The
City is the “general name for
London within the gates and within the bars”—the
gates marking the boundaries of the original city wall, and bars marking the extended boundaries beyond the wall,
as areas were annexed to accommodate an expanding population who maintained the status of citizens of the city
(
Wheatley, London Past and Present, 1:400–401). By the late eighteenth century, the gates and bars had been removed—except
for
Temple Bar, designed by
Wren and erected after the
Great Fire—yet the
City had acquired a distinct identity
as “an enclave within
London”. Within the sprawling metropolis, the
City had become “purely a place of business”,
“the financial capital of the world”, albeit not “in itself the capital of
England”
(
Ackroyd, London: The Biography, 519). Thus, in
“Harry and Lucy . . . Vol 1” (chap. 1),
when Mamma mentions that Papa has gone to the
“city”, she refers to this financial center,
where
John James Ruskin and his partners maintained their business premises.
Billiter Street and the Premises of Ruskin, Telford, and Domecq
For
Walter Besant writing at the end of the nineteenth century,
the district of the
City where
John James Ruskin worked was defined by the ancient boundaries of two gates,
Aldgate in the east and
Bishopsgate on the north.
Leadenhall Market marked one of the districtʼs oldest functions,
while a more modern landmark was the headquarters of the East India Company. The district also contained the Jewish quarter
(
Besant, London City, 146). In
Ruskinʼs youth, the
East India House was the
1799 neoclassical structure,
featuring an Ionic portico; and in the year of
Ruskinʼs birth,
James Mill began his career in the building,
with his son,
John Stuart, starting work there as a clerk four years later
(
Wheatley, London Past and Present, 2:2–3).
The business premises of Ruskin, Telford, and Domecq was located in
Billiter Street,
which runs between
Leadenhall and
Fenchurch Streets. Once called a lane,
Billiter Street is very old, its structures having escaped the
Great Fire. By the eighteenth century, observers regarded the streetʼs buildings as antiquated and “mean”
except for those built in their own time in
Billiter Square, on the west side of the street.
Billiter Square was considered “airy” and lined with “good new brick buildings,
very well inhabited”, according to eighteenth‐century sources quoted
in the
1850 Hand‐book of London, which also notes that, from the beginning of the nineteenth century,
those residences were gradually converted to businesses
(
Cunningham, Hand‐book of London, 54;
Besant, London City, 150).
One of these respectable buildings in
Billiter Sreet was owned by
Henry Telford,
who became the sleeping partner in the firm of Ruskin, Telford, and Domecq
(
Hilton, John Ruskin: The Early Years, 6).
In the
1820s and
1830s, besides
John Jamesʼs firm, other import businesses were headquartered in the neighborhood,
such as the large West India House, which operated the
West India Docks
(
Chancellor, Squares of London, 385). For such companies,
Billiter Street was convenient to the
London Docks, which were situated east of the nearby
Tower of London.
A more auspicious neighbor for
Ruskinʼs career was the shop of Smith, Elder,
first located in
Fenchurch Street, around the corner from
Billiter Street,
where the company supplied stationery to the East India Company,
and later located in
Cornhill, where the company went on to develop its publishing arm
(see
Smith, Elder, & Company).
According to the
1891 updated edition of the
Hand‐book of London,
toward the end of the nineteenth century
Billiter Street became “very different”
with the erection of “large and lofty piles of offices” and “a handsome avenue opened to Lime street”,
which runs parallel to
Billiter Street (
Wheatley, London Past and Present, 1:185).
The London Docks
In
“Harry and Lucy . . . Vol. 1”, Mamma remarks to Lucy that Papa has “got to go to
. . . the city and then to the docks” (chap. 1), and
Ruskin later
includes an illustration, “Harryʼs Dock,” [Plate] “8,” [
“Harry and Lucy,” Vol.
1] . By the
1820s, when
Ruskin was writing,
new docks had been recently completed or were under construction to service the enormous increase in trade.
Over the course of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, rapidly growing congestion at the quays had become untenable,
causing damage to ships, and creating conditions of lax control that resulted in huge losses due to thievery and smuggling.
Consequently, within the first decade of the nineteenth century, a legislative and engineering feat was undertaken to construct extensive new wetdocks,
an accomplishment was celebrated as a testimonial to
Englandʼs commercial might
(though the new docks would soon be made obsolete by growing size of ships powered by steam).
To manage trade with
India, the new
West India Docks were built in the
Isle of Dogs,
and the new
East India docks arose at
Blackwall. Closer to the City,
the new
London Docks were built at
Wapping. As
Ruskin was writing his first
“Harry and Lucy” volume, the
St. Katherine Dock was under construction near the
Tower. It opened in
1828 (
Marriott, Beyond the Tower, 96–103).
Initially, Ruskin, Telford and Domecq must have done business at the
London Docks in
Wapping, opened in
1805, since it held a twenty‐one‐year monopoly on imports of tobacco, rice, wine and brandy,
other than the Indies trade (a monopoly that backfired during the
Napoleonic Wars, when imports of wine were disturbed).
When the monopoly expired, and a free‐trade legislature was disinclined to renew it,
the case made for the openly competitive
St. Katherine Dock was led, among others, by wine merchants
who complained that the
London Docks lacked adequate warehousing for the barrels that now crowded in shipments
from the reopened Continent
(
Broodbank, History of the Port of London, 1:114, 140, 157).
John Marriott comments that the
London docks, “more than any other feature of the industrial landscape”,
acquiried “extraordinary symbolic power” as representing “metropolitan modernization”,
yet “the vast body of casual labourers” unsteadily employed there “struck at the very heart of the social, moral and political
concern exercising the minds of nineteenth‐century middle‐class observers in
London, who . . . singled out the figure
of the casual dockworker as the most degraded form of human existence”
(
Beyond the Tower, 104, 107).
In
Fors Clavigera, letter 12 (
December 1871),
Ruskin perhaps meant to invoke such an impression when referring to “the men at
St. Catherineʼs Docks . . . under Tower Hill”,
who by implication rank among the lowest and most neglected of the “host of earth”. Perhaps this reference was also personal,
meant to include his own family among the “religious friends” he mocks in the letter as claiming to “ʼhave nothing to do with it—you
are very sorry for it—[but] . . . the power of
England is coalʼ”
(
Ruskin, Works, 27:206, 205, 204).