A Portrait, so called from the Latin protrahere, to draw forth, is produced by the individual skill of an artist; whereas a Photograph, conformably to the two Greek words photos, light, and graphein, to write, is obtained by the action of sunlight upon a chemically prepared surface, such as silver, zinc, copper, glass, or paper.
The earliest examples of portraiture were styled Miniatures because they originated from the head of the Virgin or of some well-known saint introduced into the initial letters of illuminated rubics by the Miniatori, a number of monks noted for their skill in painting with minium, or red lead. The reason why the portraits of monarchs are represented on coins and medals in Profile dates back to Antigonus, one of the generals of Alexander the Great, who, having lost one eye, ordered his likeness to be drawn from a side view. This occurred in the year 330 B.C. The term is a corruption, by way of the French profil, of the Latin perfilum, compounded out of per, through, by, and filum, a line, a thread. A profile cut out of black paper bears the name of a Silhouette in honour of Etienne de Silhouette, the French Comptroller of Finance under Louis XV. (born 1709, died 1767), who was the first to have his features outlined in this manner.
The earlier descriptions of photographs were respectively styled Talbotypes, Daguerreotypes, and Ferriertypes, after the names of their inventors. The smaller-sized photographs at present in use were originally described as Cartes-de-Visite from the practice of the Duc de Parma, who, while staying at Nice in the year 1857, had his photograph produced on the back of his visiting cards. The designation Vignette, which expresses the French diminutive of vine or tendril, owes its origin to the vine-leaves or branches that properly surround the photographs produced in this style. A photograph of the larger size is called a Cabinet because it forms a picture suited to the walls of a cabinet or very small room. A three-quarter-length photograph or portrait is styled among artists a Kit-Kat, in allusion to the portraits of the original members of the “Kit-Kat Club,” which were painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller for Jacob Tonson, the secretary, to suit the dimensions of the room in which the Club was latterly held at his villa at Barn Elms. Similarly, a canvas measuring 28 inches by 36 inches is styled a Kit-Kat Canvas because this was the uniform size of the famous “Kit-Kat Club portraits.” We may as well add here that the Kit-Kat Club derived its name from Christopher Kat, a pastrycook of King Street, Westminster, in whose house the thirty noblemen and gentlemen who formed themselves into a Club for the purpose of promoting the Protestant Succession in the year 1703 held their first meetings.
In our article on Tavern Signs we confined ourselves to a general survey of the subject; we now purpose to consider the significance of a few Inn Signs that are, or were once, peculiar to London. Commencing with the celebrated Tabard, in Southwark, so dear to the memory of Chaucer and his Canterbury Pilgrims, that sign was derived from the rich tunic or mantle of the same name worn by military nobles over their armour and emblazoned with heraldic devices. The Tabard still forms part of the costume of the heralds. La Belle Sauvage, on Ludgate Hill, was, as is evident from a legal document dated the thirty-first year of the reign of Henry VI., known both as “Savage’s Inn” and “The Bell and the Hoop.” The latter was the actual sign, representing a bell within a hoop, of the Inn which was kept by Isabelle Savage; and the combination of these two names resulted in the punning title of “La Belle Sauvage.” The Swan with Two Necks, in Lad Lane, was a corruption of “The Swan with Two Nicks.” As most Londoners are aware, it has long been the custom of the Vintners’ Company, in their annual “swan-upping” expeditions on the Thames, to mark their swans with a couple of nicks or notches in the bill, so as to distinguish them from the royal swans, whose nicks are five in number, viz., two lengthways and three across on the bill. That this characteristic mark of the Vintners’ Company should have been chosen for a London Inn Sign is scarcely extraordinary.
The sign of The Elephant and Castle, on the south side of the river, was adopted from the crest of the Cutlers’ Company, into whose trade ivory, and consequently elephants’ tusks, enters very considerably. With regard to the “Castle,” this was in mediæval times inseparable from the idea of an elephant, owing to the part which these huge animals anciently took in the Punic wars. Another “Elephant and Castle” exists in the parish of St. Pancras, near King’s Cross; but this sign originated from the discovery, in 1714, of the skeleton of an elephant in the neighbourhood of Battle Bridge. A flint-headed spear lay beside the remains, and from this it is reasonable to conjecture that the animal must have been killed by the Britons who were led by Queen Boadicea against the Romans in the year 61 A.D.
The Horse Shoe, Tottenham Court Road, came into existence as a sign from the large horse-shoes nailed up at the entrance of Messrs. Meux’s brewery adjoining. The shoes are also conspicuous on the trappings of the dray-horses belonging to that establishment; in short, they comprise the trade-mark of the firm. The Blue Posts, at the corner of Hanway Street, nearly opposite the “Horse Shoe,” arose out of the fancy of an old innkeeper to distinguish his hostelry from all others by causing the chain-posts abutting on the road to be painted blue instead of white, which eccentricity fully served the purpose of a sign. There is another “Blue Posts” in Cork Street, Piccadilly, and yet another in Southampton Buildings, Holborn; but the first-named is the oldest of the three, and therefore the original. The Black Posts, Bond Street, may also be regarded as a modified imitation of the example set by the original “Blue Posts.” The Three Chairmen, at the foot of Hay Hill, Berkeley Square, and The Running Footman, in Hayes’ Mews, close by, were so denominated from being the resort of gentlemen’s servants in the days when Sedan Chairs (these chairs were first made at Sedan, in France, which accounts for their name, exactly as Bath Chairs were originally introduced at Bath during the last century, when fashionable invalids flocked to the West of England to drink the Bath and Cheltenham waters) and Running Footmen preceded the use of private carriages by the wealthy.
The Mother Red Cap, Camden Town, perpetuates the memory of a notorious poisoner known as “Mother Damnable, the Consort of the Devil,” who lived at Hungerford Stairs during the period of the Commonwealth. The Mother Shipton, Haverstock Hill, was built at the time when the prophecies of Mrs. Evan Preece, of Glamorganshire, South Wales, were in everybody’s mouth. This old woman was said to have had a son by the devil, whereupon, in return for the sacrifice of her honour, she was accorded the gift of prophecy. When we state that she correctly predicted the deaths of Lord Percy, Wolsey, and other historical personages, the existence of Mother Shipton in this country must be regarded as a time-honoured if not exactly as a well-founded institution. The Adelaide, Haverstock Hill, was named in honour of the consort of William IV., and The York and Albany after the title of Frederick, the second son of George III.
Jack Straw’s Castle, Highbury, as also the celebrated hostelry of the same name on Hampstead Heath, was so called after Jack Straw, one of the leaders in Wat Tyler’s insurrection, who pulled down the Priory of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem at the former place, and whose habitation was a hole formed out of the hill-side on the site of the present Inn at the latter place. The Spaniards, Highgate, was originally the private residence of the Spanish Ambassador to James I. The Whittington Stone, Highgate Hill, took its sign from the stone upon which the world-famous Dick Whittington sat down to rest the while he listened to the bells of Bow Church pleasantly chiming across the open fields. The stone is still to be seen on the edge of the pavement exactly opposite the public-house.
The sign of The Thirteen Cantons, King Street, Golden Square, was adopted in compliment to the thirteen Protestant cantons of Switzerland, and to the numerous natives of that country who at one time took up their residence in the parish of Soho. During the last decade or two the Swiss population has given way in a large degree to French immigrants. The North Pole, Wardour Street, dates back to the time when our national interest in Arctic discovery was at its height; exactly in the same manner as The South Australian, Hans Place, Chelsea, was established in the year that first witnessed the colonization of Southern Australia.
The World’s End, in the King’s Road, Chelsea, a favourite house of entertainment during the Restoration period, received its name on account of its distance from town. The Fulham Bridge, at Knightsbridge, recalls the original name of the structure which crossed the Westbourne in this neighbourhood (see Knightsbridge). The Devil, Fleet Street, received its name from its situation, nearly opposite the Church of St. Dunstan, and the traditional account of that saint having seized the Evil One by the nose with a pair of hot pincers. The Three Nuns, Aldgate, well serves the purpose of reminding us of the existence of an ancient priory inhabited by the nuns of St. Clare in this neighbourhood (see Minories). The White Conduit Tavern, Islington, occupies the site of the famous old White Conduit House, a popular place of resort previous to its demolition in 1849. This was the Conduit which had served the Carthusian Friars with water from ancient times. The prenomen “white” applied to the house and was derived from the appearance of its exterior. The Belvedere, Pentonville Hill, originally contained a small structure on the roof known by this name for sitting under and enjoying the prospect across the fields. The term Belvidere is Italian, signifying “a fine prospect,” and is equally applicable to a summer arbour and the flat roof of a house. The Clown Tavern, St. John Street Road, Clerkenwell, owes its sign to the fact that it was formerly kept by a clown engaged at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, in its immediate vicinity. The well-known Hummuns’s Hotel, generally alluded to as Hummuns’s, Covent Garden, derived this title from its erection on the site of a Hummuns, the Arabic name for a sweating bath, kept by a Mr. Small some time during the seventeenth century.
Reference to the above Inns and Taverns peculiar to London compels us almost to say a few words concerning those popular places of outdoor resort of which we have all read and heard so much. Sadler’s Wells marks the position of an ancient holy well whose waters were famous for working extraordinary cures. In the year 1683, after having been stopped up since the Reformation, a Mr. Sadler, while digging for gravel in his garden, discovered this well, and thereafter it bore his name. In order to profit by the re-established fame of this well, Sadler converted his residence into a house of entertainment under the title of “Sadler’s Musick House.” Here were provided tight-rope dancing, conjuring, tumbling, and a variety of other diversions, always accompanied by music. Sixty years later, probably after the death of Mr. Sadler, the property passed into the hands of Mr. Rosoman, who turned it into a theatre, but retained the name of the old proprietor. The present theatre was built by Mrs. Bateman in 1879. Highbury Barn, first a small ale and cake house, and afterwards a place of public entertainment, including a theatre, was so called from its occupying the site of a barn-like structure originally belonging to the ancient Priory of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and left standing after the incursion of Jack Straw and his rebellious companions [see ante, Jack Straw’s Castle]. Vauxhall Gardens derived their title from the Hall, or Manor-house, of Jane Vaux, which they displaced [see Vauxhall]; Ranelagh Gardens occupied the site of Ranelagh House, the seat of an Irish nobleman of that title; while Cremorne Gardens were named after Thomas Dawson, Lord Cremorne, whose town house and grounds they covered. Whatever may have been the moral character of these places, their removal has had the effect of effacing one phase of Metropolitan amusement entirely; but it has also been instrumental in introducing another—namely, the Music-Halls. The first London music-hall was “The Canterbury,” Westminster Bridge Road, which grew out of The Canterbury Arms, displaying the arms of the city of Canterbury in the year 1848.
The list of historical personages whose sobriquets and nicknames are even better known than their proper names is very large; we must, therefore, content ourselves with a random selection of the principal.
Commencing with the ladies: Ayesha (born 610, died 677), the second and favourite wife of Mahomet, was called The Mother of Believers because the prophet styled himself “The Father of Believers.” Fair Helen was the wife of Menelaos, King of Sparta, by whose guest, Paris, the Trojan prince, she was carried off. This incident was the immediate cause of the famous siege of Troy which lasted ten years. Fair Rosamond (died 1154) was the mistress of Henry II., who kept her in a secluded bower that could be approached only by a labyrinth or maze in the neighbourhood of the royal palace at Woodstock. One day, however, the queen artfully discovered her way thereto by means of a silken thread attached to the garment of the faithless husband, after which she soon procured the removal of her rival by poison. Joan, the wife of Edward the Black Prince, was styled The Fair Maid of Kent (died 1385) on account of her beauty and being the only daughter of the Earl of Kent. The Holy Maid of Kent was Elizabeth Barton, a religious enthusiast, hanged at Tyburn in 1534. A brave, if not a beautiful, woman of historic renown was the Countess of Dunbar and March, who, in the year 1337, completely defied the attempt of the Earl of Salisbury to capture Dunbar Castle during a siege of nineteen weeks, at the end of which the latter was forced to retire with ignominy. This warlike heroine is generally alluded to under the name of Black Agnes, in consequence of her swarthy complexion. A less fortunate Scottish heroine who fell at the Battle of Ancrum Moor beside her English adversary, General Evers, whom she had killed, was Fair Maiden Lilliard. She was buried on the site of the conflict; and her epitaph, as follows, is known to every man, woman, and child in that part of the country:—
The spot where she fell still bears the name of “Lilliard’s Edge.” Then, of course, we have the celebrated Joan of Arc, The Maid of Orleans (born 1412, burnt at the stake 1431), who placed herself at the head of the attacking party and effected the capture of the city of Orleans from the English. Neither must we omit a passing allusion to Augustine Zaragossa, better known as The Maid of Saragossa, owing to the signal heroism which she displayed during the siege of her native city in 1808-9. The Honourable Elizabeth St. Leger, the niece of Colonel Anthony St. Leger, who founded the Stakes named after him in connection with Doncaster races, is known to posterity as The Lady Freemason, because on one occasion she overheard the proceedings of an assembly of Freemasons, and, being discovered, was, as the only way of meeting an unprecedented difficulty, duly elected a member of the craft and initiated into its peculiar rites and ceremonies. Madame Jenny Lind Goldschmidt (born 1821, died 1887) was styled The Swedish Nightingale on account of her vocal genius and her birth in the city of Stockholm. The now popular society actress, Mrs. Langtry, bears the somewhat punning though highly complimentary sobriquet of The Jersey Lily, because she was born in Jersey and her Christian name is Lillie.
Heraclitus of Ephesus (flourished 500 B.C.) was known as The Weeping Philosopher, because he spent the latter years of his life in grieving over the folly of men; on the other hand, Democritus of Abdera (born 460 B.C., died 357 B.C.) merited the surname of The Laughing Philosopher, because he jeered at the feeble powers of man, whose every act was in the hands of fate. Duns Scotus, the Scottish schoolman (born 1272, died 1308), was styled The Subtle Doctor by reason of his learning; while St. Thomas Aquinas (born 1227, died 1274) was denominated The Angelic Doctor because he belonged to the priesthood. St. Paul of the Cross is the name by which Paul Francis (born 1694, died 1775), founder of the religious Order of the Passionists, is best known.
The famous English outlaw who flourished between the years 1180 and 1247, and whose real name was Robert Fitz-ooth, Earl of Huntingdon, adopted the style of Robin Hood, in deference to the example set by the people of Nottinghamshire, who, while dropping the Fitz, corrupted the Robert into Robin and the ooth into Hood. Little John was properly called John Little, but being a great, stalwart fellow, the outlaw chief took a fancy to invert his name for the sake of the contrast. We can quite understand “the merry men of Sherwood Forest” cultivating an objection to hard-sounding words; therefore it could not have been long before William Scathelocke, another prominent member of Robin Hood’s band, found his name reduced to the more euphonious form of Will Scarlet. Friar Tuck was so called because his habit was tucked in around the waist by a girdle.
Sixteen-string Jack was the name popularly bestowed upon Jack Rann, a notorious highwayman hanged in 1791, owing to the sixteen tags he wore on his breeches, eight at each knee. Another notorious representative of the great family of Jacks, good, bad, and otherwise, was the Marquis of Waterford, commonly known as Spring-heel Jack, from his habit of frightening people by springing upon them out of obscure corners after nightfall during the early part of the present century. Gentleman Jack and Gentleman Smith were the titles respectively borne by John Bannister and William Smith, both actors of the century gone by. The former was noted for his straightforward dealings with his fellow-men in private life, the latter for his gentlemanly deportment on the stage.
Who has not heard of Admirable Crichton? This extraordinary Scottish prodigy, James Crichton (born 1560, died 1583), is said to have given such early proofs of his learning that the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon him at the age of fourteen. In addition to his classical knowledge, he was a poet, a musician, a sculptor, an artist, an actor, a brilliant conversationalist, a good horseman, and an excellent fencer. Surely the possessor of such varied accomplishments deserved a better fate than that which befell him in the very prime of his life! He was stabbed by a band of masked desperadoes led by his own pupil, Vincenzo Gonzaga, the son of the Duke of Mantua. A genius of a totally different stamp was George Robert Fitzgerald, better known, owing to his duelling proclivities, as Fighting Fitzgerald. This individual was one of the most infamous characters of the last century. No enemy ever escaped him with life; being a sure shot and an expert swordsman, his intense love of gambling and duelling, united to a haughty and overbearing disposition, habitually prompted him to shed the blood of his fellow-men without the least compunction.
A celebrated leader of fashion during the early part of this century was Robert Coates, popularly styled Romeo Coates in consequence of his fondness for playing the part of Romeo at amateur theatricals. Among other past notabilities of fashion we may mention Beau Fielding, Beau Brummell, and Beau Nash, severally so styled from the foppishness of their attire. The last-named (born 1674, died 1761) was a notorious diner-out, and for some time Master of the Ceremonies at the fashionable Assembly Rooms at Bath, where he provided a series of entertainments the like of which had never been known. On this account he was surnamed King of Bath. Alas! though literally the “monarch of all he surveyed” during the brief period of his popularity, when at length Death claimed him for his own he was as poor as the meanest of King George’s subjects.
But Richard “Beau” Nash was not the only British subject who has rejoiced in the erstwhile title of King. As examples: Richard Oastler, of Bradford (born 1789, died 1861), merited the style of The Factory King, in recognition of his success in promoting the “Ten Hours’ Bill”; George Hudson, of Yorkshire (born 1800, died 1871), chairman of the Midland Railway Company, was denominated The Railway King, because in one day he cleared the large sum of £100,000 by fortunate railway speculations; John Law, the projector of the Mississippi Scheme (born 1671, died 1729), bore the name of The Paper King, than which, by the way, nothing could have been more appropriate. The huge fortunes anticipated by the subscribers to this wholesale fraud appeared promising enough upon paper, or, to put it more precisely, in the prospectus; but hard cash there was none, saving such as passed into the pockets of the wily promoter. In our own decade we have The Nitrate King, the sobriquet of Colonel J. T. North, of Eltham, consequent upon his successful speculations in the commodity with which his name has become associated.
John Kyrle, of Ross, Herefordshire (born 1637, died 1754), well known for his artistic tastes and acts of benevolence, was styled by Pope The Man of Ross, because he was constantly effecting improvements for the public good in the neighbourhood of his estate. Another local philanthropist was Dr. William Gordon, of Hull (born 1801, died 1849), whose surname, The People’s Friend, so well merited during life, literally followed him to the grave, where it appears chiselled on his tombstone. Perhaps the greatest benefactor of the human race with whom we have become practically acquainted in modern times, was Father Mathew (born 1790, died 1856), universally styled The Apostle of Temperance, beside whom, judging from results, all our latter-day temperance advocates sink into insignificance. He was also made the recipient of the sobriquet The Sinner’s Friend, on account of the special interest he took in the fallen and the outcast; even the most degraded always met with a welcome at his hands.
The Musical Small-coal Man was the popular designation of Thomas Britton (born 1650, died 1714), a vendor of small coals, which he carried in a sack over his shoulder and cried in the streets, who on Thursday evenings gave a series of high-class instrumental concerts in the room over his shed in Clerkenwell, assisted by the best talent he could procure, that attracted all fashionable London. This gifted person was actually frightened to death by the freak of a ventriloquist. Thomas Rawlinson, the bibliopolist (born 1681, died 1725), was appropriately enough styled Tom Folio. The Infant Roscius (born 1791, died 1874) was William Henry Betty, a histrionic prodigy named after the greatest actor of antiquity. His début took place at Belfast, August 19, 1803; and three months later he appeared at Covent Garden (then under the management of the elder Macready) for twelve nights at a salary of fifty guineas a night and a clear benefit. During this brief season the public excitement was so great that the military had to be called out every night to preserve order. His last appearance as a boy-actor occurred at Bath in the year 1808.
William Gerard Hamilton, the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer (born 1729, died 1756), has been handed down to posterity under the name of Single-speech Hamilton, because he delivered but one speech in the House, and that was such a marvellous outburst of rhetoric that it electrified all who heard it. This memorable incident took place November 13, 1755. Henry Dundas, afterwards Lord Melville (born 1740, died 1811), merited the sobriquet of Starvation Dundas in consequence of his repeated use of the word “starvation” in the course of a debate on American affairs in the year 1775. Sir Robert Peel (born 1750, died 1830), during the time he was Chief Secretary for Ireland (1812 to 1816), was popularly denominated Orange Peel, on account of his strong anti-Catholic spirit [see Orangemen]. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham (born 1708, died 1778), was styled The Heaven-sent Minister because the most splendid triumphs of British arms were achieved during his administration. John Russell, afterwards created Earl Russell (born 1792, died 1878), received the nickname of Finality John from the fact of his maintaining that the Reform Bill of 1832 was a finality. The late Earl of Beaconsfield (born 1804, died 1881) owed his popular name of Dizzy to his own habit of setting forth his early novels during the lifetime of his father under the authorship of “D’Israeli the Younger.” In course of time this became shortened into “Dizzy,” and it clung to him ever afterwards.
Mr. W. E. Gladstone (born 1809) first received the nickname of The Grand Old Man on the occasion of the unseating in the House of Commons of Mr. Charles Bradlaugh (June 1880), through his refusal to take the oath after his election as member for Northampton. At this time Mr. Bradlaugh found a strong champion in Mr. Labouchere; and the nickname arose out of the latter’s conversation in the tea-room of the House “I told some friends,” said Mr. Labouchere, referring to the incident of Mr. Bradlaugh’s expulsion, “that before I left Mr. Gladstone came to me, and that grand old man, with tears in his eyes, took me by the hands and said, ‘Mr. Labouchere, bring me Mr. Bradlaugh back again.’”
Mr. William Henry Smith, M.P., the present First Lord of the Treasury (born 1825), is popularly known by the name of Bookstall Smith because he originated the idea of railway bookstalls, and founded the now widely-popular firm of “W. H. Smith and Sons.”
Sir Christopher Hatton (born 1540, died 1591) was styled The Dancing Chancellor because he first attracted the notice of Queen Elizabeth by his graceful dancing at one of the Court masques. In recognition of this accomplishment he was created a Knight of the Garter and subsequently made Chancellor of England. Praise-God Barebones, or, rather, Barebon, who died in 1680, was a leather-seller and the leader of the celebrated “Barebones Parliament.” It was a common custom among the Puritans to nickname people in accordance with their habits and peculiarities; consequently this individual must have been addicted to praising God in the hearing of his neighbours. William Huntingdon, the preacher and theologian (born 1744, died 1813), called himself Sinner-saved Huntingdon for reasons doubtless best known to himself. Orator Henley, otherwise John Henley (born 1692, died 1756), was an English divine who in 1726 delivered a course of lectures on theological subjects on Sundays, and on secular subjects on Wednesdays, in a kind of “oratory” or chapel in Newport Market, which attracted large congregations.
Memory Woodfall was the sobriquet of William Woodfall (born 1745, died 1803), brother to the reputed author of the famous “Letters of Junius.” This person’s memory was so perfect that he was able, after listening to a Parliamentary debate, to report it the next morning word for word without the assistance of any notes whatever. Of another kind was the memory possessed by John Thompson, the son of a greengrocer in the parish of St. Giles, popularly known as Memory-corner Thompson (born 1757, died 1843) on account of his astounding local knowledge. Within twenty-four hours, and at two sittings, he drew entirely from memory a correct plan of the parish of St. James’s. This plan contained all the squares, streets, lanes, courts, passages, markets, churches, chapels, houses, stables, and angles of houses, in addition to a number of minor objects, such as walls, trees, &c., and including an exact plan of Carlton House and St. James’s Palace. He also, on another occasion, made a correct plan of St. Andrew’s parish, and offered to do the same with the parishes of St. Giles, St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, and St. Clement-Danes. If a particular house in any given street were named, he would tell at once what trade was carried on in it, the appearance and position of the shop, and its contents. In going through a large hotel completely furnished, he was able to retain a recollection of everything he saw, and afterwards make an inventory of the whole. But, perhaps more wonderful than all, he could, after having read a newspaper overnight, repeat any desired portion of its contents verbatim the next morning. Nowadays such a one would be exhibited at the Royal Aquarium as a natural curiosity.
Another well-known London character was Dirty Dick, otherwise Nathaniel Bentley, the miser, who never washed himself. This extraordinary individual died in the odour of dirt in the year 1809, leaving an ample fortune to console his heirs for his loss (?). The house which he inhabited in Bishopsgate Street Without has now been converted into a modern wine and spirit establishment, under the style of The D.D. Cellars. Laurence Brown, the English landscape gardener (born 1715, died 1783) was nicknamed Capability Brown owing to his habitual use of the word capability. At the present day the Duke of Cambridge (born 1819) is usually denominated George Ranger in allusion to his appointment as Ranger of the Royal Parks. Ernest Benzon, author of “How I Lost £250,000 in Two Years,” rejoiced in the title of The Jubilee Plunger because he entered upon his gambling career in 1887, the Jubilee year of Queen Victoria [see Plunger].
A few of the more celebrated painters may now detain us. Peter Aartsen, the Flemish painter (born 1507, died 1573), bore the name of Long Peter on account of his extraordinary height; while Gaspar Smitz, the Dutch portrait painter (died 1689), was styled Magdalen Smith because his pictures comprised mostly “Magdalens.” The real name of the French landscape painter, Claude Lorraine (born 1600, died 1682), was Claude Gelée of Lorraine; that of Paolo Veronese, or Paul Veronese (born 1528, died 1588), was Paolo Cagliari, his birth having taken place in Verona; and that of Jacopa da Bassano, called Il Bassano (born 1510, died 1592), was Jacopa da Ponte, whose native place was Bassano, in the Venetian State. Pietro Vanucci (born 1446, died 1524), though recognizing Città della Pieve as his birthplace, was all his life established in the neighbouring city of Perugia, where he claimed the right of citizenship; hence the origin of his more common name Il Perugino. Francesco Rossi (born 1510, died 1563), adopted the name of Del Salviati, in honour of his patron, Cardinal Salviati, who was his own age exactly, and, strangely enough, died in the same year as himself. Giuseppe Ribera (born 1588, died 1656), was popularly surnamed Lo Spagnoletto (“the Little Spaniard”), from the shortness of his stature and his birth at Xativa, in Spain; while Tommaso Guidi (born 1402, died 1428), merited his better-known name of Masaccio, owing to the slovenliness of his habits, the direct consequence of an all-absorbing attention to his studies. Jacopo Robusti (born 1512, died 1594) received his now far more popular name of Tintoretto because his father followed the occupation of a tintore, or dyer. During his lifetime, this celebrated Italian painter merited the additional sobriquet of Il Furioso owing to the rapidity with which he produced his work. Quintin Matsys (born 1466, died 1530), whose masterpiece, “The Taking Down from the Cross,” has achieved a world-wide reputation, is equally known to fame by the name of The Smith of Antwerp, owing to the circumstance of having followed for a time, and with great distinction, his father’s occupation of a blacksmith. His attachment to the pretty daughter of a painter, however, caused him eventually to forsake the anvil for the palette. Nearer home the historical portrait painter, David Allan (born 1744, died 1796) was surnamed The Scottish Hogarth in compliment to his excellence; and William Huggins (born 1821, died 1884), The Liverpool Landseer, in favourable comparison with the celebrated English animal painter of that name.
Simon Bolivar, the South American hero (born 1783, died 1830), justly merited the dignified title of The Liberator; while General John Charles Fremont (born 1813, died 1890) won the surname of The Pathfinder after his fourth successful exploring expedition across the Rocky Mountains in 1842. Lastly, Jonathan Hastings, a farmer of Cambridge, Massachusetts, U.S., was styled Yankee Jonathan in consequence of his addiction to the word Yankee in the place of “excellent.” Thus he would say, “A Yankee good horse,” “A Yankee good cider,” &c. This individual, however, must not be confounded with “Brother Jonathan,” the nickname of the typical American, to which reference is made in another portion of this work.
As by reference to our article on Tavern Signs it will be seen how the word Inn originally denoted a private mansion, it will suffice to state here that the various colleges of the law students in London are styled Inns because the chief of them were at one time the residences of the nobility whose family names they still bear. Thus, Lincoln’s Inn was the town mansion of the Earls of Lincoln, Gray’s Inn, of the Earls Gray, Furnival’s Inn, of the Lords Furnival, and Clifford’s Inn, of the Lords Clifford. The two first-named, together with the Inner and Middle Temple, are the principal Inns of Court, so called because the earliest seminaries for the study of the law were established in one of the courts of the King’s palace. The Inns of lesser import are:—Serjeants’ Inn, originally the establishment of the “Frères Serjens,” or Serving Brothers to the Knights Templars who occupied The Temple close by; Barnard’s Inn—sold and abolished in 1881—named after its ancient owner; Staple Inn, formerly the Hall of the Merchants of the Staple, i.e., wool; Clement’s Inn and Dane’s Inn, so designated from their proximity to the Church of St. Clement-Danes; and New Inn, the latest of all the Inns erected in the early part of the last century. Thavie’s Inn no longer exists, but the title still adheres to a range of modern buildings erected upon its site. No person of the name of Thavie ever owned or occupied the original premises; nevertheless, when the Inn was established as an appendage to Lincoln’s Inn, about the middle of the fourteenth century, the Benchers unanimously agreed to perpetuate the memory of one John Thavie, an armourer who, dying in the year 1348, bequeathed a number of houses in Holborn, representing considerable rentals, to the neighbouring church of St. Andrew, and named it “Thavie’s Inn” accordingly.
The senior members of the Inns of Court are styled Benchers by reason of the benches on which they formerly sat.
Goodwood Races are held once a year in Goodwood Park, the property of the Duke of Richmond; Ascot Races, on Ascot Heath, in Berkshire, and Epsom Races, on Epsom Downs, near London. The Derby Stakes, at Epsom, were named after Edward Smith Stanley, twelfth Earl of Derby, who founded them in 1780, the year after he established the Oaks Stakes; so called from an inn known as “Lamberts’ Oaks,” originally erected by the Hunters’ Club and rented by a family named Lambert upon land which subsequently passed into the possession of the Derby family. The St. Leger Stakes, otherwise the Doncaster St. Leger, annually run for at Doncaster, were established by Colonel Anthony St. Leger in 1776.
A Hurdle Race is one in which hurdles are placed at different points along the course. A Steeplechase is confined to thoroughbred hunters whose riders are bound to make for the winning-post straight across the country, guided by flags displayed on the highest points along the line, and to clear whatever ditches, fences, walls, or other obstacles that may lie in their course. The term originated from the incident of an unsuccessful hunting-party agreeing to race to the village church, of which the steeple was just in sight; and he who touched the building first with his whip was to be declared the winner. A Scratched Horse is one whose name has been struck out of the final list of runners in a particular race. A Sweepstake is a term used to denote the whole amount staked by different persons upon one race, and cleared literally “at one sweep” by the fortunate individual who has backed the winner.
In all probability the name of Westminster Abbey would never have come into existence had it not been necessary to distinguish the Abbey Church lying to the west of St. Paul’s (founded by Ethelbert in 610) from another Abbey Church that stood upon the rising ground now known as Tower Hill. Consequently, the one was described as the West Minster, the other the East Minster; and when, in course of time, the latter was swept away, the western edifice not only retained the description of “The West Minster,” but gave its name also to the district around. The earliest mention of West Minster occurs in a Saxon charter dated 785.
The Temple comprised the chief seat in this country of the Knights Templars after their return from the Holy Land. The Savoy Chapel is a modern edifice built by the Queen to replace the original, destroyed by fire July, 7, 1864, which formed the only remaining portion of the old Savoy Palace erected by Peter of Savoy, the uncle of Eleanor, queen of Henry III., in 1249, on land granted to him by that monarch.
The Church of St. Clement-Danes owes its compound title to the fact of being dedicated to St. Clement, and of Harold, a Danish king, together with several other Danes lying buried within its walls. The Church of St. Mary-le-Bow, Cheapside, otherwise Bow Church, was so denominated because it was the first church ever built upon bows or arches. The Church of St. Mary Woolnoth, at the corner of Lombard Street and King William Street, is supposed to be a corruption of St. Mary Woolnough, so called by way of distinction from a neighbouring church of “St. Mary of the Wool,” that stood beside the beam or wool-staple. The Church of St. Mary-Axe, now vanished, received this name from its situation opposite to a shop that displayed an axe for its sign. The Church of St. Catherine Cree, Leadenhall Street, is properly St. Catherine and Trinity, being originally a chapel dedicated to St. Catherine in the churchyard of the priory church of Holy Trinity, afterwards merged into the parishes of Christ Church, St. Mary Magdalen, and St. Michael. The Church of St. Catherine Coleman, Fenchurch Street, dedicated to St. Catherine, is so designated because it was built in a large garden belonging to a person named Coleman. The Church of St. Margaret Pattens, Rood Lane, did not receive its denomination from the patten-makers who congregated in this neighbourhood, but because its roof was formerly decorated with gilt spots or patines; a patine being the name of a small circular dish of gold used to cover the chalice at the altar. Lovers of Shakespeare may recollect the passage in the Merchant of Venice where Lorenzo, referring to the stars, says:—
The original Church of St. Sepulchre, founded during the time of the Crusades, was so denominated in honour of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. The name of St. Bride’s Church, Fleet Street, is a contraction of St. Bridget’s Church. The Church of St. Andrew Undershaft, Leadenhall Street, dedicated to St. Andrew, was originally so called because its steeple was of lesser altitude than the tall shaft or maypole which stood opposite the south door. Hence, the church was literally “under the shaft.” The parish of St. Mary-Axe is now united to that of St. Andrew Undershaft. The Church of St. Helen’s, Bishopsgate, was built and dedicated to St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, in 1180, just thirty years before William Fitzwilliam, a rich goldsmith, founded in connection therewith a priory of Benedictine nuns, dedicated to the Holy Cross and St. Helena. The neighbouring Church of St. Ethelburga was so named in honour of the daughter of King Ethelbert. The Church of Allhallowes Barking, at the bottom of Mark Lane, derived the second portion of its title from the fact that it belonged to the ancient abbey and convent at Barking, in Essex. St. Olave’s Church, Tooley Street, is properly described as St. Olaf’s Church, being dedicated to Olaf, a Norwegian prince of great renown, who came over to this country at the invitation of the King Ethelred, and rendered good service in expelling the Danes.
The central portion of the Tower of London, supposed to have been built by Julius Cæsar, is known as the White Tower on account of the white stone employed in its construction. In the Bloody Tower the Infant Princes were murdered by order of their uncle, Richard III.; and in the Beauchamp Tower, Thomas de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, was imprisoned by Richard II. for leading the conspiracy of the Barons for the removal of Sir Simon de Burley, the young King’s favourite. At the accession of Henry IV. the Earl obtained his liberty. Traitors’ Gate denotes the river gate by which all State prisoners convicted of high treason were admitted into the Tower. Newgate Prison derived its name from its original situation next to the newest of the five principal gates of the City. The prison is first mentioned in history under date 1207. The present gloomy edifice was built in 1782. The open space between the prison and the Old Bailey was formerly known as the Press Yard, because here it was that prisoners who refused to plead upon trial were barbarously pressed to death. The Old Bailey Sessions House received its name from the street in which it stands [see Old Bailey in the article “London Streets and Squares.”] The old Marshalsea Prison, Southwark, abolished and pulled down in 1842, was so called because it contained the Court of the Knight-Marshal, whose duty it was to settle disputes occurring between the members of the Royal Household. This office now belongs to the Steward of the Royal Household. Bridewell was a corruption of “St. Bridget’s Well,” discovered in the grounds attached to an ancient hospital, afterwards converted into a house of correction for females. An iron pump let into the wall of the churchyard at the upper end of Bride Lane indicates the exact spot where the dames of old were wont to drink the virtuous waters. The Fleet Prison took its name from the river, now a common sewer, near which it stood. The northern boundary of the prison is now defined by Fleet Lane, which runs from Farringdon Street to the Old Bailey.
St. John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, is the sole remaining portion of the priory of St. John of Jerusalem, the seat in this country of the Knights Hospitallers, instituted by Godfrey de Boulogne. The Gate now forms the headquarters of the St. John’s Ambulance Association. Temple Bar was not one of the City fortifications, but the ordinary gateway of the Temple. It was popularly known as The City Golgotha, owing to the spiked heads of traitors exposed thereon—Golgotha being Hebrew for “the place of skulls.” The Bar was taken down in 1878. London Bridge—that is to say, the original structure—was the first bridge over the Thames. The present structure was thrown open August 1, 1831. Billingsgate traces its origin to Belin, one of the early kings of Britain, who built a gate on the site of the present market and gave it his name. St. Katherine’s Docks received their title from an ancient hospital dedicated to St. Katherine, swept away by their construction in the year 1828. The Mint is so called in accordance with the Anglo-Saxon mynet, coin [see Money]. The Trinity House, the seat of the Trinity Corporation, which controls the pilotage of the Thames and the various lighthouses, buoys, harbour-dues, &c., around our coast, owed its foundation to Sir Thomas Spert, Comptroller of the Navy of Henry VIII., and commander of the Harry Grace de Dieu, originally situated at Deptford; it was incorporated in 1529 under the style of “The Master-Wardens and Assistants of the Guild, or Fraternity, or Brotherhood, of the most glorious and undivisible Trinity, and St. Clement, in the parish of Deptford, Stroud, in the County of Kent.” The present edifice was built in 1795. Crosby Hall, Bishopsgate, at one time a palace, but now converted into a restaurant, was built by Sir John Crosby about the middle of the fifteenth century. The Congregational Memorial Hall, Farringdon Road, which occupies part of the site of the old Fleet Prison, was built in 1872 to memorate the ejection of more than two thousand Church of England ministers from their charges, August 24, 1662, consequent upon their refusal to subscribe to the “Act of Uniformity” [see Nonconformists]. The Guildhall is the hall of the City guilds; the word Guild being derived from the Anglo-Saxon gildan, to pay, alluding to the fee paid for membership. Doctors’ Commons, originally established as a college for the Professors of Canon and Civil Law, received its name from the rule which required the Doctors to dine at a common table. That sombre-looking structure, the College of Arms, otherwise Heralds’ College, is the office where the records of the genealogical descent of all our noble families are preserved, and where searches for coats-of-arms may be instituted. The Corporation of the College dates back to the year 1484. The General Post Office is officially denominated St. Martin’s-le-Grand because it occupies the site of a collegiate church and sanctuary of that name founded by Within, King of Kent in 750, and chartered by William the Conqueror in 1068.
The Charterhouse, originally a monastery of the Carthusians, is a corruption of La Chartreuse, the name of the district in France where this religious Order first came into existence. Christ’s Hospital, also known as the Blue Coat School, from the colour of the coats worn by the boys, retains the ancient designation of a church and school belonging to the Grey Friars. It is only in modern times, by the way, that the term Hospital has come to be exclusively applied in this country to a refuge for the sick. Properly understood, a hospital denotes a house intended for the reception and accommodation of travellers; the source of the word being the Latin hospitalis, pertaining to a guest, based upon hospes, a stranger, a guest, and from which we derive the word Hospitality. The great Bernardine monastery on the summit of the Alps, devoted to the good work of rescuing snow-bound travellers, is appropriately denominated a Hospice, which answers to our Hospital. St. Bartholomew’s Hospital was founded by Rahare, a monk attached to the neighbouring Priory of St. Bartholomew in 1123; whereas Guy’s Hospital arose out of the bequest of £238,292, by the will of Thomas Guy, a benevolent bookseller of Lombard Street, who died in 1722. Bedlam is a contraction of Bethlehem Hospital, a lazar-house named after the Hospital of St. Mary at Bethlehem, and converted into a lunatic asylum in 1815. This was the common designation in ancient times for a refuge for the poor, the word Bethlehem expressing the Hebrew for “a house of bread”; but in more modern times the synonym Lazar-house was substituted in allusion to Lazarus, who picked up the crumbs under the table of Dives. A refuge for fallen women has always borne the name of a Magdalen Hospital in honour of Mary Magdalen.
St. James’s Palace marks the site of an ancient leper hospital dedicated to St. James the Less, Bishop of Jerusalem. The present edifice was built by Henry VIII. in 1530. Buckingham Palace displaced old Buckingham House, the town mansion of John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, in the year 1825. The total cost to the nation of this “desirable residence” was £1,000,000. Marlborough House was originally the town residence of John, Duke of Marlborough, erected by Sir Christopher Wren in 1709. Somerset House reverted to the Crown by the attainder of its owner, Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, the Lord Protector of Edward VI., executed January 22, 1552. Whitehall received its name from the fresh appearance of its exterior as contrasted with the ancient buildings on the opposite side of the way. The present fabric, viz., The Banquetting Hall, is merely a vestige of the palace originally set apart by Cardinal Wolsey for the London See of York: whence he gave it the name of “York House.” The Horse Guards is so called because a troop of Horse Guards are regularly quartered here. Dover House was named after its owner, the Hon. George Agar Ellis, afterwards created Lord Dover; and York House, after the Duke of York and Albany who bought it in 1789. Devonshire House, Piccadilly, is the town residence of the Duke of Devonshire. Apsley House, Hyde Park Corner, well known as the residence of the Duke of Wellington, received its name from Henry Apsley, Lord Chancellor, afterwards created Lord Bathurst, who built it in 1784. Chandos House, Cavendish Square, was the residence of James Brydges, “the Princely Duke of Chandos.” The Albany, Piccadilly, perpetuates the memory of the Duke of York and Albany, who acquired it from Lord Melbourne in exchange for his older residence, York House, in Whitehall. Burlington House, the home of the Royal Academy of Arts and quite a number of learned societies, was built by Sir John Denham, the poet and judge, in 1718, and refronted by the celebrated amateur architect, Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington and Cork, in 1731. This palatial edifice was purchased by the State in 1854. The Soane Museum, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, was the private collection of Sir John Soane, the architect and antiquary, who died in 1837. The Rolls Chapel, Chancery Lane, bears this name because it was annexed by patent to the office of the Master of the Rolls of Chancery after the banishment of the Jews from England in the year 1290. The history of the chapel dates from 1283, when Henry III. founded it for the reception of the Jewish rabbis converted to Christianity.
The Painted Hall, Greenwich Hospital, owes its name to its magnificently decorated ceiling. Vanburgh Castle, Blackheath, was built in the castellated style by Sir John Vanburgh, in 1717. Rye House, famous for being the scene of the conspiracy to assassinate Charles II., which was discovered June 12, 1683, is so called from the rye on which it stands; Rye being an Old English term for a common, derived from ree, a watercourse: hence Peckham Rye.
Bruce Castle, Tottenham, has a history all its own. The present structure dates back to the latter part of the seventeenth century; but the original building was erected by Earl Waltheof, whose marriage with Judith, the niece of William the Conqueror, brought him portions of the earldoms of Northumberland and Huntingdon. Their only daughter, Maud, on becoming the wife of David I., King of Scotland, placed him in possession of the Huntingdon estates, and, as appended to that property, the manor of Tottenham, in Middlesex. Ultimately these possessions descended to Robert Bruce, the brother of William III., King of Scotland. The contention between Robert Bruce and John Baliol for the Scottish throne being decided in favour of the latter, the former retired to England, and settling on his grandfather’s estate at Tottenham, repaired the castle to which he gave the name of “The Castle Bruce.” Lincoln House, Enfield, was the residence of the second and third Earls of Lincoln in the seventeenth century. Sandford House, Stoke Newington, is interesting as having been the residence of Thomas Day, the author of “Sandford and Merton” (born 1748, died 1789). Cromwell House, Highgate, now a Convalescent Hospital for sick children, was occupied for some time by Oliver Cromwell, who built Ireton House, close by, for Henry Ireton, his son-in-law, in 1630; while Lauderdale House, lately a Convalescent Home in connection with St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, was the residence of the Earls of Lauderdale during the seventeenth century. Waterlow Park, in this neighbourhood—in fact, comprising among other valuable property the grounds appertaining to Lauderdale House—was generously presented to the London public by Sir Sydney Waterlow, in November, 1890. The Clock House, Hampstead, originally displayed a clock in place of the present sun-dial. Rosslyn House, Hampstead, which gives the name to Rosslyn Hill Park, was erected by Alexander Wedderburn, first Earl of Rosslyn and Lord Chancellor of England, in 1795. Erskine House, Hampstead, adjoining “The Spaniards,” was the residence of Lord Erskine, Lord Chancellor of England, who died here in 1823.
Strawberry Hill, the celebrated palace of curiosities built by Horace Walpole in 1750, received its name from the rising ground upon which it stood. The building was sold by public auction, and purchased by Baron H. de Stein, in July, 1883. Orleans House, Twickenham, now a club, was named after Louis Philippe of France, who resided in it when he was simply Duc d’Orleans. Essex House, Putney, was one of the many residences of Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth. Bristol House, Putney, was, until recently, the property of the Bristol family. Craven Cottage, Fulham, was built by the Countess of Craven, afterwards created Margravine of Anspach. Munster House, Fulham, derived its title from its one-time resident, Melesina Schulenberg, created Duchess of Munster in 1716. Peterborough House, Parson’s Green, was formerly the mansion of the Mordaunts, Earls of Peterborough. Sussex House, Hammersmith, was the favourite residence of the late Duke of Sussex. Holland House, Kensington, owes its name to Henry Rich, Earl of Holland, by whose father-in-law, Sir William Cope, it was built in 1607. Here Charles James Fox, the eminent orator and statesman (born 1749, died 1806), passed many of his earlier years; here also Joseph Addison, the poet and essayist, died in the year 1719.
The Albert Hall, Albert Memorial, Albert Bridge, and Albert Palace, each preserve the memory of the Prince Consort, whose death took place in 1861. The Crystal Palace, opened by the Queen, June 10, 1854, derived its title from its glass structure, which, when the sun shines upon it, glistens like crystal. The Alexandra Palace was named after the Princess of Wales, who was to have opened the original building, May 24, 1873; but, for some unexplained reason, she did not perform that ceremony. Olympia, opened December, 1886, is an appropriate designation for a huge edifice eminently adapted for every variety of popular amusement. The allusion is to Olympia, in Greece, where the celebrated “Olympian Games” were anciently held every fourth year. The Polytechnic Institution, Regent Street (now the Y. M. C. A.), was designated in strict conformity with its set purpose as an educational establishment, viz., from the two Greek words polus, many, and techne, an art. St. George’s Hall was originally, when opened in 1867, St. George’s Opera House, so styled because situated in the fashionable parish of St. George’s, Hanover Square. The Egyptian Hall, built in 1812, is a particularly well-chosen title; at least, it appears so at the present day, since the regular performances of those modern magicians, Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke, have long ago become one of the institutions, if not actually one of the sights, of the Metropolis. St. James’s Hall was named after the parish church just opposite. Willis’s Rooms, so called after their late proprietor, were originally opened by a Scotsman named Almack, under the style of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, February 12, 1765. Exeter Hall was built in the year 1830 in the grounds of Exeter House, which also gave the name to Exeter ’Change, erected in 1680 and pulled down in 1829 [see Exeter Street]. The world-famous waxworks exhibition known as Madame Tussaud’s retains the name of its foundress (born 1760, died 1850) who first set up her figures at the old Lyceum Theatre in 1802, and after undergoing a variety of misfortunes settled down permanently in Baker Street in the year 1833.
Scotland Yard, the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, received its name from an ancient palace erected on this spot for the accommodation of the Scottish kings in the days when they were annually required to pay homage to the Crown of England at Westminster. The first monarch so accommodated was Kenneth II. (died 854); the last was Margaret, Queen of Scots, the sister of Henry VIII. Lord’s Cricket Ground, familiarly styled Lord’s, owes its existence to Thomas Lord, who established, upon land of his own, first on the site of Dorset Square in 1780, and subsequently on its present site, the only cricketing ground where genteel players could meet to enjoy this game without fear of rubbing shoulders with the City apprentices. Previous to his enterprise the formation of a private Cricket Club had never been thought of. Tattersall’s, the well-known rendezvous for the sale of horses, was opened by Richard Tattersall near Hyde Park Corner in 1766, and removed to Knightsbridge April 10, 1865.
Lloyd’s Rooms, better known as Lloyd’s, derived this title from Edward Lloyd, a coffee-house keeper in Abchurch Lane, whose premises became the regular resort of merchants and others interested in shipping. The original location of a special office for the transaction of mercantile business over the Royal Exchange took place in 1775; but the name of the genial coffee-house keeper was by common consent transferred with it. On the destruction by fire of the first Royal Exchange, in 1838, “Lloyd’s” was temporarily removed until the completion of the present building in 1844.
The entrance to the privileged precincts of the Stock Exchange is called Capel Court, because it marks the residence of Sir William Capel, Lord Mayor of London in the year 1504. The term Exchange owes its origin to the French echanger, to trade, to barter. The object of the original Royal Exchange, founded by Sir Thomas Gresham in 1506 and opened by Queen Elizabeth amid sundry public rejoicings over the event (which accounts for the prenomen “Royal”), January 31, 1571, was to provide a convenient place where the merchants, bankers, and brokers of the City could meet throughout the day for the transaction of business. The Stock Exchange is the great money mart of the world [see Stock in the article “Money”].
The Bankers’ Clearing House, in Lombard Street, is the establishment where all cheques, drafts, and bills drawn upon the various bankers are sorted, distributed, and balanced up. The Railway Clearing House, adjoining Euston Railway Station, is a similar establishment devoted to the adjustment of the value represented by the tickets issued by the different Railway Companies. In conclusion, the title of Mansion House, though somewhat suggestive of tautology, may be accepted as denoting the house of all other houses, since it is the official residence of the Lord Mayor.