Poor St Bartholomew the Less has had a tough time (EC1A 9DS). Designated ‘the less’ to distinguish it from its better known namesake nearby, it has also had to be substantially rebuilt a number of times including the need to repair damage inflicted in the Blitz. Nonetheless, it is a fascinating place containing many interesting historical monuments.
To find its modest doorway you must enter the grounds of St Bartholomew’s hospital through the Henry VIII gates and look to your left. Inside a rather spooky white hand directs you up stairs to the main body of the church …
It was once a parish church in its own right, the parish boundary being the walls of the hospital. The parishioners were made up of the hospital staff and patients and at one time attendance at services was compulsory for all who were fit enough. It was the only parish of this nature in existence but since 2015, however, it has become part of the Parish of St Bartholomew the Great.
There are many features to admire but, for reasons of space, I have tried to pick some of the most interesting and will look at others in a future blog.
This stained glass commemorates the founding of he monastic complex of St Bartholomew in 1123. The person responsible was Rahere, a courtier to Henry I, who was inspired by a vision of the saint whilst recovering from a serious illness …
Rahere is shown kneeling and beneath his cassock is rather a surprise. He is wearing some very colourful tights, a reference to the fact that he’s often referred to as a minstrel or jester as well as a courtier …
High up on the south wall is the memorial to Robert Balthrope, Sergeant Surgeon to Queen Elizabeth I …
The inscription reads …
Here Robert Balthrope Lyes intombed, to Elizabeth Our Queene Who Sergeant of the Surgeons Sworne, Neere Thirtye Yeeres Hathe Beene He Died at Sixtye Nine of Yeeres, Decembers Ninthe The Daye The Yeere of Grace Eight Hundred Twice Deductinge Nine A waye. Let Here His Rotten Bones Repose Till Angells Trompet Sounde To Warne The Worlde of Present Chaunge And Raise the Deade From Grounde.
He died in 1591, but the poet who devised this eulogy presumably had a problem getting 1591 to rhyme with anything. So he chose the frankly odd solution of asking the reader to do some mental arithmetic – ‘The Yeere of Grace Eight Hundred Twice’ (i.e. 800 x 2 = 1600) Deductinge Nine A waye (1600 – 9 = 1591).
The current windows in the church were designed by Hugh Easton, following the loss of the earlier windows during World War Two. Easton was an eminent stained glass maker who also designed the Battle of Britain memorial window in Westminster Abbey. The design of the nurse in the window in Westminster Abbey is strikingly similar to that in the window here …
The doctors’ memorial window …
The mid-19th century alabaster pulpit depicts Christ healing the sick …
On the east wall is the poignant memorial plaque to Arthur Jermyn Landon …
The reflections make it difficult to read so here it is in full …
His former medical contemporaries at St Bartholomew’s Hospital have set up this tablet to keep in memory the bright example of ARTHUR JERMYN LANDON Surgeon Army Medical Department who, while continuing to dress the wounded amid a shower of bullets in the action on Majuba Hill, was in turn mortally wounded. His immediate request to his assistants “I am dying do what you can for the wounded” was characteristic of his unselfish disposition. His habitual life was expressed in the simple grandeur of his death. He was born at Brentwood Essex 29th June 1851. Died two days after the action at Mount Prospect South Africa 1st March 1881.
Here he is in an image of him dated 1881 held at the Wellcome Foundation …
Before you leave, look to the right of the door and you will see the tomb of Surgeon John Freke (1688-1756) …
English History Online has the following to say …
… a remarkably curious tomb of the fireplace kind, most elaborately wrought. It is the tomb of Freke, the senior surgeon of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, who wrote many works upon surgery, still to be found in its library. His bust is to be seen in the museum of the hospital, and he is represented by Hogarth, in the last plate of “The Stages of Cruelty,” presiding aloft over the dissecting-table, and pointing with a long wand to the dead “subject,” upon whom he is lecturing to the assembled students.
And here it is …
You can read more about Hogarth’s The Four Stages of Cruelty here.
Look back after leaving the church and observe the oldest parts of the building, the 15th-century tower and west end of the church …
Within the tower are three bells, the oldest being cast in 1380. The bells are hung in the original wooden frame thought to be the oldest in London.
Last week I mentioned my visit to St Etheldreda’s church in Ely Place and promised to return, which I duly did on a lovely sunny Monday morning this week.
Ely Place was until relatively recently considered to be a part of Cambridgeshire. For centuries, it was an enclave – an area of land physically located in the City of London but not under its jurisdiction. Instead, it was privately owned by the Bishops of Ely, and even today the street has its own gatehouse and beadles …
The houses date from the 1770s.
Tucked away down a narrow passage on the left is the quaint Ye Olde Mitre pub. When I first visited it back in the 1970s it kept shorter ‘Country’ rather than ‘City’ opening hours …
Further north along Ely Place the church of St Etheldreda is set back from the road …
The original name of the saint celebrated here was Æthelthryth and this eventually evolved into Etheldreda which, in turn, sometimes became pronounced Audrey (a girl’s name now somewhat out of fashion). This explains the naming of the late Victorian block of flats called Audrey House that nudge up against the church itself …
The Bishop of Ely once had a palace in London back in the 13th century. To get an idea of the extraordinary wealth of the church before the Dissolution of the Monasteries by Henry VIII, this is a section of the so-called Agas map of 1561 in which my fellow blogger London Inheritance has marked the streets that formed the boundaries to the Bishop’s land …
You can see the name Ely Place and St. Andrew’s church just to the right of where he has marked Holborn.
A private chapel was built alongside the palace dedicated to St Etheldreda, the nun who founded the first religious house in Ely in the 7th Century and is the saint to whom Ely Cathedral was dedicated. The chapel here dates from the late 13th Century and is one of the few buildings in London surviving from the reign of Edward I since it escaped the flames of the Great Fire in 1666 (although it was severely damaged following an air raid during the Second World War).
As soon as you enter you know you are in a rather special place …
Before descending into the crypt, there is an interesting feature just to the right of the door …
It was found when the site was excavated but its original purpose has never been established, although some have suggested it is the remains a Roman font.
Down the steps into the crypt …
When I visited the space was laid out for a function of some kind …
Some of the niches surrounding the venue …
Back upstairs now to the upper church.
On the way you pass a Royal coat of arms which commemorates the reopening of the church after bomb damage repair on 2nd July 1952 …
The upper church is a beautiful, spiritual place with some stunning post-War stained glass …
In the centre of the east window is Christ whilst at the apex God the Father surmounts the choir of angels …
To the left of Mary, the Mother of God, stands St Etheldreda, holding an image of the monastery she founded …
The west window is dedicated to the English martyrs. Five martyrs, each holding a palm, stand underneath the Tyburn gallows …
Martyrs hang on the ‘Tyburn Tree’ prior to being ‘drawn and quartered’ …
They are also commemorated with statues standing on corbels along both sides of the upper church. Here are three of them, all executed at Tyburm.
Anne Line, a sempstress, martyred in 1601 …
John Roche, a Thames Waterman, martyred in 1588 …
Edward Jones, a Welsh gentleman, martyred 1590 …
Alas there was no sign of the reliquary containing part of the saint’s ‘uncorrupted’ hand that I mentioned in my last blog. Presumably it’s stored away for safe keeping.
Overall St Ethelreda’s is a calm, welcoming place – ideal for quiet contemplation away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I’d strongly recommend a visit both for that reason and for its historical importance.
If you want to read more about the church and the area go to the excellent London Inheritance blog. If you visit the church do purchase the guide book – it is very well written with excellent illustrations …
If you would like to follow me on Instagram here is the link …
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