I have been researching the history of St Mary Moorfields in Eldon Street (EC2M 7LS) and Catholic worship in the City generally.
For over two hundred years, after the 1559 Act of Uniformity, Catholics were forbidden to worship in public until the Catholic Relief Act of 1791. A chapel was opened in 1686, but had to be suspended in 1689. From 1736 there was a chapel in Ropemaker’s Alley but its altar, fittings and crucifixes were ripped out and destroyed in the Gordon Riots of 1780. This was succeeded by a chapel in White Street. Its replacement in 1820 by a large Classical church in Finsbury Circus sponsored by laypeople marked a turning point in the size and stylistic aspirations of Catholic churches. The final church of the first wave of building that succeeded the Relief Act, it was probably the finest in structure and decoration and also the largest Catholic church in London. It was called St Mary Moorfields after its location …
‘Celebration of High Mass on Christmas Day’ – Picture: Wikimedia Commons
In 1884 the Church acquired a huge site off of Victoria Street in west London. The construction of what would be Westminster Cathedral commenced in 1895 and in 1899, when parts of the new building became usable for worship, the Moorfields church was sold and demolished. It was replaced by the present building in Eldon Street which was designed by George Sherrin and opened on 25th March 1903. The name remained the same even though it was no longer in Moorfields.
The entrance is squeezed in between two shops and if you are walking along the north side of Eldon Street it is easy to miss it completely unless you look up and see the Papal tiara over the doors …
View from the South side of Eldon Street.
The facade is of Portland stone with some intricate decoration either side of the entrance. Note the hammer, pliers and three nails representing the crucifixion. Further up there is a scourge and a crown of thorns …
Alongside are scenes from the life of the Virgin by J Daymond …
These two represent the Annunciation and the Nativity.
Above them is a statue of the Virgin and child being crowned by cherubs …
I think the interior is magnificent. The classical como marble columns around the altar come from the old church …
As does the High Altar itself …
It is modelled in the form of a sarcophagus to recall the ancient practice of celebrating Mass on the tombs of martyr-saints in the catacombs of Rome.
The wide becherubed font also made the journey from Moorfields but the cover is from around 1900 …
The church enjoys very little natural light. In fact when the building was erected the floor had to be lowered three feet to protect adjoining buildings’ ‘ancient lights’. As a result the stained glass window is artificially illuminated …
It depicts the Assumption.
One of the side chapels …
The oak wood carving in the church is very attractive and is also by Daymond …
The tympanum above the shrine to St Thomas More at the south end of the aisle portrays his execution in 1920s mosaic style …
It is a lovely little church to visit and when I have popped in occasionally pre-Covid there was a very atmospheric whiff of incense.
You can find details such as mass times on the website.
Incidentally, there were other survivors from the 1899 demolition, four stained glass windows which found their way to St Joseph’s Lambs Passage (EC1Y 8LE), a small chapel in the basement of a former school of 1901. Despite what the sign on the building says, it is not actually a church but a ‘chapel of ease’ to St Mary’s. Such chapels were built within the bounds of a parish for the attendance of those who could not reach the parish church conveniently …
As a result of wartime damage only two windows survive and this is one of them (The Agony in the Garden). I wasn’t able to access the building to take pictures so the image comes from the internet …
Details of the chapel, its history, services and place in the community can be found here.
On the night of December 30th 1940, when Christchurch Newgate Street was a blazing inferno, an unknown postman rushed into the building, grabbed this font cover and carried it to safety …
Made of oak, it was created about 1690 and is typical of many such covers made for City churches after the Great Fire of 1666. You can admire its beautiful craftmanship if you visit St Sepulchre-without-Newgate where it rests on a new font, the original having been destroyed in the bombing (EC1A 2DQ).
Another survivor of the Blitz can be found in St Botolph Without Aldgate (EC3N 1AB). This intricately carved wooden panel depicts King David along with musical instruments …
It was created between 1713 and 1715 to grace the front of an organ gallery in the church of St Mary Matfelon, Whitechapel. When the church was destroyed by bombing on the 27th December 1940 the carving was saved and later restored …
St Giles Cripplegate was severely damaged during the Second World War and there was a direct hit on the north door in the summer of 1940. The following December the church was showered with so many incendiary bombs that even the cement caught alight. You can still see scorch marks …
All that remained was the shell, the arcade in the chancel, the outside walls and the tower and that these survived says much for the medieval architects. It wasn’t just bombing that resulted in church furniture being moved. When nearby St Luke’s was closed due to subsidence in 1959 St Giles was a beneficiary, acquiring the closed church’s pews …
Altar …
And a lovely 18th century font …
A tablet recording the Rectors of St Luke’s since 1733 also made the move …
St Swithun London Stone was also damaged in bombing but unfortunately was beyond repair and eventually demolished. It’s pulpit fortunately survived and is now used at All Hallows by the Tower …
It dates from around 1670 and is carved in the style of Grinling Gibbons. Above it is the tester, or sounding board, designed to represent three pilgrim shells associated with the pilgrimage of St James Compostella in Spain.
However, the greatest cause of church destruction after the Great Fire was not the Blitz but The Union of Benefices Act of 1860. In order to reflect the dramatic drop in the City’s population, it allowed the London diocese to sell churches and built new ones in the suburbs with the proceeds. This accounted for the loss of some 22 churches and the last of these – All Hallows Lombard Street – was demolished as late as 1938, despite the contemporary reverence for Wren.
I have been tracking where some of these churches’ belongings ended up.
The church of St Matthew Friday was demolished in 1888 but the Wren Pulpit found its way to St Andrew by the Wardrobe …
As did the font cover …
The baptismal font in St Margaret Lothbury, believed to be by Gibbons, came from St Olave, Old Jewry, after that church was partially demolished in 1887 except for the tower and west wall, which remain today. The font is a carved bowl with cherub heads at each corner and the four sides are decorated with Adam and Eve, the dove returning to the ark, the baptism of Jesus and the baptism of the Ethiopian eunuch by Philip …
One of my favourite churches, St Vedast-alias-Foster, has been particularly fortunate in its acquisitions (EC2V 6HH).
The Gibbons font cover came from St Anne and St Agnes after that church was damaged by bombing …
The exquisite 17th-century wineglass pulpit was made for All Hallows, Bread Street (demolished 1878). It’s also by Gibbons …
Legend has it that incorporating a peapod was one way that Gibbons ‘signed’ his work. If the peapod was open he had been paid – if it was closed he had not. If this is true, he was properly remunerated for his work on this pulpit …
The reredos came from St Christopher-le-Stocks (demolished in 1781 to make way for an extension to the Bank of England) …
And finally, a tale of resurrection.
St Mary the Virgin, Aldermanbury, was severely damaged and gutted in the Blitz …
After the war, however, it had the unique distinction of being taken apart, shipped to Fulton, Missouri in the USA in 1965, and rebuilt to mark the visit of Churchill to Westminster College in 1946. The church now sits above the National Churchill Museum. Westminster College was the location of Churchill’s speech that included the famous phrase ‘An iron curtain has descended across the continent’.
Here’s how it looks today …
You can read more about the church and the Museum here.
The old site of the church in Aldermanbury is now a garden …
Is this the creepiest sculpture to be found in the City?
It’s on the tower of St Mary Somerset (EC4V 4AG). This was a Wren church, but I don’t think either he, or his very competent colleague Nicholas Hawksmoor, had anything to do with this screaming face. Their style was more cheerful cherubs and occasionally dragons or a phoenix.
The church was demolished in 1871 but the tower was saved and restored by the architect Ewan Christian who was also responsible for the National Gallery. It was probably him, therefore, who installed the head. It predates Munch’s picture but reminds me of it …
The 1893 painting by Edvard Munch, commonly known as The Scream.
You can read more about the church and its background on The Londonist website from which I have borrowed this picture by Tony Tucker indicating where the screamer can be found …
The Guildhall building at 71 Basinghall Street boasts a menagerie of strange creatures (EC2V 7HH). Some sit either side of the entrance …
Others lurk near the top of the building …
… and on the roof itself …
A predatory bird keeps a beady eye on you from the roof of 60 Lombard Street (EC3V 9EA) …
I must have walked past this building at 51-54 Gracechurch Street hundreds of times but never looked up and noticed two lines of extraordinary heads above and below the fifth floor windows …
It was constructed between 1928 and 1930 and designed by the architect Leo Sylvester Sullivan. It has lovely Art Deco features but I have no idea why he incorporated the heads. There are 17 in total and this is a small selection …
You can read more about the building on the excellent Look Up London website.
Another head, this time on the tower of St Margaret Pattens, Rood Lane (EC3M 1HS) …
Two owls stand guard above the King William Street entrance to what was once the Guardian Royal Exchange Assurance Company’s City office…
One of the delights of Eastcheap are these figures just below the roof of number 23 …
I cannot look at these dogs’ and boars’ heads without smiling. When I first photographed them a few years ago they had a splash of colour and I think it is a shame that this has been painted over …
A little further east at 33-35 another boar’s head peeps out from the undergrowth. It references the Eastcheap inn of that name which was supposed to be the meeting place of Sir John Falstaff, Prince Hal and other characters in Shakespeare’s Henry IV plays …
The Walkie Talkie looms over the area and dwarfs the remaining Victorian buildings including the one containing the boar’s head which dates from 1868. Pevsner described it as ‘one of the maddest displays in London of gabled Gothic’ and he quoted Ian Nairn, the architectural critic, who called it ‘the scream that you wake on at the end of a nightmare’ …
This creature on All Hallows by the Tower looks like an authentic gargoyle (water spout) but the downpipe or guttering is missing, maybe lost when the church was severely damaged in the war …
As I walked along Cornhill one day I glanced up and saw these rather sinister figures silhouetted against the sky…
Closer inspection shows them to be devils, and rather angry and malevolent ones too …
They look down on St Peter upon Cornhill and are known as the Cornhill Devils (EC3V 3PD). The story goes that, when plans were submitted for the late Victorian building next to the church, the rector noticed that they impinged slightly on church land and lodged a strong objection. Everything had to literally go back to the drawing board at great inconvenience and expense. The terracotta devils looking down on the entrance to the church are said to be the architect’s revenge with the lowest devil bearing some resemblance to the cleric himself …
If this resembles the rector he must have been a pretty ugly guy.
And finally, two mice share a piece of cheese in Philpot Lane. There are several theories as to the story behind these charming little creatures but no one knows for sure who put them there and why …
Directly outside the west front of St Paul’s Cathedral stands this statue of Queen Anne …
Queen Anne – Born 6 February 1665, died 1 August 1714. Ascended the throne 8 March 1702. She was the last of the Stuart dynasty.
It was during her reign that the rebuilding of St Paul’s, after the 1666 Great Fire, was completed. The original statue was erected in 1712, an integral part of the design. It was damaged, deteriorated and was replaced with this copy in 1886.
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.
One little boy, William Duke of Gloucester, survived but within weeks it became clear that he was an ill child. He suffered from debilitating convulsions, struggled to walk and died in 1700 at the age of 11. Here is a touching portrait of them both …
Her marriage, to Prince George of Denmark, was a devoted, loving and faithful one and she was devastated by his death in October 1708. By all accounts he was rather a dull character, one contemporary thought him ‘of a familiar, easy disposition with a good sound understanding but modest in showing it … very fat, loves news, his bottle and the Queen’. Another, more cruelly making fun of George’s asthma, said the Prince was forced to breathe hard in case people mistook him for dead and buried him.
Anne was given to intense female friendships, first with the Duchess of Marlborough, whose husband’s victories over the French lent the Crown reflected glory, and later with Abigail Masham.
These were explored to some dramatic effect in the film The Favourite starring Olivia Colman – the official trailer is brilliant and you can view it here. Watch out for Emma Stone’s magnificent snort.
Here’s the Queen again in close up, gazing imperiously down Ludgate Hill …
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. The four allegorical ladies around the base of the statue represent England, France, Ireland and North America, as at that time Anne considered herself to be queen of them all.
With her left hand, Britannia supports a cartouche with the royal arms …
Holding a trident in her right hand she also wears Minerva’s breastplate adorned with a gorgon mask as if it were a sash. Minerva was the Roman Goddess of wisdom and the sponsor of arts, trade and strategic warfare.
France is seated with her eyes lowered and wearing a helmet with three fleurs-de-lis on the visor surmounted by a plume sweeping backwards …
Her right hand rests on a substantial truncheon and her left clasps a mural crown.
In my opinion America is the most interesting and I have written about her before …
She wears a feathered head-dress and skirt whilst her left hand grasps a metal bow. Her right hand may once have held an arrow.
What fascinates me, however, is the creature by her feet which resembles a rather angry Kermit the frog (alongside some poor chap’s severed head) …
In 1712, this is what the original sculptor Francis Bird imagined an alligator would look like. A contemporary description of the statue states …
There is an allegator creeping from beneath her feet; being an animal very common in some parts of America which lives on land and in the water.
A pretty young Ireland is seated at the back of the monument with a harp resting on her right thigh …
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.
The size of her coffin, on the far right, tells a story …
She left no clear will: perhaps her fear of death meant she could not bring herself to sign one, yet she left her country changed forever. She created the United Kingdom as we know it today and prepared the way for the Hanoverians, the dynasty of the Georgians, who ruled Britain until Queen Victoria. In fact Queen Anne worked with a new kind of monarchy that we recognise today. No longer would monarchs rule by the divine right of kings, a belief that led her grandfather, Charles I, to the scaffold. Instead, monarchs ruled in conjunction with parliament. History seems to have been rather unkind to her and this article in History Extra attempts to set the record straight.
In 1897 Queen Victoria celebrated her Diamond Jubilee and a service was held in the open air outside St Paul’s …
Due to her frailty she remained in her carriage throughout the ceremony where the clergy joined her, surrounded by dignitaries and troops from around the Empire …
Credit : Government Art Collection
You can just see, in the bottom left hand corner, the railings that surround Anne’s statue.
At one point when the celebrations were being planned it was suggested that Queen Anne’s statue be moved but Victoria was horrified …
‘Move Queen Anne? Most certainly not’ Victoria declared, ‘Why it might some day be suggested that my statue should be removed, which I should much dislike!’
I want to say a little more about why the original 1712 statue was replaced by a copy in 1886. As far back as June 1823 it was described in The Gentleman’s Magazine as being in a ‘ruinous state’. The article went on …
It has been twice attacked by lunatics, first in January 1743, when the man broke off the sceptre … and again in 1769 when a Lascar who, when apprehended, attempted to stab the watchman. In both cases it appeared, upon examination before a Magistrate, that the men were out of their senses. … The Lascar had the Globe in his hands as he was climbing over the iron rails.
The poor Lascar was consigned to the notorious Bedlam Hospital for the insane – a very long way from home.
Anne and her companions were acquired by the writer Augustus Hare, repaired, and moved to the grounds of his country house, Holmhurst St Mary near Hastings. The house has since been used as a school and a convent, and is now subdivided into private living accommodation. I found this picture of the original statues on the internet and they have obviously been comprehensively vandalised – very sad …
You can find an excellent article about their acquisition, removal and history here.
I had a great stroke of luck last Friday when I wandered into St Dunstan’s and met by chance two of the lady administrators who kindly took the trouble to show me around. The church is on Fleet Street (EC4A 2HR).
In a niche in one of the side chapels is a marble bust of a youth with fine features, Edward James Auriol lying on a pillow, hand on heart, as if asleep …
In fact, he died tragically at the age of 17 when he drowned in the Rhône river in Geneva one bright morning on 19th August 1847. A student at King’s College London, he was the ‘tenderly beloved and only child’ of the Rector of St Dunstan’s Edward Auriol and his wife Georgiana.
Nearby is this fascinating memorial to ‘ye fam’d swordsman’ Alexander Layton who died in 1679 and who rests ‘not far from this place’ …
Erected by a grateful scholar of Layton’s, ‘John Brewer of Grays Inn Road’, at the foot of the tablet are the following words suggesting Layton’s final opponent was death itself …
His thrusts like lightning flew, more skilful Death
Parried ’em all, and beat him out of breath.
There was nothing the ‘Master of Defence’ could do.
There’s a memorial bust to Cuthbert Fetherstone (1537-1615) …
He served as the Gentleman Usher to Queen Elizabeth I, and as such was her trusted friend. Cuthbert and his wife Katharine lived in London but the housing conditions in the city were poor and they eventually left their home in Chancery Lane. They purchased Hassingbrook Hall, an ancient manor near the banks of Hassinbrook at Stanford-le-Hope, twenty-five miles downstream from London. After Elizabeth’s death he became Usher and Crier to King James I.
Here he is, painted in oils around 1598 …
Copyright: National Trust Uppark House and Garden, West Sussex
The earliest monuments in the church are these two brass kneeling figures …
The plaque reads as follows …
Here lyeth buryed the body of Henry Dacres, Cetezen and Marchant Taylor and Sumtyme Alderman of London, and Elizabeth his Wyffe, the whych Henry decessed the … day of … the yere of our Lord God – and the said Elizabeth decessed the xxii day of Apryll the yere of our Lord God MD and XXX.
Elizabeth died in 1530 and Henry nine years later. His will tells us that the brass was already made before he died and ‘made at myn owne costes to the honour of almighty god and the blessed sacrament’. He also left 20 shillings to be used for the annual purchase of coal for the benefit of poor parishoners.
I am sure there are very few dishonest solicitors nowadays, but there seems to have been a time when an honest one was rather unusual, and this virtue was so exceptional that his clients paid for a memorial plaque saying so. It reads ‘Hobson Judkin, late of Clifford’s Inn, THE HONEST SOLICITOR who departed this life June 30th 1812’.
‘Go reader’ we are commanded ‘and imitate Hobson Judkin’.
The kneeling figure next to the war memorial is said to represent Sir Roger North (1577-1651) …
This plaque celebrates the virtues and generosity of James Chambers, a ‘Citizen and Goldsmith … Eminent Banker … A man courteous to his neighbours … a Loving Husband, a Tender Father and a Sincere Friend’ …
He was also incredibly generous, being …
Very benificent to his Relations to whom he parted with upwards of £20,000 in his lifetime.
That would be getting on for two million pounds in today’s money.
The front right-hand pew has a seat reserved for the Lord Mayor, dramatically marked by an iron sword rest, dating from 1745, and commemorating the English victory over the Jacobite Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie, at Culloden. My photograph doesn’t really do it justice …
Sword rests, or sword stands, were originally installed in City churches to hold the Lord Mayor’s sword of state when he visited different churches every Sunday, a practice which ceased in 1883.
Dedicated to a Saxon Archbishop of Canterbury and Benedictine monk, St Dunstan’s survived the Great Fire but was demolished and rebuilt between 1830 and 1833. The octagonal interior is wonderfully atmospheric …
I took a close look at the remarkable Christian Orthodox screen (or iconostasis) which came from Romania in 1966 …
The screen is over 100 years old and was originally created for the Monastery of Antim in Bucharest. I also spotted various individual icons …
These and the screen are clues to the fact that, although this is a Church of England church, it also hosts Romanian Orthodox Church services.
There is more to see in St Dunstan’s and I intend to return. If you are interested in churches, this is definitely one to visit. It has just reopened for private prayer and you can find opening times on the website.
It has been many years since I crossed Southwark Bridge and then I wasn’t taking much notice of the buildings in Queen Street Place as I headed towards the bridge and out of the City. When I took the trouble to look last week I was absolutely captivated by this delightful but rather strange Art Deco sculpture by H W Palliser …
One writer called it ‘the sexiest sculpture in London‘ – I couldn’t possibly comment.
Built by the Vintners’ Company in 1928, at the centre stands a nude woman clutching to herself bunches of grapes which grow on vines at her side. She is a Bacchante, the ‘spirit of the harvest’, and two goats look up at her adoringly as four doves descend above her head. Two swans are also in attendance, reminding us that the Vintners’ Company is one of the three owners of all the swans on the upper Thames, the others being the Dyers and HM the Queen. The model for the woman was Leopoldine Avico who was also, I believe, the model for The Queen of Time above Selfridges.
You get a nice view of Vintners’ Hall from the Bridge …
Immediately next door is Thames House (1911-12). It was built for the Liebig Extract of Meat Company whose product was imported from a huge plant in Fray Bentos, Uruguay. There is a clue as to what they made over the central entrance …
Yes, the two stone horns symbolise the South American herds that provided the meat for the famous and successful Oxo cube (or ‘boiled up cow’, as one commentator rather unkindly called it). The other carvings represent Abundance – a nude youth pours water from a vase and a nude maiden pours flowers from a cornucopia.
In the pediment on the North Pavilion a pair of nude figures hold a strop to tame the winged horse Pegasus, who beats the cloud with his hooves in his struggle …
This may allude to the alleged energising qualities of the product.
On the South Pavilion pediment a female figure with fruit and flowers represents the fruits of the land with Neptune, holding his trident and a rope for his net, signifies the fruits of the water …
Between them is the figure of a boy standing on two winged wheels symbolising Trade..
Directly over the door is this group …
It’s a particularly lavish doorway surmounted by an arch over a circular window or oculus. The spandrels over the arch contain bas reliefs of women denoting Commerce (left) and Wisdom (right), by Richard Garbe. Commerce holds a caduceus and brandishes an oak branch, symbol of endurance and fortitude. Wisdom holds a torch and proffers a laurel branch, symbol of victory. Above, a dove with an olive branch in her beak brings peace.
In front of the window is a bronze galleon by the metalworker William Bainbridge Reynolds …
The ship is flanked by some rather grotesque fish which look like they are gasping for air. Maybe Neptune has just caught them.
Here’s the full frontal view …
Further along to the north I admired some elaborate doors …
The old doorway to Thames House at the junction with Upper Thames Street is now an entrance to Five Kings House, the interior of the building having now presumably been segmented in some way (EC4R 1QS) …
Above the door the male figure, with a helmet and wings at his heels, is clearly Mercury as God of Commerce. It’s not clear what the lady represents – possibly agriculture. Two seated putti support a cartouche
Queen Street Place was a wonderful surprise to me. I have often been asked if I am ever going to run out of things to write about but I can’t imagine this ever happening. The City seems to have something new to offer me every day I walk around it.
I know I’ve already written about the Viaduct twice this year but I found myself drawn back to it one more time since I hadn’t explored it from ground level in Farringdon Road.
Looking up at the sky on the north east side there are some great beards on display …
And in close-up …
This is one of the Atlantes holding up the balcony. They date from 2014 when the north east pavilion was rebuilt …
In 2013 the Viaduct was repainted and re-gilded with, at the request of the City Conservation Officer, ‘maximum bling’.
You get an idea of how well this was accomplished in this picture. It shows the re-gilded base of one of the lamps, a knight’s helmet and a City dragon …
Here’s a view looking up from Farringdon Street …
There are also some elaborate metal gates …
Walking up the stairs, this old light has lost its top …
Four splendid City dragons …
This functioning light is in the rebuilt North East stair …
Attractive carvings at the South East entrance …
The North Western stair has a giant mural illustrating the Viaduct’s construction …
Work was started in 1863 and the mural reminded me of this photograph of the work in progress looking west …
Further west there is a smaller, more modest bridge over Shoe Lane and this is in grave need of some TLC. Compare this with the restored parts of the main bridge …
It illustrates what time, weather and pollution can do to the most robust of structures.
If you want to read my two previous blogs about Holborn Viaduct they can be found here and here.
My first stop was Unilever House where a lady, her head bowed, strains hard to control a gigantic horse (EC4Y 0DY) …
The sculpture, called Controlled Energy, dates from 1932 and the sculptor, William Reid Dick, had a real horse model for him. Dr Philip Ward-Jackson, in his book Public Sculpture of the City of London, tells us …
This was no ordinary horse. A light bay gelding called Victor, it was a little over 18 hands high and, when shown at Olympia, had been described as ‘the biggest horse in the world’. The sculptor later told a reporter ‘I am sorry to say it died shortly after I finished with it’.
There is a similar male figure at the other end of the building and, when asked why he had included female figures as well as male ones, this was the sculptor’s interesting reply …
These days women are controlling affairs nearly, if not quite, as much as men. They begin to take control in some respects … as soon as they are out of their cradles, and the idea would have been incompletely carried out if only men had been used.
There are a number of female head keystones …
… and a pretty mermaid sculpted by Gilbert Ledward …
Just in case you are not familiar with the building here it is, opposite Blackfriars Station …
Ledward’s sculpture reminded me of the mermaid combing her hair at the Merchant Navy Memorial on Tower Hill …
In last week’s blog I wrote about the numerous female figures decorating the Lloyd’s Register of Shipping’s offices in Fenchurch Street. Here a group of maidens hold models of ships …
In my 2nd April blog, Moorgate and the Goddess of Electricity, I wrote about the impressive building called Electra House. I didn’t, however, venture into the entrance hall. If I had I would have seen two allegorical panels by F.W. Pomeroy who did much work on the Central Criminal Court, including the statue of Lady Justice. Again, there is more in last week’s blog.
The panel to the left has a seated figure, which may be Britannia, holding a rudder in one hand and a loop of cable in the other …
The cable encircles a globe and the figure to the right holds up two batteries on a tray.
This is the panel opposite …
The female figure holds a distaff in one hand and a weaving shuttle in the other. Standing to her left is Mercury, holding his caduceus and a bag of money. The lady on the right writes in a ledger whilst in the background is a telegraph pole. The panel probably represents the advantages to trade and industry of the telegraph.
And now south, to Number 1 Moorgate which was once the Banco di Napoli. Created in the 1980s, the bronze doors portray two ladies in peasant costume …
The woman on the left is sowing seeds and the one on the right holds a sickle and a sheaf of cut corn.
Just off Aldermanbury and to the north of the Guildhall is this 1972 bronze by Karin Jonzen called Beyond Tomorrow …
A young couple look expectantly towards the future.
During the Second World War almost a thousand firefighters sacrificed their tomorrows trying to save property and lives during the intense bombing. On Sermon Lane opposite St Paul’s Cathedral can be found The National Firefighters’ Memorial (1991). On the north side is this representation of the women members of the National Fire Service and a list of those killed whilst on duty …
The lady on the right is a Dispatch Rider and the one on the left an Incident Recorder. Although not meant to actually fight fires, a former wartime firefighter declared …
The reality … was that firewomen were more widely involved in active work than is generally acknowledged, and they could often be found in the midst of things during the blitz, whether helping out on the pumps, in control rooms close to the centre of the severest raids or delivering supplies to firefighters.
Twenty-one-year-old Gillian Tanner was awarded the George Medal for bravery when she delivered petrol to fire pumps around Bermondsey while the docks were being bombed during the height of the Blitz.
Their pay was set at two thirds of that of the men, the Home Office having turned down their union’s request for equal pay in 1943.
Four ladies adorn the memorial to the 786 employees of the Prudential Assurance Company who gave their lives in the First World War. It can be found in the courtyard outside their old headquarters in Holborn and you can read more about it here.
This lady holds a seagoing vessel, representing the Navy …
At the back is a figure holding a shell representing National Service …
The bi-plane represents the Air Force …
And this one holds a field gun and represents the Army …
I like the Queen’s Assurance sign from 1852 at 42-44 Gresham Street …
And finally, she may be the oldest City Lady I have found but she still looks beautiful and serene …
Dated 1669, she must have witnessed much of the rebuilding of the City after the great fire of 1666. She now resides in a sheltered spot in Corbet Court (EC3V 0AT). I have written about Mercer Maidens like her in an earlier blog entitled Dragons and Maidens.
Having written about City Children a few weeks ago I though it was time to look at some of the ladies portrayed in sculpture around the City. I found enough for several blogs so this is the first instalment!
Let’s start with this extraordinary statue at 193 Fleet Street now, sadly, somewhat weathered …
I always thought that it resembled a rather effeminate youth but it is in fact a woman disguised as a pageboy, her name, Kaled, appears just under her right foot.
It is by Giuseppe Grandi, and dates from 1872. The shop owner, George Attenborough, had a niche created specially for it over the front door. Kaled is the page of Count Lara in Bryon’s poetic story of a nobleman who returns to his ancestral lands to restore justice. He antagonises the neighbouring chieftains who attack and kill him. Kaled stays with his master and lover to the end, when it is revealed he is in fact a woman. She goes mad from grief and dies.
Walking further eastwards along the south side of Fleet Street you come across Serjeants’ Inn and these interesting keystones depicting a woman holding a baby, flowers and a bird (EC4Y 1AE) …
They date from 1958 and although the architects are known, Devereaux & Davis, the name of the sculptor is not (or, at least, I couldn’t discover it).
Over the original main door to the Old Bailey (EC4M 7EH) is a sinister figure, her face overshadowed by an ample hood. She is the Recording Angel, busy writing down all our deeds for God’s future reference …
To the left sits Fortitude, a female figure holding a massive and elaborate sword, and on the right Truth gazing into her mirror.
On the south pediment another woman holds a quill in one hand and in the other a closed book …
Both date from 1906 and are by the sculptor Frederick William Pomeroy as is Justice holding her symbolic sword and scales. She stands upon a globe because Justice straddles the world and although she is made of bronze not stone I couldn’t resist including her …
You may be surprised to see that she is not wearing a blindfold. I have written about her and the many other places she can be found in the City (often blindfolded) in an earlier blog entitled Lady Justice.
At 28-30 Cornhill can be found the old offices of the Scottish Widows Insurance Company (EC3V 3ND). High up the building, which dates from 1935, are two figures sculpted by William McMillan.
The one on the left holds a naked child between her knees …
… the other pours fruit and flowers from a cornucopia …
Dr Philip Ward-Jackson points out in his book Public Sculpture of the City of London that there is a striking resemblance both in iconography and style between these two figures and the so-called Lothbury Ladies. Charles Wheeler was sculpting them at the same time for the Lothbury front of the Bank of England. Here are two of them …
The children represent ‘the hope of the future of the renewed Bank and its ideals’.
The Lloyd’s Register of Shipping at 71 Fenchurch Street is worth a visit in its own right. I counted over two dozen female figures incorporated into the building’s design and here are just a few of them …
I can’t really do the sculptors justice in this blog so I will return at a later date.
Brewers’ Hall in Aldermanbury Square boasts a maiden keystone over its entrance (EC2V 7HR) …
She holds in either hand three ears of barley and forms the crest of the Brewers’ Company coat of arms. This is another work by Charles Wheeler and dates from 1960.
Walking around Finsbury Circus I looked up and saw this lady on the Lutyens designed Britannic House (EC2M 7EB). The building was originally the headquarters of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company …
Sculpted by Francis Derwent Wood in 1925, she’s a Persian Scarf Dancer.
Nearby is another work by him entitled Woman and Baby or Spring …
My walk around the City looking for ladies in sculpture was really enlightening and I’ll return to the subject in a later blog.
The City has an abundance of window boxes and small gardens, the latter often the site of old churchyards. Here is a collection of pictures I took over the last few weeks whilst the weather was nice.
I have entitled this one ‘white tulip’ …
The remains of the old Roman/Medieval Wall is host to numerous Valerian plants …
That’s the 17th century tower of St Giles Cripplegate in the background.
This is the view from the raised pedestrian walkway …
Next to the Museum of London plants cling on in one of the last remaining World War II bomb sites …
Nearby is the Barbers’ Physic Garden, partly sheltered by another section of the Roman/Medieval wall and adjacent to the Barber Surgeons’ Hall …
This leopard’s head (the symbol of the Goldsmiths’ Company) guards the entrance to The Goldsmiths’ Garden, once the churchyard of St John Zachary, a building destroyed in the great fire of 1666. You’ll find it on Gresham Street (EC2V 7HN) …
There’s a good selection of flowers in the garden …
Callistemon Bottlebrush.Roses and Clematis.Osteospermum.
And a pretty little fountain with an Arum Lily …
Postman’s Park boasts a substantial banana plant with a big tree fern growing out from it (EC1A 7BT) …
… along with a thriving bed of Hostas …
… and some Hardy Geraniums …
Their fountain is not working and is covered in moss …
A nice corporate window box on St Martin’s le Grand, someone must be watering it during the shut down …
Christchurch Greyfriars was designed by Wren and completed in 1704. In 1940, Blitz incendiary bombs destroyed the body of the church and only the west tower now stands. The blue plaque in the foreground commemorates Christchurch School, which I have written about before in City Children …
The 1989 rose garden reflects the floor plan of the original church and Clematis and climbing roses weave their way up 10 tall wooden towers which represent the pillars that once held the roof …
On the Barbican Highwalk I came across an army of Alliums, sadly a bit past their best …
I also encountered two ducks fastidiously socially distancing …
Water lilies are opening up on the Barbican Lakes …
And Barbican dwellers have been working hard on their window boxes …
I hope you enjoyed this little flower-filled excursion.
I think the lockdown is finally getting to me. I usually don’t have much trouble thinking of a theme for the blog but this week I have failed. So instead, I just wandered around a still quiet City with my camera waiting to see what caught my eye. These are the results – I hope you find some of them interesting.
Now the pavements are deserted, it’s easier to look upwards as you walk and see what you might have missed on previous occasions.
The Victorians paid a lot of attention to decorative detail and I really liked these two faces, carved into bricks, looking out over London Wall. I’ve nicknamed them Beauty …
… and the beast …
And while on the subject of beauties and beasts, take a look at this view from Gresham Street …
The church is St Lawrence Jewry and behind it some modern buildings that I like, the Cheesegrater and the Scalpel, and one I don’t, a characterless glass monster growing on Bishopsgate.
There’s a nice little pond in front of the church …
It’s home to these Arum Lilies and Irises …
I have written before about Thomas Gresham and the college he founded was once based here at 90 Basinghall Street until 1991 (EC2V 5AY) …
Above the coat of arms rests the symbolic Gresham grasshopper …
The sun was perfectly placed to illuminate Ariel or The Spirit of the Winds by Charles Wheeler. She’s positioned on a cupola above the Bank of England on Tivoli Corner …
When she was unveiled in 1937 the Bank’s magazine stated …
It is the symbol of the dynamic spirit of the Bank which carries Credit and Trust over the wide world.
Ariel was, of course, the Spirit of the Air in Shakespeare’s Tempest, who by Prospero’s magic could ‘put a girdle around the world in forty minutes’.
I’m fascinated by this old Wall on London Wall. I can’t find out more about it but it looks Medieval to me (EC2M 5ND) …
London Wall has lots of examples of the wonderful work the small team of City gardeners do to keep beds and parks looking good all year round …
Austin Friars (off Old Broad street) was once the location of an Augustinian Friary until its dissolution in 1538. Walk in through an atmospheric doorway with its charming ghost signs …
When I visited the sun was in exactly the right place to illuminate the slightly spooky friar who reminds us of the area’s original purpose …
He resides at 4 Austin Friars, was sculpted by T Metcalfe and dates from 1989 (EC2N 2HA).
Near St Giles Cripplegate, the Columbarium is known as ‘one of London’s secret gardens.’ It lies to the east of the church down a flight of stairs. There are some niches on an outside wall and others are in a covered area enclosed by a gate …
And finally, two of the City of London Police’s finest …
… and their riders.
I really enjoyed my little walk and I hope you enjoyed reading about it.
For centuries there was a close connection between the church and the notorious prison just across the road from it (EC1A 2DQ).
Demolished in 19o2 and standing where the Old Bailey is now, there had been a prison on the site since the 12th century. Over time the building had been consistently altered physically, but what did not change was its reputation for brutality, filth, sickness and death.
Newgate Gaol shortly before demolition.
The gallows loomed over the justice system. The first permanent version was set up at Tyburn in 1571 (roughly where Marble Arch is today) and prisoners were taken there through the streets from Newgate attracting vast crowds of spectators. The journey could take up to three hours with the carts stopping at taverns on the way where popular convicts were treated to drinks – sometimes the condemned men shouted ‘ I’ll buy you a pint on the way back’.
Getting ready for Tyburn ‘customers’.The Tyburn Tree by Wayne Haag from the Hyde Park Barracks Mural Project, Sydney, Australia.
After execution, which was often more like slow strangulation, fights frequently broke out over ownership of the body with relatives and friends fighting surgeons who were promised ten bodies a year for dissection.
While researching I came across this poem by John Taylor (1578-1653) …
I Have heard sundry men oft times dispute Of trees, that in one year will twice bear fruit. But if a man note Tyburn, ‘will appear, That that’s a tree that bears twelve times a year. I muse it should so fruitful be, for why I understand the root of it is dry, It bears no leaf, no bloom, or no bud, The rain that makes it fructify is blood. I further note, the fruit which it produces, Doth seldom serve for profitable uses: Except the skillful Surgeons industry Do make Dissection of Anatomy.
To stamp out disorders, the Tyburn gallows was demolished in 1783 and executions moved to a spot outside Newgate itself …
A hanging outside Newgate in the early 1800s – Wikipedia.
Remarkably, a part of the old prison wall can still be seen at the end of the beautifully named Amen Corner, off the equally prettily named Ave Maria Lane (EC4M 7AQ) …
Amen Corner is now private property so this picture comes from the Internet.
Also, one of the doors condemned prisoners walked through to their execution is kept at the Museum of London …
Picture copyright Museum of London.
St Sepulchre’s Church today …
Look out for the sundial …
It 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. I wondered if the Newgate executioner might have taken the time from this dial to help him decide when to start the journey west to the gallows.
Incidentally, I have written about City Sundials before in a blog entitled We are but shadows. Also, on the corner of the churchyard, there is a famous drinking fountain which you can read about here.
Carts carrying the condemned on their way to Tyburn would pause briefly at the church where prisoners would be presented with a nosegay. However, they would already have had an encounter with someone from the church the night before. 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.
And you can still see the bell today, displayed in a glass case in the church …
Includes my reflection … whoops!
Adjacent to the bell is this helpful notice …
The last public hanging in England took place outside Newgate on 26 May 1868, the condemned man being the Fenian Michael Barrett who had been convicted of mass murder.
St Sepulchre-without-Newgate, to give it it’s full name, has other fascinating features which I shall write about in a future blog.
Not all statues, pictures and memorials in the City are of the ‘great and the good’ – there are quite a few young people represented as well.
For a start, there are the charity school children who wore a striking uniform that confirmed their school’s charity status – hence the name Bluecoat Schools. Blue was chosen since it was once the cheapest dye available. The school buildings often displayed life-size representations of their pupils and these two can now be found outside the church of St Andrew Holborn (EC4A 3AF) …
They depict children attending St Andrew’s Parochial School, founded in 1696 and located in Hatton Garden since 1721. The statues once stood over the Cross Street entrance to the Hatton Street school but were moved here during the church’s restoration after WWII bombing damage.
Sir John Cass’s School at Aldgate also has its little boy and girl statues (C3A 5DE) …
This work outside Liverpool Street Station depicts children from the Kindertransport (EC2M 7PD). I think they are beautifully portrayed, appearing both curious and confident (and one piece of luggage is clearly a violin case) …
Photograph: Robin Coupland. Statue by Frank Meisler (2006).
In 1938 and 1939, nearly ten thousand unaccompanied Jewish children were transported to Britain to escape persecution in their hometowns in Germany, Czechoslovakia and Austria. These children arrived at Liverpool Street station to be taken in by British families and foster homes. Often they were the only members of their families to survive the Holocaust.
On a modern building in Giltspur Street (EC1A 9DD) a naked boy stands looking upwards with his arms crossed. He is often referred to as The Golden Boy of Pye Corner and he probably started life as a shop sign …
Now he commemorates one of the places where the Great Fire of 1666 was finally halted, and the inscription beneath refers to the belief by some at the time that God was punishing the City for the sin of gluttony. This was also evidenced by the fact that the conflagration started in Pudding Lane!
Despite the reference to gluttony, the little boy is not enormously fat but ‘healthily rotund’, as children or putti tended to be sculpted at that time. Pye (or Pie) Corner, on the other hand, was noted for food shops, particularly at the time of Bartholomew Fair. This annual celebration was finally suppressed in 1855 for ‘encouraging debauchery and public disorder’ and becoming a ‘school of vice which … initiated … youth into the habits of villainy’. The fair had also become one of the year’s great opportunities for pickpockets as well as for prostitutes, who might be found in tents coyly labelled ‘soiled doves’ or in a nearby street appropriately named Cock Lane.
But I digress.
Just behind the Royal Exchange is a work that caused some controversy, the Charity Drinking Fountain (also known as La Maternité) by Aimé-Jules Dalou (1877-9). (EC3V 3NL).
In his book Public Sculpture of the City of London, Philip Ward-Jackson describes the lady as follows:
Despite her casual garb she has a diadem or tiara on her head. With her left arm she enfolds a baby, who she is suckling, whilst with her right she draws to her knee a naked boy, who gazes up at her.
Nearby is a very relaxed George Peabody who I have written about in an earlier blog …
Ward-Jackson tells us that the suckling lady’s very authentic exposed breast produced at least one letter of protest to the editor of The Globe. The correspondent urged that ‘common decency’ should be observed and went on …
Do you not think, Sir, that Mr Peabody’s chair should be turned, at least until the delicate operation of ‘lacteal sustenation’ be concluded … or the young woman and youngsters provided with the requisite clothing.
Living in the Appold Street entrance to Exchange Square are The Broad Family (EC2A 2BR) …
Look long enough and you will see mum, dad, a little girl with her ball and the family dog (well I did, anyway). It has just occurred to me that the dog resembles Dr Who’s companion K9.
The little girl’s shoes peep out tantalisingly …
These young folk striding out purposefully are part of the memorial to Christ’s Hospital School which was sited nearby before it relocated to Horsham in 1902 (EC1A 7BA). It shows the pupils developing from street urchins to smart, confident young adults …
I love the ragamuffins at the far end of the sculpture.They seem to be having enormous fun and sport the most extraordinary hairstyles …
As you approach the Bank junction from Cheapside look up and you will see two young boys at either end of the grand building that was once the City headquarters of Midland Bank (1935). The are both struggling with a rather angry looking Goose …
The sculptor was William Reid Dick.
Why a goose? A clue is the ancient name of the street and the goose was a suggestion by the architect Sir Edwin Lutyens to commemorate its original market function. The building is now a private club and restaurant, called The Ned in Sir Edwin’s honour.
In the Guildhall Art Gallery there is a pretty little girl attending her first sermon …
‘My First Sermon’ by John Everett Millais
She obviously knows this is an important occasion in her life and sits with her back straight, eyes attentively focused looking ahead. She is the artist’s 5 year old daughter Effie. On seeing it the Archbishop of Canterbury commented …
… our spirits are touched by the playfulness, the innocence, the purity, and … the piety of childhood
In 1864 the artist produced a sequel entitled ‘My Second Sermon’ …
The Archbishop, Charles Longley, was obviously a rather good sport, and when he saw the later picture commented …
… by the eloquence of her silent slumber, (she has) given us a warning of the evil of lengthy sermons and drowsy discourses. Sorry indeed should I be to disturb that sweet and peaceful slumber, but I beg that when she does awake she may be informed who they are who have pointed the moral of her story, have drawn the true inference from the change that has passed over her since she has heard her “first sermon,” and have resolved to profit by the lecture she has thus delivered to them.
I was reminded of this wonderful drawing of a Victorian congregation who are finding the sermon rather heavy going …
In 1995 a skeleton was discovered when excavations were taking place before the construction of 30 St Mary Axe, now often referred to as the Gherkin. The remains were of a young girl aged between 13 and 17 years – her arms were crossed over her body and pottery close by indicated a burial date of between AD 350 and 400.
Having been removed to the Museum of London, she waited patiently until 2007 when the developers of the Gherkin proposed that she be reburied on the site. So, in April of that year, there was a service at St Botolph’s church in Aldgate followed by a procession through the streets before her body was respectfully interred near where it was found. The Lady Mayoress of the City of London was there to spread rose petals on the gravesite, marked with a marble slab decorated with a laurel wreath.
We don’t know her name, or whether she was an original Londoner, but she now rests again 1,600 years after her death in the place that she would have called Londinium.
And finally to one of my favourite places, the Watts Memorial in Postman’s Park (EC1A 7BT). I have written before about three of the brave youngsters commemorated there – Alice Ayres, John Clinton and Elizabeth Boxall.
To them I will now add this young man …
While their mum was out running an errand Henry’s two-year-old sister Jessie, intrigued by the glow of a paraffin lamp, managed to clamber up a chair and reach out for it. Tragically, she overturned it and was enveloped in flaming paraffin. Henry rushed to help her, but in tearing off her clothes set fire to himself and both children received severe burns. Jessie survived but Henry died on 5th January – the coroner at his inquest commented ‘it is a sad case, the little fellow was quite a hero’.
That’s all for this week – I hope you enjoyed it even though I have written about some of these subjects before.
In her right hand she holds a crayon ‘as drawing is the most essential principal in Design’. Her left hand holds a drawing board with paper pinned to it, which rests on her left thigh. Her left foot rests on an Ionic capital denoting architecture. Behind her to her left is part of a Corinthian column, on the top of which stands a bust of Pallas Athena, ‘as she was the patroness of both the useful and elegant arts’.
Behind the figure’s right foot, a small palette and brushes rest on the base …
Science is also by Farmer & Brindley. She is ‘of more masculine proportions than Fine Art, with a fine penetrating countenance’ …
Her tiara has a star at its centre and stars form the fringe of her robe. She holds in her hand the ‘Governors’ that were used to control steam engines. At her left side stands a tripod on which is placed a terrestrial globe encircled with the Electric Telegraph wire which is connected with a battery.
Around the top of the tripod are the signs of the zodiac ‘indicating Astronomy’ …
Beneath it lie compasses and a crumpled sheet of paper with geometrical drawings, one of them a demonstration of Pythagoras’s theorem (you also get a better view of the battery in this picture) …
She wears a crown of olives, ‘the emblem of peace’, and there is a decorative band of oak leaves on the fringe of her robe. ‘She turns to Providence with a thankful expression for a beautiful harvest’ and in her right hand she holds a sickle. Beside her left foot is a belt with a sheath, containing a whetstone.
Bursill also sculpted Commerce …
She is shown ‘advancing with right hand outstretched towards mankind in a sign of welcome, whilst in her left she proudly holds gold ingots and coin, the foundation of enterprise and Commerce in the civilized world’. At her feet to her right are two keys along with a parchment showing the City Arms representing ‘the Freedom of the City’ …
Farmer and Brindley are also responsible for the four winged lions …
I love these Atlantes holding up a balcony. They date from 2014 when the north east pavilion was rebuilt …
Here’s one in close up …
In 2013 the Viaduct was repainted and re-gilded with, at the request of the City Conservation Officer, ‘maximum bling’.
You get an idea of how well this was accomplished in this picture. It shows the re-gilded base of one of the lamps, a knight’s helmet and a City dragon …
There is a fascinating article about the work, particularly the gilding, here.
I hope you have enjoyed these two visits to the Viaduct. Again I have been plundering Dr Philip Ward-Jackson’s wonderful book Public Sculpture of the City of London for much of this blog’s detail.
I have been out and about again, taking new pictures as I exercise.
Every now and then when researching I find out something I didn’t know that I really should have – more of this later.
Before the Viaduct was built it had become obvious that a flat route between Bank and Holborn had become desperately needed. The hills leading down into the valley were as steep as 1:15 in places and the following passage from the Observer for the 20th November 1864 tells us something of the horrors of horse drawn traffic using this route:
The great traffic of the city of London is from east to west, and to accommodate this there are at present but two leading lines – those by way of Holborn Hill and Fleet Street. The steep ascents of Holborn Hill and Skinner Street are wholly unsuited for the vehicular traffic which passes over them, and no person can pass along these streets without witnessing the delays which are caused, and the wasteful expenditure of horse flesh and the cruelty to animals which the ascent of these streets involve.
Work was started in 1863 and I really like this splendid photograph of the work in progress looking west …
Note the advertisement for the ‘New’ St Pancras Station.
And another view looking south …
The Holborn Viaduct Improvements Committee turned up for a photo shoot …
True top-hatted Victorian Gentlemen. It’s a good composition, isn’t it, with two of them getting their clothes grubby sitting on bricks. An anonymous artisan looks to be doing a bit of work on the balustrade and lamp post to the right.
Queen Victoria arrives at the formal opening on 6 November 1869 …
It has been called ‘The world’s first flyover’.
She killed two birds with one stone by opening Blackfriars Bridge on the same day.
Up until the turn of this century, the north eastern corner of the viaduct was dominated by an early 1950s building called Bath House. You can see its massive scale in this picture …
When it was demolished it was decided that a new staircase building should be constructed in the same style as the old Victorian one that had been lost in wartime bombing (and that it should include a lift).
It was completed in 2014 and here it is, looking white and pristine in my picture …
Not only that, the north west step building (also on the left) is itself relatively new, being completed in 2001. All this was, I am embarrassed to say, news to me, although the buildings’ colour and cleanliness should have been a clue.
All four pavilions around the viaduct are named after important Londoners from the past.
Sir William Walworth was a 14th century Lord Mayor. He now poses authoritatively, sword in scabbard, on the north west corner …
On June 15th 1381 he was accompanying King Richard II when they debated in Spitalfields with the leader of the Peasants’ Revolt, Wat Tyler. For reasons that are not entirely clear, Walworth ran Tyler through with his sword. Badly wounded, Tyler was carried into nearby St Bartholomew’s Hospital but, rather unsportingly, Walworth had him dragged out and decapitated. Poll Tax protesters were dealt with very ruthlessly in those days!
On the south west corner …
FitzEylwin was the first Mayor of London and probably held office until his death. His hands rest on a battleaxe and he is wearing a surcoat over his chain mail.
There is a City legend portrayed on the south east corner…
Sir Thomas Gresham, founder of the Royal Exchange, is dressed in 16th century costume and holds a parchment.
Finally, on the fourth corner, is this gentleman …
Sir Hugh Myddleton, a goldsmith and entrepreneur, established the New River Company which constructed the New River bringing much needed fresh water from Hertfordshire to London. This remained the most important source of piped water in London for 300 years and Robert Stephenson considered him ‘the first English Engineer’. He is holding the River plans in his hand and I think his right foot is resting on a water conduit pipe.
This is the view of the Viaduct today, giving some idea as to how deep the valley was …
Paint analysts reckon it has been repainted at least fourteen times. Look at this fascinating cross section of old paint layers …
Cross section of paint from one of the lamp standards.
The Viaduct proved much more interesting than I expected, so I shall be continuing its story next week.
Doing photography for my blog isn’t an essential journey, so I hope you won’t mind if I republish an earlier edition, the one reporting on my visit to the Charterhouse. The buildings are in Charterhouse Square (EC1M 6AN) just opposite Florin Court, the flats used as ‘Whitehaven Mansions’ in the Poirot TV series.
A Carthusian monastery had existed on this site since 1371, but catastrophe came in 1535 when the monks were asked to sign an oath acknowledging the King – Henry VIII – as the supreme head of the Church of England. Many refused, and on 4th May that year the Prior, John Houghton, a monk and a lay brother, were hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn. Houghton’s right arm was chopped off and hung over the Charterhouse entrance gate – a symbol of what happened to those refusing to acknowledge the King’s authority.
One of the many fascinating things to see on a modern-day tour is this engraving …
Probably by Nicolas Beatrizet (1540-1560)
The print was produced in Rome about 20 years later. Five of the scenes show the monks imprisoned, dragged through the streets and then being executed. The final scene shows two Carthusian monks being executed in York.
The gatehouse in the 1930s
Charterhouse has passed through many incarnations over the centuries and evidence of this abounds to this day.
We can still see the entrance to one of the two-up two-down cells the monks occupied …
Food was passed in to the cell through the portal on the left to avoid disturbing the monk’s solitude
Each monk lived as a hermit, spending their time in prayer, contemplation and scholarly work. They seldom spoke, usually only meeting together for Sunday lunch.
Sir Edward North (later Baron North) bought the ransacked property in 1545 and turned it into a mansion. To describe North (1496-1564) as a ‘survivor’ in this tumultuous period would be an understatement – somehow remaining in favour with both Queen Mary and later Queen Elizabeth I. In fact three other owners of Charterhouse (John Dudley, Thomas Howard and Philip Howard) were all executed for treason.
Thomas Howard, the Fourth Duke of Norfolk, bought the buildings in 1564. He rebuilt what is now called the Norfolk Cloister, from the ruins of the monks’ original Great Cloister …
The boys from Charterhouse school played football here, its narrow dimensions creating the need for the offside rule
It was in King James’s reign in 1611 that a former ‘Master of the Ordnance in the Northern Parts’, Thomas Sutton, said to be England’s wealthiest commoner, bought the property and established a foundation to maintain a school and almshouses. The school, for 40 boys, was the beginning of Charterhouse School. Later, John Wesley and William Makepeace Thackeray were pupils. In 1872, the school moved to Godalming, taking the young Robert Baden-Powell to complete his schooling in Surrey.
The Great Hall (1571) where the Brothers dine today
In the Hall, Sutton’s coat of arms can be seen above this magnificent Caen stone chimneypiece, the cannon and gunpowder barrels at the sides referencing his connection with The Ordnance …
The arms include the head of a hunting dog, a Talbot, now extinct. It’s a motif that can be found throughout the building …
A carved Talbot dog on the stairs along with the arms of the fourth Duke of Norfolk
In Wash House Court, Tudor bricks meet Monastery stone …
Above the entrance to the passageway to the Court, a tiny monk has found a quiet place to study his Bible …
The buildings were severely damaged by incendiary bombs during the Second World War …
The medieval door to the Chapel damaged in the Blitz
The Chapel contains Thomas Sutton’s spectacular monument …
A relief panel shows the Poor Brothers in their gowns and a body of pious men and boys (perhaps scholars) listening to a sermon …
I love the figure, Vanitas, blowing bubbles and representing the ephemeral quality of worldly pleasure. The figure with the scythe is Time …
The man himself …
His body rests in a vault beneath the monument
By way of contrast we can also see, in a darkened room lit by candles, this poor soul. Uncovered during the Crossrail tunneling, archeologists found it belonged to a man in the prime of his life, in his mid-twenties, when he was struck down by the Black Death. It’s believed he died at some point between 1348 and 1349, at the height of the pandemic …
Thomas Sutton’s will provided for up to 80 residents (called Brothers): ‘either decrepit or old captaynes either at sea or at land, maimed or disabled soldiers, merchants fallen on hard times, those ruined by shipwreck or other calamity’.
A community of some 40 Brothers (as of 2016, women are not excluded by this term) still live in the Charterhouse today.
This blog only covers a tiny example of what you will discover at the Charterhouse. I highly recommend the tours that are conducted every day except Monday. Some are led by one of the resident Brothers and are given from the perspective of each individual Brother, therefore no two tours are the same. Click here for details.
I have been looking again at some of the animals I have come across in previous City walks and I thought it might be fun to publish them again since, at the moment, walking around taking photographs doesn’t comply with the ‘stay at home’ recommendation.
When Barbican Station reopens you might like to pop in and pay your respects to the memory of Pebbles, the award-winning Station cat.
High up on a tiled pillar opposite the old ticket office is this poignant memorial …
For many years Pebbles was a favourite of staff and passengers, often sleeping soundly on top of the exit barriers despite the rush hour pandemonium going on around him. Here is a picture from the wonderfully named Purr’n’Fur website, a great source for moggie-related stories …
Clearly he was greatly missed when he died, as the plaque faithfully records, on 26th May 1997. This was doubly sad because he was due to be given a Lifetime Achievement Award. This was sponsored by Spillers Pet Foods and named after Arthur, a cat they used in their advertising who, I seem to remember, ate with his paws. The Certificate that came with the award is also displayed (the co-winner, the aptly named Barbie, was Pebbles’ companion) …
Pebbles’ posthumous award.
Another famous cat, Hodge, is remembered by this attractive bronze by John Bickley which was unveiled by the Lord Mayor, no less, in 1997. Hodge belonged to Dr Johnson and sits atop a copy his famous dictionary and alongside a pair of empty oyster shells. Oysters were very affordable then and Johnson would buy them for Hodge himself. James Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, explained why:
I never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature
People occasionally put coins in the shell for luck and every now and then Hodge is given a smart bow tie of pink lawyers’ ribbon.
You can find him in Gough Square opposite Dr Johnson’s house (EC4A 3DE). ‘A very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed’,saidhis owner.
And from famous cats to mysterious mice. Nibbling a piece of cheese, they add charm to a building in Philpot Lane off Eastcheap and have been described (rather appropriately, I think) as London’s smallest sculpture. Even though they have been repainted they are still a bit hard to find – so I am not saying precisely where they are, and hopefully (one day!) you will enjoy looking for them. One theory is that the builders in 1862 were pestered by mice who persistently ransacked their lunch packs, so they left this little informal tribute. Another is that they commemorate a man who died during the construction of the nearby Monument to the Great Fire. Mice had eaten his lunch, but he accused a fellow worker by mistake, and fell to his death in the fight that followed. As to the true story behind the little rodents, your guess is as good as mine …
In Paternoster Square is a 1975 bronze sculpture by Elisabeth Frink which I particularly like – a ‘naked’ shepherd with a crook in his left hand walks behind a small flock of five sheep …
Dame Elisabeth was, anecdotally, very fond of putting large testicles on her sculptures of both men and animals. In fact, her Catalogue Raisonné informs us that she ‘drew testicles on man and beast better than anyone’ and saw them with ‘a fresh, matter-of-fact delight’. It was reported in 1975, however, that the nude figure had been emasculated ‘to avoid any embarrassment in an ecclesiastical setting’. The sculpture is called Paternoster.
As you approach the Bank junction from Cheapside look up and you will see two young boys at either end of the grand building that was once the City headquarters of Midland Bank (1935). The are both struggling with a rather angry looking Goose …
The sculptor was William Reid Dick.
Why a goose? A clue is the ancient name of the street and the goose was a suggestion by the architect Sir Edwin Lutyens to commemorate its original market function. The building is now a private club and restaurant, called The Ned in Sir Edwin’s honour.
The name of the street is a clue.
This little Scottish terrier is called Chippy. He rests now in All Hallows by the Tower at the feet of his master 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.
Clayton owned a succession of Scottish Terriers and they were all called Chippy.
A wise owl gazes at the commuters as they trek over London Bridge from his perch opposite the north entrance to the bridge …
The building used to be the offices of the Guardian Royal Exchange Insurance Company.
A wily fox decorates the door of the old Fox’s umbrella shop on London Wall …
This dolphin looks decidedly uncomfortable balanced on the facade of The Ship pub in Hart Street (built 1887) …
He needn’t look so worried – both he and the pub are Grade II listed.
Another dolphin serves a more solemn purpose on Tower Green…
More than 50,700 Commonwealth merchant seamen lost their lives in the two World Wars and the Mercantile Marine Memorial commemorates the almost 36,000 of them who have no known grave. The boy riding the dolphin, accompanied by fishes and seahorses, is one of seven sculptures representing the seven seas by Sir Charles Wheeler. The sculpture is surrounded by plaques showing the names of the dead arranged alphabetically under their ship’s name and the name of the Master or Skipper.
And finally, outside Spitalfields Market, is the wonderfully entitled I Goat. In the background is Hawksmoor’s Christ Church …
It was hand sculpted by Kenny Hunter and won the Spitalfields Sculpture Prize in 2010.
The sculptor commented …
Goats are associated with non-conformity and being independently-minded. That is also true of London, its people and never more so than in Spitalfields.
I hope you enjoyed the safari even though the animals have featured in blogs before.
Created between the 15th century and the more recent past, I have found a selection for us to admire and, in many cases, still walk through like thousands before us.
The oldest door I have discovered is the medieval chapel door in The Charterhouse. It was damaged by fire when the building was bombed during the Blitz (EC1M 6AN) …
When you visit St Vedast-alias-Foster in Foster Lane you enter through early 17th century oak doors that have remarkably survived both the Great Fire of 1666 and the Blitz (EC2V 6HH) …
The cherubim carved on the keystone above the door are by one of Sir Christopher Wren’s favourite stonemasons, Edward Strong, and date from the 1690s. In total Strong was paid £3106:14:7 for his work on the church – he charged £5 for the cherubs.
On the south side of St Paul’s Cathedral is the Dean’s Door …
The carver was stonemason and architect Christopher Kempster (1627-1715), another of Wren’s favourite craftsmen. His work on the cherub’s heads and foliage was considered so good Wren awarded him an extra £20 for ‘the extraordinary diligence and care used in the said carving and his good performance of the same’. When Kempster died at the age of 88 his son carved a cherub’s head for his memorial.
Incidentally, £1 then was worth about £120 now.
The Cathedral’s main entrance, the 30 foot high Great West Door, is only opened on special occasions …
Look closely and you will see it is surrounded by 18th century graffiti, some in elegant cursive script …
The facade St Martin’s House at 1 Gresham Street is a delight (EC4V 7BX) …
Dating from 1891 it incorporates a wonderfully happy, smiling Mr Sun …
What also makes it charming is the rogue apostrophe ….
Surely it should read St Martin’s House?
What about this trio above what was once the entrance to the City Headquarters of the Royal Insurance Company at 24-28 Lombard Street (EC3V 9AJ) …
The historian Philip Ward-Jackson writes as follows:
‘The winged chimera at the centre of the group has the head of a woman and the legs of a lion. The two personifications are fine looking women, naked to the waist. The Sea holds a caduceus, and therefore also symbolises marine commerce … The attributes of Fire are a torch and bunches of faggots.
This quite sinister allegorical group must have been intended to intensify the fears of potential customers.’
The church of St Stephen Walbrook was constructed between 1672 and 1679 and is another Wren building (EC4N 8BN). The doors look original to me but I haven’t yet found out for sure …
The building is where Dr Chad Varah founded the Samaritans and you can read more about that and the church itself here.
This impressive entrance is just around the corner from St Stephens. Push the doorbell and you never know, the Lord Mayor might answer the door …
The virus shut down has meant that these magnificent doors at 2 Moorgate can now be seen easily during the week rather than just at the weekend (EC2R 6AG). Each door weighs a ton …
Suitably opulent for a private bank, they were designed by John Poole and date from 1975 when the building was opened by Edward Heath (who used to work for the company). Poole had a free hand with the design and said he intended to represent, in the circular forms, the firm’s centres of business. The linear patterns suggest communications between these centres along with ‘the interaction of spheres of influence’.
In 1888 the Institute of Chartered Accountants decided to treat themselves to a permanent headquarters and work was completed in 1893. Described by Sir Nikolaus Pevsner as ’eminently original and delightfully picturesque’, it is ‘a fine example of Victorian neo-Baroque which draws its inspiration from the work of the Italian Renaissance’. This is the formidable and imposing entrance at One Moorgate Place (EC2R 6EA) …
The architect was John Belcher RA.
The large cartouche above the massive bronze doors depicts the Institute’s coat of arms and is held up by two classical male figures.
In the Museum of London you will find a door that must have struck terror into the hearts of the poor souls who were led through it …
Photograph : Museum of London.
It comes from the now demolished Newgate Prison, dates from 1783, and was the one through which criminals were taken to their place of execution. In fact they walked through three doors of which this was the inner one – there was also an iron-cased half door and an outer one of solid iron. The final person to pass through it to his execution by hanging was the Fenian Michael Barrett on 27 May 1868 – the last public execution to take place in England.
Two doors that are a bit tucked away when open are here at 6 Holborn Viaduct (EC1A 2AE) …
They have certainly suffered some brutal treatment over the years and look very unloved, but the lions heads have survived …
And finally, to finish on a more lighthearted note, just off Whitecross Street is this doorway which makes me smile every time I see it. The story I have conjured up in my mind is that, some time in the early 1970s, the people living there found that visitors knocked on the door rather than ringing the bell. When asked why, callers usually said that they didn’t know there was a bell. As a consequence, the residents (who obviously had artistic talents) got out their paint brushes and added this helpful sign to indicate where the push button bell was. Brilliant!
Firstly, I hope you are all keeping well and safe in these troubled times, and that maybe my little blog occasionally offers a welcome distraction.
The diminished traffic flow in the City, combined with the recent really sunny days, meant that I could more easily incorporate some photography with the walks I take for exercise. I was able to pause for some time to take detailed images of this spectacular building on Moorgate …
I think it’s crowning glory is its stained glass window, back-lit from within so its detail can be seen clearly from outside the building. Unfortunately the building was closed and in darkness when I visited so I have copied an image from the splendid London Inheritance website and blog.
Originally the London headquarters of the Eastern Telegraph Company, the current neo-classical building was built by Belcher & Joass between 1900 and 1903. At first it was called Electra House (named after the goddess of electricity) and the centre section shows her perched on top of the world. A glowing orb behind her head sends out rays across the seas, presumably representing the information the company’s cables help spread around the world. To the bottom left of the centre section is a sailing ship under full sail and bottom right is a lighthouse. Between the ship and lighthouse is a rough looking sea. The side panels show clouds and more rough sea and stars are scattered over the three parts …
The architect John Belcher was a prominent member the Catholic Apostolic Church and it is thought that this influenced the ornamentation of buildings he designed. The Moorgate stained glass window embodies the theme of communications but also symbolism from the Book of Revelations. You can read more about Belcher here.
To the left of the arch is a seated girl accompanied by a young winged genius …
Sculptor: George Frampton
She is transmitting a message.
The figure on the right is receiving a message (could be an iPad!) …
And above the arch …
… a winged Mercury, the god of Commerce, carries a caduceus.
Higher up is a beautiful frieze of four female figures …
Sculptor: William Goscombe John
They represent from left to right Egypt, Japan, India and China. Egypt carries a water jar on her shoulder, Japan is in a kimono and carries a fan, India lifts the veil from her face, and China carries a samisen (a three stringed lute).
At the very top of the building four naked boys support an armillary sphere which is itself encircled by a broad band displaying zodiacal signs …
Here it is in close up …
Some small figures decorate the tops of the pillars. Here are a few of them.
The horned god Pan playing his flute …
A blindfolded Lady Justice holding scales and sword …
I have no idea as to what this one represents …
I hope you found this interesting. I have not covered all the building’s decorations in this blog and there are more inside which maybe I will get access to at some future date.
To end on a more lighthearted note, have you noticed that the pigeons seem to have deserted the City? No humans, no food, I suppose. However, I did spot this lonely chap self-isolating on the old Roman/Medieval City wall …
That’s how this statue of Prince Albert at Holborn Circus was described by one observer …
The words on the plinth are ‘Prince Albert Consort Born 1819 Died 1861’
Here he is again from a different angle …
He is shown astride a high-stepping horse, in the uniform of a Field Marshal, and raising his plumed hat in acknowledgment of a salute. He isn’t, therefore, waving at imaginary crowds, and so the epithet of ‘politeness’ is sadly misplaced.
The way the Prince and his horse faced was the subject of some debate but finally decided when the sculptor, Charles Bacon, wrote the following to the architect William Heywood on 9 May 1873 …
I most decidedly think the horse’s head ought to look into the City … as a matter of etiquette he ought not to turn his back on those who erected the statue and … most important of all, the sun would be on the face most of the day.
This arrangement was, of course, less satisfactory when viewed from Holborn!
Not everyone liked it. Common Councilman L.H. Elliott said the statue …
… was not suggestive of a man of military genius; but at best it only represents a captain of a cavalry regiment saluting some ladies in a balcony.
At the west end of the plinth is a seated allegory of Peace wearing a laurel crown …
In her left hand she holds a (rather droopy) palm and her right supports a cornucopia.
At the east end there is a seated allegory of History, her curly hair falling generously down her back and her right breast exposed …
Her left leg rests on three books and in her left hand she holds a guide to the 1851 Great Exhibition which Albert played a major role in organising. The quill in her right hand is new, the original having been stolen some time since the unveiling in 1874.
The relief on the north side shows him standing with a ceremonial mallet beside the foundation stone of the Royal Exchange. Two workmen are preparing the pulley …
Entitled ‘The Prince laying the first stone of the Royal exchange Jan 17 1842’
He is surrounded by a crowd of dignitaries including, directly behind him, the Lord Mayor. One of the persons in attendance holds the ceremonial trowel in readiness.
The relief on the south side shows Britannia enthroned, a lion reclining at her feet …
Entitled ‘ Exhibition of all nations 1851. Britannia distributing awards’
She holds out laurel crowns to representatives of the exhibiting nations who are all dressed in their national costumes.
Here is a close up of the Prince taken from the north …
Still a very handsome chap despite the bald patch.The statue was sited to show off his profile ‘from the new street leading to the market’.
Just like History’s quill, a thief had made off with his original sword some time in the past, so this is a replacement. The sculptor paid incredibly close attention to detail and the restorers in 2014, Rupert Harris Restoration Limited, did a superb job. You can watch a fascinating video about the restoration here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVgMoZW3Gdg
There is a mystery concerning the statue – to this day we don’t know who paid for it.
A sculpture of Albert had been discussed for some time and in 1868 Charles Oppenheim (the founder of the De Beers diamond company) came forward offering to meet the cost. Apparently, however, his probity was questioned by some and, perhaps as a result of this, he subsequently formally withdrew the offer.
After the monument was erected The Times, quoting the City Press, reported …
The donor is a very benevolent gentleman of considerable wealth, who is desirous that his name should not be announced, and it is, we believe, known only to Her Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, to Alderman Sir J.C. Lawrence … and to Mr Bacon.
As is often the case, I am grateful to Dr Philip Ward-Jackson and his splendid book Public Sculpture of the City of London for being the source of much of the content of this week’s edition.
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