in its relentless course many a beautiful and historic church. But some
few of them are left to us. We have already seen St. Bartholomew's,
Smithfield, and glanced at the church of St. Helen, Bishopsgate, and
old St Paul's. Wren's St. Paul's Cathedral has so often been described
that it is not necessary to tell again the story of its building.[11]
"Destroyed by the Great Fire, rebuilt by Wren," is the story of most of
the city churches; but there were some few which escaped. At the east
end of Great Tower Street stands All Hallows Barking, so called from
having belonged to the abbey of Barking, Essex. This narrowly escaped
the fire, which burned the dial, and porch, and vicarage house. Its
style is mainly Perpendicular, with a Decorated east window, and has
some good brasses. St. Andrew's Undershaft, Leadenhall Street, opposite
to which the May-pole was annually raised until "Evil May-day" put an
end to the merry-makings, was rebuilt in 1520-32, and contains some
mural paintings, much stained glass, and many brasses and monuments,
including that of John Stow, the famous London antiquary. St. Catherine
Cree, in the same street, was rebuilt in 1629, and consecrated by
Laud. St. Dunstan's-in-the-East was nearly destroyed, and restored
by Wren, the present nave being rebuilt in 1817. St. Dunstan's,
Stepney, preserves its fifteenth century fabric, and St. Ethelburga's,
Bishopsgate, retains some of its Early English masonry, and St.
Ethelreda's, Ely Place, is the only surviving portion of the ancient
palace of the Bishops of Ely. St. Giles', Cripplegate, stands near the
site of a Saxon church built in 1090 by Alfun, the first hospitaller of
the Priory of St. Bartholomew. Suffering from a grievous fire in 1545,
it was partially rebuilt, and in 1682 the tower was raised fifteen
feet. Many illustrious men were buried here, including John Fox, John
Speed, the historian, John Milton and his father, several actors of
the Fortune Theatre, and Sir Martin Frobisher. In 1861 the church
was restored in memory of Milton, and a monument raised to him. This
church saw the nuptials of Oliver Cromwell and Elizabeth Bowchier in
1620. All Hallows Staining, Mark Lane, escaped the fire, and its tower
and west end are ancient. St. James', Aldgate, was built in 1622, and
escaped the fire, which might have spared more important edifices;
and St. Olave's, Hart Street, a building which shows Norman, Early
English, Decorated, and Perpendicular work, was happily preserved. This
is sometimes called Pepys's church, since he often mentions it in his
diary, and lies buried here. There are other interesting monuments,
and in the churchyard lie some of the victims of the Great Plague. St.
Sepulchre's, near Newgate, was damaged by the fire, and refitted by
Wren, but the main building is fifteenth century work. Several churches
escaped the Great Fire, but were subsequently pulled down and rebuilt.
Amongst these are St. Alphege, London Wall; St. Botolph-without,
Aldersgate; St. Botolph's, St. Martin's Outwich. St. Mary Woolnoth was
also damaged by the fire, and repaired by Wren. It stands on the site
of an early church, which was rebuilt in the fifteenth century; but the
greater part of the present church was built by Hawksmoor in 1716.
A strange, weird, desolate city met the eyes of the people of London
when the Great Fire had died away. No words can describe that scene
of appalling ruin and desolation. But, with the energy for which
Englishmen are remarkable, they at once set to work to restore their
loss, and a master-mind was discovered who could grapple with the
difficulty and bring order out of chaos. This wonderful genius was Sir
Christopher Wren. He devised a grand scheme for the rebuilding of the
city. Evelyn planned another. But property owners were tenacious of
their rights, and clung to their own parcels of ground; so these great
schemes came to nothing. However, to Wren fell the task of rebuilding
the fallen churches, and no less than fifty-two were entrusted to his
care. He had no one to guide him; no school of artists or craftsmen
to help him in the detail of his buildings; no great principles of
architecture to direct him. Gothic architecture was dead, if we except
the afterglow that shone in Oxford. He might have followed his great
predecessor, Inigo Jones, and produced works after an Italian model.
But he was no copyist. Taking the classic orders as his basis, he
devised a style of his own, suitable for the requirements of the time
and climate, and for the form of worship and religious usages of the
Anglican Church. "It is enough for Romanists to hear the murmur of the
mass, and see the elevation of the Host; but our churches are to be
fitted for auditories," he once said.
Of the churches built by Wren, eighteen beautiful buildings have
already been destroyed. St. Christopher-le-Stocks is swallowed up
by the Bank of England; St. Michael, Crooked Lane, disappeared
in 1841, when approaches were made to New London Bridge; St.
Bartholomew-by-the-Exchange made way for the Sun Fire Office; and
St. Benet Fink was pulled down because of its nearness to the Royal
Exchange. Since the passing of the Union of City Benefices Act in 1860,
fourteen churches designed by Wren have succumbed, and attacks on
others have been with difficulty warded off.[12]
The characteristics of Wren's genius were his versatility, imagination,
and originality. We will notice some of the results of these qualities
of mind. The tower hardly ever enters into the architectural treatment
of the interior. It is used as an entrance lobby or vestry. His
simplest plan was a plain oblong, without columns or recesses, such
as St. Mildred's, Bread Street, or St. Nicholas', Cole Abbey. St.
Margaret, Lothbury, St. Vedast, St. Clement, Eastcheap, have this
simple form, with the addition of an aisle or a recess. His next plan
consists of the central nave and two aisles, with or without clerestory
windows; of this St. Andrew Wardrobe and St. Magnus the Martyr furnish
good examples. The third plan is the domed church, such as St. Swithun
and St. Mary Abchurch. The merits and architectural beauties of Wren's
churches have been recently described in an able lecture delivered by
Mr. Arthur Keen before the Architectural Association, a lecture which
we should like to see expanded to the size of a book, and enriched with
copious drawings. It would be of immense service in directing the minds
of the citizens of London to the architectural treasures of which they
are the heirs.
The churches are remarkable for their beautifully carved woodwork,
often executed or designed by Grinling Gibbons or his pupils. Pews,
pulpits, with elaborate sounding boards, organ cases, altar pieces,
were all elaborately carved, and a gallery usually was placed at the
west end. Paintings by Sir James Thornhill and other artists adorn
his churches, and the art of Strong the master mason, Jennings the
carpenter, and Tijou the metal worker, all combined to beautify his
structures.
Within the limits of our space it is only possible to glance at the
interiors of a few of these churches, and note some of the treasures
therein contained. St. Andrew's, Holborn, has its original fifteenth
century tower, recarved in 1704. It is known as the "Poet's Church,"
on account of the singers connected with it, including a contemporary
of Shakespeare, John Webster, Robert Savage, Chatterton, and Henry
Neele, and can boast of such illustrious rectors as Bishops Hacket
and Stillingfleet, and Dr. Sacheverel. The spire of Christ Church,
Spitalfields, built by Hawksmoor, is the loftiest in London, and
has a fine peal of bells. In the church there is an early work of
Flaxman--the monument of Sir Robert Ladbrooke, Lord Mayor. The name
of St. Clement Danes reminds us of the connection of the sea-rovers
with London. Strype says that the church was so named "because Harold,
a Danish King, and other Danes, were buried there, and in that
churchyard." He tells how this Harold, an illegitimate son of Canute,
reigned three years, and was buried at Westminster; but, afterwards,
Hardicanute, the lawful son of Canute, in revenge for the injury done
to his mother and brother, ordered the body to be dug up and thrown
into the Thames, where it was found by a fisherman and buried in this
churchyard. There seems to be no doubt that there was a colony of
peaceful Danes in this neighbourhood, as testified by the Danish word
"Wych" given to a street hard by, and preserved in the modern Aldwych.
It was the oldest suburb of London, the village of Ældwic, and called
Aldewych. Oldwych close was in existence in the time of the Stuarts.
These people were allowed to reside between the Isle of Thorney, or
Westminster, and Ludgate, and, having become Christians, they built a
church for themselves, which was called _Ecclesia Clementis Danorum_.
There is a wild story of the massacre of the Danes in this church in
the days of Ethelred, as recorded in Strype's _Continuation of Stow_,
and in the _Jomsvikinga Saga_. As Mr. Loftie has not found space in
_Saxon London_ to mention this colony of Danes and their doings, I
venture to quote a passage from Mr. Lethaby's _Pre-Conquest London_,
which contains some interesting allusions to these people:
"We are told that Sweyn made warfare in the land of
King Ethelred, and drove him out of the land; he put
_Thingumannalid_ in two places. The one in Lundunaborg
(London) was ruled by Eilif Thorgilsson, who had sixty ships
in the Temps (Thames); the other was north in Sleswik. The
Thingamen made a law that no one should stay away a whole
night. They gathered at the Bura Church every night when a
large bell was rung, but without weapons. He who had command
in the town (London) was Ædric Streona. Ulfkel Snilling ruled
over the northern part of England (East Anglia). The power of
the Thingamen was great. There was a fair there (in London)
twice every twelve month, one about midsummer and the other
about midwinter. The English thought it would be the easiest
to slay the Thingamen while Cnut was young (he was ten winters
old) and Sweyn dead. About Yule, waggons went into the town to
the market, and they were all tented over by the treacherous
advice of Ulfkel Snelling and Ethelred's sons. Thord, a man
of the Thingumannalid, went out of the town to the house of
his mistress, who asked him to stay, because the death was
planned of all the Thingamen by Englishmen concealed in the
waggons, when the Danes would go unarmed to the church. Thord
went into the town and told it to Eilif. They heard the bell
ringing, and when they came to the churchyard there was a
great crowd who attacked them. Eilif escaped with three ships
and went to Denmark. Some time after, Edmund was made King.
After three winters, Cnut, Thorkel and Eric went with eight
hundred ships to England. Thorkel had thirty ships, and slew
Ulfkel Snilling, and married Ulfhild, his wife, daughter of
King Ethelred. With Ulfkel was slain every man on sixty ships,
and Cnut took Lundunaborg."
Matthew, of Westminster, also records this massacre of the Danes, and
other authorities consider that the account in the _Saga_ is founded
on fact. However that may be, the Danes undoubtedly had a colony here
of their traders, merchants, and seamen, and dedicated their church
to their favourite saint, St. Clement, the patron of mariners, whose
constant emblem is an anchor. Nor was this the only location of the
Northmen. Southwark was their fortified trading place, where they
had a church dedicated to St. Olaf, the patron saint of Norway. His
name remains in Tooley Street, not a very evident but certainly true
derivative of St. Olaf's Street. There are three churches dedicated to
St. Olave, who was none other than St. Olaf. St. Magnus, too, tells
of the Northmen, who was one of their favourite saints. Going back to
the church of St. Clement Danes, we notice that it was rebuilt in 1682
under the advice of Wren, the tower and steeple being added forty years
later. Dr. Johnson used to attend here, and a pillar near his seat
bears the inscription:
"In this pew and beside this pillar, for many years attended
Divine Service, the celebrated Dr. Johnson, the philosopher,
the poet, the great lexicographer, the profound moralist, and
chief writer of his time. Born 1709, died 1794. In remembrance
and honour of noble faculties, nobly employed, some
inhabitants of the parish of St. Clement Danes have placed
this slight memorial, A.D. 1851."
One of the most important city churches is St. Mary-le-Bow, Cheapside.
It is one of Wren's finest works; but the old church, destroyed by the
Great Fire, had a notable history, being one of the earliest Norman
buildings in the country. Stow says it was named St. Mary _de Arcubus_
from its being built on arches of stone, these arches forming a crypt,
which still exists. The tower was a place of sanctuary, but not a very
effectual one, as Longbeard, a ringleader of a riot, was forced out of
his refuge by fire in 1190, and Ducket, a goldsmith, was murdered. The
Bow bells are famous, and one of them was rung nightly for the closing
of shops. Everyone knows the protesting rhyme of the 'prentices of the
Cheap when the clerk rang the bell late, and the reassuring reply of
that officer, who probably feared the blows of their staves. Lanterns
hung in the arches of the spire as beacons for travellers. The bells
of Bow are said to have recalled Dick Whittington, and those who have
always lived in the district where their sound can be heard are deemed
very ignorant folk by their country cousins. Whittington's church was
St. Michael's Paternoster Royal, Thames Street, which he rebuilt, and
wherein he was buried, though his body has been twice disturbed. The
church was destroyed by the Great Fire, and rebuilt by Wren.
It is impossible for us to visit all the churches, each of which
possesses some feature of interest, some historical association. They
impart much beauty to every view of the city, and not one of them can
be spared. Sometimes, in this utilitarian age, wise men tell us that
we should pull down many of these ancient buildings, sell the valuable
sites, and build other churches in the suburbs, where they would be
more useful. Eighteen of Wren's churches have been thus destroyed,
besides several of later date. The city merchants of old built their
churches, and made great sacrifices in doing so, for the honour of God
and the good of their fellow-men, and it is not for their descendants
to pull them down. If suburban people want churches, they should
imitate the example of their forefathers, and make sacrifices in order
to build them. Streets, old palaces, interesting houses, are fast
vanishing; the churches--at least, some of them--remain to tell the
story of the ancient civic life, to point the way to higher things amid
the bustling scenes of mercantile activity and commercial unrest. The
readers of these Memorials will wish "strength i' th' arme" to the City
Churches Preservation Society to do battle for these historic landmarks
of ancient London.
The Pageant of the Streets
Nothing helps us to realise the condition of ancient London, its growth
and expansion, like a careful study of its street-names. It shows
that in the Middle Ages London was very different from that great,
overcrowded, noisy, and far-extending metropolis which we see to-day.
It is difficult for us in these days to realise the small extent of
ancient London, when Charing was a village situated between the cities
of Westminster and London; or, indeed, to go back in imagination even
a century or two ago, when the citizens could go a-nutting on Notting
Hill, and when it was possible to see Temple Bar from Leicester Square,
then called Leicester Fields, and with a telescope observe the heads of
the Scotch rebels which adorned the spikes of the old gateway. In the
early coaching days, on account of the impassable roads, it required
three hours to journey from Paddington to the city. Kensington,
Islington, Brompton, and Paddington were simply country villages,
separated by fields and pastures from London; and the names of such
districts as Spitalfields, Bethnal Green, Smithfield, Moorfields, and
many others, now crowded with houses, indicate the once rural character
of the neighbourhood.
The area enclosed by the city walls was not larger than Hyde Park.
Their course has been already traced, but we can follow them on the
map of London by means of the names of the streets. Thus, beginning
at the Tower, we pass on to Aldgate, and then to Bishopsgate. Outside
was a protecting moat, which survives in the name Houndsditch, wherein
doubtless dead dogs found a resting place. Then we pass on to London
Wall, a street which sufficiently tells its derivation. Outside this
part of the wall there was a fen, or bog, or moor, which survives in
Moorfields, Moorgate Street, and possibly Finsbury; and Artillery
Street shows where the makers of bows and arrows had their shops,
near the artillery ground, where the users of these weapons practised
at the butts. The name of the Barbican tells of a tower that guarded
Aldersgate, and some remains of the wall can still be seen in Castle
Street and in the churchyard of St. Giles', Cripplegate, the derivation
of which has at length been satisfactorily determined by Mr. Loftie in
our first chapter, and has nothing to do with the multitude of cripples
which Stow imagined congregated there. Thence we go to Newgate and the
Old Bailey, names that tell of walls and fortifications. Everyone knows
the name of the Bailey court of a castle, which intervened between the
keep or stronger portion of the defences and the outer walls or gate.
The court of the Old Bailey suggests to modern prisoners other less
pleasing ideas. Now the wall turns southward, in the direction of
Ludgate, where it was protected by a stream called the Fleet, whence
the name Fleet Street is derived. Canon Isaac Taylor suggests that
Fleet Street is really Flood Street, from which Ludgate or Floodgate
takes its name. We prefer the derivation given by Mr. Loftie. On the
south of Ludgate, and on the bank of the Thames, stood a mighty strong
castle, called Baynard Castle, constructed by William the Conqueror to
aid him, with the Tower of London, to keep the citizens in order. It
has entirely disappeared, but if you look closely at the map you will
find a wharf which records its memory, and a ward of the city also is
named after the long vanished stronghold. Now the course of the wall
follows the north bank of the river Thames, and the names Dowgate and
Billingsgate record its memory and of the city gates, which allowed
peaceable citizens to enter, but were strong to resist foes and rebels.
Within these walls craftsmen and traders had their own particular
localities, the members of each trade working together side by side in
their own street or district; and although now some of the trades have
disappeared, and traders are no longer confined to one district, the
street-names record the ancient home of their industries. The two great
markets were the Eastcheap and Westcheap, now Cheapside. The former, in
the days of Lydgate, was the abode of the butchers. Martin Lyckpenny
sings:
"Then I hyed me into Est-chepe
One cryes ribbes of befe and many a pye."
And near the butchers naturally were the cooks, who flourished in
Cooks' Row, along Thames Street. Candlewick Street took its name from
the chandlers. Cornhill marks the site of the ancient corn market.
Haymarket, where the theatre is so well known, was the site of a
market for hay, but that is comparatively modern. The citizens did
not go so far out of the city to buy and sell hay. Stow says: "Then
higher in Grasse Street is that parish church of St. Bennet, called
Grasse Church, of the herb market there kept"; and though he thinks
Fenchurch Street may be derived from a fenny or moorish ground,
"others be of opinion that it took that name of _Fænum_, that is, hay
sold there, as Grasse Street took the name of grass, or herbs, there
sold." Wool was sold near the church of St. Mary Woolchurch, which
stood on the site of the present Mansion House, and in the churchyard
was a beam for the weighing of wool. The name survives in that of St.
Mary Woolnoth, with which parish the other was united when St. Mary
Woolchurch was destroyed by the Great Fire. Lombard Street marks the
settlement of the great Lombardi merchants, the Italian financiers,
bankers, and pawnbrokers, who found a convenient centre for their
transactions midway between the two great markets, Eastcheap and
Cheapside. Sometimes the name of the street has been altered in course
of time, so that it is difficult to determine the original meaning.
Thus Sermon Lane has nothing to do with parsons, but is a corruption
of Sheremoniers' Lane, who "cut and rounded the plates to be coined
and stamped into sterling pence," as Stow says. Near this lane was the
Old Exchange, where money was coined. Later on, this coining was done
at a place still called the mint, in Bermondsey. Stow thought that
Lothbury was so called because it was a loathsome place, on account
of the noise made by the founders; but it is really a corruption
of Lattenbury, the place where these founders "cast candlesticks,
chafing-dishes, spice mortars, and such like copper or laton works."
Of course, people sold their fowls in the Poultry; fish and milk and
bread shops were to be found in the streets bearing these names; and
leather in Leather Lane and, perhaps, Leadenhall Market, said to be
a corruption of Leatherhall, though Stow does not give any hint of
this. Sopers' Lane was the abode of the soapmakers; Smithfield of the
smiths. Coleman Street derives its name from the man who first built
and owned it, says Stow; but later authorities place there the coalmen
or charcoal-burners. As was usual in mediæval towns, the Jews had a
district for themselves, and resided in Old Jewry and Jewin Street.
The favourite haunt of booksellers and publishers, Paternoster
Row, derives its name, according to Stow, "from the stationers or
text-writers that dwelled there, who wrote and sold all sorts of books
then in use, namely, A. B. C. or Absies, with the Paternoster, Ave,
Creed, Graces, etc. There dwelled also turners of beads, and they are
called Paternoster-makers. At the end of Paternoster Row is Ave Mary
Lane, so called upon the like occasion of text-writers and bead-makers
then dwelling there." Creed Lane and Amen Corner make up the names of
these streets where the worshippers in Old St. Paul's found their helps
to devotion.
Old London was a city of palaces as well as of trade. All the great
nobles of England had their town houses, or inns, as they were called.
They had vast retinues of armed men, and required no small lodging.
The Dukes of Exeter and Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland, and many
others, had their town houses, every vestige of which has passed away,
though their names are preserved by the streets and sites on which they
stood. The Strand, for example, is full of the memories of these old
mansions, which began to be erected along the river bank when the Wars
of the Roses had ceased, and greater security was felt by the people
of England, who then began to perceive that it might be possible to
live in safety outside the walls of the city. Northumberland Avenue
tells of the house of the Earls of Northumberland, which stood so
late as 1875; Burleigh Street and Essex Street recall the famous Sir
William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, whose son was created Earl of Essex.
Arundel House, the mansion of the Howards, is marked by Arundel Street,
Surrey Street, Howard Street, Norfolk Street, these being the titles
borne by scions of this famous family. The readers of the chapter on
the Royal Palaces need not be told of the traditions preserved by the
names Somerset House and the Savoy. Cecil Street and Salisbury Street
recall the memory of Salisbury House, built by Sir Robert Cecil, Earl
of Salisbury, brother of the Earl of Essex mentioned above. Then we
have Bedford Street, with Russell Street, Southampton Street, Tavistock
Street, around Covent Garden. These names unfold historical truths.
Covent Garden is an abbreviated form of Convent Garden, the garden
of the monks of Westminster. It was granted to the Russell family at
the dissolution of monasteries, and the Russells, Earls of Bedford,
erected a mansion here, which has long disappeared, but has left traces
behind in the streets named after the various titles to which members
of the Russell family attained. In another part of London we find
traces of the same family. After leaving Covent Garden they migrated
to Bloomsbury, and there we find Bedford Square, Southampton Street,
Russell Square, Tavistock Square, and Chenies Street, this latter being
named after their seat in Buckinghamshire. Craven buildings, near
Drury Lane, tells of the home of Lord Craven, the devoted admirer of
the "Queen of Hearts," the beautiful Queen of Bohemia. Clare House,
the mansion of the Earls of Clare, survives in Clare Market; and
Leicester Square points to the residence of the favourite of Queen
Elizabeth, and Villiers Street and Buckingham Street to that of another
court favourite, the Duke of Buckingham. The bishops also had their
town houses, and their sites are recorded by such names as Ely Place,
Salisbury Square, Bangor Court, and Durham Street.
We might wander westward, and trace the progress of building and of
fashion, and mark the streets that bear witness to the memories of
great names in English history; but that would take us far beyond our
limits. Going back citywards, we should find many other suggestive
names of streets--those named after churches; those that record the
memories of religious houses, such as Blackfriars, Austin Friars,
Crutched Friars; those that mark the course of many streams and brooks
that now find their way underground to the great river. All these names
recall glimpses of Old London, and must be cherished as priceless
memorials of ancient days.
The Heart of the City