My maternal ancestors
New Buildings, Portsea
Portsmouth’s western harbour satisfied the criteria for a
dockyard: it is a huge body of water with a deep water
channel; it has a narrow mouth that may be easily
defended and is relatively close to London. So, in the late
twelfth century, a small settlement was established at the
south-west of the island which was named Portsmouth
Town. Among its early thoroughfares (which still exist)
were High Street, St Thomas’ Street, St Nicholas’ Street
and Penny Street. In 1748, Portsmouth Town (protected
by a wall) consisted of 600 houses and 5,000 inhabitants.
Today, it is known as Old Portsmouth.
Extending northwards from Portsmouth Town was a
narrow shingle peninsular which created a small natural
harbour within a harbour. The spit was Portsmouth Point
and the inlet was The Camber. A depiction of Portsmouth
Town dated 1545 shows no houses at Point but some
maritime trading activity – a crane and pulleys; men
rolling barrels to load a boat in the Camber. By 1663,
dwellings at Point along Broad Street had been built and
the Camber was a small commercial port (as distinct
from the naval dockyard).
To the north of Portsmouth Town was a large tidal mill
pond which created a natural barrier. North of the pond
was a large tract of land called The Common (not to be
confused with Southsea Common and also described as
West Docks Fields).
Beyond the Common, the Dockyard was built which was
also protected by a wall. To accommodate dockyard
artisans, houses were built on The Common around St
George’s Square and Havant Street.
Above is section B from a sketch dated
1663. It shows the south-west of Portsea
Island ca. 1700 before Gun Wharf and
parts of the Dockyard had been
reclaimed from the sea.
New Buildings (section B from the first map) when they were taken into the Dockyard
in 1847. This area was approximately 200 metres wide by 100 metres.
I am particularly interested in this area as some of my family lived here. The papers of
HMS Sapphire record that my greatx2 grandfather, James Mills, was born at Sharps Buildings in
1819. They had moved to Strongs Buildings by 1824. A branch of my ancestral Hambley family
was living at Gravel Lane also in 1824.
However, by 1841, the Mills’ had moved to East Street at Portsmouth Point.
By 1700, Portsmouth Town, with its constraining walls, was bursting at the seams. The pressing need
for new homes was given impetus and direction by the distance that Dockyard artisans had to travel
to their place of work.
The result was a new housing development at Portsmouth Common, despite the obstacle posed by
the decree that ‘no person can erect buildings or do anything to the prejudice of the Kings
fortifications’. Thus, by the beginning of the eighteenth century at New Buildings (beside the
Dockyard’s wall to the north-east) there was the first organized attempt to build on Portsmouth
Common – there, sixteen payments were recorded for the Poor Rate in 1700.
An obvious reason for this spot being selected initially was that there was a gate nearby that allowed
workers access to the Dockyard .
The proximity of New Buildings to the Dockyard resulted in an alarm being flagged-up by the Board of
Ordinance in 1699: ‘The new buildings lately erected on the north-east side of the docks are
advanced within fifty feet of the design for fortifying the dock....’
One solution was proposed by T Seymour: The ‘shutting up of the north-east gate at Portsmouth,
whereby they are prejudiced in certain new buildings erected for the accommodation of the dock
workmen...They represent that if the gate be kept shut, their tenants in the new buildings must desert
their habitations’. (NB This gate was relocated in 1709)
The governor of the Board of Ordinance threatened to turn his guns on the newly-built houses of
Portsea but in 1702 the visiting Prince George of Denmark intervened on the locals’ behalf. As a
result, Queen Anne (who was married to the Prince) allowed the building to continue and with this
royal approval, Portsea Town grew rapidly.
Sights, sounds and smells of New Buildings, Portsea
To understand life in the little township, one must sense not only its close proximity to a rapidly-
expanding Dockyard but also that the sea lapped its shoreline at high tide – a landing stage and
landing steps providing access to the township. When local property was advertised for sale, it was
noted as being ‘situate near to the Dockyard’, ‘close to the waterside’, ‘abuts high water mark’ or
‘contagious to water’.
The Dockyard provided background music for the community. New Buildings was dominated by ‘the
busy sound of the Yard. To strangers and visitors it was just a confused and deafening noise. When
you got to know it, you distinguished half a dozen distinct sounds which made up that inharmonious
and yet not unpleasing whole....you could not see it, but you felt it, and knew it was there’.
Another sense, smell, would have been assailed at low tide as New Buildings looked out over harbour
mud. Nostrils were filled with the stench of sludge, decaying seaweed and that double-act, flotsam
and jetsam, which accumulated along the shore line. This offensive effluvia was mixed with the
nauseating odour of odure disgorged from the township.
The streets of New Buildings
The street names of New Buildings changed as national heroes and local personalities emerged.
Thus, Sandwich Street (which was known as Middle Street in 1777) referred to the First Sea Lord, the
fourth Earl of Sandwich, who attempted to root out corruption in the Dockyard. However, his
investigation also uncovered abuses by the workers who lived in these streets! The name, Seymour
Street, first appears in 1796 and was a reference to Lord Hugh Seymour an Admiralty Commissioner
(1795-98). Wolfe’s Court was an echo of General James Wolfe who stayed at Portsmouth in 1758
whilst en route to Canada. Ironically, the General was critical of the Portsea populous which he
castigated as ‘diabolical’. He added in a letter to his mother, ‘It is a doubt to me if there is another
collection of demons upon the whole earth. Vice, however, wears so ugly a garb that it disgusts rather
than tempts’. Despite this, or maybe because of it, the locals still named a street in his honour.
Jarman’s Place, Sharpe’s Buildings and Fisher Street were coined after owners and residents. Gravel
Lane and Gravel Row were so called because they were close to the gravel pits of Portsmouth
Common. Brunswick Street was allocated funds for paving in 1770 - the implication being that the
streets were of mud before this time. The Parade was a place of assembly. Once a year, the
inhabitants elected a mock ‘mayor’ who then sat in state at the Parade as a local company (the
‘Royal Stiffs’) marched past. The ceremony and festivities concluded with great bonfire at what
became known as ‘Bonfire Corner’.
Because of its position, New Building people were mainly mariners and dockyard workers with their
families.
The township’s proximity to the sea brought in its wake specialized trades. Watermen plied their
services at the water’s edge and ferried customers in their wherries around harbour, to moored ships
and also across to Gosport. Wooden ships, temporarily anchored in Porchester Lake or nearby
Fountain Lake, were broken up and their timbers sold by firms such as Clarke and Carter. Cargoes of
coal, house slates and ‘weevil grains’ were landed and sold from stores and yards.
Scattered among residents were the support tradesmen who supplied the community’s basic needs.
New Buildings had two breweries (Prince of Wales and Pink and Collins), at least two taverns (The
Magpie and The Monkey and Grapes), a ship breakers yard, a bake-house, coal stores, a grocery
store (at 19 Sandwich Street) and a coach-house and stables.
Social amenities included a bowling alley, a chapel and a brave attempt of an infant’s school at
Seymour Street which opened in April 1827 and, being funded by public contributions and needing
£100 to survive each year, ran into immediate financial difficulties.
Local trades and amenities
According to the 1775 Rate Book, the numbering of houses at New Buildings ended at 112, which
may indicate the size of the neighbourhood. The homes were well over a century old and, like the rest
of Portsea, in an insanitary state.
The plans of New Buildings show that most homes were terraced with a small yard. In the early 1820s
when properties were sold, sometimes descriptions and rents were included:
·
1805. 19 and 20 Gravel Lane. Annual rent – six guineas each.
·
1829. Three tenements at Seymour Street with cellar, parlour, kitchen, three bedrooms and a
yard. Frontage: 30 feet; depth 28 feet. Total annual rent - £90
·
1832. Seven homes at Wolfe’s Court. Total annual rent - £30.
·
1838. 40 and 41 Sandwich Street. Each with two cellars, front and back sitting rooms, four
bedrooms and an attic.
One sale prospectus helpfully added some details about the water supply to some houses. It detailed
five newly-built homes at 35-39 Sandwich Street (total annual rent - £80) which were ‘plentifully
supplied with excellent spring water and pump’. Indeed the 1846 map of New Buildings shows a well-
house in the vicinity.
The buildings of New Buildings
New Buildings and the 1841 Census
A snapshot of New Buildings emerged on 6 June 1841, when the census was taken. Before
summarizing these figures, it should be noted that these relate to the streets which were taken into the
Dockyard from 1845 as shown in the map above. Not included are the streets that run toward the area
such as Frederick Street, Gloucester Street and Marlborough Row. (It is uncertain whether these
streets were included in the district known as New Buildings.)
The area comprised of 148 dwellings and a further fifteen which were uninhabited - a pointer to the
dilapidated condition of some of the housing stock. There were 725 inhabitants on census night; on
average there were five people to a house but this figure is distorted by the small households of one or
two people recorded at Gravel Lane and Sandwich Street.
The adult population of the area was dominated by royal navy and merchant navy mariners (39), their
wives who remained at home when their men went to sea (36) and naval pensioners (20). Thus, 41% of
adults were connected to the royal and merchant navies.
Many Dockyard artisans were still living at New Buildings. They included shipwrights (9), rope-makers
(4), sawyers (3), joiners (2), blacksmiths (5), stonemasons (2), a painter , a sail-maker , a messenger to
the Port Admiral and a female oakum picker. So, 16% of working adults were employed in the
Dockyard. In addition to these there were nineteen labourers who may or may not have been in the
Yard.
The remainder of workers were the infrastructure of the community: watermen (12),
cordwainers/shoemakers (9), tailors (4), bakers (3), fishermen (2), coal merchant (2), grocers (2),
uncategorized merchants/shopkeepers (5), a miller, a fruiterer, a fishmonger, a draper, a lighter-keeper,
a nurse, a male hair-dresser, a basket-maker, a bricklayer, a cook/pastry cook and a policeman.
Included in this list were those supplying beer and liquor. There were two brewers. Also, three publicans
(two of whom also worked: one as a painter, the other as a tailor) and three licensed victuallers. One
publican was at Wolf’s Court, but the rest were clustered along Sandwich Street.
In the 1830s, the days of New Buildings were numbered. The Dockyard leviathan was again on the
crawl. A sea-change in the construction of vessels from wood to steel and from sail to steam
demanded that the sprawling yard should sprawl some more. On 26 December 1836, a possible
expansion project was reported in the Hampshire Telegraph: ‘...a plan has been shewn us of taking
such increase out of the part of Portsea called New Buildings – a portion of the town very valueless
(italics mine)...’
Sure enough, the death knell of New Buildings sounded in 1844 with the serving of notice of the
Admiralty’s intention to purchase land for its enlargement. The Hampshire Telegraph of 12 July 1845
trumpeted: ‘New Steam Basin’. It reported that ‘the business of removing about 130 occupants from
their various localities has been most ably managed...with one or two exceptions the properties were
of small value’. Yet a few words later, it was stated that ‘many objections at first arose and threats
were held out...’. It concluded that the Admiralty has shown much consideration in ejecting the tenants
and in the cases of three old widows who were merely tenants but who had lived in their respective
holdings for perhaps all their lives, they have been given £8 or £10 a year for the future’.
It might be thought that this report is a perhaps rose-tinted view of the eviction/evacuation. It may
refer to one stage (of several) of the removals; or the ‘130 occupants’ may relate to the adults and not
the children who were wrenched from their homes.
By 1848, New Buildings had become Demolished Buildings.
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The last days of New Buildings