The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE JEWEL HOUSE

THE KING’S STATE CROWN.
Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co., from a painting made by Mr. Cyril Davenport (Copyright).

THE

JEWEL HOUSE

An Account of the Many Romances Connected with the Royal Regalia Together with Sir Gilbert Talbot’s Account of Colonel Blood’s Plot Here reproduced for the first Time

BY MAJOR-GENERAL

SIR GEORGE YOUNGHUSBAND

K.C.M.G., K.C.I.E., C.B.

KEEPER OF THE JEWEL HOUSE

ILLUSTRATED IN COLOUR, ETC.

HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED

3 YORK STREET ST. JAMES’S

LONDON S.W. 1 ❦ ❦ MCMXXI

The Mayflower Press, Plymouth, England. William Brendon & Son Ltd.

CONTENTS

APPENDICES

ILLUSTRATIONS
COLOURED PLATES

THE JEWEL HOUSE

CHAPTER I
THE JEWEL HOUSE

When kings began to reign—The Crown of the King of the Ammonites—A Crown weighing 125 lbs.—The Treasure House of Kings—Egbert the first King of England—His regalia—King Alfred’s Crown—Edward the Confessor’s Crown and Staff and Ring—The Crown Jewels first placed in Westminster Abbey—Henry III removes them to the Tower of London—The Jewel Chamber in the White Tower—The Jewel House in the reign of Queen Elizabeth—The Martin Tower turned into the Jewel House by Charles II—The word “Bolleyn” on the wall—Northumberland and Heriot prisoners there—A slender guard and the result—Colonel Blood fails in his attempt on the Crown—Northumberland’s ghost—Narrow escape from fire of the Jewel House—Removal of Crown Jewels to the Wakefield Tower—Its former history—Origin of name—The murder of Henry VI in this tower—The young Princes buried in the basement—The lesson from St. Patrick’s Jewels—King Edward VII makes the Jewels secure—The tantalized burglar—The German lady and the Kaiser’s hopes—The Jewels in the Great War—Their narrow escapes—Their removal till the end of the War—Return to the Tower—Their wonderful adventures as recorded.

WHEN Kings first began to reign on earth they wore on their heads and carried in their hands the emblems of royalty. To give them dignity, the seats they occupied were raised and glorified and became thrones. Thousands of years ago the crown became the mark of sovereignty, for did not Saul fight his last battle wearing his crown, and with the bracelet on his arm? Whilst the prophet Samuel in his book records that the crown of the King of the Ammonites, taken in battle by King David, was of pure gold, studded with precious stones. The prophet also commits himself so far as to add that this crown weighed one talent. Perhaps in this detail we may make allowance for Eastern hyperbole, a talent being equivalent to 125 lb., or the weight of two fair-sized portmanteaux. It is not reasonable to assume that even the most muscular King would with equanimity thus handicap himself whilst waging war. The throne of Solomon has become historic, made, we are told, of ivory overlaid with gold with a lion standing on each side, and twelve lions guarding the sides of each of the six steps that led up to it. As the value and number of kingly emblems increased, it became necessary to deposit them when not in use in a place of security strongly guarded, which came to be known as the Treasure House of the King. In ancient days it was not unusual to place the Regalia in some holy place, such as a church or cathedral, where the sanctity of the building was held to be an additional safeguard; but more usually it would be kept with the King in his castle.

Egbert, the first King of England, was crowned nearly eleven hundred years ago, in A.D. 827, and King George V, the present King of England, is his direct descendant. The English monarchy is the oldest in Europe, and the English Royal Family had a longer pedigree than that of any European potentate, even before the Great War. The kingly emblems in King Egbert’s days were few and of no great value, probably nothing more than a crown and a sceptre. The crown of King Alfred was made of gold wire, and was, when broken up and melted down by the Commonwealth, valued only at £238 10s. 0d. Edward the Confessor, besides a crown, had a staff or long sceptre, a replica of which is now amongst the Crown Jewels. He also had a Coronation ring set with a large and very fine sapphire, which same sapphire may be seen in the cross paté on top of King George V’s State Crown.

As the Crown Jewels increased in number and value, the King ceased to carry them about with him on all occasions, and they were handed over to the safe keeping of the Abbot and monks of Westminster. In Westminster Abbey can still be pointed out the Chapel of the Pix, where the regal emblems were kept. It is not improbable that Edward the Confessor inaugurated this manner of safeguarding the Regalia when not in use, and his successors for two hundred years followed his example. But though Westminster Abbey proved a sure sanctuary against robbers and marauders from the outer world, unfortunately within the sacred walls were those inured to sanctity, and who were by no means indisposed to profit in so obvious and mundane a matter as disposing of the Crown Jewels. Probably the Treasure Chamber was rarely inspected or visited, and as the monks themselves were the guardians, inconvenient inquiries might easily be disposed of, unless and until certain portions of the Regalia were required for the King’s personal use. It was doubtless some such demand which led to the discovery that the Treasure Chamber had been broken into and some of the Regalia had disappeared.

The chief regal emblems, such as the Crown and Sceptre, had been transferred to the Tower by Henry III, but the lesser yet very valuable pieces of plate were still at Westminster. The theft was brought home to a monk named Alexandre de Pershore, who had sold the plate to a travelling merchant named Richard de Podelicote. As a result the Abbot Wenlock and forty-eight monks were tried and sentenced to two years’ imprisonment in the Tower. This was in the reign of Edward I, and as a result the King decided that Westminster Abbey was not altogether a safe place for any portion of so valuable a collection of plate and jewelry, and ordered it all to be transferred to the Tower of London. An official Keeper of the Regalia, whose duty it was to guard and have sole custody of the Jewels, had already been appointed by Henry III, and henceforth a divided control ceased.

From that day, some seven hundred years ago, the grey old walls of the Tower of London have been the outer casing of the casket which has contained the Crown Jewels of thirty-two Kings and Queens of England. The Jewels were probably first placed in the White Tower, that being the central keep of the Tower of London, itself then, and for many centuries after, the strongest fortress in England. On the north side of the crypt of St. John’s Chapel, which is in the White Tower, there is a small chamber with only one entrance and with no windows. This chamber, which some erroneous person for long marked as the cell of Sir Walter Raleigh,[^[1]] would in those days have been an ideal place for the safe storage of the Regalia. It is not only an inner sanctuary, but also it was guarded without all round by soldiers and by battlements. A monk might pilfer the plate, but he had to get it past the soldiers and out of the fortress to profit by his prowess. In this sanctuary, in the crypt of St. John’s Chapel, the royal emblems and plate may well have remained for several reigns, and perhaps some centuries, but as the Regalia increased in quantity these restricted quarters would have been found too small to conveniently and suitably house them. Thus we find in an accurate survey of the Tower of London, made in 1597, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, that a special Jewel House had been built outside of and adjoining the south face of the White Tower. This Jewel House was a long low building with a flat, castellated roof, whilst at the western end was a tall turret. There were two entrances, one through the turret and one in the middle of the south wall. The building was evidently one of two storeys, as two tiers of windows are shown, with two lights on each floor.

A True and Exact Draught of the TOWER LIBERTIES, survey in the year 1597 by Gulielmus Haiward and J. Gascoyne.
PLAN OF THE TOWER OF LONDON SHOWING THE JEWEL HOUSE IN 1597 IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ELIZABETH (W); IN 1660 IN THE REIGN OF CHARLES II (I); IN 1920 IN THE REIGN OF GEORGE V (s)

The Regalia remained in this Jewel House through the reigns of James I and Charles I, but with the tragic death of this last unhappy monarch the need for a Jewel House disappeared, for by orders of the Parliament all regal emblems were broken up, destroyed, or sold for what they would fetch. Unused and uncared for, the old Jewel House fell into decay and disrepair, and became no longer a place of safe keeping. Thus when the Restoration came and Charles II ascended the throne of his forefathers, a new Treasure House had to be found. The place fixed upon was the Martin Tower, which forms the north-east bastion of the inner ballium wall of the Tower of London. Who Martin was, or why this tower was named after him, has escaped all researches, but it is of interest to note that the Middle Tower was at one time called the Martin Tower, and the inference seems to be that some well-known personage who had long lived in the Tower of London first occupied quarters in the Middle Tower and afterwards those in the Martin Tower, and that on his death from long association his name attached itself to his last residence.

When Charles II came to the throne, all the regal emblems, such as the Crown, the Sceptre, and the Orb, had to be remade to replace those destroyed by the Commonwealth, whilst the royal plate had also to be renewed. Naturally, therefore, it took some time for the Regalia to arrive at its former excellence and value; during the early years of the reign it could be easily housed, and was apparently not considered to be of sufficient importance to be guarded by soldiers. It was thus placed in the lower floor of the Martin Tower, which in former reigns had been used more frequently as a place of imprisonment for the more important or more affluent prisoners. Inscribed on one of the walls inside is the word “Bolleyn,” which for long was held to be the mark of Queen Anne Boleyn, and as such held up as proof that the unhappy lady was imprisoned in the Martin Tower. But a closer examination of the records of those days shows conclusively that the Queen was never imprisoned in that particular tower; on the other hand, during this examination it became sufficiently clear that her brother, George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford, was probably a prisoner here, and the inscription may very possibly have been carved by him. Another mark of an old prisoner in the Martin Tower is the sundial on the south wall, ascribed to Heriot the astronomer, who together with Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, known as “Hotspur,” was for long a prisoner here.[^[2]]

The sole guardian of King Charles’ new Crown Jewels in the Martin Tower, unaided by sentries or yeomen, was an old man named Talbot Edwards, then nearly eighty years of age, who was Assistant Keeper of the Jewel House under Sir Gilbert Talbot. Edwards and his family occupied the upper storeys of the Martin Tower, but Sir Gilbert Talbot lived chiefly at the Palace at Whitehall, it being one of his duties to reside always in whichever palace the King happened to be occupying from time to time. The chamber in which the Jewels were placed was semi-circular in shape with one door, and with very thick walls. In the outer or thickest wall was made, or already existed, a recess which, when a cross-wired door had been added, formed a cupboard, the front of which was open to view. This arrangement was made not only so that the Jewels might easily be inspected, but also because it was one of the perquisites of the Assistant Keeper to show the Crown Jewels to visitors for such fees as he could inveigle out of them. There were no guards either of soldiers or yeomen on the Regalia; which fact, becoming known to the notorious Colonel Blood, that worthy with two accomplices attempted to steal the Crown Jewels, as is recorded in due course.[^[3]]

THE JEWEL HOUSE BY THE MARTIN TOWER, 1815

The attempt, though it very nearly succeeded, failed rather through good fortune than from any wise precaution. It, however, brought to notice the insecure manner in which the Regalia were kept, much as the theft of the St. Patrick’s Jewels in Edward VII’s reign drew similar attention, and it was decided in due course to build a new Jewel House specially constructed to ensure security. The site chosen was just below the Martin Tower on its western side, between that tower and the then existing Armoury. This site was not an ideal one, so that quite early after its occupation reports were made that the new Jewel House was liable to be endangered by sparks from the chimneys or furnaces of the Armoury, which was only a few feet away. A guard of soldiers was now placed on the building, and yeomen warders were detailed, or hired by the Assistant Keeper, to aid him in his duties. The guard furnished a double sentry on this post, which was afterwards reduced to a single sentry. But this sentry declared that he nightly saw the ghost of the Earl of Northumberland walking up and down what is now known as Northumberland’s walk, a narrow beat along the edge of the ramparts running each side of the Martin Tower. When one sentry had seen the ghost, others also were ready to declare that they also had seen it, so that as time went on and the superstition grew, the post became decidedly unpopular amongst the soldiers, whilst some even refused to go on it alone. The sentry was therefore again doubled, and the Earl and his midnight walks faded away into the mists of antiquity.

As illustrating how persons who are determined to see ghosts may succeed in doing so, this is a very useful incident. This Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, known as “Hotspur” from his fiery temper, who for thirteen years was imprisoned in the Martin Tower, lived there in ease and such comfort as wealth could in those days command, and eventually left under a salute from the great guns of the Tower, a guard of honour, and an escort to Northumberland House, at the head of what is now Northumberland Avenue. There was no tragedy whatever about his long sojourn in the Tower. His father, however, another Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, was without doubt murdered in the Bloody Tower, so that if the Northumberland ghost had taken his nightly walks about the Bloody Tower there would have been some sensible connection. Evidently the ignorant soldiery of the day mixed up the two Earls of Northumberland, and imagined the wrong one nightly pacing the portion of the ramparts, which he had probably never even seen in his lifetime, for the Martin Tower and the Bloody Tower are on opposite sides of the fortress and quite invisible one from the other.

Another ghost sworn to in the Martin Tower is that of Queen Anne Boleyn. A worthy warder a century or so ago under sworn testimony gave an account of how Anne Boleyn had appeared at suppertime, in the form of a bluish grey column, like smoke in a glass tube. How exactly the Queen was recognised in this disguise is not stated, but the main point is that Queen Anne Boleyn was never imprisoned in the Martin Tower. She went straight to the Lieutenants’ Lodgings and from there to her execution. As has been already mentioned, however, her brother, George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford, was undoubtedly a prisoner in the Martin Tower, and on one of the inner walls is roughly engraved the name “Bolleyn.” History and records and tradition doubtless became somewhat mixed as the centuries passed, so that warder after warder, on taking over these quarters, heard from his predecessor that the engraving had been made by Queen Anne Boleyn. A bowl of punch, and a lively imagination, would produce the rest of this ghost story.

Inside the new Jewel House a strong cage was constructed, through the bars of which by light of dim lanterns the Crown Jewels could be seen at certain hours by those who had passes, and were prepared to pay a fee for the same. That the tremors of those who feared danger from fire were not unfounded eventually proved only too true. In 1843 the Armoury, which as mentioned was only a few feet from the Jewel House, caught fire and was burnt to the ground, placing the Crown Jewels in most imminent peril. That they escaped severe damage, if not destruction, was due to the great presence of mind, ready resource, and courage of a Sergeant, who broke into the Jewel House, and aided by yeomen bundled the precious articles without ceremony out on to the parade ground. Though thus hastily cast forth, and in spite of the crowd and confusion, nothing was lost or injured. It would be gratifying to be able to record that the hero of this adventure received some notable recognition of the service he had rendered. Truth, however, impels the confession that the deed was at the time eclipsed by the great tragedy of the burning down of the ancient Armoury, a building several centuries old with many historic associations. Later, when this conspicuous service came to light, the ardour of recompense had grown cold.

THE JEWEL HOUSE IN THE TOWER OF LONDON
Campbell Gray photo

The next, and present, abode of the Crown Jewels became the Wakefield Tower, one of the lesser towers on the inner ballium wall, adjoining the Bloody Tower and facing the Traitors’ Gate. The origin of the name has been a subject of some discussion. For many years, indeed for some centuries, the Wakefield Tower was held to have been so named because the prisoners taken at the battle of Wakefield were therein imprisoned. But further examination shows that this tower was never used as a prison, nor could it have contained the number of prisoners supposed to have been incarcerated in it. Moreover, there is some evidence that the name was given to this tower long before the battle of Wakefield. A more reliable conclusion is that it was named after William de Wakefield, one of the King’s Clerks, who was appointed to hold custody of the Exchanges in the Tower in 1344, and very possibly had his office in part of this building.

In ancient days the Wakefield Tower, then named the Hall, formed the entrance to the Royal Palace, which fell into decay during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. She having been a prisoner in the Tower as a Princess, had conceived such a horror for the place that when she became Queen she refused to live there. In previous reigns the King or Queen always lived in the Tower before their Coronation, and thence proceeded in state, preceded by the Knights of the Bath, to Westminster. In the Wakefield Tower is still a small chapel or oratory which was used as a private place of devotion by the Monarch when in residence at the Palace. In this little chapel, whilst kneeling at his prayers, Henry VI was murdered by Richard of Gloucester.

A narrow, winding stair, some of the steps now so worn with age as to be hardly safe, leads down from the adjacent Bloody Tower to the basement. Down these steps the bodies of the two young Princes who were murdered there were dragged, and hastily buried in the basement of the Wakefield Tower. Here they lay for five days when Richard of Gloucester, by whose order they had been murdered, made the somewhat superfluous discovery that the bodies were not buried in consecrated ground. They were hastily dug up and buried close to the south wall of the White Tower, and being there more or less under the shadow of St. John’s Chapel, were considered suitably interred. The Constable of the Tower, Sir Robert Brackenbury, was the only person who knew the secret, and he died with it, being shortly afterwards killed at the battle of Bosworth. It was not till the reign of Charles II that the remains of the two little Princes were accidentally found, and by order of the King removed to Westminster and buried there.

The walls of the Wakefield Tower are eight feet thick, and there is only one entrance, whilst the windows are heavily barred. In these more or less practical days, however, reliance is not placed solely on solid walls, or even on sentries and yeomen, to keep the Crown Jewels in safety. After the St. Patrick’s Jewels had been stolen in Dublin, King Edward VII determined that the Crown Jewels of England should be placed, as far as human prescience could devise, beyond the power of anyone to tamper with them. The most expert mechanical and scientific geniuses, with Messrs. Chubb at their head, were called into consultation, and the result was the invention of the present octagonal-shaped steel casement furnished with steel bars.

It is naturally not allowable to mention what the mechanical safeguards are, but the inexpert or indeed expert thief may certainly count on being guillotined or electrocutioned if he makes the attempt to emulate Colonel Blood’s adventure. It has been a source of some amusement to the warders to watch known burglars—for admission to view the Crown Jewels is open to all His Majesty’s subjects, not excluding burglars—with their faces flattened against the bars thinking, thinking, thinking, how possibly they could get hold of these priceless gems. One indeed, with a deep resigned sigh, was heard to mutter, “Gor’ blimy it ain’t to be done!” So we may hope for the best. Not only, however, are the Crown Jewels guarded by all the resources of science, but soldiers, yeomen warders, and policemen keep watch over them night and day.

Just before the War, amongst other visitors was a German lady, who looked long at the Jewels and carefully examined the steel encasement in which they are exhibited. Then she went back to one of the yeomen on duty and remarked, “You may think those Jewels very wonderful and very wonderfully guarded, but do not be surprised if I say that they will soon belong to our Kaiser.” The yeoman was so taken aback that he did not know what to say, yet made perhaps a better reply than much forethought might have supplied. He said, “I don’t think so, madam. Pass along, please.” This old yeoman was in the Cameron Highlanders at the Relief of Lucknow.

During the Great War the Germans in their first daylight raids made a special target of the Tower of London, clearly marked as it lay below on the banks of another clear landmark, the Thames. That their efforts to hit it were not more successful was a matter of bad luck for them and good for us, for we had then no anti-aircraft guns to drive them off. The first bomb just missed the Tower to the westward, and fell into the dry moat in the part used by the garrison as their drill ground. It penetrated six feet of gravel and rubble, deflecting at a slight angle as it went downward; then it ran nearly level for four more feet, and finally turned upwards at an angle and traversed another eighteen inches. Happily it failed to explode. When with much caution it was dug out tail first it was found to measure 4-1/2 ft. The top 22 in. formed an ordinary percussion shell, such as is fired by field artillery; the rest of the bomb consisted of a brass cylinder filled with a yellow powder. This powder, though perhaps intended for purely incendiary purposes, was doubtless intentionally also of a highly poisonous nature. So poisonous indeed was it that those who touched it were afflicted for months with a species of blood poisoning, which seriously affected their health and produced a painful and irritating skin disease. Indeed, one official was thus affected who had not to his knowledge even touched the infected portions of one of these bombs; he had merely stood close to where a wall was plastered with the yellow powder from an exploded bomb, whilst a strong wind happened to blow grains of it in his face. He came out with the same eruption, though in a less virulent form than the one who had actually man-handled a piece of the bomb.

This bomb will probably be found in the Imperial War Museum, but it seemed to us that the gods intervened to get it there. When the bomb had been dug out urgent messages arrived by telephone and otherwise that no one was to meddle with the blamed thing (I am not sure of the exact wording) till an expert from the Ordnance Department arrived. Arrive he did, and how he ever departed, except in a ring of smoke and glory, puzzles us still. He took up the live shell, and directing everybody to stand well clear, a hundred yards or so away, for fear of accidents, he proceeded to unscrew the percussion fuze at the head of the bomb. This in itself is a delicate operation even for an expert. Apparently the head would not unscrew, but the expert nothing dismayed started hammering and forcing it in a manner which made mere amateurs tremble not only for the intrepid expert, but for the ancient walls of the Tower of London. Finally this philosophic warrior decided that unaided he could not unscrew the head, so he demanded that a taxi should be sent for. Into the taxi entered the gallant gunner and the bomb, and apparently they arrived safely somewhere, for in spite of the censorship, we should probably have heard if he had not.

The second bomb again just missed the Tower, this time to the eastward. Most unfortunately, however, it hit the Royal mint, which stands just across the road. This bomb did the mint, as such, no harm worth mentioning, nothing to interfere with work being carried on as usual, but it so happened that it fell close to where a goodly number of workmen, not actually working at the moment, were assembled, and caused forty-four casualties. One small boy looking upwards was heard to say, “Why, it looks like a bird,” and the next second he was himself up and out in the blue of heaven.

The third bomb hit the railings to the north of the Tower, and whilst doing no harm whatever to it caused some damage outside. A couple of horses drawing a van were killed, and many windows in Postern Row were broken. The effect was very much that of a shrapnel shell bursting, indeed there probably was a shrapnel fixed at the head of the bomb, as in the case of the first bomb mentioned. The bullets from this shrapnel shell had sufficient force to make clean round holes through stout iron railings, whilst naturally they went through windows and doors as through paper. Against the flimsiest walls they were of no avail, leaving only pit marks and knocking off plaster.

The fourth bomb I chanced to see myself. I was sitting at my writing-desk, which is near one of the south windows of St. Thomas’ Tower, and to be quite exact was writing a note to a lady thanking her for a book she had kindly sent me. There being a good deal of din in the skies, though little enough to one who was just back from the War, I happened to glance out on the river. At that exact moment, only a few yards away, something from the skies fell splosh into the river, and a column of water some six or seven feet high demonstrated the fact. That was the closest shot which the Germans made at the Crown Jewels of England. The total casualties to the credit of this attack on the Tower were one pigeon, which probably had a weak heart and died of shell-shock, and one pane of window broken in the Jewel House.

After these narrow escapes it was decided that it would be wiser not to chance further risks, and to place the Regalia in a less exposed place than the Tower of London. Consequently the Jewel House was closed for repairs, so to speak, and the Crown Jewels were removed elsewhere. The wonderful stories evolved by the more emotional persons over this ordinary precaution were not without interest. One inspired person mentioned, that from certain information he had received a castle in Cornwall had been secretly acquired and that the Jewels had been taken there by special train at dead of night. He added that in front of the Jewel train, and behind it, were two other trains full of troops, police, detectives, machine-guns, and what not.

Another very astute gentleman had secured the exclusive information, which he imparted with a knowing smile as between two conspirators, that for the past eight months a deep and secret vault lined throughout with concrete had been excavated at Bath, and that the Jewels were now safely deposited there. The sole ground for this rumour rested on the undoubted fact that eight months before the Keeper of the Jewel House had been at Bath, and there, by way of camouflage doubtless had undergone a course of the waters. Another equally knowing individual, a son of Israel, said that he knew for certain that the Jewels were in Cumberland, the slender thread on which this rumour hung being due to the fact that the late Keeper of the Jewel House, Sir Arthur Wynne, had now settled in Cumberland. When these stories were told it was incumbent to smile in rather an embarrassed manner, as one found out in doing a fatuous thing, and the informants generally departed feeling like an embodiment of Fouché and Sherlock Holmes. It was only necessary to add, “Please do not mention your suspicions to anyone, it might get into the papers,” to ensure that it got anyway as far as the Censor.

But these rumours as to where the Jewels were, and how they got there, were nothing to the brilliant stories of their return, which an unfettered, an uncensored press could now make public. One of the more emotional ran: “At dead of night two officers of the Grenadier Guards dressed in frock coats and with silk hats, and each carrying an automatic pistol, drove up to the secret hiding-place in a closed motor-car. With them were two detectives also in civilian clothes but with bowler hats; they too were armed with automatic pistols. Beside the military chauffeur, dressed in khaki sat another soldier with his loaded rifle at the ‘present.’ In a few seconds the Crown Jewels were transferred from the secret strong-room to the car by the two officers, whilst the detectives stood tensely at the alert, their pistols cocked. In a few minutes all was ready, and the car sharply wheeling on the gravel drive sped at the rate of forty miles an hour to the Tower of London.”

Which is all very nice and lurid, but as a matter of fact the whole process of taking the Jewels away and returning them to the Tower was much more simply accomplished and was not nearly so dramatic. It is now no longer a secret that a royal car drove into the Tower of London and up to the Jewel House. Into it the more important and valuable portions of the Regalia, already packed in their own cases, were handed. It was all a matter of a few minutes, and then the car drove away to Windsor Castle, and there deposited the Jewels in a secure place. The return journey at the end of the War was equally simply and effectively accomplished. Nor was there probably any officer of the Grenadier Guards, with or without a silk hat, nearer than the far dim horizon of Flanders. Naturally, however, the Crown Jewels do not travel without very careful precautions, and these, those who trembled for them may be assured, were fully taken.

During their absence from the Tower some of the cases had somehow got rather damp and mildewy, the sight of which caused the Court Jewellers more than a little anguish. This dampness probably accounts for another brave story, to the effect that the Crown Jewels had been sunk in the river opposite the Tower, and had in this moist retreat been kept for many months.

It is remarkable how wonderfully indiscreet some ambitious news collectors may become. Information regarding the location or movement of jewels of priceless value may be confided to all and sundry of the honest folks in these realms, but newspapers are bought not only by honest persons, and it is of considerable interest to a professional burglar or jewel thief to be informed exactly how and when he can best make a bid for so great a prize.

Thus we see that throughout the centuries the Jewels have in turn been safeguarded first in Westminster Abbey, then in the White Tower, next in an annexe to the White Tower, after this in the Martin Tower, and then in a special building close to the Martin Tower. Finally, but for a brief sojourn at Windsor Castle during the Great War, in the Wakefield Tower.

CHAPTER II
THE REGALIA IN THE TOWER

The Crowns—St. Edward the Confessor’s Crown, or the Crown of England—Original destroyed by the Commonwealth—A replica made for Charles II on his Restoration—The Cap of Maintenance—The King’s State Crown—Made for Queen Victoria out of ancient stones—Historic gems set in it—Thousands of precious stones of all colours—The Imperial Crown of India—Made for George V when crowned Emperor of India—The reason for making this new crown—Cost £60,000—Contains 6000 precious stones—The Queen’s Crowns—Crown of Mary of Modena—The diadem of Mary of Modena—Cost £110,000—Beautiful and simple though costly—Queen Mary’s Crown—Set entirely with diamonds—The Koh-i-Nur, its chief glory—Two portions of the Star of Africa—The Prince of Wales’ Crown as eldest son of the King—Coronet of the Prince of Wales at Carnarvon Castle—The King’s Sceptre with the Star of Africa—The King’s Sceptre with the Dove—The Queen’s Sceptre with the Cross—The Queen’s Sceptre with the Dove—The Queen’s Ivory Rod—St. Edward’s Staff—The King’s Orb—The Queen’s Orb.

The Crowns

THE most valuable and important portions of the Regalia, and those which appeal most to the eye and the imagination, are the Royal Crowns. Of these there are three which pertain to the reigning sovereign, whether a King or a Queen. Next there are two crowns and a diadem which pertain to the Queen Consort, when a King is on the throne. And lastly there is the crown of the eldest son of the King, who is, if not by right yet at the King’s pleasure, always created Prince of Wales.

The three crowns of the Sovereign are:

(1) St. Edward the Confessor’s Crown, or the Crown of England.

(2) The Imperial State Crown.

(3) The Imperial Crown of India.

The original crown of Edward the Confessor was destroyed by the Commonwealth, but on the restoration of Charles II a replica was made, and this is the crown now to be seen in the Jewel House, and is the one with which all the Kings and Queens of England have been crowned since 1661. It was made of “massie gold” and is of the shape known as royal in contradistinction to the form described as imperial. The shape of a Royal crown is familiar to all from childhood upwards, for it is the crown which stands on the shield supported by the lion and the unicorn in the arms of England.

True, the older figure has become somewhat blurred to the younger generation, since Edward VII substituted an Imperial Crown for the older shape on many things, including the Royal mail and Royal note-paper. This was done of set purpose, being a sign and portent that the kingdom had grown into a world-wide empire, greater far and more rich and populous than any empire that had existed since the beginning of the world. But the Crown of England retains its ancient shape. Round the band of this Crown are set at intervals great stones of different colours, red, and blue, and green, and yellow. Above the band stand alternately fleurs-de-lis and crosses patés, from these spring the two golden arches of the Crown, edged all the way with large pearls. These arches are the insignia of a ruling monarch; without them the Crown would remain only a coronet. Where the two arches cross each other they are deeply depressed, and in the hollow thus formed stands a monde or globe of gold. On the monde is fixed a richly jewelled cross with large drop-shaped pearls, pendent from the arms. The weight of this Crown is nearly 5 lbs.

Inside the Crown is the Cap of Maintenance of purple velvet, with an edging of minever to protect the King’s head from too hard a contact with solid gold. The original Crown of England, of which, as has been mentioned, this is a copy, is said to have descended century after century from Edward the Confessor, who ascended the throne in 1042. The Vandals of the Commonwealth have much to answer for!

The King’s State Crown is more beautiful, and intrinsically of immensely greater value than St. Edward’s Crown. It is, however, as a crown comparatively modern, the custom being for each succeeding King or Queen to have their own State Crown made afresh. But the stones that are set in it, of which there are many thousands, are mostly of very great age, and have been used century after century to adorn the State Crowns of successive Kings and Queens.

The State Crown now in the Tower was made for Queen Victoria, in 1839, and with some alterations and additions has been so preserved by Edward VII and George V. Of the large jewels in it, such as the Black Prince’s ruby. Queen Elizabeth’s pearl earrings, the Stuart sapphire, the sapphire of Edward the Confessor, and the Star of South Africa,[^[4]] historical records proclaim their origin. But the thousands of smaller stones carry with them their own age, for certain forms of cutting pertain to certain centuries. Thus the table-cut diamond is an older stone than the rose-cut, and the rose-cut is older than the brilliant. Inversely no brilliant in the present Crown could have been in that of Charles II, for this process of cutting was then unknown.

The State Crown is of the Imperial, as distinguished from the Royal shape of the older crown; thus the arches are not depressed where they cross each other, but slope up to the monde. In the band the two great stones are the Star of South Africa in front, and the Stuart sapphire exactly opposite it at the back. Between these, round the band at intervals are very large sapphires, rubies, and emeralds thickly encrusted with diamonds. Above the band are alternate crosses patés and fleurs-de-lis in diamonds, in the centre of each being a large coloured gem. Indeed, the whole Crown is a complete mass of diamonds interspersed with coloured gems and pearls. Up the arches which spring from the crosses patés are clusters of diamonds formed to represent oak leaves with the acorns represented by large pearls. The device on the arches is commemorative of the oak of Boscobel, in which Charles II hid for his life when a fugitive. The Black Prince’s ruby, which is as large as an egg, is set at the foot of the front arch. The monde is covered with a complete mass of diamonds so closely set as to leave no metal visible. On top of the monde is a large cross paté, also an entire mass of diamonds, and in the centre of it is set the magnificent sapphire which was once in the coronation ring of Edward the Confessor. Where the two arches cross may be seen pendent four very large pearls as large as small birds’ eggs. These were Queen Elizabeth’s earrings. Inside this Crown is a purple velvet Cap of Maintenance edged round the bottom with minever. This Crown weighs 39 oz. 5 dwts.

THE IMPERIAL INDIAN CROWN

The third Crown of the King is the Imperial Crown of India, made for George V when he was crowned Emperor of India in 1912. As mentioned elsewhere, the Crown of England is not allowed by ancient law to leave the shores of the British Isles; consequently this new Crown had to be made. The work was entrusted to the Court Jewellers, Messrs. Garrard, and a very fine example of the jeweller’s art was the result. The Crown cost £60,000, and is adorned with some six thousand precious stones. These are mostly diamonds, but some very large and valuable coloured stones are also displayed. Notably a large cabuchon emerald in front of the band of the Crown, a very fine ruby in the front cross paté, and a very valuable emerald in the cross paté on top of the Crown. In shape the Crown approaches nearer the Imperial shape as pictorially known. Instead of two arches as in the other crowns there are eight demi arches which incline upwards to support the monde instead of being depressed to receive it. These demi arches spring from the eight crosses patés and fleurs-de-lis, which stand on the band of the Crown. The monde, as well as all the crosses patés and fleurs-de-lis, are a mass of diamonds with a large coloured gem in the centre of each. Inside the Crown is the Cap of Maintenance of purple velvet bound at the bottom with minever.

The Queen also has three crowns, or rather two crowns and a diadem. These are the crown first made for Mary of Modena, Queen of James II, a diadem made for the same Queen, and the present Queen Mary’s State Crown.

Queen Mary of Modena’s Crown is small in size, and was made to be worn on top of the head and not to fit it. The general effect may be noticed on the statue of Queen Anne which stands outside St. Paul’s Cathedral. Indeed, this is very probably a representation of identically this same crown. It is adorned entirely with diamonds and pearls, and has no coloured stones. Round the band is a continuous succession of large-sized diamonds, and above these is a string of pearls each as large as a pea running completely round the circumference. Above the band alternately are crosses patés and fleurs-de-lis, also in diamonds. From the crosses patés spring the two arches of the crown; these are adorned with rows of large pearls with diamonds on each side of the rows. At the point of crossing the arches are depressed, and on this depression rests the monde, a mass of small diamonds. On the monde is fixed a cross of diamonds with large pearls at the points. The Cap is of crimson velvet bordered at the bottom with minever.

DIADEM OF QUEEN MARY OF MODENA, WIFE OF JAMES II

The diadem belonging to the same Queen, and said to have been given her by James II at a cost of £110,000, is of a beautiful and simple design. Not being a crown, it has no arches, and is in fact simply a broad gold circlet thickly encrusted with diamonds, the top edge being bordered by a row of large pearls touching each other all the way round. In front this row of pearls is slightly arched, and a large diamond is fixed in the apex. The diadem is fitted with a cap of crimson velvet bound at the bottom with minever. This diadem was worn by Mary of Modena on the way to her Coronation, and during the ceremony it was replaced by the Crown, above described, which she wore as she returned to the Palace in State with the King.

THE QUEEN’S STATE CROWN.
Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co.,

from a painting made by Mr. Cyril Davenport (Copyright).

The most important and most beautiful of the Queen’s crowns is that which belongs to Her present Majesty, for not only is it officially, but privately the property of Queen Mary, though three of the great diamonds in it may belong to the State. It was designed and made by Messrs. Garrard, and is certainly of great credit to twentieth century workmanship. The crown is set with diamonds throughout, no coloured stones having been used. In front of the band is one of the four large Stars of Africa, and round the band are alternate roses and crosses composed of diamonds. The rims of the band are also set continuously with small diamonds. On the band stand three fleurs-de-lis and three crosses patés alternately, all set with diamonds. In the centre of the front cross paté is the great and historic Koh-i-Nur diamond.[^[5]] From the fleurs-de-lis and crosses paté spring six demi arches which slope gracefully upwards to support the monde. The monde is completely encrusted with small diamonds. On the monde stands a cross paté, in the centre of which is displayed another of the Stars of Africa, drop-shaped with the point downwards. Inside the Crown is a purple velvet cap lined at the bottom with minever. The Crown is of considerable size, made to fit the head instead of standing on it, as does the older Crown of Queen Mary of Modena.

The Prince of Wales’ Crown, as it is called, but more correctly the Crown of the eldest son of the King, is at the Tower. This is distinct from Prince of Wales’ Coronet, which is kept at Carnarvon Castle. It is the King’s prerogative to make whom he pleases Prince of Wales, but usually, as at present, the title is given to the eldest son. The Crown at the Tower is very simple and only differs in general appearance from the coronets of some members of the peerage in having one arch over it, supporting a gold monde and cross. Above the band stand alternately four gold fleurs-de-lis and four gold crosses patés. Inside is a crimson velvet cap edged at the bottom with minever. The eldest son of the King places this Crown on his own head during the Coronation service at the same time as the peers put on their coronets. On later occasions it is placed on a stool before the Prince when he attends at the House of Lords when the King opens Parliament in State.

The Coronet of the Prince of Wales, as such, which as mentioned is kept at Carnarvon, is a more beautiful and graceful insignia. It consists of a circlet of gold adorned with pearls and amethysts. Above the circlet stand alternately four crosses patés and four fleurs-de-lis. These all are pierced and within the outlines of the former are sprays of the Rose of England and of the latter the Daffodil of Wales. The daffodil with a certain amount of excusable heraldic elasticity, is introduced in place of the more homely though less picturesque leek, the hitherto best known emblem of the Little Sister. Between the crosses patés and the fleurs-de-lis are rosebud sprays. This Coronet was made throughout of Welsh gold, by Messrs. Garrard, in 1911, for Edward, the present Prince of Wales.

(BEFORE) (AFTER)
THE KING’S ROYAL SCEPTRE BEFORE AND AFTER THE INTRODUCTION OF THE STAR OF AFRICA

The Sceptres

Next to the crowns in emblematic importance and kingly dignity come the sceptres. Of these there are in all five in the Jewel House, each with its special history and significance. The greatest and most important of these is the King’s Royal Sceptre with the Cross. It is of gold, richly jewelled, about three feet long, and was made for Charles II, remaining practically the same till the reign of Edward VII. When the Stars of Africa[^[6]] were presented to that monarch he decided to have the largest portion placed in the head of the Sceptre, but explicit orders were given that no part of the old Sceptre was to be removed, the diamond was merely to be inserted. This proved a very difficult problem, but was successfully solved by Messrs. Garrard, as a comparison of drawings of the Sceptre before and after clearly show. As seen now, the Star of Africa is the central attraction, not only from its huge size, but its extraordinary brilliancy. It is drop-shaped, 2-5/16 in. in length and 1-13/16 in. in width, and weighs 516-1/2 carats. It is held in place by four very ingeniously contrived gold clasps, which can be opened and the diamond taken out when required to be worn as a pendant. Above the diamond on enamelled scrolls stands the great amethyst orb which is faceted all over, and has round the centre a jewelled band with an arch of gold, rubies, and diamonds. On top of the amethyst orb is fixed the Cross, made entirely of diamonds with a large emerald in the centre. These all form the head of the Sceptre.

Below the great diamond the fleur-de-lis of the old Sceptre has been cleverly depressed into the form of a support; this is thickly jewelled with coloured gems and diamonds, and below this again is a jewelled band. Near the hilt of the Sceptre is a smooth portion for the grip; above this is a collar of gems and enamels, and below another similar collar having rich sprays of gold and enamels, thickly jewelled with coloured stones and diamonds. At the butt is a sphere encrusted with enamels and precious stones. When the King holds this Sceptre, he may veritably be said to have in his hand a King’s ransom.

The King’s Sceptre with the Dove comes next in importance. It is a rod of gold three feet seven inches in length. At the top is a monde or orb of gold with a fillet round the centre studded with diamonds, and with an arch above similarly jewelled. From the top of the monde rises a golden cross, on which is sitting a white enamelled dove with extended wings, its eyes, beak, and feet of gold. Below the monde is a band studded with diamonds, and beneath this another band with drooping designs, ornamented with coloured gems and diamonds. In the centre of the Sceptre is an ornamental band of enamels and gems, and gold open-work with coloured gems, enamels, and diamonds. Nearer to the bottom of the Sceptre is another band with large jewels. The boss at the foot of the Sceptre is encircled by two bands, one jewelled and the other enamelled. The Dove is symbolical of the Holy Ghost. This Sceptre is borne in the sovereign’s left hand during one portion of the ceremony at the Coronation.

Next we have the Queen’s Sceptre with the Cross which was originally made for Queen Mary of Modena. It is made of gold ornamented with diamonds, and is two feet ten inches in length. At the top is a double fleur-de-lis thickly set with fair-sized diamonds. Above this is a golden monde, round which is a fillet thickly adorned with diamonds, the arch over the monde being similarly decorated. On the monde stands a cross which has a large diamond on each of its arms and one in the centre. The middle of the Sceptre is ornamented with sprays formed of open-work in gold, with leaves and flowers composed of large and small diamonds. The Sceptre ends with an elaborately jewelled boss.

The Queen’s Sceptre with the Dove resembles that of the King, but is rather smaller and is differently ornamented. Thus the fillet encircling the monde and the arch over it are ornamented with coloured gems as well as diamonds, and with leaves enamelled red and white. At the middle of the Sceptre is a collar of dark blue enamel, ornamented with gems and designs in white enamel. Near the foot is another more elaborate collar with sprays of open-work in gold, ornamented thickly with gems and enamels. At the foot is a boss with ornaments of gold, gems, and enamels. This sceptre was lost for many years, but was eventually found, in 1814, hidden at the back of a shelf in the Jewel House.

The King’s Sceptre before the Star of Africa was introduced.
The Queen’s Sceptre with the Cross.
THE KING’S ORB.
Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co.,
from a painting made by Mr. Cyril Davenport (Copyright).

The Queen’s Ivory Rod was destroyed by the Commonwealth, but a replica of it was made for Queen Mary of Modena, and this is now in the Jewel House. This Rod or Sceptre also has a dove on top of it, but with closed wings. It stands on a gold cross which in its turn rises from a gold monde. The dove has golden eyes, beak, and feet. The Rod, which, as its name implies, is made of ivory, is in three pieces, with collars of gold at the joining points. Its total length is three feet one and a half inches. The boss at the bottom is very similar to the monde at the top, and both are ornamented with champlevé enamels.

St. Edward’s Staff, known also from very early days as the Rod of Justice and Equity, is a replica made for Charles II of the ancient staff destroyed by the Commonwealth. It is much longer than any of the sceptres, being four feet seven and a half inches in length, and being intended to be used as a walking staff, is shod with a spike of steel like an alpine-stock. It is made of plain bright gold, and at the top has a gold monde surmounted by a gold cross. In the monde of the original Staff was a piece of the true cross. This Staff is emblematically intended to guide the King’s footsteps in the way he should go.

The Orbs

There are two Orbs in the Jewel House, one for the King and the other for the Queen. The orb is a very ancient Christian emblem, and signifies the domination of the Christian religion over the world. It may be described as a globe of gold on which stands a cross. The King’s Orb, which is known as the Orb of England, is a very valuable and richly gemmed emblem, and is only placed in the hand of the King or Queen who is actual sovereign of the realm. The Queen’s Orb, which is of somewhat less importance and value, and smaller in size, is the insignia of a Queen Consort.

The King’s Orb is a golden globe six inches in diameter, round the centre of which is a fillet of gold outlined with fine pearls and ornamented with clusters of gems, the gems being set in borders of white and red enamel. The centre stones of these clusters are large rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, each surrounded by diamonds. Over the top of the Orb is an arch of similar design and similarly jewelled. Standing on the Orb is a large amethyst on which is fixed the cross. The amethyst is of remarkable size and beauty, one and a half inches in height and faceted all over. The cross is a very beautiful one, and has in the centre on one side an emerald and on the other a sapphire, each surrounded with diamonds. The outlines of the cross are marked by rows of diamonds, and there are three large diamonds along the centre of each arm. At the foot of the cross, where it rests on the great amethyst, is a collar of diamonds. At the ends of each of the arms is a large pearl, and in each of the four inner corners is also a large pearl. This Orb was made for Charles II by Sir Robert Vyner to replace an older orb destroyed by the Commonwealth.

The Queen’s Orb owes its origin to Mary, wife of William of Orange. By right of succession, Mary was Queen of England, and William her Consort, but she insisted on a joint occupation of the throne. Thus it came about that William III was crowned King of England and took the King’s Orb in his hand, whilst a smaller replica was made for Queen Mary. Though in general appearance they are much alike, the Queen’s Orb is not so important or handsome as that of the King. The globe is of polished gold, and round it is a fillet outlined with large pearls and studded with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. These coloured stones are alternately circular and octagonal, and are set in collars of gold. The arch over the Orb is ornamented in a similar manner. The cross, which stands on top, is studded with rubies, sapphires, and diamonds, differently arranged on either side.

CHAPTER III
THE REGALIA—continued

The Jewelled State Sword—The most valuable in the world—The emerald worth £2700—The sword described—The King offers it to the Church and redeems it for 100 shillings—The sword lost and found—The Sword of State—Carried before the King—The sword described—The three swords of Henry VIII—“Defender of the Faith”—The Sword Spiritual—The Sword Temporal—“Curtana,” or the Sword of Mercy—St. George’s golden spurs—The Bracelets—Bracelets worn by King Saul as well as Babylonian and Assyrian monarchs—The Coronation rings—The King’s ring—The Queen’s ring—Queen Victoria’s ring—Charles II’s Coronation ring—Coronation ring of Edward the Confessor—James II’s monde—Model of the Koh-i-Nur—Model of the Cullinan Diamond—Chisel and hammer.

THE Jewelled State Sword is the most beautiful and valuable sword in the world. To illustrate its value it may be mentioned that one stone alone, a square emerald set at cross of the hilt, is worth at least £2700, and this is only one of scores of precious stones which adorn this Sword. The grip is one mass of diamonds, which give so brilliant an effect that the beautiful designs are almost lost to sight; these are, however, when looked closely into, oak leaves and acorns. These may be, as in the State Crown, emblematic of Charles II and his oak tree, though perhaps, and more prophetically, an emblem of old England: the mighty oak that built her ships, and through them made her what she is in this year of grace.

At the head of the hilt of the Sword is a large and very valuable diamond, which has on its four sides four large rubies, and below these two rows of large emeralds and diamonds. The “quillions,” as the cross-piece between the hilt and the blade is called, is encrusted with a mass of small diamonds, so thickly set that the gold beneath is scarcely visible. At the extremities of the quillions are lions’ heads beautifully modelled and also formed entirely of small diamonds set close together.

The blade of the Sword is of Damascus steel of the very finest temper, and is in itself of great value. The scabbard is of dull gold ornamented throughout its length with jewels, both large and small. At the upper end is a cross formed of a sapphire, a ruby, two diamonds, and a yellow sapphire; this latter a rare and valuable stone. This rich cross is enclosed with laurel sprays of diamonds. Looking down the scabbard we see first the Rose of England, portrayed by a ruby set thickly round with diamonds. Then comes the Thistle of Scotland, fashioned out of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds; and next the Shamrock of Ireland, appropriately formed of emeralds alone. These three devices are thrice repeated as the scabbard fines away to a point. Between the devices are crossed golden sprays of laurel and palm leaves. On the “chape” or butt end of the scabbard appear again oak leaves and acorns formed of small diamonds. At the extreme tip is a large and very beautiful turquoise, oblong in shape, and set around with diamonds.

Naturally a sword of this magnificence is meant more for display on State occasions than for use on the field of battle; indeed, from a swordsman’s point of view, it would be quite impossible to firmly grip a hilt made of diamonds and other angularly cut stones. The scabbard and jewels are not ancient, whatever the history of the blade may be, having been made for the Coronation of George IV, just one hundred years ago. Since that reign this has been the Sword which the King at his Coronation hands to the Archbishop of Canterbury as symbolising that he places his Sword at the service of the Church. Happily for the financial stability of the empire, it is arranged between Church and State that after each Coronation the Keeper of the Jewel House is empowered to redeem the said Sword by paying to the Archbishop the apparently inadequate recompense of 100 shillings.

The Sword was rarely used except at coronations, and not being carefully guarded as it now is, got lost or mislaid in the reign of Queen Victoria, possibly because a queen has no use for a sword. For some decades this priceless weapon disappeared entirely, and then was only accidentally found at the back of an old disused cupboard. How truly British, both friends and semi-friends, will alike exclaim! Doubtless numbers of people had seen the box containing it, but as this box closely resembles an ordinary gun case, it was probably taken for one and left undisturbed. In this box, which looks like a gun case, are the emplacements for two swords. One is for the Jewelled Sword, but what lay in the other is not recorded—possibly a less ornate weapon for the King’s ordinary use when in uniform. This latter has disappeared probably amongst the cast-off accoutrements of some bygone monarch.

The Sword of State which is carried before the King at the opening of Parliament is quite a different weapon. It is a long, two-handed sword, with a gold hilt and quillion, and is encased in a crimson velvet scabbard. The length of the blade alone is 32 in., and the breadth of the same about 2 in. This is the Sword with which the King knighted the Prince of Wales when he was created a Knight of the Garter. The quillion of the sword is formed of an elongated lion on one side, and a similarly maltreated unicorn on the other. On the hilt are raised representations of a portcullis, a fleur-de-lis, and a harp. On the pommel are a thistle, an orb, and other emblems. Down the scabbard are various designs in gold, such as portcullis, the lion standing on a crown, orb, and cross. Then more conspicuously the Royal arms of England, the double Tudor rose, the thistle of Scotland, the harp of Ireland, and the fleur-de-lis of France.

The remaining three swords in the Jewel House are of a set, and were sent to Henry VIII by the Pope as Defender of the Faith. Henry VIII, as we know, disagreed with the Pope over his first matrimonial venture, and throwing His Holiness overboard, so to speak, made himself sole head of the Church of England. This bold deed, though based on a personal matter, was the foundation of England’s greatness. The swords the King retained, as also the title, which is still born by English sovereigns, and appears on their coins to this day: “Georgius V. D.G. Britt: Omn: Rex. F.D. Ind. Imp:”. These three swords are named the Sword Spiritual, the Sword Temporal, and “Curtana,” or the Sword of Mercy. They are long, straight swords with broad blades of exactly similar pattern, but there is one curious difference between Curtana and the other two, for the blade of this sword has had about six inches of blade broken off, leaving a blunt point. This break and shortening are intended to portray the element of Mercy.

The Golden Spurs, known as St. George’s Spurs, which are one of the King’s military emblems now to be seen in the Tower, were made for Charles II by Sir Robert Vyner, and were copied from the pair that existed in former ages, and which were sold or melted down by the Commonwealth. They are of the pattern known as “prick” spurs, for instead of rowels they have one sharp point. The straps are of crimson velvet embroidered in gold.

Bracelets have long been a regal emblem, being old even when Saul, King of Israel, was slain and the Amalekite brought his crown and bracelet to King David. The Babylonian and Assyrian monarchs wore bracelets as one of the insignia of royalty, whilst at the present day the Shah is the only male person in Persia who has a right to wear a bracelet. What may be the exact significance of the bracelet is not clear; it may have none, and may in the course of ages have become by usage one of the insignia of a reigning monarch. The bracelets at present in the Jewel House were made by Sir Robert Vyner for Charles II from some ancient design, and are of solid gold. On them are enamelled designs representing the emblems of the three kingdoms, as well as the fleur-de-lis of France. They are lined with crimson velvet.

A recent addition to the Crown Jewels in the Tower are the Coronation Rings. These are the private property of their Majesties, who with their usual gracious forethought have sent them to the Tower so that all their subjects may see them. The Coronation Rings are three in number: the King’s Ring, the Queen’s Ring, and a special ring made for Queen Victoria and presented to her by her uncle, William IV.

The King’s Ring is not ancient, dating only to the reign of William IV, and is of a magnificence that makes it unsuitable for daily wear even by a king in these days. In the centre is a very large and valuable sapphire which could not now be bought for £1000. Lying over this, in the form of a cross, are four long, narrow rubies. Round the whole is a circle of diamonds. The general design is to represent the Cross of St. George on a blue shield, as it is in insignia of the Order of the Garter.

The Queen’s Ring is not so large or ambitious, and might be worn without being unduly pronounced on ordinary occasions. In the centre is a large rectangular ruby set around with diamonds. The ruby is one of remarkable beauty and considerable value.

The third ring at the Jewel House is a small replica of the King’s Ring, and was bequeathed by William IV to the then Heir-Apparent to the throne, the Princess Victoria. A kindly thought on the part of the old King, knowing that a very large man’s ring would not be suitable for a young girl-queen. Unfortunately the jeweller was too much of a courtier, and made the ring so small that it caused Queen Victoria intense agony. The sapphire in this ring, though smaller, is so perfect as to be in value equal to the larger stone in the King’s Ring.

A much older Coronation ring than any of these is probably in existence. It belonged to Charles II, and was amongst the Stuart relics bequeathed to George III by Cardinal York. Where it is, or who owns it, is not known, for it must be remembered that these Coronation rings are the private property of each Sovereign and are at their disposal. It was therefore open to George III to give or bequeath it to whom he pleased.

Older far than any of these is the sapphire now in the cross paté on the summit of the King’s State Crown, which was in the Coronation ring of Edward the Confessor nearly 900 years ago. Perchance some future King will transpose the two sapphires as a matter of sentiment, replacing Edward the Confessor’s sapphire in the Coronation ring and transferring the sapphire now in that ring to the cross paté.

A typical example of the depredations to which the Crown Jewels were subject in less guarded days is shown in the Jewel House. This is a jewel which passed for long as a magnificent faceted aquamarine, in the shape of a monde or globe surmounted by a diamond cross, which figured first on top of the Crown of King James II. Many historians mention this stone with speechless admiration. Yet when a more critical age came to examine this precious stone, it was found to be nothing more valuable than a ball of coloured glass! Naturally when this discovery was made the ornament lost its place of honour on top of the King’s Crown, and is now shown only as a curiosity. Whether the original aquamarine had been disposed of by James II before his flight or sold in some long past reign by order of the King, or whether owing to slack guardianship it was removed through the connivance of the guardians and replaced by a worthless imitation, history does not relate. At any rate, an expert goldsmith and jeweller must have been in the secret for the making of an exact replica, and must have required prolonged possession of the model to work from. Probably, too, when the substitution was first discovered nobody cared to say much about it lest they themselves should be suspected of theft, or at least accused of criminal carelessness in its custody.

Amongst the Jewels may be seen a model of the Koh-i-Nur diamond as it was before being cut into the form of a brilliant. It was at that period set in an armlet with two lesser diamonds on either side, and could either thus be worn, or alternatively as an ornament in the turban, by the Eastern potentate who then owned the great diamond. This model is set in the original setting of gold, richly enamelled. The crimson silk cords ending in tassels of pearls and rubies, with which the armlet was furnished, are also shown in original. This model shows the curious conical shape the diamond then had from which its name, “The Mountain of Light,” was derived. A looking-glass set behind it enables one to see the beautiful enamels at the back of the setting.

Another model of great interest is that of the Cullinan diamond or the Star of Africa, exactly showing its size and appearance when first found. It is difficult to imagine a diamond of this size and appearance until we actually see the model. It will be found described amongst the greater gems in another place.

The Star of Africa was, it will be remembered, cut into four great portions, whilst numerous small pieces also resulted. This operation was performed at Amsterdam by the famous diamond-cutters, Messrs. Coster. The hammer and chisel with which this delicate operation was performed are kept in the Jewel House, and are most unlikely-looking instruments. The chisel is in the shape of a deep man’s comb without a handle, and is more like a wedge than a chisel, as generally understood. It is of hardened steel, yet not so hard but that it shows the marks where it struck the diamond. The hammer is equally unconventional, being a solid steel cylinder, like a short rod or truncheon. Apparently only three or four sharp blows opposite the natural cleavages were sufficient to break up the great rough stone into the four great Stars of Africa.

It is difficult by word of mouth, or with the pen, or even by illustrations, to give an adequate idea of the splendour and brilliancy of the Crown Jewels. They have to be seen to be adequately appreciated. This by the gracious permission of His Majesty the King it is possible for all, rich or poor, to achieve by visiting the Jewel House at the Tower of London. The poor can see them without toll or fee on what are known as “free days,” whilst the rich need only spend sixpence for the same privilege on “paying days.” If these chapters in any way help to give an added interest to their visit they will have amply achieved their object.

CHAPTER IV
THE ROYAL PLATE

Plate for the Royal table—Plate for the King’s Chapel—Trumpets and maces—Queen Elizabeth’s gold salt cellar—Escapes the Commonwealth—The design of the salt cellar—The State salt of Charles II—Presented by the City of Exeter—A jewelled castle armed with golden guns—Charles II’s wine fountain—Presented by the Borough of Plymouth—The finest specimen of plate in the Jewel House—Not only ornamental, but useful to His Majesty—The ordeal of the lady on top—The eleven St. George’s Salts—Curious history of a set of four—A correspondence that lasted ninety-two years—The ordeal of the serpents—St. George on the canopy of the great salts—The salt spoons—Two golden tankards—To be viewed from a discreet distance—The silver trumpets—Used at Coronations—And when Peace is Proclaimed—Crimson and gold bannerets—The Archbishop’s old time exhortation—The maces of the sergeants-at-arms—Charles II, James II, William and Mary, George I—The mace originally a bludgeon—The crown at head of it the insignia of Royal authority—The policeman’s truncheon a miniature mace—The maces at the Proclamation of Peace—The mace-bearers originally a corps of knights—Bodyguard of the King.

THE Royal Plate in the Jewel House may be roughly divided into two main categories, the one being plate for the Royal table and dignity, and the other ecclesiastical plate for use at Coronations or at services in one of His Majesty’s Chapels Royal. The table plate consists mostly of large gold salt cellars, known as Salts of State, whilst the kingly dignity is represented by the great gold maces borne by the sergeants-at-arms, and the silver trumpets which sound a fanfare when the king is crowned.

The oldest piece of table plate in the Jewel House is Queen Elizabeth’s gold salt cellar. How this escaped the depredations of the Commonwealth, or how it avoided being melted down with other Royal plate, to meet the necessities of Charles I, history does not relate. Very possibly it was sold in those days, and preserved by the purchaser through the troublous times, and then either given back, or sold back, to the Crown on the Restoration.

The salt cellar, which is a very fine specimen of Elizabethan work, stands about a foot in height; at the top is a shallow pan in which the salt was placed, over which is a gold canopy supported on brackets. The object of canopies such as this apparently was to keep the larger and more obtrusive pieces of dirt and dust from the rough rafters overhead, from falling into the salt. Salt was a precious thing in those days, and as carefully to be protected as would pâté de foie gras in these times. On top of the canopy stands a knight in armour holding a long two-handed sword and a shield. He also is manifestly guarding the salt from theft and danger.

With the exception of this one piece, none of the gold table plate in the Jewel House dates further back than the reign of Charles II, and this for good and sufficient reasons, as we have seen. To renew the Royal Plate at the Restoration several contributions were made, and the chiefest of these by the loyal county of Devon. The city of Exeter presented His Majesty with a magnificent golden State salt cellar, fashioned like a castle; and the Borough of Plymouth came forward with one of the handsomest pieces of gold plate in existence, a beautiful wine fountain.

The State salt cellar stands nearly two feet high, and is a most elaborate and beautifully worked out representation of a square castle prepared for defence as it would be in medieval days. At each corner are turrets for flank defence, and cannons and guns bristle from every wall. On the top is a cupolo shaped like a Royal crown, and under this may be seen exquisitely fashioned field-guns on wheels. The castle is adorned throughout with precious stones, one specially large sapphire being observable above the portcullis at the front entrance. Some historians think it was intended to represent the White Tower, which is the keep of the Tower of London, but as many castles in those days were more or less of this design, and amongst them Exeter Castle, it seems more probable that the design was taken from that city.

The tops of the four turrets as well as the crown left off and disclosed shallow pans or saucers each capable of holding a small quantity of precious salt. There are also small troughs under the windows also intended each to hold a little salt. Probably nobody but the King and Queen and three or four distinguished guests seated near were intended to take salt from the State salt cellar, its place being in the centre of the great banqueting table exactly opposite the King.

The wine fountain, besides being an exceedingly fine example of the goldsmith’s art, must have been a very acceptable and appropriate present for the jovial King to receive. The fountain stands two and a half feet high, the central figure being a lady very lightly clad, holding a snake by the neck. Below the lady are two tiers of shallow receptacles shaped like shells and ornamented with mermaids, dolphins, and sea nymphs. The lower, and larger tier, measures 28 in. in diameter. When in use the fountain could be made to play as does a water-fountain in the garden. The procedure would be to place a barrel of wine in the gallery: from this a pipe would run which could be fixed to the hollow at the base of the fountain. When the tap was turned on the wine would run up inside the lady and out presumedly through the serpent’s mouth. The height of spray would depend on the height of the barrel above the table. The wine as it fell in spray would drip down the lady, which impending deluge doubtless accounts for her lack of garments; thence it would flow into the tier of smaller receptacles. As these filled up they would overflow into the larger receptacles below, and when these in their turn were filled to overflowing, the only way to prevent a flood, and a devastating waste of good wine, was for the company to continuously dip their beakers into them and thus stem the tide by steadily drinking the contents.

There are eleven other great gold salt cellars amongst the Royal plate at the Tower dating from the reign of Charles II, which used to help in decorating the tables at Coronation banquets. These are all known as St. George’s Salts and are of several patterns.

A curious story attaches to one set of four of these salt cellars. They are cylindrical in shape, rather like a deep drum, and embossed with sprays of leaves and flowers in high relief. At the top are three brackets curving outwards fashioned as serpents. When the Royal plate was being overhauled for the Coronation of George IV, some bright expert decided that the brackets were not brackets, but legs, and turned the salts over and stood them on these. He was then faced by an aching void which would hold a couple of pounds of salt, for the cylinders are hollow. Naught dismayed, he had shallow gold pans to hold salt made to fit the cylinders, and on these were engraved the Royal arms and the words “George IV.” Thus upside down the salts remained for ninety-two years, the serpents standing on their heads, and the herbaceous ornamentation drooping sadly. During those ninety-two years an animated correspondence appears to have been carried on as to which end upwards the salts should rightly stand, and it was only in the time of the present Keeper of the Jewel House that the serpents, doubtless to their relief, were allowed again to hold up their heads, and the golden flowers and foliage were condemned no longer to droop. The real mission in life of these brackets, as has been re-discovered in this post-bellum age, is to support a napkin which was spread over them so as to protect the salt from dust and dirt.

All the rest of the St. George’s Salts have a permanent golden canopy over them very similar to that which covers Queen Elizabeth’s salt cellar. On top of the canopy in each case is a knight in armour, in some cases mounted, in others on foot. The knight is probably meant for St. George, in some cases mounted before killing the dragon, and in others dismounted and at rest, after having accomplished that historic feat.

Appertaining to the great salt cellars there remain a residue of twelve gold salt spoons, the missing numbers no doubt having been lost, or annexed by excessively loyal guests.

Two very handsome gold tankards are in the Jewel House, which were added to the Royal plate by George IV. Viewed from a discreet distance the effect is very fine, but a closer inspection is not recommended to those who disapprove of realism in art. Queen Victoria, it is reported, disliked these flagons intensely.

The silver trumpets and gold maces are placed in the Jewel House as part of the Royal Treasure. There were originally sixteen silver trumpets, but one disappeared in a bygone reign and has never been recovered, so that fifteen only remain. They are the ordinary shape of a cavalry trumpet, and are used not only at the King’s Coronation, but also when proclamations are made by the Heralds in the King’s name. They were thus used, for instance, when the Heralds rode to various parts of London and proclaimed the Peace at the end of the Great War, in 1919. Pendent from each trumpet is a crimson silk banneret richly embroidered in gold, displaying the Royal arms with the cypher of the reigning monarch. At the Coronation of the sovereign the trumpeters blow a fanfare on these silver trumpets, the ritual for which in the old world wording of the Coronation service is thus given:

“The Archbishop of Canterbury speaks thus to the people: ‘Sirs, I here present unto you King George, the undoubted King of this realm: wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?’ The people signify their willingness by loud and repeated exclamations, all with one voice crying out ‘God save King George.’”

Then the trumpets sound a fanfare.

Of gold maces there are eight in number at the Tower. The oldest of these are two made for Charles II; there are two also which date from the reign of James II, whilst three were supplied for William and Mary, and one for George I. They are all of very similar pattern. A mace was originally a weapon used by cavalry soldiers, and many and various patterns of these may be seen in the Armoury in the White Tower. It was, in fact, a bludgeon with a short handle and a heavy head, sufficiently heavy to beat in the steel helmets worn in those days. The ceremonial mace has, instead of a battle-head, a crown, and this crown is to denote the delegation of the Royal authority. The Sergeant-at-arms carrying the mace before the Speaker, and placing it on rests before him in the House of Commons, thus conveys the Royal Assent to the assembly. In the same way mayors of towns have crowned maces borne before with the same intention. When policemen, or peelers as they were then called, were first incorporated, they were served out with truncheons which were miniature maces with a Royal crown at the head of each. These crowns, however, were not very practical weapons with which to knock a burglar on the head; indeed, they generally broke off, which was an untoward catastrophe, so they were discontinued. Those who were in the streets of London when the Peace proclamation was made at the close of the Great War, will have noticed that sergeants-at-arms bearing their maces accompanied the heralds and trumpeters, thus signifying that the whole ceremony was with the King’s authority.

At the coronation of a sovereign the sergeants-at-arms, whose number seems to have varied in the course of centuries, carry their maces and form part of the procession. Originally the mace-bearers were a corps of twenty-four knights, or gentlemen of high degree, who formed a sort of bodyguard to the King, and thus they were in the reign of Richard Cœur de Lion. As late as the reign of Charles II the sergeants-at-arms bearing their maces are shown mounted on horses. At the present day a sergeant-at-arms walks and carries his mace, no mean weight, as those who have seen them stagger after a long day may well imagine. Thirty-four pounds do they each weigh.

We have now accounted for all the secular plate in the Tower pertaining to royalty, and proceed to describe the ecclesiastical plate used at the coronations of our monarchs, or on certain occasions during their reigns, either at Westminster, or at St. Peter ad Vincula, a Royal chapel within the Tower.

CHAPTER V
ECCLESIASTICAL PLATE

The Ampulla or Golden Eagle—Its great age—Repaired for Coronation of Charles II—The lapis lazuli eagle lost or sold—The Ampulla escapes the Commonwealth—Hidden in Westminster Abbey—The Ampulla at the Coronation—Filled with holy oil—Oil costing £200—Height of eagle—A prototype of the lecternes in churches—The anointing spoon—Of Byzantine origin—The spoon described—Its use at a coronation—Oil on the King’s head—The Maundy Dish—Its severe simplicity—Inaugurated by Charles II—Maundy money for the aged poor—The ceremony of presentation at Westminster—The baptismal font—For Princes and Princesses of the Blood Royal—The alms dish—Queen Victoria orders a new font—The bacchanalian flagons—The alms dish and flagon of William and Mary—Used in the chapel within the Tower.

THE ecclesiastical plate, if so it may be called, which is kept at the Tower, appertains to religious ceremonies, chiefly in connection with coronation of the sovereigns called upon to reign over the British Empire and the baptism of the Royal children. But also there are pieces of church plate which are used on certain set occasions, as is in due course set forth. The oldest piece of plate, ecclesiastical or secular, preserved in the Tower, is the Ampulla or Golden Eagle. This bears distinct traces of Byzantine origin, and thus may be fourteen hundred years old. It was for long attributed to Sir Robert Vyner, and was supposed to have been made for the Coronation of Charles II. But recent exact examination by experts has shown that the eagle is of a very much earlier origin. To one skilled in such matters it is, for instance, at once apparent that the screw with which the head is attached to the body is of a pattern that was ancient even in the days of Charles II, and further a close examination of the body of the eagle shows distinct signs of Byzantine workmanship.[^[7]] It may thus be concluded that this eagle was used in very early days for the Coronation of English Kings. It then was supplanted perhaps for centuries by a much more ornate and intrinsically valuable emblem of lapis lazuli, with a golden eagle at the top enriched with pearls and diamonds, mentioned by Mezeray. This valuable bird has disappeared altogether, and whether it was disposed of to meet the necessities of Charles I, or whether sold or destroyed by the Commonwealth, is not clear. But the older eagle survived these troublous times owing to the fortunate circumstance that it was hidden and forgotten in the Treasure House at Westminster Abbey. Much mutilated, and with the wings broken off, it was handed over to Sir Robert Vyner, who restored it for the Coronation of Charles II to the form in which we see it at present in the Tower.

The eagle, far from being of life size, is only nine inches high, and is in truth a very poor representation of an eagle, thus further emphasizing its ancient origin. It is, however, of solid gold hollowed only sufficiently to contain a small quantity of holy oil. This is introduced by unscrewing the head and pouring the oil into it, the holy unguent being composed chiefly of olive oil and balm. Of so great a value is it, that it is on record that James II paid no less than £200 for the small quantity required for his Coronation ceremony. The Ampulla is the prototype of the large brass eagle which we see in many churches bearing the Holy Bible on its back, emblematically about to fly to the four corners of the earth carrying the sacred message of the gospel.

At the Coronation, when the moment for the anointing of the King arrives, a small portion of the holy oil is poured into the anointing spoon, the beak of the eagle forming the channel.

The anointing spoon, into which the oil is poured from the Ampulla, can probably claim almost equally ancient origin. On this, too, recent examination has discovered distinct traces of Byzantine workmanship. So ancient a spoon has naturally been repaired and renewed from time to time during the centuries, but that it has existed for more than a thousand years is quite evident. The handle of the spoon is seven and a half inches long, tapering towards the top, showing that it is intended to be gripped with the whole hand, instead of being balanced on the fingers as are more modern spoons. It is richly ornamented and set with pearls. The bowl of the spoon is two and a quarter inches in length, and is curiously divided longitudinally by a ridge. When in use at a coronation, the Archbishop of Canterbury dips his two first fingers into the holy oil resting in these two compartments, and with the oil thus raised makes a cross on the King’s head, on his breast, and on the palms of his hands. The Coronation service directs the Archbishop to pour the holy oil on to His Majesty’s head, but being a kindly prelate, he does not obey these instructions too literally, thus saving the Royal person and robes from a devastating deluge.

That this Ampulla and the spoon escaped the studied destruction of the Commonwealth is proved by the records of the Restoration, for it is expressly stated that, “All the Regalia, except the ampulla and spoon, both of which were constantly kept in the Church of Westminster, were sacrilegiously plundered.”

One of the most impressive pieces of ecclesiastical plate, impressive from its severe simplicity, is the Maundy Dish. In contrast to the highly decorative alms dish of William and Mary, it is perfectly plain. In diameter it is somewhat over two feet, and it weighs two hundred and two ounces. It was made in the reign of Charles II in 1660-61, who decided, in place of continuing the ancient custom of distributing the Royal Bounty, to make instead an offering to the aged poor. The number of the aged poor to be thus beneficed is regulated by the King’s age, that is to say, if he is fifty years of age, fifty old men and fifty old women receive the bounty. The bounty itself consists of a silver penny, a silver twopenny, a silver threepenny, and a silver fourpenny, making a total of tenpence. This in Charles II days was a fairly handsome dole; whilst even at this day the set of four silver coins is of a value far above its intrinsic merits. Indeed, on one occasion a five pound note was given at the Abbey door for the purchase of one of these sets. In addition, however, to the coins, the aged poor who are yearly selected by the Dean of Westminster receive other handsome doles from the King in money and clothing.

The ceremony takes place in Westminster Abbey on the Thursday before Good Friday, known as Maundy Thursday. The dish is taken from the Tower to Westminster, where at the ceremony a yeoman of the guard carries it in procession, holding displayed the little red bags containing the Maundy Money. The aged poor are marshalled on each side of the aisle, and to them after an impressive service the little bags of money are one by one distributed, by the clergy, in the King’s name.

It will be noticed that William and Mary have placed their cypher in the middle of the Maundy Dish, but the plate mark clearly shows that it was made at the beginning of the reign of Charles II.

After the ceremony at Westminster the Maundy Dish is conveyed back to the Tower, and there rests behind iron bars for yet another year.

Of the ecclesiastical plate the most prominent piece is the gold baptismal font made for Charles II, and intended to be used for the baptism of all Royal children born thereafter. If the original intention had been carried out a very long successions of Princes and Princesses, including those now living, would have had this historic connection with an ancient piece of church plate. Unhappily, however, owing possibly to the inadvertence of Court officials or the clergy, the font has only been spasmodically used. The first recorded occasion is at the christening of the Princess Augusta, afterwards Duchess of Brunswick, the third daughter of Frederick Louis, Prince of Wales in the year 1737. We also know that it was used at the baptism of George IV, and for the same ceremony in the case of twelve of the children of George III.

Then it seems to have been lost sight of, or perhaps was mistaken for a punch bowl, for we find that in 1840-41, Queen Victoria ordered a baptismal font to be made of silver-gilt, which is now at Windsor Castle, and in which all Princes and Princesses from that date have been baptised. It may confidently be hoped that at some future date the older font will again come into use, and will not again be lost to sight.

Charles II’s font gives the general impression of a large, covered bowl standing on a slender, rounded column, and has a somewhat top-heavy effect. In height it is about 3 ft. 6 in., whilst the bowl is about 18 in. in diameter. On top of the cover is a group of gold figures representing St. Philip baptising the eunuch, whilst below is the cypher of Charles II surmounted by a Royal crown. The same device is repeated on the base of the font. As part of the set is a very handsome and massive golden alms dish with the Royal arms of the Stuarts engraved large in the centre.

The flagons which have become associated with this font are, as their plate-marks show, of later origin, and the association, therefore, was only temporary, and might without doubt be dissevered. They are, in fact, tankards made and intended to be used at the festal board, and not for sacramental wine. The designs in high relief on these tankards is sufficient evidence of this, for they depict bacchanalian scenes of the most realistic nature. It is possible that it was these flagons, which were thought to be indissoluble from the font, which caused the whole set to be put aside by Queen Victoria. The flagons are of German origin, made in Hamburg, and though their date is uncertain, may rightly be ascribed to the Hanoverian dynasty.

Amongst the ecclesiastical plate is a very handsome golden alms dish and flagon made for William and Mary, the plate-marks on which show they were made in 1691-92. The alms dish is more than two feet in diameter, and has in the centre in high relief a fine representation of the Last Supper. Below this is a panel on which is displayed the cypher of William and Mary, surmounted by a royal crown. Round the wide rim, also in high relief, are four winged cherubs, and between these golden foliage, garlands, and fruit. The flagon stands about a foot and a half high, and has a handle and cover. The body is covered with boldly embossed cherubs’ faces, foliage, and festoons of roses and fruit. The cypher of William and Mary, surmounted by a royal crown, is on the front of the flagon.

These two pieces of ecclesiastical plate have the privilege of replacing much older plate three times a year on the altar of the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula within the Tower. These three occasions are Easter Sunday, Whit Sunday, and Christmas Day. On these three days the Keeper of the Jewel House hands them over to the Tower authorities for the period of morning service, and then, reclaiming them, replaces them with the Regalia.

The altar plate, which the alms dish and flagon of William and Mary replace on these three occasions, dates to the reigns of Charles I and Charles II. This older set of plate, though quite plain, is in the eyes of connoisseurs more impressive than the more ornate and finely designed insignia of the later reign. The origin of this curious routine is lost in antiquity. It may, however, have been ordered so as to emphasize the arrival of a new dynasty and the death of the old; thus with large and resplendent plate to outshine the smaller and plainer vessels of the Stuarts. But the origin, be what it may, the custom has become established, and will without doubt continue year by year as long as the Tower stands, and England is England.

CHAPTER VI
THE REGAL EMBLEMS

The emblems of Royalty—Spiritual and Temporal—The regalia used at the Coronation of George V—The emblems borne in procession at Westminster—The Ampulla or golden eagle—The Anointing Spoon—The Sword and Spurs—The ceremony of the Jewelled Sword—The King offers it to the Church—Redeems it for 100 shillings—The Armilla, or Pall of Cloth of Gold—The Orb placed in the King’s hand—A portent of Christian domination—The Coronation ring—The ensign of Kingly Dignity—The Sceptre with the Cross—The Sceptre with the Dove—A glove presented by the Lord of the Manor of Worksop—The King is crowned with St. Edward’s Crown—The Peers put on their coronets—the people shout and “the great guns of the Tower are shot off”—The enthronement of the King—The Queen’s Coronation—The Anointing—The Ring—The Queen is crowned—The Peeresses put on their coronets—The Queen’s Sceptre—The Ivory Rod with the Dove—The Regal emblems on view in the Tower.

THE emblems of Royalty are many and curious, and each has its significance. When a King or Queen of England is crowned, all these emblems are brought from the Tower to Westminster Abbey, and each in turn is presented to the new sovereign by the Archbishop of Canterbury. This fact in itself is curious and interesting. It is not the House of Lords which represents the aristocracy of the country, nor the House of Commons which represents the people, nor the Lord Chancellor as representing Law and Order, but the highest prelate of the Church of England, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who on behalf of 500,000,000 subjects of every race and creed, is deputed to crown the rightful successor King of Great Britain and Ireland and Emperor of wide-world dominions.

Of these emblems some are of a purely kingly significance, such as the Crown and Sceptre; others, like the Orb and Ring, have a religious connection, whilst others, as symbolized by the Sword and Spurs, are military emblems giving the knightly touch.

When a King or Queen is to be crowned, all the regal emblems from amongst the Crown Jewels, which are required for the ceremony, having been conveyed from the Tower to Westminster Abbey, are there met by the Peers and high officers, each of whom, either by hereditary right or by order of the King, takes charge of one emblem. The portions of the regalia used at the Coronation of King George V were:

St. Edward’s Crown, or the Crown of England.

The King’s Imperial State Crown.

The Orb.

The Sceptre with the Cross.

The Sceptre with the Dove.

The Jewelled State Sword.

The Sword of State.

The Three Swords of Justice and Mercy.

The Gold Spurs of St. George.

The Bracelets.

The Coronation Ring.

The Ampulla or Golden Eagle.

The Anointing Spoon.

These are all borne in procession to the altar, and there, with the exception of the Swords, each article is handed to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who in his turn hands them to the Dean of Westminster, and by that prelate they are each in due order placed upon the altar. When the ceremony of coronation commences, the first emblems used are the Ampulla and Spoon.

THE KING’S ROYAL SCEPTRE AND THE JEWELLED STATE SWORD

The Dean of Westminster pours a little of the oil from the Ampulla into the Anointing Spoon and takes it to the Archbishop. The Archbishop dips his first two fingers into the oil, and with the oil that adheres to them anoints the King, first on the head, then on the breast bared for the occasion, and thirdly on the palms of both hands. In each case the anointing is made in the form of a cross. This ceremony of the anointing of Kings is of very ancient origin, as may be gathered from Bible history. Thousands of years ago it was the custom to pour oil on the King’s head and thus anoint him King over his people. What the origin of the custom was is not quite clear, but in the course of centuries it has become a recognized and indispensable part of the ceremony. Indeed, so indispensable, that there is on record a case where a Queen who had always been obliged to wear a wig was so impressed with the importance of the oil actually reaching the skin of her head that she had a small trap-door cut in the top of her wig so that the holy oil might assuredly reach its destination. In olden days the oil was literally poured on to the King’s head, so that it ran down his beard and must have considerably damaged his clothes. In another place[^[8]] is mentioned the old horn comb, used to rearrange the King’s hair, perchance disordered by a too enthusiastic archbishop, which was thrown away by the Commonwealth.

The next portions of the Regalia which come into the ceremony are the Spurs and Sword, the emblems of knighthood and chivalry. With the Spurs the Lord Great Chamberlain merely touches the King’s heels and returns them to the altar, but of the Sword much is made. It is in itself a magnificent work of art resplendent with costly jewels, the most valuable sword in the world. This most fittingly is carried by the Keeper of the Jewel House, an officer of high rank in the Army and a warrior of many wars. The Archbishop of Canterbury, taking the Sword, and accompanied by the Archbishop of York, the Bishops of London and Winchester and other bishops assisting, approaches the King and delivers it into the King’s right hand. And the King having girt the sword about him, the Archbishop gives him a benediction strongly reminiscent of that bestowed on the Knights of the Bath in olden days: “With this Sword do justice, stop the growth of iniquity, protect the Holy Church of God, help and defend widows and orphans, restore the things that are gone to decay, maintain the things that are restored, punish and reform what is amiss, and confirm what is in good order: that doing these things you may be glorious in all virtue; and so faithfully serve our Lord Jesus Christ in this life, that you may reign for ever with Him in the life which is to come.” This Jewelled Sword is then ungirded and placed by the King on the altar as his tribute to the Almighty, but the Almighty having no need of so valuable or indeed of any sword, it is redeemed by the Keeper of the Jewel House on payment of 100 shillings to the Archbishop, and returns eventually to safe keeping in the Tower.

The Dean of Westminster then puts upon the King the Armilla or stole, and the Imperial Mantle or Pall of Cloth of Gold, the Lord Great Chamberlain fastening the clasps.

The King being seated, the Archbishop of Canterbury places in his hand the Orb, which is the sign and portent of Christian dominion throughout the world. On top of the Orb is a jewelled Cross standing on a great amethyst. To this the Archbishop draws attention, saying: “And when you see this Orb set under the Cross, remember that the whole world is subject to the Power and Empire of Christ our Redeemer.” The Orb is then handed by the King to the Dean of Westminster, who again places it on the altar.

The Coronation Ring is the next emblem to be brought forward also by the Keeper of the Jewel House. The ring is the ensign of kingly dignity and of the defence of the Catholic faith, and is placed by the Archbishop on the fourth finger of His Majesty’s right hand. The ring is of gold, and set therein is a large sapphire of great value surrounded by a circle of small diamonds. Across, but clear of the sapphire, north to south and east to west, are long, narrow rubies, giving the general effect of a red cross on a dark blue background, the Cross of St. George on a shield. A smaller replica of this large ring was given to Queen Victoria by William IV, and used at Her Majesty’s Coronation. William IV naturally had this ring made in his lifetime when the Princess Victoria was young, but before the time that she came to the throne both she and her finger had grown larger. With many other things to think about, nobody thought of trying the ring on the Queen’s finger before the ceremony, all taking it for granted that it had been fitted. Hence resulted the historic struggle of the Archbishop of Canterbury to thrust the ring on, and the intense agony of Her Majesty throughout the rest of the ceremony. Both of these may be seen in the Jewel House, together with the ruby ring described later.

Next in the ceremony comes the presentation to the King of the Sceptre with the Cross, and the Sceptre with the Dove. But before the Archbishop places these in his hands, the Lord of the Manor of Worksop, by ancient right, presents the King with a glove which His Majesty draws on. The Lord of the Manor of Worksop also has the privilege of supporting the King’s right arm after the Sceptre has been placed in the King’s hand. The Sceptre with the Cross, which is the ensign of kingly power and justice, is delivered into the King’s right hand by the Archbishop. This is the sceptre which has the great diamond the Star of South Africa set in its head. This addition, which was introduced in the reign of Edward VII, was directly inspired by that wise monarch. The diamond represented the latest and youngest member of the British Empire, but the King made the proviso that though the great diamond was to be introduced no portion of the ancient sceptre was to be cut away or destroyed. When the King commands someone will be found with the brains and ingenuity to follow out the deep political sentiment thus expressed. The brains and ingenuity were duly furnished by Garrard’s, perhaps the most famous of a long succession of Court Jewellers.

THE KING’S ROYAL SCEPTRE.
Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co.,
from a painting made by Mr. Cyril Davenport (Copyright).

The Sceptre with the Dove, which is known as the Rod of Equity and Mercy, is by the same prelate placed in the King’s left hand.

The King holds these two sceptres in his hands, whilst the definite act of coronation takes place. The crown used is St. Edward’s Crown, or the Crown of England. This the Archbishop first places on the altar, and pronounces a blessing. The Dean of Westminster than takes the crown and with the bishops processes towards the King, who is seated in the ancient Coronation Chair. There he hands the crown to the Archbishop, “who putteth it reverently on the King’s head. At the sight thereof the people with loud and repeated shouts cry, “God save the King”; the Peers and the Kings of Arms put on their coronets, and the trumpets sound, and by a signal given the great guns of the Tower are shot off.”[^[9]]

St. Edward’s Crown is very heavy, being made of massive gold; it is therefore almost immediately replaced by the King’s State Crown, a much lighter and at the same time much more resplendent insignia. St. Edward’s Crown is never used again till the next sovereign in succession comes to be crowned. Throughout his reign the King on all State occasions, such as the opening of Parliament, wears his State Crown, sometimes known as the Diamond Crown. Indeed, it may well be so called, for it is one great mass of brilliancy thrown forth by more than 6000 diamonds of every size.

The final act in the Coronation ceremony is the enthronement, or as it is more anciently named, the Inthronisation. Wearing the State Crown, with a sceptre in each hand, and clothed in the robes of majesty, the King is conducted from St. Edward’s Chair to the Throne of England, and is placed upon it by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Then all those peers and high officers who bear the Swords, and Orb, and other portions of the Regalia, group themselves round the steps of the throne, whilst the Archbishop makes his final exhortation. After the coronation of a sovereign all the Regalia are handed back to the Keeper of the Jewel House and conveyed to the Tower of London, where the majority rest till the next King or Queen ascends the Throne.

During a reign the only portions of the Regalia which usually leave the Tower are the King’s State Crown, the Queen’s State Crown, the Sword of State, and such maces as are required, these being used when the King opens Parliament in State. On great occasions, however, such as the day when peace was declared, at the end of the Great War, the silver trumpets are taken out and the State trumpeters sound a fanfare thereon when the heralds make proclamation. At the same time two or three of the Sergeants-at-Arms’ maces are also taken out and borne in the heralds’ procession.

When a Queen in her own right, like Queen Victoria, is crowned, she uses the same Regalia as is above described for a King, but when the Queen is a Queen Consort the procedure and Regalia are different. For such occasions a double set are made, such as were used by James II and his Queen Mary of Modena; by William III and Mary II; by Edward VII and Queen Alexandra; and by George V and Queen Mary. The Regalia of a Queen Consort consists of a State Crown, a ring, and two sceptres, with regal robes somewhat similar to those of the King.

The ceremony of the coronation of a Queen Consort is comparatively brief, and is performed by the Archbishop of York. First the Queen is anointed, whilst four peeresses hold a rich pall or canopy of gold over her. The Archbishop is enjoined to pour the oil on Her Majesty’s head, but we confidently hope that he is usually not too literal in the interpretation of this injunction. After the anointing, the Keeper of the Jewel House hands the Coronation Ring to the Archbishop, who places it on the Queen’s fourth finger of the right hand, giving to it the name of the Seal of Faith. Then the Archbishop takes the Queen’s Crown and reverently places it on her head, referring to it as the Crown of glory, honour, and joy. At the same moment as the Queen is crowned all the peeresses put on their coronets. Finally the Archbishop of York places a Sceptre in the Queen’s right hand, and the Ivory Rod with the Dove in her left hand.

All the regal emblems above described are kept in the Jewel House at the Tower of London, and are there on view every day in the week, except Sundays and Christmas Day, all the year round. On Saturdays and Bank Holidays the Jewel House is free to visitors, whilst on other days a charge of sixpence is made. On a Whit Monday Bank Holiday as many as 16,000 people have been known to pass free through the Jewel House. The money paid for entrance does not, as in the old days, go to the Keeper of the Jewel House or to his assistants, but to the Treasury. The takings vary from over £700 in a good month, say August, down to £150 in a bad month, generally December. The total fees taken must be some £5000 per annum. Thus the Crown Jewels are not like talents hidden in the ground, but bring in a handsome income to the State.

CHAPTER VII
THE GREAT TRAGEDY

Tragedy comes to the Crown Jewels—The Parliamentary obsession—The emblems of royalty to be destroyed—Some sensible Lords—The Puritan unmasked—Some excellent bargains for the righteous—The Black Prince’s ruby sold for £4—Concealed and returned to Charles II—Alfred the Great’s Crown melted down—Then 800 years old—Fetched £238—Queen Edith’s Crown—Sold for £16—A glass cup for £102—The golden Dove, emblematic of the Holy Ghost, £26—The three swords another bargain—St. George’s gold spurs for £1 13s. 4d.—The “old horne comb”—A complete list of the Royal plate and jewels with their values—The Robes destroyed—The Restoration—Regalia furnished for Charles II—Cost £320,000 of our money—Included therein “a paire of Trowses and breeches over them”—The presents of plate—The city of Exeter’s gift—And that of the Borough of Plymouth—A wine fountain and its uses—The Great Salts—A golden baptismal font—The pilfering of jewels—James II pays £500 for hire of jewels at his coronation—A new State Crown required—A diadem which cost £110,000—A new Sceptre with the Dove £440—The Sceptre with the Cross £1025—St. Edward’s staff—A new Orb for Queen Mary of Modena—The aquamarine monde of James II—The Maundy Dish—The Alms Dish and flagon of William and Mary—The Imperial Crown of India—Queen Mary’s Crown—The tragedy of 1649 happily wiped out.

THE greatest tragedy which has ever happened to the Crown Jewels occurred during the sway of the Commonwealth. This period, thus misappropriately named, was, it is said by people who know all about these things, merely a national aperient, which as such, they say, served its purpose, but the medicine smells no sweeter to many of us of this day than it did to those who had to swallow it in that bygone age. The Parliamentarians took themselves extremely seriously, and in the solemn attempt to stamp out the monarchy, and all monarchical principles, they with the limited intelligence that permeates the parochially-minded thought to further this fanatical principle by destroying even the emblems of royalty. This though these had become nothing more dangerous than any other articles of wondrous historic value such as are fitly preserved in the British Museum. This class of fanatic might, with ponderous conscientiousness, blow up the Pyramids of Egypt in furtherance of some similar principle.

In solemn conclave, therefore, the House of Commons passed a resolution that all emblems of royalty should be totally broken up, the gold and silver to be melted down, and the jewels sold to the best advantage. True there were a few sensible members of the House of Lords who pointed out that the historic value of the Crown Jewels far exceeded their intrinsic worth, and that to melt down crowns and plate and to disperse jewels of renown was a very extravagant procedure, especially so in an era of strict economy. Nevertheless, broken up and destroyed were the Crown Jewels, and happily we have a list of the portions which fell into the meltingpot, or beneath the hammer of the auctioneer. The House of Commons of those days was liberally primed with what are known as Puritans. A Puritan was doubtless an excellent person according to his lights, but an outside world has since been, perhaps unjustly, somewhat inclined to confound him with another not very popular and more ancient biblical type. It is, therefore, perhaps not unnatural to find that many mundane persons of those days, such as Royalists and Cavaliers, in whispers at the time and later more openly, declared that the disposal of the Crown Jewels was so effected as to give the Members of Parliament and their friends some very handsome bargains.

This, indeed, would not be difficult, for as a matter of policy it was considered inadvisable that any obtrusive popular rush should take place for the possession of these royalist relics. Rather was it endeavoured to demonstrate of what little value they were in the eyes of the simple Republican; therefore, doubtless the sale was little advertised. It would be very interesting to know, for instance, who and how some lucky person secured the Black Prince’s ruby, which is, and was, practically priceless, for £4. It may, of course, have been a Royalist who obtained possession, and who, guarding it carefully, handed it back to Charles II on his Restoration. We should like to think so. But more probably it went at that bargain price to a friend of Parliament, and by him was preserved as a good investment, and eventually was sold back for money, or a substantial benefit, to Charles II. All that really matters now is that the ruby survived those troublous days, and found itself again in a place of honour in the State Crown of Charles II.

An object of great interest which was melted down was the Crown of Alfred the Great. This was made of gold wire-work, set with small gems, and weighed 79-1/2 ounces. Even at that time it was nearly 800 years old. Melted down, this crown was sold at £3 an ounce, and fetched altogether £238 10s. 0d. What became of the stones is not stated. Either the despoilers had a disappointment in the Crown of Queen Edith, wife of King Harold, or its value was of set purpose depreciated. This crown had always been held to be of massive gold, but the assayers, it is said, found that it was made only of silver-gilt, but it was set with garnets, pearls, sapphires, and other stones. It weighed 50-1/2 ounces, and was sold for £16 only. This appears to have been a good investment for the fortunate purchaser.

The “large glass cup wrought in figures,” which is mentioned in the inventory as having been sold for £102 15s. 0d., was a very ancient and valuable article. It was not of glass, but was made of agate, and was the great “stone” chalice of Edward the Confessor. It is mentioned by Sporley, and was then six hundred years old, and the date of the sale is nearly three hundred years ago. All trace of this chalice has been lost; it has probably long since been broken and thrown away, unknown and unhonoured.

Amongst the articles to be broken up or sold is a curious item. It is entered as “A dove of gold, set with stones, and pearle, poiz. 8-1/2 ounces, in a box sett with studs of silver gilt.” By some this has been confused with the ampulla or golden eagle, for a dove or an eagle when not very exactly made might resemble each other or any other bird. Very possibly the Parliamentary Commissioners did so mistake this dove for an eagle, and thought they were destroying the ampulla. This, however, as we have seen, was hidden away and escaped the general sacrilege and destruction. This dove was probably merely a holy emblem representing the Holy Ghost, as does the dove on the top of the sceptre.

Amongst the less valuable articles sold are mentioned three swords with scabbards of cloth of gold, which were disposed of for £1 each. Here again somebody secured a great bargain, for these three swords would in all probability be those sent to Henry VIII by the Pope, when he bestowed on that monarch the title of “Defender of the Faith.” These three swords were reproduced from ancient drawings at the Restoration of Charles II, and are now preserved in the Jewel House. They are the swords of Justice, Temporal and Spiritual, and the Sword of Mercy. The point of this latter sword has been purposely broken off about six inches, as an emblem of mercy. The ultimate fate of three original swords is not known. Only a short time ago, however, three swords very like these were dug up at Mitcham when the foundations of a house were being prepared. This spot has long been known as the site of an ancient Anglo-Saxon settlement, and it is probable that there was still a hamlet here in Cromwellian days. It is, therefore, quite possible that someone bought or acquired the swords at the great dispersal, that their history got lost sight of, and that they were lost and buried amidst the natural decay which ordinary buildings suffer in the course of centuries.

One of the King’s military emblems, St. George’s Spurs, are mentioned as having been sold for £1 13s. 4d., they had always been held to be of pure gold, but were sold as silver gilt.

Last of the list comes an almost pathetic article, to wit, one old home comb “worth nothing.” This was probably the comb which may have been used for centuries, and by many Kings, to rearrange their hair after the Archbishop had perchance disturbed it when anointing His Majesty’s head at the coronation.

A list of the chief portions of Regalia, broken up and sold by order of Parliament, with the prices realised, mentioned in The Crown Jewels of England,[^[10]] may be of interest:—

“A true and perfect Inventory of all the plate and jewells now being in the upper Jewell-house of the Tower, in the charge of Sir Henry Mildmay, together with an appraisement of them, made and taken the 13th, 14th, and 15th daies of August, 1649:

The foremention’d crownes, since y^e inventorie was taken, are accordinge to ord^r of parm^t totallie broken and defaced.

The inventory of that part of the regalia which are now removed from Westminster Abbey to the Jewel House in the Tower.

All these according to order of Parliament are broken and defaced.”

The ancient coronation robes destroyed at the same time are catalogued and valued as follows:—

The old Regalia having thus been wantonly destroyed, it became necessary when the monarchy was restored to make anew the emblems of royalty. This work was entrusted to Sir Robert Vyner, the Court Jeweller, with instructions that he was to follow as closely as possible the fashions of those destroyed.

The order included two crowns, one the Crown of England, known as St. Edward’s Crown, with which the King was to be crowned, and the other a State Crown which the King in accordance with ancient custom would wear on all other State occasions during his reign. Two sceptres also were to be made, one the Sceptre with the Cross and the other the Sceptre with the Dove. The Orb of gold set with jewels and surmounted by a cross came next; then St. Edward’s Staff, which is to guide the King’s footsteps, and the Armilla[^[11]] and Ampulla.[^[12]] The bill for these, together with some minor portions of the Regalia, amounted to £32,000, or about £320,000 at the present purchasing value of the sovereign.

Sir Edward Walker, Garter Principal King-at-Arms in the reign of Charles II, gives an interesting and detailed account of this restoration of the Regalia.[^[13]]

“Because through the Rapine of the late unhappy times, all the Royall Ornaments and Regalia heretofore preserved from age to age in the Treasury of the Church at Westminster, were taken away, sold and destroyed, the Committee mett divers times not only to direct the remaking such Royall Ornaments and Regalia, but even to sette the form and fashion of each particular: all which doe now retayne the old names and fashion, although they have been newly made and prepared by orders given to the Earle of Sandwich, Master of the Great Wardrobe, and S^r Gilbert Talbott, Kn^t., Master of the Jewell House.

Hereupon the Master of the Jewell House had order to provide two Imperial Crownes sett with pretious Stones, the one to be called St. Edward’s Crowne, wherewith the king was to be crowned, and the other to be putt on after his Coronation, before his Ma^ties retorne to Westminster Hall. Also

An Orbe of Gold with a Crosse sett with pretious Stones.

A Scepter with a Crosse sett with pretious Stones, called St. Edward’s.

A Scepter with a Dove sett with pretious Stones.

A long Scepter, or Staffe of Gold with a Crosse upon the top, and a Pike at the foote of steele, called St. Edward’s staffe.

A Ring with a Ruby.

A Paire of Gold Spurrs.

A Chalice, and Paten of Gold.

An Ampull for the Oyle and a spoone.

And two Ingotts of Gold, the one a pound and the other a marke for the King’s 2 Offerings.”

Besides these obvious tokens of royalty there were and are a host of minor insignia which take their part in the Coronation ceremony, down to the garments which the King wears next his person. Amongst these appears a shirt of fine linen, to be left open in the place where the Archbishop would anoint the King. The Master of the Great Wardrobe had also to produce “a paire of Trowses, and Breeches over them, with Stockings fastened to the Trowses, all of Crimson Silke”; and amongst other things a pair of linen gloves, which appear very modestly amidst so much splendour.

To supplement these strictly regal emblems the people came forth gladly with offers of plate to replace what had been melted down. As the solitary piece of plate, left no doubt by an oversight by the despoilers, was Queen Elizabeth’s gold salt cellar, which is now in the Tower, much had to be supplied to set the Royal table again on a regal scale. Devonshire, as we have seen, came forth nobly in the cause, the two finest pieces of plate coming from the loyal citizens of Exeter and Plymouth. Exeter presented a State salt cellar, described in a former chapter, and the Borough of Plymouth supplied the wine fountain already described, both well in keeping with the jovial days which wiped out the recollection of the dismal period of the Commonwealth. It is a genial picture to imagine King Charles with his jovial courtiers stemming the tide set loose by the loyal Borough of Plymouth, and taking salt with his almonds out of the Great Salt.

In accordance with the fashion of the age, the plate on a dinner-table appears to have consisted very largely of great salt cellars. These were made of great size, so that besides furnishing a modicum of salt, which was a precious thing in those days, they gave a rich tone to the festive board. In the Jewel House are no less than eleven of these great gold salt cellars, all of which are known as St. George’s Salts, and all of which formed a portion of the Royal Plate of Charles II.

To that popular monarch was also presented a gold christening font, with the hope shared by all his loyal subjects that many children of His Majesty would be christened from it. The fates decided otherwise, but the font remained a Royal font, and many infant princes and princesses were christened in it up to the days of Queen Victoria.

The Regalia seems to have been somewhat hardly used in Charles II’s reign, or Sir Gilbert Talbot, the Keeper, must have much neglected his charge. Doubtless a good deal of damage was done to the State Crown and the Orb, and also to the Sceptre, when Colonel Blood tried to carry them off. Several stones were then lost, we know, but that would not account for the heavy bill which had to be paid when James II came to the throne.

The Crown of England, known as St. Edward’s Crown, which had been new made for Charles II, and should never have left the Jewel House in the Tower until the next King was crowned, had evidently had the valuable stones pilfered out of it and worthless imitations set in their places. To replace these gems appears to have been beyond the finances of James II and his Parliament, for it is on record that the sum of £500 was paid for the hire of jewels for the Coronation ceremony, probably from the Court Jewellers. In addition, £350 was paid for additional gold and workmanship.

Apparently, too, the State Crown of Charles II, which had been battered in by Colonel Blood, was not in serviceable condition, for a new one had to be made at a cost of £7870. Many of the old gems, including the Black Prince’s ruby, were doubtless used, but the bill mentions that it includes fresh jewels. The Crown and Diadem of his Queen, Mary of Modena, are not mentioned in this bill; the cost of these may therefore have been otherwise defrayed, possibly by the King out of his Privy Purse. Both are now in the Jewel House, and the diadem alone is said to have cost £110,000, a very large sum indeed in those days.

A new Sceptre with the Dove was made, richly jewelled, and costing £440; as well as a Sceptre with the Cross, at a cost of £1025. Both of these were probably made for Mary of Modena, and may be seen amongst the present Regalia. St. Edward’s Staff, costing £225, is also charged for, though one had been made for Charles II, and this latter is in the Tower. Also appears in the list one Orb, costing £1150, probably made for Queen Mary of Modena, and now in the Jewel House. A pair of gold spurs, known as St. George’s Spurs, are shown as supplied, the price being £63 7s. 6d. For the bracelets the charge appears to have been £44 18s. 6d., and for a chalice and palten £277 6s. 3d. These latter are not to be found in the Jewel House now.

The bill also includes repairs to the Ampulla, or Eaglet of Gold, and the Anointing Spoon, for which the charge is £102 5s. 0d. for the ampulla, and £2 for the spoon. The total bill for these items comes out to the handsome figure of £12,050 3s. 5d. Whoever made out this bill, and whichever Keeper signed it, must have known that they had a very complacent Treasury to deal with. St. Edward’s Staff, the gold spurs, the gold bracelets, are all charged for, though they had already been made and presumably paid for in the previous reign. The ampulla, too, had been repaired and restored by Sir Robert Vyner only a few years before. All these, which to-day are in the Tower, seem to bear silent witness that somebody was paid twice over.

What James II said to Sir Gilbert Talbot over this, or what reply Sir Gilbert Talbot made to His Majesty, history does not relate. But the whole incident shows how very loosely kept were the Crown Jewels as recently as three hundred years ago. Indeed, to be strictly just, they were never really secure till the reign of Edward VII, and in the intervening centuries a fairly regular disappearance of gems and their replacement with coloured glass seems to have been the rule rather than the exception.

A piece of ecclesiastical plate added to the Royal treasure in the reign of Charles II was the Maundy Dish,[^[14]] from which the Maundy money has since that reign been distributed on Maundy Thursday, the day before Good Friday. William and Mary have inscribed their monogram and crest on the dish, but the plate-mark shows that it belonged to the reign of Charles II.

Two other pieces of church plate which were added by William and Mary are a very handsome alms dish and flagon.[^[15]] These have W.M. for William and Mary, surmounted by a crown embossed on them.

King George V and Queen Mary have added two of the finest and most important additions to the Regalia. These are the Imperial Crown of India and Queen Mary’s State Crown, which have already been fully described.

Thus, though it has taken some centuries to accomplish, the devastation wrought by the Commonwealth on the Regalia has been more than repaired. The Crown Jewels of the King of England are at this time more magnificent and of far greater value than they have been in any former reign—nay more, they are of greater value both historically and intrinsically than the Crown Jewels of any other monarch.

THE KEEPER OF THE JEWEL HOUSE IN HIS STATE ROBES

CHAPTER VIII
THE KEEPERS OF THE JEWEL HOUSE

One of the most ancient offices under the Crown—The first keepers the Abbot and monks of Westminster, 1042—First official Keeper appointed in 1216 by Henry III—Jewels removed to the Tower—The Bishop of Carlisle as Keeper—John de Flete—Robert de Mildenhall—Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex—His romantic rise—A protégé of Cardinal Wolsey—Helps Henry VIII to divorce Katherine of Aragon—And to marry Anne Boleyn—Made Keeper of the Jewel House, 1532—In his portfolio found the famous letter of Anne Boleyn to Henry VIII—Executed on Tower Hill, 1540—The Marquis Winchester—His great rise—Keeper of the Jewels to Edward VI—Hands them to Lady Jane Grey as Queen—Escapes the block and is taken into favour by Queen Mary—Queen Elizabeth also renews these favours—Dies in his bed—Sir Henry Mildmay, Keeper of the Regalia in the reigns of James I, Charles I, and interregnum—Deserts King Charles and joins the Parliamentarians—One of the judges at Charles I’s trial—Grows rich on the proceeds of his office—Dubbed “The Knave of Diamonds”—His flight, capture, and trial—His sentence—His estate confiscated and given to James, Duke of York—His picture after death—Sir Gilbert Talbot appointed by Charles II—His rights and perquisites—Holds the office for thirty years—Sir Francis Lawley—Heneage Montague—Charles Godfrey—Hon. James Brudenell—Lord Lynn—Lord Abergavenny—Lord Glenorchie—Sir Richard Lyttleton—The Earl of Darlington—A break in the ancient office in 1782—Revived in the nineteenth century—Lieut.-Col. Charles Wyndham, who charged with the Scots Greys at Waterloo—Sir Michael Biddulph—Sir Hugh Gough—Sir Robert Low—Sir Arthur Wynne.

ONE of the most ancient offices in the realm is that of Keeper of the Jewel House. His title has varied backwards and forwards during the centuries; at one time and in one reign he has been named the Master and Treasurer of the Jewel House, in another reign or century the Keeper of the Crown Jewels, sometimes he has been entitled the Keeper of the Regalia, and at others, as at present, the Keeper of the Jewel House, but his duties have been always the same, the custody of the Crown Jewels.

In very ancient days, when the emblems of royalty were few and of no great value, it was not necessary to have an officer especially appointed to guard them; the Master of the King’s Wardrobe would take them in charge along with the rich robes that a King wore in those days. So that it is not till 1042 that we hear definitely of anybody being placed in special charge of the King’s Regalia.

The English King who first found it requisite and advisable to place his treasure under special guardianship was Edward the Confessor, and he, being inclined that way, placed it in charge of the Church. It was thus that the Abbot and monks of Westminster became the first Keepers of the Regalia some nine centuries ago. For nearly two hundred years the Abbey of Westminster safely kept its watch and ward, and it was only in 1216, in the reign of Henry III, that the most valuable portions of the Regalia, such as the Crown and Sceptre, were removed to the Tower of London.

The inadvisability in this sinful world of leaving Crown Jewels, intrinsically and historically of great value, only spiritually guarded, was brought into prominence by the theft of certain pieces of Royal plate by the monks in charge. With the removal of the Jewels to the Tower was appointed the first official Keeper. Who he was is not related, but a few years later, under the same monarch, it is clear that the Bishop of Carlisle held the post.

The Bishop was typical of that age, a man of the world, politician, courtier, with an episcopal mitre as an adjunct, or rather as a powerful auxiliary in his dealings with the world in general, and his King and fellow-subjects in particular. There is no record of the Bishop of Carlisle actually heading a charge of cavalry, as did Thomas à Becket in one of his less clerical moments, but he followed the King in his campaigns, whether as a strategical, tactical, political, or spiritual supporter, or whether in all four capacities, careful readers of the history of those days will be able to judge. But whatever his chief rôle or whatever the emoluments of his office, no mean addition came to his purse from the ancient rights and perquisites of the Keeper of the Jewel House.

Amongst the earlier keepers was John de Flete, who held the post in 1337 in the reign of Edward III, and whose pay we learn was twelve pence per diem. Ten years later, also during the reign of Edward III, Robert de Mildenhall was in custody of the Regalia; whilst in 1418 Henry VI appointed Thomas Chitterne. None of these appear to have been men of any mark, but no doubt honest folks of good repute and good family, who could afford to live comfortably on the income derivable, without having other offices attached to it.

In the reign of Henry VIII we find that the highest officers in the State were appointed Keepers of the Regalia in addition to their more important duties. Amongst these was Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, who, from very small beginnings, rose to be the most powerful personage in the State, only second to his sovereign. Son of a man of humble position, who combined the trade of butcher with that of shearer of cloth at Putney, he, after a turbulent youth at home and abroad, returned with empty pockets to the parental roof at the age of twenty-eight. He then married a lady of equally modest position, and settled down as a combined solicitor and shearer, concerning which combination of professions no doubt there passed a fairly obvious if rude jibe. As law and trade prospered, he moved first to Fenchurch Street and then to Austin Friars.

Thomas Cromwell’s rise to fame commenced in 1523 when he became a protégé of Cardinal Wolsey, by whose influence he was returned for a seat in Parliament. He was a useful man, the Cardinal found, with a working knowledge both of the law and of business, whilst undoubtedly he was above the average in ability. Moreover he had the best of manners, acquired not only from his distinguished clients, but from his experiences abroad. This legal knowledge and these persuasive manners the Cardinal first put to useful service in suppressing the small monasteries, so as to secure funds for the endowment of colleges at Oxford and Ipswich. Wolsey was a great man, and the idea was great and good, but unfortunately the desired result had to be attained by the dubious method of violent despoliation. So entirely had Cromwell become agent for the Cardinal, that Anne Boleyn in a letter addresses him as the “Secretary of My Lord.”

For five years Cromwell was the faithful servitor of the Cardinal, and then came the fall of that high potentate, a crash which threatened to bring to earth his follower with him. But Cromwell was an exceedingly clever person, and in the Commons succeeded in most ably defending his patron without offending his opponents or the King. By thus securing for his great patron a comparatively easy downfall, he added greatly to his own prestige. Wolsey escaped banishment or the block by acknowledging his misdeameanours and consenting to hand over the whole of his property to the King. The King in return for this princely endowment, which included Hampton Court much as we now see it, pensioned the great man off as Archbishop of York, in which seclusion he died two years later.

Cromwell had now caught the King’s eye, and he used his legal knowledge and acquired Court experience to climb the ladder, lately so nearly overturned. The King wished much to divorce Katherine of Aragon, and to marry Anne Boleyn, but the Pope stood in the way. Cromwell, the lawyer, suggested that as no legal obstacles stood in the way of the King, who can do no wrong, the simplest way of disposing of the religious difficulties was to deny the supremacy of the Pope in England and to proclaim himself head of the Church in his own land. Henry VIII followed this advice, threw the Pope overboard, divorced Katherine of Aragon, and married Anne Boleyn.

Naturally these great personal services went not unrewarded, first in his appointment as a Privy Councillor, and next as Keeper of the Jewel House, on April 14th, 1532. The latter was one of the substantial benefits which in pay and perquisites made a man rich in those days. His growing wealth and importance clearly pointed to the enlargement of his house and property at Austin Friars. It is curious to learn that what is thought a modern invention, the moving of a whole house on rollers, was employed by Cromwell nearly four centuries ago. A house belonging to a Mr. Stow was deemed to be inconveniently close to the Cromwellian mansion, so it was with or without consent jacked up on to rollers and bodily moved away to a less objectionable propinquity.

His part in securing the divorce of Katherine of Aragon and the succession of Anne Boleyn brought him still further quick and plenteous rewards. In rapid succession he became Lord Chancellor, the King’s Secretary, Master of Rolls, and lastly Vicar-General, so that he might be in a position to enforce the supremacy of his King over the Church. Sir Thomas More, late Chancellor, and Bishop Fisher, fell beneath the axe on Cromwell’s prosecution, their crime being a refusal to acknowledge the King’s spiritual supremacy.

A little later we find Cromwell one of those who on the fatal May 2nd, 1536, escorted the Queen he had helped to make, the hapless Anne Boleyn, to the Tower. And only a few days later we see him seated a witness at her execution. In his portfolio was later found that most pathetic and well-known letter addressed by Anne Boleyn to the King[^[16]] praying for mercy, which letter was never passed on to the King.

For four more years the sun shone on the erstwhile solicitor and shearer, and he became first a Knight of the Garter, then a Baron and Lord Great Chamberlain, and finally Earl of Essex. Great riches and territory too came to him from the suppression of the greater monasteries and the confiscation of their property. But in 1540 the sun set on this phenomenal career, for on June 10th of that year, accused of high treason by the Duke of Norfolk, attainted by Parliament, he passed silently to that same block on Tower Hill to which he had assigned so many.

In the days when great officers of State held the lucrative office of Keeper of the Jewel House in addition to their other benefices was one William Paulet, who later became 1st Marquis of Winchester. Of good birth and a country squire, he was knighted in 1525, and the same year made a Privy Councillor. Shortly after he became a Member of Parliament as Knight of the shire of Hampshire, and also secured the curious appointment of “Surveyor of the King’s widows, and Governor of all idiots and naturals in the King’s hands.” This apparently led by easy degrees to Controller of the Royal Household. In 1536 Sir William Paulet was one of the judges at the trials of Sir Thomas More, and Bishop Fisher, and also of the gentlemen with whom Queen Anne Boleyn was accused of too familiar consort.

THOMAS CROMWELL, EARL OF ESSEX
KEEPER OF THE JEWEL HOUSE IN THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII

A year later the Knight became a Baron, under the title of Lord St. John, and Treasurer of the Royal Household, whilst not long after he became a Knight of the Garter and Lord Chamberlain. When Henry VIII died he was Lord President of the Council, and must have sincerely thanked God that he had so far survived and prospered and had seen the end of that monarch’s reign, with his head still on his shoulders. The Lord President was one of the eighteen executors of Henry VIII’s will, appointed to act as a council of regency during the minority of the boy King, Edward VI. In 1550 St. John sided with the Duke of Northumberland in the overthrow of Somerset, the Lord Protector, and as a result found himself on the winning side with an earldom, that of Wiltshire thrown in. He received also the offices of Lord Treasurer and Keeper of the Jewel House. A year later we find plain William Paulet of a few years ago created Marquis of Winchester.

When Edward VI died, the Marquis, as Keeper of the Jewel House, handed over the Crown Jewels to Lady Jane Grey, and saluted her as Queen. Nine days later, however, he was amongst the Lords who from Barnard’s Castle, which lay on the river-bank close alongside the Tower, proclaimed Queen Mary the rightful sovereign of these realms. Nor did the new Queen resent the late temporary aberration, but took him to her stony heart, and not only confirmed him in all his offices, but added that of Lord Privy Seal. The Marquis was really a wonderful person, for though his next appearance in history is as one of those who conducted the Princess Elizabeth to the dread doom of imprisonment in the Tower, we next discover him, a man well stricken in years, riding through London proclaiming the same princess Queen of England. Nor did Queen Elizabeth at once say, “Off with his head”; on the contrary, she confirmed him in his appointment of Lord Treasurer. Though now upwards of seventy years of age he was made Speaker of the House of Lords, and died in harness in 1572 at the venerable age of eighty-seven. The secret of this long life, apart from physical fitness, was the possession of the gift which perhaps we now call tact. If any proof were needed, it is only necessary to record that a plain squire rose to be a marquis and lived through four reigns during which heads fell as plentifully as apples in an autumn gale, and yet eventually died peacefully in his bed.

One of the best known Keepers of the Crown Jewels is Sir Henry Mildmay, who was appointed to the office in April, 1620, by James I, and retained that office not only through the reign of Charles I, but also through the Commonwealth, and was only dispossessed of it by Charles II on his Restoration in 1660. Besides being Keeper, or as he was termed Master and Treasurer of the Jewel House, Sir Henry was a Member of Parliament for Westbury in Wiltshire, and also at another period for Maldon in Essex. He was a persona grata with James I, and also, it would seem, with Charles I during the first fifteen years of his reign. But Sir Henry then forsook his sovereign and became one of the Committee of the Commons. His defection was considered so important that he was, by the Parliamentarians, continued in his office, in so far as concerned the drawing of the salary and emoluments thereof, though the situation was somewhat grotesque since he was of the party which was in open arms against the King, whose Crown Jewels he was supposed to guard.

Sir Henry was nominated, and sat as one of the judges who tried Charles I, but he with some courage or address escaped signing the death sentence, and afterwards claimed that he only accepted nomination in hopes of saving the King. Throughout the Commonwealth he remained Keeper of the Jewel House, though there were no jewels to guard, for these had been broken up, defaced, destroyed, and sold by the order of Parliament. But being one skilled in the etiquette of courts, he made himself useful as Master of Ceremonies to Foreign Ambassadors, and continued to enjoy the rich perquisites attaining to the office of Keeper of the Jewel House.

For forty years Sir Henry Mildmay had grown fat and prosperous on the proceeds of his office; indeed, he became a very rich man with great estates and much ready cash to spend. But in 1660 Charles II was restored to the throne, and Sir Henry Mildmay was immediately pounced upon to produce the crowns and robes, sceptres, and jewels belonging to the kingly dignity, of which he was the reputed guardian. At the time the general impression was that Sir Henry had appropriated these to his own purposes and sold them to his own advantage; he was in consequence dubbed “the Knave of Diamonds.” As however has since become clear the royal emblems, or such as remained, were disposed of under the orders of Parliament. It may, however, be conjectured that Sir Henry, in accordance with the usages of the age and the rights of his office, secured a goodly percentage on the sale prices. His detractors averred that he had himself valued and bought in the Crown Jewels at the exceedingly low prices they fetched, and at his leisure disposed of them at great profit. There is, however, no recorded proof of this.

But Sir Henry Mildmay, whether he had a guilty conscience or not, thought discretion the better part of valour, and attempted to escape abroad. He was, however, caught by Lord Winchelsea at Rye in Essex and sent back to London. He was tried in 1661 at the Bar of the House of Commons, and sentenced to be degraded from all his honours and titles. Furthermore, he was sentenced to be annually drawn on a hurdle through the streets of London from the Tower to Tyburn, then passed under the gallows, and again dragged back to the Tower. This penalty was to be exacted on each anniversary of the day on which sentence had been passed on Charles I, that is January 27th. Whether Sir Henry ever took this ride is not clear, but probably he did more than once, for it was only in 1664 that the Lords in mitigation ordered him to be transported to Tangiers. On the way to his exile, however, he died at the town of Antwerp. His vast accumulations of wealth were forfeited to the Crown, his estate at Wanstead being of sufficient importance to be assigned to James, Duke of York.

There was a strong rumour at the time that Sir Henry Mildmay had been either hanged or beheaded, which rumour caused his relations and descendants great annoyance. As proof to the contrary they produced a painting of the dead knight, which still exists, showing him lying on his back on his death-bed. The clothes have been drawn down and his neck bared, so as to clearly show that no trace of cord or axe was upon it, and that he died no felon’s death. Naturally a picture of this sort is no proof in a court of law, for the artist might with ease omit all signs of violence; but history bears out the contention that Sir Henry Mildmay died a natural death.

Whatever the merits or demerits of Sir Henry Mildmay may have been, Charles II had too many Royalists with claims on his generosity to retain in office one who had evidently been hand-in-glove with those who had kept the King from his father’s throne, and in exile for so long. Amongst those with such a claim was Sir Gilbert Talbot, who had followed the King’s fortunes in France, and was now back in England in impoverished circumstances. On his application for an appointment the King made him Keeper, or as he was then styled, Master and Treasurer of the Jewel House. We are indebted to a very interesting manuscript dictated in 1680 by Sir Gilbert Talbot for a detailed account of the ancient rights and perquisites belonging to the office. These he obtained from Sir Henry Mildmay, and it is expressly stated that they were the same as enjoyed by Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, in the reign of Henry VIII. Facsimiles of some of the pages of the manuscript are given, but it is of historic interest that they should be recorded in full, and these will be found in the Appendix. Sir Gilbert Talbot held the office for thirty-one years, and as is duly related elsewhere, was in office when Colonel Blood made his attempt to steal the Crown and other portions of the Regalia. Sir Gilbert and his connection with his office enters so much into other parts of this book that it is not necessary here to say more about him.

When Sir Gilbert Talbot died in 1691 the office of Master and Treasurer of the Jewel House fell in succession to persons of various degrees and ranks, of whom little can be gathered from modern books of reference.

Sir Francis Lawley, doubtless an ancestor of the present Lawleys, was next in charge of the Crown Jewels for six years, and was succeeded by Heneage Montague, probably a cadet of the family of Montagu, who a few years later became Duke of Manchester.

Montague was followed by Charles Godfrey, who was Keeper through parts of three reigns, those of William and Mary, Anne, and George I. Then came the Hon. James Brudenell, a son of Lord Brudenell, a title now merged into that of the Marquis of Ailesbury, who held the office for fourteen years during the reigns of George I and George II. The Hon. James Brudenell was succeeded by Charles Townshend, Lord Lynn, who was nine years Keeper in the reign of George II.

The next in succession was William Neville, Lord Abergavenny, an ancestor of the present Marquis of Abergavenny, though the family now spells the name Nevill without the final “e.” This Keeper was in office for six years in the reign of George II.

He was succeeded by John Campbell, Lord Glenorchie,[^[17]] a son of the Earl of Breadalbane, who had custody of the Crown Jewels for eleven years in the reign of George III. Next in succession came Sir Richard Lyttleton, who held sway for thirteen years and through parts of two reigns. Next came Henry Vane, Earl of Darlington, who retained the post for close on twenty years. Whether this nobleman was inefficient, or eventually suffered from senile decay, is not recorded, but evidently a Keeper was deemed a superfluous person, for on his death came a break in the ancient office which had then existed for seven hundred years, and even through so unfavourable a period for Royal offices as the Commonwealth.

When Lord Darlington died in 1782 the office of Keeper of the Regalia was suppressed under an Act of Parliament, known as Stat. 22 Geo. III, c. 82, and his duties were transferred to the Lord Chamberlain. It is reasonable to conjecture that the pay and perquisites also went to the Lord Chamberlain.