THERE are, doubtless, few of our metropolitan readers who have not, like ourselves, often stood by the Horse Guards to gaze on that magnificent work, the Banqueting House, opposite, and to ponder on the solemn and momentous event, the execution of Charles I., which seems (so instantaneously does the sight of the one recal the memory of the other) to be recorded in indelible characters on the very walls. They have also, we have no doubt, wondered, as we have often wondered, through which of those beautiful windows the King passed to the funereal-looking scaffold, with its central block and axe, masked executioner, and surrounding sea of faces; and reviewed, as we have reviewed, all the long train of associations connected with that act, and with the men by whose agency it was achieved. And, absorbed in such thoughts, there, perhaps, have generally ended our mutual reminiscences of Whitehall. The Banqueting House only dates from the time of Charles and his father; and

there are no other remains of any importance of the once famous palace to direct the attention to its earlier history. The scene is, indeed, strangely altered. The spectators of the King's execution stood where we now stand; but the present busy street was then the enclosed court-yard of the royal mansion, which consisted of an immense irregular mass of buildings, extending from Scotland Yard and Wallingford House (the site of the Admiralty) on the north, to Cannon Row and the top of Downing Street on the south, and east and west from the Thames to St. James's Park. Where we now find the Treasury and the offices of the Secretaries of State, then stood the Tennis Yard and Cockpit, carrying back the memory to their sport-loving founder, Henry VIII., and still earlier, to the times when that monarch came hither as a guest to enjoy the splendid hospitality of his great minister, Wolsey, meditating perhaps the while how he should repay him by utter disgrace and ruin; a conclusion towards which his thoughts would be rapidly accelerated, when they had once taken the direction, by the sight of the wealth spread around him on all sides. Now, however, there are no such visible indications of the ancient glories of Whitehall; and it is only when we begin purposely to reflect upon its history that we find the multitude of recollections of the highest interest that pertain naturally to the spot flow in upon us. Whitehall, or rather the palace, for that name was unknown till after Wolsey's time, was originally built by Hubert de Burgh, the eminent but persecuted Justiciary of England during the reign of Henry III. He bequeathed it to the convent of the Black Friars in Holborn, and they sold it to Walter de Grey, Archbishop of York, in 1248. From that time it was called York House, and remained for nearly three centuries the residence of the prelates of that see. The last archiepiscopal owner was Wolsey; during whose residence it was characterized by a sumptuous magnificence that most probably has never been equalled in the house of any other English subject, or surpassed in the palaces of many of its Kings. In his gallery, on divers tables, were a great number of rich stuffs of silk, in whole pieces, and of all kinds and colours, as velvet, satin, damask, taffeta, &c. The walls were hung with cloth of gold and tissue, cloth of silver, and other rich cloths of divers colours. Here hung his suit of copes, which Cavendish, his gentleman-usher and biographer, says was the richest he had ever seen in this country. In two chambers, called respectively the Gilt and the Council Chambers, were set in each two broad and long tables, upon trestles, with an almost incredible quantity of the most valuable plate. In the Gilt Chamber all was gilt, and a cupboard, standing under the window, was furnished wholly with plate of solid gold, whereof a part was enriched with pearls and other precious gems. In the Council Chamber all was silver, and parcel gilt. He maintained a train of eight hundred persons, among whom were nine or ten lords, fifteen knights, and forty squires. His very domestics must have thought themselves personages of no little consideration, for his cook wore a satin or velvet jerkin, and a chain of gold round his neck. Wolsey's own appearance was worthy of the central object of this rich picture. His portly figure was set off with silk and satins of the finest texture and the richest scarlet or crimson dyes. On his neck and shoulders he wore a tippet of costly sables; his gloves were of red silk, his Cardinal's hat of

scarlet, and his shoes silver gilt, inlaid with pearls and diamonds. When he appeared in public the hat was borne before him by a person of rank; he was immediately preceded by two priests of stately height and noble appearance, each carrying a ponderous silver cross; before these rode two gentlemen bearing silver staves; and in front of all marched his pursuivant-at-arms, with a huge silver-gilt mace. Wolsey, as a priest, rode on a mule, with saddle and saddle-cloth of crimson velvet, and stirrups of silver gilt; but his followers were all mounted on beautiful horses, richly caparisoned, perfect in training and spirit.

At his levee, which he held every morning at an early hour, after a very short mass, he always appeared clad in red. And thus "he lived a long season," says Cavendish, "ruling all within this realm appertaining unto the King by his wisdom; and all other weighty matters of foreign regions with which the King of this realm had any occasion to intermeddle. All ambassadors of foreign potentates were always despatched by his discretion, to whom they had always access for their despatch.

And when it pleased the King's Majesty, for his recreation, to repair unto the Cardinal's house, as he did divers times in the year, at which time there wanted no preparations, or goodly furniture, with viands of the finest sort that might be provided for money or friendship; such pleasures were then devised for the King's comfort and consolation as might be invented, or by man's wit imagined. The banquets were set forth, with masks and mummeries, in so gorgeous a sort and costly manner that it was a heaven to behold. There wanted no dames or damsels meet or apt to dance with the maskers, or to garnish the place for the time, with other goodly disports. Then was there all kind of music and harmony set forth, with excellent voices both of men and children. I have seen the King

* From a drawing in Mr. Douce's copy of Cavendish's Life of Wolsey.

suddenly come in thither in a mask, with a dozen of other maskers, all in garments like shepherds, made of fine cloth of gold and fine crimson satin paned, and caps of the same, with visors of good proportion of visnomy; their hairs and beards either of fine gold wire, or else of silver, and some being of black silk; having sixteen torchbearers, besides their drums, and other persons attending upon them, with visors, and clothed all in satin of the same colours. And at his coming, and before he came into the hall, ye shall understand that he came by water to the water-gate, without any noise: where, against his coming, were laid charged many chambers, and at his landing they were all shot off, which made such a rumble in the air that it was like thunder. It made all the noblemen, ladies, and gentlemen to muse what it should mean coming so suddenly, they sitting quietly at a solemn banquet; under this sort:-First, ye shall perceive that the tables were set in the chamber of presence, banquet-wise covered, my Lord Cardinal sitting under the cloth of estate, and there having his service all alone; and then was there set a lady and a nobleman, or a gentleman and gentlewoman, throughout all the tables in the chamber on the one side, which were made and joined as it were but one table. All which order and device was done and devised by the Lord Sands, Lord Chamberlain to the King; and also by Sir Henry Guilford, Comptroller to the King. Then immediately after this great shot of guns the Cardinal desired the Lord Chamberlain and Comptroller to look what this sudden shot should mean, as though he knew nothing of the matter. They, thereupon looking out of the windows into Thames, returned again, and showed him that it seemed to them there should be some noblemen and strangers arrived at his bridge, as ambassadors from some foreign prince. With that quoth the Cardinal, I shall desire you, because ye can speak French, to take the pains to go down into the hall to encounter and to receive them according to their estates, and to conduct them into this chamber, where they shall see us, and all these noble personages, sitting merrily at our banquet, desiring them to sit down with us, and to take part of our fare and pastime.' Then they went incontinent down into the hall, where they received them with twenty new torches, and conveyed them up into the chamber, with such a number of drums and fifes as I have seldom seen together at one time in any masque. At their arrival into the chamber, two and two together, they went directly before the Cardinal where he sat, saluting him very reverently; to whom the Lord Chamberlain for them said, 'Sir, forasmuch as they be strangers and can speak no English, they have desired me to declare unto your grace thus: They, having understanding of this your triumphant banquet, where was assembled such a number of excellent fair dames, could do no less, under the supportation of your good grace, but to repair hither to view as well their incomparable beauty, as for to accompany them at mumchance, and then after to dance with them, and so to have of them acquaintance. And, sir, they furthermore require of your grace licence to accomplish the cause of their repair. To whom the Cardinal answered that he was very well contented they should do so. Then the maskers went first and saluted all the dames as they sat, and then returned to the most worthiest, and there opened a cup full of gold, with crowns and other pieces of coin, to whom they set divers pieces to cast at. Thus in this manner perusing all the ladies and gentlewomen, and to some

they lost, and of some they won. And thus done, they returned unto the Cardinal, with great reverence, pouring down all the crowns in the cup, which was about two hundred crowns. 'At all,' quoth the Cardinal, and so cast the dice, and won them all at a cast; whereat was great joy made. Then quoth the Cardinal to my Lord Chamberlain, I pray you,' quoth he, show them that it seemeth me that there should be among them some noble man, whom I suppose to be much more worthy of honour to sit and occupy this room and place than I; to whom I would most gladly, if I knew him, surrender my place according to my duty.' Then spake my Lord Chamberlain unto them in French, declaring my Lord Cardinal's mind, and they rounding him again in the ear, my Lord Chamberlain said to my Lord Cardinal, 'Sir, they confess,' quoth he, 'that among them there is such a noble personage, whom, if your grace can appoint him from the other, he is contented to disclose himself, and to accept your place most worthily.' With that the Cardinal, taking a good advisement among them, at the last quoth he, Me seemeth the gentleman with the black beard should be even he.'

And

with that he arose out of his chair, and offered the same to the gentleman in the black beard, with his cap in his hand. The person to whom he offered then his chair was Sir Edward Neville, a comely knight, of a goodly personage, that much more resembled the King's person in that mask than any other. The King, hearing and perceiving the Cardinal so deceived in his estimation and choice, could not forbear laughing, but plucked down his visor, and Master Neville's also, and dashed out with such a pleasant countenance and cheer, that all noble estates there assembled, seeing the King to be there amongst them, rejoiced very much. The Cardinal eftsoons desired his highness to take the place of estate; to whom the King answered that he would go first and shift his apparel; and so departed, and went straight into my lord's bedchamber, where was a great fire made and prepared for him, and there new apparelled him with rich and princely garments. And in the time of the King's absence the dishes of the banquet were clean taken up, and the tables spread again with new and sweet perfumed cloths; every man sitting still until the King and his maskers came in among them again, every man being newly apparelled. Then the King took his seat under the cloth of estate, commanding no man to remove, but sit still, as they did before. Then in came a new banquet before the King's Majesty, and to all the rest through the tables, wherein, I suppose, were served two hundred dishes, or above, of wondrous costly meats and devices subtilly devised. Thus passed they forth the whole night with banqueting, dancing, and other triumphant devices, to the great comfort of the King, and pleasant regard of the nobility there assembled.”

This account derives additional interest from the circumstance that Shakspere, in his Henry VIII., has almost literally followed it in most of its details, and with great dramatic skill made it the foundation of the scene where Henry, in "perusing all the ladies," first sees Anne Boleyn, and is smitten with her beauty. And what a contrast does not all this festivity, and mirth, and “fullblown " enjoyment, present to the heart-sickening despair felt by the same prelate, in the same place, a few years later, when the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk waited upon him in the very chambers which had witnessed all that festivity, and told him he must quit York Place, for the King meant to live there himself!