The Tower of London 4

The Tower of London 4

neither of whom had attained her fifteenth year--had been married at the end of May--then, as now, esteemed an unlucky month,--on the sumo day that the nuptials of the Lady Jane Grey took place. Of these three marriages there was not one but was attended with fatal consequences.

 

Immediately behind her sisters, with the laps of her dress supported by the bishops of Rochester and Winchester, and her train, which was of great length and corresponding magnificence, borne by her mother, the duchess of Suffolk, walked queen Jane. Whatever disinclination she might have previously shown to undertake the dangerous and difficult part she had assumed; however reluctantly she had accepted the sovereignty ; nothing of misgiving or irresolution was now to be discerned. Her carriage was majestic ; her look lofty, yet tempered with such sweetness, that while it commanded respect, it ensured attachment. Her attire--for the only point upon which Jane did not conform to the rigid notions of the early religious reformers was in regard to dress--was gorgeous in the extreme ; and never, assuredly, was rich costume bestowed upon a more faultlessly beautiful person. Her figure was tall and slight, but exquisitely formed, and gave promise, that when she attained the full maturity of womanhood--she had only just completed her sixteenth year, and (alas !) never _did_ attain maturity--her charms would be without a rival. In mental qualifications Jane was equally gifted. And, if it is to be lamented that her beauty, like an opening flower, was rudely plucked and scattered to the breezes, how much more must it be regretted, that such faculties as she possessed should have been destroyed before they were fully developed, and the fruit they might have produced lost for ever ! Reared in the seclusion of Bradgate, in Leicestershire, Jane Grey passed hours which other maidens of her tender age are accustomed to devote to amusement or rest, in the severest study ; and, long before she was called upon to perform the arduous duties of her brief life, she had acquired a fund of knowledge such as the profoundest

 

scholars seldom obtain. If this store of learning did little for the world, it did much for herself :--it taught her a philosophy, that enabled her to support, with the constancy of a martyr, her after trials. At the moment of her presentation to the reader, Jane was in all the flush and excitement of her new dignity. Everything around her was dazzling and delusive ; but she was neither dazzled nor deluded. She estimated her position at its true value; saw through its hollowness and unsubstantiality ; and, aware that she only grasped the shadow of a sceptre, and bore the semblance of a crown, suffered neither look nor gesture to betray her emotions. Her dress consisted of a gown of cloth of gold raised with pearls, a stomacher blazing with diamonds and other precious stones, and a surcoat of purple velvet bordered with ermine. Her train was of purple velvet upon velvet, likewise furred with ermine, and embroidered with various devices in gold. Her slender and

 

swan-like throat was encircled with a carcanet of gold set with rubies and pearls, from which a single and almost priceless pearl depended. Her head-dress consisted of a coif of velvet of the peculiar form then in vogue, adorned with rows of pearls, and confined by a circlet of gold. At her right walked Lord Guilford Dudley--a youthful nobleman, who inherited his father's manly beauty and chivalrous look, with much of his ambition and haughtiness, but without any of his cunning and duplicity, or of his genius. He was superbly attired in white cloth of gold, and wore a collar of diamonds. Behind the queen marched a long train of high-born dames, damsels, youthful nobles, pages, knights, esquires, and ushers, until the rear-guard was brought up by a second detachment of halberdiers. Prepared as the mass of the assemblage were to evidence their dissatisfaction by silence, an involuntary burst of applause hailed her approach, and many, who thought it a sort of disloyalty to Mary to welcome a usurper, could not refuse to join in the cheers.

 

At the moment Jane was crossing the railed plank leading to her galley, a small wherry, rowed by a young man of slight sinewy frame, clad in a doublet of coarse brown serge, and wearing a flat felt cap, on which a white cross was stitched, shot with marvellous rapidity from out the foremost line of boats, and, in spite of all opposition, passed between the state barges, and drew up at her feet. Before the daring intruder could be removed, an old woman, seated in the stern of the boat, arose and extended her arms towards Jane. She was dressed in mean attire, with her grey locks gathered beneath an ancient three-cornered coif; but her physiognomy was striking, and her manner seemed far above her lowly condition. Fixing an imploring glance on the queen, she cried--"A boon ! a boon !"

 

"It is granted," replied Jane, in a kind tone, and pausing. "What would you?"

 

"Preserve you," rejoined the old woman. "Go not to the Tower."

 

"And wherefore not, good dame ?" inquired the queen.

 

"Ask me not," returned the old woman,--her figure dilating, her eye kindling, and her gesture becoming almost that of command, as she spoke,--"Ask me not ; but take my warning. Again, I say--Go not to the Tower. Danger lurks therein,--danger to you--your husband--and to all you hold dear. Return, while it is yet time ; return to the retirement of Sion House--to the solitudes of Bradgate.--Put off those royal robes--restore the crown to her from whom you wrested it, and a long and happy life shall be yours. But set foot within that galley--enter the gates of the Tower--and another year shall not pass over your head."

 

"Guards!" cried Lord Guilford Dudley, advancing and motioning to his attendants--"remove this beldame and her companion, and place them in arrest."

 

"Have patience, my dear lord," said Jane, in a voice so sweet, that it was impossible to resist it--"the poor woman is distraught."

 

"No, lady, I am not distraught," rejoined the old womany "though I have suffered enough to make me so."

 

"Can 1 relieve vour distresses?" inquired Jane, kindly.

 

"In no other way than by following my caution," answered the old woman. "I want nothing but a grave."

 

"Who are you that dare to hold such language as this to your queen ?" demanded Lord Guilford Dudley, angrily.

 

"I am Gunnora Braose," replied the old woman, fixing a withering glance upon him, "nurse and foster-mother to Henry Seymour, Duke of Somerset, lord protector of England, who perished on the scaffold by the foul practices of your father."

 

"Woman," rejoined Lord Guilford, in a menacing tone, "be warned bv me. You speak at the peril of your life."

 

"I know it," replied Gunnora; "but that shall not hinder me. If I succeed in saving that fair young creature, whom your father's arts have placed in such fearful jeopardy, from certain destruction, I care not what becomes of me. My boldness, I am well assured, will be fearfully visited upon me, and upon my grandson at my side. But were it the last word I had to utter,--were this boy's life," she added, laying her hand on the youth's shoulder, who arose at the touch, "set against hers, I would repeat my warning."

 

"Remove your cap in presence of the queen, knave," cried one of the halberdiers, striking off the young man's cap with his staff.

 

"She is not my queen," rejoined the youth, boldly ; "I am for Queen Mary, whom Heaven and Our Lady preserve !"

 

"Peace, Gilbert !" cried Gunnora, authoritatively.

 

"Treason ! treason !" exclaimed several voices--"down with them !"

 

"Do them no injury," interposed Jane, waving her hand ; "let them depart freely. Set forward, my lords."

 

"Hear me, sovereign lady, before I am driven from you," cried the old woman, in accents of passionate supplication--"hear me, I implore you. You are going to a prison, not a palace.--Look at yon angry sky from which the red lightning is flashing. A moment since it was bright and smiling ; at your approach it has become black and overcast. It is an omen not to be despised."

 

"Hence !" cried Lord Guilford.

 

"And you, Lord Guilford Dudley," continued Gunnora, in a stern tone,--"you, who have added your voice to that of your false father, to induce your bride to accept the crown,--think not you will ever rule this kingdom,--think not the supreme authority will be yours. You are a puppet in your father's hands ; and when you have served his turn, he will cast you aside--or deal with you as he dealt with Lord Seymour of Dudley,--with the lord protector, _by the axe_,--or, as he dealt with his sovereign, Edward the Sixth, _by poison_."

 

"This passeth all endurance," exclaimed Lord Guilford ;--"away with her to prison."

 

"Not so, my dear lord," said Queen Jane. "See you not that

 

her supposed wrongs have turned her brain ? She is faithful to the memory of the lord protector. If my reign prove as brief as she would have me believe it will be, it shall never be marked by severity. My first act shall be one of clemency. Take this ring, my poor woman," she added, detaching a brilliant from her taper finger, "and when you need a friend, apply to Queen Jane."

 

Gunnora received the costly gift with a look of speechless gratitude ; the tears started to her eyes, and she sank upon her knees in the boat, burying her face in her hands. In this state, she was rowed swiftly away by her grandson, while the loudest shouts were raised for the munificence and mercy of Jane, who was not sorry to hide herself behind the silken curtains of her barge.

 

At this moment, a loud and rattling peal of thunder burst overhead.

 

Seated beneath a canopy of state, supported by the richest silken cushions, and with her tiny feet resting upon a velvet footstool, adorned with her cipher and that of her husband interwoven with love-knots, Jane proceeded along the river ; her heart oppressed with fears and forebodings, to which she gave no utterance, but which the storm now raging around with frightful violence was not calculated to allay. The thunder was awfully loud ; the lightning almost insupportably vivid ; but fortunately for those exposed to the tempest, it was unattended with rain. Lord Guilford Dudley was unremitting in his assiduity to his lovely consort, and bitterly reproached himself for allowing her to set forth at such a season. As they approached that part of the river from which the noble old gothic cathedral of St. Paul's--one of the finest structures in the world, and destroyed, it is almost needless to say, by the Fire of London, when it was succeeded by the present pile--was best seen, Jane drew aside the curtains of her barge, and gazed with the utmost admiration upon the magnificent fane. The storm seemed to hang over its square and massive tower, and flashes of forked lightning of dazzling brightness appeared to shoot down each instant upon the body of the edifice.

 

"Like me, it is threatened," Jane mentally ejaculated ; "and perhaps the blow that strikes me may strike also the religion of my country. Whatever betide me, Heaven grant that that noble pile may never again be polluted by the superstitious ceremonies and idolatries of Rome !"