The George Inn

These days still a bustling social hub and a great place to eat close to London Bridge, the George Inn is London’s only remaining galleried coaching inn. Despite the mutilation inflicted on the building by the Victorians (in the name of progress, naturally), its original character is still evident both inside and out and it remains a popular watering-hole for local workers and visitors alike.

 Borough High St was once lined with coaching inns, catering to the needs of the large numbers of people travelling into the City over London Bridge (it was the only means of crossing the river right up until 1750) as well as those heading south out of London, particularly pilgrims en route to Canterbury. Most of these inns have long since disappeared but evidence of their location survives in the names of alleyways off the High St, e.g. King’s Head Yard, White Hart Yard, Talbot (Tabard)Yard etc.

The earliest known reference to a Saint George & Dragon Inn is on a map dated 1542 (its name was only shortened in Cromwellian times). We know that it was already well established during the reign of Henry VIII, and that the first known innkeeper was Nicholas Marten in 1558. The George also features in John Stow’s Survey of London of 1598, a time when Southwark was best known for its brothels and bear-baiting: “towards London bridge […] be many fair inns, for receipt of travellers”.

In Elizabethan times, guests would have been entertained by strolling minstrels and players with the courtyard being used as a kind of ‘pop-up’ theatre.

The George escaped the Great Fire of 1666 but then another disastrous blaze occurred ten years later
which raged throughout Southwark for two whole days before being brought under control. More than 500 houses were destroyed, along with the George lnn and all its outbuildings. It re-opened in 1677 and today’s building, with its long coaching yard, original balustraded open galleries and small-paned windows, dates from that time.

During the 18th century, horses, carriers’ carts and coaches used the inn as a London terminus. The schedule included four coaches each day bound for Maidstone, two per day for Canterbury and Dover, and one every day to Brighton and Hastings.

In 1825, the George was described as “a good commercial inn, whence wagons depart laden with the merchandise of the metropolis, in return for which they bring back from […] Kent that staple article of the county, the hop, to which we are indebted for the good quality of the London Porter”. At its peak the inn entertained 80 coaches a week.

By 1844, the inn was being run by Frances Scholefield, a widow. In 1849, with the arrival of the railway starting to eat into demand for coaching accommodation, Scholefield leased some of the premises to the trustees of Guy’s Hospital, which was on the eastern boundary of the original inn, so that they could enlarge the hospital grounds.

For a while, the inn continued to be busy. On census night in 1851, 15 people were staying in the George, including a sailor, an architect, a commercial traveller, two waggoners and a customs house clerk, as well as the resident staff.

But as the railways took over the transportation of goods once brought by coach, demand for accommodation declined sharply and rooms that had once been bedrooms began to be used for sundry other purposes, including by commercial travellers as a place to show their goods.

The George in 1889

In 1874, the President and Governors of Guy’s Hospital sold the inn to the Great Northern Railway Company for £14,000. The GNR wanted to use the building as a goods receiving office and proceeded to pull down the northern and eastern sides of the courtyard to make space for warehousing. Hence only the south ‘wing’ of The George survives.

Fortunately, despite the destruction wrought externally, the interior of the pub retains much of its original character. What is today the Parliament Bar was once the tap room of the pub, a dark space with panelling where, according to Bertram Matz’ book of 1918: “[there] gathered in the old days the coachmen; the Tony Wellers of his day and before, with their long clay pipes and tankards of beer, met to discuss the events of the day and the road, whilst the ostlers saw to the watering and care of their horses further down the yard.”

The Middle Bar today was once the Coffee Room, known to have been frequented by Charles Dickens (it’s mentioned by name in ‘Little Dorrit’). He was evidently well-acquainted with many of the inns of this area, describing them as: “Great, rambling queer old places[…], with galleries, and passages, and staircases, wide enough and antiquated enough to furnish materials for a hundred ghost stories”.

Former Coffee Room

   The restaurant upstairs in the galleried     part of the building is where the guest       bedrooms used to be.

 

 

  

 Now under the guardianship of the National Trust (it was gifted by the LNER in 1937) the George is Grade I-listed due to its status as London’s last galleried coaching inn, and as a location with proven literary    associations.

 

References:

Taverns in Town by Michael Roulstone (1973)

The Times History of London by Hugh Clout (2004)

Coffee room photo from George Percy Jacomb-Hood’s "The George Inn, Southwark": https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50284331

The George Inn Southwark: a survivor of the old coaching days by Bertram Matz:  https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_George_Inn,_Southwark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St Mary-le-Bow

One of London’s most famous churches, St Mary-le-Bow has a fascinating history spanning many centuries. Familiar to many from a certain nursery rhyme and tales of Dick Whittington, as well as the long-prevailing adage that only those born within the sound of its bells can be regarded as ‘Cockneys’ (i.e. true Londoners), the church thrives today as the City of London’s much-loved parish church.

The church of St Mary-le-Bow has nothing to do with the district of Bow in East London but is located in Cheapside, EC2, within the ancient Ward of Cordwainer, named after the professional shoemakers who lived and worked here historically. Cheapside is one of London’s oldest thoroughfares and gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon word ‘ceap’, meaning to purchase or barter. In medieval times the street would have been lined with warehouses, stalls and small shops. Even today many of the turnings off Cheapside bear the names of products once sold nearby – Bread Street, Friday Street (where they sold fish on a Friday), Wood Street, Milk Street, Honey Lane and Poultry. In the medieval period, ‘high days and Holy Days’ would see the enactment of jousting tournaments outside the church, often viewed by royalty.

 

Although excavation work suggests there was an earlier Saxon building on this site, the first documented church here was founded in 1080 by Lanfranc who was brought to England from Normandy by William the Conqueror to take up the post of Archbishop of Canterbury. Despite being right in the centre of London, the church remained in the diocese of Canterbury until 1850 and is still the City headquarters of the Archbishop. Lanfranc also built St Paul’s Cathedral and the Tower of London. Like those, this building is of Caen stone from Normandy. Given that William’s intention was to dominate London and cower its citizens through the construction of immense buildings, the locals of Cheapside would conceivably have disliked this new St Mary-le-Bow, seeing it as an object of oppression.

 At one time there were no fewer than thirteen ‘St Mary’ churches within the City of London, so each church had a second name – or nickname – to distinguish between them. The name of le-Bow may derive from the round arches, unusual at the time, in the Norman crypt. The crypt, which has survived the ravages of time, extends almost the length of the whole church, although a portion of it is now bricked up. Roman bricks have been found in the masonry.

 In 1091 the roof of Lanfranc’s church blew off in London’s earliest reported tornado,  causing several deaths. The tower was totally rebuilt in 1521, but then in 1666 the ravages of the Great Fire meant the entire edifice had to be demolished. Having been appointed as the King's Surveyor of Works in 1669, Sir Christopher Wren was commissioned to rebuild the fifty-one city churches consumed by the blaze. The Rebuilding of London Act of 1670 provided the necessary funds, mainly from raising the tax on coal imported into the city. Other than St Paul's Cathedral, St Mary-le-Bow was considered the most important church in the city, and so headed up the list of those to be reconstructed.

 The church that stands today (the exterior at least) was built in 1679-80 by Sir Christopher Wren. It is made of Portland stone with a wooden interior. It turned out to be the most expensive of his City churches, costing a total of £15,400 to build, half of it spent on the impressive steeple (only that of St Bride’s is taller) which stands 66 feet high. Wren’s design was based on pictures he had seen of the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome. Much admired for its beauty and harmony, Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary: “I up to see Sir W. Pen … and there with him to see St Mary-le-Bow Church; which is very fine”. Diarist and courtier John Evelyn praised Wren’s work as “a new manner introduced into England”. The church’s large square tower is topped by a square bell-tower with a balustrade and pinnacles. Above that is a circle of columns, topped by a top stage 12 colonnettes and then an obelisk with a weather-vane.

The vane is in the shape of a nearly 9-foot long copper dragon (symbol of the City). An extract from Wren’s account book mentions the sculptor who produced the original wooden model: “To Edward Pierce, mason, for carving of a wooden dragon for a modell for ye Vane of copper upon ye top of ye Steeple, and for cutting a relive in board to be proffered up to discern the right bigness, the summe of £4”. We also know that a further £38 was paid for the dragon to be coppered. The finished article was hoisted into place in 1679.

Sadly, the Blitz bombing of 1941 reduced St Mary-le-Bow to a shell, although the 17^th century tower miraculously survived. During the war, the BBC World Service broadcast a recording of the Bow Bells (made in 1926) as a symbol of hope to the occupied people of Europe. 

St Mary-le-Bow was rebuilt and consecrated in 1964. All the stained glass dates from the 1960s. It has no churchyard, this having been replaced in recent times by a large paved courtyard. The rood cross is from Oberammergau in German, gifted after the war as a symbol of reconciliation.

Almost as famous as the church itself are its ‘Bow Bells’, immortalised in the nursery rhyme ‘Oranges and Lemons’:

                                         “When will you pay me? say the bells of Old Bailey.                                                                                           When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch.                                                                                            When will that be? say the bells of Stepney.                                                                                                  I do not know says the Great Bell of Bow.”

The original Bow Bell was a night-time curfew bell. From at least 1363 the Common Council ordered it to be rung nightly at 9pm to signal the end of the working day for the City’s apprentices. This practice continued until 1876. In earlier centuries, the sound of the bells’ peal would have been heard as far out as Hackney marshes and even Waltham Forest! These days its reach is much less extensive. Following devastating war damage, the bell was recast in 1954.

Since 1950, St Mary’s has held Grade I-listed status. Despite the wartime damage to the interior, the church’s external appearance is much as it was in the 17^th century and the 11^th century crypt remains. It is the parish church for the City’s business district and so offers services on weekdays rather than the traditional Sundays.

 

 

 

References: 

London’s Churches by Christopher Hibbert (1988)

An Encyclopedia of London by William Kent (3^rd ed. 1970)

Website: https://www.stmarylebow.org.uk/history/

 

 

The Limehouse Seamen’s Mission

First glimpsed on a walk around Limehouse some years ago, I had the opportunity during this year’s Open House event to venture inside this iconic building at 747 Commercial Road. With its tall windows, long upright mullions, and stone turrets, the structure looks for all the world like a cathedral. It is only when you look at the inscription that you realise what its function was, and how significant a role it played in London’s maritime history.

 

The building in 1802 of London’s first purpose-built docks, the West India Docks, led to surrounding districts such as Limehouse rapidly becoming populated with maritime workers. A new road was constructed – Commercial Road – to connect the city of London with its burgeoning docklands.

Many of those working on the ships or in the docks were what were known as ‘lascars’, a term which was coined to describe any non-white sailor and included men from Africa and the Middle-East as well as Asia. These were hired in large numbers and were the majority on many ships. Captains often preferred ‘coloured seamen’ because they could pay them less, were more comfortable in hotter climates and, if they were Muslim, did not drink alcohol.

Limehouse quickly grew into a diverse neighbourhood. The book ‘Living London’, published in 1902, provides a vivid snapshot of how the area must have looked: “It is in the crowded thoroughfares leading to the docks, in the lodging houses kept by East Indians, in the shops frequented by Arabs, Indians, and Chinese, and in the spirit houses and opium smoking rooms that one meets the most singular and most picturesque types of Eastern humanity, and the most striking scenes of Oriental life.”

The locals, however, were not so enamoured of these ‘foreign elements’ in their midst. By 1861 there had begun to be complaints about “an increase of low lodging houses for sailors… and the removal of the more respectable families to other localities.”

But not everybody was hostile - many social reformers and religious organisations saw Limehouse as a source of concern. It was observed how lascars that awaited their return passages in London, were ill-treated, impoverished and neglected. Often men jumped ship, choosing to starve on the streets rather than be subjected to the hellish conditions on board ship. Others were abandoned by their employers when they landed at port, either because they were not needed or because of opposition from white seamen.

The result was the building of a large number of seamens’ hostels, often run by
missionary societies who mostly wanted to provide a more wholesome alternative to other ‘low’ lodgings in the area. The largest and most famous organisation that responded to these issues was the Stranger’s Home for Asiatics, Africans and South Sea Islanders’ which opened in 1857 on West India Dock Road. There was also the Sailor’s Palace at 680 Commercial Road, a hostel run by the British and Foreign Sailors’ Society, built in 1901 and financed by the philanthropist Passmore Edwards. Other institutions sprang up to meet a clear demand.

The numbers of foreign sailors continued to grow during the 19^th century and a large influx of Chinese workers, arriving from the 1880s onwards, gave rise to yet more suspicion of ‘foreigners’. By the 1920s, Limehouse was universally known as the capital’s Chinatown and became infamous for its opium dens. What’s more, the locals’ negative attitudes were further bolstered by books such as Sax Rohmer’s Fu Manchu series (Dr Fu Manchu was a diabolic character bent on world domination and destroying white civilization) which played up the issue of crime in the Chinese community. Fear of the ‘Yellow Peril’ was a real feature of the age. Thomas Cook even ran tours for ‘daring people’ wanting to gawp at strange, exotic foreigners!

To give an idea of the size of the problem, by the end of WW1 16,000 seamen from all over the world were being let loose in the city every night looking for lodgings. Only three quarters of them would have any luck which meant “they were prey to all temptations“, as the more scurrilous newspapers put it!

In the end, an appeal was started throughout the Empire, largely organised by women, (in particular  the Ladies’ Guild of the British Sailors’ Society, headed by Beatrice, Lady Dimsdale) to raise the necessary money to build this hostel, which would also stand as a memorial to the 12,000 merchant sailors who were killed in service during the First World War. 

When it opened in 1924 the hostel, known as the Empire Memorial Sailors’ Hostel, provided 205 clean and airy single ‘cabins’ and these were much in demand, with sailors having to book in advance to guarantee a place. By 1929 the hostel had provided beds for over a million sailors. As well as a cabin of your own you would also have access to a large lounge, dining-hall, billiard room and a chapel. In the 1930s a room would cost 1/6 a night or 8 shillings a week. Such was the success of the Memorial Hostel that a second wing was built in 1932 round the corner on Salmon Lane with 100 cabins and a large function room.

 With the decline of the London dockyards in the 60s and 70s, demand for sailor accommodation slowed and eventually the Limehouse Seamen’s Mission became a hostel for the homeless (Prince’s Lodge) which closed in 1985. In 1994 the building was sold off to a developer who converted it into 50 private flats with a communal courtyard and a shared roof terrace. It has been re-named ‘The Mission’ and is Grade II-listed. 

Despite taking on a whole new guise, the building’s earlier character is reflected in details such as maritime-themed carving and attractive detailing on the stairways etc.

 

 

 References

Webpage: https://www.ourmigrationstory.org.uk/oms/chinese-limehouse-and-mr-ma-and-son

Webpage: https://tammytourguide.wordpress.com/2023/04/05/discovering-the-chinese-in-britain/

 

 

 

 

London’s ‘Early Houses’

As pubs extend their opening-hours in preparation for this summer’s many major sporting events, it seemed like a good time to write about a phenomenon I knew nothing about until a recent visit to Smithfield Market. London’s ‘early houses’, as they were known, hark back to a time when early-morning drinking was the norm.

Historically, pubs have always played an important part in the lives of working men and so-called ‘early houses’ were part of this tradition, often located close to docks or other places where people worked in shifts, such as traditional wholesale markets. As beer historian Martyn Cornell explains: “Market business was often conducted in the pub. You’d go have a look at someone’s cattle or sheep, and then go into the pub and strike the deal with a drink. It was almost a commercial necessity to keep these places open, so market business could be carried out.”

Historic Smithfield Market, where trading has gone on for over 800 years (though the buildings are

mainly Victorian), is in the process of being demolished. All businesses trading there will have been relocated to Dagenham by 2028 with many of the structures repurposed to create a new home for the Museum of London. In its heyday, the area around the market contained at least half a dozen early houses, but these have gradually disappeared. The Cock Tavern shut in 2013 and The Newmarket went in 2006, leaving just The Hope in Cowcross St and the Fox and Anchor in Charterhouse St.

The third remaining London early house is the bustling Market Porter*, near Borough Market. It opens

at 6am and is these days frequented by a much wider cross-section of workers than its name would suggest, including police, nurses and media people coming off the night-shift. But opening does not extend round the clock. The last call for the morning drinkers at the Market Porter rings at 8.30am, and they are swiftly kicked out half  an hour later with service resuming again at lunchtime.

Early houses actually came about due to a quirk in Britain’s alcohol licensing laws. Historically, all pubs would serve from first light, before this was stopped in the first world war because it was seen to hamper the war effort . However, an exception was made for market pubs as it was felt they were essential in keeping vital trade flowing.

*Porter, a dark, malty-flavoured beer first brewed in the 18^th century was so called because it was drunk by porters, the men who would fetch and carry around the streets of London. They would sit down outside a pub, put their load down, and order a quart to keep them going!

 

References:

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/londons-pubs-open-mornings-history (Feb 2018)

https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2017/jun/21/pints-dawn-last-call-london-market-pubs

(June 2017)

 

Piccadilly Circus 

Once regarded as the hub of Empire, and still one the most famous streets in the world, the phrase “It’s like Piccadilly Circus in here!” has become a byword for the hustle and bustle of human traffic. With news this week of plans to build a mosque in the basement and ground floor of the iconic Trocadero building (interesting idea, siting a place of worship in an area historically given over to hedonistic pleasures!) - , I thought it was worth penning a few words about this important landmark….

Aerial view of Piccadilly Circus

Piccadilly Circus lies at the intersection of Piccadilly, Regent St, Shaftesbury Avenue, Haymarket and Coventry Street. It was first formed in 1819 on construction of John Nash’s Regent Street (at this point it was known as Regent Circus South). It only began to be known as Piccadilly Circus in the mid-1880s when the north-east segment was demolished to form Shaftesbury Avenue, although by now the ‘circus’ had lost its circular form. The London Pavilion was built on this north-east corner. 

Piccadilly Circus in 1914

 The Trocadero complex on the corner of Shaftesbury   Avenue and Coventry Street (on the north-east side of the   Circus) opened in 1984 as an exhibition and   entertainment  space and, since 2020, a 700-room hotel  (the ‘Zedwell’). Formerly on this site stood a number of   historic buildings - the London Pavilion Theatre (a  former  popular music hall), the Royal Albion Theatre, the  Argyll Subscription Rooms (where wealthy men hired prostitutes) and the Trocadero Restaurant, originally built in 1896 for J. Lyons & Co. Although completely gutting the interior, the 1980s re-styling retained the grandeur of the Trocadero’s Baroque façade of 1885 which was seen for the first time in decades without the plethora of neon signs which had previously covered the building. 

Criterion Theatre

On the south side of the Circus lies the Criterion Building of 1873, comprising both a theatre and a

high-end restaurant. The restaurant proved very profitable within a short time, the East Room becoming popular with ladies coming to the West End to shop. It was also the setting for many afternoon tea meetings organised and held by the WSPU, the militant wing of the women’s suffrage movement. The Grade-II-listed Criterion Theatre is entirely underground (except for the box office) and in the early days fresh air had to be pumped in during performances to prevent the audience being asphyxiated by toxic fumes from the gas lights. 

Angel of Christian Charity (Eros)

Also on the south side of the Circus is the so-called Statue of Eros. The world’s first aluminium statue, it was unveiled in 1893 as a tribute to the philanthropic work of the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury. The figure represents the Angel of Christian Charity but is generally known as Eros – incorrectly, as it is actually Anteros, Eros’ lesser known brother, the god of selfless love and charity. At one time, the statue stood in the centre of a traffic circle, with cars and buses speeding around him, but it now has a new position on the south-western corner of the Circus, in front of sports’ store Lillywhites. 

Piccadilly Circus ticket-hall

Grade II-listed Piccadilly Circus underground station, which opened in 1906, sits directly under Piccadilly Circus itself and is one of the only stations on the network to exist entirely underground. When it was built in 1906, a surface level ticket office existed, but the station was then revamped in the 1920s to enable it to handle passenger numbers which had increased from 1.5 to 25 million per year. Charles Holden’s iconic circular booking hall mirrors the dimensions of the Circus above ground. Other distinctive Holden features include a stylish passageway surrounding the ticket hall clad in cream travertine marble. Decorative pillars and lights are roughly equally spaced around the oval passageway, their relatively narrow form ensuring maximum space is available for passengers walking through the ticket hall. 

1949, prior to redevelopment

But Piccadilly Circus is perhaps most famous for its illuminated (later digital) screens which have been in existence since 1908. These days they only cover the north-west corner. The first sign to be illuminated was a Perrier advertisement which used incandescent lightbulbs. Neon was first used for a Bovril sign in the 1940s. Coca Cola’s advertising (the current sign has 774,144 pixels!) has been displayed here continuously since 1954. The lights have only rarely been switched off: during the Blitz, for Churchill’s funeral and when Lady Diana Spencer died. 

References: 

The London Encyclopedia ed. Ben Weinreb (2008) 

Website: https://londonist.com/2016/05/secrets-of-piccadilly-circus 

Website: https://alondoninheritance.com/under-london/hidden-london-piccadilly-circus/ 

Photo of Criterion Theatre: Ikos - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39467099

Huguenots in London

Ever wondered what Nigel Farage, Simon Le Bon, Eddie Izzard, Laurence Olivier and Daphne du Maurier all have in common? Answer: they are all of Huguenot descent. The arrival of these skilled French artisans in late 17^th century Britain was to have a substantial economic and cultural impact, particularly in London where the newcomers laid the foundations of the ‘rag trade’ that was to become so important for the capital’s prosperity.

Protestants had already suffered persecution in Catholic France for over a century before what limited privileges they had were finally removed by the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, a law which had been enacted to protect the rights of Protestants after the Massacre of St Bartholomew. Its removal led to terrible carnage, with Protestant houses and businesses destroyed and people threatened with violence if they refused to convert to Catholicism.

Huguenot immigrants arriving in Dover, 1685

Although emigration was effectively outlawed, about 200,000 Huguenots left France to settle in non-Catholic Europe - the Netherlands, Germany, especially Prussia, Switzerland, Scandinavia, and even as far as Russia where Huguenot craftsmen could find customers at the court of the Czars. The Dutch East India Company sent a few hundred to the Cape to develop the vineyards in southern Africa. About 50,000 came to England, perhaps about 10,000 moving on to Ireland.

Exit routes taken by fleeing Huguenots

Some 13,000 Huguenots came to London, most from the cities of Tours and Lyon. William III guaranteed the incomers’ rights of worship and issued a proclamation granting them: “all privileges and immunities for the liberty and free exercise of their trade and craft… to render their living here comfortable and easy to them”. This was very welcome as those who did leave their homeland were not allowed to bring any money or possessions with them. They called their flight Le Refuge and themselves réfugiés, hence a new word (refugee) was coined.

By 1700 there were around 25,000 French Huguenots in a London of over half a million people. The refugees settled in three principle areas – Spitalfields, Wandsworth and Soho. By 1711 probably two in five inhabitants of the parish of St Anne’s Soho were French, with dense clusters around Old Compton Street.

Silk merchant's shopfront in
Artillery Lane, 1756

The new arrivals  were mostly well-educated, middle-class artisans and journeymen silk weavers. These were the ones who settled in Spitalfields. Silk weaving was already going on in this area and was highly lucrative given that silk  was used for everything from clothes to headwear and domestic hangings. But the Huguenots’ particular skills with fine French silks transformed the industry. Some of the weavers amassed huge fortunes, hence the large houses you can still see today on Spital Square and in Fournier Street.

Weavers' houses in Fournier St

Weavers’ house are always easy to recognise as they have ‘long lights’, windows that maximised daylight in the upper storeys where the work was carried out.

But not all Huguenots were weavers. Some made a living from market gardening in Chelsea and Battersea, calico printing and felt hat-making in Wandsworth or clock and watchmaking, gun-making, silversmithing and cabinetmaking in Soho. There were also Huguenot glass-blowers, jewellers and locksmiths throughout the West End.

 Of all these occupations, silk-weaving was the most susceptible to frequent periods of interruption due to a lack of raw materials or changes in fashion, each downtime leaving workers in financial difficulties. The Huguenots chose not to be a burden on the poor law authorities, preferring to make their own arrangements for those of their number who were in need. La Maison de Charité de Spitalfields (or ‘La Soupe’) was founded in 1689-90 to serve meals for Huguenots around Spitalfields and Bethnal Green who could not provide for themselves.

 They also established many self-help Friendly Societies, often based on the regions of France the immigrants had originally hailed from. In 1718 came the Hospital for Poor French Protestants, known affectionately by inmates as La Providence, off Old Street. Initially it could manage 80 inmates but by 1760 extensions to the building allowed for up to 234 residents.

Hogarth's 'Noon', 1738

This willingness to be self-sufficient meant that the Huguenots were generally welcomed by the local population, especially given that the English also hated the Pope! Despite threatened riots against foreign weavers in the East End in 1675, 1681 and 1683, , there appears to have been little physical violence directed against the French refugees and they were generally respected and accepted. In his painting and subsequent print The Four Times of Day: Noon, created in 1738, William Hogarth contrasts the prosperous, smartly-dressed and sober Huguenot churchgoers – seen leaving the French Chapel in Bog Lane, Soho - with the more chaotic group of English outside the tavern on the opposite side of the street. 

Freedom to worship was, of course, paramount and French Protestant churches soon sprang up everywhere. By 1700 there were around 24 Huguenot churches in London, with at least nine in or close to the Spitalfields area and fourteen in Soho. In 1711 the vestry of St Anne’s Soho reckoned that 40% of its population was French, such that in the mid-eighteenth century William Maitland could claim: "Many parts of this parish so greatly abound with French that it is an easy matter for a stranger to imagine himself in France".

L'Eglise Neuve, now Brick Lane Mosque

Three former Huguenot chapel buildings still survive in the Spitalfields area: L’Eglise de L’Artillerie, built in 1766 on the old artillery ground, later taken over by Ashkenazi Jews to become the Sandys Row synagogue; La Patente in Hanbury Street, built in 1719 and now the Hanbury Hall arts centre; and L’Eglise Neuve on the corner of Fournier Street and Brick Lane, dating from 1743, which became a Wesleyan chapel, then a synagogue in the late 19^th century and finally a mosque in the 1980s.

 

L'Eglise Protestante de Londres,
Soho Square

Today the Huguenot presence in Soho is represented by the Grade II-listed L’Église Protestante Française de Londres on Soho Square, the last remaining Huguenot church in London offering French-speaking services and cultural events. Though this building dates from 1893, the original French Protestant church can be traced back to the reign of Edward VI who authorised the founding of a Strangers’ Church for those of French and Walloon origin in 1550.

 Within a few decades of their arrival in this country, the Huguenots had fully integrated and lost many of their outward ethnic trappings. By the second half of the 18^th century, French was being used much less and large numbers chose to anglicize their names: Lenoir became Black, Blanc became White and Bonenfant became Goodchild, for example. But their influence is still very much evident in the history and architecture of significant areas of London and it is estimated that as many as two in every three English people has Huguenot blood in their veins.  Eh bien, dis donc!   

 

References:

London in the Eighteenth Century Jerry White

The East End Chronicles Ed Glinert

Website: https://www.huguenotsociety.org.uk/history.html

 

 

 Plague in London

During the ravages of Covid, many of the world’s great cities suffered an existential crisis and experts were quick to proclaim the death of city living. Yet already in 2022 cities are back, no more so than London. West End footfall has already exceeded pre-Covid figures and theatres and restaurants are enjoying a resurgence in popularity. Estate agents report large numbers of people who fled London now wanting to return. A good time, I thought, to take a look at that other cataclysmic event which should have ‘done for’ London… but didn’t.

Bubonic plague was present in this country throughout the 14^th -17^th centuries with at least 12 serious outbreaks and many more minor ones between 1094 and 1665. The 14^th century brought a particularly virulent outbreak of the disease. Rumours emerged in 1346 of a disease that had broken out in Asia, killing thousands of people. They called it the ‘Great Pestilence’, we now call it the Black Death, a name originally coined due to the way in which corpses became badly discoloured after death. It finally reached London via the wool trade at the end of 1348. Over the next 18 months, it killed around half the population of England and an even higher percentage of Londoners – 30,000 lives. Graveyards filled up and two emergency cemeteries had to be opened. Unlike in later outbreaks, there was no mass flight from plague at this time as towns and cities outside London were equally affected.

Rattus rattus

 

There were six further outbreaks in the 14^th century and, though the population took 150 years to recover, by 1660 it stood at around half a million, mainly accounted for by an influx of migrants from poorer rural areas of the country. But then in the 17^th century London suffered its greatest onslaught from the plague. It killed over 30,000 Londoners in 1603 and 40,000 in 1625. But the worst (and last) outbreak happened in 1665 and killed over 80,000 citizens.

Distribution of plague cases

A disease of the black rat (Rattus rattus), the ‘Great Plague’, as it became known, was transmitted between rats by fleas and infected humans by means of flea bites, an open wound making contact with plague-infected material, or infected breath. It was not, as was thought at the time, attributable to noxious vapours, divine retribution or misalignment of the planets. The disease incubated for 2-6 days, then flu-like symptoms developed plus discomfort in the groin and under the arms. Then buboes appeared and a fever. Death followed in 2-3 days, later within just hours.

It started in St Giles, a notorious slum. Other plague-ridden settlements included Holborn, Shoreditch, Finsbury, Whitechapel and Southwark – all squalid areas outside the City. It started slowly until June brought a heatwave and numbers infected rocketed.

 

The official response was slow to get going. The Lord Mayor ordered all lodgers and visitors to leave the City. All dogs and cats in the city were culled as they were thought to be spreaders. Even if only one person showed symptoms, the entire family were confined to the house for forty days. This inevitably meant that the disease spread to all members of that household. Watchmen kept guard outside. A red cross with the words ‘Lord Have Mercy On Us’ was daubed on the door. Other attempts to stop contagion include the construction of  ‘pest-houses’ in fields and open spaces e.g. at Finsbury.

Pest-house, Finsbury Fields

Some people, naturally, decided to flee. Many took to living on boats moored mid-river, but those with greater means left the city altogether. Their number included doctors, clergymen, lawyers… and the King and his entire court. The monarch returned in December of 1665 but Parliament only reconvened the following spring.

For those with nowhere to go, London was transformed into a place of ‘dismal solitude’. According to one eye witness: “every day looks with the face of the sabbath-day… shops shut, people rare, very few places to walk about insomuch that the grass begins to spring up in some places… no rattling coaches, no prancing horses, no calling customers, no offering wares, no London cries…”

Plague broadsheet by John Dunstall

Plague handbell

Despite the various measures that people took to prevent being infected - carrying branches  of rue and wormwood, sucking lozenges, drinking tinctures, wearing amulets and pomanders and smoking tobacco (children too!) to protect themselves from infection, the disease marched on. Such was its terrifying impact, Thomas Vincent wrote: “[death rode] triumphantly on his pale horse through our streets and breaks into every house almost where any inhabitants are to be found”.

The diarist Samuel Pepys, who stayed in London throughout the epidemic, wrote in early September: “I have stayed in the City till above 7,000 died in one week, and of them about 6,000 of the plague, and little noise heard day or night but the tolling of bells".

"Bring out your dead!"

Large communal graves lined with quicklime were dug outside the city as the churchyards were full up. There was a constant backlog of corpses waiting to be buried. Statistics on deaths are left to us in the form of what were known as Bills of Mortality, drawn up by clerks of city’s 130 parishes. These make grim reading, not just for the information on plague fatalities but as an insight into the myriad other dreadful illnesses – now eminently treatable – that people could lose their lives to.  

Bill of Mortality 1664

Bill of Mortality 1665

 

By late summer 1665, the epidemic had peaked, with 7,165 fatalities in the worst week. In total 68,000 deaths are attributed to the plague in the Bills, but modern historians think the number is probably nearer 80,000, i.e. one in six of London's population.

 

Yet despite the ravages of the plague, London continued  to thrive and the population just 30 years later had reached an incredible half a million. Despite the inevitable downsides of poverty, overcrowding and disease, London remained – and remains – a draw for people looking for opportunities of all kinds.

 

 

 

References:

The Times History of London ed. Hugh Clout

Article: Social Capital: Covid has changed London for the better Richard Florida (Spectator 2 April 2022)

The Book of London ed. Michael Leapman (1989)

London: The Illustrated History Cathy Ross & John Clark (2008)

London Through the Ages Harold Bagus (1982)

London: a Social History Roy Porter (1994)