The Mudlarks is a name popularized by Henry Mayhew in his writings on the London Underworld in the 1860s. His is a tale of desperately poor children beyond the boundaries of the harshly divisive Victorian economy. They were frequently homeless children who survived by combing the Thames foreshore at low tides for anything they could sell on, such as coal, wood, copper, fat, iron and canvas. They survived on their wits and ingenuity against constant and often deserved harassment from authority, for they were always open to opportunistic stealing from the many barges and boats that used the river. Just over a hundred years after Mayhew was recording the activities of London’s low life a very different type of Mudlark began to appear on the beaches of the Thames.

Towards the end of the 1970s the growing number of independent enthusiasts searching the Thames foreshore at low water began to experience a variety of challenges from the authorities in respect to their activities. The individuals concerned came from a mixture of backgrounds but all had a passion for searching the mud for the many fascinating and informative objects left behind along the way of London’s long history. Their activities ranged from surface searching by eye to the use of some of the most sophisticated metal detectors of the time. Controversy arose as searchers became ever more energetic in actually digging holes in their search for more and earlier finds. It gradually became apparent that recovery of all manner of well-preserved artefacts from almost two thousand years of activity was possible. The prospect was good with productive docks, barge beds and beaches along both banks of the Thames throughout its length in the City of London and beyond. At first activities were conducted without control, coordination or recording of finds. Digging holes on the foreshore was, of course, both illegal and dangerous. The Metropolitan Police became ever more vigilant in chasing people off the mud. Although the Museum of London seemed to give scant regard to the potential of excavating the riverfront, they too became alarmed at the potential loss of important artefacts.

For those whose hobby was working the foreshore, searching became more difficult as none of the parties involved really seemed to understand the implications of what was developing. The situation worsened and it began to look as if it would be impossible to continue searching without being in trouble with the law. Covert attempts were made to search and dig at night or to detect hidden from view under bridges or covered foreshore, such as the old Customs House quays by Billingsgate. As pressure on searchers increased, cooperation developed between them. They joined forces and formed themselves into The Society of Thames Mudlarks and Antiquarians, thus establishing a coordinated and reasonable force to challenge the authorities. Some thirty individuals elected an honorary president and committee and began to hold regular meetings formulating a campaign to be allowed to continue their activities.

Meetings were held with the Port of London Authority, the Metropolitan Police and the Museum of London. A long struggle ensued to maintain the hobby as a viable activity. By the early 1980s agreements were more or less reached and a set of rules and regulations were written down and permits issued upon a modest payment to the Port of London Authority. Certain designated areas such as national monuments were to be out of bounds, all finds were to be reported to the Museum of London and holes were to be completely filled in before being covered by the next tide. Membership was limited to sixty individuals, new members having to prove their integrity to the new code of practice during a probationary period. The Society became affiliated to the Federation of Independent Detectorists (FID) and members were covered by substantial public liability insurance. Regular meetings were held in the function rooms of famous riverside pubs. The George at Southwark eventually became the regular venue and guest speakers, professional archaeologists and amateurs were invited to give talks on their specialist subjects, their collections or technical data on metal detectors or collection housing.

It was, however, a rocky course with continual intervention by the authorities. Not always without good reason, there were mavericks that chose to stay outside the control of the Society and indeed members within the Society that found it impossible to abide by simple regulation. This led to some abusive reporting in the press and a strong anti-lobby among professional archaeologists. From the academic point of view there was the loss, indeed loss without record, of cultural material filtering into obscurity via the markets without documentation or provenance attached. They had a point and it is undoubtedly to history’s loss that the Museum of London did not earlier develop a strong rescue plan for the river shore or have a more proactive and less apathetic acquisitions policy regarding finds taken from the river by amateurs.

Much of the professional disinterest in river finds emanated from the archaeologists’ view that there was no detectable stratification descending through the foreshore and so little historic value could be attached to the objects retrieved. However, for those now experienced in digging and detecting the foreshore and confronted by literally many thousands of objects spanning two centuries and beyond, it became very easy to identify and date almost everything that was found. Most of those working the foreshore became highly proficient at arranging the subjects of their interests into a chronological order or type or region of manufacture. The wealth of material coming up and the huge corporate historical knowledge of the membership had produced a panel of experts. Society members became specialist in periods and types of artefact, coins, pottery, tools, spoons, keys, clay pipes, ships fittings and so on.

A practised eye was kept for unusual bones or geological peculiarities. Substantial specialist collections were built up, provenance was recorded and some important and erudite publications were produced in cooperation with the professional archaeologists at the Museum of London. It is to the great credit of these archaeologists that they sought to tap the fount of finds and knowledge offered by the Mudlarks’ activities that these important studies reached print in the appropriate journals. It is also to the credit of the Mudlarks’ membership that so much enthusiasm to communicate their finds to authority persisted through the continual criticism that was levelled against them from some quarters.

Issues of safety were addressed seriously by the Society. The membership was kept informed of dangers such as Weil’s decease (Leptospirosis), a potentially fatal disease contracted from water contaminated with rat urine. The dangers of deep hole digging, mud slip and burial were high on the safety agenda, as was the correct course of action to be taken when unexploded bombs were located. Probably the most controversial subject relating to safety was the vital need to fill in holes before they were overcome by the tide and filled with water. The danger was considerable, as the murky waters of the river gave no hint that a deep hole was anything other than a shallow puddle come next low tide.

Those that would not comply with the safety needs of ‘filling in’ were expelled from the Society after a warning. The authorities would not issue a permit to non-Mudlarks and so the penalty of exclusion hung over offenders who then found themselves outside the law if they continued to operate on the river.

Always attendant on riverbank digging is the troublesome subject of erosion and this was certainly a concern of the authorities in granting permits to dig the Thames foreshore. This, and a concern for surface and sub-surface wildlife, did eventually lead to a drastic reduction in permitted digging depths. These justifiable concerns were acted upon very late in the day and although they are now stringently applied they came after the great tide of amateur discovery over two decades. There was undoubtedly some erosion as a result of the intensity of digging and loosening of sub-layers in some areas but without any great loss of structure. Some Victorian barge-beds and their revetments disappeared; however, no permanent structures of any historical importance were uncovered other than the burnt stumps of jetties destroyed in the Great Fire.

There was, of course, the thrill of treasure hunting; the subject of fortunes to be made was ever a camp follower of the Mudlarks. It is true that some dug ‘professionally’ and there was certainly a great deal of money made by some members of the Society selling finds on the antiquities market. The Museum of London was shown most of the material excavated by the Mudlarks over their years of activity and were duly given the opportunity to purchase items before or if they were ever offered on a broader market. Indeed on more than one occasion sums in excess of £20,000 were raised for items of special interest. The Museum was not held to ransom as some have suggested at times. On the contrary members of the Society were keen to see items of interest go into the permanent collections of the Museum. Much was presented with pride over the years and it is highly likely that further material will be acquired by bequest in the future. Sadly had the Museum developed a better collections development policy and sharpened its fund-raising abilities, much more would certainly have been saved for study and future reference.

Metal detectors were undoubtedly the ‘machine’ that made this rapid discovery and exploitation of the River’s treasure by amateurs possible. Organized excavation, other than possibly the expensive process of coffer damming some of the more important docks such as Queenhithe, probably never was an option. Metalwork including ferrous objects was almost always perfectly preserved in the anaerobic conditions of the river silt, which was compacted to a near dry condition over the centuries.

This made digging on the Thames a unique experience for those lucky enough to have been part of it. Traditionally professional archaeologists have been passionately outspoken against metal detectors. This quite justifiably stems mainly from the numerous damaging reports of vandalism and theft by rogue detectorists invading heritage sites and National Monuments.

An interesting reversal of this usual sad story was the cooperation that developed between the Mudlarks and archaeologists engaged in rescue digs along the developing Thames waterfront. Behind the present waterfront are buried revetments, lanes, building foundations, yards and foreshores covered by the successive infilling and narrowing of the river as the City enlarged ever further onto newly claimed ground. At times of boom building, and now with excavation of foundations to prehistoric levels, outrageously little time is afforded the archaeologists in their last chance to record great swathes of London’s past.

During recent times of pressure the Museum of London accepted the volunteer help of the membership of The Society of Thames Mudlarks, who frequently worked a supervised rota of metal detecting on the threatened sites. Consequently many thousands of potentially lost items were retrieved for the respective rescue dig reports. So impressive were the efforts of the volunteers that the archaeologists finally took on board the effectiveness of metal detectors and began using them ‘officially’ under the initial tuition of the Thames Mudlarks.

Of the finds themselves, just about every artefact that might come to mind has been found. Coins, of course, and occasionally even a coin die. The many small personal objects found included rings, buckles, pins, belt chapes, purse frames, buttons and simple toys etc, and all became targets for specialist collections. Iron tools, horseshoes, fishhooks, padlocks, keys, knives and even edged weapons were found in superb condition because of the oxygen-free environment they were taken from. Arrowheads and fragments of chain mail were always exciting to find. Occasionally chain mail links bore tiny makers marks. Pewter also survived well and competition ran high to find the little medieval pilgrim badges thrown into the river by devotees returning from shrines all over Europe. Clay pipes, glass and pottery suffered in hasty digging, as they were non-detectable, however, many complete items were recovered such as small fourteenth-century pitchers, bellarmine bottles and later tin-glazed ointment pots. A continuing list here would not do justice to the huge spectrum of exciting recoveries. Suffice it to say that the rejectamenta and lost items of London’s past have been recovered in huge numbers and in great variety, adding hugely to the documentation of this unique city’s past.

Identification of finds has been greatly aided by reference to the Mudlarks’ Bible, the Medieval Catalogue of the London Museum (later the Museum of London) first published by His Majesty’s Stationary Office in 1940 and reprinted many times since. Also, lately published by The Stationary Office, there is the superb series of specialist subject volumes Medieval Finds from Excavations in London. The Museum of London itself has, of course, been ever helpful in identification work and their advice has been highly valued by the membership of The Mudlarks. The members themselves have a wealth of self-taught knowledge and active discussion on finds at meetings and after digging mornings around a pub table has been part of the huge enjoyment experienced by those that have been lucky enough to take part. On these later occasions enjoyment of picking over the morning’s finds was often shared by amazed onlookers watching some very muddy people emptying equally muddy debris from a plastic bucket onto a pub table as members identified and swapped items of interest among themselves. It has to be said that there was a delightful Fagin’s Den atmosphere about these occasions.

Despite the many setbacks and disappointments suffered by The Society of Thames Mudlarks and Antiquarians, it still thrives as a significant society with a healthy membership regularly surface searching under ever more stringent restrictions. The days of deep digging may be over but the tides regularly offer prizes to those that walk the foreshore with a membership card in their pocket.