by Inigo Jones, in 1671, but there had been a former hall on the same spot, which claimed to have been coeval with Edward IV. A wide gulf now separates barbers and surgeons, but originally all medical skill was confined to the clergy, and as they required lay assistants for manual operations, they naturally enough employed the barbers, who were trusted by them in their own work, and readily gained sufficient knowledge to carry out the directions they received. The pole, which even now, in country places, projects over the shaver's shop-door, indicated at first that persons might be bled there, as the patient, when phlebotomy was performed, grasped a tall rod, to keep the arm steady. Of course clever men soon appeared amongst the barbers, and in no long time they began to practise as medical men—on the whole no doubt with advantage to the humbler classes; their right to do so was quickly recognized by custom, and Henry VIII. granted them a charter of incorporation, which for several centuries was, the sole document which made their occupation legal. On entering from Monkwell-street, the building shows signs of neglect and disrepair; and first you come into a rather spacious hall, which is not often used, and, though elegant in its proportions, is bare and dirty. Quitting this, you enter an inner hall, probably sixty feet long by thirty wide, full of objects of the highest interest. There are several windows at the back, but the light is principally derived from a circular lantern in the centre, and this is a singularly beautiful specimen of the architect's talent. It is very lofty, and is encrusted at every point with exquisitely delicate carvings of fruit and flowers in every possible variety, "not done in plaster," said our cicerone, "but cut out of the solid wood." The walls are covered with extremely fine original paintings, and they look wonderfully fresh and well preserved, scarcely any of them showing the slightest appearance of decay. The work which instantly

arrests the attention is Holbein's marvellous picture of Henry VIII. presenting a charter to the Company of Barber-Surgeons. There is a very admirable engraving from it, executed more than a century since, at the expense of the Corporation; but it by no means gives a sufficient idea of the great merit of the piece. In length ten or eleven feet, in height five or six-a sheet of oak panel, hardly at all cracked, and the colours as fresh and brilliant as if but recently laid on-it gives a most vivid presentment of eighteen kneeling figures, all in their faculty robes and bareheaded, except five, who wear close velvet caps; thirteen of the number are without beards. All these heads are portraits, and on the shoulder of each individual is his name in full. The features are amazingly various, and in the majority exceedingly intellectual; it would not be easy to find eighteen better specimens in our present College of Physicians. They must have been men of mark. One of them, Dr. Butts, is introduced in Shakspere's play of Henry VIII.; another, Dr. Chambers (we think), is known to have attended Queen Anne Boleyn in her confinement with Elizabeth; and the names of most of them may be met with in old medical writings. The portrait of Dr. Penn was greatly admired by the late Sir Robert Peel, who, we were assured by the attendants, used to come to the Hall every month or two to look at it, and once offered the company £2,000 for this portrait, if they would permit him to cut it from the picture, he undertaking also to make good the damage, and supply its loss. At one of his visits he said (so asserts the man who does the talk here) that he should like to sleep on the table in the Hall, that he might have the pleasure of looking at the picture on waking in the morning. In the centre, on a chair of state, somewhat raised, sits the terrible Tudor, grand and grim, covered with his royal robes, holding the charter in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other; he

wears a bonnet-shaped crown, indulges in a very independent sort of straddle, and is looking away from the humble recipients of the intended gift with a cool air of warning, as much as to say, "Take care, and behave prettily, or I may make some of you shorter by the head." Prince Albert visited this noble Holbein more than once. At his desire it was sent to Buckingham Palace, and remained there a month; but when the directors of the Manchester Exhibition desired the loan of it they were refused. As doubts were entertained that it would be damaged by remaining in the City, a Royal Commission inspected it, and specimens of colours were hung in the Hall for several months, with a view to ascertain whether the atmosphere was unfavourable to them, but no change took place, and Dean Milman, with his coadjutors, expressed their conviction that its removal was not desirable. It is pretended that King Henry never sat for any other portrait, and that those of him at Hampton Court are merely copies. They certainly resemble it in every respect. The present College of Surgeons have a copy of this picture, and many years ago they contested the legal right to the original, but without success. The other paintings well deserve notice; two, certainly, are Vandyke's. 1st. A whole-length of the Countess of Richmond, in a standing position, resting her right hand upon a lamb. This is a beautiful work of art; the face is expressive of unaffected goodness, and the attitude graceful without stiffness. She is robed in white satin, and so admirably is the fabric imitated that you half believe it may be grasped. There is a copy of this portrait at Hampton Court. 2nd. A likeness of Inigo Jones, very fine and highly characteristic. Over the entrance to the Hall there is a bronzed bust of Jones, which is connected with a rather discreditable story. It seems this bust, not many years since, was found in a lumber closet. It was of white marble, and the sagacious

Master of the day gave orders that it should be bronzed. There is a doubtful sketch of a head, as it is thought, of Linnæus, and by whatever artist painted, its merit is of no common order. Also portraits of Charles II. and Queen Anne, both benefactors of the Company; of Henry Johnson, a favourite of the Merry Monarch; and of Thomas Lisle, King's barber in 1622-the latter a most solemn and imposing-looking personage, who might well pass for the Prime Minister. These are the paintings that will best reward attention, but there are others in the Hall of no mean merit. Across the principal entrance there stands a very curious two-leaved screen; originally it had four compartments; two are lost, or have been destroyed. It exhibits the arms of the Company, and is elaborately wrought over with innumerable artistic emblems, fruit, flowers, fantastic ornaments, and gilding. The whole work is so highly estimated that it was recently exhibited at Manchester. Its history is a strange one. Once on a time a notable felon was hanged, and his corpse handed over to the barber-surgeons for dissection; the operator, fancying the heart still pulsated, used means for resuscitation, and succeeded. The man was kept hidden for a long while, and then sent abroad at the Company's expense. He ultimately became rich, and in gratitude sent them this screen.

My visit to the Hall was on a Court day, and I had an opportunity of seeing the plate. There are some interesting pieces :

A drinking-cup and cover, in silver gilt, the gift of Henry VIII., very beautifully chased.

A similar cup, in silver, still more elaborately worked, the gift of Charles II.

A dish, or bowl, very large, with a flowered edge, not remarkable for elegance, the gift of Queen Anne.

An oblong dish, with a well centre, said to have been used for lather when people of rank were shaved.

Two velvet caps, in filigree silver bands, worn on state occasions by the Master and his deputy, they being privileged by charter to be covered in the presence of the sovereign.

Before leaving we were invited to drink out of one of the royal cups, and chose-in the mere hope that Queen Catherine or Queen Anne Boleyn might have used itKing Henry's.

We were informed that whoever drank from these cups was expected to empty them, whatever was put in; nor did we think this a hardship, as the wine was excellent old sherry. We had never raised such a beaker to our lips before. The fashioner must have been dead more than shree centuries. Bright eyes have oft been reflected in that cup-beauty, rank, and wisdom have oft breathed words of hospitable kindness over it. What and where are they now? Dust, and for ever divorced from this "mortal coil." But we gulped down these saddening thoughts with the good wine, and gave, as briskly as we could, "Prosperity to the Worshipful Company of Barber-Surgeons."