Monthly Archives: June 2026

The Siege of Basing House

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Over the last year, I have been reading all the books I can find on the Civil War. Two decades of Civil War and then the Commonwealth, a period which included the only time the country had put on trial and then executed a king.

Two decades which revealed so much about Parliamentary democracy, the role of a monarch, individual freedoms and the political, social and religious issues and conflicts of the mid 17th century. Many of which still resonate today.

London played a key part in every aspect of the conflict, not just at places across the wider city (such as the Putney Debates in St Mary’s church in 1647, which I wrote about a couple of months ago), but also the Londoners who were involved in key events during Civil War, the Commonwealth and eventual Restoration. Many fighting, and sometimes dying in battles across the country.

A couple of months ago I was browsing the history section of a bookshop, and came across the Siege of Loyalty House by Jessie Childs:

This is a brilliant book. It tells the story of the siege of Basing House in Hampshire, once one of the grandest private houses in the country, larger, and more impressive than Hampton Court, home to the Paulet family, and a place that was visited by five English Monarchs.

A place that ended in ruins after three periods of siege between 1643 and 1645, and there are plenty of London connections in the story of the siege of the house.

Today, what remains of Basing House is in the care of Hampshire Cultural Trust and is open to visit, so after reading the book, this is what we did.

Basing House is in Old Basing, just to the east of Basingstoke, and on a sunny spring day, only the ruins hint as the violence and death that took place here in the 1640s.

What would become Basing House was inherited by the Paulet family in 1428. At the time the site was occupied by a motte and bailey castle which had been built by the de Ports family who had been given the manor of Basing in 1066 by William the Conqueror.

Sir William Paulet, who would become the first Marquis of Winchester constructed two houses on the site. The first was started in 1531, and the second, which became known as the New House, was started in 1550.

By the time of the Civil War, John Paulet, the 5th Marquess of Winchester was the owner of both of these houses which together formed the Basing House complex that would be under siege.

At the outbreak of the Civil War, John Paulet declared for the King, and fortified the house so it could held for the Royalist cause.

Of the old and the new house, there is very little left, but there is one remarkable survivor. This is the Great Barn, built in 1535, and believed to be the largest Tudor barn in the south of England:

The Great Barn was part of the complex of buildings around Basing House that provided the services needed to ensure the operation of such a large house, and the people who both lived there or visited.

The Great Barn was used for the storage of wheat and barley and still today presents a remarkably impressive structure. The barn is now available to host weddings, hence the mirror ball hanging from the ceiling:

The Great Barn was built in 1535, a date which has been confirmed by tree ring dating.

In the above two photos, you can see slits in the brick walls. These were not part of the Civil War fortifications, but were part of the original design of the barn as they provided ventilation, whilst being narrow enough to keep out birds who would have eaten the grain stored within.

The Great Barn was fought over during the sieges of Basing House.

The first attack was in November 1643, when a force of 500 foot soldiers and 500 cavalry of the Parliamentary army led by Sir William Waller arrived at Basing House, and after a refusal from the defenders to surrender, started an attack which focussed on the barn in order to rob the defenders of their stores.

The attackers managed to force out the defenders, who returned to the main house, from where the defenders starting firing cannons at the barn, which forced the Parliamentarian forces to withdraw, and retire to Basingstoke.

Some of the damage caused by cannon fire can still be seen in the barn today:

The barn is part of a small complex of buildings which jointly went under the name of the Grange, and were located to the north west of the old and new houses, so from the Great Barn there is a short walk:

One of the things that Jessie Child’s book does brilliantly is to follow the story of individuals who became involved with the siege of Basing House, both on the Royalist and the Parliamentarian sides.

One of the those on the Royalist side, and who was part of John Paulet’s regiment defending the house was William Faithorne:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

William Faithorne was an apprentice engraver living with the print seller Robert Peake near Holborn Conduit.

Peake was a Royalist, and whether or not he had any real choice in the matter, William Faithorne followed Robert Peake and others, as they escaped the defences being built around the City of London, and eventually ended up in Basing House.

Faithorne survived the siege, but was captured by the Parliamentary forces and ended up imprisoned at Aldersgate, where he was allowed to continue his work as an engraver. He was released on condition that he retired to France, but was allowed back in 1650. He then had a shop at Temple Bar which enabled him to continue his work as an engraver, and also to sell prints.

After leaving the area around the Great Barn, we arrive at the gates leading into the main area once occupied by the old and new houses:

Once inside, there is a 3D model of the site, which shows the extensive earthworks, the old house, built on the site of the original motte and bailey castle, and to the left, the new house:

The following image from 1952 also shows the scale of the site of the old house, the Great Barn can be seen to upper right:

The size of the mound on which the old house was built can be seen by walking along the ditch which surrounds the mound, which rises up to the left, with a shallower, but still impressive bank on the right:

There are plenty of information panels around the site, and to get an idea of the size of the old house, by walking the ditch we come to a set of steps that lead up to the top of the mound:

Where there is a viewing platform:

From where we can look out across the site of the old house, and the few remains of what was once the most impressive private house in the country, and a house that hosted a number of monarchs. I used the panorama mode on the camera to get the whole site into one photo:

It is hard to imagine the violence and suffering that those under siege in Basing House went through, whilst looking across such a peaceful site on a sunny spring day.

The first siege of Basing House took place between the 6th and 14th of November 1643, when Sir William Waller led a force of 6,000. This was a relatively short siege as bad weather, and the threat of a Royalist force heading to relieve the house, forced Waller to withdraw to Farnham, which he had captured for Parliament earlier in the year along with Winchester and Portsmouth.

Sir William Waller is an interesting character, as his experience during the 1640s and 1650s illustrate the shifting political and religious tolerance and alliances.

Waller was a professional soldier, and had seen service with the Venetian Republic. As a supporter of Parliament, Waller joined the Parliamentary forces when the Civil War broke out.

As well as his role in the Parliamentary forces, Waller was also an MP, having been elected to represent Andover, but when the Self Denying Ordinance was brought in by Parliament in 1645, (which stated that members of Parliament who were also officers in the army, could only be one or the other), Waller resigned his commission to remain as an MP.

Waller was a deeply religious Presbyterian, and Presbyterian MPs came into conflict with Independent MPs and the New Model Army who wanted freedom of religion, and did not want Presbyterianism to define the state religion of the country.

As a result of his religious view, Waller was one of the eleven Presbyterian MPs accused by Cromwell and other Independent MPs’ of plotting to destabilise the country and promote their religion. As a result Waller fled to Europe, living in the Hague where he met Elizabeth of Bohemia (the sister of Charles I), and on his return two years later he was imprisoned after being accused of plotting the restoration of Charles II.

After being released in 1652, he purchased Osterley Park, became an MP again after the restoration of Charles II, and died in 1668 and is buried in Westminster Abbey.

The following print shows the Siege of Basing House. The Old House is on the left, the New House is on the right. The wall surrounding the two houses is that of the Royalist forces holding the houses. Opposite the wall, is another wall which is that of the Parliamentary Army, with a short space of non mans land between:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

The print shows the size of the Old and New Basing House, and how little distance there was between those under siege and their attackers.

The first siege was of just over a week. The second siege was much longer. It began on the 4th of June 1644 when Parliamentary forces led by Colonel Richard Norton surrounded the two houses.

After a couple of months, supplies of food and ammunition were running very low in Basing House.

The Royalist Colonel Henry Gage led a force to break through the Parliamentary forces, arriving at Basing House with supplies on the 11th of September. Gage not only managed to get through to the house, but after leaving, he managed to break out to return to Oxford with his soldiers.

The siege continued on to November, when as with the first siege, it was lifted on the 13th of November when the early onset of a harsh winter resulting in the Parliamentary forces withdrawing.

The third and final siege started in August 1645, when the two houses where again surrounded by Parliamentary forces led by Colonel John Dalbier. The third siege was again heading towards autumn and winter, but in October Lt. General Oliver Cromwell arrived with a heavy siege-train (the large canons that were used to break through the defending walls of many a Royalist defended site).

The attack using the siege-train demolished the defensive walls, brought down some of the towers and enabled the parliamentary forces to sweep in and capture the houses that had held out for so long.

It was described that the old and new houses were on fire, and that “nothing but bare walls and chimneys in less than 20 hours” was left.

Today, a sole cannon defends what is left of Basing House from any attack by the towers of Basingstoke:

One of those caught up in the siege was the architect Inigo Jones:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

There is much written about Inigo Jones architectural achievements, but very few references to the fact that he was part of a long siege at Basing House, and was captured by the Parliamentary forces after they had stormed the buildings.

Inigo Jones was born in Smithfield in July 1573. Details of his early life are very scarce, but he did have a patron who sent him to Italy to study drawing.

As well as architecture, he was well known for theatre and costume design, and for staging elaborate Masques during the reign of James I (the book 1606: Shakespeare and the Year of Lear by James Shapiro has some wonderful descriptions of these).

Architecturally, he was responsible for the Queen’s House at Greenwich, the Banqueting House (where Charles I would be executed), St. Paul’s Covent Garden, along with the arcaded square and some of the houses that lined the square.

Charles I’s wife was Henrietta Maria of France, a Roman Catholic, which made her unpopular in the country.

Inigo Jones designed and built a Catholic Chapel for Henrietta Maria in Sommerset House, which made Jones appear a Catholic supporter and sympathiser.

When the Civil War broke out, the chapel was attacked, and much of the art that adorned the interior of the chapel was desecrated.

It is not clear why Inigo Jones was at Basing House, or when he arrived, but he had probably travelled from Oxford.

It may be that his architectural expertise had been used in the design of the defences of Basing House.

He was in his 70s, so living in a house under siege cannot have been easy for someone of that age, and who was not a soldier.

When the third siege ended with Cromwell and Dalbier’s forces seizing what was left of Basing House, Inigo Jones was 72, a considerable age for the 17th century, and he was probably the oldest person in the house.

He was given a £1,000 fine and as a royal delinquent, he was ordered to swear two loyalty oaths, the first to renounce the Bishops, and the second to repudiate the King. This last oath must have been difficult, to repudiate the King that he had worked with for years, as well as the idea of monarchy.

He lived to see the execution of Charles I in 1649.

Inigo Jones died at the age of 78, on the 21st of June 1652, not too many years after the siege ended. He was buried in St. Benet’s, Paul’s Wharf, in the City of London, The church was destroyed during the Great Fire of 1666, and monument to Inigo Jones in the church was lost during the fire.

Walking into the central area of the old house:

Those who lived in the surrounding villages and farms had also suffered during the siege. Much of the area was plundered for supplies by both the Parliamentary forces and also those in Basing House, who, in between sieges, or whenever they had the opportunity, would search the surrounding countryside for any supplies they could take back to sustain the house during the siege.

Those who lived in the immediate area did get some small benefit after the siege had ended. Whilst the cannons of Cromwell’s siege train had inflicted terrible damage on the old and new houses, damage which was compounded when the house was taken by the Parliamentary forces, locals were then allowed to dismantle and take away anything they could find, including much of the stone and brickwork, so today, building material that almost certainly came from Basing House can be seen in the old houses of the district.

Basing House once had a large Great Hall where lavish feasts would have been held for any visiting monarch. Today, only the wine cellar remains:

A gap in the walls is a reminder of the end of the Basing House siege:

It was here, in the walls of the Old House, that the defences were finally breached, and the 800 men of Colonel John Dalbier and 6,000 men of Oliver Cromwell stormed in to finally take the house that had held out for three sieges.

Around 300 Royalists, men, women and children, had retreated into the Old House after the New House had been taken.

The rules of war during the Civil War were that if the defenders of a town or house had been given the opportunity to surrender, but had refused, then the attacking force was entitled to kill the defenders once they had taken the town or house. This led to some appalling bloodshed during the Civil War, and the wars in Ireland during the period of the Commonwealth.

Catholic priests were most at risk of being killed as soon as they were found.

After Basing House was taken, whilst there were deaths, many of the defenders were spared.

Again, walking around the ruins of Basing House on a sunny spring day, it is hard to imagine the fear and suffering during the three sieges, the thunder of the cannon and the crashing and splintering of walls when Cromwell’s siege-train opened fire, and the terror and violence when the house finally fell and the attackers stormed in:

But what of John Paulet, the 5th Marquess of Winchester, the man whose loyalty to Charles I was such that he had written:

“If the King had no more ground in England than Basing House I would adventure as I did and so maintain it to the uttermost.”

Despite being the Marquess of Winchester, a man who was fiercely loyal to the Crown, had held Basing House for three sieges, and had refused to surrender, he was spared execution when Basing House fell.

He was taken to the Tower of London, where he was soon joined by the Marchioness, his second wife, Honora de Burgh. His house had suffered significantly during the siege, much of the fabric of the building had been taken by the local population, and Parliament ordered that what remained of the house be razed to the ground.

He also had all his estates confiscated.

He was released in the early 1650s, but without any estates or income, and with significant debts, he was forced to petition Parliament in 1656 for relief.

The restoration of the monarchy when Charles II returned to England and became King did provide some relief, as he had his estates returned to him.

The Parliament after the restoration had passed a resolution to compensate those who had suffered losses whilst in the service of Charles I during the Civil War, however John Paulet did not receive any compensation.

Basing House was not rebuilt and John Paulet lived in Englefield House near Theale in Berkshire, an estate that he had inherited through marriage.

The effigy of John Paulet, Marquess of Winchester. The valiant defender of Basing House:

John Paulet died in March 1674, and was buried in the local church at Englefield.

One wonders whether he thought the siege had been worth it. As well as receiving little, if any compensation for his losses during the Civil War, he could not rebuild the seat of the Paulet family, and to compound his problems, he had a severe falling out with his eldest son Charles over politics and religion.

John Paulet had been a firm Catholic, however his son Charles adopted the Church of England in his adult life. Politically, Charles was also a Whig, a political party that was opposed to absolute monarchy.

The world had changed.

And Basing House still lay in ruins:

Whilst there are the ruins and earth works of the old house, there is almost nothing left of the new house. One key feature can be found in the building in the following photo:

Within the building is a large well that was built as part of the new house:

The well is brick lined, over 18 metres deep and 3.6 metres in diameter. An animal, probably a horse or donkey would have walked around the circumference of the well to power machinery that drew water up from the bottom of the well.

Many of those who died during the siege were buried in the surrounding lands. A monument records this: “In memory of those who gave their lives in the sieges of Basing House 1643 – 1645 Many of whom are buried near this spot”:

The tranquil nature of what is left of Basing House is added to by a large walled garden:

The walled garden is a reminder of the very different backgrounds of the people who held out during the siege, and some who lost their lives.

One of these was Thomas Johnson, who had been born in Yorkshire, but made his name as a botanist and apothecary in London.

He had a business in Snow Hill in London, from where he sold medicinal herbs and plants, and from where he conducted botanical expeditions to counties outside of London, searching for, and collecting, plants. He was also a member of the Apothecaries Company.

At the outbreak of the Civil War, Thomas Johnson joined the Royalist cause, and by May 1643, found himself at Basing Castle as a Lieutenant Colonel in the defending forces.

During the Second Siege, he was shot in the shoulder in September 1644 on one of the many skirmishes between the attacking and defending forces. As a result of his wound, he developed a fever, and died two weeks later. He was buried at Basing House.

Title page of an edition of John Gerard’s ‘The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes’, which was “Very much enlarged and amended by Thomas Johnson, Citizen and Apothecarye of London”:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

I have only just scratched the surface of what happened during the siege, the people involved, Londoners who found themselves on both sides of the battle in Basing, Hampshire, and how the siege was part of a much wider conflict.

I really recommend Siege of Loyalty House by Jessie Childs. Finding the book was one of the benefits of browsing and buying from real bookshops.

And if you are ever near Basingstoke, read the book first, then take a look at what is left of Basing House, and as an added benefit, there is a rather good pub (Bartons Mill), next to the car park

Robert Besley, the Clarendon Typeface and the Longbow

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A title of apparently random subjects for this week’s post, but they all illustrate the many stories behind the plaques that can be found across the City of London, starting with, as far as I know, the only Lord Mayor of the City of London to have created a typeface:

Robert Besley, Alderman and Lord Mayor

Aldersgate Street at its northern end, runs straight into Goswell Road. There is little to indicate this change in name for anyone walking or driving along the street, it just continues on past the point where the name changes.

On the western side of the street, there are two street name signs on two terrace houses, and on the left hand house is a City of London blue plaque:

The plaque is easy to miss and reasonably difficult to read due to being on the first floor of the building.

It records that “Opposite this tablet a Drinking Fountain was erected in 1878 in memory of Robert Besley Esq. Alderman of this Ward and Lord Mayor of London 1869-70. Removed 1934”:

The plaque raises a number of questions. Why was there a drinking fountain in memory of Robert Besley, why at this location, and apart from being an Alderman and Lord Mayor of London, who was Robert Besley.

With a bit of research, we find an interesting character, who worked in, then ran a very successful business. An article about Robert Besley from the Illustrated London News, when he was elected to hold the office of Lord Mayor of the City of London, provides some background:

“The Lord Mayor Elect of London – Mr. Alderman Robert Besley, the successful candidate in the late contested election for the office of Lord Mayor of London during the next twelve month, will be fully installed in its dignities and authority next Tuesday. The career of Mr. Alderman Besley has been one of straightforwardness and industry. He was born in Exeter, in 1800; and began his business in life in his father’s shop, where, as an apprentice, he was initiated into ‘the art and mystery’ of printing.

A weekly newspaper, the Devonshire Chronicle, managed by Mr. Thomas Besley, brother of the new Lord Mayor, rendered good service to the Liberal party. But Mr. Robert Besley, wishing to turn his energies to account in a wider field, came to London, and in the year 1820 joined the firm of Messrs. Thorogood, typefounders in Fann-street. Here his enterprise and business capacity soon became apparent, and he applied himself to the extension of the firm’s connections with marked effect. Various new styles of type were introduced by him, and the foundry increased in reputation; so that when Mr. Thorogood retired, Mr. Besley stood at the head of a large and flourishing concern.

In 1852 he commenced his connection with the Corporation, being in that year returned as one of the representatives of the ward of Aldersgate in the Court of Common Council, where he was distinguished by the sound sense and practical wisdom he brought to bear upon the various matters discussed. Nine years later Sir Peter Laurie, the Alderman of the ward died, and so favourable an impression had Mr. Besley created, that nearly every elector signed the requisition to him to become a candidate for the vacant gown.

He accepted the invitation, and was returned without opposition. In 1864-5 he filled the office of Sheriff.

Mr. Alderman Besley is a man of considerable ability and shrewdness. His speeches are generally brief and pointed, with a dash of humour, which is not the less effective from a light degree of Devonshire provincialism. At various times the Alderman has taken part in several important social and political movements, in which he had had for his colleagues some of the most eminent men of the day.”

The article mentions Besley joining the firm of Thorogood, typefounders in Fann Street, and that when Thorogood retired, Besley was the head of the company. This appears to have included Robert Besley using his name for the company.

The following advert from 1865, shows that the firm was now Robert Besley & Co, still operating at the Fann Street Foundry:

Robert Besley appears to have retired from the business in 1861, but as can be seen from the above 1865 advert, the company was still using his name.

It had been taken over by Charles Reed and Benjamin Fox, which is confirmed by a listing in the Bookseller, covering the companies involved in aspects of book production and publishing who were exhibiting at the International Exhibition of 1862, held in South Kensington, where:

“In type-founding we have Besley and Co.’s Type Casting Machine, exhibited by Messrs. Charles Reed and Benj, Fox, the present proprietors of the Fann Street Letter Foundry”.

Fann Street is just north of the Barbican estate, and south of the Golden Lane estate, running between Aldersgate Street and Golden Lane.

In the following map, the location of the plaque to Robert Besley and his lost water fountain is marked by the green arrow, and Fann Street by the red arrow (© OpenStreetMap contributors):

But where was the Fann Street Foundry?

The 1895 Post Office Directory lists the firm of Sir Charles Reed & Sons Ltd, typefounders, at 2,4 and 6 Fann Street. This is the large building marked with the red arrow in the following extract from the 1890s OS map:

(‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“)

In the following photo taken close to the plaque, on the western side of Aldersgate Street, I am looking across to the Barbican. The tower in the foreground is Blake Tower, and this tower is on the site of what was the Fann Street Foundry:

One of Robert Besley’s achievements when he worked at and ran the Fann Street Foundry was the creation of a new typeface, an English slab-serif typeface called Clarendon after the Clarendon Press in Oxford.

The typeface was patented by Besley, however at the time, this type of patent only lasted for three years, so Clarendon soon became widely used and copied by other foundries.

Examples of the Clarendon typeface are shown in the following image:

Source and attribution: Esinconis, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

I cannot find too many references to uses of the Clarendon font today. After the patent expired, it was copied and variations of the typeface were produced, and it was used in many countries outside of the UK.

As well as the Fann Street Foundry, and being an Alderman and Lord Mayor, Robert Besley was also president of the British and Colonial Emigration Society.

This society aimed to “Help those who cannot help themselves”, and provided aid to help people in “seeking another sphere of labour”, in other words, emigrating to the British colonies who were in urgent need of labour.

One of these colonies was Canada, and on the 10th of June 1870, Mr. J. Donaldson, the Canadian Government Emigration Agent wrote to the British and Colonial Emigration Society, that:

“It affords me much pleasure in being able to state that all the emigrants who have arrived up to this date had work found for them without delay, and that the demand for labour instead of diminishing absolutely increases. Farmers return home from this agency, day after day, unable to secure the hands they require. They are offering from 16 to 20 dollars a month for good hands, with board and lodging. Our railway contractors are paying upwards of 1 1/4 dollars a day (5s sterling), and cannot obtain anything like the number of men in which they stand in need. This is a good rate of wages considering that board and lodging can be had from 8s to 10s a week.

We could readily find employment for 3,000 or 4,000 more earth labourers and we shall be glad indeed if you can devise means to send us that number of more. Toronto is growing rapidly; in fact there is not a street of the city in which you will not find buildings in course of erection.

The prospect before the Dominion is a bright and happy one, and when the means of communication. now in course of construction, are fully opened up to Manitoba and the Far West we shall be in a position to offer inducements to the surplus population and capital of England that cannot be excelled in any part of the world. We shall be enabled to offer British waste lands of exuberant richness to British people in unlimited quantities where taxation is at present unknown.”

The British and Colonial Emigration Society was one of the means with which the Empire was populated in the 19th century. Whilst there may well have been genuine opportunities, the description “surplus population and capital of England” where the population is bundled with financial capital as a resource is a rather depressing economic view of people who should not have been considered as “surplus”.

It would be interesting to know how many of today’s Canadians are descendants of those who were helped to emigrate by Robert Besley and the British and Colonial Emigration Society.

Robert Besley died in December 1876. Notices of his death provide some additional information regarding his life.

Before leaving Exeter for London, he had trained as a printer in his father’s business, so involvement in the print industry seems to have been a family profession as the Besley’s had been printers for “three generations at least”.

The mention in an earlier report to the contested election for Mayor of the City of London was because the outgoing mayor (Sir James Lawrence) did not “bow to custom and retire with good grace”, apparently James Lawrence “had a large appetite for honours and resolved to stand for re-election”.

Robert Besley’s wife had died before him, and they had no children.

Back to the plaque and the water fountain. There were in fact two water fountains, as the following from the London City Press on the 31st of July 1878 explains:

“The Aldersgate Drinking Fountains – Two drinking fountains are in course of erection – one on each side of Aldersgate Street, at the union with Goswell Road, and in addition to their ordinary useful purpose they serve to mark the City boundary.

These fountains are the gift of the late Mr. Alderman Besley. They are built with grey and other coloured granites, and present a substantial, handsome appearance. the inscription runs thus: ‘Presented to the Corporation of the City of London, in accordance with directions contained in the will of the late Robert Besley Esquire, Alderman of the Ward of Aldersgate and Lord Mayor of London 1869-70’. The fountains will be maintained by the Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association.”

“Outdoor monuments of the City of London” provides some additional information regarding the fountains removal: “Aldersgate Boundary Marks – Stones or obelisks in conjunction with drinking fountains were set up in Aldersgate under the Will of Alderman Robert Besley in 1877. Their proposed removal to ‘Postmen’s Park’ in 1932 being opposed by the Ward members, but their removal was carried out in 1934 and a plaque was placed on the wall of 107 Aldersgate Street to mark the boundary.”

I suspect that the plaque was therefore a compromise for the removal of the fountains.

It would perhaps have been more relevant to his life to include his involvement with the Fann Street Foundry and his creation of the Clarendon Typeface on the plaque – perhaps there should be a new plaque on Blake Tower for the foundry and typeface.

Site of Bowyers’ Hall in the 16th Century

The plaque for Robert Besley and his fountains is at the north west corner of the Barbican estate. For the next plaque, I have walked to the southern end of the estate, and am in Monkwell Square, where if you look on the wall above the silver car on the right, there is another City of London plaque:

Which records that this was the site of Bowyers’ Hall in the 16th Century:

The first three letters of the name should help with the identification of the specific craft that the Bowyers represented as members of the Worshipful Company of Bowyers made the bow that was a key part of the English longbow, and which was used to great effect during the wars with the French in the 14th century.

The longbow was dependent on three crafts. Those who made the bow, string makers, and those who made the arrow.

The longbow makers and arrow makers had originally been part of the same trade, but the arrow makers, or fletchers, branched out to form their own company, the Worshipful Company of Fletchers.

If your last name is Bowyer or Fletcher, you may have had a longbow or an arrow maker in your family tree many centuries ago.

The longbow had a brief period where it established the predominance of the archer over the infantry or knights, but this would end with the growing use of gunpowder.

Archery was continued in the City of London under pressure of the Crown, and a final attempt to restore the Bowyers’ craft was made on the 25th of May 1621, when James I granted the Company of Bowyers’ their first charter of incorporation.

As with most of the City Company’s, their emphasis changed to being a charitable organisation, but still supporting the craft of bow making where possible.

The following extract from a 1720 ward map shows where the Bowyers’ Hall was located (red arrow), in a run of buildings that backed on to the old City wall:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

The arms of the Bowyers’ were granted in 1488, and are shown in the following illustration from “The Armorial Bearings of the Guilds of London” by John Bromley (1960):

The motto of the Company shown at the top of the arms names the three major battles at Crecy, Poitiers and Agincourt during the hundred years war, when archers played a pivotal role.

At the top of the arms are three strung bows. Within the shield, there are three identical tools, each with a handle and teeth. These are “floats”, which were multi-bladed wood shaves, used by a Bowyer to shape the bow.

The stars are pierced mullets. The mullet originally referred to the spur, but was also used to represent a star.

In 1996, the arms were amended with the addition of two “supporters”, or figures on either side. One represents a medieval bowyer and the second figure is an archer at Agincourt.

The following image shows the Battle of Poitiers (1356), a battle named in the arms of the Bowyers, and from the period when English longbows were highly effective in battle. The English forces are on the left, and their archers are firing at several mounted knights, who appear to have turned round in retreat after the knights and their horses have been struck by arrows fired by the archers:

Source and Attribution: Loyset Liédet, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The Bowyers’ Company is still active, although they do not have their own hall, making use of the Watermen’s Hall in St Mary at Hill for their events.

Whilst mainly a charitable organisation, they do also support, where possible, the manufacture and use for recreation and sport, of the Longbow.

Monkwell Square, the site of the Bowyers’ plaque has a fascinating history, as it is named after Monkwell Street, which I covered in this post.

Two very different plaques, but they both help illustrate how much of a story there is behind the brief few words that these plaques contain.

The Festival of Britain and the South Bank – 75 Years Later

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For this week’s post, I am back on the South Bank looking at the survivals of, and references to the Festival of Britain, 75 years after the festival started the transformation to the place we see today, starting with:

Festival of Britain 1951 – The Moment That Shaped South Bank

A couple of months ago I was asked by the South Bank Employers Group (SBEG) if I would be interested in working with them to create a series of posters for display across the South Bank as part of this year’s London Festival of Architecture and to mark the 75th anniversary of the landmark 1951 Festival of Britain.

I jumped at the opportunity as the South Bank is an area of the city in which I have long had an interest. I started my first London job on the South Bank in 1979, and it was then that I started looking at my father’s photos, taking the negatives of the photos he had taken of the area starting in 1947, to a local film processing studio to get the photos printed out.

I put together a story to be told across the posters, wrote the text, and provided some of my father’s photos.

The SBEG did all the graphic design, put together the overall layout of the posters, and sourced additional images from the National Archives.

They were installed just over a week ago, so if you walk along the South Bank, you will find three locations where there are a number of posters which tell the story of Festival of Britain 1951 – The Moment That Shaped South Bank.

Last week, we went up to take a look, and for me, it is wonderful to see my father’s photos on display, across the area he explored and photographed almost 80 years ago.

Starting at the South Bank end of Westminster Bridge are the first posters:

These provide a brief overview of the history of the area now known as the South Bank, and also tell the story of Eleanor Coade, and the Lion that stands at the end of Westminster Bridge, originally on the Lion Brewery which stood where the Royal Festival Hall is today:

The design of the posters by the SBEG is brilliant, and it is really good to see Britannia, the blue, red and white compass and the bunting of the festival symbol created by Abram Games back on the South Bank.

The following map shows the location of the posters:

In location 2, between the Jubilee Gardens and the London Eye:

Two more posters on the other side of the above:

Between the BFI and the National Theatre:

Looking towards Waterloo Bridge (on the right) and the National Theatre (on the left):

It was a privaledge to have been involved with the creation of these posters, but by far the best part was the chance to get my father’s photos on display, in the place he started exploring as an 18 year old with a Leica camera purchased from a soldier returning from Germany.

If you visit the South Bank over the summer, please do take a look.

The Sunbathers by Peter Laszlo Peri – Waterloo Station

If you head to the upper level of Waterloo Station, there is a sculpture on the wall which has an unusual history. This is the Sunbathers by Peter Laszlo Peri for the Festival of Britain:

Peter Laszlo Peri had an interesting life. He was born in Budapest, Hungary, on the 13th of June, 1899, and was part of a working class Jewish family. He was involved with art, sculpture, the theatre, architecture and travelled widely across Europe.

In 1932 he was in Berlin, and involved in an exhibition of works organised by the Association of German Revolutionary Visual artists. The works on display were removed by the police, and in 1933 the organisation was banned by the Nazi Party.

The organisation was affiliated with the German Communist Party, who Peri and his wife Mary were also involved with, as Mary was arrested in possession of Communist propaganda. Peri was also in trouble with the authorities as during a political demonstration he had punched a Gestapo officer.

The German Communist Party had also been banned in March 1933.

It was after these events that Peri decided that the only course of action was to leave Germany, and they made the move to England.

I cannot find out what happened to Peri’s wife, Mary. She was Mary Macnaghten, the granddaughter of Charles Booth, who is best known for the poverty maps of London. There is no mention of her after her arrest in all the sources I have found (see end of this section), and in 1965 Peri married the artist Heather Hall, so either Mary had died or they had divorced. This is probably down to my own limited time for research.

Peri initially lifted in a flat in Willow Road, Hampstead, and by 1937 he had found a permanent studio in which to work in Camden.

The studio was at 28b Camden Street, and in the early 1960s the whole area was scheduled for demolition, including Peri’s studios.

A documentary was made about the studios, featuring Peter Laszlo Peri by the documentary company Derrick Knight & Partners. It was shown by BBC2 in 1965, and BFI Replay have the documentary online.

It is a remarkable film because it features Peri, along with the other artists working in a small community of studios. It shows Peri’s work, and as well as the area around Camden Street in the early 1960s.

Click here to view the film on BFI Replay.

As usual, whenever I find something interesting when researching a post, it leads to exploring further, and I wanted to find out where Peri’s studio, along with the studios of the other artists featured in the film, were located.

In the following OS map extract, I have circled number 28b. The number is in the central garden featured in the film, and above and below the garden are numbered buildings, each of which was one of the studios featured in the film.

Camden Street is the unnamed street to the left, and College Place is to the right. Plender Street is the short length of street shown in the upper left corner:

 (‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“)

The demolition of the studios, along with all the surrounding buildings, including the terrace houses seen in the background in parts of the film, which ran along College Place, was to clear space for the construction of new housing blocks.

Brayshaw House which today sits on the site of the Mission Hall in the above map appears to be of recent construction. 28b and the artists studios were behind Brayshaw House. I have marked the location of the central garden of the studios with the red rectangle in the centre of the following map (© OpenStreetMap contributors):

The film shows that much of Peri’s work was in concrete, including his own special formulation which he called Pericrete, and this is the material used for the Sunbathers.

Whilst Peri was a long term user of this type of material, many of the other works created by different artists for the Festival of Britain were also made out of materials which were cheap to use and quick to create given the time and financial constraints of the festival.

The use of this type of material, rather than a material such as bronze, was, along with the speed with which the festival site was demolished, one of the reasons why very little sculpture and artwork on display at the Festival of Britain survived.

The Sunbathers was lost after the festival closed.

In 2016, Historic England launched a campaign to find lost public artwork, and the Sunbathers was rediscovered in the garden of the Clarendon Hotel in Blackheath.

Historic England launched a funding campaign to restore and display the Sunbathers.

The work was initially on display in the Royal Festival Hall, and in August 2020, it was put on display in Waterloo Station:

The PA photo agency have an image of the Sunbathers installed during the Festival of Britain, on the side of the Underground Station adjacent to the main Station Gate access point to the festival. Click here to view the photo on PA’s website.

Peri continued to work during the 1950s and 1960s, still using concrete, but also experimenting with Polyester resin.

Camden council rebuilt artists studios on the same site, and Peri did return. I am not sure if they are still there. There are buildings on the alignment of the old studios, with a green space in the middle. One building is occupied by an industrial design company. I am not sure what the other building is used for.

Peri did not have long in his new studio back in Camden, as he died in 1967.

Born in Budapest, escaped the Nazi’s in Berlin and lived just over 30 years in London, it is good that Peri’s work for the Festival of Britain is now on display at Waterloo Station, not that far from when it could be seen in 1951:

The estate of Peter Laszlo Peri have a comprehensive website dedicated to his life and work, it can be found by clicking here.

Historic England cover the story of the rediscovery and restoration of the Sunbathers on their website, the page can be found by clicking here.

There is another reminder of the Festival of Britain in Waterloo Station:

The Lion and the Unicorn, Wetherspoon’s – Waterloo Station

Reader and guide Frank sent me an email about the Wetherspoon’s in Waterloo Station. I had not been down to this part of the station (the Sidings) for some time, so did not realise it was open. A visit was needed to see The Lion and the Unicorn:

The pub is named after the Lion and the Unicorn pavilion at the Festival of Britain.

The best description of the pavilion comes from the guide to the South Bank festival:

“The British People are something more than the sum of: men with ancestors, children in schools, families in homes and gardens, and patients in hospitals. They are, in addition, compositions of various particular habits, attitudes, instincts, qualities and characteristic moods. but these attributes, not being tangible, are hard to display ‘in the round’, in an exhibition of tangible things.

Nevertheless, we should not like visitors – particularly from overseas – to leave the South Bank without having seen, at least, some token and visible reminders of the British People’s native genius. So this Pavilion offers one or two clues to their character.

The title of the Pavilion – ‘The Lion and the Unicorn’ – serves to symbolise two of the main qualities of the national character; on the one hand, realism and strength, on the other fantasy, independence and imagination.”

As well as the name, the pub includes a number of references to the 1951 pavilion as well as the festival in general

On the large screen close to the entrance is a rotating series of images, one of which is a photo of the overall Festival of Britain site on the South Bank:

The food menus have a photo of the Lion and the Unicorn from the festival, including a brief summary:

There is also some decoration in the same style as the decoration in the 1951 pavilion.

On the wall at the far end to the bar is an open bird cage, framed by a couple of photos, with birds flying from the open cage:

The photo on the right shows the bird cage and birds as they were presented in the 1951 Lion and the Unicorn Pavilion:

I did wonder whether the one in the Wetherspoon’s was an original from the festival (another find of a lost item, similar to the Sunbathers), so I emailed Wetherspoon’s to ask.

Rather surprisingly for a large company, the same day, my question was forwarded to the person responsible for their pub developments who replied that the bird cage was a replica.

The escaped birds flying from their cage:

The following postcard from 1951 shows the birds flying along the ceiling of the Lion and the Unicorn pavilion:

The plan from the Guide to the Festival of Britain on the South Bank showing the route and subjects covered in the Lion and the Unicorn pavilion:

The following postcard from the festival shows the entrance to the Lion and the Unicorn Pavilion. The rear of the Royal Festival Hall is in the background. The pavilion was along side what is now Concert Hall Approach (on the left of the pavilion) and on the site of the Whitehouse Gardens area, in front of the Whitehouse apartments (the old Shell downstream building):

The guide-book acknowledges the challenge of explaining the British Character. The closing paragraphs for the pavilion read:

If, on leaving this Pavilion, the visitor from overseas concludes that he is still not much the wiser about the British national character, it might console him to know that British people are themselves still very much in the dark about it. For them, the British character is as easy to identify, and as difficult to define, as a British nonsense rhyme.

The lion and the unicorn

Were fighting for the crown;

The lion beat the unicorn

All round the town.

Some gave them white bread

And some gave them brown;

Some gave them plum cake

And sent them out of town.

I am not sure how much the average drinker in the Lion and the Unicorn will be aware of the story behind the name of the pub, and the bird cage and birds on the wall, however I believe that Wetherspoon’s are to be congratulated with their choice of name and decoration, and hopefully it will spread a bit more awareness of the Festival of Britain to a few of the drinkers in the Lion and the Unicorn.

The text over the image on the menu includes the words “only the Royal Festival Hall building now remains”, and I find it really strange that the Wetherspoon’s at Waterloo Station has more information on the Festival of Britain than the Royal Festival Hall.

The Royal Festival Hall did have a large celebration over the weekend that marked 75 years since the opening day, however walking in the RFH today, and there is nothing obvious about the Festival of Britain, and the Royal Festival Hall’s place in the festival.

The Royal Festival Hall did have a good exhibition area, along the side wall between the bar that faces the river, and the café at the back. This included the following wonderful model of the festival site:

The exhibition and the model disappeared a couple of years ago, with the area now occupied by what looks like a corporate hot desk space.

There is also an archive area to the rear of the building, but this always appears to be closed, and whilst there is window and display space, there is little on display.

A real shame as the Royal Festival Hall was built by the London County Council for the Festival of Britain, and for the long term. It was the first large public building constructed after the war, and is a really wonderful building.

It would be great to see the Royal Festival Hall putting more of its history back on public display.

For my last connection with the Festival of Britain, I am staying on the South Bank for:

Siegfried Charoux’s Motorcyclist sculpture – Southbank Place

This is Siegfried Charoux’s sculpture of a Motorcyclist. It can be found between the new buildings that occupy the space where the Shell Centre office blocks once stood. It is close to Chicheley Street which runs from York Road to Belvedere Road:

The Motorcyclist was created by Siegfried Charoux and installed in 1962 in front of the recently completed Shell downstream building, and by a strange coincidence given one of the other topics in this week’s post, roughly where the Lion and the Unicorn pavilion was located during the Festival of Britain.

It was installed at its new location in 2019:

The Motorcyclist therefore has no direct connection with the Festival of Britain, however the creator of the work, Siegfried Charoux, does.

Siegfried Charoux was born in Vienna in 1896, and served in the First World War with the Austro-Hungarian Army. He was invalided out of the army in 1917 after being wounded.

A cartoonist and sculptor, he moved to England in 1935 because of the threat from the Nazi’s who disapproved of his left wing views, and who had destroyed one of his works which displayed a sympathetic view of a Jewish figure. He was able to stay in the country as he had the support of the Tate Gallery Director James Bolivar Manson, who sponsored his Home Office application.

He became a naturalised British citizen in 1946, and continued working as a sculptor.

One of his commissions was a work for the Festival of Britain.

The following is a view of the South Bank festival site from the north bank of the river. The Skylon is on the left and the Dome of Discovery can be seen in the background where Jubilee Gardens are today.

Look in front of the Dome of Discovery, just to the right of the flags on the boat and there is a large sculpture facing the river:

This is the Islanders by Siegfried Charoux:

The Islanders was part of the Sea and Ships Pavilion, and intended to portray the struggle and resilience of the British people in their relationship with the seas that surround the country.

The scale of the work is hard to get from the above photo. The earlier photo shows how clearly it was visible from across the river, and if you had stood next to the sculpture in the above photo, your head would have been level with the feet of the three characters. It was truly colossal.

The Islanders was made out of concrete, and was destroyed as part of the demolition of the Festival of Britain site,

Charoux also created another work that was on the South Bank. This was “The Cellist”, which was on display outside the Royal Festival Hall. It was later moved to Kenwood House where it was on temporary display. I have not been able to find any record of where it is now, and do not recall seeing the work on previous visits to Kenwood House.

Charoux created an extensive collection of works and exhibited annually at the Royal Academy between 1940 and 1974.

He died in Hendon on the 26th of April 1967, and his remains were returned to Austria where he was buried in Vienna’s Central Cemetery.

So although the Islanders was destroyed after the closure of the Festival of Britain, Charoux still has a work on display at the South Bank, not far from the original site of the Islanders.

It is part of what fascinates me with the history of London. All the networks of connections you can build between the city of today, and the people and events of the city of the past, including for Peri and Charoux, events in Europe which resulted in their works being part of the Festival of Britain, and works which can still be seen today.

And if you get the opportunity to visit the South Bank, take a look at the posters spread across the three sites.

Chiswell Street and Mr. Whitbread’s Brewery

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Two tickets have just become available for my walk next Saturday, the 13th of June, with the cheerful name of “Wapping – A Seething Mass of Misery”. Click here for details and booking.

Chiswell Street runs from Beech Street (which passes under part of the Barbican estate) to Finsbury Square.

It is an old street. Harben states in “A Dictionary of London” that the first mention of the street was between 1217 and 1243, when the name Chysel Strate was in use.

By the time of Rocque’s map of 1746, the name Chiswell Street was in use, and in the following extract, Chiswell Street can be seen running from White Cross Street on the left, to Finsbury and the open space of Moor Fields on the right:

In a few years after the above map was published, the western part of Chiswell Street would change significantly, and the small courts to the south of the street, including Swan Court and Boar Head Court would be lost under a major development – the Whitbread Brewery.

Samuel Whitbread was born in Cardington, Bedfordshire in 1720, and in 1736 he was in London and apprenticed to John Wightman who was the master of the Brewers Company.

By 1742, Whitbread was in partnership with Godfrey and Thomas Shewell, who ran the Goat Brewery, on the corner of Upper White Cross Street and Old Street.

In 1748, Whitbread and the Shewell’s purchased the King’s Head Brewhouse, which was on the southern side of Chiswell Street, and we can see the location of this business by looking in more detail at Rocque’s map:

The site of the King’s Head Brewhouse was soon cleared, and by 1750 the new brewery had been built, designed for the mass production of Porter – a beer which used brown malt and was very dark in appearance. The name is believed to have come from the popularity of the drink with porters (see my post on the Ticket Porter in Arthur Street).

Porter was also being marketed as a more healthy alternative to the cheap gin that was easily available and very popular during the first half of the 18th century, a drink that was causing considerable problems and large numbers of deaths across the city.

Hogarth’s prints of Beer Street and Gin Lane (1751) contrasted the benefits of drinking beer with the evil of gin drinking:

Attribution and source: William Hogarth, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

From 1750, the brewery gradually expanded as the business grew. There was a fire at the brewery in 1773 which destroyed the Porter Tun storage room (fires were a frequent occurrence across the city), and a new storage area was then built, which included large vaults below ground.

By 1761, Samuel Whitbread was the sole owner of the business, having brought out the share of the business held by the Shewell family.

This is the view looking east along Chiswell Street, from the junction with White Cross Street in the above map:

The Jugged Hare pub on the corner of Chiswell and Silk Streets is one of a pair of pubs that once stood at the western and eastern ends of Whitbread’s brewery on Chiswell Street. It is Grade II listed and dates from the late 19th century.

The eastern end of the street was badly bombed during the last war, and there was some bomb damage to the western end, however not as bad as the area now occupied by the Barbican and Golden Lane estates, and if you look in the opposite direction to the above photo, this is Beech Street, running through the Barbican – not a pre-war building in sight:

The following extract from the late 19th century OS map shows Chiswell Street, where I have marked some key features explored in today’s post (the red oval is around the Jugged Hare pub, photographed above):

 (‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“)

The red arrow is pointing to the main entrance from Chiswell Street to the Whitbread Brewery, which occupied a large plot of land running south to Silk Street.

The green arrow is pointing to the courtyard in front of the Whitbread Brewery buildings on the northern side of Chiswell Street.

The blue arrow and the circles are around other features to be explored in the post.

This is the view of the western end of Chiswell Street, with the southern side occupied by the buildings of the old Whitbread Brewery:

These buildings are all Grade II listed, and according to the Historic England listing record date from the later half of the 19th century.

The main entrance from Chiswell Street into the brewery complex on the southern side of the street (red arrow in the OS map earlier in the post):

Throughout the later half of the 18th century, the brewery was expanding, both in terms of the area occupied as well as the technology used in the brewing process, which included the installation of a Boulton and Watt steam engine in 1785.

The scale and reputation of the brewery was such that the site hosted a royal visit, as recorded on a plaque on the buildings in Chiswell Street:

The visit was reported in numerous newspapers, and the following is one of the syndicated reports which gives a good idea of the scale of the brewery, as well as a bit of royal mansplaining, why you needed to provide two banquets for a royal visit, and how much such a visit would cost:

“Royal Visit to Mr. Whitbread’s Brewery. Saturday their Majesties, with the three Princesses, attended by the Duke of Montague, Lord Ailesbury, Lord Denbigh, Duchess of Ancaster, and Lady Harcourt, went to see Mr. Whitbread’s brewery in Chiswell-street. They arrived at a quarter before ten, and were received at the door by Mr. and Miss Whitbread; and politely declining the breakfast provided, immediately went over the works, which took up two hours.

The steam engine, lately erected by the Birmingham Bolton, and first applied by Mr. Whitbread to the purposes of the brewery, took up above half an hour. His Majesty, scientifically explained to the Queen and the Princesses the leading movements in the machinery. In the great store there were 3007 barrels of beer.

The stone cistern raised such wonder, that the Queen and Princesses would go into it, though through a small hole, with much difficulty and some disorder. The sight rewarded them; for the vessel is of such magnitude, as to hold 4000 barrels of beer. The great vessel at Heidelberg is nothing to it.

There were 200 men and 80 horses all in their places; the horse keeper, yielding to the harmless vanity of office, said, he would show his Majesty ‘the highest horse among his subjects’; and his Majesty kindly gave the man his way, was shown a horse 17 hands and 3 inches high.

The Cooperage was looked at from an adjoining room; and it was at this window, looking into the street, that the people without, who by this time had gathered into a great crowd, first seeing the King, gave breadth to their loyalty, and repeatedly huzzard. The Queen, whose worth, were it her sensibility alone, would be beyond our praise, paid the people with a tear! And then, tenderly turning to felicitate the King on the contentment of their people, took her daughters by the hand, and led them to the window. If the day could give emotions of more kindly energy than Mr. Whitbread’s – the rapture of this moment must be the object of envy.

In all that related to the brewery, and the passages through them – all that was necessary, was done; but, very properly, nothing more. Matting covered the way that was dirty, lamps lighted what would have been dark.

When everything was seen, the walk ended in the house. Their Majesties were led to a cold collation, as magnificent as affluence and arrangement could make it. The whole service was plate. there was every wine in the world; and there was also some fine PORTER. The Duchess of Ancaster and Lady Harcourt, sat at the table as well as the Princesses; but the Duke of Montague and Lord Ailesbury, finding in another room a second banquet, scarcely less sumptuous than the former – prepared for their attendants, had there been any – very heartily boarded there.

This being done, it became two o’clock; when the King and Queen, not more completely satisfied with the wonder of the works, than the good sense and elegance with which they had been shown, took leave of Mr. Whitbread and his daughter, and returned to Buckingham House.

It is supposed the preparations on the above occasion cost £1,500. The draymen and all the domestics were new clothed.”

I am sure that Samuel Whitbread was pleased with the expense of hosting the royal visit, as it must have given Whitbread a considerable amount of publicity, and some royal approval for his beers.

Samuel Whitbread (the print is dated 1797, a year after his death, but comparing with prints of his son, also Samuel, I am sure this is the Samuel Whitbread that founded the brewery):

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

As well as running the brewery, Samuel Whitbread was also an MP. His initial public service was as High Sheriff for Hertfordshire between 1767 and 1768, when he was elected as MP for Bedford.

He appears to have been active as an MP. One of the causes that he supported was the abolition of the slave trade.

In 1788 he was Chair of a Common’s committee looking into the salve trade, and on April 2nd, 1792, during a debate on a petition calling for the abolition of the slave trade, Whitbread was reported as being “upon his legs three hours and a quarter. He was uncommonly eloquent and animated”.

The motion was passed with a majority of 145, only after the word “gradual” was added to the call for the abolition of the slave trade.

There are also references to Whitbread donating sums of money to institutions and charitable causes in both London and Bedford. The following is from the Kentish Gazette on the 1st of July 1788:

“Samuel Whitbread, Esq. the Member for Bedford, and we may add the first brewer in the world, has lately given to the Governor and Trustees of St. Luke’s Hospital for lunatics, a rent charge on his brewery of one hundred pounds a year for ever, for the use of the hospital. A donation of this extent, and during the life time of the donor, does honour to the feelings of the individual, at the same that it adds to the pride of British commerce.”

The reference in the article to the “first brewer in the world” was probably down to the ever increasing size of the brewery business, and by 1796, the Whitbread business in Chiswell Street brewed over 200,000 barrels, which was reported as being a first for any brewery in the world.

Whitbread’s ambition, both in brewing and as an MP can be seen in his reaction to his loss of an election in Bedford in 1774, when he came third of four:

“The two first were declared duly elected. This defeat of the ministerial candidates greatly enraged Mr. Whitbread (Porter Brewer of London) and his mob, who that evening committed several outrages on the Mayor and Corporation, both as to their persons and their houses; the windows of which, and also of the Town Hall, were entirely destroyed. Mr. Whitbread also during the poll behaved in a very arrogant and insolent manner to the Mayor, and the voters against him; he likewise treated his opponents with ill manners.

Mr. Whitbread proposes making application to the House for an alteration to the return upon two points. The first is to set aside the voters of the honorary freemen who were made in the year 1769 and 70. The second is, to establish the votes of those who receive alms as good, which the Mayor rejected. In neither of these points we apprehend Mr. Whitbread can avail himself, it being already decided by the House of Commons, who are the legal electors for that town, as appears in the following extract from the Journals – Resolved. That the right of electing Burgesses to serve Parliament for the borough of Bedford is on the Burgesses, freemen and Inhabitants, being householders, not receiving alms.”

After this loss, he seems to have made it back to Parliament as the MP for Bedford in 1775, the following year to the above report.

Despite these political problems, the brewery was continually expanding and improving. A new Porter Tun store room was completed in 1784. It is now Grade II listed and survives as a conference and event space, and brewery buildings had also expanded to cover land on the northern side of Chiswell Street.

The following print dates from 1792 and shows “A view from the east-end of the brewery Chiswell Street”:

(© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.)

The expansion to the northern side of Chiswell Street can still be seen, although the buildings date from 1870, having been through several alterations and reconstructions:

The exception to the 1870 date is the terrace of houses on the left (also the blue arrow in the above OS map). These date from 1774 and are Grade II listed. There is a plaque on the terrace detailing their history. The terrace is Grade II listed:

The brewery buildings on the northern side of Chiswell Street now go by the name of Sundial Court:

Despite being the last rebuild and dating from 1870, the buildings around the yard are all Grade II listed:

The name of Sundial Court comes from a feature on the building at the far end of the yard:

Along the top of the Sundial is a similiar listing of dates as on the plaque on the terrace houses, just slightly different years: “Built 1753, Burnt 1773, Rebuilt 1774”.

Between the gnomon (the blade of the sundial that causes the shadow) are the words “Such is Life”, a rather pessimistic view that may be referring to the fire and rebuild in the series of dates above.

Wording at the bottom of the Sundial reads “The buildings from Chiswell Street to the Hop Loft with Vaults and Brewer’s House. Re-erected 1862. W & Co.”. A slightly earlier date to the Historic England listing, and a description which helps explain the function of some of these buildings.

At the eastern end of the brewery buildings in Chiswell Street is a former pub (green circle in the earlier OS map). This is now the Chiswell Street Dining Rooms, but was originally the St Paul’s Tavern Public House. Grade II listed and dating from mid to late 18th century, with mid to late 19th century public house frontage:

The pub sits on the corner of Chiswell Street and Milton Street, and we can see the brewery buildings extending down Milton Street:

fIn the above photo, there is an arched entrance to the interior of the complex, and as shown in the following photo, it is one of those example where it is difficult to know what is original and what is not. The brickwork around the arch looks very different to the rest of the building. I suspect this was down to conversion of the site from brewery to conference centre.

Samuel Whitbread died on the 11th of June 1796, aged 76 at his estate of Bedwell Park in Hertfordshire. There were brief obituaries in the papers, such as:

“By the death of Mr. Whitbread, the poor will lose a most valuable friend. Acts of charity and benevolence everywhere marked the traces of this worthy man, and will render his memory dear to hundreds who have partaken of his liberality. Mr. Whitbread, for some months previous to his dissolution, had been bending under the accumulated load of age and infirmity.”

He died a very wealthy man.

He left all his freehold estates and the brewery business to his son, also called Samuel, excpt for a small part which he left to his daughter.

He left £5,000 to his son in law and each of his nephews. To his three head clerks in the brewery business he left £500 each, along with £500 to his private clerk, and £100 to his butler.

To every servant and employee he left a sum ranging from £100 to £10, and he left £10 to old servants and widows of servants.

He left £15,000 to several hospitals, including St. Bartholomew’s, Bethlem, St. George’s Small Pox and St. Luke’s. To two charity schools in the parish of St. Luke’s he left £500 each.

He left further sums for various institutions and causes in Bedford.

His son, also Samuel, seems to have initially intended to sell the brewery, as there were newspaper reports that he was looking for a sum of £500,000, however the business stayed in the Whitbread family.

When the company became a limited liability company and sold shares, Whitbread’s continued as Chairmen, with the last family member being Sir Samuel Charles Whitbread who stepped down as Chair in 1992 and left the Board in 2001.

Brewing in Chiswell Street ended in 1976, and to the south, two acres of brewery buildings along Silk Street were demolished to be replaced with offices.

The brewery buildings that remain are now a conference and events venue.

The Whitbread company have gradually sold off all their brewing and pubs businesses, and now focus on hotels as they own the Premier Inn brand.

As well as the old Whitbread brewery, Chiswell Street also has a lovely pair of Victorian wall mounted letter boxes, which continue to be in use:

And opposite the brewery buildings is this building:

The more you look at the above building the stranger it seems, and a walk to the side reveals why. Just the street facing façade has been retained and a new building stands behind:

It must be strange living in the street side of the building as you are looking out at the rear of the old façade. It is an interesting discussion as to whether there is value in keeping just the façade. The original building looks to be a typical late 19th / early 20th century building occupied by either offices, a small factory or a warehouse (I need to check some street directories).

It may have been better to either retain and convert the whole of the original building, or to replace by a new building that has some architectural merit.

In the OS map shown earlier in the post, there is a blue oval around a Public House shown in this location, at the junction of Chiswell Street and Lamb’s Passage. The pub seems to have had a narrow side facing onto Chiswell Street, and a longer side along Lamb’s Passage, however it is long gone.

Whilst the building on the southern side of Chiswell Street retains the name the Brewery for the events and conference centre that occupies the site today, the name of the company’s founder, Samuel Whitbread, and the surname that would be associated with the brewery until its closure in 1976, is not that obvious. It is on the plaque recording the royal visit in 1787, and on the plaque recording the fire and rebuild dates of the terrace on the north side, but no where else. There is no blue plaque or any other form of plaque, or sign displaying the history of the buildings.

The buildings are listed, which helps with their preservation, but it would be good to have some signage so those walking along Chiswell Street have the opportunity to learn more about some of the buildings that line the city’s streets.