The Tower of London: A Historical Romance, Illustrated

“Follow me, then, without, my lords,” replied Nightgall, “and I will convey him where he shall not cause further uneasiness to any of us. We have dungeons within the Tower, from which those who enter them seldom return.”

“You are acquainted, no doubt, with the secret passages of the White Tower, friend?” asked Renard.

“With all of them,” rejoined Nightgall. “I know every subterranean communication – every labyrinth – every hidden recess within the walls of the fortress, and there are many such – and can conduct you wherever you desire.”

“You are the very man I want,” cried Renard, rubbing his hands, gleefully. “Lead on.”

And the trio quitted the chamber, without their departure being noticed.

Half an hour afterwards, as Cuthbert Cholmondeley issued from the postern with a heart elate with rapture at having elicited from the fair Cicely a confession that she loved him, he received a severe blow on the head from behind, and before he could utter a single outcry, he was gagged, and forced away by his assailants.

IV. – OF THE MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE THAT HAPPENED TO QUEEN JANE IN SAINT JOHN’S CHAPEL IN THE WHITE TOWER

On that night Lord Guilford Dudley was summoned to a secret council by his father, the Duke of Northumberland, and as he had not returned at midnight, the Lady Hastings, who was in attendance upon the Queen, proposed that, to while away the time, they should pay a visit to St. John’s Chapel in the White Tower, of the extreme beauty of which they had all heard, though none of them had seen it. Jane assented to the proposal, and accompanied by her sister, the Lady Herbert, and the planner of the expedition, Lady Hastings, she set forth. Two ushers led the way through the long galleries and passages which had to be traversed before they reached the White Tower; but on arriving at the room adjoining the council-chamber which had so lately been thronged with armed men, but which was now utterly deserted, Jane inquired from her attendants the way to the chapel, and on ascertaining it, commanded her little train to await her return there, as she had determined on entering the sacred structure alone. In vain her sisters remonstrated with her – in vain the ushers suggested that there might be danger in trusting herself in such a place at such an hour without protection – she remained firm – but promised to return in a few minutes, after which they could explore the chapel together.

Taking a lamp from one of the attendants, and pursuing the course pointed out to her, she threaded a narrow passage, similar to that she had traversed with the Duke in the morning, and speedily entered upon the gallery above the chapel. As she passed through the opening in the wall leading to this gallery, she fancied she beheld the retreating figure of a man, muffled in a cloak, and she paused for a moment, half-inclined to turn back. Ashamed, however, of her irresolution, and satisfied that it was a mere trick of the imagination, she walked on. Descending a short spiral wooden staircase, she found herself within one of the aisles of the chapel, and passing between its columns, entered the body of the fane. For some time, she was lost in admiration of this beautiful structure, which, in its style of architecture – the purest Norman – is without an equal. She counted its twelve massive and circular stone pillars, noted their various ornaments and mouldings, and admired their grandeur and simplicity. Returning to the northern aisle, she glanced at its vaulted roof, and was enraptured at the beautiful effect produced by the interweaving arches.

While she was thus occupied, she again fancied she beheld the same muffled figure she had before seen, glide behind one of the pillars. Seriously alarmed, she was now about to retrace her steps, when her eye rested upon an object lying at a little distance from her, on the ground. Prompted by an undefinable feeling of curiosity, she hastened towards it, and holding forward the light, a shudder ran through her frame, as she perceived at her feet, an axe! It was the peculiarly-formed implement used by the headsman, and the edge was turned towards her.

At this moment, her lamp was extinguished.

V. – OF THE MISUNDERSTANDING THAT AROSE BETWEEN QUEEN JANE AND HER HUSBAND, LORD GUILFORD DUDLEY

NOT appearing, and some time having elapsed since her departure, her sisters, who were anxiously awaiting her return in the room adjoining the council-chamber, became so uneasy, that, notwithstanding her injunctions to the contrary, they resolved to go in search of her. Accordingly, bidding the ushers precede them, they descended to the chapel; and their uneasiness was by no means decreased on finding it buried in darkness, and apparently empty. As they gazed around in perplexity and astonishment, a deep-drawn sigh broke from the northern aisle; and, hurrying in that direction, they discovered the object of their search, who had been hidden from view by the massive intervening pillars, extended upon a seat, and just recovering from a swoon into which she had fallen. Revived by their assiduities, Jane was soon able to speak, and the first thing she uttered was a peremptory order that no alarm should be given, or assistance sent for.

“I am now well – quite well,” she said, with a look and in a tone that belied her words, “and require no further aid. Do not question me as to what has happened. My brain is too confused to think of it; and I would fain banish it altogether from my memory. Moreover, I charge you by your love and allegiance, that you mention to no one – not even to my dear lord and husband, should he interrogate you on the subject, – how you have just found me. And if my visit here be not remarked by him – as is not unlikely, if he should remain closeted with the Duke of Northumberland, – it is my will and pleasure that no allusion be made to the circumstance. You will not need to be told, dear sisters, that I have good reasons for thus imposing silence upon you. To you, sirs,” she continued, addressing the ushers, who listened to her with the greatest surprise, “I also enjoin the strictest secrecy; – and look well you observe it.”

The solemn and mysterious manner in which the Queen delivered her commands quite confounded her sisters, who glanced at each other as if they knew not what to think; – but they readily promised compliance, as did the ushers. Supporting herself on the arm of Lady Herbert, Jane then arose, and proceeded at a slow pace towards the eastern stair-case. As she was about to turn the corner of the aisle, she whispered to Lady Hastings, who walked on her left – “Look behind you, Catherine. Do you see nothing on the ground?”

“Nothing whatever, your highness,” replied the other, glancing fearfully over her shoulder. “Nothing whatever, except the black and fantastic shadows of our attendants.”

“Thank Heaven! it is gone,” ejaculated Jane, as if relieved from a weight of anxiety.

“What is gone, dear sister?” inquired Lady Herbert, affectionately.

“Do not ask me,” replied Jane, in a tone calculated to put an end to further conversation on the subject. “What I have seen and heard must for ever remain locked in my own bosom.”

“I begin to think a spirit must have appeared to your majesty,” observed Lady Herbert, whose curiosity was violently excited, and who, in common with most persons of the period, entertained a firm belief in supernatural appearances. “Every chamber in the Tower is said to be haunted, – and why not this ghostly chapel, which looks as if it were peopled with phantoms? I am quite sorry I proposed to visit it. But if I am ever caught in it again, except in broad daylight, and then only with sufficient attendance, your majesty shall have free leave to send me to keep company with the invisible world for the future. I would give something to know what you have seen. Perhaps it was the ghost of Anne Boleyn, who is known to walk; – or the guilty Catherine Howard, – or the old Countess of Salisbury. Do tell me which it was – and whether the spectre carried its head under its arm?”

“No more of this,” said Jane, authoritatively. “Come with me to the altar.”

“Your majesty is not going to remain here?” cried Lady Hastings. “I declare positively I dare not stop.”

“I will not detain you longer than will suffice to offer a single prayer to Heaven,” rejoined the Queen. “Be not afraid. Nothing will injure, or affright you.”

“I am by no means sure of that,” replied Lady Hastings. “And now I really do think I see something.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Jane, starting. “Where?”

“Behind the farthest pillar on the right,” replied Lady Hastings, pointing towards it. “It looks like a man muffled in a cloak. There! – it moves.”

“Go and see whether any one be lurking in the chapel,” said Jane to the nearest usher, and speaking in a voice so loud, that it almost seemed as if she desired to be overheard.

The attendant obeyed; and immediately returned with the intelligence that he could find no one.

“Your fears, you perceive, are groundless, Catherine,” observed Jane, forcing a smile.

“Not altogether, I am persuaded, from your manner, my dear sister, and gracious mistress,” rejoined Lady Hastings. “Oh! how I wish I was safe back again in the palace.”

“So do I,” added Lady Herbert.

“A moment’s patience and I am ready,” rejoined Jane.

With this, she approached the altar, and prostrated herself on the velvet cushion before it.

“Almighty Providence!” she murmured in a tone so low as to be inaudible to the others, “I humbly petition thee and supplicate thee, that if the kingdom that has been given me be rightly and lawfully mine, thou wilt grant me so much grace and spirit, that I may govern it to thy glory, service, and advantage. But if it be otherwise – if I am unlawfully possessed of it, and am an hindrance to one who might serve thee more effectually, remove, O Lord, the crown from my head, and set it on that of thy chosen servant! And if what I have this night beheld be a fore-shadowing and a warning of the dreadful doom that awaits me, grant me, I beseech thee, strength to meet it with fortitude and resignation; so that my ending, like my life, may redound to thy honour, and the welfare of thy holy church.” While Jane was thus devoutly occupied, her sisters, who stood behind her, could scarcely control their uneasiness, but glanced ever and anon timorously round, as if in expectation of some fearful interruption. Their fears were speedily communicated to the ushers; and though nothing occurred to occasion fresh alarm, the few minutes spent by the Queen in prayer appeared an age to her companions. There was something in the hour – it was past midnight, – and the place, calculated to awaken superstitious terrors. The lights borne by the attendants only illumined a portion of the chapel; rendering that which was left in shadow yet more sombre; while the columned aisles on either side, and the deeply-recessed arches of the gallery above, were shrouded in gloom. Even in broad day, St. John’s Chapel is a solemn and a striking spot; but at midnight, with its heavy, hoary pillars, reared around like phantoms, its effect upon the imagination will be readily conceived to be far greater.

Already described as one of the most perfect specimens of Norman ecclesiastical architecture, this venerable structure, once used as a place of private worship by the old monarchs of England, and now as a receptacle for Chancery proceedings, has, from its situation in the heart of the White Tower, preserved, in an almost unequalled state, its original freshness and beauty; and, except that its floors are encumbered with cases, and its walls of Caen stone disfigured by a thick coat of white plaster, it is now much in the same state that it was at the period under consideration. It consists of a nave with broad aisles, flanked (as has been mentioned) by twelve circular pillars, of the simplest and most solid construction, which support a stone gallery of equal width with the aisles, and having an arcade corresponding with that beneath the floor is now boarded, but was formerly covered with a hard polished cement, resembling red granite. The roof is coved, and beautifully proportioned; and the fane is completed by a semicircular termination towards the east.

Old Stowe records the following order, given in the reign of Henry the Third, for its decoration: – “And that ye cause the whole chapel of St. John the Evangelist to be whited. And that ye cause three glass windows in the same chapel to be made; to wit, one on the north side, with a certain little Mary holding her child; the other on the south part, with the image of the Trinity; and the third, of St. John the Apostle and Evangelist, in the south part. And that ye cause the cross and the beam beyond the altar of the same chapel to be painted well and with good colours. And that ye cause to be made and painted two fair images where more conveniently and decently they may be done in the same chapel; one of St. Edward, holding a ring, and reaching it out to St. John the Evangelist.” These fair images – the cross – the rood, – and the splendid illuminated window, are gone – most of them, indeed, were gone in Queen Jane’s time – the royal worshippers are gone with them; but enough remains in its noble arcades, its vaulted aisles, and matchless columns, to place St. John’s Chapel foremost in beauty of its class of architecture.

Her devotions over, Jane arose with a lighter heart, and, accompanied by her little train, quitted the chapel. On reaching her own apartments, she dismissed her attendants, with renewed injunctions of secrecy; and as Lord Guilford Dudley had not returned from the council, and she felt too much disturbed in mind to think of repose, she took from among the books on her table, a volume of the divine Plato, whose Phædo, in the original tongue, she was wont, in the words of her famous instructor, Roger Ascham, “to read with as much delight as some gentlemen would take in a merry tale of Boccace,” and was speedily lost in his profound and philosophic speculations.

In this way the greater part of the night was consumed; nor was it till near day-break that she was aroused from her studies by the entrance of’ her husband.

“Jane, my beloved queen!” he exclaimed, hastening towards her with a countenance beaming with delight. “I have intelligence for you which will enchant you.”

“Indeed! my dear lord,”’ she replied, laying down her book, and rising to meet him. “What is it?”

“Guess,” he answered, smiling.

“Nay, dear Dudley,” she rejoined, “put me not to this trouble. Tell me at once your news, that I may participate in your satisfaction.”

“In a word, then, my queen,” replied Lord Guilford, – “My father and the nobles propose to elevate me to the same dignity as yourself.”

Jane’s countenance fell.

“They have not the power to do so, my lord,” she rejoined gravely; “I, alone, can thus elevate you.”

“Then I am king,” cried Dudley, triumphantly.

“My lord,” observed Jane, with increased gravity, “you will pardon me if I say I must consider of this matter.”

“Consider of it!” echoed her husband, frowning; “I must have your decision at once. You can have no hesitation, since my father desires it. I am your husband, and claim your obedience.”

“And I, my lord,” rejoined Jane, with dignity, “am your queen; and, as such, it is for me, not you, to exact obedience. We will talk no further on the subject.”

“As you please, madam,” replied Lord Guilford, coldly. “To-morrow you will learn the Duke’s pleasure.”