An Escape from the Tower: a story of the Jacobite Rising of 1715

Front matter

AN ESCAPE FROM THE TOWER a The Tower of London. AN ESCAPE FROM THE TOWER A STORY OF THE JACOBITE RISING OF 1715 BY EMMA MARSHALL Author 0/ ' The White King's Daughter,' 'Kensington Palace, ' The Master of the Musicians,' etc. LONDON SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED Essex Street, Strand P R E F A C E The history of Winifrede, Countess of Nithdale, is taken from several authentic sources. In 1835, Lady Dacre published a book entitled, Tales of the Peerage and the Peasantry, from which some details of Lady Nithsdale's journeys to and from Scotland are collected. A letter addressed by this heroic woman to her sister, the Countess of Traquair, gives a full account of the rescue from the Tower and of the difficulties and dangers which she encountered in those journeys, attended by her faithful servants Walter Elliot and Amy Evans. This letter was first published in the Transactions of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, vol. i.

Preface

VI Before its publication little was known of the manner of the Earl's escape. As this story ends with Lady Nithsdale's arrival in Rome, it may be as well to say that many years of happiness, with the husband whose life she saved, were granted her. The Earl died at Rome in 1744. She survived him five years, and had the satis faction of knowing that her perilous journey to Terreagles, in the spring of 17 16, was crowned with success. By rescuing the family documents, which she had buried for safety in the winter of 17 15, she secured a competence to her son. He married his cousin, Lady Catherine Stewart, a daughter of the Earl of Tra quair. Lady Nithsdale's daughter, Lady Anne Maxwell, married Lord Bellew. Woodside, Leigh Woods, Clifton, March 1896. CONTENTS

Book I Chap

PAGE I. RESCUE, ...... j II. CONFIDENCES, ...... 20 III. A CITY MERRYMAKING, . . . .41 IV. BY MOONLIGHT, ..... 65 BOO A' II V. TERREAGLES CASTLE, ..... 83 VI. DEFEAT AND IMPRISONMENT, .... IO4 VII. ON THE WAY TO THE TOWER, . . IlS VIII. ALONG THE SILENT HIGHWAY, . . . 133 IX. A LONG JOURNEY, ..... 145 X. A FAIR ON THE ICE, ..... 165 XI. THE RAINBOW OF HOPE, . . I Si

Book III XII

THE SENTENCE, . . . . 195 XIII. AWDRY'S CONFESSION, .... CONTENTS VIII CHAP PAGE XIV. A RUDE REPULSE . . • - • 2I3 XV. UN FAIT ACCOMPLI ! . 229 XVI. THE SKY AFLAME, ..•'■• 24J XVII. CALM AFTER STORM, .... 2S9

Book IV XVIII

REST AT LAST, ... 271 XIX. THE END OF THE STORY, . •

Book I

An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. — Shakespeare. Henry thc Fourth (Part Is ) A

Chapter I Rescue

i 7 14. — The brisk wind of a bright September day was sweeping over the broad waters of the Thames, and sending them in little eddies against the piers of Old London Bridge. The signs above the shops built upon it were swinging in the breeze, and making a monoton ous creaking as they moved to and fro. ' The Three Bibles,' painted in strong relief, looked as if they were not to be affected by every passing wind that blew, while ' The Angel,' with outspread wings and a brilliant blue gar ment, displaying at the hem a foot much too large for such an airy figure, seemed, on the contrary, to be answering the swing of the j board on which she was painted, and to be fluttering in the air. ' The Looking-Glass,' her next-door neighbour, was so old and faded that very little of the original design remained, and was considered by many people as a disgrace to the owner of the shop below, who, besides being a scrivener and second-hand bookseller, dealt in a variety of goods of so heterogeneous a character that it would be difficult to enumerate them.

He was standing at his door below the sign of ' The Looking-Glass,' looking down the thorough fare of the bridge, which was like a narrow street, and more than usually thronged with people. Michael Paston was chary of words, and although his curiosity was aroused to know what all his neighbours were talking about, he stood erect, leaning against his door, with a cynical smile on his thin lips, which were tightly closed. Presently the news came to his ears, whether he was willing to hear it or not. ' The King is landing at Greenwich, Master Paston ; it is a great event and you stand there like a post, as if you were deaf and blind and dumb ! ' RESCUE 5 ' Which King? ' Michael Paston asked. ' Your tongue runs so fast, Mistress Chenery, I can scarce understand what you are driving at. I ask again, which King?' ' Why, His Majesty King George the First !

Who else should it be ? ' ' Who else ? Ay, you may well ask. I know no King but James, the lawful governor of this realm. Hold your peace, I pray you,' as a rush of idle young men came up crying, — ' Long live King George the First ! Down with the Papists ! ' ' Hold your peace, you young fools,' Michael repeated. And now another voice was heard coming from the dark recesses of the little shop, which made a background to the stately figure of its master as he stood there in a long, loose garment of faded mulberry cloth, with a girdle of twisted gold thread, and, upon his head, a black velvet skullcap with an embroidered edge of crimson braid. 'What is amiss, father? What is Mistress Chenery saying ? What is the news ? ' ' Evil news, child, evil news. The usurper is at hand, and his feet have touched English soil.

I will hear none of it!' and so saying, though the hours of business were scarcely over, Michael Paston retired into his shop and shut the door on all intruders. Christian put her hand into her father's, saying— ' The news may be false, father ; so many lies fly abroad.' ' Ay, child, that is so, but I deem this news is but too true. Hark ! how they are huzzaing, the fools — the empty-headed fools ! — ' The apprentice, Jack Barnby, got down from his high stool at a desk as his master called him by name. 'Jack, put up the shutters and close the shop. Shut out the daylight, as befits those who have reason to mourn for the sins of a nation. Dost hear, lad ? Do not delay, and employ your even ing with sorting the books which I bought at the sale, and jotting down their titles and authors, in the folio.

Harkee, Jack Barnby ; you keep the house this evening — no chattering and chaffer ing about matters of which you know naught with the foolish folk on the bridge. Dost hear ? ' RESCUE 7 ' Yes, master, I hear,' Jack said, making a grimace, which Christian saw. ' It's all one to me who is King and who isn't, so long as I get my bread and ale, and — ' The rest was lost on both father and daughter. Christian had led her father to the parlour behind the shop, which looked out eastward on the river. Many barges were coming up with the flood, and lesser craft were curtseying on the little wavelets which, with the rising wind, grew almost to the size of billows as the tide poured through the narrow arches. 'Shall I read, father?' Christian said. 'We had just reached the last book of the Paradise Lost! ' Nay, child, I am in no mood for John Milton this evening.

It is a sign of his genius that I love to hear you read his majestic lines, knowing in my heart as I do that he was a rank traitor.' Nay, father, that is too hard an epithet.' ' Secretary to the usurper, how could he be otherwise ? But, forsooth, we have traitors even in our own time to think of; those who are dead and gone can do no mischief.' ' Father,' Christian said ; ' there are many good men and true who think it was well for the country that it was delivered from a Popish king.' ' Nay, little one,' the old man said tenderly ; for though harsh and stern in his political views to all beside, he was always gentle to this child of his old age. ' Nay, little one ! thou canst not discern as I can the truth that lawful rights cannot be set aside, that the God of Justice hates injustice, and that it is for us poor mortals to leave the issues in His hands, nor set up our judgments to decide what is good for a nation or for people.

William of Orange and his wife brought no blessing with them. ' The poor Queen, who has just gone to her account, was visited by keen remorse when, on her death-bed, she remembered she had cheated her innocent brother out of his inheritance. They say she would fain have rendered him justice, and said as much in the intervals of her stupors. What with these bitter memories and the quarrels of those about her, her death-bed was not a peaceful one. Uneasy lies the head which wears a crown, Christian, and may his lie on a thorny pillow who came to-day to land at Greenwich.' RESCUE 9 Christian was silent ; she was well used to her father's strongly-expressed, Jacobite opinions. She sympathised with them in great measure, but she knew her father was a Protestant at heart, and she knew enough, from the tales of her old friend and faithful servant, Nancy, to make her thank God the religion of her dead mother was now the religion of the country.

As Christian sat on a low stool at her father's side — one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the volume from which she had been about to read when he had broken out into denunciations of the daughters of the King, who had fled on the stormy waters of the river now rippling below — she made an unconscious picture, on which an artist's eye would love to linger. Christian had hair of the colour of the chestnut, when it catches the sunlight as it lies amongst the yellow leaves which strew the ground. It was not raised high on her head as was the fashion of the time — a fashion set by Queen Mary when she came over from the Hague to Whitehall, a fashion which, like all set by those in exalted places, was not only followed but exaggerated. Christian's hair was parted on her forehead, where a few locks curled under a little velvet snood, and then lay in heavy masses, confined by knots of ribbon, on her shoulders.

Her head was well set on a swan-like throat, and a white kerchief was crossed on the breast of her blue gown, which was made of rich brocade — a length which, a little injured, had been given her from his stores by her father. There was a dignity and grace in Christian, which, while they attracted many admirers, kept them at a distance, and no man ever ventured to press his suit, if he had once been rejected. The room in which Christian was sitting with her father was raised some thirty feet above the river, and below was the basement, which rested upon the arches of the bridge, being some ten feet lower. Here the apprentice had a small chamber under the shop, and Nancy her kitchen and a little room adjoining, facing the river, where Christian would often go to have a chat with her old friend.

Michael Paston had fallen into a dose in his chair, and Christian, closing the book, went softly out of the room to the narrow stairs, which led to the upper storey, where she had her own bed chamber next her father's. A still narrower flight led down to the basement. RESCUE 11 As she closed the sitting-room door, she met, on the little square landing, a figure just coming up the stairs. The light was very dim, only admitted by a small, square opening in the wall above, scarcely deserving the name of a window. Christian felt her arm seized, and a merry laugh accompanied the words, — ' Did you think I was a ghost ? I tried to get in at the shop, but it was all shut up as if some of you were dead. What's that for?' ' Awdry, how you startled me ! How did you get in ?' ' Oh, I had my wits about me, and got down by the steps from " The Looking-Glass," and so along the parapet, and in at old Nan's window below.

I have done it scores of times.' ' Come up into my room. Don't talk so loud here ; my father is asleep.' ' Sleeping off his ill - temper,' said Awdry Chenery. ' He was vastly rude to my mother, and calling folk fools all round an hour ago.' ' You know he feels, with thousands of other men, that now the Elector has landed at Greenwich the chances of the restoration of the rightful King are lessened.' ' I should hope they were, not that I trouble my head about it. It's no odds to me.' The two girls were in Christian's room by this time, and Awdry Chenery went to the open casement and looked out. ' I wish I had a lattice like this ; it would while away many an hour to watch the barges. I can only, by craning my neck, see what goes on below on the bridge. See now, Christian, here are two coming with flags flying and music playing.

I'll warrant the people in them have been to Green wich to shout " Long live King George." And what a number of smaller craft. The river is pretty rough, though. Look how yonder boat is rocking. I wonder if it will avoid the pier. Yes, it's all right. If I were you, Christian, I should sit here all the livelong day.' ' I dare to say you would,' Christian replied. ' I've something else to do.' ' Poring over old books, and putting your eyes out with reading stupid, yellow parchments. It makes you old before your time. I hear the folk on the bridge say so. And you ought to be RESCUE 13 married, Christian ; you are getting old. I mean old to my thinking,' said the little maiden of scarcely seventeen, to whom, the woman who had passed her twenty-fifth birthday seemed, as she said, old. ' Yes,' she continued, leaning out of the casement, ' I say it's a shame you aren't married.

Why did you frown on Maurice Stock ton ? He was deep in love with you last Christmas.' ' And will be deeper in love with someone else before next Christmas,' was the rejoinder. ' You talk much folly, child.' ' Do I ? Well, I dare say you are right. But I love you all the same,' Awdry said, nestling close to Christian. ' Kiss me, give me a real, good kiss.' Christian put her arms round her little chatter ing friend, and kissed her again and again. ' Take care, Awdry, you are not caught by flat tering words. My dear, men deal in them, and put them in the stead of true feeling. Maurice Stockton, with his finery and grand airs, might tell me till doomsday he loved me, and I should not believe him. Mere babblers like him are like shallow brooks. True love is deep, like yonder river, which flows on with but little noise to meet the ocean.

The silent highway, they call it,' she went on, ' and the sorrowful highway would suit it also. As I look out yonder to the river, I often think of those who have passed along under this very bridge to their doom — that great man on whose works my father is so set — Sir Thomas More — who perished in his prime — coming from his happy home at Chelsea to yon gloomy Tower to die ; all through the King, his master's, malice, because, forsooth, he would not go against his conscience.' ' I heard our neighbour, Master Bunting, telling my mother that if thc Jacobites rise, they'll go by scores to the Tower, and there'll be a pretty row of heads on the bridge gate way.' ' Let us pray it may not be so,' Christian said. ' The very thought makes me shudder.' ' Let's be cheerful now, for a change,' Awdry said. 'My mother's cousin, Mistress Mills, who lives hard by the Tower, has a grand supper next week.

It's the birthday feast of Harry Mills, who has come home safe and sound from a voyage. You are to come along with us, Christian. We RESCUE 15 can get there quick enough by a boat, and sure you can leave your old daddy for once. Say you will come.' ' I will not promise. Now I must think first of my father's supper, for the clock of Saint Mary Overie has chimed six, and he must be awake by this time.' Awdry did not answer ; she was watching a small boat rowed by one man towards the bridge. ' Look ! look, Christian ! See, it is drifting straight for the pier beneath ; it will upset ; it will be swamped ! Yes, yes, it is over. The man is in the water and the boat is drifting away.' Christian gave one look, leaning out of the window by Awdry's side. Then, without a word, she was down the stairs with swift steps, and in another moment in old Nancy's room. ' Quick, Nan, quick, a boat is upset !

Call Jack. Get a rope,' and opening the window wide, by which Awdry had entered an hour before, she stood on the parapet, and looking down, saw a man struggling in the eddy by the pier im mediate!)' beneath her. He had laid hold of an iron ring which was fixed in the stonework of the pier, but the swirl of the water and the rush of the tide had apparently exhausted him, and catching sight of Christian's figure above him he said, — ' A rope, for Heaven's sake.' Then Christian's voice rang out in cheering tone, — ' Hold fast, a rope is sent for. Only hold fast. Jack Barnby,' she called, ' hasten, I pray you, for the rope.' ' The rope, the rope ! ' Awdry Chenery cried, wringing her hands. ' He will be drowned, he will sink. Oh ! Christian, Christian ! ' ' Peace, child. He will not be drowned,' she answered as Jack Barnby came on the parapet with a coil of rope used to tie up the packages of goods which were sent out from the shop. ' Quick — uncoil it.

And you, Awdry and Jack, hold one end, as for dear life,' she said as she prepared to throw the other to the man struggling in the water below. ' Courage ! ' Christian said, raising her clear, musical voice. ' Courage ! the rope is made fast.' RESCUE ■ 7 I — I cannot let go of the ring. If I do — ' You must let go — now ! ' and stooping over the edge of the parapet, Christian threw the rope, and it was caught by one hand, while the man still clung with the other to the iron ring. ' Take the rope with both hands. Do you hear ? We can help you up. Do not fear.' It was a moment of suspense, for the swirling water was like a little whirlpool, and the man was evidently exhausted. Blinded with spray, he swayed backwards and forwards, like a feather tossed by the force of the current. ' Hold fast — hold the rope fast, Jack Barnby ! ' Christian called, 'and with all your might pull backwards with Awdry.' At last the rope was grasped with both hands by the struggling man, and all pulled with an effort which was too great a strain on Christian.

She fell against Awdry, and for a moment lost her footing ; but the man she had saved was drawn up on to the parapet, and lay with his face hidden in his arms, motionless. ' Look out ! ' Jack Barnby said fiercely. Look out, master, or you'll be slipping back B into the water,' and Jack took the young man roughly by one arm and pulled him further up on the parapet. ' I hope you are thankful to Mistress Christian, for she has saved your life, you young fool. You were no more fit to row a boat than a babe, seems to me. Yes,' he shouted to a man in a barge below in answer to a question — ' Is the man saved ? ' — ' yes, he is saved.' ' That's well, but the boat has drifted up stream and he'll not see it again in a hurry' All this time the man had not stirred, and old Nancy coming out with a cup of wine, gave the prostrate figure a somewhat vigorous slap. ' Come, what ails you ? ' she said. ' Take a sup of wine, and you shall come in and dry your clothes.

They ain't fine ones, that's one comfort ; brown home - spun will soon be wrung out, and when dried will be none the worse for the ducking, nor you neither. Come, I say.' ' He can't move,' Christian said ; ' he must have hit his head against the wall ; he is stunned, Nancy.' RESCUE 19 ' Oh,' screamed Awdry, ' he is dead. I dare not look at him ! ' ' Let us get him into your room, Nancy. Kindle a good fire, and dry his clothes.' ' Why, dear heart, child ! ' Nancy said, ' what ails your hands ? ' ' The rope cut them a little, but nought to care about.' Then, by the combined efforts of Jack, Nancy and Christian, the rescued man was dragged into Nancy's room, through the window which was within a foot of the parapet, and as they laid him on the hearth he sighed heavily, opened his eyes and sat up. ' What has happened ? ' he asked, shuddering, and looking round with a dazed, bewildered stare. 'Why, you've had a ducking, my master, and the sooner we dry you the better,' was Nancy's reply.

Chapter II Confidences

' Father ! ' Christian said a few minutes later, as she went into her father's room, — ' Father, a boat was upset just below our windows, and the man who was in it was hurled by the current against the pier. We threw a rope out to him, and he is in Nancy's room. Shall we not bid him to supper ? ' ' As you will, my child ; but we ought to know somewhat of him, before receiving him into the house.' ' We may be entertaining an angel unawares, father,' Christian said with a laugh. ' Not that he looks greatly like an angel. His hair is long, but his surtout is of plain brown cloth, and what his collar may be I could not say, for it is hanging like a rag round his neck. He CONFIDENCES 21 has a very pleasant voice, and thanks Nancy for what she does for him.' 'Well, well, let him sup to-night, and be quick, child, to make ready, for I am hungry, though a fast rather than a feast befits the subjects of King James to-day.' Christian busied herself with taking from a corner cupboard a chased silver flagon, and a large china cup, with a few plates of porcelain only used on state occasions.

She laid the table in the recess formed by the window, with careful nicety, and then returned to the kitchen to see what dishes Nancy had prepared. She found the stranger seated in a high-backed chair, with an old cloak of Nancy's round him, and his feet thrust into a pair of very clumsy shoes. His long hair was hanging in tangled masses over his shoulders, and his appearance was enough to excite mingled laughter and compassion. Awdry was flitting about, thinking she was of use, and Jack Barnby was stirring a hot posset which Nancy had put on the fire, and which was to be administered to the stranger as soon as it was ready. ■".*> ' By rights, when he has taken this, he ought to be put to bed to sweat, Mistress Christian ; but he says he must be off into the city, where he has business.' 'Yes, and, forsooth, I am in no fit condition to remain here.

I must cut a sorry figure in your eyes, madam. I see yonder little maiden can scarce hide her merriment ! ' The ice thus broken, Awdry burst into a little, rippling laugh, and Christian could not resist joining in it. ' Indeed, sir,' she said, 'we are glad to see you safe, and, as I trust, unhurt. We feared at first that you had fared badly in our efforts to rescue you.' ' You owe your life, young man, to Mistress Christian,' cried Nancy. ' If we had all screamed and wrung our hands, like yonder little hussy, you'd have been lying at the bottom of the Thames, or drifting along with your boat as dead as a drowned dog, thrown into the water to get rid of him ! ' ' I am your humble servant, Mistress Chris tian, for so I think I hear yonder good woman call you, and you may count on my service, if ever I have the luck to be able to render it.

CONFIDENCES 23 It is vain for me to attempt to rise, swathed in these cumbrous garments,' he went on, 'but were I free from them, I would gladly bend my knee and ask permission to kiss the hand that was stretched out to me in the hour of peril. Methinks my guardian angel took your form for the moment. Believe, I pray you, that David Llewellyn owes you a debt he can never hope to repay.' ' You are kindly welcome, sir, to aught that we did for you. Is it not so, Awdry ? ' ' I did but little, Christian ; it was Barnby that tugged the hardest next to you, and your fingers are cut by the rope ; bind them up, Nancy.' ' Ay, bind them up indeed, and they need it. The notion of it — see, master, what mis chief has been wrought on my young mistress for your salvation.' The young man looked with great concern at the fair white palms which were stretched out at Nancy's bidding to be bathed in warm water. ' And such hands, pretty and useful as they are ! why, the old master could not live a day without them, and seems to me they'll have to be swathed for a week at shortest.' 'Nonsense, Nancy! there, that will do.

The supper must be carried up, and you can help her to do so, Awdry, and my father, sir, will be well pleased to entertain you also,' Christian said, turning to the stranger. ' He won't entertain me,' Awdry cried. ' It is enough that I am my mother's daughter, who is drinking King George's health, I'll warrant, by this time. I'll e'en go home and help her to do it. Jack Barnby will let me pass through the shop, so a good even to you,' and Awdry skipped up the narrow stairs and was gone. ' Such a giddy wench as she is ! ' Nancy said ; ' she'd have spilled the broth before she got up the stairs, and nibbled one of the biscuits as a mouse nibbles cheese. But my master will be growing more cross-grained than ever if he is kept waiting. I'll carry up the pipkin of broth, and you can bring the pasties and the sweet cakes.' ' I could not present myself to the master of the house in this guise, madam.

But do not CONFIDENCES 25 wait here for me ; as soon as your worthy old henchwoman returns, I will retire to the room beyond and resume my proper, clothing, then I may pay my respects to the father whose daughter has been my good angel — my deliverer.' As he spoke, David Llewellyn had been gaz ing with admiration at Christian, and when her eyes met his, a flush rose to her cheeks as she said, — ' It may be better as you suggest, sir, that you should sup below. I will tell rny father the reason of your absence.' And with this, she took up the dish with the tempting pasty, and a small plate with the sweet cakes, and disappeared. When Nancy returned and began to assist at David Llewellyn's toilet, he was seized with so violent a fit of shivering that she said, — ' There's nought for it but to put you into Barnby's bed, and he must sleep under the counter as he has done fifty times before.

You must do as you are bid,' she said, and without more ado she took her patient into the little back room which was occupied by Barnby, and laying him on the bed, covered him with every rug and blanket that was available, and making him swallow a potion of her own con coction, left him to his reflections and went to tell her master and young mistress what she had done. It was no doubt the best and wisest course to pursue, and so the event proved, for the next morning when Michael Paston was in the shop haggling with a customer over some rare bit of porcelain which he had brought for sale, and Christian, seated at her desk, was copying an in voice in her clear, careful hand in the sitting-room overlooking the river, a tap at the door was followed by the entrance of the stranger. David Llewellyn looked a very different person from the half-drowned man of the previous evening.