One of the aspects of this church that impresses me most is how it was reconstructed after direct hits by bombs during the Blitz.
The interior today …
The church was bombed on two occasions during the Blitz: first the east end was badly damaged by a bomb in December 1940, and three weeks later the whole building was gutted by incendiary bombs, leaving only the tower and outer walls standing. This photo from the 1947 publication The Lost Treasures of London by William Kent shows the devastation …
Here it is last week on a wet and windy day looking from the east …
Before entering the church from this direction I suggest a short diversion.
On Tower Hill Terrace you will find this pretty sculpture. It’s called The Seaand incorporates a tribute to Sir Follett Holt, KBE, the first Chairman of the Tower Hill Improvement Trust, who died 20th March 1944 …
It is one of two gate posts – this is its partner …
The PMSA says ‘Each of these groups comprises two children with dolphins swimming around them. Their frolicking pagan style contrasts rather vividly with the relief of the Toc H Lamp, also by Cecil Thomas, on the east wall of All Hallows behind them’
The Toc H relief …
I walked down the little path alongside the west wall of the church …
Embedded in the wall was this memorial to Samuel Gittens MD. It has three little cherubs heads and refers to his parents ‘Samuel and Mary Gittens of Barbados’ …
Alongside the north wall is the ‘Secret Garden’ …
It is such a shame that, even though the church is right alongside the Tower of London, it doesn’t seem to get many visitors. Do visit if you have the opportunity.
Here are just a few of its treasures.
This is the tomb of the Reverend ‘Tubby’ Clayton CH MC who became vicar of the Church in 1922 and remained there until 1963. He is best known for his work initially as an army chaplain during the First World War and in particular the establishment of Talbot House, a unique place of rest and sanctuary for British troops. After the war the spirit and intent of Talbot House became expressed through the Toc H movement …
His effigy is one of the last works by Cecil Thomas, the ‘soldier sculptor’, and Tubby’s dog Chippie sits on a tassellated cushion at his feet …
Clayton owned a succession of Scottish Terriers, one of them a gift from the Queen Mother. All of them were called Chippie.
Another work by Thomas, the Forster Memorial …
The magnificent font cover is by Grinling Gibbons and dates from 1682 …
The present pulpit dates from around 1670 and is carved in the Gibbons style. It comes from the church of St Swithun’s, London Stone, which was destroyed by bombing and not rebuilt …
Above it is the tester, or sounding board, designed to represent three pilgrim shells associated with the pilgrimage of St James Compostella in Spain.
All Hallows is known as the seafarer’s church with strong connections to the Port of London Authority and to maritime history generally.
Mariners lost at sea with no known grave …
The stained glass windows, especially in the south aisle, also bear witness to the church’s close association with the sea and the river Thames …
There are also, as you might expect, some superb model ships …
And what about this, Sir Ernest Shackleton’s electrically heated crow’s nest from the ‘Good Ship Quest’ on which he died on 5 January 1922 while in harbour in South Georgia …
The man climbing to the crow’s nest in the picture is Frank Wild. He took over the leadership of the expedition after Shackleton died.
The 16th century monument to the Italian merchant Hieronimus Benalius who lived in nearby Seething Lane and died in 1583. He left instructions for Masses to be said for his soul …
This wall monument contains the kneeling effigies of Francis Covell and his wife, each in long robes and with ruffs at the necks. They kneel facing one another, and probably originally had a desk between them which has disappeared …
In the Lady Chapel is the tomb of Alderman John Croke from 1477. It was destroyed during the war, but rebuilt and restored from the remaining fragments …
This is the formidable pillar monument to Giles Lytcott and his family …
The lower inscription …
Ten children but only three living at the time of the mother’s death. It didn’t matter how rich you were, child mortality was high.
You can read the full insciption here. Intriguingly it refers to an ancestor ‘poisoned in the Tower’.
A niche in the wall holds a 17th century wooden statue of St. Antony of Egypt …
There are several fine 18th century sword rests …
How fantastic that this brass from 1612 has survived to tell a sad story …
Here lyeth the bodie of Marie Bvrnell late wife of Iohn Bvrnell Citizen & marchant of Lon don ye only davghter of Mathew Brownrigg of Ipswich in ye covntye of Svffolk Esq. A woman Syncerely lyvinge in ye feare of god & dyinge con stantly in ye fayth of Christ Ihesvs she departed this lyfe ye 5 daye of Aprill 1612 beinge of yf age of 20 years havinge fynished in wedlock wth her sayd hvsband to yeafes & v moneths & bear ing him Issve one sone whereof she dyed in child bed & expecteth now wth ye Elect of god a Ioyfvll resvrrection
Poor Marie. So typical of the time, a young woman dying in childbirth.
And now down to the crypt museum. A subject for a future blog …
Until 26th May 2024, Unravel: The Power and Politics of Textiles in Artshines a light on artists from the 1960s to today who have explored the transformative and subversive potential of textiles, harnessing the medium to ask charged questions about power: who holds it, and how can it be challenged and reclaimed? Spanning intimate hand-crafted pieces to large-scale sculptural installations, this major exhibition brings together over 100 artworks by 50 international practitioners. Drawn to the tactile processes of stitching, weaving, braiding, beading and knotting, these artists have embraced fibre and thread to tell stories that challenge power structures, transgress boundaries and reimagine the world around them.
This review summed it up nicely for me -‘hybrid, heterodox, filled with strangeness and anger and beauty and horror, Unravel at the Barbican is often gorgeously excessive, at other moments quiet and private, not giving up its secrets until you linger’.
An extraordinary experience – not at all what I expected and highly recommended. I really wanted to ignore the ‘Do Not Touch’ signs!
Here are some of the images I took when I visited last Saturday.
Views from the upstairs gallery …
Yinka Shonibare’s figurative sculpture Boy On A Globe uses his signature Dutch Wax fabrics to address race, class and the legacy of imperialism by reflecting on colonial trade and the entangled economic histories embedded within fabrics …
Hannah Ryggen’s Blut im Gras (Blood in the grass), 1966, protests against the US war in Vietnam. The then-US president Lyndon B. Johnson is depicted here nonchalantly wearing a cowboy hat …
Arch of Hysteria by Louise Bourgeois uses a textile doll or model to convey a psychic experience of pain …
Myrlande Constant’s tapestries are drawn from Haitian Vodou traditions, her father was a Vodou priest …
Tau Lewis uses recycled fabrics and seashells in The Coral Reef Preservation Society, partly in homage to enslaved people who lost their lives in the Middle Passage, a stage of the Atlantic slave trade …
These larger-than-life, deity-like macramé sculptures by Mrinalini Mukherjee surge up from the ground as though organic beings. Drawing on nature and myriad artistic references, their knotted, rippling forms confound expectations of textiles as two-dimensional …
Sarah Zapata’s work embraces her identity as a Peruvian American – two cultures in which textiles are integral …
Solange Pessoa’s work, Hammock, was created in response to the land of Minas Gerais, Brazil, where she grew up. Textiles, in the form of rags and canvas, act as a carrier for living and decaying matter …
Tracey Emin is here too with a hard hitting work, No chance – WHAT A YEAR, about being raped when she was a thirteen-year-old girl (Content trigger warning) …
The first bit of good news is that Mrs Coot is now firmly esconced on her Barbican Lake nest – a sight that always cheers me up …
This picture was taken from Gilbert Bridge.
The City Gardeners’ hard work is coming to fruition on London Wall and elsewhere in the City …
At the roundabout …
St Mary Aldermanbury and Love Lane…
Opposite St Paul’s Underground Station …
The little pond outside St Lawrence Jewry has been refurbished as has the west front of the church and its spire …
All that’s needed now are some fish.
The little garden at St Vedast Foster Lane …
In Postman’s Park …
Commercial enterprises also make a contribution to brightening up the City …
On Gresham Street …
I have to particularly congratulate the owners and tenants of 88 Wood Street who take planting seriously, both outside …
… and inside …
So, rather cleverly, it’s difficult to tell where the border between the two is.
A few images from around the Barbican …
The entrance to the Andrewes House car park is a welcoming sight!
Earlier this week you may have noticed the abseilers at work on the Lakeside Terrace …
The completed exercise …
It’s a work called Purple Hibiscus by Ibrahim Mahama and you can read more about it here.
And finally.
You may remember that, a little while ago on 29th February, I wrote about notices that I had come across that I thought were interesting. Well, I have been keeping my eyes open and come across two more. I can only describe them as ‘doors with attitude’!
This warning couldn’t be clearer (although masochists may ignore it) …
I don’t know why it has taken me so long to visit this extraordinary building but the wait was certainly worth it. And entry is free!
You know you’re in for a treat when, at the entrance, you encounter these charming cherubs chatting to one another over a late 19th century telephone …
The way in …
Two Temple Place is ‘a dazzling neo-Gothic gem’ on Victoria Embankment …
Then the richest man in the world, William Waldorf Astor emigrated to England from America in 1891 and he spared no expense when work began on Two Temple Place in 1892. It was designed by one of the foremost neo-Gothic architects of the late nineteenth-century, John Loughborough Pearson, and served as an impregnable bolthole with the eccentric Astor’s private apartment and bedroom upstairs. Its main purpose, however, was to accomodate the people managing Astor’s vast estate.
The man himself …
If you love stained glass as much as I do this must be on your list to visit. Here are just a few of the many images I took as I walked around. I haven’t included captions since the ones at the venue are so detailed this blog would be far too long. So I hope these pictures are good enough to encourage you to visit in person …
At the bottom of the stunning staircase you encounter D’Artagnan …
And further up, Athos …
More breathtaking glass awaits you upstairs …
In the foreground is a modern piece from a special exhibition that is also resident at Temple Place for the time being …
Entitled ‘The Glass Heart’, the guide tells us that ‘this bold new exploration of glass in the UK brings together for the very first time rarely seen works from key UK collections, celebrating this remarkable material – unforgiving, fragile, strong, sustainable. The Glass Heart will make you think again about glass as we explore how it has illuminated and contained human narratives and ideas’.
Here are a few images from this exciting and unusual exhibition …
Well written and beautifully illustrated, at £10 the guide book is fantastic value for money and a great memento of your visit …
Two Temple Place is a truly magnificent one-off. Make sure you check on the website for opening times before you visit since these can vary : https://twotempleplace.org/
If glass is your passion, don’t forget you can watch the creative process in action at the London Glassblowing Gallery …
The items for sale there may change forever your perception of what glass can do and the way it can influence the way we see the world – a fantastic place to visit …
There are glass hearts like these in the Temple Place exhibition. If you visit see if you can spot them …
The modest entrance to this church is so deceptive …
Nothing prepares you, as you climb the 13 steps, for what you will shortly encounter when you enter …
The majestic space within…
The dome is Wren’s finest and based on his original design for St Paul’s …
Wren lived at number 15 Walbrook and took special care in rebuilding this, his parish church, between 1672 and 1679, after the previous 15th century church was destroyed in the Great Fire. By the 18th century, the building was world famous, the Italian sculptor/architect Antonio Canova declaring, ‘We have nothing to touch it in Rome.’ And the architectural historian Nikolaus Pevsner lists it as one of the ten most important buildings in all of England.
Before considering the church as it looks now, you might be interested in its layout before the box pews were removed in 1888. This image, held by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and dated 1809, shows a service in progress with figures in the pews listening to a minister in a pulpit to the right of the altar …
In 1987 the church was rearranged around a central, circular, polished stone altar, made of travartine marble by the famed sculptor Henry Moore. Patrick Heron (1920-1999) was one of Britain’s foremost abstract painters and he designed the colourful kneelers …
The idea was that the community would gather around it and for its central position to represent how the Gospel was central to their lives.
It went against the Christian tradition of having the altar at the Eastern end of the church and so naturally there was huge opposition to idea from some. The case ended up being taken to the Ecclesiastical courts where it was found to be acceptable.
The pulpit and font cover are attributed to the carpenters Thomas Creecher and Stephen Colledge, and the carvers William Newman and Jonathan Maine …
Look back towards the entrance to the church to see the rather magnificent organ case above the door. This dates from 1765 …
I took a prowl around the monuments and was stopped in my tracks by this one to John Lilburne (d.1678), citizen and grocer, of the Lilburn family of Sunderland, and his wife Isabella. It’s the earliest monument in the Church …
I love the little standing figures of the couple, he with cloak and long flowing hair above a tunic, with big cuffs and slender shoes, she a slim figure with long, flaring skirt, puffed out bodice and drapes over and behind her head. A charming pose with her arms crossed in front of her.
But what really caught my eye was the memento mori, a sculpture of a woman dancing with Death, who is a skeleton wearing a long skirt …
Then there’s George Alfred Croly of the Bengal Light Infantry who fell ‘gloriously by a cannon shot’ in the ‘assault on the entrenched camp of the sikhs’ in 1845, aged only 23 …
Robert Marriott’s splendid memorial …
Robert Marriott was Rector from 1662 until he died in 1689 aged 81 years. His monument in Latin describes him as ‘Professor of theology and the watchful pastor of this Church. A man as a preacher so truly Divine that by his preaching he at once charmed and convinced his hearers. A man in whose character old time integrity was so tempered with a sweetness that he made simplicity loveable. A man of so spotless a life that his own example confirmed and recommended what his lips taught.’ Praise indeed.
A long, rather touching inscription for Sir Samuel Moyer …
Many memorials of the time provide an insight into the dreadful child mortality rates of earlier centuries, even for those who were affluent. The tablet states that Samuel Moyer was a Baronet. He must have had money as the tablet states the family spent the summer at their home at Pitsey Hall in Essex and the winters in the parish of St Stephen Walbrook.
A Baronet who could afford homes in Essex and London still suffered numerous child deaths. Of their eleven children, eight died in their minority, with only three daughters surviving to “lament with their sorrowful mother, the great loss of so indulgent a father”.
The bust of Percivall Gilbourne …
Described in the excellent Bob Speel website as follows: ‘A short Latin inscription on a panel with a colourful marble surround … We see a noble bewigged head of an ageing man, firm of countenance and strong of neck, but with something of a jowl, above shoulders and chest wearing a drape rather than contemporary clothing’.
I make no apology for writing again about this brave man ..
Nathaniel Hodges was a 36-year-old doctor practising in London when the terrible plague of 1665 reached the City. Its arrival prompted a flight from London and, Hodges recalled later, this included four-fifths of the College of Physicians. The City was awash, he said, with ‘Chymists’ and ‘Quacks’ dispensing, as he put it: ‘… medicines that were more fatal than the plague and added to the numbers of the dead.’
Dr Hodges decided to stay and minister to his patients and first thing every morning before breakfast he spent two or three hours with them. He wrote later …
Some (had) ulcers yet uncured and others … under the first symptoms of seizure all of which I endeavoured to dispatch with all possible care …
hardly any children escaped; and it was not uncommon to see an Inheritance pass successively to three or four Heirs in as many Days.
After hours of visiting victims where they lived he walked home and, after dinner, saw more patients until nine at night and sometimes later.
He survived the epidemic and wrote two learned works on the plague. The first, in 1666, he called An Account of the first Rise, Progress, Symptoms and Cure of the Plague being a Letter from Dr Hodges to a Person of Quality. The second was Loimologia, published six years later …
A later edition of Dr Hodges’ work, translated from the original Latin and published when the plague had broken out in France.
It seems particularly sad to report that his life ended in personal tragedy when, in his early fifties, his practice dwindled and fell away. Finally he was arrested as a debtor, committed to Ludgate Prison, and died there, a broken man, in 1688.
The Latin on his memorial translates as follows:
Learn to number thy days, for age advances with furtive step, the shadow never truly rests. Seeking mortals, born that they might succumb, the executioner comes from behind. While you breathe you are a victim of death; you know not the hour in which your fate will call you. While you look at monuments, time passes irrevocably. In this tomb is laid the physician Nathaniel Hodges in the hope of heaven; now a son of earth, who was once a son of Oxford. May you survive the plague by his writings. Born 13 September AD 1629 Died 10 June 1688.
There are two glass display cases in the church.
This model allows the overall design of the church to be appreciated, not easy when viewed from outside …
For example. this is the view from the south …
Inside in another glass case you’ll see this famous phone …
As you leave and walk down the steps, look to your left and you will see a modern mosaic of St Stephen …
I would like to finish with a quotation that I particularly like from the church’s own publication setting out its history.
Wren considered geometry to be the basis of the whole world and the manifestation of its Creator, while light not only made that geometry visible but also represented the gift of Reason, of which geometry was for him the highest expression. Like the solution to a mathematical problem, everything fits into place with apparent simplicity; yet this simplicity itself is mysterious and magical. Whether one experiences St. Stephen’s alone, in stillness and quiet, or in a full congregation resounding with music, the effect is always the same. Life outside is complicated and chaotic. To enter is not to escape into fantasy; rather is it to submit to the strongest positive assertion of the true order of the universe.
Regular readers will know that I love the Guildhall Art Gallery! It describes itself as one of the City’s best kept secrets and that certainly seems to be true since when I visit I often feel like I almost have the place to myself.
This week I popped in to see what was on display with particular reference to London. My usual favourites were there along with some interesting new additions.
Among the new arrivals was this painting by Doreen Fletcher (b.1952) 0f the Carlyle Hotel, Bayswater, around 1981 …
I think her paintings are fabulous and I am the proud owner of a signed copy of a book about her work published by The Gentle Author. I also own two of her prints, Still Standing – Commercial Road …
And Hot Dog Stand, Mile End …
You can read more about her here and here. The book I own is now out of print but you may be lucky and find a copy on eBay.
Another new arrival at the Gallery is this work by Grete Marks (1899-1990) entitled London Wharves (1972) …
I really like the textures of the material she has incorporated …
Margarete or Grete Marks was born in Cologne, Germany, where she studied at the School of Arts and later at Dusseldorf Academy before entering the Bauhaus School of Arts in Weimar in November 1920. At this time the Bauhaus was in its first incarnation under Walter Gropius and enjoyed enormous influence over the fine and decorative arts throughout Europe.
A painting by Sharon Beavan (b.1956) entitled View from Rotherfield Street to the Barbican (1989) …
I really get a sense of the higgledy piggledy that is London. You can read more about Sharon here.
Another newcomer I like is this oil on canvas Camberwell Flats by Night (1983) by David Hepher (b.1935) …
Hepher first started painting South East London’s high-rise architecture in the 1970s, inspired by the scale and impact of the tower blocks on the London skyline. Camberwell Flats by Night reflects Hepher’s sustained focus on residential architecture, and the details of ordinary, everyday life. He refers to his architecturally-themed works as landscape paintings, equating the powerful effects of the built environment on human experience to those of the natural world. He has said, “I think of myself as a landscape painter; I live in the city, so I paint the urban landscape.”
The Gallery acquired the painting in 2022 and it required some conservation. You can read about what that entailed here.
I looked up a few old favourites as well.
Two examples of City pomp and ceremony.
First, The Ceremony of Administering the Mayoralty Oath to Nathaniel Newnham, 8 November 1782. Nathaniel Newnham (before a sugar-baker and a founder of the private bank of Newnham) became Lord Mayor in 1782 and is seen here in his black and gold state robe being admitted in Guildhall on November 8 in the Silent Ceremony …
He faces William Bishop, the Common Cryer, who holds the book from which he reads his Oath with William Rix, the Town Clerk; behind stands Heron Powney, the Sword Bearer with the upraised Sword of State and beside him is William Montague, the Clerk of the Chamber of London …
The two small boys at the bottom right are nephews of the Lord Mayor …
The other is one of my favourites, William Logsdail’s painting entitled The Ninth of November 1888 …
Although it’s the Lord Mayor’s procession in this picture he is nowhere to be seen and the artist has concentrated on the liveried beadles (who he actually painted in his studio)…
… and the people in the crowd …
There is a minstrel in blackface with his banjo and next to him a little boy is nicking an orange from the old lady’s basket. On the right of the picture the man in the brown hat, next to the soldier with the very pale face, is Logsdail’s friend the painter Sir James Whitehead.
Naughty boy!
It’s a sobering thought that, not far away in the East End that afternoon, police were discovering the body of Mary Kelly, believed to be the last of Jack the Ripper’s victims.
A view of Blackfriars Bridge and the City from Lambeth about 1762 by William Marlow (1740-1813) who was, as can be seen, very influenced by Canaletto. The City’s wharves are viewed through the Portland Stone elliptical arches while St Paul’s stands out in the background. At the north end are the buildings of New Bridge Street and the spire of St Martin Ludgate. In the centre of the picture, a wherry conveys passengers and their belongings downriver …
The demolition of old London Bridge increased the flow of the river under Blackfriars Bridge, weakening it. It therefore had to be replaced with the current iron and granite bridge built between 1860 and 1869.
The Thames and Southwark Bridge in 1884 by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836-1893) are represented here on a quiet night under the moonlight. St. Paul’s prominent dome is seen on the right side, along with the spires of St Augustine, St Mary-le-Bow and St Antholin. A few vessels are in the dark on the left. The river and the sky are open pathways for the flood of light …
John Atkinson Grimshaw began working as a railway clerk for Great Northern Railway and had no formal training. Despite parental opposition, he took up painting at the age of twenty-five. In the 1880s, he began to paint London views, concentrating on moonlight subjects. From 1885 to 1887 Grimshaw had a studio at Trafalgar Studios, Manresa Road, Chelsea and knew Whistler well. It is said that Whistler confessed he had regarded himself as the inventor of nocturnes until he saw Atkinson Grimshaw’s ‘moonlights’.
The Monument from Gracechurch Street after Canaletto (artist unknown). We are looking towards Fish Street Hill and old London Bridge, with the Church of St. Magnus the Martyr in the background. Many reproductions were made after Giovanni Antonio Canal, who was colloquially known as Canaletto. These were in high demand after various British nobles and even King George III started collecting them …
This painting shows the wide thoroughfares of eighteenth century London and the bustle of the city. The Monument, designed by Dr Robert Hooke and the architect Christopher Wren, was erected between 1671 and 1677 to commemorate the fire and the rebuilding of the City.
Finally, if you visit the Gallery now you will see a notice about the Lord Mayor’s Big Curry Lunch …
and the nearby garden …
It’s really nice to see some green space in the Guildhall courtyard …
And art by the children of serving families …
As the notice says, the painted dolls at the front of the garden represent unity and love for children everywhere who are suffering in times of conflict …
Oh, and by the way, one of Gallery’s most popular paintings is back on display after being featured in Tate Britain’s ‘The Rossettis’ exhibitions in London and the Delaware Art Museum. Described by the Pre-Raphaelite artist and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti as “my very best picture”, ‘La Ghirlandata’ was acquired by the City of London Corporation in 1927 for its permanent art collection and is displayed in the gallery’s main Victorian exhibition space …
The 1873 oil on canvas depicts ‘the garlanded woman’ playing an arpanetta and looking directly at the viewer. The artist’s muse for the central figure was the actor and model, Alexa Wilding, with two ‘angels’ in the top corners posed by William and Jane Morris’ youngest daughter, May Morris.
What better place and person to start with than the Tower of London and William I (a.k.a ‘The Conqueror’ and ‘The Bastard’).
As everyone knows, he invaded England and defeated King Harold at the battle of Hastings in 1066. His reign is primarily remembered for the compilation of the Domesday Book in 1086 and for the building of many castles.
The castle which later became known as the Tower of London was begun in 1066 and was originally a timber fortification enclosed by a palisade. In the next decade work began on the White Tower, the great stone keep that still dominates the castle today …
William was keen to keep the City of London placated and not to disrupt commerce. In order to do this, after his coronation but before he entered the City, he issued the William Charter.
Written on vellum (parchment) in Old English, it measures just six inches by one-and-a-half inches …
Translated into modern English, the Charter reads as follows:
‘William the king, friendly salutes William the bishop and Godfrey the portreeve and all the burgesses within London both French and English. And I declare that I grant you to be all law-worthy, as you were in the days of King Edward; And I grant that every child shall be his father’s heir, after his father’s days; And I will not suffer any person to do you wrong; God keep you.’
City of London historians point out that one of the citizens’ primary concerns, as expressed by the words – “And I grant that every child shall be his father’s heir, after his father’s days” – was to ensure that their property handed down to the son and heir, rather than attracting the interest of the Crown.
Here he is as depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry …
There are two main accounts of his death in 1087. While some vaguely state that he became ill on the battlefield, collapsing through heat and the effort of fighting, William of Malmesbury added the gruesome detail that William’s belly protruded so much that he was mortally wounded when he was thrown onto the pommel of his saddle. Since the wooden pommels of medieval saddles were high and hard, and often reinforced with metal, William of Malmesbury’s suggestion is a plausible one. There’s a witty article about William’s demise here in the journal Historic UK.
William was followed as king by his third son, also called William but commonly called Rufus because of his ruddy complexion and red hair. The gossipy William of Malmsbury hinted that the King was homosexual since he surrounded himself with young men who ‘rival young women in delicacy’. Here he is as illustrated in the miniature from Historia Anglorum, c. 1253 …
Whilst hunting in the New Forest on 2 August 1100 he was accidentally killed by an arrow from one of his own men …
A relic of Rufus’s time is the crypt of St Mary-le-Bow which I wrote about a few weeks ago. I wonder if any of Rufus’s ‘delicate’ young men ever walked down these beautifully worn steps …
William II was followed on the throne by his youngest brother, Henry. He was crowned three days after his brother’s death (3rd August 1100) against the possibility that his eldest brother Robert might claim the English throne on his imminent return from the Crusade. His life was blighted in 1120 when the ‘White Ship’ bearing both his sons sank in the channel. This is a 13th century depiction of the tragic event …
Subsequently he made his barons swear to accept his daughter, Matilda, as his heir. Henry died on 2nd December 1135 from ‘a surfeit of lampreys’ – probably food poisoning.
For a sense of Henry’s time, make a visit to the church of St Bartholomew the Great.
St Bartholomew’s was established by Rahere, a courtier and favourite of the king. It is thought that it was the death of the Henry’s wife, Matilda, followed two years later by the White Ship drownings, that prompted Rahere to renounce his profession for a more worthy life and make his pilgrimage to Rome.
In Rome, like many pilgrims, he fell ill. As he lay delirious he prayed for his life vowing that, if he survived, he would set up a hospital for the poor in London. His prayers were answered and he recovered. As he turned for home the vision of Saint Bartholomew appeared to him and said “I am Bartholomew who have come to help thee in thy straights. I have chosen a spot in a suburb of London at Smoothfield where, in my name, thou shalt found a church.”
True to his word Rahere set up both a church, a priory of Augustinian canons, and the hospital. He lived to see their completion – indeed he served as both prior of the priory and master of the hospital – and it is possible that he was nursed at Barts before his death in 1145. His tomb lies in the church.
He wears the habit of an Augustinian canon and the angel carries a shield with the arms of the priory.
You get a nice view of the flint and Portland Stone western facade of the church from the raised churchyard. An old barrel tomb rests in the foreground …
Bear in mind that the original church was vast and also covered the area now occupied by the graveyard and the path. This used to be the nave, as illustrated in this plan on display in the church …
Stepping into the church seems to transport you to another time and place …
The patchworked exterior gives no hint of the stunning Romanesque interior, with its characteristic round arches and sturdy pillars. It’s a rare sight in London; indeed, this is reckoned to be the best preserved and finest Romanesque church interior in the City. I visited it back in 2020 and you can read the blog here.
Nearby is this impressive statue of Henry VIII over the main entrance to St Bartholomew’s hospital, the only outdoor statue of the king in London. If you have seen and admired the famous Holbein portrait, the king’s pose here is very familiar. He stands firmly and sternly with his legs apart, one hand on his dagger, the other holding a sceptre. He also sports an impressive codpiece …
Bart’s, as it became known affectionately, was put seriously at risk in 1534, when Henry VIII commenced the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The nearby priory of St Bartholomew was suppressed in 1539 and the hospital would have followed had not the City fathers petitioned the king and asked for it to be granted back to the City. Their motives were not entirely altruistic. The hospital, they said, was needed to help:
the myserable people lyeing in the streete, offendyng every clene person passyng by the way with theyre fylthye and nastye savors.
Henry finally agreed in December 1546 on condition that the refounded hospital was renamed ‘House of the poore on West Smithfield in the suburbs of the City of London, of King Henry’s foundation’. I suspect people still tended to call it Bart’s.
You can see the agreement document, along with Henry’s signature, in the hospital museum …
It also bears Henry’s seal, the king charging into battle on horseback accompanied by a dog …
The King finally got full public recognition when the gatehouse was rebuilt in 1702 and his statue was placed where we still see it today. The work was undertaken and overseen by the mason John Strong, who was at the same time working for Sir Christopher Wren on St Paul’s Cathedral. Such were the masons’ talents, no architectural plans were needed to complete the work.
And finally, poor Queen Anne, whose statue stands outside St Paul’s Cathedral.
Wearing a golden crown, she has the Order of St George around her neck, a sceptre in her right hand and the orb in her left.
She was close to the architect, the brilliant Christopher Wren, who wrote to her to ask her to help when his salary was being witheld and his work obstructed …
The letter is held in the National Archives SP34/29 f 133.
It’s difficult not to feel sorry for Anne. Her personal life was marked by the tragedy of losing 18 children (including twins) through miscarriage, stillbirth and early death. Two of her daughters, Mary and Anne Sophia, died within days of each other, both aged under two years, of smallpox in 1687.
Anne was 37 years old when she became queen in 1702. At her coronation she was suffering from a bad attack of gout and had to be carried to the ceremony in an open sedan chair with a low back so that her six-yard train could pass to her ladies walking behind. Her medical conditions made her life very sedentary and she gradually put on a lot of weight. She died after suffering a stroke on Sunday 1st August 1714 at the age of 49. You can read much more about her in my blog Queen Anne – tales of tragedy, love and vandalism.
For a glimpse of the architecture of her time there are no finer City examples than 1 and 2 Laurence Pountney Hill …
They were built in 1703 as a pair of red brick, four-storey houses, on the site of a single post-fire house. They are considered to be finest surviving houses of this period in the City with elaborately carved foliage friezes around the doors and cornice above and ornate shell-hoods over the doorways. The virtuosity of the woodwork is explained by the fact that the houses were built by a master carpenter, Thomas Denning. He had worked on Wren’s church of St Michael Paternoster Royal nearby and would later contribute to Hawksmoor’s St Mary Woolnoth. Like other ambitious craftsmen, Denning branched out into the cut throat world of speculative building. At Laurence Pountney Hill he appealed to the market by ingeniously contriving two basements beneath the houses. This created an abundance of storage space that would be attractive to the London merchants, whose houses doubled as business premises. Denning’s speculation paid off; on 15 July 1704 he sold both houses to Mr John Harris for £3,190, a tidy sum.
The delightful doorway hoods. Look closely – the cherubs on the right are playing bowls!
Here is a close-up (you may have to concentrate – they are not always obvious) …
The date is still visible despite years of over-painting …
The buildings in 1905 with the door to number 1 open revealing the lovely original curved staircase …
There are other fine architectural examples of the period in the very appropriately named Queen Anne’s Gate in Westminster …
The lady herself has a statue there …
When I worked nearby I was told that, at midnight on her birthday, she would step off her plinth and promenade along the street inspecting the houses. The statue has an interesting history which you can read about here.
There is also a fascinating description of the street’s cannopies and carvings in the excellent London Inheritance blog.
For some reason lately I have been more aware of notices, signs, plaques and other sources of information. I’m usually a bit fixated on the next week’s blog but every now and then a piece of displayed information catches my eye and I take an image of it. So here’s a selection – I hope you find them interesting.
Bunhill Burial Ground is one of the places I love to walk through and indulge in a bit of quiet contemplation. It’s also a haven for bird wildlife as this informative notice shows …
The sighting of ring-necked parakeets is a bit ominous!
A polite way of telling customers to keep the noise down …
This pop up garden has really thrived …
I know at least four people who have had their bike stolen despite them having a locking device. There’s an extraordinary range of bike-stealing methods which you can read more about here if you’re interested. I was prompted to include a comment here because of this friendly warning posted outside the garden …
Around the City there are a number of signs for various City walks. You can do the old City Gates …
Here’s my favourite front door just off Whitecross Street …
Everything about it, for example paint colour and style of lettering, just seems so reminiscent of the 1970s. My theory is that people kept knocking on the door because they couldn’t see the bell so the owner fixed the problem with a painterly flourish.
In Whitecross Street itself is this spoof blue plaque erected by the ‘British Hedonists’ and ‘Mad in England’ …
The prison was capable of holding up to 500 prisoners and Wyld’s map of London produced during the 1790s shows how extensive the premises were …
Here is a view of the inside of the prison with probably more well off people meeting and promenading quite normally …
‘Inside the Debtors’ Prison, Whitecross Street, London’ by an unknown artist : City of London Corporation, Guildhall Art Gallery.
You can read more about it, and debtors’ prisons generally, in my blog Mansions of Misery.
This sign in Errol Street made me stop and think …
Nearby is the new YMCA. It seems like a fun place, I liked the colourful signage in the window …
The old multi-storey Whitbread stables in Garrett Street …
A 17th century ‘price list’ at St Sepulchre-without-Newgate …
Everyone has probably heard of the Blitz and the carnage brought about by German bombing during the Second World War but it’s sometimes forgotten that aerial attacks on civilians were also a terrifying feature of World War 1. A plaque in Central Street commemorates the action of a brave man …
You will also find him on the Watts Mamorial …
PC Smith, 37 years old, was on duty in Central Street when the noise was heard of an approaching group of fourteen German bombers. One press report reads as follows …
In the case of PC Alfred Smith, a popular member of the Metropolitan Force, who leaves a widow and three children, the deceased was on point duty near a warehouse. When the bombs began to fall the girls from the warehouse ran down into the street. Smith got them back, and stood in the porch to prevent them returning. In doing his duty he thus sacrificed his own life.
Smith had no visible injuries but had been killed by the blast from the bombs dropped nearby. He was one of 162 people killed that day in one of the deadliest raids of the war. I have written about him, and other brave officers, in my blog The brave policemen of Postman’s Park.
Proud boast by an Australian removal man …
In case you are wondering, a redback is a highly venomous Australian spider. What an informative blog this is!
What to watch out for …
An old shopfront with very old ads – once upon a time I smoked No.6 fags – really cheap if rather small!
The Players No6 brand, introduced in 1965, was Britain’s best selling cigarette brand for most of the 70s. Player’s advertising claimed it was ‘Part of the British Scene’. Packaging from 1965 to 1980 …
What finished the brand off wasn’t just the fact that more people were giving up smoking, it was the EU. In 1978, tobacco taxation was harmonised with the EU and cigarettes were taxed by retail price, rather than by weight of tobacco and this changed the cigarette market overnight.
Before this change small cigarettes were cheap and big ones were expensive. So King Size cigarettes were a luxury and small ones, like Player’s No 6, were popular. After the tax change, the price difference between a pack of Player’s No 6 and a pack of up-market Benson & Hedges Special Filter was almost incidental; 20 No 6 cost 52p and 20 Benson & Hedges cost 57p. Overnight sales of No 6 tumbled and in the status conscious 80s, No6 was about as popular as a pair flares and a kipper tie. The brand quietly disappeared in 1993.
An early morning visitor to my office …
What about this little chap …
He lives with his friends near the concourse at Liverpool Street station …
A duck for every occupation (and literally hundreds of other versions!) …
And now even more windows I have looked through recently …
The view from my table at the Ivy Asia restaurant …
The HYLO building on Bunhill Row has a virtual fishpond just inside the door …
The ‘fish’ move like they’re alive (it’s a bit spooky, to be honest).
Costumes and props at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama theatre on Silk Street …
I’m pleased this little tailor’s shop on Whitecross Street has survived …
A cute mini-jacket in the window …
A very big teddy!
For some reason this plaque at the Barbican Centre makes me feel a little sad …
And finally, thank you so much to those of you, my lovely subscribers, who made a donation to the Spitz Charitable Trust whom I featured on my blog last week. My friends at Spitz have been really thrilled by your generosity, which will go towards the life-enhancing services they provide. If you didn’t get a chance to read last week’s blog, this is a charity which brings live music to folk who may be feeling isolated or are experienceing dementia. Not just the elderly, but also young people in hospitals like Great Ormond Street who may be spending much of their life receiving care. All charities are having tough times at the moment so do, please, see if you can make a contribution, however modest, to help them in their work. Click here for their crowdfunding page and to find out more about them.
I also think that you might find the interview that Jane Glitre, Spitz’s founder, gave to Robert Elms on Radio London interesting. It’s only 11 minutes long and has a lovely song at the end! Here’s the link.
Forever trying to move with the times, some of the City churches have adapted brilliantly to take advantage of new technology which allows people to work virtually anywhere. This has also enabled me to indulge two of my main passions – churches and their history and cake.
St Nicholas Cole Abbey was the first church to be rebuilt by Wren after the Great Fire (1672-78). You can see one of its most interesting features before you actually go in the door. The beautiful galleon weathevane came from St Michael Queenhithe, another Wren church, demolished in 1876 under the Union of Benefices Act 1860 …
The view from the south side of Queen Victoria Street …
The interior is spacious and light …
My orange and cranberry cake was delicious and tasted home-made. The tea was good too (£6.70 in total – well, it is the City!) …
A striking ‘wall’ of innovative, modern glass depicts Christ’s Kingdom Spreading throughout the World (1962). Abstract elements connect all three windows with details of landscapes from across the globe at their base. Igloos, tepees and skyscrapers for the Americas, towers and domes for Europe, and minarets and domes for Africa and Asia …
The maker was Keith New (1926-2012), a pioneering British modernist stained glass artist. His career was launched by the 1952 Royal College of Art commission to design the windows for Coventry Cathedral.
On the way to the loo you encounter some old grave markers that have been re-sited on the floor ..
Somerset Place was a very posh address in the 18oos – no wonder Mrs Stewart wanted it on her gravestone.
Onward to St Mary Aldermary and its witty advertising board …
It was 12:15 when I got there and there was already a formidable queue for the food stall in the churchyard …
Before you head into the church, look down at what I believe is the most accurate grave marker in the City …
There is a well preserved coat of arms which includes four beavers suggesting involvement in the fur trade which was flourishing at the time. It’s a tribute to the quality of the stone and the carving that (even assuming it wasn’t laid until Henry died) it has survived so well after 200 years of footfall.
Under the coat of arms the inscription reads as follows …
Mrs Anna Catharina Schneider. Died 15th of June 1798 at half past Six O’clock in the Evening. Aged 57 Years, 3 months and 9 Days
I have written more about this memorial and others in my ‘favourite tombs’ blog from February 2021.
Having looked down outside the door, look up on entering and admire the fabulous intricate fan-vaulted ceiling that I wrote about in last week’s blog …
The cafe food selection …
There’s plenty of room to sit in the church …
St Mary-le-Bow is just 100 yards or so to the north. This is the view from Cheapside …
You can see the dragon weathervane very well on a sunny day like this …
The cafe in the crypt …
The menu is very comprehensive and you can view it here.
As I walked down the steps to the cafe I was struck by the incredibly worn nature of the stone – this could well have been the crypt entrance long before the 1666 Great Fire and Wren’s rebuilding of the church …
The church was totally gutted during the Blitz but it’s very much worth a visit to see the beautiful post-war stained glass. For example, to the north (left) of the sanctuary is depicted the Patron of the parish, the Blessed Virgin Mary, holding (and thus symbolising her care for us) the church built by Wren. She is clothed in blue (the traditional colour for Our Lady) and her feet appear to be resting on the arches of the crypt. Surrounding Our Lady’s image are seventeen Wren churches which survived the Second World War, each held by the patron saint of the parish …
This is a place for silent prayer and contemplation …
I was fascinated by some of the gravestones …
And the fine collection of heraldic symbols …
And last, but by no means least, St Mary Woolnoth, designed by Christopher Wren’s esteemed protégé Nicholas Hawksmoor (1661 – 1736) …
The food service area is tucked away just inside the door …
Do visit the interior where you can admire the memorial to John Newton, the reformed slave trader who wrote the hymn Amazing Grace …
The stunning, bulging pulpit dates from Hawksmoor’s time and Newton delivered his sermons from it. It was made by Thomas Darby and Gervaise Smith …
Don’t miss the 1810 ‘price list’ hanging on the west wall …
You can eat outside and watch the world go by. The air is a lot cleaner now that Bank Junction is closed to most traffic …
I have written about St Mary Woolnoth before and you can find my blog here.
Now, an important message: It has been proven time and time again that music, particularly live music, can have immense beneficial psychological effects. This is especially true for folk who may be feeling isolated or are experienceing dementia. And it’s not just the elderly who can benefit, but also young people who may be spending much of their life receiving care in hospital. There is a lovely charity, the Spitz Charitable Trust, who have delivered this life enhancing service for over ten years and, because I love what they do, I am for the first time promoting a charity in my blog. All charities are having tough times at the moment so do, please, see if you can make a contribution, however modest, to help them in their work. Click here for their crowdfunding page and to find out more about them.
In 1500 there were 15 churches in the City of London dedicated to a St Mary. It was by far the most popular dedication with the next most popular being All Hallows (8 churches) and St Michael (7 churches). This, of course, was helped by the fact that there are two St Marys – Mary the Virgin, the mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene one of Jesus’s followers who was present at the crucifixion. But even if we count only the churches dedicated to the Virgin Mary, it is still the most popular dedication with a total of 13.
I’ve already written in some detail about the six Marys still in existence but for some reason I rather neglected paying serious attention to St Mary Aldermary – an omission I intend to put right in this week’s blog. Incidentally, the name ‘Aldermary’ possibly derives from ‘Older Mary’ meaning the oldest church in the City dedicated to her.
As every guide to the church will tell you – when you enter just look up!
The nave …
The south side aisle …
The north side aisle …
The fabulous plaster fan-vaulted ceiling is more reminiscent of a cathedral and St Mary’s is the only parish church in England known to have one.
It is unclear why Wren chose to rebuild the church (1679-82) in an uncharacteristically Gothic style. Funding came from a personal estate, so it may have been the desire of the executors, or possibly the will of parishoners. Whatever the cause, the fortunate result is arguably the most important late 17th century Gothic church in England.
A quirky feature of the church is the angle of the east wall which followed the line of a pre-1678 passage …
One of the the east windows by Lawrence Lee (1955) is ‘a fusion of sacred and secular with St Thomas, St John the Baptist and Madonna and Child above and panels depicting important episodes from the dramatic history of the church below. The gothic church tower powerfully depicted appears engulfed in the flames of the Great Fire of London of 1666’ …
In close up, Sir Christopher Wren kneels to present his plans for the new church …
The west window by John Crawford commemorates the defence of London against air attack in the 1939-45 War. It depicts the Risen Christ in Glory with the Hand of God the Father and the Holy Spirit in the form of a Dove. Above are the Instruments of the Passion, while below are the emblems of the four Evangelists. The lower lights show St Michael overcoming the Dragon, representing the force of good vanquishing evil, with St Peter (left) and St Paul (right). At the base is a panorama of London and at the top the arms of the various Services involved …
A blocked off window above the north door, dating from 1876, depicts the Transfiguration …
The pulpit is thought to have been carved in 1682 by Grinling Gibbons …
The organ was built by George England in 1791 …
This beautiful, rare wooden sword rest dates from 1682 …
You can read more about the fascinating history of sword rests here.
The font was a gift from a wealthy parishoner called Dutton Seaman in 1627. One commentator describes it as having been ‘designed with jacobean gusto’ …
There is a plaque to James Braidwood, who was married in the church in 1838. He was the first Superintendent of the London Fire Engine Establishment and formed the world’s first municipal fire brigade in Edinburgh. He died tragically whilst fighting the terrible Tooley Street Fire of 1861. You can read all about him and the fire in which he perished in my Tooley Street Fire blog …
René Baudouin was a Huguenot refugee from Tours in France. He established himself in Lombard Street, London, with a silk merchant Etienne Seignoret. The pair were successful but they were fined for continuing to trade with France during the Anglo-French war (1689-1697) …
There is also a memorial to the brilliant surgeon Percivall Pott who I wrote about in last week’s blog.
St Mary is the regimental church of the Royal Tank Regiment – ‘Once a Tankie always a Tankie’ …
The nearby old City church of St Antholin was demolished in 1875 and the parish merged with St Mary’s. A plaque on the wall outside memorialises this union …
If you entered St Mary’s from the west, the door casing you walked through came from St Antholin …
The best view of the church is from the south side of Queen Victoria Street …
The golden finials at the top of the tower are now, I’m told, made of fibreglass!
On a recent visit to St Mary Aldermary, I took a stroll around the church and was intrigued by this memorial …
I wanted to find out more about this paragon who was ‘Original in Genius, prompt in Judgement, rapid in Decision’, who, ‘whilst he gathered the knowledge of his Predecessors, he perceived their errors and corrected them’. Someone ‘Singularly eminent in his profession’ but also with ‘Private Virtues … his signal tenderness towards his family ‘ and ‘Amiable. Useful. Great’. I liked very much also the tribute to ‘his beloved Wife. The Partner of his virtues and his intellectual endowments’.
Here he is, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds …
Percivall Pott (1714-1788) was born and raised in the City of London. Due to the untimely death of his father before he reached the age of four, it was thanks to the generosity of his rich relatives that he had the opportunity to fulfil his ambitions. At only 22 years he was awarded the Great Diploma of the Company of Barber Surgeons and by 34 was appointed a fully independent surgeon at St Bartholomew’s, where he remained until retirement. Today, over 300 years since his birth, he is known as one of the founders of orthopaedics and occupational health.
Pott’s name lives on in a number of conditions that he identified, such as Pott’s disease of the spine and Pott’s Puffy Tumour. The one that initially intrigued me, however, was Pott’s Fracture and how it came to get its name. It was literally by accident!
Here is its story – do please have a read. It speaks volumes about the man himself and the times he lived in.
In January 1756, while on his way to see a patient, Pott was thrown from his horse and sustained an open compound fracture of his lower leg. This is his son-in-law’s account of what happened next …
Conscious of the dangers attendant on fractures of this nature, and thoroughly aware how much they may be increased by rough treatment, or improper position, he would not suffer himself to be moved until he had made the necessary dispositions. He sent to Westminster, then the nearest place, for two Chairmen to bring their poles; and patiently lay on the cold pavement, it being the middle of January, till they arrived. In this situation he purchased a door, to which he made them nail their poles. When all was ready, he caused himself to be laid on it, and was carried throughSouthwark, over London Bridge, to Watling Street, near St. Paul’s, where he had lived for some time—a tremendous distance in such a state! I cannot forbear remarking, that on such occasions a coach is too frequently employed, the jolting motion of which, with the unavoidable awkwardness of position, and the difficulty of getting in and out, cause a great and often a fatal aggravation of the mischief.
After a meeting with some fellow surgeons, it was decided that amputation was the only sensible option and the distinguished patient agreed. Just as the instruments were prepared, however, Edward Nourse (a fellow surgeon and Pott’s mentor) arrived and insisted reduction be tried. Here traction and pressure are applied to the fracture to correct the positioning of the bones.
Pott’s confidence in Nourse and his advice paid off and he subsequently kept his limb without evidence of disability. The reduction approach introduced by Nourse was subsequently refined and became widely used in the treatment of open compound fracture, leading to a substantial decline in amputations. In addition, fractures of the lower leg similar to the type Pott suffered, became known as Pott fractures.
A 1768 medical text book illustration of a Pott fracture …
So what is Pott’s connection with child chimney sweeps?
Being a chimney sweep, or climbing boy as they were often called, was a harsh and dangerous profession. Those employed were often orphans or from impoverished backgrounds, sold into the job by their parents …
After the Great Fire of London in 1666 buildings started becoming taller, with more rooms that required heating. This, combined with the Hearth Tax of 1662 assessed on the number of chimneys a house had, resulted in labyrinths of interconnected chimney flues. The much narrower and compact design that resulted meant adult sweeps were far too large to fit into such confined spaces. This understandably created a logistical problem as the deposits from the soot required constant cleaning but the space in which to do so was hardly navigable.
Thus, the climbing boys (and sometimes girls) became an essential part of mainstream life, providing a much needed service to buildings across the country.
A Trade Card from 1789 in which he promises he ‘always attends with the Boys himself’. Notice the probable ages of the children! …
I was quite surprised to come across this card, also from the 1700s – a challenge to the stereotype!
This online image is, supposedly, of a teenage sweep ‘apprentice’. Although it doesn’t have a clear attribution it has an authentic look about it …
One legend goes that funeral directors took pity on the young boys and gave them the top hats and coattails of deceased customers. If you book a ‘lucky’ sweep for your wedding he may well turn up wearing the traditional top hat.
Whilst there were variations between buildings, a standard flue would narrow to around 9 by 9 inches. With such a miniscule amount of movement afforded in such a small space, many of the climbing boys would have to ‘buff it’, meaning climb up naked, using only knees and elbows to force themselves up.
The perils of the job were vast, allowing for the fact that many a chimney would still be very hot from a fire and with some still maybe on fire. The skin of the boys would be left stripped and raw from the friction whilst a less dexterous child could possibly have found themselves completely stuck.
The position of a child jammed in a chimney would have often resulted in their knees being locked under their chins with no room to unlock themselves from this contorted position. Some would find themselves stranded for hours whilst the lucky ones could be helped out with a rope. Those less fortunate would simply suffocate and die in the chimney forcing others to remove the bricks in order to dislodge the body. The consistent verdict given by the coroner after the loss of a young life like this was ‘accidental death’.
This is a cross-section of a seven-flue stack in a four-story house with cellars, an 1834 illustration from Mechanics’ Magazine …
The author states: ‘The illustration at ‘E’ shows a disaster. The climbing boy is stuck in the flue, his knees jammed against his chin. The master sweep will have to cut away the chimney to remove him. First he will try to persuade him to move: sticking pins in the feet, lighting a small fire under him. Another boy could climb up behind him and try to pull him out with a rope tied around his legs – it would be hours before he suffocated’.
The death of two climbing boys in the flue of a chimney. Frontispiece to ‘England’s Climbing Boys’ by Dr. George Phillips …
This is what Pott wrote about chimney sweeps in 1775. His compassionate nature shines through …
The fate of these people seems singularly hard; in their early infancy they are most frequently treated with great brutality, and almost starved with cold and hunger; they are thrust up narrow, and sometimes hot chimneys, where they are buried, burned and almost suffocated; and when they get to puberty, become liable to a most noisome, and fatal disease.
Pott’s work and concern opened the door on a new field of occupational health when he proved an association between an exposure to soot by chimney sweeps in London and cancer of the scrotum: the first time an environmental hazard encountered in the workplace was shown to cause cancer. Many of the climbing boys would get scrotal squamous cell carcinoma, which they called soot wart, in their late teens or early twenties. His publication on the topic in 1775, Chirurgical Observations, also contributed to the creation of the field of epidemiology and the passage of the Chimney Sweepers Act of 1788, which set the minimum age for chimney sweeps at eight years but it was rarely enforced.
Subsequent legislation failed to be effective also and business continued more or less as usual until 1875 when a 12-year-old sweep, George Brewster, got stuck in a chimney and died shortly after. His Master, William Wyer, was found guilty of manslaughter, and widespread publicity incited a fervent campaign for strict regulations. In 1875, a successful solution was implemented by the Chimney Sweepers’ Act which required sweeps to be licensed and made it the duty of the police to enforce all previous legislation – though it was too late for the countless young labourers who had come before.
As will be obvious from the length of this blog, as I researched him more extensively I became a great admirer of Percivall Pott. Not only a great medical man but, by all accounts, a fine person too and quite a character. For example, one biographer states ‘he had a pleasing appearance, and dressed according to the fashion of the period, visiting the hospital in his powdered wig, red coat and buckled sword … he was elegant, lower than middle size. He was an excellent conversationalist with ready wit and a fund of anecdotes’.
On December 27, 1788, he died of pneumonia due to a chill he caught while, against advice, visiting a patient in severe weather 20 miles from London. His last conscious words were: “My lamp is almost extinguished; I hope it has burnt for the benefit of others.” It certainly had.
At some point his gravestone was moved from inside the church to just outside the west door where now, sadly, folk walk across it not realising the distinguished person it commemorates …
The inscriptions are very worn but I have established what they say and they form an interesting record of some of Percivall’s descendants. Here they are …
PERCIVALL POTT F.R.S. died 27 December 1788. Aged 75
MRS SARAH FRYE, his eldest daughter, died 27 October 1791, aged 41
Mrs. MARY LITCHFIELD, eldest daughter of J. R. FRYE and above SARAH and wife of H. C. LITCHFIELD, died 22 January 1806, aged 31
Mrs SARAH POTT, relict of above, died 18 January 1811, aged 87
Miss MARY LITCHFIELD, second daughter of RICHARD LITCHFIELD, of Torrington, co. Devon, died 1 March 1811, aged 27
PERCIVALL POTT, eldest son of above PERCIVALL, died 27 January 1833 aged 83
SARAH FRYE. Daughter of J. R. FRYE and grand-daughter of PERCIVALL POTT, senr., died 9 March 1844 aged 69
Ven. JOSEPH HOLDEN POTT, M.A. Chancellor of Exeter, and late Archdeacon of London, died 17 February, 1847, aged 88
I am indebted to the historian Jessica Brain for her article about the climbing boys which I have drawn on extensively for this blog. You can read the full article here. You can also read an excellent short biography of Percivall Pott here in the Who’s Who in Orthopedics Journal. For a really deep analysis of the climbing boys and the campaigns to help them I recommend the 2010 doctoral thesis by Niels van Manen PhD, which you will find here.
Often, just when I fear I am running out of subjects to write about, the Heritage Gallery at the Guildhall Art Gallery comes to my rescue and they have just done so again with their special exhibition focusing on Billingsgate Market.
A Survey of London by John Stow in 1603 described Billingsgate as follows: ‘… which … is at this present a large Watergate, Port or Harbrough for shippes and boats, commonly arriving there with fish, both fresh and salt, shell fishes, salt, Orenges, Onions, and other fruits and rootes, wheate, Rie, and garine of divers sorts …’.
Before you view the items on display, pause at the backlit ‘Agas’ Map of 1561 and seek out ‘Bylynges gate’ and the carefully drawn ships moored at the quayside …
The first cabinet …
On the left is the Liber Horn, a book made in 1311 by Andrew Horn (Chamberlain of the City 1320-1328). It’s a compilation of charters, statutes and customs written upon vellum in Norman French …
In May 1699 an Act of Parliament conferred special privileges on the market which was declared ‘… a free and open Market for all sorts of fish whatsoever …’ and the sale of fish six days in the week and mackerel for sale on Sundays’. The two documents in the centre of the case date from this period.
The order issued by the Court of Aldermen on 24 December 1699 details the hours of the fish market and the times at which the market bell was to be rung as well as commenting on ‘… Mischiefs and evil Practices …’. …
On the right is a petition by the fishermen to Sir Richard Levitt (sic), Lord Mayor, protesting at being ‘… hindered and oppressed by great vessels loaded with salt and oranges …’ and requests the dock be cleared for the petitioners’ vessels …
The market flourished and the 1830 map on the right illustrates the layout of the dock at that time …
The second cabinet …
The collection of tolls by the market authorities was recorded in volumes. These detail the payments raised on type of vessel and catch with expenses including (handwritten at the bottom of the page) an allowance for coal and candles and collecting bad fish …
Porters were licensed by the City of London to act as porter and ply for trade within the market and this volume records the details …
This is a close up of the entry for Edward Jenkins, the man whose entry is crossed out because of his death, showing his various changes of address over the years …
Licenses were issued to individuals confirming their ability to work …
There is also a nice selection of images for visitors to enjoy. Here are just a few …
The present building dates from 1876 and was designed by Sir Horace Jones, an architect perhaps best known for creating Tower Bridge but who also designed Leadenhall and Smithfield markets. Business boomed until 1982, when the fish market moved to the Isle of Dogs. The south side of the old market today …
I love the weathervanes …
Similar weathervanes adorn the new market buildings in Docklands but they are fibreglass copies.
I hope those of you who are regular readers don’t mind too much when I wander outside the bounds of the City when I think there is something interesting happening elsewhere, and in the case of the Wellcome Collection it’s only a few Tube stops away.
At the entrance to the Cult of Beauty exhibition …
The guide tells us that the exhibition explores notions of beauty across time and cultures. ‘Around the world, beauty is constantly seen as an ideal worthy of going to great lengths to achieve. But what are the driving forces that lead us to believe in a myth of universal beauty, despite its evolving nature?’
‘Featuring over 200 items, including historical objects, artworks, films and new commissions, the exhibition considers the influence of morality, status, health, age, race and gender on the evolution of ideas about beauty.’
Reproduction of the bust of Nefertiti, originally created circa 1354-1351 BCE …
‘An archytype of African feminine beauty’.
‘Beautiful features have long been seen as a gateway to the spiritual in different belief systems. The print of Krishna challenges Christian associations of beauty with morals such as chastity’ …
‘The Virgin of Guadalupe is a symbol of multicultural and multi-ethnic identities, especially in areas where different religions and cultural traditions meet’ …
The ‘Esquiline Venus’ and the ‘Idolino’ or ‘Little Idol’ – First Century concepts of beauty reproduced in the late 19th century …
‘Husbands bringing their ugly wives to a windmill, to be transformed into beautiful women’ – German chapbook circa 1650 …
Trying to get that figure in shape …
It was not just women enduring torture …
A dandy being laced into a tight corset by two servants (1819).
Cosmetic entrepreneur Helena Rubenstein testing products in her Long Island Factory (1950s) …
The installation ‘Beauty Sensorium’ brings together historical references with reconstructions of Renaissance make-up recipes, inviting visitors to look, smell and touch …
Equipment to enhance appearance and fragrance …
More like a surgeon’s travelling kit …
‘Narcissister’s three-metre-tall hanging sculpture ‘(Almost) all of my dead mother’s beautiful things’ centres on the crushing weight of beauty ideals that are passed from one generation to another’ …
‘Makeupbrutalism’s multimedia installation ‘It makes no sense being beautiful if no one else is ugly’ encourages us to question our beliefs, confront our raw selves beneath social pressure and to peel back the layers of the beauty industry’ …
What represents beauty changes all the time …
This 1970s product made me smile …
And on the Underground going home later, I had to smile again when I looked up and saw this (plus ça change) …
It is a provocative and thoughtful exhibition and I enjoyed it very much.
I take lots of pictures as I stroll around London and not all of them make their way into a blog. As I looked through images from the last six months or so I decided to publish a selection of the ones I liked most and hope you enjoy looking at them too.
I’ll start with one of my strangest encounters, the Golden Confessional Booth in the Bishopsgate Institute …
It was donated to the Institute by the artist Franko B in 2022. You can read more about him and the archive held at the Institute here.
If bollards have to be installed they might as well be pretty …
The Goldsmith’s Company leopard at the entrance to their garden on Gresham Street …
The screen in the crypt of St Pauls Cathedral …
The metalwork screen, 3.50 m high x 8 m wide, spans the Crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral, It stands as a permanent memorial to Sir Winston Churchill, the third great national hero to have a state funeral at the Cathedral, alongside those of the Duke of Wellington and Lord Nelson.
I never get tired of photographing the Cathedral …
A stroke of planning genius putting a water feature here …
Outside St Thomas’ Hospital, Edward VI looks in good shape considering how long he’s been in the open air …
It’s one of two statues of the king at the hospital, both commemorating his re-founding of the institution in 1551. This one was carved by Thomas Cartwright in 1682 and originally formed the centrepiece of a group of figures which adorned a gateway on Borough High Street. It was moved to its current location in the 20th century.
Old gravestones in Postman’s Park …
According to the estimable Percy Rushen, the full inscription on the stone in the middle reads ‘FANNY wife of WILLIAM SNOWLEY of the parish, died 22 November 1847 aged 48’. The one in front is the marker for ‘JOSHUA HOBSON, of the parish, died 5 February 1833 aged 49’.
The Gothic masterpiece that is St Pancras, built 1868 …
Nearby Kings’s Cross. It’s the older of the two buildings (1852) but certainly doesn’t look it …
The mysterious McLaren sports car that’s been parked outside the St Pancras hotel for ages …
You only need to visit the Watts Memorial to Heroic Self Sacrifice in Postman’s Park to see evidence of the dangers that people were exposed to in Victorian times.
Here is the man we have to thank for this window on the past …
George Frederic Watts was a famous Victorian artist and this picture is a self-portrait. He first suggested the memorials we see today in 1887 but the idea was not taken up until 1898 when the vicar of St Botolph’s church offered him this site in Postman’s Park. There Watts’ ambition to commemorate ‘likely to be forgotten heroes’ came to fruition and when the park was officially opened on 30 July 1900 there were already four tablets in place.
Sixty two people feature on the memorial today which is housed in a wooden loggia …
I find that their stories still evoke a range of emotions, particularly ones of sadness and curiosity, which left me wanting to know more about these people, their lives and the manner of their deaths. There are also clues as to the nature of society and work at that time along with the quality of healthcare.
We are reminded, for example, that horses played a tremendous part in work practices, transport, leisure and, sadly, war. It’s estimated, for example, that there were about 3.3 million horses in late Victorian Britain and in 1900 about a million of these were working horses. Of the 62 people commemorated here, five died as a result of an incident involving horses and I shall write about two of them.
Here is the first mention of horses on the wall …
William Drake earned his living as a carriage driver and on this occasion his passenger was one of the most famous sopranos of her day, a lady called Thérèse Tietjens. The breaking of the carriage pole caused panic among the horses and they reared out of control. In fighting to control them, Drake received a severe kick to his right knee which subsequently resulted in the septicaemia that led to his death on April 8th. A message was passed to the coroner at the inquest that ‘those dependent on the deceased would be amply cared for by Madame Tietjens’. Notwithstanding this, Drake was buried at the expense of the parish in a common grave in Brompton Cemetery, although there is evidence that his widow did receive an annuity from somewhere.
Elizabeth Boxall died after being kicked by a runaway carthorse as she pulled a small child out of its way …
Her brave act actually took place in July 1887 but over the next eleven months poor Elizabeth’s health deteriorated. Part of her leg was amputated in September and a further part (up to her hip) in January 1888, her condition being complicated by a diagnosis of cancer. Her parents were distraught by her death and the way she had been treated by the medical profession – for example, the first amputation was carried out without her or her parents’ permission. ‘They regularly butchered her at that hospital’ her father exclaimed at the inquest and the jury found that shock from the second operation was the cause of death. No one from the hospital attended the inquest but the House Governor at the London Hospital disputed the finding in a letter to the press.
Still on a medical theme, the highly contagious infection known as diptheria features twice on the memorials. Now extremely rare due to vaccination programmes, it was once a frequent killer of small children and also posed a danger to physicians such as Samuel Rabbeth …
I have been able to locate a picture of him thanks to the excellentLondon Walking Toursblog…
Dr Samuel Rabbeth (1858 – 1884) from The Illustrated London News 15th November 1884 Copyright, The British Library Board
On October 10th the doctor was treating a four year old patient who was in danger of asphyxiation as diptheria often resulted in a membrane blocking the airways. The standard treatment of tracheotomy had been performed but to no avail and Rabbeth performed the more risky procedure of sucking on the tracheotomy tube to remove the obstruction. Unfortunately in doing so he contracted the infection himself and died on 20th October (not the 26th as shown on the plaque). There was some (fairly muted) criticism of his actions by doctors who believed he acted recklessly, although from the most honourable of motives.
He has a fine gravestone in Barnes Cemetery which gives details of his personal professional history and the circumstances of his death …
Dr Lucas was infected as a result of an unfortunate accident …
He was in the process of administering an anaesthetic to a child with diptheria in order that a tracheotomy could be carried out. The child coughed or sneezed in his face but, instead of delaying to clean himself up, which may have endangered the child’s life, he continued and as a result became infected. He died within a week.
I haven’t been able to find an image of him or his final resting place but a poem written in his memory was published in a number of newspapers and you can read it in full here.
Thomas Griffin was engaged to be married on 16 April 1899 and on 11 April he had travelled to Northampton to discuss arrangements with his family and then back home to Battersea for work the next day. He expected that by the end of the week he would be married, but that was not to be, and by the end of the following day he was dead …
An inquest on 17 April was told that, after an explosion in the refinery boiler room, the door had been closed and the men told to keep out. Griffin, who had been evacuated to safety, suddenly cried out ‘My mate! My mate!’ and before anyone could stop him had disappeared into the boiler room. Terribly scalded all over his body he died later that day. The coroner lamented that …
… the conduct of a man like him deserves to be recorded. No doubt there are heroes in everyday life, but they do not come to the front and so we do not hear of them.
Unbeknown to the coroner, Watts had been collecting newspaper cuttings of heroic acts for years and added Griffin’s story to the growing archive. So it came to pass that Thomas Griffin was among the first four people to be commemorated upon the newly opened memorial.
And finally …
One might get the impression that this gentleman was particularly worthy of recognition because the person he saved was not only a stranger but also a foreigner. This would be a shame if it detracts from a very brave act and a tragic one also since, according to Cambridge’s brother Royston, John need not have perished. He told the Nottingham Evening Post …
My brother, who was a very good swimmer, saw while bathing an unknown person drowning, and swam out to her assistance. The bathing boat rescued the lady, and the other bather, but the boatmen declined to go out again, although we implored them to do so, and offered them payment, until they were ordered out by officials. It was then, of course, too late.
I have written in great detail about the following four heroes in an earlier blog which you can find (along with pictures of three of them) here …
I am indebted for the background research used in this blog to the historian John Price and his incredibly interesting book Heroes of Postman’s Park – Heroic Self-Sacrifice in Victorian London. You will find details of how to purchase your copy here.
One day in 1936 a young priest officiated at his first funeral – a 14 year old girl who had killed herself because, when her periods started, she thought it was a sign of a sexually transmitted disease. That there seemed to have been no one she could talk to had a profound effect on him, but it was not until 18 years later that, as he put it,
I read somewhere there were three suicides a day in Greater London. What were they supposed to do if they didn’t want a Doctor or Social Worker … ? What sort of a someone might they want?
He looked at his phone, ‘DIAL 999 for Fire, Police or Ambulance’ it said …
There ought to be an emergency number for suicidal people, I thought. Then I said to God, be reasonable! Don’t look at me… I’m possibly the busiest person in the Church of England.
When the priest, Chad Varah, was offered charge of the parish of St Stephen in the summer of 1953 he knew that the time was right for him to launch what he called a ‘999 for the suicidal’. He was, in his own words, ‘a man willing to listen, with a base and an emergency telephone’. The first call to the new service was made on 2nd November 1953 and this date is recognised as Samaritans’ official birthday.
The Reverend Dr Chad Varah at his telephone – you just had to dial MAN 9000.
It soon became obvious that the volunteers, who used to keep people company whilst they were waiting to speak to Chad, were also capable of helping in their own right and in February 1954 he officially handed over the task of supporting the callers to them.
If you visit the church you can see the phone itself …
St Stephen Walbrook (rebuilt 1672-80) was one of Wren’s largest and earliest churches and the meticulous care taken with it might, some suggest, be because Sir Christopher lived next door. Incidentally, Mr Pollixifen, who lived on the other side, bitterly complained about the building taking his light. Maybe he was mollified when the the church’s internal beauty was revealed.
Views towards St Stephen’s have opened up since completion of the new development on Walbrook, which also houses a meticulously restored Temple of Mithras (see my 25th January 2018 blog: The Romans in London – Mithras, Walbrook and the Games).
Looking at the exterior one can see the lovely green Byzantine style dome …
The interior is bright, intimate and stunning, old Victorian stained glass having been removed …
Wren’s dome and Sir Henry Moore’s altar
The dome was the first of its kind in any English church and a forerunner of Wren’s work on St Paul’s Cathedral. After being damaged in the Blitz the church was restored by Godfrey Allen in 1951-52. Controversy broke out when, between 1978 and 1987, the church was re-ordered under the sponsorship of churchwarden Peter (later Lord) Palumbo and a striking ten tonne altar by Sir Henry Moore was placed at its centre.
Sometimes I look at church memorial plaques and, if they are entirely in Latin, just rather lazily move on. In this case it was a big mistake since I was ignoring a tribute to a very brave man …
Dr Nathaniel Hodges’ memorial on the north wall. Photograph: Bob Speel.
The Great Plague of 1665-1666 was the worst outbreak in England for over 300 years and London probably lost getting on for 20% of its population. While 68,596 deaths were recorded in the city, the true number was most likely to be over 100,000. Those who could, usually the professionals and the wealthy, fled the city and this included four-fifths of the College of Physicians. Charles II and his courtiers left in July for Hampton Court and then Oxford where Parliament also relocated in October,
Nathaniel Hodges was a 36-year-old doctor practising in London when the pestilence reached the City. London was awash, he said later, with ‘Chymists’ and ‘Quacks’ dispensing, as he put it: ‘… medicines that were more fatal than the plague and added to the numbers of the dead.’
Dr Hodges decided to stay and minister to the sick and dying.
First thing every morning before breakfast he spent two or three hours with his patients. He wrote later …
Some (had) ulcers yet uncured and others … under the first symptoms of seizure all of which I endeavoured to dispatch with all possible care …
hardly any children escaped; and it was not uncommon to see an Inheritance pass successively to three or four Heirs in as many Days.
After hours of visiting victims where they lived he walked home and, after dinner, saw more patients until nine at night and sometimes later.
He survived the epidemic and wrote two learned works on the plague. The first, in 1666, he called An Account of the first Rise, Progress, Symptoms and Cure of the Plague being a Letter from Dr Hodges to a Person of Quality. The second was Loimologia, published six years later …
The above is a later edition of Dr Hodges’ work, translated from the original Latin and published when the plague had broken out in France.
It seems particularly sad to report that his life ended in personal tragedy when, in his early fifties, his practice dwindled and fell away. Finally he was arrested as a debtor, committed to Ludgate Prison, and died there, a broken man, in 1688.
Translated from the Latin, his memorial reads as follows:
Learn to number thy days, for age advances with furtive step, the shadow never truly rests. Seeking mortals, born that they might succumb, the executioner comes from behind. While you breathe you are a victim of death; you know not the hour in which your fate will call you. While you look at monuments, time passes irrevocably. In this tomb is laid the physician Nathaniel Hodges in the hope of heaven; now a son of earth, who was once a son of Oxford. May you survive the plague by his writings. Born 13 September AD 1629 Died 10 June 1688.
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Having got myself a new iPhone I thought I would give it a trial run in Eastcheap where there is some unusual architecture to explore.
This is what you see as you approach from the west …
And if you view from the east …
I thought it would be interesting to include these images to illustrate just how the Fenchurch Building a.k.a. the Walkie Talkie dominates the skyline here. It was amusing that, when the building was finished, it was discovered that the glass concentrated and reflected the sun’s rays in such a way that it was scorching cars parked in the street below. The structure was given a new nickname – the Walkie Scorchie.
The stars of the show at street level are definitely numbers 33-35. Designed by R L Roumieu and built 1868, today the facade is grade II* listed. The ‘masterpiece’ (as described by Architectural Historian; Pevsner) was made for Hill & Evans, vinegar-makers from Worcester …
Pevsner goes on to describe it as ‘one of the maddest displays in London of gabled Gothic’ and he quotes from Ian Nairn – architectural critic – who calls it ‘the scream that you wake on at the end of a nightmare’.
I love it!
Look at the wonderfully detailed brickwork …
There’s a medieval head wearing a coronet …
… and a boar crashing through the undergrowth. What’s that all about? …
The animal is a reference to The Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap where Shakespeare set the meetings of Sir John Falstaff and Prince Hal in his Henry IV plays and the medieval head represents the Prince.
No. 25, by Bird & Walters (1892-93), was a former pub. The narrow and plainer building on the right was built in 1860 …
Another 1860 building is the eye-catching one on the corner. It was once the offices and warehouses for Messers Hunt & Crombie, spice merchants …
Just below the roof is a fabulous combo of dogs’ and boars’ heads along with lovely brickwork …
Walk around the corner to see London’s tiniest public sculpture. Thousands of people walk past it every day and have, I’m sure, no idea it is there.
Can you spot it …
It’s two mice eating a piece of cheese …
There are a number of theories as to its origin but nobody knows for sure.
Further east, on the opposite side of the road, are more Eastcheap animals, including the remains of a dead one.
Constructed between 1883 and 1885, the building at number 20 was once the headquarters of Peek Brothers & Co, dealers in tea, coffee and spices, whose trademark showed three camels bearing different shaped loads being led by a Bedouin Arab …
The firm was particularly well known for its ‘Camel’ brand of tea. When Sir Henry Peek (son of one of the original founders) commissioned this building he wanted the panel over the entrance to replicate the trademark, right down to the dried bones of the dead camel lying in the sand in the foreground.
The Peek Brothers letter heading/trademark – Copyright – British Overprint Society – Mark Matlach
He clearly wanted his prestigious building to be enhanced by a suitably eminent sculptor – preferably one with knowledge of camel anatomy.
The sculptor he picked, William Theed, was indeed an extraordinary choice for such a mundane task. Theed was a great favourite of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert and his work can be seen on the Albert Memorial where he sculpted the group Africa the central figure being, of course, a camel …
The Queen also liked and trusted him so much that she asked him to take her beloved Albert’s death mask when the Prince died tragically young in 1861.
Peeks carried on trading under various names until the 1970s. Another branch of the family ensures that the name lives on by way of the biscuit makers Peek Freans …
As is often the case, I am indebted to Katie Wignall, the Look up London blogger and Blue Badge Guide, for much of the background information on the architecture in today’s blog.
It just remains for me to wish you all a very happy and safe New Year and thank you very much for subscribing.
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I almost can’t believe that this is my seventh Christmas quiz. When I started my blog way back in 2017 I wasn’t sure I could maintain a weekly publication, but here I am now writing blog number 325!
Happy Christmas and thank you so much for subscribing.
Here are the questions. They are all based on blogs published during 2023 and the answers are at the end of today’s edition.
1. This great 19th century philanthropist gave his name to good quality housing specifically designed for London’s ‘working poor’. Born in America, he was so admired by Queen Victoria that, when he died, she arranged for his body to be returned home on a British battleship. Who was he?
2. ‘Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy …’
Where is this window commemorating Shakespeare’s plays?
3. This window can be found at St Margaret Lothbury. What Livery Company has the lovely motto True Hearts and Warm Hands?
4. Look at these formidable boilers …
… and the massive pumping engine they service …
What world famous London landmark did they once help to operate?
5. The eyes of the man represented in this bust clearly indicate blindness …
He is commemorated in the church of St Giles-without-Cripplegate where he was buried in 1674. Who is he?
6. They are ‘two people’ but ‘only one artist’. Their new gallery opened on 1st April 2023. Who are they?
7. This innocuous tiled corridor was known as ‘Dead man’s walk’. Where is it?
8. This ceremonial staff, inscribed with his title ‘Surveyor to the Fabric’, belonged to a man whose work as an architect created much of the way the City looks today, over 300 years after his death. Who was he?
9. This mark is chiselled into the base of the church tower of St Alban Wood Street …
This one is on the Cheapside face of St Mary-le-Bow …
What do they signify?
10. What Livery Company is represented by this coat of arms?
11. This lady represents Science …
Nearby other ladies represent Fine Art, Agriculture and Commerce. Where are they?
12. This sundial is on a building that was once a Protestant church, then a Methodist Chapel, next a Jewish synagogue and is now a Mosque …
Where is it?
13. This watchtower was once used by brave crews who, when spotting danger to life, rushed to the rescue. Where is it and who were they?
14. These figures in the old churchyard of St John Zachary in Gresham Street represent a trade and profession that once flourished in nearby Fleet Street. What was it? And who do the figures represent?
15. This statue stands in the river opposite The Grapes pub in Limehouse. Who is the sculptor?
16. It’s believed that the Romans brought these animals to Britain and this one left its mark on a 2,000-year-old tile. What kind of animal was it?
17. This book was published in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s death. It’s a collection of 36 of his works and was brought together by two of his friends, John Heminge and Henry Condell. What is it commonly known as?
18. This is the oldest Catholic church in England and was once located on a vast estate owned by the Bishop of Ely. Where is it?
19. Represented in beautiful stained glass in the church of St Bartholomew the Less, who is the chap in the snazzy tights?
20. This bell, dating from the early 17th century and on display in the Holy Sepulchre church, has a morbid connection with Newgate Gaol. When and why was it rung?
The answers:
1. George Peabody (1795-1869). Read more about him here.
14. The trade and profession was the newspaper industry. Commissioned by the Westminster Press Group in 1954, it represents the newspaper process with a newsboy (sales), printer and editor (or proprietor).
16. A Cat. Read all about a terrific new exhibition about Roman London here.
17. The First Folio. An original copy (and other fascinating Shakespeare related material) is on display at the Guildhall Art Gallery until 25th January 2024.
20. In 1605, a wealthy merchant called Robert Dow made a bequest of £50 for a bellman from the church to stand outside the cells of the condemned at midnight, ring the bell, and chant as follows:
All you that in the condemned hole do lie, Prepare you, for tomorrow you shall die; Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near, That you before the Almighty must appear; Examine well yourselves, in time repent, That you may not to eternal flames be sent: And when St. Sepulchre’s bell tomorrow tolls, The Lord above have mercy on your souls.
Here he sits in Panyer Alley, just beside an entrance to St Paul’s Underground Station, a naked little boy astride what looks like a basket, and a strange inscription precisely dated ‘August the 27 1688’. What is going on?
Sadly the little chap has become very eroded and damaged over the years, and it is pretty surprising that he has survived at all. After a bit of searching I have found a drawing of him, possibly from the 18th or 19th century, which may give us a better idea of what he used to look like …
The pedestal and scrollwork have now disappeared.
I have also found this old photograph, probably early 20th century …
For this picture and other really interesting photos, visit the Spitalfields Life blog Signs of Old London.
As with all mysteries, there are many theories, but all are agreed that the sign really does date from the 17th century since this is acknowledged in trusted sources such as Thomas Pennant’s Of London (1790). What the boy is doing and what he represents are the areas where there is much dispute, for example:
‘Is he: sitting on a pannier (basket), or a coil of rope, or a woolsack, or a barrel?’
‘Is he holding: a bunch of grapes, or a loaf of bread, or his foot (perhaps pulling out a thorn – apparently the carving was once known locally as ‘pick my toe’)?’
‘Does he represent: the bread market that was here in medieval times, and at nearby St Martin’s Le Grand, or the sign of a brewhouse (brewery)? There was a Panyer brewhouse recorded nearby as long ago as 1426.’
‘Does he have any connection whatsoever to the claim to the highest ground?’.
I don’t know the answer to these questions, but one thing that is certain is that this is not the ‘highest ground’ in the City, that description nowadays belongs to Cornhill.
Nearby on the north west corner of Warwick Lane is a small bas-relief of Guy, Earl of Warwick. It is believed that the lane was so named since it was the location of the Warwick Inn owned, not surprisingly, by the Earls of Warwick.
The knight represented is the 10th Earl (c.1272-1315) and the British Museum archives hold a picture of the carving as it was illustrated in Antiquities of London (1791) …
And here is how it looks now …
You can see that the top and bottom sections of the present-day relief were added later, most likely at the time of a restoration in 1817 by John Deykes (an architect and surveyor). Pennants London is a book published in 1805 and its 5th edition (1815) gets a mention on the relief, right down to the page number where the carving is discussed (492). Maybe the publisher paid for the restoration in return for this smart piece of advertising?
Incidentally, whilst researching the Warwicks I came across this reference to the Warwick Inn. Neville, the 16th Earl …
At a meeting of the great estates of the realm in 1547 … lodged himself (there) with 600 men where, says Stowe, ‘there were oftentimes six oxen eaten at … breakfast, and every tavern was full of his meat; for he that had any acquaintance in that house, might have there so much of sodden [boiled] and roast meat, as he could prick and carry upon a long dagger.’
Now that’s what I call a buffet.
On the north west side of nearby Ludgate Circus is this memorial plaque. Wallace sold newspapers on this corner when he was eleven years old …
The memorial is by F.W. Doyle-Jones (1934).
Born out of wedlock in Greenwich in 1875, and with both of his parents itinerant actors, he was adopted by a kindly Billingsgate fish porter and his wife. Asked by a journalist years later to contribute to a celebrity feature entitled ‘What I Owe My Parents’, Wallace replied on a postcard:
‘Sorry, cock, I’m a bastard’.
Despite such a challenging start to life (or perhaps because of it) his story is extraordinary. As well as journalism, Wallace wrote screen plays, poetry, historical non-fiction, 18 stage plays, 957 short stories, and over 170 novels, By 1926, he was knocking out 18 novels a year and by 1929, he was up to 34, and it was claimed that a quarter of all books read in English were by him.
When he turned to writing fiction in 1905 he told his wife he would give his readers :
‘Crime and blood and three murders to the chapter; such is the insanity of the age that I do not doubt for one moment the success of my venture.’
More than 160 films have been made of Wallace’s work and he sold over 50 million copies of his combined works in various editions, The Economist describing him as ‘one of the most prolific thriller writers of [the 20th] century’.
So why is he hardly known at all now compared to his overlapping contemporaries Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie? His biographer, Neil Clark, sees him as a victim of literary snobbery, being one of the first crime writer to come from a working-class background. Another factor may be that the characters of his investigators, JG Reeder and the gloomy Inspector Elk, were not as seductive as Holmes, Poirot or Maigret. For example, Elk was introduced in The Fellowship of the Frog as ‘tall and thin, a slight stoop accentuated his weediness.’
Wallace’s last piece of work was on one of the most famous movies of all time …
In 1931 RKO invited him to Hollywood to work on an idea that Wallace would generously credit to the director, Merian C. Cooper. However, as Neil Clark makes clear in his biography, the Bodleian’s existing script shows that Wallace conceived the ‘beauty and the beast’ motif himself, the climb up the Empire State building and the aeroplane attack. I’m not sure how the red double decker London bus shown in the poster found its way to New York!
Wallace also created the final scene …
‘Kong opens his eyes, picks the girl up, holds her to his breast like a doll, closes his eyes and drops his head,’
Wallace died in Hollywood on 10th February 1932 after falling into a diabetic coma, compounded by double pneumonia, from which he never recovered.
And finally, would you like a close look at a piece of work by the pioneering modern sculptor Jacob Epstein?
Once again, as in previous blogs, I invite you to pass through the blue doors in Foster Lane to the lovely tranquil garden of St Vedast-alias-Foster …
In the corner you will find Epstein’s Head and Shoulders of Canon Mortlock (1936)…
Mortlock was a personal friend of Epstein’s and also of Max Mallowan (Agatha Christie’s husband) who gave him the cuneiform marked tablet also displayed in the churchyard – see my blog City Churches and Churchyards – more Tales of the Unexpected.
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