The Tower of London: A Historical Romance, Illustrated

XVI. – HOW THE COUNCIL DEPOSED QUEEN JANE; AND HOW SHE FLED FROM THE TOWER

At length, the last morning which was to behold Jane queen dawned, and after an agitated and sleepless night, she addressed herself to her devotions, and endeavoured to prepare for the dangerous and difficult part she had to play. The Duke of Suffolk tried to persuade her to abdicate. But her husband, who, it has been already observed, inherited his father’s ambitious nature, besought her not to part with the crown.

“It has been dearly purchased,” he urged, “and must be boldly maintained. Let us meet the Council courageously, and we shall triumph.”

To this Jane assented. But it was evident from her manner she had but slight hopes.

At an early hour the lord mayor, the aldermen, and all the civic authorities who had been summoned, arrived. Cranmer and Ridley came soon after. The Council were then summoned, and by ten o’clock all were assembled, excepting the Earls of Pembroke and Arundel, Simon Renard, and De Noailles. As soon as Jane was seated beneath the state canopy, she ordered a pursuivant to summon them. Proclamation being made, a stir was heard at the lower end of the council-chamber, and the absentees presented themselves. All four advanced boldly towards the throne, and took their place among the Council. Jane then arose, and with great dignity and self-possession thus-addressed the assemblage: —

“My lords,” she said, “I have summoned you it may be for the last time, to deliberate on the course to be pursued to check the formidable tumults and rebellions that have been moved against me and my crown. Of that crown I cannot doubt I have lawful possession, since it was tendered me by your lordships, who have all sworn allegiance to me. Fully confiding, therefore, in your steadiness to my service, which neither with honour, safety, nor duty, you can now forsake, I look to you for support in this emergency.”

Here a murmur arose among the Council.

“What!” exclaimed Jane: “do you desert me at the hour of need? Do you refuse me your counsel and assistance?”

“We do,” replied several voices.

“Traitors!” exclaimed Lord Guilford Dudley: “you have passed your own sentence.”

“Not so, my lord,” replied Simon Renard. “It is you who have condemned yourself. Lady Jane Dudley,” he continued in a loud voice, “you who have wrongfully usurped the title and station of queen, – in your presence I proclaim Mary, sister to the late king Edward the Sixth, and daughter of Henry the Eighth of famous memory, Queen of England and Ireland, and very owner of the crown, government, and title of England and Ireland, and all things thereunto belonging.”

“God save Queen Mary!” cried the Council.

A few dissentient voices were raised. But the Earl of Pembroke drew his sword, and cried in a loud voice, “As heaven shall help me, I will strike that man dead who refuses to shout for Queen Mary.” And he threw his cap in the air.

“Hear me,” continued Renard, “and learn that resistance is in vain. I hereby proclaim a free pardon, in Queen Mary’s name, to all who shall freely acknowledge her, – excepting always the family of the Duke of Northumberland, who is a traitor, and upon whose head a price is set. I require your Grace,” he added to Suffolk, “to deliver up the keys of the Tower.”

“They are here,” replied the Duke, pointing to Magog who bore them.

“Do you yield, my lord?” cried Lord Guilford, passionately.

“It is useless to contend further,” replied Suffolk. “All is lost.”

“True,” replied Jane. “My lords, I resign the crown into your hands; and Heaven grant you may prove more faithful to Mary than you have been to me. In obedience to you, my lord,” she continued, addressing her husband, “I acted a violence on myself, and have been guilty of a grievous offence. But the present is my own act. And I willingly abdicate the throne to correct another’s fault, if so great a fault can be corrected by my resignation and sincere acknowledgment.”

“You shall not abdicate it, Jane,” cried Dudley, fiercely. “I will not yield. Stand by me, Cholmondeley, and these audacious traitors shall find I am still master here. Let those who are for Queen Jane surround the throne.”

As he spoke, he glanced round authoritatively, but no one stirred.

“Speak!” he cried, in accents of rage and disappointment. “Are ye all traitors? Is no one true to his allegiance?”

But no answer was returned.

“They are no traitors, my lord,” said Simon Renard. “They are loyal subjects of Queen Mary.”

“He speaks truly, my dear lord,” replied Jane. “It is useless to contend further. I am no longer queen.”

So saying, she descended from the throne.

“My lords,” she continued, addressing the Council, “you are now masters here. Have I your permission to retire?”

“You have, noble lady,” replied Pembroke. “But it grieves me to add, that you must perforce remain within the Tower till the pleasure of her Highness respecting you has been ascertained.”

“A prisoner!” exclaimed Jane, trembling. “And my husband, you will suffer him to accompany me?”

“It cannot be,” interposed Simon Renard, harshly; “Lord Guilford Dudley must be separately confined.”

“You cannot mean this cruelty, sir?” cried Jane, indignantly. “Do not sue for me, Jane,” rejoined Dudley. “I will not accept the smallest grace at his hands.”

“Guards!” cried Renard, “I command you, in Queen Mary’s name, to arrest Lord Guilford Dudley, and convey him to the Beauchamp Tower.”

The order was instantly obeyed. Jane then took a tender farewell of her husband, and accompanied by Cicely and Cholmondeley, and others of her attendants, was escorted to the palace.,

She had no sooner taken her departure, than letters were despatched by the Council to the Duke of Northumberland, commanding him instantly to disband his army. And the Earl of Arundel was commissioned to proceed with a force to arrest him.

“I have a brave fellow who shall accompany your lordship,” said Renard, motioning to Gilbert, who stood among his followers.

“Hark’ee, sirrah!” he added, “you have already approved your fidelity to Queen Mary. Approve it still further by the capture of the Duke, and, in the Queen’s name, I promise you a hundred pounds in lands to you and your heirs, and the degree of an esquire. And now, my lords, to publicly proclaim Queen Mary.”

With this the whole train departed from the Tower, and proceeded to Cheapside, where, by sound of trumpet, the new sovereign was proclaimed by the title of “Mary, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith.”

Shouts rent the air, and every manifestation of delight was exhibited. “Great was the triumph,” writes an eye-witness of the ceremony; “for my part, I never saw the like, and, by the report of others, the like was never seen. The number of caps that were thrown up at the proclamation was not to be told. The Earl of Pembroke threw away his cap full of angels. I saw myself money thrown out of the windows for joy. The bonfires were without number; and what with shouting and crying of the people, and ringing of bells, there could no man hear almost what another said – besides banquetting, and skipping the streets for joy.”

The proclamation over, the company proceeded to St. Paul’s, where Te Deum was solemnly sung. It is a curious illustration of the sudden change of feeling, that the Duke of Suffolk himself proclaimed Mary on Tower Hill.

The utmost confusion reigned throughout the Tower. Some few there were who regretted the change of sovereigns, but the majority were in favour of Mary. Northumberland in fact was so universally hated by all classes, and it was so notorious that the recent usurpation was contrived only for his own aggrandisement, that though Jane was pitied, no commiseration was felt for her husband or her ambitious father-in-law. Great rejoicings were held in the Tower-green, where an immense bonfire was lighted, and a whole ox roasted. Several casks of ale were also broached, and mead and other liquors were distributed to the warders and the troops. Of these good things the three gigantic warders and Xit partook; and Magog was so elated, that he plucked up courage to propose to Dame Placida, and, to the dwarf’s infinite dismay and mortification, was accepted. Lord Guilford Dudley witnessed these rejoicings from the windows of the Beauchamp Tower, in which he was confined; and as he glanced upon the citadel opposite his prison, now lighted up by the gleams of the fire, he could not help reflecting with bitterness what a change a few days had effected. The voices which only nine days ago had shouted for Jane, were now clamouring for Mary; and of the thousands which then would have obeyed his slightest nod, not one would acknowledge him now.

From a prince he had become a captive, and his palace was converted into a dungeon. Such were the agonizing thoughts of Northumberland’s ambitious son, – and such, or nearly such, were those of his unhappy consort, who, in her chamber in the palace was a prey to the bitterest reflection.

Attended only by Cholmondeley and Cicely, Jane consumed the evening in sad, but unavailing lamentations. About midnight, as she had composed her thoughts by applying herself to her wonted solace in affliction – study, she was aroused by a noise in the wall, and presently afterwards a masked door opened, and Gunnora Braose presented herself. Jane instantly rose, and demanded the cause of the intrusion. Gunnora laid her finger on her lips, and replied in a low tone, “I am come to liberate you.”

“I do not desire freedom,” replied Jane, “neither will I trust myself to you. I will abide here till my cousin Mary makes her entrance into the Tower, and I will then throw myself upon her mercy.”

“She will show you no mercy,” rejoined Gunnora. “Do not, I implore of you, expose yourself to the first outbreak of her jealous and vindictive nature. Queen Mary inherits her father’s inexorable disposition, and I am well assured if you tarry here, you will fall a victim to her displeasure. Do not neglect this opportunity, sweet lady. In a few hours it may be too late.”

“Accept her offer, gracious madam,” urged Cicely, “it may be your last chance of safety. You are here surrounded by enemies.”

“But how am I to escape from the fortress, if I accede to your wishes?” replied Jane.

“Follow me, and I will conduct you,” answered Gunnora. “I have possessed myself of the key of a subterranean passage which will convey you to the other side of the moat.”

“But my husband?” hesitated Jane.

“Do not think of him,” interrupted Gunnora, frowning. “He deserted you in the hour of danger. Let him perish on the scaffold with his false father.”

“Leave me, old woman,” said Jane authoritatively; “I will not go with you.”

“Do not heed her, my gracious mistress,” urged Cholmondeley, “your tarrying here cannot assist Lord Guilford, and will only aggravate his affliction. Besides, some means may be devised for his escape.”

“Pardon what I have said, dear lady,” said Gunnora. “Deadly as is the hatred I bear to the house of Northumberland, for your sweet sake I will forgive his son. Nay more, I will effect his deliverance. This I swear to you. Come with me, and once out of the Tower make what haste you can to Sion House, where your husband shall join you before the morning.”

“You promise more than you can accomplish,” said Jane.

“That remains to be seen, madam,” replied Gunuora: “but were it not that he is your husband, Lord Guilford Dudley should receive no help from me. Once more, will you trust me?”

“I will,” replied Jane.

Cholmondeley then seized a torch, and fastening the door of the chamber, on the outside of which a guard was stationed, assisted Jane through the masked door. Preceded by the old woman, who carried a lamp, they threaded a long narrow passage built in the thickness of the wall, and presently arrived at the head of a flight of stairs, which brought them to a long corridor arched and paved with stone. Traversing this, they struck into an avenue on the right, exactly resembling one of those which Cholmondeley had recently explored. Jane expressed her surprise at the vast extent of the passages she was threading, when Gunnora answered – “The whole of the Tower is undermined with secret passages and dungeons, but their existence is known only to few.’”

A few minutes’ rapid walking brought them to a stone staircase, which they mounted, traversed another gallery, and finally halted before a low gothic-arched door, which admitted them to the interior of the Bowyer Tower. Requesting Cholmondeley to assist her, Gunnora, with his help, speedily raised a trap-door of stone, and disclosed a flight of steps. While they were thus employed, a strange and unaccountable terror took possession of Jane. As she glanced timidly towards the doorway she had just quitted, she imagined she saw a figure watching her, and in the gloom almost fancied it was the same muffled object she had beheld in St. John’s Chapel. A superstitious terror kept her silent. As she looked more narrowly at the figure, she thought it bore an axe upon its shoulder, and she was about to point it out to her companions, when making a gesture of silence it disappeared. By this time the trap-door being raised, Cholmondeley descended the steps with the torch, while Gunnora holding back the flag, begged her to descend. But Jane did not move.

“Do not lose time,” cried the old woman, “we may be followed, and retaken.”

Still Jane hesitated. She cast another look towards the doorway, and the idea crossed her, that from that very outlet she should be led to execution. A deadly chill pervaded her frame, – and her feet seemed nailed to the ground. Seeing her irresolution, Cicely threw herself on her knees before her, and implored her to make an effort. Jane advanced a step, and then paused. After remaining a moment in deep abstraction, she turned to Cicely, and said, – .

“Child, I thank you for your zeal, but I feel it is useless. Though I may escape from the Tower, I cannot escape my fate.” Cicely, however, renewed her entreaties, and seconded by Chomondeley she at length prevailed. Pursuing the same course which Gunnora had taken on the night she was brought to the Tower by Simon Renard, they at length arrived at the shed at the further side of the moat.

“You are now safe,” said Gunnora. “Hasten to Sion House, and if my plan does not fail, your husband shall join you there before many hours have passed.”

So saying, she departed. Jane and her attendants crossed Tower Hill, from which she turned to gaze at the scene of her greatness, indistinctly visible in the gloom – and so agonizing were the thoughts occasioned by the sight that she burst into tears. As soon as she had recovered from her paroxysm of grief, they proceeded to the river side, where they fortunately procured a boat, and were rowed towards Sion House.

XVII. – IN WHAT MANNER JANE WAS BROUGHT BACK TO THE TOWER OF LONDON

Gunnora Braose kept her word. Before daybreak, Lord Guilford Dudley joined his afflicted consort. Their meeting was passionate and sad. As Jane ardently returned her husband’s fond embrace, she cried – “Oh, my dear lord, that we had never been deluded by the false glitter, of greatness to quit this calm retreat! Oh that we may be permitted to pass the remainder of our days here!”

“I have not yet abandoned all hopes of the throne,” replied Dudley. “Our fortunes may be retrieved.”

“Never,” returned Jane, gravely – “never so far as I am concerned. Were the crown to be again offered to me – were I assured I could retain it, I would not accept it. No, Dudley, the dream of ambition is over; and I am fully sensible of the error I have committed.”

“As you please, my queen, for I will still term you so,” rejoined Dudley – “but if my father is in arms, I will join him, and we will make one last effort for the prize, and regain it, or perish in the attempt.”

“Your wild ambition will lead you to the scaffold – and will conduct me there, also,” replied Jane. “If we could not hold the power when it was in our own hands – how can you hope to regain it?”

“It is not lost – I will not believe it, till I am certified under my father’s own hand that he has abandoned the enterprise,” rejoined Dudley. “You know him not, Jane. With five thousand men at his command – nay, with a fifth of that number, he is more than a match for all his enemies. We shall yet live to see him master of the Tower – of this rebellious city, we shall yet see our foes led to the scaffold. And if I see the traitors, Renard, Pembroke and Arundel, conducted thither I will excuse Fortune all her malice.”

“Heaven forgive them their treason as I forgive them!” exclaimed Jane. “But I fear their enmity will not be satisfied till they have brought us to the block to which you would doom them.”

“This is not a season for reproaches, Jane,” said Dudley, coldly; “but if you had not trusted that false traitor, Renard, – if you had not listened to his pernicious counsels, – if you had not refused my suit for the crown, and urged my father to undertake the expedition against Mary, – all had been well. You had been queen – and I king.”

“Your reproaches are deserved, Dudley,” replied Jane, “and you cannot blame me more severely than I blame myself. Nevertheless, had I acceded to your desires, – had I raised you to the sovereignty, – had I turned a deaf ear to Renard’s counsel, and not suffered myself to be duped by his allies Arundel and Pembroke, – had I retained your father in the Tower, – my reign would not have been of much longer duration.”

“I do not understand you, madam,” said Lord Guilford, sternly.

“To be plain, then,” replied Jane, – “for disguise is useless now – I am satisfied that your father aimed at the crown himself, – that I was merely placed on the throne to prepare it for him, – and that when the time arrived, he would have removed me.”

“Jane!” exclaimed her husband, furiously.

“Have patience, dear Dudley!” she rejoined. “I say not this to rouse your anger, or to breed further misunderstanding between us. Heaven knows we have misery enough to endure without adding to it. I say it to reconcile you to your lot. I say it to check the spirit of ambition which I find is yet smouldering within your bosom. I say it to prevent your joining in any fresh attempt with your father, which will assuredly end in the destruction of both.”

“But you have brought a charge so foul against him, madam,” cried her husband, “that as his son, I am bound to tell you you are grievously in error.”

“Dudley,” replied Jane, firmly, “I have proofs that the Duke poisoned my cousin, King Edward. I have proofs also, that he would have poisoned me.”

“It is false,” cried her husband, furiously – “it is a vile calumny fabricated by his enemies. You have been imposed upon.”

“Not so, my lord,” cried Gunnora Braose, who had been an unseen listener to the conversation. “It is no calumny. The royal Edward was poisoned by me at your ‘father’s instigation. And you and your consort would have shared the same fate.”

“False hag! thou liest,” cried Lord Guilford.

“Read that,” replied Gunnora, placing a document in his hands. “It is my order in the Duke’s own writing. Do you credit me now.”

Dudley hastily cast his eyes over the scroll. His countenance fell, and the paper dropped from his grasp.

“And now hear my news,” continued the old woman, with a smile of exultation. “Your father has proclaimed Queen Mary at Cambridge.”

“Impossible!” cried Dudley.

“I tell you it is true,” replied Gunnora – “a messenger arrived at midnight with the tidings, and it was during the confusion created by the intelligence that I contrived to effect your escape. The Earl of Arundel is despatched to arrest him, and, ere to-morrow night, he will be lodged within the Tower. Yes,” she continued with a ferocious laugh – “I shall see him placed in the same dungeon in which he lodged my foster-son, the great Duke of Somerset. I shall see his head stricken off by the same axe, and upon the same scaffold, and I shall die content.”

“Horrible!” cried Jane. “Leave us, wretched woman. Your presence adds to my affliction.”

“I will leave you, dear lady,” replied Gunnora – “but though absent from you, I will not fail to watch over you. I have powerful friends within the Tower, and if any ill be designed you, I will give you timely warning. Farewell!”

A miserable and anxious day was passed by Jane and her husband. Lord Guilford would fain have departed with Chol-mondeley to join his father at Cambridge, but suffered himself to be dissuaded from the rash undertaking, by the tears and entreaties of his consort. As to Cicely and her lover, their sympathies were so strongly excited for the distresses of Jane, that the happiness they would otherwise have experienced in each other’s society, was wholly destroyed. At night, as the little party were assembled, Gunnora Braose again made her appearance, and her countenance bespoke that some new danger was at hand.

“What ill tidings do you bring?” cried Dudley, starting to his feet.

“Fly!” exclaimed Gunnora. “You have not a moment to lose. Simon Renard has discovered your retreat, and Lord Clinton, with a body of men, is hastening hither to convey you to the Tower. Fly!”

“Whither?” exclaimed Lord Guilford. “Whither shall we fly?”

“It is useless, my dear lord,” replied Jane, calmly, “to contend further. I resign myself to the hands of Providence, and I counsel you to do the same.”

“Come then with me, Cholmondeley,” cried Dudley, snatching up his cloak, and girding on his sword, “we will to horse at once, and join my father at Cambridge. If he has a handful of men left we can yet make a gallant defence.”

“The Duke is arrested, and on his way to the Tower,” said Gunnora.

“Ha!” exclaimed Dudley, “when did this occur?”

“Yesterday,” replied the old woman. “He was taken within his chamber by my grandson, Gilbert Pot, who has received a hundred pounds in lands, and the degree of an esquire, for the deed. He submitted himself to the Earl of Arundel, and his deportment was as abject as it formerly was arrogant. When he saw the Earl, he fell on his knees, and desired him to have pity on him for the love of God. ‘Consider.’ he said, ‘I have done nothing but by the order of you and the whole Council.’ Then the Earl of Arundel replied, ‘I am sent hither by the Queen’s majesty, and in her name I arrest you.’ ‘And I obey it, my lord.’ answered the Duke. ‘I beseech you use mercy towards me, knowing the case as it is.’ ‘My lord,’ rejoined the Earl, ‘you should have sought mercy sooner. I must do according to my commandment. You are my prisoner!’ And he committed him in charge to my grandson and others of the guard.”

“How learnt you this?” inquired Lord Guilford.

“From a messenger who has just arrived at the Tower,” replied the old woman – “and this is the last act of the great Duke of Northumberland. We shall soon see how he comports himself on the scaffold.”

“Begone,” cried Jane, “and do not stay here to deride our misery.”.

“I am not come hither to deride it,” replied the old woman, “but to warn you.”

“I thank you for your solicitude,” replied Jane – “but, it is needless. Retire all of you, I entreat, and leave me with my husband.”

Her injunctions were immediately complied with, and her attendants withdrew. The unfortunate pair were not, however, allowed much time for conversation. Before they had been many minutes alone, the door was burst open, and a troop of armed men headed by Lord Clinton, the lieutenant of the Tower, rushed in.

“I am aware of your errand, my lord,” said Jane; “you are come to convey me to the Tower. I am ready to attend you.”

“It is well,” replied Lord Clinton. “If you have any preparations to make, you shall have time for them.”

“I have none, my lord,” she replied.

“Nor I,” replied Lord Guilford.

“My sole request is, that I may take one female attendant with me,” said Jane, pointing to Cicely.

“I am sorry I cannot comply with the request,” answered Lord Clinton, “but my orders are peremptory.”

“Will my esquire be permitted to accompany me?” inquired Dudley.

“If he chooses to incur the risk of so doing, assuredly,” replied Clinton. “But he will go into captivity.”

“I will follow my Lord Guilford to death,” cried Cholmondeley.

“You are a faithful esquire, indeed!” observed Lord Clinton, with a slight sneer.