A very curious privilege which the Keeper of the Jewel House still retains is that “he hath no superior Officer in Court or Kingdom.” He receives no orders except from the King himself or conveyed to him through the Lord Chamberlain. The origin of this rule is not far to seek, for otherwise, in less settled days, anybody who was in a position to do so might have ordered the Keeper to hand over portions of the Regalia or Royal Plate. As a safeguard against the Keeper or his officers tampering with the Crown Jewels, it was open to a committee detailed by the Lords of the Treasury to inspect the Regalia at such times as they might think fit. In spite, however, of these precautions there is very conclusive evidence that the regal emblems were constantly being tampered with, valuable stones extracted and coloured glass inserted to replace them. Who committed these abstractions, whether the Keeper himself or whether by the King’s command, is not certain; perhaps more probably the losses were due to the Crown Jewels being insufficiently protected and guarded. As late as the reign of James II we have a record of the new King paying as much as £500 for the _hire_ of Jewels for the day of his Coronation, presumably to replace pieces of coloured glass found in the regal emblems. A somewhat notable instance of this is the large, faceted globe or monde which used to be on the top of the King’s Crown. This was always described as a very valuable aquamarine, and is portrayed on the crowns of several sovereigns. Unhappily, on examination the magnificent aquamarine was found to be of glass, the real stone having been removed in some previous reign and replaced by a worthless imitation. This glass replica, as before mentioned, is shown as a curiosity amongst the Crown Jewels. To emphasise the position of the Keeper of the Regalia he was frequently made a Privy Councillor, and amongst those specially mentioned as such, are Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and the two Cary’s, probably father and son, who succeeded each other. Taken as a whole, therefore, it is evident that the office was both in dignity and emoluments a very valuable one, and as such naturally much sought after. It is calculated that, allowing for the difference of value then and now, that about £10,000 a year would be the present equivalent of the Keeper’s pay and emoluments. Both Thomas Cromwell and Sir Henry Mildmay became very rich indeed, whilst Sir Gilbert Talbot died by no means a pauper. Compared to this brilliant and opulent past the present may seem a less entrancing vista for the Keeper of the Jewel House; but times and customs have changed, and an old officer with £300 a year added to his pension, with snug quarters provided by the King in the Tower of London, finds himself in a more honorable and less precarious position than his ancient predecessors with their bribes and perquisites, but surrounded by jealous enemies, and always with the block on Tower Hill upon the near horizon.