Have you ever paused outside Liverpool Street Station and looked across the road to admire this magnificent building …
Its Grade II listing describes it as a ‘lavish pastiche of Tudor gothic style in red brick and Portland stone’ and ‘lavish’ seems a very appropriate word. Built in 1888, it is a typical expression of Victorian civic pride with its original purpose still clearly visible 135 years later …
Sadly, however, beyond the arches there no longer resides the great engines and brave crews who used to keep Londoners safe but a retail outlet for Tesco.
Fire services in London emerged principally from the need for insurance providers to limit their losses through damage to property in the period after the Great Fire of 1666. Initially, each insurer maintained a separate brigade that only served subscribers until the foundation of an integrated service in 1833, funded by City businesses. A terrible fire in Tooley Street prompted a radical review of firefighting in London – read all about it in my earlier blog.
The first publicly-funded authority charged with saving lives and protecting buildings from fire was founded in 1866: the Metropolitan Fire Brigade (MFB), initially part of the Metropolitan Board of Works whose initials are still displayed on the building …
The earliest stations were generally plain brick and few pre-1880 examples survive. In the 1880s, under the MFB architect Robert Pearsall, fire stations acquired a true architectural identity, most notably in the rich Gothic style typical of Victorian municipal buildings such as Bishopsgate.
Let’s take a closer look.
The spandrels above the arches include the coat of arms of East Anglia (3 crowns) and Essex (3 swords) …
There’s also Kent (white horse) and Norwich (Castle) …
Plus the City of London (St George’s cross with sword of St Paul) and the Houses of Parliament (portcullis) …
From a distance you can admire the Victorian watch tower – literally for keeping a look out for fires from the top of the building …
Can you see the discreet Livery Company coat of arms?
Here it is in close-up …
The arms belong to the Goldsmith’s Company who probably own the freehold to the building.
I’ve been searching the archives for images of the Station in its heyday and here’s what I found.
The Station in 1907 (Image copyright London Metropolitan Archives / City of London Corporation)..
This 1904 picture isn’t of the Bishopsgate Station but it does show an interesting combination of horse-drawn and mechanical engines …
London’s oldest fire station was based in Clerkenwell but was closed down in 2014. Read all about it here in The Gentle Author’s blog.
This might be a good time to remember the bravery of individual firefighters and a Clerkenwell station ‘escape attendant’ called George Lee is commemorated on the Watts Memorial in Postman’s Park where brave police officers are also remembered.
At the inquest into George’s death the chief officer giving evidence declared that ‘after a very long experience he believed this was the greatest act of bravery ever shown by any fireman in the world’. There is a really comprehensive description of the event and George’s extraordinary courage here on the London Walking Tourswebsite. Incidentally, I’m grateful to Katie Wignall of the Look Up London website for inspiring today’s blog – the picture of the watchtower and the coat of arms are from her blog.
Finally, as regular readers will know, I do tend to pay particular attention to bollards and have devoted a blog to them entitled Bollardology. I couldn’t resist, therefore, taking a picture of these rather colourful examples at Citypoint …
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Every now and then I start noticing new shapes appearing around the City in addition to the fascinating Sculpture in the City project that I wrote about recently. Here’s my selection for this week. I’ll start with the largest and most colourful, Holly Hendry’s joyful work entitled Slackwater currently exhibited on the flat roof of Temple Underground Station. That’s what I like, sculpture that makes you smile …
The view from above gives a really interesting perspective (image by CoLab) …
Read all about it …
For over a month I watched the very careful erection of this extraordinary structure on Moorfields …
Commissioned in 2019 as part of The Crossrail Art Foundation’s public art programme for the Elizabeth line (with the support of Victoria Miro Gallery), Manifold (Major Third) 5:4is by British artist Conrad Shawcross RA. ‘It represents a chord falling into silence extrapolated from observations of a Victorian pendulum-driven drawing machine known as a harmonograph, which was instrumental in the birth of the science of synaesthesia. This sculpture is the physical incarnation of the mathematics within a chord’. So now you know.
A crazy oasis outside nearby City Point (EC2Y 9AW) …
Yummy colours …
And finally, have you ever noticed this chap? I often see him looking out of the window of the Chiropractic clinic. Like the Manifold sculpture he’s also on Moorfields, just off London Wall …
I presume he likes to watch the world going by when he’s not treating patients …
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I was a hospital in-patient recently and fortunately ended up at one of the best hospitals in the world, St Thomas’ in Lambeth (or ‘Tommy’s’ as us alumni call it) where the standard of care was outstanding. I’m pleased to say I’m fine now, thank you for asking.
One of the most extraordinary features of the place is the view from some of the wards. Here’s what I could see if I just stepped out of bed …
When I went back last week for a follow-up appointment I did a bit of exploration and was astonished and delighted at what I found.
I headed for the oldest part of the hospital and on my way, in the South Wing corridor, I came across these lovely tiles …
Created by the Royal Doulton Lambeth factory, they and others originally covered the walls of two of St Thomas’ childrens wards, Lilian and Seymour, which were opened in 1901 and 1903 respectively. Hygiene was a factor in the tiling decision but also, of course, the aim to give pleasure and amusement to the young patients. Here they are illustrated on two postcards …
In the Great Hall are commemorated important people who had a connection with the hospital …
She saw her 10 years as matron of St Thomas’s and superintendent of the Nightingale training school from 1955-65 as a time of great social change and was eager to relax the strict rules which she believed had governed nurses’ lives for too long. Encounters with Theodora Turner were seldom forgotten … Former students and nursing colleagues remember her sense of duty and discipline, her kindness and humour. The latter is, perhaps, most neatly encapsulated in her belief that her pet mynah bird, presented to her by sailors when working at Liverpool Royal Infirmary, was a foolproof burglar alarm because of its ability to mimic her laugh.
No prizes for guessing who this lady is …
Florence Nightingale greatly influenced the design of the new 1872 St Thomas’ Hospital with its innovative ‘pavilion style’ of seven large separate buildings connected by walkways. She recognized the importance of design for improving hygiene and health, and made careful calculations regarding dimensions and efficient use of space in hospitals. Nightingale proposed full-height windows at specified intervals in the wards, with the beds set between to encourage ventilation and allow air to circulate without creating drafts. She stipulated that clean and dirty areas should be separate so food and clean linen were stored at the ward entry with washing and sanitary facilities at the other end.
I saw this entrance and had to go and nose around …
Up the impressive staircase, which I presume dates from the 1870s …
A modern stained glass treat at the top …
I peeped into the dining room …
Above the staircase …
The Duke of Connaught (1850-1942) …
He was president from 1882 to 1932.
Back on the ground floor …
Truly Imperial (and maybe a bit imperious) …
Edward VI was the son of Henry VIII and his third queen, Jane Seymour. Born on 12 October 1537, he succeed his father at the age of nine in 1547 but never attained his majority, dying aged 15 in 1553. During the Reformation St Thomas’, as a religious foundation, was deprived of its revenues and estates and was closed in 1540. In 1551, Edward granted a charter for the hospital’s refounding which is why he’s commemorated here …
More beautiful stained glass on the way out …
I love the frog …
Outside the main entrance you’ll find this sculpture Cross the Divide by Rick Kirby (2000) …
There’s also this striking sculpture of Mary Seacole …
I was teribly disappointed this year when I had to miss the Whitecross Street Party. I read also that, because of inclement weather, it had been restricted to one day rather than two.
The party is a time when the brilliant Whitecross Street art is replenished and so it was with some trepidation that I visited again yesterday (when we finally had some sunshine!) to see what had been produced.
I needn’t have worried. Some old favourites remain and the new work is terrific. Here’s my selection but do go along if you can and see for yourself – especially if it’s a sunny day and you fancy some of the excellent street food that’s available lunchtime Monday to Friday.
And, as always, there’s some humour too …
Some of my old favourites that are still there …
And finally a tribute to our wonderful City gardeners who brighten up our streets and gardens. I particularly notice the beds in Silk Street since I walk past them almost every day.
From planting on 12th June to full glory on 3rd August with progress in-between …
Poor, lonely echinacea. ‘What am I doing among all these salvias?’
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I was browsing the British Sundial Society website (as you do) and it inspired me to look for examples of these elegant devices in the City. My research also took me on a bit of a journey around Spitalfields, which I hope you enjoy reading about.
Sundials measure local solar time, and were the only source of time for business and government before the invention of the clock, and even then were used to check clock accuracy whilst the mechanisms were still being perfected. The coming of the railways in the early 19th century meant that time needed to be consistently measured throughout the country, and this speeded up clock development. Sundials, however, survived in many places, and are still being manufactured today, serving both a practical purpose along with being aesthetically pleasing.
There are some fine examples in the City, measuring out the minutes using the shadow cast by the sun as it appears to move from east to west, reaching its zenith at mid-day.
On the corner of 107 Cheapside
Completed in 1958 for the Sun Life Assurance Society, the two dials incorporate the company’s sunburst logo.The south facing sundial has the letters GMT under the sun face and covers hours from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm. The west facing sundial also shows the letters GMT in the bottom right corner of the dial and covers the hours 2:00 in the afternoon until 7:00 in the evening.
The building will be familiar to any of you who have had a chance to look at the signs of the Zodiac arranged around its main entrance and described my earlier blog Looking at the Stars.
Sundial Court, Chiswell Street
Once part of the Whitbread Brewery, this dial is now behind locked security gates but is still visible from the road. It is made of wood, with its motto ‘Such is Life’, dating back to 1771. Around the sides it has the interesting inscription Built 1758, burnt 1773, rebuilt 1774.
There is a late 17th Century dial on St Sepulchre’s, Holborn Viaduct.
St Sepulchre-without-Newgate, junction of Snow Hill and Holborn Viaduct
The dial is on the parapet above south wall of the nave and is believed to date from 1681. It is made of stone painted blue and white with noon marked by an engraved ‘X’ and dots marking the half hours. It shows Winter time from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm in 15 minute marks. I thought it was curious that the 4:00 pm mark is represented as IIII rather than IV – I have no idea why. Across the road is the Central Criminal Court (the Old Bailey) where once stood the notorious Newgate Prison. I wondered if the Newgate executioner might have taken the time from this dial to help him decide when to start the journey to Tyburn scaffold, along with his unfortunate condemned prisoners. (You can read about my recent tour of the Old Bailey here).
If you visit the church, do have a look at the corner of the churchyard where you will find London’s first public drinking fountain as described in another of my earlier blogs Philanthropic Fountains. You also get a good view of Lady Justice, atop the Old Bailey across the road.
Whenever I visit the Inns of Court I like to enter by one of the old gates in Fleet Street – it really is like stepping back in time, from the bustle of the City to the leafy, collegiate atmosphere of the Inns.
A Fleet Street entrance designed by Sir Christopher Wren. The Lamb and Flag is the emblem of Middle temple.
Lane leading from Fleet Street into the Inns
I read somewhere that Dr Johnson used to enjoy swinging round these supporting pillars when he was in an ebullient mood!
There are two fine sundials nearby.
Pump Court, Middle Temple
Reminding the lawyers of their mortality.
And in Fountain Court …
‘Learn justice you who are now being instructed’
The TWT refers to the Middle Temple Treasurer in 1684, William Thursby, a successful lawyer and later MP. He spoke of the study of law as ‘a rough and unpleasant study at the first, but honourable and profitable in the end … as pleasant (and safe and sure) as any profession’.
And now my two favourites.
The Jacobean church of St Katharine Cree in Leadenhall Street was built between 1628 and 1630 and survived the Great Fire of 1666. On the south wall is this wonderful dial, circa 1700, which is described as having ‘gilded embellishments including declining lines, Babylonian/Latin hours and Zodiac signs’. Its Latin motto Non Sine Lumine means Nothing without Light.
And finally, this dial in Fournier Street.
Once a Protestant church, then a Methodist Chapel, next a Jewish synagogue and now the Brick Lane Mosque
In the late 17th century some 40-50,000 French Protestants, known as Huguenots, fleeing persecution in France, arrived in England with around half settling in Spitalfields. They started a local silk-weaving industry and, incidentally, gave us a new word ‘refugee’ from the French word réfugié, ‘one who seeks sanctuary’. They flourished and established this church in 1743 naming it La Neuve Eglise (The New Church) and installed the sundial we can see today with the poignant inscription Umbra Sumus – ‘We are shadows’.
Typical weavers’ houses in Fournier Street
Driven out by the decline of the weaving trade and anti-French feeling, the Huguenots slowly dispersed and their church was for a while taken over by ‘The London Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews’. Not being very successful, they moved out after ten years and the next tenants were John Wesley’s Methodists, who refurbished the building.
From the 1880s onwards, the East End population underwent another significant upheaval as thousands of Jews arrived fleeing poverty, pogroms, war and revolution. Many settled in Spitalfields and Whitechapel, close to where they arrived in the docks, setting up numerous businesses.
‘Ghost sign’ for Amelia Gold’s business, 42 Brushfield Street
Built in the 1780s, in the 1880s this shop was once the business premises of a Jewish immigrant from Hungary, a lady called Amelia Gold. Describing herself as a ‘milliner’ indicates that she was a very accomplished, professional maker of ladies’ hats rather than simply a retailer.
The famous entertainer Bud Flanagan was born nearby. His parents Wolf and Yetta (Kitty) Weintrop were Polish Jews who set off for New York in order to flee the pogroms. Sadly for them, a dishonest ticket agent sold them a ticket that only took them as far as London, where they eventually set up a barber shop and tobacconist.
12 Hanbury Street
By the late 19th Century the Methodists had left and the building became the Spitalfields Great Synagogue. However, as the 20th century wore on, many Jews were leaving the East End and the synagogue relocated to Golders Green in 1970. During the 1970s, the area became populated mainly by Bangladeshis who had come to Britain looking for work and often found it in factories and the textile trade. That growing community required a place of worship, and the building was bought and refurbished. In 1976, it reopened as a mosque, the London Jamme Masjid. Today, although it has been renamed, it still serves the Bangladeshi community as a mosque.
A while ago, The Economist ran an article about multicultural London and I would like to end with two quotes from it that I particularly liked since they reference the building.
Because it is a human entrepôt, Spitalfields remains one of London’s poorest and most conservative districts; but now, for the same reason, it is also among the hippest. When old men in traditional dress congregate beneath the mosque’s prophetic sundial, immodestly clad young women weave between them
And …
The mosque is a bricks-and-mortar correction to those Britons who think that immigration is a new and harmful phenomenon
Well said.
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