Of a more reflective cast of mind than his elder brother, and with tastes less martial, Prince Charles still sedulously cultivated all the accomplishments, proper to a cavalier. A perfect horseman, and well skilled in all the practices of the tilt-yard — he was a model of courtesy and grace; but he had not Prince Henry’s feverish and consuming passion for martial sports, nor did he, like him, make their pursuit the sole business of life. Still, the pure flame of chivalry burnt within his breast, and he fully recognised its high and ennobling principles, and accepted the obligations they imposed. And in this respect, as in most others, he differed essentially from his august father.
The tilt-yard, and the various buildings adjoining it, already enumerated, were approached by two fine gates, likewise erected by Henry VIII., one of which, of extraordinary beauty, denominated the Cock-pit Gate, was designed by the celebrated painter, Hans Holbein. From an authority we learn that it was “built of square stone, with small squares of flint boulder, very neatly set; and that it had also battlements, and four lofty towers, the whole being enriched with bustos, roses, and portcullises.” The other gate, scarcely less beautiful, and styled the Westminster Gate, was adorned with statues and medallions, and the badges of the royal house of Tudor carved in stone.
Viewed from the summit of one of the tall turrets of the Holbein Gate, the appearance of the palace of Whitehall, at the period of our history, was exceedingly picturesque and striking — perhaps more so than at any previous or subsequent epoch, since the various structures of which it was composed were just old enough to have acquired a time-honoured character, while they were still in tolerable preservation.
Let us glance at it, then, from this point, and first turn towards the great Banqueting House, which presents to us a noble and lengthened façade, and contains within a magnificent and lofty hall, occupying nearly its full extent, besides several other apartments of regal size and splendour. In this building, in former days, with a retinue as princely as that of the King himself, Wolsey so often and so sumptuously entertained his royal master, that he at last provoked his anger by his ostentation, and was bereft of his superb abode. Satisfied with our examination of the Banqueting House, we will suffer our gaze to fall upon the broad court beyond it, and upon the numerous irregular but picturesque and beautiful structures by which that court — quadrangle it cannot be called, for no uniformity is observed in the disposition of the buildings — is surrounded. Here the eye is attracted by a confused mass of roofs, some flat, turreted and embattled, some pointed, with fantastical gables and stacks of tall chimneys — others with cupolas and tall clock-towers — others with crocketed pinnacles, and almost all with large gilt vanes. A large palace is a city in miniature; and so is it with Whitehall. It has two other courts besides the one we are surveying; equally crowded round with buildings, equally wanting in uniformity, but equally picturesque. On the east it extends to Scotland Yard, and on the west to the open space in front of Westminster Hall. The state apartments face the river, and their large windows look upon the stream.
Quitting the exalted position we have hitherto assumed, and viewing Whitehall from some bark on the Thames, we shall find that it has a stern and sombre look, being castellated, in part, with towers like those over Traitor’s Gate, commanding the stairs that approach it from the river. The Privy Gardens are beautifully laid out in broad terrace walks, with dainty parterres, each having a statue in the midst, while there is a fountain in the centre of the inclosure. In addition to the gardens, and separated from them by an avenue of tall trees, is a spacious bowling-green. Again changing our position, we discover, on the south of the gardens, and connected with the state apartments, a long ambulatory, called the Stone Gallery. Then returning to our first post of observation, and taking a bird’s-eye view of the whole, after examining it in detail, as before mentioned, we come to the conclusion, that, though irregular in the extreme, and with no pretension whatever to plan in its arrangement, the Palace of Whitehall is eminently picturesque, and imposing from its vast extent. If taken in connection with Westminster Hall, the Parliament House, and the ancient Abbey — with the two towering gateways, on one of which we, ourselves, are perched — with the various structures appertaining to it, and skirting Saint James’s Park, and with the noble gothic cross at Charing, we are fain to acknowledge, that it constitutes a very striking picture.
CHAPTER IX.
Prince Charles.
There is now great stir within the palace, and its principal court is full of horsemen, some of them apparelled in steel, and with their steeds covered with rich trappings, and all attended by pages and yeomen in resplendent liveries. Besides these, there are trumpeters in crimson cassocks, mounted on goodly horses, and having their clarions adorned with silken pennons, on which the royal arms are broidered. Then there are kettle-drummers and other musicians, likewise richly arrayed and well mounted, and the various pages, grooms, and officers belonging to the Prince of Wales, standing around his charger, which is caparisoned with white and gold.
Distinguishable even amidst this brilliant and knightly throng is Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey. Mounted upon a fiery Spanish barb, presented to him by the Conde de Gondomar, he is fully equipped for the jousts. The trappings of his steed are black and white velvet, edged with silver, and the plumes upon his helmet are of the same colours, mingled. He is conversing with the Spanish Ambassador, who, like all the rest, is superbly attired, though not in armour, and is followed by a crowd of lacqueys in jerkins and hose of black satin, guarded with silver.
An unusual degree of bustle proclaims the approach of some personage of extraordinary importance.
This is soon made known to be the Marquis of Buckingham. His arrival is announced by loud flourishes from the six mounted trumpeters by whom he is preceded. Their horses are caparisoned with orange-coloured taffeta, while they themselves are habited in gaberdines of the same stuff. After the trumpeters come four gentlemen ushers, and four pages, mounted on his spare horses, and habited in orange-coloured doublets and hose, with yellow plumes in their caps. To them succeed the grooms in mandilions, or loose sleeveless jackets, leading the Marquis’s charger, which is to run in the lists — a beautiful dark bay jennet — trapped with green velvet, sewn with pearls, and pounced with gold. Next comes Buckingham himself, in a magnificent suit of armour, engraved and damaskeened with gold, with an aigret of orange feathers nodding on his casque. Thus apparelled, it is impossible to imagine a nobler or more chivalrous figure than he presents. Though completely cased in steel, his magnificent person seems to have lost none of its freedom of movement, and he bears himself with as much grace and ease as if clad in his customary habiliments of silk and velvet. For the moment he rides a sorrel horse, whose spirit is too great to allow him to be safely depended upon in the lists, but who now serves by his fire and impetuosity to display to advantage his rider’s perfect management. Buckingham is followed by thirty yeomen, apparelled like the pages, and twenty gentlemen in short cloaks and Venetian hose. He acknowledges the presence of his antagonist and the Spanish Ambassador, with a courteous salutation addressed to each, and then riding forward, takes up a position beside the Duke of Lennox, who, mounted and fully equipped, and having his five companions-at-arms with him, is awaiting the coming forth of Prince Charles.
The Duke of Lennox is very sumptuously arrayed in armour, partly blue, and partly gilt and graven, and his charger is caparisoned with cloth of gold, embroidered with pearls. Besides this he has four spare horses, led by his pages, in housings equally gorgeous and costly. These pages have cassock coats, and Venetian hose, of cloth of silver, laid with gold lace, and caps with gold bands and white feathers, and white buskins. His rétinue consists of forty gentlemen and yeomen, and four trumpeters. His companions-at-arms are all splendidly accoutred, and mounted on richly-caparisoned chargers. The most noticeable figure amongst them, however, is that of Sir Giles Mompesson; and he attracts attention from the circumstance of his armour being entirely sable, his ste
ed jet black, and his housings, plumes, and all his equipments of the same sombre hue.
At this juncture, a page, in the Prince’s livery of white and gold, approaches Sir Jocelyn, and informs him that his highness desires to speak with him before they proceed to the tilt-yard. On receiving the summons the young knight immediately quits De Gondomar, and, following the page to the doorway leading to the state apartments, dismounts at the steps, leaving his steed in charge of his youthful companion.
On entering the vestibule he finds a large party assembled, comprising some of the fairest dames of court, and several noble gallants, who intend taking no other part than that of spectators in the approaching tilting-match. Most of them are known to Sir Jocelyn, and they eagerly crowd round him, fearing something may have occurred to interfere with the proceedings of the day. The young knight allays their apprehensions, and after experiencing the kindling influence always produced by the smiles of the fair, begins to ascend the great staircase, and has nearly reached the door at its head, communicating with the Stone Gallery, when it is thrown open by an usher, and Prince Charles comes forth.
The noble countenance of Prince Charles is stamped with the same gravity, and slightly touched with the same melancholy, which distinguished his features through life, but which naturally deepened as misfortune fell upon him. But as those dark days cannot now be discerned, and, as all seems brilliant around him, and full of brightest promise, this prophetic melancholy is thought to lend interest to his handsome features. He is attired in a suit of black armour of exquisite workmanship, lacking only the helmet, which is carried by a page — as are the volante pièce, the mentonnière, and the grande-garde, intended to be worn in the field. On seeing Sir Jocelyn, he pauses, and signs to his attendants to stand back.
“I have sent for you, Sir Jocelyn,” he said, “to ascertain whether it is true that Sir Giles Mompesson is amongst the Duke of Lennox’s party.”
“It is perfectly true, your highness,” replied Sir Jocelyn; “he is now in the court-yard.”
A shade of displeasure crossed the Prince’s noble countenance, and his brow darkened.
“I am sorry to hear it; and but that I should grievously offend the King, my father, I would forbid him to take part in the jousts,” he cried. “Sir Giles deserves to be degraded from knighthood, rather than enjoy any of its honourable privileges.”
“Entertaining these sentiments, if your highness will make them known to the King, he will doubtless order Sir Giles’s immediate withdrawal from the lists,” said Sir Jocelyn. “Most assuredly he is unworthy to enter them.”
“Not so,” rejoined the Prince. “I have already represented the matter to his Majesty, and trusted my remonstrances would be attended to. But I find they have proved ineffectual. Buckingham, it appears, has more weight than I have. Yet this notorious extortioner’s insolence and presumption ought not to pass unpunished.”
“They shall not, your highness,” replied Sir Jocelyn. “I will so deal with him that I will warrant he will never dare show himself within the precincts of the palace again.”
“Do nothing rashly,” said the Prince. “You must not disguise from yourself that you may displease the King, and provoke Buckingham’s animosity.”
“I cannot help it,” returned Sir Jocelyn. “I will insult him, if he crosses my path.”
“I cannot blame you,” said the Prince. “In your position I should do the same; and I am only restrained by the injunctions laid upon me by the King, from commanding his instant departure. But I must proceed towards the tilt-yard. We shall meet again anon.”
With this he descended the staircase; and as soon as his train of gentlemen-ushers and pages had passed on, Sir Jocelyn followed, and making his way through the still-crowded vestibule, gained the door, and vaulted on the back of his steed.
CHAPTER X.
The old Palace-Yard of Westminster.
The throng outside the gates of Whitehall felt their breasts dilate, and their pulses dance, as they listened to the flourishes of the trumpets and cornets, the thundering bruit of the kettle-drums, and other martial music that proclaimed the setting forth of the steel-clad champions who were presently to figure in the lists.
It was, in sooth, a goodly sight to see the long and brilliant procession formed by the fourteen knights, each so gallantly mounted, so splendidly accoutred, and accompanied by such a host of gentlemen ushers, pages, yeomen, and grooms, some on horseback, and some on foot; and the eye of the looker-on was never wearied of noticing the diversity of their habiliments, — some of the knights having cuirasses and helmets, polished as silver, and reflecting the sun’s rays as from a mirror, — some, russet-coloured armour, — some, blue harness, — some, fluted, — some, corslets damaskeened with gold, and richly ornamented, — others, black and lacquered breastplates, as was the case with the harness of Prince Charles, — and one, a dead black coat of mail, in the instance of Sir Giles Mompesson. The arms of each were slightly varied, either in make or ornament. A few wore sashes across their breastplates, and several had knots of ribands tied above the coronals of their lances, which were borne by their esquires.
In order to give the vast crowd assembled in the neighbourhood of Whitehall, an opportunity of witnessing as much as possible of the chivalrous spectacle, it was arranged by Prince Charles that the line of the procession should first take its course through the Holbein Grate, and then, keeping near the wall of the Privy Garden, should pass beneath the King’s Gate and draw up for a short time in the Old Palace-yard near Westminster-hall, where a great concourse was assembled, amidst which a space was kept clear by parties of halberdiers and yeomen of the guard.
The procession was headed by the Prince, and the stately step of his milk-white charger well beseemed his own majestic deportment. When the long train of gentlemen-ushers and pages accompanying him had moved on, so as to leave the course clear for the next comer and his followers, a young knight presented himself, who, more than any other in the procession, attracted the attention of the spectators. This youthful knight’s visor was raised so as to disclose his features, and these were so comely, that, combined with his finely-proportioned figure, perfectly displayed by his armour, he offered an ensemble of manly attractions almost irresistible to female eyes. Nor did the grace and skill which he exhibited in the management of his steed commend him less highly to sterner judges, who did not fail to discover that his limbs, though light, were in the highest degree vigorous and athletic, and they prognosticated most favourably of his chances of success in the jousts.
When it became known that this preux chevalier was Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey, the chosen antagonist of Buckingham, still greater attention was bestowed upon him; and as his good looks and gallant bearing operated strongly, as we have stated, in his favour, many a good wish and lusty cheer were uttered for him.
The effect of all this excitement among the crowd on behalf of Mounchensey was to render Buckingham’s reception by the same persons comparatively cold; and the cheers given for the magnificent favourite and his princely retinue were so few and so wanting in spirit, that he who was wholly unaccustomed to such neglect, and who had been jealously listening to the cheers attending Mounchensey’s progress, was highly offended, and could scarcely conceal his displeasure. But if he was indignant at his own reception, he was exasperated at the treatment experienced by his ally.
Close behind him rode a knight in black armour, with a sable panache on his helm. Stalwart limbs and a manly bearing had this knight, and he bestrode his powerful charger like one well accustomed to the saddle; but though no one could gainsay his skill as a horseman, or his possible prowess as a man-at-arms, most thought he had no title to be there, and gave unmistakable evidence of their conviction by groans and hootings.
This black knight was Sir Giles Mompesson, and very grim and menacing was his aspect.
Ample accommodation for the knightly company and their attendants, as well as for the multitudes congregated to behold them was afforded
by the broad area in front of Westminster Hall; nevertheless, as those in the rear could not see as well as those in front, every chance elevation offering a better view was eagerly seized upon. All the accessible points of Westminster Hall — its carved porch and windows — were invaded. So were the gates of the Old Palace hard by — so were the buttresses of the Abbey; and men were perched, like grotesque ornaments, on crocketed pinnacles and stone water-spouts. The tall and curiously-painted clock tower, resembling an Italian campanile, which then faced the portals of Westminster Hall, was covered with spectators. But the position most coveted, and esteemed the best, was the fountain at that time standing in the midst of the old palace-yard. This structure, which was of great antiquity and beauty, with a pointed summit supported by tall slender shafts, and a large basin beneath, formed a sort of pivot, round which the procession turned as it arrived upon the ground, and consequently formed the best point of view of all; and those were esteemed highly fortunate who managed to obtain a place upon it.
Amongst these lucky individuals were three of the reader’s acquaintances, and we think he will scarce fail to recognise the saucy-faced apprentice with the cudgel under his arm, and the fair-haired, blue-eyed, country-looking maiden at his side, as well as the hale old rustic by whom they were attended. All three were delighted with their position, and Dick Taverner took full credit to himself for his cleverness in procuring it for them. As to pretty Gillian, nothing could please her better, for she could not only see all that was going forward, but everybody could see her — even Prince Charles himself; and she flattered herself that she attraeted no little attention. And now that the whole of the procession had come up, the picture was certainly magnificent, and well worth contemplation. Everything was favourable to the enjoyment of the spectacle. The day was bright and beautiful, and a sparkling sunshine lighted up the splendid accoutrements of the knights, the gorgeous caparisons of their steeds, and the rich habiliments of their attendants; while a gentle breeze stirred the plumes upon the helmets, and fluttered the bandrols on their lances. The effect was heightened by enlivening strains of minstrelsy, and the fanfares of the trumpeters. The utmost enthusiasm was awakened among the spectators, and their acclamations were loud and long.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 539