The Sun.
London, England, 1861-05-01 00:00:00

of as many hues as the rainbow. Additional depth of dye
was imparted to these many-coloured garments from the
light streaming down upon them from the richly-painted
windows. Amidst the closely-packed crowd rose the tall
grey pillars lining the aisles, decked with banners and
escutcheons, as before described. The effect of the choir
was marvellous. The doors were left wide open, so that
the splendid estrado on which the ceremony was to be per-
formed could be seen from all points. Nave, aisles, and
galleries were thronged; so were the transepts on either
side of the choir, so were the ambnlatories adjoining the
chapel of Saint Edmund the Confessor ; so were many
other places which could by no possibility command a view
of the solemnity. In Saint Edmund's chapel, which com-
municated with the choir by two doorways near the altar,
were congregated the nobles about to do homage to the
king. Even Henry the Seventh's Chapel was filled by
those who had been been unable to obtain accommodation
elsewhere,

By this time, 'the foremost part of the procession had
poured into the nave, and, amid loud blasts from the trum-
peters, the young king at last set foot within the abbey.
His canopy was still held over him, and with much dignity
of deportment he proceeded towards the choir, where he was
met by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Pro-
tector, and conducted to the chapel of St. Edmund the
Confessor.

After tirrying there for a short time, he was brought
forth seated in a chair of crimson velvet, which was carried
by Lord Seymour and Sir John Gage, and conveyed to the
summit of the estrade, at the north end of which he was set
down by his bearers.

During the Royal Banquet which follows in the
neighbouring Hall of Rufus, that superb old West-
minster Hall, roofed with oak by Richard the
Second, and under which roof so many monarchs
have held their revels upon their day of Coronation
—we read in Mr. Ainsworth's pictured pages how
the King's Champion flings down his gauntlet to
the world in challenge, and how the little mannikin
Xit has a fight with a wild man, a sort of Orson—
until suddenly caged like a rat while ,standing
for an instant upon the wild man's broad buckler !
Among other incidents recounted in this instalment
of " The :Constable," we must especially particu-
larise the clandestine celebration of marriage
between Lord Seymour of Sudley (late Sir Thos..
Seymour) and the Queen (Dowager) Catherine
Parr, relict of King Henry VIII. The secret cere-
monial taking place in St. Peter's Chapel, in the
Tower of London. The interest of this descrip-
tion will be realised the most by those who
have stood musingly, as we have done, beside
that crumbling block of pink-white marble
among the ruins of old Sudley Castle, under which
fragmentary wreck of a royal monument lie yet
there in the dust the remains of the once beautiful
Catherine. Remembering that crumbling tomb at
Sudley Castle in the midst of many old familiar
associations, we read not without emotion what
follows close upon the mention by our novelist of
the exultation with which Lord Seymour of Sudley
hastens to his clandestine marriage with Catherine
Parr in St. Peter's Chapel in the Tower of London :
But his exultation was quickly dashed. While traversing
a corridor on his way to the Wardrobe Tower, he unexpect-
edly encountered the Princess Elizabeth. The princess
was attended by her governess and Sir John Gage, and was
in the act of quitting the Tower, an escort being in readi-
ness for her without. Up to this moment she had looked
exceedingly pale, but her cheek flushed as she met Sey-
mour's gaze. But she gave no other sign of emotion. Coldly
returning his profound salutation, she passed proudly on,
without a word.

" I would I had not beheld her at this moment. The
sight of her shakes my purpose," he exclaimed, gazing after
her. " 'Tis strange how she still clings to my heart. But
I must have done with this folly. 'Tis idle to think of her
more."

And he went on. But Elizabeth's image haunted him
still.

That evening, however, the marriage took place in the
manner arranged ; the chaplain's connivance and services
being secured by Ugo. The Queen and Lady Herbert
were in St. Peter's Chapel ; so also was Seymour, with his
esquire and the Marquis of Dorset.
When all fear of intrusion or interruption was over, the
ceremony was performed, and the widow of Henry VIII.
became the spouse of the new-made Lord Seymour of Sud-
ley.
Close beside the altar where they were w‘dded were laid
two of Henry's slaughtered queens—Anne Boleyn and
Catherine 'Toward. Little did Seymour dream at that hour
that at no distant day he would have a place beside them.
Little did he dream, as he uttered his vows at the altar—
vows so ill-kept I—that he stood within a few paces of his
own grave.

Towards the end of his present instalment of "The
Constable" Mr. Ainsworth records how the Lord
Chancellor was disgraced, relating moreover in
what manner the Lord High Admiral discharged
the duties of his office—not forgetting incidental
reference to the way in which the Duke of Somer-
set (formerly known as Earl of Hertford) faired
as England's Lord Protector. This romance alto-
ther of " The Constable of the Tower" still reads to
us, coloured as it is into life by Harrison Ains-
worth's ripened imagination—it still reads to us,
for all the world, like one of the old knightly chro-
nicles gorgeously emblazoned.