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was sold under the Commonwealth. Juxon's arms and the date 1663 are over
the door leading to the palace. The stained window opposite contains the
arms of many of the archbishops, and a portrait of Archbishop Chicheley.
Archbishop Bancroft, whose arms appear at the east end, turned the hall
into a Library, and the collection of books which it contains has been
enlarged by his successors, especially by Archbishop Seeker, whose arms
appear at the west end, and who bequeathed his library to Lambeth. Upon
the death of Laud, the books were saved from dispersion through being
claimed by the University of Cambridge, under the will of Bancroft, which
provided that they should go to the University if alienated from the see;
they were restored by Cambridge to Archbishop Sheldon. The library
contains a number of valuable MSS., the greatest treasure being a copy of
Lord Rivers's translation of the "Diets and Sayings of the Philosophers,"
with an illumination of the Earl presenting Caxton on his knees to Edward
IV. Beside the King stand Elizabeth Woodville and her eldest son, and
this, the only known portrait of Edward V., is engraved by Vertue in his
Kings of England.

A glass case contains: The Four Gospels in Irish, a volume which belonged
to King Athelstan, and was given by him to the city of Canterbury; a copy
of the Koran written by Sultan Allaruddeen Siljuky in the fifteenth
century, taken in the Library of Tippoo Saib at Seringapatam; the Lumley
Chronicle of St. Alban's Abbey; Queen Elizabeth's Prayer-Book, with
illuminations from Holbein's Dance of Death destroyed in Old St. Paul's;
an illuminated copy of the Apocalypse, of the thirteenth century; the
Mazarine Testament, fifteenth century; and the rosary of Cardinal Pole.

A staircase lined with portraits of the Walpole family, leads from the
Library to the Guard Room, now the Dining-Hall. It is surrounded by an
interesting series of portraits of the archbishops from the beginning of
the sixteenth century.

Through the paneled room, called Cranmer's Parlor, we enter the Chapel,
which stands upon a Crypt supposed to belong to the manor-house built by
Archbishop Herbert Fitzwalter, about 1190. Its pillars have been buried
nearly up to their capitals, to prevent the rising of the river tides
within its wall. The chapel itself, tho greatly modernized, is older than
any other part of the palace, having been built by Archbishop Boniface,
1244-70. Its lancet windows were found by Laud - "shameful to look at, all
diversely patched like a poor beggar's coat," and he filled them with
stained glass, which he proved that he collected from ancient existing
fragments, tho his insertion of "Popish images and pictures made by their
like in a mass book" was one of the articles in the impeachment against
him. The glass collected by Laud was entirely smashed by the Puritans: the
present windows were put in by Archbishop Howley. In this chapel most of
the archbishops have been consecrated since the time of Boniface....

Here Archbishop Parker erected his tomb in his lifetime "by the spot where
he used to pray," and here he was buried, but his tomb was broken up, with
every insult that could be shown, by Scot, one of the Puritan possessors
of Lambeth, while the other, Hardyng, not to be outdone, exhumed the
Archbishop's body, sold its leaden coffin, and buried it in a dunghill.
His remains were found by Sir William Dugdale at the Restoration, and
honorably reinterred in front of the altar, with the epitaph, "Corpus
Matthaei Archiepiscopi tandem hic quiescit." His tomb, in the ante-chapel,
was re-erected by Archbishop Sancroft, but the brass inscription which
encircled it is gone.

The screen, erected by Laud, was suffered to survive the Commonwealth. At
the west end of the chapel, high on the wall, projects a Gothic
confessional, erected by Archbishop Chicheley. It was formerly approached
by seven steps. The beautiful western door of the chapel opens into the
curious Post Room, which takes its name from the central wooden pillar,
supposed to have been used as a whipping-post for the Lollards. The
ornamented flat ceiling which we see here is extremely rare. The door at
the northeast corner, by which the Lollards were brought in, was walled
up, about 1874.

Hence we ascend the Lollard's [Footnote: The name Lollard was used as a
term of reproach for the followers of Wyclif. Formerly derived from Peter
Lollard, a Waldensian pastor of the thirteenth century, more recently from
the Middle Dutch "lollen," to hum.] Tower, built by Chicheley - the lower
story of which is now given up by the Archbishop for the use of Bishops
who have no fixt residence in London. The winding staircase, of rude slabs
of unplaned oak, on which the bark in many cases remains, is of
Chicheley's time. In a room at the top is a trap-door, through which as
the tide rose prisoners, secretly condemned, could be let down unseen into
the river. Hard by is the famous Lollard's Prison (13 feet long, 12 broad,
8 high), boarded all over walls, ceiling, and floor. The rough-hewn boards
bear many fragments of inscriptions which show that others besides
Lollards were immured here. Some of them, especially his motto "Nosce te
ipsum," are attributed to Cranmer. The most legible inscription is "IHS
cyppe me out of all al compane. Amen." Other boards bear the notches cut
by prisoners to mark the lapse of time. The eight rings remain to which
the prisoners were secured: one feels that his companions must have envied
the one by the window. Above some of the rings the boards are burned with
the hot-iron used in torture. The door has a wooden lock, and is fastened
by the wooden pegs which preceded the use of nails; it is a relic of
Archbishop Sudbury's palace facing the river, which was pulled down by
Chicheley. From the roof of the chapel there is a noble view up the river,
with the quaint tourelle of the Lollard's Tower in the foreground.

The gardens of Lambeth are vast and delightful. Their terrace is called
"Clarendon's Walk" from a conference which there took place between Laud
and the Earl of Clarendon. The "summer-house of exquisite workmanship,"
built by Cranmer, has disappeared. A picturesque view may be obtained of
Cranmer's Tower, with the Chapel and the Lollard's Tower behind it.

DICKENS'S LIMEHOUSE HOLE [Footnote A: From "A Pickwickian Pilgrimage." The
persons mentioned in Mr. Hassard's account of Limehouse Hole will be
recognized as characters in the novels of Charles Dickens. By arrangement
with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin Co.
Copyright, 1881.]


I took a steamboat one day at Westminster Bridge, and after a voyage of 40
minutes or so landed near Limehouse Hole, and followed the river streets
both east and west. It was easy enough to trace the course of Mortimer
Lightwood and Eugene Wrayburn, as they walked under the guidance of
Riderhood through the stormy night from their rooms in The Temple, four
miles away, past the Tower and the London Docks, and down by the slippery
water's edge to Limehouse Hole, when they went to cause Gaffer Hexam's
arrest, and found him drowned, tied to his own boat. The strictly
commercial aspect of the Docks - the London Docks above and the West India
Docks below - shades off by slight degrees into the black misery of the
hole. The warehouses are succeeded by boat-builders' sheds; by private
wharves, where ships, all hidden, as to their hulls, behind walls and
close fences, thrust unexpected bowsprits over the narrow roadway; by
lime-yards; by the shops of marine store-dealers and purveyors to all the
wants and follies of seamen; and then by a variety of strange
establishments which it would be hard to classify.

Close by a yard piled up with crates and barrels of second-hand bottles,
was a large brick warehouse devoted to the purchase and sale of broken
glass. A wagon loaded with that commodity stood before the door, and men
with scoop-shovels were transferring the glass into barrels. An enclosure
of one or two acres, in an out-of-the-way street, might have been the
original of the dust-yard that contained Boffin's Bower, except that
Boffin's Bower was several miles distant, on the northern outskirt of
London. A string of carts, full of miscellaneous street and house rubbish,
all called here by the general name of "dust," were waiting their turn to
discharge. There was a mountain of this refuse at the end of the yard; and
a party of laborers, more or less impeded by two very active black hogs,
were sifting and sorting it. Other mounds, formed from the sittings of the
first, were visible at the sides. There were huge accumulations of broken
crockery and of scraps of tin and other metal, and of bones. There was a
quantity of stable-manure and old straw, and a heap, as large as a
two-story cottage, of old hoops stript from casks and packing-cases. I
never understood, until I looked into this yard, how there could have been
so much value in the dust-mounds at Boffin's Bower.

Gradually the streets became narrower, wetter, dirtier, and poorer.
Hideous little alleys led down to the water's edge where the high tide
splashed over the stone steps. I turned into several of them, and I always
found two or three muddy men lounging at the bottom; often a foul and
furtive boat crept across the field of view. The character of the shops
became more and more difficult to define. Here a window displayed a heap
of sailor's thimbles and pack-thread; there another set forth an array of
trumpery glass vases or a basket of stale fruit, pretexts, perhaps, for
the disguise of a "leaving shop," or unlicensed pawnbroker's
establishment, out of which I expected to see Miss Pleasant Riderhood come
forth, twisting up her back hair as she came. At a place where the houses
ceased, and an open space left free a prospect of the black and
bad-smelling river, there was an old factory, disused and ruined, like the
ancient mill in which Gaffer Hexam made his home, and Lizzie told the
fortunes of her brother in the hollow by the fire.

I turned down a muddy alley, where 12 or 15 placards headed "Body Found,"
were pasted against the wall. They were printed forms, filled in with a
pen. Mr. Forster tells us in his life of Dickens that it was the sight of
bills of this sort which gave the first suggestion of "Our Mutual Friend."
At the end of the alley was a neat brick police-station; stairs led to the
water, and several trim boats were moored there. Within the station I
could see an officer quietly busy at his desk, as if he had been sitting
there ever since Dickens described "the Night Inspector, with a pen and
ink ruler, posting up his books in a whitewashed office as studiously as
if he were in a monastery on the top of a mountain, and no howling fury of
a drunken woman were banging herself against a cell-door in the back yard
at his elbow." A handsome young fellow in uniform, who looked like a cross
between a sailor and a constable, came out and asked very civilly if he
could be of use to me. "Do you know," said I, "where the station was that
Dickens describes in 'Our Mutual Friend'?"

"Oh, yes, sir! this is the very spot. It was the old building that stood
just here: this is a new one, but it has been put up in the same place."

"Mr. Dickens often went out with your men in the boat, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir, many a night in the old times."

"Do you know the tavern which is described in the same book by the name of
The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters?"

"No, sir, I don't know it; at least not by that name. It may have been
pulled down, for a lot of warehouses have been built along here, and the
place is very much changed; or it may be one of those below."

Of course, I chose to think that it must be "one of those below." I kept
on a little farther, by the crooked river lanes, where public houses were
as plentiful as if the entire population suffered from a raging and
inextinguishable thirst for beer. The sign-boards displayed a preference
for the plural which seems not to have escaped the observation of the
novelist. If I did not see The Six Porters, I came across The Three
Mariners, The Three Cups, The Three Suns, The Three Tuns, The Three Foxes,
and the Two Brewers; and in the last I hope that I found the original of
the tavern so often mentioned in the story.

I had first noticed it from the steamboat - "a narrow, lop-sided wooden
jumble of corpulent windows heaped one upon another as you might heap as
many toppling oranges, with a crazy wooden veranda impending over the
water," - a tavern of dropsical appearance, which had not a straight floor
in its whole constitution, and hardly a straight line. I got at the
entrance on the land side after a search among puzzling alleys, and there
I found still stronger reminders of "Our Mutual Friend." Stuck against the
wall was an array of old and new hand-bills, headed, "Drowned," and
offering rewards for the recovery of bodies. The value set upon dead
persons in Limehouse Hole is not excessive: the customary recompense for
finding them seems to be ten shillings, and in only one instance did the
price reach the dazzling amount of one pound.

By the side of the house is an approach to the river: most of the
buildings near are old and irregular, and at low tide a great deal of the
shore must be exposed. Going upon the slippery stones, beside which lay a
few idle and rickety boats, I found the expected range of windows with
"red curtains matching the noses of the regular customers." I looked in at
the door. A long passage opened a vista of pleasant bar-parlor, or
whatever it may have been, on the river-side; and, perhaps, I should have
seen Miss Abbey Potterson if I had gone to the end. Several water-side
characters were drinking beer at the lead-covered counter, waited upon by
a sharp young woman, who seems to have replaced Bob Gliddery. Instead of
the little room called "Cozy," where the Police Inspector drank burned
sherry with Lightwood and Wrayburn, there was an apartment labelled "The
Club." A party of "regular customers," all evidently connected with water
(or mud), sat around a table: beyond question they were Tootle, and
Mullins, and Bob Glamour, and Captain Joey; and at ten o'clock Miss Abbey
would issue from the bar-parlor, and send them home. If The Jolly
Fellowship Porters is still extant, this must be it.

WHITEHALL [Footnote: From "Walks in London."]


The present Banqueting-House of Whitehall was begun by Inigo Jones, and
completed in 1622, forming only the central portion of one wing in his
immense design for a new palace, which, if completed, would have been the
finest in the world. The masonry is by a master-mason, Nicholas Stone,
several of whose works we have seen in other parts of London. "Little did
James think that he was raising a pile from which his son was to step from
the throne to a scaffold." The plan of Inigo Jones would have covered 24
acres, and one may best judge of its intended size by comparison with
other buildings. Hampton Court covers 8 acres; St. James's Palace, 4
acres; Buckingham Palace, 2-1/2 acres. It would have been as large as
Versailles, and larger than the Louvre. Inigo Jones received only 8s. 4d.
a day while he was employed at Whitehall, and £46 per annum for
house-rent. The huge palace always remained unfinished.

Whitehall attained its greatest splendor in the reign of Charles I. The
mask of Comus was one of the plays acted here before the king; but Charles
was so afraid of the pictures in the Banqueting-House being injured by the
number of wax lights which were used, that he built for the purpose a
boarded room called the "King's Masking-House," afterward destroyed by the
Parliament. The gallery toward Privy Garden was used for the king's
collection of pictures, afterward either sold or burned. The
Banqueting-House was the scene of hospitalities almost boundless.

The different accounts of Charles I.'s execution introduce us to several
names of the rooms in the old palace. We are able to follow him through
the whole of the last scenes of the 30th of January, 1648. When he
arrived, having walked from St. James's, "the King went up the stairs
leading to the Long Gallery" of Henry VIII, and so to the west side of the
palace. In the "Horn Chamber" he was given up to the officers who held the
warrant for his execution. Then he passed on to the "Cabinet Chamber,"
looking upon Privy Garden. Here, the scaffold not being ready, he prayed
and conversed with Bishop Juxon, ate some bread, and drank some claret.
Several of the Puritan clergy knocked at the door and offered to pray with
him, but he said that they had prayed against him too often for him to
wish to pray with them in his last moments. Meanwhile, in a small distant
room, Cromwell was signing the order to the executioner, and workmen were
employed in breaking a passage through the west wall of the Banqueting
House, that the warrant for the execution might be carried out which
ordained it to be held "in the open street before Whitehall."....

Almost from the time of Charles's execution Cromwell occupied rooms in the
Cockpit, where the Treasury is now, but soon after he was installed "Lord
Protector of the Commonwealth" (December 16, 1653), he took up his abode
in the royal apartments, with his "Lady Protectress" and his family.
Cromwell's puritanical tastes did not make him averse to the luxury he
found there, and, when Evelyn visited Whitehall after a long interval in
1656, he found it "very glorious and well furnished." But the Protectress
could not give up her habits of nimble housewifery, and "employed a
surveyor to make her some little labyrinths and trap-stairs, by which she
might, at all times, unseen, pass to and fro, and come unawares upon her
servants, and keep them vigilant in their places and honest in the
discharge thereof." With Cromwell in Whitehall lived Milton, as his Latin
Secretary. Here the Protector's daughters, Mrs. Rich and Mrs. Claypole,
were married, and here Oliver Cromwell died (September 3, 1658) while a
great storm was raging which tore up the finest elms in the Park, and
hurled them to the ground, beneath the northern windows of the palace.

In the words of Hume, Cromwell upon his deathbed "assumed more the
character of a mediator, interceding for his people, than that of a
criminal, whose atrocious violation of social duty had, from every
tribunal, human and divine, merited the severest vengeance." Having
inquired of Godwin, the divine who attended him, whether a person who had
once been in a state of grace could afterward be damned, and being assured
it was impossible, he said, "Then I am safe, for I am sure that I was once
in a state of grace." Richard Cromwell continued to reside in Whitehall
till his resignation of the Protectorate.

On his birthday, the 29th of May, 1660, Charles II returned to Whitehall.
The vast labyrinthine chambers of the palace were soon filled to
overflowing by his crowded court. The queen's rooms were facing the river
to the east of the Water Gate. Prince Rupert had rooms in the Stone
Gallery, which ran along the south side of Privy Gardens, beyond the main
buildings of the palace, and beneath him were the apartments of the king's
mistresses, Barbara Palmer, Countess of Castlemaine, afterward Duchess of
Cleveland, and Louise de Querouaille, Duchess of Portsmouth. The rooms of
the latter, who first came to England with Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans,
to entice Charles II into an alliance with Louis XIV., and whose
"childish, simple, baby-face" is described by Evelyn, were three times
rebuilt to please her, having "ten times the richness and glory" of the
queen's. Nell Gwynne did not live in the palace, tho she was one of Queen
Catherine's Maids of Honor!

Charles died in Whitehall on February 6, 1684. With his successor the
character of the palace changed. James II, who continued to make it his
principal residence, established a Roman Catholic chapel there.

It was from Whitehall that Queen Mary Beatrice made her escape on the
night of December 9, 1688. The adventure was confided to the Count de
Lauzun and his friend M. de St. Victor, a gentleman of Avignon. The queen
on that terrible evening entreated vainly to be allowed to remain and
share the perils of her husband; he assured her that it was absolutely
necessary that she should precede him, and that he would follow her in
twenty-four hours. The king and queen went to bed as usual to avoid
suspicion, but rose soon after, when the queen put on a disguise provided
by St. Victor. The royal pair then descended to the rooms of Madame de
Labadie, where they found Lauzun, with the infant Prince James and his two
nurses. The king, turning-to Lauzun, said, "I confide my queen and my son
to your care: all must be hazarded to convey them with the utmost speed to
France." Lauzun then gave his hand to the queen to lead her away, and,
followed by the two nurses with the child, they crossed the Great Gallery,
and descended by a back staircase and a postern gate to Privy Gardens. At
the garden gate a coach was waiting, the queen entered with Lauzun, the
nurses, and her child, who slept the whole time, St. Victor mounted by the
coachman, and they drove to the "Horse Ferry" at Westminster, where a boat
was waiting in which they crossed to Lambeth.

On the 11th the Dutch troops had entered London, and James, having
commanded the gallant Lord Craven, who was prepared to defend the palace
to the utmost, to draw off the guard which he commanded, escaped himself
in a boat from the water-entrance of the palace at three o'clock in the
morning. At Feversham his flight was arrested, and he returned amid
bonfires, bell-ringing, and every symptom of joy from the fickle populace.
Once more he slept in Whitehall, but in the middle of the night was
aroused by order of his son-in-law, and hurried forcibly down the river to
Rochester, whence, on December 23, he escaped to France. On the 25th of
November the Princess Anne had declared against her unfortunate father, by
absconding at night by a back staircase from her lodgings in the Cockpit,
as the northwestern angle of the palace was called, which looked on St.
James's Park. Compton, Bishop of London, was waiting for her with a
hackney coach, and she fled to his house in Aldersgate Street. Mary II
arrived in the middle of February, and "came into Whitehall, jolly as to a
wedding, seeming quite transported with joy."

But the glories of Whitehall were now over. William III., occupied with
his buildings at Hampton Court and Kensington, never cared to live there,
and Mary doubtless stayed there as little as possible, feeling opprest by
the recollections of her youth spent there with an indulgent father whom
she had cruelly wronged, and a stepmother whom she had once loved with
sisterly as well as filial affection, and from whom she had parted with
passionate grief on her marriage, only nine years before. The Stone
Gallery and the late apartments of the royal mistresses in Whitehall were
burned down in 1691, and the whole edifice was almost totally destroyed by
fire through the negligence of a Dutch maidservant in 1697.

The principal remaining fragment of the palace is the Banqueting-House of
Inigo Jones, from which Charles I. passed to execution. Built in the dawn
of the style of Wren, it is one of the most grandiose examples of that
style, and is perfect alike in symmetry and proportion. That it has no
entrance apparent at first sight is due to the fact that it was only
intended as a portion of a larger building. In the same way we must
remember that the appearance of two stories externally, while the whole is
one room, is due to the Banqueting-House being only one of four intended
blocks, of which one was to be a chapel surrounded by galleries, and the
other two divided into two tiers of apartments. The Banqueting-House was
turned into a ehapel by George I., but has never been consecrated, and the
aspect of a hall is retained by the ugly false red curtains which surround
the interior of the building. It is called the Chapel Royal of Whitehall,
is served by the chaplains of the sovereign, and is one of the dreariest
places of worship in London. The ceiling is still decorated with canvas
pictures by Rubens (1635) representing the apotheosis of James I. The
painter received £3,000 for these works. The walls were to have been
painted by Vandyke with the History of the Order of the Garter. "What,"
says Walpole, "had the Banqueting-House been if completed?" Over the
entrance is a bronze bust of James I. attributed to Le Soeur.

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