“There’s lately been a great high tide,
Nor can it be surprising,
When everything is getting dear,
That water should be rising,”
and after dealing with that event in a very witty manner, it went on:
“The Tower of London, envying
Father Thames’s notoriety,
Resolved to have a ‘flare up’
And be talked of in society;
Ten thousand guns were fired at once,
With very few escapers,
But, though no one heard the great report,
There was one in the papers.”
This terrible conflagration was first noticed about half-past ten, on the night of 31 Oct., by a sentinel on duty on the terrace near the Jewel Office, whose attention was attracted to a glimmering light under the cupola of the Round, or Bowyer Tower—which was close to the Armoury, in which was deposited an immense amount of stores, such as muskets, etc., and many priceless trophies of war. When the sentinel found the light increased, he gave the alarm by firing his musket, and the whole of the garrison, officers and men, turned out; but the fire had got so great a hold that, before a sufficient supply of water could be obtained, the entire roof of the Armoury was in flames.
Unfortunately, it was low tide in the Thames, and, although the fire-engines soon arrived, and there were the Garrison and 250 policemen to render assistance, the flames spread rapidly; so fast, indeed, that the only things then got out and saved, were the Duke of York’s sword and belt, and a beautiful Maltese gun.
The grand staircase of this Armoury was considered one of the finest in Europe, and the following is a contemporary description of it. “In a recess on the landing was a platform supported on eight brass six-pounder guns, taken at Waterloo, and which served as pillars. On this was a splendid trophy,
consisting of arms and weapons, ancient and modern, comprising nearly 200 varieties, and nearly all differing in form or pattern. In the centre was a marble bust of William IV. Upon the walls, at the sides, were two large stars, formed of swords, and their brass scabbards, bayonets and pistols, one representing the Star of the Garter, and the other of the Bath. Also two figures in gilt suits of armour on ornamented pedestals. The rails of the stairs and the cornice of the ceiling were ornamented with architectural figures, curiously formed with arms. Below, upon pedestals, were two very striking groups, one representing a knight in gilt armour, preparing for action, attended by his esquire, who was in the act of buckling on his spurs, and a pikeman, with his 18 feet pike. The other group was a knight in a handsome suit of bright armour, of the time of Elizabeth, in action, having seized a banner from the enemy, waving his followers on. On each side of the entrance door was a knight in a suit of gilt armour, and two others, similarly clad, stood on brackets. The whole of these were destroyed, with the exception of the Waterloo cannon.”
The fire was soon perilously near to the Jewel Office, which was scorching hot—yet Mr. Swifte, the keeper of the jewels, saved the whole of the Regalia, down to the minutest article, and was earnestly begged to retire and leave the last thing, a huge silver wine fountain, to its fate, but he would not, and this, also, was salved.
“Then Mr. Swifte was nothing slow
The Crown and Jewels saving;
And to get the great Wine Cooler out,
Great danger he was braving.
Now, Mr. Swifte, of all the wine,
Should now be made the ruler,
For while the fire was getting hotter,
He was getting the Wine Cooler.”
There was an awful scare as to the chance of the store of gunpowder catching alight—but 400 barrels of powder, and 200 boxes of grenades and ball cartridges, were removed to the magazine, and the remainder was thrown into the moat.