Walking the City of London

Category: Religion Page 5 of 19

The oldest Catholic church in England (and do you know anyone called Audrey?)

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 …

Also this memorial to William Lockhart

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 …

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Spooky special edition!

I know Halloween ended a few days ago but it did inspire me to look again at spooky aspects of the City and produce a special edition. I was also enthused by a quite extraordinary house I encountered in a trip to Hampstead which had totally embraced the Halloween spirit. Here’s a sample …

More later.

What better place to start in the City than Samuel Pepys’s ‘own church’, St Olave Hart Street.

It has a really gruesome but stunning churchyard entrance incorporating impaled skulls and crossed bones dated 11th April 1658. The Latin inscription, roughly translated, reads ‘Christ is life, death is my reward‘ and the central skull wears a victory wreath.

Charles Dickens called it ‘St Ghastly Grim’.

It’s even more disturbing becuse the banked-up surface of the churchyard is a reminder that it is still bloated with the bodies of plague victims, and gardeners still turn up bone fragments. Three hundred and sixty five were buried there including Mary Ramsay, who was widely blamed for bringing the disease to London. We know the number because their names were marked with a ‘p’ in the parish register.

Note how much higher the graveyard is than the floor at the church door.

The crypt of the ‘Journalists’ Church’, St Brides in Fleet Street, is home to a fascinating museum containing an extraordinary coffin …

Until well into the 18th century the only source of corpses for medical research was the public hangman and supply was never enough to satisfy demand. As a result, a market arose to satisfy the needs of medical students and doctors and this was filled by the activities of the so-called ‘resurrection men’ or ‘body snatchers’. Some churches built watchhouses for guards to protect the churchyard, but these were by no means always effective – earning between £8 and £14 a body, the snatchers had plenty of cash available for bribery purposes. A tempting advertisement …

The idea was not popular with the clergy and in 1820 the churchwardens at St Andrew’s Holborn refused churchyard burial to an iron coffin. The body was taken out and buried, which led to a law suit. The judgment was that such coffins could not be refused but, since they took so much longer than wooden ones to disintegrate, much higher fees could be charged. This no doubt contributed to the relatively short time iron coffining was used.

St Brides also contains a charnel house, only opened by special arrangement. As you walk around the crypt, bear in mind that there are quite a few old Londoners resting nearby …

The primary customers for fresh corpses were the trainee surgeons at St Bartholomew’s Hospital so it’s no surprise that the nearby church of St Sepulchre had its own watchhouse. Sadly this was destroyed in the Blitz but there is a charming replica that you can see today …

Just around the corner is the entrance to the church so do call in if you can and visit a grim reminder of the days of the notorious Newgate Gaol and public executions.

Carts carrying the condemned on their way to Tyburn would pause briefly at the church where prisoners would be presented with a nosegay. However, they would already have had an encounter with someone from the church the night before. In 1605, a wealthy merchant called Robert Dow made a bequest of £50 for a bellman from the church to stand outside the cells of the condemned at midnight, ring the bell, and chant as follows:

All you that in the condemned hole do lie, Prepare you, for tomorrow you shall die; Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near, That you before the Almighty must appear; Examine well yourselves, in time repent, That you may not to eternal flames be sent: And when St. Sepulchre’s bell tomorrow tolls, The Lord above have mercy on your souls.

And you can still see the bell today, displayed in a glass case in the church …

About five minutes’ walk away is the beautiful church of St Bartholomew the Great inside which is what I think is one of the most disturbing sculptures in the City …

Entitled Exquisite Pain, as well as his skin St Bartholomew also holds a scalpel in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. The second surprise, to me anyway, was that this work was by Damien Hirst, the modern artist known particularly for his spot paintings and the shark swimming in formaldehyde. St Bartholomew is the patron saint of Doctors and Surgeons and Hirst has said that this 2006 work ‘acts as a reminder that the strict demarcation between art, religion and science is a relatively recent development and that depictions of Saint Bartholomew were often used by medics to aid in anatomy studies’. He went on to say that the scissors were inspired by Tim Burton’s film ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990) to imply that ‘his exposure and pain is seemingly self- inflicted. It’s kind of beautiful yet tragic’. The work is on long-term loan from the artist …

There’s nothing like a nice relic – even if it’s not on open display.

This is St Ethelreda’s Roman Catholic church in Ely Place (a road strange in its own right since it is privately managed by its own body of commissioners and beadles) …

The building is one of only two surviving in London from the reign of Edward I and dates from between 1250 and 1290. It is dedicated to Aethelthryth or Etheldreda, the Anglo-Saxon saint who founded the monastery at Ely in 673. According to the story, sixteen years after she died of the plague her body was exhumed in 695 and was found to be pure and uncorrupted with even her clothes having miraculous properties. Although her body has been lost it is said that her uncorrupted hand still rests in a casket in this church.

Unfortunately, this reliquary is kept beside the high altar and I couldn’t gain access so we must make do with an online image …

Nevertheless, it wasn’t a wasted visit. The church is a fascinating place as can be seen from some of the images I did take …

So I shall be back.

And finally, the Hampstead house on Flask Walk that truly embraced the spirit of Halloween.

Disabling the burglar alarm …

Hilarious!

The gang’s all here …

Welcome!

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We are but shadows – City Sundials

I was browsing the British Sundial Society website (as you do) and it inspired me to look for examples of these elegant devices in the City. My research also took me on a bit of a journey around Spitalfields, which I hope you enjoy reading about.

Sundials measure local solar time, and were the only source of time for business and government before the invention of the clock, and even then were used to check clock accuracy whilst the mechanisms were still being perfected. The coming of the railways in the early 19th century meant that time needed to be consistently measured throughout the country, and this speeded up clock development. Sundials, however, survived in many places, and are still being manufactured today, serving both a practical purpose along with being aesthetically pleasing.

There are some fine examples in the City, measuring out the minutes using the shadow cast by the sun as it appears to move from east to west, reaching its zenith at mid-day.

On the corner of 107 Cheapside

Completed in 1958 for the Sun Life Assurance Society, the two dials incorporate the company’s sunburst logo.The south facing sundial has the letters GMT under the sun face and covers hours from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm. The west facing sundial also shows the letters GMT in the bottom right corner of the dial and covers the hours 2:00 in the afternoon until 7:00 in the evening.

The building will be familiar to any of you who have had a chance to look at the signs of the Zodiac arranged around its main entrance and described my earlier blog Looking at the Stars.

Sundial Court, Chiswell Street

Once part of the Whitbread Brewery, this dial is now behind locked security gates but is still visible from the road. It is made of wood, with its motto ‘Such is Life’, dating back to 1771. Around the sides it has the interesting inscription Built 1758, burnt 1773, rebuilt 1774.

There is a late 17th Century dial on St Sepulchre’s, Holborn Viaduct.

St Sepulchre-without-Newgate, junction of Snow Hill and Holborn Viaduct

The dial is on the parapet above south wall of the nave and is believed to date from 1681. It is made of stone painted blue and white with noon marked by an engraved ‘X’ and  dots marking the half hours. It shows Winter time from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm in 15 minute marks. I thought it was curious that the 4:00 pm mark is represented as IIII rather than IV – I have no idea why. Across the road is the Central Criminal Court (the Old Bailey) where once stood the notorious Newgate Prison. I wondered if the Newgate executioner might have taken the time from this dial to help him decide when to start the journey to Tyburn scaffold, along with his unfortunate condemned prisoners. (You can read about my recent tour of the Old Bailey here).

If you visit the church, do have a look at the corner of the churchyard where you will find London’s first public drinking fountain as described in another of my earlier blogs Philanthropic Fountains. You also get a good view of Lady Justice, atop the Old Bailey across the road.

Whenever I visit the Inns of Court I like to enter by one of the old gates in Fleet Street – it really is like stepping back in time, from the bustle of the City to the leafy, collegiate atmosphere of the Inns.

A Fleet Street entrance designed by Sir Christopher Wren. The Lamb and Flag is the emblem of Middle temple.

Lane leading from Fleet Street into the Inns

I read somewhere that Dr Johnson used to enjoy swinging round these supporting pillars when he was in an ebullient mood!

There are two fine sundials nearby.

Pump Court, Middle Temple

Reminding the lawyers of their mortality.

And in Fountain Court …

‘Learn justice you who are now being instructed’

The TWT refers to the Middle Temple Treasurer in 1684, William Thursby, a successful lawyer and later MP. He spoke of the study of law as ‘a rough and unpleasant study at the first, but honourable and profitable in the end … as pleasant (and safe and sure) as any profession’.

And now my two favourites.

The Jacobean church of St Katharine Cree in Leadenhall Street was built between 1628 and 1630 and survived the Great Fire of 1666. On the south wall is this wonderful dial, circa 1700, which is described as having ‘gilded embellishments including declining lines, Babylonian/Latin hours and Zodiac signs’. Its Latin motto Non Sine Lumine means Nothing without Light.

And finally, this dial in Fournier Street.

Once a Protestant church, then a Methodist Chapel, next a Jewish synagogue and now the Brick Lane Mosque

In the late 17th century some 40-50,000 French Protestants, known as Huguenots, fleeing persecution in France, arrived in England with around half settling in Spitalfields. They started a local silk-weaving industry and, incidentally, gave us a new word ‘refugee’ from the French word réfugié, ‘one who seeks sanctuary’. They flourished and established this church in 1743 naming it La Neuve Eglise (The New Church) and installed the sundial we can see today with the poignant inscription Umbra Sumus – ‘We are shadows’.

Typical weavers’ houses in Fournier Street

Driven out by the decline of the weaving trade and anti-French feeling, the Huguenots slowly dispersed and their church was for a while taken over by ‘The London Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews’. Not being very successful, they moved out after ten years and the next tenants were John Wesley’s Methodists, who refurbished the building.

From the 1880s onwards, the East End population underwent another significant upheaval as thousands of Jews arrived fleeing poverty, pogroms, war and revolution. Many settled  in Spitalfields and Whitechapel, close to where they arrived in the docks, setting up numerous businesses.

‘Ghost sign’ for Amelia Gold’s business, 42 Brushfield Street

Built in the 1780s, in the 1880s this shop was once the business premises of a Jewish immigrant from Hungary, a lady called Amelia Gold. Describing herself as a ‘milliner’ indicates that she was a very accomplished, professional maker of ladies’ hats rather than simply a retailer.

The famous entertainer Bud Flanagan was born nearby. His parents Wolf and Yetta (Kitty) Weintrop were Polish Jews who set off for New York in order to flee the pogroms. Sadly for them, a dishonest ticket agent sold them a ticket that only took them as far as London, where they eventually set up a barber shop and tobacconist.

12 Hanbury Street

By the late 19th Century the Methodists had left and the building became the Spitalfields Great Synagogue. However, as the 20th century wore on, many Jews were leaving the East End and the synagogue relocated to Golders Green in 1970. During the 1970s, the area became populated mainly by Bangladeshis who had come to Britain looking for work and often found it in factories and the textile trade. That growing community required a place of worship, and the building was bought and refurbished. In 1976, it reopened as a mosque, the London Jamme Masjid. Today, although it has been renamed, it still serves the Bangladeshi community as a mosque.

A while ago, The Economist ran an article about multicultural London and I would like to end with two quotes from it that I particularly liked since they reference the building.

Because it is a human entrepôt, Spitalfields remains one of London’s poorest and most conservative districts; but now, for the same reason, it is also among the hippest. When old men in traditional dress congregate beneath the mosque’s prophetic sundial, immodestly clad young women weave between them

And …

The mosque is a bricks-and-mortar correction to those Britons who think that immigration is a new and harmful phenomenon

Well said.

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