might be sent after her. The attendant, whose eyes were blinded with tears, promised to fulfil her wishes. On going forth, she found an officer and the three gigantic warders waiting to escort her to prison. The party moved forward in silence, and at a slow pace. While crossing the Green, she perceived another group advancing towards her, and as it drew nearer, she found it was her husband attended by a guard. Uttering a loud cry, she would have rushed and thrown herself into his arms, if she had not been prevented by the officer. Dudley, whose eyes had been bent on the ground, heard the cry, and immediately knew by whom it was uttered. He made a movement similar to that of Jane, but like her he was checked by his attendants. So deeply, however, were the guards on either side moved by the anguish of the unfortunate pair, that, although expressly enjoined to the contrary, they suffered them to approach and embrace each other. The meeting drew tears from all eyes that beheld it; and the susceptible heart of Magog was so touched, that he had much ado to hide his grief. From the few hasty words she was able to exchange with her husband, Jane learned that his prison had been changed, and that an order had been issued for his removal from the Beauchamp to the Bowyer Tower. "Every dungeon in the Tower," he said, "is filled with our friends and partisans. Your father, the Duke of Suffolk, is confined in the Martin Tower. And I have been just removed from the Beauchamp Tower to make room for my father, the Duke of Northumberland, my two brothers, Ambrose and Robert, and their faithful followers, Sir John Gates, Sir Henry Gates, and Sir Thomas Palmer."

"Alas!" cried Jane, "we are all equally culpable, and must all suffer alike. But we shall be speedily released." "On the scaffold," rejoined Dudley, bitterly.

Ay, on the scaffold," repeated Jane. "And I trust though the remainder of our mortal life may be separated, that we shall meet above to part no more. Pray for this, my dear lord. It is my own constant prayer. And it is my firm reliance upon it that enables me to endure the agony of this meeting, which otherwise would kill me."

"I will strive to do so, Jane," replied her husband. “But I still cling to life and hope."

"Divest yourself of these vain desires, my Lord," cried Jane, earnestly," and turn your thoughts from earth to heaven. There indeed we shall inherit an everlasting kingdom, undisturbed by misery and calamity."

"Madam," said the officer advancing; "I grieve to abridge this short meeting. But my duty admits of no alternative. You must follow me."

"It is well, sir," she replied, "farewell, dear Dudley. My prayers shall be for you."

"And mine for you, dear Jane," replied her husband, pressing her to his bosom-"Heaven grant me your patience and resignation."

Amen!" she fervently ejaculated. And with another embrace, they parted.

For a short distance the two escorts walked close together, during which the afflicted pair kept their eyes fondly fixed on each other. After passing the north-west corner of the White Tower, Lord Guilford's attendants took a straight-forward course, while Jane's guards proceeded to the right. Still but a short distance intervened between them, until Jane beheld her husband disappear beneath the low-arched entrance of the Bowyer Tower. A convulsive movement passed over her frame; but the next moment she was apparently as calm as ever, and followed the officer into the structure destined for her reception.

This, as has already been intimated, was the Brick Tower, the next turret on the east of the Bowyer Tower. The upper story, which is of brick-whence its name was erected in the reign of Edward the Fourth, or Richard the Third: the basement story is of stone, and of much greater antiquity. Entering a narrow passage, she was ushered by the officer into a small room, which he informed her was prepared for her reception. Every thing that circumstances would admit appeared to have been done to lessen the rigor of her confinement. The stone walls were hung with arras; and much of the furniture-a carved oak table, and velvet-covered seats, placed in the deep embrasures of the windows-had been brought from Jane's late chamber in the palace. chair,*"

This seat," said the officer, pointing to a curiously carved was used by Queen Anne Boleyn during her impris

* This curious piece of furniture, authenticated to have belonged to the unfortunate queen above-named, is now in the possesion of Mr. Cottenham, the architect, of Waterloo Road.

onment. I had it brought hither for your ladyship's accom modation."

"I thank you for your consideration, sir," replied Jane; "it will serve to support one as unhappy as that ill-fated princess."

Having inquired whether she had any further commanda with which it was possible for him to comply, and being an swered in the negative, the officer took his departure, and Jane was left alone.

Alone! the thought struck chill to her heart. She was now a solitary captive. She heard the door of her prison bolted; she examined its stone walls, partly concealed by the tapestry; she glanced at its iron-barred windows, and her courage for sook her. She had no bosom to lean upon-no ear to which she could impart her sorrows. Her husband, though not far from her, was, like her, a prisoner. She pictured him in his solitary room and she would have given worlds to be near him, if only for a few moments. The thought occasioned her so much anguish, that she burst into tears, and for some time was a prey to despair. She then knelt down beside the chair, and burying her face in her clasped hands, prayed deeply and fervently for support through her trial. And she prayed not in vain. She soon afterwards arose tranquil and refreshed.

III....How Simon Renard ascended to the roof of the White Tower, and of the goodly prospect he beheld therefrom.

The night of Queen Mary's entrance into the Tower was spent by Simon Renard, the Duke of Norfolk, Gardiner (the new Lord Chancellor), Courtenay, Arundel, Pembroke, and other noble and honorable persons composing her council, in framing a public declaration of her religious opinions, to be proclaimed on the morrow, and in deliberating on other mighty matters connected with the establishment of her government. Throughout this consultation, when any difference of opinion arose, the matter was invariably deferred to the judgement of the imperial ambassador, whose decision was regarded as crushing the late rebellion, so it was supposed he could, by final; and as he was looked upon as the chief instrument in his sagacity and influence, establish Mary upon her throne.

It was late when the council separated, and instead of returning to his apartments in the palace, Renard, fevered and wearied by the protracted discussion at which he had assisted, cordingly, he proceeded to the green, and began to pace briskly preferred refreshing himself by a stroll in the open air. Ac backwards and forwards, between the lieutenant's lodgings and pondering upon recent events, and revolving future schemes the chapel. He continued this exercise for nearly an hour, the hoary walls of the White Tower began to reveal them within his plotting brain, when just as day was breaking, and selves in all their grandeur, he perceived a man, armed with throwing his ample cloak over his shoulder, awaited the new a caliver, advancing to meet him. Renard stood still, and comer's approach.

It proved to be a warder, who, having seen him as he was going his rounds, at first supposed he had drew nearer and recognized the Spanish ambassador, with some ill designs in view, but finding out his mistake, as he whose person he was familiar, he was about to withdraw, when Renard called him back and demanded his name.

the man, “and am one of the senior warders of the Tower." "I am called Gervase Winwike, worshipful sir," replied "Whither are you going, friend?" inquired Renard. "to see that the sentinels are at their posts." "To the summit of the white Tower," answered Winwike;

asked the ambassador. "Is it inconsistent with your duty to take me with you?"

ored by your presence. We shall reach the roof just at sun"By no means," rejoined the warder. "I shall feel hon. rise, and the view from thence, on a fine clear morning like repay your worship for climbing up so many steps as you will the present, is magnificent beyond compare, and will amply have to scale to obtain it."

"Let us make what haste we can, then," said Renard, “I am impatient to behold it."

ret of the ancient structure, before a door in which a sentinel Thus exhorted, Winwike led the way to the north-west turwas stationed, who, on receiving the pass-word, lowered his halbert, and suffered them to enter. They were now within

steps ascended. Followed by Renard the warder commenced a small circular chamber, from which a flight of spiral stone the ascent. Light was admitted at intervals through loopholes, gradually diminishing in width as they approached the exterior of the walls, and serving to reveal their immense

thickness. As they mounted, Winwike pointed out to his companion the entrance of a passage communicating with the council-chamber. Renard was much struck with the substantial and beautiful masonry of the turret; but being anxious to gain the roof as soon as possible, he urged his companion to quicken his pace, and they soon arrived at an arched door, which Winwike threw open, and they stepped upon the roof. Springing upon the platform, Renard was about to rush to the battlements, when Winwike offered to lead him to the best point of view. As he followed his conductor towards the south-west angle, Renard cast his eye over the roof. Cannon were placed on the raised platform, while armed men were stationed at twenty paces distant from each other. In the centre of the building stood a tall staff, from which floated the royal banner.

Depositing his caliver against the wall of the turret, Winwike told his companion to look around. Renard obeyed, and a glorious panorama met his gaze. Immediately beneath him lay the fortress, with its chain of towers-its rampartsits fortifications-its bridges, and its broad deep moat. Be yond was spread out old and picturesque London, with its numerous steeples, above which rose the massive tower of St. Paul's. A little on the left was old London Bridge, covered with out-houses-the noise of falling water, and the mills, being distinctly audible where they stood. Nearer, was the river glittering in the sunbeams, and filled with a forest of Renard contemplated this prospect for some time in silent admiration.

masts.

"There you behold the Tower of London," said Winwike, pointing downwards.

"And there I read the history of England," replied Renard. "If it is written in those towers it is a dark and bloody his tory," replied the warder-" and yet your worship says truly. The building on which we stand, and those around us, are the best chronicles of our country. I can recount to your worship their foundation, and the chief events that have happened within them, if you are disposed to listen to me." "Proceed, then," replied Renard, "and when I have had enough I will interrupt you."

IV. Of the Tower of London; its antiquity and foundation; its magnitude and extent; its keep, palace, gardens, fortifications, dungeons, and chapels; its walls, bulwarks, and moat; its royal inmates; its coustables, jailors, warders, and other officers; its prisoners, executions, and secret murders.

In 1078, (for, instead of following the warder's narrative to Simon Renard, it appears advisable in this place to offer a slight sketch of the renowned fortress under consideration, especially as such a course will allow of its history being brought down to a later period than could otherwise be accomplished,) the Tower of London was founded by William the Conqueror, who appointed Gundulph, Bishop of Exeter, principal overseer of the work. By this prelate, who seems to have been a good specimen of the church militant, and who, during the progress of his operations, was lodged in the house of Edmere, a burgess of London, a part of the city wall, adjoining the northern banks of the Thames, which had been much injured by the incursions of the tide, was taken down, and a "great square tower," since called the White Tower, erected on its site.

Some writers have assigned an earlier date to this edifice, ascribing its origin to the great Roman invader of our shores, whence it has been sometimes denominated Cæsar's Tower; and the hypothesis is supposed to be confirmed by Fitz Stephens, a monkish historian of the period of Henry the Second, who states, that "the city of London hath in the East a very great and most strong Palatine Tower, whose turrets and walls do rise from a deep foundation, the mortar thereof being tempered with the blood of beasts." On this authority, Dr. Stukeley has introduced a fort, which he terms the Ara Palatina, in his plan of Londinium Augusta. But, though it is not improbable that some Roman military station may have stood on the spot now occupied by the White Tower-certain coins and other antiquities having been found by the workmen in sinking the foundations of the Ordnance Office in 1777-it is certain that no part of the present structure was erected by Julius Cæsar; nor can he, with propriety, be termed the founder of the Tower of London. As to its designation, that amounts to little, since, as has been shrewdly remarked by M. Dulaure, in his description of the Grand Châtelet at Paris -"every old building, the origin of which is buried in obscurity, is attributed to Cæsar or the devil."

Fourteen years afterwards, in the reign of William Rufus, who, according to Henry of Huntingdon, "pilled and shaved the people with tribute, especially about the Tower of Lon don," the White Tower was greatly damaged by a violent storm, which, among other ravages, carried off the roof of Bow Church, and levelled above six hundred habitations with the ground. It was subsequently repaired, and an additior al tower built on the South side near the river.

Strengthened by Geoffrey de Magnaville, Earl of Essex, and fourth constable of the fortress, who defended it against the usurper Stephen, but was, nevertheless, eventually compelled to surrender it; repaired in 1155, by Thomas à Becket, then Chancellor to Henry the Second; greatly extended and enlarged in 1190, the second year of the reign of Richard Cour de Lion, by William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely and Chancellor of the realm, who, encroaching to some distance upon Tower Hill, and breaking down the city wall as far as the first gate called the postern, surrounded it with high embattled walls of stone, and a broad deep ditch, thinking, as Stowe observes, 66 to have environed it with the river Thames ;"-the Tower of London was finished by Henry the Third, who, in spite of the remonstrances of the citizens, and other supernatural warnings, if credit is to be attached to the statement of Matthew of Paris, completely fortified it.

A gate and bulwark having been erected on the west of the Tower, we are told by the old chronicler above mentioned, "that they were shaken as it had been with an earthquake and fell down, which the King again commanded to be built in better sort, which was done. And yet, again, in the year 1241, the said wall and bulwarks that were newly builded, whereon the King had bestowed more than twelve thousand marks, were irrecoverably quite thrown down as before; for the which chance the citizens of London were nothing sorry, for they were threatened, that the said wall and bulwarks were builded, to the end, that if any of them would contend for the liberties of the city, they might be imprisoned. And that many might be laid in divers prisons, many lodgings were made, that no one should speak with another." These remarkable accidents (if accidents they were) were attributed by the popular superstition of the times, to the miraculous interference of Thomas à Becket, the guardian saint of the Londoners.

"We

By the same monarch the store-house was strengthened and repaired, and the keep or citadel whitened, (whence probably it derived its name, as it was afterwards styled in Edward the Third's reign "La Blanche Tour.") as appears by the following order still preserved in the Tower Rolls: command you to repair the garner within the said tower, and well amend it throughout, wherever needed. And also concerning all the leaden gutters of the great Tower, from the top of the said Tower, through which the rain water must fall down to lengthen them, and make them come down even to the ground; so that the wall of the said Tower, lately whitened anew, may by no means decay, nor easily break out, by reason of the rain water dropping down. But to make upon the said towers alures of good and strong timber, and throughout to be well leaded; by which people might see even to the foot of the said tower, and better to go up and down, if need be." Further orders were given in this reign for the beautifying and fitting up the chapels of Saint John and Saint Peter, as already mentioned in the account of those structures.

The same monarch planted a grove, or orchard of "perie trees," as they are described in his mandate to Edward of Westminster, in the vicinity of the Tower, and surrounded it with a wall of mud, afterwards replaced by another of brick, in the reign of Edward the Fourth. He likewise established a menagerie within the fortress, allotting a part of the bulwark at the western entrance since called the Lions' Tower, for the reception of certain wild beasts, and as a lodging for their keeper. In 1235, the Emperor Frederick sent him three leopards, in allusion to his scutcheon, on which three of those animals were emblazoned; and from that time, down to a very recent date, a menagerie has been constantly maintained within the Tower. To support it, Edward the Second commanded the Sheriff's of London to pay the keepers of his lions sixpence a day for their food, and three half-pence a-day for the man's own diet, out of the fee farm of the city.

Constant alterations and reparations were made to the ramparts and towers during subsequent reigns. Edward the Fourth encroached still further on Tower Hill than his predecessors, and erected an outer gate called the Bulwark Tower. In the fifth year of the reign of this monarch, a scaffold and gallows having been erected on Tower Hill, the citizens, ever

jealous of their privileges and liberties, complained of the step; and to appease them, a proclamation was made to the effect, "that the erection and setting up of the said gallows be not a precedent or example thereby hereafter to be taken, in hurt, prejudice or derogation of the franchises, liberties and privileges of the city." Richard the Third repaired the Tower, and Stow records a commission to Thomas Daniel, directing him to seize for use within this realm, as many masons, bricklayers and other workmen, as should be thought necessary for the expedition of the King's works within the Tower. In the twenty-third of Henry the Eighth, the whole of the fortress appears to have undergone repair-a survey being taken of its different buildings, which is still preserved in the Chapter-house at Westminster. In the second of Edward the Sixth, the following strange accident occurred by which one of the fortifications was destroyed. A Frenchman, lodged in the Middle Tower, accidentally set fire to a barrel of gunpowder, which blew up the structure, fortunately without damage to any other than the luckless causer of it.

At the period of this chronicle, as at the present time, the Tower of London comprehended within its walls a superficies of rather more than twelve acres, and without the moat a circumference of three thousand feet and upwards. Consisting of a citadel or keep, surrounded by an inner and outer ward, it was approached on the west by an entrance called the Bulwark Gate, which has long since disappeared. The second entrance was formed by an embattled Tower, called the Lion's Gate, conducting to a strong tower flanked with bastions, and defended by a double portcullis, denominated the Middle Tower. The outworks adjoining these towers, in which was kept the menagerie, were surrounded by a smaller moat, communicating with the main ditch. A large drawbridge then led to another portal, in all respects resembling that last described, forming the principal entrance to the outer ward, and called the By-ward or Gate Tower. The outer ward was defended by a strong line of fortifications: and at the northeast corner stood a large circular bastion, called the Mount.

The inner ward or balliam, was defended by thirteen towers, connected by an embattled stone wall about forty feet high and twelve feet thick, on the summit of which was a foot way for the guard. Of these towers, there were situated at the west, namely, the Bell, the Beauchamp and the Devilin Towers; four at the north, the Flint, the Bowyer, the Brick, and the Martin Towers: three at the east, the Constable, the Broad Arrow, and Salt Towers; and three on the south, the Well, the Lanthorn, and the Bloody Tower. The Flint Tower has almost disappeared; the Bowyer Tower only retains its basement story; and the Brick Tower has been so much modernized as to retain little of its pristine character. The Martin Tower is now denominated the Jewel Tower, from the circumstance of its being the depositary of the regalia. The Lanthorn Tower has been swept away with the old palace. Returning to the outer ward, the principal fortification on the south was a large square structure, flanked at each angle by an embattled tower. This building, denominated Saint Thomas's, or Traitor's Tower, was erected across the moat, and masked a secret entrance from the Thames, through which state prisoners, as has before been related, were brought into the Tower. It still retains much of its original appearance, and recalls forcibly to the mind of the observer the dismal scenes that have occurred beneath its low-browed arches.

Further on the east, in a line with Traitor's Tower, and terminating a wing of the old palace, stood the Cradle Tower. At the eastern angle of the outer ward was a small fortification overlooking the moat, known as the Tower leading to the Iron Gate. Beyond it a draw-bridge crossed the meat, and led to the Iron Gate, a small portal protected by a tower, deriving its name from the purpose for which it was erected. At this point, on the patch of ground intervening between the moat and the river, and forming the platform or wharf, stood a range of mean habitations, occupied by the different artisans and workmen employed in the fortress. At the south of the By-ward Tower, an arched and embattled gateway opened upon a draw-bridge which crossed the moat at this point. Opposite this draw-bridge were the main stairs lead ing to the edge of the river. The whole of the fortress, it is scarcely necessary to repeat, was (and still is) encompassed by a broad deep moat, of much greater width at the sides next to Tower Hill and East Smithfield, than at the south, and supplied with water from the Thames by the sluice beneath Traitor's Gate.

Having now made a general circuit of the fortress, we shall

return to the inner ballium, which is approached on the south by a noble gateway, erected in the reign of Edward the Third. A fine specimen of the architecture of the fourteenth century, this portal is vaulted with groined arches adorned with ex quisite tracery springing from grotesque heads. At the pe riod of this chronicle, it was defended at each end by a mas sive gate clamped with iron, and a strong portcullis. The gate and portcullis at the southern extremity still exist, but those at the north have been removed. The structure above it was anciently called the Garden Tower; but subsequently acquired the appellation of the Bloody Tower, from having been the supposed scence of the murder of the youthful princes, sons of Edward the Fourth, by the ruthless Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard the Third. Without paus ing to debate the truth of this tragical occurrence, it may be sufficient to mention that tradition assigns it to this building.

Proceeding along the ascent leading towards the green, and mounting a flight of stone steps on the left, we arrive in front of the ancient lodgings allotted to the lieutenant of the Tower. Chiefly constructed of timber, and erected at the beginning of the sixteenth century, this fabric has been so much altered, that it retains little of its original character. In one of the rooms, called, from the circumstance, the Council-chamber, the conspirators concerned in the Gunpow der Plot were interrogated; and in memory of the event, a piece of sculpture, inscribed with their names, and with those of the commissioners by whom they were examined, has been placed against the walls.

Immediately behind the lieutenant's lodgings stands the Bell Tower, a circular structure, surmounted by a small wooden turret containing the alarm-bell of the fortress. Its walls are of great thickness, and light is admitted through narrow loopholes. On the basement floor is a small chamber, with deeply-recessed windows, and a vaulted roof of very curious construction. This tower served as a place of impris onment to John Fisher, the martyred bishop of Rochester, beheaded on Tower Hill for denying, Henry the Eighth's su premacy; and to the Princess Elizabeth, who was confined within it by her sister, Queen Mary.

Traversing the green, some hundred and forty feet brings us to the Beauchamp, or Cobham Tower, connected with the Bell Tower by means of a foot way on the top of the ballium wall. Erected in the reign of Henry the Third, as were most of the smaller towers of the fortress, this structure appears, from the numerous inscriptions, coats of arms, and devices that crowd its walls, to have been the principal state-prison. Every room, from roof to vault, is covered with melancholy memorials of its illustrious and unfortunate occupants.

Over the fire-place in the principal chamber, (now used as a mess-room by the officers of the garrison,) is the autograph of Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, beheaded in 1572, for aspiring to the hand of Mary Queen of Scots. On the right of the fire-place, at the entrance of a recess, are these words:"DOLOR PATIENTIA VINCITUR. G. GYFFORD, AUGUST 8, 1586." Amongst others, for we can only give a few as a specimen of the rest, is the following enigmatical inscription. It is preceded by the date 1568, April 23, but is unaccompa nied by any signature.

No hope is hard or vayne That happ doth ous attayne.

The next we shall select is dated 1581, and signed Thomas Myagh.

THOMAS MIAGH WHICH LIETH HERE ALONE
THAT FAYNE WOLD FROM HENCE BEGONE
BY TORTURE STRAUNGE MI TROVTH WAS TRYED
YET OF MY LIBERTIE DENIED.

Of this unfortunate person the following interesting account is given by Mr. Jardine, in his valuable treatise on the Use of Torture in the Criminal Law of England. "Thomas My. agh was an Irishman who was brought over by the command of the Lord Deputy of Ireland, to be examined respecting a treasonable correspondence with the rebels in arms in that country. The first warrant for the torture of this man was probably under the sign-manual, as there is no entry of it in the council register. The two reports made by the Lieutenant of the Tower and Dr. Hammond, respecting their execu tion of this warrant, are, however, to be seen at the State-Paper Office. The first of these, which is dated the 10th of March, 1580-1, states that they had twice examined Myagh, but had forborne to put him in Skevington's Irons, because they had been charged to examine him with secresy, which they could not do, that manner of dealing requiring the pre