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 facade, 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,