_Published October 30, 1841, at the Tower._
The indefatigable Mr. Swallow has obligingly forwarded to us the
following list of valuable relics, which were rescued from the
"devouring element," during the late conflagration at the Tower:—
Half of the lid of a pot, inscribed—"_Fox's_ Circassian Cream," and
supposed to have belonged to _Renard_, the Spanish Ambassador at the
Court of Queen Mary.
The handle of the warming-pan which was used for the bed of the young
princes the night previous to their being smothered.
The bowl of the identical pipe with which the executioner of Guy Fawkes
composed himself, after he had accomplished his unpleasant duty.
A portion of a bottle, which contained the liquid used to polish the
Bluchers of Edward the Black Prince; part of the label, with the letters
WAR——still in high preservation, and clearly indicating the determined
resolution of that undaunted hero.
A tile, with the initials "W.R.," and which, it is judged from the
caligraphy, belonged to the time of William _Roof_-us.
A massive trowel, the state of its edge proving that there must have
been a "_strike_" of Masons in former days.
A spice-box, supposed to have contained the _mace_ of the ancient Lord
Mayors of London.
A fragment of a Cigar, very probably a portion of the _Regalia_.
A five-shilling piece, in an imperfect state; doubtless the _crown_ that
Richard the Second resigned to Henry of Lancaster.
A constable's truncheon, with a certificate of its having formed the
Duke of Wellington's _staff_ at Waterloo.
The feet of the gridiron that cooked the last _chop_, but one, for the
ill-fated Duke of Buckingham.
A _pitch_-er, used by the _tars_ to drink grog out of, after the
dispersion of the Spanish Armada.
[Illustration:
Going!—Gone!!
]
GOING! GONE!
THE AUCTION-HERE.
Glasses, tables, pictures, chairs, Dutch ovens, and beds;—and knots of
men upon the stairs, with knots upon their heads;—and the dining-room
table put in the front drawing-room, and covered by the back parlour
carpet,—supporting the auctioneer, and the clerk, and catalogues, and
desk, altogether enough to warp it.—And each hale porter stout is
"drawing lots" about, which, if brittle, you may think fortunate, if
from the room they are thrust whole,—from the specimen post of the best
front bed, and the _book_ muslin covers, that once were _red_, to the
cinder-sieve and knife-board, in the dust-hole.—"Any advance upon seven—
eight, nine, ten, eleven—going!—thank you, sir—twelve, thirteen. Tap!
gone for thirteen—the cheapest bargain ever seen; they are yours, sir;
if you pay, they may go at once away. Six iron hoops, a water-butt, a
bottle-rack, and broom."—"Oh, Mr. Auctioneer, there's some mistake, I
fear, for not a word I said."—"But, sir, you nodded your head."—"Oh,
yes, to a friend in the room!"—And when the sale of the silver things is
going to begin, the room's so hot, and the crowd so dense, from the
people scrowdging in;—and the struggle for the loss is so great 'mongst
those who compete, that you'd say there was a race for the plate in a
general heat.—And there's a great Jew upholder, that I'm forced to
uphold on my shoulder—leaning upon my chair, with long, black, greasy
hair, that would make Sir Peter Laurie swear, and a coat as rough as a
bear; it's rather too bad to let him in amongst respectable people, in
his _bear_-skin; and I don't know what he can mean, but I suppose it's
his fat that makes him _lean_.—"Ladies and gentlemen, I must beg
silence,—for the babel of your tongues may be heard a mile hence.—I
first offer to your notice an article of _vertu_, as old as the world
itself, both curious and rare too, that was dug up beneath some ruins in
the Sicilies,—and is from the undoubted chisel of Praxiteles—
representing a Venus, without legs, arms, or head; _au reste_,—the
_trunk_ is very beautiful, so is the _chest_."—"Mr. Auctioneer, your
classic knowledge is rather queer; and I don't wish to hurt you, but I
cannot understand Venus being an article of _virtue_; and if this
mutilated image is Venus coming from the sea, as you say, I should
rather incline to think that the sharks had been following in her lee
all the way."—"We have here a fine painting by Vandyke,—a correct
portrait of anybody you like—and a bust of the celebrated ballad-singer,
Homer,—who, throughout the towns of Greece, was a roamer,—where 'tis
known, by even the most illiterate dunce, that he'd the luck to be born
in seven different cities at once;—but all his endeavours to raise a
penny from each of these places seemed to fail,—for he never got
out-door relief from any, although it seems to have been a Union on a
most extensive scale.—I'll thank you to give me a good bidding, if you
please—for you rarely see such authentic originals as these—which I have
offered to the gaze of the beholders.—The bust upon which you have all
bent your eyes was buried in Pompeian lava for centuries,—where it, all
that time, had lain."—"Then, perhaps, sir, you can explain the meaning
of the motto 'Austin and Seeley,' on the shoulders."—And in the midst of
this general din the rafters of the floor all tumble in,—and down to the
parlour the company and auctioneer go,—which rather cumflusticates those
who are sitting below; and so,—amidst the general confusion and rout,—we
ourselves will contrive to scramble out—from the room in which we were
crammed;—and, on gaining the fresh air, we are almost tempted to swear,
if we go there again we'll be—shot!