Yet let no one suppose the magnificence of Hampton Court to consist in its architecture. One half is the mere copy of St. James’s, and the other is the stupid novelty of Dutch William. The whole together, with its parks, and with its history, is what one feels and admires. I am not sure but Royal Jamie, with his Bishops and his Puritans on either side was as often before me, when traversing the pile, as anything else: and for him and his Conference the place seems fit enough, having something of Holyrood about it, and something Scholastic, or collegiate, also. Queen Victoria should give it to the Church, as a college for the poor, and so add dignity to her benevolence, which has already turned it into a show for the darling “lower classes.” I honour the Queen for this condescension to the people; and yet, as I followed troops of John Gilpins through the old apartments, and observed their inanimate stare, and booby admiration, it did strike me that a nobler and a larger benefit might be conferred upon them, in a less incongruous way. Perhaps the happiest thought would be to make it for the clergy just what Chelsea is to the army, and Greenwich to the naval service. Among the interminable pictures of these apartments, some most precious, and some execrable, the original Cartoons of Rafaelle of course arrest the most serious and reverent attention. There hang those bits of paper, slightly colored, but distinctly crayoned and chalked, on which his immortal genius exhausted its finest inspiration! Who knows not, by heart, the Lame Man at the Beautiful Gate, St. Paul Preaching at Athens, the Sacrifice at Lystra, and Elymas struck blind? These are the autographs of those sublime works; and the Vatican itself may envy their possession to Hampton Court. But, beyond their antiquarian interest, I must own they have not for me the attractiveness of a beautiful copy: it would be a fine thing to own Shakspeare’s autograph of Hamlet, but who would not rather read and study the play in the clear type and paper of a modern edition? Next to the Cartoons, I found most interesting the old historic canvas of Holbein, with its paste-board figures; and after that, the intensely significant series, which may be picked out, from room to room, as displaying the spirit of English reigns. Look at that glorious Van Dyck! How the rich romance of the Cavaliers invests its mellow lights and melancholy shades! There the voluptuous age of the Restoration swims before the eye in the dreamy coloring of Lely. See how old Kneller hardens every tint, and stiffens every line, as he essays to paint for William of Orange! Then comes Reynolds, throwing a hectic brilliancy over the starched figures and unyielding features of the Georgian age; and last of all West, with his brick-dust Hanoverians, surrendering art itself a prisoner to the intolerable prose and incurable beer-drinking of his times! Here and there I found a Lawrence,