I was off to the Guildhall Gallery again last weekend looking for blog inspiration and, as usual, was not disappointed.
Robert Hooke (1635-1703) was a typical ‘Renaissance Man’ of 17th century England but is not anything like as well known as his contemporaries such as Sir Isaac Newton, Samuel Pepys and Sir Christopher Wren (a lifelong friend).
In the course of his career at the Royal Society and as Professor of Geometry at Gresham College, he carried out the earliest research with the microscope, described and named the cell, was a founder of the science of geology, and discovered the law of springs/elasticity, the achievement for which he is most remembered today. He was also a City Surveyor, organising the rebuilding of London after the Great Fire of 1666. Overshadowed by Newton and Wren, he faded into relative obscurity and now there is not even a portrait of him.
The Guildhall Gallery has gone some way to bringing him out of the shadows with a new exhibition in The Heritage Gallery, Robert Hooke and the Monument …
Hooke worked with Wren on the design of the Monument, built to commemorate the Great Fire of 1666. It remains a striking feature of the City and a major tourist attraction to this day …
It was originally intended to have a scientific function as a zenith telescope – instrumants that can be used for determining the precise measurement of star positions. Unfortunately, movement caused by the wind and nearby traffic made it unsuitable for this purpose.
Hooke’s diary (which is dated 1672-83) was a memorandum book he kept to remind him of the many places he had been and people he had met. It records his visits to sites in the City that he was working on including the Monument …
Indicated is an entry from 5th April 1676. He records going to see ‘the pillar’, i.e. the Monumant, in construction. He describes examining the balcony and the setting for the golden urn on top of it. He visited the construction work frequently and must have been very fit with a good head for heights!
The urn at the top …
Hooke was a true polymath. A diagram for a proposed design for a thermomenter is also on display …
…amongst other papers he collected …
You can also see a daguerreotype of the Monument from circa 1845 taken from Gracechurch Street, with the church of St Magnus the Martyr in the background …
Incredibly fragile, this is the oldest photograph of the City of London in the London Archives.
I’ve always been fascinated by Hooke and particularly love Micrographia. The Royal Society blog states: ‘This great book of explorations of the very small, the very far and the very elusive, needs little introduction. Written and illustrated with 38 lavish copperplate engravings, Micrographia or, some Physiological Descriptions of Minute Bodies made by Magnifying Glasses, with Observations and Inquiries thereupon, to spell out its full title, remains a landmark in the history of microscopy’.
The accuracy of his famous drawing of a flea is even more striking when we compare it with an image produced using the latest microscope technology …
Look at an online copy of Hooke’s beautiful book here.
Since he was a contemporary of Pepys, the famous flea is included on a paving stone in the Pepys garden in Seething Lane …
You can find a complete guide to the garden and its carvings in my blogs here and here.
If you visit the Hooke exhibition, make sure you also pop in to the upstairs gallery where a really enjoyable treat awaits …
The Giant Dolls House Project invited schools and community groups to create minature rooms in shoe boxes to show their perspectives on the City of London’s buildings, homes, streets and environment.
I was absolutely fascinated …
My favourite. I could imagine myself sitting in that chair, relaxing and reading a book from the little library …
Do visit if you can – my images don’t really do it justice.
If you would like to follow me on Instagram here is the link …
An important date for your diary! This Saturday, 5th October, at 11:30 a.m. I will be interviewed by Robert Elms on his BBC Radio London show. We’ll be chatting about my book Courage, Crime and Charity in the City of London and I hope you will be able to join us.
On a sunny day last week I took a walk towards Holborn and picked out a few buildings and memorials that I really liked.
First up is the Wax Chandlers Hall …
Wax Chandlers’ Hall is on Gresham Street on a site that the Company has owned since 1501. It has a long and fascinating history stretching all the way back to 1371 when they applied to the City’s governing body, the Mayor and Court of Aldermen, to have officials appointed from among their number (masters) to ‘overse all the defaults in theyre saide crafte’, and see that offenders were prosecuted. Their history is really well documented on their website.
Surely the bluest door in the City with the finest unicorns …
On the next corner is the building with the rogue apostrophe and the happy smiling sun…
Surely that should be St Martin’s House?
So many fine buildings date from the late 19th and very early 20th century …
The General Post Office in St. Martin’s Le Grand was the main post office for London between 1829 and 1910, the headquarters of the General Post Office of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and England’s first purpose-built post office …
Poor Henry Cecil Raikes, who laid this stone, died in August the following year aged only 52. Here he is in a Vanity Fair caricature when he was Deputy Speaker of the House of Commons …
Parallel is King Edward Street where the man himself laid this stone on 16th October 1905 …
The great British Empire is duly acknowledged along with the King’s connection to an earlier Edward and the foundation of Christ’s Hospital.
It’s commemorated again nearby with this sculpture, the ragamuffins on the right being carefully coaxed towards a better life …
To me they look like they are having a fine time just as they are, perhaps letting it all hang out at a concert …
On Newgate Street another building connected to the Post Office …
This imposing building is at 16/17 Old Bailey. The London Picture Archive tells us: The seven-storey building was designed for the Chatham and Dover Railway Company by Arthur Usher of Yetts, Sturdy and Usher of London in 1912. The building is in the Edwardian baroque style with elements of french architectural styles such as the mansard roof … …
Above the entrance is a broken pediment with statues either side depicting travel. The statue of the woman on the left holds a wheel depicting rail travel and the woman on the right leans on an anchor depicting sea travel. At the bottom of brackets on the two piers either side of the entrance are small carved lion heads …
Across the road, outside the church of St Sepulchre Newgate, is this modest little drinking fountain which has an intriguing history …
Look up towards the roof of the church and you’ll see a late 17th Century sundial …
The dial is on the parapet above south wall of the nave and is believed to date from 1681. It is made of stone painted blue and white with noon marked by an engraved ‘X’ and dots marking the half hours. It shows Winter time from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm in 15 minute marks. I thought it was curious that the 4:00 pm mark is represented as IIII rather than IV – I have no idea why
There is demolition going on in the approach to Holborn Viaduct and I couldn’t resist taking this image of what looks like a building that has been sliced away revealing the vestiges of decoration left on each floor …
I find it reminiscent of the ruined houses on bomb sites that used to be a common feature of London right up to the early 1970s.
Holborn Viaduct dragons and a knight in armour …
As Prince Albert doffs his hat towards the City of London, a terracotta masterpiece looms in the background …
Before walking towards it I made a quick detour to St Andrew Holborn to admire the Charity Boy and Girl …
Pausing at the junction with Grays Inn Road, and looking back east, you will see that you are at one of the entrances to the City guarded by a dragon …
In the background is the Royal Fusiliers War Memorial, a work by Albert Toft. Unveiled by the Lord Mayor in 1922, the inscriptions read …
To the glorious memory of the 22,000 Royal Fusiliers who fell in the Great War 1914-1919 (and added later) To the Royal Fusiliers who fell in the World war 1939-1945 and those fusiliers killed in subsequent campaigns.
Toft’s soldier stands confidently as he surveys the terrain, his foot resting on a rock, his rifle bayoneted, his left hand clenched in determination. At the boundary of the City, he looks defiantly towards Westminster. The general consensus on the internet is that the model for the sculpture was a Sergeant Cox, who served throughout the First World War.
Behind him is the magnificent, red terracotta, Gothic-style building by J.W. Waterhouse, which once housed the headquarters of the Prudential Insurance Company.
As is often the case, I am indebted to the London Inheritance blogger for some of the detail about this extraordinary building . The Prudential moved into their new office in 1879, which was quite an achievement given that the company had only been founded 31 years earlier in 1848. The building exudes Victorian commercial power and was a statement building for the company that was at the time the country’s largest insurance company …
The lower part of the building uses polished granite, with red brick and red terracotta across all upper floors. If you stare at the building long enough the use of polished granite gives the impression that there has been a large flood along Holborn, which has left a tide mark on the building after washing out the red colour from the lower floors.
In the centre of the façade is a tower, with a large arch leading through into inner courtyards around which are further wings of the building …
It incorporates a sculpture of Prudence carrying one of the attributes of this Virtue, a hand mirror …
When built, the Prudential building was very advanced for its time. There was hot and cold running water, electric lighting, and to speed the delivery of paperwork across the site, a pnematic tube system was installed, where documents were put into canisters, which were then blown through the tube system to their destination. Ladies were provided with their own restaurant and library, and had a separate entrance, and were also allowed to leave 15 minutes early to “avoid consorting with men”.
The building’s brickwork is very attractive …
In the courtyard you will see the work of a sculptor who has chosen to illustrate war in a very different fashion to Toft.
The memorial carries the names of the 786 Prudential employees who lost their lives in the First World War …
The sculptor was F.V. Blundstone and the work was inaugurated on 2 March 1922. All Prudential employees had been offered ‘the opportunity of taking a personal share in the tribute by subscribing to the cost of the memorial’ (suggested donations were between one and five shillings).
The main group represents a soldier sustained in his death agony by two angels. He is lying amidst war detritus with his right arm resting on the wheel of some wrecked artillery piece. His careworn face contrasts with that of the sombre, beautiful girls with their uplifted wings. I find it incredibly moving.
I have written about angels in the City before and they are usually asexual, but these are clearly female.
At the four corners of the pedestal stand four more female figures.
One holds a field gun and represents the army …
One holds a boat representing the navy …
At the back is a figure holding a shell representing National Service …
The fourth lady holds a bi-plane representing the air force …
There are also two memorial plaques to employes who died in the Second World War. The north panel lists names A-K, the second K-Z. Each is topped with a broken pediment set around a wreath, with a figure of St George on top …
All those lost lives from just one employer.
I shall probably continue my walk westwards next week.
I do like a good clock story and the City has quite a few of them – from the clock that killed a man to the one mentioned in a famous poem.
I’ll start, however, with this beauty sited alongside St Magnus the Martyr on Lower Thames Street (EC3R 6DN) …
The clock was the gift of the Lord Mayor, Sir Charles Duncombe. The story goes that when he was a young apprentice, and rather poor, he missed an important meeting with his master on London Bridge because he had no way of telling the time. He vowed that, if ever he became rich, he would erect a clock in the vicinity and this magnificent example of the clockmakers’ art was the result. The artisan was Langley Bradley of Fenchurch Street who had worked with Sir Christopher Wren on several projects, including the early clock that adorned St. Paul’s Cathedral. Wren was evidently impressed with Bradley’s work since, in a letter the Lord Chamberlain’s Office in 1711, he went so far as to describe him as ‘a very able artist, very reasonable in his prices’.
In 1709 St Magnus was located at the north side of the ‘old’ London Bridge as this 18th century map illustrates …
You can also see the clock and its proximity to the bridge in this etching by Edward William Cooke entitled Part of Old London-Bridge, St Magnus and the Monument, taken at Low-water, August 15th, 1831.
Some of you may remember the charming neo-gothic Mappin & Webb building that was controversially demolished in 1994 …
It was replaced by Number 1 Poultry, designed by James Stirling and destined to become the youngest City building to be listed as Grade II* …
Prince Charles was unimpressed and said it resembled ‘a 1930s wireless set’.
I prefer it, however, to the Mies van der Rohe skyscraper that was also considered …
If you walk through the new building at street level you’ll see that the old Mappin & Webb clock has been incorporated …
And a wonderful frieze from the old building illustrating royal processions has also been preserved and relocated facing Poultry. Here is a small section …
King Charles II rides past accompanied by his pet spaniels
Now the clock that killed a man. Here it is attached to the Royal Courts of Justice – designed by George Edmund Street, it has been described as ‘exuberant’ …
On 5th November 1954 a clock mechanic, Thomas Manners, was killed when his clothes were caught up in the machinery as he wound up the mechanism. He had been carrying out this task every week since 1937, as well as looking after the 800 or so other clocks in the law court buildings. You can read the press cutting I came across here.
In 1711 Nicholas Hawksmoor was fifty years old yet, although he had already worked with Christopher Wren on St Paul’s Cathedral and for John Vanbrugh on Castle Howard, the buildings that were to make his name were still to come. In that year, an Act of Parliament created the Commission for Building Fifty New Churches to serve the growing population on the fringes of the expanding city.
Nicholas Hawksmoor c1661-1736.
Only twelve of these churches were ever built, but Hawksmoor designed six of them and – miraculously – they have all survived, displaying his unique architectural talent to subsequent generations and permitting his reputation to rise as time has passed. One of them is St Mary Woolnoth.
The outside of the church is very unusual and it has a fine position on the corner of King William Street and Lombard Street, just off the major Bank road junction (EC3V 9AN). The clock is mentioned in a famous poem …
In a corner sits the clock’s mechanism surrounded by a cover on which is etched an extract from T.S. Eliot’s poem The Wasteland …
Eliot worked nearby in Lloyds Bank and, having watched the commuters trudge over London Bridge, wrote these cheerful lines …
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
No doubt if you were not at the office by the ‘final stroke of nine’ you were going to be late.
I have always liked this clock at the corner of Fleet Street and Ludgate Circus …
I read somewhere that, during the Blitz, an incendiary device became entangled in the ball at the top and dangled there for hours until it was deactivated. I often have this image in my head of gently swaying ordnance when I walk up Fleet Street.
The building was originally the London headquarters of the Thomas Cook Travel Agency and, since Mr Cook was a keen supporter of the temperance movement, the first floor contained a temperance hotel. The building is adorned with numerous charming cherubs …
‘This is where we’re going on holiday’.
There are dozens of City cherubs and I have written about some of them here.
The Royal Exchange has two ‘twin’ clocks, both exactly the same, one facing Threadneedle Street and one facing Cornhill …
Britannia and Neptune hold a shield that contains an image of Gresham’s original Royal Exchange whilst above Atlas lifts a globe. I have seen it described as a Valentine’s Day clock because of the two red hearts. Ahhhh, sweet!
Here’s Atlas again, straining under his burden in King Street …
The building was once the home of the Atlas Insurance Company.
The clock at the church of St Edmund King and Martyr in Lombard Street sports a delicate, pretty crown (EC3V 9EA) …
This is Throgmorton Street at the turn of the last century, straw hats (or boaters) being clearly in fashion. You’ll find a short history of them here…
The clock on the left is still there (EC2N 2AT) …
You’ll see that Warnford Court was rebuilt in 1884 but, out of interest, I did a bit more research and came across this list of the tenants in 1842 …
Stock brokers, solicitors and merchants mainly but also a hatter, a ‘commercial teacher’, an auctioneer and, strangely, the Danish Consul General’s Office. Interestingly, the Bolivar Mining Association was also located there. The Association was formed to work copper mines at Aroa, Venezuela and were owned for some time by the Bolivar family who leased them to an English company to help finance the war of independence. You can read more here.
Fleet Street has a lot to offer when it comes to clock spotting.
How about this masterpiece …
Installed just after the Great Fire of London in 1671, it was the first clock in London to have a minute hand, with two figures (perhaps representing Gog and Magog) striking the hours and quarters with clubs, turning their heads whilst doing so.
The present version of the clock was installed in 1738 before, in 1828, being moved to the 3rd Marquess of Hertford’s house in Regent’s Park. The Great War saw the Regent’s Park residence housing soldiers blinded from combat. The charity which undertook this went on to name itself after where the clock in the house came from: St Dunstan’s. It was returned to the Church in 1935 by Lord Rothermere to mark the Silver Jubilee of King George V. You can read a lot more about its history here.
If you like the occasional burst of colour, look up at this Art Deco treat, also in Fleet Street outside the old offices of the Daily Telegraph (EC4A 2BB) …
I am really pleased to report that the refurbishment of Bracken House is now complete and we can see again the extraordinary Zodiacal clock on the side of the building that faces Cannon Street (EC3M 9JA).
Here it is in all its glory …
If you look more closely at the centre this is what you will see …
On the gilt bronze sunburst at the centre you can clearly make out the features of Winston Churchill. The building used to be the headquarters of the Financial Times and is named after Brendan Bracken, its chief editor after the war.
During the War Bracken served in Churchill’s wartime cabinet as Minister of Information. George Orwell worked under Bracken on the BBC’s Indian Service and deeply resented wartime censorship and the need to manipulate information. If you like slightly wacky theories, there is one that the sinister ‘Leader’ in Orwell’s novel 1984, Big Brother, was inspired by Bracken, who was customarily referred to as ‘BB’ by his Ministry employees.
The oddly-shaped Blackfriar pub on Queen Victoria Street displays a pretty clock just above the jolly friar’s head …
Unfortunately it hasn’t worked for long time.
This wise old owl looks across the road to the north side of London Bridge, observing the thousands of commuters flowing back and forth every day from London Bridge Station (although not so many lately!). He is perched outside what was once the offices of the Guardian Royal Exchange Insurance Company (later just ‘Guardian’) and was for a while their symbol, presumably signifying wisdom and watchfulness.
Rising from the flames and just about to take off over the City is the legendary Phoenix bird and from 1915 until 1983 this was the headquarters of the Phoenix Assurance Company at 5 King William Street. One can see why the Phoenix legend of rebirth and restoration appealed as a name for an insurer (EC4N 7DA).
The clock shows the name of the present tenants, Daiwa Capital Markets.
Before clocks there were, of course, sundials and there are many fine examples in the City – both old and relatively new.
These are my two favourites …
The Jacobean church of St Katharine Cree in Leadenhall Street was built between 1628 and 1630 and survived the Great Fire of 1666. On the south wall is this wonderful dial, circa 1700, which is described as having ‘gilded embellishments including declining lines, Babylonian/Latin hours and Zodiac signs’. Its Latin motto Non Sine Lumine means Nothing without Light.
And this dial in Fournier Street …
It was once a Protestant church, then a Methodist Chapel, next a Jewish synagogue and is now the Brick Lane Mosque (E1 6QL).
In the late 17th century some 40-50,000 French Protestants, known as Huguenots, fleeing persecution in France, arrived in England with around half settling in Spitalfields. They started a local silk-weaving industry and, incidentally, gave us a new word ‘refugee’ from the French word réfugié, ‘one who seeks sanctuary’. They flourished and established this church in 1743 naming it La Neuve Eglise (The New Church) and installed the sundial we can see today. The Latin motto Umbra sumus translates as ‘we are shadow’, and is taken from Horace’s statement Pulvis et umbra sumus, meaning ‘We are dust and shadow’.
You can read more about city sunduals in my blog called, appropriately, We are but shadows.
If you would like to follow me on Instagram here is the link …
I love visiting Bunhill. It has an atmosphere like nowhere else I visit in London with the possible exception of Highgate Cemetery.
The east entrance …
Around 123,000 people are interred here, among them the poet and mystic William Blake. Everyone is familiar with the great anthem Jerusalem but I also love his poem Auguries of Innocence:
To see the world in a grain of sand/And heaven in a wild flower/Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/And eternity in an hour/A Robin Red breast in a Cage/Puts all Heaven in a Rage/A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons/Shudders Hell thr’ all its regions
He died in poverty and obscurity and it took 14 years of research in order to identify the exact spot where he was buried. The grave is now marked with a splendid stone funded by the Blake Society …
There are other famous folk commemorated here.
John Bunyan’s tomb of 1689 is not quite what it seems since the effigy of the great man and the bas-reliefs (inspired by Pilgrim’s Progress) were only added in 1862 when the tomb was restored …
A preacher who spent over a decade in jail for his beliefs, he holds the bible in his left hand. He started the Christian allegory Pilgrim’s Progress whilst imprisoned and it became one of the most published works in the English language.
Bunhill is a nice place for a quiet spot of lunch …
Turn your back on Bunyan’s tomb and you will be facing the obelisk erected in 1870 to commemorate the 1731 burial of Daniel Defoe, the author of Robinson Crusoe. The monument was funded by an appeal to boys and girls by the weekly newspaper Christian World who were invited to give ‘not less than sixpence’ …
My favourite tombstone …
Somehow it has fared remarkably well against the elements, pigeons and city pollution.
Many have not …
But some inscriptions survive. I was very taken with this marker for the grave of Reverend Joseph Cartwright who died on 5th November 1800 at the age of 72 …
It seems to me that he composed the poem engraved on the stone himself (sadly the last few lines are obliterated). Here it is …
What if death may sleep provide/Should I be of death afraid/What if beams of opening day/Shine around my breathless clay/Tender friends a while may mourn/Me from their embraces torn/Dearer better friends I have/In the realm beneath the grave.
Many memorials bear witnes to the high degree of infant mortality …
Interred with him and his wife is a lady who can’t resist referring to her connection to the ‘Illustrious House of Percy’ …
Popular styles include pyramids …
… ancient Egypt …
… and obelisks, of which this is a particularly fine example …
The inscription is in Welsh and marks the tomb of the Calvinistic Methodist minister, poet and Bible commentator James Hughes. Also inscribed is his Bardic name Iago Trichrug.
Some atmospheric images …
No visit would be complete without saying ‘hello’ to Dame Mary Page and recognising and admiring her fortitude, which she insisted on being recorded in stone on her memorial …
You’ll find more about Dame Mary and other fascinating people in my book Courage, Crime and Charity in the City of London. Only £10! Just click on the link or pop in to the Daunt bookshop in Cheapside or Marylebone High Street.
Today I’m continuing the walk I started last week heading south along City Road.
Just before the Old Street roundabout you encounter two intriguing buildings. The first of these is The Alexandra Trust Dining Rooms …
In August 1898, newspapers reported a plan to provide cheap meals at cost price in a series of counter-service restaurants in the poorest parts of London. Sir Thomas Lipton, wealthy grocer and philanthropist, was prepared to spend £100,000 on building them; after the initial outlay the scheme aimed to be self-supporting. HRH the Princess of Wales – Princess Alexandra, wife of the future King Edward VII – lent her patronage. The scheme built on her Diamond Jubilee meal for the poor in 1897, for which the then Mr. Lipton had donated £25,000 of the required £30,000, and which succeeded in feeding 300,000 people. He was knighted at the start of 1898, made a Baron in 1902 and died in 1931 aged 83. A fine man with a fine moustache …
Called Empire House, the Old Street building opened on the 9th of March 1900. It had three floors of dining rooms each designed to hold 500 people – a number frequently exceeded in later years. The Morning Post reported that the basement included washing facilities for customers and an artesian well yielding 2,000 gallons of water an hour, and that 1,200 steak puddings can be cooked simultaneously. There were ‘electric automatic lifts’ to aid distribution of food to the dining floors, and a bakehouse with electric kneading. The Sketch described the establishment as a type of slap-bang – an archaic noun meaning a low eating house. Soup, steak pudding with two vegetables and a pastry costs 4½ᵈ.
The kitchen …
The men’s dining room …
The ladies’ dining room …
The Dining Rooms closed in 1951. You can read the full history of this fascinating enterprise here on the brilliant London Wanderer blog.
Further south is the stunning terracotta masterpiece that was once the Leysian Mission …
The crest above the main entrance bears the Latin words ‘In Fide Fiducia’ (In Faith, Trust), which is the motto of the Leys School in Cambridge. The object of the Mission organization was to promote the welfare of the poorer people in the UK …
At the dawn of the last century, like the Dining Rooms, the Leysian Mission was a welfare centre for the poor masses of the East End. As well as saving people’s souls, the Methodists who ran it believed in helping people in this life too. They thus offered health services, a ‘poor man’s lawyer’, entertainment in the form of film screenings and lantern shows, as well as hosting affiliated organisations such as the Athletic Society, the Brass Band, the Penny Bank, the Working Men’s Club and Moulton House Settlement for Young Men …
The Methodist meeting places ‘were all built to look as un-churchlike as possible in an attempt to woo the working classes away from the temptations of drink and music halls.’ The building’s Great Queen Victoria Hall, which seated nearly 2,000 people, boasted a magnificent organ as well as a stunning stained glass window.
Plans published in The Building News 1901 …
The combination of the Second World War, during which the building suffered extensive bombing damage, followed by the introduction of the welfare state and the changing social character of the area saw the Leysian Mission gradually lose its relevance as a welfare centre. In the 1980s it merged with the Wesleyan Church with the building sold, converted into residential flats and renamed Imperial Hall.
Plaques that were ‘fixed’ by VIPs when the building was completed in 1903 are still there …
I like the posh brass intercom system …
At the roundabout there’s another plaque, this time commemorating the City Road Turnpike …
Road pricing is not new! Between the 17th and 19th centuries, the capital operated an extensive system of toll gates, known as turnpikes, which were responsible for monitoring horse-drawn traffic and imposing substantial charges upon any traveller wishing to make use of the route ahead.
A ‘General Plan For Explaining The Different Trusts Of The Turnpike Gates In The Vicinity Of The Metropolis. Published By J. Cary, July 1st, 1790’ …
Just like today, certain lucky users were exempt from the charge – namely mail coaches, soldiers, funeral processions, parsons on parish business, prison carts and, of course, members of the royal family.
Vandals today damaging or destroying ULEZ cameras can feel something in common with these people – a ‘rowdy group of travellers causing trouble at a turnpike in 1825’ …
As you cross the road by the roundabout, look west along Old Street and you’ll see a magnificent old sign, a relic of the area’s industrial past. An extract from the blog of the Greater London Industrial Archaeology Society reads as follows:
‘It is pleasing to discover that last year the sign, which is thought to date from early in the 20th century, was restored (though without the black paint Bob thought might originally have featured) and now looks very good. It was presumably erected by J Liversidge and Son, wheelwrights and later wagon and van builders, who occupied 196 Old Street for some decades. The firm first appears in the Old Kent Road in the 1880s; by the 1890s they had expanded into Hackney and then into Old Street. By 1921 they were back in the Old Kent Road alone, the development of motor vehicles presumably having removed much of their busines’ …
I like the hand pointing down to the site (it’s now a petrol station) …
It’s on the east wall of what was once St Luke’s School who presumably made an appropriate charge for allowing its installation …
I paused to admire Old Street Station’s green roof …
Just past the roundabout on the left there’s a building that’s a bit of a mystery. It’s almost opposite the entrance to the Bunhill Burial Ground and has been derelict for as long as I can remember (and that’s quite a while) …
Very strange. On the north wall is a plaque bearing the coat of arms of the Worshipful Company of Ironmongers, so maybe they own the building …
I thought it would be appropriate on this walk to acknowledge the founder of Methodism, John Wesley, and pop in for a brief visit to his chapel …
It’s well worth a diversion.
You can admire the stained glass of which there are many fine traditional examples …
Plus some striking, unusual contemporary works …
Margaret Thatcher (then Margaret Roberts) married Denis Thatcher here on 13 December 1951 and both their children were christened here. She donated the communion rail in 1993 …
On 28 February 1975 at 8:46 am at Moorgate Station 43 people died and 74 were injured after a train failed to stop at the line’s southern terminus and crashed into its end wall. No fault was found with the train, and the inquiry by the Department of the Environment concluded that the accident was caused by the actions of Leslie Newson, the 56-year-old driver. A memorial tablet was placed in Finsbury Square …
Mr Newson is commemorated on the memorial along with the others who lost their lives. There has never been a satisfactory explanation for his behaviour, but suicide seemed unlikely. Newson was known by his colleagues as a careful and conscientious motorman (driver). On 28 February he carried a bottle of milk, sugar, his rule book, and a notebook in his work satchel; he also had £270 in his jacket to buy a second-hand car for his daughter after work. According to staff on duty his behaviour appeared normal. Before his shift began he had a cup of tea and shared his sugar with a colleague; he jokingly said to the colleague “Go easy on it, I shall want another cup when I come off duty”.
It took all day to remove the injured, many of whom had to be cut free. After five more days and an operation involving 1,324 firefighters, 240 police officers, 80 ambulance workers, 16 doctors and numerous volunteers all of the bodies were recovered. The driver’s body was taken out on day four. His crushed cab, at the front of the train, normally 3-foot deep, had been reduced to 6 inches.
On the north side of the square is this building …
Formerly Triton Court, it’s now known as the Alphabeta Building. Many years ago I would sometimes travel by train into the now demolished Broad Street Station. As the train approached the terminus I could see from my carriage what looked like a little boy standing on a large ball at the very top of the building. It looked like he was waving at me!
Well, he’s still there …
Now, however, I know the statue standing on top of the globe is Mercury (Hermes) the messenger and God of profitable trade. It’s by James Alexander Stevenson and was completed in the early 1900s. Though it would be impossible to see from the ground it’s apparently – as with all Stevenson’s work – signed with ‘Myrander’ a combination of his wife’s name (Myra) and his middle name (Alexander). Sweet. The renovated building is quite stunning inside as you can see here.
And finally to Moorgate Station, where a relic of its past life can be seen if you glance from across the road to the east facing entrance …
It’s a version of the logo of the City and South London Railway (C&SLR) adapted to show the carriages passing through a tunnel under the Thames where little boats bob about in the water. And for extra authenticity, I think the train on the right is coming towards us and the one on the left moving away. I love it …
This was the first successful deep-level underground ‘tube’ railway in the world and the first major railway to use electric traction …
The original service was operated by trains composed of an engine and three carriages. Thirty-two passengers could be accommodated in each carriage, which had longitudinal bench seating and sliding doors at the ends, leading onto a platform for boarding and alighting. It was reasoned that there was nothing to look at in the tunnels, so the only windows were in a narrow band high up in the carriage sides. Gate-men rode on the carriage platforms to operate the lattice gates and announce the station names to the passengers. Because of their claustrophobic interiors, the carriages soon became known as padded cells …
The genius behind deep tunnel boring was James Henry Greathead, a South African engineer (note the hat) who invented what was to become known as the Greathead Shield. His statue, below, was placed on Cornhill because a new ventilation shaft was needed for Bank Underground Station and it was decided that he should be honoured on the plinth covering the shaft …
It was such a nice sky I took another image which also shows the C&SLR logo incorporated in the plinth …
You can read more about him and his tunnelling innovation in my blog City work and public sculpture. You can also read the full fascinating history of the City and South London Railway here.
This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
