Foundation of Royal Exchange laid—Medal connected therewith—Father Mathew’s miracle—Christening of the Prince of Wales—King Edward VII.—Hard work of the King of Prussia—The Earthquake in London—The Queen drinking “grog”—Photography-Talbotype—Sale at Strawberry Hill—Presents to the King of Prussia.

The first event of note in this year was the laying, by Prince Albert, of the foundation stone of the Royal Exchange, on 17 Jan., with all the pomp at the command of the City authorities. The usual coins, etc., were deposited in a cavity, together with a Latin inscription, engraved on zinc, of which the following is a translation: “Sir Thomas Gresham, Knight, erected, at his own charge, a building and colonnade for the convenience of those persons who, in this renowned Mart, might carry on the commerce of the World, adding thereto, for the relief of indigence, and for the advancement of literature and science, an Almshouse and College of Lecturers, the City of London aiding him, Queen Elizabeth favouring the design; and, when the work was complete, opening it in person with a solemn procession. Having been reduced to ashes with almost the entire city, by a calamitous and wide spreading conflagration, they were rebuilt in a more splendid form by the City of London and the Ancient Company of Mercers, King Charles II. commencing the building on 23 Oct., A.D. 1667; and, when they had been again destroyed by fire, on the 10th Jan., AD. 1838, the same Bodies, undertaking the work, determined to restore them at their own cost, on an enlarged and more ornamental plan; the munificence of Parliament providing the means of extending the site, and of widening the approaches and crooked streets, in every direction; in order that there might, at length, arise, under the auspices of Queen Victoria, built a third time from the ground, an Exchange, worthy of this great Nation and City, and suited to the vastness of a Commerce extending to the circumference of the habitable Globe. His Royal Highness of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, Consort of Her Sacred Majesty, laid the first stone on 17 Jan., 1842, in the Mayoralty of the Rt. Hon. John Pirie. Architect, William Tite, F.R.S. May God, our Preserver, ward off destruction from this building, and from the whole City.”

After the manner of the City of London, a medal was struck to commemorate the event, having on the obverse a profile portrait of Prince Albert, with the legend “Albertus ubique honoratus,” the reverse having a view of the western portico of the Exchange. On 13 Jan. Mr. Roach Smith exhibited at the Society of Antiquaries a medalet, found on the site of the Exchange, evidently struck to commemorate Queen Elizabeth’s patronage of the original building, as it bore the Tudor Arms surrounded with the inscription “Anglioe Regina ubique honorata.”

Father Mathew was still doing his grand work in Ireland, but there is a story told about him in the Limerick Chronicle, copied into the Times of 17 Jan., that is too good to be omitted: “The Rev. Mr. Mathew arrived in this city, last evening, by the Cork mail, en route to Loughrea, and put up at Moore’s hotel. Immediately after his arrival became known, hundreds of persons visited him at the hotel, where he administered the pledge. One circumstance which came within public observation, we may mention here, as illustrative of the effects of breaking the temperance pledge:—A man, named Moynehan, a teetotaller, who worked at the Butter Weigh-house, got drunk on Christmas Eve, and the next day, became paralysed, his left arm, side and thigh being perfectly inanimate. He was removed to Barrington’s Hospital, and remained there under the care of the surgeons, without improvement, until last evening, when his friends, having heard of Father Mathew’s arrival in town, went to the hospital, and brought him out of his bed, on a man’s back, to where the Rev. Mr. Mathew was staying; a crowd had collected round the door, when the unhappy invalid was carried into his presence, and the reverend gentleman administered to him the pledge again, in a kind and impressive manner, and the man instantly stood up, was assisted by his friends to dress; and, to the astonishment of all, walked up William Street to his home, followed by a crowd of people.”

On 25 Jan., the Prince of Wales was christened in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, by the name of Albert Edward, and on 20 Jan. appeared a letter in the Times from “A Conservative”:

“Sir.—We learn from the Times of to-day, that the Prince will be called Albert Edward.

“It is natural, indeed, that the illustrious father, and still more, that the illustrious mother, should prefer Albert Edward to Edward Albert.

“But as I pray God that the boy may live to be King, to whatever period his mother’s life may be graciously extended, so I trust that he may have every qualification for popularity as well as goodness, and, amongst others, an old, and beloved, and accustomed English name.

“And what so fit as Edward? Who more beloved, or glorious, than Edward the Confessor—Edward I.—Edward III.—Edward VI.? A Catholic Saint—a law-giver—a conqueror—a Protestant Reformer?

“The Princess Alexandrina Victoria was known by her second name before she ascended the throne. So, I trust, may the young Prince be known as Edward, Prince of Wales, to the people, hereafter, Edward VII.”

We all know how this gentleman’s aspirations have been verified.

The King of Prussia was one of the Sponsors, and spent a few days after the christening in England. Poor man! how they did make him work!

On the 26th he had to be at the presentation of new colours to the 72nd Highlanders, and, in the afternoon, he visited Eton College.

27th.—Came to London by railway, and held a Court at Buckingham Palace, where he received the Corps Diplomatique and the Corporation of the City of London. On his return to Windsor, he visited Hampton Court.

28th.—Again came to London, visited the Zoological Gardens, lunched with Sir Robert Peel, and, afterwards, went to the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, and the National Gallery—dining at Windsor.

29th.—Saw a review in the Home Park, then went to London, and dined with his Minister, Chevalier Bunsen, in Carlton Terrace.

The 30th was Sunday, so the poor man was trotted off to St. Paul’s Cathedral to hear the Bishop of London preach. Lunched at the Mansion House, visited the King of Hanover’s apartments in St. James’s Palace, and Stafford House; attended afternoon service at the Royal German Chapel, St. James’s; visited the Duchess of Gloucester, in Piccadilly, and returned to Windsor.

After this rest on the 30th, he visited Newgate Prison, when he was received by the Lady Mayoress, Mrs. Fry, the Quaker philanthropist, the Sheriffs, etc., and thence proceeded to lunch with Mrs. Fry, at Upton, near Barking; at six he went to Drury Lane Theatre, and saw The Two Gentlemen of Verona; dined with the Duke of Sutherland at Stafford House, and slept at Buckingham Palace.

Next day, 1 Feb., at 10 a.m., he visited the Royal Society, Society of Antiquaries and the Geological Society. Thence he went to the British Museum, taking Mr. Solly’s collection of pictures en route; and after spending three hours at the Museum, he lunched with the Duke of Sussex at Kensington Palace. In the evening, he underwent a dinner and concert given by the Duke of Wellington at Apsley House.

Early in the morning of the 2nd, he sat to Mr. Hayter for his portrait in a picture of the Christening. At 8.30 he embarked at Hungerford Wharf, on a steamer, bound for the Thames Tunnel; after visiting which, he went to the Tower of London. At 12 he returned to Buckingham Palace, where he received addresses from the Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese of London; the members of King’s College, London; the Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews; the Prussian subjects resident in London; and the German Lutheran clergy. He also received deputations from the Bible Society, the Church Missionary Society, the Imperial Continental Gas Company; and gave audience to the Prince of Capua, etc.; visited the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth; dined with the Duke of Cambridge; saw the Merry Wives of Windsor played at Covent Garden, and afterwards attended an evening, party at Cambridge House.

On the 3rd he was present at the Queen’s Opening of Parliament, then received a deputation from the general body of Protestant Dissenters; and visited the Queen Dowager, Earl of Jersey, the Dowager Duchess of Richmond, the Duke of Cambridge and the Duke of Wellington; winding up with dining with the Queen.

On the 4th they let him go—he paid a visit to the Queen at 9.30, went to Woolwich and saw a review of Royal Artillery, lunched there, visited Plumstead Marshes and the Arsenal, took leave of Prince Albert, and everyone else, and went off to Ostend.

About this time was a curious craze, which took strange hold on the people, that London was to be destroyed on the 16th of March, a belief which seems to have been founded on two metrical prophecies, dated respectively A.D. 1203 and 1598, said to be in the British Museum, where, however, I have failed to find them; the former is:

“In eighteen hundred and forty-two
Four things the sun shall view;
London’s rich and famous town
Hungry earth shall swallow down;
Storm and rain in France shall be,
Till every river runs a sea;
Spain shall be rent in twain,
And famine waste the land again;
So say I, the Monk of Dree,
In the twelve hundredth year and three.”

The other is fathered on the famous astrologer, Dr. Dee:

“The Lord have mercy on you all,
Prepare yourselves for dreadful fall
Of house and land and human soul—
The measure of your sin is full.

“In the year One, Eight, and Forty-two,
Of the year that is so new,
In the third month, of that sixteen,
It may be a day or two between.

“Perhaps you’ll soon be stiff and cold,
Dear Christian, be not stout and bold;
The mighty Kingly proud will see
This comes to pass, as my name’s Dee.”

And people were found to believe in this doggerel—especially frightened were the Irish in London, and the lower classes generally. There was a great exodus of the former, some even listening to the entreaties of their friends, and returning to Ireland, and many of the latter moved eastward of the church of St. Dunstan’s, Stepney, which they considered would be the last edifice to fall. Nor was belief in the earthquake confined to the east end of London, for I read of a man, formerly a police constable, living in Paddington, St. Marylebone, who sold a good business to provide the means of his leaving London; and of a clerk, with a salary of £200 a year, residing in the same parish, resigning his post, so that he might escape the calamity.

The fateful day arrived and passed, and, of course, the dreaded event did not take place, but the belief in it is evidenced in a paragraph in the Times of 17 March:

“The Earthquake.—The scene witnessed in the neighbourhoods of St. Giles’s and Seven Dials during the whole of yesterday was, perhaps, the most singular that has presented itself for many years. Many of the Irish resident in those localities have left for the shores of the Emerald Isle, but by far the larger number, unblessed with this world’s goods, have been compelled to remain where they are, and to anticipate the fearful event which was to engulf them in the bowels of the earth. The frantic cries, the incessant appeals to Heaven for deliverance, the invocations to the Virgin and the Saints for mediation, the heartrending supplications for assistance, heard on every side during the day, sufficiently evidenced the power with which this popular delusion had seized the mind of these superstitious people. Towards the end of the day, a large number of them determined not to remain in London during the night, and, with what few things they possessed, took their departure for what they considered more favoured spots. Some violent contests arose between the believers and the sceptics—contests, which in not a few cases, were productive of serious results.

“The poor Irish, however, are not the only persons who have been credulous in this matter; many persons from whom better things might have been expected, were amongst the number who left London to avoid the threatened catastrophe. To the Gravesend steamboat companies the ‘earthquake’ proved a source of immense gain; and the same may be said with regard to the different railways. Long before the hour appointed for the starting of steamboats from London Bridge Wharf, Hungerford Market, and other places, the shore was thronged by crowds of decently attired people of both sexes; and, in many instances, whole families were to be seen with an amount of eatables and drinkables which would have led one to suppose that they were going a six-weeks’ voyage. About 11 o’clock, the Planet came alongside the London Bridge Wharf, and the rush to get on board of her was tremendous, and, in a few minutes, there was scarcely standing room on board. The trains on the various railways were, during the whole of Tuesday and yesterday morning, unusually busy in conveying passengers without the proscribed limits of the Metropolitan disaster. To those who had not the means of taking trips to Gravesend, or by railway, other places which were supposed to be exempted from the influence of the ‘rude commotion’ about to take place, were resorted to. From an early hour in the morning, the humbler classes from the east end of the Metropolis sought refuge in the fields beyond the purlieus of Stepney. On the north, Hampstead and Highgate were favoured with a visit from large bodies of the respectable inhabitants of St. Giles’s; and Primrose Hill, also, was selected as a famous spot for viewing the demolition of the leviathan city. The darkness of the day, and the thickness of the atmosphere, however, prevented it being seen.”

Brighton, too, felt the advantage of the “earthquake,” as numbers of families of the middle and upper classes went there to avoid its consequences. It was noted that on the night of the 15th nearly 20 carriages arrived there, a circumstance that had not occurred since the opening of the London and Brighton Railway.

To “talk scandal about Queen Elizabeth” is a matter serious enough, but to say that Queen Victoria drank grog on board one of her own ships is rank treason, and must be explained, as it was by the John Bull. “The true version of Her Majesty’s tasting the grog on board of The Queen, during her late visit to Portsmouth, is as follows: Strict orders had been given to the men, that when Her Majesty came down to the lower deck, to see them at mess, they should not speak a word, but preserve as profound a silence as possible. Jack, of course, was too much taken up with watching the Royal visitor, to think of talking, save, perhaps, the desire of whispering to his messmate a comment or so on the meteor passing before him. All was still. Her Majesty tasted the cocoa, and approved of it—yet all was still. Her Majesty then inquired whether there was no stronger beverage allowed the men, and forthwith a tumbler of ‘three-water grog’ was handed her. She raised it to her lips—when Jack forgot his orders, and three distinct cheers ran round the deck, with such ‘a will,’ that the ship’s sides seemed to start with the sudden explosion; the honour done was more than a sailor could bear without clearing his heart with an huzzah.”

It was on 8 Feb., 1841, that Fox Talbot provisionally registered his patent “for improvements in obtaining pictures, or representations of objects,” which is now in vogue, his improvement being the printing of the photo on paper. He, himself, made no public practical use of his invention, and one of the first, if not the first photographer who adopted it was Mr. Beard, of Parliament and King William Streets. It was quite a new thing when Prince Albert went to his studio on 21 Mar., 1842, and sat for his portrait. This made the process fashionable, and henceforth photography was a practical success.

There is nothing much to gossip about, until the Strawberry Hill sale. It was all very well for the Earl of Bath to eulogise the place,

“Some cry up Gunnersbury,
For Sion some declare,
And some say that with Chiswick House
No villa can compare;
But, ask the beaux of Middlesex,
Who know the country well,
If Strawberry Hill, if Strawberry Hill
Don’t bear away the bell.”

but I fancy no one can endorse the opinion, or see anything to admire in this heterogeneous pile of Carpenter’s and Churchwarden’s Gothic. If it had applied to the contents that would have been another thing; for, although there was, as is the case in most large collections, an amount of rubbish, it was counterbalanced by the undoubted rarity of the greater portion, which are thus set forth by the perfervid auctioneer, George Robins, who, speaking of himself in the third person, says:

“When there pass before him, in review, the splendid gallery of paintings, teeming with the finest works of the greatest masters—matchless Enamels, of immortal bloom, by Petitot, Boit, Bordier, and Zincke; Chasings, the work of Cellini and Jean de Bologna; noble specimens of Faenza Ware, from the pencils of Robbia and Bernard Palizzi; Glass, of the rarest hues and tints, executed by Jean Cousin and other masters of the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries; Limoges enamels of the period of the Renaissance, by Leonard and Courtoise; Roman and Greek antiquities in bronze and sculpture; Oriental and European china, of the choicest forms and colours; exquisite and matchless Missals, painted by Raphael and Julio Clovo; magnificent specimens of Cinque-Cento Armour; Miniatures, illustrative of the most interesting periods of history; a valuable collection of Drawings and Manuscripts; Engravings in countless numbers, and of infinite value; a costly Library, extending to fifteen thousand volumes, abounding in splendid editions of the Classics, illustrated, scarce and unique works, with ten thousand other relics of the arts and history of bygone ages, he may well feel overpowered at the evident impossibility of rendering to each that lengthened notice which their merits and their value demand.”

The first private view took place on 28 March, and the sale lasted 24 days, commencing on 25 April and ending 21 May. No one can hazard a guess as to what such a collection would fetch now, the sum then obtained, £33,450 11s. 9d., being utterly inadequate according to modern ideas. The sale took place in a temporary shed, erected in the grounds, and on the first day of the sale, which was confined to books, there were not 200 persons present, and among them, not more than a dozen bidders.

By way of recognition to the King of Prussia for his being sponsor of the Prince of Wales, the Queen sent him some presents, which, if the Wurtzburg Gazette is to be credited, were of somewhat mixed description. 1.—A cradle with the figure of nurse holding an infant, representing the Prince of Wales, in her arms, all of pure gold. 2.—A pistol, which, when the trigger is pulled, opens and exhibits a completely furnished dressing-case. 3.—A gold mosaic snuff-box, upon which are seen allegorical souvenirs relating to the baptism of the Prince of Wales. 4.—Four boxes containing snuff. 5.—A dozen knives and forks of gold, except the blades of the knives, which are of Damascus steel, and the handles ornamented with a crown set in brilliants. 6.—A stone vase, containing the rarest Indian fruits. 7.—Two extraordinarily large legs of mutton.