The Tower of London 31

The Tower of London 31

"Every dungeon in the Tower," he said, "is filled with our friends and partisans. Your father, the Duke of Suffolk, is con-

 

fined in the Martin Tower. And I have been just removed from the Beauchamp Tower to make room for my father, the Duke of Northumberland, my two brothers, Ambrose and Robert, and their faithful followers, Sir John Gates, Sir Henry Gates, and Sir Thomas Palmer."

 

"Alas !" cried Jane, "we are all equally culpable, and must all suffer alike. But we shall be speedily released."

 

"On the scaffold," rejoined Dudley, bitterly.

 

"Ay, on the scaffold," repeated Jane. "And I trust though the remainder of our mortal life may be separated, that we shall meet above to part no more. Pray for this, my dear lord. It is my own constant prayer. And it is my firm reliance upon it that enables me to endure the agony of this meeting, which otherwise would kill me."

 

"I will strive to do so, Jane," replied her husband. "But I still cling to life and hope."

 

"Divest yourself of these vain desires, my Lord," cried Jane, earnestly, "and turn your thoughts from earth to heaven. There indeed we shall inherit an everlasting kingdom, undisturbed by misery and calamity."

 

"Madam," said the officer, advancing ; "I grieve to abridge this short meeting. But my duty admits of no alternative. You must follow me."

 

"It is well, sir," she replied--"Farewell, dear Dudley. My prayers shall be for you."

 

"And mine for you, dear Jane," replied her husband, pressing her to his bosom--"Heaven grant me your patience and resignation !"

 

"Amen !" she fervently ejaculated. And with another embrace, they parted.

 

For a short distance the two escorts walked close together, during which the afflicted pair kept their eyes fondly fixed on each other. After passing the north-west corner of the White Tower, Lord Guilford's attendants took a straight-forward course, while Jane's guards proceeded to the right. Still but a short distance intervened between them, until Jane beheld her husband disappear beneath the low-arched entrance of the Bowycr Tower. A convulsive movement passed over her frame; but the next moment she was apparently as calm as ever, and followed the officer into the structure destined for her reception.

 

This, as has already been intimated, was the Brick Tower, the next turret on the east of the Bowyer Tower. The upper story, which is of brick--whence its name--was erected in the reign of Edward the Fourth, or Richard the Third : the basement story is of stone, and of much greater antiquity.

 

Entering a narrow passage, she was ushered by the officer into a small room, which he informed her was prepared for her reception. Everything that circumstances would admit appeared to have been done to lessen the rigour of her confinement. The stone walls were hung with arras ; and much of the

 

furniture a carved oak table, and velvet-covered scats, placed in the deep embrasures of the windows--had been brought from Jane's late chamber in the palace.

 

"This seat, said the officer, pointing to a curiously-carved chair, * was used by Queen Anne Boleyn during her imprisonment. I had it brought hither for your ladyship's accommodation."

 

"I thank you for your consideration, sir," replied Jane; "it will serve to support one as unhappy as that ill-fated princess." Having inquired whether she had any further commands with which it was possible for him to comply, and being answered in the negative, the officer took his departure, and Jane was left alone.

 

 

 

[Ill 0171]

 

 

 

Alone ! the thought struck chill to her heart. She was now a solitary captive. She heard the door of her prison bolted--she examined its stone walls, partly concealed by the tapestry--she glanced at its iron-barred windows, and her courage forsook her. She had no bosom to lean upon--no ear to which she could impart her sorrows. Her husband, though not far from her, was, like her a prisoner. She pictured him in his solitary room--and she would have given worlds to be near him--if only for a few moments. The thought occasioned her so much anguish, that she burst into tears, and for some time was a prey to despair. She then knelt down beside the

 

* This curious piece of furniture, authenticated to have belonged to the unfortunate queen above-named, is now in the possession of Mr. Cottenham, the architect, of Waterloo Road.

 

 

 

C CruxK-Sh^a/hJc.'

 

^lam' (Hinpriiîonri> ut tiu' lOrtrlî 0 uturr.

 

chair, and burying her face in her clasped hands, prayed deeply and fervently for support through her trial. And she prayed not in vain. She soon afterwards arose tranquil and refreshed.

 

 

 

[Ill 0172]

 

III.-HOW SIMON RENARD ASCENDED TO THE ROOF OF THE WHITE

 

TOWER ; AND OF THE GOODLY PROSPECT HE BEHELD THEREFROM.

 

 

 

|The night of Queen Mary's entrance into the Tower was spent by Simon Renard, the Duke of Norfolk, Gardiner (the new Lord Chancellor), Courtenay, Arundel, Pembroke, and other noble and honourable persons composing her council, in framing a public declaration of her religious opinions, to be proclaimed on the morrow, and in deliberating on other mighty matters connected with the establishment of her government. Throughout this consultation, when any difference of opinion arose, the matter was invariably deferred to the judgment of the imperial ambassador, whose decision was regarded as final ; and as he was looked upon as the chief instrument in crushing the late rebellion, so it was supposed he could, by his sagacity and influence, establish Mary upon her throne.

 

It was late when the council separated, and instead of returning to his apartments in the palace, Renard, fevered and wearied by the protracted discussion at which he had assisted, preferred refreshing himself by a stroll in the open air. Accordingly, he proceeded to the green, and began to pace backwards and forwards, at a brisk pace, between the lieutenant's lodgings and the chapel. He continued this exercise for nearly an hour, pondering upon recent events, and revolving future schemes within his plotting brain, when just as day was breaking, and the hoary walls of the White Tower began to reveal themselves in all their grandeur, he perceived a man, armed with a caliver, advancing to meet him. Renard stood still, and throwing his ample cloak over his shoulder, awaited the new comers approach. It proved to be a warder, who, having seen him as he was going his rounds, at first supposed he had some ill designs in view, but finding out his mistake, as he drew nearer and recognised the Spanish ambassador, with whose person he was familiar, he was about to withdraw, when Renard called him back and demanded his name.

 

"I am called Gervase Winwike, worshipful sir," readied the man, "and am one of the senior warders of the Tower.

 

"Whither are you going, friend ?" inquired Renard. "To the summit of the White Tower," answered Winwike ; "to see that the sentinels are at their posts."

 

"Is it inconsistent with your duty to take me with you?" asked the ambassador.

 

"By no means," rejoined the warder. "I shall feel honoured by your presence. We shall reach the roof just at sunrise, and the view from thence, on a fine clear morning like the present, is magnificent beyond compare, and will amply repay your

 

worship for climbing up so many steps as you will have to scale to obtain it."

 

"Let us make what haste we can, then," said Renard, "I am impatient to behold it."

 

Thus exhorted, Winwike led the way to the north-west turret of the ancient structure, before a door in which a sentinel was stationed, who, on receiving the pass-word, lowered his halbert, and suffered them to enter. They were now within a small circular chamber, from which a flight of spiral stone steps ascended. Followed by Renard, the warder commenced the ascent. Light was admitted at intervals through loop-holes, gradually diminishing in width as they approached the exterior of the walls, and serving to reveal their immense thickness. As they mounted, Winwike pointed out to his companion the entrance of a passage communicating with the Council-chamber. Renard was much struck with the substantial and beautiful masonry of the turret ; but being anxious to gain the roof as soon as possible, he urged his companion to quicken his pace, and they soon arrived at an arched door, which Winwike threw open, and they stepped upon the roof. .

 

Springing upon the platform, Renard was about to rush to the battlements, when Winwike offered to lead him to the best point of view. As he followed his conductor towards the southwest angle, Renard cast his eye over the roof. Cannon were placed on the raised platform, while armed men were stationed at twenty paces distant from each other. In the centre of the building stood a tall staff, from which floated the royal banner.

 

Depositing his caliver against the wall of the turret, Winwike told his companion to look around. Renard obeyed, and a glorious panorama met his gaze. Immediately beneath him lay the fortress, with its chain of flowers--its ramparts--its fortifications--its bridges, and its broad deep moat. Beyond was spread out old and picturesque London, with its numerous steeples, above which rose the massive tower of St. Paul's. A little on the left was old London Bridge, covered with out-houses--the noise of the falling water, and the mills, being distinctly audible where they stood. Nearer, was the river glittering in the sunbeams, and filled with a forest of masts. Renard contemplated this prospect for some time in silent admiration.

 

"There you behold the Tower of London," said Winwike, pointing downwards.

 

"And there I read the history of England," replied Renard.