carved and decorated, a present from the Earl of Gloucester to the short-lived son of Queen Anne; two brass mortars of immense weight taken at Cherbourg, in 1758, by Admiral Howe; a similar engine, constructed to throw nine shells at once, which was used at the great display of fireworks in 1748 to throw balloons up into the air; and a very interesting specimen of the casting of the first James's reign, consisting of ten small brass pieces mounted, which were presented to Prince Charles, then a boy, by the brass-founders of London, for the purpose of assisting him in his military studies. The range on the left of the entrance possessed attraction of a still higher character; consisting of pieces of ordnance not only interesting separately, but forming in the whole a kind of visible history of the manufacture of these destructive implements, commencing with a wroughtiron piece of the time of Henry V., with the date 1422, and ending with a magnificent-looking forty-two-pounder of the finest brass, sixteen feet long, which was brought from Java in 1811. An inscription on it in the Persian language was thus translated by the Earl of Munster: "The work of the Sultan Ranafa Achmet Medigem-ed-Deen, of the country of Palembang the Sacred, on which be peace; 1183 of the Hegira," (1769).-Among the remainder of the cannons which form this very interesting series we may notice an octagon-shaped brass piece, and a brass piece with seven bores, both of Henry VIII.'s time; an exquisitely decorated cannon, manufactured for James I.'s accomplished son, Prince Henry; and a brass five-pounder with three bores, taken by Marlborough at the battle of Ramillies. On a raised platform in another part of the place stood a richly carved and gilded carriage, called the Drum Major's Chariot of State, occasionally used in processions, &c. A grate placed in a recess, for the heating of shot; a curious machine, something like a chevaux-de-frize, constructed at Lyon for the defence of narrow passes or breaches; and a curious wooden gun are the only other articles that our space will allow us to notice. The gun, appropriately named Policy, was one of those used at the siege of Boulogne, in 1544, by the Duke of Suffolk, to deceive the governor into the belief that the English army was fully prepared with artillery for the prosecution of the siege. Aided by the cowardice of the governor, the stratagem was successful, and Boulogne given up, contrary to the wishes of many of its gallant citizens.

The stranger looking in at the principal entrance into the Tower now sees opposite to him the remains of the Grand Staircase, which was considered one of the finest in Europe. It formed in effect one magnificent trophy of English bravery and skill in almost every part of the world, consisting of an endless variety of weapons and arms both ancient and modern. The upright pieces of cannon from Waterloo, seen in the background of the following engraving, are, we believe, the only remains.

The Small Arms Armoury, the scene of the banquet before mentioned, was perhaps unique in its peculiar magnificence. The reader will remember the immense length of the room: as to its other features, let him picture to himself this great room, lighted on each side by a close range of windows,—having racks extending down also on each side, and others across, for the support of the 150,000 stand of arms kept ready for immediate service,-having, further, four columns about the centre, and a rich-looking cornice round the ceiling. Let him further imagine the entire walls, pillars, cornice, and ceiling decorated with pistols, cuirasses

halberds, carbines, &c., arranged in manifold, curious, and generally beautiful forms, no two compartments being alike. Such would be a general idea of the impression made on the mind of the visitor by the first glimpse of the Small Arms Armoury. The columns were twenty-two feet high, and were formed chiefly with pikes of the reign of Charles II. Around them were pistols twining upwards in a serpentine direction. Upon the ceiling was a large carved and gilded ornament decorated in a similar manner. But the cornice was perhaps one of the most interesting and beautiful objects in the room. This was composed of drums, breastplates of old armour, pistols, and other weapons arranged in the manner here shown.

The fire has spared one article in this room, and that not the least valuable of its contents, the Maltese gun which was placed in it. This was taken by Napoleon at Malta in 1798, and sent by him to the French Directory in the frigate La Sensible. The latter was captured on its way by Captain Foote, of the Sea-horse frigate, with the eight banners which recently hung over it in the Armoury. This beautiful piece is of mixed metal, resembling gold, and bears a representation, in bas-relief, of the head of a Grand Master of Malta, supported by two genii. It is also richly decorated all over with eagles and other ornamental figures. The carriage, of wood, has a very striking appearance, having carved figures of

two Furies, one arm of each entwined together and grasping a snake, and the other a blazing torch. The nave of the wheel represents the sun, the spokes his rays. The date is 1773. Another representation of the sun occurred near the door, where on the one (the east) side he was exhibited in his rise, and on the other in his decline. Around were checquered frames of brass-handled hangers. Among the miscellaneous historical memorials were the arms taken from Sir William Perkins and his associates, executed for their intended assassination of the founder of this room; those taken from the Scotch adherents of the Pretender in 1715; and the two swords of Mercy and Justice carried before the Pretender himself, when he was proclaimed in Scotland in that year. The miscellaneous ornaments of the place are beyond enumeration. Among them were a pair of gates formed of halberds, attached to an arch composed of pistols; flounces and furbelows, such as our great-grandmothers wore, of carbines; and a figure of Jupiter riding in a fiery chariot, drawn by eagles, and holding his thunderbolt ready in his hand, decorated with ancient bayonets and military fans. A Medusa's head, with its snaky tresses, a figure of a Hydra with seven heads, an organ (of musquetoons with brass barrels), stars, church windows, &c. &c., also added to the picturesque character of the place.

As a fortress, the Tower, through all the changes of dynastics, or of the ministers who have so often made and marred dynasties, has ever been a place of the highest importance. To possess the Tower was to a great extent to possess London; and a thousand wiles of policy have been tried to that end in the many domestic broils and wars that characterise our history, even down to the period of Charles and the Commonwealth. Nor have bolder attempts been wanting, though certainly no very extraordinary exploits of this kind grace the Tower history. The first Constable of the Tower, as its chief governor is still called, was Geoffrey de Mandeville, who received the hereditary appointment from William the Conqueror in reward for his great services at the battle of Hastings. It was during the Constableship of a descendant of this brave warrior, of the same name, that we find the first notice of the Tower being besieged. The attacking party consisted of citizens of London, who endeavoured to seize it for Stephen, but without success. Mandeville's subsequent history is curious. He was taken prisoner at St. Albans in 1143, and compelled to surrender the Tower. From that time he supported himself by rapine and plunder, though on so large a scale, that, like other noble adventurers, he would perhaps have objected to the propriety of such epithets. Whilst attacking the royal castle at Burwell, his brain was pierced by an arrow. Having been excommunicated by the Pope, his followers were afraid to bury him in the usual manner. At last some Knights Templars removed the body to the Temple, London, and there suspended it in a leaden coffin from a tree in their garden; thus for the time avoiding direct opposition to the Vatican; whilst, with covert satire, which some of the less orthodox Knights no doubt relished amazingly, they made the proscribed of the Church appear only the nearer to Heaven. During the absence of the Lion Heart from England, Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, the builder of the ditch mentioned in a former paper, was left as chief guardian of the kingdom as well as of that small but not unimportant part of it, the Tower. He was a man of humble descent, who had made himself

distinguished by the exercise of his great worldly wisdom and powerful energies ; and as soon as Prince, afterwards King, John began that series of movements by which he gradually, as it were, felt his way towards the throne during his brother's captivity, he set himself in earnest to oppose his measures, and prove himself in every way equal to the trust reposed in him: But he was unsupported by those on whom he most relied, and at the approach of John towards London in 1191 the citizens refused to obey his orders. The Bishop immediately shut himself up in the Tower, and the Prince was admitted into the city. On the following day a meeting of the bishops, earls, and barons who were opposed to his regency, with the citizens of London, unanimously decreed that Longchamp should be deposed from his high office, and John proclaimed chief governor of the kingdom. When the former was informed of their decision, he fainted, and fell on the floor. By an early hour the next morning, as he looked forth from the Tower turrets, he beheld East Smithfield, then a large open grassy plain, covered with John's troops, whilst nearer still a mingled body of soldiers and citizens were closely blockading the Tower both by land and water. John, having objects of his own to serve, which rendered it unadvisable to proceed to extremities with so eminent a man, desired an audience. When Longchamp came, he offered to ratify his Bishopric of Ely, and give him the custody of three of the royal castles. Longchamp immediately replied with great dignity that he decidedly refused to commit any of the King's rights, or to surrender any of the powers intrusted to him by the King. "But," added he, "you are stronger than I; and, Chancellor and Justiciary as I am, I yield to force." He then handed the keys of the muchcoveted Tower to John. A little time after, the tall figure of a woman, sitting on the sea-shore near Dover, with a web of cloth and a yard measure in her hand, attracted the attention of some fishermen's wives. Approaching nearer, the black face and new-shorn beard of a man appeared under the green hood. It was the famous Longchamp, thus driven to the unseemliest disguises to ensure his escape to Normandy. We must follow Longchamp's history a little further. As soon as the fact of Richard's imprisonment in the Tyrol became known through Europe, Longchamp was the first to show his unwavering fidelity by immediately joining him and assisting in the measures necessary for his liberation; and when the ransom was fixed, Longchamp was the man who came over to England to collect it. Longchamp died Chancellor of England, and, we believe, Constable of the Tower.

The fluctuating course of events in the reigns of John and Henry III. caused the Tower-fortress to frequently exchange hands between the King and the barons, but none of the incidents are sufficiently interesting for us to dwell upon them. The commencement of the second Richard's reign brings us to a new feature-the ransacking of the Tower by the populace, during Wat Tyler's insur rection in 1381. Whilst this affair was at its height, the young King threw himself into the Tower, accompanied by his cousin Henry of Bolingbroke (the future scene in the Council Chamber was then little dreamt of), Simon, Archbishop of Canterbury and Chancellor, and Sir Robert Hales, Treasurer. On the 12th of June Richard made an attempt at personal conciliation, but when he got to Rotherhithe the vast multitude, assembled under the banners of St. George

and of their numerous pennons, when they perceived the King's barge, “set up,” says Froissart, "shouts and cries as if all the devils from hell had come into their company." The royal party hurried quickly back. The riots and devastations at Lambeth Palace, the Savoy, the Temple, &c., followed. Tower Hill now began to be crowded with persons clamouring for the blood of the Chancellor and Treasurer, and provisions for the Tower inhabitants were stopped. Once more Richard went forth, first to Mile End, followed by a large proportion of the besiegers, and subsequently to Smithfield, where Wat Tyler fell, and with him the insurrection in which he had played so conspicuous a part. But all the besiegers did not follow Richard from the Tower; though, whatever object those who remained had in view, the inmates of the great fortress could have seen little cause for fear. The persons in question were miserably armed; "many," says Holinshed, "were weaponed only with sticks." In the Tower were six hundred men-at-arms, and as many archers. Yet scarcely was Richard out of sight before this mob were hurrying through every apartment of the palace, where, having obtained possession of the Chancellor and the Treasurer, who had vainly sought refuge in the Chapel, they cut off their heads, with those of several other persons. All kinds of licentiousness of course followed. Stow has noticed that many of them "went into the King's privy chamber, and played the wantons, in sitting, lying, and sporting them upon the King's bed." The Princess of Wales, the King's mother, was at the time in the Tower, and placed completely at their mercy. She was allowed to depart, however, at the price of a few rude kisses. Still the horror of the scene completely overpowered her, and she was taken away by her ladies, in a boat, senseless, and rowed across to the other side of the Thames; where, at a house in Carter Lane, Richard rejoined her later in the day to hear the particulars of the horrid deeds which she had witnessed.

How these men could have got into the Tower so readily as they did, without the aid of the grossest negligence or treachery on the part of the garrison, is difficult to understand. That the Tower was not always guarded with the jealous care that one would expect is evident from a curious circumstance that happened some forty years before Wat Tyler's outbreak, and which is the more remarkable on account of the previous warning. When Edward III. was busy in the Tower preparing for his French expedition, about 1337, he issued a mandate that," on account of certain news which had lately come to his ears, and which sat heavy at his heart, the gates, walls, and bulwarks should be kept with all diligence, lest they should be surprised by the cunning of his enemies." The news that was referred to in such terms by Edward III. must indeed have been important. It was most probably from France; whence, about this period, Edward received intelligence that the French King had given an asylum to David Bruce of Scotland, and was preparing to aid the Scottish patriots with men, arms, and money. Minute directions were now given respecting the safe custody of the Tower. Whether Edward received any secret intimation whilst abroad that led him to appear so suddenly and unexpectedly as he did at the Tower gates in 1340, when it was not even known to the garrison that he was in England, is uncertain; but, to the alarm of the negligent inmates, there he was, at midnight on the 13th of November, accompanied by the Earl of Northampton, Sir Walter Manny, and other