The sword of the Lord Mayor, which was presented to the Corporation by

Elizabeth, is four feet long; the handle is gold, richly chased, and the

scabbard set with beautiful pearls. The mace was the gift of one of the

Charleses, but whether the first or second we have not been able to

ascertain. In the _Illustrated London News_ of 1844, we find the

following description of the collar and jewel: "The collar and jewel are

badges of great beauty; the former is formed of pure gold, and is

composed of a series of links, each one formed of the letter S, which

formerly signified squire or gentleman, a united York and Lancaster, or

Henry VII. rose, and a massive knot. The ends of the chain are formed by

the portcullis, the celebrated badge of Henry VII.; and from the points

of it, suspended by a ring of diamonds, hangs the jewel. The entire

collar contains 28 S's, 14 roses, and 14 knots, and measures 64 inches.

The jewel contains in the centre the City arms cut in cameo of a

delicate blue on an olive ground. Surrounding this is a garter of bright

blue, edged with white and gold, bearing the City motto, 'Domine dirige

nos,' in gold letters. The whole is encircled with a costly border of

gold S's alternating with rosettes of diamonds set in silver." On

ordinary occasions the Lord Mayor wears a black silk robe, and in the

courts of Common Council one of blue; when on the bench, or on the

occasion of a royal visit, he has other robes of scarlet and crimson.

The Mansion House stands on the site of the old Stocks Market, where a

pair of stocks formerly stood, which were the terror of those who dealt

in stale fish or otherwise offended. A little more than a century ago,

the market was removed to opposite the Fleet Prison, and is still held

there, under the name of Farringdon Market.

In Suffolk-lane stands the Merchant Taylors' School, built on the site

of a mansion that formerly belonged to the Suffolk family; hence the

next turning is called "Duck's-foot-lane"--no doubt a corruption of

"Duke." The present building was erected a few years after the Great

Fire, although there have been additions made to it as recently as

twenty years ago. Many very eminent men have been educated at this

school; amongst them James Shirley, the dramatist, and author of that

beautiful poem commencing with--

"The glories of our birth and state

Are shadows--not substantial things;

There is no armour against fate--

Death lays his icy hand on kings."

In Thames-street, we have still a building bearing the name of Steelyard

or Stilliard, an old name still in use in the country for the beam

balance on which the portions of a pound are notched on the one side,

with figures giving the number of pounds, and a hanging and sliding

weight. It is principally used by butchers, and is known by no other

name than that of stilliards in the north of England: hence, no doubt,

the name of this ancient haunt of the Hanse merchants. The last church

on the west side of London Bridge, in Upper Thames-street, is called

Allhallows-the-Great; it was built by Wren, and contains a carved

screen, presented by the Hanse merchants, who obtained a settlement in

England a century or two after the Norman Conquest. At the Old Swan

Pier, or Swan stairs, timid passengers were wont to land who had not

courage enough to remain with the waterman in his wherry, and shoot the

dangerous arches of old London Bridge, but generally walked on to some

other landing-place below the bridge, where they again embarked.

New London Bridge is built of granite; and was first opened by William

IV. and the good Queen Adelaide, in 1831. It cost nearly two millions

sterling.

In King William-street stands the statue of King William IV., by Nixon,

looking towards London Bridge. This statue, which is of granite, cost

upwards of 2000_l._, of which 1600_l._ was voted by the Common Council

of London. It is considered an admirable likeness; and the folds of the

cloak are beautifully arranged, while the coil of rope reminds us of the

"Sailor King." The width and beauty of King William-street is very

striking, especially after emerging from the narrow streets and hilly

lanes which we have just described.

The churches of St. Michael and St. Peter, Cornhill, were both built by

Wren, except the tower of the former, which escaped the Great Fire, but

was rebuilt some fifty years after that terrible event. St. Peter's

possesses a rood-screen, a great rarity, and seldom found except in our

old country churches. From the pamphlet which records the doings of the

Puritans, and which we have before mentioned, we find the rector of St.

Michael's, Cornhill, "Dr. Brough, sequestered, plundered; wife and

children turned out of doors; his

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH, CORNHILL.]

wife dead with grief; Mr. Weld, his curate, assaulted, beaten in the

church, and turned out." At St. Peter's, Cornhill. "Dr. Fairfax,

sequestered, plundered; imprisoned in Ely House and the ships; his wife

and children turned out of doors." One of the first Christian churches

built in England is supposed to have been St. Peter's, Cornhill. The

present church contains an ancient tablet which bears the following

inscription: "Be it known unto all men that the year of Lord God.

C.lxxix., Lucius, the first Christian king of this land, then called

Britain, founded the first church in London, that is to say, the church

of St. Peter, upon Cornhill," &c. &c. The inscription runs on to the

coming of Augustine, and the making of Milletus bishop of London, &c.

We give an engraving of St. Michael's, Cornhill, the tower of which is a

copy of the one that escaped the fire; the upper portion is very

beautiful--pity it is hidden by the houses in St. Michael's-alley.

As we are now in busy Lombard-street, so proverbial for its wealth, we

will pause a few moments, and look at it through the dim haze of former

years, how different from what it is now! As we gaze through the

twilight of past centuries, we catch glimpses of the objects and echoes

of the sounds that moved and floated over this ancient neighbourhood

nearly three centuries before the _Diamond_ let off her steam, or the

_Rob Roy_ omnibus carried thirteen "insides:" glimpses of vaulters, and

dancers, and bear-wards, and leaders of apes, crossing and crowding

where now the bank clerks hurry to clear out, carrying thousands of

pounds in their bill-cases; still, however, reminding you that the old

"rogueries" of London have not vanished, by the strong steel chains with

which they secure their banking books. What a roaring and barking there

must have been in that narrow thoroughfare in bygone days, when the bear

was followed by all the dogs "from some four parishes," as Ben Jonson

has narrated! What a stir there was on that merry morning when Kemp set

out from the house of the Lord Mayor to dance all the way to Norwich,

accompanied by his taborer, Thomas Sly; or when Banks (the Ducrow of the

Elizabethan period) exhibited his wonderful horse, named Morocco, in the

London streets, and many of the simple citizens believed that both he

and his marvellous steed had dealings with the old gentleman who manages

the fire-office below! What cramming and jamming there would be about

the Exchange on the day Queen Elizabeth ordered it to be opened by sound

of trumpet; what motions and raree-shows, and antics of wooden puppets,

such as Hogarth has preserved in his picture of "Southwark Fair," and

Jonson has called "a civil company" who live in baskets! Add to these

all the "street-cries," the balancers of straws and feathers, and all

other out-of-door amusements, not forgetting the hares that played on

tabors; the buzz also of the bearded merchants, who took up no small

space with their ample trunk-hose: then you have, in the mind's eye, the

whole of this ancient panorama, moving in that high narrow street, with

half the houses sleeping in shadow, while the other half caught the full

sunshine. Seated at those carven and diamond-shaped lattices, which went

bowing out far over the ill-paved pathway, were the wives and pretty

daughters of these "gray forefathers" of commerce; while below, many an

apprentice sat sighing over his desk, wishing it were Sunday again, and

he carrying the large clasped Bible behind his handsome young mistress,

while thinking more about the neat foot and ankle she displayed than the

sermon that was to be preached at St. Peter's or St. Michael's; or, as

he passed some richly-sculptured conduit, wondering when it would again

run with wine; or, if he walked that way, turning a longing look as he

passed towards the apple-trees that grew around St. Martin's Church, in

Ironmonger-lane, and thinking how he should like to make a party to rob

that City orchard. Such were the picturesque features of the London of

this period in the streets.

How different were the old ordinaries from the quiet chop-houses we now

find in every court and alley that runs into Lombard-street! In those

days, ten to one you had to fight your man after having finished your

dinner; for swash-bucklers abounded in every tavern. Still there were

merry doings; and Queen Bess's ruff at last bristled out with anger at

the tidings of the quantity of venison those "fat and greasy citizens"

consumed, and then the Lord Mayor and aldermen were called upon to

interfere.

Now merchants whose autographs to a cheque would load the bearer with

gold lunch in the neighbouring alleys on their humble chop and steak;

and gentlemen worth thousands turn up their cuffs and peel their own

potatoes--then hurry off by the train, or omnibus, or steamer, to their

snug suburban residences to dinner, except on rare occasions. They no

longer retire to the ancient hostels to smoke tobacco, which was sold

for its weight in silver, and to purchase which they looked out their

newest crowns and shillings to place in the opposite scale. Smoking then

was a different thing from "burning" tobacco as we do now; yet there

were men in those days who, no doubt, "blew a cloud" with Sir Walter

Raleigh and Ben Jonson; and even Shakspeare himself must have sat in the

society of these early smokers.

How the bankers of England sprang from goldsmiths and lenders of money

on plate and other pledges, is already matter of history; and were King

John now alive, he would hesitate before he dared to venture on a little

dental surgery to fill his exchequer; the bench would get judgment

signed a thousand times over with much more pleasure than he affixed his

signature to the Great Charter. Even the fiery daughter of Henry VIII.

would, under the existing state of things, pause before commanding the

citizens to take back the money she had borrowed of them, without

interest, in loan for which she demanded seven per cent should be paid,

and all their gold and silver

[Illustration: LOMBARD-STREET.]

plate deposited with her as security for the payment--a most original

and profitable way of "paying them back in their own coin."

[Illustration: ST. MARY'S WOOLNOTH.]

There is something very beautiful and almost poetical in the domestic

history of these early bankers, telling us that their honesty and honour

were upheld by a rigid adherence to pure morality, which is confirmed by

the many marriages which took place between the apprentices and their

masters' daughters. Day after day, and year after year, did these

youthful citizens live under the same roof, and under the strong control

of the same strict masters, practising every kind of self-denial for her

sake, whom they perhaps saw but once a day, or it might be at each

meal-time; or, in strict establishments, only once a week, when they

walked behind her to St. Mary's Woolnoth, which stood on the site of the

modern church our engraving represents. Through the dim light of bygone

years we are enabled to see a face here and an arm there, a faint

guarded smile, that would fall like a sunbeam all day long on the heavy

ledger, as the youthful lover bent over his desk and sighed for a moment

as he thought of his stern task-master; then, like Ferdinand in _The

Tempest_, exclaimed, as he conjured up the image of his beautiful

mistress--

"Oh, she is ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed!"

At the present day there is nothing either grand or striking in this

wealthy street. You see, here and there, a name on a common brass plate

which, in the commercial world, is "a tower of strength;" except this,

there is no visible sign of the "unsunned treasures" that lie within.

The houses have a plain, substantial look--a kind of commanding

solidity, which seems in accordance with their unostentatious owners.

Enter, and you tread the true "Californian" regions, where the gold is

ready minted: bring a good cheque, and you need neither spade nor

shovel; the "digging and the washing" are not required here. What a

staff of clerks! all busily engaged. What a number of ledgers are in

use! And after the day's business is closed, all those account-books are

stowed away in a fire-proof room under ground, and brought up again in

the morning, and placed in readiness before the banker's clerks arrive;

and in some of these houses expensive machinery has been fitted up, to

facilitate the lowering and raising of the bulky ledgers in and out of

the fire-proof vaults below. Look at that young man, with his

banking-case chained under his arm; the rolls of cheques and notes he

holds in his hand probably amount to thousands of pounds; he only

catches the eye of one of the clerks, calls out the amount, hands the

bulky bundle over the brass railing, and departs, leaving the sum to be

counted over at leisure. See how carelessly the cashier handles that

heavy bag of gold: he has no time to count it, but thrusts it into the

scale as a coal-heaver would a sack of coals--so long as it's weight,

that's all he cares about; he then shoots it out into his large drawer,

and throws the bag aside as if he did not mind a straw whether a

sovereign or two stuck inside or not; this done, he begins to shovel it

out, and pay away. He counts sovereigns by twos and threes at a time;

you feel confident that he must have given you either too many or too

few, he appears so negligent: you count, and there they are to one--he

never makes a mistake.

Go and pay in a sum of money, or take up a bill, with gold that looks

light, and you will see another of his sleight-of-hand tricks. He jerks

the one out of the scale without touching it, except with the sovereign

he puts in, with such rapidity that you cannot catch the action, cannot

see how it is done; the sovereign seems to fly in and out as if by

magic. You might try for months and never be able to catch that peculiar

jerk. You fancy that he must be weary of counting sovereigns; that a

good pile of dirty brown coppers would be a great relief to him, equal

at least to a change of diet. You wonder that his countenance is not

yellow through bending over such piles of coin, and that, like the

buttercups in the meadows steeped in sunshine, his face does not

"Give back gold for gold."

Sometimes these clerks are kept for hours beyond their usual time to

rectify an error of sixpence in the balance, when during the day

thousands of pounds have been entered. The mistake rests somewhere, and

must be discovered before they quit the banking-house; and column after

column is gone over again; that weary array of figures is summed up and

up, and compared and called over until the mistake is righted. They

would gladly pay the amount twenty times over to get away; but that

would be the ruin of a system the very stability of which rests upon its

being correct to the "uttermost farthing."

The following picture of an old-fashioned banker we select from a recent

work on _Banks and Bankers_: "He bore little resemblance to his modern

successor: he was a man of serious manners, plain apparel, the steadiest

conduct, and a rigid observer of formalities. As you looked in his face,

you could read, in intelligible characters, that the ruling maxim of his

life, the one to which he turned all his thoughts, and by which he

shaped all his actions, was, that he who would be trusted with the money

of other men, should look as if he deserved the trust, and be an

ostensible pattern to society of probity, exactness, frugality, and

decorum. He lived the greater part of the year at his banking-house, was

punctual to the hours of business, and always to be found at his desk."

We have, in our opening article, made mention of Sir Thomas Gresham, the

greatest of our old "merchant-princes," and have now only to notice the

three churches in Lombard-street, one of which, St. Mary's Woolnoth, we

have shewn in our engraving, and have but to add, that it was built by a

pupil of Wren's about 130 years ago. The following entry occurs in the

old pamphlet we have before quoted from: "St. Mary's Woolnoth: Mr.

Shuite molested and vexed to death, and denied a funeral sermon to be

preached by Dr. Holdsworth, as he desired." The church of Allhallows,

Lombard-street, partially escaped the Fire, but was not considered,

after careful examination, to be secure enough to stand, even when the

body of the old church had been coped with "straw and lime." The present

building is by Wren, and contains nothing remarkable. The other church,

St. Edward the King, is worth a visit, on account of one or two pictures

it contains, together with some beautiful modern specimens of stained

glass. Externally, we see nothing striking in the building.

Birchin-lane was in former times the Holywell-street of London, so far

as regarded the sale of second-hand garments. The church of St. Mary's,

in Abchurch-lane (that portion on the opposite side of King

William-street), is mentioned, as follows, in the old pamphlet: "Mr.

Stone plundered, sent prisoner, by sea, to Plymouth, and sequestered."

It was built by Wren, contains some excellent carving by Gibbons, and

the cupola is painted by the artist who decorated the dome of St. Paul's

Cathedral. St. Clement's, in Clement's-lane, is another of Wren's

churches; and the living appears to have been held by the same Mr. Stone

who held that of St. Mary's, Abchurch, at the commencement of the Civil

War; for under the name of the last-mentioned church we find the same

entry, with the addition that "Mr. Stone was shamefully abused."

With Gracechurch-street and Fish-street-hill we close this section of

our work. Gracechurch-street, with its conduit, is often mentioned in

the old processions. In 1501, when Catherine of Spain entered the city

by London-bridge, a pageant was erected in the broadest part of

"Grasschurch-street, in the middle of the street, where the water

runneth into the channel"--a primitive way of draining the street. In

the time of Elizabeth, it was changed from Grasschurch-street to

Gracious-street; and Dekker, in describing a royal procession in 1604,

says, "it was never worthy of that name (Gracious-street) it carries

till this houre." It is a great mustering-ground for omnibuses,

especially such as come from the Surrey side of the river.

The church at the end of Fenchurch-street is called St. Bennet's: it was

built by Wren. William Harrison was "minister" of Grace Church, and one

who signed his name to the following remonstrance, headed, "The

Dissenting Ministers' Vindication of themselves from the horrid and

detestable Murder of King Charles the First, of glorious memory:"

London, 1648. Calamy also signed the "Vindication." In no instance is

the saint's name affixed by them to the churches; some sign themselves

"pastor," one "minister of the word," another "preacher." We must do

these old Puritans the justice to state, that this remonstrance was

signed before the execution of King Charles, and during the time of his

trial, namely, January 28, 1648, that is, two days before the

ill-starred monarch was beheaded. We give the following spirited extract

from this old pamphlet, the whole of which only consists of six pages:

"We hold ourselves bound in duty to God, religion, the King, parliament,

and kingdom, to profess before God, angels, and men, that we verily

believe that which is so much feared to _be now_ in agitation--the

taking away the life of the King, in the present way of tryal--is not

only _not_ agreeable to any word of God, the principles of the

Protestant religion (never yet stained with the least drop of the blood

of a king), or the fundamental constitution and government of this

kingdom, but contrary to them, as also to the oath of allegiance, the

protestation of May 5th, 1641, and the solemn 'League and Covenant;'

from all or any of which engagements, we know not any power on earth

able to absolve us or others."

The Monument on Fish-street-hill, which was designed by Wren, is about

200 feet high, and stands as many feet distant from the spot where the

Fire first commenced on that awful Sunday, September 2, 1666, in

Pudding-lane. The ascent is by 345 steps up a spiral staircase, lighted

by what we might term, in old castellated architecture, arrow-slits. The

interior of the column is nine feet wide. Several persons have committed

suicide, by throwing themselves off the Monument; and it is now covered

in with a kind of cage-work, to prevent such awful self-destruction. The

view from the summit is not to be compared with that from St. Paul's;

and we should advise all sight-lovers to ascend the Monument first, on

that account, and peep at the "wilderness of shipping," and the

thousands of house-roofs that rise in ridging disorder, as if some dark

sea had suddenly been struck motionless, and so left silent with all its

edged waves. On one side of the base is the following inscription of the

destruction caused by the Great Fire, according to the translation of

Maitland: "Eighty-nine churches, the city gates, Guildhall (not

totally), many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries; a vast

number of stately edifices, 13,500 dwelling-houses, 400 streets; of

twenty-six wards it utterly destroyed fifteen, and left eight others

shattered and half burnt. The ruins of the city were 436 acres, from the

Tower by the Thames side to the Temple Church, and from the north-east

gate along the city wall to Holborn-bridge. To the estates and fortunes

of the citizens it was merciless, but to their lives very favourable

(only eight being lost)." One poet of the period, in be-rhyming the

praiseworthy conduct of King Charles at the Great Fire, compares him to

Cæsar, coming "with buckets in his eyes." Pepys gives an interesting

account of the Great Fire. Dryden also describes it in his _Annus

Mirabilis_, commencing at verse 212.

CHAPTER IV.

THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF BILLINGSGATE, NEW COAL EXCHANGE, AND TOWER OF

LONDON.

All doubts about the immense population of London would vanish from the

mind of a stranger could he but stand on London Bridge Wharf, and see

the vast multitudes that embark on the steamers, either at Easter or

Whitsuntide, for Greenwich alone: he would behold such a sight as would

convince him that no other city in the world could pour forth so many

inhabitants; and all he had before seen would sink into insignificance

beside what he would witness on the Thames, to say nothing of the

numerous railways which throw out their iron arms into the country from

almost every corner of the metropolis. It is a sight never to be

forgotten, to see the steamers darting in and out amid the shipping

below London Bridge, as if they had wills of their own, and could pick

their way wherever there was space enough for them to pass, like aquatic

birds that ever keep sailing around each other playfully upon the

waters. Eastward, they hurry along to Woolwich, Erith, Gravesend,

Sheerness, Herne Bay, Margate, and all the towns that dot our coast;

while others move westward, under the bridges, and along the whole

length of the river-front of London, on their way to Twickenham and

Richmond: many of the smaller steamers also halting at almost every

pretty village that stands on the banks of the Thames between London and

Richmond. But we are wandering away from the neighbourhood we have now

reached, and glancing at subjects which belong to the suburbs of the

metropolis.

The church at the entrance of this wharf is called St. Magnus, and was

rebuilt by Wren. Miles Coverdale, whose name is associated with the

earliest printed version of the holy Bible, was rector of St. Magnus

above 300 years ago. He was buried in the church of St. Bartholomew, by

the Exchange; and when that building was taken down to enlarge the space

for the new Royal Exchange, his remains were removed to the present

church, and re-interred on the spot which he had hallowed by his pious

labours. But few who look at the projecting clock, as they await the

arrival or departure of the steamboats, are aware that the remains of

Miles Coverdale, Bishop of Exeter, and one among the first translators

of the Bible, rest so near the stir and traffic of that busy wharf.

The first turning on the opposite side of the way, behind the Monument,

is Pudding-lane, in which the Great Fire that destroyed nearly the whole

of the City first broke out. It now contains nothing worthy of our

notice: the same may be said of Botolph lane, so called from the church

which was destroyed in the Fire and never rebuilt.

On St. Mary's-hill stands a church partly built by Wren, and called St.

Mary's-at-Hill. On the 29th of May 1533, according to Hall's

_Chronicle_, "the mayor and his brethren, all in scarlet, such as were

knights having collars of SS, and the remainder gold chains, and the

council of the City with them, assembled at St. Mary's-hill, and at one

o'clock took barge. The barges of the companies amounted in number to

fifty, and set forth in the following order: First, at a good distance

before the mayor's barge, was a foist or wafter, full of ordnance,

having in the midst a dragon, continually moving and casting wild fire,

and round about it terrible monsters and wild men casting fire and

making hideous noises." This procession, that embarked at the foot of

St. Mary's-hill, above 300 years ago, was "commanded" by Henry VIII. to

go to Greenwich and bring Queen Anne Boleyn to London, to be crowned in

Westminster Hall.

It is on record that the old ports or quays of Billingsgate and

Queenhithe were the cause of as many squabbles in ancient days as were

ever witnessed in our own times by any two rival companies struggling

for pre-eminence; for when the customs derived from the latter furnished

the queen of Henry III. with pin-money, a sharp look-out was kept on the

river, and fines frequently inflicted on masters of vessels who landed

their fish at Billingsgate instead of the royal quay. But great London

soon burst through all these restraints: the old merchants were proof

against even royal mandates; they objected to passing through the

dangerous arches of the crazy old bridge--so at last obtained the

privilege of landing goods at whichever quay they pleased.

Those ancient fishmongers must have been able to muster together a

goodly company; for, hearing of the victory Edward I. had obtained over

the Scots, they paraded the City with above a thousand horsemen,

trumpets sounding and banners streaming, on which were emblazoned their

quaint old arms, and followed by all the pride of their honourable

guild.

What a stir there must have been about Fish-street and Fish-street-hill,

and all along the line of those streets which we have already described,

when that famous fishmonger Walworth, Lord Mayor of London, slew Wat

Tyler in Smithfield, and thus at one blow cut off the "head and front"

of the great rebellion! What a running to and fro and shaking of hands

there must have been! What talking along the quays about privileges

which would be extended to their own company, and which none other would

be allowed to share! And what disappointment must have been depicted on

their countenances when they found that all the reward the City was to

receive was an addition to its arms! If true, it was like giving the

chaff to him that had separated it from the wheat.

Those who were purveyors to the court had, in former times, the first

pickings of the market; not a single fish was allowed to be sold until

they had been served. We can picture the swagger with which the officers

of the royal household entered the fish-market in those days, when a

banquet was about to be given in the Tower. What pushing and cramming

would there be to obtain a nod of recognition! now recommending the

quality of some fish, then inquiring when the next execution would take

place--their conversation shifting from salmon to the scaffold--from

oysters, which, in those primitive times, sold for twopence a bushel, to

the means of obtaining the best place when the next nobleman was to be

beheaded.

There was a struggle for free-trade in those high narrow streets five

hundred years ago: from Billingsgate to Queenhithe all was a scene of

commotion; for the great fishmongers were aiming at monopoly, but the

poor hawkers who picked up their living, as they do in our day, by

crying fish in the streets, rose in a body, and so far carried the day

that they were allowed to hawk fish, but not to keep a stall, nor stay

in any of the streets a moment longer than while supplying their chance

customers; for there was a strict police ever on the look-out after the

poor hawkers, and the command of "Now then, move on there," is nothing

new. Nor were the fishmongers themselves free from "most biting laws;"

for they were only allowed, at one period, to take a penny profit in

every shilling, not to offer the same fish for sale (as fresh) a second

day, nor to water their fish more than twice a day. If they did, and

were found out, there stood the stocks ever in readiness, and up went

the beam, and in went their legs; and there they were compelled to sit

out the given time, no doubt to the great merriment of many of the

bystanders. Their stalls in these primitive times were only boards

placed beside the pavement. From these they got to erecting little

sheds, then shops and high houses. But the fronts of these were ordered

to be left open, and the fish exposed. They would not allow sales to

take place in dark and obscure spots; all must be done in the open noon

of day, or heavy penalties be paid for offending against the laws.

In remote times, long before the Norman invasion, frequent mention is

made of the English fisheries. To three plough-lands in Kent, a fishery

on the Thames is added. Ethelstan gave a piece of land for the use of

taking fish, and forty acres were given with fishing, on the condition

of every year receiving fifty salmon. The rent of land was frequently

paid in eels; and in Elphit's _Dialogues_, written for the instruction

of the Saxon youths, we find that the implements used were nets, rods,

lines, and baited hooks, which varied but little from those of the

present time.

Those who have once reached the Monument, may "smell" their way to

Billingsgate; for there is an old monastic odour about the shops,

recalling Lent and stock-fish, and telling you that you are hemmed in

with smoked haddock and salted herrings--which, when nothing else could

be had, it must have been a heavy penance to have lived upon, and caused

the poor sinner to have made many a wry face while devouring such dry

and thirsty food. Once in Lower Thames-street, and you are in a land of

danger. You come in contact with big men bending beneath bulky boxes;

huge hogsheads swing high above you, and make you tremble as you look

up, while treading the slippery pavement; and you know that if the

crane-chain were to slip, or the hooks to which the ponderous packages

are affixed to give way, you must be crushed like an egg which an

elephant tramples upon; for danger ever dangles in the air about

Billingsgate. The pavement is often blocked up by barrels of oranges and

herrings, and hampers of dried sprats, the latter crammed together as

close as white-bait in the stomach of an alderman when he has just dined

at Lovegrove's. Sometimes the atmosphere is so impregnated with the

smell of shrimps, that you almost fancy it has been raining shrimp

sauce.

You are now, as it were, in the very manufactory, where fish are brought

and emptied out to be sold; where there is no attempt at show; but,

rough and shining as when they flapped about on the ocean sand, or were

thrown from the first hand ashore, so do you see them here in the early

morning, rough and fresh as potatoes just dug out of the mould. There is

none of that clean blue twilight look which gleams and plays about the

shops of the West-End fishmongers, and is sometimes enlivened by the

sunny flash of the gold-fishes that float about the silver-looking

globes, which give such a picturesque appearance to the shops in that

more refined neighbourhood. Here all is of "the fish, fishy."

To this "rough and ready" market, those who wish to see how matters are

managed must come early; for a minute or two before five o'clock the

wholesale dealers are seated in their stalls, or recesses; while at the

end of the market, nearest the river, the porters are drawn up in a row,

each ready with his first load of fish, each standing within the

allotted line, like hounds eager to spring from the leash. The clock

strikes, and off they rush, helter skelter, every man Jack putting his

best leg foremost, each eager to be the first to reach the stall of his

employer. Slap goes the skate out of the baskets--they shoot out cod

like coke, pitching the plaice wherever they can find room; and off they

run for another load at the same rapid pace, nor cease until the

salesman has received the whole of his stock.

Then the sale commences, the seller fixing his price, and the buyer

offering what he considers to be the value; sometimes they "meet each

other halfway," as it is called, one lowering and the other advancing.

The fish are generally sold in lots without being weighed, and it

requires good judgment on both sides to reach the right mark. Although

there are so many salesmen, and generally such ample choice, the prices

vary much, as fish brought from one part of the coast are often superior

to what come from another.

But the fun of the market commences with the hawkers, when they come to

see what has been left by the large retail dealers: then you may hear a

little of what is called "Billingsgate;" though, instead of the old

renowned blackguardism, it is generally most good-natured "chaff."

"Fresh do you call these?" says one, who finds the price too high for

him. "Look how they rolls up the whites of their eyes, as if they vanted

a little rain. I should say they hasn't had a blessed smell of water for

this week past."

"Think I've been robbing somebody?" says another. "Vy, bless you, all

the whole bilin' of my customers hasn't got so much amongst them as

would buy the lot--no, not if they sold their toothpicks!"

Billingsgate is more like a wholesale warehouse than a fish-market,

although you may purchase a single mackerel in it. The hundreds of carts

which are drawn up in Thames-street, proclaim how far and wide the

produce of river and ocean is dispersed. From the next street to the

most remote suburb are the loads of fish borne, to be washed and laid

out temptingly in the thousands of shops which abound in London and the

surrounding suburbs. Nor is the supply limited to this circle; the rapid

trains carry off tons of fish to the distant towns, where they arrive in

time enough for dinner; thus sending

[Illustration: BILLINGSGATE.]

into the country the turbot and salmon as fresh as we receive it in the

metropolis; for what are a hundred miles on the great railways?

Old Billingsgate is now pulled down; the muddy dock, where so many

fishing-smacks have been harboured is filled up; and, instead of the

old-fashioned market which illustrates this chapter, a pile is erected

more befitting the greatest city in the world, and more like the noble

edifice--the New Coal Exchange--that faces it.

Eels cannot be brought to Billingsgate in such perfection as they

formerly were. We have now before us a Parliamentary report, given in

above twenty years ago, complaining of the poisonous state of the

Thames. The following evidence of Mr. Butcher, a fish-salesman, and

agent for Dutch vessels, will be interesting at this moment, while the

Thames is made the great sewer of London:

"Eight Dutch vessels arrived at Gravesend with full cargoes of healthy

eels in July 1827, and the following is the state in which they reached

the London market:

First 15,000 lbs. Reached market alive 4000 lbs.

Second 14,000 " " " 4000 "

Third 13,000 " " " 3000 "

Fourth 14,000 " " " about 4000 "

And so on in proportion, but little more than a fourth of the cargo

being marketed alive."

Mr. Butcher stated to the commissioners, that in 1815 (or twelve years

before), "one of these vessels seldom lost more than thirty pounds

weight of eels in a night in coming up the river; but that the water had

become so bad, that as it flowed through the wells in the bottom of the

vessels it poisoned the eels, and the quantity which died was more than

three times the quantity marketed."

Another witness (James Newland, master of a vessel, and sixteen years in

the trade,) says: "Eels have not lived in Thames water as they did

formerly. First observed the difference five or six years ago (before

1827), and find it gets worse every summer. Other fish are also affected

by bad water, and will endeavour to get out of it on pieces of floating

wood."

Another witness says, "An hour after high water, eels will die in so

short a time that I have had 3000 lbs. weight dead in half an hour."

"I have seen flounders," says Thomas Hatherill, "put up their heads

above the water; and if there was a bundle of weeds in the river, they

would get on it out of the water."

Mr. John Goldham, the yeoman of Billingsgate, deposed, that, "as clerk

of the market, it was his business to ascertain the quality of fish, and

seize and condemn that which was bad; that, twenty-five years ago

(1802), above and below London-bridge, between Deptford and Richmond,

400 fishermen, each having a boy and a boat, gained their livelihood by

fishing in the river; that he had known them take 3000 smelt and ten

salmon at one haul; the Thames salmon were then the best, and frequently

sold for 3_s._ or 4_s._ a pound; now the fishery is gone."

As early as 1307, the Earl of Lincoln complained before Parliament that

the river of Wells (Walbrook, Clement's Well, Skinner's Well, Clerk's

Well, Holy Well, &c.), running into the Thames, was obstructed by "filth

of the tanners, and such others." On this complaint being made, the

river was ordered to be cleansed.

Honest old Stowe says of the Thames in his day, "What should I speak of

the fat and sweet salmons daily taken in this stream, and that in such

plenty (after the time of smelt is past) as no river in Europe is able

to exceed it. But what store also of barbels, trouts, chevens, perches,

smelts, breams, roaches, daces, gudgeons, flounders, shrimps, eels, &c.,

are commonly to be had therein, I refer me to them that know by

experience better than I, by reason of their daily trade of fishing in

the same. And albeit it seemeth from time to time to be as it were

defrauded in sundry wise of these her large commodities, by the

insatiable avarice of fishermen, yet this famous river complaineth

commonly of no want, but the more it loseth at one time it gaineth at

another."

The immense traffic carried on in the winding Thames will never allow of

its being stored with "fat sweet" fish as in Stowe's time; but still we

hope the great changes which are in progress will at least turn this

mighty common sewer into something more like the ancient "silver Thames"

which our old poets sang about, and prevent so many dead and dying eels

being baked up into pies, and devoured by the poor purchasers of these

dangerous dainties, as there now are.

Mr. Simon's report to the City Commissioners of Sewers will, if we

mistake not, do more towards arousing the inhabitants of London to

agitate for pure air and sweet water, than any other remonstrance has

hitherto done. It is clearly, ably, and powerfully drawn up; and done in

such terse and simple language, that a child can understand it.

The following graphic description of the Babel of sounds heard at

Billingsgate, is from Mayhew's _London Labour and the London Poor_, a

work revealing more of the real life in London in the streets, courts,

and alleys, than was ever before made known:

"All are bawling together--salesmen, and hucksters of provisions, capes,

hardware, and newspapers--till the place is a perfect Babel of

competition. 'Ha-a-ansome cod! best in the market! All alive! alive!

alive O!' 'Ye-o-o! Ye-o-o! here's your fine Yarmouth bloaters! Who's

the buyer?' 'Here you are, governor: splendid whiting! Some of the right

sort!' 'Turbot! turbot! all alive, turbot!' 'Glass of nice peppermint

this cold morning, a ha'penny a glass!' 'Here you are at your own price!

Fine soles O!' 'Oy! oy! oy! Now's your time! fine grizzling sprats! all

large and no small!' 'Hullo! hullo here! beautiful lobsters! good and

cheap! fine cock crabs all alive O!' 'Five brill and one turbot--have

that lot for a pound! come and look at 'em, governor; you won't see a

better sample in the market.' 'Here, this way! this way for splendid

skate! skate O! skate O!' 'Had-had-had-had-haddick! all fresh and good!'

'Currant and meat puddings! ha'penny each!' 'Now, you mussel-buyers,

come along! come along! come along! now's your time for your fine fat

mussels!' 'Here's food for the belly and clothes for the back, but I

sell food for the mind' (shouts the newspaper vender). 'Here's smelt O!'

'Here ye are, fine Finney haddick!' 'Hot soup! nice pea-soup! a-all hot!

hot!' 'Ahoy! ahoy here! live plaice! all alive O!' 'Now or never! whelk!

whelk! whelk! whelk.' 'Who'll buy brill O! brill O!' 'Capes! waterproof

capes! sure to keep the wet out! a shilling a-piece!' 'Eels O! eels O!

Alive! alive O!' 'Fine flounders, a shilling a lot! Who'll buy this

prime lot of flounders?' 'Shrimps! shrimps! fine shrimps!' 'Wink! wink!

wink!' 'Hi! hi-i! here you are, just eight eels left, only eight!' 'O

ho! O ho! this way--this way--this way! Fish alive! alive! alive O!'"

The fishmongers of ancient times were not "scaly" men, in the present

acceptation of the phrase, when they were disposed to shew their

loyalty. On one occasion, Stowe says, "On St. Magnus' day, * * * * the

fishmongers, with solemn procession, paraded through the streets,

having, among other pageants and shows, four sturgeons gilt, carried on

four horses; and after, six and forty knights armed, riding on horses

made like 'luces of the sea:' and then, St. Magnus, the patron saint of

the day, with a thousand horsemen." These "luces" or pike, pleasantly

recall Shakspeare and the armorial bearings of Justice Shallow.

Stepping across the street, we arrive at the Coal Exchange, opened by

Prince Albert, at the close of 1849, at which period the following

description of the building appeared in the _Illustrated London News_.

"The _façades_ of the building are of very simple, yet bold and

effective design; and, with the exception of the cornice, but few

projections are introduced. The fronts in Thames-street and St.

Mary's-at-hill are respectively about 112 feet in width by 61 feet in

height. The unequal form of the plot of ground on which the Exchange

stands is skilfully masked at the corner by breaking the mass of

building, and introducing a circular tower in the re-entering angle,

within which is the entrance vestibule. This circular tower is 109 feet

to the top of the gilded ball, and 22 feet in diameter at the lowest

part, and is divided into three stories. The lowest story, containing

the vestibule, is of the Roman-Doric style of architecture; and there is

a striking peculiarity in the arrangement of this part, to which we must

advert. The wall of the tower not only shrines the vestibule by which

entrance to the hall or Rotunda is attained, but serves also as a centre

to flights of steps, which lead, on either hand, to a landing on the

first story of the building, and thence a spiral staircase is carried up

in the tower to the other stories. The first story is of the Ionic

order, carrying an entablature, and is lighted by windows. The top

story, fifteen feet in diameter, is ornamented by pilasters, with

windows between--the roof rising to a cone, and being crowned with a

gilded ball. This is, to our view, the least successful portion of the

edifice, the termination being stiff, and not so piquant as it should

have been. We should mention, the exterior is of Portland stone.

"Entering the Rotunda, the attention of the visitor is immediately

arrested by its beautiful effect and extremely novel arrangement. It

forms a circle of some 60 feet in diameter, and is crowned with a dome,

or, in fact, a double dome, as a lesser cupola rises from the eye of the

great dome to the height of 74 feet from the floor. The dome rests on

eight piers of light character; the space between each pier is divided

by stancheons into three compartments; and there are three galleries,

and from these entrance is obtained to the numerous offices of the

building. The stancheons, galleries, ribs of dome, &c., are of iron;

and, in fact, every part seems to be made of iron; and the arrangement

of patterns in the stancheons, brackets of galleries, and soffits of

galleries is original and good. There are about 300 tons of iron used in

the building, in the several parts, each rib, of which there are

thirty-two, weighing two tons. The ornament chiefly used is a cable,

twisted about in various patterns; and the balustrade to the galleries

is of loops of cable, at intervals broken by the introduction of the

city arms. The framework to the offices is of wood, and panelled with

rough plate-glass. By this means they receive light from the great dome

of the hall. The dome itself is glazed with large pieces of roughened

plate-glass of great thickness, the small upper dome having glass of a

yellow tint. The chief public offices surrounding the Rotunda are those

appropriated to the Corporation officers who have to collect the coal

dues, and who are, we understand, appointed by the Corporation.

"The floor of the Rotunda is composed of inlaid woods, disposed in form

of a mariner's compass, within a border of Greek fret. The flooring

consists of upwards of 4000 pieces of wood, of various kinds. The

varieties of wood employed comprise black ebony, black oak, common and

red English oak, wainscott, white holly, mahogany, American elm, red and

white walnut, and mulberry. The appearance of this floor is beautiful in

the extreme. The whole of these materials were prepared by Messrs.

Davison and Symington's patent process of seasoning woods. The same

desiccating process has been applied to the woodwork throughout the

building. The black oak introduced is part of an old tree which was

discovered in the bed of the river Tyne, where it had unquestionably

lain between four and five centuries. The mulberry wood of which the

blade of the dagger in the shield of the city arms is composed, is a

piece of a tree planted by Peter the Great, when he worked as a

shipwright in Deptford Dockyard.

"The coloured decorations of this Exchange have been most admirably

imagined and successfully carried out. They are extremely

characteristic, and on this point deserve praise. The entrance vestibule

is peculiarly rich and picturesque in its embellishments: terminal

figures, vases with fruit, arabesque foliage, &c., all of the richest

and most glowing colours, fill up the vault of the ceiling; and looking

up through an opening in the ceiling, a figure of Plenty scattering

riches, and surrounded _figurini_, is seen painted in the ceiling of the

lantern. Over the entrance doorway, within a sunk panel, is painted the

city arms. Within the Rotunda, the polychromic decorations immediately

arrest the eye. The range of panels at the base of the dome, and the

piers which carry the dome, are all fully and harmoniously decorated. We

shall commence our description with the piers in the lowest story: the

Raffaelesque decorations are very rich in character; and in each pier

the scroll supports and encircles four compartments; the lowest are

simicircular panels, within which are painted symbolic figures of the

principal coal-bearing rivers of England: the Thames, the Mersey, the

Severn, the Trent, the Humber, the Ayre, the Tyne, &c. Small oblong

panels, with marine subjects, are a little above the symbolic figures

just described; and above them, within borders of flowers of every kind,

are figures symbolical of Wisdom, Fortitude, Vigilance, Temperance,

Perseverance, Watchfulness, Justice, and Faith. These figures are the

most prominent objects in the decorations of the piers in the lowest

story; and in circles above them are painted groups of shells; whilst at

the top, in semicircles corresponding with those at the base of the

piers, snakes, lizards, and other reptiles, are introduced. In the first

story the leading feature in the arabesques is a series of views of

coal-mines, including the air-shaft at Wallsend, Percy Pit Main

Colliery, Wallsend Colliery, Regent's Pit Colliery, &c. Groups of fruit

and flowers are in small circles just above the views, and in oblong

panels beneath the latter the series of nautical 'bits' is continued. At

the base, in each pilaster, are representations of different specimens

of _Sigilaria_--a fossil found in coal formations. In the second story

the largest panels contain figures of miners at different portions of

their avocations; whilst nautical subjects, clusters and flowers, are

introduced amongst the arabesques.

"The third story contains, within oval panels, miners at work picking

the coal, &c.: flowers and small landscapes add to the richness and

variety of the decorations on this floor; and both in this and the

lower, calamites (fossils from the coal formations) are depicted in the

arabesques. The twenty-four panels at the springing of the dome, of

which we have before spoken, have oval compartments painted in them,

surrounded by a gracefully-flowing border of extremely rich and varied

design, being light ornaments on a dark ground. The spaces within the

oval borders are coloured of a turquoise blue tint, on which is painted

a series of representations of different fossil plants met with in the

coal formations. This portion of the decoration is extremely striking

and appropriate; and we need scarcely say, the representations of the

plants are strictly correct.

"Ere we leave the pictorial portion of the Exchange, we must not forget

the groups of mining implements, most skilfully treated, in the narrow

panels in the dome over the piers.

"The whole of the artistic embellishments of the building were designed

by Mr. Sang, whose taste and skill in such works is well known, and

executed under his immediate directions; and it may be considered a most

successful specimen of the Raffaelesque style of ornamentation, now so

extensively adopted in the mansions of the nobility.

"For originality of design, this building is the most striking which has

been erected in London for a long time past, and reflects the very

highest credit on the talented architect, J. B. Bunning, Esq.

"Mr. William Trego was the builder; and the iron-work was executed by

Messrs. Dewer of Old-street."

While digging for the foundation of the Coal Exchange, a Roman hypocaust

was brought to light, which has since been arched over and

preserved--another addition to the many Roman remains which have been

discovered in the neighbourhood of Upper and Lower Thames-street.

Before quitting this part of the neighbourhood, we must state that the

Custom-House stands close by the places we have just described; and as

this is the last object in Lower Thames-street that requires notice, we

will briefly glance at it, and then ascend to the higher streets.

The following mention is made of the Custom-House in a large volume now

before us, consisting of upwards of 1200 pages, and entitled, _The

Historie of the Life and Reigne of that famous Princesse Elizabeth_;

printed at Oxford, 1634: "About this time [1590] the commodity of the

Custom-House amounted to an unexpected value; for the queen being made

acquainted by the means of a subtle fellow, named Caermardine, with the

mystery of their gains, so enhanced the rate, that Sir Thomas Smith,

master of the Custom-House, who heretofore farmed it of the queen for

14,000_l._ yearly, was now 'mounted' [raised] to 42,000_l._, and

afterwards to 50,000_l._, which, notwithstanding, was valued but as an

ordinary sum for such oppressing [extortionate?] gaine. The Lord

Treasurer [Cecil?], the Earls of Leicester and Walsingham, much opposed

themselves against this Caermardine, denying him entrance into the Privy

Chamber, insomuch that, expostulating with the queen, they traduced her

[for] harkening to such a fellow's information, to the disparagement of

the judgment of her council, and the discredit of their case." [A little

"palm-oil," we guess, did this, in the shape of a free distribution of

rose-nobles on the part of Sir Thomas Smith. Bribery, bribery! But look

at the reply of that real John Bull-like old queen.] "But the queen

answered them, that all princes ought to be, if not as favourable, yet

as just, to the lowest as to the highest, desiring that they who falsely

accuse her Privy Council of sloth or indiscretion should be severely

punished; but [that?] they who _justly accused them_ should be heard."

[Glorious Queen Bess!] "That she was queen as well to the poorest as to

the proudest, and that therefore she would never be deaf to their just

complaints. Likewise [further?], that she would not suffer that these

_toll-takers_, like _horse-leeches_, should glut themselves with the

riches of the realm, and starve her exchequer; which, as she will not

bear it to be 'docked'(?), so hateth she to enrich it with the poverty

of the people." (Page 31, second part, or volume, translated out of the

French by Abraham Darcie. Initials of the original author, P. D. B., who

knew Cecil intimately, had access to the original letters, and was

present at the trial of Mary Queen of Scots.) The first book or volume

is dedicated to King James I. I have been thus particular in describing

this old volume, as it contains matter relating to London in the time of

Elizabeth which I have not found in any other history.

The "Long Room" of the Custom-House is worthy of its name, as it

measures 190 feet, with a breadth of 66 feet, and there is not a

pleasanter place for viewing the traffic on the Thames below London

Bridge than the parade of the Custom-House quay. The present building

has been erected but little more than thirty years. The revenue now

derived from customs is near twenty millions a year.

[Illustration: ST. DUNSTAN'S-IN-THE-EAST]

On St. Dunstan's-hill stands the church dedicated to the old Saxon saint

whose name it bears. This church partly escaped the Fire, and was

restored by Wren. The beautiful tower is all that remains of this great

architect's work, the body of the church being rebuilt from the plans of

Mr. Laing, to whom we are indebted for the present Custom-House.

Speaking of this church, Mr. Elmes tells us, on the faith of an

anonymous correspondent, "When Sir Christopher Wren made first attempt

of building a steeple upon quadrangular columns, he was convinced of

the truth of his architectural principle; but, as he had never before

acted upon it, and as a failure would have been fatal to his reputation,

and awful in its consequences to the neighbourhood of the edifice, he

naturally felt intense anxiety, when the superstructure was completed,

in the removal of the supporters. The surrounding people shared largely

in the solicitude. Sir Christopher himself went to London Bridge, and

watched the proceedings through a lens. The ascent of a rocket

proclaimed the stability of the steeple; and Sir Christopher would

afterwards smile that he ever could, even for a moment, have doubted the

truth of his mathematics." While giving the anecdote, Mr. Elmes doubts

the truth of it. The eastern window is said to be a copy of the one

which formerly adorned the old church.

Stowe, in his _Chronicle_, describes a quarrel which took place in this

church as follows: "In the year 1417, and on the afternoon of Easter

Sunday, a violent quarrel took place in this church, between the ladies

of the Lord Strange and Sir John Trussel, Knt., which involved the

husbands, and at length terminated in a general contest. Several persons

were seriously wounded, and an unlucky fishmonger, named Thomas

Petwarden, killed. The two great men who chose a church for their field

of battle were seized and committed to the Poultry Compter, and the

Archbishop of Canterbury excommunicated them. On the 21st of April, that

prelate heard the particulars at St. Magnus Church; and finding Lord

Strange and his lady the aggressors, he cited them to appear before him,

the Lord Mayor, and others, on the 1st of May, at St. Paul's, and there

submit to penance, which was inflicted by compelling all their servants

to march before the rector of St. Dunstan's in their shirts, followed by

the lord bareheaded, and the lady barefooted [rather too hard on the

lady], and Kentwode, Archdeacon of London, to the church of St. Dunstan,

where, at the hallowing of it, Lady Strange was compelled to fill all

the sacred vessels with water, and offer an ornament, value 10_l._, and

her husband a piece of silver, worth 5_l._"

Leaving Eastcheap, with its Shakspearean Boar's Head (long ago

destroyed), and Great Tower-street, memorable for the carousals of Peter

the Great, we come to Mincing-lane, where stands Clothworkers' Hall, a

company to which Pepys belonged, and which still possesses the "loving

cup" he presented to the Clothworkers.

King James I. was a member of this company; and the following extract

from Nichol's _Progresses_ furnishes us with the speech he made on the

day he enrolled himself among the Clothworkers: "Now, I drink unto all

my good brethren, the clothworkers; and I pray God to bless them all,

and all good clothworkers; and for proof of our especial favour to this

fraternity, and for their increase of mutual amity, I do here give unto

this company two brace of bucks yearly, for ever, against the time of

the election of the master and wardens of this society." This was on the

12th of June, 1607, after the king had privately dined "at the house of

Sir John Watts, then lord mayor."

In Mark-lane we find the great Corn Exchange (lately damaged by fire).

About three centuries ago, the corn-market was held at Queenhithe,

although the oldest place for the sale of corn was Cornhill, a market

having been held there, according to Stowe, "time out of mind."

In Knight's _London_, vol. iii. p. 364, we find the following curious

remarks on this great metropolitan corn-market: "The market-days are

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the first being by far the busiest day of

the three; and the hours of business are from ten to three. A bargain

does not become valid until an hour after the commencement of business

on the next market-day. The general commercial reader will perhaps be

interested in knowing that wheat is paid for in bills at one month, and

all other descriptions of corn and grain in bills of two months. But the

Kentish 'hoymen,' who may be distinguished by their sailors' jackets,

are privileged, by the custom of the market, to sell for ready money,

though, of course, they sell only what they bring up themselves. They

have stands free of expense, and pay less for metage and dues than

others. The Essex dealers also enjoy some privileges. Their origin, in

both cases, is said to have been in consideration of the men of Kent and

Essex having continued to supply the City at a time when it was ravaged

by the plague."

In Mark-lane stands the church of Allhallows Staining, which escaped the

Fire, though the tower is all that remains of the ancient edifice. Here

it is said Queen Elizabeth went to return thanks after her release from

the Tower; and when the service was over, she adjourned to the adjoining

tavern, the King's-head, in Fenchurch-street, where she dined off the

unladylike luxuries of pork and peas, in memory of which event the dish

and cover are still preserved. In the parish-books of Allhallows are the

following entries relating to old ecclesiastical holidays: "Paid unto

Goodman Chese, broiderer, for making a new mitre for the Bishop, against

St. Nicholas's night, 2_s._ 8_d._;" and again, "Paid for the hiring of a

pair of wings and a crest for an angel on Palm Sunday, 8_d._" Merry

doings were there in the olden time at church-ales and Easter-tide, and

many another ancient holiday which now lives but in name.

At the corner of Seething-lane stands the church of Allhallows Barking.

In this lane died Sir Francis Walsingham, who in Elizabeth's time

planted so many spies around the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots. Here

also lived Pepys, adjoining the old Navy-office. He makes frequent

mention of Seething-lane in his _Diary_. The church of Allhallows

Barking very nearly marks the site of the termination of the Great Fire

eastward; for though the church itself escaped destruction, its walls

were licked by the flames and the porch destroyed. A glance at the map

of London will shew its proximity to the Tower, and readily suggest that

many a headless victim was removed from the scaffold to the grave in the

old churchyard of Allhallows. The Earl of Surrey, who was beheaded in

1547, was buried here; also Bishop Fisher, beheaded in 1535, though his

body was afterwards removed; so were the remains of Archbishop Laud. The

first chapel founded on the site of the present church dates as far back

as the time of Richard I.; and there is an old tradition that the heart

of the king of the Crusaders was buried under the altar of that church.

Here Edward I. set up an image of the Virgin Mary, which almost became

as famous as the shrine of Thomas à Becket, so many were the pilgrims

who visited it. Our engraving represents a silver-gilt shrine, in which,

in ancient times, the relics of saints were deposited.

[Illustration: SILVER-GILT SHRINE.]

Richard III. (it may be, to make amends for the murders he caused to be

committed in the adjacent Tower) rebuilt this church, and founded within

it a college of priests. Even now it bears proofs of its great

antiquity, in its massive and stunted Norman pillars, old inscriptions,

ancient monuments, and early brasses, one of the latter dating back

nearly four centuries. There is a story about an explosion of gunpowder,

which destroyed twenty or thirty houses, and in which a cradle, "baby

and all," was blown on the leads of this church, and there found

uninjured.

Seething-lane runs into Hart-street, Crutched Friars, and Jewry-street,

Aldgate. In Hart-street stands the church of St. Olave, so often

mentioned by Pepys. It escaped the Fire, and contains a few tablets well

worth visiting. Some portion of the interior appears to be very ancient,

though I am not able to assign any date to these remains, nor when the

first church was built. Here Pepys and his wife (the "poor wretch" of

his _Diary_) are buried. The chapel in which the Crutched Friars dwelt

was, in Stowe's time, demolished, and its site occupied by a

tennis-court and other buildings.

On the right-hand side of Leadenhall-street stand the East India House

and Leadenhall Market, the latter of which need only be mentioned as

celebrated for its poultry and game. Stowe says, in his day it was used

for "the making and resting of pageants shewed at Midsummer, in the

watch; * * * * the lofts above were partly used by the painters in

working for the decking of pageants, and other devices for the

beautifying of the watch and watchmen." Those who visit Leadenhall

Market in Christmas-week will form some idea of the supply needed for

the two-million mouthed metropolis.

The East India House was built but little more than half a century ago,

though it contains portions of the older edifice, erected in 1726. The

present building is about 200 feet in length, and wears somewhat of a

princely look in its pillared portico and sculptured pediment, over the

centre of which Britannia is placed, while figures representing Asia and

Europe stand on each side of her. The ground-floor contains committee

and other rooms, in which the directors and proprietors transact

business.

The handsomest saloon in the East India House is occupied by the Court

of Directors, and is usually termed the Court-room: it is said to be an

exact cube of 30 feet; it is superbly gilt, and embellished with large

looking-glasses; the effect of its too great height being much

diminished by the position of the windows near the ceiling. From the

cornice hangs six pictures, representing the three presidencies--the

Cape, St. Helena, and Tellichery. Over the chimney is a fine piece of

sculpture in white marble, representing Britannia seated on a globe by

the sea-shore, receiving homage from three female figures--Asia,

Africa, and India. Asia offers spices with her right hand, and with her

left leads a camel; India presents a box of jewels; and Africa rests her

hand upon the head of a lion. The Thames, as a river-god, stands upon

the shore; a labourer is cording a bale of merchandise, and ships are

sailing in the distance. The whole is supported by two caryatid figures,

intended for Brahmins.

[Illustration: TIPPOO'S ELEPHANT HOWDAH.]

In another room there are six statues of Clive, Hastings, Cornwallis,

Coote, Lawrence, and Pococke--all men who won for themselves

distinguished names in India.

The upper part of the house, besides offices, contains the library and

museum: the latter is open on Saturdays from eleven to three; and with

the exception of the Tower, we know of no place where four hours can be

more agreeably and profitably spent in the City, than in examining this

rare collection. Here we see beautiful specimens of every

description--Goorkha swords, Sumatra shields, and Lahore gauntlets. In

another compartment we find models of Oriental manufactures: objects of

natural history are also there--animals, birds, insects, and shells of

the richest colours.

Here also is Tippoo Sultan's tiger. "It is a curious piece of mechanism,

displaying both the ingenuity and barbarism of the artist who produced

it, no less than the ferocity of nature which could induce a prince to

esteem it as a favourite toy. By turning a crank, like the handle of an

organ, sounds are emitted resembling the shrieks of a man in the jaws of

a tiger, while ever and anon a deeper tone is heard, intended to

represent the roar of the animal."

We find here Tippoo's howdah, or elephant seat, together with his

quilted corslet. The seat is of silver, and the bird forming the canopy

is of the same material, while the eyes are said to be of precious

stones. The padded shirt is said to have belonged to Tippoo Sultan; also

the corslet, which is lined with blue diaper.

There are Hindoo idols of gold and silver, marble and wood, remnants of

shrines and inscriptions, the very letters of which "would have made

Quintilian stare and gasp."

The Chinese curiosities are well worth examining, especially the

materials for engraving, writing, and printing; nor ought the mariner's

compass to be overlooked, for we must remember that this strange nation

have some claim to the invention of our "ocean guide," though rude,

perhaps, the first form may have been, and its bearings but little

understood.

From the _Illustrated London News_, we give the following description of

the paintings found in the Ajunta Caves, in India, copies of which have

lately been added to the Museum of the East India Company:--"These

paintings were found upon the interior walls and roofs of a series of

temples, excavated out of the solid rock, situated near the Ajunta Pass,

where the road from central Hindostan ascends the mural heights

supporting the table-land of the Dekkan. The town of Ajunta is about 200

miles north-east from Bombay; and in a ravine amongst the hills, some

four or five miles distant, occur the caves. According to Mr. Fergusson,

in his 'Memoir on the rock-cut Temples of India,' published in the

'Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society,' the entrance to the ravine is

nearly half a mile in width; but the ravine becomes narrower as the

traveller winds up it, until it terminates in a cascade of seven falls,

or leaps: the lowest is about 100 feet high, the others about 100 feet

higher. Immediately below the fall the

[Illustration]

ravine makes a sharp turn to the right, and it is in the perpendicular

cliff forming the outer side of the bend, and facing the fall, that the

caves are situated; the whole series extending about 500 yards from

north to south-east. There are in this space twenty-seven caves, which

are accessible by a sort of ledge or terrace of the cliff; but this has

given way at the southern extremity, and left the face of the cliff

perpendicular, to the height of about 300 feet. The general appearance

of the ravine and of some of the excavations is given in our engraving,

reduced from the original plate, forming part of Mr. Fergusson's

interesting illustrations of these and other Rock Temples delineated by

him in India.

"The Ajunta Caves are richly decorated with sculptured porticoes and

columns; but their peculiar feature is the embellishment of their roofs

and walls with paintings, which it is not yet determined to call

frescoes. They have suffered much from time and neglect; and to

counteract, in some measure, the further depredations of both, the Court

of Directors have instructed their local governments to take measures

for their careful delineation. An officer of the Madras Establishment,

Captain Gill, made copies of them, and sent home those now at the India

House. In one we have on the left a number of warriors apparently

setting out on an expedition. The chief, indicated by the umbrella, is

taking leave of his princess, whilst a group of women on the right are

also bidding them farewell. The men are characterised by the

intertwining of the hair with the cloth of the turban, a costume now

chiefly met with amongst the Burmas. It is doubtful if it is to be found

on the continent of India. There is nothing to denote the religion of

the persons represented; but in another painting a group very similar

are offering their adoration to a Chaitya or Buddhist monument, which is

conclusive as to their professing the Buddhist faith.

"In another section we have various groups, which belong to the interior

of the palace. The chief in one place is seated, in another standing,

and in both attitudes is evidently communicating orders or instructions.

This is probably a representation of Sakyasinha or Buddha, who admitted

females to become his disciples, and was allowed free access to the

female apartments. The privilege here is not confined to him, for in two

places are men bringing presents carried upon a pole, with slings, as

they are at the present day. In the right-hand corner we have what seems

to be a garden; in the left a group of elephants very accurately

represented--one appears to have triple tusks; a seated female in front

appears to hold a book.

"The third picture represents a very different series of figures from

either of the two preceding, and evidently belongs to the Saiva branch

of Brahminism. The much-defaced head in the centre, with a rich crown,

ornamented amongst other things with crosses, is a not uncommon

representation of Siva; and in the right compartment we have the same

divinity attended by some of his hideous train of goblins. In one place,

on the left, of two smaller figures the male is playing a flute. The

figures appear to be partly in the clouds, partly in edifices and in

gardens--perhaps the city of the God of Wealth upon the celestial

mountain Kailas is intended.

"The indications of Buddhism are, however, the prevailing subjects of

the paintings, although some of them are Saiva. Fragments of

inscriptions are found on two of them, which, although too imperfect to

be capable of translation, are valuable as guides to the age of the

paintings. The characters in which they are written went out of use

about the third century of our era, and the paintings in which they

occur must, consequently, be of prior date. They were painted, probably,

about the beginning of the Christian era."

Trinity-square, Tower-hill, in which stands Trinity House, is the last

object of any importance that claims notice in our present chapter. At

what period Trinity House was established is not, for certainty, known,

though it is believed to have been founded by Henry VIII., about the

time that he formed the Navy-Office. Like all other jurisdictions, it

gathered power gradually, through a long range of time, being at first

limited in its privileges and circumscribed in its limits, until

Elizabeth made the Company guardians of our sea-marks. Trinity House now

has the sole management of the light-houses and buoys, and its

operations may often be seen by a reference to the first page of the

_Times_, where it announces new marks laid down by wrecks, and different

changes made in beacons, "those watchmen of the sea."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

THE TOWER.

The oldest remains of London, with few exceptions, nearly stand facing

each other, and are on opposite sides of the river. Thus, the Tower,

though some distance "below" bridge, looks on its ancient neighbour a

little higher up, the Church of St. Mary Overies, now called St.

Saviour's; while westward, Lambeth Palace confronts Westminster Abbey

and Hall, where they stand looking at each other, as they have done for

more than six centuries. Had that highway of waters which rolls between

these ancient edifices a tongue, what "deeds of other years" it might

babble forth! scenes mirrored on its surface, of which we have no

mention--events of which history has made no note, nor time preserved

any record.

At what period a fortress was first built on the spot now occupied by

the Tower will probably never be known, though it must have been a place

of some strength when Edmund Ironside defended it against the Danes, and

probably was centuries before that period.

No one doubts but that London was long inhabited by the Romans; and from

all we know of the many habits of those cautious warriors, we are

certain that they would not leave the river front of their city

undefended. Ancient foundations have been discovered in the Tower within

the last century, so strong and thick, as to call back Fitz-Stephen's

description of those large and strong walls which rose up from a deep

foundation, the mortar of which is "tempered with the blood of beasts."

Nearly seven hundred years ago did Fitz-Stephen write thus; so that the

"Tower Palatine," as he calls it, must have been so ancient even in his

day, that he knew nothing of its origin, more than that of the mortar

being "tempered with the blood of beasts." Nearly all our Roman remains

in Lower Thames-street have been discovered "deep down," and this goes

far in favour of those strong and undated foundations, laid bare within

the Tower, being Roman; the great width--three yards--corresponds also

with all we have seen of such ancient relics.

We know that the first London Bridge was built of wood, but we know not

the date of its erection, though it is mentioned many times long before

the Norman invasion. We also know that Edmund Ironside defended a walled

fortress which stood on the City side of the river; and that in those

days there was a bridge which Canute the Dane's ships did not pass

under, and that the battle on the river and on land was at the foot of

this old wooden bridge; and that the wall Edmund and his followers

defended must have been somewhere about the spot on which the Tower now

stands. This battle took place more than eight hundred years ago; and

after Canute's forces were repulsed by the London citizens, headed by

the son of Ethelred the Unready, the Danish king sailed out of the

Thames and landed in Mercia, somewhere near the mouth of the Humber.

This fortress was defended, and this wooden bridge stood, more than 150

years before Peter of Colechurch commenced his stone bridge in 1176; but

how much longer we know not. London must have been well fortified to

have held out as it did, against the invasion of Swein king of Denmark,

who came up to its very walls with his ships, and was compelled to

retreat. There must have been either tower or fortress beside the river,

for the Saxon citizens to have driven back such a powerful enemy.

It is generally admitted that Gundulp, Bishop of Rochester, was the

architect of the White Tower; and that it was built in the time of

William the Conqueror. Nor must we forget that soon after his first

entry into London, William the Norman resided in the Tower, in proof (if

true) that this fortress, whatever it might have been, was one of the

strongest in London--one of the safest to retire into in a land filled

with enemies, for he had then but few friends except his own soldiers.

What William the Norman built, and Rufus and Henry I. added to the old

Saxon Tower of London, cannot distinctly be defined, for we read of the

Great Tower, and a castle fronting the river beneath this Tower; and

then we pass over a few years, and find Flambard, the fighting Bishop of

Durham, a prisoner within the Tower walls, and from which, with the aid

of a rope, he made his escape.

Another Bishop, Longchamp, held the Tower against John and his retainers

while the lion-hearted King Richard I. was waging war in Palestine.

Here we see it used as a prison, and find it a fortress too strong for

Prince John and his followers to storm.

Henry III., who built the Lion Tower and kept leopards in it, made many

additions and improvements.

Mr. Bayley says, "The records of that era, which abound with curious

entries, evincing Henry's great and constant zeal for the promotion of

the fine arts, contain many interesting orders which he gave for works

of that kind to be executed in different parts of the Tower." Edward I.

strengthened the fortifications, and seems to have left the Tower much

in the state that we now see it; for, after this period, but few

alterations or additions appear to have been made. Edward III. repaired

it, and Mr. Bayley, in his _History of the Tower_, tells us how the sum

(nearly 1000_l._) was expended. The first interesting description we

have of the Tower was written by a foreigner named Paul Hentzner, in the

reign of Elizabeth, and is as follows:

"Upon entering the Tower of London we were obliged to leave our swords

at the gate, and deliver them to the guard. When we were introduced, we

were shewn above a hundred pieces of arras belonging to the Crown, made

of gold, silver, and silk; several saddles, covered with velvet of

different colours; an immense quantity of bed-furniture, such as

canopies and the like, some of them richly ornamented with pearl; some

royal dresses, so extremely magnificent as to raise any one's admiration

at the sums they must have cost. We were next led to the Armoury, in

which are these particulars: Spears out of which you may shoot; shields

that will give fire four times;(?) a great many rich halberts, commonly

called partisans, with which the guards defend the royal persons in

battle; some lances covered with red and green velvet, and the suit of

armour of King Henry VIII.; many and very beautiful arms, as well for

men as for horse-fights; the lance of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk,

three spans thick; two pieces of cannon--the one fires three, the other

seven balls at a time; two others made of wood, which the English had at

the siege of Boulogne in France; and by this stratagem, without which

they could not have succeeded, they struck a terror as at the appearance

of artillery, and the town was surrendered upon articles: nineteen

cannons, of a thicker make than ordinary, and in a room apart,

thirty-six of a smaller; other cannons for chain-shot, and balls proper

to bring down masts of ships; cross-bows and arrows, of which to this

day the English make use in their exercises. But who can relate all that

is to be seen here? Eight or nine men employed by the year are scarce

sufficient to keep all the arms bright. The mint for coining money is in

the Tower. N.B.--It is to be noted, that, when any of the nobility are

sent hither on the charge of high crimes punishable with death, such as

murder, &c., they seldom or never recover their liberty. Here was

beheaded Anne Bolen, wife of King Henry VIII., and lies buried in the

chapel, but without any inscription; and Queen Elizabeth was kept

prisoner here by her sister, Queen Mary, at whose death she was

enlarged, and by right called to the throne. On coming out of the Tower,

we were led to a small house close by, where are kept a variety of

creatures; viz. three lionesses, one lion of great size, called Edward

VI., from his having been born in that reign; a tiger, a lynex, a wolf,

exceedingly old: this is a very scarce animal in England, so that their

sheep and cattle stray about in great numbers without any danger, though

without any body to keep them. There is, besides, a porcupine and eagle:

all these creatures are kept in a remote place, fitted up for the

purpose with wooden lattices, at the Queen's expense.

"Near to this Tower is a large open space; on the highest part of it

(Tower-hill) is erected a wooden scaffold for the execution of noble

criminals; upon which they say three Princes of England, the last of

their families, have been beheaded for high treason. On the Thames,

close by, are a great many cannon, such chiefly as are used at sea."

Such was the Tower in the reign of Elizabeth, and such as it is now we

shall proceed to explain, enriching our description with several

engravings, which, though not placed exactly beside the text they

illustrate, will be clearly understood by the names affixed to each

engraving.

Passing through the entrance-gate, we reach the Lion Tower, which stands

at the corner of the moat or Tower ditch facing the Thames. Proceeding

eastward, with the river on our right, we come to the Middle Tower--then

the Bell Tower--the Lieutenant's lodgings--and the Bloody Tower, which

faces Traitor's Gate, to which there is a water-entrance. Passing these,

we either approach the White Tower in the centre, or visit the Salt

Tower at the east end; then the Brick Tower on the north side, in which

Lady Jane Grey was imprisoned, from thence to the Bowyer Tower, in which

the Duke of Clarence was drowned in a butt of malmsey; and last to the

west side, where stands the Beauchamp Tower, in which Anne Boleyn was

imprisoned. The chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, and the Jewel House, are

the last places we shall describe. In something like the plan we have

here adopted, we shall proceed to carry our readers with us while

describing the above-named portions of this ancient fortress.

The entrance is on the west side, leading to the Lion Tower, in which

the royal beasts were formerly kept. In Nicholl's _Progress of James

I._, we find the following:--"This spring of the year (1605)

[Illustration]

the king builded a wall, and filled up with earth all that part of the

moat or ditch about the west side of the lions' den, and appointed a

drawing partition to be made towards the south part thereof, the one

part thereof to serve for the breeding lioness when she shall have

whelps, and the other part thereof for a walk for the other lions. The

king caused also three trap-doors to be made in the wall of the lion's

den, for the lions to go into their walk at the pleasure of the keeper,

which walk shall be maintained and kept for especial place to bait the

lions with dogs, bears, bulls, boars, &c."

Ned Ward, of "merry memory," in his _London Spy_, published above a

century and a half ago, has left us the following anecdotes of the Lions

in the Tower.

"One of the keeper's servants, whilst he was shewing us his unruly

prisoners, entertained us with a couple of remarkable stories, which,

because the tragedy of the one will render an escape in the other story

the more providential, I shall proceed to give them to the reader in

their proper places--namely, that a maid, some years since, being a

servant to the keeper, and a bold, spirited wench, took pleasure now and

then in helping to feed the lions, and imprudently believing the

gratitude of the beasts would not suffer them to hurt her, she would

venture sometimes--though with extraordinary caution--to be a little

more familiar with them than she ought to be. At last she either

carelessly or presumptuously ventured too near their dens; and one of

the lions caught hold of her arm, and tore it off quite at the shoulder,

after a most lamentable manner, before any body could come to her

assistance; killing her with a gripe, before he would loose her from his

talons, till she was a miserable object of her own folly, the lion's

fury, and the world's pity.

"This story he succeeded by another, wherein was shewn as miraculous a

preservation of himself, contrary to the cruelty the lion had before

used to his unhappy fellow-servant, which he delivered after this

following manner, namely:

"''Tis our custom,' says he, 'when we clean the lions' dens, to drive

them down over-night through a trap-door into a lower conveniency, in

order to rise early in the morning and refresh their day apartments by

clearing them; and having through mistake, and not forgetfulness, left

one of the trap-doors unbolted, which I thought I had carefully secured,

I came down in the morning, before daylight, with my candle and lanthern

fastened before me to my button, with my implements in my hands, to

despatch my business, as was usual; and going carelessly into one of the

dens, a lion had returned through the trap-door, and lay couchant in a

corner, with his head towards me. The sudden surprise of this terrible

sight brought me under such dreadful apprehensions of the dangers I was

in, that I stood fixed like a statue, without the power of motion, with

my eyes steadfast upon the lion, and his likewise upon me. I expected

nothing but to be torn to pieces every moment, and was fearful to

attempt one step back, lest my endeavour to shun him might have made him

the more eager to have hastened my destruction. At last he roused

himself, as though to have a breakfast off me; yet, by the assistance of

Providence, I had the presence of mind to keep steady in my posture, for

the reasons before-mentioned. He moved towards me without expressing in

his countenance either greediness or anger; but, on the contrary, wagged

his tail, signifying nothing but friendship in his fawning behaviour;

and after he had stared me a little in the face, he raises himself up on

his two hindmost feet, and laying his two fore paws upon my shoulders

without hurting me, fell to licking my face, as a further instance of

his gratitude for my feeding him, as I afterwards conjectured; though

then I expected every minute when he would have stripped my skin over my

ears, as a poulterer does a rabbit, and have cracked my head between his

teeth, as a monkey does a small nut.

"'His tongue was so very rough, that with the few favourite kisses he

gave me, it made my cheeks almost as raw as a pork griskin, which I was

very glad to take in good part without a bit of grumbling. And when he

had thus saluted me, and given me his sort of welcome to his den, he

returned to his place, and laid him down, doing me no further damage;

which unexpected deliverance hitherto occasioned me to take courage,

that I slunk back by degrees till I recovered the trap-door, through

which I jumped, and pulled it after me; thus happily, through an

especial Providence, I escaped the fury of so dangerous a creature.'"

Ward also mentions two stuffed lions, one said to have been Queen

Mary's, the other King Charles's: and of the latter he says, he "had no

more fierceness in his looks that he had when living, than the effigies

of his good master at Westminster has the prescence of the

original."--_London Spy_, part 13.

We know of no historical incident of any interest connected with the

Middle Tower; but in the Bell Tower adjoining, Fisher, Bishop of

Rochester, is said to have been imprisoned. How much this venerable

bishop must have suffered before he wrote as follows to Cromwell we know

not: "I beseech you to be good, master, in my necessity; for I have

neither shirt nor yet other clothes that are necessary for me to wear,

but that be ragged and rent too shamefully. Notwithstanding, I might

easily suffer that, if they would keep my body warm. But my diet also,

God knoweth how slender it is at many times. And now in mine age [poor

old man, he was nearly eighty] my stomach may not away but with a few

kind of meats, which if I want, I decay forthwith."

How we feel to hate the brutal Defender of the Faith, whose supremacy he

refused to acknowledge, while perusing the catalogue of the venerable

prelate's sufferings.

The martyr and the murderer have long since gone to render an account of

their good and evil deeds.

The Lieutenant's lodgings contain a few old paintings, together with a

bust of James I., and a marble monument recording the names of those who

were examined regarding the Gunpowder Plot.

The Bloody Tower is supposed to have been the place in which the sons of

Edward IV. were murdered; but of this we have no proof; neither in the

discovery of the bones (which were found, in 1674, at the foot of the

staircase near the chapel in the White Tower,) any proof that the

princes were murdered in that part of the fortress. That they should be

buried near the White Tower chapel bespeaks a reverence for their

remains.

There is something ominous and gloomy about the grim gateway, with its

grated portcullis and grinning iron teeth, that leads to the Bloody

Tower, which even now seems to chill the blood as we pass beneath it.

Nor is this feeling at all diminished by the recollection that one of

the Earls of Northumberland either committed suicide or was privately

murdered within those very walls. It was at this gate where Sir John

Bridge seized Wyatt by the collar and shook him, when he was made

prisoner after the insurrection. "But that the law must pass upon thee,"

said the angry lieutenant, "I would stick thee through with my dagger."

To which Wyatt replied, holding his arms under his side, and looking

grievously with a grim look upon the lieutenant, "It is no mastery now,"

and so passed on.

The Salt Tower is remarkable for a curious engraving on the walls

representing the signs of the Zodiac, the work of Hugh Draper, of

Bristol, who was a prisoner in this turret in 1560. What a glimpse we

obtain of the superstitious ignorance of this period, when recalling the

"crime" he was committed for--that of practising the art of sorcery

against Sir William Lowe and his lady. The Brick Tower, on the

north-east side, near the mount, is said to be the spot in which Lady

Jane Grey, the "nine-days' Queen," as she is called by the old

chroniclers, was imprisoned.

In the Bowyer Tower, which stands behind the barracks, it is said the

Duke of Clarence was murdered, by being drowned in a butt of his own

favourite drink. The upper portion of this tower is modern, and the

whole was again greatly impaired in the fire which burnt down the great

storehouse in 1841, which also injured the Flint and the Brick Towers.

We next come to the Beauchamp or Wakefield Tower, in which are deposited

so many records. "This is perhaps the most interesting building of the

whole range, the White Tower not excepted," says Mr. Howitt, in his

_Tower of London_. "Employed for many years as a 'prison lodging,' its

walls are covered with the carved memorials of its unfortunate

occupants. Among those who have thus recorded their sorrows are John

Dudley, Earl of Warwick, 1553; Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, 1578;

Charles Baily, a Fleming, and agent of Mary Queen of Scots; Arthur and

Edmund Poole, grandchildren of George, Duke of Clarence, brother to King

Edward IV.; Thomas Fitzger, son of the Earl of Kildare, 1534; Sedburn,

Abbot of Joreval, 1537; Dr. Abel, chaplain of Queen Catherine of

Arragon; Thomas Cobham, son of Lord Cobham, 1555; Robert Dudley, Earl of

Leicester, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth; Sir Ingram Percy, son of

the Earl of Northumberland, 1537; Eyremot Radclyffe, son of the Earl of

Sussex, 1576; with many others. Couplets, maxims, or allegories are

sometimes added, as--

'By torture strange my truth was tryed,

Yet of my liberty denied.'--1581, THOMAS MYAGH.

This torture was the rack.

'It is the poynte of a wyse man to try and then to truste,

For hapy is he who fyndeth on that is juste.'--R. C.

The following is the conceit of a poor lover:

'Thomas Willynagh, Goldsmithe. My hart is yours tel dethe.'

And by the side is a figure of a 'bleeding hart,' and another of

'dethe.' The initials, T. W. and P. A. on each side of the bleeding

heart, are doubtless those of the lover and his mistress."

This was the Tower in which Anne Boleyn was imprisoned. It is on record,

that, when she passed under the Traitor's Gate, she fell on her knees

and prayed, declaring herself innocent. When about to be beheaded on the

Green, she refused to have her eyes bandaged (those eyes into which her

brutal, tiger-like husband had so often fondly looked), but kept them

riveted on the headsman, who, while she gleamed on him, had not power to

strike the blow, until some one attracted her attention, and then, when

her eyes were turned away, he took off his shoes, strode forward

noiselessly, and struck off her head.

Another inscription in this tower, in Italian, runs as follows:

"Since fortune hath chosen that my hope should go to the wind, to

complain, I wish the time were destroyed, my planet being ever sad

and unpropitious."--WILIM TYRREE, 1541.

One underground cell was called the Rats' Dungeon; it was below

high-water mark, and dark as the grave. At high-water, hundreds of rats

are believed to have sought shelter in this hideous cavern, until the

tide subsided. In this den, it is said, prisoners were sometimes thrust,

when the rack was found of no avail in extorting a confession. But all

the shrieks and struggles would be drowned deep down in this inhuman

hell, and only the Angel of Death left to look on the maddening horrors

of the wretched prisoners. The imagination shrinks back, as, through the

darkness of bygone years, it pictures for a moment the terrible

tragedies which must have been enacted in such a blood-stained dungeon.

We now come to the White Tower, with its four turrets, which may be seen

from many an eminence that overlooks London, and is always pointed out

as "The Tower." It is to the east of London what Westminster Abbey is to

the west, and St. Paul's to the centre of the city--the great object of

attraction. The interior consists of three stories (beside the vaults),

the first floor having two rooms, the roofs of which are no doubt as old

as the walls that surround them. In ancient times they were used as

prisons. The second story also contains two large rooms, in which are

deposited arms and other stores; and here also stands the chapel, the

most interesting of all the apartments, and shewing how great must be

the strength of a building to support such massy pillars and heavy

arches on its second story. It is a splendid specimen of true unaltered

Norman architecture, and unlike any thing we have seen in London, except

the interior of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield; not that it is so beautiful

as a whole as the church of the old Priory, but there is a massiness

about it in solemn keeping with the heavy and stupendous pile of

buildings which it stands upon and overlooks, for it rises to the very

roof of the Tower--the remainder of the third story forming the Council

Chamber, which is a large, heavy, plain-looking room, and arrests the

eye as soon as you enter. It is so unlike the chapel, that you are

amazed at its rude and primitive appearance, its flat timber ceiling and

plain rows of wooden beams, give to it something of a gigantic,

barn-like look; lost, however, when you glance at the pierced walls and

side arches, that tell you that all is in keeping with the solemn

fortress that has stood the shock of war, and the wear and tear of time,

through the long nights of nearly eight centuries. The scenes that have

taken place in this vast chamber are written in the pages of English

history, and are, with few exceptions, the most important in all our

annals.

We will now glance at the Jewel-house, and give a brief description of

the chief curiosities and treasures it contains.

The regalia appears to have been kept within the Tower from an early

period, as mention is made of jewels deposited there as far back as the

days of Henry III. These jewels were often pledged, and were sometimes

in the hands of French and Flemish merchants. Henry VI. was the first,

we believe, who went to "his uncle" to raise money on them; and Beaufort

advanced him 7000 marks with the true pawn-broker-like proviso, that if

they were not redeemed by a certain day, they were to remain his

(uncle's) property. Henry VIII., who melted down so many old monastic

treasures, lightened the regalia of many a rich relic, and, free-trader

like, dispersed it again in the shape of the current coin of the realm.

Those who possess the rose-nobles of that period may retain a portion of

the crown which once encircled the brow of one of his beautiful wives,

whom, Bluebeard-like, he butchered. He thought no more of melting a rich

sacramental cup than he did of a broken spoon.

During the civil wars the regalia was again diminished; but to what

extent we are not able to state, though mention is made of the sale of

such plate as bore the emblems of the cross, or was engraven with

"superstitious pictures." In its present state there will be found

worthy of notice the crown known as St. Edward's, first worn by Charles

II., and since that time used by all the monarchs who have ascended the

throne of Great Britain. This is the very crown that Blood stole, as we

have before stated, and the one placed on the head of her present

Majesty when she was crowned in Westminster Abbey. The new crown made

purposely for her Majesty is also here, and is formed of purple velvet,

hooped with silver, and richly adorned with diamonds. The ruby in it is

said to have been worn by the Black Prince, and the sapphire is

considered to be of great value: the crown altogether is estimated at

above 100,000_l._

The Prince of Wales's crown is formed of pure gold, without much

addition of jewels; while that of the Queen's consort is enriched with

pearls, diamonds, and other precious stones. The Queen's diadem was made

for Maria d'Este, the unfortunate queen of James II., who stood

sheltering in the rain under the wall of Lambeth Church on the night her

husband abdicated, when he threw the great seal into the Thames as he

crossed the river at Westminster to join her. Little did she dream, when

that golden diadem first pressed her fair brow, of the troubles she was

doomed to undergo.

St. Edward's Staff (why so called we know not, as the gold coronation

spoon is believed to be all that remains of the ancient regalia,) is

four feet seven inches long, bearing at the top an orb and cross; the

orb containing, it is said, a portion of the true cross. This staff is

made of beaten gold, to the bottom of which is fixed a steel spike, no

[Illustration: 1. Queen's Diadem. 2 and 3. Queen's Coronation Bracelets.

4. Prince of Wales's Crown. 5. Old Imperial Crown. 6. Queen's Crown. 7.

Spiritual Sceptre. 8. Temporal Sceptre.]

doubt intended for defence, as a strong arm would be able to drive it

through any assailant. Nothing is known of the history of this staff;

though we shall probably not be far wrong if we date the orb as far back

as the days of the Crusaders, on account of the portion of the "true

cross" which it is said to contain.

The Royal Sceptre is of gold, ornamented with precious stones; also with

the rose, shamrock, and thistle, all in gold; the cross is richly

jewelled, and contains a large diamond in the centre; the length of the

sceptre is two feet nine inches.

The Rod of Equity is three feet seven inches in length, and is made of

gold set with diamonds. The orb at the top is enriched with rose

diamonds, and on the cross which surmounts it stands the figure of a

dove with wings expanded. This is sometimes called the Sceptre with the

Dove. Another sceptre, called the Queen's Sceptre with the Cross, though

much smaller, is very beautiful in design, and thickly set with precious

stones. The Ivory Sceptre was made for Maria d'Este; and another

sceptre, found behind the wainscoting in the apartment in which the

regalia was formerly kept, is said to have been made for the queen of

William III. There are also two orbs well worthy of observation, as are

also the swords of Justice, ecclesiastical, and temporal, and the Sword

of Mercy, or Curtana, which is pointless. A few of these will be best

understood by a reference to the engravings, which shew the Ampulla for

the holy oil, formed like an eagle; the Armillæ, or coronation

bracelets, made of gold, and rimmed with pearls; the coronation spoon,

used for anointing the sovereigns, very ancient; and the golden

salt-cellar, shaped like a castle with turrets. There are several of

these state salt-cellars worthy of notice; also a baptismal font, and a

silver wine-fountain, beside many other valuable curiosities, which

would give our work too much the appearance of a catalogue were we to

describe them all.

On the south side of the White Tower stands the Horse Armoury, which was

erected about a quarter of a century ago. Many of the suits of armour

which these equestrian figures wear are very ancient; and a few are

highly interesting, through having been worn by kings and warriors who

stand proudly out in the annals of England. The first in supposed

antiquity is a Norman Crusader, said to be nearly as old as the time of

the Conqueror; and is formed of small iron rings, which make a kind of

net-work that must have given far more play to the body of the wearer

than the cumbrous mail worn on a later day. Similar armour was worn by

the Saxons before the reign of Alfred, as is shewn in a few of the

illuminated documents which have been preserved to the present day.

There is a kite-shaped shield, such as was used at this period, in the

Elizabethan Armoury, which

[Illustration: 1. Imperial Orb. 2. Ampulla. 3. Golden Salt-Cellar of

State. 4. Anointing Spoon. 5, 6, 7. State Salt-Cellars.]

ought to be removed and affixed to this figure of the Crusader. The next

in date that claims our attention, is the resemblance of a grim warrior,

armed from head to heel, after the fashion of the heroes who fought in

the days of Edward I. Here we have the long surcoat and rich emblazonry,

which is so often mentioned in the wars of Palestine: the prick-spears

are of a very primitive form, and worth examining, as is every portion

of the armour on this figure; for even what is modern is a strict

imitation of what was worn at this period. The next is a gorgeous

specimen of the time of Henry VI., both as regards the armour and the

trappings of the figured steed; the skirts and sleeves are splendid

specimens of chain-mail, and the fluted gauntlets, "beautiful

exceedingly." The breasts and back are made of flexible plates, that is,

loose, and put on in pieces; and the helmet, which is a salade, with a

vizor or pontlet, has a grand appearance, surmounted as it is with a

crest. All these it would require the skill of a Meyrick to describe

accurately; for he tells us of sollerets, and tuilettes, vambraces, and

rere-braces, camails, cuisses, and greaves, which are difficult to

explain, and still more difficult to comprehend, without the aid of

engravings. We then come to the reign of Edward IV., and here we find a

rich but very singular-looking suit of armour. The angular-shaped helmet

strikes the eye as being well adapted to throw off the point of a spear,

if struck on the volant piece, which stands out sharp and ridgy as the

point of a plough. The vambrace of the lance is very old, and shews how

the hand was protected; there is also an addition to the safety of the

wearer in the steel guard on the left side of the breast-plate, and also

on the elbow, compared to that worn in the preceding reign. Armour of

the time of Richard III. is placed on the next figure, very beautiful,

being ribbed or plated; and here we have rosettes on the shoulders,

which look like little wings or epaulets that have blown loose, and

stand erect. This suit was worn by the Marquis of Waterford, when

several gentlemen met to play at tournament at Eglintoun. Period of

Henry VII.: a warrior dismounted, the armour of German workmanship; the

figure remarkable for the change made in the helmet. Next to this

another suit of the same age, and the horse majestically armed,

especially about the head, neck, and upper parts of the chest. We now

come to a suit of what is called Damask armour, and this the great

wife-killer, Henry VIII., really wore--better for his fame if he had

been killed in it the first day he rode armed; but we have "said our

say" in a novel called _Lady Jane Grey_, and will pass on to mention

that there is another suit, said to have been presented to him by

Ferdinand, on his marriage with his daughter, Katherine of Arragon; of

this suit, Mr. Howitt, in his _Tower Armoury_, says, "The badges of this

king and queen, the rose and pomegranate, are engraved on various parts

of the armour. On the pins of the genouillères sheaf of arrows, the

device adopted by Ferdinand, the father of Katherine, on his conquest of

Granada; Henry's badges, the portcullis, the _fleur-de-lis_, and the red

dragon, also appear; and on the edge of the lamboys or skirts are the

initials of the royal pair, 'H. K.' united by a true-lover's knot." The

red dragon was the figure the ancient Britons bore on their standards in

their wars against the Saxons. It is frequently mentioned by the Welsh

bards who lived at that period, and also fought in these battles; but we

do not think they bore standards before the invasion of the Romans,

emblazoned with any devices. Passing by the armour of Edward VI., and

that said to have been used by Hastings Earl of Huntingdon, we come to a

suit that once covered the stately form of Dudley Earl of Leicester,

"the gipsy," as Essex called him, on account of those dark features that

Queen Elizabeth loved to look on. A suit, said to have been worn by his

once powerful rival, the Earl of Essex, is only divided from Dudley by

the armed figure that wears the mail assigned to Sir Henry Lea. Passing

by the figures of James I., Sir Maurice de Vere, and the Earl of

Arundel, we come to a beautiful suit of armour, made for Henry Prince of

Wales, who died young; it is gilt, and enriched with quaint designs of

ancient battles and stormy sieges, and other emblems of "grim-visaged

war." Then follow suits said to have been worn by the Duke of

Buckingham, James's favourite; Charles I., when Prince of Wales; and the

unfortunate Earl of Strafford, who was, like his royal master, beheaded.

The suit said to have belonged to James II., a curious head-piece,

believed to have been worn by Henry the Seventh's jester, and several

other curiosities, such as an ancient warder's horn, swords, &c., that

were formerly in the possession of Tippoo Saib, together with an old

suit of unpolished armour, are things which will be shewn, if the

stranger make himself agreeable to the warder.

Quitting this gallery, we enter Queen Elizabeth's Armoury by a

staircase, passing by two carved figures called "Gin and Beer," which

were brought from the old palace of Greenwich, probably at the time of

its destruction. We are again in the White Tower, and tread the very

rooms in which Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned, for no doubt he had

the privilege of stepping beyond what is called his sleeping-room. In

the recessed arch at the end of this groined and vaulted apartment,

stands the equestrian figure of Queen Elizabeth, in a similar costume to

what she wore when she rode to St. Paul's to return thanks for the

destruction of the Spanish Armada. It would but make a dry catalogue

were we to enumerate the whole of the miscellaneous articles in this

Armoury, which consist of shields, swords, bows, blocks, instruments of

torture, partisans, poles, match-locks, &c. &c., all hanging on the

walls, or standing upright, or huddled together like old iron in a

marine-store. There, however, is the axe with which Lady Jane Grey is

supposed to have been beheaded, nor can we in a more fitting place,

while the mind is filled with horror, which this "heading-axe" and block

(the latter comparatively new) call up, describe her execution, which we

copy from a work edited by J. G. Nichols, Esq., F.R.S., entitled the

_Chronicle of Queen Jane_, and another scarce pamphlet, called _The Ende

of Lady Jane Dudley_. The heroic spirit she displayed at her execution

was long the talk in the streets of old London, when Queen Mary ascended

her sanguinary throne.

"By this tyme was ther a scaffolde made apon the grene over agaynst the

White Tower, for the saide lady Jane to die apon. Who, with hir husband,

was appoynted to have ben put to deathe the fryday before, but was

staied tyll then, for what cause is not knowen, unlesse yt were because

hir father was not then come into the Tower. The saide ladye being

nothing at all abashed, (neither with feare of her owne deathe, which

then approached, neither with the sight of the ded carcase of hir

husbande, when he was brought in to the chappell,) came forthe, the

levetenaunt leding hir, in the same gown wherin she was arrayned, hir

countenance nothing abashed, neither hir eyes enything moysted with

teares, although her ij. gentylwomen, mistress Elizabeth Tylney and

mistress Eleyn, wonderfully wept, with her booke in hir hand, wheron she

praied all the way till she cam to the saide scaffolde, wheron when she

was mounted, &c."

From the last-named pamphlet the narrative is continued as follows:

"She sayd to the people standing thereabout: 'Good people, I am come

hether to die, and by a lawe I am condemned to the same. The facte,

indede, against the quenes highnesse was unlawful, and the consenting

thereunto by me; but touching the procurement and desyre therof by me or

on my halfe, I doo wash my handes thereof in innocencie, before God and

the face of you, good Christian people, this day,' and therewith she

wrong hir handes, in which she had hir booke. Then she sayd, 'I pray you

all, good Christian people, to bear me witness that I dye a true

Christian woman, and that I looke to be saved by none other meane but

only by the mercy of God in the merites of the blood of his only sonne

Jesus Christ: and I confesse, when I dyd know the word of God I

neglected the same, loved my selfe and the world, and therefore this

plague or punyshment is happely and worthely happened unto me for my

sins; and yet I thank God of his goodnesse that he hath thus geven me a

tyme and respet to repent. And now, good people, while I am alyve, I

pray you to assyst me with your prayers.' And then, knelyng downe, she

turned to Fecknam, saying, 'Shall I say this psalme?' And he said 'Yea.'

Then she said the psalme of _Miserere mei, Deus_, in English, in most

devout manner, to the end. Then she stode up, and gave her maiden,

mistress Tylney, her gloves and handkercher, and her booke to maister

Bruges, the levetenantes brother; forthwith she untyed her gown. The

hangman went to her to help her of therewith; then she desyred him to

let her alone, turning towardes her two gentylwomen, who helped her off

therwith, and also with her frose past and neckercher, geving to her a

fayre handkercher to knytte about her eyes. Then the hangman kneeled

downe and asked her forgevenesse, whome she forgave most willingly. Then

he willed her to stand upon the strawe; which doing, she sawe the

blocke. Then she sayd, 'I pray you dispatch me quickly.' Then she

kneeled down, saying, 'Wil you take it (her head) off before I lay me

downe?' and the hangman answered her, 'No, madame.' She tyed the kercher

about her eys; then feeling for the blocke, saide, 'What shall I do?

Where is it?' One of the standers-by guyding her therunto, she layde her

heade down upon the blocke, and stretched forth her body, and said,

'Lorde, into thy hands I commende my spirite!' And so she ended."