There are so many walks through and around London, and for the really ambitious there is the Capital Ring, and the longer London Loop, or London Outer Orbital Path, which takes you on a walk of almost 150 miles around the edges of Greater London.
I have walked sections of both these routes, and they both offer a different perspective of the wider boundaries of the ever growing city.
For many of the 12 years that I have been writing the blog, I have used the maps of John Rocque to illustrate London as it was in 1746, and I have always been fascinated by the way the edges of the built city end with fields, pasture and gardens. These fields would, in turn, soon be covered with houses and streets, as London’s rapid expansion continued, but the map does what maps do well, it shows the city at a specific point in time.
I enjoy both random wandering and following a theme when out walking, so for a new theme, I decided to try and follow the edges of London in 1746 as shown by Rocque’s map.
A full circle around London, which can go by the wonderfully alliterative name of the Roqcue Ring.
I decided to start on the western edge of the built city, on the northern bank of the river, at what was the horse ferry, and is now Lambeth Bridge, and then work my way northwards to start the circle of the city.
In today’s post, I am covering part of the following map:
I have marked the route in red in the map below, starting at the Horse Ferry on the Thames:
My rule is to try and follow the edge of the built environment, but I am also including Royal Parks in the definition of built, as they would not be covered in streets, and were part of the manmade environment, although I am not including gardens, orchards and other agricultural land.
Some parts of the route will be rather arbitrary, but my intention is the whole of the circle around London will provide a good idea of the edge of London in 1746, and would find what remains from that year in history.
I have replicated the route in the above map on a map of 2026. It looks a bit different as the orientation of the two maps is different, and I preserved the orientation so the street names are readable:
To the starting point, and in 1746, the western edge of the built city was at the Horse Ferry, a historic ferry that once carried people and goods between the point shown on the map, and Lambeth on the opposite side of the river.
The Horse Ferry can be seen in the centre of the river bank in the following map. Mill Bank runs left to right, and northwards from the Horse Ferry is Market Street, now Horseferry Road. There are gardens to the left, and along Mill Bank there is Grosvenor House. Originally Peterborough House, the house was part of the considerable inheritance of Mary Davies, and it came into the Grosvenor family when she married Sir Thomas Grosvenor in 1677. The house was demolished in 1809 so that the Grosvenor family could redevelop the area:
This is the old Horseferry in 1800, with Lambeth Palace in the background:
© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.
This is the view today, where Lambeth Bridge has replace the Horseferry. Lambeth palace can be seen in the background to the left:
This is the view looking north along Horseferry Road (Market Street in Rocque’s time). The building of the Security Service MI5 is on the left, and the almost identical building on the right was Imperial Chemicals House, the old headquarters of the chemicals company ICI:
Decoration on the old ICI building presents almost a text book of the history of those involved in the chemicals industry. I wrote a post about the building, which you can find here.
Leaving Millbank and heading along Horseferry Road. Millbank takes its name from the mill that belonged to Westminster Abbey and was at the end of Great Collge Street.
This section of Horseferry Road was originally Market Street, but changed name after the remodelling of the area when Lambeth Bridge arrived:
A short distance along Horseferry Road, we can look right down Dean Bradley Street and just see the columns of St. John’s, Smith Square. The church was built between 1714 and 1728, so around 20 years before Rocque’s map, where it is shown with a large churchyard:
Dean Bradley Street was not there in Rocque’s map, and although the street layout in Westminster may appear to be old, Dean Bradley Street was an early 20th century addition, when the area was developed from terrace housing to larger office blocks.
Dean Bradley Street was named after George Bradley, Dean of Westminster Abbey between 1881 and 1902. St John’s Smith Square is now Smith Square Hall, home of the Sinfonia Smith Square, and is a venue for hire.
I wrote about the history of the church and Smith Square in this post.
Looking north along Horseferry Road at the junction with Dean Bradley Street. In 1746 there were buildings on the right and left. The buildings on the left had a large central area of gardens.
The trees in photo mark the location of a feature that was in Rocque’s map:
On the 1746 map, there is a feature called St. John’s Burying Ground, and although long closed as a burying ground, this is still open space called St. John’s Gardens:
The burial ground served the church at the end of Dean Bradley Street, but as with most burying grounds in London, it soon became full, and the parish went to the extremes of adding three feet of earth across the surface to provide additional depth for more burials.
Body snatchers were a big problem, guards were posted for a time, and in the early 19th century, they were armed with pistols.
These places must have been horrendous, and an article in the Kentish Weekly Post on the 3rd of February 1750 illustrates one of the bizarre happenings at such as place:
“On Sunday morning last, a man, supposed to be murdered, there appearing several marks of violence, tied up in a sack, was thrown over the wall of the Burying Ground of St John’s, Westminster, and on Wednesday he was exposed to view, in order to be owned.”
Today, gravestones line the sides of the gardens:
On what appears to be a relatively recent small building at the southern end of the gardens, there is a much eroded plaque, which looks as if it was moved from another location, and whilst much is illegible, it appears to talk about the grave stones and memorials, and ends with “Become illegible through lapse of time”:
There are a few remaining larger graves / monuments across the gardens as a reminder that this was once a burying ground:
As well as adding three feet of earth, the burying ground was extended by the purchased of some of Grosvenor’s land in 1823, but later when Horseferry Road was widened, the burying ground lost some land.
The state of the burying ground was so bad, that it was closed in 1853, and after being left derelict for a number of years until 1880, a group of local residents took on the responsibility to convert it to a public garden, which was opened on the 23rd of May, 1885.
An article in the London Evening Standard described the opening of the garden, which was performed by the Duke and Duchess of Westminster, who had also contributed £1,000 to the costs of creating the gardens.
The Rev. Colin Furse presented the Duke with a key to the gardens and also stated how important they were for an area which lacked open space, and with a population of between 30,000 and 40,000 within a quarter of a mile, this would be an important place.
The article makes mention of the careful way in which the gravestones were moved to the boundaries of the gardens, but makes no mention of the bodies. With the burying grounds of many London churches, bodies were moved to one of the big 19th century cemeteries that surrounded the city, but perhaps with St. John’s Garden, the old inhabitants are still there.
Just past St John’s Gardens is the junction of Horseferry Road with Marsham Street, which runs to the left and right:
In 1746, Horseferry Road continued onwards, following its current alignment. The land to the left consisted of gardens with Tothill Fields to the north, along with gardens to the right. The stretch of Marsham Street which todays runs to the left at the traffic lights did not exist, but Marsham Street to the right did.
The following map is the detailed extract of this area from the 1746 map. Unfortunately on my printed copy, Marsham Street is at the bottom of a page, so the full section of this street is not shown, but if you look at the bottom of the map could can make out the Mar of Marsham, and it is down this street that I am turning, to follow the built up edge of the city:
View looking along Marsham Street today:
On the right is the 1930s Romney House and on the left are the offices of the Home Office.
Romney House has me confused, and shows the value of double checking.
A Google for Romney House took me to the site of estate agency Garton Jones, who on their website state that it is a Grade II listed building. Checking the Historic England listing and I could not find any reference to this listing, but there is one for Romney (Stubbs) House, in the nearby Millbank Estate, which is Grade II listed.
This adds to the confusion, as in the Millbank Estate, Romney (Stubbs) House is simply named Stubbs House.
Not sure what is happening here, whether the listing is missing, or that I just could not find the listing for Romney House in Marsham Street, or whether the estate agents have mixed up the Romney House in Marsham Street with the listing for the building in the Millbank Estate.
The building on the left is currently occupied by the Home Office. The building was completed in 2005, and designed by the architect Terry Farrell.
Before the current building, there were three infamous 1960s office blocks on the site, which I have ringed in the following 1970s post card:
Designed by Eric Bedford of the Ministry of Public Building and Works, the towers were 216 feet in height which meant that that they were in the background of the view when looking across the river towards the Palace of Westminster / Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey
What was below these 1960s towers has an interesting history, and for that, I refer you to this page on the excellent Subterranea Britannia website (well worth joining if you are interested in what is hidden below ground).
All of Marsham Street has been rebuilt since Rocque’s map, but as well as the street, Bennett’s Yard, which is the only alley / yard on the eastern side of the street, still survives from 1746:
To show that Marsham Street had already been here for many year’s before Rocque’s map, there is a plaque in one of the walls around the Home Office:
An old street name plaque dating to 1688:
Marsham Street is named after Sir Robert Marsham, who lived between 1650 and 1703 and was a politician and an MP who sat in the House of Commons. I cannot find any reference to whether he either lived on Marsham Street, owned the land or built any part of the street, so I suspect it was his political career that resulted in his name being used for the street.
On the opposite side of Marsham Street is the Emmanuel Centre, a Christian Church:
The building was originally the Christian Science Church and Sunday School Chapel, and was built between 1926 and 1930. This red brick building designed by Sir Herbert Baker, is Grade II* listed, mainly as it is a “virtually unaltered example of an early C20 Christian Science church”. The design also makes creative use of what is a relatively small space between Marsham Street and Tufton Street.
In the following photo, I am at the junction of Marsham Street and Great Peter Street, which crosses from left to right. I am turning left at the traffic lights into Great Peter Street, which was simply called Peter Street in Rocque’s map:
The section of Great Peter Street, north from Marsham Street, appears to have been laid out in the 1720s. The “Great” appears to have been added towards the end of the 18th century, and the name Peter appears to be from the Collegiate Church of St Peter, or Westminster Abbey.
The following photo shows the view along Great Peter Street from Marsham Street. In 1746, to the right was a network of streets and buildings of the growing city. To the left was a single row of buildings along the side of the street, with gardens and fields beyond – the limit of the built city in 1746:
On the pillar at the far end of the building on the left of Great Peter Street, there is a green City of Westminster plaque, seen in the photo below just above the bonnet of the van:
The City of Westminster plaque records that the Gas Light & Coke Company operated on the site between 1813 and 1937, and the site provided the first public supply of gas in the world:
Parliamentary approval for the gas works was given in 1810, and three years later, the plant was in operation.
In October 1813 there were numerous reports in the London newspapers about the rollout of new gas lamps in Westminster, for example:
“The parishes of St. Margaret’s and St. John’s, Westminster, are being lighted with gas by the Gas Light and Coke Company, putting up one lamp where there are three of the common lamps.”
The spread of gas lighting on the streets must have been seen as a remarkable technical achievement, and other towns and cities across the country were eager to emulate the success of gas lighting.
A newspaper article on the 18th of April 1818 reported that “Since the principal streets of London and Westminster have been lighted up with gas, converting ‘darkness visible’ into the glare of day, there have not been those frequent depredations committed, either in the shops or on the highways. The example of the metropolis is immediately to be followed by Bath, Worcester, and other large towns.”
Before the start of the 19th century, at night, London was a very dark place.
Despite the benefit of gas lighting, the gas, an other industries were dirty, polluting and dangerous and they were frequently right next to housing and other types of business.
The was also the case with the gas works in Westminster and the following report, which was in multiple newspapers on the 1st of November 1813, illustrates some of the dangers:
“On Monday the neighbourhood of Great Peter-street, Westminster, was thrown into much confusion and alarm by a gas light explosion, which shook the surrounding houses, broke many windows, and threatened to fire in every direction. From all we could learn it appeared that a pipe unexpectedly burst in the premises of the Gas Light and Coke Company.
By this means much gas oozed out and filled the apartment; but not calculating on this, one of the men took a candle and proceeded to the spot to ascertain what was the matter. The moment the candle was introduced, the whole of the gas that had escaped from the pipe burst into flame, with a dreadful explosion, as if fire had been communicated to a heap of gunpowder. By it, this man was much injured, as well as two or three more of the workmen.
The speedy arrival of many engines, and the exertions within the manufactory, soon got the fire under control, and prevented it from extending to the neighbouring premises.”
As well as the risks of explosions and fires, local residents also had to put up with the constant transport of coal to the works, along with the removal of all the waste.
This was part rectified by a pipe which ran from the gas works down to the river for the disposal of effluent, and a wharf was leased in Millbank for ships to deliver coal for the shorter journey to the gas works.
During the mid 19th century, the gas works were enlarged, eventually filling a large rectangle of land between Great Peter Street, Monck Street, Horseferry Road and parts of Marsham Street.
This was the “Principal Entrance to the Gas Works” in 1830:
© The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.
By the later parts of the 19th century, the site was too small for the size of gas works needed to power much of the city. Gas companies were amalgamating and the giant Beckton Gas Works opened, so in 1870, the Great Peter Street works changed to only being available for peak demand, closing fully in 1875.
Whilst the site had ended gas production, it was still useful as it was the hub of a network of gas distribution pipes, so after gas production ended, gas holders were built to store gas produced elsewhere, and distribute to local consumers.
The 1950 revision of the OS map shows two gas holders that were built on the site, and also gives an indication of the size of the overall site:
(‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“)
In the following image from the Britain from Above archive, dated 1938, you can see the two gas holders as two large white circles to the lower left. Remarkable from today’s perspective, that these were so close to the Palace of Westminster and Westminster Abbey:
I am continuing along Great Peter Street. On the right is part of the red brick St Matthew’s clergy house, built in 1905:
And just past the red brick building is the church of St Matthew, designed by Sir George Gilbert Scott, and built between 1849 and 1851:
The church has a really strange design. The church and the clergy house sit on a rectangular plot of land. The clergy house occupies a corner of the plot, so the church has the tower and entrance in Great Peter Street, runs back along the side of the clergy house, then does a 90 degree turn along the back of the clergy house to end at St. Ann’s Street, next to which there is also St Matthew’s Church of England Primary School, shown in the right of the following photo, with the rear of the church to the left and the brick clergy house to the left:
Continuing along Great Peter Street:
In the above photo, there is a white building along the street, which turns out to be a pub, the Speaker:
There was a pub on the site when Rocque’s map was made in 1746. The original pub appears to date from 1729, which is when this section of the street was originally laid out. The pub was originally called the Castle.
It was rebuilt between 1794 and 1795, and I assume that the current building dates from this rebuild, as I can find no other references to any further reconstruction. Following completion of the late 18th century work, the pub became known as the Elephant and Castle, a name it kept until 1999, when it became the Speaker.
I had a quick look at the census data for 46 Great Peter Street, and in 1911 when the pub was known as the Elephant and Castle it was occupied by the licensed victualler William Arthur Atkins and his family consisting of his wife and two daughters, the wife and eldest daughter assisted in the business, whilst the second daughter was at school.
There was also a 2 year old son, who, in the “occupation” field has the brilliant description of “playing”, which is the perfect occupation for a 2 year old.
There were also two servants, listed as barmen and a cook.
The interior of the pub:
Today, the pub is one single bar, but despite its relatively small size, as with the majority of pubs, it had once been divided into public and saloon bars.
The gradual merging of these two very different types of bars was a contentious issue. There is a brilliant article in the Chelsea News and General Advertiser on the 5th of June 1959 when the landlord of the Elephant and Castle, as it was named at the time, raised his objections to these changes:
“Mr. Rupert Finch, tenant at the Elephant and Castle, Great Peter Street, Westminster, said that trying to join public and saloon bars together had been tried in Victoria with disastrous results. Customers had walked out to express their opposition to it.
Gin palaces aren’t wanted in London, he declared.
You.ve got to cater for people who don’t like drinking in the same bar as their bosses each day. And there’s always the fellow who likes his cheaper pint in the public.”
I had a part-time job in the early 1980s in a pub, and the salon and public bars were indeed very different places, and the public bar was always the last one to empty out at closing time. The pub is still around today, but is now a single bar.
So the pub does not date from the time of Rocque’s map, but there is one building on Great Peter Street that could:
This is a really strange building, which looks as if it has undergone some considerable change over its possibly long history.
The side wall is made of much later brick. This could have been when the rest of the houses in what would have been a terrace, were demolished, leaving only number 79.
The ground floor also appears to have been significantly remodelled, leaving only the upper two floors which look as if they could have been part of an early 18th century terrace house.
The building is not listed, and also has a rather strange white feature projecting from the second floor. I have no idea what this is, but the building is occupied by a firm of architects, so it may be something to do with their profession.
It would be nice to think that the outer wall on the upper two floors is the same as would have been found in 1746, when Great Peter Street was part of the western limit of built London.
The yellow arrow in the following map shows the point I have reached in the Rocque Ring:
Not that far, given the total length of the route, but even in this small distance, I have found that it is another way of exploring and looking at London, and to appreciate just how much the city has grown in the 280 years since Rocque’s map of 1746.
I will continue walking the Rocque Ring in the coming months.