of the writer, shall be clothed in a Tunic, with copes above,
carrying staves across, and scrips in the manner of Pilgrims; and
they shall have _cappelli_[6] over their heads, and be bearded. Let
them go from the Vestiary, singing a hymn, "Jesus, our redemption,"
advancing with a slow step, through the right aisle of the Church,
as far as the Western gates, and there stopping, sing a hymn as far
as that place, "You shall be satisfied with my likeness." Then a
certain Priest of the higher stall, written in the table, clothed in
an Alb and Amess, barefooted, carrying a cross upon his right
shoulder, with a look cast downward, coming to them through the
right aisle of the Church, shall suddenly stand between them, and
say, "What are these discourses?" The Pilgrims, as it were, admiring
and looking upon him, shall say, "Are you a stranger?" etc. The
Priest shall answer, "In what city?" The Pilgrims shall answer, "Of
Jesus of Nazareth." The Priest, looking upon both of them, shall
say, "O fools, and slow of heart," which being said, the Priest
immediately shall retire, and pretend to be going farther; but the
Pilgrims hurrying up, and following him, shall detain him, as it
were, inviting him to their inn, and drawing him with their staves,
shall show him a castle and say, "Stay with us." And so singing they
shall lead him as far as a tent in the middle of the nave of the
Church, made in the resemblance of the Castle Emmaus. When they have
ascended thither, and sat at a table ready prepared, the Lord
sitting between them shall break the bread; and being discovered by
this means, shall suddenly retire, and vanish from their sight. But
they, amazed as it were, rising, with their countenances turned to
each other, shall sing lamentably "Alleluia," with the verse, "Did
not our heart burn," etc., which being renewed, turning themselves
towards the stall, they shall sing this verse, "Tell us, Mary." Then
a certain person of the higher stall, clothed in a Dalmatick and
Amess, and bound round in the manner of a woman, shall answer, "The
Sepulchre of Christ; the Angels are witnesses." Then he shall extend
and unfold a cloth from one part, instead of clothes, and throw it
before the great gate of the Choir. Afterwards he shall say, "Christ
is risen." The Choir shall sing two other verses, following, and
then the Master shall go within; a procession be made; and Vespers
be ended.[2]
There was also a Consecration of Pilgrims, as follows:
The Pilgrims first confessed all their sins, after which they lay
prostrate before the Altar. Particular prayers and psalms were then
said over them, and after every psalm (with manifest skilful
appropriation) the _Gloria Patri_; the Psalm, _Ad te, Domine,
levavi_; and the _Miserere_. At the end of these, the Pilgrims arose
from their prostrate position, and the Priest consecrated their
scrips and staves, saying, "The Lord be with you," and "let us
pray," etc. He next sprinkled holy water upon their scrips and
staves, and placed the scrip around the neck of each pilgrim, with
other religious services. Afterwards he delivered to them the staff
with similar prayers. If any of the Pilgrims were going to
Jerusalem, their garments were in readiness, marked with the cross,
and the crosses were consecrated, and holy water sprinkled over
them. The garments and crosses were then delivered to the Pilgrims,
accompanied by appropriate prayers. The service concluded with the
Mass _De Iter Agentibus_.[3]
[Illustration: SOUTH AMBULATORY, CHURCH OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW, FOUNDED
1123]
Rahere, therefore, among the rest, pilgrimized to Rome. Now it happened
that on the way, either going or returning, he fell grievously sick and
was like to die. As medical science in those days commanded but small
confidence, men naturally turned to the saints, and besieged them with
petitions for renewed health. Rahere betook himself to St. Bartholomew,
to whom he promised a hospital for poor men should he recover. Most
fortunately for London, St. Bartholomew graciously accepted the
proposal, and cured the pilgrim. Rahere therefore returned: he chose the
site, and was about to build the hospital, when the saint appeared to
him and ordered him to found, as well, a church. Rahere promised. He
even went beyond his promise: he founded his hospital of St.
Bartholomew, which still exists, a perennial fountain of life and
health, and, besides this, a priory for canons regular, and a church for
the priory. The church still stands, one of the most noble monuments in
London. One Alfune, who had founded the church of St. Giles Cripplegate,
became the first Hospitaller, going every day to the shambles to beg for
meat for the sick poor. Rahere became the first prior of his own
foundation, and now lies buried in his church within a splendid tomb
called after his name, but of fifteenth-century work.
The mysterious part of the story is how Rahere, a simple gentleman, if
not a jester, was able to raise this splendid structure and to found so
noble a hospital. For, even supposing the hospital and priory to have
been at first small and insignificant, the church itself remains, a
monument of lavish and pious beneficence. The story, in order to account
for the building of so great a church, goes off into a drivelling
account of how Rahere feigned to be a simple idiot.
A great many people every year visit this noble church, now partly
restored. Very few of them take the trouble to step round to the back of
the church. Yet there are one or two things worth noting in that nest of
low courts and squalid streets. Cloth Fair, for instance, still
possesses a few of its old timbered and gabled houses. But on the other
side a small portion of the old monastery church-yard yet remains, and,
in a row of two or three cottages, each with a tiny garden in front: a
cottage-garden close to Smithfield--survives a memory of the garden
which once stretched over this monastery court.
[Illustration: ST. KATHERINE'S BY THE TOWER]
Some of the other foundations enumerated were only recently founded when
Fitz Stephen wrote, and rightly belong to Plantagenet London. But the
noble foundation of the Holy Trinity, Aldgate, was due to Matilda,
queen of Henry I., who also founded St. Giles's Hospital, beside St.
Giles-in-the-Fields. And the priory of St. John of Jerusalem, the chief
seat in England of the Knights Hospitallers, was founded in the year
1100, by Jordan Briset, and Muriel, his wife.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF ST. KATHERINE'S BY THE TOWER]
St. Katherine's by the Tower was first founded by Matilda, wife of King
Stephen. This, the most interesting of all the city foundations, has
survived, in degraded form, to the present day. Its appearance when it
was pulled down, sixty years ago, and as it is figured, was very much
unlike the original foundation by Queen Matilda. Yet the life of this
old place had been continuous. For seven hundred years it remained on
the spot where it was first established. Matilda first founded St.
Katherine's, as a _hospitale pauperum_, for the repose of the souls of
her two children who died and were buried in the Holy Trinity Priory. It
was to consist of thirteen members--"Brothers and Sisters." It was
endowed with certain estates which the society, after this long lapse
of time, still enjoys; the sisters had the right of voting at chapter
meetings--a right which they still retain. The hospital was placed in
the charge or custody of the prior of Holy Trinity. A hundred years
later there was a dispute as to the meaning of the right of custody,
which the priory maintained to be ownership. In the end Queen Eleanor
obtained possession of the place, and greatly increased its wealth and
dignity. Under her it consisted of a master, three brothers in orders,
three sisters, and ten bedeswomen. They all lived in their college round
the church of St. Katherine. Queen Philippa, another benefactor, further
endowed the hospital, adding two chaplains and six poor scholars.
Philippa's new charter, with the building of a splendid church, raised
the hospital to a position far above the small foundation of poor men
and women designed by Matilda. It now stood within its precinct of
eleven acres, possessed of its own courts, spiritual and temporal, its
own law officers, and even its own prison. Its good-fortune in being
considered the private property of the Queen Consort caused it to escape
the general suppression of the religious houses. It lived on--albeit a
sleepy life--a centre of religion and education to the poor people among
whom it was placed. It should have lived there till this day; it should
have become the Westminster Abbey of East London; but greed of gain
destroyed it. Its venerable buildings--its chapel, college, cloisters,
and courts were all destroyed sixty years ago in order to construct on
their site the docks called St. Katherine's, which were not wanted for
the trade of the City. In order to construct docks, in rivalry with
other docks already established, this most precious monument of the
past--the Abbey Church of East London--was ruthlessly destroyed. Who
would believe such a thing? The dust and ashes of the nameless dead
which filled its burying-yard were carried away and used to fill up
certain old reservoirs, on the site of which were built streets and
squares; and in Regent's Park they stuck up a new chapel, with half a
dozen neat houses round it, and called that St. Katherine's by the
Tower. Some day this foundation, with its income of £10,000 a year, must
be sent back to East London, to which it belongs. Poor East London! It
had one--only one--ancient and venerable foundation, and they have
wantonly and uselessly destroyed it.
Everybody who visits London goes to see the Temple Church and the courts
formerly trodden by the Templars, now echoing the hurried feet of
lawyers and their clerks. Their beautiful church, however, is that of
the new Temple. There was an older Temple than this. It stood at the
north-east corner of Chancery Lane. It was certainly some kind of
quadrangular college with its chapel, its hall, its courts, and its
gardens. When the Templars moved to their new quarters, it passed into
other hands and ceased to be a monastic place. Some of its buildings
survived until the sixteenth century.
Is the legend of St. Mary Overies too well-known a story to be retold?
Perhaps there are some readers who have not read the _Chronicles of
London Bridge_, where it is narrated.
[Illustration: DOWGATE DOCK]
Long years ago, before there was any London Bridge at all, a ferry plied
across the river between what is now Dowgate Dock and that now called
St. Saviour's Dock--both of which exist untouched, save that the
buildings round them are changed. At one time the ferry-master--he
appears to have sat at home and taken the money while his servants
tugged at the oar--was one Awdrey. There was no competition in the ferry
trade of the time, so that this worthy employer of labor grew rich. As
he became old, however, he fell into the vice common to rich men who are
also old--that is to say, he became avaricious, covetous, and miserly;
he suffered acutely from this failing, in so much that he grudged his
servants their very food. This miser had a daughter, a lovely damsel
named Mary, of whom many young knights became amorous. To one of these
she lost her heart; and, as too commonly happens, to the poorest, a
thing which her father could not countenance. The knight, therefore, not
being able to get the consent of Awdrey père, removed to another place,
guarding still the memory of his Mary, and still beloved by her. As
there was no post in those days, and neither could write, they exchanged
no letters, but they preserved their constancy and fidelity.
Now behold what may happen as a punishment for avarice! The old man one
day, devising a way to save a few meals--for at a time when death is in
the house who can think upon eating and drinking?--pretended that he was
dead, and laid himself out with a white sheet over him. Alas! He was
cruelly mistaken. His servants, learning what had happened, loudly and
openly rejoiced, stripped the larder of all that it contained, set the
casks flowing, opened the bottles, and began to feast and sing. It was
more than the old man could endure. He sprang from his bed and rushed
among them; they fled, shrieking, because they thought it was his ghost;
one, bolder than the rest, stood his ground to face the ghost, and
banged the apparition over the head with the butt-end of a broken oar,
so that the unlucky ghost fell down dead in real earnest. What happened
when they came to bury him may be read in the book above referred to.
The miser's fortune thereupon devolved upon his daughter. She
immediately sent for her lover, who hastened to obey his mistress. Alas!
on his way the unlucky knight was thrown from his horse and was killed.
The girl, distracted by this misfortune, founded a convent of sisters at
the south end of the ferry, and taking refuge in her own Foundation,
retired from the world. Here in course of time she died. Later on,
another pious lady changed the convent of sisters to a college of
priests, and very early in the twelfth century two Norman knights, named
Pont de l'Arche and D'Ansey, founded here a great priory, of which the
present Church of St. Saviour was then the chapel. The Effigy of Pont de
l'Arche (or perhaps it is that of his friend D'Ansey) is still to be
seen, with no inscription upon it, in the church. The chancel, the two
transepts, and the Ladye Chapel now remain of the old church with its
later additions, and at this moment they are rebuilding the nave in
something like the former style.
[Illustration: ST. SAVIOUR'S DOCK]
"There were in London," Fitz Stephen says, "a hundred and twenty-six
parish churches besides the cathedral and conventual churches." Whatever
the population may have been, the City has never, in her most crowded
days, when nearly half a million lived within her walls, wanted more
churches. A list of them may be found in Strype and Stow. Some of
them--twenty-five, I think--were never rebuilt after the great fire.
Many of them, in these days, have been wantonly and wickedly destroyed.
Most of the churches were doubtless small and mean buildings.
Fortunately, we are able to show, by the survival of one monument, what
some of these little parish churches of London were like in the Saxon
and early Norman times. There remains at Bradford-on-Avon, a little town
of Wiltshire, a church still complete save for its south porch, built by
St. Aldhelm in the eighth century. There are other partly Saxon and
so-called Saxon remains. There is the most curious church of Greenstead
in Essex, whose walls are trunks of oak-trees. Perhaps some of the
London churches may have been built in the same way, but it is more
probable that the piety of the parishioners made them of stone.[5] The
accompanying figure shows the Bradford church. It is very small; the
plan shows the arrangement of nave, chancel, and north porch; it had a
south porch, but that is gone. The walls are of thick stone; the nave
is 25 feet 2 inches long, and 13 feet 2 inches broad; the chancel is 13
feet 2 inches long, and 10 feet broad. The height of the nave to the
wall plates is 25 feet 3 inches; of the chancel is 18 feet. The chancel
opens out from the nave, not with a broad arch, but with a narrow door
only 2 feet 4 inches broad--a very curious arrangement. The doors of the
south and north porches are of the same breadth. The church must have
been very dark, but, then, windows in a cold climate, if you have no
glass, must be as small in size and as few in number as possible. It was
lit by a small window in the eastern wall of the north porch, no doubt
by another in the south porch, by a small window in the south wall of
the nave near the chancel, and by a fourth small window in the south
wall of the chancel, so placed that the light, and sometimes the sun,
should fall upon the altar during celebration of mass. The church was
thus imperfectly lit by four small windows, each with its round arch.
The people knelt on the stones; there were no chairs or benches for
them; the bareness of the church at the present day is just what it was
at first. There is no tower. Over the chancel arch are sculptured two
angels. Outside the church, at the height of about ten feet, runs a
course of round arcades, the only ornament, unless the remains of some
engaged pilasters on the inner door of the north porch be counted as
ornament. A little new masonry has been added within, and two new
windows have been cut in the northern wall for the purpose of giving
more light. But with these exceptions the church is exactly as it was
when Aldhelm reared it and dedicated it to St. Laurence. I do not say
that this little church represents all the Saxon parish churches of
London, but we may be sure that it represents some, and we know that
many of them, even after they had been rebuilt in the twelfth century,
and after mediæval piety had beautified and decorated them, remained
mean and small. In the matter of Saxon churches we have perhaps fewer
existing specimens than we have of the earlier British churches. The
Church of St. Mary at Dover, built of Roman bricks and cement; part of
St. Martin's, Canterbury; and the little Cornish Church of
Perranazabuloe belong to that earlier period. But the Church of St.
Laurence, in the pretty old town of Bradford-on-Avon, is, according to
Professor E. A. Freeman, the one surviving old English church in the
land.
[Illustration: NORTH-EAST VIEW OF ST SAVIOUR'S]
It is impossible to assign a date for the foundation of these churches,
but their dedication in many cases affords a limit of period before
which they could not have been built. Thus, there are three churches in
London named after St. Olave. This king, canonized because, with much
good feeling, he left off attacking the English, died at the end of the
tenth century. These churches were therefore erected in or after the
reign of Edward the Confessor. There are two named after Dunstan, which
gives us a limit to their dates. They were built between the
canonization of Dunstan and the Norman Conquest, because after the
conquest there were no new churches consecrated to Saxon saints. The
dedication of St. Alban's may possibly mark the site of a church of
Roman time, as may also that of St. Helen's, named after Helena, mother
of Constantine. But I have given reasons for believing that everything
Roman perished and was forgotten. The churches of St. Botolph, St.
Swithin, St. Osyth, St. Ethelburga, already mentioned, indicate a Saxon
foundation. St. Alphege was murdered in 1012, so that his church must
have been built between 1012 and 1066. One or two dedications are
obscure. Why, for instance, was a church dedicated to St. Vedast? He was
a bishop of Arras, who, in the sixth century, confirmed his flock in the
faith by a series of miracles quite novel and startling. But who brought
the fame of Vedast and the history of his miracles to the heart of
London City? Traditionally, the two oldest churches in London are those
of St. Peter, Cornhill, which claims a Roman origin, and St. Martin's,
Ludgate Hill, which is assigned to a certain British Prince Cadwallo.
Both traditions may be neglected. In the oldest part of the City, that
along the river, the churches, as I have already mentioned, are mostly
dedicated to the Apostles. Besides the churches, all the monuments the
City had then to show were its wall, its Great Tower, one or two smaller
towers, and its Bridge.
[Illustration: PLAN OF SAXON CHURCH, BRADFORD-ON-AVON]
[Illustration: SAXON CHURCH, SEVENTH OR EIGHTH CENTURY,
BRADFORD-ON-AVON]
The original building of the bridge cannot be discovered. As long as we
know anything of London, the bridge was there. For a long time it was a
bridge of timber, provided with a fortified gate--one of the gates of
the City. In the year 1091 the Chronicler relates that on the Feast of
St. Edmund, the Archbishop, at hour of six, a dreadful whirlwind from
the south-east, coming from Africa--thus do authors in all ages seize
upon the opportunity of parading their knowledge--"from Africa!" all
that way!--blew upon the City, and overwhelmed upwards of six hundred
houses and several churches, greatly damaged the Tower, and tore away
the roof and part of the wall of St. Mary le Bow, in Cheapside. During
the same storm the water in the Thames rose with such rapidity and
increased so violently that London Bridge was entirely swept away.
[Illustration: SCULPTURED ANGEL, SAXON CHURCH]
The bridge was rebuilt. Two years afterwards it narrowly escaped
destruction when a great part of the City was destroyed by fire. Forty
years later it did meet this fate in the still greater fire of 1135. It
was immediately rebuilt, but I suppose hurriedly, because thirty years
later it had to be constructed anew.
Among the clergy of London was then living one Peter, chaplain of a
small church in the Poultry--where Thomas à Becket was baptized--called
Colechurch. This man was above all others skilled in the craft and
mystery of bridge-building. He was perhaps a member of the fraternity
called the Pontific (or Bridge-building) Brothers, who about this time
built the famous bridges at Avignon, Pont St. Esprit, Cahors, Saintes,
and La Rochelle. He proposed to build a stone bridge over the river. In
order to raise money for this great enterprise, offerings were asked and
contributed by king, citizens, and even the country at large. The list
of contributors was written out on a table for posterity, and preserved
in the Bridge Chapel.
[Illustration: VIEW OF INTERIOR OF SAXON CHURCH, SHOWING VERY REMARKABLE
CHANCEL ARCH AND ENTRANCE]
This bridge, which was to last for six hundred and fifty years, took as
long to build as King Solomon's Temple, namely, three-and-thirty years.
Before it was finished the architect lay in his grave. When it was
completed, the bridge was 926 feet long, and 40 feet wide--Stow says 30
feet; it stood 60 feet above high water; it contained a drawbridge and
19 pointed arches, with massive piers, varying from 25 to 34 feet in
solidity, raised upon strong elm piles, covered with thick planks. The
bridge was curiously irregular; there was no uniformity in the breadth
of the arches; they varied from 10 feet to 32 feet. Over the tenth and
longest pier was erected a chapel, dedicated to the youngest saint in
the calendar, St. Thomas of Canterbury. The erection of a chapel on a
bridge was by no means uncommon. Everybody, for instance, who has been
in the South of France remembers the double chapel on the broken bridge
at Avignon. Again, a chapel was built on the bridge at Droitwich, in
Cheshire, and one on the bridge at Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Like the
chapel at Avignon, that of London Bridge contained an upper and a lower
chapel; the latter was built in the pier with stairs, making it
accessible from the river. The bridge gate at the southern end was
fortified by a double tower, and there was also a tower at the northern
end. The wall, or parapet of the bridge, followed the line of the piers,
so as to give at every pier additional room. The same arrangement used
to be seen on the old bridge at Putney. The maintenance of this
important edifice was in the hands of the Brethren of St. Thomas of the
Bridge.
To build a bridge was ever accounted a good work. Witness the lines
engraved on the bridge of Culham:
Off alle werkys in this world that ever were wrought
Holy Churche is chefe--
Another blessid besines is brigges to make,
When that the pepul may not passe after greet showers,
Dole it is to drawe a dead body out of a lake,
That was fulled in a fount ston and a felow of oures.
The citizens have always regarded London Bridge with peculiar pride and
affection. There was no other bridge like it in the whole country, nor
any which could compare with it for strength or for size. I think,
indeed, that there was not in the whole of Europe any bridge that could
compare with it; for it was built not only over a broad river, but a
tidal river, up which the flood rose and ebbed with great vehemence
twice a day. Later on they built houses on either side, but at first the
way was clear. The bridge was endowed with broad lands; certain monks,
called Brethren of St. Thomas on the Bridge, were charged with the
services in the chapel, and with administering the revenues for the
maintenance of the fabric.
The children made songs about it. One of their songs to which they
danced taking hands has been preserved. It is modernized, and one knows
not how old it is. The author of _Chronicles of London Bridge_ gives it
at full length, with the music. Here are two or three verses:
London Bridge is broken down,
Dance over my Lady Lee;
London Bridge is broken down,
With a gay ladee.
How shall we build it up again?
Dance over my Lady Lee;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay ladee.
Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance over my Lady Lee;
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,
With a gay ladee.