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Article WITHIN THE SHADOW OF THE SHAFT. ← Page 4 of 6 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Within The Shadow Of The Shaft.
If I wander within the shadow of the shaft , or rather , down to its extreme extent , where , at mid-day , I have somewhere read , the simulacrum of the " vase , vomiting flames , " falls , doAvn that narrow alley which leads into Pudding Lane , I come to No . 25 in that redolent thoroughfare—that steep tributary to Thames Street where the odour of Messrs . Keeling- and Hunt ' s
green fruit is disagreeably commingled with the " ancient ancl fish-like smell " of adjacent Billingsgate . Here , at No . 25 , stood the house of Master Faryner , the King ' s baker , where , at midnight on the 2 nd September , 1666 , the great conflagration broke out . Formerly , there , an inscription appeared uponithe front of the house commemorating the disastrous event , but this was removed many years ago , for the rather incredible reason that the crowds
congregating to read it impeded the traffic of the narrow thoroughfare . Now , before we leave No 25 , Pudding Lane , gentle reader , two or three reflections suggest themselves . First , the name Faryner . Is this name a mere coincidence , or does it mark the late continuance of the ancient custom that connected the patronymic Avith the avocation ? For Faryner , if not the exact equivalent of Boulanger , baker , means at all events Farrinier , flour seller , and bakers still
sell flour , I belieA e ; but I do not profess to know anything of domestic matters . Then , again , note the title—the King ' s baker . I believe Mr . Lemann , who sells such excellent biscuits , near the Royal Exchange , is entitled to blazon " the Lion ancl the Unicorn , fighting for the crcwii , " over his door , by reason of his crisp comestibles having been , from time to time , munched by Royal molars . Mr . Game , the meritorious butcher in Cannon Street , claims a similar privilege , I understand ; andl rather think that the carbtal pies of Mr . Dorling , pork-butcher , ancl historian of Leaclenliall Market , have earned him like honour ; but I imagine Mr . Faryner ' s claim to be the royal purveyor was closer than either of these .
Remember , be was in the immediate vicinity of the Royal Palace of the Tower of London , then not infrequently visited , if not actually occupied , by majesty , ancl the breakfast rolls , if required , Avould scarcely have cooled in their short passage between Pudding Lane ancl the royal apartments in the Wardrobe Tower or the Queen ' s privy garden , And UOAV a word or tAA o as to the urn vomiting flames—ancl this is as convenient an opportunity as any that will occurfor me to protest that I do not pretend in this paper to give an
histori-, cal , or statistical , or philosophical account of this memorable eA ent in the history of the world's metropolis . If you are devoured by curiosity to ICIIOAV bow many acres of ground were in four clays covered with rubbish—how many parish churches Avere destroyed—how many shops ancl Avarehouses Avere laid in ruins , are there not Clarendon ( the life ) , Oldmixon , Kennet , North , Burnet , Evel ancl Pepys to consult ? Go to them . Mr . Seymour Haclen * in his
yn , , excellent lectures on etching , tells us that real art should be rather suggestive than imitative . Well , I am suggestive , or , at least , I try to be , and only propose to use Pope ' s tall bully , pointing at the skies , as a sort of lay figure , a colossal prop on AA'hich I will hang what fantastic drapery I like—whatever rubbish comes into my head—anent annus mirabilis . Having let off which atrabilious protest , let us return to our urn . You all know , I suppose , that
the monument is tAvo hundred and two feet in height , and that if you measure from its base in a south-easterly direction , you will find that that exact distance will bring you to the site where the great fire broke out . It is saicl , as I baA ^ e indicated , above , that at a certain moment of the clay—but I am not astronomer enough to tell you which—the shadow of the finial capital falls upon the very spot . NOAV , what is that capital ? It is easy enough to answer , " An urn or vase vomiting flames . " No doubt ; but the reply , correct as it is , is not exhaustive . If you look up at the apex ( it has been recently regilt , ancl seems to challenge close inspection ) you Avill say that it is , at the least , a very
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Within The Shadow Of The Shaft.
If I wander within the shadow of the shaft , or rather , down to its extreme extent , where , at mid-day , I have somewhere read , the simulacrum of the " vase , vomiting flames , " falls , doAvn that narrow alley which leads into Pudding Lane , I come to No . 25 in that redolent thoroughfare—that steep tributary to Thames Street where the odour of Messrs . Keeling- and Hunt ' s
green fruit is disagreeably commingled with the " ancient ancl fish-like smell " of adjacent Billingsgate . Here , at No . 25 , stood the house of Master Faryner , the King ' s baker , where , at midnight on the 2 nd September , 1666 , the great conflagration broke out . Formerly , there , an inscription appeared uponithe front of the house commemorating the disastrous event , but this was removed many years ago , for the rather incredible reason that the crowds
congregating to read it impeded the traffic of the narrow thoroughfare . Now , before we leave No 25 , Pudding Lane , gentle reader , two or three reflections suggest themselves . First , the name Faryner . Is this name a mere coincidence , or does it mark the late continuance of the ancient custom that connected the patronymic Avith the avocation ? For Faryner , if not the exact equivalent of Boulanger , baker , means at all events Farrinier , flour seller , and bakers still
sell flour , I belieA e ; but I do not profess to know anything of domestic matters . Then , again , note the title—the King ' s baker . I believe Mr . Lemann , who sells such excellent biscuits , near the Royal Exchange , is entitled to blazon " the Lion ancl the Unicorn , fighting for the crcwii , " over his door , by reason of his crisp comestibles having been , from time to time , munched by Royal molars . Mr . Game , the meritorious butcher in Cannon Street , claims a similar privilege , I understand ; andl rather think that the carbtal pies of Mr . Dorling , pork-butcher , ancl historian of Leaclenliall Market , have earned him like honour ; but I imagine Mr . Faryner ' s claim to be the royal purveyor was closer than either of these .
Remember , be was in the immediate vicinity of the Royal Palace of the Tower of London , then not infrequently visited , if not actually occupied , by majesty , ancl the breakfast rolls , if required , Avould scarcely have cooled in their short passage between Pudding Lane ancl the royal apartments in the Wardrobe Tower or the Queen ' s privy garden , And UOAV a word or tAA o as to the urn vomiting flames—ancl this is as convenient an opportunity as any that will occurfor me to protest that I do not pretend in this paper to give an
histori-, cal , or statistical , or philosophical account of this memorable eA ent in the history of the world's metropolis . If you are devoured by curiosity to ICIIOAV bow many acres of ground were in four clays covered with rubbish—how many parish churches Avere destroyed—how many shops ancl Avarehouses Avere laid in ruins , are there not Clarendon ( the life ) , Oldmixon , Kennet , North , Burnet , Evel ancl Pepys to consult ? Go to them . Mr . Seymour Haclen * in his
yn , , excellent lectures on etching , tells us that real art should be rather suggestive than imitative . Well , I am suggestive , or , at least , I try to be , and only propose to use Pope ' s tall bully , pointing at the skies , as a sort of lay figure , a colossal prop on AA'hich I will hang what fantastic drapery I like—whatever rubbish comes into my head—anent annus mirabilis . Having let off which atrabilious protest , let us return to our urn . You all know , I suppose , that
the monument is tAvo hundred and two feet in height , and that if you measure from its base in a south-easterly direction , you will find that that exact distance will bring you to the site where the great fire broke out . It is saicl , as I baA ^ e indicated , above , that at a certain moment of the clay—but I am not astronomer enough to tell you which—the shadow of the finial capital falls upon the very spot . NOAV , what is that capital ? It is easy enough to answer , " An urn or vase vomiting flames . " No doubt ; but the reply , correct as it is , is not exhaustive . If you look up at the apex ( it has been recently regilt , ancl seems to challenge close inspection ) you Avill say that it is , at the least , a very