cannon, and pealing of church bells.[1] At the Tower gates the old Duke of Norfolk, Gardiner, Courtenay, and the Duchess of Somerset were seen kneeling as Mary approached. 'These are my prisoners,' she said, as she alighted from her horse and stooped and kissed them. Charmed by the enthusiastic reception and by the pleasant disappointment of her anxieties, she could find no room for hard thoughts of any one; so far was she softened, Renard wrote, that she could hardly be brought to consent to the necessary execution of justice. Against Northumberland himself she had no feeling of vindictiveness, and was chiefly anxious that he should be attended by a confessor; Northampton was certainly to be pardoned; Suffolk was already free; Northumberland should be spared, if possible; and, as to Lady Jane, justice forbade, she said, that an innocent girl should suffer for the crimes of others.[2]
The Emperor had recommended mercy; but he had not advised a general indemnity, as Renard made haste to urge. The Imperialist conception of clemency differed from the Queen's; and the same timidity which had first made the ambassadors too prudent, now took the form of measured cruelty. Renard entreated that Lady Jane should not be forgiven; 'conspirators required to be taught that for the principals in treason there was but one punishment; the Duke must die, and the rival Queen and her husband must die with him.' 'We set before her'—Renard's own hand is the witness
