present to the King, who in return for it graciously "licensed him to lie in his manor at Richmond at his pleasure;" but he appears also to have permitted him to occupy Hampton Court, at least occasionally, and that in the character of host. Once at least, in the following year, we behold it under his direction the scene of festivities, which excited wonder even in that age of splendid pageantry.

It was in honour of Montmorency, the French ambassador, that this magnificent entertainment was given; and it was intended by the Cardinal to mark his sense of the respect with which he had shortly before been treated in France. Wolsey, of whose ability in the disposing of such pageantries Shakspere has left record, had set his heart on the success of this; his orders to his "principal ofcers, as steward, treasurer, comptroller, and clerk of the kitchen," being "neither to spare for any cost, expense, or travail, to make such a triumphant banquet as the Frenchmen might not only wonder at it here, but also make a glorious report of it in their country, to the great honour of the King and his realm." Cavendish, who writes thus, was Wolsey's gentleman-usher, and had the superintendence of the whole of the preparations; and in his valuable Life of his master he has left a full account of this "glorious feast," as he terms it.

That the Frenchmen did "not only wonder at it here, but also make a glorious report of it in their own country," we have ample evidence. Cavendish says, "they were, as it seemed, wrapped up into a heavenly paradise;" and Du Bellay, bishop of Bayonne, who was in the suite of Montmorency, has borne testimony to the admiration with which they spoke of it at home. "The very

chambers," says Bellay, "had hangings of wonderful value, and every place did glitter with innumerable vessels of gold and silver. There were two hundred and fourscore beds, the furniture to most of them being silk, and all for the entertainment of strangers only." Cavendish says, that each of these two hundred chambers "had a basin and an ewer of silver, a great livery-pot of silver, and some gilt; yea, and some chambers had two livery-pots with wine and beer; a silver candlestick both white and plain, having in it two sizes, and a staff torch of wax, a fine manchet, and a cheat loaf. Thus was every chamber furnished throughout the house." And the feasting was answerable to the lodging. The banqueting-room and the hall of presence were hung with the richest arras. A gorgeous display of gold and silver plate was ranged round the rooms, but only for show, for "none of all this plate was touched in this banquet." The room was suitably illuminated; "a pair of candlesticks of silver and gilt, and curiously wrought, which cost 300 marks," supported "two lights of wax as big as torches, burning;" and "the plates that did hang on the walls to give light were of silver and gilt, having in them great perches of wax burning." The tables were nobly furnished, and there were plenty of "tall yeomen to serve. When supper was ready, the strangers, who had been conducted to their several chambers, were summoned by sound of trumpet, and my lord's officers went right discreetly in due order, and led these noble personages to the chamber of presence, where they should sup." When they were seated, "the service was brought up in such order and abundance, both costly and full of sub

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tleties, with such a pleasant noise of divers instruments of music, that the Frenchmen, as it seemed, were wrapped up into a heavenly paradise."

Wolsey did not appear at the feast till the second course was ready to be brought in, when he 66 came in among them all suddenly, booted and spurred," and bade them welcome with a hearty proface. He then, without "shifting his riding apparel, called for a chair and sat himself down in the midst of the table, laughing and being as merry as ever I saw him in my life," says his faithful servant. It was one of his last merry days. Perhaps care sat at his heart even then, but he was not a man to baulk merriment at such a time. The second course was served up, our old informant tells us, "with so many dishes, subtleties, and curious devices, which were above a hundred in number, of so goodly proportion and costly, that I suppose the Frenchmen never saw the like." Among the most notable of these subtle and costly devices, of which Cavendish gives a list, that must be very delightful to an architect in confectionary, was a chess-board made of spiced plate, with men of the same," which for its "good proportion, and because Frenchmen be very cunning and expert in that play," my Lord Cardinal gave to a gentleman of France, and that he might carry it safe to his own country, commanded a goodly case to be made for the preservation thereof.

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Wolsey displayed no less grandeur in his style of toast-giving than in other respects: "My Lord took a bowl of gold, which was esteemed of the value of five hundred marks, filled with hippocras,*

* Hippocras was a favourite beverage, composed of wine mixed with spices and sugar. Wolsey was charged with

whereof there was plenty, and, putting off his cap, said 'I drink to the king my sovereign lord and master, and to the king your master,' and therewith drank a good draught. And when he had done, he desired the Grand Master [Montmorency] to pledge him cup and all, the which cup he gave him; and so caused all the other lords and gentlemen in other cups to pledge these two royal princes." No wonder that "the cups went so merrily about, that many of the Frenchmen were fain to be led to their beds;" or that from his " using them so nobly with so loving and familiar countenance and entertainment, they could not commend him too much."

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Three years later Hampton Court witnessed a very different though not less memorable scene. The same chronicler who told of those festive doings relates this also, in which he again bore a leading part. The" o'er-great Cardinal" had died, miserable, heart-broken, constrained to beg а little earth for charity." Cavendish, who had faithfully attended the last sad hours of his master's life, and seen his corpse laid in the grave, now came hither to render to the King an account of his stewardship. too great fondness for it. Skelton accuses him of an improper and unseasonable indulgence in this as well as other unclerical delicacies; he loves, he says,

"To drink and for to eat,

Sweet hippocras and sweet meat!
To keep his flesh chast,

In Lent for a repast

He eateth capons stewed,

Pheasant and partridge mewed,

Hens, chickens, and pigs."

"This is a 'postle's life!" adds the satirist, after detailing other less defensible indulgences; but it must be recollected that Skelton was a violent enemy of the Cardinal.

He was commanded, on the morning after his arrival, to attend on the King in the park. There he found him shooting, and thinking it unfit to disturb him, resolved to wait there till his Majesty was at leisure. Accordingly, leaning against a tree, he soon fell in a great study," from which he was aroused by the King clapping him on the shoulder. He followed his sovereign to the palace, and had an audience with him behind the garden-door, where he kneeled down before him, being there with him all alone, the space of an hour and more.' Henry had many weighty matters to ask respecting the Cardinal, of whom he vowed he had " liever than twenty thousand pounds he had lived :”—and then, having given utterance to this honest lament, he asked, with bated breath, if Cavendish knew aught of the fifteen hundred pounds his late lord was in possession of just before his death. Cavendish happily could give him the desired intelligence, and the royal mourner quickly dried his eyes. Keep this gear secret between yourself and me,' said the monarch, “and let no man be privy thereof, for if I hear more of it, then I know by whom it is come to knowledge." Three, quoth he, "may keep counsel, if two be away; and if I thought my cap knew my counsel, I would cast it into the fire and burn it. And for your truth and honesty ye shall be one of our servants, and in that same room with us that ye were with your old master." (Cavendish's 'Life of Wolsey,' Singer's ed.)

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Good and profitable doubtless it is to hear a discourse on truth and honesty from so eminent a master of both; and no less instructive to study his private than his public doings, but we must