From Deadman to Paradise: walks in London street names

Walking has been featuring quite a prominently in my life lately, so I thought I would have a  look at some of London’s streets that are a ‘walk’ rather than a ‘street’. Or a road. Or a lane… that could be a post for another time. I’d never noticed before but a high proportion of these are in Chelsea.

Birdcage Walk, the location of a royal aviary and of a murder, features in the recent In the recent women in London street names post, which you can read here.

Deadman’s Walk was once the nickname for Amen Court; at the back of the court was part of a Roman wall that formed the boundary of Newgate prison’s graveyard. Amen Court was the path leading to the graveyard.

Cactus Walk in Acton (or is it White City?) is a fine example of the seemingly arbitrary method of naming streets. Just south of the A40 Westway from Cactus Walk, there is a cluster of streets that are named after plants of various kinds, including the less than comforting Hemlock Road. Others include Byrony Road, Daffodil Road, Foxglove Street, Lilac Street, Old Oak Road, Orchid Street, Primula Street, Wallflower Street, and Yew Tree Road.

(I had to look up ‘byrony’ too: it is a genus of flowering plant in the gourd family, native to western Eurasia rather than western London. But then again, the cactus is native to the Americas rather than western London.)

Cheyne Walk in Chelsea takes its name from Charles Cheyne, First Viscount Newhaven, who bought the manor of Chelsea in 1657. His son, William Cheyne, later laid out Cheyne Walk and Cheyne Row. Famous residents of the walk have included JMW Turner, George Eliot, Elizabeth Gaskill, Sylvia Pankhurst, Henry James, and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Flask Walk in Hampstead takes its name from the fact that the area was once the health centre of London. In the 18th century it was still very much a rural area and waters from the chalybeate springs there were every bit as good as those in Bath. Flasks were filled and sold in Flask Walk, by permission of the trustees of the springs.

Flower and Dean Walk featured in a recent post on London’s murder streets. Flower and Dean Street, just off Brick Lane, no longer exists, but there is now a Flower and Dean Walk. The street was at the heart of the Jack the Ripper activities and it was, and is, considered to be where the Ripper may have lived.

Friendship Walk in Northolt takes its name from an aircraft (the Fokker F27 Friendship); appropriate in view of its proximity to Northolt and Heathrow airport.

Justice Walk in Chelsea was once a leafy avenue lined with trees, and Justice of the Peace Mr John Gregory was said to have taken his perambulations there. This is the less plausible theory, and it is more likely that the Justice referred to is Sir John Fielding, magistrate and brother of Henry Fielding.

Paradise Walk in Chelsea was not always heavenly by nature: the name ‘paradise’ was often used for an enclosed garden or burial ground. In the latter half of the 19th century, the area was a dismal slum, with more than one family often crammed into small houses. Oscar Wilde, who lived in the area and had a window that overlooked the walk, hid the view with a screen.

Quaggy Walk in Blackheath takes its name from the Quaggy River, which flows nearby and was so called because it moved sluggishly (as opposed to the Fleet River. Rivers provided boundaries for ecclesiastical property in Saxon times and the Quaggy was part of the bounds of the Manor of Bankhurst.

Sans Walk in Clerkenwell is not ‘without” anything in particular, French or otherwise. This little passage was named in 1893 to honour Edward Sans, the oldest vestryman in the Finsbury Vestry. There was also a Sergeant Sans in the 39th Regiment of the Finsbury Rifle Corps. Earlier names were Short’s Buildings and Daggs Yard.

Swan Walk, also in Chelsea, takes its name from a tavern sign; the swan was a common sign for inns, partly because it featured on Henry IV’s coat of arms, and it was especially popular for waterside inns. This Chelsea inn was a common gathering ground for the fashionable set of 17th-century London, of whom Samuel Pepys was one. The Swan was also the finishing post for the famous Doggett Coat and Badge race – the oldest annually contested event in the British sporting calendar.

Watergate Walk, just off the Strand, was an extension to York House, originally the London home of the Bishops of Norwich and later the palace of the Archbishop of York. The house was eventually acquired by George Villiers, the first Duke of Buckingham, who had the watergate built by Inigo Jones.

Well Walk in Hampstead is named for the same reason as Flask Walk: the chalybeate springs there. Legend has it that the springs arose on the spot where a monk, who was carrying a bottle of the Virgin Mary’s tears, tripped and spilled his precious cargo.

Wilder Walk in Soho is so named, according to Westminster City Council, which approved the name in 2010, “The naming of a newly constructed pedestrian walkway as ‘Wilder Walk’ is a fitting tribute to the contribution and service provided by the late Ian Wilder to the West End community in his capacity as a West End Ward Councillor.”

Winchester Walk takes its name from Winchester House, formerly the London house of the Bishop of Winchester. Many shops used as brothels were leased from the Bishops of Winchester, and the working women therein were known as ‘Winchester Geese’.

Oh, yes: the reason walking is featuring so heavily in my life just now is because I am taking on the September Wye Valley Mighty Hike (a 26-mile hike) in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support and in memory of my cousin. It is for a very good cause, so if anyone wants to sponsor me, my fundraising page is here.

 

London’s (watery) culinary streets: Water Lane to Watergate Walk

EAS_3924Before I continue with a few more culinary street names, I must stand corrected, with thanks to MattF, as to Salmon Lane. Once again, I have let myself get carried away with a name derivation that is more fun than accurate.

According to the delightfully named Hector Bolitho and Derek Peel in their book Without the City Walls, the lane is named after Captain Robert Salmon, Master of Trinity House at the time of the Spanish Armada. But we can’t leave it there; that’s what sparked the idea for this book in the first place: not just where names came from but what the story is behind the derivation.

By the way, though I missed Salmon Lane the first time around, Bolitho and Peel were one of my sources in the early days of my research, and I was fortunate enough to acquire a copy recently at not too great an expense. The book is charmingly written, in a tone chatty enough that you can imagine you are walking along with the couple as they stroll the streets of London, listening to them muse about streets and their names. A great deal of well-researched information backs up this musing, which makes the book a good read as well as a useful resource.

But on to Trinity House: this, says the official website, a charity dedicated to safeguarding shipping and seafarers, providing education, support and welfare to the seafaring community with a statutory duty as a General Lighthouse Authority to deliver a reliable, efficient and cost-effective aids to navigation service for the benefit and safety of all mariners. It started with Henry VIII, whose charter led to the formation of what was, in 1513, the Trinity House Corporation. The Corporation was not a military body, but has served, on occasion, a military function and Salmon was involved in one of them.

When Elizabeth I became concerned about the threat of a Spanish invasion she ordered Trinity House to prepare for war, as part of its charter. It was then that Salmon stepped in, telling the queen’s advisor, Lord Burghley, that Trinity House could fit out 30 merchant ships in four days for the use of the Lord High Admiral, Lord Henry Seymour.

As it happened, none of the Trinity House ships were used in battle; however, the flag taken from the Spaniards by Sir Francis Drake was display at Trinity House in Water Lane, but was lost in 1715 when fire destroyed Trinity House.

Once again, taking liberties with the alphabet and its order since water fits in so nicely here, Water Lane takes us neatly back to culinary street names, though for some reason the latter part of the alphabet seems to favour those that are bibendiary rather than culinary.

Water Lane in Stratford, the former location of Trinity House, was the setting for an old Roman bath, popular at one time with visitors to London, and described by Dickens in David Copperfield.

A Water Lane (which no longer exists) in the City was, in medieval times, called Sporiars Lane and took its name from the spur makers of the time. The name was changed in the 15th century with the erection of a water gate in the lane; 20th century development destroyed the lane completely.

There is also a Water Street, WC2, near to the Thames, which is the only survivor of a number of similarly names streets that led to the river before the Embankments made access easier. According to John Strype in his Survey of London, it was “a Place much pestered with Carts and Carrs, for the bringing of Coals and other Goods from the Wharfs by the Water side.

EAS_3928The watergate of Watergate Walk, just off the Strand, was an extension to York House, originally the London home of the Bishops of Norwich, later the palace of the Archbishop of York, and eventually acquired by George Villiers, the first Duke of Buckingham, who had the watergate built. Villiers was a favourite of James I; it was the 2nd Duke of Buckingham who gave his name to Of Alley.

York House was one of several mansions that lined the Strand; those on the south side were the more desirable, having as they did direct access to the Thames (especially if you had your own watergate). The watergate is now part of Embankment Gardens and is an indication of much the river bank has moved.

While for me, as a university student in the US during the 1970s, Watergate had a completely different connotation, the name has since acquired more pleasant associations: you can sit outside Gordon’s Wine Bar in Watergate Walk. The wine bar itself has a rich history: the house in which the bar is situated was home to Samuel Pepys in the 1680s and Rudyard Kipling lived in the building in the 1890s. It was here that he wrote ‘The Light That Failed’.