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)

 

 Eric Gill in London 

Meaning for a while to write about Eric Gill and his work in London, I was spurred on to finally get on and finish this post by reports in the press a few weeks ago of a protester taking an axe to ‘offending’ sculptures at the BBC headquarters in Marylebone. Gill the man’s reputation was actually shredded long before the current hoo-ha, but his work is always worth a closer look.

Eric Gill 1882-1940

Much has been written about Eric Gill’s deviant private life, his aberrant sexual behaviour (including incest with his own daughters and possibly the dog too), but there is no denying that he was a consummate letter-carver, draughtsman and decorative artist, and a key figure in the Arts & Crafts movement.   

Gill started out training as an architect, coming to London for that purpose in 1900, but was soon frustrated and so began evening classes in stonemasonry and later calligraphy, enrolling on a course at the Central School of Arts and Crafts run by Edward Johnston, creator of the London Underground typeface and later a strong influence on Gill.  During 1903, Gill gave up architecture completely to become a calligrapher, letter-cutter and monumental mason. WH Smith & Son employed him to paint the lettering on the fascias of several of their bookshops, including their Paris store.

Late in 1909 Gill decided to become a sculptor. He collaborated often with Jacob Epstein, generally acknowledged now to be much the more skilled at this art. Early in 1910 the pair discussed with other artists, including Augustus John and Ambrose McEvoy, the formation of a quasi-religious brotherhood uniting artists, craft workers and priests.

By 1912, Gill's main source of income was tombstone inscriptions. He had also carved a number of Madonna figures and was widely, wrongly, assumed to be a Catholic artist. As such he was invited to an exhibition in Brussels of Catholic art and, on route, stayed for some days at the Benedictine monastery near Leuven. Gill's experiences at Leuven, seeing the monks at prayer and hearing plainsong for the first time convinced him to become a Roman Catholic and he and his wife were received into the Catholic Church. (He had married Ethel Hester Moore in 1904 and they would eventually have three daughters - Elizabeth, Petra, and Joanna - and foster a son, Gordian).

By the 1930s, Eric Gill was much lauded and the RSA made him a Royal Designer for Industry, the highest accolade for British designers - still awarded annually today. He went on to become a founder member of the RSA's Faculty of Royal Designers for Industry when it was established in 1938. In April 1937, Gill was elected an Associate Member of the Royal Academy.

Station 9 Westminster Cathedral

Gill sealed his reputation early with marblework and bas-reliefs in Westminster Cathedral depicting the 14 Stations of the Cross. Gill was just thirty-two when in April 1914 he produced his design (now in the British Museum) for the Stations. This design was approved the following month. The fourteen panels, each 5ft 8in square, were to be carved in low relief in Hopton Wood limestone for the very low price of £765. At this time Gill was almost unknown as a sculptor and extremely anxious to get such an important commission - hence the price. Once commissioned he set to work at once, producing the Tenth Station (Christ is stripped of his garments), for which he used himself as a model, and the Second (Christ receives the Cross) by November 1914. Then followed the Thirteenth (Christ is taken down from the Cross) and the First (Christ is condemned to death) by June 1915, the panels being carved in the studio with the final touches being added by Gill in the cathedral.

By June 1915 the first four Stations were on view and almost immediately provoked widespread comment, described on the one hand as 'grotesque and undevotional', ‘hideous, primitive and pagan’. On the other hand they were seen as 'dignified in conception, superb in outline and restrained in feeling' and as showing 'admirable breadth and simplicity of design'.

 

Moorfields Hospital entrance

Other famous Gill creations across London include this small sculpture which stands over the entrance to the 1933 extension to the famous Moorfields Eye Hospital in Finsbury. It represents the story of the blind man Bartimaeus, who was begging by the side of the road from Jericho as Jesus passed by. In the sculpture, Jesus stands over Bartimaeus with his fingers touching his eyes. In the Gospel story, he asks "What wilt thou that I should do unto thee?", to which the blind man said "Domine, ut videam (Lord, that I might receive my sight)."

 

 

Another of my favourite Gill works (from 1937) is the set of seven bas-reliefs decorating the Portland stone facade of the People’s Palace in Mile End (now the Great Hall of Queen Mary University of London). Two are above the doorways, each showing a languid figure representing Recreation, and five others representing Drama, Music, Fellowship, Dance and Sport.

 

People's Palace, Mile End

But probably the best-known Gill sculptures are those found at these last two sites. 

55 Broadway

 55 Broadway, St James’s  is the historic headquarters of London   Underground, built between 1927 and 1929 by Charles Holden and   encompassing St. James’s Park station. The building features a   series of facade sculptures by leading artists of the day. Gill   contributed three of the eight reliefs on the theme of winds.

The North Wind

 

  

And so to the subject of recent controversy, Gill’s very prominent sculptures on BBC Broadcasting House in

55 Broadway

Marylebone. The central work over the building’s front entrance portrays a 10ft tall, long-bearded Prospero, standing atop a globe and in the process of sending the spirit Ariel out into the world (hence the link with broadcasting). Ariel’s nudity immediately provoked comment and the local MP, who lived opposite, found the sculpture “objectionable to public morals and decency”. In response, Lord Reith is said to have ordered Gill to ‘amend’ his work, especially the penis.

Prospero and Ariel

The Sower

Inside the BBC building at the main reception there is a further Gill work: The Sower, a man broadcasting seed. The statue, made of English marble (Hopton Wood Stone) stands more than 2.6 metres tall and occupies a niche by the doors leading to the artists' lobby and studios.

 

 

In addition to his sculptural work, Eric Gill was also a consummate typographer.  One of his first independent lettering projects was creating an alphabet for WH Smith’s sign painters. In 1927-30 he was commissioned by the typographer Morison to design the Gill Sans typeface. In 1925, he designed the Perpetua , with the uppercase based upon monumental Roman inscriptions, and in 1930-31 he created Joanna which he used to hand-set his classic book ‘An Essay on Typography’.

 

Now one of the most widely used British typefaces, Gill Sans was used in the classic design system of Penguin Books and by the London and North Eastern Railway and later British Railways, with many additional styles created by Monotype both during and after Gill's lifetime. In the 1990s, the BBC adopted Gill Sans for its wordmark and many of its on-screen television graphics.

References:

The London Encyclopedia Ben Weinreb et al. (2008)

Hidden Treasures of London Michael McNay (2015)

Website: https://www.westminstercathedral.org.uk/tour_stations.php

Website: https://art.tfl.gov.uk/projects/broadway-house/