Great fires in London—Number of Insurance Companies—Rates of
insurance—Fire-engines and firemen—Scarcity of water—Supply of
water to London—The streets—Their traffic—Shops—Watering the roads.
THE transition from Matches to Fires is natural, and easy, and, during
the time of which I have treated in this book, there were several bad
ones. In 1800 on the 11th of February, three West India Warehouses,
near the Custom House, were burnt down, with an estimated loss of
£300,000; and on the 6th of October of the same year, thirty houses
were destroyed by fire. On September 27, 1802, an immense amount of
property was destroyed in Store Street, Tottenham Court Road. The great
tower over the choir in Westminster Abbey perished by flames July 9,
1803. The Theatres seem absolutely to have courted cremation. Astley’s,
which had been burnt down on September 17, 1794, was again made a ruin
on September 1, 1803, and forty houses shared its fate at the same
time. Then followed the Surrey, on August 12, 1805; Covent Garden on
September 20, 1808; and Drury Lane on February 24, 1809. These were
only the principal conflagrations during the decade; there were, of
course, as many minor ones as ever. Take one instance—the list of
fires within the Bills of Mortality for 1807. In the twelve months
there were 375 fires and 356 chimney alarms.
None could complain of want of Insurance Companies, for, in 1810, there
existed sixteen Fire Insurance Companies, _viz._, The Sun, Phœnix,
Royal Exchange, Hand in Hand, Westminster, London, Union, British,
Imperial, Globe, County, Hope, Atlas, Pelican, Albion, and Eagle. The
rates at which they assured were low, looking at the duty they paid
to Government—the Sun so paying, in 1806, no less a sum than £95,269
8s. 8d. Common Insurances were charged a premium of 2s. per cent.,
Hazardous Insurances 3s. per cent., and Doubly Hazardous 5s. per cent.,
or very much the present rate. And we must remember that money was
dearer, many buildings were of timber, and nearly all were faultily
constructed, there being no District Surveyor in these days—added
to which, the engines were but poor manuals; steam, of course, being
unknown.
[Illustration: A FIRE ENGINE.]
Each Fire Insurance Company had its badge, or cognizance, which was
stamped out in sheet lead, painted and gilt, and then nailed on to the
house insured—probably as an advertisement of the Company. There was
no Fire Brigade, properly so called—that did not come till 1832; but
each Company kept a staff of firemen and engines. We have seen that
these men acted as constables when Sir Francis Burdett was released
from prison. Although the dress was of somewhat similar pattern, its
colour, &c., was left to the individual fancy of each Company—the
illustration I have given, being the uniform of the Sun Fire Insurance
Company. The coat, waistcoat, and breeches, were of dark blue cloth
with brass buttons, whilst a brass badge adorned both his left arm, and
his helmet. This latter was made of horse hide, strengthened by cross
bars of metal; its inside was of leather, quilted and stuffed with
wool, to protect the head from falling bricks or spars. The engines
were manuals, and carried with them spare men to relieve those pumping,
when they were tired. The most powerful engine of that time could only
throw a ton of water per minute through a ½ inch branch, or nozzle,
and, as we see, the fire-plug was simply pulled up, and the water very
wastefully supplied.
[Illustration: A FIREMAN—1805.]
Water, by the by, was somewhat scarce, and certainly not good. Drinking
water was mainly supplied from pumps, both public and private, and when
we see the arrangement of pumps, in the country, nowadays, how, in
order to be near the house, they are, generally, thoughtlessly placed
in close approximation to the cesspool—we can imagine, in some degree,
what the supply of drinking water must have been like in crowded
London, with its defective drainage, and its festering graveyards.
There was a supply, to certain districts, of New River water. Some yet
flowed from the heights of Hampstead, and there were also the Water
Works at London Bridge, which were inaugurated by the “Dutchman,” Peter
Moritz, in 1582, and which continued to pump up the muddy, sewaged
water, until the new bridge was built. They are thus described in
a contemporary work (1802): “The _Water Works_, on the north-west
side of the Bridge, supply a considerable part of _London_ with water
for domestic purposes, in the same manner as is effected by the _New
River_. But as _London Bridge_ lies very low, the water requires to be
forced up to a bason on the top of a tower, 120 feet in height. From
this bason, it again descends into the main pipes, and is conveyed in
all directions through the town. The water is raised by the action of
four great wheels, which are turned by the stream, and every turn of
the four wheels causes 114 strokes of the piston rods—by this means 40
to 50,000 hogsheads of water are raised every 24 hours.”
There was yet another water supply, which was obtained from pumps and
springs, and which afforded a livelihood to many hard-working, and
industrious, men. Perhaps, one of the last places in the vicinity of
London thus supplied, was Hampstead—a neighbourhood noted for springs,
where the water used to be thus fetched from the “Conduit Meads” and
other places, and retailed at 1d. or 2d. per bucket, according to
distance. This only ceased when the Midland Railway ran a tunnel
underneath the spring, and destroyed it.
[Illustration: DRINKING WATER SUPPLY—1802.]
The water supply from the Thames, and New River, it must be remembered,
was only turned on three times a week.
The Streets of London in 1804 are thus contemporaneously described:
“It may well excite our admiration to go from Charing Cross to the
Exchange, and pass a double row of carriages, one coming, another
going, with scarcely an intermission. Yet, when we recollect the
numerous causes that put so many things, and persons, in motion, we
may admire, but must own it was to be expected. Not only are the
streets filled with carriages, but with foot passengers; so that the
great thoroughfares of London appear like a moving multitude, or a
daily fair. To this deception the endless shops lend their aid; it is,
indeed, the remark of strangers in general, that London is a continual
fair. The display made by the traders, the numerous wares they have to
sell, and the continual crowd that is passing and re-passing, forcibly
contribute to the delusion.”
Yet the streets were narrow, or at least we think them so, for we have
always to widen them for the perpetually increasing traffic; and the
shops could in no ways at all compare with ours. Small panes of glass,
and small windows were not calculated to show off the traders’ wares
to advantage. Even the contemporary guide-books, can give no shops of
particular excellence—except those which sold keramic ware. In this,
that particular portion of the century was pre-eminent, and one longs
to have had a stroll, looking in first at Wedgwood’s warehouse in
St. James’s Square, then at the Worcester China Warehouse, Coventry
Street; from thence to the show rooms of Derby china, in Henrietta
Street, Covent Garden; and finishing up with Spode’s exposition of
Staffordshire ware, in Portugal Street.
The streets were not over well scavenged, and, as I have before
said, sewers did not obtain much more than in the main thoroughfares.
These, too, were watered in the summer, by means of a wooden tank hung
below the axle-tree of a pair of wheels, delivering the water from
a perforated wooden box at its back. “The Watering Cart is usually
drawn by one horse, but on some roads two horses are applied, when
the leader is rode by a boy, and the driver sits on the seat upon the
cart. In districts contiguous to ponds, the carts are driven into the
water, and are filled very expeditiously; but where they have not this
convenience, they are obliged to supply them with water from the pump,
which is hard labour for two men.”
[Illustration]
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