Lost London (20 page)

The poorest convicts could expect to be housed in the Stone Hold, which one inmate of the 1720s described as; ‘a terrible stinking dark and dismal place situated underground into which no
daylight can come. It was paved with stone, the prisoners had no beds and lay on the pavement.’ Prisoners were expected to provide and cook their own food, even having to pay for the
privilege of sitting closer to the fire. For those who could afford it, drink was freely available but it is difficult to imagine the squalid misery that made up most inmates’ lives.

The majority of London’s most famous (and infamous) criminals passed through Newgate’s doors, either to be released, transported or executed. Among them were
Titus Oates (who fabricated evidence of a popish plot against the crown), Jonathan Wild (the Thief-Taker General) and the writer Daniel Defoe. Stories of daring escapes are plentiful and success
usually relied on either bribery or daring-do. None was more extraordinary than that of Jack Sheppard, a house-breaker and former carpenter whose escape from the Castle (a room high in one of the
towers) made him a working-class hero.

Sheppard was kept chained to the floor, manacled and handcuffed, but on Saturday, 10 October 1724, he managed to break his bonds, climb up the inside of a chimney, break through seven doors (one
of which hadn’t been opened for fourteen years) and scramble on to the roof. He was about to jump down to freedom when he lost his nerve as he considered the great height. With unbelievable
and brazen audacity, the prisoner returned to his cell to fetch a blanket, made his way back to the roof and used the blanket to lower himself to a nearby house, from where he made good his escape.
When he was eventually recaptured and returned to captivity, he was visited by the great and good of the day, many of whom appealed (unsuccessfully) for clemency on his behalf. Sheppard met his
death at Tyburn on Monday, 16 November 1724, in front of a vast crowd of 200,000 people and went on to be immortalized in ballads, plays and even a famous novel.

A new prison was built from 1770 to 1778 on the designs of George Dance the Younger, a reincarnation described as ‘very large, beautiful and strong’ but destined not to last long. On
the night of 5 June 1780, riots inspired by the anti-Catholic rabble-rousing of Lord George Gordon led to the prison being
stormed, its inmates being released and its buildings
burnt down. The new Newgate, completed in 1783, admitted Lord Gordon himself, who died there in 1793 of jail fever. When Tyburn was no longer used for public hangings, the spectacle continued
outside Newgate until 1868, after which time hangings were conducted inside the prison. The jail was finally demolished in 1902.

Clerkenwell

T
HE PROBLEMS ASSOCIATED WITH HOW BEST
to supply fresh water to the capital had been a matter of concern from as early as the 13th century.

Then a scheme began bringing water from Tyburn in 3000 yards of lead piping to a conduit at Cheapside. However, by the late Elizabethan period the situation had reached crisis
point and it was suggested that a stream from Hertfordshire, or thereabouts, should be diverted.

Two Acts of Parliament were passed to allow the project to go ahead but it wasn’t until King James
I
’s jeweller, Hugh Myddleton, took charge of affairs that
work started in earnest. Digging of a channel from Amwell and Chadwell in Hertforshire was finished in 1613 and the 38-mile cutting was officially opened on 29 September that year. The project had
only been possible thanks to a secret cash injection from
James
I
, who remained a sleeping partner.

The path of the New River became a popular destination for holidaying Londoners over the next 200 years and proved a delight for anglers and lovers alike. The water’s slow flow meant that
it was prone to the ‘development of lower forms of animal and vegetable life’, so filtration beds were opened in Stoke Newington in 1852. However, the watercourse gradually became
covered over and built upon so that by 1900 it had all but disappeared from view above ground. Direct flow to New River Head ended in 1946 and today the river ends in Stoke Newington.

New River House, the former headquarters of the Metropolitan Water Board, now marks the spot where fresh water once flowed. The surrounding streets bear testimony to its history; River Street,
Amwell Street and Myddleton Square. The pub on Amwell Street was named The Fountain, though in recent years it has sadly been rebranded.

Its greatest moment came nine days after it opened, when newspapers advertised special trains to the Epsom Derby and 5000 passengers turned up to catch them.

However, the station was inconveniently situated away from other central transport hubs and struggled for popularity. It was closed to passengers in 1848 when Waterloo
Bridge Station (the ‘Bridge’ was subsequently dropped) opened. Nine Elms, meanwhile, was converted to a shunting and goods yard. It was bombed in 1941 and demolished in the 1960s, with
the flower section of New Covent Garden Market now standing where it used to be.

London Bridge

T
HIS WAS POSSIBLY THE WORLD
’
S FIRST
prefabricated building, having been designed and manufactured in Holland.

The four-storey wooden structure was shipped to London and erected on London Bridge, quickly becoming one of the best-known sights in the city. The name Nonsuch is a clear
allusion to its unique status – no such other being known of – and may also have been a reference to Henry
VIII
’s palace built on the outskirts of London
in 1538.

Completed in 1578, Nonsuch House stood over the edifice’s seventh and eighth arches from the Southwark side, completely straddling the bridge. No nails were used in its construction but
wooden pegs held the structure together instead. With elaborate Dutch stepped gables that overhung
both sides of the bridge, the building was covered in ornate carved
decorations and had square towers at each corner sporting onion domes, making it visible from all over the city. A sundial on the house’s south side bore the legend: ‘Time and tide stay
for no man.’

Houndsditch

F
OR MANY YEARS THE
R
AG
F
AIR
,
AT WHICH SECOND
-hand clothing was bought and sold,
was held in the environs of Petticoat Lane. So frantic could trading become that the market gained a reputation for rowdiness, with brawls a commonplace sight.

In
London Labour and the London Poor
, Henry Mayhew demonstrates typical prejudices of the time by blaming the Irish, who made up a large proportion of the buyers, and
the Jews, who he said controlled the trade. He wrote: ‘The passion of the Irish often drove them to resort to cuffs, kicks and blows, which the Jews, although with a better command over their
tempers, were not slack in returning.’ Often upwards of 200 police constables were needed to keep the peace.

The trade was eventually regularized by the opening of the Old Clothes Exchange in Phil’s Building, Houndsditch, in 1843. Most of the garments were sold by weight to traders
from Dublin, although there were dealers from as far afield as Scotland, Holland and Belgium, as well as other English cities. A small charge was levied on anyone who entered the
Exchange and was collected by former prize fighters who acted as bouncers. The brisk trade generated a turnover of some £1500 a week.

Covent Garden

O
NE OF THE MOST FAMOUS
G
EORGIAN COFFEE
houses, Old Slaughter’s, opened at Nos 74–75 St Martin’s Lane in 1692.
It was named after its original proprietor, Thomas Slaughter, who died in 1740.

Like other coffee houses of the era, it attracted a particular clientele, which in this case was an artistic crowd who wished to talk and discuss business without the
distractions of the tavern. The exclusion of women meant that, unlike the pubs of the day, gentlemen could chat without being bothered by prostitutes, or, as suited the more misogynistic visitor,
women in general. Earnest discussion was the order of the day, with the Irish writer, Oliver Goldsmith, noting: ‘If a man be passionate he may vent his rage among the old orators at
Slaughter’s Chop house and damn the nation because it keeps him from starving.’

Many artists and artisans who lived and worked in
Covent Garden used the premises as an office, often receiving mail here, some of which correspondence makes it possible to
draw up an impressive list of some of Old Slaughter’s many talented visitors. William Hogarth and Thomas Gainsborough were both regulars, as were the painters William Kent, Thomas Hudson and
Francis Hayman, the engraver Hubert Gravelot, the sculptor Francois Roubilliac, medalist Richard Yeo, and the architects James Payne, Robert Adam and Isaac Ware.