by Rule, Fiona
While building work around the Spital Field continued, the area welcomed its first extensive influx of immigrants. During the 1580s, Dutch weavers, fleeing religious troubles in their homeland, arrived in the capital. Looking for a suitable place to live and carry out their business, they were immediately attracted to the new developments around the Spital Field. The area provided ample space to live and work, and was sufficiently close to the city for them to trade there. Thus, the area received the first members of a profession that was to dominate the area for centuries to come: weaving.
In 1585, as the Dutch weavers were moving into their new homes, Britain faced a threat of invasion from Spain. Queen Elizabeth I hastily issued a new charter for the old Artillery Ground and merchants and citizens from the city travelled up Bishoppes Gate Street to be trained in the use of weaponry and how to command common soldiers. Their training was exemplary and produced commanders of such high calibre, that when troops mustered at Tilbury in 1588, many of their captains were chosen from the Artillery Ground recruits. They were known as the Captains of the Artillery Garden. The training centre at the Artillery Ground was so efficient that it continued to be used by soldiers from the Tower of London as well as local citizens long after the Spanish threat passed.
As fate would have it, the Spanish threat of invasion inadvertently introduced the area around the Artillery Garden to a new wave of city dweller with the means to purchase a country retreat. By 1594, the entire site that had previously been occupied by the priory and hospital was redeveloped and, as Stow noted, it contained ‘many fair houses, builded for the receipt and lodging of worshipful and honourable men’. This influx of new residents, combined with the constant presence of builders, allowed inns and public houses to flourish. The Red Lion Inn stood on the corner of the Spital Field and proved to be a popular meeting place as it was considered the halfway house on the route from Stepney to Islington. In 1616, the celebrated herbalist and astrologer Nicholas Culpeper was born in this inn. While a young man growing up in rural surroundings, Culpeper developed a fascination with the healing properties of plants and flowers and, after studying at Cambridge and receiving training with an apothecary in Bishopsgate, he became an astrologer and physician. He also wrote and translated several books, the most famous being The Complete Herbal, published in 1649.
While Nicholas Culpeper was enjoying his youthful love affair with nature, businesses around the Spital Field were gradually evolving from small, individual enterprises into organised companies. One skill much in demand was the preparation of silk for the weavers, otherwise known as silk throwing. In 1629, the silk throwsters were incorporated and put together a strict programme of apprenticeship whereby no one was allowed to set up a business unless they had trained for seven years. This move raised standards of silk throwing immeasurably and weavers were assured that they would receive quality goods and services from their suppliers. The silk weavers became more organised and the quality of their work was recognised when the Weavers’ Company admitted the first silk weavers into their ranks in 1639.
The year before the silk weavers were accepted into the Weavers’ Company, King Charles I had granted a licence for flesh, fowl and roots to be sold on the Spital Field. This licence marked the beginning of a market that would exist, with only one brief interruption, on the same spot for over 300 years. The increase in traffic to and from the new market also played its part in introducing more people to the area and a thriving community was established. The Spital Field and the surrounding area became a prosperous hamlet on the outskirts of the city, populated by affluent workers, market gardeners, weavers and suppliers to the weaving industry. ‘Bishoppes Gate Street’ became a major trade route and the inns rarely had room to spare.
Chapter 2
The Creation of Dorset Street and Surrounds
In 1649, William Wheler of Datchet, a small town in Berkshire, put ‘all that open field called Spittlefield’ in trust for himself and his wife. On their death, the land was to be passed to his seven daughters. Wheler had acquired the freehold to the land in 1631 after marrying into the Hanbury family, who had purchased the freehold to the Spittle Field from the church in the late 1500s. At this point in time, the Spital Field was still very rural.
A small development of houses, shops and market stalls had sprung up along the east side of the field and two local residents named William and Jeffrey Browne had recently employed builders to develop the land they owned along the north side of the field. The resulting road was named Browne’s Lane in their honour and exists today as Hanbury Street. The south and west sides of the Spital Field remained open pasture, used by the locals for grazing cattle when it was not too boggy. In addition to the grazing areas, a series of footpaths stretched across the field, providing routes to and from the shops and market stalls. It was also considered a good shortcut to Stepney church.
The owners of land around the Spital Field watched with great interest as the area gradually became increasingly built up. Despite the area being semi-rural, its proximity to the city ensured that new developments were highly sought after and let for decent rents. Therefore, many landowners decided to take the plunge and get the builders in. Two such men were Thomas and Lewis Fossan. The Fossan brothers lived in the city and had purchased land just south of the Spital Field as an investment some years previously. In the mid-1650s, they decided to utilise their investment and employed John Flower and Gowen Dean of Whitechapel to build two new residential streets on their land. Both streets ran east to west across the Fossan brothers’ field. The southernmost road took on the names of the builders and became known as either Dean and Flower Street or Flower and Dean Street, depending on whom you asked. Today it is known as the latter. The other road was named after the landowners and became known as Fossan Street. However, this unusual name was replaced by the more memorable Fashion Street, the name it retains to this day.
By the 1670s, development of the Spital Field began in earnest. That year, a road along the west side of the field, named Crispin Street, was finished and in 1672, William Wheler’s trustees, Edward Nicholas and George Cooke, asked permission from the Privy Council to develop the south edge of the field. Their petition was welcomed by the locals as this part of the field was apparently ‘a noysome place and offensive to the Inhabitants through its Low Situation.’ What exactly was so ‘noysome’ and ‘offensive’ about the southern end of the field becomes clear when looking at an Order in Council dated 1669, where the ‘inhabitants of the pleasant locality of Spitalfields petitioned the Council to restrain certain persons from digging earth and burning bricks in those fields, which not only render them very noisome but prejudice the clothes (made by the weavers) which are usually dried in two large grounds adjoining and the rich stuffs of divers colours which are made in the same place by altering and changing their colours.’ Nicholas and Cooke offered their assurances to the Council that ‘a large Space of ground ... will be left unbuilt for ayre and sweetnes to the place’. Their proposal was accepted, the Lord Mayor noting that the ‘Feild will remaine Square and open and the wettnesse of the lower parts (would) be remedied.’
Once permission had been granted, Nicholas and Cooke acted quickly. Over the next 18 months, they issued 80-year building leases for sites at the southern end of the field and three roads were quickly laid out: on the southernmost edge of the field, a road named New Fashion Street (later known as White’s Row), was constructed. Closer into the centre of the field, running parallel with New Fashion Street, was Paternoster Row (later known as Brushfield Street). A third road was laid in between these two roads in 1674. It was originally named Datchet Street, after the Wheler family’s place of residence, but for some reason, it corrupted into Dorset Street. The road that was to become the most notorious in London had been built.
Dorset Street started life as an unremarkable road, 400 feet long by 24 feet wide, lined with rather small houses, the average frontage of which was just 16 feet. The street itself was originall
y intended to provide an alternative way of getting from the west to the east side of the Spital Field when Nicholas and Cooke closed some of the old foot paths. However, traffic could also travel along White’s Row and Paternoster Row when crossing the field, so it is unlikely that Dorset Street was particularly busy. It was probably just as well that the road did not experience heavy traffic, as it appears that some of the first houses were not well built. The demand for property in the Spital Field area meant that builders found it difficult to keep up with demand. Consequently, houses tended to be ‘thrown up’ and by 1675, the situation had become so serious that the Tylers’ and Bricklayers’ Company were called in to investigate. The investigators were appalled at what they found and a number of builders were fined for the use of ‘badd and black mortar’, ‘work not jointed’ and ‘bad bricks’. It seems that the first major developments around the Spital Field were destined to have a short life.
Chapter 3
Spitalfields Market
As more and more people moved into the area around the Spital Field, it became clear that a more regular market would be a most profitable venture. Charles I had originally granted a licence for a market on the Spital Field back in 1638. However, it appears that this licence was revoked during the Commonwealth period (1649-1660) as between these dates only an occasional fair seems to have been held on the field. By the early 1680s, a plan for a market on the Old Artillery Ground was put forward by the Crown, but plans fell through and the market never materialised. However, in 1682, John Balch, a silk throwster who was married to William Wheler’s daughter Katherine, was granted the right to hold two markets a week (on Thursdays and Saturdays) on or around the perimeter of the Spital Field. Thus the new Spitalfields Market was born.
Alas, Balch did not live to see his idea come to fruition as he died just one year after the market licence had been granted to him. However, in his will, Balch left his leasehold interest and market franchise to his great friend Edward Metcalf. Seeing the possibilities, Metcalf acted quickly and issued 61-year building leases to a number of developers and soon construction of a permanent market building was underway. Metcalf’s design for the market included a cruciform market house situated in the middle of the Spital Field, around which were market stalls. In each corner of the field were L-shaped blocks of terraced houses. Four streets (known as North St, East St, South St and West St), radiated out from the market house, in between the L-shaped blocks. The market house itself was a grand building, built in the style of a Roman temple, possibly in reference to the Roman burial ground that had once occupied the field. Today, this building is long since demolished, but a miniature model of it can be seen on the silver staff belonging to the church wardens of Christ Church on Commercial Street.
Not long after the market was built, Metcalf died and the lease and franchise was taken over by George Bohun, a merchant from the City. Under Bohun, the market continued to increase in popularity as a place to trade meat and vegetables, and in 1708, was described by the commentator Hatton as ‘a fine market for Flesh, Fowl and Roots.’ By this time, the upper storey of the market house was being used as a chapel by the Spital Field’s second wave of immigrants, French Protestants known as Huguenots.
Chapter 4
The Huguenots
In 1685, King Louis XIV of France revoked the Edict of Nantes, which had allowed non-Catholics freedom to use their own places of worship and co-exist with their neighbours without fear of persecution. As a result, some areas of France became downright dangerous for people who did not hold with the Catholic faith, and Huguenot Protestants began to arrive in the City of London in their hundreds. Many of the Huguenots were highly skilled silk weavers and so the Spital Field, with its established community of weavers and throwsters seemed the logical place for the Huguenot weavers to settle. The first Huguenots to arrive at the Spital Field set up for business in the Petticoat Lane area. The historian Strype, who was himself from an old Dutch weaving family, noted that Hog Lane (as Petticoat Lane was then known) soon became a ‘contiguous row of buildings’ all occupied by Huguenot silk weavers.
The Huguenots were welcomed by Spital Field locals with open arms. In 1686, a public collection raised a massive £40,000 for the ‘relief of French Protestants’ and the Dutch weavers and throwsters, no doubt remembering that they too had once been immigrants, helped the French weavers to set up business. Their generosity was no doubt influenced by the fact that the weaving industry in Spitalfields was enjoying a period of great prosperity and more weavers would present no threat to jobs.
The Huguenots soon developed a reputation for being extremely self-sufficient. In addition to producing absolutely beautiful silks, which were the envy of the world, they built houses, workshops, hospitals and even churches for themselves. In the period 1687-1742, ten French Protestant churches were built around the Spital Field. The last one seated up to 1,500 people, which gives an indication of how many Huguenots were living in the area by this time.
By 1700, the Spital Field had gone from being a sleepy, rural hamlet to the bustling centre of the silk weaving industry. Times were good and businesses were enjoying increasing prosperity. The Spitalfield weavers jealously guarded their craft and began to develop a reputation for insurrection, should their business be threatened in any way. In 1697, a group of weavers mobbed the House of Commons twice to show their support of a Bill to limit foreign silk imports by the East India Company. Their attempts to protect their industry certainly paid off, and 1720, it was a globally recognised fact that English silk was every bit as good as that made in France. Silk exports were at record levels and Spitalfields was acknowledged as the epicentre of this thriving industry. Flushed with success, the silk weavers began tearing down the old and often shoddily-built houses that lined the streets of Spitalfields and erected large, elegant homes that reflected their elevated status. These new properties were often used to both live and work in. The attics were built with large windows so that as much light as possible could flood in and illuminate the looms for as many hours as possible. Downstairs, sumptuous drawing rooms were used as showrooms for the weavers’ work and buyers were entertained there.
The quality of these houses was such that many still stand today. Fournier Street contains some particularly good examples of 18th century weavers’ homes, complete with restored attics and brightly coloured shutters at the windows. Number 14 was constructed in 1726 by a master weaver. It has three floors and a large attic with the customary lattice windows behind which once stood the loom. According to local legend, the silk for Queen Victoria’s wedding dress was woven there.
Chapter 5
A Seedier Side/Jack Sheppard
Despite its newfound fortune and thriving industry, early 18th century Spitalfelds did have its seedier side. The wealth of many residents made the area very popular with thieves, pickpockets and housebreakers, many of whom set up shop in the locality so as to be close to their victims. In fact Jack Sheppard, one of London’s most notorious criminals, was born in New Fashion Street (now White’s Row) in 1702. Jack’s father died when he was just six years old and the young lad was sent to Bishopsgate Workhouse as his impoverished mother could no longer afford to keep him.
At the time, Workhouses tried to place children in their care in apprenticeships, taking the view that once their training was completed, the child would become self-sufficient. However, Jack’s initial placements were beset with bad luck. After two disastrous apprenticeships with cane-chair manufacturers he eventually found work with his mother’s employer – the wonderfully titled Mr Kneebone – who ran a shop on The Strand. Kneebone took Jack under his wing, taught him to read and write and secured him an apprenticeship with a carpentry shop off Drury Lane.
Jack showed an aptitude for carpentry and for the first five years of his seven-year indenture, he progressed well. However, as he reached adulthood, he developed a taste for both beer and women and began to regularly frequent a local tavern named The Black Lion. The Blac
k Lion was a decidedly unsavoury place, its main clientele being prostitutes and petty criminals, but Jack seemed to enjoy its edgy atmosphere and before long, became involved with a young prostitute called Elizabeth Lyon, known to her clients as ‘Edgworth Bess’. Now with a girlfriend to impress, Jack decided it was time to supplement his paltry income by stealing.
At first, he concentrated on shoplifting, no doubt fencing the goods he stole at his local. However, as his confidence increased, Jack moved on to burgling private homes. At first the burglaries were very successful but in February 1724, the inevitable happened. Jack, Bess and Jack’s brother, Tom, were in the throes of escaping from a house they had just burgled when Tom was discovered and caught. Fearful that he may be hanged for the crime, Tom turned informer and told the authorities his accomplices’ whereabouts. Jack was duly arrested and sent to the Roundhouse Gaol in St Giles. It was from the top floor of this prison that Jack began to earn the dubious reputation as an expert escapologist; a reputation that would eventually bring him national notoriety. Employing his knowledge of joinery and making full use of his slender, 5’ 4” frame, Jack managed to break through the Roundhouse’s timber roof. He then lowered himself to the ground using knotted bed linen and silently disappeared into the crowd.
Although Jack had proved adept at escaping from gaol, he was less talented when it came to pulling off robberies undetected. By May 1724, he was in trouble again, this time for pickpocketing in Leicester Fields. He was sent to New Prison in Clerkenwell on remand and soon got a visit from Edgworth Bess. Bess allegedly claimed to be Jack’s wife and begged the gaoler to allow them a little time in private. The sympathetic (and rather stupid) gaoler agreed and the couple immediately got to work filing through Jack’s manacles, presumably using tools that Bess had concealed about her person. The couple worked quickly and soon managed to break a hole in the wall through which they clambered, only to find themselves in the yard of a neighbouring prison! Somehow, the pair managed to scale a 22-foot high gate and made off back to Westminster.