Unofficial London - A Very Public Convenience.

 

Where did the expression, 'to spend a penny', come from?

What has 'bumf' to do with toilet paper?

What is the origin of the word, 'sewer'?'

 Exiting Bank tube station, you emerge from into the daylight within sight of two of London's grandest landmarks: The Bank of England and the Royal Exchange. Both are immense and breathtaking, and are also associated with some most unusual history. Today's blog post takes inspiration from the Royal Exchange and its lavatorial connections.

The Royal Exchange.

 Did you know that the first public conveniences to charge were sited beneath the Royal Exchange? The fee was one penny - hence the euphemism: "To spend a penny."  Use of the urinals was free, but a stall-door was unlocked by a coin-operated locking mechanism designed by magician and illusionist, John Nevil Maskelyne.

Illusionist John Maskelyne - who designed the coin-activated
lock on toilet doors.

However, the subject of alerting people to the location of 'public waiting rooms' (another euphemism!) for gentleman was considering so uncomfortable, that it was unthinkable to advertise a 'ladies'. It wasn’t until many years later that the first 'ladies' sign appeared on London streets.

Public conveniences had been around for centuries before this. Perhaps the most well known medieval example was the 'House of Easement' or 'Long House'. This boasted 128 seats in two rows (one for men, the other for women) and was erected by the Mayor of London, Richard Whittington (of pantomime cat fame) in 1419. Use of the toilets was free but no toilet paper was provided. Boys patrolled up and down the ranks of toilets selling torn up pamphlets or 'bum fodder' and it is from this that the word 'bumpf' originates.

Richard Whittington - the 'cat' in the engraving, was first
drawn as a skull - but because of Dick's popular association with
his cat the artist changed it - hence the slightly odd shape!

This 'House of Easement' had the simplest flushing system of all - the tide! Built over the banks of the Thames, the tidal river swept the refuse away out to sea, the journey from riverbank to open water taking between three and eleven weeks. In fact, the word 'sewer' is derived from the 'seaward' i.e. taking the excrement to the sea!

Thomas Crapper.

The 'public necessaries' beneath the Royal Exchange were built in 1854 in response to a Public Health Act. The man responsible for their design, George Jennings, declared:

"The civilisation of a people can be measured by their domestic and sanitary appliances."

Jennings publically crusading for more public toilets which he called 'halting stations.'

A pioneer of water closet construction, his rival was the perhaps more well-known Thomas Crapper, whose name has long since become synonymous lavatories. Indeed, at this time there were thousands of Victorian toilet patents, of which Crapper held just nine. But it was Jennings who installed a splendid gentlemen's lavatory system in John Wesley's Methodist chapel.

Widget is a big fan of cleanliness - and regularly checks
standards are being maintained.

In one of his famous sermons, Wesley exhorted the congregation that:
"Cleanliness is indeed next to Godliness,"
Which must have been music to Jennings ears as he designed ceramic urinals with a helpful bull's eye target, hand basins dressed with marble and wooden cubicles not unlike confessional boxes? The porcelain handles on the pull chain were adored with the helpful instruction, 'pull and let go', perhaps an exhortation to cleanse the soul as well as the body.

Unofficial London - Going Underground.

 

How did the London Underground get nicknamed 'The Tube'?

Why did the underground frighten horses?
What is the origin of the announcement: "Mind the gap"?

 In this, the third post on my exploration of the area around Bank station, London, I focus on some startling facts about the history of the underground.

 

 

Mind the Gap.
My day out in London started at Bank tube station. What surprised me as I emerged up onto street level was the amazing historic buildings within sight of the station: The Bank of England, The Royal Exchange and the Mansion House. Apparently the Victorian engineers were also overawed, and afraid of being sued by wealthy property owners if their tunnels caused subsidence.

The Bank of England -
neighbouring Bank Tube station.

Their solution was the divert the route of the tunnels to avoid going directly beneath these important buildings. This meant around Bank, there are some of the sharpest bends in the tube network, and some speculate that one particular sharp turn was to avoid tunnelling through the Bank of England's vaults. All this meant that long curved platforms were necessary, which led to substantial gaps in places between platform and carriages. It is because of this that often repeated public announcement, "Mind the gap" first came into being.

The Royal Exchange - across the road from Bank tube station.

Bringing the House down.
Work on the tube network began in 1860 and the stretch of the Metropolitan line between Paddington and Farringdon, was opened on 9 January 1863 to become the world's first underground railway.
To minimise costs and because no one had ever undertaken such a thing before, the initial method of construction was to dig a deep trench, lay down the track, then build a brick arch over it to form a tunnel and then cover everything over. This worked well when the proposed route lay parallel to road, but between Paddington and Bayswater, houses were orientated the wrong way, at ninety degrees to the direction of the track. In addition, on Leinster Gardens, two grand houses stood in the path of excavations.

Leinster Gardens - the fake facade is behind the silver car -
note the blocked out ground floor windows.

The solution was to demolish the houses to allow excavation of the tunnel, then rebuild the facades to conceal the hole behind, which as left open, to allow the train drivers to vent their engines steam - much to the alarm of horses passing by on the road.

Leinster Gardens from the air (courtesy of Bing maps)
Note the fake facade and tube lines beyond.

Because the system was built as cheaply as possible, rather than design new locomotives, pre-existing steam engines were used. Of course, the underground tunnels soon filled with thick coal smoke, as The Times commented:

"A journey from King's Cross to Baker Street is a form of torture which no person would undergo if he could conveniently help it."

In counter-attack the underground's marketing people quickly came up with a story that the smoky atmosphere was actually beneficial to asthmatics! But this propaganda didn't convince the train drivers who grew thick beards to try and filter out the soot. Eventually, common sense prevailed and the engines were modified so the exhaust could be collected and vented in a big blast when the trains passed close to the surface.

The Tower subway carriage of 'Tube'-
Claustrophobic, hot, gloomy and smelly.

The Tube under the Thames.

In 1870 the first deep level stretch of the underground was dug between Tower Hill and Tooley Street and passed under the Thames. Because there was no way to ventilate the tunnel as it ran under the river, and so rather than use steam engines, a special windowless carriage was developed, hauled through this section by a cable. This became known as 'The Tube' - a name which stuck for the rest of the network.
The section of the network was, by all accounts, not a good place for a claustrophobe to visit as recorded by Charles Dickens, jr:

"..there is not much head-room left, and it is not advisable for any but the very briefest of Her Majesty's lieges to attempt the passage in high-heeled boots, or with a hat to which he attaches any particular value."

Traversing this section sounds deeply unpleasant: the tube was hot, humid, the cable mechanism very noisy, the travelling compartment windowless with gloomy gas-lights and to top it all - the carriage frequently got jammed in a dip in the middle of the route. After just three months the train was scrapped and the tunnel converted to pedestrian use.

 I went down and down between two dingy walls until I found myself at the round opening of the gigantic iron tube, which seems to undulate like a great intestine in the enormous belly of the river.

Contemporary account by Edmondo De Amicis.


Statue of J H Greathead, near Bank station.

The Second Tunnel under the Thames.
James Henry Greathead along with another engineer, Peter Barlow, developed a device that successfully drilled much larger bore tunnels. Their device consisted of an iron cylinder, just over 7 ft in diameter, fitted with screw jacks that allowed it to be inched forward. As the labourers excavated beneath the safety of the shield, so the device was advanced and a permanent lining of cast iron segments fitted in place behind them. Over time Greathead refined the device to include the use of compressed air and hydraulic jacks, which are now standard features of tunnel construction.

Widget says: "Does this lead to a tunnel - and are there
cat biscuits at the end of it?"
 

And finally, a Victorian wonder the underground system may have been, but sometimes it seems as though it's still stuck in Victorian times - with the heat, congestion and general state of decay. What are your impressions of the underground: a system to be proud of or something to be tolerated?

 

Unofficial London - At 6's and 7's.

 

What is the origin of the expression, "At sixes and sevens" - an idiom meaning a state of confusion or disarray?

It wasn’t something I had thought about until a recent trip to the environs of Bank tube station, London. My meanderings led me to the Guildhall Art Gallery and an exhibition, "Butcher, Baker and Candlestick Maker", about the 850 year history of Livery Companies. But the inspiration for this post came later when I mentioned my visit to a fellow vet, as we removed a diseased spleen from a 50 kg German Shepherd! (*1)

The Guildhall Art Gallery, London.

Livery companies date back to medieval times as a means of controlling quality, price, wages and working conditions. From the Saxon word "gegildan", meaning to pay, guilds were set up to regulate standards. Groups, or guilds of like-minded men and women (*2) met together, often in churches, and made it their business to care for the orphans and widows of their members; hence the long tradition of charitable activity. The monarch of the day also became involved, granting Royal Charters to Livery Companies (as a means of raising money for the treasury!). By the early 16th century 48 such Livery Companies existed.

Clothworkers Hall - Dinner 1856

Many guilds had their headquarters in large houses or halls, often bequeathed by wealthy members. The halls were lavishly decorated, but sadly most were destroyed in the Fire of London, 1666. Indeed, the Guildhall built around 1411, was the only secular stone building to survive the great fire.

So what has this to do with "At 6's and 7's"?

Of the 48 guilds, a list of precedence was drawn up, based on wealth and political power. Competition to be high on the list was fierce.

The Great Twelve Livery Companies.

#1        Mercers

#2        Grocers
#3        Drapers
#4        Fishmongers
#5        Goldsmiths
#6        Merchant Taylors
#7        Skinners
#8        Haberdashers
#9        Salters
#10      Ironmongers
#11      Vintners
#12      Clothworkers.

The Skinners - Coat of Arms.

 In the middle ages, the Lord Mayor of London held an annual parade on the Thames, during which the guilds sailed past on barges [incidentally, this is where 'float'  originates. The barges 'floated' past and the term became associated with processions.] However, events came to a head when rivalry between the Merchants Taylors and the Skinners erupted over which of them had the honour sixth place. They treated the Lord Mayor's parade as private boat race, fighting broke between the two barges and lives were lost. It took nearly a century for a compromise to be reached, when in 1484 the Mayor, Robert Billesdon, proposed that Merchant Taylors and Skinners should alternate sixth and seventh place, swapping over each Easter.

Merchant Taylors - Coat of Arms.

It is possible that the expression, 'at sixes and sevens' predates this - in 1380 Geoffrey Chaucer mentions, "to set the world on six and seven," in Troilus and Criseyde. He uses it in this context to mean "to risk ones life" or "to hazard the world." However it seems likely that the Merchant Taylors/ Skinners dispute confirmed the idiom in the English language.

Merchant Taylors hall, Threadneedle Street.

(*1) My colleague mentioned he went to Merchant Taylors school, Northwood. He recounted the dispute between the Taylors and Skinners, and how lives were lost on the Thames - and this whetted my appetite to find out more!

(*2) Most companies originally admitted women to their ranks, but this was stopped around 1800.

Queen Margarete of Anjou, wife of King Henry VI, is entered in the roll of the fraternity of Our Lady under date XV year of King Edward IV (A.D. 1475)

Unofficial London - What's In a Name?

Author's own photo.

 One sunny day I decided to investigate the history within walking distance of London's, Bank tube station - and after the initially eye-catching buildings such as the Bank of England and Royal Exchange... next to strike me were the street names.

Heading out of Bank station towards St Pauls Cathedral, I walked along Cheapside, passing side roads with names such at Bread Street, Honey Lane and Ironmonger Lane.

 

 

Cheapside.
Cheapside was established in 1104, following the path of a Roman road. In medieval times the word 'Cheap' meant, market, and as the widest road in the city, it was a popular trading place. The roads leading off it were named for the produce they sold, hence Milk Street, Poultry et.c

 

Modern Cheapside (Saturday 22 September 2012)

Because Cheapside was regularly thronged with people, it was also prime site for a pillory - or place to publicly humiliate those who had broken the law. The offender was fastened into the pillory by their neck and wrists, on a platform so everyone had a good view. [Stocks were subtly different, the villain being fastened only by their ankles.] The crowd then pelted the wrong-doer with anything that came to hand, from rotten eggs and vegetables, to blood and guts from the nearby slaughterhouses. Concerns about public disorder meant the pillory was abolished as a punishment in 1837.

My sons in the pillory! Warwick Castle 2002.

Bread Street
Bread Street got its name when in 1302, a decree was passed that bread must not be sold door to door, but in an open market. The bakers principle market was established here and hence lent its name to the street.

Bread Steet - now home to a Gordon Ramsay restaurant
and a branch of Gap.

The poet, John Milton, author of Paradise Lost and described as "the greatest British writer", was born here. Also, the commander of the First Fleet, founder and first Governor of Australia, Admiral Arthur Phillip was baptised in All Hallows Church, Bread Street in 1738.

Admiral Arthur Phillip.

By happy coincidence, I am currently reading "The Gilded Lily" by Deborah Swift and the central characters live in Bread Street for a while. It feels such a lovely connection to history to have such believable characters treading through snow, bringing the area to life.

Sherborne Lane.

And finally, although London streets were named for the trade that took place there, sometimes this backfired. 'Sherborne Lane' - quaint as it sounds, conjuring images of clear running water, (named from the Dorset town Sherborne, which itself was derived from the Saxon word for 'clear stream') was actually a cover up, created by the 17th century Protestants to hide a much cruder descriptive name.

In medieval times an open sewer, rather than a stream, ran down the middle of the road, hence the much more colourful, "Shitteborne Lane." However this wasn’t the only street named after human refuse; the nearby Cloak Lane derived its origins from the Roman word for a sewer, cloaca.



Sherborne Lane in the modern day - nice and clean.

 So when have you been surprised by the things around you or read a book with a setting familiar to you? Do leave a comment.

Kensington Palace - At Home With The King.

Kensington Palace and grounds - in its 18th century heyday.

The surprising thing about Kensington Palace is its sense of intimacy. In last week's post I mentioned the Grand Staircase which is awe-inspiring but because of the cheeky, boldness of the Georgian mural, rather than its scale. At the top of the stairs, you turn right to enter the King's Presence Chamber - similar in size to a modern sitting room - rather than some huge, palatial chamber. However, this is where the comparison ends because the decoration is gorgeous and gaudy, leaving the visitor in no doubt they are in entering into a royal presence.

The gilded chair on which the King sat to recieve courtiers.
This one belonged to George II's son, Frederick.

 But then the palace plays a trick - the deeper in you go the larger and grander the rooms become. In the Georgian court you either had to be a person of great importance, or else afford ever increasing bribes, to progress further.

The room that most took my breath away was the Cupola room. It is overwhelmingly opulent with its fantastically painted ceiling with the Star of the Order of the Garter as the centre piece. The décor was designed by William Kent (see last week's post) and his first commission for George I.

The ceiling in the Cupola Room
(Thank you KP for allowing photos, but alas not flash photography.)

Kent was a controversial choice because his art was different - and in time came to set the tone for the Georgian era. His greatest rival, Sir James Thornhill was most put out that Kent won the job and his friends tried to undermine the young artist by casting aspersions on the quality of his work. They accused Kent of cutting costs by using inferior quality paint, especially when it came to the gilding - modern tests proved their claims to be false.

The Cupola Room - it was here Victoria was baptised.

It was in the Cupola Room that the future Queen Victoria was baptised. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Kent, were joined by the Prince Regent (later King George IV). It was George who decided the baby's name: Alexandrina (after the Russian Tsar) Victoria (after her mother).

Statue of Victoria in her coronation robes, in front of Kensington Palace.
Victoria was born at the palace.

As the size of the rooms increases, so they become less personal. Although a grand chamber, the King's Gallery lacks a human feel, although many events of historical importance took place here. Today the gallery is hung with red damask, which in 1725 replaced the original green velvet.

 

The King's Gallery, as it is today.

The first monarch to use the gallery was William III - he received his spies and planned military campaigns here. He even had a wind dial linked to the room so he could see if the winds were set fair for an invasion fleet to cross the English Channel. He held his 50th birthday party here…and it was also said to be the room where he caught the chill that eventually killed him.

The statue of William III outside Kensington Palace.

George I filled the gallery with fabulous paintings, of which the most famous are Tintoretto's "The Muses" and "Ester before Ahasuerus" and Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I. When King George inspected the room shortly after its completion he was said to be 'well pleased.'

 

The fireplace in the King's Gallery.

The future Queen Victoria was born at Kensington Palace and as she grew into a young lady evidently she needed more space. Her mother's solution was to divide the king's gallery into three. The alteration caused consternation but Victoria records her delight in her journal:

"…three lofty, fine cheerful rooms. One...is my sitting room and very prettily furnished indeed."

Later in the 19th century the room was restored to its previous design.

 

Widget says "A palace isn't a home without a cat...or five."

Kensington Palace - Hotbed of Gossip.

The King's Grand Staircase - all images on the walls are paint effects.
Painted by William Kent 1726 and still stunningly modern.

Inspired by Lucy Worsley's book, "Courtiers- the Secret History of the Georgian Court", my appetite was whetted to visit Kensington Palace. In particular, I wanted to see the King's Grand Staircase with its cheeky portraits of Georgian courtiers captured in a strikingly modern poses.

 

Lucy Worsley's captivating book
about the intrigue in the Georgian Court.

The sweeping mural that lines the staircase shows a snapshot of the royal household from Peter the Wild-Boy to the King's mistress, from Mohammed (the King's advisor) to the artist William Kent who painted the scene. To enter the hall and walk up the staircase, is spell-binding and I couldn't help but stop and stare in wonder. A vibrancy and sense of life oozes from the walls such that you can hear the scuttle of silk slippers and gossip whispered behind hands.

A better view of the Grand Staircase (portrait mural to the left
and at the head of the stairs.)

There is a sense of fun, playfulness and intrigue about these portraits that must have caused huge a stir at the time. Added to that, I imagine being an outsider visiting George I, and seeing portraits of plotting courtiers, must have been terribly intimidating.

The Grand Staircase photographed around 1870, during Victoria's reign.
Victoria was born at Kensington palace and it was here that she
learnt of her acsession to the throne.
 

Kensington Palace has undergone several reincarnations. In the 1600's it started out as a modest mansion, Nottingham House, in what was a rural landscape near London. When William III wanted a country retreat from the pressures of Whitehall, he found this the ideal solution, bought the property for 20,000 pounds and employed Christopher Wren to redesign it.

Queen Victoria in her coronation robes - set in front of Kensington Palace.
The princess was living here when she learnt of her ascession to the throne.

Decades came and went and William's Kensington Palace fell into disuse until George I arrived from Germany. Even though the building was by now neglected in poor repair, the new king declared "I like it very much" and set about a raft of renovation and remodelling. The most stunning of these innovations was employing the controversial, up-and-coming artist, William Kent.

One of the trompe l'oiel paint effects on the staircase.
Apologies for the under exposure.

 My reaction on seeing Kent's staircase mural was bewilderment. I was confused. The fresco style and trompe l'eoil effects so fresh and flirtatious that I thought I'd wandered into a modern interpretation of Kent's work. But no, these playful visual effects are the real thing! [Sadly, I have found no copyright free images to show you. All power to Kensington Palace for allowing photography, albeit without flash, so please excuse the underexposed photos from my pocket camera - but I wanted to give you a flavour of what I saw.]

A pitiful photograph (by me!) of a wonderful paint effect - and this
isnt even the main event (which are the courtiers - sadly too dark to photograph)

If ever you have the opportunity to visit Kensington Palace, I can highly recommend it - worthwhile for the staircase alone! Kensington Palace has so many extraordinary stories of royalty and intrigue to tell - more of this in future posts when some of the gossip and scandal is revealed!

William III, Kensington Palace.