, and here it was
that his greatest triumphs were attained. What was acted there is best
told by making Shakespeare's share in the management distinctly
understood; nor can we leave Southwark without visiting the "Tabard
Inn," from whence Chaucer's nine-and-twenty jovial pilgrims set out for
Canterbury.

The Tower rises next before our eyes; and as we pass under its
battlements the grimmest and most tragic scenes of English history seem
again rising before us. Whether Caesar first built a tower here or
William the Conqueror, may never be decided; but one thing is certain,
that more tears have been shed within these walls than anywhere else in
London. Every stone has its story. Here Wallace, in chains, thought of
Scotland; here Queen Anne Boleyn placed her white hands round her
slender neck, and said the headsman would have little trouble. Here
Catharine Howard, Sir Thomas More, Cranmer, Northumberland, Lady Jane
Grey, Wyatt, and the Earl of Essex all perished. Here, Clarence was
drowned in a butt of wine and the two boy princes were murdered. Many
victims of kings, many kingly victims, have here perished. Many patriots
have here sighed for liberty. The poisoning of Overbury is a mystery of
the Tower, the perusal of which never wearies though the dark secret be
unsolvable; and we can never cease to sympathise with that brave woman,
the Countess of Nithsdale, who risked her life to save her husband's.
From Laud and Strafford we turn to Eliot and Hutchinson--for Cavaliers
and Puritans were both by turns prisoners in the Tower. From Lord
William Russell and Algernon Sydney we come down in the chronicle of
suffering to the Jacobites of 1715 and 1745; from them to Wilkes, Lord
George Gordon, Burdett, and, last of all the Tower prisoners, to the
infamous Thistlewood.

Leaving the crimson scaffold on Tower Hill, we return as sightseers to
glance over the armoury and to catch the sparkle of the Royal jewels.
Here is the identical crown that that daring villain Blood stole and the
heart-shaped ruby that the Black Prince once wore; here we see the
swords, sceptres, and diadems of many of our monarchs. In the armoury
are suits on which many lances have splintered and swords struck; the
imperishable steel clothes of many a dead king are here, unchanged since
the owners doffed them. This suit was the Earl of Leicester's--the
"Kenilworth" earl, for see his cognizance of the bear and ragged staff
on the horse's chanfron. This richly-