The Ship Tavern, Bishopsgate
There are some artefacts that, in their detail and evidence of wear, can evoke an entire world. Although no larger than a thumbnail, these modest seventeenth century tavern tokens in the collection at the Bishopsgate Institute bring alive that calamitous era after the English Revolution when London was struck by the Great Plague in 1665 and then the Great Fire in 1666.
Bishopsgate was one of the few parts of the City spared by the Fire. It was lined with ancient taverns, used as points of departure and arrival for those travelling up and down the old Roman road north from the City of London. The part inside the City wall was known as Bishopsgate Within and the part outside the wall was Bishopsgate Without, and beyond, where the muddy road widened, was known as Bishopsgate St. The taverns served as hotels, drinking and dining houses, breweries and stables, couriers and coach offices, places of business and of entertainment, and were such significant centres of commerce that they issued their own currency for use as change.
There is a vibrant graphic quality in these miniature token designs, delighting in combining hand-lettering and familiar imagery with an appealing utilitarian irregularity. Long before universal literacy or the numbering of London streets, buildings were adorned with symbols and easily-recogniseable images like those graven upon the front of these tokens. The reverse carries the date and initials of the owner that issued the token, who may latterly be identified from the vintners’ records.
As well as those from Bishopsgate, there is one here from Spittlegate, now known as Widegate St, and another from Bedlam, now known as Liverpool St, which was formerly the location of the Hospital of St Mary of Bethlehem – of all the tokens here, The White Hart is the lone tavern that has weathered the centuries to survive into the present era.
After the Fire, rubble was spread upon the marshy land of Spitalfields, preparing it for the construction of the streets we know today, and, occasionally, charcoal is still uncovered when foundations are excavated in Spitalfields, recalling this distant event. In 1632, Charles I gave a licence for flesh, fowl and roots to be sold in Spitalfields and the market was re-established in 1682 by Charles II, defining the territory with a culture of small-scale trading that persists to this day.
Once, tavern tokens were unremarkable items of small monetary value, passed hand to hand without a second thought, but now these rare specimens are precious evidence of another life in another time, long ago in this place.
King’s Head, Spittlegate, Charles I
King’s Head, Spittlegate, issued by Vintner Thomas Avis in 1658
The Beehive, Bishopsgate Without, issued by Thomas Goss, 1652
The Mitre Tavern, Bishopsgate, issued by Robert Richardson 1644
The Flower Pot, Bishopsgate Within, issued by Ascanius Hicks, 1641
The Helmet, Bishopsgate Without, issued by Robert Studd
At the White Hart, Bedlam
The White Hart at Bedlam, issued by EE, 1637
The White Hart still stands at the corner of Liverpool St, formerly the location of Bedlam
Red Lion Court, Bishopsgate Without, issued by John Lambe
The Black Raven, Bishopsgate Without
The Black Raven, Halfpenny issued by Sam Salway
The Sunne, Bishopsgate Within
Lion Above a Stick of Candles, Bishopsgate Without
Lion Above a Stick of Candles, issued by Ralph Butcher, 1666
At the Sign Of The Boore, Bishopsgate Without
At The Sign Of The Boore, Bishopsgate Without
The Half Moone Brewhouse, Bishopsgate Without
Edward Nourse Next The Bull In Bishopsgate Street, 1666
The Mouth Tavern, Bishopsgate Without, issued by Robert Sanderson, 1638
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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Over recent months, I have spent a lot of time studying the photographs of the people who lived in the yards beside Quaker St that Horace Warner took around 1900, in order to write my introduction for the book of Spitalfields Nippers which is to be published on 1st November. The sharp focus of these pictures permits me to examine them closely and they reward attention because the plethora of detail can reveal unexpected things.
I especially like this photograph of a girl holding scrap timber. It fascinates me that her clothes and jewellery demonstrate such pride in her appearance, even while her hands are dirty and she is collecting firewood. It is obvious that Horace never asked his subjects to smile, instead he granted them the space for self-possession and she presents herself on her own terms, with composed equanimity and preoccupied in her world.
James McBarron who grew up in Hoxton in the thirties and, as a child, knew Celia Compton – portrayed in another of Horace’s photographs – explained to me the practice of wood-chopping for pennies. “We kids chopped firewood to make money. The boys and girls used to go around collecting tea-chests and packing-boxes from the back of furniture factories, and say ‘Can we take it away, Mister?’ We chopped it up into sticks and made bundles, and we’d sell them for a penny or a ha-penny.”
I am fascinated by the variety and individuality of clothing in Horace’s photographs, which belong to an age before the industrialised mass-production of clothes we know today. These were garments that went through many owners, handed down through the family, altered, patched and refashioned until they fell apart. The ancient Houndsditch Rag Fair existed just a mile to the south, until it was closed permanently to prevent the spread of smallpox, and this may explain the presence of so many elaborately-detailed garments in antique designs – such as the dress in this photograph – which could have been acquired cheaply in the market and cut down to size.
In particular, I grew curious about the badge that this girl wears upon her decorative collar and, in close-up, I could see that it was King Edward VII & Queen Alexandra. Another of Horace’s photographs show boys holding up newspaper hoardings announcing the end of the Second Boer War in June 1902 and, since the Coronation of Edward & Alexandra took place in August 1902, this gives us an indication of the date of this photograph.
Imagine my surprise, when walking through Spitalfields Market, to see just such a badge – slightly different because it shows Alexandra without Edward, but in all other respects the same and around the size of a pre-decimal penny. My pal Bill, whose stall it was, told me that they were given away free at the time of the Coronation. “It’s such a cheap thing, just a scrap of paper stuck on a piece of tin, that it’s amazing it has survived,” he said, holding it up to examine it. When I told Bill the story of the badge in the photograph, he presented me with it as a gift and I agreed to bring him a copy of the book in exchange in a few weeks time.
When I read about Alexandra, I discovered that she had a scar on her neck from an operation that happened when she was a child, which led her to wear high collars and elaborate necklaces. Consequently, this style became a fashion and, when I looked back at the photograph of the girl, I wondered if she was trying to emulate Alexandra in the way she wore her necklace over the dress with its decorative collar.
If it were not for Horace Warner, I should not have looked twice at this old tin badge in the market but, thanks to his photograph, it has become a wonder to me.
Tin badge from 1902 given to me by my pal Bill, dealer in the Spitalfields Thursday Antiques Market
Tin coronation badge of King Edward & Queen Alexandra
The reverse of the badge.
This is my pal Bill, a dignified market stalwart who deals in coins, whistles, badges, gramophone needles, souvenir thimbles, magic lantern slides, trading tokens, small classical antiquities and prehistoric artifacts. “I sell quite a few things, but on a low margin because it’s more interesting to have a quick turnover.” he admitted to me, speaking frankly, “I’m here more for enjoyment really – quite a few friends I’ve made over the years. I was a shy person before, but it’s made me confident having a stall. I’ve become an optimistic person.” Bill comes to Spitalfields each week with all his stock in a backpack and large suitcase – practical, economic and an incentive to sell as much as possible.
(Pen portrait with photograph by Jeremy Freedman originally published July 22nd, 2010)
All Publication Rights in these Photographs Reserved
My SPITALFIELDS NIPPERS lecture at the Bishopsgate Institute on 4th November is sold out. I shall also be showing the photographs and telling the stories at WATERSTONES PICCADILLY on WEDNESDAY 19th NOVEMBER at 7pm. Admission is free to this event and tickets are available but must be reserved email@example.com
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Door knob at St Katharine Cree, Leadenhall St
Each year the Lion Sermon is preached upon 16th October at St Katharine Cree in Leadenhall St in the City of London. This ancient church was established in 1280, emerging from the Priory of 1108 founded by Queen Matilda, and is the only neo-classical church to survive the Great Fire. Its lurching arcade in the nave, embellished with Corinthian capitals, is indicative of the unlikely blend of classical and gothic which characterises this appealingly idiosyncratic structure of 1628-30, traditionally ascribed to Inigo Jones.
Yesterday I attended the 365th Anniversary of the Lion Sermon, commemorating the life of Sir John Gayer (1584 -1649). A Cornishman who became Lord Mayor of London, he was a Governor of the East India Company and briefly imprisoned in the Tower for his Royalist sympathies. The story goes that he became separated from the caravan while travelling on a trading mission in Arabia – modern-day Syria – and was stalked by a lion. Yet the creature spared him, on account of his devout prayers and vows of charity, and his friends discovered Sir John sleeping in the desert next morning surrounded by the footprints of the lion.
I arrived in Leadenhall St to discover the porch of Katharine Kree unexpectedly occupied with bellringers, summoning the congregation, and walked around to the other entrance in Creechurch Lane. To my surprise the church was full with the curious and the devout, waiting in expectation of the Lloyds Choir and Rev Oliver Ross, who processed into the church with Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin, the preacher designated to deliver this year’s Lion Sermon.
The event would seem no more than a quaint custom celebrating a remote myth, if it were not for the presence of James Gayer – the current descendant of the Gayer lineage – who attended the service on behalf of his family and read the story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. Afterwards, James told me that he came to read every year and that it was a duty passed down through his family, undertaken by the eldest son of each generation.
Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin was formerly Vicar at the Church of Holy Trinity in Dalston where they have the Annual Clowns’ Service and has now graduated to become Chaplain at the House of Commons. Her sermon explored the notion of deliverance – as Sir John was delivered from the Lion’s clasp – and she gave us an account of her personal journey from a childhood in Montego Bay, revealing the obstacles she had overcome which shape her character today.
Just as we all began to ponder the lions that we had each overcome, metaphorically, we were brought back to the Jacobean church by an anthem of Henry Purcell performed by the Lloyds Choir which Rev Oliver Ross informed us had been composed by this greatest of English composers, inspired by a visit to St Katharine Cree and the musical possibilities of its organ of 1686.
Once the service was concluded with spirited versions of some favourite hymns and the congregation was tucking in to a hearty buffet lunch, I took the opportunity to visit Sir John Gayer, whose memorial brass is concealed behind the altar. He looked at me askance, frustrated perhaps to reside eternally in such an obscure location yet grateful to be remembered still after all these years – delivered from oblivion by a lion.
Bell ringers in the porch
The organ played by Handel and Purcell
Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin preaches the 365th Lion Sermon
Memorial brass to Sir John Gayer behind the altar
Sir John Gayer, as portrayed on his memorial brass
Thomas Bewick’s Lion
Rev Oliver Ross & Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin
Counting the collection after the service. The font is embellished with the Gayer arms
St Katharine Cree, on the corner of Leadenhall St and Creechurch Lane
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Tonight, Contributing Photographer David Hoffman opens an extraordinary exhibition, happening in four Roman Rd cafés simultaneously. You are all invited to attend the opening from 7-9pm this evening at Muxima café and you can also join David for a cafe crawl on Saturday at midday. Here is a selection to give you a flavour of this exuberant work and David introduces the show in his own words.
“I took these photographs thirty to forty years ago – they are all from the East End, mostly around Whitechapel and Spitalfields.
I was born in the East End, but my parents’ upward mobility whisked me out to suburbia and it was only in my twenties that I gravitated back to my roots. I was immediately entranced by the atmosphere of joy and dilapidation. It was the spirit of the people you see in these pictures that lifted my spirits and showed me the direction which my career has followed ever since.
These café exhibitions are my thank you to all the people who have made life in this part of London so interesting, exciting and always rewarding.” - David Hoffman
Photographs copyright © David Hoffman
David Hoffman’s Roman Rd Café Crawl is at The Roman Rd Art Café, 357 Roman Rd, The Zealand Coffee Bar, 391 Roman Rd, Vinarius, 536 Roman Rd, & Muxima, 618 Roman Rd until 27th November. Private View tonight at Muxima.
David Hoffman will be at The Roman Road Art Café on Saturday 18th October at noon, talking about his photographs, and you can join him on the Roman Rd Café Crawl.
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Let us take a brief stroll around the neighbourhood in the company of B Lambert, author of the ‘History & Survey of London’, 1806. This is the latest in my occasional series of antiquarian surveys that includes John Stow in 1598 and John Entick in 1766.
To the south of Shoreditch is Spitalfields, which derives its name from having been built upon the fields and grounds belonging to St Mary’s, Spital, which stood on the east side of Bishopsgate St. When, by revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Louis XIV compelled his Protestant subjects to fly to foreign lands, for shelter and protection, a considerable number of them sought refuge in this country – the greater part of whom settled on this spot and established here the manufacture of silk in all its branches – and the neighbourhood is still, in a great measure, peopled by their descendants.
Spitalfields was originally a hamlet belonging to the parish of St Dunstan, Stepney, but from the great increase of the inhabitants, it was, in the year 1723, made a distinct parish and the church is one of fifty ordered to be built by Act of Parliament.
This building is situated on the south side of Church St. It was begun in 1723 and finished in 1729, and, from being dedicated to our Saviour, is called Christ Church, Middlesex.
It is a very handsome edifice, built of stone with a very high steeple, in which is a fine ring of bells. The body of the church is solid and well-proportioned. It is one hundred and eleven feet in length and eighty-seven in breadth. The height of the roof is forty-one feet and that of the steeple, two hundred and thirty-four feet.
At the west end of the church is a neat brick building in which are two charity schools, the one for girls, the other for boys, erected in 1782 and supported by voluntary contributions.
A short distance to the north-west of the church is Spitalfields Market, for the sale of all sorts of provisions, but principally vegetables.
To the east from Spitalfields is Bethnal Green, which was also one of the hamlets of St Dunstan’s, from which it was separated by an Act of Parliament passed in the thirteen year of his late Majesty. The church which is dedicated to St Matthew was erected in the year 1740. It is a neat commodious edifice, built with red brick, coped and quoined with free stone.
The old mansion at the south-east corner of the Green, now called Bethnal Green House, and traditionally reported to have been the residence of the celebrated Blind Beggar, was built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, by a citizen of London, named Kirby and is called in writings belonging to it, Kirby Castle. It has long been appropriated to the reception of insane persons.
The old Roman way from London led through the hamlet and being joined by the military way from the west, they pass on together to the ferry of the River Lea at Old Ford.
At Mile End, is an hospital belonging to the corporation of Trinity House. It was found in 1695 for twenty-eight decayed or ancient seamen who have been masters or pilots of ships and for their widows, each of whom receive sixteen shillings a month, besides twenty shillings a year for coals, and a gown every other year. This is a very handsome edifice, consiting of two wings with a chapel which rises considerably higher than any other part of the building. Within the gate is a fine area covered with grass and in the centre is a statue of Captain Robert Sandys with a globe and anchor at his feet and his right hand upon a bale of goods.
In this parish is one of the most extensive charitable foundations in the kingdom. The building is situated on the south side of Whitechapel Rd and was formerly called the London Infirmary, but now the London Hospital. This excellent charity ws instituted in the year 1740 for the relief of all sick and diseased persons, particularly manufacturers, seamen in the merchants’ service and their wives and children. It was at first kept in a large house in Prescot St, Goodman’s Fields, but that being found too small, a more capacious edifice was erected in the present airy situation.
At the west end of the hospital was a considerable hillock called the Whitechapel Mount, which owed its origin to rubbish deposited there after the Fire of London. This mount has been lately removed for the purpose of forming a row of houses on the site of it.
The parish of St Mary, Whitechapel, extends as far as Goodman’s Fields and Rosemary Lane. Goodman’s Fields was actually a farm belonging to the nunnery of St Clare, or Minoresses, who gave their name to the adjoining street, called the Minories. Rosemary Lane is better known by the name of Rag Fair, from being the grand mart of the metropolis in old clothes, which however contemptible the trade may be considered is a source of immense wealth to those who embark upon it.
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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