Vauxhall

‘The St Lawrence is water, the Mississippi is muddy water, but the Thames is liquid history’ — Robert Burns MP, Nineteenth Century

Exploring London? Understanding the city? Interesting and exciting things to see and think about? Why then, are we starting in Vauxhall of all places? (And for all you nature aficionados out there, the answer is not Vauxhall City Farm, although going to meet Jerry the alpaca is pretty off beat as far as London experiences go).

'Jerry the Alpaca' (he really exists)

Why then? Because Vauxhall plays host to London’s foundation stone: the river. Every building, street, brick and  garden in London exists because of the Thames.

Although I often look at the river’s silty swirls from the heights of Millbank, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I like the Thames: it’s too opaque, there’s too much down there you can’t see, and I know its lethargic surface conceals a lethal current in the deep channel. But despite this I also know that it’s the heart of the city, and that it goes quite some way in creating London’s character, so I am drawn to it all the same.

Another person who is drawn to the Thames is sculptor Steve Nelson, although his relationship with it is a lot more intimate than mine: he actually uses it in his work. When I went to interview him in his Vauxhall studio (read the interview here) he showed me a collection of chalky old sticks: bone white, hollow, aging. ‘Tobacco pipes!’ he said, caressing one with a strong thumb – ‘From the river bank; there are thousands down there.’

Clay Pipes [Photo: Peter Davey

Beachcombing as leisure is a new concept. Beachcombers first appeared in the late eighteenth century, mostly because they were starving and desperately seeking some sustenance. They were children, and so filthy that commentators quickly christened them ‘mudlarkers.’ (Read more about Thames mudlarkers, past and present, here). Henry Mayhew, one of Britain’s leading journalists, and the founder of Punch Magazine, described  them in 1861:

Their bodies are grimed with the foul soil of the river… It is pitiable to behold them, especially during the winter … paddling and groping among the wet mud for small pieces of coal, chips of wood, or any sort of refuse washed up by the tide.

But the river’s flotsam stirred little interest in most Victorians. The well-off and well-educated disdained the history of mundane objects and what they considered to be mundane lives. But Britain has replaced its old-fashioned and grandiose historical narrative – its heroes and champions – with a democratic interest in ‘material’ and ‘social’ history: in other words, the life of the ordinary citizen. This is what we find in the river’s broken remains – the debris of lives lived like ours.

Eighteenth Century Mudlarkers

Pipes, like the ones that Steve now uses to sculpt with, are the perfect example (see his work here). Smoking started with the discovery of tobacco in the sixteenth century. The craze was initially aristocratic, popularized at court by notable characters like Sir Walter Raleigh (whose servant reputedly doused him with a bucket of water the first time he saw Sir Walter smoke, because he assumed that his master’s head was on fire). But the habit swiftly filtered down the ranks, despite powerful opposition which included the King (James I). James even bothered to pen a lengthy tract – Counterblast to Tobacco, which is surprisingly vitriolic (you can read it here if you feel so inclined). The king also clapped hefty taxes on tobacco in an attempt to force his will. It failed. By the middle of the next century everyone was smoking. Clay pipes were cheap as chips and very fragile, so people would smoke one and then throw it away. Many of the pipes ended up in the river. There were so many that the rats were practically getting a taste for it by the time the trend died out, replaced by cigarettes, in the late nineteenth century. Most of the pipes I saw in Steve’s studio were probably thrown into the river by industrial dock workers, who were given a free pipe when they bought a beer.

One of the most famous images of the Thames, painted by Monet in 1904

Throughout history the Thames has been read as a metaphorical mirror – for life, for morality, for redemption and hope, for harmony. Now how do we think about the river that runs through London? Sometimes it’s just a long grey reflection of clouded sky that we have to cycle beside to get to work, but for quite a lot of people, quite a lot of the time, it’s the sum of our collected history, and the beginning of London’s story.

Read more of London’s history through its material remains, its places and people, in forthcoming London Notes