Category Archives: London History

The Ring and a Junction on Blackfriars Road

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At the end of the last war, there were a range of booklets published by local authorities, postal and transport organisations, police, fire service etc. documenting London at war and their participation in the six years during which the destruction of the city would be at a level not seen since the Great Fire of London. These were published quickly, and reading them they have a common theme of wanting to set on record the challenges of the last six years before the country quickly moved on to what was hoped to be a period of reconstruction and prosperity.

My father bought a large number of these as they were published, one of which was titled “Hitler Passed This Way”, which showed bomb damage throughout the city using before and after photos.

I wrote about the booklet ten years ago (link at the end of today’s post), and today I want to look in detail at one of the sites recorded in the booklet.

This is The Ring on Blackfriars Road, at the junction with Charlotte Street (now Union Street):

At the time of the above photo, the Ring was an indoor boxing venue, but it had an earlier history before boxing. The building dated from 1783 and was the creation of the Reverend Rowland Hill, a rather eccentric churchman.

Rowland Hill was born in August 1744. He was the son of Sir Rowland Hill and brother of Sir Richard Hill, and he came from an influential Shropshire family.

He went to Eton and then to St. John’s College, Cambridge, and then started preaching across the country, and in London at the Metropolitan Tabernacle in the Elephant and Castle and at the Tottenham Court Road Chapel.

He seems to have had a rather complex view of religion and in his obituary he was described as “theoretically a Churchman and practically a Dissenter. A Dissenter within the Church, a Churchman among Dissenters – necessarily involved him, especially in the early part of his career, in continual polemic skirmishing. His very Catholicism sometimes put on an aggressive form.”

There were many anecdotes about his life, including one where he was riding with his wife in a carriage “somewhere near London”, when they were attacked by three men who violently demanded money. They had earlier attacked his assistant who had gone on before them. When he was held up he stood up and, “set up such a tremendous unearthly shout that one of them cried out ‘We have stopped the devil by mistake and had better be off’, on which they ran away, and left him and his lady in peaceable possession of the road.” When telling this story he said that he had “made all the outrageous noises I could think of, and frightened the fellows out of their wits”.

The building opened as the Surrey Chapel opened in 1783, and the Rev Rowland Hill was the first to preach in the chapel, although rather than a successful opening, newspapers reported that “There was the greatest confusion imaginable last Sunday in the Rev. Rowland Hill’s new Chapel in which he preached that day for the first time. Near the conclusion of his sermon a man loudly proclaimed that the ‘chapel was falling’. The consequence was too dreadful to be described. In the struggle to escape, many individuals were exceedingly hurt; and others had their clothes torn from their backs. The man was taken into custody.”

Rowland Hill preached at the Surrey Chapel for much of his life, almost to the very day of his death in April 1833, when at the age of 89, he died in his house next to the Surrey Chapel in Charlotte Street, (now Union Street).

The chapel was an unusual shape, not the traditional rectangle of a church of chapel, but a multi-sided part circle, as the Rev. Rowland Hill wanted a chapel in which “there were no corners for the devil to hide”.

In the following extract from the 1892 OS map, I have circled the Surrey Chapel:

By the time of the above map, extensions had been added to the chapel at top right in the map, which part obscured its original shape.

Blackfriars Road runs from top to bottom in the centre of the map. Great Charlotte Street is today The Cut, Charlotte Street is Union Street, and Southwark Underground Station on the Jubilee Line is today on the upper corner of Great Charlotte Street and Blackfriars Road.

The Surrey Chapel was always well attended with between 1,000 and 2,000 people attending services and meetings.

One meeting held in April 1845 demonstrated that even 300 years after the break with Rome, the Catholic faith continued to be a contentious issue.

1,500 people attended a meeting to oppose a grant that the Government proposed to make to the Roman Catholic College of Maynooth in County Kildare in Ireland, a seminary founded in 1795 for the education of priests, and an institution that by 1850 had become the largest seminary in the world. The meeting in the Surrey Chapel believed that “the Reformation from Popery was the greatest blessing and honour that England ever possessed, and therefore, views with alarm, the determination of Her Majesty’s Ministers to endow the popish college of Maynooth with £26,000 per annum.”

The Surrey Chapel was also home to a number of societies, including:

  • The Auxiliary Bible Society – formed to distribute bibles and holy scriptures, for example to the Southwark Sunday School Society
  • The Dorcas Society – which assisted poor married women during their period of confinement, including the provision of money, coals, soap, clothing for the infant and the loan of suitable linen for the mother
  • The Female Clothing Society – the object of the society was to furnish, at half price, the most necessary and useful articles of female clothing; and many needy but decent families have therefore been enabled, by their small savings to procure comfortable apparel
  • The Female Missionary Working Association – the object of which is the promotion of a missionary spirit among its member, to assist those ladies who, with their husband, are labouring abroad in connection with the London Missionary Society

Just a sample of the societies that were meeting the chapel in Blackfriars Road.

The word Missionary usually conjures images of people travelling across the world to convert other populations to the Christian church, however the Surrey Chapel was also involved in extensive missionary work across London. The following is from the London City Mission Magazine on the 1st of December 1841:

“London affords the opportunity of carrying on Missionary work among many distinct classes of people. As to birth, we have the Irishman, the Welshman, the German, the Italian, and the Jew, both British and foreign, in great numbers, and all of these want missionaries.

As to employment, there are many classes greatly neglected which either want missionaries or the special and direct attention of the clergy and or other ministers of the Gospel. There are two police forces of about 4,000 men; there are also omnibus drivers and conductors, coach and cabmen, and cattle drovers. There are also soldiers at various barracks, who spiritual advantages are very few, and whose spiritual state is sadly neglected, and there are firemen who, from the peculiar duties, seldom know the enjoyment of a Sabbath.”

The article had a special mention for the work of the Surrey Chapel after the loss of the lives of two firemen at a fire in Blackfriars Road, following a service where the reverend of the chapel preached directly to the firemen assembled in the chapel. This action resulted in a letter of thanks from James Braidwood, the Superintendent of the London fire service.

After the death of the Rev. Rowland Hill, he was buried under the Pulpit of the Surrey Chapel, and it continued as a religious chapel until 1876 when the congregation moved to Christ Church in Westminster Bridge Road. This included the move of Rowland Hill’s body from Surrey Chapel to Christ Church.

Following the move of the chapel’s congregation, the building took on the role of a factory, before becoming a centre for boxing, which I will cover after the next two photos.

The Surrey Chapel / The Ring was severely damaged by bombing in 1940, and in December 1944 a V2 rocket landed next to the building, and what remained was demolished to the leave the site of the building as shown in the following photo from “Hitler Passed This Way”:

I took the following photo of the site today, in August 2026, showing a very different building:

The current building on the site is 197 Blackfriars Road, a building which also has the name Palestra, which is a rather nice reference to the history of the site, as Palestra in ancient Greece and Rome was a place for training in boxing and wrestling. It is an office block used by Transport for London.

After the move of the congregation of the Surrey Chapel, and the building’s brief life as a factory manufacturing electric motors and as a general engineering works, in early 1910 it was reported that the building was being converted to “an electric theatre for kinomategraph exhibitions” – presumably a cinema, however later in the same year it would take on a very different use, as reported in the South London Press on the 30th of May, 1910:

“BOXING RING FOR SOUTHWARK – With its exterior brightened by countless rows of electric bulbs, old Surrey Chapel has been reopened as The Ring. The announcement that an up-to-date boxing ring would be opened there, under the sole direction of Mr. Dick Burge, has been enthusiastically welcomed. At the opening on Saturday night, the building was filled with a big audience of those interested in boxing. The construction of the old place is peculiarly suitable and the reseating, redecorating, and the erection of a twelve feet enclosure have been caried out judiciously, and on up-to-date lines.

Several local heroes fought bouts in a 10st. novice competition, which was preceded with on Whit-Monday, and champions and ex-champions gave exhibitions of skill. The timekeeper was a clergyman – the Rev. Thomas Collins.”

The boxing ring was on the site of the old pulpit, and as King Edward VII had just died, the ring was “draped in purple and black crape, as were the pillars supporting the gallery”.

Dick Burge had taken over the ring with his wife Bella. He had been a boxer in the last few decades of the 19th century, and for six years had been the British lightweight champion. After retiring from boxing, he had financial difficulties and ended up being involved with some conmen, with the result that he was sentenced to 10 years in prison, but was released a couple of years before the end of his sentence after helping a prison guard who was being violently attacked.

Not long after opening The Ring, the First World War started, and Dick Burge joined the 1st Surrey Rifles, being promoted to Sergeant in 1915. He had joined up as “an example to English sportsmen”.

In March 1918, he fell victim to pneumonia after just a week’s illness. His obituary stated that he was instrumental in obtaining a large number of recruits, that he was a generous man, whose chief joy in life was extending a helping hand to those who needed it.

As well as Dick Burge’s example of joining up, the Ring was also involved in the drive for recruits, and the hunt for those who were dodging the call-up, as described in the following report, which was carried by numerous newspapers on the 5th of September 1916:

“BOXING RING RAIDED BY POLICE AND MILITARY – A crowd of spectators were present at the Ring, Blackfriars-road yesterday afternoon to witness the boxing contests. Three thousand had paid for admission. Suddenly a force of police officers and military with fixed bayonets entered. Each exit was guarded, and as the spectators left the building there was a challenge by the police. Eligible looking men were asked to show their papers and explain why they were not in khaki. Instantly the shirkers and dodgers amongst the crowd vainly attempted to elude the police. With great promptitude 50 arrests were carried out, and the prisoners were marched away in custody. They made a striking procession along Blackfriars-road to a chorus of loud applause from wounded soldiers in the vicinity.”

After Dick’s death, his widow Bella took on the running of the Ring, and made a considerable success of the venue. It was a place well known for bringing on boxers at the start of their careers, as well as more established and famous boxers.

Bella had a real interest in boxing, and how the sport was developing. In 1924 she wrote to the London Evening News:

“Mrs. Bella Burge writes from The Ring: During the fifteen years that The Ring has been open, everyone will admit that practically every British boxer with anything appertaining to fame has been brought out at this venue.

With this many years experience, it appears to me that British boxing at the present time is in a state of chaos, and I think that something should be done, especially with regard to the heavy-weight championship. I feel sure that Mr. Bettinson and the members of the National Sporting Club will coincide with my views.

The fabulous salaries being paid to some boxers at the present time will ultimately mean ruin to all concerned. The public have stood by with wonderful patience, which will eventually be exhausted.

In an effort to revive public interest I once again offer Frank Goddard (the present champion) and Jack Bloomfield a purse of £1,000, and an additional £100 each for training expenses, for a contest under championship conditions, to be held at the Ring.”

Bella was quite a woman. Born in New York, by the age of twelve, she was on stage at the Pavilion Theatre in London, and until marrying Dick Burge, and getting involved in boxing, she was a music hall artist, working with Rosie Lloyds, the sister of the artist Marie Lloyd.

Bella must have been a formidable woman as she was known for being the boss of the Ring, a place which was often called the “roughest and toughest arena in the whole rough and tough boxing world”. There was often plenty of trouble at the Ring, with the cheap standing area at the back of the balcony a place where the “tough lads used to gather, armed with knuckle-dusters and hob-nailed boots”.

She dealt with these trouble makers as with all trouble makers, and when she told them to get out and not come back, they knew that she meant it. There was also a system of suspensions to keep out trouble makers.

Bella was also against the fixing of fights, and it was claimed that “there were no fixed fights when Bella was watching”.

In the final years of the 1930s, other boxing halls were starting to draw greater crowds than the Ring, and Bella often had to pay the fighters from her own personal savings.

After the Ring was bombed, she ended her role in the boxing profession and lived quietly in Bloomsbury, until her death aged 84 in 1962.

Bella Burge in 1910:

Source and attribution: Unknown (1910), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Whilst today there is no trace of the Ring, the name of the building on the site today is an obscure reference to the sport, but the pub across the road junction has taken on the job of maintaining the name:

The pub was originally the Railway Tavern and seems to date from the mid 19th century. I am not sure when the name changed to the Ring, but the last reference I can find to the name Railway Tavern was in 1951.

The pub did for a number of years have a boxing ring in one of the upper floors, and walking in today, photos and memorabilia of the sport of boxing covers almost every bit of free space across the walls:

They have Adnams Broadside on handpumps (£6 a pint if you track London beer prices), so with one of these, I sat alongside one of the windows so I could look out across to the location of the place that gave the pub its name:

Photos of boxers fill the pub – a bit difficult to photo as I did not want to include other customers in the photo:

There is much else to find at this road junction. In the photos of the Ring as well as the map, a railway running across a brick viaduct and bridge across Blackfriars Road can be seen just behind the Ring.

This is the view of the eastern side of the bridge today:

Under the bridge, and in the eastern side of the bridge is what appears to be an old entrance, with signs stating Charing Cross Railway and Blackfriars Station:

There is a plaque on the wall to the right which states that this is the entrance to the former Blackfriars Station, commenced by the Charing Cross Railway Company on a line from London Bridge to Charing Cross, and that it was taken over by the South Eastern Railway Company before opening in January 1864.

This is from a time when railway construction was taking place across much of London. Small companies were merging to form larger compnaies, temporary stations opened whist other major construction work was completed, and this appears to have been the story for this first Blackfriars Station.

The plaque states it was opened in January 1864, and a news report in the London Evening Standard from December 1863 is titled “Opening of the Charing Cross Railway”, and includes a brief description of the station during an official inspection of the route by Captain Tyler of the Royal Engineers on the 31st of December:

“About twelve o’clock, the train, consisting of a fine locomotive and two of the new first-class carriages belonging to the South-Eastern Railway, left the Charing-cross end of the line and proceeded gently along the down rail to the junction at the Waterloo-road, where a minute scrutiny of the signals (Saxby’s patent) and the points were made by the inspector.

After some time had been spent at this point the train proceeded on its way to London bridge, passing the new Blackfriars Station; which is provided with two side and one central platforms lighted by globular lamps similar to those on the Metropolitan Railway. The whole of the signals, points, stations and permanent way were carefully examined by Captain Tyler, who, we believe, expressed satisfaction at many of the arrangements, and on the arrival of the train at London Bridge.”

Not sure when the station closed, but it was part of the ever expanding story for London’s rail network.

The glazed bricks on the side of the bridge close to the location of the Ring still have damage sustained during the bombing which destroyed the Ring:

This road junction continues to play a part in the story of London transport networks, as directly opposite the location of the Ring, and as with the original Blackfriars Station, also next to the railway viaduct, is Southwark Station on the Jubilee Line. The station opened in November 1999 as part of the Jubilee Line extension:

I have now covered three corners of the junction, and there is more to discover on the fourth corner, where looking across, there is a housing block:

This is Rowland Hill House, named after the Reverend Rowland Hill, founder of the Surrey Chapel:

And in the corner, between Rowland Hill House and the road junction, there is a black post with a golden dog licking a pot on the top:

The reason why the golden dog and pot is here is down to a quote from Charles Dickens. The following extract from the Norwood Press and Dulwich Advertiser on the 26th of May 1933 provides some background:

“While Dickens himself was lodging in Lant-street and drudging in Warren’s blacking warehouse down by Hungerford-stairs, he tells us ‘My usual way home was over Blackfriars Bridge and down that turning in the Blackfriars-road which has Rowland Hill’s chapel on one side, and the likeness of a golden dog licking a golden pot, over a shop door on the other’. Rowland Hill’s once famous chapel is very well known to present patrons of ‘ the noble art’ as The Ring, but alas the golden dog is no more, He was sold only a year or two since, and so has taken his place in the honourable and ever-increasing company of vanished landmarks of old South London.”

The South London Press is a wonderful local newspaper for research, not only for news articles from the past, but the paper also had a regular series of articles on Southwark’s Past, and one article on the 6th of June 1913 included a section on old signs that once hung above shops and businesses, including the following on the dog and pot (and apologies for the language in the verse at the end):

“One is to be seen on the premises of Messrs. Cunningham and Co., the well-known iron merchants at the cornet of Charlotte-st. It is referred to by Charles Dickens as the ‘likeness of a golden dog licking a pot’. I am sorry that I cannot give you a copy of the original parchment document, as Mr. Cunningham tells me one day, some rascal or other stepped in and prigged it.

This time honoured survival dates from 1533 and the house is generally known as the ‘Dog and Porridge Pot’. In the Magazine of Commerce of September 1903, it is thus described:- ‘The dog is in the act of licking out a three legged iron pot, which it has over turned, and is said to indicate a slovenly housewife. There are woodcuts extant representing the customs of those days, in which two old women, in a disorderly kitchen, are to be seen wiping a plate with the bushy tail of a dog, whose head is buried in a pot, doing his duty at the washing-out process. Then follows this classic:-

All sluts behold, take view of me, Your own good housewifery to see, It is (methinks) a cleanly care, My dishcloth in this sort to spare, Whilst dog, you see, doth lick the pot, His tail for dishcloth I have got.”

The article from the Norwood Press states that the original dog and pot was sold, and this appears to have been to the Cumin Museum, where the collection of the Cumin family was held. They had collected objects from across the world, and left them to the borough of Southwark in 1902.

The Cumin collection is now held by the Southwark Heritage Centre, where apparently a selection are on display. There are also 145 pages of on line shows artifacts in the collection. I got half way through but could not find the dog and pot. I will email the heritage centre.

The shop on which the dog and pot was mounted was destroyed during the last war.

The Dickens Fellowship on their website report that two copies of the dog and pot were created in wood by carver Mike Painter. One was held by the Dickens Museum and the other put on display at the road junction where it was unveiled in 2013.

Being wood, it suffered from exposure to weather and environment, and developed a large split.

The second copy was taken out of storage, and to prevent the same thing happening again, was covered in gilding by Woodwork London, and unveiled on the 7th of February 2026.

So on this one south London road junction, there is:

  • On the south-east corner – the Rowland Hill building named after the founder of the Surrey Chapel and a gilded dog and pot recalling an earlier version on an iron mongers, that was based on an old story, and seen by Dickens on his route home
  • On the south-west corner – the Ring pub. Once the Railway Tavern, now named after the centre of boxing opposite, and covered with photos and boxing memorabilia
  • On the north-west corner – Southwark Station, a relatievly recent station and part of the continued expansion on London’s transport network
  • And on the north-east corner – where today Transport for London work on the management of London’s transport network, on the site of one of London’s major boxing venues managed by Dick Burge, with his wife Bella taking over the business after his death, and where police and soldiers with fixed bayonets in the First World War searched for those dodging conscription, which had been introduced in January 1916 for all single men aged between 18 and 41, and where in 1783, the Reverend Rowland Hill opened the Surrey Chapel, attracting congregations of over 1,500, and from where missionaries were supported both across the world, and to the immigrants and workers of London

It continues to amaze me just how much history there is to discover in every part of London, not just of the buildings, but of the people who once called the city their home.

The before and after photos of the Ring came from the copy of Hitler Passed This Way, purchased by my father when it was published. Click here for my 2016 post with many more photos from the booklet.

Apologies to Charles and George Dance, and exploring St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster

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Thankfully, I do not make that many mistakes in my posts, but when I do, readers always find them, which is really brilliant as some are very embarrassing, and I want the posts to be as factually correct as possible.

I have made a couple of mistakes in the last two posts. In my post on Basing House, I brought the siege forward from 1643 to 1943 in a couple of places in the text, but the most embarrassing was in last week’s post, when I confused the late 18th – early 19th century architect, George Dance the Younger, with the contemporary actor, Charles Dance.

When I wrote the post, I had the Pevsner guide in front of me, clearly stating George Dance the Younger, but there was obviously some disconnect between my eyes and brain, and my fingers as I typed. I still did not pick this up when reading through the final version of the post.

I have no idea if Charles Dance is a descendant of George Dance, although according to his Wikipedia entry, Charles Dance attended the Plymouth Drawing School and studied Graphic Design and Photography at Leicester College of Arts, so he may have similar talents to George Dance.

As a penance for making this embarrassing mistake, I decided to find out more about George Dance the Younger and to track down a couple of his remaining works in London.

Later in the post, I will also be exploring St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, after reading a brilliant book about this medieval chapel, and original home of the House of Commons.

George Dance the Younger

George Dance the Younger was born in Chiswell Street in 1741, the fifth and youngest son of George Dance senior (for simplicity, all future references to George Dance the Younger will be as George Dance).

George Dance by George Henry Harlow in 1814:

Source and attribution: George Dance by George Henry Harlow pencil and chalk, 1814 9 1/4 in. x 7 3/4 in. (235 mm x 197 mm) Purchased, 1936 Primary Collection NPG 2812

To add to my earlier comments about mistakes and trying to be factually correct, the National Portrait Gallery record with the above image does not make clear this this is “the Younger”, but does give the dates of life of the sitter as 1741-1825, which coincides the life span of George Dance the Younger.

The portrait is also dated 1814, and his father, George Dance the Elder, had died much earlier in 1768.

At the age of 17, George Dance went to Italy with his older brother Nathaniel (later Sir Nathaniel Dance-Holland who was a painter, member of Parliament and member of the Royal Academy), and whilst in Italy, George studied in a number of cities including Florence, Rome and Naples.

In 1765 he returned to England, and took over his father’s role, by purchase, as the Clerk of Works to the City of London.

My first stop in my search for locations connected with George Dance was the house where he lived during the later part of his life, and where he died in 1825.

To the left of centre of this terrace in Gower Street is a blue plaque:

The house with the plaque:

Which confirms that George Dance the Younger lived there:

In addition to St Bartholomew the Less featured in last week’s post, George Dance was responsible for a number of works across London, however the majority have been demolished. These include:

  • Repairs and alterations of Newgate Prison after damage sustained during the Gordon Riots
  • St. Luke’s Hospital, Old Street
  • The Giltspur Street Comptor, also known as the City House of Correction
  • The Shakespeare Gallery in Pall Mall
  • At the Mansion House in the City, he added a potico to the west door, which was later removed, and he also lowered the roof of the Egyptian Hall
  • At the Guildhall, he rebuilt the southern front in a Gothic Style, but this was later demolished, and the Chamberlain’s Court, also demolished

Between 1806 and 1813 he was responsible for the home of the Royal College of Surgeons in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, however the building was rebuilt by Charles Barry between 1836 and 1837, but Barry did keep Dance’s original portico, which we can still see on the front of the building:

The Royal College of Surgeons does look as if it was the product of a single design, however the portico is from George Dance’s original building (1806 – 1813), the lower part of the building behind is by Charles Barry (1837 – 1837), and the attic storeys and the wings are by Stephen Salter (1888 – 1889):

My next stop was in London Wall to find the church of All Hallows on the Wall, which was rebuilt between 1765 and 1767 by George Dance:

Which is recorded on a plaque next to the entrance to the church:

As a town planner, George Dance worked on a transformation of part of the Minories, which included the original layout of America Square in 1728. My father photographed part of America Square in 1949, when it looked very different to Dance’s original plans:

His work on America Square extended south to include the construction of the Crescent:

The original buildings of the Crescent were badly damaged by bombing during the last war. The damage started with total destruction on the right and progressively reducing along the buildings to the left.

Pevsner’s guide to the City of London explains that there were originally 11 houses, and only numbers 6 to 11 can be seen today. Numbers 6 and 7 (the two on the left of the terrace) retain their original doorcases. The facades were extensively restored in 1985-6 when replicas of numbers 8 to 11 (the houses to the right) were built.

Although only two originals survive (with much restoration), it is good to see that George Dance’s crescent design can still be seen, having avoided being replaced by yet another glass and steel block.

Dance was also responsible for the original layout of Finsbury Square in 1777.

A number of his plans and proposals were not carried out, including improvements to the Port of London and for the layout of the Camden estate in St. Pancras.

George Dance also worked on a number of projects outside of London, including::

  • The Theatre Royal, Bath
  • Ashburnham Place, Sussex
  • Wilderness Park near Sevenoaks in Kent for the Marquis of Camden
  • Alterations to Kidbrook near East Grinstead for Charles Abbot, the Speaker of the House of Commns

As well as an architect, George Dance was also an artist, and perhaps one of his most touching works is a portrait of his son, also George, dating from 1793, when his son was around the age of 15. He would later die of a liver complaint and fever whilst in India in 1813:

© 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 his brother Nathaniel, George Dance was also a founding member of the Royal Academy.

Sir John Soane and William Mountague were pupils of George Dance, and when Dance retired from his position of Clerk of Works to the City of London in 1815, William Mountague took on the role.

George Dance died in Gower Street on the 14th of January, 1825, aged 84, and he was buried in St Paul’s Cathedral, close to where Sir Christopher Wren and Sir Joshua Reynolds were also buried. At the time of his death, George Dance was the last of the 40 founding members of the Royal Academy.

In May of 1825, the Royal Academy held an exhibition of sculpture, and one of the items on display was a bust of George Dance, described as “An animated and expressive head of one, who, in the later stages of life, still had a very vigorous bearing, that repelled the infirmities of decay. The likeness is very accurate, and bold; the character of the mind speaks through it. At present it is but a model that is to be executed in marble.”

Despite much having been demolished, traces of George Dance’s work can still be seen across London. As well as an architect, he was an accomplished artist and one of the founding members of the Royal Academy, where he was also on the Council and was elected a Fellow.

And definitely not a contemporary actor.

St Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster

A couple of week’s ago, my post was about the siege of Basing House, after reading a brilliant book about the subject and which encouraged a follow-up visit to what remains of the site. For this week, I have another random find when browsing the shelves of a bookshop. This is The Lost Chapel of Westminster by John Cooper:

The Lost Chapel in the title is St Stephen’s, a chapel that had been at the heart of royal, religious and political life from the time construction began in 1292 under Edward I, until it was destroyed in 1834, during the fire which devasted much of the Palace of Westminster.

The chapel was one of the most significant building projects of the late 13th and early 14th centuries, and took a significant time to complete, under the reigns of Edward I, Edward II and Edward III, finally being completed in 1348, with internal decoration continuing for a couple more decades.

St Stephen’s Chapel had two primary roles. As the private chapel for the King and the royal family whilst they were resident in Westminster. Secondly, the chapel maintained a daily routine to pray for the dead, including monarchs who had died as well as those who had left money and lands to the chapel. During this period in medieval history, the belief in purgatory was common, with the associated belief that the prayers of the living would hasten the purification of the souls of the dead, and speed their transition through purgatory.

The location of the chapel is shown within the red oval in the map of the Palace of Westminster prior to the 1834 fire:

(Unless stated, all prints in this section of the post are: © 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 building to the upper right of the chapel is Westminster Hall, so as this structure is still there, we can locate where St Stephen’s Chapel was, on a plan of the site today, where the 19th century structure on the footprint of the old chapel is now called St Stephen’s Hall:

Source and Attribution: It is probably an original drawing produced by Charles Barry’s office., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

In the above plan, to the right of the yellow oval there is the outline of a surviving medieval structure. These are the old cloisters of St Stephen’s Chapel / College, which did survive and can be seen today in the centre of the following Google map, just above the St. Stephen’s Hall label (this map will probably not appear if you receive this post via email, just the way custom HTML is handled. Click here to see the map on Google Maps)

Another medieval survivor is the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft. This was also built in the same sequence by Edwards I, II and III, and whilst the chapel was used by the monarch and members of the monarch’s family, the undercroft was used by the Royal Household.

Being below ground level, St Mary Undercroft survived the 1834 fire, and today it is available for use by members of the House of Commons and the Lords.

St Stephen’s Chapel survived as a chapel until the Reformation.

Up until the middle of the 16th century, the Commons did not have their own, permanent home. Debates would be held at different locations, with the Chapter House at Westminster Abbey being one of the places in use.

St Stephen’s Chapel became the long term home of the House of Commons in 1547 when Edward VI gave the chapel for use as their debating chamber.

The pews were removed and replaced by benches along either side of the old chapel. A speakers chair was installed, along with a table and raised platform in front of the speaker.

And so it remained until it was destroyed by the 1834 fire. The key challenge during the almost 300 years of use by the Commons was to accommodate the ever growing number of MPs.

Prints of St Stephen’s Chapel provide an idea of how impressive the chapel, and later home of the Commons was, within the overall Palace of Westminster:

The view from the Thames:

Inside St Stephen’s Chapel during it’s time as the House of Commons:

In the above print, we can see the changes made over the centuries to accommodate the growing number of MPs, with benches running around the back of the speaker’s chair, and upper galleries on either side.

St Stephen’s Chapel / House of Commons after the fire:

Another view of the destruction caused by the fire:

During the chapel’s use as the House of Commons, wooden panelling had been put up along the walls, which hid the medieval decoration. The original chapel was known to have been incredibly well decorated.

In the years before the fire, antiquaries had spent time looking behind the panneling, and also after the fire there was work to record as much of the chapel as remained.

The following illustration gives an idea of how richly decorated the chapel was:

The above print shows the remains of the paintings discovered on the wall adjoining the site of the altar, and the print below illustrates some of the other wall paintings:

The following print shows specimens of sculpture from St Stephen’s Chapel:

Although St Stephen’s Chapel was lost during the 1834 fire, when the Palace of Westminster was rebuilt, the new home for the House of Commons was moved to a new location within the overall site, but retained the same layout as the original House of Commons, as shown in the print above, with the opposing benches, and the Speakers Chair and central table.

The current House of Commons has the same problems as the original, as whilst the rebuilt structure is slightly larger, it still cannot accommodate all the MPs, which is why there is always a crowd of MPs standing at the entrance when there are the type of debates that the majority of members want to attend.

It is though remarkable, that the current House of Commons continues a format that was implemented in the 16th century to make use of the space of a medieval chapel.

Today, brass studs in the floor of St Stephen’s Hall mark the outline of the original chapel and the Speaker’s Chair.

Research by the University of York has been turned into a 3D visualisation of St Stephen’s Chapel, giving an idea of the impressive decoration. The home page of the project website is here:

https://www.virtualststephens.org.uk/

One of the 3D visualisations is of the 1360s medieval chapel, which can be found here:

https://www.virtualststephens.org.uk/sites/virtualststephens.org.uk/files/panoramas/1360s/tour.html

There is much to explore on the Virtual St Stephen’s website.

And again I highly recommend The Lost Chapel of Westminster by John Cooper for a comprehensive study of the origin of St Stephen’s Chapel, the medieval life of what was both a religious and royal establishment, the transformation into the first permanent home of the House of Commons, and how it developed until the fire of 1834.

Finding the book was one of the benefits of browsing and buying in a physical bookshop, rather than depending on the algorithms of online sellers.

I believe St Stephen’s Hall is still on the tours available of the Houses of Parliament, unfortunately the old cloisters are working offices, so not available for public access, and St Mary Undercroft does not appear to be publicly accessible. A real shame that these medieval survivors within the 19th century Palace of Westminster, are not available to visit.

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.

From Putney to Hammersmith – Slipways, Craven Cottage and Industry

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Walks

My Wapping walk has now sold out. There are spaces left on:

Limehouse – A Sink of Iniquity and Degradation on Saturday the 6th of June. – 2 Tickets Available

I have also added a new date for my Bankside walk, which is the first time in two years:

Bankside to Pickle Herring Street – History between the Bridges on Saturday the 20th of June – Sold Out

Last Sunday’s Post on A. Tattam

There were a number of comments to last Sunday’s post on A. Tattam who ran a shoe repair business in Hackney. These comments provided much more information about Albert.

Unfortunately, I created the post so it was ready for Sunday, and then initiated the transfer of the site to the new hosting provider. This took a while to complete, test and fix a number of minor problems, and I switched the Internet address over to the new site last Tuesday, which meant all the comments were on the old copy of the site with my previous hosting provider.

I do have copies of all these, but cannot add as comments, so will add within the post, as they really added some fascinating detail to his life.

The move means that I am happy to report that A London Inheritance is now hosted with SiteGround.

Now to today’s post:

A few week’s ago, my post was about Putney and Fulham – Bridges, Church and Thames Stairs, and was the first part of a walk from Putney Bridge to Hammersmith Bridge, not just because it is an interesting walk, but also to find the Thames stairs and landing places listed in the Port of London Authority’s directory for this stretch of the river.

My last post finished at Bishops Park Upper Stairs, and this post continues onward, all the way to Hammersmith Bridge.

Exploring this area shows just how rapid London was expanding to the west in the beginning of the 20th century, and that there was still a considerable amount of industry this far to the west along the river.

The following Ordnance Survey map dates from the end of the 19th / early 20th century. I have marked Putney and Hammersmith Bridges, and also put a circle around Craven Cottage, the home of Fulham football club, which I will come to later in the post.

I will be walking along the right hand side of the river as it is orientated in the following map, and around 120 years ago, the land along the river and a distance in land was still open space, although to the right, dense streets of housing can be seen approaching  (‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):

Around 45 years later, a range of different industries were lining the river, Craven Cottage had stands, and housing had reached up to the river  (‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):

As well as the two sets of stairs by Bishops Park, the Port of London Authority listing has another access point to the river close to Hammersmith Bridge. That is three places to access the river along this side of the river between Putney and Hammersmith Bridges. The listing does not include any stairs or slipways on the other side of the river, although some do exist, such as the stairs shown in the following photo:

I wonder if this is because the stairs on the eastern side of the river were up against industrial developments and businesses that used the river, and were therefore classified as working stairs, whilst the opposite side of the river had no similar development, and whilst there may have been stairs providing access to the river, these were not classed as working stairs.

The western side of the river is home to a couple of rowing centres, such as the Barn Elms Boathouse:

A short distance along from Bishops Park is the home of Fulham football club – Craven Cottage:

And walking along the river, the most obvious part of Fulham’s ground is the new Riverside Stand, which extends out and over the new walkway along the river:

Inside the ground floor of the new stand are a range of food and rink outlets, with seating alongside the river walkway. These are open during the day, not just on match days, when it is ticketed only, so if you are walking the river between Putney and Hammersmith, this is a good place to stop for a drink.

Inside, there are views through to the ground:

Fulham claim that Craven Cottage is the oldest football ground in London. They played their first match at Craven Cottage on the 10th of October 1896.

The club was formed in 1879, and before the move to their current site, had played at a number of locations around Fulham and Barn Elms. The club had purchased the land in 1894, and it had taken two years for the land to be cleared, a derelict house removed and the ground prepared.

This first, simple ground, was the one shown in the first map in the post. There were banks surrounding the pitch made from earth excavated during the construction of Shepherd’s Bush underground station.

A wooden stand was constructed but this only lasted a few years before being replaced by a new steel stand in 1905, and at the same time, the earth banks were terraced.

It is this configuration of Craven Cottage which can be seen in the following 1928 photo from Britain from Above:

In the above photo, the earthen bank along the river, to the left has now been replaced by the Riverside Stand, the northern edge of which can be seen in the following photo, where the stand and seating can be seen in the gap, and the photo shows just how close the stand is to the river on the immediate right:

Next to the stadium, alongside the river walkway is a statue of George Cohen MBE, a player who spent his entire professional life at Fulham, as well as playing for England, including the World Cup in 1966, where he played in the final against Germany.

The statue was unveiled in 2016 to mark the 50th anniversary of England winning the 1966 competition:

Leaving Craven Cottage, and the view along the walkway towards Hammersmith:

There is plenty of rowing along the river:

Not sure what these strange features are along the wall of the walkway:

It is hard to image that this entire walkway from Craven Cottage up to Hammersmith Bridge was once lined by industry, but a look at the second of the OS maps at the top of the post shows just how much there was.

A surprisingly high number of oil storage and distribution depots along with an oil refinery, a coal depot, a plaster manufacturer, sugar refinery, preserved food factory, joinery works, a distillery, wharves and warehouses.

Their proximity to the river allowing raw materials to be delivered, and finished products transported.

Nearly all evidence of these industrial sites has gone, replaced mainly by housing, but some traces can still be found.

Along the walkway, there is a small, green open space called Rowberry Mead. This was originally Roseberry Meade, where in 1638 there was a house with a cherry orchard which was recorded as being the finest in England. In 1661, a lease granted by the Bishop of London estimated the size of Rowberry Meade as being six acres.

In the late 19th century, it was a place where osiers (a type of willow tree), and reeds were grown for the basket making industry:

However by the 1940s, the cherry orchards, osiers and reeds had all gone, and the site was an oil distribution depot, with five circular oil storage tanks lining the river.

Whilst the tanks have disappeared, the outline of a couple of the tanks have been preserved in the layout of the park:

In the above photo, the curved fencing and concrete wall below is the riverside edge of the tank arrowed in the following map:

And the outline of the tank above the one with the red arrow is also part reserved, and this includes a mechanism which is placed in the centre of where the tank was located:

From a curve in the walkway, we can look across at the building which is still signed as Palace Wharf, which in the second OS map was the northern edge of the building complex that formed the Rathbone Works, where fibrous plaster and joinery was manufactured.

Also, in the following photo, it is interesting that whilst today there are no osiers / willows at Rowberry Mead, willows can still be seen growing on the river foreshore:

All the industry along the river required infrastructure to support the boats that brought goods to and from the storage depots and factories, most of this infrastructure has gone, but there still the remains of some wooden piers along the river:

In the following photo, the large brick building is the Crabtree pub:

There has been a pub on the site since at least the 1830s, with the large building we see today being a reconstruction of the pub in 1898 by Sich’s Lamb brewery of Chiswick.

The name of the pub, the Crabtree comes from the Crab Tree, or wild apple tree, of which there were once many in this part of Fulham.

In the following extract from the late 19th century OS map, the red arrow points to the first Crabtree pub, the green arrow points to Crabtree Lane, and the blue arrow points to Crabtree House. There are tree symbols covering many of the fields, presumably these were the crab trees which gave their name to the house, lane and pub:

Continuing along the walkway which heads under part of the original Palace Wharf buildings:

To show how industries changed along the river, in the late 19th century OS map, the area occupied by Palace Wharf was a malthouse, around 45 years later the site was manufacturing fibrous plaster.

Another reminder of just how connected with the river this stretch of the shore once was, along the walk there are features such as in the following photo, where mooring lines would be tied from the boats transporting goods to and from the industrial premises:

On the opposite bank of the river is the Harrods Furniture Depository:

The Harrods Furniture Depository was built between 1894 and 1913, having been designed by the architect W.G. Hunt.

As the name suggests, it was built to store furniture over and above what could be on display at the Knightsbridge store, and was also used to distribute furniture ordered by customers. The river was a key means of transport, and there was a pier on the river where boats could moor to deliver or take on furniture. Furniture was also repaired and restored in the building.

Harrods made use of the site in other ways to serve their customers, as the following from The Lady on the 30th of March 1895 shows:

“Many of our readers, and especially many ladies, will be glad to learn that there is a possibility this year of viewing the Boat Race from particularly comfortable quarters without the crushing inconvenience usually inseparable from such occasions. The directors of Harrods Stores have decided to fit up their wharf in front of the old Soap Works (now Harrods Furniture Depository), for the accommodation of a limited number of sightseers, and the race may be seen for at least a mile from this point for the very moderate charge of 2s 6d, light refreshments included.”

The Depository became redundant in the 1980s as delivery models moved from the retailers storing large volumes of goods, to a more just in time approach to minimise the need for costly stock holding and storage facilities.

The site was then converted into residential, with the large and impressive façade facing the river, being retained.

Getting closer to Hammersmith Bridge:

There has been a considerable amount of residential development along the land facing the river as we get towards Hammersmith Bridge.

These apartment buildings all follow the standard style of such developments of recent years, and they have the obligatory balcony:

The London Housing Design Guide published by the Mayor of London in 2010 defined in Section 4.10 Private Open Space that dwellings should have adequate private open space, in the form of either a garden, terrace, or balcony, and that 5 square metres should be provided for a two person dwelling.

This has probably led to a building design that in future decades will probably be recognised as an early to mid 21st century apartment design, much as today we recognise a Georgian or Victorian terrace.

Figurehead by the artist Rick Kirby between the riverside walkway and the new residential development:

The final approach to Hammersmith Bridge:

And as I approached Hammersmith Bridge, I found the last of the three places listed in the Port of London Authority’s guide to access points on this stretch of the river.

This access point goes by the simple name of “Hammersmith Landing”, and is a simple concrete slipway into the river surrounded by concrete walls:

The slipway was marked on the 1893 to 1896 revision of the Ordnance Survey map, where is was located directly at the end of Queen Street (now Queen Caroline Street). Rocque’s map of 1746 shows an unnamed street following the alignment of Queen Street and running through agricultural fields, with a number of buildings along the road, The street ran directly into the river, so as a point of access to the river, the site is probably at least 300 years old:

The building in the following photo is the Riverside Studios:

The Riverside Studios are another example of the transformation from industrial. The site was originally the 19th century and early 20th century Hammersmith Iron Works.

In 1933 the iron works was converted into a film studios with two sound stages, and films made here included “The Seventh Veil” with James Mason from 1945, and in 1950 “The Happiest Days of Your Life” with Margaret Rutherford.

In 1954 the studios were taken over by the BBC, who purchased the studios from the Alliance Film Company. BBC productions including Doctor Who and Quatermass and the Pit were then made here, along with Hancock’s Half Hour and Blue Peter, which are recorded on a plaque on the building:

And in June 1956, the American Singer and Actress, Eartha Kitt appeared in a BBC production at the studios, an event which is also recorded by a plaque on the building:

The BBC moved out of the Riverside Studios in 1975 as additional studios had been added to Television Centre in White City, and the Hammersmith buildings were then taken over by a charitable trust formed by Hammersmith and Fulham Council.

The current building dates from a major redevlopment of the site between 2014 and 2019.

Not long after the new site opened, the studios went into administration, and in 2025 were brought out of administration and brought under the control of a new charitable trust, the Anil Agarwal Riverside Studios Trust.

It was then up to the approach to Hammersmith Bridge, which continues to be closed to any form of traffic apart from pedestrians and cyclists.

Not only has Hammersmith Bridge been closed for some years, but Albert Bridge also recently closed, again apart from pedestrians and cyclists, as a crack in a cast iron component had been discovered in the north eastern abutment.

Work is now underway to restore Hammersmith Bridge, but this will probably take a number of years, and a 12 month plan is underway to repair Albert Bridge.

Two examples of the problems that can happen due to the age of much of London’s infrastructure:

If you are looking for a really interesting walk along the Thames, then the path between Putney and Hammersmith is well worth an exploration, and from Hammersmith there is an equally interesting walk to continue all the way to Chiswick, a route that has the added benefit of a number of good pubs. I wrote about the Chiswick to Hammersmith section in this post.

St Mary’s and the Putney Debates of 1647

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In the middle of the 17th century, Putney was a small village to the west of London with a population of around 900. A bridge had not yet been built across the Thames, but a regular ferry did provide a means of crossing between Fulham and Putney. Close to the river and ferry crossing was a church, the parish church of St. Mary’s, and in 1647 the church was the location of one of the many key events of the Civil War.

Rather than the violence of battle, St. Mary’s was the location of a debate, between members of the Army Council and representatives from within the Regiments of the New Model Army. A debate that became known as the Putney Debates, an event that would probably have been a footnote in the history of the mid-17th century, had it not been for the actions of one man in writing down the first three days of the debates, and a chance find of this record almost 250 years later.

St. Mary’s Putney in March 2026:

A church has been here since at least the 13th century, when there was a written mention of the church in 1292, and the location follows the historic trend of locating churches next to key crossing points.

You can see this around the City of London, with the number of churches located next to the old gates of the City wall such as St. Giles Cripplegate and St Botolph Without Aldgate, as well as river crossings where St Andrew, Holborn is alongside what was the approach from the west, to the crossing of the River Fleet.

The following map shows St. Mary’s (red circle) adjacent to the current bridge (the second bridge at the site, and also close to the earlier ferry crossing), with a second church in a similar position on the opposite bank of the river; All Saints Fulham (dark blue circle) (© OpenStreetMap contributors):

By 1647, the Civil War appeared to be over, with the New Model Army’s victory at the Battle of Naseby in June 1645, the Siege of Oxford in April 1646, with Charles I managing to escape and joining a Scottish Army, who handed Charles I back to Parliament in January 1647 in exchange for an initial £100,000.

The first half of the 17th century was a time of radicalism, religious dissenters, new ideas and thought about the role of Parliament, the Monarchy, individual liberty, religious toleration etc. and many of these streams came to a head by 1647.

There were Levellers (whose views included religious tolerance and equality of all before the law), and Fifth Monarchist Men, a stream of Protestants who believed that the Kingdom of God would arrive at the end of four earlier kingdoms, the Babylonian, Persian, Greek and Roman kingdoms, with the execution of Charles I signalling the end of the Roman kingdom.

There were those who wanted Charles I to be brought to trial, and there were those (including Cromwell), who wanted an agreement that was more compatible with the King, where he would continue to have a role, although much reduced.

Charles I was being held captive at Hampton Court and there were many discussions about what to do with him. Cromwell was communicating with the King to try and find a way forward, but this led to complaints from the Army that Cromwell was more in favour of Charles I than his own soldiers.

Parliament was also concerned about the continued existence of the New Model Army. The army would require continued funding, and could also become a threat to Parliament, as the army was a more radical organisation.

Regiments within the Army included agitators who would spread and campaign for radical causes. Many of these were aligned with prominent radicals in the City of London.

In October 1647, agitators within five cavalry regiments of the New Model Army published “The Case of the Armie Truly Stated”. The document criticised senior officers within the Army (including Cromwell), for negotiating with Charles I, and also demanded what at the time were radical causes; democracy, equality before the law, extension of the vote, and for soldiers to receive the pay that was owed to them.

A sense of the contents of the document can be gained from the title and opening paragraph:

“The case of the Armie truly stated,: together with the mischiefes and dangers that are imminent, and some suitable remedies, humbly proposed by the agents of five regiments of horse, to their respective regiments, and the whole Army. As it was presented by Mr. Edmond Bear, and Mr. William Russell, October 15. 1647. unto his Excellency, Sir Thomas Fairfax. Enclosed in a letter from the said agents : also his Excellencies honourable answer thereunto.

Whereas the grievances, dissatisfactions, and desires of the Army, both as Commoners and Soldiers, hath been many months since represented to the Parliament; and the Army hath waited with much patience, to see their common grievances redressed and the rights and freedomes of the Nation cleared and secured; yet, upon a most serious and conscientious view of our Narratives, Representations, Ingagement, Declarations, Remonstrances, and comparing with those the present state of the Army and Kingdome, and the present manner of actings of many at the Head Quarters, we not only apprehend nothing to have been done effectually, either for the Army or the poore oppressed people of the nation, but we also conceive, that there is little probabillitie of any good, without some more speedy and vigorous actings.”

A large contingent of the Army were based around Putney, and the church had already been used for meetings. Churches were good for meetings because they offered a large space, and were also a religious building, and prayer was often a key part of meetings and debates held by members of the Army and the radicals.

Today, access to St. Mary’s is via the new building to the side, which has a café on the ground floor. Walking through the café and turning left into the church provides the following view:

On walking into the church, was I looking at the same church that Oliver Cromwell would have seen back in 1647?

Unfortunately not. The church was enlarged and substantially rebuilt in 1836, and in 1973 an arson attack destroyed much of the church, requiring a significant rebuild, which was completed nine years later when the church was re-hallowed on the 6th of February 1982.

Although it is a very different church, it is still the place where the debates where held, and a place where Oliver Cromwell, senior officers and members of the New Model Army, religious and political radicals, argued and debated on the future direction Parliament and the country, religious freedoms and the fate of the King.

Inside the church, looking back towards the café entrance:

One of those involved in the debates was Colonel Thomas Rainsborough.

Rainsborough was born in Wapping in 1610, the eldest son of William Rainsborough who was a member of the Levant Company, who gained their charter from Elizabeth I in 1592, with the right to trade with the Ottoman Empire, and neighbouring states in the eastern Mediterranean.

Thomas Rainsborough would also become a member.

At the start of the Civil War, Rainsborough was appointed Captain of one of the ships of the Navy. The Navy had sided with Parliament, and during the Civil War, the Navy’s main roles were supporting coastal towns and cutting off supply routes to Royalist forces, and one of his successes during this period was the capture of a ship carrying supplies and reinforcements to the King.

He transferred to the Army and in May 1645 became a Colonel in the New Model Army and was part of a number of battles and sieges, including the siege of Oxford, the base of Charles I which surrendered in June 1646, and the siege of Worcester, which surrendered the following month.

Rainsborough was a supporter of the Levellers, and also opposed negotiations with the king. In the Putney Debates he was frequently in opposition to the views of Oliver Cromwell and Henry Irelton, a Major-General in the New Model Army, supporter of Cromwell, and who was married to Bridget Cromwell, Oliver Cromwell’s eldest daughter.

A quote from one of Rainsborough’s arguments at the Putney Debates is above the entrance to the church from the café, as can be seen in the above photo, with a close up shown below:

The phrase (in bold) is from the following part of one of Rainsborough’s arguments:

“I desired that those that had engaged in it [might be included]. For really I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he; and therefore truly, sir, I think it’s clear, that every man that is to live under a government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that government; and I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bound in a strict sense to that government that he hath not had a voice to put himself under; and I am confident that, when I have heard the reasons against it, something will be said to answer those reasons, insomuch that I should doubt whether he was an Englishman or no, that should doubt of these things.”

A very clear argument for equality and democracy, and good to see these words from Thomas Rainsborough are on display in the church where the debates took place, with the caveat that it was a view of equality and democracy in the mid 17th century.

There was no argument for equality of men and women, or for women to be able to vote on who represented them in Parliament, and the debates also included arguments for how far democracy should go, for example that the poor and servants should be excluded. As representatives of the army, there was general agreement that soldiers should be given the vote.

Whilst we should not compare the middle of 17th century with today, the Putney Debates were a step in the right direction.

The interior of the church today – a very different place to when Rainsborough was part of the Putney Debates, Cromwell was here, along with other senior members of the army and representatives and agitators from the regiments:

The church is Grade II* listed, and the following from the Historic England listing provides an idea of just how much the church was changed in 1836 and 1837:

“This involved alterations to the tower, widening the nave, the addition of expanded aisles in yellow stock brick and the addition or replacement of windows in the Perpendicular Gothic style. In addition, the galleries in the aisles and west end of the church which had originally been installed in the early part of the C17 were replaced, a single-storey vestry added in the south-east corner and the Bishop West chapel moved from the south to the north aisle.”

The rebuild after the 1973 arson attack further changed the church, as follows:

“As well as installing a new roof, Sims moved the altar and sanctuary to a central location on the north side of the nave, installed a glazed meeting room in the former chancel and added an organ loft in a gallery in front of the tower. The C19 pews were replaced with chairs.”

17th century benefactors to the parish are recorded in the church, and these included Elizabeth Offley, who in 1664 gave a regular sum of money to be distributed to the poor on St. Andrew’s Day, the sum was charged on the Union Brewhouse in Holborn, and was paid in at Drapers Hall, and in 1669, John Powell gave a sum of £10 per annum, charged on a public house in Westminster:

The following plaques in the church record the 1836 rebuild and enlargement of the church (top), and the lower plaque records the rebuild after the 1973 fire:

The fact that Thomas Rainsborough’s argument, as well as a record of the rest of the first three days of the Putney Debates survives is down to the original record, and a later discovery.

The Putney Debates were recorded by William Clarke, who probably had the help of a number of assistants with recording the live debates.

The Clarke Papers, published by the Camden Society in 1891 provide some background:

“William Clarke who was probably born about 1623, was admitted a student of the Inner Temple in 1645. When the New Model Army was organised, John Rushworth was appointed Secretary to the General and Council of War, with William Clarke and another assistant as subordinates. Clarke acted as secretary to the commissioners who negotiated the surrender of Oxford in June, 1646, and to those who tried to arrange terms between Parliament and the Army in July 1647. He seems to have taken part in the invasion of Scotland in July 1650, and from the autumn of 1651 to the Restoration was Secretary to to Army of Occupation in Scotland.

Not long after the Restoration, Clarke was knighted and, on 28th January 1661, appointed Secretary at War. Sir William Coventry described him to Pepys as one of the ‘sorry instruments’ by whom Monck was lucky enough to effect great things.

Clarke accompanied Monck to sea in 1666, and was mortally wounded in the battle with the Dutch off Harwich on the 2nd of June 1666. He was buried in the chancel of Harwich Church.”

Following Clarke’s death, his books and papers were left to his son George Clarke, who preserved the archive, and would go on to bequeath his father’s archive along with his own library to Worcester College, Oxford.

And there they remained until the later years of the 19th century when a young historian by the name of Charles Firth, who would later become the Regius Professor of History at Oxford University, found a set of manuscripts laying in a cupboard at Worcester College.

Firth edited the manuscripts for the Camden Society (now the Royal Historical Society), and they were published, almost 250 years after the original debates, with Clarke’s record of the arguments of radicals, agitators, the commanders of the New Model Army, and those with opposing views on the future of King Charles I.

Another view of the church, looking towards the organ loft above the door, which was part of the post 1973 fire restoration:

The views of many of the agitators influenced the Putney Debates, but they would grow as the Civil War ended, the Commonwealth was established after the end of the Second Civil War and the execution of Charles I resulted in the country becoming a Republic, with Cromwell being given the role of Lord Protector, with the considerable powers that the role included.

To show how agitators viewed the evolution of the Commonwealth and the role of Cromwell, we can look at the role of Edward Sexby, one of those at the Putney Debates.

Sexby served in Cromwell’s regiment at the start of the Civil War.

During his time in the army, he helped to spread Leveller ideas, and helped to set up the Council of Agitators, which brought together like minded representatives from across the army with a view to petition for soldiers rights.

Sexby was the main representative of the Leveller contingent at the Putney Debates, where he argued for the rights of all men, and strongly argued against Cromwell’s dealings with Charles I.

During the Commonwealth, Sexby viewed Cromwell’s role as Lord Protector as being against the principles on which the Civil War had been fought.

Sexby tried to organise with those he viewed would be against the Protectorate. He was nearly arrested in 1655, but escaped to Europe. He was involved with plots to assinate Oliver Cromwell, and also published a phamplhet titled “Killing no Murder”, in which he argued that the killing of a tyrant (as he viewed Cromwell), was justified.

The plots to assassinate Cromwell failed, and Sexby returned to England in 1657 to try and organise new conspiracies against Cromwell, however he was arrested, imprisoned and interrogated in the Tower of London, where he died in January 1658 of fever, before he could be brought to trial.

Part of the church that probably would still be recognised by those who attended the Putney Debates is Bishop West’s Chantry Chapel:

Bishop West was Nicholas West, who was born in Putney in 1461 to Katherine and Robert West who may have been a fishmonger.

He attended Eton College and Cambridge, became chaplain to Henry VII, was Dean of Westminster in 1510 and Bishop of Ely in 1515.

His legacy to the church in the village of his birth was the chapel, built at some point between the years 1515 and 1530.

The chapel was originally on the south side of the church, but as part of the 1836 rebuild and restorations, the chapel was moved to the north.

The arms of Bishop West, which include a Bishop’s Mitre and the Tudor Rose:

Looking along the north side of the church:

There are not that many monuments in the church, presumably the 1836 rebuilt and the 1973 fire resulted in the loss of many of these.

The monument to Sir Thomas Dawes (died 1655), and his wife Dame Ivdith Dawes (died 1657):

Sir Thomas Dawes was an important land owner in Putney, but lost most of his lands, and suffered imprisonment and heavy fines during the Civil War and Commonwealth.

The 17th century clerics heads are the only items remaining from the monument to Robert Gale who died in 1659:

Robert Gale was chaplian to the Countess of Devonshire, who was a supporter of the Royalist cause.

In her house at Roehampton, she arranged meetings with other Royalist supporters, and also wrote letters in code to Royalists in exile in Europe (Robert Gale was one of those who helped her with her letters), and on the restoration of the monarchy, Charles II was a visitor to Countess Devonshire at Roehampton.

A look towards the south of the church, with the entrance / exit to the café in the centre:

There is a small exhibition about the Putney debates in the alcove behind the two doors to the right of the above photo, and at the top of each column is the figure of an angel. There is no mention of these figures in the Historic England listing so I have no idea of their age:

A final view of the interior of the church, an unusual layout with the altar in the centre, towards the northern side of the church. I suspect that this layout would have been approved by many of those attending the debates. There were no alter rails around the alter, or any other form of separation with the congregation and the act of service would have been visible to all:

The main issue that the army command and the agitators within the regiments failed to agree on was how far across society should the ability to vote be granted.

The Leveller position put forward by the agitators was that all freeborn English men should be granted the vote, whilst the army command, including Cromwell, went only as far as land owners being given the vote.

A compromise was reached that all soldiers who served in the army and had fought for Parliament should be given the vote. Maintaining army discipline seems to have been the main reason why the army command agreed to this compromise.

The Putney Debates also seem to have changed Cromwell’s opinion regarding Charles I. The agitators did not agree that negotiations should continue with the king, and argued that he should be put on trial. Again, to keep the army onside, after the Putney Debates, Cromwell appears to have hardened his attitude towards Charles I.

The “Agreement of the People” that came out of the Putney Debates was to be put to a mass meeting of the army, however Cromwell along with other senior members of the army were concerned about the growing influence of the Levellers within the army, so they disbanded the Army Council before the mass meeting could be arranged, and ordered the agitators and other representatives of the soldiers to return to their regiments.

Three separate, smaller meetings were then arranged with the regiments, however all these plans were thrown into disarray when Charles I escaped from Hampton Court, an action which brought together the New Model Army against a common enemy, and which would lead to the Second Civil War.

Although St. Mary’s is now a very different church to the one in which the Putney Debates were held due to the 1830s restoration and enlargement and the rebuild following the fire of the 1970s, it on the original site.

During my visit, whilst the adjoining café was busy, for the time that I was having a good look around the church, I was on my own, and it was easy to imagine a smaller church, full of the victors of the first civil war, each expecting the outcome of the previous years of fighting to be the opportunity to progress their own deeply held views.

Whilst Cromwell asserted his control over the army, his position during the Commonwealth as Lord Protector was seen by those who were agitators as almost becoming like a king.

Many of the ideas about the freedom to vote, religious tolerance and rule by an elected Parliament rather than a hereditary monarch would come into being over the following centuries and the 17th century began the transition from a late medieval to the modern world.

William Clarke’s record provides us with a view of how these ideas were being discussed and argued, in a church by the Thames in Putney.

Resources

William Clarke’s text of the Putney Debates can be found by clicking here.

I have read a number of books over the last months about the Civil War, and the ideas that were part of the radical thinking of the period. Three excellent books that cover Cromwell, the Civil War and the Levellers are:

The Leveller Revolution by John Rees:

Along with The Making of Oliver Cromwell and Commander in Chief Oliver Cromwell, both by Ronald Hutton:

I will feature more books in future posts about this fascinating period in history.

The Treachery of Sir George Downing

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Along with streets and places such as Piccadilly, Leicester Square, and Oxford Street, Downing Street is probably one of the more recognisable London street names, not just in the United Kingdom, but across the world, given the number of tourists who peer through the gates that separate Downing Street from Whitehall.

Number 10 Downing Street has been home to the Prime Minister (or more correctly the First Lord of the Treasury) since 1735, when the house was given to Sir Robert Walpole.

There have been many gaps in occupancy by Prime Minsters, however a central London house was considered a benefit of the role. It was only in the early 20th century that it became a full time residence of Prime Ministers.

Security has long been an issue. It was not so long ago that the public could walk down the street, with the street finally being closed to the public in 1982, and in response to ever growing threats, security measures such as physical defences and armed police have been added and enhanced.

So today, this is the best view of the street for tourists and members of the public who do not have official business in any of the buildings and institutions that line Downing Street:

The street has seen so many Prime Ministers, newly elected, arrive in an atmosphere of enthusiasm and expectation, only to leave having been rejected either by the electorate, or through the actions of their former colleagues.

For a rejected Prime Minister, perhaps the most difficult way to leave is when you have been rejected by former colleagues. Those who once supported and worked with you, and with whom you had a shared vision of the future.

Whilst this must be incredibility frustrating, it is not as bad as the treachery of the person who was once the land owner and who gave his name to the street, who through his treachery, condemned former colleagues to the worst death penalty that the State could impose, convicted of being a traitor and being hung, drawn and quartered.

For this, we have to go back to the Civil War, Commonwealth and Restoration of the 1640s, 1650s and early 1660s to explore the work of Sir George Downing:

The source of the above paining is from the Harvard Art Museum, and the image title is “Portrait of a Man, probably Sir George Downing (1624-1684)”. It is often difficult to be absolutely certain of those depicted in paintings of some age (see my recent post on the Gresham’s).

The record for the painting states that on the stretcher is written “Sir George Downing Bart./ born August 1623–Embassador [sic]/ to the States General 1659-Son of/ Emmanuel Downing & Lucy Winthrop/ 4th daughter of Adam Winthrop-/ The nephew of John Winthrop/ Governor of Massachusetts–His/ diplomatic services…[illegible]… are well known to history.”, which does add some confidence that this is Sir George Downing.

George Downing was born in Dublin around 1623 or 1624, His father was Emanual Downing, a Barrister and Puritan, and his mother was Lucy Winthrop, the sister of John Winthrope who was the Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, an English settlement on the east coast of America which had been founded in 1628.

This family relationship with Massachusetts resulted in the family moving to the colony in 1638, where they settled in Salem.

Harvard College had been founded by the Massachusetts Bay Colony on the 18th of October 1636, and was the first college set-up in the American colonies.

The name Harvard comes from John Harvard who was an English Puritan minister and benefactor of the college, which included leaving his library of 400 books and half of his estate to the new college.

George Downing attended Harvard College, and was one of the first group of nine who graduated from the college in 1642.

After Harvard, Downing moved to the West Indies where he became a preacher, and in the early 1640s he returned to England, where he found the country in the middle of a Civil War, and he quickly aligned with the forces opposing King Charles I, joining the regiment of Colonel John Okey as a chaplain.

Downing was fully supportive of the actions of Cromwell and the New Model Army in the defeat of the Royalist cause, and he was recognised and promoted quickly to become Cromwell’s Scoutmaster General in Scotland, a role that was basically the head of a spying and intelligence operation, attempts to infiltrate Royalist plots and to turn Royalist supporters to the Republican cause.

During the years of the Commonwealth in the 1650’s, Downing’s skills became valuable in the diplomatic service, and he became the Commonwealth’s ambassador to the Netherlands, where he also developed a network of spies, and passed information on Royalist plots back to John Thurloe, who was Cromwell’s main spymaster.

The later part of the 1650s were a difficult time for the Commonwealth, the main issue being what would happen to the Commonwealth after the death of Oliver Cromwell. Who would succeed Cromwell, how would such a decision be made, could Cromwell take on the role of a monarch and make the head of the Commonwealth a hereditary title?

Downing supported and urged Cromwell to take on the role of a monarch along the lines of the old constitution that had existed before the execution of King Charles I.

To those holding senior positions in the army and the Commonwealth, it must have seemed that the Commonwealth was in a strong position, the country would remain a Republic. Monarchist plots and uprisings had been supressed, and the future King Charles II seemed to be in a weak position in exile on the Continent.

It was then surprising how quickly after Cromwell’s death, that the whole structure of the Commonwealth collapsed so rapidly, and King Charles II was restored as the monarch of the United Kingdom in 1661, just three years after the death of Oliver Cromwell.

George Downing had been watching how sentiments towards the monarchy were changing and started to plan how he would survive and prosper after the restoration.

This involved actions such as ingratiating himself within the court of the future Charles II, passing information on to the Royalists and claiming that he had been drawn in to the Republican cause rather than being an active initiator of the Civil War and the execution of King Charles I.

Whilst Downing had supported the trial and execution of the former king, he was not a judge or participant in the trial, and did not sign the execution warrant of the king:

Source: See page for author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Which is an important lesson if you are involved in any plotting or support of a controversial cause – never leave anything in writing.

Despite his involvement and support of the Republican cause, Downing’s efforts to show support for the monarchy were such that after the restoration of the monarchy, he was knighted, and continued in his role as the ambassador to the Netherlands, and it was in the following couple of years that he was to really show his ruthless streak and what he would do to further his own power, position and wealth.

Regicides

After the restoration, the monarchy turned their anger on those who had been involved in the trial of King Charles I, who had signed his execution warrant, or who had had a significant role in his execution.

Known as the Regicides, those who had been responsible in some way for the execution of the King were exempted from the Indemnity and Oblivion Act of 1660, an act that gave a general pardon for all those who had committed a crime during the Civil War and the Commonwealth (other than crimes such as murder, unless covered by a licence from the king, witchcraft and piracy were also not covered by the general pardon).

A number of the Regicides had already died, including Oliver Cromwell and Henry Ireton. Others gave themselves up in the hope of a fair trial and avoidance of a traitors death, whilst others fled abroad in fear of their lives.

Three of those who fled, and who would meet their deaths through the actions of George Downing, were:

John Okey

Creative Commons Licence – after Unknown artist, published by John Thane line engraving, published 1794 NPG D27161© National Portrait Gallery, London

John Okey had been born in St. Giles, and like many others who were part of the Parliamentary / Republican / New Model Army forces opposing the king during the Civil war, Okey had enlisted in the army, rising through the ranks to become a major, then a colonel, of a regiment of dragoons (mounted infantry).

George Downing had joined Okey’s regiment as a chaplain, and was well known to Okey.

When Charles I was brought to trial, Okey was one of the 80 who were actively involved in the trial, and attended on most days, and the action that would infuriate the restored monarchy was that he was one of the 59 who had signed the warrant for the execution of the king.

Miles Corbet

Creative Commons Licence – after Unknown artist, published by William Richardson
line engraving, published 1810 NPG D30024© National Portrait Gallery, London

Miles Cobet was the MP for Yarmouth and also a Lawyer.

The print of Corbet shown above has the abbreviation Coll. in front of his last name. This may have been an honorary titles, as he did not serve during any military actions during the Civil War. He was though one of the founders of the Eastern Association, which was a military alliance formed to defend East Anglia on behalf of the Parliamentary forces, and he also served as an army commissioner in Ireland, responsible for overseeing the affairs of the army, and with allocation of land within Ireland to soldiers as reward for their service, and often in lieu of wages.

His role in the trial of Charles I was as part of the High Court of Justice, and as one of those who signed the execution warrant.

John Barkstead

Creative Commons Licence – after Unknown artist line engraving, published 1810 NPG D9319© National Portrait Gallery, London

John Barkstead was originally a goldsmith in the Strand, but who joined the Parliamentary forces, becoming a captain of a foot company in the regiment of Colonel Venn. He was Governor of Reading for a short time, commanded a regiment at the siege of Colchester, and was appointed as one of the judges at the trial of Charles I.

He also signed the Warrant for the Execution of Charles I.

He was appointed Lieutenant of the Tower of London, but used this position to further his own wealth by extorting money from prisoners and generally running a cruel regime.

He was rumoured to have hidden a large sum of money in the Tower of London, and in 1662, Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary that he was busy in a discovery for Lord Sandwich and Sir H. Bennett of the cellars of the Tower for this hidden money.

By signing the warrant for the execution of the King, Okey, Corbet and Barkstead had also signed their own death warrants, as this would be their fate – a public traitors death in London.

Escape and Capture

In fear of their lives, with the restoration of the monarchy, Okey, Corbet and Barkstead fled to Europe, with Okey and Barkstead making their way to Hanau in Germany, where they were accepted by the town and given a level of protection. Corbet had made his way to the Netherlands where he was in hiding.

For Barkstead, Hanau seemed a natural, long term home, as the town was well known for the manufacture of jewellery, and Barkstead’s background as a goldsmith in the Strand would come in use.

As Hanau seemed to be a long term home for Okey and Barkstead, they wanted their wives to join them, and a plan was put together for them to meet their wives in the Netherlands, from where they would all travel back to Hanau.

They believed that they would be safe in the Netherlands and had assurances that Downing had not been given any instructions to hunt for them. The Netherlands was also known for tolerance and for putting commerce before any other concern.

They travelled to Delft, and met up with Corbet, who was keen to meet with some friends after his time in hiding.

Downing meanwhile had been putting together plans for how he would find and capture any regicides that were living or passing through the Netherlands. He was worried about the repercussions of capturing any regicides and transporting them back to London without the approval of the Dutch, and he had problems with getting an arrest warrant from the Dutch authorities.

After much persuasion, Downing received a blank arrest warrant, which he would be able to use against any of the regicides that he could discover in the Netherlands, and it would soon be put into use.

Through Downing’s network of spies, he discovered that Okey, Corbet and Barkstead were all in Delft, and just as they were about to split up, Downing and his men pounced on the house, and found the three sitting around a fire, smoking pipes. and they quickly rounded up the three regicides. They had their hands and feet manacled and were thrown in a damp prison cell, whilst Downing finalised their transport back to England.

Whilst they were in captivity, the three were visited by Dutch politicians who assured the three that they would be freed, however Downing used his skills to threaten and bully the Dutch on the possible consequences of such actions, and the Dutch conceded, and let Downing continue to hold the three and arrange their transport.

Another challenge was the Bailiff of Delft who was not cooperative and threatened to derail Downing’s plans. Downing’s response to this was another indication that he would do anything to have his way. He made inquiries about the bailiff and learnt that “he was one who would do nothing without money”, so Downing offered him a bribe – a reward if he would keep the prisoners safe until they were finally in Downing’s hands.

There were other problems. The magistrates of Amsterdam sent a message to the authorities in Delft that they should “let the Gates of the prison be opened and so let them escape “.

The bailiff warned Downing that the “common people might go about to force the prison and let them out”, and the authorities in Delft made efforts to provide counsel for the regicides.

Downing finally received an order from the Dutch authorities addressed to the bailiff in Delft to release the prisoners to Downing. The bailiff was concerned that there would be a rising “if there were but the least notice of an intention to carry them away”.

Downing had already arranged for an English frigate to be available, and with the aid of some sailors from the frigate, and a small boat, he:

“resolved in the dead of the night to get a boate into a litle channell which came neare behinde the prison, and at the very first dawning of the day without so much as giving any notice to the seamen I had pro
vided . . . forthwith to slip them downe the backstaires . . . and so accordingly we did, and there was not the least notice in the Towne thereof, and before 5 in the morning the boate was without the Porto of
Delft, where I delivered them to Mr. Armerer . . . giving him direction not to put them a shoare in any place, but to go the whole way by water to the Blackamore Frigat at Helverdsluice.”

The Frigate Blackamore carried the three prisoners back to England, where they were imprisoned in the Tower awaiting a trial, which was not really a trial as in the view of Parliament and the Monarchy, they had demonstrated their guilt by fleeing the country. The trial was a formality to confirm they had the right people.

Having been found guilty of treason, on the 19th of April 1662, the three men were transported from the Tower to Tyburn, each tied to a separate sledge as they were drawn through the crowds, with much mocking abuse from Royalists. Barkstead left the Tower first, a place where he had once been the Lieutenant, and raised his hat to his wife who was waving from a window.

On arriving at Tyburn, each man gave a speech to the crowd, and were then put on a cart under the gallows. When they were ready, the cart was pulled away, and they hung for 15 minutes, before being taken down, and were then drawn and quartered, all in front of a large crowd.

Barkstead’s head was placed on a spike overlooking the Tower of London, mocking his former role at the Tower.

Before his death, Okey had sent a message of obedience to the restored monarchy, and as a reward for this, his family were allowed to bury his mutilated body in a vault in Stepney, however a large crowd gathered around Newgate where his body was being held, and fearing that this was a show of support for a traitor, the King swiftly changed his mind, and Okey’s body was hastily buried in the grounds of the Tower of London.

After the Regicides

Downing appears to have shown very little if any remorse or regret for his actions in the capture and execution of his three former colleagues, especially Okey, in whose regiment Downing had once served during the Civil War.

He acquired large estates and properties across the country and in London. He was one of the four Tellers of the Receipts of the Exchequer. He inspired the Navigation Act: “the foundation of our mercantile marine, and consequently of our navy, and consequently of our colonies and spheres of influence. He was also the direct cause of the Appropriation Act, an Act indispensable in every session, for government at home and one which has been appointed by all our self-governing colonies,” and he was instrumental in persuading the Dutch to exchange New Amsterdam, their colony on Long Island, for the British colony of Surinam in South America. New Amsterdam was then renamed as New York.

George Downing owned land near Westminster, and when the leaseholder died in 1682, Downing developed a cul-de-sac of more than twenty plain, brick built, three storey terrace houses, and he petitioned Charles II for permission to name this new street Downing Street.

Royal approval was granted, but he did not live to see the completion of the street as he died in July 1684 when he was 60, two years prior to work was finished.

The general view of Sir George Downing was that whilst clever, quick to action, ambitious and a very hard worker, he was also self serving, would shift his allegiance depending on changes in political and royal power, and as demonstrated with Okey, Corbet and Barkstead, this would also include the betrayal of his former friends and colleagues.

After the restoration, there were many who recognised Downing’s true character. After the capture of the regicides, Samuel Pepys’s wrote in his diary:

“This morning we had news from Mr. Coventry, that Sir G. Downing (like a perfidious rogue, though the action is good and of service to the King, yet he cannot with any good conscience do it) hath taken Okey, Corbet, and Barkestead at Delfe, in Holland, and sent them home in the Blackmore.”

Downing – a name associated with self perseveration to the extent that former colleagues and the cause for which they all worked, were betrayed, and now recorded in the name of the street where the Prime Minister resides.

Sources: I have been reading a number of books about the Civil War recently which I will list in a future post. My main source for the actions of Downing in the Netherlands and the capture of Okey, Corbet and Barkstead is from “Sir George Downing and the Regicides by Ralph C. H. Catterall in The American Historical Review, Vol. 17, No. 2 (Jan., 1912), and published by the Oxford University Press“.

Resources – The World Turned Upside Down

As today’s post is the first of a new month, it is a post where I cover some of the resources available if you are interested in discovering more about the history of London.

As today’s post has been about the fate of three of the regicides involved with the trial and execution of King Charles I, and George Downing, who supported both the Parliamentary cause and then swiftly converted to support the monarchy, today’s resource is a brilliant website full of resources covering everything Civil War, and events in London played a very significant role, not just during the Civil War, but the lead up to, the causes of the war, the Commonwealth and Protectorate, the people, politics and religion, the restoration and later impact.

The website is The World Turned Upside Down:

The name of the website comes from the title of an English ballad published in the mid 1640s, when Parliament was implementing policies that tried to ban the more traditional celebrations of Christmas that the more Puritan and to an extent Baptist members of Parliament believed were associated with the Catholic religion, and that Christmas should be a more solemn event, without the drinking, feasting and joyous elements of the traditional Christmas:

Source: Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The standout feature of the website are the podcasts. There are currently 112 on the site with more being gradually added (you can sign up for alerts). Each podcast explores a different aspect of the Civil War and is by an expert in the subject.

For each podcast there is also a transcript, glossary, timeline, maps and further reading.

The first four podcasts in the list are shown in the screenshot below:

There is so much in the news about the destructive elements of social media, AI and the Internet, but the World Turned Upside Down is one of those sites that restores your faith in what the Internet can deliver when a community of real experts put together such a resource – which is freely available.

Even if you have only a passing interest in the mid 17th century and the Civil War, the site and podcasts are well worth a visit, and again, the link to click for the site is: The World Turned Upside Down

A Microscopic Examination of the Water Supplied to the Inhabitants of London

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The level of pollution in the River Thames has long been a problem, even in 2026, decades of under investment in sewage treatment has resulted in effluent being dumped in the river. Hopefully something the Tideway Tunnel will help resolve.

The state of the river in the 19th century was far worse than it is today. The rapid rise of London’s population and industry resulted in large quantities of effluent being dumped, untreated in the river.

Similar to the Tideway Tunnel, Joseph Bazalgette’s sewer system and pumping works of the 1860s and 1870s acted as an interceptor, catching sewage before it was dumped in the river, and routing it to new treatment works.

Before construction of this new system, the condition of the river was an open sewer, and what was worse, the river was used as a source of water by the water companies that supplied the city. Even the companies that relied on other sources were frequently drawing on heavily polluted water.

In April 1850, Arthur Hill Hassall published “A Microscopic Examination of the Water Supplied to the Inhabitants of London and the Suburban Districts”, where he reported on an investigation into the sources of water used by the London water companies, and examined the condition of their water supplies using a microscope to see what material the water contained.

Arthur Hill Hassell was the son of a Doctor and was born in Teddington in 1817. He was a student in Dublin and apprenticed to his uncle, Sir James Murray, a Dublin physician, and whilst in Dublin he published his first work “A Catalogue of Irish Zoophytes”, where he used a microscope to examine microscopic organisms, which at the time were believed to be somewhere between plants and animals.

After graduating, he returned to London and setup in general practice in Notting Hill, but he continued to be fascinated in what could be revealed by the microscope, and his next publications were “A History of British Freshwater Algae” (1845), and “The Microscopic Anatomy of the Human Body” (1849).

His 1850 publication would reveal the horrendous state of the water supplied to the residents of London.

In his description of the method used, he states that he collected a wine bottle full of water from the output of the different water companies, the river, and the sewer system, and examined samples of this water under a microscope.

Arthur Hill Hassall:

Licence: Public Domain Mark, Credit: Arthur Hill Hassall. Photograph. Wellcome Collection. Source: Wellcome Collection.

In 1850, there were a number of privately owned water companies that supplied different areas of London. These were, along with the main source of their water as listed in Hassall’s book:

  • New River Company (source – springs around Ware in Hertfordshire and the River Lea)
  • East London Company (source – the River Lea near Old Ford, Stratford, below Lea Bridge)
  • Hampstead Company (source – several large ponds near to Hampstead Heath)
  • Kent Company (source – the River Ravensbourne)
  • Lambeth Company (source – the River Thames at Lambeth)
  • Vauxhall Company (source – the River Thames at Vauxhall)
  • Southwark Company (source – the River Thames, also at Vauxhall)
  • Chelsea Company (source – the River Thames, near Battersea)
  • West Middlesex Company (source – the River Thames at Barnes)
  • Grand Junction Company (source – the River Thames at Brentford)

In his examination of the water under the microscope, he was looking for organic and inorganic matter, including specific organic material that he described as “complex in organisation, endowed with life, and in many cases possessed of active powers of locomotion”.

Using the scientific understanding and terminology of the time, he described this type of organic material as:

  • Infusoria – animal productions, and include a great variety of singularly organized atoms, most of which are invisible to the common eye
  • Entomostraca – constitute a well defined division of Crustacea, or the Crab tribe and are remarkable for having their bodies enclosed in shell-like cases
  • Conferveae – vegetable productions of very simple organisation, consisting of cells or utricles, placed end to end and joined together, forming, by their union, threads often of extreme fineness
  • Desmideae – also vegetable productions, exhibiting however, some affinities to animals, so that, for a long time, it was a matter of doubt and dispute to which of the kings of the organic world they really belonged.
  • Diatomaceae – unite in their organization the characters of both plants and animals, insomuch that it is still uncertain which they really are. They are readily distinguished from all other organisms by their colour, which is brown, and by the fact that they are furnished with skeletons of Silex, or flint; it is this which renders them so durable – indeed, almost indestructible.

These are rather dry descriptions of what could be found in samples of water, so in a perfect example of a picture is worth a thousand words, Hassall included colour illustrations of what he saw whilst looking through the microscope at the samples of water collected in a wine bottle from across London.

Firstly, the Thames at Brentford and at Hungerford (near where the railway bridge is located today between the South Bank and Charing Cross):

Comparing these two illustrations shows that whilst the Thames at Brentford was bad enough, in central London there was a dense collection of both organic and inorganic matter.

Hassell adds little notes to show how he collected the water, and for Hungerford he added that the water was collected “two hours after the steam-boats ceased to ply”. Presumably, then as now, powered boats on the river churn up the sediment and prevent it from settling, and Hassall wanted to collect his samples in as near a natural state as possible.

As well as the view through the microscope, he added that the water from Hungerford presented a dirty and opaque appearance, and also contained dead organic matter, very considerable, both animal and vegetable, ochreous substance; down of wheat.

Hassall was surprised by the amount of living matter that he found in the water at Brentford, and he conducted further tests along the river, and came to the conclusion that “these have brought to light the singular and important fact, that Thames water, from Brentford in one direction, to Woolwich in the opposite, warms with living productions”, and that they are met with the greatest abundance near to central London and in the neighbourhood of the bridges.

He also added the following description of what a walker alongside the Thames in the mid 19th century would see:

“In one spot he will notice the carcases of dead animals, rotting, festering, swarming with flies and maggots, and from which a pestilential odour proceeds, contaminating the air around; in another he will see a variety of refuse borne along by the lazy current of the stream – decaying vegetables, the leaves and stalks of cabbages, grass from a recently mown lawn, excrement; in another he will remark on the commotion of the water, occasioned by the bubbling up of some noxious gas; and still further on, he will perceive some sewer; discharging its corrupt and filthy contents into the bed of the river, and causing the water around to assume an inky blackness.

Should the tide be out, the observer should now abandon the towing path, take a boat, and row to some of the shallower parts of the stream, If here he plunges his hand into the water, he will bring up a dirty and slimy mass. Entire acres (I might say without exaggeration) of a substance similar to the above may frequently noticed on the recession of the tide.”

To show what was being put into the Thames, he included a picture and description of sewer water, which contained large amounts of both organic and inorganic matter, much dead and decomposing matter, a black carbonaceous matter on which the inky colour of many sewer waters depend, and large quantities of sulphated hydrogen.

All this was being pumped into the river, frequently not that far from where a water company was drawing water to supply the residents and industries of the city.

Drawings of the view through the microscope of sewer water, and the first of the water companies examined- the Grand Junction Company:

The Grand Junction Company took their water from the Thames at Brentford, at a place which Hassall described as being “within reach of the sewage of that large and dirty town”.

Next came the West Middlesex Company, which took water from the Thames at Barnes, along with a sample of Cistern water:

The lower image shows Cistern Water, and the text explains that this was water from a cistern supplied by the Hampstead Water Company.

Cisterns were tanks where water was temporarily stored as part of the overall distribution system, between the source / reservoir, and the end user.

Hassall found numerous problems with the quality of the water in cisterns across London, and he had the follow general comment about cistern water “It may be observed, in general. that these waters contain the same forms of organic life as those encountered in the waters of several companies, with this important difference, however, that their numbers, for equal quantities of fluid, are usually much greater in the former than in the later”.

He goes on to explain that the samples he took from cisterns contained much greater quantities of living organisms, than the source water, for example:

  • The Chelsea Company is remarkable for its bunches of Ova cases
  • That of the Lambeth Company for its immense numbers of Bursaria and Paramecia
  • That of the Vauxhall Company for its hirsute worms or Annelida

Hassall makes the observation that the amount of life found in cisterns was dependent on the time of year (more growth when the weather was mild or warm) and also on whether the cisterns were frequently cleaned.

The Chelsea Company, who took their water from the Thames, near Battersea, and the Southwark Company, who took their water from the Thames near Vauxhall:

The water of the Southwark Company was described as being in the “worst condition in which it is conceivable any water to be, as regards its animalcular contents, in a worse state even than Thames water itself, as taken from the bed of the river”. Quite some achievement for the Southwark company to have their water described as being worse than the river water.

In the mid 19th century, the Southwark and Vauxhall Water Companies had combined. Most of the water companies had moved their supply sources to beyond the expanding city of London, looking for sources which did not have the same level of contamination as the Thames, along with methods of purification such as increased use of, and more complex design, of filtration beds, however the Southwark and Vauxhall Company still had their works in Battersea, as shown in the following map from 1894 (‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):

The site of the Southwark & Vauxhall Water Works would later become the site of Battersea Power Station, and if you walk through the power station building today, you are walking over the space once occupied by the central reservoir.

The Lambeth and New River Company’s water:

The Lambeth Company’s water “is procured from the river at Lambeth, and not far from a large sewer”.

In looking at the samples of water Hassall concluded that “the water of the Companies on the Surrey side of London, viz. the Southwark, Vauxhall, and Lambeth, is by far the worst of all those who take their supply from the Thames. They are demonstrably contaminated with more or less of the organic and decomposing matters, animal and vegetable, derived from sewer-water”.

In the above drawings, the lower is from the New River Company, who took water from the springs around the Hertfordshire town of Ware, along with the River Lea in Hertfordshire. This water was transported along a man-made river to the reservoir of the New River Company in northern Clerkenwell, from where it was distributed to consumers across the city.

See this post on New River Head and London’s Water Industry.

Hassall described that in the New River Company’s water, “living animalcules were not very numerous, but that it contained great numbers of Diatomaceous”, and that it also held abundant filaments of Fungi, dead organic matter, and much earthy matter, so even using a source well away from the polluted city did not mean that you had a clean supply to distribute to your consumers.

The water of the Hampstead Water Company was described as being generally bright and clear, but did contain numbers of Entomostraca and Infusoria.

The East London Company took their water supplies from the River Lea, and it was described as being similar to the water of the New River Company.

The Kent Company took their water from the Ravensbourne, and this water contained numerous species of the organic life that Hassall listed, along with much dead organic matter, and for good measure, quantities of grit.

Arthur Hassall was rather innovative in his thinking about sources of pollution in the Thames. He did not just look at the sources within central London, but considered the Thames as an overall system, comprising the core river, along with all the tributaries and the towns along the river and tributaries, as the inhabitants of all these towns were also putting all their rubbish, industrial waste and sewage indirectly into the Thames, and all this would eventually find its way to where the central London water companies were extracting their water.

Hassall used the 1841 census to illustrate the problem, and in the following table, he had added up the population of the towns along the Thames and tributaries above the town of Henley (Hassall used the name Isis for the river for its length from source to where it joins the River Thame by the village of Dorchester in Oxfordshire):

The following table shows the population along the Thames from Henley to London, as well as the towns along the tributaries that join along this section of the Thames:

This gave a total population of 2,316,273 living within the system of the Thames and its tributaries up to and including the city of London, according to the 1841 census (although it was higher than this as Hassall admits that there were some small towns where he had not been able to find the population).

It was not just the population along the river, but also the rapid growth of industry in London, and major towns in the river and tributary area, also produced polluted water as an industrial by-product, and frequently dumped this into the river system.

The state of the river was such that there were many cartoons emphasising the appalling state of the river, and the impact that it had on the health of the city’s residents, such as the following from Punch magazine in 1858:

Source and attribution: Punch Magazine, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

In the book, Hassall included a section on Remedial Considerations, where he offered suggestions for improving the quality of water supplied to Londoners.

In doing so, he does not consider cleaning up the river, rather by seeking cleaner supplies of source water. His reasons for assuming the state of the river will not change are:

“It has been shown, and the fact is established by incontrovertible evidence, that all those companies who take their water from the Thames draw it from a polluted source, and, as long as this river is employed as the outlet of all the sewage of so vast a city as London, so long must its water used by so many of the metropolitan companies be bad at its sources, it can scarcely be otherwise than impure when delivered to the public.”

The challenge was in finding new, clean sources of water. Hassall looked at the River Wandle, which had a source in springs near Croydon, along with a large pond, however he finds that the refuse of a gas-works, a tan yard. a slaughter house and the sewage of the town is poured into the pond, and hence the Wandle.

Similar issues are found with all the small rivers around the wider area, people, industry, and even cross contamination between streams and canals.

In the mid-19th century, it seems almost every possible source of water in the counties around London was polluted to a greater or lesser degree.

Artesian Wells were a possibility, as these draw water from deep below ground, however Hassall considers the “operation of boring deep into the bowels of the earth” as expensive, uncertain and unnecessary, and that we should really be using the abundant supplies of water that nature provides on the surface of the earth.

Hassall recommended that open reservoirs be covered up, that cisterns should be cleaned regularly, and that water in cisterns should be refreshed, being stored in a cistern for no longer than 24 hours. At the time, many of these cisterns were made of lead, which was not recognised as a problem in the mid 19th century.

Filtration was identified as a major way of cleaning water between source and distribution, and Hassall conducted a series of experiments to determine the best method of filtration, using different types of charcoal, patent filters, loam, mild and strong clays, to see which individual or combination of materials would provide the cleanest water, and he identified a combination of charcoal, and clay mixed with sand as the best approach, and that three consecutive filtering operations should be carried out.

His summary recommendations are that a proper water supply to a populous city such as London, requires:

  • An unpolluted source
  • An unlimited supply
  • Perpetual renewal
  • Filtration
  • The abolition or modification of reservoirs and cisterns
  • Moderate cost

It would take many decades for the changes to be implemented that were needed to provide London with a clean supply of water. Investment, engineering, technical improvements, new sources, storage methods, distribution networks etc. were all needed, and today, on the whole, we have a very clean supply of water.

The Thames is today, cleaner than it was in the mid 19th century, but there is no way that I would want to drink water straight from the river, and I find it worrying when I see children playing on the foreshore, who, being children, will put their fingers in their mouth.

The Tideway Tunnel will prevent many of the overflows into the river from the wider London area, however as Hassall described back in 1850, it is the whole catchment area of the river and tributaries that need to be clean, as these contribute to the waters that flow through central London.

Perhaps we need another Arthur Hassall to graphically describe the contents of the water that flows through the city.

He seems to have been widely respected for his knowledge of water contamination. In July 1850, the same year as the publication of his book on the water companies of London, he was speaking at the Botanical Society of London “On the colouration of the water of the Serpentine”, where he described the cause of the vivid green colouration of the Serpentine that had taken place that year.

In the same year he also published a report on the “Adulteration of Coffee”, which apparently was a problem at the time, as he reported that roasted wheat, beans and potatoes had all been used.

As well as the pictures shown earlier in the post, Arthur Hassall’s writing was always very descriptive, and I will leave you with this graphic sentence from his summary, back in 1850:

“It is thus beyond dispute that, according to the present system of London water supply, a portion of the inhabitants of the metropolis are made to consume, in some form or other, a portion of their own excrement, and, moreover, to pay for the privilege.”

Watermen’s Rates, The Shock of America and a 19th Century Street View

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Three different subjects in this week’s post, but they all have a common theme of time – change over time, how centuries old data can be interpreted in modern ways, and how the future always develops in a way we can never foresee, starting with:

The 1803 Table of Watermen’s Rates

In last week post on Pageant’s Stairs, one of the references I included to the stairs, was the Watermen’s rates for taking you from London Bridge to the stairs in 1803, according to the “Correct Table of the Fares of Watermen, which has recently been made out by the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen”, as published in the Evening Mail on Monday the 16th of May, 1803..

The table included the rates for a long length of the Thames, from Windsor to Gravesend, and in my nerdy way of looking at stuff like this, I thought it would be interesting to interpret this data in a way we are familer with now, if we travel on London’s underground and rail network, where basic charging is by zone.

So taking the starting point of London Bridge, in the City of London, I mapped the rates in 1803 on to a map of the Thames, with each zone defining a specific Watermen’s price to row you from London Bridge.

If you walked down to the river in 1803 to take a Watermen’s boat to your destination, then, as with an Underground station today, we can imagine the following maps pinned to the wall of the alley leading down to the stairs, the first map starting with the zones from London Bridge out to Blackwall (the actual zone pricing is after the maps). All base maps are © OpenStreetMap contributors:

London Bridge is the bridge on the left edge of Zone 1, and this is the starting point for a journey east along the river, and as with Transport for London’s (TfL), charging today, the price increases as the length of journey increases.

There are some strange charges, for example the whole of the Isle of Dogs appears to be in a higher priced zone (6), whilst Deptford has it’s own little zone (5), which is a lower price to the Isle of Dogs.

Displaying data in this way does make some huge assumptions. For example, with the Isle of Dogs, the 1803 table does not specify where on the Isle of Dogs the priced journey would end, so as stated in the table it looks to cover a large distance of river, from Limehouse round to Blackwall.

In the next map, we continue along the river to Gravesend, which, as Zone 13 is the final easterly zone, and priced destination in the 1803 table:

There seems to be no standard length of journey, so as can be seen in the above map, the length along the river of zone 9 is much more than zones 11 or 12.

The pricing and sample locations within each zone is shown in the following table:

The best description of the difference between Oars and Sculler that I can find, is that with Oars, a rower is holding a single Oar in two hands, whilst with a Sculler, a rower is holding a pair of Oars in both hands.

I assume this explains the difference in pricing and why the price for a Sculler ends at the Isle of Dogs / Greenwich, as a boat could be rowed by a single person, using two oars, where with Oars, at least two people would be needed, each holding one oar on either side of the boat.

If this is wrong, comments are always appreciated.

The price for a Sculler ending at the Isle of Dogs / Greenwich is probably due to this being the physical limit that a single person could row along the river.

Regarding my earlier comment about the difference in length of the zones, the pricing table helps to explain this, with the jump in rates roughly rises in line with the distance travelled.

The above maps and table cover the east of the river. If you wanted to travel west, then there is a similar zone map hanging on the wall at London Bridge.

This is the first seven zones, from London Bridge up to Wandsworth:

Zone 6 covers the rate to Chelsea, and the following print from 1799 shows a party being rowed along Chelsea Reach. The boat is being rowed by Oars, as there are six rowers and three oars either side, so each rower is holding a single oar with both hands:

(© 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 above print shows several people being rowed by a team of six, and an obvious question is whether the rates apply to any number of passengers and number of rowers, and the answer is that there is an additional charge.

The 1803 Table of Watermen’s rates states that for the journey from London Bridge to Chelsea, for every additional passenger, there is an additional charge of 4d on top of the base rate, so in the above print there are ten passengers, plus two playing instruments who I assume also incur a charge as they are not Watermen.

The man at the back is wearing a Watermen’s badge on his arm, so presumably comes with the boat, so if the above boat had been rowed from London Bridge to Chelsea, the charge (see table after the next two maps) would have been 2s 6d base rate plus 12 times 4d (passengers plus musicians), so a total charge of 5 shillings and 10 pence.

Continuing along to Zone 18, Shepperton, Chertsey and Weybridge:

The final two zones, 19 and 20 run all the way to Windsor:

The table of rates travelling west from London Bridge:

The final five zones from Hampton Court / Town up to Datchet and Windsor:

The journey out to Windsor is considerable, and is way beyond the area of Port of London Authority’s responsibility, which ends at Teddington, the last westerly point on the tidal Thames.

Including Windsor in the Waterman’s rates must have meant there was demand for travel this far west, and is probably due to the times when the Monarch was based at Windsor Castle, so there would have been a need for travel from central London out to Windsor.

The price is also considerable for 1803 at 21 shillings, and on top of this there was a 3 shilling charge for additional passengers. Assuming the traveller from London to Windsor required a return trip, then the price would have been double, so not a journey that the average Londoner would have taken. Only one for the rich, and those on state business.

As well as listing charges for additional passengers, there were a number of other additional charges:

  • If the journey is not a direct journey between places on the river, for example, if the journey is taking or collecting passengers from a ship, which may include waiting at the ship whilst passengers and luggage transfer, then the Waterman has the option of charging either the standard distance rate, or a time rate of 6d for every half hour for oars, and 3d for scullers.
  • If the Waterman is detained at a stop by the passenger, for example having to wait at the destination stop whilst the passengers wait to disembark, wait to be met etc. then the Waterman can charge an additional 6d per half hour of waiting for oars and 3d for scullers.
  • A journey directly across the river is charged at the standard rate of 2d, or if more than one person, 1d per person
  • There were also standard rates between different stairs or landing places on the river, these were roughly the difference between the zones in which the different places were located. As an example, Wapping (Zone 3) to Greenwich (Zone 7), was 1 shilling 6 pence. The difference of the London Bridge standard rates of 2s 6d (to Greenwich) minus 1s (to Wapping, Zone 3).
  • No more than six persons are to be carried in a wherry (the standard Watermen’s boat), and up to Windsor and Greenwich, up to eight in a passage boat (which I believe is a larger boat than the basic wherry).

One surprising omission is any reference to the state of the tide, as for a rowed or sculled boat, it would have been considerably harder rowing against the tide than rowing with the ride. It may be that this is expected to average out over a series of journeys with half being against the tide and half with the tide.

It would also be interesting to add a time column to the listing of rates, as the journey to the furthest reaches to the east and the west must have been considerable. This was reflected in the rates for the watermen, however it must have taken many hours to reach the furthest places in the table, and time of the journey would have been variable, depending on tide, weather, other river traffic etc.

Despite what seems to be well regulated pricing, there were challenges for the passenger who used the river to travel through London.

The following print dated 1816 from the Miseries of London series shows a woman walking down the steps at Wapping Old Stairs, presumably wanting a boat to travel to her destination, and being “assailed by a group of watermen, holding out their hands and calling Oars, Sculls, Sculls, Oars, Oars”:

(© 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 Watermen are wearing their badge on their arms to signify that they are a Waterman, and the following is an example of such a badge:

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

Not adhering to the rates would often result in being brought to court, for example in 1847, waterman John Thomas Jones was in court on a charge of overcharging a passenger 12s 6d for a fare that should have been 4s 3d. The Waterman was fined 20s.

Watermen also were at a number of risks, as well as the daily danger of rowing along a congested river, they were also valued for their skills, and were prized as recruits for the Navy.

A report in the London Magazine in 1738 on the need to crew several new naval ships, states that a “press” took place on the river, with 2,370 men taken and enrolled in the Navy, the majority of them being Watermen.

The 19th century saw a gradual decline in the need for a Watermen to row passengers along the river.

The growth of steam ships on the river, the growth of the railways, underground, improved roads, bridges etc. all made it easier to travel without the need to be rowed.

Steam powered boats started ferrying passengers along the river, although initially this method of transport was not always safe and reliable. The following print from 1817 titled “Travelling by Steam” shows two Watermen watching a steam packet boat exploding and throwing the boat’s passengers across the river:

(© 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 newspapers listing of the Watermen’s Rates were always dense columns of text, and showing these visually on a map, in a similar way in which TfL display underground and rail fares helps with understanding part of the rich life of London’s river.

One big difference between 1803 Watermen charges and today’s TfL charging is that in 1803 there was no capping of the daily charge, so in 1803, you would have been charged for each journey you would have taken on the river.

The Sunbeam Weekly and the Pilgrim’s Pocket – Shock and Outrage at the Evolution of the United States of America

There is a wonderful statue at Cumberland Wharf in Rotherhithe, which is today a small area of open space alongside the river at the place indicated by the arrow in the following map:

Once a wharf between Rotherhithe Street and the Thames, servicing a large granary across the street via conveyors which ran across the street in the photo below, and which shows the area occupied by Cumberland Wharf:

If you look to the left of the space, there is a walkway with a statue at the end, which is alongside the river:

The statue consists of a taller figure – William Bradford, who was Governor of the New Plymouth colony in the United States for a number of periods between the years 1621 and 1657. The boy is in 1930s clothes, and represents a local boy reading a comic of the time:

The work by Peter McLean dates from 1991 and is titled “Sunshine Weekly and the Pilgrims Pocket”:

William Bradford was one the Pilgrims who left Rotherhithe on the Mayflower in 1620. The ship sailed from Rotherhithe from the area around Cumberland Wharf, although not their last port of call in England, as they stopped off at Plymouth before crossing the Atlantic on a two month journey.

Bradford is looking over the boy’s shoulder at his comic with, as described in the adjacent information board, “a look of shock and outrage” as he turns the pages of the comic:

The Sunbeam Weekly was a comic from the 1930s:

Why was the Pilgrim William Bradford, who had a long career as the Governor of the Plymouth Colony at what is now Plymouth, Massachusetts, looking at a 1930s comic with a look of shock and outrage?

The reason is that the pages of the comic are showing how the United States of America has evolved since the Pilgrims landed in 1620.

(Sorry, the photo is slightly out of focus. It was grey, overcast, raining, breezy and cold).

The pages of the comic show the Statue of Liberty, an aeroplane, cars, a train, skyscrapers, the Space Shuttle and King Kong:

William Bradford was a Puritan, the strand of English Protestantism that believed that the Reformation had not gone far enough in ridding the Church of England of Roman Catholic practices. Puritans, and the clash between reformers. separatists and the established church would play a major part in the English Civil War and the Protectorate which would take place during the 1640s and 1650s.

I am sure Bradford would be absolutely shocked how the United States has developed in the 400 years since he was part of Plymouth Colony. I am not sure about the outrage, as Puritans were against Roman Catholicism rather than what can loosely be described as technical progress, however they were strict religious adherents (which is where stories about Christmas festivities being banned during the Protectorate, although in reality the vast majority of the population continued to celebrate).

The pocket of William Bradford includes some key symbols.

A 1620 A to Z of the New World, a lobster claw and fish to show the seafood that was key to the Pilgrims survival in the early years of the colony, and a cross which is symbolic of the religion that the Pilgrims carried to the new colony. There is a small US badge at the base of the cross:

The artist’s tools are shown at the feet of the statue:

And along the edge of the base is the sculptors name and year the work was created:

I think this is a wonderful work of art.

I often wonder when looking at old photos, what the people in the photo would think about how the future has developed, as it is always in a different way to that expected at the time.

My father mainly photographed scenes rather than focusing on people, however whilst it is a gap of only 73 years, compared with the almost 400 years in the Rotherhithe statue, it would be interesting to see how those waiting for the 1953 Coronation procession in one of his photos, would look at the London of today:

If you walk the Thames path in Rotherhithe, or along Rotherhithe Street, stop at Cumberland Wharf to take a look at “Sunshine Weekly and the Pilgrims Pocket” and also consider that whatever we expect the future to be – it will almost certainly be very different.

And for the final look at a different aspect of time hopping, another of my first post of the month looks at the resources available if you are interested in discovering more about the history of London:

Resources – Tallis’s London Street Views

Today, if you want to look at a street and see the buildings and businesses along the street you can use Google Street View.

Imagine if it was possible to do this for the years long before photography and Google made this possible, well for the years between the late 1830s and early 1840s there is a Street View available, which whilst being drawn, and not as comprehensive as Google still provides the opportunity to take a virtual walk along a London street.

This is Tallis’s London Street Views.

(Before going further, the version of Tallis’s Street Views available on line is the 2002 reprint of a London Topographical Society (LTS) print of the street views. The copy was held by the University of Michigan and digitised by Google, and is made available online by the HathiTrust, a US organisation who describe themselves as:

“HathiTrust was founded in 2008 as a not-for-profit collaborative of academic and research libraries now preserving 19+ million digitized items in the HathiTrust Digital Library. We offer reading access to the fullest extent allowable by U.S. and international copyright law, text and data mining tools for the entire corpus, and other emerging services based on the combined collection.”

The HathiTrust have made the work available under Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives.

It is difficult to know the true copyright status of documents such as this, when you have very large organisations such as Google digitising vast amounts of works and many, often US based organisations making these fully available online, a situation which I expect is going to get more problematic in years to come).

John Tallis was the publisher of the Street Views. He was based at 15 St. John’s Lane, near St. John’s Gate.

Tallis was a prolific publisher of prints covering people (real and fictional), actors, landscape scenes, buildings, places etc. As well as multiple prints of London, he published images of other places, for example the following print of Margate Pier and Harbour:

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

Initially, Street Views was published in parts before being published as a complete set.

The following, from the Gloucester Journal on the 21st of July 1838 is typical of advertising for the Street Views:

“TALLIS’S LONDON STREET VIEWS. For the sum of Three-half-pence, you can purchase a correct View, beautifully engraved on steel, and drawn by an artist of great talent, of upwards of One Hundred Houses, with a Street Directory, or a Key to the Name and Trade of every occupier to which is added a Map of the District, and an Historical account of such Streets, Courts, or public Buildings worth recording.”

The Street Views obviously does not cover all the streets of London, but does provide comprehensive coverage of the major thoroughfares of central London, along with many of the smaller streets, particularly in the City.

An example of the way that streets are illustrated is the following view of part of Hatton Garden:

As well as an illustration of the building, where a business occupies a building, the name and trade is also provided, so at number 109 Hatton Garden there is a Pianoforte Maker and Music Publisher who presumably goes by the name of Hart.

Next door at 108 there is Schonberg, Engraver and Printer, along with a Taylor and Draper in the same building, and at 106 there is Battistessa & Co, Looking Glass and Artificial Flower Maker.

What is fascinating is being able to find more about these business, and in the British Museum collection is a trade card for the above mentioned L. Schonberg of 108 Hatton Garden:

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

Tallis’s London Street View is a fascinating way of walking the streets of London in the late 1830s and early 1840s, and a reminder that John Tallis came up with this format of recording a city long before Google Street View.

The Tallis’s Street View can be found at the HathiTrust, by clicking here, where you can scroll through the pages or download a copy.

Google Street View is a brilliant equivalent resource of today. Imagine being interested in London’s history in a couple of centuries time, and being able to walk through a photographic view of the City’s streets, however continuing the theme of the future is always very different to that we expect, and that services such as Street View are digital, will they survive that length of time given the magnitude of change that can occur over such a period of time.