The World's Greatest Books — Volume 01 — Fiction · Chapter 3Harrison Ainsworth
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
William Harrison Ainsworth, born at Manchester, England, Feb. 4, 1805, was a popular rather than a great writer. A solicitor's son, he was himself trained in the law, but some adventures in journalism led him finally to the literary life, his first success as a writer of romance being scored with "Rookwood" in 1834. "Tower of London" was the fourth work of the novelist, and, according to Ainsworth himself, it was written chiefly with the aim of interesting his fellow-countrymen in the historical associations of the Tower. From the popularity of the romance it is reasonable to suppose that it fulfilled its author's hopes in this respect, though it must be confessed its history leaves a good deal to be desired. Here is not the place to discuss the rights and wrongs of Ainsworth's bold liberties in respect to the historical personages he introduces; but there is no doubt that the romance is told with vigour and dramatic movement, and it is an excellent example of the novelist's spirited style of narrative, though, judged on purely literary merits, like his other works, the "Tower of London" will not bear comparison with the masterpieces of Sir Walter Scott in the field of historical romance. Ainsworth died at Reigate on January 3, 1882.
Edward VI. was dead, poisoned, it was rumoured, by the Duke of Northumberland, Grandmaster of the Realm. For three days had an attempt been made to keep his death secret, so that the proud and ambitious duke might seize the persons of the Princess Mary and the Princess Elizabeth. But the former, warned in time, had escaped the snare; and the Duke of Northumberland, finding further dissimulation useless, boldly proclaimed his daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey, queen.
On July 10, 1553, Queen Jane, the wisest and most beautiful woman in the kingdom, though only sixteen years of age, was conducted in state to the Tower, where it was the custom for the monarchs of England to spend the first few days of their reign.
But the crowds who watched her departure from Durham House, in the Strand, were silent and sullen. Her youthful beauty and grace might win an involuntary cry of admiration, but the heart of the people was not hers. They recognised that she was but the tool of her father-in-law, whom, because of his overweening ambition, they hated.
All the pride and pomp of silken banners and cloth of gold could not mask the gloomy presage of the young queen's reign. The very heavens thundered; and owing to the press of boats that surrounded the procession, many small craft were overturned and their occupants thrown into the water. And if further signs of portending evil were wanted, they could be discerned in the uneasy whisperings of those lords of the Privy Council who were present, or in the sinister face of the Spaniard, Simon Renard, ambassador to the Emperor Charles V.
"This farce will not last long," he said to De Noailles, the French ambassador. "The Privy Council are the duke's secret enemies, and through them I shall strike the scepter from Jane's grasp and place it in the hand of Mary."
Elsewhere in the procession, Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, uttered in a low voice to Ridley, Bishop of London, his fears for the future; while certain lords of the Privy Council, who had planned the assassination of the Duke of Northumberland, and were aware that their plot had been discovered, approached the portals of the Tower in fear and trembling.
But there was one man at least who did not share the general depression and uneasiness. Cuthbert Cholmondeley, esquire to Lord Guildford Dudley, husband of Queen Jane, found much to interest him in the scene. The reception of her Majesty by Og, Gog, and Magog had already driven away the sense of portending evil from his mind when he caught sight of a girl's face in the crowd. It was only for a moment that he had sight of it; but it left such a deep impression on his mind that for the rest of the day he burned with impatience to discover who the girl might be.
Much had to happen before he could satisfy his curiosity. Once in the Tower, plots against Queen Jane and the Duke of Northumberland began to thicken. At a meeting of the Privy Council the duke compelled the lords, under threat of imprisonment, to sign a proclamation declaring Princess Mary illegitimate. Renard lost no time in turning to his own advantage the bad impression created by these tactics.
"Do you consent to Northumberland's assassination?" he whispered to Pembroke.
"I do," replied the Earl of Pembroke. "But who will strike the blow?"
"I will find the man."
This sinister fragment of conversation fell upon the ears of Cuthbert. He at once sent a warning missive to his master, telling him of the plot against the duke's life. Then, this duty performed, he set out to try and find the girl whose face had so impressed him. From the giant warders he learnt that she was the adopted daughter of Dame Potentia Trusbut, wife of Peter, the pantler of the Tower. A mystery surrounded her birth. Her mother had been imprisoned in the Tower by Henry VIII., and in her dungeon had given birth to Cicely--such was the name of the girl.
Magog, seeing Cuthbert's interest, good-naturedly carried him off with him to the pantler's quarters. Here a gargantuan feast was in progress, to which the three giants did full justice, devouring whole joints and pasties and quaffing vast flagons of wine, to the great delight of the pantler and his wife. But Cuthbert had no eyes except for Cicely. He was not content until he was by her side and was able to hear her voice. The attraction between them was mutual, and it was not long before they were whispering the first words of love into one another's ears.
While all was merriment, Renard and Pembroke made their appearance unobserved. They had intercepted Cuthbert's letter, and were anxious to satisfy themselves as to the identity of the rash youth who had dared to cross their path.
"Though we have intercepted his missive to Lord Dudley," whispered Renard, "he may yet betray us. He must not return to the palace."
"He shall never return, my lords," said a tall, dark man, advancing towards them, "if you will entrust his detention to me."
"Who are you?" demanded Renard, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Lawrence Nightgall, the chief gaoler."
"What is your motive for this offer?"
"Look there!" returned Nightgall. "I love that damsel. He has supplanted me, but he shall not profit by his good fortune."
"You are the very man I want!" cried Renard, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Lead me where we can speak more freely."
The three withdrew unobserved. Half an hour later Cuthbert dragged himself unwillingly from Cicely's side and passed into the open air. As he did so he received a blow on the back of his head which stretched him unconscious on the ground.
When he came to his senses he found himself bound by a chain in a gloomy dungeon, a ghastly, dreadful place, but a few feet in height. His first instinct was to try to loosen his bonds, but after vainly lacerating his hands he sank down exhausted.
Terrible recollections flashed upon his mind of the pitiless sufferings he had heard that the miserable wretches immured in these dungeons endured before death.
For a time these mental tortures were acute; but at last nature asserted herself, and he sank exhausted into sleep. He was awakened by a cry, and perceived the tall, skeleton figure of a woman standing by him. She placed a thin and bony hand upon his shoulder. He shrank back as far as his chain would permit, horror-stricken. The figure pursued him, shrieking, "My child! My child! You have taken my child!"
Suddenly she stopped and stood erect. A distant footstep was heard.
"He comes! He comes!" she cried, and with a loud shriek dashed from the dungeon and disappeared.
In another second Nightgall stood before him. The gaoler made no attempt to disguise the motives which prompted him to imprison the young esquire. No threats that Cuthbert could use had the least effect on him. He quailed before the charge that Cuthbert made at random--that he had murdered the child of the unfortunate wretch who had disappeared at his coming, but on the question of his release he was obdurate. If Cuthbert would agree to give up Cicely he should be released; otherwise he should meet with a secret death at the hands of Mauger, the executioner.
At this juncture, Cicely, who had been directed by the dwarf, Xit, appeared. To save the man she loved she boldly declared that she would wed Nightgall, provided that he would conduct his prisoner outside the walls of the Tower.
"Bring me back some token that you have done so, and I am yours," she said.
Nightgall consented, and agreed to withdraw while Cuthbert and Cicely arranged privately what the token should be.
Hurriedly Cuthbert gave her a ring to send to Lord Dudley, who, he knew, would at once effect his release. Then, accompanied by Nightgall, Cicely withdrew from the gloomy dungeon.
Unable to deliver the ring herself to Lord Dudley, Cicely entrusted that task to Xit. But the vanity of the dwarf prevented the execution of the plan. As he was exhibiting the ring to Og, Nightgall suddenly approached, and snatched it from him, and, without taking any notice of the little man's threats, made his way to Cicely. When he displayed the ring as the token that her lover had been set free, Cicely, shrieking "Lost! Lost!" fell senseless on the floor.
While Renard's intrigues were maturing, and the Duke of Northumberland had left the Tower on a campaign against the Princess Mary, Cuthbert Cholmondeley was kept languishing in his terrible dungeon.
At long intervals Nightgall visited him, and once the wretched prisoner, whom the gaoler called Alexia, came to him, entreating his help against Nightgall.
At last Cuthbert decided upon a daring plan of escape. After several days' imprisonment he feigned to be dead. Nightgall, seeing him stretched on the ground, apparently lifeless, chuckled with delight, and, releasing the chain that bound his leg, bent over him with the intention of carrying his body into the burial vault near the moat. But a suspicion crossed his mind, and he drew his dagger, determined to make sure that his prisoner had passed away. As he did so, the young esquire sprang to his feet, and wrested the poniard from his grasp. In another second Nightgall was lying chained to the floor, where his prisoner had been a moment before.
Despite the gaoler's threats, Cuthbert set out, determined to liberate Alexia and made good his own escape. He wandered through the terrible torture chambers, released an old man confined in a cell called Little Ease, a cell so low and so contrived that the wretched inmate could not stand, walk, sit, or lie at full length within, and then, unable to discover the whereabouts of the ill-fated Alexia, returned to the gaoler, and, possessing himself of his keys and cloak, started forth once more. After wandering for a long time, chance at last brought him to a secret door, which led into St. John's Chapel in the White Tower.
While these events were in progress Cicely, despairing of her lover's safety, sought an audience of Queen Jane, and poured out her story. Moved by compassion, the queen gave directions for a search to be made, and, delighted by the grace and charm of Cicely, appointed her one of her attendants. Lord Guildford Dudley, procuring the assistance of Magog, burst open the door leading to the subterranean dungeons beneath the Devilin Tower, and eventually discovered Nightgall, who made a full confession of his crime as the price of his release.
Cholmondeley's arrival in St. John's Chapel was opportune. Renard, with Pembroke by his side, had just demanded the resignation of the crown by Queen Jane, and the queen, helpless but courageous, had ordered Lord Pembroke to arrest the Spaniard. Pembroke had refused to move, and at this juncture Cholmondeley stepped forward, and, advancing towards the ambassador, said, "M. Simon Renard, you are the queen's prisoner."
The Spaniard drew his sword, and, with the assistance of the Earl of Pembroke, kept Cuthbert at bay until they were both able to slip through the secret door.
Next day, Queen Jane was forced by the Privy Council to resign her crown, and that same night, accompanied by Cuthbert and Cicely, she escaped by a secret passage from the Tower, and, taking a boat, made her way to Sion House. Here, the following day, she and her husband were arrested, and learnt the news that the Duke of Northumberland was in captivity, and that Queen Mary had ascended the throne. Once more Lady Jane was led back to the Tower, and as she entered by the Traitors' Gate she saw Renard standing hard by, with a smile of bitter mockery in his face.
"So," he said, "Epiphany is over. The Twelfth Day Queen has played her part."
Simon Renard's influence was now for the time supreme. At his instigation the Duke of Northumberland was tricked into a confession of the Roman Catholic faith on the scaffold, and then executed. Ambitious that Mary should marry Philip of Spain, he contrived by intrigue to kill her affection for Courtenay, the young Earl of Devon, and succeeded so successfully that Courtenay was placed under arrest, and the Princess Elizabeth, with whom the earl had fallen in love, became the victim of her sister's jealousy. Cuthbert, though not confined in a cell, was kept prisoner in the Tower, and occupied quarters in the pantler's house. Cicely had disappeared, and nothing had been heard of her since the arrest of Lady Jane Grey at Sion House.
Consumed with anxiety for the safety of the girl he loved, the esquire began to suspect that she had been kidnapped by Nightgall. He determined to find her at all cost, and getting Xit to steal the gaoler's keys, he once more made his way to the subterranean dungeons.
Cell after cell he searched, but nowhere could he find a trace of his beloved Cicely. All that he discovered was the dead body of Alexia. He made haste to return to his quarters, and had almost reached them when Nightgall appeared, and at once placed him under arrest for stealing his keys.
His enemy was now at his mercy, and Nightgall, after burying the body of Alexia, sought out Cicely, whom be had kept for several weeks a close prisoner in the Salt Tower. He told her that he was about to remove her to another prison in the Tower leading to the Iron Gate.
"I will never go thither of my own accord," replied Cicely, shrinking terrified from him. "Release me, villain; I will die sooner than become your bride."
"We shall see that," growled the gaoler, seizing hold of her. "You shall never be set free unless you consent to be mine."
He carried her, shrieking and struggling in his arms, out of the room, and dragged her by main force down the secret staircase. She continued her screams, until her head, striking against the stones, she was stunned by the blow and became insensible. Nightgall raised her, and carried her quickly to the dark cell he had already prepared. Here she would have languished for months without seeing anybody save Nightgall, except for a curious chain of circumstances.
Renard's plan of marrying Mary to Philip of Spain, to which end he had had Courtenay and the Princess Elizabeth imprisoned in the Tower, was bitterly opposed by De Noailles. The French ambassador determined to prevent the Spaniard's plans, and, by means of Xit, sent a communication to the princess just as she was leaving her prison for Ashbridge. Further, the little mannikin managed to creep, by way of the chimney, into the chamber where Courtenay was confined, and arrange a plan by which the Earl was able to escape. His share in these events, however, was discovered, and, much to his amazement, he was arrested and taken to the torture chamber. Though none of the instruments were small enough to inflict much pain upon him, he was so terrified that he answered every question that Renard asked him, giving those answers that he thought the Spaniard would approve. The examination over he was placed in a cell. Here he was visited by Nightgall, from whose girdle he managed to cut, unobserved, the bunch of keys.
Unlocking his own door, he hurried out into the labyrinth of passages and cells, and in his wanderings in search of an exit lighted upon the cell in which Cicely was confined. He was not able to effect her escape, for as they were setting out Nightgall appeared, and put an end to their hopes.
Cuthbert had meanwhile been released, together with Lady Jane and her husband. For a time they lived together quietly in Sion House, but De Noailles' plan to prevent the Spanish marriage at all costs dragged them once more into the whirlpool.
Under the leadership of Sir Thomas Wyatt, an insurrection took place, having for its nominal object the prevention of Mary's marriage with Philip of Spain; but it was joined by all the forces opposed to the crown. Courtenay shared in it because he hoped to wed Elizabeth, who would be made Queen on the deposition of Mary. Lord Guildford Dudley joined in it in the anticipation that his wife might once more mount the throne.
At first Wyatt carried everything before him. Mary was actually besieged in the Tower, which it was attempted to carry by force. Supported by Cuthbert, Lord Guildford led the assault, shouting, "Long live Queen Jane! Down with Renard and the See of Rome!" The attack had almost succeeded, when Dudley was struck from behind by Renard and taken prisoner.
Cuthbert only escaped by forcing himself through an aperture, and dropping into the moat, from where he managed to swim ashore. He made his way at once to Lady Jane, and related to her how the insurrection had collapsed, and how her husband had been taken prisoner. For her own safety Jane had no thought. She at once determined to seek out the queen, and beseech her to spare her husband.
Accompanied by Cuthbert, she presented herself at the Tower, and, obtaining an audience with Mary, flung herself at her feet.
"I am come to submit myself to your highness's mercy," she said, as soon as she could find utterance.
"Mercy?" exclaimed Mary scornfully. "You shall receive justice, but no mercy."
"I do not sue for myself," rejoined Jane, "but for my husband. I have come to offer myself for him. If your highness has any pity for me, extend it to him, and heap his faults on my head."
Queen Mary was deeply moved. Had not Gardiner intervened, she would undoubtedly have granted the request; but Gardiner suggested that the price of the pardon should be the public reconciliation of Lady Jane and her husband with the Church of Rome.
"I cannot," said Jane. "I will die for him, but I cannot destroy my soul alive."
After a week's imprisonment, Cuthbert was closely questioned, and his answers being deemed unsatisfactory, he was ordered to be examined under torture. With fiendish delight Nightgall took him to the horrible chamber. There, the first thing that he saw was the tortured, mangled figure of Lord Dudley, covered from head to foot by a blood-coloured cloth.
"You here?" cried the ghastly, distorted figure. "Where is Jane? Has she fled? Has she escaped?"
"She has surrendered herself," replied Cholmondeley, "in the hope of obtaining your pardon."
"False hope! Delusive expectation!" exclaimed Dudley, in tones of anguish, as he was carried from the room. "She will share my fate. Oh God! I am her destroyer!"
Cholmondeley, as soon as his master had been borne away, was seized by the torturers and placed on the rack. He determined that not a sound should escape him, and though his whole frame seemed rent asunder, he bravely kept his resolve.
"Go on," cried Nightgall, as the torturers paused. "Turn the roller again."
Even as he spoke Cholmondeley fainted, and, finding that no answers could be extracted from him, he was taken back to his cell and flung upon a heap of straw. As he lay there, Nightgall, with diabolical cruelty, brought Cicely to his side, and bade her look on his nerveless arms and crippled limbs, and mockingly offered to set him free if Cicely would marry him of her own free will. When at Cuthbert's instigation she refused, he forced her away, shrieking for help.
Cuthbert sank once more into insensibility. He came to his senses again to find that men were chafing his limbs and bathing his temples, and that Renard was in his cell. At the Spaniard's order he was given a cup of wine, and the rest having withdrawn, Renard questioned him further.
While this examination was going on the cell door opened softly, and a masked figure appeared. It was Nightgall, who, bribed by De Noailles, had come to assassinate Renard. He flung himself on his intended victim, and was about to dispatch him with his poniard, when Cuthbert, summoning up all his strength, intervened.
Finding that he had two men to deal with instead of one, the gaoler sprang to his feet, and rushed from the dungeon. Renard followed him, furious with rage, and Cuthbert at once took advantage of the opportunity to escape.
After some search he discovered the whereabouts of Cicely, and together the lovers, happy once more at being united, if only for a short time, succeeded in finding their way out of the dungeons. As soon as they emerged into the open air they were arrested by the warders, and taken to the guard-room in the White Tower, where Cicely received a warm welcome from the three giants. There was no time to relate their adventures before Renard appeared, walking before a litter upon which was borne the mangled body of Nightgall, who, in his attempt to escape the Spaniard's sword, had been forced to jump from an embrasure of the White Tower.
The wretch was dying; but with his last breath he attempted to make some amends for all the evil he had done in his life. Bidding Cicely come to his side, he told her that she was the daughter of Alexia, whose real name was Lady Mountjoy, and he gave her papers, proving her right to the estates of her father, Sir Alberic Mountjoy, who had incurred the vengeance of Henry VIII.
Renard, grateful to Cholmondeley for saving his life, secured his pardon.
Cicely also returned to the side of Lady Jane Grey, and watched the splendid fortitude and unswerving courage with which her unfortunate mistress prepared for the scaffold. The day before her death her wish that Cicely and Cuthbert should be united was granted, and they were married in her presence by Master John Bradford, Prebendary of St. Paul's.
At last Monday, the twelfth of February, 1544, dawned, and Lady Jane Grey was led out to the scaffold. On the way she passed the headless corpse of Lord Guildford, being borne to the grave. Cicely accompanied the beautiful girl to the last. It was her hands that helped her to remove her attire and that tied the handkerchief over those eyes which were never to look on the world again.
Blindfolded, Jane groped for the block, crying, "What shall I do? Where is it?"
She was guided to the place, and, laying her head on the block, cried, "Lord--into Thy hands I commend my spirit!"
The axe then fell, and one of the fairest and wisest heads that ever sat on human shoulders fell also.