officers,

SECOND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

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styled the Cabal of Wallingford House,voted their adhesion to the "good old cause," and the necessity of intrusting the whole military power of the kingdom to a single individual. Their ma chinations, as is well known, led to the dissolution of the Parliament, and consequently to the deposition of Richard Cromwell.*

On the Restoration, Wallingford House returned into the possession of the Villiers' family, and was the occasional residence of George Villiers, the second and witty Duke of Buckingham. It was here, at the wish of the Duke, that the body of Cowley, the poet, lay in state on the way from Chertsey to Westminster,+ and from its portals flowed the long funeral procession of peers and poets who followed the remains of the illustrious poet to his last home. It was a singular compliment to the memory of Cowley, that Charles the Second should have observed of him, on hearing of his death, that "he had left no better man behind him in England," and that a still more profligate man, the Duke of Buckingham, should have followed him to the grave, and subsequently have raised a monument over his remains. Buckingham Court, a narrow passage which runs by the side of the present Admiralty, is all that remains to point * Hume's "Hist. of Eng." Noorthouck's "Hist. of London," p. 203.

+ Heath's "Chronicle," continuation.

"Honorificâ pompâ elatus ex ædibus Buckinghamianis, viris illustribus omnium ordinum exequias celebrantibus, sepultus est die M. Augusti, Anno Domini, 1667." Dr. Sprat's Inscription on Cowley's Monument, in Westminster Abbey.

VOL. II.

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out the site of what was once the princely residence of the ducal house of Villiers.

In the present Admiralty there is little that is interesting in its local associations, and nothing that is pleasing in its architecture. The office was originally situated in Duke Street, Westminster, as we find from "Pepys' Memoirs," but in the reign of William the Third, was removed to Whitehall. The present ponderous pile was built by Ripley, in the reign of George the Second, and some years afterwards, the screen which partially veils it from the street, and which has sometimes had its admirers, was raised by one of two brothers of the name of Adams, whose names are now principally remembered from their having been the architects of the Adelphi. There are those, however, to whom the Admiralty will always be an object of interest, from the reflection that under the portal which leads to its gloomy and cob-webbed hall, have passed, without an exception, the many celebrated naval heroes, who within the last century have thrown an unfading lustre on the annals of their country. was from hence that Lord Anson departed on his voyage to circumnavigate the world,-that famous voyage varied by hurricanes, pestilence, and splendid conquests, when half his followers were carried off by the scurvy at one time, and the capture of Manilla galleons, and the plunder of Mexican cities enriched them at another. Here Cook took leave of his employers, to discover new regions, and, as it proved, to lose his valuable life on the savage shore of

It

Owhyhee. Here Lord Rodney received the latest orders which enabled him to sweep away the French fleet, in the Carribean seas,-and from hence Lord Nelson departed to reap immortal laurels, which were too dearly earned when he fell in the hour of victory, at Trafalgar. The Board-room, too, of the Admiralty is interesting, both from the beautiful carvings of Grinlin Gibbons, which decorate its walls, as well as from its having listened to the eloquence of the many celebrated men who have sat at its Board, from the strong sense of Earl St. Vincent, to the sparkling wit of Charles Fox. At his apartments here, when first Lord of the Admiralty, died, in 1733, the celebrated Admiral Byng, the first Lord Torrington, and in the Board-room of the Admiralty was signed, twenty-four years afterwards, the death-warrant of his gallant and ill-fated son, Admiral John Byng, who was shot at Portsmouth, in 1757. Lastly, it may be mentioned, that in the room to the left, as we enter from the hall, the body of Lord Nelson lay in state previous to its interment in St. Paul's.

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THE OLD PALACE OF WHITEHALL.

BY WHOM ORIGINALLY BUILT.—THE RESIDENCE OF CARDINAL WOLSEY, HENRY THE EIGHTH, EDWARD THE SIXTH, QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND JAMES THE FIRST.-BANQUETING HOUSE.-WHITEHALL, THE RESIDENCE OF CHARLES THE FIRST, CROMWELL, JAMES THE SECOND, AND QUEEN MARY.

ALTHOUGH the ancient palace of Whitehall has been almost entirely swept away, there still remain sufficient traces of the old building to enable us to link the present with the past; nor is it easy to pass unmoved over ground which is associated with so many historical events and romantic incidents.

How cold and dull the wanderer's footsteps fall,
Where stood thy glittering chambers, proud Whitehall!
Where is the pile the haughty churchmen reared?
Where are the classic halls by time endeared?
Mark, where the dark meandering waters lave
These time-worn steps, descending to the grave.
Here kings embarked with all their rich array,
Girt with the young, the beautiful, the gay;
And pleasure bade the gilded vessel glide,
And music float upon the laughing tide.
Now, while I stand upon the cold damp stone,
The river's mournful ripple sounds alone;
No more I see the gorgeous train pass by;

No more, proud pile! thy splendours meet my eye;
No more thy gardens, sloping to the Thames,
Are filled with high-born men and courtly dames;
Changed is the spot where beauty twined her bowers,
Where fountains sparkled midst a waste of flowers;
Where, rapt in thought, great Cromwell loved to rove,
And Henry walked with Boleyn in the grove.-J. H. J.

The Cockpit partially exists in the present Treasury; and the beautiful Banqueting House still remains, from the windows of which Charles the First passed to the scaffold. The Tilt Yard recalls the time when the open space, which still retains its ancient name, was alive with armed warriors, and streaming pennons, and glittering heralds; and when waving plumes and brilliant eyes looked down from galleries covered with cloth of gold on the stirring scene below. Lastly, the Privy Gardens still point out the site of verdant lawns and shady labyrinths, where Wolsey discussed affairs of state with Cromwell; where Henry toyed with the delicate hand of Anne Boleyn; and where Charles the Second gazed on the dazzling beauty of the Duchess of Cleveland, or laid his head in soft dalliance on the lap of la belle Stuart.

Among the few on whom the mantle of taste has descended in this methodical and unromantic age, there is one I would recall who has often wandered with me through these deserted scenes of departed splendour; when, with the plan of the ancient palace in our mind's eye, we have fancied back the days when the song and the dance were heard in its lighted chambers, tracing the individual scenes of its ancient splendour and hospitality, from its gay saloons and gorgeous galleries, to its crowded butteries and spacious wine-cellars,—those days when silken pages sauntered in its courts, and stately warders lounged at its royal thresholds. Such scenes have long since passed away, and with them nearly