all once ducally gorged. From these and other bearings on it, this chasuble would seem to have been worked for the Staffords, Dukes of Buckingham. At Corby Castle there is an altar frontal of crimson velvet made for and figured with the great Buckingham and his Duchess both on their knees at the foot of a crucifix. Amid a sprinkling of the Stafford knot, for the Duke (Henry VIII. beheaded him) was Earl of Stafford, the swan is shown, and the Lord Stafford of Cossey, in whose veins the blood of the old Buckingham still runs, gives a silver swan as one of his armorial supporters. At Lincoln cathedral there were:—A cope of red cloth of gold with swans of gold;[1] and a cope of purple velvet having a good orphrey set with swans.[2]
In mediæval symbolism, as read by Englishmen, the swan was deemed not only a royal bird, but, more than that, one of the tokens of royal prowess. Hence we may easily understand why our great warrior king, Edward I., as he sat feasting in Westminster Hall, amid all the chivalry, old and young of the kingdom, on such a memorable day, should have had brought before him the two swans in their golden cages:—"tunc allati sunt in pompatica gloria duo cygni vel olores, ante regem, phalerati retibus aureis, vel fistulis deauratis, desiderabile spectaculum, intuentibus. Quibus visis, rex votum vovit Deo cœli et cygnis, se proficisci in Scotiam," &c.[3] And then solemnly made the "Vow of the Swan," as we described, p. 287 of the Catalogue.
In the pride of place, on such occasions, abreast with the swan stood the peacock, "with his angel fethers bright;" and was at all times and everywhere looked upon as the emblem of beauty. Not a formal banquet was ever given, at one period, without this bird being among the dishes; in fact, the principal one. To prepare it for the table, it had been killed and skinned with studious care. When roasted, it was sewed up in its skin after such an artistic way that its crested head and azure neck were kept, as in nature, quite upright; and its fan-like tail out-*spread; and then, put in a sitting position on a large broad silver dish parcel gilt, used to be brought into the hall with much solemnity.
On the last day of a tournament, its gay festivities ended in a more than usual sumptuous banqueting. The large baronial hall was hung all over with hangings, sometimes figured with a romance, sometimes with scenes such as we read of in "The Flower and the Leaf;" and because trees abounded on them, were known as tapestry of "verd." At top of and all along the travers ran the minstrel-gallery, and thither—
