Often, just when I fear I am running out of subjects to write about, the Heritage Gallery at the Guildhall Art Gallery comes to my rescue and they have just done so again with their special exhibition focusing on Billingsgate Market.
A Survey of London by John Stow in 1603 described Billingsgate as follows: ‘… which … is at this present a large Watergate, Port or Harbrough for shippes and boats, commonly arriving there with fish, both fresh and salt, shell fishes, salt, Orenges, Onions, and other fruits and rootes, wheate, Rie, and garine of divers sorts …’.
Before you view the items on display, pause at the backlit ‘Agas’ Map of 1561 and seek out ‘Bylynges gate’ and the carefully drawn ships moored at the quayside …
The first cabinet …
On the left is the Liber Horn, a book made in 1311 by Andrew Horn (Chamberlain of the City 1320-1328). It’s a compilation of charters, statutes and customs written upon vellum in Norman French …
In May 1699 an Act of Parliament conferred special privileges on the market which was declared ‘… a free and open Market for all sorts of fish whatsoever …’ and the sale of fish six days in the week and mackerel for sale on Sundays’. The two documents in the centre of the case date from this period.
The order issued by the Court of Aldermen on 24 December 1699 details the hours of the fish market and the times at which the market bell was to be rung as well as commenting on ‘… Mischiefs and evil Practices …’. …
On the right is a petition by the fishermen to Sir Richard Levitt (sic), Lord Mayor, protesting at being ‘… hindered and oppressed by great vessels loaded with salt and oranges …’ and requests the dock be cleared for the petitioners’ vessels …
The market flourished and the 1830 map on the right illustrates the layout of the dock at that time …
The second cabinet …
The collection of tolls by the market authorities was recorded in volumes. These detail the payments raised on type of vessel and catch with expenses including (handwritten at the bottom of the page) an allowance for coal and candles and collecting bad fish …
Porters were licensed by the City of London to act as porter and ply for trade within the market and this volume records the details …
This is a close up of the entry for Edward Jenkins, the man whose entry is crossed out because of his death, showing his various changes of address over the years …
Licenses were issued to individuals confirming their ability to work …
There is also a nice selection of images for visitors to enjoy. Here are just a few …
The present building dates from 1876 and was designed by Sir Horace Jones, an architect perhaps best known for creating Tower Bridge but who also designed Leadenhall and Smithfield markets. Business boomed until 1982, when the fish market moved to the Isle of Dogs. The south side of the old market today …
I love the weathervanes …
Similar weathervanes adorn the new market buildings in Docklands but they are fibreglass copies.
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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Although I love my City expeditions, every now and again it’s nice to explore further afield and, for some reason, with me this usually means heading east. On this occasion I took the DLR to Limehouse and walked south.
On the way I passed Limehouse Basin, a navigable link between the Thames and two of London’s canals. First dug in 1820 as the eastern terminus of the new Regent’s Canal, it was gradually enlarged in the Victorian era and incorporated a lock big enough to admit 2,000 ton ships. The basin in 1827 …
Here coal was unloaded from ships to barges and until 1853 it was done entirely by human muscle power. Working in total silence, a nine-man gang was expected to unload 49 tons of a coal a day but, according to Henry Mayhew, they often achieved double that amount. During each period each rope man climbed a total distance of nearly 1 1⁄2 vertical miles — and sometimes more. This system was known as ‘whipping’ …
Congestion in the 1820s …
Congestion in the 2020s …
Instead of slaving shifting coal, people here are more likely to be slaving at nearby Canary Wharf.
Nice to see a bit of greenery …
Some horticultural humour …
Onward to Narrow Street, so known because once upon a time it was … er … very narrow.
Time to stop for a bit of refreshment …
The pub is partly owned by Sir Ian McKellen and has a really atmospheric ‘old boozer’ interior …
The terrace outside overlooks the Thames and from it you can see this mysterious life-sized figure …
It’s a sculpture by Anthony Gormley and is one of a series entitled Another Time. The artist describes the series as follows: Another Time asks where the human being sits within the scheme of things. Each work is necessarily isolated, and is an attempt to bear witness to what it is like to be alive and alone in space and time.
The seagulls have shown it little respect but he can be thankful that this one, perched just across the road, isn’t capable of flying …
You can see The Grapes in the background …
The sculpture was commissioned by the London Docklands Development Corporation in 1994 and stands in Ropemaker Fields, the park taking its name from the fact that rope was once manufactured in this district. The work by the artist Jane Ackroyd is mixed media in that the bronze figure of the gull is actually standing on a coil of rope.
The man from further east along the river …
Images from Dunbar Wharf …
The poor Gherkin can now only be clearly seen from the east …
Dunbar Wharf was named after the Dunbar family who had a very successful business at Limekiln Dock. The family wealth was initially from a Limehouse brewery established by Duncan Dunbar. It was his son, also called Duncan, who used the money he inherited from his father to build the shipping business that was based at Dunbar Wharf. The company’s ships carried passengers and goods across the world as well as convicts to Australia. The wharf, probably in the 1950s, showing lighters with cargo moored alongside …
Limekiln Dock …
This dock is a very old feature in the area. In the following Rocque map extract from 1746, the dock is to the right …
Rocque shows that on the southern side of the dock entrance was Lime Kiln Yard. This was the location of the lime kilns that as well as giving their name to the dock, were also the origin of the name Limehouse.
And finally, at the South Eastern tip of Millwall, near Canary Wharf, lie the remains of a great ship’s launch ramp …
SS Great Eastern was an iron sail-powered, paddle wheel and screw-propelled steamship designed by Iaambard Kingdom Brunel and built by John Scott Russell & Co. at Millwall Iron Works on the Thames. She was the largest ship ever built at the time and had the capacity to carry 4,000 passengers from England to Australia without refuelling.
Her launch was planned for 3 November 1857 but ship’s massive size posed major logistical issues and, according to one source, the ship’s 19,000 tons made it the single heaviest object ever moved by humans! Since no dock was big enough, Brunel’s solution was to launch the ship sideways using cables and chains. Nothing had been attempted on this scale before, but Brunel was confident that his calculations were correct to allow the launch to go ahead.
This is the famous photograph by Robert Howlett of Brunel in front of the ship’s launching chains …
The ship under construction …
Because Brunel knew the launch would be fraught with difficulty he was keen to keep the whole thing low-key, however the ship company sold thousands of tickets for the launch and every available vantage point was taken on land as well as on the river.
The launch, however, failed, and the ship was stranded on its launch rails – in addition, two men were killed and several others injured, leading some to declare Great Eastern an unlucky ship. Over the next few days various investigations were carried out to determine why the ship did not move, and in the end it was decided that the steam winches were simply not up to the job of pulling the vessel into the Thames. In fact, it took another three attempts and three months to finally get the ship into the water on 31 January the following year.
Throughout the construction of the ship, Brunel kept letter-books, six large volumes into which every piece of correspondence sent or received regarding the Great Eastern was copied. These volumes are an amazing resource, effectively detailing the entire progress of the project and illuminating many of Brunel’s thought processes and his relationships with colleagues and suppliers. See this link to the University of Bristol Library.
Tragically, Brunel suffered a stroke just before Great Eastern‘s maiden voyage in 1859, in which she was damaged by an explosion. He died 10 days later, aged 53, leaving an extraordinary pioneering legacy behind him.
The ship berthed in New York in 1860 …
Read all about this great ship and its rather sad end here.
Beached, prior to being broken up …
Once again I am extremely grateful to the London Inheritance blogger for much of the historical information contained in this week’s blog.
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