City Road or The City Road is a road that runs through inner north and central London. The northwestern extremity of the road is at the Angel, Islington where it forms a continuation of Pentonville Road. Pentonville Road itself is the modern name for London's first bypass, the New Road from Paddington to Islington, which was constructed in 1756. The City Road was built in 1761 as a continuation of that route to the City of London.
The City Road runs roughly south-east and downhill, until it passes Moorfields Eye Hospital, when it bears closer to south, and has a junction with Old Street at a large roundabout. After Old Street it continues south, continuing past Bunhill Fields and the Honourable Artillery Company, then in quick succession turns into Finsbury Square, Finsbury Pavement, then Moorgate, the latter beginning at the border with the City of London.
The part of the road north of Old Street is on the London Inner Ring Road and as such forms part of the boundary of the London congestion charge zone. The ringroad continues east along Old Street. Most of the road is in the London Borough of Islington although the stretch from Wharf Road down to the Old Street roundabout is the border between Islington and Hackney so the two sides are in different boroughs.
Nearby London Underground stations are Angel, Old Street and Moorgate. The disused City Road tube station was on City Road itself.
London Bus routes serving the length of City Road include 43, 205, 214, 394.
The City Road and The Eagle is mentioned in an additional verse written for the nursery rhyme Pop Goes the Weasel by 1856, when it was quoted in a performance at the Theatre Royal:
- Up and down the City Road
- In and out the Eagle
- That's the way the money goes
- Pop! goes the weasel.
The rhyme appears on the wall of the Eagle.
Famous quotes containing the words city and/or road:
“Creation destroys as it goes, throws down one tree for the rise of another. But ideal mankind would abolish death, multiply itself million upon million, rear up city upon city, save every parasite alive, until the accumulation of mere existence is swollen to a horror.”
—D.H. (David Herbert)
“A novel is a mirror carried along a high road. At one moment it reflects to your vision the azure skies at another the mire of the puddles at your feet. And the man who carries this mirror in his pack will be accused by you of being immoral! His mirror shews [sic] the mire, and you blame the mirror! Rather blame that high road upon which the puddle lies, still more the inspector of roads who allows the water to gather and the puddle to form.”
—Stendhal [Marie Henri Beyle] (1783–1842)