queen performs her devotions." Edward VI. was christened here, and Leland fully describes the ceremonial.

There is also a small room, which adjoins the rooms supposed to have been occupied by Wolsey and by Charles I. They are on the first floor of the eastern side of the Clock court, and were lately held by Admiral Whitcherd. They were remodelled by Kent, when he altered this part of the palace. Here is a small room, 14ft. 5 in. long, by 12 ft. 5 in. wide, and 14 ft. high, which has been called a chapel by Mr. Jesse, and about which some interest has been excited in parliament; but "ogni medaglia ha il suo riverso." We have very carefully examined this apartment, and all its circumstances clearly prove to us that it never was any chapel at all. In the first place, there is a common fire-place in itnot of recent erection, but seemingly part of the old palace. The ceiling, described as so "beautiful," is but a remnant, which has been brought from some other part, and rudely nailed up here. It consists of octagonal panels, which have been cut through to fit the size of the room. It is composed of terra cotta, the ornaments being of lead, and was originally gilt and painted blue. There is a handsome band or frieze carried round two sides of the room, which may have been part of the "border of antyke, with nakyd chylder, the antyke alle gylte, the ffylde layde with ffyne byse," in the long gallery in Henry VIII.'s time. On it, is Wolsey's legend, "Dominus michi adjutor;" but as shown below, it neither commences nor ends regularly, whence it clearly appears that it did not originally belong here. It is not carried on the third side of the room, because there it would have concealed parts of the pictures. These are not in "fresco," as stated by Mr. Jesse, but are in oil, on panels, or "tables," as they were originally called. They are evidently ancient, and may have been some of the numerous copies which were furnished to Henry VIII. from Italy. In parts, the faces are painted with a delicacy and expression not unworthy of Mabuse. Standing with your back to the window, the subjects of the pictures follow in this order, beginning on the left hand :

1. The Last Supper, in four parts.

2. Christ Scourged.

3. Christ bearing his Cross.

4. The Resurrection.

5. A fragment only. (Query, Judas kissing Christ.) 6. A female figure supplicating.

Adjoining 3 and 5 are boards, stained black, inserted to fill up the blank spaces left by the "tables."

On one side of the window was a landscape, nailed upside down; on the other, the Crucifixion.

"There is a little oratory in the corner of the chapel," says Mr. Jesse. It seems nothing but a little closet, perhaps some safety closet, for the hinges of the doorway are suitable to a door of great massiveness.

The conclusion to which these facts seem to lead, is, that when Kent rebuilt the adjoining rooms, he left this little room untouched, and that it offered a convenient receptacle to preserve some of the decorations of the old rooms which Kent was destroying. Becoming afterwards one of a suite of private apartments, it became difficult of access, and invested with an air of mystery-" omne ignotum pro magnifico;" and thus, from a lumber-room with a few old oil paintings, it has been elevated into a "chapel," associated with devotional and historical sentiments, "curious in its architecture," and painted in "fresco!"

In the remnants of the original palace, and in Hengrave Hall, Suffolk, built by Sir Thomas Kitson, a clothier, in 1525, the student of English architecture will find the best models of the household Tudor style-a style more peculiarly English than any other; perhaps the only one we have any just claim to, and in which the architectural features of the church and convent amalgamated with those of the baronial castle for the purposes of domestic dwelling. It may be said to have begun with Henry VII., and lasted until the reign of Elizabeth.

A few paces to the south-east corner, across the Clock Court, take us into the Ionic colonnade of Sir Christopher Wren, beautiful in itself, but very misplaced here. It is one of the several instances-sufficient to name the towers of Westminster Abbey-which this great architect has left behind him, of his singular incapacity to comprehend the spirit or recognise the beauties of Gothic architecture. It has been proposed to substitute a Gothic screen for it. Unless there is authority to show that the proposed screen was originally here, it would be better to keep Wren's colonnade.

In a minute, at the end of this colonnade, we find ourselves at the foot of a grand staircase, called the

KING'S STAIRCASE,

and are suddenly transported, as it were, two centuries on

wards in the history of our country. From one class of objects, peculiarly English, we are hurried, as if by magic, to another essentially French; and may almost fancy ourselves ascending a staircase of Louis XIV., at Versailles, instead of that of a British sovereign at Hampton Court. The large superficies of gaudy colours, which all at once meets the eye, is subdued by a fine distribution of light and shade; and taken as a whole, the general effect of the staircase is grand. Being altogether consistent with the architecture, and typical of the taste of the age, it is by no means to be dispensed with. Ascend leisurely; do not stay to criticise the details, and you will leave it with an agreeable impression. But stay to examine, and assuredly you will agree with Horace Walpole, that "it is painted so ill, that it seems as if Verrio had spoiled it on principle." This ceiling, as well as some others in the palace, appropriate and characteristic enough in their places, were painted by him. Being a Papist, his scruples of conscience restrained him from taking employment under the fountain of Protestant ascendancy, until William III. overcame them by a proper amount of soft persuasion. Antonio Verrio was a Neapolitan by birth, settled in

"An

France, and first brought to England by Charles II. excellent painter," says Horace Walpole, "for the sort of subjects on which he was employed-that is, without much invention and with less taste: his exuberant pencil was ready at pouring out gods, goddesses, kings, emperors, and triumphs, over those public surfaces on which the eye never rests long enough to criticise, and where we would be sorry to place the works of a better master-I mean ceilings and staircases. The New Testament and the Roman History cost him nothing but ultra-marine: that, and marble columns, and marble steps, he never spared.” Here, “ Οι δε θεοι παρ Ζηνι καθημενοι ηγο powvro," and for the visitor who is curious to decipher the mythological throng, here is some account of the assembly.

66

On the North side.-Apollo and the Muses are engaged in a concert; Pan assists with his reed-pipe. Ceres bears a wheat-sheaf. The river gods, Thame and Isis, attended by Flora and Pomona, surround various emblems of plenty.

On the East side.-Jupiter and Juno sit at a golden table. Ganymede, on his eagle, presents the cup to Jupiter. One of the Fates attends, to cut the thread of life. Beneath is Venus and Mars; Pluto and Proserpine, Cœlus and Terra, Neptune and Amphitrite, are on the right; Bacchus and Silenus, on an ass, are on the left below; Diana sits on a half-moon; Romulus, with the wolf, is supported by eagles; Hercules, in the lion's skin, rests on his club. On the left, Peace holds a palm branch, suspending a laurel over the head of Eneas. The Genius of Rome hovers above the twelve Cæsars.

On the South side.-The Emperor Julian is writing, whilst Mercury attends. Below all is a series of panels painted with trophies of war, &c.

This staircase leads us into

THE GUARD CHAMBER.

a large and lofty room, 60 feet long, about 37 wide, and 30 high, with a fine Rembrandtish effect of light and shadow, and decorated like the armories at the Tower of London before the late conflagration of the long gallery-with various groups of halberts, swords, pistols and drums, daggers, &c.— arms enough, it is said, for a thousand men. It may here be noted, that the visit to the Tower now costs sixpence, when it formerly cost three shillings. Before the visitor begins to examine the pictures—a full and complete catalogue of which will be found at the end of this volume-it is worth while to make himself acquainted with the relative position of this and the adjoining rooms, to the other parts of the palace. The windows overlooking the Privy Gardens present a cheerful

picture at all seasons. Even when the deciduous trees have fost their foliage-the views, on a bright winter's day, over the deep evergreen, picturesque yews, happily now-a-days allowed to grow as God designed, and not trimmed into horrid griffins and sphinxes, in the foreground-the Thames flowing in the middle of the scene, and the hills of Surrey dissolving into soft azure distance, form sunny pictures, always bright and animating. Do not fail to look down the vista of

rooms which extend all along this, the south side of Wren's palace; and you must take care to do so before you quit the room, because the rule (and a necessary one too, when a thousand people by the hour pass through the rooms, as they