Eight rooms, said Giustiniani,[1] must be crossed before audience of the great Cardinal could be obtained—the way can still be traced, though doors are now here and there closed—"and they are all hung with tapestry, which is changed once a week." And Du Bellay, who came with old Anne de Montmorency, enthusiastically declares that "the very bed-chambers had hangings of wonderful value, and every place did glitter with innumerable vessels of gold and silver. There were two hundred and fourscore beds, the furniture to most of them being silk, and all for the entertainment of strangers only." One remembers Cavendish's proud description of the occasion when Du Bellay was entertained, and can thus compare the foreigner's impressions with the statements of the gentleman of the household.[2]
Wolsey indeed, as Mr. Law has said, had a passion for tapestry: just as a century later the ambassadors and political agents of the English King ransacked Europe, and even the far East, for books and manuscripts for Laud, the great bibliophile, so now the churchman at the head of affairs set his master's envoys to work to collect tapestry and arras whereever it could be obtained. At home it was the same. Sir Richard Gresham was directed to measure eighteen rooms, and to buy hangings for them at over a
