Matt Brown of history newsletter Londonist: Time Machine explores some forgotten features of Clerkenwell with the help of an old map he’s colouring in.
Here’s Clerkenwell as you’ve never seen it before. We’re looking at the John Rocque map of 1746, which was the first to chart the city with professional surveying techniques. Every minor road and alley is named. Now, for the first time, it is in colour. I’m gradually working my way through the map’s 24 panels, digitally colouring in every building, tree, field, orchard, pond and rivulet. It’s a big job (I’m still only a third of the way through the panels after about 200 hours’ work!), but I think the result lets us see the city in a new light. Suddenly, the patterns of land use in the Georgian city really pop out, and it’s easy to see where London ended and the fields began.
The Clerkenwell area covers about a half of one of the panels. I’ve included a large excerpt here, but to see the full panel, please visit Londonist: Time Machine. Here are a few of the features on the Clerkenwell map:
Clerkenwell Green: Lower centre. This still exists, of course. Its chief curiosity is that there is no green on Clerkenwell Green. Nothing on the Rocque map suggests it was grassy in the 18th century either. The space recently underwent a major re-landscaping… and still it’s all paved with no lawn. It is London’s least-green Green.
The Cold Bath: Centre left. This part of London was once awash with natural springs. The Cold Bath Spring was discovered hereabouts in 1697 and soon gained a reputation for its medicinal properties. A spa grew up on the site, housed inside the building labelled on the map. Cold Bath Square, which half exists today, also sprung from the spring. The name came to have more negative connotations in the next century, when the hulking Cold Bath Fields Prison was built in the field to the north. Mainly used for debtors and those serving short sentences, it nevertheless had a bleak reputation. Today, the site is the Mount Pleasant sorting office. If you’ve ever scooted around on the Mail Rail attraction, then you’ve been through its basement.
Hicks’s Hall: Lower right on St John St. Something of a vehicular obstruction, Hicks’s Hall (sometimes Hicks Hall) was the main sessions house (courthouse) for the area from 1612 to 1782. The name comes from Sir Baptist Hicks, a wealthy merchant who paid for its construction. Hicks’s Hall had a secondary purpose. It marked the start of the Great North Road and, as such, was the location from which all distances from London were measured (a role now played by the Charles I statue at Charing Cross). The building was demolished in 1782, but its footprint remains today as an island in St John Street.
London Spaw: Top-leftish, at the junction of seven tracks. London Spaw could be the name of a horror film, or bash-em-up zombie video game. In fact, it was a well-known tavern specialising in the sale of spa waters from one of the Fleet Valley springs (see New Tunbridge Wells below). Spaw is simply an alternative pronunciation of Spa. The tavern, first recorded in 1685, would give its name to Spa Fields. The site is today the eastern end of Exmouth Market, which has preserved the complicated junction.
Merlin’s Cave: Top-left, below New River Head. There have been attempts to ascribe pagan or occult significance to the landmark. Sealed caves and secret tunnels are rumoured. In reality, Merlin’s Cave was just a quirkily named pub, “more a shrine to boozing and cavorting than it was to any Arthurian characters”, to quote my friend and folklorist Scott Wood. It probably took its name from an earlier royal grotto in Richmond. No known connection to wizards, or indeed, caves, is known. The place did leave a legacy, mind. The original Merlin’s Cave disappeared as if by magic when the fields hereabouts were built over. But a new Merlin’s Cave sprang up and thrived into the 1980s, becoming a noted music venue. A Merlin Street also remembers the old ‘Cave’. This spot is still entwined with fable. Visit today and you’ll find Charles Rowan House, a muscular residential block designed by Gilbert Mackenzie Trench. This fellow also gave us the police call box, better known as Doctor Who’s TARDIS. Curiously, the Doctor has been likened to, and even identified as Merlin on several occasions.
New Tunbridge Wells: Centre-top near New River Head. The central section of the River Fleet were renowned for its natural springs. The evidence is everywhere, even today. Sadlers Wells theatre recalls one such local leak. We met London Spaw, Spa Fields and Cold Bath Square above. New Tunbridge Wells was yet another place where gouty old Londoners might seek relief through the supposedly medicinal waters. The name was canny marketeering, referencing the famed spa town in Kent. It was quite long lived, operating from 1685 to 1840, while the entrance building and a grotto survived into the 1930s. Lloyd’s Row marks the site today.
Ratclifs Layer: Top right. This curiously named road is today’s Lever Street, and before that was known as Wellington Street (on the 1828 Greenwood map). We can presume ‘Ratclif’ was the local landowner. (In Stepney, the name Ratcliffe is thought to derive from a ‘red sandstone cliff’ that once protruded above the water line, but that explanation seems unlikely here.) I wondered if it might be a reference to brick making, and a prominent layer of clay. But the answer seems to be pastoral. An 1833 book Walks Through London by George Alexander Cooke suggests that Ratcliff Layer was used as a pasture or ‘ley’ for cows. I think that’s what we’re looking at on the 1746 map. A large grassy area has been preserved, entirely surrounded by cultivated fields or roads. Presumably, then, it is a ‘ley’ for grazing cows belonging to Mr Ratclif.
Sir John Oldcastle’s: Centre left. Sir John Oldcastle (died 1417) is a well attested historical figure. He was a prominent Lollard — a kind of early form of Protestant — who led a rebellion against Henry V, and was executed for his trouble. He was also the model for Shakespeare’s Falstaff. But what’s he doing on an 18th century map? What we’re looking at is another edge-of-town inn, much like Merlin’s Cave. The tavern got its name because it was built on land once belonging to Oldcastle. It was knocked down at the end of the century to make way for the Cold Bath Fields Prison (see above). But the name lives on in drinking lore, as a harmless branch of Wetherspoons near Farringdon station.
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