The Tower of London 40

The Tower of London 40

Inexperienced as the latter was in the arts of a court, being then only twenty-one, and having passed fourteen years of his life in close captivity in the Tower, he was easily duped by the wily ambassador ; and though repeatedly warned against him by De Noailles, who saw through Renard's design, he disregarded the caution. Satisfied of the Queen's favourable disposition towards him, which was evinced by the most marked attention on her part, this young nobleman conceived himself wholly beyond the reach of rivalry ; and trusting to his personal advantages, and the hold he had obtained over the affections of his royal mistress, he gave himself little concern about an opposition which he regarded as futile. He looked upon himself as certain of the

 

Queen's hand ; and but for his own imprudence, he would have been actually possessed of it.

 

Mary's meditated alliance was agreeable to all parties, except, as just intimated, that of Spain. Already nearly related to the crown by his descent from Edward the Fourth, no objection could be raised against her favourite on the score of rank ; while his frank and conciliating manner, combined with his rare endowments of mind and person, won him universal regard. Doctor Thomas Wilson, in the funeral oration pronounced over Courtenay at Padua in 1556, states, that during his long imprisonment in the Tower, "he wholly devoted himself to study, and that neither the _augustia loci, ncc solitudo, nec amissio libertatis,

 

ilium à literis avocarent_; that he made such progress in philosophy, that no nobleman was equal to him in it ; that he also explored the _mysteria naturae_; that he entered into the _mathematicorum

 

labyrintha_; that he was so fond of painting, that he could easily and laudably make any one's portrait on a _tabula_ ; that he was equally attached to music, and had attained in it _absolutam perfectionem_ ; and that to these acquisitions he added the Spanish, French, and Italian languages. In manners he was grave without pride ; pleasant without levity ; prudent in speech ; cautious in answering ; modest in disputing ; never boasting of himself, nor excluding others ; and though familiar with many, yet intimately known to few." Allowing for the drawbacks which must necessarily be made from such an _éloge_, enough will remain to prove that his accomplishments were of no common order.

 

On the onset of his career, however, Courtenay was assailed by temptations which it required more experience of the world to resist. Strictly confined from his earliest youth, it may be conceived that when first exposed to female fascination, his heart was speedily melted. Hitherto, he had only read of beauty. He now felt its full force, and placed no bounds to the admiration which the charms of the dames of honour excited within his breast. It was upon this point of his character, that Renard justly grounded his hopes of alienating the Queen's affections. Encouraging his new-born licentiousness, he took care that none of his gallantries should fail to reach the ears of his royal mistress. Though of a staid and severe character, Mary was not indisposed to make allowances for one so utterly inexperienced as Courtenay ; and her first direction to Renard was to check him. So far from doing this, the artful ambassador incited him to further irregularities, and contrived to place new objects in his way. In vain De Noailles remonstrated, entreating him at least to be more guarded in his conduct. In vain Gardiner sternly rebuked him. He turned a deaf ear alike to remonstrance and reproof ; and hurried on by the unbridled impetuosity of youth, passed from one excess to another. Renard witnessed his conduct with secret satisfaction ; but he was not prepared for the calmness with which the Queen viewed it. She was greatly

 

displeased, yet as her lover still seemed passionately devoted to her, she looked upon his conduct as resulting from the circumstances of his previous life, and trusting he would soon open his eyes to its folly, was content to pardon it.

 

Renard then saw that he must have recourse to stronger measures. As Mary's jealousy was not to be easily aroused, he resolved to bring a more formidable rival into the held. There was one ready made to his hand. It was the Princess Elizabeth. On no one point was the Queen's vanity more easily touched than by any reference to the superior charms of her sister. Any compliment paid the latter she construed into a slight to herself ; and she watched with an uneasy glance the effect produced by her in public. So sensible was Elizabeth of the Queen's foible, that she kept in the back ground as much as possible. Unaware of the mortification he inflicted upon his royal mistress, and of the injury he did himself, Courtenay often praised the Princess's beauty in terms so rapturous as to call a blush into her cheek, while the blood was driven from that of Mary. So undisguised was his admiration, that the Queen resolved to remove the object of it from her court ; and would have done so, but for the artful management of Renard, who felt that such a step would ruin his plans.

 

Long before Courtenay had noticed it, the subtle ambassador, well skilled in woman's feelings, ascertained the state of Elizabeth's heart, and saw that she was not proof against the captivating manners and personal graces of the handsome young nobleman. It was not difficult for one possessed of so many opportunities as himself to heighten this feeling into a passion ; and before long he had the satisfaction to find that the princess was deeply enamoured

 

of her sister's suitor. Nor was Courtenay less easily enthralled. Apprised of his conquest by Renard, instead of resisting it, he at once surrendered himself to the snare. Again De Noailles, who saw his dangerous position, came to his aid. Again Gardiner rebuked him more severely than before. He derided their remonstrances ; and heedless of the changing manner of the Queen--heedless also of the peril to which he exposed the princess, he scarcely attempted to disguise his passion, or to maintain the semblance of love for his royal mistress. Consumed by jealousy, Mary meditated some blow which should satisfy her outraged feelings; while Renard only waited a favourable opportunity to bring matters to a crisis.

 

Affairs being in this state, it chanced one day that Courtenay received a summons to the Queen's presence, and instantly repairing thither, he found her alone. His reception was so cold, that he was at no loss to understand she was deeply offended ; and he would have thrown himself at her feet, if she had not prevented him by impatiently waving her hand.

 

"I have sent for you, my lord," she said, "for the last time--."

 

"For the last time, my gracious mistress!" exclaimed Courtenay.

 

"Do not interrupt me," rejoined Mary, severely. "I have sent for you to tell you that whatever were the feelings I once entertained for you, they are now entirely changed. I will not remind you of the favours I have shown you--of the honours I have bestowed on you--or of the greater honours I intended you. I will simply tell you that your ingratitude equals your perfidy ; and that I banish you henceforth from my presence."

 

"How have I offended your highness?" demanded Courtenay, panic-stricken.

 

"_How?_" cried Mary, fiercely--her eyes kindling, and her countenance assuming the terrible __EXPRESSION__ she inherited from her father. "Do you affect ignorance of the cause ? I have overlooked your indiscretions, though I have not been ignorant of them, imputing them to youth and inexperience. I have overlooked them, I say, because I thought I discovered amid all this vice and folly the elements of a noble nature--and because," and her voice faltered--u I persuaded myself that you loved me."

 

"Have you no faith in my adjurations of attachment ?" cried Courtenay, prostrating himself, and endeavouring to take her hand.

 

"None," rejoined the queen, withdrawing her hand ; "none whatever. Arise, my lord, and do not further degrade yourself. You may love the queen, but you do not love the woman.--You may prize my throne, but you do not prize me."

 

"You wrong me, gracious madam. On my soul you do," rejoined Courtenay. "I may have trifled with others, but I have given my heart wholly to you."

 

"It is false!" cried Mary, furiously. "You love the princess, my sister."

 

Courtenay turned very pale. But he instantly recovered himself.

 

"Your highness is mistaken," he answered.

 

"What!" cried the queen, her anger increasing each moment. "Dare you persist in the denial of your falsehood ? Dare you tell me to my face that you have not breathed words of passion to her ? Dare you assert that you have not lamented your engagement to me ? Dare you say this ?"

 

"I dare, madam."

 

"Then your own words shall give you the he, traitor," replied the queen. "Here is your letter to her," she added, producing a paper, "wherein you tell her so."

 

"Confusion!" uttered Courtenay, "Renard has betrayed

 

___

 

me.

 

"Is this letter your writing?" demanded the queen.

 

I will not prevaricate, madam," replied Courtenay ; "it is."

 

"And in the face of this you declare you have not deceived

 

 

 

me?

 

"I _have_ deceived you, gracious madam," replied Courtenay.

 

But I have never ceased to love you."

 

"My lord!--my lord !" exclaimed Mary, in a menacing tone. "Beware how you attempt to deceive me further, or as God shall judge me, you shall find that the daughter of Henry the Eighth is not to be offended with impunity."

 

"I know you are terrible in anger, gracious madam," replied Courtenay; "but you are also just. Judge me--condemn me, if you please, but hear me. he who gave you that letter,--Simon Renard,--counselled me to write it.'1

 

"Ha!" exclaimed the queen.

 

"I have been guilty of folly--madness--" rejoined Courtenay--"but not the black perfidy your highness imagines. Dismiss me from your presence--send me into exile--I deserve any punishment--but do not believe that I have ceased to love you."

 

u I know not what _you_ term love, my lord," replied Mary; "but I have no idea of sharing the affection of any man with another. Grant, however, that you speak the truth, why have you addressed this passionate epistle to the Princess Elizabeth?"

 

"I have already said I was deceived,1' replied Courtenay. "I cannot excuse my conduct--though I lament it."

 

"Are you sincere?" said Mary, who began to be softened by her lover's apparent penitence.

 

"By what oath shall I confirm my truth ?" he replied, fervently.

 

"I will test it more surely," rejoined the queen, as if struck by a sudden idea.

 

"In any way your highness thinks proper," returned Courtenay.

 

"Summon the Princess Elizabeth to our presence instantly," said Mary, striking a small bell, the sound of which brought an usher before her.

 

"The Princess Elizabeth!" exclaimed Courtenay. "Ay, the Princess," repeated the queen. "I will confront you with her. Bid the lord chancellor and the ambassadors of Spain and France attend us," she continued to the usher.