London’s culinary streets: Cat and Mutton Bridge to Garlick Hill

Cat & Mutton
The Cat and Mutton pub

Ok, I’m cheating (because it’s out of alphabetical order): I forgot Cat and Mutton Bridge. There is a pub here, and given the number of pub names in London streets, it is likely that the pub gave its name to the bridge.

There are two main theories about the name, the first being that it was originally Shoulder of Mutton and Cat from the ‘cats’ or coal barges that would have gone under the bridge on the nearby Regents Canal; there is also a Sheep Lane nearby that ties in with the mutton side of things.

Another version is that it was originally the Cattle and Shoulder of Mutton, also from the “many drovers and agricultural workers arriving in London to sell there various beasts in the markets in what now is known as the city”.

Coley Street (it’s a kind of fish, and there was a fish-related streets post a while ago; you can read it here) is named for a person rather than a fish: Henry Coley was a 17th-century astrologer and mathematician. That name comes from ‘colig’, meaning dark or swarthy.

And on to Crisp Road in Hammersmith which is also cheating slightly as ‘crisp’ really only has the connotation of potato chip in the UK. It is, naturally, not anything to do with food: it takes its name from Sir Nicholas Crisp. Sir Nicholas was a remarkable man; Samuel Johnson said of him that he was “a man of loyalty that deserves perpetual remembrance”.

Crisp was a native of Hammersmith, and his loyalty was to Charles I – he was a dedicated Royalist and spent over £100,000 in the cause of his king. Crisp managed to escape too dire a fate at the hands of Cromwell, but was severely fined for the mere fact of his existence and affiliation.

Crisp built Grand House, later known as Brandenburgh House (at one point the home of Caroline of Brunswick, consort of George IV), and paid for the east window in St Mildred’s church in Bread Street (the church was destroyed during the Second World War). The window was divided into five parts, depicting the Spanish Armada, the Gunpowder Plot, Elizabeth I, the 1625 plague and the Crisp family with their coat of arms.

Crisp monument
The Crisp monument. Photo courtesy of Bob Speel

Another of the Crisp monuments is a bust of Charles I in the Hammersmith parish church of St Paul’s. The bust sits atop a black and white marble column and is marked by an inscription which reads:

“This effigy was erected by the special appointment of Sir Nicholas Crispe, Knight and Baronet, in a grateful commemoration of that glorious martyr, King Charles the First, of blessed memory.”

Not being content with this token of loyalty, Crisp also directed that his heart be placed in an urn under the effigy of his king. The heart was to be refreshed annually with a glass of wine; this service was performed for around a century until the heart became too much decayed. And what then? Let us hope that a century of wine provided enough alcohol for the spirit of Sir Nicholas.

Incidentally, Crisp’s body was buried under a tomb at the aforementioned church in Bread Street; in the 19th century it was removed and reunited with his heart in Hammersmith. I learned this from a charming website with a wealth of information about the church of St Paul’s and its monuments.

FIsh Street Hill EC3Fish Street Hill was once the main road leading to London Bridge, and brings us back to street names that do have a food connection. (Oh, yes, it was called New Fish Street as opposed to Old Fish Street, which was demolished in 1870.)

In the 13th century the hill became the centre for fishmongers who settled there because of its proximity to the main fish market of Billingsgate; the street was one of the authorized spots for retail fish sales. Samuel Pepys mentions it in his description of the Great Fire of 1666:

“By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down tonight by the fire we saw, and that it was now burning down all Fishstreet by London Bridge.”

This was once the main road leading to London Bridge, and. In the 13th century it became the centre for fishmongers who settled there because of its proximity to the main fish market of Billingsgate; the street was one of the authorized spots for retail fish sales.

Stow said that Edward, the Black Prince, son of Edward III, had a house there, though not many modern sources appear convinced of that fact. Oliver Goldsmith did lodge here. Edward, whose name is likely to have come from the colour of his armour, makes an appearance as Sir William Colville in the movie A Knight’s Tale, though historical accuracy takes second place to drama.

Another main feature of Fish Street Hill is that it leads past the Monument; the reminder for everyone of the Great Fire. It is 202 feet high (202 feet said to be the distance to the spot where the fire broke out) and, unfortunately, until the balcony was enclosed in an iron cage, it was a favoured spot for suicide leaps.

Garlick HillGarlick Hill also delivers a culinary connection: this hill was named for the hythe, or wharf, where shipments of garlic were landed on the Thames. Or, if you prefer, from the hythe, or hill, at the foot of which garlic was sold in vast quantities. It is not unlikely that enough garlic would have been sold in medieval times to warrant an entire parish being called Garlickhythe.

Seasoning was important both for the rich, who ate lavishly of beef and venison; and for the poor, who had a rather less interesting diet in need of spicing up. Strong spices also played their part on the frequent occasions when meat had begun to spoil before it reached the consumer, a fact that had to be heavily disguised.

The parish church of St James Garlickhythe had a somewhat chequered career. It was built in 1326, later destroyed in the Great Fire and then rebuilt by Wren (at a cost of under £5,500). Although suffering some damage during the blitz of the Second World War, it was again restored. In 1984 remains of a 1st-century timber building were discovered near the church.

Through all this, one of the church’s occupants remained virtually unscathed – an unidentified person known as Jimmy Garlick. Jimmy is an almost perfectly mummified corpse, discovered in 1839 when workmen were closing up the old vaults. It is possible that he is (or, rather, was) either Richard Rothing, who built the original church, or one of the six early Lord Mayors of London who were buried there.

In any case, Jimmy Garlick was somewhat unceremoniously relegated to a small closet until his coffin was jolted by a bomb and his spirit began to roam around, frightening the tourists. He was, for a time, rehoused in a glass-fronted coffin in the vestibule of the church and he then ceased his practice of appearing to unwary visitors.

In 2004, Jimmy Garlick featured in the Discovery TV documentary series ‘Mummy Autopsy’ which used modern analytical techniques including carbon dating and x-ray analysis, establishing that he died between 1641 and 1801 and that he suffered from osteoarthritis, a disease that afflicts older people. Physical examination by the Discovery team showed that the mummy appeared to be balding and suffered tooth decay at the time of death, both consistent with an older person. The mummy now sits in the tower in a newly made case.

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From Batty and Prudent to Sly and Wild: adjectives in London’s street names

Batty Street cropToday’s random fact: the Livery Companies of London (which have direct connections with many street names) were also known as ‘mysteries’. From the Latin misterium, which in this instance roughly translates as ‘closed circle’, or ‘professional skill’. I got to that by looking up more about the Fruiterers’ Company, of which Edward Lear’s father was a member.  The Worshipful Company
of Fruiterers, has been in existence since before 1300 AD, and is 45th in order of precedence of the Livery Companies.

Edward Lear died on this day in 1888. He was born in Bowman’s Mews in Islington (off Seven Sisters Road) the mews takes its name from the fact that the area was a popular site for archery in Elizabethan times.

All of which is nothing to do with my intended post for today, but it shows how wondering about street names is a journey with many varied and wonderful destination. A recent post featured verb street names, and Allgood Street was one of yesterday’s offerings. That made me think ‘parts of speech’ and today I give you adjectives.First a disclaimer: I’m not including colours in this, but there are colourful streets here and here, or the old and new type of street names. There are more than enough adjectives, of which I can cover only a few here, starting with Batty Street.

Prudent PassageBatty is actually, in this, instance, probably a name: There was a William Batty who developed property in London so it could have been named for him. It has connections with a Victorian locked room murder mystery (not a professional skill type), which occurred around the time of the Jack the Ripper murders.

Crisp Road in Hammersmith is also a name: it honours Sir Nicholas Crisp (or Crispe) who, according to Samuel Johnson was “a man of loyalty that deserves perpetual remembrance”. Crisp was a supporter of King Charles I, and his loyalty was such that his funeral arrangements included provision for his heart to be placed in an urn under the effigy of his king. The heart was to be refreshed annually with a glass of wine.

Crooked Usage in North London has a name that goes back to Anglo-Saxon times when land was divided into strips – usages – which were separated by grass borders. The theory is that, though the usages should have been straight, there was a crooked allotment that, by virtue of being different was worthy of having its name live on.

Early Mews in Camden, alas, has no Late or Tardy street to balance it out. But, of course, this name has nothing to do with time: it comes from the Early family. Joseph and George, plumbers, and John, a builder, built the mews as well as much of the early 19th-century development that was carried on around Camden High Street.

The song ‘Electric Avenue’ by Eddy Grant refers to the Brixton riots of 1981, and the Electric Avenue of the song is a street that was opened as a 19th-century late-night shopping street, complete with electric lighting that was designed to be adequate for evening shoppers: “lined with shops, with a lavish display of electric light everywhere”.

Fleet Street comSavage Gdnses from the River Fleet, so named not because it was swift, but from an Anglo-Saxon word ‘fleot’ meaning a creek or tidal inlet. Although it still flows, the Fleet is now underground and is used as a sewer – a function that it has performed since 14th-century butchers used it for cleaning out entrails and others took up the habit by dumping refuse into the stream.

Lacy Road in Putney has a lovely, delicate-sounding name that is, however, nothing to do with lace. It takes its name from John Lacy – who was, by happy coincidence, a cloth worker; he had a house by the river, Putney Palace, which was demolished in the early 19th century. Centuries ago the Putney area was a fashionable one; wealthy London citizens liked to have a ‘country’ house in a riverside location, and Lacy was no exception. Elizabeth I and James I were apparently among the guests whom Lacy entertained at his country home.

The derivation of Prudent Passage is uncertain. One theory is that it may have been something to do with “the foresight displayed in its construction”. More entertaining is the theory that it once served the same useful function as Passing Alley, and therefore was a prudent route to take on the way home after spending too many hours in the pub.

Peerless Street is more of a disguise than an indication of any superlative quality. The name comes from a spring that overflowed and formed a pond – Perilous Pond – so-called, says Stow, because “divers youths, by swimming therein, have drowned”. The pond, with its unfortunate propensity for drowning people, was finally closed off. In 1743, William Kemp, a jeweller, converted the pond to a luxury swimming bath with a well-stocked fish pond next to it. The path alongside the bath was called Peerless Row and later became Peerless Street. The pool was closed in 1850 and then built over.Sly Street

There is a Quick Street in Islington, and also a a Speedy Place near King’s Cross, but neither of these names are anything to do with swiftness. The first was named for John Quick, George III’s favourite comedian, and the second for the Speedy family who held the licence for a tavern there called the Golden Boot.

Savage Gardens, near Tower Hill, takes its name from Sir Thomas Savage, who was created Viscount Savage in 1626. He married Elizabeth Darcy, who deserves admiration above all for having provided her husband with eleven sons and nine daughters.

Sly Street in East London sounds pretty devious, but it has a perfectly innocent name: in 1890 the St Georges in the East member of the London County Council was a Mr RS Sly.

Wild CourtVigilant Close, though it sounds worthy, comes from one of the locomotives on the Crystal Palace High Level railway, which ran on this site.

Wild Court (and Wild Street) are tamer than they sound. In this case, ‘wild’ is a corruption of Weld, and refers to the wealthy Humphrey Weld who, in the 17th century, had an elaborate mansion in the area. The house had its own chapel and extensive library and, at the time of its construction, enjoyed splendid isolation in what is now the Covent Garden and theatre area. At the time, what later became Wild Street was only a track leading to Weld’s house.

Distillery Lane, a drunken heart, and adultery

Caroline
Caroline prior to her ill-fated marriage

This day in London’s history: on 17 May 1768 Caroline Amelia Elizabeth of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, known as Caroline of Brunswick, wife of the future King George IV, was born.

It was a marriage not made in heaven; of the wedding night consummation of their marriage, George wrote, “it required no small [effort] to conquer my aversion and overcome the disgust of her person”. She, on the other hand, said that he was so drunk that he “passed the greatest part of his bridal night under the grate, where he fell, and where I left him”.

George was later to attempt to divorce Caroline and strip her of her title of Queen consort on the grounds of adultery; while all this was going on she stayed at Brandenburgh House in Fulham. She was popular with the masses, however, and that effort failed.

However, George did succeed in barring her from his coronation service at Westminster Abbey when her attempt to gain entry lost her soon of the popularity she had enjoyed. She died soon after at Brandenburg House, which was then demolished, presumably, says one source, by the king in a fit of pique at her popularity.

All of which brings us to Distillery Lane, which takes its name from the H&J Haig Distillery, built in 1857 on the site of Brandenburgh House, giving its name to Distillery Lane, which led to it, and to Distillery Road close by.

The other famous resident of Brandenburgh House and, indeed, the person for whom it was built, was Sir Nicholas Crisp, who was so loyal to his monarch, Charles I, that he had a bust of the king established in the Hammersmith parish church of St Paul’s.

He also directed that, following his death, his heart be placed in an urn under the effigy of his king. The heart was to be refreshed annually with a glass of wine; this service was performed for around a century until the heart became too much decayed.

The name of this loyal subject lives on in the nearby Crisp Road, which has other grisly connections.

Crisp Road and its grisly connections

cromwell
Oliver Cromwell

This day in London’s history: on 30 January 1649 Charles I was beheaded, following the Rump Parliament declaring him guilty of treason. On 30 January 1661 Oliver Cromwell, the man behind the the Rump Parliament and the execution, was ceremonially executed himself. He had, however, been dead for over two years. Still, he proved to be tough even in death; during the mock execution, it took several blows to sever his head.

There were rumours that Cromwell’s ghost haunted the area of Red Lion Square, supposedly the hiding place for his body the night before his posthumous decapitation. In any event, his head remained on a spike above Westminster Hall for nearly 25 years, until a storm broke the spike and hurled Cromwell’s head to the ground. It was then bandied about amongst collectors of such grisly items, and finally buried at Sidney Sussex College in Cambridge.

On the other side of the Charles I coin, but also somewhat grisly, is the story of one of his biggest fans and supporters, Sir Nicholas Crisp (or Crispe). Crisp, who gives his name to Crisp Road in Hammersmith, was apparently a remarkable man; Samuel Johnson said of him that he was “a man of loyalty that deserves perpetual remembrance”.

Crisp was a native of Hammersmith in West London, and a dedicated Royalist: he spent over £100,000 in the cause of Charles I. He managed to escape too dire a fate at the hands of Cromwell, but was severely fined for the mere fact of his existence.

Brandenburgh House
Brandenburgh House

Crisp built Grand House, later known as Brandenburgh House (later the home of Caroline of Brunswick, consort of George IV). He also paid for the east window in St Mildred’s church in Bread Street (the church was destroyed during the Second World War). The window was divided into five parts, depicting the Spanish Armada, the Gunpowder Plot, Elizabeth I, the 1625 plague and the Crisp family with their coat of arms.

Another of the Crisp memorials for his king was a bust of Charles I in the Hammersmith parish church of St Paul’s; the bust sits atop a black and white marble column and is marked by an inscription which reads: “This effigy was erected by the special appointment of Sir Nicholas Crispe, Knight and Baronet, in a grateful commemoration of that glorious martyr, King Charles the First, of blessed memory.”

Not being content with this token of loyalty, Crisp also directed that his heart be placed in an urn under the effigy of his king. The heart was to be refreshed annually with a glass of wine; this service was performed for around a century until the heart became too much decayed.

And what then? Let us hope that a century of wine provided enough alcohol for the spirit of Sir Nicholas.