General Chat

Battersea Park

The Park contains a number of memorials to the victims of past wars.

The most visible is the Sculpture by Kennington, to commemorate the 24th London Division.

There is a plaque to the 5397 Australian Aircrew lost in action during the second world war.


And another plaque dedicated to the ANZAC forces in the Gallipoli Campaign during 1915.ANZAC Memorial

Although not strictly a memorial the London Peace Pagoda reminds us of past events

Eel, Pie, Mash & Liquor

The way people would grab a takeaway in Victorian London was to purchase a pie from one of the 600 piemen that walked up and down the streets.
You could choose between a meat pie, a fruit, fish or an eel one, these would be sold straight off their trays, the transaction was done from the pavement as most couldn't afford the outlay for a shop to sell their goods from.

The piemen would have to wake early and row their boats over to the British and foreign vessels that moored up on the river Thames, from here their stock of fish would be transported over to the legendry Billingsgate Market, established in 1600s

The piemen were after the eels being sold, which was part of the staple diet of Londoners, these eels were in fact very healthy to eat as they contained the omega oils, which helped to reduce cholesterol.

Once they had bought their preferred choice of eels the race was on to get them back home to make the pies and sell them while they were still fresh.

They were sold with vinegar flavouring, or pea or parsley sauce, this is where the original recipe of pie 'n' mash came from.
These pie men gave poor, working class families the chance of a hot meal at an affordable price. This was the Londoners rice.

About 1850 the first dated record of an Eel and Pie shop was recorded, it had sold mashed potato as well as pies, this would start the demise of the street piemen.
These shops would have stalls outside, selling live eels for families to take home and cook.
Inside was kitted out with marble floors and tables together with pictures and mirrors which hung on he walls, the floors would be covered with sawdust, to gather up the eel bones that were spat out.

Everything was kept very clean indeed and needed to be to attract custom as more and more shops took to opening up new branches, most were located near markets, thus bringing business from the working class stallholders, dockers and factory workers.

When the war came it bought with it rationing, food was hard to come by, but the pie shops helped with this by supplying food to people with nutritional value.
When the war had finally finished, London enjoyed itself and beer and pie 'n' mash would be consumed like never before.
It was a busy time for all.

The mid 50s saw a swift rise in rent, and so a lot of the factories moved out to the Home Counties, taking with them the local working class population in pursuit of jobs.

Convenience foods took a grip on the high street and the decline of Pie'n'Mash shops had slowly started as a consequence.

Gas Lights

Public illumination preceded the discovery and adoption of gaslight by centuries.
In 1417, Sir Henry Barton, Mayor of London, ordained "lanterns with lights to be hanged out on the winter evenings between Hallowtide and Candlemasse.

In the beginning of the 16th century the inhabitants were ordered to keep lights burning in the windows of all houses that faced the streets.
In 1668, when some regulations were made for improving the streets of London, the residents were reminded to hang out their lanterns at the usual time; and in 1690 an order was issued to hang out a light, or lamp, every night as soon as it was dark, from Michaelmas to Christmas.

By an act of the common council in 1716, all housekeepers, whose houses faced any street, lane, or passage, were required to hang out, every dark night, one or more lights, to burn from six to eleven o'clock, under the penalty of one shilling as a fine for failing to do so.

The History of the London Black Taxi Trade

The first black taxi in London was the hackney coach in the 17th Century.
The name comes from hacquenée, the French term for a general-purpose horse.
It literally means, 'ambling nag'.
In 1625 there were as few as 20 available for hire, operating out of inn yards.
In 1636, the owner of four hackney coaches brought them into the Strand outside the Maypole Inn, and the first taxi rank had appeared.
He established a tariff for various parts of London, and his drivers wore livery, so they would be easily recognisable.

In 1636 Charles I made a proclamation to enable 50 hackney carriages to ply for hire in London.
It was left up to the aldermen to make sure this number was not exceeded.

After the Civil War, in 1654 Oliver Cromwell set up the Fellowship of Master Hackney Carriages by Act of Parliament, and taxi driving became a profession. 200 hackneys were now allowed.

The Act was replaced in 1662 under Charles II by a new act, which required the hackney coaches to be licensed, and restricted their number to 400.

In 1688 the number was increased to 600, and then again six years later by an Act of Parliament to 700.

In 1711, 800 licenses were issued, and then another 200.

In 1833 the trade became unregulated, and there was no longer a restriction on the amount of taxis. The only limit was that the driver and vehicle be 'fit and proper', a condition that still applies today.

This makes the licensed taxi trade the oldest regulated public transport system in the world, and it is the people in the trade that have demanded it this way.
The rivalry between licensed and unlicensed hire vehicles has been around as long as the taxi trade.

'Hackney carriage' is still the official term used to describe taxis.

Bag wash & wet wash


Was a cheap laundry service in the 20th century before the laundromat/launderette

Before coin-operated self-service laundries were introduced, people on modest incomes could get their clothes clean without boiling up tubs of water, and spending hours rubbing on a washboard or working with a "dolly"? & mangle

Pegs were often sold & made mostly by gypsy travellers or obtained from the oil shop

There were plenty of labour-saving washing machines in city laundries in the early 1900s.
Many of these laundries didn't just cater for people who wanted their things beautifully starched and pressed.

Your laundry was collected from and returned to you
They also offered a "wet wash": tackling bags of dirty linen and clothes for a small payment and returning them still damp.(Just ready to hang out or starch. )

It was not long before a few large buildings were built for the use of individuals to take their own laundry to do themselves.

These were often connected to Cleansing stations (For nits)

And Public Baths & Swimming pools

Chelsea buns

Were created at The Chelsea Bun House, an establishment which was situated on the borders of Chelsea and Pimlico, London.
The Chelsea Bun House was in business for the best part of a century; eventually closing it’s doors in 1839.
At the height of its success in the 18th century it was frequented by high society, including Kings George II and III, who called in for a bun en route to the nearby Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens.
The Bun House was also noted for its hot-cross buns. Legend has it that on Good Friday in 1829, 240,000 hot-cross buns were sold, and crowds of over 50,000 thronged outside the shop in anticipation of delicious buns hot from the kitchen’s ovens.

Sources disagree about the exact historic location of the Bun House– either Grovesnor Row or Jew’s Row according to what you read.
Neither exist now, but in today’s Pimlico there is a Bunhouse Place, which is within strolling distance of the remains of Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens.
This might be very near to the spot where the bun shop was.

Threadneedle Street

In Threadneedle Street we stand in the centre of Roman London. In 1805 a tesselated pavement, now in the British Museum, was found at Lothbury. The Exchange stands, as we have already mentioned, on a mine of Roman remains. In 1840–41 tesselated pavements were found, about twelve or fourteen feet deep, beneath the old French Protestant Church, with coins of Agrippa, Claudius, Domitian, Marcus Aurelius, and the Constantines, together with fragments of frescoes, and much charcoal and charred barley.
These pavements are also preserved in the British Museum. In 1854, in excavating the site of the church of St. Benet Fink, there was found a large deposit of Roman débris, consisting of Roman tiles, glass, and fragments of black, pale, and red Samian pottery.

The church of St. Benet Fink, of which a representation is given at page 468, was so called from one Robert Finck, or Finch, who built a previous church on the same site (destroyed by the Fire of 1666).
It was completed by Sir Christopher Wren, in 1673, at the expense of £4,130, but was taken down in 1844.
The tower was square, surmounted by a cupola of four sides, with a small turret on the top.
There was a large recessed doorway on the north side, of very good design.

The arrangement of the body of the church was very peculiar, we may say unique; and although far from beautiful, afforded a striking instance of Wren's wonderful skill.
The plan of the church was a decagon, within which six composite columns in the centre supported six semi-circular vaults.
Wren's power of arranging a plan to suit the site was shown in numerous buildings, but in none more forcibly than in this small church.

"St. Benedict's," says Maitland, "is vulgarly Bennet Fink.
Though this church is at present a donative, it was anciently a rectory, in the gift of the noble family of Nevil, who probably conferred the name upon the neighbouring hospital of St. Anthony."

Newcourt, who lived near St. Benet Fink, says the monks of the Order of St. Anthony hard by were so importunate in their requests for alms that they would threaten those who refused them with "St. Anthony's fire;" and that timid people were in the habit of presenting them with fat pigs, in order to retain their good-will.
Their pigs thus became numerous, and, as they were allowed to roam about for food, led to the proverb, "He will follow you like a St. Anthony's pig." Stow accounts for the number of these pigs in another way, by saying that when pigs were seized in the markets by the City officers, as ill-fed or unwholesome, the monks took possession of them, and tying a bell about their neck, allowed them to stroll about on the dunghills, until they became fit for food, when they were claimed for the convent.

The Merchant Taylors, whose hall is very appropriately situated in Threadneedle Street, had their first licence as "Linen Armourers" granted by Edward I.
Their first master, Henry de Ryall, was called their "pilgrim," as one that travelled for the whole company, and their wardens "purveyors of dress." Their first charter is dated I Edward III. Richard II. confirmed his grandfather's grants.
From Henry IV. they obtained a confirmatory charter by the name of the "Master and Wardens of the Fraternity of St. John the Baptist of London." Henry VI. gave them the right of search and correction of abuses.
The society was incorporated in the reign of Edward IV., who gave them arms; and Henry VII., being a member of the Company, for their greater honour transformed them from Tailors and Linen Armourers to Merchant Taylors, giving them their present acting charter, which afterwards received the confirmation and inspeximus of five sovereigns—Henry VIII., Edward VI., Philip and Mary, Elizabeth, and James I.

I just LOVE all these wonderful stories about our beautiful capital city,surely the most perfect in the world!? If only our children could have the chance of reading so much amazing and colourful information,written in such a simple and descriptive way! This is how history should be taught.Leave out the politics and stick to the fascinating romantism of the place! My American grandsons will love it! Thank you to all of you concerned with this riveting saga.PLEASE------Continue! Deidre Webb

any more? this is a good thread - hope someone has some more London facts for all of us to enjoy.

Gill

THE HISTORY OF HARLEY STREET

The Royal Society of Medicine held an enjoyable
social evening on Feb. 21st, when an address
on Harley Street was given by Mr. Percy Flemming
with an account of the process by which
the medical profession took over the part of
Marylebone that lies between Regent's Park and
Wigmore-street.
He pointed out that the present phise of London's growth-the incorporation of surrounding towns and villages, began about 180 years ago.

Marylebone was one of these outlying villages, but the growth of the city has long since obliterated the Fleet, the Westbourne, and the Tyburn streams which once formed its boundaries.

These rivers now flow imprisoned in pipes under the roaring traffic from Hampstead to the Thames.

West Bourne, and its overhead conduit in Sloane-square Station, has recently been immortalized by Punch; Fleet, or Hole Bourne, is now a sewer under Ludgate-circus, and Ty Bourne runs near the house of the Royal Society of Medicine, under various passages and courts near Marylebone-lane, which was its left bank.

At the time of the Domesday Book, Marylebone was unknown, and the land was part of Tyburn Manor.

The Harley-street district was the scene of public health enterprise in very early days, for in 1236 the City authorities, in their search for a safe water-supply, discovered the Tyburn and piped it where it was reinforced by a spring, just in the dip by Stratford-place.

The critical time for the amenities of the place
came in the reign of James I., who sold Tyburn
Manor, but kept what is now Regent's Park for
his own use, with the result that this invaluable
oasis is still in the safe hands of the Crown.

A scheme was later put forward for dividing the
area into building sites.

This evil was fortunately averted, but the southern end was partly built over, and one side of Harley-street is Crown property, and the other side privately owned, to this day.

The park was let out to farmers, and there is contemporary evidence of its use by physicians for a kind of spa treatment.

In 1772 a lady of Great Poiltland-street, the patient of a Dr. Armstrong, was advised to take an early
walk every morning and to drink milk at a farmhouse
situated near Yard Gate.

Her son mentions the "elegant mansions" of Cavendish square as the border of the town and the open country.

This and its neighbouring squares were laid out in 1718, and soon became the home of the aristocracy.

There would almost certainly have been a sprinkling of general practitioners then, but the consultant district was in the City, round about Broad-street, New Bridge-street, and Finsbury-circus. The migration westward halted for a space in Bloomsbury, and for some time after that the favoured spot was Hanover square.

Only the later 'thirties saw the start of the Harley-street district, when a few consultants moved to Cavendish-square.

The numbers slowly increased until in the 'sixties Harley-street began to be regarded as the right place for a consultant to live.

Sir William Jenner was actually the first to arrive; he entered No. 8 in 1851. Mr. Flemming, in concluding, remarked on the trickle of medical men across Marylebone road into Regent's Park, and speculated whether this foreshadowed a general migration.

His lecture was illustrated with some interesting
prints and maps of old Marylebone, the originals
of which, with many others, were displayed in
the Society's Library.-Lancet, Feb. 26, 1927.

FLEET STREET

The Fleet, that little, quick-flowing stream, once so bright and clear, is now a sewer! but its name remains immortalised by the street called after it.

Although, according to a modern antiquary, a Roman amphitheatre once stood on the site of the Fleet Prison, and Roman citizens were certainly interred outside Ludgate, we know but little whether Roman buildings ever stood on the west side of the City gates. Stow, however, describes a stone payement supported on piles being found, in 1595, near the Fleet Street end of Chancery Lane; so that we may presume the soil of the neighbourhood was originally marshy. The first British settlers there must probably have been restless spirits, impatient of the high rents and insufficient room inside the City walls and willing, for economy, to risk the forays of any Saxon pirates who chose to steal up the river on a dusky night and sack the outlying cabins of London.

There were certainly rough doings in Fleet Street in the Middle Ages, for the City chronicles tell us of much blood spilt there and of many deeds of violence. In 1228 (Henry III.) we find, for instance, one Henry de Buke slaying a man named Le Ireis, le Tylor, of Fleet Bridge, then fleeing to the church of St. Mary, Southwark, and there claiming sanctuary. In 1311 (Edward II.) five of the king's not very respectable or law-fearing household were arrested in Fleet Street for a burglary; and though the weak king demanded them (they were perhaps servants of his Gascon favourite, Piers Gaveston, whom the barons afterwards killed), the City refused to give them up, and they probably had short shrive. In the same reign, when the Strand was full of bushes and thickets, Fleet Street could hardly have been much better. Still, the shops in Fleet Street were, no doubt, even in Edward II.'s reign, of importance, for we find, in 1321, a Fleet Street bootmaker supplying the luxurious king with "six pairs of boots, with tassels of silk and drops of silver-gilt, the price of each pair being 5s." In Richard II.'s reign it is especially mentioned that Wat Tyler's fierce Kentish men sacked the Savoy church, part of the Temple, and destroyed two forges which had been originally erected on each side of St. Dunstan's church by the Knight Templars. The Priory of St. John of Jerusalem had paid a rent of 15s. for these forges, which same rent was given for more than a century after their destruction.

The poet Chaucer is said to have beaten a saucy Franciscan friar in Fleet Street, and to have been fined 2s. for the offence by the Honourable Society of the Inner Temple; so Speight had heard from one who had seen the entry in the records of the Inner Temple.

In King Henry IV.'s reign another crime disturbed Fleet Street. A Fleet Street goldsmith was murdered by ruffians in the Strand, and his body thrown under the Temple Stairs.

In 1440 (Henry VI.) a strange procession startled London citizen's. Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, did penance through Fleet Street for witchcraft practised against the king. She and certain priests and necromancers had, it was said, melted a wax figure of young King Henry before a slow fire, praying that as that figure melted his life might melt also. Of the duchess's confederates, the Witch of Ely, was burned at Smithfield, a canon of Westminster died in the Tower, and a third culprit was hung, drawn, and quartered at Tyburn. The duchess was brought from Westminster, and landed at the Temple Stairs, from whence, with a tall wax taper in her hand, she walked bareheaded to St. Paul's, where she offered at the high altar. Another day she did penance at Christ Church, Aldgate; a third day at St. Michael's, Cornhill, the Lord Mayor, sheriffs, and most of the Corporation following: She was then banished to the Isle of Man, and her ghost they say still haunts Peel Castle.

And now, in the long panorama of years, there rises in Fleet Street a clash of swords and a clatter of bucklers.' In 1441 (Henry VI.) the general effervescence of the times spread beyond Ludgate, and there was a great affray in Fleet Street between the hot-blooded youths of the Inns of Court and the citizens, which lasted two days; the chief man in the riot was one of Clifford's Inn, named Harbottle; and this irrepressible Harbottle and his fellows only the appearance of the mayor and sheriffs could quiet. In 1458 (in the same reign) there was a more serious riot of the same kind; the students were then driven back by archers from the Conduit near Shoe Lane to their several inns, and some slain, including "the Queen's attornie," who certainly ought to have known better and kept closer to his parchments. Even the king's meek nature was roused at this, he committed the principal governors of Furnival's, Clifford's, and Barnard's inns, to the castle of Hertford, and sent for several aldermen to Windsor Castle, where he either rated or imprisoned them, or both.

Cont/

FLEET STREET Continued

Fleet Street often figures in the chronicles of Elizabeth's reign. On one visit it is particularly said that she often graciously stopped her coach to speak to the poor; and a green branch of rosemary given to her by a poor woman near Fleet Bridge was seen, not without marvellous wonder of such as knew the presenter, when her Majesty reached Westminster. In the same reign we are told that the young Earl of Oxford, after attending his father's funeral in Essex, rode through Fleet Street to Westminster, attended by seven score horsemen, all in black. Such was the splendid and proud profusion of Elizabeth's nobles.

James's reign was a stormy one for Fleet Street. Many a time the ready 'prentices snatched their clubs (as we read in "The Fortunes of Nigel"), and, vaulting over their counters, joined in the fray that surged past their shops. In 1621 particularly, three 'prentices having abused Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, as he passed their master's door in Fenchurch Street, the king ordered the riotous youths to be whipped from Aldgate to Temple Bar. In Fleet Street, however, the apprentices rose in force, and shouting "Rescue!" quickly released the lads and beat the marshalmen. If there had been any resistance, another thousand sturdy 'prentices would soon have carried on the war.

Nor did Charles's reign bring any quiet to Fleet Street, for then the Templars began to lug out their swords. On the 12th of January, 1627, the Templars, having chosen a Mr. Palmer as their Lord of Misrule, went out late at night into Fleet Street to collect his rents. At every door the jovial collectors winded the Temple horn, and if at the second blast the door was not courteously opened, my lord cried majestically, "Give fire, gunner," and a sturdy smith burst the pannels open with a huge sledge-hammer. The horrified Lord Mayor being appealed to soon arrived, attended by the watch of the ward and men armed with halberts. At eleven o'clock on the Sunday night the two monarchs came into collision in Hare Alley (now Hare Court). The Lord of Misrule bade my Lord Mayor come to him, but Palmer, omitting to take off his hat, the halberts flew sharply round him, his subjects were soundly beaten, and he was dragged off to the Compter. There, with soiled finery, the new year's king was kept two days in durance, the attorney-general at last fetching the fallen monarch away in his own coach. At a court masque soon afterwards the king made the two rival potentates join hands; but the King of Misrule had, nevertheless, to refund all the five shillings' he had exacted, and repair all the Fleet Street doors his too handy gunner had destroyed. The very next year the quarrelsome street broke again into a rage, and four persons lost their lives. Of the rioters, two were executed within the week. One of these was John Stanford, of the duke's chamber, and the other Captain Nicholas Ashurst. The quarrel was about politics, and the courtiers seem to have been the offenders.

In Charles II.'s time the pillory was sometimes set up at the Temple gate; and here the wretch Titus Oates stood, amidst showers of unsavoury eggs and the curses of those who had learnt to see the horror of his crimes. Well said Judge Withers to this man, "I never pronounce criminal sentence but with some compassion; but you are such a villain and hardened sinner, that I can find no sentiment of compassion for you." The pillory had no fixed place, for in 1670 we find a Scotchman suffering at the Chancery Lane end for telling a victualler that his house would be fired by the Papists; and the next year a man stood upon the pillory at the end of Shoe Lane for insulting Lord Ambassador Coventry as he was starting for Sweden.

In the reign of Queen Anne those pests of the London streets, the "Mohocks," seem to have infested Fleet Street. These drunken desperadoes— the predecessors of the roysterers who, in the times of the Regency, "boxed the Charlies," broke windows, and stole knockers—used to find a cruel pleasure in surrounding a quiet homeward-bound citizen and pricking him with their swords. Addison makes worthy Sir Roger de Coverley as much afraid of these night-birds as Swift himself; and the old baronet congratulates himself on escaping from the clutches of "the emperor and his black men," who had followed him half-way down Fleet Street. He, however, boasts that he threw them out at the end of Norfolk Street, where he doubled the corner, and scuttled safely into his quiet lodgings.

Cont/

FLEET STREET continued

From Elizabethan times downwards, Fleet Street was a favourite haunt of showmen. Concerning these popular exhibitions Mr. Noble has, with great industry, collected the following curious enumeration:—

"Ben Jonson," says our trusty authority, "in Every Man in his Humour, speaks of 'a new motion of the city of Nineveh, with Jonas and the whale, at Fleet Bridge.' In 1611 'the Fleet Street mandrakes' were to be seen for a penny; and years later the giants of St. Dunstan's clock caused the street to be blocked up, and people to lose their time, their temper, and their money. During Queen Anne's reign, however, the wonders of Fleet Street were at their height. In 1702 a model of Amsterdam, thirty feet long by twenty feet wide, which had taken twelve years in making, was exhibited in Bell Yard; a child, fourteen years old, without thighs or legs, and eighteen inches high, was to be seen 'at the "Eagle and Child," a grocer's shop, near Shoe Lane;' a great Lincolnshire ox, nineteen hands high, four yards long, as lately shown at Cambridge, was on view 'at the "White Horse," where the great elephant was seen;' and 'between the "Queen's Head" and "Crooked Billet," near Fleet Bridge,' were exhibited daily 'two strange, wonderful, and remarkable monstrous creatures—an old she-dromedary, seven feet high and ten feet long, lately arrived from Tartary, and her young one; being the greatest rarity and novelty that ever was seen in the three kingdomes before.' In 1710, at the 'Duke of Marlborough's Head,' in Fleet Street (by Shoe Lane), was exhibited the 'moving picture' mentioned in the Tatler; and here, in 1711, 'the great posture-master of Europe,' eclipsing the deceased Clarke and Higgins, greatly startled sight-seeing London. 'He extends his body into all deformed shapes; makes his hip and shoulder-bones meet together; lays his head upon the ground, and turns his body round twice or thrice, without stirring his face from the spot; stands upon one leg, and extends the other in a perpendicular line half a yard above his head; and extends his body from a table with his head a foot below his heels, having nothing to balance his body but his feet; with several other postures too tedious to mention.'

"And here, in 1718, De Hightrehight, the fireeater, ate burning coals, swallowed flaming brimstone, and sucked a red-hot poker, five times a day!

"What will my billiard-loving friends say to the St. Dunstan's Inquest of the year 1720? 'Item, we present Thomas Bruce, for suffering a gamingtable (called a billiard-table, where people commonly frequent and game) to be kept in his house.' A score of years later, at the end of Wine Office Court, was exhibited an automaton clock, with three figures or statues, which at the word of command poured out red or white wine, represented a grocer shutting up his shop and a blackamoor who struck upon a bell the number of times asked. Giants and dwarfs were special features in Fleet Street. At the 'Rummer,' in Three Kings' Court, was to be seen an Essex woman. named Gordon, not nineteen years old, though seven feet high, who died in 1737. At the 'Blew Boar and Green Tree' was on view an Italian giantess, above seven feet, weighing 425 lbs., who had been seen by ten reigning sovereigns. In 1768 died, in Shire Lane, Edward Bamford, another giant, seven feet four inches in height, who was buried in St. Dunstan's, though £200 was offered for his body for dissection. At the 'Globe,' in 1717, was shown Matthew Buckinger, a German dwarf, born in 1674, without hands, legs, feet, or thighs, twenty-nine inches high; yet can write, thread a needle, shuffle a pack of cards, play skittles, &c. A facsimile of his writing is among the Harleian MSS. And in 1712 appeared the Black Prince and his wife, each three feet high; and a Turkey horse, two feet odd high and twelve years old, in a box. Modern times have seen giants and dwarfs, but have they really equalled these? In 1822 the exhibition of a mermaid here was put a stop to by the Lord Chamberlain."

Cont/

FLEET STREET continued

In old times Fleet Street was rendered picturesque, not only by its many gable-ended houses adorned with quaint carvings and plaster stamped in patterns, but also by the countless signs, gay with gilding and painted with strange devices, which hung above the shop-fronts. Heraldry exhausted all its stores to furnish emblems for different trades. Lions blue and red, falcons, and dragons of all colours, alternated with heads of John the Baptist, flying pigs, and hogs in armour. On a windy day these huge masses of painted timber creaked and waved overhead, to the terror of nervous pedestrians, nor were accidents by any means rare. On the 2nd of December, 1718 (Queen Anne), a signboard opposite Bride Lane, Fleet Street, having loosened the brickwork by its weight and movement, suddenly gave way, fell, and brought the house down with it, killing four persons, one of whom was the queen's jeweller. It was not, however, till 1761 (George II.) that these dangerous signboards were ordered to be placed flat against the walls of the houses.

When Dr. Johnson said, "Come and let us take a walk down Fleet Street," he proposed a no very easy task. The streets in his early days, in London, had no side-pavements, and were roughly paved, with detestable gutters running down the centre. From these gutters the jumbling coaches of those days liberally scattered the mud on the unoffending pedestrians who happened to be crossing at the time. The sedan-chairs, too, were awkward impediments, and choleric people were disposed to fight for the wall. In 1766, when Lord Eldon came to London as a schoolboy, and put up at that humble hostelry the "White Horse," in Fetter Lane, he describes coming home from Drury Lane with his brother in a sedan. Turning out of Fleet Street into Fetter Lane, some rough fellows pushed against the chair at the corner and upset it, in their eagerness to pass first. Dr. Johnson's curious nervous habit of touching every street-post he passed was cured in 1766, by the laying down of side-pavements. On that occasion it is said two English paviours in Fleet Street bet that they would pave more in a day than four Scotchmen could. By three o'clock the Englishmen had got so much ahead that they went into a public-house for refreshment, and, afterwards returning to their work, won the wager.

In the Wilkes' riot of 1763, the mob burnt a large jack-boot in the centre of Fleet Street, in ridicule of Lord Bute; but a more serious affray took place in this street in 1769, when the noisy Wilkites closed the Bar, to stop a procession of 600 loyal citizens en route to St. James's to present an address denouncing all attempts to spread sedition and uproot the constitution. The carriages were pelted with stones, and the City marshal, who tried to open the gates, was bedaubed with mud. Mr. Boehm and other loyalists took shelter in "Nando's Coffee House." About 150 of the frightened citizens, passing up Chancery Lane, got to the palace by a devious way, a hearse with two white horses and two black following them to St. James's Palace. Even there the Riot Act had to be read and the Guards sent for. When Mr. Boehm fled into "Nando's," in his alarm, he sent home his carriage containing the address. The mob searched the vehicle, but could not find the paper, upon which Mr. Boehm hastened to the Court, and arrived just in time with the important document.

The treason trials of 1794 brought more noise and trouble to Fleet Street. Hardy, the secretary to the London Corresponding Society, was a shoemaker at No. 161; and during the trial of this approver of the French Revolution, Mr. John Scott (afterwards Lord Eldon) was in great danger from a Fleet Street crowd. "The mob," he says, "kept thickening round me till I came to Fleet Street, one of the worst parts that I had to pass through, and the cries began to be rather threatening. 'Down with him!' 'Now is the time, lads; do for him!' and various others, horrible enough; but I stood up, and spoke as loud as I could: 'You may do for me, if you like; but, remember, there will be another Attorney-General before eight o'clock to-morrow morning, and the king will not allow the trials to be stopped.' Upon this one man shouted out, 'Say you so? you are right to tell us. Let us give him three cheers, my lads!' So they actually cheered me, and I got safe to my own door."

There was great consternation in Fleet Street in November, 1820, when Queen Caroline, attended by 700 persons on horseback, passed publicly through it to return thanks at St. Paul's. Many alarmed people barricaded their doors and windows. Still greater was the alarm in August, 1821, when the queen's funeral procession went by, after the deplorable fight with the Horse Guards at Cumberland Gate, when two of the rioters were killed.

.

A Station in a church.

The new parish church of St James the Less in Sussex Gardens , was errected in 1883 to serve the expanding population of the parish.
It reflects the apparent piety of the Victorians in its vast dimensions, but it is now far too big for its congregation. During the last war some of the windows were damaged and have been replaced. There remains ,however, one window with a representation of Victoria's coronation,and well-known figures of the time. The West windows are new and the lower panels reflect some of the history and personages of the district.. There is one showing Paddington Station with a stream train,another of Lord Baden Powell who was born nearby . Sir Alexander Fleming, who discovered penicillin nearby at St Mary Hospital is there.and so is the "Peter Pan " sculpture to commemorate Sir James Barrie. Placed in the centre is a panel vividly depicting searchlights in a bloacked -out street scene.

rita

No time for Bermondsey

At the juction of Borough High Street and Great Dover Street, stands the eighteenth-century church of St George the Martyr ,affectiontely known as "Little Dorrit's church " because of it's place in Dickens novel. He knew it well as his father was imprisoned for debt in the ajacent Marshalsea Prison, a wall of which remians . The square tower houses a clock with four dials, three of which are painted white and can be illuminated at night whilst the fourth ,facing Bermonsey ,is black .
Local tradition says that this was because of the meaness of Bermonsey folk when an appeal was made for funds to errect a clock-tower . If they wanted to know the time after dark, they were left in the dark, as it were.

rita

The Old Royal Naval College

Among many interesting things has a Hall of great interest . it is called
The Painted Hall.

The Painted Hall, probably the finest dining hall in the Western world .is decorated with stunning paintings by James Thornhill and is part of King William Court.. This was planned to be the hospital's dining hall . Wren submitted the design in 1698,and the roof and the Dome above were already in place five years later Thornhill's decoration, by contrast ,took nineteen years to complete..For his great and laborious undertaking Thomas was paid by the yard.-and eventually knighted..While Thornhill worked,more and more pensioners were coming to Greenwich.Pensioners could not eat in the Hall while he was working and it was both too grand and too much of a tourist attraction when finished.

The Painted Hall stood empty until January 1806, when the body of Admiral Lord Nelson was brought here to lie in state :he had been killed at the moment of his Victory over Napoleon,s fleet at Cape Trafalger.

In 1824 the Hall became the "National Gallery "of Naval Art or Naval Gallery for short. and remained so until 1930's when its contents were transferred to the newly created National Maritime Museum..By 1939 the Painted Hall was once again ,in use as a dining room.. it remained in daily use until the Royal Navy's departure in 1998 .

rita

Nicholas Hawsmoor a pupil of Wren was the Achitect of St George';s church Bloomsbury Way.in 1730 it has a most unusually steeple a stepped pyrimid with a statue of George 1 in costume surmounting a short coloume on top, This was a gidt from a prosperous brewer. William Hucks and was called by Walpole's masterpiece of Absurdity.
he made an epigram about it.

When Henry the eight left the pope in the lech.
The Prestants made the head of the church.
But George's good subjects, the Bloomsbury people
Instead of the church .made his head of the steeple


rita

The Honest Solicitor.
The church of St Dunstan-in-the West in fleet street has many items of interest ,especially its fine lantern tower and the projecting clock the first to have two dials . The most curious, however ,is the sincere memorial to Hobson Judkins described as "The Honest Solicitor "subscribed by his grateful clients.

rita

Cupid on the telephone.

Alongside Temple Gardens, one is surprised to find a stone building in the Tudor style crenellated mullioned and orielled , it is a charming pastiche,having been builkt in 1895 by Lord Astor as his town house, and later used as his estate-office with a flat above, inside the floors are porphyry onxyn, jasper and carved heads raning from Machiavelli to Bismark.and from the Lady of Shalott to Anne of Boleyn, Even in those Victorian days the cost was 1/4 million . You will notice the child figures on the lamp standards flanking the porche, one is speaking into one of the old type telephones, another is cranking a primitive generator. There is a lovely weathervane a gilded copper model of Columbus's Santa Maria an allusion to the source of the Astor's wealth..

rita