The Tower of London
William Harrison Ainsworth
Paperback
(CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, Oct. 1, 2015)
ON the 10th of July, 1553, about two hours after noon, a loud discharge of ordnance burst from the turrets of Durham House, then the residence of the Duke of Northumberland, grand-master of the realm, and occupying the site of the modern range of buildings, known as the Adelphi; and, at the signal, which was immediately answered from every point along the river where a bombard or culverin could be planted,—from the adjoining hospital of the Savoy,—the old palace of Bridewell, recently converted by Edward VI., at the instance of Ridley, bishop of London, into a house of correction,—Baynard's Castle, the habitation of the Earl of Pembroke,—the gates of London-bridge,—and, lastly, from the batteries of the Tower,—a gallant train issued from the southern gateway of the stately mansion abovenamed, and descended the stairs leading to the water's edge, where, appointed for their reception, was drawn up a squadron of fifty superbly-gilt barges,—some decorated with banners and streamers,—some with cloth-of-gold and arras, embroidered with the devices of the civic companies,—others with innumerable silken pennons to which were attached small silver bells, "making a goodly noise and a goodly sight as they waved in the wind,"—while others, reserved for the more important personages of the ceremony, were covered at the sides with shields gorgeously emblazoned with the armorial bearings of the different noblemen and honourable persons composing the privy council, amid which the cognizance of the Duke of Northumberland,—a lion rampant, or, double quevée, vert,—appeared proudly conspicuous.