The Fascinating & gruesome history of
bow street magistrates' court
Bow Street Magistrates’ court, was the thriving centre of policing in the crime-ridden capital of England for two hundred and fifty years. Now abandoned, empty and awaiting conversion into a hotel and museum, the silent and ghostly building has seen some of Britain's most notorious criminals cross its threshold - and it still hides some grisly secrets today.
In the mid-18th century, every fourth shop in London was a ‘gin house;’ a vast sex trade sprawled across hundreds of brothels and gangs of highwaymen and cut-throats terrorized the roads on the outskirts of the capital. There was a growing call in the city to find an effective means to tackle the increasing crime and disorder. In 1747, Sir Henry Fielding, novelist and magistrate, persuaded the British government to establish a police force based at number 4 Bow Street in Covent Garden.
Fielding brought together eight reliable constables, who soon gained a reputation for honesty and efficiency in their pursuit of criminals and later came to be known as ‘The Bow Street Runners.’ But Fielding faced an uphill struggle against both organised crime in the capital, and the mistrust of the politicians who paid for his policemen.
Fielding brought together eight reliable constables, who soon gained a reputation for honesty and efficiency in their pursuit of criminals and later came to be known as ‘The Bow Street Runners.’ But Fielding faced an uphill struggle against both organised crime in the capital, and the mistrust of the politicians who paid for his policemen.
By 1809, the year of my Detective Lavender Series of novels, Bow Street Magistrates' Court had been expanded to include several of the neighbouring properties and prison cells had built built around the back. The number of police personnel had dramatically increased and a horse patrol had been established to bring some law and order to the crime-infested outlying areas. Principal officers were restyled ‘detectives’ and had various roles. Apart from supporting their colleagues in the capital, they were often sent out to help magistrates in the provinces with difficult cases. They provided security for the Royal Family and the Bank of England and took part in undercover work in periods of insurrection, for example, during the Luddite riots in the Midlands
The arrest of Emmeline Pankhurst Bow Street remained a magistrates’ court until 2004. During its two hundred and fifty year reign as Britain’s best-known police station, it has had both the famous, and the infamous, pass across its threshold. From the legendary lover, Giacomo Casanova, to the murderer, Dr. Crippen, and the notorious East End gangsters, the Kray twins. Other notable inmates include: the famous mother and daughter suffragettes, Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst; the brilliant, homosexual playwright, Oscar Wilde and more recently, the Chilean dictator , General Pinochet.
Bow Street Magistrates’ court now stands empty, waiting for its conversion into a hotel and museum. It has an ornate frontage which mirrors the creamy and elaborate façade of the Royal Opera House on the opposite side of the road. But at night, it is silent, dark and brooding compared to the noisy, brightly-lit bistros and taverns on the rest of this busy street. Its façade is built with pearlescent Portland Stone and it glows eerily in the moonlight.
Around the back, the building is stark, plain and ugly, with many twentieth century extensions. A high brick wall with barbed wire encloses outhouses, prison cells and a courtyard, which was used as an exercise yard for the prisoners. My hotel was slap-bang next door and I took these photographs while leaning out of a second floor bedroom window with my camera.
I was surprised to learn that the site had been continuously occupied since the mid-16th century. As a result, before it can be refurbished an archaeological study is being carried out.
'What are they hoping to find?’ I asked the hotel manager. And added hopefully: 'Regency handcuffs?'
'No,' she replied. 'Human remains.’
'What are they hoping to find?’ I asked the hotel manager. And added hopefully: 'Regency handcuffs?'
'No,' she replied. 'Human remains.’
The scales of justice 'But it's a court house - not a church graveyard,' I said, startled. 'It's not consecrated ground!’
‘I don't think it mattered back then,’ she replied with a certain amount of glee. 'If someone died in prison two hundred years ago and was a pauper, they'd just drop them into a hole. There's also a rumour that there was a lime-pit on the premises for disposing of any fever victims.'
I've always known that gaol fever was rife in Britain's overcrowded prisons during this era, but personally, I'm still hoping that my informant had a fevered imagination herself. The thought that my protagonist, Detective Stephen Lavender, and any of his noble colleagues might have been involved in callously disposing of dead prisoners beneath the courtyard slabs of Bow Street Magistrates' Court, just does not bear thinking about.
‘I don't think it mattered back then,’ she replied with a certain amount of glee. 'If someone died in prison two hundred years ago and was a pauper, they'd just drop them into a hole. There's also a rumour that there was a lime-pit on the premises for disposing of any fever victims.'
I've always known that gaol fever was rife in Britain's overcrowded prisons during this era, but personally, I'm still hoping that my informant had a fevered imagination herself. The thought that my protagonist, Detective Stephen Lavender, and any of his noble colleagues might have been involved in callously disposing of dead prisoners beneath the courtyard slabs of Bow Street Magistrates' Court, just does not bear thinking about.
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