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to arouse interest, imagination, and pity. On the ground floor Elizabeth's Earl of Leicester' has left his name, ROBART DVDLEY.' Imprisoned with his three brothers, in connection with the crowning of Lady Jane Grey, he was liberated in 1555, and created Earl of Leicester in 1563. Over the fireplace in the room where so many have been collected, Philip Howard, son of the Duke of Norfolk who was beheaded in 1573, scion of one of the staunchest Roman Catholic families of England, carved these words in 1587 Quando plus afflictionis pro Christo in hoc sæculo tanto plus gloriae cum Christo in futuro. Gloria et honore coronasti, domine. In memoria

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æterna erit justis, ARUNDELL, June 22nd, 1587.' In English this runs: The more suffering for Christ in this world, the more glory with Christ in the next. Thou hast crowned Him with glory and honour, O Lord.

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memory everlasting He will be just.' Committed to the Tower in 1585, this unhappy man, refusing liberty at the price of abjuration, cut off from wife and child and friends, died in 1595. He was buried in the church of St. Peter, but in 1624 his body was moved to Arundel Church. To the right of the fireplace is an elaborate piece of sculpture, carved by John Dudley, the eldest son of the Duke of Northumberland, in memory of his four brothers, Ambrose, Guildford, Robert, and Henry. Guildford, the husband of Lady Jane Grey, had been beheaded on February 12th, 1554, and as John died eight months after his brother's execution, this carving dates from the year 1554. Charles Bailly, an agent concerned in some of the many plots for replacing Elizabeth by Mary Queen of Scots, has left several very interesting memorials of his imprisonment. On one he carved-speaking doubtless from painful experience: April 10th, 1571. Wise men ought to see circumspectly what they do to examine before they speak-to prove before they take in hand -to beware whose company they use, and, above all things, to whom they trust.' On another, Be friend to one. Be enemy to none. The most unhappy man in the world is he that is not patient in adversities; for men are not killed by the adversities they have, but with the impatience they

INSCRIPTION IN THE BEAUCHAMP TOWER, CUT BY CHARLES
BAILLY IN 1571.

suffer.' Inscription No. 48 consists of the single word 'IANE. The popular belief that it was carved by Lady Jane Grey, the prisoner whose fate arouses the deepest pity, and whose virtues and accomplishments excite the strongest admiration among all the large array of Tower prisoners. But it seems certain that she was never in the Beauchamp Tower, and the single word, so laden with disappointed hopes and tragic memories, was probably the work of either Guildford Dudley, her husband, or John Dudley, her brother-in-law.

A whole volume might easily be written upon these affecting memorials, and others of the same kind scattered

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up and down the Tower buildings. Careful search would probably add to their number. Every now and then repairs and alterations bring ancient and long-concealed inscriptions to light. Some of these mournful memorials speak of hope disappointed, as in No. 79, thought to be the work of him who carved the inscription over the fireplace given in full above, made up of the words, 'I am waiting for liberty '—a boon for which he and, alas! too many of those who shared his fatewaited and longed in vain. Some speak of the power of belief in Jesus Christ, and of His presence with those who conscientiously suffer for Him and His truth, like that one on the ground floor, which runs, 'My hope is in Christ.' Some speak of human misery, like that unfinished one in Italian, which runs, 'O unhappy man that I think myself to be!' And the great majority of those who here lingered out the slow and heavy hours of captivity-whether their final release came on Tower Hill or at Tyburn, or whether they were restored to home and friends. and freedom-perhaps learned, and certainly had the opportunity to learn, the lesson that their captivity was, after all, what Arthur Poole, in his inscription, dated 1568, calls it, 'A passage perillus' which maketh a port pleasant.'

INSCRIPTION IN THE BEAUCHAMP TOWER, CUT BY ARTHUR POOLE IN 1568.

It is natural in this connection, and in closing our sketch of the Tower, to glance at three closely related places-the gate by which the illustrious prisoners entered; Tower Hill, where so many of them swiftly ended their lives; and the church of St. Peter ad Vincula, where the most distinguished of them were buried.

St. Thomas's Tower, which covers and guards the Traitor's Gate, far surpasses in interest all the other buildings of the outer ward. The visitor must be singularly ill informed or unimaginative who can look down upon that low-arched entrance without being stirred by the memory of some of the many tragic scenes it has witnessed. By passing through that gateunder compulsion, sometimes just, sometimes wickedly tyrannous—men and women, both of exalted rank and of lowly station, have entered upon the last scene of their earthly action. That tower has frowned upon, and those gates have closed behind queens, noble ladies, peers of the realm, bishops, and legions of humbler men and women, whose story is none the less tragic because they occupied a less prominent position upon the world's great stage.

Thither, in 1521, preceded by the fatal axe with its keen edge turned towards him, came Wolsey's victim, the Duke of Buckingham, after his condemnation in Westminster Hall. Thirteen years later, under a like condemnation, and preceded by the same grim symbol, came Sir Thomas More, the witty, and wise, and learned statesman, tolerant of all men and things, except those most worthy of tolerance-the men who, like William Tyndale, were the true life and soul of the English Reformation. Treading the same path, less than two years later, came the beautiful but most unhappy Anne Boleyn, over whose guilt or innocence controversy still rages, but concerning whose sorrows there can be no doubt. She entered, never again to leave, the place which had witnessed the rejoicings of her coronation a few short years before. Among the sharp and sudden contrasts in history, few are more impressive than her rapid exaltation, her brief enjoyment of happiness and power, her great and irremediable fall. With her it is impossible not to associate her daughter, who, after her mother's remains had slumbered seventeen years in their dishonoured grave, also came, under the strong hand of force, to that forbidding portal. No wonder that her nerve failed her, and, probably recalling the fate of her mother, she should have cast herself down upon a stone, and cried, in response to Lord Chandos begging her to come under a shelter out of the rain, "Better sitting here than in a worse place. I know not whither you will bring me." Through this gate Lady Jane Grey entered as queen, July 10th, 1553, and on the following February 12th she was executed on Tower Green. What nobility and patriotism, what passion and conflict of thought, what opposition of envy, malice, ambition and hatred, what loyalty to lost causes were embodied and represented in the men and women of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, who have trodden this sorrowful way, and passed under the Bloody Tower!

Let us recall a few out of the great multitude. Hither came Thomas Cromwell, deadliest of foes to the old Church and the old nobility of England; Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, last member of the great Plantagenet line; Katherine Howard, so young in years as to render

the story of her infamy almost incredible; Thomas Seymour, Duke of Somerset, the man who thought he could use for his own selfish aims the great forces of the English Reformation, but who found in them a power that remorselessly crushed out his life; Sir Thomas Overbury, the man whose history is an appalling object lesson in the crimes of James the First's reign; Sir John Eliot, one of the first martyrs in that great struggle which was to annihilate the Stuart tyranny, and inaugurate modern political freedom; Strafford, the apostate from and bitterest foe to the party of constitutional freedom, the strong upholder of Charles I., most basely deserted in his hour of mortal peril by his unworthy master; Laud, the ecclesiastical dreamer, bent upon the accomplishment of his narrow-minded schemes, even if the nation went to ruin meanwhile, rudely roused by his summary imprisonment here to some realisation of the fact that his way was not the road the nation meant at that time to journey, and finally, a few months later, closing his life-history on Tower Hill.

In the great majority of cases their stay in the Tower and their hold upon life after once passing the gate was brief. A short journey to Tower Green or to Tower Hill, a blow of the sword or the heavy axe, and then the anguish and pain, the hard and faithful service, the pride, ambition, and pomp of the earthly life were over for ever. The mortal remains of almost all whom we have mentioned lie buried in the little church of St. Peter ad Vincula, rightly named, when we remember the experiences of those whose burial there forms its great wealth of historic interest. The church stands in the north-west corner of the inner ward, and is known to have existed in the reign of King John. The present building dates from the end of Edward the First's reign. It consists of a nave and chancel with a north aisle, separated from the nave by a row of columns and arches. It is sixtysix feet long, fifty-four wide, and twenty-five high. The dedication to 'St. Peter in chains' seems to indicate that it was intended from the first as a place of worship for prisoners, the chapel of St. John being for the use of king and court. About 1532 Henry VIII. caused it to be thoroughly repaired and restored, and the present windows, arches, and the wooden roof date from that time. There were two altars, the chief one in the chancel dedicated to St. Peter, the other at the east end of the aisle dedicated to St. Mary.

It is interesting to notice the hagioscope, or squint, which, before it was blocked up by the large but handsome Blount monument, enabled the priest at St. Mary's altar to see at the same time the high altar. The church began to be used for interments, so far as the records show, about 1532. During the eighteenth century the building had been greatly disfigured, from an architectural point of view, by plaster and whitewash, by the erection of a wooden gallery and by the old-fashioned high square pews. In 1876-1877, to the regret of some, but probably to the satisfaction of the many, the

building was restored' by Mr. Salvin. It now presents a neat and somewhat new appearance, but can hardly be said, except in the chancel, to be entirely out of harmony with its wonderful and mournful memories. During the work carried on under Mr. Salvin, the earth at the east end was very carefully removed, and it is believed that a considerable portion of the bones of Anne Boleyn, Lady Rochford, the Countess of Salisbury, the Dukes of Northumberland, Somerset, and Monmouth, were discovered and carefully

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THE INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF ST. PETER AD VINCULA IN THE TOWER.

re-buried, so far as possible, in their original resting-place. On a memorial tablet at the west end of the church are engraved the names of no less than thirty-four persons, most of them of the highest distinction, who were buried beneath its pavement. Here lieth,' wrote John Stow, 'before the high altar two dukes between two queens, to wit, the Duke of Somerset and the Duke of Northumberland, between Queen Anne and Queen Katherine, all four beheaded.' In the tiny chancel are buried no less than fifteen men and women, all of whom filled stations of great prominence in English history, all of whom met with a sinister destiny. Besides the two illfated consorts of Henry VIII., and the two great dukes whose political rivalry

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