During the long and busy session which had just closed, some
interesting and important events had taken place which may
properly be mentioned here. One of those events was the
destruction of the most celebrated palace in which the sovereigns
of England have ever dwelt. On the evening of the 4th of January,
a woman,--the patriotic journalists and pamphleteers of that time
did not fail to note that she was a Dutchwoman,--who was employed
as a laundress at Whitehall, lighted a charcoal fire in her room
and placed some linen round it. The linen caught fire and burned
furiously. The tapestry, the bedding, the wainscots were soon in
a blaze. The unhappy woman who had done the mischief perished.
Soon the flames burst out of the windows. All Westminster, all
the Strand, all the river were in commotion. Before midnight the
King's apartments, the Queen's apartments, the Wardrobe, the
Treasury, the office of the Privy Council, the office of the
Secretary of State, had been destroyed. The two chapels perished
together; that ancient chapel where Wolsey had heard mass in the
midst of gorgeous copes, golden candlesticks, and jewelled
crosses, and that modern edifice which had been erected for the
devotions of James and had been embellished by the pencil of
Verrio and the chisel of Gibbons. Meanwhile a great extent of
building had been blown up; and it was hoped that by this
expedient a stop had been put to the conflagration. But early in
the morning a new fire broke out of the heaps of combustible
matter which the gunpowder had scattered to right and left. The
guard room was consumed. No trace was left of that celebrated
gallery which had witnessed so many balls and pageants, in which
so many maids of honour had listened too easily to the vows and
flatteries of gallants, and in which so many bags of gold had
changed masters at the hazard table. During some time men