In a City Courtyard…

Guy Fairbank | 14th September 2023 | Arts

200 miles north of London, near the cathedral city of Ripon, lies Newby Hall. It’s a handsome house, originally built by Sir Christopher Wren and enlarged and improved by John Carr of York and Robert Adam. It was once owned by the Weddell family, and later became the home of the Marquesses of Ripon. Today it’s owned by the Compton family, who are descendants of the family and who have maintained its beautiful gardens. They’ve even installed a miniature railway (and Gyles Brandreth’s collection of teddy bears). Walk around the extensive grounds and aside from the herbaceous borders, an enchanting rock garden and the gentle River Ure, you’ll find a weatherbeaten equestrian statue and a rusty old door, leading nowhere. Look at them more closely and you’ll discover they both have City of London connections. The man on the horse looks quite the worse for wear, but when you learn of his history, you can understand. He’s travelled all the way from Livorno in Italy, once known as Leghorn. Originally the figure represented John III Sobieski, King of Poland from 1674 to 1696. He was a notable soldier, who most famously led the army that defeated the Turks at the Battle of Vienna in 1683. The city had been besieged for two months, until the combined armies of the Holy Roman Empire and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, under the command of Sobieski, broke the siege and scattered the Ottoman forces. The Pope saw Sobieski as the saviour of Western European civilisation, which explains the original erection of his statue in Italy.   The statue is made from Carrara marble, while the reins are made from bronze. It stands on an ashlar plinth, which was added later.  Looking majestic, the Polish king is seen holding the reins, staff in hand, as the horse tramples on the cowering figure of a Turk, his left hand raised to protect him - except the figures are no longer of a Pole and a Turk. Instead, they were changed to represent Charles II and Oliver Cromwell. How they were changed and how they landed up in North Yorkshire is a fascinating story.  In 1675 Sir Robert Vyner, Lord Mayor of London purchased the statue and brought it to London. An ardent royalist, he employed a sculpture to refashion the figures as Charles II and the hated Cromwell and had it erected in the City, by the Stocks Market. When the site was cleared to build the Mansion House the statue was moved to the Vyner estate in Lincolnshire, then Newby Park in 1883, when Henry Vyner married Lady Mary Robinson of Newby Hall. But there was more to Vyner than loyalty to the Crown, for he was also a goldsmith. It was he who was responsible for making the new Orb and the Crown of St Edward, which were used for the king’s coronation in 1661 - and for the crowning of King Charles III in May.   The antique door has an equally intriguing history, for it once hung in Newgate Gaol. Legend goes that it was through this door that serial jailbreaker Jack Sheppard once escaped, on the 30th August 1724. Born in Stepney in 1702, Jack trained as a carpenter but gave up the life of a craftsman for the life of thievery and fame. His numerous escapes from prison, notably from Newgate Gaol’s infamous “Castle” cell, made him a local hero. Sir James Thornhill even made a visit to sketch young Jack. In July 1724, Sheppard was arrested yet again for theft, led off to the Old Bailey and sentenced to be hanged. But all was not lost, for Jack was then visited by a couple of his accomplices - his girlfriend Bess Lyon and another female, Poll Maggott. As Bess and Poll distracted the guards, Jack managed to loosen an iron bar in a window, climb through the grille and change into some women’s clothes that Bess had brought along. He was then smuggled out, under the noses of the turnkeys. However, in November 1724 Jack’s luck finally ran out and he was sentenced to be hanged for robbery. More than 200,000 Londoners lined the streets to watch an open cart take Jack to Tyburn. ...

Guy Fairbank | 29th May 2022 | History

The Grapes, Lime Street  As you turn right out of Mansion House Station and walk down Garlick Hill, look up to your left and you’ll see two Vintners’ plaques positioned high up on a redbrick building. The property is no longer in the Company’s possession but it reminds us that across the centuries, throughout the City, several addresses were acquired by the Vintners’ Company.  Despite a change of ownership, and indeed in most cases a complete rebuild, you can still find clear signs of our previous extensive involvement in real estate.    Just to the east of Leadenhall Market is Lime Street, a curving street that leads up to the Lloyds building.  Above the appropriately named Grapes pub there’s the Vintners’ coat of arms and motto. Our interest in the property dates back to the reign of Edward VI, when in 1550 a Christopher Barker bequeathed the property to the Company in his will. We no longer have his will but the London Metropolitan Archives (LMA) hold the deeds from 1423. The latest is dated to 1939 so it appears we held onto the property for nearly 400 years, along with numbers 13 and 14 next door.  When in Lime Street, also look out for a plaque to the Pewterers’ Company on the corner: a reminder that their hall once stood here, before a careless cook caused a catastrophic fire.   The next marker is a little harder to find but it’s well worth the effort. North of the church of St Vedast Alias Foster lies Fountain Court: look for a narrow passageway off Foster Lane. Around this charming little garden you’ll find a sculptured head of former vicar Canon Charles Mortlock by Jacob Epstein, a section of Roman tessellated pavement found beneath the demolished church of St Matthew Friday Street, and an Assyrian brick, from the excavations on the Ziggurat of Kalhu (modern day Nimrud). It was given by archaeologist and parishioner Max Mallowan, husband of Agatha Christie, in the 1950s. In the corner is also a lead plaque with the recognisable three tuns and chevron, dated 1711. Records in Guildhall Library show that the Vintners bought what became Nos. 3 and 4 Foster Lane in 1548 and didn’t sell the two properties until after 1945, when the site became the vicarage for St Vedast.     South of St Paul’s runs the delightful Carter Lane, which was once an important artery of the City. Its history goes back to the twelfth century, when it was known as Shoemakers’ Row. Its present name probably refers to its later use as a handy route for deliveries. To the left of Cobb’s Court look up at the Victorian building, with its attractive palmette columns, and you’ll see the Vintners’ arms with a decorative ‘RR’ below, with further one to the left, with a date below of 1880. While those initials are a mystery, deeds in the LMA record show we had interest in this site and other properties in and around Cobb’s Court from the 1550s until about 1870. These were listed as being in the parish of St Ann’s Blackfriars, which was destroyed in the Great Fire. The churchyard still exists, along with a fragment of Blackfriars Monastery. From 1878 until 1913 we also owned the nearby St Ann’s Tavern, which was previously listed as a coffee house, but has long since gone.   Samuel Pepys might not have been enamoured of Master Vintner Thomas Bludworth (‘A silly man, I think’ he memorably observed in his diary) but his birthplace has a connection to the Company. Pepys was born in 1633 in Salisbury Court, a side street off Fleet Street, where his father was a tailor. Its name comes from the Bishops of Salisbury, who once had a substantial mansion here. In 1822 it was where The Sunday Times began. On the west side is a handsome Queen Anne-style office, with oriel windows and fine brickwork decoration, which incorporates the familiar three casks and a chevron. Surveyor papers report that in 1827 and 1828 the properties were in such poor condition that orders for necessary repairs were issued (and ...

Guy Fairbank | 05th April 2022 | Literature

Emery Walker House   During the First World War, if you’d been walking across Hammersmith Bridge at night you might have spotted a shifty looking gentleman surreptitiously throwing bits of metal off the bridge and into the River Thames. This mysterious dumper was a disgruntled bookbinder by the name of Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson, who died 100 years ago this year. As for the metal, they were his collection of Doves Type, a beautifully designed font created with his partner Emery Walker.   In the last years of the 19th century Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson (1840-1922) decided to abandon his life as a barrister and become a bookbinder.  With his wife he set up the Doves Press at 1 Hammersmith Terrace, which they named after their local pub, the historic Dove. In 1900 he went into partnership with an engraver Emery Walker (1851-1933) and for the next few years created some of the most beautifully printed Arts and Crafts books.   Inspired by 15th century Italian Renaissance books they designed a special Doves Press. They carved the punches by hand and only used one size - 16pt, in upper and lower case and no italics. Each book was beautifully produced and of the finest quality. They didn’t include illustrations; instead they used large wood-engraved capital letters. Their Doves Bible was a notable example of their craftsmanship.   But their partnership did not last. Cobden-Sanderson became difficult to work with and their business arrangement was dissolved. It was agreed that Cobden-Sanderson would retain the exclusive rights as the older man, then on his death they would pass to Walker. Nonetheless, after the press closed in 1916, Cobden-Sanderson noted in his diary that he had ‘bequeathed’ the type to the bed of the River Thames.   In fact he didn’t want the type falling into his ex-partner’s hands. Over several months, from August 1916 to January 1917, punches, frames and type were carefully disposed of in the river. All was carefully planned: he waited until any vehicle passed along the bridge or a boat under the bridge.  The only pieces of Doves Type to remain was Walker’s. But that wasn’t the last bit of Cobden-Sanderson to go into the river. In 1928 he and his wife’s ashes were washed away in a great flood.    But that’s not the end of the story.  A few years ago designer Robert Green, along with some professional divers, managed to retrieve some 150 pieces from the river. You can see them in the nearby Emery Walker’s House, at 7 Hammersmith Terrace, which is now a museum.  ...

Guy Fairbank | 22nd January 2022 | Blogging

As we celebrate The Queen’s 70 years on the throne I’ve had a look at other royal connections to my nearby borough of Hammersmith.  As you emerge from Stamford Brook Underground station, to the left once stood the Queen Charlotte Maternity Hospital, named after the consort of George III, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1744-1818). It’s now in East Acton but when it was in W6, in 1945 Helen Mirren was born there. Appropriately she played Queen Charlotte in the film The Madness of King George. Further east, on the site of the present-day Latimer Prep School once stood Rivercourt House. For 4 years, between 1687 and 1691, it was the home of Charles II’s widow Catharine of Braganza (1638-1705). This Portuguese-born princess married the merry monarch in 1662. With the marriage dowry came the ports of Bombay (modern day Mumbai) and Tangier, as well as important trading benefits. She was never very popular despite the king’s many infidelities because she remained a strict yet discreet catholic. Charles II did do his duty - Catharine suffered three miscarriages - and though there was discussions about a divorce Charles supported his queen as best she could. Catharine made the drinking of tea fashionable, for which every Briton must raise a teacup too, as well as having an interest in porcelain and lacquerware. In 1691 she left for her home country, never to return. Further along the river you’ll come to Distillery Wharf, once the site of the Haig whisky distillery. Before that it was the site of Brandenburgh House and the home of the Margrave of Brandenburgh-Anspach and Bayreuth. This grandly-titled German noble let his house out to the estranged wife of George IV, Caroline of Brunswick (1768-1821). George and Caroline had a disastrous marriage, from day one. He took an instant dislike to her, demanding a large brandy from his servant. Caroline had made no effort in making her appearance look good: it was commented that she had ‘not properly attended to her toilette de propreté’, that is to say, washed. When the wedding took place the groom was famously drunk and spent most of the wedding night passed out. Nevertheless Caroline conceived within 3 weeks and in 1796 their daughter Charlotte was born. Tragedy was to strike when she later died giving birth to a stillborn son. Caroline was vulgar and tactless but proved popular with her subjects, who loathed their obese, spoilt and vain monarch. When George IV was crowned at Westminster Abbey in the most lavish coronation ever Caroline was banned from attending. George tried to introduce a ‘Pains and Penalties’ bill through Parliament in an effort to divorce her but it failed. She was certainly no angel;  rumours spread about her numerous love affairs, including with her secretary Bartolomeo Pergami.  By this time Caroline was living in Hammersmith, and it was here in 1821 that she died. The funeral procession started from Brandenburgh House and was to proceed to Harwich, where her body was to be taken to Brunswick. The authorities tried to have to route avoid central London but a riot ensued, in which two tradesmen were killed. Enough money was raised to bury them with dignity in nearby St Paul’s Church, Hammersmith, where the headstone remains.  As for a link to our present Queen, in 1979 she and Prince Philip opened the newly rebuilt Lyric Theatre. They unveiled a plaque then attended a performance of Bernard Shaw’s You Never Can Tell’. ...