Walking the City of London

Category: Architecture Page 1 of 11

Famous monarchs with City connections.

What better place and person to start with than the Tower of London and William I (a.k.a ‘The Conqueror’ and ‘The Bastard’).

As everyone knows, he invaded England and defeated King Harold at the battle of Hastings in 1066. His reign is primarily remembered for the compilation of the Domesday Book in 1086 and for the building of many castles.

The castle which later became known as the Tower of London was begun in 1066 and was originally a timber fortification enclosed by a palisade. In the next decade work began on the White Tower, the great stone keep that still dominates the castle today …

William was keen to keep the City of London placated and not to disrupt commerce. In order to do this, after his coronation but before he entered the City, he issued the William Charter.

Written on vellum (parchment) in Old English, it measures just six inches by one-and-a-half inches …

Translated into modern English, the Charter reads as follows:

‘William the king, friendly salutes William the bishop and Godfrey the portreeve and all the burgesses within London both French and English. And I declare that I grant you to be all law-worthy, as you were in the days of King Edward; And I grant that every child shall be his father’s heir, after his father’s days; And I will not suffer any person to do you wrong; God keep you.’

City of London historians point out that one of the citizens’ primary concerns, as expressed by the words – “And I grant that every child shall be his father’s heir, after his father’s days” – was to ensure that their property handed down to the son and heir, rather than attracting the interest of the Crown.

Here he is as depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry …

There are two main accounts of his death in 1087. While some vaguely state that he became ill on the battlefield, collapsing through heat and the effort of fighting, William of Malmesbury added the gruesome detail that William’s belly protruded so much that he was mortally wounded when he was thrown onto the pommel of his saddle. Since the wooden pommels of medieval saddles were high and hard, and often reinforced with metal, William of Malmesbury’s suggestion is a plausible one. There’s a witty article about William’s demise here in the journal Historic UK.

William was followed as king by his third son, also called William but commonly called Rufus because of his ruddy complexion and red hair. The gossipy William of Malmsbury hinted that the King was homosexual since he surrounded himself with young men who ‘rival young women in delicacy’. Here he is as illustrated in the miniature from Historia Anglorum, c. 1253 …

Whilst hunting in the New Forest on 2 August 1100 he was accidentally killed by an arrow from one of his own men …

A relic of Rufus’s time is the crypt of St Mary-le-Bow which I wrote about a few weeks ago. I wonder if any of Rufus’s ‘delicate’ young men ever walked down these beautifully worn steps …

You will find some very interesting history and more images in the crypt Conservation and Management Plan of 2007.

William II was followed on the throne by his youngest brother, Henry. He was crowned three days after his brother’s death (3rd August 1100) against the possibility that his eldest brother Robert might claim the English throne on his imminent return from the Crusade. His life was blighted in 1120 when the ‘White Ship’ bearing both his sons sank in the channel. This is a 13th century depiction of the tragic event …

Subsequently he made his barons swear to accept his daughter, Matilda, as his heir. Henry died on 2nd December 1135 from ‘a surfeit of lampreys’ – probably food poisoning.

For a sense of Henry’s time, make a visit to the church of St Bartholomew the Great.

St Bartholomew’s was established by Rahere, a courtier and favourite of the king. It is thought that it was the death of the Henry’s wife, Matilda, followed two years later by the White Ship drownings, that prompted Rahere to renounce his profession for a more worthy life and make his pilgrimage to Rome.

In Rome, like many pilgrims, he fell ill. As he lay delirious he prayed for his life vowing that, if he survived, he would set up a hospital for the poor in London. His prayers were answered and he recovered. As he turned for home the vision of Saint Bartholomew appeared to him and said “I am Bartholomew who have come to help thee in thy straights. I have chosen a spot in a suburb of London at Smoothfield where, in my name, thou shalt found a church.”

True to his word Rahere set up both a church, a priory of Augustinian canons, and the hospital. He lived to see their completion – indeed he served as both prior of the priory and master of the hospital – and it is possible that he was nursed at Barts before his death in 1145. His tomb lies in the church.

He wears the habit of an Augustinian canon and the angel carries a shield with the arms of the priory.

You get a nice view of the flint and Portland Stone western facade of the church from the raised churchyard. An old barrel tomb rests in the foreground …

Bear in mind that the original church was vast and also covered the area now occupied by the graveyard and the path. This used to be the nave, as illustrated in this plan on display in the church …

Stepping into the church seems to transport you to another time and place …

The patchworked exterior gives no hint of the stunning Romanesque interior, with its characteristic round arches and sturdy pillars. It’s a rare sight in London; indeed, this is reckoned to be the best preserved and finest Romanesque church interior in the City. I visited it back in 2020 and you can read the blog here.

Nearby is this impressive statue of Henry VIII over the main entrance to St Bartholomew’s hospital, the only outdoor statue of the king in London. If you have seen and admired the famous Holbein portrait, the king’s pose here is very familiar. He stands firmly and sternly with his legs apart, one hand on his dagger, the other holding a sceptre. He also sports an impressive codpiece …

Bart’s, as it became known affectionately, was put seriously at risk in 1534, when Henry VIII commenced the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The nearby priory of St Bartholomew was suppressed in 1539 and the hospital would have followed had not the City fathers petitioned the king and asked for it to be granted back to the City. Their motives were not entirely altruistic. The hospital, they said, was needed to help:

the myserable people lyeing in the streete, offendyng every clene person passyng by the way with theyre fylthye and nastye savors.

Henry finally agreed in December 1546 on condition that the refounded hospital was renamed ‘House of the poore on West Smithfield in the suburbs of the City of London, of King Henry’s foundation’. I suspect people still tended to call it Bart’s.

You can see the agreement document, along with Henry’s signature, in the hospital museum

It also bears Henry’s seal, the king charging into battle on horseback accompanied by a dog …

The King finally got full public recognition when the gatehouse was rebuilt in 1702 and his statue was placed where we still see it today. The work was undertaken and overseen by the mason John Strong, who was at the same time working for Sir Christopher Wren on St Paul’s Cathedral. Such were the masons’ talents, no architectural plans were needed to complete the work.

And finally, poor Queen Anne, whose statue stands outside St Paul’s Cathedral.

Wearing a golden crown, she has the Order of St George around her neck, a sceptre in her right hand and the orb in her left.

She was close to the architect, the brilliant Christopher Wren, who wrote to her to ask her to help when his salary was being witheld and his work obstructed …

The letter is held in the National Archives SP34/29 f 133.

It’s difficult not to feel sorry for Anne. Her personal life was marked by the tragedy of losing 18 children (including twins) through miscarriage, stillbirth and early death. Two of her daughters, Mary and Anne Sophia, died within days of each other, both aged under two years, of smallpox in 1687.

Anne was 37 years old when she became queen in 1702. At her coronation she was suffering from a bad attack of gout and had to be carried to the ceremony in an open sedan chair with a low back so that her six-yard train could pass to her ladies walking behind. Her medical conditions made her life very sedentary and she gradually put on a lot of weight. She died after suffering a stroke on Sunday 1st August 1714 at the age of 49. You can read much more about her in my blog Queen Anne – tales of tragedy, love and vandalism.

For a glimpse of the architecture of her time there are no finer City examples than 1 and 2 Laurence Pountney Hill …

They were built in 1703 as a pair of red brick, four-storey houses, on the site of a single post-fire house. They are considered to be finest surviving houses of this period in the City with elaborately carved foliage friezes around the doors and cornice above and ornate shell-hoods over the doorways.  The virtuosity of the woodwork is explained by the fact that the houses were built by a master carpenter, Thomas Denning. He had worked on Wren’s church of St Michael Paternoster Royal nearby and would later contribute to Hawksmoor’s St Mary Woolnoth. Like other ambitious craftsmen, Denning branched out into the cut throat world of speculative building. At Laurence Pountney Hill he appealed to the market by ingeniously contriving two basements beneath the houses. This created an abundance of storage space that would be attractive to the London merchants, whose houses doubled as business premises. Denning’s speculation paid off; on 15 July 1704 he sold both houses to Mr John Harris for £3,190, a tidy sum.

The delightful doorway hoods. Look closely – the cherubs on the right are playing bowls!

Here is a close-up (you may have to concentrate – they are not always obvious) …

The date is still visible despite years of over-painting …

The buildings in 1905 with the door to number 1 open revealing the lovely original curved staircase …

There are other fine architectural examples of the period in the very appropriately named Queen Anne’s Gate in Westminster …

The lady herself has a statue there …

When I worked nearby I was told that, at midnight on her birthday, she would step off her plinth and promenade along the street inspecting the houses. The statue has an interesting history which you can read about here.

There is also a fascinating description of the street’s cannopies and carvings in the excellent London Inheritance blog.

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Why WFH when you can WFC?

WFC? Working From Church, of course!

Forever trying to move with the times, some of the City churches have adapted brilliantly to take advantage of new technology which allows people to work virtually anywhere. This has also enabled me to indulge two of my main passions – churches and their history and cake.

St Nicholas Cole Abbey was the first church to be rebuilt by Wren after the Great Fire (1672-78). You can see one of its most interesting features before you actually go in the door. The beautiful galleon weathevane came from St Michael Queenhithe, another Wren church, demolished in 1876 under the Union of Benefices Act 1860 …

The view from the south side of Queen Victoria Street …

The interior is spacious and light …

My orange and cranberry cake was delicious and tasted home-made. The tea was good too (£6.70 in total – well, it is the City!) …

A striking ‘wall’ of innovative, modern glass depicts Christ’s Kingdom Spreading throughout the World (1962). Abstract elements connect all three windows with details of landscapes from across the globe at their base. Igloos, tepees and skyscrapers for the Americas, towers and domes for Europe, and minarets and domes for Africa and Asia …

The maker was Keith New (1926-2012), a pioneering British modernist stained glass artist. His career was launched by the 1952 Royal College of Art commission to design the windows for Coventry Cathedral.

On the way to the loo you encounter some old grave markers that have been re-sited on the floor ..

Somerset Place was a very posh address in the 18oos – no wonder Mrs Stewart wanted it on her gravestone.

Onward to St Mary Aldermary and its witty advertising board …

It was 12:15 when I got there and there was already a formidable queue for the food stall in the churchyard …

Before you head into the church, look down at what I believe is the most accurate grave marker in the City …

There is a well preserved coat of arms which includes four beavers suggesting involvement in the fur trade which was flourishing at the time. It’s a tribute to the quality of the stone and the carving that (even assuming it wasn’t laid until Henry died) it has survived so well after 200 years of footfall.

Under the coat of arms the inscription reads as follows …

Mrs Anna Catharina Schneider. Died 15th of June 1798 at half past Six O’clock in the Evening. Aged 57 Years, 3 months and 9 Days

I have written more about this memorial and others in my ‘favourite tombs’ blog from February 2021.

Having looked down outside the door, look up on entering and admire the fabulous intricate fan-vaulted ceiling that I wrote about in last week’s blog

The cafe food selection …

There’s plenty of room to sit in the church …

St Mary-le-Bow is just 100 yards or so to the north. This is the view from Cheapside …

You can see the dragon weathervane very well on a sunny day like this …

The cafe in the crypt …

The menu is very comprehensive and you can view it here.

As I walked down the steps to the cafe I was struck by the incredibly worn nature of the stone – this could well have been the crypt entrance long before the 1666 Great Fire and Wren’s rebuilding of the church …

The church was totally gutted during the Blitz but it’s very much worth a visit to see the beautiful post-war stained glass. For example, to the north (left) of the sanctuary is depicted the Patron of the parish, the Blessed Virgin Mary, holding (and thus symbolising her care for us) the church built by Wren. She is clothed in blue (the traditional colour for Our Lady) and her feet appear to be resting on the arches of the crypt. Surrounding Our Lady’s image are seventeen Wren churches which survived the Second World War, each held by the patron saint of the parish …

You’ll find her and other fabulous examples of City church stained glass in my blog dedicated to the subject.

Alongside the church is another set of steps …

This is a place for silent prayer and contemplation …

I was fascinated by some of the gravestones …

And the fine collection of heraldic symbols …

And last, but by no means least, St Mary Woolnoth, designed by Christopher Wren’s esteemed protégé Nicholas Hawksmoor (1661 – 1736) …

The food service area is tucked away just inside the door …

Do visit the interior where you can admire the memorial to John Newton, the reformed slave trader who wrote the hymn Amazing Grace …

The stunning, bulging pulpit dates from Hawksmoor’s time and Newton delivered his sermons from it. It was made by Thomas Darby and Gervaise Smith …

Don’t miss the 1810 ‘price list’ hanging on the west wall …

You can eat outside and watch the world go by. The air is a lot cleaner now that Bank Junction is closed to most traffic …

I have written about St Mary Woolnoth before and you can find my blog here.

Now, an important message: It has been proven time and time again that music, particularly live music, can have immense beneficial psychological effects. This is especially true for folk who may be feeling isolated or are experienceing dementia. And it’s not just the elderly who can benefit, but also young people who may be spending much of their life receiving care in hospital. There is a lovely charity, the Spitz Charitable Trust, who have delivered this life enhancing service for over ten years and, because I love what they do, I am for the first time promoting a charity in my blog. All charities are having tough times at the moment so do, please, see if you can make a contribution, however modest, to help them in their work. Click here for their crowdfunding page and to find out more about them.

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St Mary Aldermary – the most spectacular of the ‘Marys’.

In 1500 there were 15 churches in the City of London dedicated to a St Mary. It was by far the most popular dedication with the next most popular being All Hallows (8 churches) and St Michael (7 churches). This, of course, was helped by the fact that there are two St Marys – Mary the Virgin, the mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene one of Jesus’s followers who was present at the crucifixion. But even if we count only the churches dedicated to the Virgin Mary, it is still the most popular dedication with a total of 13.

I’ve already written in some detail about the six Marys still in existence but for some reason I rather neglected paying serious attention to St Mary Aldermary – an omission I intend to put right in this week’s blog. Incidentally, the name ‘Aldermary’ possibly derives from ‘Older Mary’ meaning the oldest church in the City dedicated to her.

As every guide to the church will tell you – when you enter just look up!

The nave …

The south side aisle …

The north side aisle …

The fabulous plaster fan-vaulted ceiling is more reminiscent of a cathedral and St Mary’s is the only parish church in England known to have one.

It is unclear why Wren chose to rebuild the church (1679-82) in an uncharacteristically Gothic style. Funding came from a personal estate, so it may have been the desire of the executors, or possibly the will of parishoners. Whatever the cause, the fortunate result is arguably the most important late 17th century Gothic church in England.

A quirky feature of the church is the angle of the east wall which followed the line of a pre-1678 passage …

One of the the east windows by Lawrence Lee (1955) is ‘a fusion of sacred and secular with St Thomas, St John the Baptist and Madonna and Child above and panels depicting important episodes from the dramatic history of the church below. The gothic church tower powerfully depicted appears engulfed in the flames of the Great Fire of London of 1666’ …

In close up, Sir Christopher Wren kneels to present his plans for the new church …

The west window by John Crawford commemorates the defence of London against air attack in the 1939-45 War. It depicts the Risen Christ in Glory with the Hand of God the Father and the Holy Spirit in the form of a Dove. Above are the Instruments of the Passion, while below are the emblems of the four Evangelists. The lower lights show St Michael overcoming the Dragon, representing the force of good vanquishing evil, with St Peter (left) and St Paul (right). At the base is a panorama of London and at the top the arms of the various Services involved …

A blocked off window above the north door, dating from 1876, depicts the Transfiguration …

The pulpit is thought to have been carved in 1682 by Grinling Gibbons

The organ was built by George England in 1791 …

This beautiful, rare wooden sword rest dates from 1682 …

You can read more about the fascinating history of sword rests here.

The font was a gift from a wealthy parishoner called Dutton Seaman in 1627. One commentator describes it as having been ‘designed with jacobean gusto’ …

There is a plaque to James Braidwood, who was married in the church in 1838. He was the first Superintendent of the London Fire Engine Establishment and formed the world’s first municipal fire brigade in Edinburgh. He died tragically whilst fighting the terrible Tooley Street Fire of 1861. You can read all about him and the fire in which he perished in my Tooley Street Fire blog

René Baudouin was a Huguenot refugee from Tours in France. He established himself in Lombard Street, London, with a silk merchant Etienne Seignoret. The pair were successful but they were fined for continuing to trade with France during the Anglo-French war (1689-1697) …

There is also a memorial to the brilliant surgeon Percivall Pott who I wrote about in last week’s blog.

St Mary is the regimental church of the Royal Tank Regiment – ‘Once a Tankie always a Tankie’ …

The nearby old City church of St Antholin was demolished in 1875 and the parish merged with St Mary’s. A plaque on the wall outside memorialises this union …

If you entered St Mary’s from the west, the door casing you walked through came from St Antholin …

The best view of the church is from the south side of Queen Victoria Street …

The golden finials at the top of the tower are now, I’m told, made of fibreglass!

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St Stephen Walbrook – The Samaritans, Sir Henry Moore and a brave doctor.

One day in 1936 a young priest officiated at his first funeral – a 14 year old girl who had killed herself because, when her periods started, she thought it was a sign of a sexually transmitted disease. That there seemed to have been no one she could talk to had a profound effect on him, but it was not until 18 years later that, as he put it,

I read somewhere there were three suicides a day in Greater London. What were they supposed to do if they didn’t want a Doctor or Social Worker … ? What sort of a someone might they want?

He looked at his phone, ‘DIAL 999 for Fire, Police or Ambulance’ it said …

There ought to be an emergency number for suicidal people, I thought. Then I said to God, be reasonable! Don’t look at me… I’m possibly the busiest person in the Church of England.

When the priest, Chad Varah, was offered charge of the parish of St Stephen in the summer of 1953 he knew that the time was right for him to launch what he called a ‘999 for the suicidal’. He was, in his own words, ‘a man willing to listen, with a base and an emergency telephone’. The first call to the new service was made on 2nd November 1953 and this date is recognised as Samaritans’ official birthday.

The Reverend Dr Chad Varah at his telephone – you just had to dial MAN 9000.

It soon became obvious that the volunteers, who used to keep people company whilst they were waiting to speak to Chad, were also capable of helping in their own right and in February 1954 he officially handed over the task of supporting the callers to them.

If you visit the church you can see the phone itself …

St Stephen Walbrook (rebuilt 1672-80) was one of Wren’s largest and earliest churches and the meticulous care taken with it might, some suggest, be because Sir Christopher lived next door. Incidentally, Mr Pollixifen, who lived on the other side, bitterly complained about the building taking his light. Maybe he was mollified when the the church’s internal beauty was revealed.

Views towards St Stephen’s have opened up since completion of the new development on Walbrook, which also houses a meticulously restored Temple of Mithras (see my 25th January 2018 blog: The Romans in London – Mithras, Walbrook and the Games).

Looking at the exterior one can see the lovely green Byzantine style dome …

The interior is bright, intimate and stunning, old Victorian stained glass having been removed …

Wren’s dome and Sir Henry Moore’s altar

The dome was the first of its kind in any English church and a forerunner of Wren’s work on St Paul’s Cathedral. After being damaged in the Blitz the church was restored by Godfrey Allen in 1951-52. Controversy broke out when, between 1978 and 1987, the church was re-ordered under the sponsorship of churchwarden Peter (later Lord) Palumbo and a striking ten tonne altar by Sir Henry Moore was placed at its centre.

Sometimes I look at church memorial plaques and, if they are entirely in Latin, just rather lazily move on. In this case it was a big mistake since I was ignoring a tribute to a very brave man …

Dr Nathaniel Hodges’ memorial on the north wall. Photograph: Bob Speel.

The Great Plague of 1665-1666 was the worst outbreak in England for over 300 years and London probably lost getting on for 20% of its population. While 68,596 deaths were recorded in the city, the true number was most likely to be over 100,000. Those who could, usually the professionals and the wealthy, fled the city and this included four-fifths of the College of Physicians. Charles II and his courtiers left in July for Hampton Court and then Oxford where Parliament also relocated in October,

Nathaniel Hodges was a 36-year-old doctor practising in London when the pestilence reached the City. London was awash, he said later, with ‘Chymists’ and ‘Quacks’ dispensing, as he put it: ‘… medicines that were more fatal than the plague and added to the numbers of the dead.’

Dr Hodges decided to stay and minister to the sick and dying.

First thing every morning before breakfast he spent two or three hours with his patients. He wrote later …

Some (had) ulcers yet uncured and others … under the first symptoms of seizure all of which I endeavoured to dispatch with all possible care …

hardly any children escaped; and it was not uncommon to see an Inheritance pass successively to three or four Heirs in as many Days.

After hours of visiting victims where they lived he walked home and, after dinner, saw more patients until nine at night and sometimes later.

He survived the epidemic and wrote two learned works on the plague. The first, in 1666, he called An Account of the first Rise, Progress, Symptoms and Cure of the Plague being a Letter from Dr Hodges to a Person of Quality. The second was Loimologia, published six years later …

The above is a later edition of Dr Hodges’ work, translated from the original Latin and published when the plague had broken out in France.

It seems particularly sad to report that his life ended in personal tragedy when, in his early fifties, his practice dwindled and fell away. Finally he was arrested as a debtor, committed to Ludgate Prison, and died there, a broken man, in 1688.

Translated from the Latin, his memorial reads as follows:

Learn to number thy days, for age advances with furtive step, the shadow never truly rests. Seeking mortals, born that they might succumb, the executioner comes from behind. While you breathe you are a victim of death; you know not the hour in which your fate will call you. While you look at monuments, time passes irrevocably. In this tomb is laid the physician Nathaniel Hodges in the hope of heaven; now a son of earth, who was once a son of Oxford. May you survive the plague by his writings. Born 13 September AD 1629 Died 10 June 1688.

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Fun architecture in Eastcheap (and trying out the camera on my new phone!)

Having got myself a new iPhone I thought I would give it a trial run in Eastcheap where there is some unusual architecture to explore.

This is what you see as you approach from the west …

And if you view from the east …

I thought it would be interesting to include these images to illustrate just how the Fenchurch Building a.k.a. the Walkie Talkie dominates the skyline here. It was amusing that, when the building was finished, it was discovered that the glass concentrated and reflected the sun’s rays in such a way that it was scorching cars parked in the street below. The structure was given a new nickname – the Walkie Scorchie.

The stars of the show at street level are definitely numbers 33-35. Designed by R L Roumieu and built 1868, today the facade is grade II* listed. The ‘masterpiece’ (as described by Architectural Historian; Pevsner) was made for Hill & Evans, vinegar-makers from Worcester …

Pevsner goes on to describe it as ‘one of the maddest displays in London of gabled Gothic’ and he quotes from Ian Nairn – architectural critic – who calls it ‘the scream that you wake on at the end of a nightmare’.

I love it!

Look at the wonderfully detailed brickwork …

There’s a medieval head wearing a coronet …

… and a boar crashing through the undergrowth. What’s that all about? …

The animal is a reference to The Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap where Shakespeare set the meetings of Sir John Falstaff and Prince Hal in his Henry IV plays and the medieval head represents the Prince.

No. 25, by Bird & Walters (1892-93), was a former pub. The narrow and plainer building on the right was built in 1860 …

Another 1860 building is the eye-catching one on the corner. It was once the offices and warehouses for Messers Hunt & Crombie, spice merchants …

Just below the roof is a fabulous combo of dogs’ and boars’ heads along with lovely brickwork …

Walk around the corner to see London’s tiniest public sculpture. Thousands of people walk past it every day and have, I’m sure, no idea it is there.

Can you spot it …

It’s two mice eating a piece of cheese …

There are a number of theories as to its origin but nobody knows for sure.

Further east, on the opposite side of the road, are more Eastcheap animals, including the remains of a dead one.

Constructed between 1883 and 1885, the building at number 20 was once the headquarters of Peek Brothers & Co, dealers in tea, coffee and spices, whose trademark showed three camels bearing different shaped loads being led by a Bedouin Arab …

The firm was particularly well known for its ‘Camel’ brand of tea. When Sir Henry Peek (son of one of the original founders) commissioned this building he wanted the panel over the entrance to replicate the trademark, right down to the dried bones of the dead camel lying in the sand in the foreground.

The Peek Brothers letter heading/trademark – Copyright – British Overprint Society – Mark Matlach

He clearly wanted his prestigious building to be enhanced by a suitably eminent sculptor – preferably one with knowledge of camel anatomy.

The sculptor he picked, William Theed, was indeed an extraordinary choice for such a mundane task. Theed was a great favourite of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert and his work can be seen on the Albert Memorial where he sculpted the group Africa the central figure being, of course, a camel …

The Queen also liked and trusted him so much that she asked him to take her beloved Albert’s death mask when the Prince died tragically young in 1861.

Peeks carried on trading under various names until the 1970s. Another branch of the family ensures that the name lives on by way of the biscuit makers Peek Freans …

As is often the case, I am indebted to Katie Wignall, the Look up London blogger and Blue Badge Guide, for much of the background information on the architecture in today’s blog.

It just remains for me to wish you all a very happy and safe New Year and thank you very much for subscribing.

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St Bartholomew the Less – an arithmetical memorial and some very spectacular tights!

Poor St Bartholomew the Less has had a tough time (EC1A 9DS). Designated ‘the less’ to distinguish it from its better known namesake nearby, it has also had to be substantially rebuilt a number of times including the need to repair damage inflicted in the Blitz. Nonetheless, it is a fascinating place containing many interesting historical monuments.

To find its modest doorway you must enter the grounds of St Bartholomew’s hospital through the Henry VIII gates and look to your left. Inside a rather spooky white hand directs you up stairs to the main body of the church …

It was once a parish church in its own right, the parish boundary being the walls of the hospital. The parishioners were made up of the hospital staff and patients and at one time attendance at services was compulsory for all who were fit enough. It was the only parish of this nature in existence but since 2015, however, it has become part of the Parish of St Bartholomew the Great.

There are many features to admire but, for reasons of space, I have tried to pick some of the most interesting and will look at others in a future blog.

This stained glass commemorates the founding of he monastic complex of St Bartholomew in 1123. The person responsible was Rahere, a courtier to Henry I, who was inspired by a vision of the saint whilst recovering from a serious illness …

Rahere is shown kneeling and beneath his cassock is rather a surprise. He is wearing some very colourful tights, a reference to the fact that he’s often referred to as a minstrel or jester as well as a courtier …

High up on the south wall is the memorial to Robert Balthrope, Sergeant Surgeon to Queen Elizabeth I …

The inscription reads …

Here Robert Balthrope Lyes intombed,
to Elizabeth Our Queene
Who Sergeant of the Surgeons Sworne,
Neere Thirtye Yeeres Hathe Beene
He Died at Sixtye Nine of Yeeres,
Decembers Ninthe The Daye
The Yeere of Grace Eight Hundred Twice

Deductinge Nine A waye.
Let Here His Rotten Bones Repose
Till Angells Trompet Sounde
To Warne The Worlde of Present Chaunge
And Raise the Deade From Grounde.

He died in 1591, but the poet who devised this eulogy presumably had a problem getting 1591 to rhyme with anything. So he chose the frankly odd solution of asking the reader to do some mental arithmetic – ‘The Yeere of Grace Eight Hundred Twice’ (i.e. 800 x 2 = 1600) Deductinge Nine A waye (1600 – 9 = 1591).

The current windows in the church were designed by Hugh Easton, following the loss of the earlier windows during World War Two. Easton was an eminent stained glass maker who also designed the Battle of Britain memorial window in Westminster Abbey. The design of the nurse in the window in Westminster Abbey is strikingly similar to that in the window here …

The doctors’ memorial window …

The mid-19th century alabaster pulpit depicts Christ healing the sick …

On the east wall is the poignant memorial plaque to Arthur Jermyn Landon …

The reflections make it difficult to read so here it is in full …

His former medical contemporaries at St Bartholomew’s Hospital have set up this tablet to keep in memory the bright example of ARTHUR JERMYN LANDON Surgeon Army Medical Department who, while continuing to dress the wounded amid a shower of bullets in the action on Majuba Hill, was in turn mortally wounded. His immediate request to his assistants “I am dying do what you can for the wounded” was characteristic of his unselfish disposition. His habitual life was expressed in the simple grandeur of his death. He was born at Brentwood Essex 29th June 1851. Died two days after the action at Mount Prospect South Africa 1st March 1881.

Here he is in an image of him dated 1881 held at the Wellcome Foundation …

The elaborate memorial to John and Mary Darker (Died 1784 and 1800) …

Before you leave, look to the right of the door and you will see the tomb of Surgeon John Freke (1688-1756) …

English History Online has the following to say …

… a remarkably curious tomb of the fireplace kind, most elaborately wrought. It is the tomb of Freke, the senior surgeon of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, who wrote many works upon surgery, still to be found in its library. His bust is to be seen in the museum of the hospital, and he is represented by Hogarth, in the last plate of “The Stages of Cruelty,” presiding aloft over the dissecting-table, and pointing with a long wand to the dead “subject,” upon whom he is lecturing to the assembled students.

And here it is …

You can read more about Hogarth’s The Four Stages of Cruelty here.

Look back after leaving the church and observe the oldest parts of the building, the 15th-century tower and west end of the church …

Within the tower are three bells, the oldest being cast in 1380. The bells are hung in the original wooden frame thought to be the oldest in London.

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Holy Sepulchre Church – music, war, justice and a marriage that produced 23 children.

I have been a bit unlucky in the past when, walking towards Holborn Viaduct, I have found this church closed. Last weekend, however, my luck was in and I ventured inside. I am delighted I did.

The porch, tower and outer walls date from the mid-15th century …

The interior is a bit of a mixture of late 17th century to mid-Victorian …

The first thing that struck me was the quality of the stained glass.

A window removed for safe keeping during the War …

St Bernard with some of his followers …

I stopped to admire the glass in the Musicians’ Chapel.

This is the burial place of Sir Henry Wood, founder and conductor of the Proms for nearly 50 years, in memory of whom there is a window and a memorial plaque …

There is a window to Walter Carroll who lived from 1869 till 1955 in Manchester. He was a composer and a music teacher, especially known for his music for children, which he wrote for his two daughters Ida and Elsa …

Dame Nellie Melba, an Australian operatic lyric coloratura soprano, also has a commemorative window. She became one of the most famous singers of the late Victorian era and the early 20th century and was the first Australian to achieve international recognition as a classical musician …

For centuries, the church had a close association with the notorious Newgate Prison which stood across the road where the Old Bailey is now.

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 …

The south chapel is dedicated to the City of London Regiment of the Royal Fusiliers …

Regimental colours dating back to the 19th century are on display …

The terrible carnage of the First World War is recalled by some of the battle honours recorded here …

I am so delighted that I looked up and noticed this memorial …

I quote here from the Worshipful Company of Barbers’ website:

Edward Arris was a distinguished surgeon and Master of the Barbers’ Company. He died in 1651, two years after his wife Mary. Their marriage had lasted 60 years and produced 23 children, only one of whom (Thomas) survived their mother.

The inscription reads: ‘Edward Arris Esq gave to ye company of Chyrurgeons 30l for an anatomy lecture & to the Hospital of St Bartholomew 24l both yearly forever to Christ Church Hospital 100l & 50l towards rebuilding of this church; and several large gifts to the poor of this parish, wherein he was born. And all these in his life time. Hee deceased the 28 May 1676 aged 85 and lyeth buryed by his wife.

The money Arris provided to the Company in 1645 – a benefaction he attempted to keep secret – founded six lectures and a dissection in the Inigo Jones Anatomy Theatre annually. His name (along with that of another Master of the Company) and these lectures live on today as the Arris and Gale Lecture at the Royal College of Surgeons.

Besides providing grooming services, barber-surgeons regularly performed dental extractions, bloodletting, minor surgeries and sometimes amputations. The association between barbers and surgeons goes back to the early Middle Ages, hence the blood and bandages sign outside barber shops today.

This beautiful font cover was donated by a parishoner in 1670 …

There is another font cover nearby with a thrilling back story …

Vicars going back to the 12th century …

When you leave the church there is one other thing to look out for – the first ever public drinking fountain installed in London …

You can read all about it in my earlier blog entitled Philanthropic Fountains.

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‘Lest we forget’ …

After Remembrance Sunday every year it has become my habit to visit some of the City War Memorials, both to pay my respects and to read some of the moving tributes left by visitors.

The Tower Hill Memorial commemorates over 36,000 men and women of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets who died in both World Wars along with the seafarers killed in the Falklands conflict of 1982.

The first was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and unveiled in 1928. The main structure is in Portland stone. It takes the form of a vaulted colonnade or pavilion reminiscent of a Doric temple but open at both ends …

That’s All Hallows-by-the-Tower in the distance …

The second was designed by Sir Edward Maufe and unveiled in 1955 …

It is a sunken garden with the steps leading down to it flanked by a Mercantile Marine officer …

… and a seaman of the Merchant Service. Behind him, in his eyrie above what was once the Port of London Authority building, Father Thames points towards the sea …

The walls are covered with bronze panels with the names of the dead arranged alphabetically under their ships with the name of the Master or Skipper first in each case if they were among the lost. At regular intervals, between the inscription panels, are allegorical figures representing the Seven Seas.

A little boy rides a dolphin accompanied by seahorses …

Neptune with his trident …

A mermaid combing her hair …

My eyes were drawn to these pictures of a lost sailor and his ship …

This is the sweet poem that was attached …

The Falklands Memorial …

A close up of the little hat …

The London Troops Memorial outside the Royal Exchange

Your attention may be drawn to two battalions with unusual names, the Cyclists and the Artists’ Rifles …

Bicycles were commonly used in the First World War, not only for troop transport, but also for carrying dispatches. Field telephones were limited by the need for cables, and ‘wireless’ communications were still unreliable, so cyclists – and runners, motorbike riders, and pigeons and dogs – were frequently preferred, by the Allies and the German army.

I came across two interesting recruitment posters for the Cyclists at the Imperial War Museum. The first paints a quite romantic picture of the battalion going into combat in the bucolic setting of what looks like an English village. Nothing like the industrial level mass slaughter that these poor men would have to face in the First World War…

This one made me smile taking into account, as it does, the poor state of early 20th century dental hygiene …

The story of the Artists’ Rifles is a fascinating one.

The regiment was formed in 1859 by art student Edward Starling. It was a volunteer regiment and formed out of the widespread fear of a French invasion. Many of those who joined were artists, actors, musicians and architects and its first headquarters was located at Burlington House. The First World War would see the regiment literally leading from the front as they become a training regiment for officers in this period. It is also for this reason that the Artists Rifles had one of the highest casualty rates of any regiment.

This painting, Over the Top by John Nash, depicts his regiment in action. On 30th December 1917, the 1st Artists Rifles counter-attacked at Welsh Ridge, south-west of Cambrai. Nash called the action ‘pure murder’ as most of the company were killed. A sergeant, he counted himself lucky to escape the carnage …

Copyright : Imperial War Museum.

During the Great War, 2,003 of the regiment’s men were killed and over 3,000 wounded. Members of the regiment would be awarded eight Victoria Crosses and over 850 other military awards including the Distinguished Service Order (awarded 52 times) and the Military Cross (awarded 822 times). They were also mentioned in dispatches 564 times.

Incidentally, in the very first episode of the fourth series of Blackadder he becomes an artist, believing that this is his chance to escape the trenches. However, it is revealed that the artist’s role is to undertake a highly dangerous job – to draw the enemy’s defences from No Man’s Land.

The last episode of the series is renowned for its moving climax and you can view it here : Good luck everyone.

On Cornhill, the Archangel Michael holds aloft a flaming sword ……

The memorial commemorates 2,130 men from the parish – and the neighbouring City of London parishes of St Peter le Poer and St Benet Fink with which it was merged in 1906 – who served in the British armed forces in the First World War. About 170 died in the war, listed on a roll of honour kept in the church.

By the angel’s right foot are two lions, one biting the other, representing war; by the left foot are four putti looking upwards, representing peace.

And finally to St Bartholomew the Great at Smithfield …

There is a plaque just behind the gate commemorating Sir Aston Webb’s work. It includes his coat of arms (which incorporates a spider, a playful reference to his name) …

Poignantly, the name Webb also appears on the memorial …

Aston’s son, Philip, was killed in action on 25th September 1916.

And finally, another poem dedicated to seafarers …

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The oldest Catholic church in England (and do you know anyone called Audrey?)

Last week I mentioned my visit to St Etheldreda’s church in Ely Place and promised to return, which I duly did on a lovely sunny Monday morning this week.

Ely Place was until relatively recently considered to be a part of Cambridgeshire. For centuries, it was an enclave – an area of land physically located in the City of London but not under its jurisdiction. Instead, it was privately owned by the Bishops of Ely, and even today the street has its own gatehouse and beadles …

The houses date from the 1770s.

Tucked away down a narrow passage on the left is the quaint Ye Olde Mitre pub. When I first visited it back in the 1970s it kept shorter ‘Country’ rather than ‘City’ opening hours …

Further north along Ely Place the church of St Etheldreda is set back from the road …

The original name of the saint celebrated here was Æthelthryth and this eventually evolved into Etheldreda which, in turn, sometimes became pronounced Audrey (a girl’s name now somewhat out of fashion). This explains the naming of the late Victorian block of flats called Audrey House that nudge up against the church itself …

The Bishop of Ely once had a palace in London back in the 13th century. To get an idea of the extraordinary wealth of the church before the Dissolution of the Monasteries by Henry VIII, this is a section of the so-called Agas map of 1561 in which my fellow blogger London Inheritance has marked the streets that formed the boundaries to the Bishop’s land …

You can see the name Ely Place and St. Andrew’s church just to the right of where he has marked Holborn.

A private chapel was built alongside the palace dedicated to St Etheldreda, the nun who founded the first religious house in Ely in the 7th Century and is the saint to whom Ely Cathedral was dedicated. The chapel here dates from the late 13th Century and is one of the few buildings in London surviving from the reign of Edward I since it escaped the flames of the Great Fire in 1666 (although it was severely damaged following an air raid during the Second World War).

As soon as you enter you know you are in a rather special place …

Before descending into the crypt, there is an interesting feature just to the right of the door …

It was found when the site was excavated but its original purpose has never been established, although some have suggested it is the remains a Roman font.

Down the steps into the crypt …

When I visited the space was laid out for a function of some kind …

Some of the niches surrounding the venue …

Back upstairs now to the upper church.

On the way you pass a Royal coat of arms which commemorates the reopening of the church after bomb damage repair on 2nd July 1952 …

Also this memorial to William Lockhart

The upper church is a beautiful, spiritual place with some stunning post-War stained glass …

In the centre of the east window is Christ whilst at the apex God the Father surmounts the choir of angels …

To the left of Mary, the Mother of God, stands St Etheldreda, holding an image of the monastery she founded …

The west window is dedicated to the English martyrs. Five martyrs, each holding a palm, stand underneath the Tyburn gallows …

Martyrs hang on the ‘Tyburn Tree’ prior to being ‘drawn and quartered’ …

They are also commemorated with statues standing on corbels along both sides of the upper church. Here are three of them, all executed at Tyburm.

Anne Line, a sempstress, martyred in 1601 …

John Roche, a Thames Waterman, martyred in 1588 …

Edward Jones, a Welsh gentleman, martyred 1590 …

Alas there was no sign of the reliquary containing part of the saint’s ‘uncorrupted’ hand that I mentioned in my last blog. Presumably it’s stored away for safe keeping.

Overall St Ethelreda’s is a calm, welcoming place – ideal for quiet contemplation away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I’d strongly recommend a visit both for that reason and for its historical importance.

If you want to read more about the church and the area go to the excellent London Inheritance blog. If you visit the church do purchase the guide book – it is very well written with excellent illustrations …

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Spooky special edition!

I know Halloween ended a few days ago but it did inspire me to look again at spooky aspects of the City and produce a special edition. I was also enthused by a quite extraordinary house I encountered in a trip to Hampstead which had totally embraced the Halloween spirit. Here’s a sample …

More later.

What better place to start in the City than Samuel Pepys’s ‘own church’, St Olave Hart Street.

It has a really gruesome but stunning churchyard entrance incorporating impaled skulls and crossed bones dated 11th April 1658. The Latin inscription, roughly translated, reads ‘Christ is life, death is my reward‘ and the central skull wears a victory wreath.

Charles Dickens called it ‘St Ghastly Grim’.

It’s even more disturbing becuse the banked-up surface of the churchyard is a reminder that it is still bloated with the bodies of plague victims, and gardeners still turn up bone fragments. Three hundred and sixty five were buried there including Mary Ramsay, who was widely blamed for bringing the disease to London. We know the number because their names were marked with a ‘p’ in the parish register.

Note how much higher the graveyard is than the floor at the church door.

The crypt of the ‘Journalists’ Church’, St Brides in Fleet Street, is home to a fascinating museum containing an extraordinary coffin …

Until well into the 18th century the only source of corpses for medical research was the public hangman and supply was never enough to satisfy demand. As a result, a market arose to satisfy the needs of medical students and doctors and this was filled by the activities of the so-called ‘resurrection men’ or ‘body snatchers’. Some churches built watchhouses for guards to protect the churchyard, but these were by no means always effective – earning between £8 and £14 a body, the snatchers had plenty of cash available for bribery purposes. A tempting advertisement …

The idea was not popular with the clergy and in 1820 the churchwardens at St Andrew’s Holborn refused churchyard burial to an iron coffin. The body was taken out and buried, which led to a law suit. The judgment was that such coffins could not be refused but, since they took so much longer than wooden ones to disintegrate, much higher fees could be charged. This no doubt contributed to the relatively short time iron coffining was used.

St Brides also contains a charnel house, only opened by special arrangement. As you walk around the crypt, bear in mind that there are quite a few old Londoners resting nearby …

The primary customers for fresh corpses were the trainee surgeons at St Bartholomew’s Hospital so it’s no surprise that the nearby church of St Sepulchre had its own watchhouse. Sadly this was destroyed in the Blitz but there is a charming replica that you can see today …

Just around the corner is the entrance to the church so do call in if you can and visit a grim reminder of the days of the notorious Newgate Gaol and public executions.

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 …

About five minutes’ walk away is the beautiful church of St Bartholomew the Great inside which is what I think is one of the most disturbing sculptures in the City …

Entitled Exquisite Pain, as well as his skin St Bartholomew also holds a scalpel in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. The second surprise, to me anyway, was that this work was by Damien Hirst, the modern artist known particularly for his spot paintings and the shark swimming in formaldehyde. St Bartholomew is the patron saint of Doctors and Surgeons and Hirst has said that this 2006 work ‘acts as a reminder that the strict demarcation between art, religion and science is a relatively recent development and that depictions of Saint Bartholomew were often used by medics to aid in anatomy studies’. He went on to say that the scissors were inspired by Tim Burton’s film ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990) to imply that ‘his exposure and pain is seemingly self- inflicted. It’s kind of beautiful yet tragic’. The work is on long-term loan from the artist …

There’s nothing like a nice relic – even if it’s not on open display.

This is St Ethelreda’s Roman Catholic church in Ely Place (a road strange in its own right since it is privately managed by its own body of commissioners and beadles) …

The building is one of only two surviving in London from the reign of Edward I and dates from between 1250 and 1290. It is dedicated to Aethelthryth or Etheldreda, the Anglo-Saxon saint who founded the monastery at Ely in 673. According to the story, sixteen years after she died of the plague her body was exhumed in 695 and was found to be pure and uncorrupted with even her clothes having miraculous properties. Although her body has been lost it is said that her uncorrupted hand still rests in a casket in this church.

Unfortunately, this reliquary is kept beside the high altar and I couldn’t gain access so we must make do with an online image …

Nevertheless, it wasn’t a wasted visit. The church is a fascinating place as can be seen from some of the images I did take …

So I shall be back.

And finally, the Hampstead house on Flask Walk that truly embraced the spirit of Halloween.

Disabling the burglar alarm …

Hilarious!

The gang’s all here …

Welcome!

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My visit to 22 Bishopsgate.

I think it would be fair to say that 22 Bishopsgate is ‘not everyone’s cup of tea’ and I too am rather ambivalent about it. Second only to The Shard in height, it dominates the City and stands at 278 m (912 ft) tall with 62 storeys. At an all-inclusive total of just over 195,000 sq metres, it’s probably the largest office building ever built in Britain. It even looks down on Tower 42, seen here in the foreground (and pictured later) along with The Gherkin and the Walkie Talkie …

The view of the building from Bank Junction and the Royal Exchange …

Last Saturday the viewing gallery on the 58th floor was opened specially for ‘local residents’ so, of course, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to look down on the City from a new perspective.

A nice surprise was to be had walking through the main reception area where special artwork has been commissioned …

I really liked these wall hangings …

Then onward to the lifts …

With ears popping, we watched the screen in the lift monitor our progress towards our destination, the 58th floor …

You walk out into a vast viewing area with rather disconcerting floor to ceiling glass (at least it’s rather disconcerting for people like me who are not mad keen on heights) …

The views are as spectacular as one might expect …

Looking down on Tower 42 you can see its original design replicating the NatWest Bank logo if seen from above (it was originally the NatWest Tower) …

Canary Wharf in the misty distance …

Next week I’ll be back down to earth, writing about my walk east along the river. Here’s a small sample.

Can you see the chap balanced on a plinth looking across the river …

Here he is again (rather in need of a clean-up, seagulls have no respect for art) …

More about him next week, as well as this ramp where, in 1857, a famous ship was launched …

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The old Bishopsgate Fire Station.

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.

Great Fire at London Bridge

Image credit: London Metropolitan Archives, City of London: catalogue ref: p5354642

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)..

You can see more images using these links:

The station in 1908

Another 1908 image

The first retail outlet in the 1970s.

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 Tours website. 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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‘Tommy’s’ – my visits to St Thomas’ Hospital.

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 …

And they’re not all men …

From her Guardian obituary :

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 …

Read more about her extraordinary life here.

There are also nice views north towards the Houses of Parliament …

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We are but shadows – City Sundials

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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Bench Marks and other ‘ghosts’

With global warming and rising sea levels just how safe are you as you walk along Cheapside? Read on to find out.

The City contains many examples of signs that were once important but have now ceased to have the relevance they once did.

If you know Wood Street then you will be familiar with the tower of the old church of St Alban, left stranded in the middle of the street as a result of wartime bombing and subsequent redevelopment …

Whilst walking past it one day, I noticed this mark chiselled into the base of the west side of the tower …

Then, on a later date walking past St Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside, I saw another one …

It isn’t so clear but if you want to see it look just below the notice boards on the Cheapside entrance to the church …

The mark is below the notice board on the left.

At first I thought they might be old War Department markers (see below) but didn’t think they were likely to be carved into churches.

I have subsequently discovered, to my personal surprise, that they are what is known as Bench Marks, and there are thousands around the UK indicating where the height above sea level has been calculated. Actually I have often wondered what was taken as ‘sea level’ since the sea tended to, well, go up and down. The decision was taken back in 1918 that the single reference point would be mean sea level at Newlyn in Cornwall. In its favour was that it was situated in an area of stable granite rock and the gauge was perched on the end of a stone pier at the harbour entrance where it was exposed to the open Atlantic. This meant it wasn’t liable to be influenced by the silting up of the estuary or river tide delays.

So now you know – Ordnance Datum Newlyn (ODN) is the national height system for mainland Great Britain and forms the reference frame for all heights above mean sea level. Bench Marks were made on buildings which surveyors believed were unlikely to be redeveloped or demolished – they would be the ‘bench mark’ for the surrounding area. Nowadays, however, satellites can measure this distance to the nearest few millimetres and Bench Marks are no longer inspected for accuracy.

The St Alban tower survived the Blitz as did the tower of St Mary-le-Bow …

The St Mary-le-Bow tower shortly after the war. Photo : ‘A London Inheritance’.

So you can feel relatively safe from drowning as you walk down Cheapside – by the ODN measurement the church Bench Mark is 56.269ft above sea level!

On the right below is an example of the sign I confused the benchmarks with …

Outside Trinity House, Trinity Square.

The ‘broad arrow’ mark is used to identify property owned by the War Department (which became the Ministry of Defence in 1964) and here it appears on a boundary marker. There are half a dozen WD marks in the vicinity of the Tower of London, all numbered like No 11 above (in ascending order they are numbers 8, 12, 13, 21, 28 and 29).

And finally, I always take a picture of ghost signs because you never know how long they are likely to last. Here is a selection …

A bit of history from the ‘old days’ before Big Bang. There is still a second door on the right but opening it no longer reveals dapper gents with pinstriped trousers perusing the Financial Times.

At the top of Lovat Lane EC3 are these old survivors …

A bonded warehouse held taxable goods ‘in bond’ until an importer redeemed them by paying the appropriate level of excise duty.

These printers, stationers and account book manufacturers were based in Wardrobe Place …

 

Another classic sign with smart shirt and cufflink …

This message on the wall of St Andrew by the Wardrobe is gradually disappearing. Eventually no one will know that the key for the fire ladder is kept with the Sexton at nearby 52 Carter Lane …

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Holborn Viaduct – ladies, lions and ‘maximum bling’

Last week I promised you a bit more about this brilliant Victorian masterpiece of engineering and sculpture.

There are four ladies on the Viaduct representing Fine Art, Science, Agriculture and Commerce.

Fine Art was sculpted by Farmer & Brindley

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) …

Agriculture was sculpted by Henry Bursill

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.

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Coats of Arms – a mid-year Quiz

As you know, I usually do a quiz at Christmas, but I thought it might be fun to do one now around mid-year.

The City livery companies and the City of London itself grew up together. Those working in the same craft lived and worked near each other, grouping together to regulate competition within their trade and maintain high standards. The early London guilds benefited their members and customers alike, controlling the manufacture and selling of most goods and services in the Square Mile. When some guilds introduced their own distinctive clothing and regalia – or livery – to distinguish their members from those in other guilds, they soon became known as livery companies. All have been granted coats of arms, some dating back to the 15th century, and many are displayed proudly on buildings throughout the City.

There is a nice little summary on the website of the Worshipful Company of Wax Chandlers about livery company coats of arms. They say that the acquisition of a coat of arms by a livery company signified social status in the same way that a coat of arms was the badge of a gentleman: a visual affirmation of its permanence and distinguished heritage: a combination of a traditionally noble characteristic with merchants and craftsmen. The care and expense that companies lavished on the acquisition, preservation and display of their important documents and insignia suggest that antiquity and heraldry were important aspects of their sense of corporate identity, alongside processions, halls, feasts and clothing.

Over the last few weeks I have been seeking out some examples and photographing them, twelve of which are set out below.

Just for fun, do have a look at them and try to guess the trades and professions they represent just by looking at the arms and their mottoes. I have provided a few clues and the answers are at the end of the blog … some are more obvious than others!

1. ‘Ecce Agnus Dei Qui Tollit Peccata Mundi’ – ‘Behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world’. A few clues. The angels are ‘crowned with stars in token of light’ and the company’s original motto was ‘things which are in dispute are made clear by the light’.

2. The Crest is a lynx – a short tailed wild cat whose fur was formerly held in great esteem. No one below the rank of Earl was allowed to wear it.

3. ‘Give Glory to God’ – these leopards have managed to change their spots

4. ‘Hinc Spes Affulget’‘Hence Hope Shines Forth‘ – somewhere to shelter on your journey (and get a drink and some food)

5. ‘My trust is God alone’ – you may be on tenterhooks trying to work this one out

6. I don’t think a clue is needed for this one

7. The beehive is a good clue – and their product had purposes other than providing light

8. The trowel offers a strong hint

9. Their motto is ‘A blessing to the aged’ – I can vouch for that

10. ‘Throughout the world I am called the bringer of help’ – The horns of the rhinoceros and the unicorn were reputed to be of medical use

11. The motto is God is our Strength and if you look closely you will see four salamanders, the top two chained together. In medieval times they were reputed to be able to survive fire.

The final coat of arms belongs to an Honourable Company rather than a Worshipful one – a rare privilege bestowed on the company by King George V.

12. The ship is the Golden Hind in full sail and the Red Ensign flag and gold quadrant are also clues.

The answers are the Worshipful Companies of …

1. Tallow Chandlers : Dowgate Hill, London EC4R 2SH

2. Skinners : 8 1/2 Dowgate Hill, London EC4R 2SP

3. Dyers : 10 Dowgate Hill, London EC4R 2ST

4. Innholders :  30 College St, London EC4R 2RH

5. Clothworkers :  Dunster Court, Mincing Lane, London EC3R 7AH

6. Saddlers : 40 Gutter Lane, London EC2V 6BR

7. Wax Chandlers : 6 Gresham St, London EC2V 7AD

8. Plaisterers : 1 London Wall, London EC2Y 5JU

9. Spectacle Makers :  Apothecaries Hall, Black Friars Lane, London EC4V 6EL

10. Apothecaries : Black Friars Lane, London EC4V 6EJ

11. Ironmongers : Shaftesbury Place, Off Aldersgate Street, London EC2Y 8AA

12. The Honourable Company of Master Mariners : 4 Temple Place, WC2R 2PG (the picture is of their coat of arms in All Hallows by the Tower, Byward St, EC3R 5BJ)

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Sir Christopher Wren – special events for the tercentenary of his death.

As regular readers of my blog will know, Wren is one of my great heroes and I am delighted to report that he is being celebrated by a number of events in this tercentenary of his death in 1723.

You can read more about these here and about the man himself here.

My friends at the Guildhall Art Galley have put on an exhibition entitled Wren at Work and I visited it on Sunday.

There you’ll find numerous facsimiles of drawings and plans, such as this one by Wren’s brilliant and trusted assistant Nicholas Hawksmoor …

Here are some of the other images I took …

The labels are very informative (even if you have to get down on your knees to read some of them!).

The artist / cartographer Adam Dant has created a specially commissioned map which describes aspects of Christopher Wren’s life and times and this is also on display …

Not surprisingly, St Paul’s Cathedral is also hosting an exhibition entitled Wren 300 – Innovation and Restoration.

The exhibition is in the Crypt so, if you want to see it, you must pay to enter the Cathedral. Before visiting it, I paid my respects to the great man at his tomb – a plain monument in a quiet corner …

‘Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you.’

Nearby …

A better image from the Cathedral website …

Here are some of my shots of the exhibition itself …

Wren is hauled up in a basket to inspect progress …

In a glass case you can see his ceremonial staff inscribed with his title ‘Surveyor to the Fabric’ (circa 1710) …

Along with his penknife and its case …

There is also a stonemason’s cap discovered during structural work in the 1920s …

A pair of dividers for measuring distance between two points on a plan or a map. Inscribed ‘Sir Christopher Wren, February 1697’ …

And alongside …

Faith Coghill, Wren’s first wife …

And a letter to her written by him …

Copy of a bust by Edward Pierce made about 1673 …

On my way home from the Guildhall Gallery I paused at St Lawrence Jewry to admire the lovely stained glass window that celebrates the great man himself along with Grinling Gibbons and Edward Strong …

You can read more about it and other stained glass masterpieces here.

Since this is a new Wrenaissance (!) why not treat yourself to a Walking Tour of his churches. More information can be found here on the City Guides Website.

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My Old Bailey visit – ‘Take him down!’

The Central Criminal Court of England and Wales, known the world over as the ‘Old Bailey’, has opened its doors to the public for guided tours this summer and I visited last Saturday. You can book your own visit here and I highly recommend it.

The tour was conducted by two City of London Guides and an Officer of the Court and they gave us a comprehensive history of the building and its location from its time as a prison dating from the 1100s to the present day.

The site was originally the location of the notorious Newgate gaol – a terrible place of disease, death and despair. Here it is circa 1810 … …

The artist Gustave Doré captured its ghastly atmosphere in this portrayal of the exercise yard in 1872 …

On view in the tour are some gruesome artifacts from that time …

In 1783 the site of London’s gallows was moved from Tyburn to Newgate. Public executions outside the prison – by this time, London’s main prison – continued to draw large crowds. This painting by Thomas Rowlandson shows a public execution at Newgate in the late 18th century …

In the centre of the picture three people have been hanged. The area is crammed full of people who have turned up to watch. They even hang out of the windows, and are on the roof of, the building on the left. On the far right a street seller takes advantage of the crowds and is selling his wares from a basket. In the very centre foreground a woman sits on a man’s shoulders in order to get a better look. The last public hanging there was in 1868 and the last one behind its firmly closed doors in 1902.

There were courtrooms attached to the prison but as trials lengthened and the number of those seeking to watch increased in the late nineteenth century the courthouse building became increasingly inadequate. In 1877 a fire forced the City of London to act and proposals were drawn up for a new building. Owing to the dilapidation of Newgate Prison next door, which by the 1860s no longer held long-term prisoners, it was decided to demolish everything on the site to make room for a larger building.

After many delays, the new building, designed in the neo-Baroque style by E. W. Mountford, was finally opened by King Edward VII in 1907. It was lavishly fitted out and adorned with symbolic reminders to the public of its virtuous purpose. On top of the 67 foot high dome a 12 foot gold leaf statue was placed of a ‘lady of justice’ holding a sword in one hand and the scales of justice in the other; she is not, as is conventional with such figures, blindfolded …

Over the main entrance to the building figures were placed representing Fortitude, the Recording Angel and Truth, along with the carved inscription, ‘defend the children of the poor and punish the wrongdoer’ …

The entrance in 1910 …

You enter for the tour via the extension to the building built in 1972 and are then escorted to the old building by the guides.

The first thing you notice is the grandeur of the architecture. This is the circulating area on the ground floor …

Some of my images didn’t turn out as well as I would have liked so the following three are from an excellent blog published by Bryan Jones.

The main staircase …

The dome …

And the stained glass window …

My image from a different angle …

The building was significantly damaged by wartime bombing and subsequently restored …

These lovely murals were one of the results of the restoration work.

In the one above, reference is made to Edmund Hillary and the conquest of Everest. Here he is in the background …

And, guess what, the artist Gerald Moira has included himself as well. He’s the bald headed chap at the back holding his palette …

King John sets his seal to Magna Carta …

And my favourite …

Interior of The Old Bailey, Central Criminal Court. Located in the City of London on the site of Newgate prison.

And Gerald is here again, disguised as an old lady clutching a cup of tea!

Elizabeth Fry the prison reformer is commemorated with this statue …

She was a major driving force behind new legislation to improve the treatment of prisoners, especially female inmates, and as such has been called the ‘Angel of Prisons’. She was instrumental in the 1823 Gaols Act which mandated sex-segregation of prisons and female warders for female inmates to protect them from sexual exploitation.

Also commemorated is one of the most important trial outcomes in Britain’s judicial history …

In what came to be known as Bushell’s Case, a landmark ruling ensured the future autonomy of English juries. It also had consequences for jurisprudence in North America, where Penn (incidentally a Quaker like Fry) inspired by the trial, incorporated Magna Carta into the laws of his new colony.

The highlight of the tour was, of course, a visit to the famous Court Number 1 followed by a trip to the cells …

It may be a courtroom but it is pure theatre, and remarkably small and intimate. Unfortunately, photographs are not allowed, but I found this image of the court in 1911. The general layout hasn’t change that much …

Whilst standing in the dock (on the right of the picture), which we were allowed to do, I found it difficult not to think of the disparate people it has temporarily housed over the decades – for example, Ian Huntley and Maxine Carr, Dennis Nilsen, Peter Sutcliffe, the Kray Twins, William Joyce and Dr Crippen. Also poor Timothy Evans, wrongly convicted of murder, hanged in 1950, but eventually pardoned. And tragic Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be executed in the UK in 1956 …

Nowadays, given the evidence available of the abusive relationship she was in, she would probably have only been accused of manslaughter at most.

Defendants access the dock via hidden steps that emerge out of the bowels of the building and descend the same steps at breaks in proceedings or if found guilty – ‘take him down!’ the Judge declares, in all the best movies when sentence has been delivered.

Our guides related some interesting stories regarding famous trials and then we were ‘taken down’ ourselves to the warren of cells below where again pictures were forbidden. We were warned not to press the red buttons on the wall which are used if there is an ‘affray’. It automatically closes and locks all the cell doors and seals off the area – and keys are not kept nearby!

As you walk down the steps oak pannelling gives way to white lavatorial tiles and then white painted walls – there is no doubt you are now in custody even though you are still a ‘defendant’ and not a ‘prisoner’. Not surprisingly, it is a very disturbing experience, even for a temporary visitor. We then went on to visit a more modern court in the 1970s extension – there are 19 courts in all.

If you decide to take the tour I strongly recommend you buy this book beforehand and just have a browse even if you don’t have the chance to read it all …

Moving, thrilling and occasionally very funny, it was one of my most enjoyable reads over the last year.

Also underground on the site is the route taken by condemned prisoners on their way to the gallows …

Known as ‘Dead Man’s Walk’ I did smile when we were told that it was not open to the public due to ‘Health and Safety issues’!

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Liverpool Street Station under threat of redevelopment.

I thought you might like to know that plans are afoot to substantially redevelop Liverpool Street Station. You can read more about them here and here.

Liverpool Street is the UK’s third busiest station after Victoria and Waterloo. This will no doubt come as no surprise to those of you who battle your way through here every day in the rush hours. However, maybe I can persuade you to spend a little time exploring the station and its surroundings since it does have some really fascinating aspects to it.

Next to the station eastern entrance is a Wetherspoons in a building called Hamilton Hall. It is named after Lord Claud Hamilton, chairman of the Great Eastern Railway Company (1893–1923), and is the former ballroom of the old Great Eastern Hotel. Pop in for a drink and cast your eyes upwards …

The bar area.

Yes, the original ballroom decorations are still there, and you can get an even closer look if you go upstairs …

At least one source states that the design was copied directly from the Palais Soubise in Paris in 1901. Opulent is the word that springs to mind.

Named after the British Prime Minister Lord Liverpool, Liverpool Street was the Great Eastern Railway’s London Terminus with the first suburban trains departing in 1874.The Great Eastern, and its successor the London & North Eastern Railway, concentrated on developing and increasing its suburban steam services, a business model that continued until steam was withdrawn in the 1960s. Under its modernisation plan, British Railways electrified all suburban services running form Liverpool Street station, and all steam had been replaced by diesel locomotives by the end of 1962.

The days of steam.

Someone once described it as a ‘Dark Cathedral’.

A plan to demolish the station, and its neighbour Broad Street, was first put forward in 1975 but fierce opposition meant a compromise had to be reached. Eventually, only Broad Street was demolished (in 1986) and Liverpool Street developed more sympathetically.

Nicely preserved are traces of a time when astonishing care was taken with what people would see on starting and finishing their journey.

What about these lovely reliefs sculpted in brick against the back wall of the Great Eastern Hotel …

A steam train …

One of the Great Eastern Railway’s own ships …

And a fireman, or stoker …

The western entrance towers hold a clock and the old railway emblems …

Just outside the entrance is the Kindertransport commemorative statue …

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.

The station contains a number of other poignant memorials. The inscription above the largest one reads:

To the glory of God and in grateful memory of the Great Eastern Railway staff who in response to the call of their King and Country, sacrificed their lives during the Great War.

There are over 1,100 names.

There are two plaques below the main memorial …

Wilson was assassinated outside his house in Eaton Place at about 2:20 pm. Still in full uniform, he was shot six times, two bullets in the chest proving fatal. Some newspapers provided a reconstruction …

Richard Willcocks on Twitter: "The assassination of Field Marshal Sir Henry  Wilson, took place at 2:20pm, 22 June 1922. The main entrance to Sir Henry's  house, 36 Eaton Place, was located on

A French newspaper version showed him with sword drawn but actually he had no time to defend himself …

22 June 1922: The Assassination of Sir Henry Wilson | Century Ireland

Sir Henry’s House today …

Property valuation for First And Second Floor Flat, 56 Eaton Place, London,  City Of Westminster, SW1X 8AT | The Move Market

The two perpetrators, Reginald Dunne and Joseph O’Sullivan, shot two police officers and a chauffeur as they attempted to escape but were surrounded by a hostile crowd and arrested after a struggle …

combine_images

Interestingly both were former British army officers and O’Sullivan had lost a leg at Ypres, his subsequent disability hindering their escape. After a trial lasting just three hours they were convicted of murder and hanged at Wandsworth gaol on 10 August that year – justice was certainly delivered swiftly in those days. No organisation claimed responsibility for Wilson’s murder. I try in this blog to be as accurate as possible with regard to history and there are numerous opinions as to the background to this event. If you are interested, the online information available is fascinating.

Nearby is this plaque …

The Master of the Great Eastern Railway ship SS Brussels, Fryatt was court martialled for attempting to ram an attacking German submarine and being a franc-tireur (a civilian engaged in hostile military action). Having been found guilty, he was executed almost immediately by firing squad, after a show trial lasting barely two hours, during which he was afforded no proper defence. As happened following the execution of Edith Cavell in 1915, the event caused international outrage, and led to Fryatt’s body being repatriated after the war and given a ceremonial funeral. If you have the chance, read about him online – the story is absolutely fascinating.

This memorial was unveiled in 1920 by the Lord Mayor …

I have been unable to find out anything about The London Society of East Anglians.

The station was built on the site of the old Bethlehem asylum for the mentally ill commonly known as Bedlam. So when trains are totally disrupted and people say ‘it’s Bedlam here’ – once upon a time it really was.

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