Walking the City of London

Category: Social History Page 15 of 16

Potato Heads on Whitecross Street (and some Street history)

It was a lovely sunny day last Saturday so I wandered along Whitecross Street to gaze at some of the wonderful art works. Many of these have been produced over the years at the famous Whitecross Street Party. Who wouldn’t smile at this splendid pair of potato heads …

Work by Keith Jive.

Then there’s a crazy cat with a bird standing on his paw tweeting his love …

Work by Roo.

A pretty green-eyed lady being created …

And now finished and ‘hung’ …

Laughing heads … Ho ho ho ho ho!

I love the colours in this abstract work …

Spot the bee …

A young girl holding a spirit animal over her head and shoulders by Goya Torres (based on her Children of the Sun series). Read more about this fascinating artist here

Not sure what this represents but I still like it, dynamic and colourful …

Work by Will Vibes.

Looking north up the street you get a good view on the right of a mural by Conor Harrington, an Irish artist living and working in London. Incidentally, the church in the background is St Luke Old Street and the unusual obelisk spire is by Nicholas Hawksmoor …

Here is Harrington’s work in more detail. It has weathered quite well considering it was created in 2012 …

Below is a pretty, tattooed winged angel

Stencil by DS Art.

‘Oi, are you lookin’ at my bird?’ …

You can view more pictures and activity here on Instagram.

This year’s party is scheduled for 10th and 11th July, mid-day to 6:00 pm. Read more on the official website.

The street boasts a number of blue plaques placed there by ‘English Hedonists’ and ‘Mad in England’ …

I have written about the Debtors Prison before but here it is again for those of you who missed it the first time around.

British History Online confirms the Nell Gwynne story mentioned on the plaque but I cannot find another source. It also tells us that …

A man may exist in the prison who has been accustomed to good living, though he cannot live well. All kinds of luxuries are prohibited, as are also spirituous drinks. Each man may have a pint of wine a day, but not more; and dice, cards, and all other instruments for gaming, are strictly vetoed.”

A pint of wine a day doesn’t sound too bad.

The prison was capable of holding up to 500 prisoners and Wyld’s map of London produced during the 1790s shows how extensive the premises were …

Prisoners would often take their families with them, which meant that entire communities sprang up inside the debtors’ jails, which were run as private enterprises. The community created its own economy, with jailers charging for room, food, drink and furniture, or selling concessions to others, and attorneys charging fees in fruitless efforts to get the debtors out. Prisoners’ families, including children, often had to find employment simply to cover the cost of the imprisonment. Here is a view of the inside of the Whitecross Street prison with people meeting and promenading quite normally …

‘Inside the Debtors’ Prison, Whitecross Street, London’ by an unknown artist : City of London Corporation, Guildhall Art Gallery.

Creditors were able to imprison debtors without trial until they paid what they owed or died and in the 18th century debtors comprised over half the prison population. Prisoners were by no means all poor but often middle class people in small amounts of debt. One of the largest groups was made up of shopkeepers (about 20% of prisoners) though male and female prisoners came from across society with gentlemen, cheesemongers, lawyers, wigmakers and professors rubbing shoulders.

It’s over two years since I wrote about this second plaque so here it is again.

It tells us that there once lived here a lady called Priss Fotheringham who had been ranked ‘the second best whore in the City’. This description appeared in 1660 in a serial publication called The Wandring Whore by John Garfield, which described in some detail the antics of London’s prostitutes.

Described when young as a ‘cat-eyed gypsy, pleasing to the eye’, Priscilla Fotheringham (nee Carswell) was a colourful character very famous in her time. It is thought she was born in Scotland around 1615 and little is known of her early life. What we do know is that in 1652 she was sent to Newgate Gaol having been found in a house of ill-repute …

… sitting between two Dutchmen with her breasts naked to the waist and without stockings, drinking and singing in a very uncivil manner.

In 1658 she was still misbehaving and was bound over by a Middlesex Justice of the Peace for …

… being a notorious strumpet … that had undone several men by giving them the foul disease … and for keeping the husband of Susan Slaughter from her and for also threatening to stab said Susan Slaughter … and also for several notorious wickedness which is not fit to be named among the heathen.

She had married Edward Fotheringham, an odious character from a brothel-owning family, in 1656 and he set her up as a madam at the Jack-a-Newberry Tavern on the corner where her plaque now stands. As her looks faded with time she became more ‘creative’ in the way customers were entertained – you can read more detail in her Wikipedia entry. She made enough money to set up her own brothel and died (of syphilis) a wealthy woman around 1668.

The Whitecross Street area was at one time rather notorious, as this 17th century ballad records …


In Whitecross Street and Golden Lane
Do strapping lasses dwell,
And so there do in every street
‘Twixt that and Clerkenwell.
At Cowcross and at Smithfield
I have much pleasure found,
Where wenches like to fairies
Did often trace the ground.

Nowadays the big attraction is Waitrose.

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City Pumps – more tales of the City’s water

Back in 2012 this magnificent late 18th century pump on Cornhill was in a very sorry state, slowly rusting away …

Copyright: Coal Holes of London.

The pump in 1800 …

Credit: The water pump in Cornhill designed by Nathaniel Wright. Engraving by S. Rawle, 1800. Wellcome Collection.

Now it has been restored to its former glory (EC3V 3LL) …

I didn’t notice the cyclist waving at me when I took the picture!

Two sides of the pump record its history. This is the side facing the pavement …

The ‘neighbouring fire offices’ were insurance companies who made sure that passers-by learnt of their generous contributions by incorporating their emblems into the pump’s design. It was, of course, also in their own interest to have a reliable source of water should there be an outbreak of fire. There had been a particularly ferocious fire in nearby Change Alley in 1748 with many buildings destroyed. You can read more about it in my blog More City Courtyards and Alleys – Change Alley.

The Gentleman’s Magazine of 16 March 1799 tells the pump’s story in a little more detail …

By the sinking of the pavement nearly opposite the front gate of the Royal Exchange a very large deep well of great antiquity has been discovered. The water is of excellent quality, and the ward of Cornhill propose erecting a pump near the spot… What is remarkable, the top of the well was not secured by either arch or brickwork, but only covered with planks.

The emblem of the Sun Fire Office.
The emblem of the Phoenix Fire Office.
The emblem of the London Fire Office.
The emblem of the Royal Exchange Fire Office.

This is the inscription on the side of the pump facing the road …

It refers to a well and a ‘House of Correction built thereon by Henry Wallis Mayor of London in the year 1282’. Also known as Henry le Walleis and Henry le Waleys, he was elected Mayor an impressive five times and was an incredibly active and creative individual. You can read more about him here and here.

The House of Correction was, according to one chronicler …

… to be a Prison for Night-walkers, and other suspicious persons, and was called the Tunne upon Cornhill; because the same was builded somewhat in fashion of a Tunne (barrel), standing on the one end.

Anyone walking about the City at night came under suspicion since at sunset all fires and lights were extinguished and great peals of bells heralded the closing of the gates in the city wall until dawn. Night air was known to be unhealthy. It was therefore believed that those who walked in it were, at best, eavesdroppers at neighbours’ windows or at worst potential burglars, murderers or prostitutes. They would be held at the Tunne until morning and then brought before a judge. For further reading on the subject I recommend Matthew Beaumont’s fascinating book : Nightwalking: A Nocturnal History of London. You can read more about the Tunne here in British History Online including details of the nasty punishments meted out to women ‘taken in fornication or aduouterie (sic)‘.

I suppose the spikes on the spout are there to stop people resting their bottoms on it …

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I am indebted to Metro Girl’s blog for this piece of fun trivia. The pump in it’s original blue state can be seen in the climax of the first Bridget Jones’s Diary movie, where Renee Zellweger’s Bridget enjoys her first kiss with Colin Firth’s Mark Darcy after he buys her a new diary from the Royal Exchange …

Copyright : Working Title Films (2001).

In the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral this old Parish Pump, dated 1819, bears the name of St Faith’s Parish despite the fact that the church after which it was named was demolished in 1256 (yes, over 700 years ago) to allow for the eastern expansion of St Paul’s.

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That’s Paternoster Square in the background. The pump is in St Paul’s Churchyard.

From the 1250s until the reign of Edward VI, the parish known as St Faith under St Paul’s literally worshiped beneath St Paul’s Cathedral, using a space the end of the west crypt under St Paul’s Quire. After the Great Fire of 1666 the parish was united with St Augustine Watling Street. The pump was once situated against railings of St Paul’s Churchyard close to St Paul’s Cross, but was moved to its present position in 1973.

The old parish still has a boundary marker on the wall of St Paul’s Cathedral School …

You can read my blog about parish boundary markers here.

I’m very fond of Aldgate pump and its wolf’s head spout so, although I wrote about it just over a year ago, I hope regular readers will forgive me for writing about it again. At the junction of Fenchurch Street and Leadenhall Street people usually hurry past it without a second glance, not knowing anything about some gruesome aspects of its history …

There was a well here for centuries and one appears to be shown on the Agas map of 1561 …

Look under the ‘A’ of Aldegate

After a pump was installed in the sixteenth century the water gained a reputation for being ‘bright, sparkling, and cool, and of an agreeable taste’. In the early 1870s, however, people started noticing the taste deteriorate and become foul. Then people who had drank the water started dying in great numbers in a tragedy that became known as the Aldgate Pump Epidemic.

It was known that Thames water was dangerous as illustrated by this 1850s drawing entitled The Silent Highwayman

But Aldgate water originated in the healthy springs of Hampstead and Highgate and flowed underground – so it should have been safe.

The bad news broke publicly in April 1876 …

An investigation by the Medical Officer of Health for the City revealed the terrible truth. During its passage from north London it had passed through and under numerous new graveyards thereby picking up the bacteria, germs and calcium from the decaying bodies. The pump was immediately closed and eventually reconnected to the safer New River Company’s supply later in 1876. You will find a fascinating history of the New River Company if you access the splendid London Inheritance blog.

The epidemic was obviously a distant memory by the nineteen twenties when Whittard’s tea merchants used to

… always get the kettles filled at the Aldgate Pump so that only the purest water was used for tea tasting.

I have discovered a few old pictures …

The pump in 1874- picture from the Wellcome Collection.

And in August 1908 a little bare footed East End boy refreshes himself using the cup attached to the pump by a chain …

In the full picture his pal is doing the pumping …

The wolf’s head spout is said to reference the last wolf killed in the City of London …

Nice that it has survived intact into the 21st century.

Outside Tesco’s on Cheapside is this intriguing manhole cover …

For a fascinating talk by Chris Dyson about this and other aspects of the City’s water supply history click here : This City is Made of Water.

Also worth reading is this article in Square Mile Health Walks and the Gentle Author’s blog entitled The Pumps of Old London.

And there’s my blog from almost four years ago: Philanthropic Fountains.

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A policeman’s lot* …

I have been looking again at my rescued copy of Living London published in 1902 and was fascinated by this description of the London Policeman …

It may be his painful duty to arrest you and lock you up … but he much prefers to be your guide and champion, to help and stand by you at every turn. At the crowded street crossing with uplifted finger he stays the multitudinous thunder of the traffic … and may sometime later risk his valuable life against the murderous burglar. Whether gentle or rough, he is always the same, civil-spoken, well mannered, long suffering but sturdy and uncompromising servant of the people.

The writer, Major Arthur Griffiths (1838-1908), was an Assistant Governor of several London prisons and wrote a number of books about policing, befriending a number of senior officers in the process.

His words inspired me to go off to do a bit more research and find some images that might complement this description.

It has been decades since I saw a policeman on traffic, or ‘point’, duty and so I haven’t for a long time witnessed an officer’s ‘uplifted finger’ staying the traffic. But I have found some great images.

At Bank junction. An old postcard (I’d guess from the 1930s) …

Another from circa 1930, taken on Ludgate Hill and its junction with Ludgate Circus …

Copyright: Museum of London.

This officer is standing in almost the same place during the terrible winter of 1962/3 which became known as the Big Freeze

Copyright: Rob Baker.

Outside the old Lyons Corner House Restaurant on the Strand near Charing Cross, probably early 1970s …

Fox Photos/Getty Images.

And what about this great scene. It’s entitled A London policeman controlling traffic from a box at Ludgate Circus on 2nd February 1931

Picture: Getty Images.

Here’s another image from a different angle. I imagine that the levers in the box can be used to control the traffic lights. Boy do we need something similar at that location today …

Image: Keith Nale, Pinterest.

This short eight minute film on YouTube is a real treat. It dates from 1932 and includes film of Bank Junction during a busy time of day with no traffic lights, just two policemen controlling everything. There’s a wonderful moment when a lady interrupts one of them to ask directions! Click here for the link. If that doesn’t work try Googling ‘London Traffic – early (1932) British Pathé’.

As far as arrests are concerned, my copy of Living London has provided me with one arrest image – a man caught trying to pawn stolen goods …

By the expression on the pawnbroker’s face it looks like he was the one who gave the police a tip off.

This is an 1890 photograph of an arrest entitled Taken in Charge

Picture from Pinterest, Dustin DeWitt.

Apparently it’s from an article about the Metropolitan Police but I can’t find any more detail. Presumably the officers and the person they are detaining had to stand still for the picture to be taken, hence its ‘posed’ appearance.

All this research reminded me of my visit almost three years ago to the City of London Police Museum where I recorded a fine set of moustaches …

The City of London police have been responsible for looking after the Square Mile since 1839 and this exhibition is a collaboration with the Guildhall Library.

Some exhibits make you smile …

The coat hanger joke refers to the fact that the minimum height for a City of London Police officer used to be 5 feet 9 inches whereas for the Metropolitan Police it was 5 feet 7 inches.

Other exhibits are more serious …

Cleverly disguised bombs made by Suffragettes.

And finally some police enforcement equipment …

The object with the elaborate crest is a tipstaff dated 1839 – it was a sign of rank and unscrewed to provide a place to carry documents. The handcuffs are 19th century, the earlier one was attached to the wrist of the detained person and the officer would hold the other side. The ‘bullseye’ lamp for night patrol is from the 1880s and the truncheon, with the City emblem, from the same period.

Villains also had ‘tools of the trade’. It looks like Major Griffiths had access to the notorious ‘Black Museum’ at Scotland Yard when writing his article since it includes pictures of some of the Museum’s exhibits …

In this image showing a corner of the Museum you can see that exhibits include some nooses hanging from the ceiling. They were probably used in the execution of individuals whose story excited particular public interest. Also visible are the death masks of five executed criminals lined up on a shelf at the back …

A number of items on display in the London Police Museum have come from the Black Museum.

*Click here to listen to the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company singing A Policeman’s Lot from The Pirates of Penzance. You will find the lyrics here.

If you have enjoyed today’s blog you may also like to read The Brave Policemen of Postman’s Park.

If you would like to follow me on Instagram here is the link …

https://www.instagram.com/london_city_gent/

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