Walking the City of London

Category: Social History Page 1 of 2

From a famous broken leg to child chimney sweeps – my new hero Percivall Pott.

On a recent visit to St Mary Aldermary, I took a stroll around the church and was intrigued by this memorial …

I wanted to find out more about this paragon who was ‘Original in Genius, prompt in Judgement, rapid in Decision’, who, ‘whilst he gathered the knowledge of his Predecessors, he perceived their errors and corrected them’. Someone ‘Singularly eminent in his profession’ but also with ‘Private Virtues … his signal tenderness towards his family ‘ and ‘Amiable. Useful. Great’. I liked very much also the tribute to ‘his beloved Wife. The Partner of his virtues and his intellectual endowments’.

Here he is, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds …

Percivall Pott (1714-1788) was born and raised in the City of London. Due to the untimely death of his father before he reached the age of four, it was
thanks to the generosity of his rich relatives that he had the opportunity to fulfil his ambitions. At only 22 years he was awarded the Great Diploma of the Company of Barber Surgeons and by 34 was appointed a fully independent surgeon at St Bartholomew’s, where he remained until
retirement. Today, over 300 years since his birth, he is known as one of the founders of orthopaedics and occupational health.

Pott’s name lives on in a number of conditions that he identified, such as Pott’s disease of the spine and Pott’s Puffy Tumour. The one that initially intrigued me, however, was Pott’s Fracture and how it came to get its name. It was literally by accident!

Here is its story – do please have a read. It speaks volumes about the man himself and the times he lived in.

In January 1756, while on his way to see a patient, Pott was thrown from his horse and sustained an open compound fracture of his lower leg. This is his son-in-law’s account of what happened next …

Conscious of the dangers attendant on fractures of this nature, and thoroughly aware how much they may be increased by rough treatment, or
improper position, he would not suffer himself to be moved until he had made the necessary dispositions. He sent to Westminster, then the nearest place, for two Chairmen to bring their poles; and patiently lay on the
cold pavement, it being the middle of January, till they arrived. In this situation he purchased a door, to which he made them nail their poles. When all was ready, he caused himself to be laid on it, and was carried through
Southwark, over London Bridge, to Watling Street, near St. Paul’s, where he had lived for some time—a tremendous distance in such a state! I cannot forbear remarking, that on such occasions a coach is too frequently employed, the jolting motion of which, with the unavoidable awkwardness of position, and the difficulty of getting in and out, cause a great and often a fatal aggravation of the mischief.

After a meeting with some fellow surgeons, it was decided that amputation was the only sensible option and the distinguished patient agreed. Just as the instruments were prepared, however, Edward Nourse (a fellow surgeon and Pott’s mentor) arrived and insisted reduction be tried. Here traction and pressure are applied to the fracture to correct the positioning of the bones.

Pott’s confidence in Nourse and his advice paid off and he subsequently kept his limb without evidence of disability. The reduction approach introduced by Nourse was subsequently refined and became widely used in the treatment of open compound fracture, leading to a substantial decline in amputations. In addition, fractures of the lower leg similar to the type Pott suffered, became known as Pott fractures.

A 1768 medical text book illustration of a Pott fracture …

So what is Pott’s connection with child chimney sweeps?

Being a chimney sweep, or climbing boy as they were often called, was a harsh and dangerous profession. Those employed were often orphans or from impoverished backgrounds, sold into the job by their parents …

After the Great Fire of London in 1666 buildings started becoming taller, with more rooms that required heating. This, combined with the Hearth Tax of 1662 assessed on the number of chimneys a house had, resulted in labyrinths of interconnected chimney flues. The much narrower and compact design that resulted meant adult sweeps were far too large to fit into such confined spaces. This understandably created a logistical problem as the deposits from the soot required constant cleaning but the space in which to do so was hardly navigable.

Thus, the climbing boys (and sometimes girls) became an essential part of mainstream life, providing a much needed service to buildings across the country.

A Trade Card from 1789 in which he promises he ‘always attends with the Boys himself’. Notice the probable ages of the children! …

I was quite surprised to come across this card, also from the 1700s – a challenge to the stereotype!

This online image is, supposedly, of a teenage sweep ‘apprentice’. Although it doesn’t have a clear attribution it has an authentic look about it …

One legend goes that funeral directors took pity on the young boys and gave them the top hats and coattails of deceased customers. If you book a ‘lucky’ sweep for your wedding he may well turn up wearing the traditional top hat.

Whilst there were variations between buildings, a standard flue would narrow to around 9 by 9 inches. With such a miniscule amount of movement afforded in such a small space, many of the climbing boys would have to ‘buff it’, meaning climb up naked, using only knees and elbows to force themselves up.

The perils of the job were vast, allowing for the fact that many a chimney would still be very hot from a fire and with some still maybe on fire. The skin of the boys would be left stripped and raw from the friction whilst a less dexterous child could possibly have found themselves completely stuck.

The position of a child jammed in a chimney would have often resulted in their knees being locked under their chins with no room to unlock themselves from this contorted position. Some would find themselves stranded for hours whilst the lucky ones could be helped out with a rope. Those less fortunate would simply suffocate and die in the chimney forcing others to remove the bricks in order to dislodge the body. The consistent verdict given by the coroner after the loss of a young life like this was ‘accidental death’.

This is a cross-section of a seven-flue stack in a four-story house with cellars, an 1834 illustration from Mechanics’ Magazine …

The author states: ‘The illustration at ‘E’ shows a disaster. The climbing boy is stuck in the flue, his knees jammed against his chin. The master sweep will have to cut away the chimney to remove him. First he will try to persuade him to move: sticking pins in the feet, lighting a small fire under him. Another boy could climb up behind him and try to pull him out with a rope tied around his legs – it would be hours before he suffocated’.

The death of two climbing boys in the flue of a chimney. Frontispiece to ‘England’s Climbing Boys’ by Dr. George Phillips …

This is what Pott wrote about chimney sweeps in 1775. His compassionate nature shines through …

The fate of these people seems singularly hard; in their early infancy they
are most frequently treated with great brutality, and almost starved with
cold and hunger; they are thrust up narrow, and sometimes hot chimneys,
where they are buried, burned and almost suffocated; and when they get
to puberty, become liable to a most noisome, and fatal disease.

Pott’s work and concern opened the door on a new field of occupational health when he proved an association between an exposure to soot by chimney sweeps in London and cancer of the scrotum: the first time an environmental hazard encountered in the workplace was shown to cause cancer. Many of the climbing boys would get scrotal squamous cell carcinoma, which they called soot wart, in their late teens or early twenties.  His publication on the topic in 1775, Chirurgical Observations, also contributed to the creation of the field of epidemiology and the passage of the Chimney Sweepers Act of 1788, which set the minimum age for chimney sweeps at eight years but it was rarely enforced.

Subsequent legislation failed to be effective also and business continued more or less as usual until 1875 when a 12-year-old sweep, George Brewster, got stuck in a chimney and died shortly after. His Master, William Wyer, was found guilty of manslaughter, and widespread publicity incited a fervent campaign for strict regulations. In 1875, a successful solution was implemented by the Chimney Sweepers’ Act which required sweeps to be licensed and made it the duty of the police to enforce all previous legislation – though it was too late for the countless young labourers who had come before.

As will be obvious from the length of this blog, as I researched him more extensively I became a great admirer of Percivall Pott. Not only a great medical man but, by all accounts, a fine person too and quite a character. For example, one biographer states ‘he had a pleasing appearance, and dressed according to the fashion of the period, visiting the hospital in his powdered wig, red coat and buckled sword … he was elegant, lower than middle size. He was an excellent conversationalist with ready wit and a fund of anecdotes’.

On December 27, 1788, he died of pneumonia due to a chill he caught while, against advice, visiting a patient in severe weather 20 miles from London. His last conscious words were: “My lamp is almost extinguished; I hope it
has burnt for the benefit of others.” It certainly had.

At some point his gravestone was moved from inside the church to just outside the west door where now, sadly, folk walk across it not realising the distinguished person it commemorates …

The inscriptions are very worn but I have established what they say and they form an interesting record of some of Percivall’s descendants. Here they are …

PERCIVALL POTT F.R.S. died 27 December 1788. Aged 75

MRS SARAH FRYE, his eldest daughter, died 27 October 1791, aged 41

Mrs. MARY LITCHFIELD, eldest daughter of J. R. FRYE and above SARAH and wife of H. C. LITCHFIELD, died 22 January 1806, aged 31

Mrs SARAH POTT, relict of above, died 18 January 1811, aged 87

Miss MARY LITCHFIELD, second daughter of RICHARD LITCHFIELD, of Torrington, co. Devon, died 1 March 1811, aged 27

PERCIVALL POTT, eldest son of above PERCIVALL, died 27 January 1833 aged 83

SARAH FRYE. Daughter of J. R. FRYE and grand-daughter of PERCIVALL POTT, senr., died 9 March 1844 aged  69

Ven. JOSEPH HOLDEN POTT, M.A. Chancellor of Exeter, and late Archdeacon of London, died 17 February, 1847, aged 88

I am indebted to the historian Jessica Brain for her article about the climbing boys which I have drawn on extensively for this blog. You can read the full article here. You can also read an excellent short biography of Percivall Pott here in the Who’s Who in Orthopedics Journal. For a really deep analysis of the climbing boys and the campaigns to help them I recommend the 2010 doctoral thesis by Niels van Manen PhD, which you will find here.

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Special Billingsgate edition.

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.

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My visit to the Wellcome Collection and the ‘Cult of Beauty’.

I hope those of you who are regular readers don’t mind too much when I wander outside the bounds of the City when I think there is something interesting happening elsewhere, and in the case of the Wellcome Collection it’s only a few Tube stops away.

At the entrance to the Cult of Beauty exhibition …

The guide tells us that the exhibition explores notions of beauty across time and cultures. ‘Around the world, beauty is constantly seen as an ideal worthy of going to great lengths to achieve. But what are the driving forces that lead us to believe in a myth of universal beauty, despite its evolving nature?’

‘Featuring over 200 items, including historical objects, artworks, films and new commissions, the exhibition considers the influence of morality, status, health, age, race and gender on the evolution of ideas about beauty.’

Reproduction of the bust of Nefertiti, originally created circa 1354-1351 BCE …

‘An archytype of African feminine beauty’.

‘Beautiful features have long been seen as a gateway to the spiritual in different belief systems. The print of Krishna challenges Christian associations of beauty with morals such as chastity’ …

‘The Virgin of Guadalupe is a symbol of multicultural and multi-ethnic identities, especially in areas where different religions and cultural traditions meet’ …

The ‘Esquiline Venus’ and the ‘Idolino’ or ‘Little Idol’ – First Century concepts of beauty reproduced in the late 19th century …

‘Husbands bringing their ugly wives to a windmill, to be transformed into beautiful women’ – German chapbook circa 1650 …

Trying to get that figure in shape …

It was not just women enduring torture …

A dandy being laced into a tight corset by two servants (1819).

Cosmetic entrepreneur Helena Rubenstein testing products in her Long Island Factory (1950s) …

The installation ‘Beauty Sensorium’ brings together historical references with reconstructions of Renaissance make-up recipes, inviting visitors to look, smell and touch …

Equipment to enhance appearance and fragrance …

More like a surgeon’s travelling kit …

‘Narcissister’s three-metre-tall hanging sculpture ‘(Almost) all of my dead mother’s beautiful things’ centres on the crushing weight of beauty ideals that are passed from one generation to another’ …

‘Makeupbrutalism’s multimedia installation ‘It makes no sense being beautiful if no one else is ugly’ encourages us to question our beliefs, confront our raw selves beneath social pressure and to peel back the layers of the beauty industry’ …

What represents beauty changes all the time …

This 1970s product made me smile …

And on the Underground going home later, I had to smile again when I looked up and saw this (plus ça change) …

It is a provocative and thoughtful exhibition and I enjoyed it very much.

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The Heroes of Postman’s Park.

You only need to visit the Watts Memorial to Heroic Self Sacrifice in Postman’s Park to see evidence of the dangers that people were exposed to in Victorian times.

Here is the man we have to thank for this window on the past …

George Frederic Watts was a famous Victorian artist and this picture is a self-portrait. He first suggested the memorials we see today in 1887 but the idea was not taken up until 1898 when the vicar of St Botolph’s church offered him this site in Postman’s Park. There Watts’ ambition to commemorate ‘likely to be forgotten heroes’ came to fruition and when the park was officially opened on 30 July 1900 there were already four tablets in place.

Sixty two people feature on the memorial today which is housed in a wooden loggia …

I find that their stories still evoke a range of emotions, particularly ones of sadness and curiosity, which left me wanting to know more about these people, their lives and the manner of their deaths. There are also clues as to the nature of society and work at that time along with the quality of healthcare.

We are reminded, for example, that horses played a tremendous part in work practices, transport, leisure and, sadly, war. It’s estimated, for example, that there were about 3.3 million horses in late Victorian Britain and in 1900 about a million of these were working horses. Of the 62 people commemorated here, five died as a result of an incident involving horses and I shall write about two of them.

Here is the first mention of horses on the wall …

William Drake earned his living as a carriage driver and on this occasion his passenger was one of the most famous sopranos of her day, a lady called Thérèse Tietjens. The breaking of the carriage pole caused panic among the horses and they reared out of control. In fighting to control them, Drake received a severe kick to his right knee which subsequently resulted in the septicaemia that led to his death on April 8th. A message was passed to the coroner at the inquest that ‘those dependent on the deceased would be amply cared for by Madame Tietjens’. Notwithstanding this, Drake was buried at the expense of the parish in a common grave in Brompton Cemetery, although there is evidence that his widow did receive an annuity from somewhere.

Elizabeth Boxall died after being kicked by a runaway carthorse as she pulled a small child out of its way …

Her brave act actually took place in July 1887 but over the next eleven months poor Elizabeth’s health deteriorated. Part of her leg was amputated in September and a further part (up to her hip) in January 1888, her condition being complicated by a diagnosis of cancer. Her parents were distraught by her death and the way she had been treated by the medical profession – for example, the first amputation was carried out without her or her parents’ permission. ‘They regularly butchered her at that hospital’ her father exclaimed at the inquest and the jury found that shock from the second operation was the cause of death. No one from the hospital attended the inquest but the House Governor at the London Hospital disputed the finding in a letter to the press.

Still on a medical theme, the highly contagious infection known as diptheria features twice on the memorials. Now extremely rare due to vaccination programmes, it was once a frequent killer of small children and also posed a danger to physicians such as Samuel Rabbeth …

I have been able to locate a picture of him thanks to the excellent London Walking Tours blog…

Dr Samuel Rabbeth (1858 – 1884) from The Illustrated London News 15th November 1884
Copyright, The British Library Board

On October 10th the doctor was treating a four year old patient who was in danger of asphyxiation as diptheria often resulted in a membrane blocking the airways. The standard treatment of tracheotomy had been performed but to no avail and Rabbeth performed the more risky procedure of sucking on the tracheotomy tube to remove the obstruction. Unfortunately in doing so he contracted the infection himself and died on 20th October (not the 26th as shown on the plaque). There was some (fairly muted) criticism of his actions by doctors who believed he acted recklessly, although from the most honourable of motives.

He has a fine gravestone in Barnes Cemetery which gives details of his personal professional history and the circumstances of his death …

Dr Lucas was infected as a result of an unfortunate accident …

He was in the process of administering an anaesthetic to a child with diptheria in order that a tracheotomy could be carried out. The child coughed or sneezed in his face but, instead of delaying to clean himself up, which may have endangered the child’s life, he continued and as a result became infected. He died within a week.

I haven’t been able to find an image of him or his final resting place but a poem written in his memory was published in a number of newspapers and you can read it in full here.

Thomas Griffin was engaged to be married on 16 April 1899 and on 11 April he had travelled to Northampton to discuss arrangements with his family and then back home to Battersea for work the next day. He expected that by the end of the week he would be married, but that was not to be, and by the end of the following day he was dead …

An inquest on 17 April was told that, after an explosion in the refinery boiler room, the door had been closed and the men told to keep out. Griffin, who had been evacuated to safety, suddenly cried out ‘My mate! My mate!’ and before anyone could stop him had disappeared into the boiler room. Terribly scalded all over his body he died later that day. The coroner lamented that …

… the conduct of a man like him deserves to be recorded. No doubt there are heroes in everyday life, but they do not come to the front and so we do not hear of them.

Unbeknown to the coroner, Watts had been collecting newspaper cuttings of heroic acts for years and added Griffin’s story to the growing archive. So it came to pass that Thomas Griffin was among the first four people to be commemorated upon the newly opened memorial.

And finally …

One might get the impression that this gentleman was particularly worthy of recognition because the person he saved was not only a stranger but also a foreigner. This would be a shame if it detracts from a very brave act and a tragic one also since, according to Cambridge’s brother Royston, John need not have perished. He told the Nottingham Evening Post

My brother, who was a very good swimmer, saw while bathing an unknown person drowning, and swam out to her assistance. The bathing boat rescued the lady, and the other bather, but the boatmen declined to go out again, although we implored them to do so, and offered them payment, until they were ordered out by officials. It was then, of course, too late.

I have written in great detail about the following four heroes in an earlier blog which you can find (along with pictures of three of them) here

I am indebted for the background research used in this blog to the historian John Price and his incredibly interesting book Heroes of Postman’s Park – Heroic Self-Sacrifice in Victorian London. You will find details of how to purchase your copy here.

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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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Shakespeare at the Guildhall Art Gallery – not to be missed.

A property deed signed by William Shakespeare and a near-perfect copy of the First Folio are on display as part of celebrations to mark the 400th anniversary of the publication of one of the world’s most significant literary treasures

The City of London Corporation’s copy of the 1623 First Folio, which was owned by one-time Prime Minister, William Petty Fitzmaurice, and is now conserved at Guildhall Library, is one of the finest and most complete copies in the world …

The book was published in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s death. It’s a collection of 36 of his works and was brought together by two of his friends, John Heminge and Henry Condell under the full title of:

Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies. Published according to the true originall copies.

As a tribute to their friend, Heminges and Condell wanted to put forward the best possible version of Shakespeare’s plays, so they used original prompt books, quartos, and original notes to collate the final collection. 

The title page has an engraving of the playwright …

This is an important image since it’s one of the few portraits of Shakespeare to have been approved by those who had known him personally.

The parish register containing the entry for the burial of Edmund Shakespeare, William’s nephew, is also on display …

In the exhibition you will see John Keats’s facsimile of the First Folio, in which he wrote two poems, including ‘On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again’, and which is open to the play’s first page …

In March 1613 William Shakespeare and three associates agreed to purchase the Gatehouse of the former Dominican priory in London known as Blackfriars from Henry Walker for the sum of £140. The indenture of bargain and sale is dated March 10. The purchasers also agreed to the mortgage shown here, dated March 11, for the same property, in the amount of £60, implying that the buyers put up only £80 at the time of sale. The document is signed by three buyers, William Shakespeare, William Johnson and John Jackson. The place set aside for the signature of John Heminges is left blank …

The thrill here, of course, is that this document contains one of the only six Shakespeare signatures known to exist. Here it is ..

My image is not great so this is a screenshot of a better one from the Internet

The heroes of the story of Shakespeare’s plays and of the First Folio are John Heminge and Henry Condell without whom most, if not all, of his work would have been lost forever.

They were both buried at the church of St Mary Aldermanbury which was destroyed by the Great Fire of London in 1666 and then rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren. Unfortunately it was gutted during the Blitz in 1940, leaving only the walls intact. Rather unusually, in 1966 the remains of the church were shipped to Fulton, Missouri, USA. The church now stands as a memorial to Winston Churchill’s ‘Iron Curtain’ speech made at Westminster College, Fulton, in 1946.

Heminge and Cordell, however, have been honoured with a splendid memorial on the previous site of the church …

‘TO THEIR DISINTERESTED AFFECTION THE WORLD OWES ALL THAT IT CALLS SHAKESPEARE. THEY ALONE COLLECTED HIS PRINTED WRITINGS REGARDLESS OF PECUNIARY LOSS AND WITHOUT THE HOPE OF ANY PROFIT GAVE THEM TO THE WORLD. THEY THUS MERITED THE GRATITUDE OF MANKIND’

Incidentally, the Heritage Gallery in the Guildhall Art Gallery is a bit of a hidden treasure with ever-changing displays of great interest drawn from the City of London collections and archives. It also boasts a splendid back-lit copy af the Agas map of Early Modern London …

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Wow – it’s a dress worn by Queen Elizabeth the First!

If you want a real treat, do try to visit to the Guildhall Art Galley where, until 12th November, you can immerse yourself in a world of exquisite craftsmanship and historical significance at the Treasures of Gold and Silver Wire exhibition. This dazzling display of over 200 items – from centuries-old robes to contemporary jewellery – forms the finest collection of gold and silver wire objects to ever be brought together in an exhibition. The entrance fee is £10 and you can book online for a timed ticket.

The highlight for me was the Bacton Altar Cloth (1590-1610), the only surviving dress worn by Queen Elizabeth the First …

I spent a long time gazing at its exquisite workmanship and trying to spot little details such as the depiction of animals stitched into the fabric (there seem to be quite a few caterpillars) …

The Queen is seen wearing a similar dress in her Rainbow Portrait 1600-1602 …

Here are just a few of the other delights on show. The exhibition signage is excellent and very detailed so I won’t attempt to replicate it here.

Queen Mary’s 1911 coronation dress …

The Queen’s 1977 Silver Jubilee Cope …

Queen Elizabeth II’s Coronation Glove and its informative label …

Royal Regalia …

‘The Most Noble Order of the Garter Mantle with Badge, Cordons and Hood’ …

A seventeenth century burse, or bag, for carrying the Great Seal of England …

Crowns of the Master and Wardens of the Girdlers Company (15th and 20th century) …

The arts are represented.

A costume worn by Darcey Bussell in 2004 …

The cloak and crown worn by Helen Mirren as Cleopatra in 1982 …

Charles Dickens’s Court Suit and his dress sword, 1870 …

The Military …

There are unusual and unexpected items too.

The Fishmongers’ Pall 1512-1530 – used for covering the coffin of distinguished Liverymen …

Some detail …

A piece of Oliver Cromwell’s dressing gown …

And finally, the David Shilling Commemorative Hat …

‘Treasures of Gold and Silver Wire’ celebrates the 400 anniversary of the wonderfully named Worshipful Company of Gold and Silver Wyre Drawers.

It’s definitely one of the most interesting exhibitions I’ve seen in years and my pictures can’t really do it justice (and they only represent a small number of the 200-plus items on display).

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Gormley, Brunel, a giant gull and more – walking east along the river.

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 …

Limekiln Dock

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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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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Fascinating City history at the Guildhall Gallery.

Whenever I’m stuck for something to write about the Guildhall Gallery often comes to my rescue.

I visited the little Heritage Gallery on Monday and what I found was very interesting. Rather than rewrite all the information on the plaques I hope you won’t mind if I simply reproduce them below.

Look at these fine fellows …

The Right Honourable the Lord Mayor of the City of London, Nicholas Lyons, and the Sheriffs, Alderman Alastair King and Andrew Marsden for the period 2022-2023.

The Mayoralty Charter …

In 1215 King John was faced with a major rebellion …

An etching of the Magna Carta seal which I found on the Internet …

Also on view is the Cartae Antiquae …

Dating from the 1400s, this beautifully illustrated book records charters and statutes covering laws enacted from the reign of Edward III (1327 onwards) to the accession of Henry VII in 1485. City officials used this book as an essential reference tool as they scrutinised statute and safeguarded the rights of the medieval City. There is a portrait of each king on the first page of the statutes for his reign; the page open shows the portrait of Richard III, one of the best known medieval monarchs.

The famous William Charter of 1067 is here too …

You can read more about it in my blog of 12 January this year.

In a nearby display case are prints of Coronations in the 19th century.

George IV on 19 July 1821 …

William IV on 8 September 1831 …

And finally Queen Victoria on 28 June 1838 …

As you leave the exhibition space and head for the exit, take a moment to inspect the David Wynne sculpture of Prince Charles as he then was …

He just doesn’t look happy, does he? Maybe he wasn’t too keen on the rather spiky modern version of a coronet that he is wearing here at his 1969 Investiture as Prince of Wales. It was designed by a committee chaired by his auntie Princess Margaret’s husband, Antony Armstrong-Jones (later Lord Snowdon). The globe and cross at the top was originally intended to be solid gold but the committee concluded that this would be far too heavy. The solution was to use a gold plated ping-pong ball – which is why I always smile at this portrayal of the Prince (and possibly why he doesn’t appear to have ever worn the item again).

In other news, the Barbican duckling population seems to have thrived this year. I haven’t seen the heron lately – could that be the reason?

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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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St Bartholomew’s Hospital is celebrating its 900th anniversary.

To mark the occasion there’s a free outdoor exhibition in the City to showcase historic collections and tell new stories about the hospital’s history. It features art, photographs and historical documents from the Barts Health NHS Trust Archives and I visited the exhibition at Guildhall Yard where it will remain until 6 June.

Here are some of the images I took last Saturday.

Artists played a part in recording visual evidence of disease …

Not an exotic flower but a twisted intestine painted in the 1830s …

The famous Hogarth staircase …

The notorious Bartholomew Fair …

Nearby slums in the 1920s. Women were looked after by the Barts External Midwifery Service …

Multi-purpose head!

From the extensive archive …

Some examples …

A happy patient getting some fresh air …

The terrible plague of 1664/5 …

What people were dying from …

‘The Rules’ …

If you want to know even more about Barts and its history I highly recommend a visit to the hospital museum where, as well as fascinating exhibits, you can see Henry VIII’s signature and the Hogarth staircase. You can read more about it in my Little Museum blog.

After viewing the Guildhall Yard display, you can stroll along to the Guildhall Art Gallery …

Here you will find Pomp and Circumstance Adversus, a painting by Dan Llywelyn Hall (b.1980) depicting the recent Coronation …

In more detail …

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A wander around Whitecross Street and Old Street (plus my old record collection!)

To start with I lingered among the street-food stalls that appear every weekday and seem to do a roaring trade now that City workers are back (even though many of them only come in Tuesdays to Thursdays).

My favourite stand …

Lots more to choose from …

Some are award winners!

Spring by Jimmy C – nice to see this mural without cars parked in front of it …

Miaow!

More street art …

One of my favourites ..

Made me smile …

The following words in italics come from the St Luke’s Conservation area document. The images are mine.

Central and pivotal to the conservation area St. Luke’s Church, dating from
1733, designed by John James and Nicholas Hawksmoor, is one of London’s
most important churches.

The church is now refurbished as a rehearsal,concert and education centre for the London Symphony Orchestra. The unusual obelisk spire is a major local landmark, with important views downWhitecross Street.

Surrounding the church is the churchyard and burial ground, now a public open space, with fine plane trees, railings and tombs.

Fronting onto these spaces are several important groups of Georgian and Victorian buildings which are of architectural and historic interest and which contribute to the setting of the church.

There is a tomb in the churchyard which is often described as the family tomb of William Caslon (1692-1766) …

He was the first major letter founder in London and, nearly three centuries later, remains the pre-eminent letter founder this country has produced. Before Caslon, there was little letter founding in Britain and most type was imported – even Shakespeare’s First Folio was printed with French type. But Caslon’s achievement was to realise designs and produce type which have been widely used ever since. And it all happened here, around the eastern fringes of the City of London. The Caslon family tomb stood just yards from where William Caslon started his first letter foundry in Helmet Row in 1727.

Here is a specimen of his typefaces from 1734 …

There is a special edition of the Spitalfields Life blog devoted just to him – William Caslon, Letter Founder.

However, when I looked more closely at the tomb inscription, the name I saw was Thomas Hanbey …

A mystery!

But here’s a quote from The Typefoundry blog of December 2007 (my emphasis) …

‘T. B. Reed … wrote that the Caslon tomb was kept in repair by a bequest from Mary Hanbey, daughter of William Caslon I, who died in January 1797. In fact it is clear from her will that the present tomb, which she paid for, replaced the original monument of the Caslon family, and was dedicated to her husband Thomas Hanbey, who had been born in Sheffield and died in 1786. He was a Liveryman of the Ironmongers’ Company and Master of the Company in 1775 …’

In any event, hopefully the remains of the remarkable Mr Caslon are still there somewhere, so I shall keep my tribute to him in this blog.

The church spire was topped by an unusual weather vane depicting the head of a dragon with a fiery comet-like tail. Apparently this was misinterpreted locally as a louse, and by the mid-20th century had gained the church the nickname ‘lousy St Luke’s’ …

Parish Boundary bollard for ‘St Luke’s Middlesex’ …

Walking east along Old street, look up for the Salvation Army ghost sign …

‘Hostel for working men. Cheap beds and food’.

And finally, number 116, now appropriately renamed Stylus, used to be the Margolin Gramophone Company factory …

They manufactured the Dansette record player – a name very familiar to us baby-boomers …

I had a portable one just like this …

Cool!!!

In those days I could pop some of my vinyl collection into a handy little carrying case and take it when visiting friends. And, guess what, I still have it! …

And there are still records in it …

A small sample …
It was my mum who liked The Bachelors, honest.

This was a very controversial 1965 hit around the world …

Listen to it and you will see why. It was the time of the Vietnam War and the year when Martin Luther King organised a march from Selma to Birmingham, Alabama, which began on 7 March 1965 with around 600 marchers taking part. When the marchers reached the outskirts of Selma they were attacked by state troopers and local police.

Here’s a link to the recording along with video footage.

The Wikipedia link about the song can be found here.

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The Great Tooley Street Fire.

Last week I said I would write more about the man commemorated on this plaque and the terrible event that prompted his bravery …

Here’s the memorial in close up …

It records the death of James Braidwood, Superintendent of the London Fire Brigade and reads : To the memory of James Braidwood, superintendent of the London Fire Brigade, who was killed near this spot in the execution of his duty at the great fire on 22nd June 1861.

The inscription is inside a laurel wreath in front of a burning building. A hose snakes from the building over the top of the wreath and coils up at the bottom right while over at the left rests a fireman’s helmet. The imagery includes a fire engine wheel and an axe.

The words on the flat support read as follows : A just man and one that feared god, of good report among all the nation.
Erected by the M. or Southwark Division of the Metropolitan Police
.
(Beneath the support)
S. H. Gardiner, New Kent Road

The quote is from the Bible, Acts 10:22.

James Braidwood (1800–1861) …

If you had been in London on Saturday 22nd June 1861, you may well have been tempted to make your way, with thousands of other sightseers, to watch the Tooley Street Fire burn its way from Cotton’s Wharf, which was eventually destroyed, through to Hay’s and other wharfs and warehouses to Tooley Street shops.

Omnibuses were packed: ‘Men were struggling for places on them, offering three and four times the fare for standing room on the roofs, to cross London Bridge‘ and: ‘...every inch of room on London Bridge was crowded with thousands and thousands of excited faces’. Also reported: “Peripatetic vendors of ginger beer, fruit and other cheap refreshments abounded and were sold out half a dozen times over. Public houses, in defiance of Acts of Parliament kept open all night long, and did a roaring trade‘.

It is estimated some 30,000 spectators came from all over the city. By late evening the fire stretched from London Bridge to Custom House. Properties destroyed included offices, an American steamer, four sailing boats and many barges as ‘..burning oil and tallow poured in cascades from the wharfs and flowed out blazing on the river‘.

The following print from the time gives an impression of the scale and ferocity of the fire. The southern tip of London Bridge can just be seen on the right edge of the print …

Great Fire at London Bridge

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

The river is full of boats carrying spectators, and I suspect the watermen of the river found it very profitable to give people a close up view of the fire, although this could be dangerous. Look at the larger boat on the left edge of the print. A fire has started onboard and a figure is seen jumping into the river from the vessel.

The fire as viewed from Tooley Street …

There were a number of casualties during the fire. Five men who were in a boat collecting tallow floating on the river were either burnt to death or drowned when their boat caught fire. A number of men working in the area of the warehouses fell into the river and drowned. Those suffering burns were taken to St Thomas’s Hospital, which also included a man who had his neck broken when the chain from a fire boat was caught around his neck.

The memorial in Tooley Street records the name of the most high profile casualty – the Superintendent of the London Fire Brigade Mr James Braidwood. The jury at the inquest heard that he had been in among his fire fighters handing out brandy and encouragement when the wall fell on him, killing him instantly.

The following report details the circumstances of his death:

‘Mr Braidwood, who had visited the men several times, was engaged in giving them some refreshment, when, all of a sudden, a terrific explosion occurred. In an instant it was seen that the whole frontage of the second warehouse was coming down, falling outwards into the avenue. Mr Henderson, the foreman of the southern district of the brigade, who was standing within a few paces of Mr Braidwood, shouted for all to run. The men dropped their hose branches. Two, with Mr Henderson escaped by the front gateway, and the others ran in the opposite direction on to the wharf where they jumped into the river. Mr Braidwood made an effort to follow Mr Henderson, but was struck down by the upper part of the wall, and buried beneath some tons of brickwork. His death must have been instantaneous. Several of his men rushed to extricate him, hopeless as the task was, but another explosion happening, they were compelled to fly. The sad fate of their chief had a most depressing effect upon all, and, to add to their trouble, the conflagration now assumed a most awful ascendancy’.

His funeral procession …

James Braidwood was buried at Abney Park Cemetery on 29 June 1861.

He left a widow and six children. His wife had already suffered a similar bereavement as a son from a previous marriage had died fighting a fire in Blackfriars Road in 1855 and Braidwood was buried next to him. The funeral procession was almost a mile and a half in length and, as well as the London Fire Brigade, there were members of the City and Metropolitan Police forces, members of the remaining private fire-brigades, along with many prominent persons of mid Victorian London.

As a mark of respect, every church in the city rang its bells. The buttons and epaulets from his tunic were removed and were distributed to the firefighters of the The London Fire Engine Establishment.

Braidwood was a truly remarkable man whose thoughts about fire fighting and, most importantly, fire prevention were way ahead of his time. For example, fire spread quickly throughout the warehouses as the iron fire doors, which separated many of the storage rooms, had been left open. It is believed if they had been closed, as recommended by Braidwood, the fire may have burnt out, avoiding disaster.

I have found researching this episode in London’s history to be absolutely fascinating. If you find yourself in Tooley Street, glance up at the memorial to remember the Great Tooley Street Fire and the Superintendent of the London Fire Brigade, Mr James Braidwood.

Here are my sources – I hope you find browsing them interesting :

A London Inheritance (excellent as usual).

The London Fire Brigade website.

James Braidwood – Pioneer of Modern Firefighting.

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Lots to see at the Guildhall Art Gallery – William the Conqueror, Peabody Buildings, the regulation of bread and Lord Mayors’ Shows.

Visiting the Guildhall Art Gallery is always a treat. Exhibitions change all the time and, tucked away near the cloakroom, is the small City of London Heritage Gallery, which is free to enter.

There are not many exhibits but they are usually all fascinating.

Seek out this little display. It contains the William Charter of 1067, the City of London’s oldest document, which tells us what happened when William I reached London after the Battle of Hastings …

Written on vellum (parchment) in Old English, it measures just six inches by one-and-a-half inches. It also comes complete with one of the earliest surviving seals from William the Conqueror’s reign …

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.

Nearby there’s a cabinet dedicated to the great philanthropist George Peabody (1795-1869). In retirement he devoted himself to charitable causes setting up a trust, the Peabody Donation Fund, to assist ‘the honest and industrious poor of London’. The Peabody Trustees would use the fund to provide ‘cheap, clean, well-drained and healthful dwellings for the poor’ with the first donation being made in 1862. The exhibition contains an illustration of the estate at Clapham Junction …

My ‘local’ estate is the one on Whitecross Street and dates from 1883 – the design is very typical Peabody, with honey coloured bricks and a pared down Italianate style …

Here he sits, looking pretty relaxed, at the northern end of the Royal Exchange Buildings …

You can read more about him here in my blog City Living.

The Assize of Bread and Ale was a 13th-century law which regulated the price, weight and quality of the bread and beer. This medieval custumal (collection of customs) has drawings of bakers at work and others being punished for selling underweight loaves …

The punishment for the first offence was to be dragged through the city with the offending loaf around the person’s neck …

Incidentally, a second offence punishment was to be put in the pillory for an hour …

This may not sound like much but in addition to being jeered and mocked, those in the pillory might be pelted with rotten food, mud, offal, dead animals, and animal excrement. Sometimes people were killed or maimed in the pillory because crowds could get too violent and pelt the offender with stones, bricks and other dangerous objects.

On committing a third offence the baker’s oven was pulled down. This was the end of the person’s business, so unless someone bailed them out, they would be destitute.

The legislation was continually updated as this poster from 1905 illustrates …

At the Gallery there are films running showing, among other scenes, glimpses of the 1960 Lord Mayor’s show …

There are two paintings of a show near the main gallery entrance. This is 12:18 and 10 seconds (2010) by Carl Laubin

The other is one of my favourites, William Logsdail’s painting entitled The Ninth of November 1888

Although it’s the Lord Mayor’s procession in this picture he is nowhere to be seen and the artist has concentrated on the liveried beadles (who he actually painted in his studio)…

… and the people in the crowd …

There is a minstrel in blackface with his banjo and next to him a little boy is nicking an orange from the old lady’s basket. On the right of the picture the man in the brown hat, next to the soldier with the very pale face, is Logsdail’s friend the painter Sir James Whitehead.

Naughty boy!

It’s a sobering thought that, not far away in the East End that afternoon, police were discovering the body of Mary Kelly, believed to be the last of Jack the Ripper’s victims.

By the way, the Heritage room also has on permanent display a back lit illustration of the famous Agas Map …

I have spent ages looking at it spotting street names that still exist today and open speces like Moorfields …

You’ll find an interactive version here, have fun exploring it.

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A wander near the Tower of London. Windmill Girls and Waterways.

Visitors to the Tower looking down towards the river probably don’t give a second thought to this little strip of sand …

Here it is as seen from the cruise boat access bridge …

People had walked on the Thames foreshore for thousands of years but Tower Beach, as it was known, was created in 1934 by bringing 1,500 barge loads of sand to the site. When it was officially opened, King George V decreed that the beach was to be used by the children of London, and that they should be given ‘free access forever’.

Take a look at these wonderful images starting with the lovely girls from the famous Windmill Theatre …

East end lads having a great time …

Sadly it had to be closed in 1971 because of the danger of pollution to bathers.

You can see more if you click on this link to the article the images come from in the MailOnline.

This exciting sculpture, Girl With a Dolphin, was created in 1972 by David Wynne

It looks even better when its water fountain is working.

I know not everyone likes The Shard but I appreciate the way it mirrors the sky, especially on a stormy day …

That’s the well-camouflaged HMS Belfast in the foreground.

St Katharine Docks opened on the 25th October 1828 and this painting shows the first ships entering during the opening ceremony …

The docks as they appeared in full operation …

These formidable lock gates are still in place and fully functioning …

St Katharine, a 4th century aristocrat, refused to marry the Emperor Maximilian and was punished by being tortured on a spiked wheel before being beheaded. Her usual symbols are a wheel and a book, and may also include the more general symbols of the virgin martyr, a crown and a sword. The saint on this plaque has two appropriate extra symbols: the water and the Tower …

You will see her portrayed throughout the area …

Posh flats and yachts …

You can glimpse The Gherkin and The Scalpel in the background …

Ivory House, designed by George Aitchison & Son in 1853, is the only
original warehouse still standing in St Katharine Docks today. It gets its name because of the vast amount of ivory that passed through it. At its
peak in the 1870s, nearly 200 tons of ivory was stored annually. Apart from the ivory, other luxury imports were stored such as perfume, shells, marble,
carpets, spices and wine. The London docks were the world’s greatest concentration of portable wealth …

Note the thickness and height of the walls lining the street – serious security …

Across the river is Butlers Wharf, once used to store vast quantities of tea …

The sculptress Paula Haughney has a number of her works on display around the area which have as their theme the merchandise which used to be unloaded here. The stones used for these sculptures were part of the original dock. You’ll find a guide to where they are and their titles here

This sundial was created by Wendy Taylor

The work has reminders of the dock’s past. The chains which support it are reminiscent of anchor chains. The ring of the sundial is a giant washer. The central gnomon is an enlarged nail.

Get your souvenirs here …

As I left the area and walked towards Tower Hill Station I noticed this curious building …

The London Hydraulic Power Company was established in 1868 to install a hydraulic power network in London. This expanded to cover most of central London at its peak, before being replaced by electricity, with the final pump house closing in 1977. This is the entrance to the Tower Subway which was originally an old pedestrian tunnel the Company bought to carry power under the Thames …

Just before I reached the station I noticed the Armistice Day wreaths left at the Tower Hill memorial. It commemorates more than 36,000 Merchant sailors who have no grave but the sea …

I also paused by the site of the old scaffold …

I have written about both memorials before in a blog entitled The Tower Hill Memorials – wars and executions.

Finally, just around the corner is this site …

I peeped through the railings …

The Royal Mint in its heyday …

This will now be the site of the new Chinese Embassy since its purchase in 2018. This has proved controversial and you can read more here and view plans here.

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At the Museum of the Order of St John. How a drowned lady gained immortality.

Consider this lady’s beautiful serene face …

Known as LInconnue de la Seine, read on further in the blog to discover her story and how she became world famous.

One has to acknowledge that, when walking through Clerkenwell, this building comes as a bit of a surprise …

The plaque reveals its history …

The museum that now occupies the building is a treat and entry is free. It tells the fascinating story of this famous organisation, from its origins in Jerusalem over 900 years ago to today’s modern St John Ambulance service. I only visited a small part of the museum so will be returning and aiming to take part in a guided tour.

The first exhibits you see…

The Order’s motto today is Pro Fide, Pro Utilitate Hominum – For the Faith and in the Service of Humanity. This duty of care is just as relevant today as it was 900 years ago in Jerusalem. The principles of the Order can be summarised in three words, which are inscribed on the central podium shown in the image above.

Faith – Like monks, the first Brothers of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem vowed to be poor, chaste and obedient …

Care – They took one other vow – to honour and care for the sick and the poor

Valour – Most of the Brothers were Knights trained in the arts of war. They used these skills to defend the Holy Land …

From the earliest times, the Order had female members. St Ubaldesca joined at Pisa around 1150 and after her death in 1205 she was canonised for her lifelong devotion to the care of others. This painting, from the 1600s, depicts her in a pious pose wearing the robes of the order …

I really like this poster from the 1950s representing as it does the spread of the modern Order throughout the world, initially via the British Empire …

A 1955 portrait of a St John Ambulance Brigade Officer and Nurse …

There’s definitely even more of a hint of Florence Nightingale and her lamp in this painting …

These two examples of suits of armour date from the 1500s to the 1800s but they broadly represent the kind of protection worn by the opposing forces during the Order’s long struggle with the Ottoman Empire.

The Turks favoured mail shirts …

The plate armour worn by European knights offered better protection but it was heavy, inflexible and – under the Mediterranean sun – soon became uncomfortably hot …

Siege relics …

A magnificent 16th century banqueting table decoration that once belonged to the treasury of the Knights of Malta in Valletta ..

The Ashford Litter …

A breakthrough in the transportation of patients allowing them to be moved comfortably by a single person.

The order played a pivotal role in caring for casualties in the First World War …

Just one of a number of display cabinets …

The triangular bandage is a staple component of first aid kits with many different uses. In the late 19th century the St John Ambulance Association started providing printed versions demonstrating how to use it …

Also in the cabinet there is an evocative painting from 1917 of a ward at the St John Ambulance Brigade Hospital, Étaples. The blanket of each bed is emblazoned with the eight-pointed cross of St John …

The insignia can be seen again on a red plaque above each bed, naming the donor who provided funds for it …

The Hospital in Étaples was the largest voluntary hospital serving the British Expeditionary Force during the First World War. It had a staff of 241, all from the St John Ambulance Brigade, and was considered by all who knew it to be the best designed and equipped military hospital in France, caring for over 35,000 patients throughout the war. On the night of the 19th May 1918, the hospital was hit by a bomb which killed five members of staff. Shortly after, on 31st May, a second bomb hit the hospital, resulting in eleven deaths and sixty casualties.

In April 1945, Ada Evelyn-Brown was one of a group of St John Ambulance nurses sent to care for newly liberated prisoners at the infamous Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in north-west Germany. Her photograph album is on display at the museum …

Finally, to a beautiful but tragic lady.

This is the face of a young woman found drowned in the River Seine in Paris in the late 1880s. No one could identify the body, but the pathologist reportedly became fascinated with her serene expression and commissioned a death mask. Soon multiple reproductions were on sale throughout Paris …

In the 1950s a Norwegian toymaker, Asmund Laerdal, was commissioned to produce a mannequin in which people could practise mouth-to-mouth and cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). Seeking a non-threatening model, he chose LInconnue and when his mannequin was mass-produced she became world-famous for a second time, known to this day as ‘Resusci Anne’.

I loved my visit to the museum and highly recommend it.

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Waterloo Station – Arrivals and (final) Departures.

Whenever I am travelling anywhere by plane or train I am always ludicrously early and that was the case last week when I was catching a train at Waterloo. I therefore took the opportunity to look around and see if there was some material for the blog. There certainly was.

The station now hosts the National Windrush monument, designed by renowned Jamaican artist Basil Watson. It acknowledges and celebrates the Windrush generation’s outstanding contribution and has been created as a permanent place of reflection, to foster greater understanding of the generation’s talent, hard work and continuing contribution to British society.

The three figures – a man, woman, and child – dressed in their ‘Sunday best’ are climbing a mountain of suitcases together, demonstrating the inseparable bond of the Windrush pioneers and their descendants, and the hopes and aspirations of their generation as they arrive to start new lives in the UK.

There’s much more to see at Waterloo and I shall return to it next week and write more about these images …

My Waterloo research has led me to write about a very different type of station that operated nearby. Passengers departing from here were destined for eternity rather than the seaside.

In the first half of the 19th century, London’s population shot up from around a million people in 1801 to close on two and a half million by 1851. Death was commonplace in the 19th century and eventually the City’s churchyards were literally full to bursting. Coffins were stacked one atop the other in 20-foot-deep shafts, the topmost mere inches from the surface. Putrefying bodies were frequently disturbed, dismembered or destroyed to make room for newcomers. Disinterred bones, dropped by neglectful gravediggers, lay scattered amidst the tombstones; smashed coffins were sold to the poor for firewood. Clergymen and sextons turned a blind eye to the worst practices because burial fees formed a large proportion of their income.

This is Bunhill Burial Ground around that time …

You can also get some idea of how packed cemeteries were if you look at some of the existing City churchyards and observe how much higher the graveyards are compared to street level. This, for example, is the graveyard of St Olave Hart street as seen from inside the church …

Between 1846 and 1849, a devastating cholera epidemic swept across London resulting in the deaths of almost 15,000 Londoners and it became apparent that something had to be done.

Legislation proved ineffective but private enterprise stepped in and a series of huge cemeteries, in which Londoners could be laid to rest in lush, green spacious landscapes, sprang up outside the metropolis. One such enterprise was the grandly titled ‘London Necropolis and National Mausoleum Company’ (LNC), which was formed in July, 1852, with a mandate to develop the former Woking Common, at Brookwood, in Surrey, as one of the new cemeteries to serve London.

Carrying the deceased 23 miles by horse-drawn coach was obviously not practical and thus, in November, 1854, one of Britain’s most bizarre railway lines – the London Necropolis Railway – commenced operations, and daily trains were soon chuffing their way out of ‘Cemetery Station’ in Waterloo, ‘wending their way through the outskirts of London, and on through verdant woodlands and lush, green countryside outside the Metropolis, bound for the tranquil oasis of the new Valhalla in rural Surrey’.

From The Illustrated London News. Saturday, 11th November, 1854 Copyright, Mary Evans Picture Library

The Company obviously gave a lot of thought to its logo and motto. Here it is (the skull and crossbones isn’t exactly subtle, is it) …

The Latin translates as ‘Peace to the dead, health to the living’. Possibly a reference to the lack of security in the old existing graveyards and also their threat to health. Just inside the circle is the ouroboros, an ancient symbol of a snake or serpent eating its own tail, variously signifying infinity and the cycle of birth and death.

The history of the company is an absolutely fascinating story and if you want to know more just click on the link here to the excellent London Walking Tours blog.

A new building for the London terminus was completed on the 8th of February, 1902. Here are some contemporary images …

A class system operated. First and Second Class ‘passengers’, accompanied by mourners, were placed in the train first. Third class mourners were not allowed to witness their loved ones being loaded! …

The end of the line. A funeral train from Waterloo pulling into the north section station at the cemetery in the early 20th century …

On Friday, 11th April, 1941, the body of Chelsea Pensioner Edward Irish (1868 – 1941) left the London Necropolis Station en route for Brookwood. He was the station’s last customer.

Five days later, on the night of the 16th/17th of April, 1941, a German bombing raid on the area destroyed the company’s rolling stock, along with much of the building. The Southern Railway’s Divisional Engineer, having inspected the damage at 2pm, on April, 17th, 1941, reported starkly, ‘Necropolis and buildings demolished.’ Although the offices and the First Class entrance from Westminster Bridge Road had survived, the devastation effectively sounded the death knell for the Necropolis Railway, and, on the 11th of May 1941, the station was officially declared closed.

The First Class platform just after the bombing …

The site in 1950 …

By the time it was put out of business after 87 years the company had ferried over 200,000 bodies between Waterloo and Surrey.

The First Class entrance and the Company’s old offices on Westminster Bridge Road are still there today (SE1 7HR) …

Inside the entrance arch (I think those lamps may be part of the original building, they look suitably funereal) …

I caught this image as I walked home across Waterloo Bridge – the ever-changing City skyline …

Finally, by way of light relief, my favourite newspaper front page of the week – British journalism at its finest …

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Founders and Farmers, Ironmongers and Martyrs – another wander around Smithfield.

I felt it was time for another wander around Smithfield.

The Founders Company is one of the 110 Livery Companies based in the City and was established in 1375. In its earliest form the Company was made up of craftspeople who specialised in brass and ‘latten’ (an alloy of copper and zinc resembling brass), including making ‘candlesticks, buckles, straps and other such like articles’.  Membership is now much extended and even includes estate agents and wine merchants as well as bell founders. The Company motto is God, the only Founder...

Their hall is located in Cloth Fair with an entrance in Bartholomew Passage …

The planters outside are dated 1767 and contain what looks like a parish boundary mark. If they really are that old they are in remarkably good condition …

The coat of arms – a ewer or laver-pot and a pair of taper-candlesticks …

Just up the road in Cloth Street is the Farmers Hall which they share with the Fletchers (who made arrows). I do like the Farmers’ coat of arms and motto …

Agriculture can be said to be England’s oldest and most important industry, with the growth of the City dependent on the supply of food to support its growing population for centuries. Whilst evidence suggests some livery companies were active as early as 1155, it is thought farmers were not represented until much later (1946), since they operated outside the square mile, unlike the related trades of Bakers, Butchers, Poulters, Woolmen and Fruiterers.

There is another relatively new company in Bartholomew Close, only granted Livery status in 1992 …

This is its coat of arms which you can read more about here

The motto, CITO, means swiftly suggesting the way in which technology speeds the capture, storage and retrieval of knowledge.

A hanging sign on Aldersgate directs you to Ironmongers’ Hall …

The Ironmongers’ received a grant of arms in 1455, describing them as the ‘Honourable Crafte and Fellasship of Fraunchised Men of Iromongers’, and a charter of incorporation from Edward IV in 1463.

Two salamanders form the crest of the Company’s arms; medieval salamanders reputedly being able to survive fire …

Two saints flank the entrance door …

Elegius crafted many gold and silver pieces before taking holy orders in 633. He was made bishop of Noyon and died on 1 December 659. Because of his master craftsmanship and unfailing honesty, he became the patron saint of goldsmiths, blacksmiths and metalworkers.

Opposite him is St Lawrence …

He holds the griddle on which he was roasted to death in 345 AD. Reportedly he joked at one point ‘Look, wretch, you have me well done on one side, turn me over and eat!‘. Quite appropriately, he was adopted as the patron saint of comedians.

A martyr to many was the Scottish hero and patriot Sir William Wallace who was hanged, drawn and quartered in Smithfield in 1315…

His memorial nearby often shows evidence that he is still remembered and revered to this day …

This slate triptych, also in West Smithfield, was unveiled by Ken Loach in July 2015 and commemorates the Great Rising of 1381 (more commonly known as the Peasants’ Revolt) …

The Revolt was led by Wat Tyler and on June 15th 1381 he had the opportunity to speak directly to the 14-year-old king, Richard II. Accompanying the King was the Lord Mayor of London William Walworth and, for reasons that are not entirely clear, Walworth ran Tyler through with his sword. Badly wounded, Tyler was carried into nearby St Bartholomew’s Hospital but, rather unsportingly, Walworth had him dragged out and decapitated. Poll Tax protesters were dealt with very ruthlessly in those days!

Of the 288 people estimated to have been burnt for heresy during the five year reign of Mary Tudor, forty eight were killed in Smithfield. ‘Bloody Mary’ was the daughter of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon and the burnings were part of her campaign to reverse the English Reformation.

The ‘Marian Martyrs’ are commemorated with this plaque erected by the Protestant Alliance in 1870 …

The gilding is a little faded in this picture. It reads …

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord. The noble army of martyrs praise Thee! Within a few feet of this spot,

John Rogers,

John Bradford,

John Philpot,

and other servants of God, suffered death by fire for the faith of Christ, in the years 1555, 1556, 1557

One terrible occasion was on 16 July 1546 when Anne Askew was burnt at the stake along with John Lascelles (a lawyer and Gentleman of the King’s Privy Chamber), John Hadlam (a tailor from Essex) and John Hemsley (a former Franciscan friar). A great stage was built at Smithfield for the convenience of Chancellor Wriothesley, other members of the Privy Council and City dignitaries, to watch the burning in comfort …

The execution of Anne Askew and her companions – 1563 woodcut from Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.

Anne herself, having been illegally broken on the rack, was unable to stand, and was chained to the stake in a sitting position. You can read more about this fascinating, brave lady here.

Every burning was different; if the fire ‘caught’, it could be over relatively quickly, but on damp days, or when the wind persisted in blowing the flames away from the body, it could take up to an hour for the condemned person to die, an hour of excruciating agony.

The area is now being transformed by new residential developments along with the conversion of many old commercial premises into apartments.

I’m fascinated by some of the old buildings’ textures and features and will write more about this in future weeks …

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