Part 20 (2/2)

”Perler.--Imprim., a hangynge of greene say and red, panede; item a table with two tressels, and a greyne verders carpet upon it; three greyne verders cushyns; a joyned cupberd, and a carpett upon it; a piece of verders carpet in one window, and a piece of counterfeit carpett in the other; one Flemishe chaire; four joyned stooles; a joyned forme; a wyker skryne; two large awndyerns, a fyer forke, a fyer pan, a payer of tonges; item a lowe joyned stole; two joyned foote-stoles; a rounde table of cipress; and a piece of counterfeitt carpett upon it; item a paynted table (or picture) of the Epiphany of our Lord.”[113]

But notwithstanding this apparent meagreness of accommodation, luxury in architecture was making rapid strides in the land. Wolsey was as magnificent in this taste as in others, as Hampton Court, ”a residence,” says Grotius, ”befitting rather a G.o.d than a king,” yet remains to attest. The walls of his chambers at York Place, (Whitehall,) were hung with cloth of gold, and tapestry still more precious, representing the most remarkable events in sacred history--for the easel was then subordinate to the loom.

The subjects of the tapestry in York Place consisted, we are told, of triumphs, probably Roman; the story of Absalom, bordered with the cardinal's arms; the Pet.i.tion of Esther, and the Honouring of Mordecai; the History of Sampson, bordered with the cardinal's arms; the History of Solomon; the History of Susannah and the Elders, bordered with the cardinal's arms; the History of Jacob, also bordered; Holofernes and Judith, bordered; the Story of Joseph, of David, of St. John the Baptist; the History of the Virgin; the Pa.s.sion of Christ; the Worthies; the Story of Nebuchadnezzar; a Pilgrimage; all bordered.

This place--Whitehall--Henry decorated magnificently; erected splendid gateways, and threw a gallery across to the Park, where he erected a tilt-yard, with all royal and courtly appurtenances, and converted the whole into a royal manor. This was not until after fire had ravaged the ancient, time-honoured, and kingly palace of Westminster, a place which perhaps was the most truly regal of any which England ever beheld. Recorded as a royal residence as early--almost--as there is record of the existence of our venerable abbey; inhabited by Knute the Dane; rebuilt by Edward the Confessor; remodelled by Henry the Third; receiving l.u.s.tre from the residence, and ever-added splendour from the liberality of a long line of ill.u.s.trious monarchs, it had obtained a hold on the mind which is even yet not pa.s.sed away, although the ravages of time, and of fire, and the desecrations of subsequent ages, have scarcely left stone or token of the original structure.

After the fire, however, Henry forsook it. He it was who first built St. James's Palace on the site of an hospital which had formerly stood there. He also possessed, amongst other royal retreats, Havering Bower, so called from the legend of St. Edward receiving a ring from St. John the Evangelist on this spot by the hands of a pilgrim from the Holy Land; which legend is represented at length in Westminster Abbey; Eltham, in Kent, where the king frequently pa.s.sed his Christmas; Greenwich, where Elizabeth was born; and Woodstock, celebrated for

”the unhappy fate Of Rosamond, who long ago Prov'd most unfortunate.”

The ancient palace of the Savoy had changed its destination as a royal residence only in his father's time. With the single exception of Westminster--if indeed that--the most magnificent palace which the hand of liberality ever raised, which the finger of taste ever embellished. Various indeed have been the changes to which it has been doomed, and now not one stone remains on another to say that such things have been. Now--of the thousands who traverse the spot, scarce one, at long and far distant intervals, may glance at the dim memories of the past, to think of the plumed knights and high-born dames who revelled in its halls; the crowned and anointed kings who, monarch or captive, trod its lofty chambers; the gleaming warriors who paced its embattled courts; the gracious queen who caused its walls to echo the sounds of joy; the subtle heads which plodded beneath its gloomy shades; the unhappy exiles who found a refuge within its dim recesses; or[114] the lame, the sick, the impotent, who in the midst of suffering blessed the home that sheltered them, the hands that ministered to their woes.

No. The majestic walls of the Savoy are in the dust, and not merely all trace, but all idea of its radiant gardens and sunny bowers, its sparkling fountains and verdant lawns, is lost even to the imagination in the matter-of-fact, business-like demeanour of the myriads of plodders who are ever traversing the dusty and bustling environs of Waterloo-bridge. In our closets we may perchance compel the unromantic realities of the present to yield beneath the brilliant imaginations of the past; but on the spot itself it is impossible.

Who can stand in Wellington-street, on the verge of Waterloo-bridge, and fancy it a princely mansion from the lofty battlements of which a royal banner is flying, while numerous retainers keep watch below?

Probably the sounds of harp and song may be heard as lofty n.o.bles and courtly dames are seen to tread the verdant alleys and flower-bestrewn paths which lead to the bright and glancing river, where a costly barge (from which the sounds proceed) is waiting its distinguished freight. Ever and anon are these seen gliding along in the sunbeams, or resting at the avenue leading to one or other of the n.o.ble mansions with which the bright strand is sprinkled.

Of these, perhaps, the most gorgeous is York-place, while farthest in the distance rise the fortified walls of the old palace of Westminster, inferior only to those of the ancient abbey, which are seen to rise, dimmed, yet distinct, in the soft but glowing haze cast around by the setting sun.

And that building seen on the opposite side of the river? Strangely situated it seems, and in a swamp, and with none of the felicity of aspect appertaining to its loftier neighbour, the Savoy. Yet its lofty tower, its embattled gateway, seem to infer some important destination. And such it had. The una.s.suming and unattractively placed edifice has outlived its more aspiring neighbours; and while the stately palace of the Savoy is extinct, and the slight remains of Westminster are desecrated, the time-honoured walls of Lambeth yet shelter the head of learning and dignify the location in which they were reared.

Eastward of our position the city looks dim and crowded; but, with the exception of the sprinkled mansions to which we have alluded, there is little to break the natural characteristics of the scene between Temple-bar and the West Minster. The hermitage and hospital on the site of Northumberland House harmonise well with the scene; the little cl.u.s.ter of cottages at Charing has a rural aspect; and that beautiful and touching memento of unfailing love and undiminished affection--that tribute to all that was good and excellent in woman--the Cross, which, formed of the purest and, as yet, unsoiled white marble, raised its emblem of faith and hope, gleaming like silver in the brilliant sky--that--would that we had it still!

Somewhat nearer, the May-pole stands out in gay relief from the woods which envelop the hills northward, where yet the timid fawn could shelter, and the fearful hare forget its watch; where yet perchance the fairies held their revels when the moon shone bright; where they filled to the brim the ”fairy-cups” and pledged each other in dew; where they played at ”hide and seek” in the harebells, ran races in the branches of the trees, and nestled on the leaves, on which they glittered like diamonds; where they launched their tiny barks on the sparkling rivulets, breathing ere morning's dawn on the flowers to awaken them, tinting the gossamer's web with silver, and scattering pearls over the drops of dew.

Closer around, among meadows and pastures, are all sounds and emblems of rural life; which as yet are but agreeably varied, not ruthlessly annihilated, by the encroachments of population and the increase of trade.

Truly this is a difficult picture to realise on Waterloo-bridge, yet is it nevertheless a tolerably correct one of this portion of our metropolis at the time of ”The Field of the Cloth of Gold.”

FOOTNOTES:

[112] Henry.

[113] Strutt's Manners and Customs.

[114] It was at length converted into an hospital.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE NEEDLE.

”A grave Reformer of old Rents decay'd.”

J. Taylor.

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