“Such characters,” observed Tallyho, “notwithstanding their eccentricity, afford useful lessons to those who, in this giddy and dissipated age, devote a part of their time to thinking.”
“No doubt of it,” replied Dashall; “they furnish examples of what may be done by perseverance and determination, and almost seem to verify the assertion, that every one may become rich if he pleases. But come, we must move towards Tom's Coffee House, in our way to which we will pass through the Royal Exchange, which lies directly before us. It was originally a brick building, erected by Sir Thomas Gresham in the year 1567, but being destroyed by the fire of London in 1666, the present building of Portland stone was raised in its place, the first stone of which was laid by Charles II. in 1667; in consequence of which his statue has been placed in the centre of its quadrangle, around which the Merchants assemble daily to transact their commercial business.{1}
1 The merry Monarch was fond of the Citizens, and frequently honoured the Lord Mayor's table with his presence. It is said of him, that, on retiring to his carriage one day after dining with the civic Sovereign, he was followed by the latter, who, with a freedom inspired by the roseate Deity, laid hold of His Majesty by the arm, and insisted that he should not go until he had drunk t'other bottle. The Monarch turned round, and good-humouredly repeating a line from an old song—“The man that is drunk is as great as a king,” went back to the company, and doubtless complied with the Lord Mayor's request.
“It has two principal fronts, one in Cornhill, and the other, which you now see, is at the end of Threadneedle Street; each of which has a piazza, affording a convenient shelter from the sun and rain. It is open as a thoroughfare from eight in the morning till six in the evening; but the hours in which business is chiefly transacted, are from two to five. Its extent is 203 feet by 171.”
By this time they had passed the gate, and Bob found himself in a handsome area with a fine piazza carried entirely round, and furnished with seats along the four walks, for Merchants of different nations, who meet, each at their different stations, and was immediately attracted by the appearance of the numerous specimens of art with which it was adorned.
“Do you observe,” said his Cousin, “within these piazzas are twenty-eight niches; all vacant but that in which is placed a statue of Sir Thomas Gresham, in the north-west angle; and that in the south-west, which presents a statue of Sir John Barnard, Magistrate of the City, and one of its Representatives in Parliament. Those smaller statues in the niches of the wall of the Quadrangle, in the upper story, are the Kings and Queens of England, beginning with Edward I. on the North side, and ending with his late Majesty on the East. As far as Charles I. they were executed by Gabriel Cibber. The various frames which are placed around under the piazza, contain the names, residences and occupations of Tradesmen, Mechanics and others. The grand front in Cornhill has been under repair lately, and in its appearance, no doubt, is greatly improved. The steeple which is just raised, is a handsome dome, surmounted by the original grasshopper, rendered somewhat celebrated by a prophecy, that certain alterations would take place in men, manners, and times, when the grasshopper on the top of the Exchange should meet the dragon at the top of Bow Church; and strange and extraordinary as it may appear, this very circumstance is said to have taken place, as they have both been seen in the warehouse of some manufacturer, to whom they were consigned for repair; in addition to which, if Crockery's{1} relation of the transmogrifications of England is to be believed, the prophecy is in a considerable degree a whimsical and laughable Burletta, in one act, has recently been produced at the Royal Coburg Theatre, in which Mr. Sloman sings, with admirable comicality, the following Song, alluded to by the Hon. Tom Dashall, to the tune of O, The Roast Beef of Old England.
“From Hingy I came with my Master, O dear, But Lunnun is not like the same place, that's clear; It has nigh broke my heart since I have been here! O, the old times of Old England, O dear, the good English old times. The town is so changed, that I don't know a spot; The times are so hard, there's no vork to be got; And for porter they charges you tip-pence a pot! O, the old times, &c. Then the sides of the houses are stuck full of bills About Blacking, Mock-Auctions, and vonderful Fills; But for von vot they cures, a hundred they kills! O, the old times, &c. There's the names are all halter'd verewer I goes, And the people all laughs at the cut of my close; The men are turn'd vomen, the belles are turn'd beaux! O, the old times, &c. Ven I vent out to Hingy, if any von died, A good vooden coffin they used to prowide, But hiron vons now keeps the poor vorms houtside! O, the old times, &c. There's the Lancaster schools now all over the land, Vot teaches the children to scribble on sand— And a hugly Bonassus vot lives in the Strand! O, the new times, &c. There's a new Life-preserver, vith vich you cant drown; And a new kind of Sov'reigns just com'd into town, Von is vorth a pound note, and the other a crown! O, the new times, &c. The Play-bills have hard vords, vot I cannot speak; And the horgans plays nothing but Latin and Greek; And it's rain'd every day now for more than a veek! O, the new times, &c. There's a man valks on vater and don't vet his feet; And a patent steam-kitchen, vot cooks all your meat; And Epp's ham and beef shop in every street! O, the new times, &c. I valks up and down vith the tears in my hye; Vot they vonce call'd a vaggon is now call'd a fly; And the boys points their fingers, and calls I—a"Guy! O, the old times of Old England, O dear, the good English old times.”
There is a stair-case in each front, and one on each side, which lead to a gallery above, running round the whole building, containing the offices of various establishments; but I believe, in the original plan, shops were intended to fill the building to the top. At present, the upper rooms are occupied by Lloyd's celebrated Subscription Coffee-house, for the use of Under-writers and Merchants—by the Royal Exchange Insurance Company, and various offices of individuals. There are also the Gresham Lecture—Rooms, where lectures are read pursuant to the will of the late Sir Thomas Gresham, who bequeathed to the City of London and the Mercers' Company, all the profits arising from these and other premises in Cornhill, in trust to pay salaries to four lecturers in divinity, astronomy, music, and geometry; and three readers in civil law, physic, and rhetoric, who read lectures daily in term time.
“This we may consider the grand mart of the universe! where congregate those sons of Commerce the British Merchants, who, in dauntless extent of enterprise, hold such distinguished pre-eminence!”
Tallyho viewed the scene before him with an inquisitive eye, and was evidently wrapped in surprise at the “busy hum of men,” all actuated by one universal object, the acquisition of wealth. The spacious area exhibited a mass of mercantile speculators, numerously grouped, in conversation; under the piazzas appeared a moving multitude in like manner engaged, while the surrounding seats were in similar occupation; Dashall and Bob, of the many hundreds of individuals present, were perhaps the only two led to the place by curiosity alone.