City of London Churches Introduction The following pages are a series of written by Mark McManus about some of his favourite churches in the City of London

All Hallows by the Tower Barking Abbey, the remains of which still be seen, was founded by Erkenwald in the year 666. Owning land on the eastern edge of the City, the Abbey constructed the Saxon church of All Hallows Berkyngechirche on Tower Hill in 675. Over the centuries, the name mutated to All Hallows Barking.

The exterior of the building is quite large and imposing, but its different architectural styles bring attention to its historic troubles: medieval masonry dominated by the brown brickwork of the post-Blitz restoration, its tower of 1659 being a rare example of a Cromwellian rebuild. Despite the somewhat forbidding exterior, the inside of the church is a spacious and light surprise. This is due mostly to Lord Mottistone's post-WWII rebuild, which replaced the previously gloomy Norman nave with concrete and stone, blending well with the medieval work of the aisles with a grace that the cluttered exterior can only dream off. The plain east window allows light to flood into the church, and the glass placed in the recently reopened southern entrance also helps to maintain this airy atmosphere. All Hallows is eager to tell its story. As you first step in through the main entrance in Great Tower Street, you are greeted by a large facsimile showing Vischer's famous engraving of pre-

Great Fire London seen from the South Bank, and a gift shop which is the largest I've seen in a City church. This is probably due to a greater amount of visitors than is usual, tourist overflow from the nearby Tower. A good selection of historic books can be purchased, displayed in glass cabinets... and All Hallows is certainly not short of history. Its proximity to Tower Hill obliged it to be the temporary resting place of various victims of the axe, such as Sir Thomas More (1535), Bishop John Fisher (1535),Henry Howard Earl of Surrey (1547), and Archbishop William Laud (1647). These notable bodies have all since been re-interred elsewhere, with the probable exception of their heads. On Wednesday 5th September 1666, the recently rebuilt church tower received a visitor from adjacent Seething Lane, one Samuel Pepys, whose Diary records, 'I up to the top of Barking Steeple, and there saw the saddest sight of desolation that I ever saw. Everywhere great fires, the fire being spread so far as I could see it.' He was looking west; Sir William Penn of the Admiralty, father of the founder of Pennsylvania, saved All Hallows from the conflagration by ordering an intervening row of houses to be blown up, thus creating a fire-break. The irrepressible Diarist, never one to let a local apocalypse ruin his appetite, wrote, 'to Sir W Penn's, and there eat a piece of cold meat, having eaten nothing since Sunday but the remains of Sunday's dinner.' All Hallows' connection with notable figures is impressive. Apart from the short-lived interments mentioned, it was also host to the baptisms of Lancelot Andrewes, the Bishop who helped prepare the Authorized Version of the Bible for James I, and William Penn Jnr. Weddings included the notorious Judge George Jeffreys and John Quincey Adams, who became the 6th U.S. President. Many of the church's registers survived the ravages of the Reformation by being hidden in a lead cistern in the tower, and they were not discovered until 1923. These records include various plague entries, a mention of the Gunpowder plot, and names Penn, Quincey Adams and Laud in the register of baptisms, marriages and burials. They are the only unbroken record of events on Tower Hill in the sixteenth century. In the 20th Century the incumbent, Revd Philip Clayton, made two important contributions to the history of the church. He founded the international movement called 'Toc H', which promotes the spirit of war-time camaraderie through Christian fellowship, and he also changed the name, removing the obsolete Barking ( the Abbey had been dissolved since 1536) and replacing it with the more practical By The Tower. The parish Bounds are still ritually 'beaten' on Ascension Day, which involves a boat trip as part of the boundary is on the Thames, and sometimes a mock 'clash' with Beefeaters beating the Bounds of the Tower of London. Many historical treasures are displayed in the church. The canopy tomb of Alderman John Croke (1477) was destroyed in the 1940 air raid and reconstructed from over 150 fragments. Today it holds a bronze casket containing the Lamp of maintenance of Toc H. There are seventeen brasses, the earliest being that of William Tongue of 1389. The wonderful font cover, depicting cherubs and vines, was carved by master woodworker Grinling Gibbons in 1682 for 12, and a triptych of c1500, known as the Tate panel after the benefactor who commisioned it, shows the figures of St Joseph, St John the Baptist, St Jerome, St Ambrose and Tate himself kneeling in

prayer! One example of survival is the pulpit, originally from the church of St Swithins London Stone, pulled from the rubble after it was completely demolished in the Blitz. The Undercroft is a museum in its own right. It contains an in-situ Roman tessellated pavement from a 2nd century house on the site, and a Saxon archway from the original church which was rediscovered after the Blitz. There are three chapels, one of which - dedicated to bSt Francis - was once a crypt of c1280 which managed to get lost for three centuries before rediscovery in 1925. A small neighbouring oratory, dedicated to St Clare, has a 'squint' through which services could have been observed. There are models of Roman tombstones, a model of Londinium made in 1928 and sadly dated ( no ampitheatre!), archives dating back to the year of the Armada (1588), the burial pit in which Laud once rested, and small artefacts from the Roman and Saxon periods. Overall, the Church is a marvellous surprise to the unwary. One could spend a couple of hours there, gazing at the relics of two thousand years of history. It was around 400 years before the neighbouring Tower was started, and the Londinium relics date back even further. It's also cheaper than the Tower, asking only for donations and a small fee for the Undercroft!

Author Mark McManus

St Andrew Undershaft At the start of the new Millenium, after centuries of obselescence, St Andrew's suffix has now gained new meaning, as it stands today in the shadow of the soaring Swiss RE building, more colloquially known as the Gherkin. Originally, however, the name had a different meaning.

The history of the site may extend as far back as Saxon times, and it has previously been known

as St Andrew Cornhill, St Andrew juxta Aldgate and plain St Andrew the Apostle. The name Undershaft appeared in the 15th Century due to a custom that took place in the street nearby - the erection every year of a large maypole. This custom was described by Chaucer in his typically dense Middle English: 'Right well aloft, and high ye beare your heade The weather cocke, with flying, as ye would kill When ye be stuffed, bet of wine then brede Then looke ye, when your wombe doth fill As ye would beare the great shaft of Cornehill Lord, so merrily crowdeth then your croke That all the streete may heare your body cloke.' This tradition was suspended in 1517 after the so-called 'Evil Mayday', when City apprentices rose in riot against foreigners. Clearly the authorities did not wish any more public gatherings on this particular day. The maypole was hung aloft on houses along Shaft Alley, and today a replica maypole can still be found hanging on the wall of this alley, east of Leadenhall Street next to Marks & Spencer. Presumably the original was kept preserved in the hope that the tradition may some day be restored, but this was not to be. In 1520 the more wealthy parishioners joined forces to rebuild the late medieval church which still stands - with various alterations - to this very day. Its major benefactor at this time was Steven Gennings, a merchant tailor and one time Mayor, with 'every man putting to his helping hand, some with their purses, others with their bodies.' The church was finished in 1532. In 1549, the curate of St Katherine Creechurch - a neighbour of St Andrew, further along Leadenhall Street - was a rather fiery preacher named Sir Stephen. He denounced the dormant maypole during a sermon at St Paul's Cross, claiming that it was idolatrous. As a consequence of this, the maypole was removed from its resting place in Shaft Alley and sawn into pieces. These events were witnessed, and later recorded, by a Cornhill tailor named John Stow. Sir Stephen was later forced to flee the City after informing against, and therefore condemning to the gallows, a popular Romford bailiff who may well have been innocent. This execution took place virtually on Stow's doorstep. In 1565, the nearby church of St Mary Axe was closed down and its parish united with St Andrews. This church had been dedicated to St Mary the Virgin, St Ursula, and the 11,000 virgins, and keen observers of Undershaft's exterior today will spot a reference to the Axe. St Andrews seems to have led a quiet existence, being fortunate enough to escape the Great Fire and any significant Blitz damage. Its parish was eventually merged with St Helens Bishopsgate, and both churches were seriously damaged by the terrorist bomb which exploded in St Mary Axe in 1992, destroying the historic Baltic Exchange which now boasts the Gherkin on its site. St Andrews was repaired as quickly as possible, with none of the major changes which became so controversial at St Helens. Generally speaking, St Andrews is not open for tourists. It is used by study groups, for prayer meetings, and a Sunday school. Pews have been cleared from the interior and corners of the building are cluttered with catering equipment and toys! A bain marie stands in the northern

aisle, ready to provide a buffet for study group luncheons, and visitors need to ask prior permission at St Helens Rectory if they wish to view the interior for themselves. The style of the building is late Perpendicular Gothic, and the crowding of surrounding buildings gives the deceptive impression that the church is very small. This impression is dispelled when the visitor actually enters - it consists of a nave and two aisles, plenty of windows both clear and stained, and the absence of pews makes the interior seem even more spacious. The roof is mainly comprised of flat wooden beams, mostly modern following the post-1992 repairs. Font and pulpit are Jacobean, and the Harris organ dates to 1696. The church contains some notable monuments. A brass remembers Nicholas Leveson, d1539, a Sheriff who was one of the benefactors dusring the church's construction. His father in law, Thomas Bodley, founded the Bodleian Library in Oxford. This is the oldest brass remaining in the church. A lovely monument by Cornelius Cure, Master Mason to Elizabeth I and James I, commemorates Sir Thomas Offley and his family. He was Lord Mayor in 1556. A recess contains a memorial to Alice Byng, d1616, consisting of a small figure of Alice kneeling in prayer. She was married three times, and the monument lists her husbands and children. A monument in the south aisle remembers the Datchelor family, one of whom - Mary Datchelor - founded a well known girl's school in Camberwell. Three monuments deserve special attention - the large memorial to Sir Hugh Hammersley, Lord Mayor in 1627, his kneeling figure flanked by soldiers. This represents his presedential connection to the Honourable Artillery Company, which once had land near Spitalfields. Artillery Lane now marks the spot. Hammersley was also the president of Christ's Hospital in Newgate Street, which used buildings from the old Greyfriars monastery. Another monument in the NE corner, is the terracotta figure of John Stow, seated at a desk and holding a quill. Despite his popular and influential writings, Stow ended his days in poverty and was granted a licence to beg by the King James I. His wife erected the monument; one wonders how she was able to afford it. A Latin inscription reads: 'Sacred to the memory. Here awaits the resurrection in Christ, John Stow, a citizen of London who, having with the greatest care and diligence studied the ancient monuments, wrote the 'Annals of England' and 'A View of the City of London'. He deserved well of his own time and of posterity.' Stow's work provides the most complete record of the City before the Great Fire, and are highly valuable primary historic sources. He was the first man to fully describe the City Churches, most of which have either disappeared or been completely altered. I resisted the temptation to kneel and wail, 'I'm not worthy!' The third notable monument is a simple brass to the great Tudor court painter, Hans Holbein. He lived in the parish and died during an outbreak of the plague in 1543. Opinion was divided among historians as to whether he was buried here or in St Katherine Cree, but most now follow the conclusion of John Strype - a successor of Stow - who claimed the latter. This would make more sense - more land was available for plague pits at St Katherine, due to the land to its rear belonging to the recently dissolved Holy Trinity Priory. St Andrew's churchyard is small, and today only a tiny garden exists to the rear of the building. According to its guardians, thanks to its recent repairs St Andrews 'probably looks the best it has

for at least 100 years'. It is well worth a visit, but remember - arrange it with the St Helen's Church Office first!

Author Mark McManus

St Bartholomew The Great Smithfield is not an attractive area, with the sprawling hospital complex of St Barts on one side and the untidy meat market on the other. A couple of plaques on the hospital wall remind the passerby of certain less savoury aspects of the area's history, by memorialising Protestant martyrs who were burned here during the reign of Mary Tudor, and the Scottish patriot Sir William Wallace who was hanged, drawn and quartered. However, on the east side of Smithfield lies one of the City's best kept secrets. A Tudor gatehouse rises over a Norman archway. This was once the main entrance of a Priory Church, and is now the gateway that leads to the parish church of St Bartholomew The Great.

The story of its founding is an interesting one. The White Ship disaster of 1120 had robbed England of the heir to the throne, Prince William, and had plunged the court of his father Henry I into gloom. A courtier named Rahere undertook a pilgrimage to Rome, and while there he contracted a fever. He may have been treated at the hospital on the Isolo Tiberina, supposedly the site where St Bartholomew's relics rest, and we know that he vowed to build a hospital for the poor if he were fortunate enough to recover. Regaining his health, he embarked upon his return journey, during which he experienced a vision of Bartholomew, who ordered him to build a

church at a place called the Smooth Field. Smooth Field/Smithfield was an unpleasant site even in Norman times, being used for cattle markets and executions as well as occasionally being utilised for tournaments. Nevertheless, with the backing of King Henry and the Bishop of London, the Priory Church of St Bartholomew - and the Hospital of the same name - began to rise in 1123. Rahere died in 1143 and the work was completed by his successor. In 1250 there was a skirmish at the Priory between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Sub-Prior, and the Pope had to intervene to lift several excommunications that resulted. The year 1381 saw a famous brawl outside the entrance, during which the rebel Wat Tyler was fatally injured by the Lord Mayor, William Walworth. The Priory was never particularly large, nor wealthy, and was surrendered to Henry VIII, although a Dominican convent was briefly established there during Mary's reign. After this, the Nave of the Priory was demolished, but the area of the Quire, Sanctuary and Lady Chapel became the parish church of 'Greate Saint Bartholomew next Smithfield'. It now stands as one of only two monastic foundations in the City that still exist as churches, the other being St Helens Bishopsgate. The approach through the majestic Gatehouse is an impressive one. Through the archway, the visitor sees a small playground on the right, standing on the site of the cloisters, and on the left is an elevated burial ground that was once the Nave of the Priory. Ahead is the facade of the church, a mixture of styles due to various additions through the ages. Norman masonry is visible in the cloister to the right of the church door, a brick built Jacobean tower (containing a pre-Reformation set of bells) rises above, and the porch is a Victorian work by Sir Aston Webb. Through this door, one enters a church which is utterly unlike any other City church. The light airiness of Wren, and the pretentions of the Victorians, cannot be seen here. What you have is superb Norman glory, the old Quire now serving as a nave, the old Sanctuary as a chancel, and north and south aisles with bays divided by massive Romanesque columns. What immediately catches the eye, however, is the triforium gallery above the columns, and the clerestory above that. It is the best example of Norman arcading in the City, and one can see here what all those ruined monastic sites across the country must have looked like. The floor of the Sanctuary is a mosaic laid in 1904, and to its north is the canopied shrine-tomb of the founder, inscribed 'Hic Jacet Raherus, Primus Canonicus et Primus Prior hujus Ecclesi&'. The tomb is a 1405 rebuild, although the effigy is believed to be the original. Many other fine monuments exist in the Quire, dating from Elizabethan through to the early Georgian period; that of Sir Robert Chamberlayne, d.1615, has an armoured effigy kneeling under a canopy with curtains being held back by winged figures. The aisles also contain impressive monuments, especially the south aisle. The largest is the monument to Sir Walter Mildmay, d.1589, who was a member of Queen Elizabeth's Privy Council, her Chancellor, a treasurer of the Exchequer, and still managed to find the time to found Emmanuel College at Cambridge. Nearby is the 1652 monument to the philosopher and doctor Edward Cooke, which was once an object of visitor curiosity. Before the installation of central heating in the church, condensation used to form on the monument and make it 'weep'. The

inscription actually invites the reader to weep as well. At the east end of this aisle is an altar for the Imperial Society of Knights Bachelor, the membership of which is made up of those who have been knighted by the Queen, and who hold annual services in the church. The north aisle was once lined with chapels, all gone at the Reformation. A monument here commemorates John and Margret Whiting. He died in 1681, a year after his wife, and the excellent epitaph by Sir Henry Wootton reads 'Shee first deceased, Hee for a little Tryd/ To live without her, likd it not and dyd'. At the western end of this aisle a battered, lead-lined stone coffin is on display, discovered in 1865, probably belonging to one of the priors. Another coffin is under the quire screen and apparently its skeleton wears leather sandals - as does the skeleton of Rahere, seen during repair work to his tomb. Being buried in leather sandals was an Augustinian custom. The Lady Chapel, at the rear of the church, is the most modern looking part of the building. It is the third on the site, being built by Sir Aston Webb and dedicated in 1897. For three centuries after the Reformation it was used for secular purposes, such as dwellings, lacemaking, and at one time a printing press at which worked the young Benjamin Franklin in 1725. One corridor of the cloister remains, having spent its post-Reformation centuries also being used secularly. It has been a smithy, a stable, even a pub! The cloister was not fully returned to church use until 1928. The church's font dates from 1405 and is the only pre-Reformation font in the City. The artist William Hogarth was christened here in 1697. This church is truly startling on a first visit. I can imagine further visits being scarcely less rewarding. The sheer force of its survival from Norman times, with so much of the architecture of that period intact, is remarkable considering the bustle and tumult of Smithfield over the years. London's best kept secret? Shout it out!

St Brides Fleet Street St Brides has a long history, probably due to the proximity of a Holy Well once dedicated to St Bridget, from which the church received its dedication. Indeed, the name Bridewell has been synonymous with the area for centuries, and is now the name of a nearby theatre.

On the site of the future church, the Romans dug a mysterious extra-mural ditch which was bigger than the one they eventually dug around the city walls, only a stone's throw away at Lud Gate. Soon after they put up an equally mysterious building, which has puzzled arcaeologists since its discovery. Why build just outside the walls of Londinium? Could this building, under the site of the present St Brides, have been connected to the Well? Or could it have been one of the earliest Christian sites, erected away from the settlement due to fear of persecution? The answers remain elusive, but the relics do not: the line of the ditch is marked on the floor of the crypt, and a section of tessellated pavement can still be seen. In the sixth century the first definite church was built here, a nave and chancel with a typical Saxon rounded apse. This was rebuilt many times over the following centuries, with the result

that the marvellous crypt contains remains from seven previous St Brides! It was, as the first church encountered between London and Westminster, of considerable importance: in 1205, the Curia Regis, first court of the realm, was held in St Brides and in 1210 King John held his Parliament there. By 1500 the area had become a magnet for the clergy. The Bishops of Salisbury, Peterborough and Ely all had buildings in the neighbourhood, and this in turn led to the area's enduring association with printing and journalism. At the time, the printing press was still a relatively new development but Wynkyn de Worde, the apprentice and successor of Caxton, knew that the principal purveyors of literature were churchmen - so he erected his printing press in the heart of the clergy's quarter, the churchyard of St Brides, where he has been buried since 1535. Other printers soon followed his example and flocked to the area.The connection between St Brides and the world of journalism is today still as strong, despite the mass defection to the Docklands in the 1980's. The growing number of printing presses attracted Dryden, Milton and Evelyn to the neighbourhood. Samuel Pepys was born in a road adjacent to the church, and was baptised there along with his eight siblings. Later, he recorded in his Diary the necessity of having to bribe the gravedigger with sixpence to 'jostle together' coffins in the crypt to make way for his brother Tom. Other notable interments at this time were Mary Frith (1659), otherwise known as 'Moll Cutpurse', a rather notorious local criminal, and the Cavalier poet Richard Lovelace (1658), who wrote 'Stone walls do not a prison make'. One speculates if these really were his thoughts, as he sat in the Gatehouse Prison doing time for his Royalist beliefs. The Great Fire destroyed St Bride's, other than the remains in the crypt, now very extensive due to the number of preceding churches on the site. Rebuilt to Wren's design at a cost of 11,430:5:11d, it was one of the first post-fire churches ready for worship. The steeple, one of the most remarkable in London, was completed in 1703. The steeple is of Portland stone. It consists of rising and diminishing octagons, ending in a spirelet, and until a lightning strike was eight feet higher. Its shape gave rise to one of St Brides most romantic stories, that of Thomas Rich. Rich was, as a young man, apprenticed to a baker near Ludgate. He fell in love with his master's daughter and, at the end of his apprenticeship when he set up his own business, asked for her hand in marriage. The proposal was given her father's approval. As a baker, Rich wished to create a spectacular cake for the wedding feast, but was unsure of how to create something completely new for his betrothed... until, one day, he looked up at the steeple of the church in which they were to be married, and the inspiration hit him. A cake in layers, tiered, diminishing as it rose. And thus began, according to the story, the tradition of the tiered wedding cake, based on Wren's steeple for St Brides. This story may be fanciful, there is no concrete historical proof to its veracity. However, walking through St Brides Churchyard, now paved over and with benches for lunching workers, one can still find - among about a dozen now prone gravestones - the names of Thomas Rich and his wife, still together after centuries, and one hopes the story is true. The area - and its printing presses - continued to attract the great and the good. Johnson, Boswell,

Reynolds, Garrick, Goldsmith, Pope, Hogarth, Sarah Siddons, Richardson, writers, actors, artists all. A later generation saw Wordsworth, Hood, Keats, Hazlitt and Lamb holding deep discussions in local coffee houses. Naturally, the rise of the newspaper was here - the crypt holds a copy of the first edition of the 'Daily Courant', the first newspaper. On December 29th 1940, the area suffered massive bombardment. By morning, all that remained of St Brides was the wedding-cake steeple and outer walls. With financial help from newspapers, Godfrey Allen studied Wren's original plans and created a faithful rebuilding, keeping the clear glass which Wren loved, but not rebuilding the galleries, instead laying out the stalls in collegiate style. The church today has a light, open feel of symmetry, the floor is paved with marbled parquets of black from Belgium and white from Italy. The church is very much a living church in a modern world - an altar in the NE corner carries sympathy messages to reporters who have lost their lives in current conflicts. A bust of Virginia Dare, the first child to be born of settlers in the New World, is a reminder that her parents were married here. The crypt has the feel of a medieval charnel, which is exactly what it is - in a bricked up chamber to the south are the bones of several thousand Londoners. On display are the remains of former churches, the Roman pavement, an iron coffin (to deter grave robbers) and the brass plate once attached to the coffin of Samuel Richardson, author of 'Pamela' and 'Clarissa', often proclaimed - alongside DeFoe and Fielding - to be the 'Father of the English Novel'. Richardson was buried at St Brides in 1761. Something of a hypochondriac, he left behind several letters bemoaning his mediacal complaints. His coffin seems to have been disturbed during W F Grimes' post-War excavations, but was rediscovered in 1993 by the osteologist Dr Louise Scheuer, who scientifically compared the state of the bones with the complaints Richardson listed. Along with Christ Church Spitalfields, on the opposite side of the City, the many hundreds of named remains at St Brides are an invaluable resource for those studying illness in antiquity. Set back from Fleet Street, only yards from the tremendous bustle of Ludgate Circus yet seemingly existing in its own peaceful space, St Brides is one of the most historic, vibrant and beautiful churches to be found in London. The list of people connected with it reads like a Who's Who of historical personages, and even now, in this high-rise age, the famous spire draws the eye from surrounding vistas. A historic, architectural and thought-provoking gem.

St Clement Danes Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements...' It is historically unsure whether the famous nursery rhyme refers to St Clement Danes or St Clements Eastcheap. Many researchers favour the latter. Nevertheless, it is the former that has appropriated the song, and proudly refers to itself as the 'Oranges and Lemons Church'. Standing in a dominant position at the junction of Fleet Street and the Strand, the church is a highly visible landmark, and its bells can often be heard ringing out the tune of the rhyme. Once a year, after a special service, the attending children of St Clement Danes Primary School are each presented with an orange and a lemon.

The history of the church is pre-Norman. Stow writes of 'the parish church of St Clement Danes, so called because Harold, a Danish king, and other Danes were buried there. This Harold [Harold I, 'Harefoot', r1035-1040], whom King Canutus had by a concubine, reigned three years, and was buried at Westminster [Abbey]; but afterward Hardicanutus, the lawful son of Canutus, in revenge of a displeasure done to his mother by expelling her out of the realm, and the murder of his brother Alured, commanded the body of Harold to be digged out of the earth and to be thrown into the Thames, where it was by a fisherman taken up and buried in this churchyard.'

Stow also mentions an event during the reign of Ethelred, when marauding Danes destroyed the monastery at Chertsey, but got their desserts when they were 'by the just judgement of God all slain at London in a place which is called the church of the Danes.' Although the Great Fire did not reach the church, it was deemed unsafe by its parishioners and in 1680 the body of the church was rebuilt by Christopher Wren. Joshua Marshall had built the west tower over a decade before Wren designed the main body, and James Gibb added a spire in 1719. As with so many London Churches, the Blitz caused serious damage when an incendiary bomb burned out the interior in 1941. During clearance of the rubble, the crypt was opened for the first time since the 1850s, when it had been cleared following the passing of an Act prohibiting further city burials. The crypt today is a chapel, quite spartan and with the walls oddly decorated with old coffin plates. A chain hangs on one of the walls. This was once used to secure coffin lids against grave robbers, but is now obsolete as the coffins were removed to a newly formed chamber in Victorian times. At the entrance to the crypt is a memorial plaque set up by the poet John Donne to commemorate his wife Ann, who was buried there. Post-war restoration was carried out by Anthony Lloyd in 1955. The interior is light, the dark-stained wood of the pews forming a pleasant contrast to the paleness of the walls and floor. It is galleried, and Corinthian columns above the galleries help support the tunnel-vault nave ceiling. St Clements has been the central church of the Royal Air Force since 1958, and this is immediately apparent: statues of Dowding and Harris stand outside the entrance, and the floors of the nave and the wide aisle are set with emblems of different squadrons, all in slate. When I visited St Clements, the bells began to peel as I approached the entrance. Alas, this was not to welcome such a distinguished visitor, but because the time happened to be two o' clock exactly. The church is imposing from the outside and this is matched by the spaciousness of the interior. Although the subterranean chapel is somewhat haunting, all those coffin plates a constant reminder that the chamber was for many centuries a far less pleasant place, the military slates in the nave are another reminder of continuity, of an ancient foundation finding new life and relevance in the modern world, even if they DID have to commandeer a nursery rhyme to do it!

St Giles Cripplegate

Approaching St Giles. the impression given is that of a survivor. Surrounded by the Barbican development, the medieval church has endured several fires and one incendiary bombing. The surrounding area was shattered by the WW2 bombs and the Barbican rose from the ashes, but St Giles - after a Godfrey Allen restoration - carried on. The original church may have been a Saxon chapel, but in 1090 one Alfune, Bishop of London, built a Norman church. The dedication to St Giles came later in the Middle Ages, but has nothing to do with Giles being the patron saint of cripples. The name Cripplegate comes from one of the many gates in the adjacent city wall, and is derived from the Saxon 'crepel/cruple', meaning a covered walkway. The church was rebuilt in Gothic Perpendicular style in 1394, at which time it was being used by a religious fraternity founded by John Belancer, and the style has been maintained throughout three destructive fires: one in 1545, another in 1897 and of course the incendiary bombs of 1940 which gutted the interior. For his post-War reconstruction, Allen used the actual plans for the 1545 restoration, which were being kept at Lambeth Palace. St Giles seems deceptively small as one approaches, a consequence of its position in the centre of an uncluttered plaza, and the eye is drawn to its solid walls, repointed by the Victorians, and its red-brick tower with a white wooden turret. It has a great deal more character than the expensive flats which surround it, and as such seems to dominate the area despite being of less stature than its neighbours! The interior is quiet and somewhat stately, thanks to the arcades separating the north and south aisles from the nave, and a leisurely stroll quickly reveals the church to be one that is very proud of its historical connections!

The most notable of these features is a collection of busts set on plinths, showing four famous parishioners. Daniel Defoe, government agent, pamphleteer, useless businessman and famous author, was born in the parish and worshipped here. Oliver Cromwell was married in the church, although the incumbent vicar lost his living at the Stuart Restoration. His name was Samuel Annesley, but his descendants had the last laugh - his daughter, Susannah Wesley, gave birth to a boy called John... A third bust is that of John Bunyan, the Nonconformist preacher who spent twelve years in Bedford Jail for his beliefs and wrote 'The Pilgrims Progress', one of Puritan England's most popular and influential books. He was an occasional visitor to the church, and is buried close to Defoe in Bunhill Fields, a Dissenter's Cemetery in St Giles' parish, which also contains another famous local - the poet/painter William Blake, one of history's true eccentric geniuses. The remaining bust is that of John Milton, author of Paradise Lost and a member of Cromwell's Council of State. Milton is the church's most famous interment; as well as the bust, there is a memorial in the south aisle and his burial place is marked near the chancel. Another legendary poet with connections to St Giles is William Shakespeare. Two of his nephews were christened here, one was buried here, and interred here in 1634 was the grand-daughter of Sir Thomas Lucy, supposedly the basis of the comic 'Justice Shallow' in Henry IV Part II and The Merry Wives Of Windsor. Shakespeare's fellow actor and local benefactor Edward Alleyn is memorialised by a stained glass window - he was the proprieter of the Fortune Theatre which once stood close by. Also buried in the body of the church are two eminent Elizabethans: John Foxe, the propagandist whose 'Book Of Martyrs' did absolutely nothing for the Catholic cause, and Sir Martin Frobisher, a mariner who fought against the Armada and attempted to locate the North-West Passage. Close by, and with a monument that has managed to survive the Victorian fire and the Luftwaffe bombs, is the seventeenth century cartographer and historian, John Speed. I'll round off St Giles' history with a couple of macabre but amusing anecdotes, the first of which is - hopefully! - a legend. A young gentlewoman named Constance Whitney was buried in the church during the 1600's. On the night of her funeral, a verger stole into the crypt to retrieve a ring which he had previously noticed adorning the deceased's finger. Attempting to cut off the finger, the verger was surprised (to say the least, one would think) when the woman woke up with a cry, jumped out of her coffin and ran home. I can't imagine the reaction of the housemaid when she answered the door being much better than that of the verger. St Giles' historically unscrupulous vergers lead us to the second story, which seems to be true. During the 1790's, while repairs were being made to the chancel, the coffin of John Milton was exhumed. The enterprising verger opened it and put the great poet on public display, charging interested parties first 6d, later 2d, and finally the price of a pint for a peek. This led to his teeth, hair and one rib being purloined for souvenirs before he was reburied, and the contemporary poet William Cowper wrote, 'Ill fare the hands that heaved the stones, where Milton's ashes lay!

St Giles In The Fields

St Giles In The Fields is certainly a site of contrasts. To begin with, there have been no proper fields in this area of high urban density for a long time, unless one counts the large but somewhat shabby-looking churchyard, so the name is in conflict with the reality. The second noticeable contrast is the building itself. Its facade is a triumph of Palladian majesty, striking loftily above the bustle of the West End, but the high, rectangular building behind the facade is sombre brownstone, with rows of small windows that put one in mind of a Victorian workhouse. The last contrast is the impression conveyed by the interior. Walking into St Giles leaves the visitor breathless at its beauty, not least because it is so unexpected. The sheer scale of it leaves your lower jaw sagging. Large, ornate chandeliers, gilded patterns on the white ceiling, galleries with imposing arcades. This place looks as though it were designed to be a palace, not a parish church... and yet this site, with all its impressive architectural features, its glorious fittings, its colourful array of monuments to the great and good of the parish, has more dark moments in its history than most of the other London churches put together. Its history begins in the year 1101 when Matilda of Scotland, Queen to Henry the First, founded a leper hospital on the site. Not an auspicious start, you might think, and you'd be right - this was not to be the last time in its history that the parish was connected with pestilence. The hospital had a chapel, which was most probably used by local villagers as a church, although one cannot imagine too much mingling with the inmates. Little seems to be known about this medieval phase of the site's history (other than the fact it was

probably surrounded by fields!), apart from an event during the reign of Henry the Fifth, an event which was to be the prelude to St Giles' later connection with condemned prisoners: the story of Sir John Oldcastle. Oldcastle was a leader of the heretical religious movement known as the Lollards. Originally a friend of Henry the Fourth, and companion of the future Henry the Fifth during his campaigns in the Welsh Marches, Oldcastle fell from favour when his religious leanings were discovered and he refused to renounce them. Convicted of heresy, he managed to escape from the Tower and start an uprising, easily dispersed, at St Gile's Field. Fleeing to Herefordshire, Oldcastle remained at large - and plotting - for four years, until being seized by Earl Powis and returned to London on a horse litter. Oldcastle was hanged at St Gile's Field in Decmber 1417, and his body (including the gallows!) burned to ashes. At the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the hospital was surrendered but the chapel remained as the parish church, the first rector being appointed in 1547. For the first time, it became known as St-Giles-In-The-Fields. In the 1620's the delapidated building was replaced by a proper Gothic church, mostly paid for by the noble Dudley family. In 1665, the parish was once again connected with pestilence as, unfortunately, the first recorded outbreak of the plague in London was reported in the nearby street called Long Acre. The outbreak ravaged the parish, and the churchyard was extended to accomodate the plague pits. However, this had a detrimental effect on the relatively young building, which began to suffer from damp. Fifteen years later, another dark episode was written in the church's history. The Popish Plot, inflamed by Titus Oates, saw widespread panic over rumours to assassinate King Charles the Second and re-introduce Catholicism. Between 1678-81, twelve executed victims of the Plot were interred at St Giles, including Oliver Plunket, the Archbishop of Armagh. Plunket has since been re-interred elsewhere, and was canonised in 1975. The other eleven, mostly Jesuit priests, have been beatified. No other London church has this many prospective Saints in its graveyard. By the early 1700's the damp problem had become intolerable. After years of wrangling, the parishioners finally received a grant of 8000 and in 1730, work began on a new church created in Palladian style by the architect Henry Flitcroft, who is better known as the designer of the Duke of Bedford's sumptuous home, Woburn Abbey. This is the church that occupies the site today. When completed in 1734, St Giles must have stood as one of the most impressive churches outside of Wren's work in the City. But, wouldn't you know, the bad publicity just kept rolling in. The population of the parish well nigh exploded in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, and furthermore it was one of the most notorious parishes in the capital for poverty and squalor. The church's connection with executions continued; it was the last church on the route from Newgate Prison to Tyburn, and the churchwardens would often pay for condemned prisoners to have a last drink of ale at the neighbouring tavern.Slight architectural alterations were made during Victorian times, but still the parish received censure from social observers. An article in the 'Weekly Dispatch' of September 1838 gave a vivid and gruesome picture of the scandalous condition of, and inhumation practices witnessed at, St Giles overcrowded

churchyard. I won't repeat any of it here in case you're eating. Parliamentary Acts closed London's churchyards in the 1850's, which solved the hygiene problem, and the parish's poverty problems faded with the gradual fall in population - from over 30,000 in 1831 to about 4,600 at present. The church survived the War with a few broken windows, and was restored during the early 1950's well enough for the work to be fulsomely praised by John Betjeman, writing in the Spectator. The internal appearance of the church today is mostly owing to that restoration. As well as the wonderful, striking galleries, and the intricate gilded patterns on the ceiling, St Giles has two paintings beyond its altar, of Moses and Aaron, painted by Francisco Viera, court painter to the King of Portugal. A model of the church, built by Flitcroft himself as a template, is displayed in a glass case and a wooden pulpit by the north wall turns out to be from John Wesley's principal chapel at West Street. The founder of Methodism himself regularly preached from it, as did his brother Charles. The monuments are many: in the entrance, before even stepping into the main body of the church, one can see a monument to the sculptor Flaxman who lived in the parish. He was buried at St Pancras - but the remaining monuments are to notable folk who were interred here. These include the Jacobean poet Andrew Marvell, Cecil Calvert 2nd Lord Baltimore, the first proprietor of Maryland, the poet George Chapman who first translated Homer into English (and whose monument was designed by his architect friend Inigo Jones), William Balmain, a surgeon who was one of the founders of New South Wales and who has a suburb in Sydney named after him, Luke Hansard printer to Parliament (after whom Parliamentary records are still called 'Hansard'), and - resting in the crypt with no memorial - one John Pell, a clergyman and mathematician who invented the symbol for division. St Giles' most notorious monument is to Richard Pendrell. Generations have found mirth in his overblown epitaph, with which I close this history of St Giles In The Field:

'Here lieth Richard Pendrell, preserver and conductor to his sacred majesty King Charles the Second of Great Britain, after his escape from Worcester Fight, in the year 1651, who died Feb

8, 1671. Hold, passenger, here's shrouded in this Herse,

Unparalell'd Pendrell, thro' the universe. Like when the Eastern Star from Heaven gave light

To three lost kings; so he, in such dark night, To Britain's monarch, toss'd by adverse war, On Earth appeared, a second Eastern Star.

A Pope, a Stern, in her rebellious Main A pilot to her Royal Sovereign.

Now to triumph in Heav'n's eternal sphere, Whilst Albion's Chronicles, with matching fame,

Embalm the story of great Pendrell's Name.

St Helens Bishopsgate

Perhaps the greatest irony with St Helens is that, as a monastic building, it managed to survive the Dissolution, the Great Fire and the Blitz... only to be hit by a double whammy of terrorist bombs during the 90's. The 1992 St Mary Axe explosion saw it receive damage from the north, while the Bishopsgate bomb a year later saw it seriously damaged from the west. Since then, the church has been fully restored and today stands as one of the busiest City churches, its attached Rectory being the offices in charge not only of St Helens, but also the nearby churches of St Andrew Undershaft and St Peter Cornhill, both of which are used by study groups and generally closed to the public. St Helen's capacious interior and range of monuments has led to it being described as the City's equivalent of Westminster Abbey, and a description of this remarkable building will follow... but first, the history. The church is first mentioned in 1140, but early in the thirteenth century a William Basing, Dean of St Pauls, was given permission to establish a Benedictine nunnery on its north side. He also built a new church, attached to the old, which is why St Helens has an unusual shape - it is two churches merged together. The double nave was originally separated by wooden partitioning; the nuns used the northern nave and the parish used the southern. In 1385 the nuns were reproved for their less than strict lifestyle, for 'the number of little dogs kept by the prioress, kissing secular persons, wearing ostentatious veils' and 'waving over the screen which separated the parish nave from the convent nave, and too many children running about'.

in 1466 a local Sheriff and grocer called John Crosby leased land next to the church from the prioress Alice Ashfed, for the sum of 11 6s 8d per annum. On this land he built a stately home called Crosby Hall. It was in this building, legend has it, that Richard of Gloucester's cohorts begged him to usurp the throne. Crosby's fortunes continued to rise; he was an alderman in 1470, was knighted in 1471, and died in 1475 leaving St Helens the sum of five hundred marks. Crosby Hall was controversially dismantled in 1910 and rebuilt on the Embankment at Chelsea, where it stands to this day. In hindsight, this was probably a good thing - had it remained in Bishopsgate, the 1993 explosion would have reduced it to firewood. The nunnery was surrendered to Henry VIII in 1538, valued at 314 2s 6d, and its buildings sold to the Leatherseller's Company. The last of these buildings survived until 1799. The screens dividing the double nave were removed, and St Helens remained as the parish church. Stow laments that the church 'wanteth such a steeple as Sir Thomas Gresham promised to have built, in recompense of ground in their church filled up with his monument'. Thomas Gresham is a historically important figure in the City of London; it was he who founded the Royal Exchange. His symbol, a grasshopper, can still be seen in parts of the City. The Royal Exchange has a gilded grasshopper on the roof and a building in Lombard Street carries the symbol alongside the initials TG. As well as this, Gresham Street is named after him. Notable parishioners came and went, including Sir William Pickering, who was Elizabeth I's Ambassador to Spain, William Shakespeare who briefly resided in Bishopsgate and a Master of the Rolls and Privy Counsellor to James I named, somewhat ostentatiously, Julius Caesar. In 1874 the nearby church of St Martin Outwich, which stood at the junction of Bishopsgate and Threadneedle Street, was demolished and eighteen of its monuments transferred to St Helens. Chief among these was the late 14th/early 15th century monument to John de Oteswich. As time passed, and City populations fell, so parishes were merged. Since 1991, the full title of St Helens parish has been 'St Helens Bishopsgate with St Andrew Undershaft & St Ethelburga Bishopsgate & St Martin Outwich & St Mary Axe'. A year after this title was adopted, a bomb went off in St Mary Axe, only 60 yards from the east end of St Helens Church. All the windows were broken, one was completely blown into the church, the roof sustained serious damage, and so did the church organ and the tomb of Julius Caesar. A second bomb in Bishopsgate the following year added insult to injury, although St Helens fared better than St Ethelburga, a small medieval church which was torn to pieces and has only recently opened its doors following very heavy reconstruction. The architect in charge of St Helens reconstruction was Quinlan Terry, and he put forward an ambitious plan to restore the church's medieval floor level, thus returning it to its original level throughout, and allowing for underfloor heating. He also re-ordered the interior, and the description of St Helens as it appears today will now commence! The best approaches are from Bishopsgate, where one can appreciate the twin medieval facade that matches the twin naves, and the neatly paved churchyard that retains a couple of table tombs, or from Leadenhall Street where one can assess the length of the church and see the adjoining Rectory.

Enter and stare at the effect of the double nave. It's wide! The restoration has emphasized light streaming in through the new windows, making it one of the brightest church interiors in the City. Before the damage, the pews were aligned to face east, but now the seats focus toward a pulpit on the south. Turning left,one can ascend a stair turret to the gallery with the organ. There is an internal tower, designed by Wren in 1699, which leads to the belfry. Although it blends with the surrounding masonry, this tower is cleverly disguised wood! The organ itself dates from 1743 and its case is carved with representations of musical instruments. Returning to the nave(s), the spaciousness of the church seems to highlight its grand monuments. Gresham's 1579 tomb is marbled, and the marble is dotted with small fossils. On the north wall near the tomb can be found a 'squint', through which the nuns used to watch services. Moving south from Gresham, you come across a marvellous marble tomb surrounded by a rail of wrought iron. This is Pickering, the man who had what must have been a job only for the very politically astute - Queen Bess's man in Spain. This tomb dates from 1574. Moving into the south transept, we find the 1475 monument of Sir John Crosby. The 500 mark bequest he made to St Helens is believed to have paid for the four great arches in the centre of the building that mark the split between the naves. Also in the transept are many brasses, often defaced. An engraver was actually paid to commit this damage during the Commonwealth, as the inscriptions were deemed 'superstitious'. Near these brasses is the tomb of Caesar, fully restored following its brush with terrorism. Walking back toward the entrance, we find the oldest monument, that of John de Oteswich and his wife, brought from the demolished church with the same name. Could he have been a benefactor, and the church named after him? There are other precedents in the City: the church of St Laurence Pountney, destroyed in the Great Fire, was named after the mayor John Pountney who paid for its enlargenment in 1347. The last monument, very ornate and restored to its original colours, is for Sir John Spencer and his family. He was Mayor in 1594. His tomb, too fragile to be moved, had to remain in its place during the post-bomb restoration and is now protected by a railing. From a distance, it looks as though it has sunk into the floor; a peek over the railing shows you the ground level of this corner of the church before Terry changed it. Despite the monuments, the church is full of life. The Rectory attached to it always seems to be bustling, on my visit the organ was being played with a saxophone accompaniment, and a register on the altar revealed that a wedding had taken place there that very morning! A short guide book, taking you on a tour of the building and full of little details which you otherwise may have missed, makes a visit to St Helens a worthwhile and uplifting experience!

St Lawrence Jewry

Standing proud on the south side of Guildhall Yard, the church of St Lawrence can owe its survival to its position as the Church of the Corporation of London. Originally, the Guildhall possessed its own Chapel but after this was turned into a court in 1782, the Corporation's services moved to St Lawrence. The area is full of the remains of former churches: Among many others, the site of St Michael Bassishaw is marked by a plaque on the other side of Guildhall, the remains of St Mary Aldermanbury and St Alphage are close and so are two towers, those of St Alban Wood Street and St Olave Jewry. The church of St Michaels Wood Street (at which was interred the head of James IV of Scotland) has vanished, but the yards of two Great Fire victims, St Olave Silver Street and St Peter Cheap, can be found within a short distance. The great survivor in this crowded area, St Lawrence, was built in 1136 over a tiered section of the Roman Amphitheatre. It received its suffix, 'Jewry', from the fact that it was sited at the edge of the medieval City's Jewish area, and archaeological remains relating to their religious customs have been unearthed in the area quite recently. Although Edward I expelled the Jews, and other Kings persecuted them mercilessly, the suffix remained so that the church could be differentiated from other City churches sharing the same dedication. Stow described it as 'fair and large',and also remarked that it displayed a human 'shankbone' (an odd relic which he also claimed for St Mary Aldermanbury). This one was twentyfive inches long and was at one time accompanied by a tooth the size of a fist. Whether these proportions were correct cannot be proved, as both relics are long gone, but Stow claimed to have personally seen the bone. Of course, whether the bones were human or not seems a more pertinent question. Buried in this medieval church were members of the Rich family, ancestors of Lord Richard Rich the slippery Tudor courtier, and Sir Richard Gresham the father of Thomas. William Grocyn, a scholar praised by the humanist Erasmus, was Rector in 1496 and the parishioner Sir Thomas More preached here.

This church went up in flames in 1666, and Wren's rebuild opened 11 years later, costing a then impressive 11,870, the re-opening being graced by the presence of King Charles II. It was now a Guild Church rather than a Parish Church, the Corporation its patron. The King's Chaplain, John Tillotson, revered as one of the great preachers of his age, was a weekly lecturer at the new church before becoming Archbishop of Canterbury in his twilight years. Married in St Lawrence, he was placed in a vault here in 1694. A century later, it was a custom to print and circulate the church's Michaelmas Sermon to the City aldermen. On December 29th, 1940, during the same air raid that gutted St Brides, a bomb struck the church and nothing survived save sections of the walls and the tower. History then repeated itself. St Lawrence was rebuilt by Cecil Brown, closely following Wren's design. The new spire is a replica of the old. Following the example of her predecessor, Queen Elizabeth attended the re-opening of the church in 1957. A couple of curious features can be spotted if one circles the church before visiting. The churchyard is long paved over and forms part of the Guildhall Yard; a plaque on the wall of the church explains its now invisible limits. It is well known that the streets around the Guildhall seem to 'bulge' outward, a consequence of the medieval street system having to build around the remains of the amphitheatre, and I did a bit of research to see if the churchyard's shape also had any features that may have accomodated the tiers of Roman work below. According to Roque's 1740 map of the area, the yard was more or less rectangular but does seem to curve slightly to the west, although this could just as easily be due to the marked curve of the roadway in front of the church entrance. Another feature is the weathervane on top of the spire. This is the vane from Wren's original church, and is in the unusual shape of a gridiron. One finds out why as soon as one enters the building. Through the western entrance, the visitor stands in a long vestibule. To the right are the vestries, to the left a small chapel in which can be found the crests of Basing and Gresham families. Ahead, to the right of the entrance to the main church, is a display case carrying relics salvaged from the rubble of Wren's building. The most notable feature here, however, is a painting. This has been attributed to the North Italian School of the late 16th century, and has miraculously survived both the Great Fire and the Blitz. The painting shows the martyrdom of St Lawrence, who was roasted on a gridiron in Rome during the year 258. Here's what Foxe's 'Book of Martyrs' had to say about this: 'He was beaten with iron rods, set upon a wooden horse, and had his limbs dislocated. He endured these tortures with such fortitude and perseverance, that he was ordered to be fastened to a large gridiron, with a slow fire under it, that his death might be more tedious. But his astonishing constancy during these trials, and his serenity of countenance under such excruciating torments, gave the spectators so exalted an idea of the dignity and truth of the Christian religion, that many immediately became converts. Having lain for some time upon the gridiron, the martyr called out to the emperor [Valerian], who was present, in a kind of jocose latin couplet, which may be thus translated: 'This side is broil'd sufficient to be food, For all who wish it to be done and good.' On this the executioner turned him, and after having lain a considerable time longer, he still had strength and spirit enough to triumph over the tyrant, by telling him, with great serenity, that he was roasted enough, and only wanted serving up.'

Foxe was, of course, a Protestant propogandist and his texts should not be taken too seriously, but the painting - more or less contemporary with Foxe's work - certainly gives a vivid portrayal of this scene. I entered the church and noticed two things immediately: the interior is very splendid, probably due to the Corporation's patronage, and some sort of event was under preparation. Several suited people were loitering, and a sound engineer was setting up a big fluffy microphone in one corner. I sneaked a glance at one of the booklets strewn in the pews. It seemed I was only half an hour from the commencement of a special service, held in the presence of the Lord Mayor, which is held just before the election of same. Furthermore the rather ornate pew at the front of the church, from which I had picked up the booklet, was that of the Mayor himself. I prudently replaced the booklet. Other than a tablet commemorating Tillotson, and the fact that Cecil Brown's ashes are interred in a cinerarium below the altar, most of the church's monuments take the shape of stained glass windows, colourful yet not overdone in a way that darkens the church. Most of these are the work of a Master Glass Painter named Christopher Rahere Webb. He owes his unusual middle name to the fact that, at the time of his birth in 1866, his uncle Sir Aston Webb was restoring St Bartholomew The Great at Smithfield, the priory church founded by Rahere. Three windows commemorate the parishes of St Mary Magdalen Milk Street and St Michael Bassishaw, which were united with St Lawrence in, respectively, 1666 and 1892. Others commemorate Thomas More and Dr Grocyn. My favourite, however, is back in the vestibule, where a window shows Wren flanked by his mason Thomas Strong and his carver Grinling Gibbons, above Cecil Brown and the Vicar at the time of that restoration, Frank Trimlingham. They are surrounded by the craftsmen of the post-War rebuild and stand above an idealised skyline of Wren spires and towers. The Commonwealth Chapel, on the north of the church, is divided by an oak screen which contains, in its centre, a wrought-iron screen built and donated by the Royal Marines. Flanking this are two further gates, donated by the Airborne Forces and the Parachute Regiment. The chapel contains an Ascension window and a Madonna and Child painting by Cecil Brown, also a St George window containing the arms of the Sovereign Independent States of the Commonwealth in 1957: South Africa, India, Pakistan, Ceylon, Ghana, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Malaya. The church was beginning to fill up with people who, frankly, looked a lot more dignified than I looked. I paused to admire the Font, a c1620 work originally from the disappeared Holy Trinity Minories, then surreptitiously made my exit. Stepping back through the western doors, I stood aside to allow a man wearing a great big chain around his neck to pass, accompanied by his coterie. Off I strolled, having no time to hobnob with Lord Mayors. Not when there were other churches on my list for the day...

St Leonards Shoreditch

**"When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch...'** Apparently the rhyme originally referred to 'Fleetditch' and the bells were those of St Brides. Why it changed appears to be unknown. The suburb of Shoreditch seems to have begun in late Saxon times, at the junction of two Roman roads leading to Bishopsgate. The earliest known reference is to 'Soerditch' in the mid twelfth century, and this may have meant a sewer. Originally a medieval foundation, probably associated with a nearby Priory, St Leonards Church

grew up in an area that was to become famous for being the birthplace of the English theatre. It was close enough to the City for easy access, but outside the jurisdiction of the pious aldermen and sheriffs who viewed such displays of public entertainment with suspicion. Similar developments were taking place south of the Thames at Southwark. After the Priory had been dissolved, the first playhouse since Roman times was constructed in its grounds during 1576 by James Burbage. It was known simply as 'The Theatre', a name now used to describe all playhouses. Two years later, a rival was opened along the same road. This was known as 'The Curtain', possibly because it stood in the shadow of the Priory's curtain wall. Not as successful, this was eventually purchased by Burbage and his two sons, Richard and Cuthbert. When the lease for the land on which The Theatre stood expired and renewal was refused, the enterprising Burbage brothers dismantled their building and carried it to Southwark,where it was rebuilt as 'The Globe'. The Curtain continued into the 1640's, when it fell victim to Puritanism. Stow wrote about St Leonards in his Survey, listing members of the noble Houses of Westmoreland and Rutland who had been buried in the church. He also commented upon an example of ecclesiastic greed: '...of late one vicar there, for covetousness of the brass, which he converted into coined silver, plucked up many plates fixed on the graves, and left no memory of such as had been buried underneath them, a great injury to both the living and the dead, forbidden by public proclamation, in the reign of our sovereign lady Queen Elizabeth, but not forborne by many, that either of a preposterous zeal or of a greedy mind spare not to satisfy themselves by so wicked a means.' Although St Pauls Covent Garden is proud to call itself the Actors' Church, St Leonards is the original, due to its connection with the two earliest theatres. The first known entertainer to be buried in the churchyard was Will Somers, court jester to Henry VIII, and he was followed by many of Shakespeare's friends, business partners and fellow actors. When Richard Burbage, the greatest tragedian of his age and the first to play Hamlet, was laid here in 1619 his gravestone carried a simple but fitting two word epitaph: 'Exit Burbage'. By the eighteenth century, the old medieval church was delapidated and a replacement was needed. The Palladian style was all the rage and the architect, George Dance the Elder (creator of the Mansion House), designed a church similar to that which was being erected by Flitcroft at St Giles In The Field: a large brown-brick building with a splendid porticoed front and a tall, dominating steeple. During its construction, the Church became the site of the first strike in the building trade. This came about because local builders refused to work for the low wages that were being offered, so Irish workers were brought in from outside the parish. This led to anti-Irish riots, and the militia had to be called out to disperse a mob of about 4,000. The new Palladian church was finally completed in 1740, looking pretty much as it does today. In 1817 it became the first church to be lit with gaslight, and in 1824 a local worthy named James Parkinson was interred in the yard. He was a doctor who was born, baptised, married and worked his entire life in the parish, and his name survives to this day because of his 'Treatise On The Shaking Palsy', an illness which is now known as Parkinson's Disease. I found my visit to St Leonards left me with mixed feelings. It is the first Actors' Church, yet -

unlike its equivalents at Southwark Cathedral and Covent Garden - it seems determined to keep its historical theatrical connections a secret. The portico and the steeple are certainly impressive to look at, especially the spire with its slender, graceful soaring into the sky, but otherwise the exterior shows no sign of the colourful and vibrant history of the area. The churchyard is mostly cleared, partly landscaped at the rear, and its one curious fixture - the Shoreditch village stocks - have now been removed elsewhere. This lethargy is not confined to the church - the sites of the Theatre and the Curtain, in nearby Curtain Road, are marked only by easily overlooked plaques unveiled in 1994 by Sir Ian McKellan. St Leonards does possess an Actors Memorial, but sadly even this is not on prominent display. It is kept in a side room of the church, although vergers will show interested parties. It lists the men of the theatre who rest within the precints of the church: Will Somers the jester, James Burbage and his sons Richard and Cuthbert, the famed Elizabethan comedian Richard Tarlton, the actor Gabriel Spencer who died fighting a duel with Ben Jonson, and Shakespeare's business partners William Sly and Richard Cowley. Nowadays, Shoreditch is undergoing something of a regeneration. The church was recently spruced up, new railway links are being constructed and celebrity chefs are opening restaurants in the area. Perhaps with this regeneration may come more visible recognition that the parish and its church have just as important a place in the history of acting as the South Bank and Covent Garden. I live in hope...

St Margaret Westminster

Despite being a fair size, St Margaret is often overlooked because it is dwarfed by its proximity to Westminster Abbey, the entrance to which stands only a few yards away. The mighty Gothic colossus that is the Houses of Parliament dominates the view to the east, and it is unsurprising that the casual visitor to Westminster might miss this treasure of a church, sandwiched as it is between two famous and towering edifices. St Margaret owes its existence to the Benedictine monks of Westminster Abbey. Finding themselves constantly disturbed by local residents turning up at the Abbey to hear Mass, they erected a church - only a few years after the consecration of the Abbey itself - so that the population of Westminster could worship in their own space while leaving their Benedictine neighbours to their private devotions. The church was dedicated to St Margaret of Antioch. It was originally Romanesque, but was replaced in the Perpendicular style during the fourteenth century, at broadly the same time that the Abbey itself was being rebuilt by Henry III. In 1482 the church underwent its last major reconstruction, under the charge of Robert Stowell, and this rebuilding lasted until 1523. This is the church which, despite various alterations over the centuries, stands proudly today. It was during the Stowell restoration that the churchyard received one of the earliest of its many famous interments: William Caxton, the pioneer of print, who died in 1491 after revolutionising Literature and allowing authors such as Chaucer and Malory to reach a wide audience. In 1529 an early Poet Laureate, John Skelton, was also interred

here. The Dissolution saw the end of Benedictine life at the Abbey, and with it their control of St Margaret's. Under Elizabeth Tudor, the Abbey and the Church became - like the Temple Church - a 'Royal Peculiar', directly under the charge of the Monarch, although since 1972 it has been in the care of the Dean and Chapter of Westminster. However, St Margaret's closest association today is with the House of Commons, an association dating from 1614 when the entire House took Holy Communion on Palm Sunday. The seventeenth century saw St Margaret's at its zenith for notable associations with famous historic figures. In 1618, Sir Walter Raleigh was executed close by in Old Palace Yard. A renowned courtier and explorer, history popularly (and erroneously!) portrays Raleigh as the man who introduced tobacco and the potato to Europe, although his greatest success was probably the founding of Virginia. Popular in Elizabethan times, he fell out of favour with the subsequent Jacobean court and was held at the Tower of London for many years. Freed to attempt one last exploration, the quest for El Dorado, his failure was followed by his beheading. He was interred in the chancel, followed there in 1666 by his son Carew. During the Interregnum, St Margaret hosted the wedding of Samuel Pepys to Elizabeth. It was not to be the Diarist's last visit to the Church. He wrote in 1667 of a visit, which he spent surveying his fellow worshippers through a perspective glass, '...by which I had the great pleasure of seeing and gazing at many fine women; and what with that and sleeping, I passed away the time till sermon was done.' Priceless. The year after Pepys' s wedding, John Milton married the second of his three wives there. After the Stuart Restoration, Charles II was keen to hang, draw and quarter various regicides and Parliamentarians, only to find that some of them had already died and wee resting in Westmoinster Abbey. This minor inconvenience did not deter his vengeance. The bodies of Oliver Cromwell and two others were disinterred and gibbeted at Tyburn, while other notable Parliamentarians were removed from the Abbey and deposited in the less noble yard of St Margaret. These include John Pym, one of Charles I's greatest opponents in the Commons, Isaac Dorislaus who drew up the capital charges against the ill-fated monarch, and Cromwell's most able seaman Admiral Robert Blake. They were joined in 1677 by the engraver Wenceslas Hollar. Although he was prolific, Hollar's best-known work - thanks to its value as a historic text - shows a vista of the pre-Fire City of London, with the stews and theatres of the South Bank in the foreground and the Thames flowing in between. Because the dominant building in this engraving is St Saviour's (Southwark Cathedral), Hollar's principal monument can be found there rather than at St Margaret's. A few decades earlier, in 1640, an additional burial ground for St Margaret's had been created at what is now the junction of Victoria St and Broadway. Often referred to as Tothill Fields, it was provided with its own chapel called Christ Church and also received notable interments: Sir William Waller (d.1668), Parliamentary commander whose victory at Cheriton provided the Roundheads with their first significant win. He was also the man who suggested a National army rather than regional militia - an idea which laid the foundation for the New Model Army. Also laid to rest here, in 1680, was the great Jacobean rogue Colonel Thomas Blood. Born to a

gentrified family in Ireland, Blood came over to fight for the King in the Civil War, only to switch sides when he saw in which direction the wind was blowing. Fleeing abroad at the Restoration, he became embroiled in two plots to kidnap the Governor of Ireland and, returning to England under an assumed identity, organised the brazen but famous attempt to purloin the Crown Jewels in 1671. Dragged before Charles II, he so impressed the Merry Monarch with his audacity and charm that the King pardoned him and gave him a pension. So notorious was Blood that he was exhumed shortly after his death to scotch rumours that he had faked it! In Georgian times, the future Prime Minister Lord Liverpool and the dandy 'Beau' Brummell were baptised at St Margaret's. In 1780 the black writer Ignatius Sancho, friend of Johnson, Sterne and Garrick, was laid to rest in Tothill Fields. James Rumsey, the inventor of the steamship who had demonstrated his creation on the Potomac for the benefit of George Washington, died during a London lecturing tour and was buried in the yard on Christmas Eve 1792. In 1814, Captain Sir Peter Parker died in action on the Chesapeake while commanding the frigate 'Menelaus'. At one time a subordinate of Nelson and an officer on the 'Victory', Parker was returned to St Margaret for burial. In Victorian times, the condition of the yard received censure and in the 1850's the grounds were closed to further burials. St Margaret's yard now is a bland expanse of turf, while Tothill Fields is a public garden. In the twentieth century, a 1908 wedding took place between Sir Winston Churchill and Clementine, and the church later received wartime damage - some of which is still visible. The exterior of the church was faced in Portland stone in 1735, and a walk around the exterior betrays a couple of features: a plaque commemorating the Parliamentarians who were expelled from their Abbey tombs, and a bust of Charles I in a niche on the east wall, solemnly gazing across the busy road at the statue of his nemesis Oliver Cromwell. The church is entered through the Victorian west porch, and its size can be fully appreciated from the view straight down the length of the interior. The entrance is flanked by two monuments showing Elizabethan women kneeling in prayer: Blanche Parry, the Queen's nurse, and Lady Dorothy Stafford, Mistress of the Robes. A stroll down the north aisle has to be slow, in order to properly appreciate the monuments on display. Memorials to Parker and Hollar are here, as well as the colourful bust of an Elizabethan Yeoman of the Guard named Cornelius Van Dun. Nearby is the blackened monument to Reverend James Palmer, its damage caused by an oil bomb during the Second World War. Fire damage can also be traced on some of the pews. Although some of the windows in this aisle are clear, having been replaced after the war damage, there is the Milton window, showing scenes of the poet's life and images from both Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Fragments of glass exist in another window, showing Caxton demonstrating his printing press to Edward IV and his Queen Elizabeth Woodville. Other windows show scenes of Blake's life and funeral(s), and a Nativity scene commemorates Edward Morris. The windows were all installed during a Victorian restoration by George Gilbert Scott. Before the chancel stand the eye-catching lectern and pulpit, dating from 1878. The former was a gift from Thomas Vacher to commemorate his parents, the latter is a memorial to Vacher himself. He founded the reference book Vacher's Parliamentary Companion. The chancel

contains a Crucifixion window, a 1905 reredos and a fifteenth century statue of St Margaret of Antioch, carved in wood. The window, described in the church guide as 'containing some of the finest pre-Reformation Flemish glass in London', shows Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon kneeling in prayer. The south aisle contains memorials to Caxton, Raleigh, Rumsey and holds the tomb of Lady Mary Dudley (d.1600). Most of the stained glass in this aisle is modern, much of it designed in the 1960's by John Piper. Memorialised in the windows are Edward Fitzroy, a Commons Speaker buried in te chancel in 1943, and Phillip Brooks, a Massachusetts bishop who wrote 'O Little Town of Bethlehem'. A nearby brass plaque remembers Thomas May (d.1886), who wrote Treatise on the Law and Usage of Parliament, a procedural guide. The westernmost window commemorates Lord Cavendish (d.1882), Chief Secretary for Ireland. The visitor is now back at the west porch, and should look up at the West Window. Dating from 1888, it is a monument to Walter Raleigh and depicts famous figures from his lifetime, as well as scenes from his life. St Margaret is a perfect complement to the grandeur of Westminster Abbey. One is the burial place of Royalty, the other is steeped in Parliamentary history. The Commons symbol of the portcullis can be found on the church doors, kneelers and curtains. The relationship between the church and the Commons, begun on that Palm Sunday in 1614, continues still. Perhaps that vengeful action by Charles II has actually proved appropriate, as the Parliamentarians ruthlessly re-interred in St Margaret's Churchyard are now in their spiritual home!

t Martin in the Field

St Martin In The Fields is not only the most well known of the parish churches in London, it is probably one of the best known in the world. Thanks to its position overlooking Trafalgar Square, it has appeared in countless paintings and photographs, and its orchestra - the Academy of St Martins - has received global acclaim. Ironically, the building was once concealed from view in St Martins Lane. Only the clearing of the area to the southeast for the construction of Trafalgar Square in 1820 afforded the church its famous vista and prominent position. Although the Oranges and Lemons rhyme 'you owe me five farthings' may refer to the City church of St Martin Orgar ( of which nothing remains but a tower), it is this baroque church in Central London that is the one everybody thinks of. It is believed that the present St Martin is the fourth building on the site. The earliest recorded mention came in 1222, when the Abbot of Westminster disputed the Bishop of London's authority over the church. The Archbishop of Canterbury mediated and decided in favour of the Abbot, so St Martin was probably used by monks from Westminster until 1542, when Henry VIII built a church which was added to in 1609 by Prince Henry, brother of the future Charles I (who was christened here).

In the seventeenth century, with the nearby Whitehall Palace in full use, St Martin became the parish church of the Court, and started to receive notable Jacobean interments. In 1615, Anne Turner was laid to rest here. A Court dressmaker, she had been involved in one of the greatest scandals of James I's court. Sir Thomas Overbury had been poisoned by his enemy, the unstable Frances Howard Countess of Essex, and it had been Anne who had delivered the fatal potion. She was hanged for her troubles. Four years later, St Martin hosted the funeral of the celebrated Nicholas Hilliard, the first true painter of miniatures. Some of his work can be found in the National Portrait Gallery, adjacent to the church.

Following the Restoration, Whitehall resumed its place as the centre of Court. John Taylor, Thames boatman celebrated as the 'Water Poet', was buried here in 1654. Nell Gwynn, actress and probably the most celebrated Royal Mistress in British history, was laid to rest in the chancel following a fatal stroke (1687), and the renowned philosopher /scientist Robert Boyle found his resting place here in 1691. Other notable actors interred here include John Lacy in 1681, Susannah Mountfort Verbruggen in 1703 and her husband John Verbruggen five years later. The artist Thomas Manby was buried in 1695, and the playwright George Farquhar in 1707. In 1721 the architect James Gibb designed a replacement for the Tudor building. It was consecrated in 1726 and, as the church that stands to this day, has proved extremely influential. Its style has been copied many times since, even abroad in Ireland and North America. However, it was not universally acclaimed at the time; the architect John Gwynn complained that 'the absurd rustication of the windows, and the heavy sills and trusses under them, are unpardonable blemishes'. People of repute continued to find their way into the churchyard, notably the highwayman and multiple prison escapee Jack Sheppard (1724), Louis Roubiliac the sculptor (1762), Thomas Chippendale the furniture maker (1779) and Dr John Hunter, the pioneer of modern surgery ( 1793). New catacombs were constructed around St Martin's when Duncannon Street was installed as part of John Nash's re-ordering of London, and coffins were exhumed from the yard and removed to the catacombs. They were, for a time, open as a somewhat macabre tourist attraction. In the 1850's, when London churchyards were closed to further burials, Hunter was transferred to Westminster Abbey, but most coffins were transferred to cemeteries outside London, such as the St Martin's extra-parochial ground in Pratt Street, Camden. The last of the coffins were removed in 1938 to Brookwood in Surrey. The catacombs and the crypt beneath the church serve a variety of purposes, such as the popular 'Cafe In The Crypt', a

centre for relief of the homeless, the London Brass Rubbing Centre, a bookshop and a gallery. From whatever angle the visitor approaches St Martin, one cannot fail to be impressed by its sheer presence. In an area also containing the NPG, Trafalgar Square and the English National Opera House, the church more than holds its own. The facade is one of the best in London. A pediment displaying the Royal Arms of George I ( the only monarch to be a churchwarden of St Martin) is supported by a row of large, solid Corinthian columns. Above the pediment the tower soars, its steeple topped with a gilt crown. The interior is scarcely less impressive. Columns rise from the galleries to support the barrel-vaulted ceiling, and the ceiling of the chancel is resplendent with gilding. The church has an box pew for the Admiralty (who, at one time, worshipped at St Olaves Hart Street) and it is festooned with the Royal Navy White Ensign and the flag of the Admiralty Board. Based in Whitehall, the Admiralty falls within the parish boundaries and the bells are traditionally rung on the occasion of Naval victories. In the north aisle is a portrait of the architect Gibb. Originally the church owned a bust of Gibb, by Rysbrack, but this is now in the V&A Museum. This year (2004) is the 250th anniversary of Gibb's death and the church has been commemorating him. Perhaps the most welcome aspect of the interior, in my experience, is that it is truly a haven of peace. I visited during the weekend of the Chinese New Year. Trafalgar and Leicester Squares were holding thousands of visitors, the roads between a constant flow of movement... but I took a few paces away from the bustle, stepped into the cool interior of St Martin and spent a while walking around the nave with admiration. The drums and whistles of the celebration, only a stone's throw away, were muted and unintrusive. I sat on a pew and contemplated the irony that the mighty plaza across the road, with its four stone lions and its soaring monument to our greatest naval hero, is not the real historic gem of this corner of the cityscape... with thanks to churchwarden Mr Jeff Claxton for further information

St Mary Abchurch St Mary Abchurch is one of the easiest of the City Churches to actually miss. Rather than occupying any lofty position, or possessing a high steeple that towers over the surrounding vista, it is situated halfway down a narrow and easily overlooked thoroughfare called Abchurch Lane, linking the more formidable highways Cannon Street and King William Street. The church first appears in the historical record in 1198, and its suffix has been spelled in many ways: Abbechurch, Habechirch, Apechurch, Abchurch and Upchurch. The provenance of the suffix is unclear: it may have been because the building could be seen 'up' the hill from St Mary Overies across the river, later Southwark Cathedral, as the Prior was the Patron of the living until the fifteenth century. Alternatively it may have been named after a forgotten benefactor named Abbe, although in the absence of historical proof this is pure speculation. After the Reformation, Archbishop Parker persuaded Elizabeth I to grant the church to his College, Corpus Christi Cambridge, and the College has appointed the incumbent ever since. Stow described St Mary briefly, calling it 'fair'. It contained side chapels and a medieval crypt which still exists below the churchyard, but this building was completely destroyed in 1666. In the interval between the church's destruction and its rebuilding, a Tabernacle was erected in the ruins. The Altar table existing in the church to this day comes from that temporary measure. Christopher Wren rebuilt the church between 1681-86 for 4,922, and he seems to have constructed it to form a perfect contrast with his nearby reconstruction of St Stephen Walbrook. Where St Stephen is faced with white Portland stone, St Mary's exterior is of warm redbrick with dressed quoins at the angles (this is a Dutch style also seen at St Benet Pauls Wharf). Where the interior of St Stephen is a celebrated baroque experiment in spatial manipulation, the small square box of St Mary's interior is given over to the intimate glory of wood. Betjeman described it as 'a complete surprise' and 'one of the most beautiful in the City', and it is easy to understand why, considering the building's hidden location and the exterior that suggests nothing of what awaits those who cross the threshold. Did Wren design this surprise deliberately? Of course he did, and it works as well today as it did back in the 1680's, for St Mary contains Wren's least 'interfered with' interior, and stands today almost exactly as he would have wished it to be seen. The church entrance is approached across the churchyard, now cleared and pleasantly cobbled with five types of stone forming a geometric design. The 14th century vaulted crypt is below this yard. The tower can be seen to good effect; while not large, it is built of the same redbrick and quoin as the walls and ends in a lead-lined obelisk spire. Through the entrance, and the visitor is confronted by the truth of how beautiful wood can be in the hands of the best craftsmen of Wren's day. It has been described as 'a treasury of seventeenth century art'. The beautiful pulpit is the work of William Grey, and William Emmett contributed the Door Cases, Royal Arms, Lion & Unicorn and Font cover, all in wood. The Font itself was a William Kempster work. The symbol of the Pelican feeding her young, which appears at other City Churches like St Michaels Cornhill and is symbolic of Christ shedding his blood for his flock, can be seen twice: first as the coppervane which once adorned the spire and now is fixed above the north door, and also in the reredos. It is also a symbol of Corpus Christi College. The pews, mostly originals from the Wren restoration, were once accompanied on the south side by small kennels for the benefit of parishioners who wished to bring their pets to church!

The reredos is the glory of St Mary's woodwork. It is the largest surviving work of Grinling Gibbons, and his original bill for what he called the 'Olter Pees' was discovered as recently as 1946 in the Guildhall Library. It is limewood, Gibbon's favourite material due to its versatility. He carved trailing fruit and flowe