns informes d’un detectiu privat contractat pels acusats.
Estem cansades que ens qüestionin les nostres denúncies, que ens preguntin si havíem tancat bé les cames, que què fèiem tant tard soles i com anàvem vestides. Estem cansades d’haver de tornar acompanyades, de ser sexualitzades, de ser el ‘sexe dèbil’. Estem fartes de justificar-nos, de sentir vergonya, de tenir por. I diem prou.
Perquè ja n’estem fartes de l’statu quo, en què ens sentim oprimides per una societat patriarcal que ens treu llibertat i ens concep com a éssers inherentment inferiors. Per això, avui i sempre cridem juntes “no és no” davant de totes aquelles situacions que ens sotmeten.
Avui per elles, per les dones que ja no poden lluitar. I per nosaltres, perquè puguem estar al peu del canó per molts ‘NO’ que diguem, per molt tard que tonem a casa i per molta carn que ensenyem.
Només d’aquesta manera, aconseguirem una veritable revolució feminista, perquè quan el llop està en silenci qui udola és la lluna!
angiiee . kozzi . paau . vetti . ; LASADORO :L ♥
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miro hacia atráas, parto de CERO, vuelvo a ENPEZAR, parto de NUEVO
miro hacia atras y tu recuerdo se enpiieza a esfumar. NO llores máas , no me reclames, TU eres el culpable de este FINAAL . Tú me engañaste, no me pidas Máas si nuestro A m óo r ya a muerto . te lorepiito entre tu y yo no hay nada, no me pongas esas caras eso no sirve de nada si con eso a mi no me engañas, . no digas nada si ya TÚ no me interesas más . Yo comenzare de Nueevo , partire de cero ;) . tottaal No fue mi culpa de que esto haya muerto . aun no comprendo a como llege a llorar por ti, com ollege a comprenderte, como llege a enamorarme. noloentieendo =/ . pero de algo Sí estoy segura. sin tii yo puedo viviirr. que Yo sinti? já puedo ser MUY FELIIIIIIIIZ ;) , no te preocupes por mii . preocupate mejor por ti . pues con todo el daño que me isiste .. aora a ti te tocara llorar , mira .. Olviidame y alejate de MII , pues yo nuunca te volvere a amaar
s o l o C o m e n z a r e d e N u e v o p e r o e s t a v e z s i T I ♥
Sí, una boludez como esta, un fogón mal apagado, es lo que termina prendiendo fuego hectáreas y hectáreas de tierra. Tristísimo.
Recital de la banda de periodistas "Culpables de la Verdad" en octubre de 2002 en la Peatonal Sarmiento, Mendoza.
Max Capote
en vivo en "Tibet"
junto a "las hijas de Alcides" festejando carnaval
22/2/2009
La Paloma, Uruguay
"Culpable": www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGkMfnA-eo4
tema 11: www.youtube.com/watch?v=uowok_kYGS0