The Tower of London has been used not alone for a fortress and prison, but also for a palace. All of the kings from William to Charles II. held occasional court in the Tower. A palace occupied a space in the inner ward, between the southwest corner of the White Tower and the Record, Salt and Broadarrow Towers. The queens had a suite extending from the Lanthorn to the southeast of the White Tower. And near the Record Tower was a great hall which demanded forty fir trees to repair it at the time of the marriage festivities of Henry III. and Eleanore of Provence. When Edward the Black Prince took prisoner King John of France, he lodged his royal captive in this palace, and King John gave an entertainment for his captor in this great hall. The beautiful Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV., and queen of Henry VII., resided for a time in this palace, and passed from thence to her coronation. Sixteen years later she lay in state twelve days in the royal chapel in the White Tower, where her knights and ladies kept solemn vigil beside her bier. What an impressive scene it must have been! The windows all ablaze with lights, and an illuminated hearse holding the royal dead. Queen Mary held court in the Tower directly after she had defeated Northumberland and the Dudleys. The ancient custom of a state procession from the Tower to Westminster was observed for the last time at the coronation of Charles II. Very near the Devereux Tower is a plain, unpretentious building—the chapel of St. Peter Ad Vincula. It is small, having but one nave and one side aisle, and is quite without ornamentation. But marvelous interest invests it. Here Lady Jane was buried; here the body of poor Anne Boleyn was thrust into an old chest and hastily interred in the vaults; here lies the dust of Northumberland, Thomas Cromwell, Somerset, Surrey, and Essex, teaching the terribly solemn lesson that ambition, talents, fame, form no sure bulwark against death. “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusky death. Out, out, brief candle.”