THE CURIOSITIES OF LONDON.
A MOST venerable relic--none more so in London--is the Domesday Book,
which I was allowed to inspect one day while sauntering through the
Chapter House of Westminster Abbey. This hoary volume is called the
"Domesday Book," or, "Register of the Lands of England," and was made
in the year 1086, almost in the morning of English history.
There are two volumes of the "Domesday Book," one being a folio and the
other a quarto. A fee of a shilling is charged strangers, to inspect
the musty old tomes, with their illuminated characters, which detail
the various "messuages," "folkmotes," "carucates," and "hydes," of
land, which were divided among Norman William's mail clad barons, by
right of conquest, nearly a thousand years ago.
These volumes are the oldest in England, although I have been informed
that there are, in the Bodleian Library, at Oxford, two books, in Greek
characters, which were saved from the destruction of the Alexandrian
Library in the Ninth Century.
[Sidenote: THE DREADNOUGHT.]
One of the Domesday volumes is a very large folio, the other is a
quarto. The quarto is written on 382 double pages of vellum, in one
and the same hand, in small but plain characters, each page having
double columns. Some of the capital letters and principal pages are
touched with black ink, and others are crossed with lines of red ink.
The second volume, in folio, is written in 450 pages of vellum, but in
single columns, occupying each page, and in a large, fair character.
At the end of the second volume is the following memorial, in capital
letters, of the time of its completion:
"Anno Millesimo Octogesimo Sexto ab Incarnatione Domini, vigesimo vero
regni Willielmi, facta est ista Descriptio, non solum per hos tres
Comitatus, sed etiam per alios."
These books, until the year 1696, or for over six hundred years, were
carried innumerable times from place to place, through England, under
strong guards, within the jurisdiction of the various Lord Chancellors,
and Courts, to settle disputes and verify local records and documents,
in regard to the transmission of real estate, for every acre of land
owned to-day in England is held by the original tenure, given in
Domesday Book.
Since 1696 the book has been kept with the King's Seal, at Westminster,
in the Exchequer, under three locks and keys in the charge of the
Auditor, the Chamberlain, and Deputy Chamberlains of the Exchequer.
It is kept in a vaulted porch never warmed by fire. For eight hundred
years it has never felt or seen a fire, and yet the pages are bright,
sound, and perfect as ever. In making searches, or transcripts from the
volume, the text must not be touched, and this has always been the rule
from forgotten days. All the cities, towns, and villages of England
are recorded in this book, with their value, location, and boundaries,
their castles, fortresses, marches, and the religious houses of the
Kingdom, as they stood twenty years after Duke William, of Normandy,
reined in his war horse from the slaughter of Hastings' dread field.
The Hospital Ship "Dreadnought," (soon to be broken up and sold,) which
lies moored off Greenwich, in the dirty Thames, is another of the
curious sights of London. An hospital for the sick and diseased seamen
of all nations arriving in the port of London, was established on board
of the "Grampus," a 50 gun frigate, in 1821, but the "Grampus" did not
prove large enough for the purpose, and the next vessel chosen was the
104 gun three-decker "Dreadnought," which was fitted up in 1831, as an
Hospital Ship. This old hulk has glorious memories for all Englishmen,
who, as they look at her rotting timbers, can imagine that they see her
coming out of the smoke of Trafalgar fight, after capturing the Spanish
three-decker, "San Juan," which had, two hours before, beaten off the
English frigates, "Bellerophon" and "Defiance."
[Illustration: HOSPITAL SHIP, DREADNOUGHT.]
The establishment on board of the "Dreadnought" consists of a
Superintendent, two Surgeons, an Apothecary, Visiting Physicians, and
a Chaplain. The ship is moored contiguous to the bulk of the shipping
in the docks, and in the river, and is the only place in London for the
reception of sick seamen arriving from abroad, or to whom accidents may
happen between the mouth of the river and London Bridge. Sick seamen of
every nation, on presenting themselves alongside, are immediately and
kindly received without any recommendatory letters, and ship-wrecked
sailors, and vagrant seamen, are admitted, if deserving. In 1869, 2,463
patients were received on board, and 1,836 seamen were attended to as
out patients.
[Sidenote: A GAUDY SHOW.]
The Emperor of Russia subscribes annually £150, the Queen of Spain
£100, the King of Italy £100, the Emperor of France £200, the Sultan
of Turkey £100, the King of Denmark £50, and the King of Prussia £100.
I heard nothing of a contribution from the American Government, but it
is probable that the American Consul may, in some way, provide for the
destitute seamen of his country.
The patients are ranged upon the lower decks, the portholes affording
a sort of ventilation, such as it is--the breeze coming in from the
putrid Thames' river, and in the cabin are all the implements of
surgery, so that a leg or arm can be whipped off at a moment's notice,
or an abscess, or ulcer, may be punctured equally quick.
Visitors can inspect the "Dreadnought" on any day of the week,
excepting Sunday--between the hours of eleven and three.
The number of seamen cared for in this floating hospital, for the past
thirty years, with their different places of nativity, is as follows:
Englishmen, 84,600; Scotchmen, 18,960; Irishmen, 17,325; Frenchmen,
3,911; Germans, 2,800; Russians, 2,230; Prussians, 1,840; Hollanders,
480; Danes, 1,600; Swedes, 2,117; Norwegians, 1,604; Italians, 1,208;
Portuguese, 706; Spaniards, 801; East Indians, 2,014; West Indians,
3,212; British Americans, 1,582; United States, 3,316; South Americans,
712; Africans, 1,200; Turks, 174; Greeks, 295; New Zealanders, 98;
Australians, 307; South Sea Islanders, 80; Chinese, 347; born at sea,
206.
Generally there are about two hundred patients in the floating Hospital
at a time, and it is kept pretty full, from the fact that a poor sailor
will perish afloat sooner than enter a land hospital, and seamen often
travel from the most distant parts of England, Ireland, and Scotland,
to be received in the Dreadnought.
One day, while standing on Cheapside looking at the busy thoroughfare,
which much resembles Broadway, New York, in its main features, I saw a
queerly-shaped, but magnificent vehicle dash by, embellished in gold
and silver, and hung with crimson velvet.
I asked a bystander what it was, and he answered with proper British
pride:
"Why, don't you know? That's the Queen's State Kerridge a-goin to the
Tower to be repaired."
I afterward saw this vehicle in all its glory and detail, and for the
benefit of Americans who may desire to get up a gorgeous equipage, I
will do my best to describe it.
The carriage is composed of four Sea Tritons, who support the body
by cables; the two placed on the front, as it were, bear the driver,
(a most magnificent flunkey in powder and velvet,) and are sounding
shells, and those on the back part carry the bundles of Lictors rods
which are seen on Roman monuments and medals. The foot board on which
the driver rests his noble feet, is a large scallop shell, supported
by marine plants of different kinds. The pole resembles a bundle of
lances, and the wheels are made in imitation of the war chariots which
once rolled around classic arenas in the Games. The body of the coach
is composed of eight palm trees, which, branching out at the top,
sustain the roof, and at each angle are trophies of English battles by
land and sea.
On the top of the roof are three little figures of fairies representing
England, Ireland, and Scotland, supporting a golden crown, and holding
the sceptre, the sword of state, and insignia of knighthood, and from
their bodies fall festoons of laurel to the four corners of the roof.
On the right and left doors, and on the back and front pannels, are
painted allegorical designs in splendid style, representing Britannia
on a Throne, Religion, Wisdom, Justice, Valor, Fortitude, Commerce,
Plenty, Victory, and all the other virtues and acquisitions which all
Englishmen flatter themselves can only be found in "Britain ye knaw."
[Sidenote: THE QUEEN'S STATE COACH.]
Inside the State Coach it is simply magnificent. The body is lined with
scarlet embossed velvet, superbly laced and embroidered with the Star,
enameled by the Collar of the Order of the Garter, and surmounted by
the crown with the George and Dragon pendant. St. George, St. Michael,
and even St. Patrick, get a show here, although the latter has very
little show from the Queen in his own country.
The hammer cloth is of scarlet velvet, with gold badges, ropes, and
tassels. The length of the carriage and body is 24 feet, width 8
feet 3 inches, height 12 feet, length of pole 12 feet, weight four
tons. So that the Queen, when she desires a state airing, is carted
around for the amusement of her subjects, in a four-ton vehicle. The
painting of the panels cost £800, or about $4,000 greenbacks. The
eight horses which are employed to draw this magnificent carriage on
state occasions, are valued at £2,000, and the expense for grooms,
drivers, coachmen, and boys, of this equipage, which is not used more
than once in five years, (and when not used being chiefly of service
in showing off the manly proportions of John Brown,) is for every year
over $25,000, or as much as the salary of the President of the United
States. The Queen's coach is one hundred and eight years old, and is
kept in the Royal Mews or Stables at Pimlico.
The bill which a loyal people had to pay when it was sent in for this
coach, was as follows:
Coachmaker (including Wheelwright and Smith), £1637 15 0
Carver, 2500 0 0
Gilder, 935 14 0
Painter, 315 0 0
Laceman, 737 10 7
Chaser, 665 4 6
Harnessmaker, 385 15 0
Mercer, 202 5 10-1/2
Beltmaker, 99 6 6
Milliner, 31 3 4
Saddler, 10 16 6
Woollendraper, 4 3 6
Covermaker, 3 9 6
----------
£7528 4 3-1/2
There was an awful row about the size of the bill, which was at first
£8,000, but after a great argument it was cut down to the amount paid,
£7,528 4 3-1/2. The maker refused to take off the three-half pence,
and declared that he had been "skinned and robbed," but I imagine it
was the poor miserable wretches who died of starvation and cold and
exposure in the London streets that had the best right to complain.
The Lord Mayor's State Coach, which was built in 1757, is almost as
magnificent as the Queen's, and is designed in fully as good or bad
taste, I do not know which to call it.
To show how the people of England tolerate the most outrageous humbugs
on the face of the earth, I will give some of the items in regard to
the cost of the Lord Mayor's coach. When the coach was built, one
hundred and thirteen years ago, each alderman in the city subscribed
£60 towards its construction; then each alderman who was afterward
sworn into office, was forced to contribute £60 on taking the oath.
And each Lord Mayor also gave £100 on entering his office, to keep the
coach in order. In 1768 the entire expense of keeping the coach fell
on the Lord Mayor, who had to pay £300 during that year, and twenty
years after its construction, the coach cost in 1787, £355 to keep it
in order for that twelve months. During seven years of this present
century, the cost for repairs was per annum--£115, and in 1812 it was
newly lined and gilt for the benefit of the gaping London crowds, at
an expense of £600, and a new seat cloth was furnished for £90; and
again in 1821, this costly vehicle devoured the bread which ought to
have been eaten by the starving poor, to the tune of £206 for another
relining. In 1812 a carriage-making firm agreed to keep the coach in
order for ten years at an expense to the city of £48 a year, which
offer was accepted. The real amount of money swallowed up in this old
lumbering vehicle is incalculable. Six horses are required to draw
it, valued at £200 a piece, and the coach weighs 7,600 pounds. A Lord
Mayor, when well fed and taken care of, weighs, I believe, about 312
pounds. The harnesses for each of the six horses weighs 106 pounds, or
636 pounds in all.
The State Coach belonging to the Speaker of the House of Commons, was
built for Oliver Cromwell, and is drawn by two horses.
[Sidenote: JONATHAN WILD'S SKELETON.]
The two sheriffs of London have also State Coaches, burnished and
blazoned with gold, and hung with silks and velvets, and although they
only receive £1,000 for their year's services, the expense of state
coaches, horses, liveries, and drivers, never falls below 2,500 guineas
for their term. They are not allowed to serve if they swear themselves
to be worth over £15,000, or $75,000.
The ceremony of installing a London sheriff I am afraid would make a
New York Sheriff howl, and much profanity would result were the ancient
ceremonies to become necessary at the City Hall of New York. I give the
curious form of installation of a Sheriff of London.
[Illustration: JONATHAN WILD'S SKELETON.]
The sheriffs are chosen by the Livery Companies or Trade Associations
of London, on the morning of the Feast of St. Michael, and are
presented in the Court of Exchequer, accompanied by the Lord Mayor
and all the Aldermen, when the Recorder of London introduces the
two sheriffs, one for London proper, and the other for Middlesex
County, and the Chief Judge in his red robes, signifies the Queen's
assent, handing the sheriff's "roll"--a sheet of paper which has had
the names of the sheriffs pricked in by the Queen's own hand, the
writs and appliances are read and filed, and the sheriffs and senior
under-sheriffs take the oaths; when the late sheriffs present their
accounts. The crier of the court then makes proclamation for one who
does homage for the sheriffs of London to "stand forth and do his
duty;" when the senior alderman below the chair rises, the usher of the
court hands him a bill-hook, and holds in both hands a small bundle of
sticks, which the alderman cuts asunder, and then cuts another bundle
with a hatchet. Similar proclamation is then made for the sheriff of
Middlesex, when the alderman counts six horse-shoes lying upon the
table, and sixty-one hob-nails handed in a tray; and the numbers are
declared twice.
The sticks are thin peeled twigs tied in a bundle at each end with red
tape; the horse-shoes are of large size, and very old; the hob-nails
are supplied fresh every year. By the first ceremony the alderman does
suit and service for the tenants of a manor in Shropshire, the chopping
of sticks betokening the custom of the tenants supplying their lord
with fuel. The counting of the horse-shoes and nails is another suit
and service of the owners of a forge in St. Clement Danes, Strand,
which formerly belonged to the city, but no longer exists. Sheriff
Hoare, in his MS. journal of his shrievalty, 1740-41, says, "where
the tenements and lands are situated no one knows, nor doth the city
receive any rents or profits thereby."
In the Town Hall or Guildhall of London, some very strange relics are
preserved, but none can be more strange than the yellow faded parchment
shown me on which was written the humble petition of that notorious
rascal and thief-taker, Jonathan Wild, who had first trained Jack
Sheppard to thievery, after which he entrapped and hung him. Well, this
very virtuous old gentleman had the audacity to send a petition to the
Court of Aldermen in the year 1724, praying for the freedom of the City
in view of the benefit he had conferred on it by the apprehension of so
many thieves who had returned from transportation.
One day while paying a visit to a celebrated surgeon, whose residence
is at Windsor, I was invited to look into his closets, in which were
stored a number of curiosities. Suddenly a door in a recess of the
chamber flew open, and out popped a skeleton on wires, with a ghastly,
grinning jaw, and its ribs all open like the timbers of a wrecked ship.
"That's the skeleton of Jonathan Wild," said the surgeon, "It has been
in our family for a hundred years, I believe."