St Stephen Walbrook

The Walbrook once divided the City of Londinium, flowing between the two hills upon which the City was constructed. Today, the river flows subterraneously, but the gradients leading down to its valley are still highly visible. At one time there were several churches upon its banks: St Mary Woolchurch Haw, now the site of the Mansion House, and St John Walbrook, both victims of the Great Fire. St Stephen, despite various traumas throughout its history, is the sole survivor. The original Saxon church stood on the west bank of the Walbrook, but in the year 1428 the Mayor Robert Chichley donated to the parish a plot of ground on the east bank for the purpose of erecting a Gothic church with its own churchyard. The foundation stones were laid the following year by various benefactors, including Chichley himself, the current Mayor Henry Barton, a contributor called William Stodden and the wealthy draper Richard Whittington, who later purchased the patronage of the church from the powerful Duke of Bedford, uncle to the youthful Henry VI. This Gothic building was completed in 1439. A notable burial took place during the building's lifetime: John Dunstable, master of astronomy and music, who was once described as 'the greatest composer in Europe', d.1453.

The church was destroyed during the Great Fire and was rebuilt by Wren as his major City Church, an experimental baroque variation on his classicism. It cost £7,672, was completed in 1679 with a later tower probably by Hawksmoor, and was highly lauded. It was said to be '...famous all over Europe and justly reputed... perhaps Italy itself can produce no modern buildings that can vie with this in taste and proportion'. The sculptor Canova expressed a desire to visit London merely to see St Paul's, Somerset House and St Stephen Walbrook. Even the great Palladio himself remarked that the church was 'the finest proportioned enclosed building in the world.'

In his recent publication 'The Real Wren Churches', Stephen Wheatley claims that St Stephens is 'almost impossible to describe'. I will endeavour to prove him wrong, but the sentiment is understandable - dry descriptions fail to do much credit to a building that was very much designed as a feast for the eyes.
The exterior is plain. Wren rightly refused to create anything too ornate for the exteriors of his churches, reasoning - quite correctly - that there would be little point in elaborate exterior pretensions when the churches were destined to be closed in and mostly concealed by surrounding buildings. It is ragstone, with a Portland stone steeple which rises in stages to four balls and a vane. Entering the church from its western door, one is immediately confronted with a fairly steep stone stair which leads to the lobby. On the wall to the left is a large stone tablet, carrying a Latin inscription in praise of Wren.

The church interior itself is entered through a baroque screen below the organ case. It is actually a rectangle, its bays arranged to form a longitudinal Latin cross, but other architectural elements such as a Greek cross have also been observed; as Betjeman noticed, Wren showed how to make 'a plain rectangle interesting and full of vistas'. Clever design techniques actually make it feel almost circular and centrally planned. Sixteen columns create a colonnade effect, and twelve of these support the glory of the church - its Dome. Two of Wren's churches contain domed ceilings (the other is St Mary Abchurch), experimental practice runs for what would later become the great Dome of St Pauls Cathedral. Light streams into the building through the clear glass of the windows, lantern and clerestory, and together with the perfect proportions of the interior, an impression of airiness and lightness pervades.

Incendiaries struck the church during the second world war, and Wren's Dome was fatally damaged. Under the auspices of a less sympathetic restorer, this could have been a tragedy but instead, Godfrey Allen reconstructed it in replica in 1951-2. Thirty years later the church was forced to close again, as the waters of the Walbrook were seeping into the foundations and threatening to collapse the Dome. Under the charge of Lord Palumbo, the church underwent extensive underpinning while, at the same time, the interior was controversially re-ordered. Traditional pews were dispensed with and a new stone altar was commisioned from the sculptor Henry Moore. Likened by critics to a 'ripe camembert cheese', it sat in a field near Moore's studio at Much Hadham while the controversy was the subject of a rare sitting of the Court of Ecclesiastical Causes Reserved. Originally carved at a quarry near Rome, the same quarry from which Michaelangelo drew his material, the altar was accepted and now forms the centrepiece of the church. The controversy did not prevent the church hosting a Royal Wedding - that of Lady Sarah Armstrong Jones, the Queen's niece, and it remains the parish church of the Lord Mayor and his Mansion House staff.

Since the addition of Moore's altar, two other modern sculptures, tinted red and blue, have been added to the interior. Despite these modern additions, many of the elements are contemporary with Wren. The stone font dates from 1679 and was carved by Thomas Strong, Wren's master mason - its wooden cover is decorated with representations of Christ, Faith, Hope and Charity as well as the cardinal virtues of Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and Temperance. The canopied pulpit, with elaborate panelling, is by William Newman. Over the vestry door hangs 'The Adoration of the Magi' by Lodovico Cardi.

The most unusual relic is an old telephone, standing on a plinth in the corner of the church. In 1953 the Rector, Chad Varah, set up this telephone in the vestry as a hot line for the depressed and suicidal. This grew into the organisation now known as The Samaritans, with 203 branches across the country, and in 1974 Varah founded Befrienders International in the church, to link the 350 branches which exist in 41 countries.

The walls are covered with memorials, the most notable of which is an early twentieth century plaque to John Dunstable, set up by a Company of Musicians. Dr Nathaniel Hodges also has a memorial. He was a brave physician who refused to flee the Great Plague of 1665, staying in London to treat the afflicted. He was buried here in 1688.These, in my opinion, highlight the curious fact that St Stephen's most famous interment currently lacks a memorial. The playwright and architect Sir John Vanbrugh was buried in a family vault inside St Stephens in 1726, his original epitaph amusingly reading 'Lie heavy on him, earth, for he laid many heavy loads on thee!' This reflects the grand Palladian style of Vanbrugh, which is best seen today with his famous works Castle Howard and Blenheim Palace. The epitaph has since disappeared, probably during one of the refittings, and it seems a shame to me that the man who created Blenheim - itself now a World Heritage Site - should be in want of a monument of his own.

In essence, then, from the outside St Stephens Walbrook seems a typical Wren church, but for those with an eye for architecture the interior is a rare treat. Even those who do not concern themselves with the niceties of baroque and classicism will realise quickly that the interior is something very special. I find it impossible these days to actually walk past the building... no matter how often I visit it, St Stephen's Walbrook never fails to inspire!

St Paul Covent Garden

In the 1630's, the King's Surveyor of Works was Inigo Jones, and he was commissioned by Francis Russell, 4th Earl of Bedford, to build London's first planned residential square on the site of what was once the 'convent garden' of the Abbey of St Paul's. Jones, a follower of the neo-Classical architect Palladio, modelled the new 'Covent Garden' piazza on Livorno in Italy. During the Restoration years, the piazza became the most fashionable place to live in London, before the coming of the fruit and vegetable market. The Theatre Royal, around the corner in Drury Lane, was constructed and the area became a magnet for performers just as Shoreditch and Southwark had done in late Elizabethan times.

Russell knew that if he were to attract the great and the good to his flash new piazza, he would have to erect a church for them; however, he was mindful of the cost, and warned Jones: 'I would not have it much better than a barn.'
'Well then,' the architect responded, 'You shall have the handsomest barn in England!'

Built between 1631-33 yet not consecrated until 1638, the church was a simple oblong, towerless, with an overhanging roof and tall arched windows. At the east end, overlooking the piazza, Jones designed an outstanding Tuscan portico with two square and two round columns. He intended this to be the main entrance so, to allow for this, he attempted the unorthodox approach of placing the altar at the east end of the church. This arrangement, however, was disallowed by the Archbishop William Laud, so Jones moved the altar to the east end but kept his Tuscan facade as a false entrance. The proper entrance is now at the west end of the church. Both founder and architect are remembered in local street names: the address of the church is Bedford Street, and it's western approach is Inigo Place, apparently once the site of an Eleanor Cross.

The second great rise of the theatre, in Restoration years, saw the area at its zenith and St Paul's took over from St Leonard's Shoreditch as the 'Actor's Church'. Samuel Pepys was a regular visitor and his Diary records his ecstasy at visiting the dressing room of the Theatre Royal and meeting Nell Gwynne face to face. He also records watching, in the shelter of St Paul's Tuscan portico, the first ever Punch and Judy show. This is another of those touching examples of historical continuity; any visitor to this vibrant part of London today can still see the street performers strutting their stuff under Inigo Jones's impressive construction. [It is worthy of note that Pepys, an ardent theatregoer, was not much of a critic. Twelfth Night? 'One of the weakest plays that ever I saw on stage.' Romeo & Juliet? 'The play of itself the worst that ever I heard in my life.' On the other hand, he was quite fond of Hamlet!]

I approached St Paul's from the west, through a churchyard landscaped with rose bushes, and stopped to admire the red-brick facade, so utterly different from the grey, towering portico on the east, yet somehow a lot more welcoming. The church interior is now different from Inigo's original design, thanks to careless workmen causing a serious fire in 1795. Although it was redesigned close to the original, this was changed in 1870 by William Butterfield, who removed the galleries on the north and south and raised the east end to make the altar more prominent.

The most striking feature of St Paul's interior is the wood panelling, the most important of which is a 17th century carving by Grinling Gibbons on the west screen, an image - and monument to - Inigo Jones. The rest of the panelling is adorned with memorials to actors who, although not buried here, had their memorial services held here. Not for nothing is this the Actor's Church. Charlie Chaplin, Hattie Jacques, Vivien Leigh, many others. On the south wall can be seen an urn. This holds the ashes of Ellen Terry, whose home at Smallhythe Place was recently the site of a Cantiaci visit. St Paul's was one of many churches I visited on this day, and it was the one where I performed my good deed for the day. An elderly gentleman was tuning the piano, and lacked the strength to replace the piano lid. Yours truly flexed his feeble muscles, and managed to perform the task without crushing any fingers.

Although their tombs are long gone, swept away by Victorian zeal, the bones of many known figures rest in the churchyard and the crypt:


*Sir Peter Lely, Court painter, 1680.

*Samuel Butler, author of the burlesque satire 'Hudibras'.

*Edward 'Ned' Kynaston, actor who was the main character in the recently released comedy film 'Stage Beauty', 1706.

*William Wycherley, poet and dramatist, 1716.

*Grinling Gibbons, Wren's master woodcarver whose astonishing work can be found in many churches, including this one, 1721.

*Dr Thomas Arne, whose home is marked by a blue plaque just around the corner, 1778. He gave us the patriotic words that everyone knows: 'Rule Brittania, Brittania rule the waves. Britons never never never shall be slaves!'

*actors Ned Shuter, 1776, Robert Baddeley, 1794, and Charles Macklin, 1797.

*Robert Carr, 1st Earl of Somerset, Court favourite of James I until he was disgraced by his involvement of the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury, 1645.

*playwright Susannah Centlivre, 1623.

*painters James Worsdale, 1767, and watercolour pioneer Thomas Girtin, 1802.

*John Wolcot, poet and philosopher, who wrote under the pseudonym 'Peter Pindar' and coined the expression 'nail in one's coffin', 1819.

*the Sotheby family, founders of the famous auction house
.
Claude Duval, the Gentleman Highwayman, was for many years thought to be buried here, but research has now concluded that he was buried in the neighbouring parish of St Giles In The Field.



So if ever you visit Covent Garden, as I often do, and buy a hot potato from one of the local outlets before sitting in St Pauls Churchyard to eat ( while being bothered by hopeful pigeons), listen to the distant noises of the street performers on the other side of the building, the rhetoric of the actors, the laughter of the assembled crowd, and recall that these ragamuffins under Inigo Jones's great portico are continuing a tradition that began a third of a millenium ago!

St Michael's Cornhill

St Michael's is the only City church I've visited with a crowd, and this was a pleasant surprise as none of us were expecting it to be open on a Saturday. Our nervous but erudite guide, Talking History stalwart Keith, allowed a few minutes from the itinery so that the Time Team Forum Friends could take a look around the City's most Victorianised church. And Victorian it very much is, which is either good or bad depending on one's own aesthetic tastes.

The church was a Saxon foundation, patronised by the Abbot of Evesham from 1055 to 1503 when responsibility fell to the Draper's Company. In his 'Survey', Stow wrote extensively about the church, more extensively than any other church he described, and this is probably for sentimental reasons - his father and grandfather, both of whom were named Thomas, were buried in the churchyard, and so was his godmother Margaret Dickson (an alderman named Robert Fabyan, who chronicled a history of England and France, was interred somewhere within the building). He complained about the north side of the building being obscured by tenements (presumably Cornhill was narrower in Tudor times), and related a marvellous anecdote about the effect of a lightning strike on the bellringers:

'..upon St James' night, certain men in the loft next under the bells, ringing of a peal, a tempest of thunder and lightning did arise, an ugly shapen sight appeared to them, coming in at the south window, and lighted on the north, for fear whereof they all lay down, and lay as dead for the time, letting the bells ring and cease of their own accord. When the ringers came to themselves, they found certain stones of the north window to be razed and scratched, as if they had been so much butter, printed with a lion's claw. The same stones were fastened there again, and so remain till this day. I have seen them oft, and have put a feather or small stick into the holes where the claws had entered three or four inches deep... one of the ringers lived in my youth, whom I have oft heard to verify the same to be true.'

The 1666 conflagration carried away St Michael's with the exception of the tower, and arguments are still continuing today over who rebuilt it. Wren's influence seems apparent, but the rebuilding was begun very soon after the fire and some believe his influence was minor. The tower, however, was remodelled in 1722 by Hawksmoor, built to resemble Magdalen's tower in Oxford, and its Gothic style is probably the inspiration for the extent of the Victorian refitting of the interior. Hawksmoor, a pupil of Wren and a famous architect in his own right, seemed to have no problem with the incongruity of a Classical church with a Gothic tower.

Between the rebuilding and the Victorian period, St Michael's witnessed some passing historic events. Thomas Gray, famous for his poem 'Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard', was christened here and the church today owns and displays his walking stick. One of the City's first coffee houses, precursor to today's Lloyds, was set up in a tent in the churchyard. Today the site is occupied by the 19th century Jamaica Wine House, situated in one of a maze of alleys behind the church which gives one a feel of how the City used to be. Another nearby pub, the George and Vulture, achieved fame by being featured by Dickens in 'The Pickwick Papers'.

In the 1850's the Victorian architect George Gilbert Scott was let loose on the church, and today it bears his mark more than it did Wren or Hawksmoor. One cannot deny the splendour of his north entrance, fabulously ornate and accompanied by a statue of St Michael himself. What he did to the interior, however, meets with a mixed reception. Earlier relics remain, such as the reredos and the 18th century pelican feeding her young, and Scott's pews, with small doors at their ends, were an expensive but interesting indulgence, but the proliferation of stained glass - impressive though it is - darkened the church to the point of perpetual gloom and would have horrified Wren. The windows, 'Lombardised' by Scott, also accomodate the Victorian mania for neo-Gothic. A renovation in the 1960's removed some of this glass in an effort to lighten the interior, but too little was done - probably because Victoriana is nowadays just as historically important as Jacobean.

The contrast between the interior's opulence and its general gloom was commented upon (by me, talking to a Dutch friend who was probably feigning more interest than she actually felt!) during our visit. Wren believed in clear windows; the best of his remaining churches bear witness to this. The first words spoken by God in 'Genesis' were 'Let there be Light', and Wren took this seriously. His churches were simply not designed for stained glass.

Be that as it may, the church is undeniably Victorianised, and enough of Wren's work remains in the City for us to allow Scott's indulgence. Considering how many fine Wren churches were demolished during that 'progressive' period, we should magnanimously accept the lesser of two evils. St Michael is Scott's monument these days, and unique in its own way. The current Rector, Peter Mullen, is a well known figure - he is Chaplain to the Stock Exchange (bet he was busy on Black Wednesday), and writes a thoughtful column for 'The Times'.

One last comment should be St Michael's connection with music. The tradition of lunchtime recitals, which take place every day at various churches across the City, was begun here in 1916 by the composer Harold Darke. Over the next 50 years he undertook 1800 performances. So if you ever wander into a City church to find someone happily banging away on a piano, you'll know where it started

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 flowers, and topped it with four gilded urns. Fruit and flowers can also be seen adorning the elaborate pulpit, very appropriate as this is now a Guild Church for the Fruiterer's Company.

However, Wren had not yet finished with the element of surprise. When the visitor manages to tear his eyes away from all this fascinating and ornate decoration, he may cast his eyes upward to see that the architect had incorporated a Dome into the ceiling, a Dome which - unlike that at St Stephen - cannot be seen from the exterior. It has been described as an 'architectural tour-de-force', as Wren arranged the stresses so that the Dome stands on four plain walls without the need of any buttressing. It was painted in 1708 by William Snow, and depicts the worship of heaven.

A bomb hit St Mary in 1940, and typically the greatest damage was to the church's greatest treasures - the Dome, and Gibbons' reredos. Godfrey Allen repaired the church, lowering the Victorian floor level and consequently revealing some grave slabs which remain on display. It was restored to look as much like Wren's original as possible: the Dome, repainted by Hoyle, now looks as though it were never damaged and the reredos, smashed into 2000 pieces, was painstakingly restored in an operation that took five years.

This is one of the smallest of Wren's church interiors, and it is the one that took me by surprise the most. I spent longer in this place, gazing at the minutae of detail on offer, than in many other churches twice the size. I felt completely manipulated by Wren, taken in by the casual way in which he confounded any expectations I had when approaching the building. Its opening times are limited, more's the pity, but if any visitor should ever take a shortcut from Cannon to King William and happen to notice the dors are open, then they should certainly not continue passing by. St Mary Abchurch is a rare treat indeed!

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 were resting in Westminster 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, as was the authoress Charlotte Lennox.  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.
Other historic figures slumbering at St Margaret's include the artist Francis Barlow (d1704), the opera singer Charlotte Brent (d1802), Admiral James Burney (d1821), colleague of Captain Cook and member of the famous literary family, the poet Thomas Churchyard (d1604), the controversial novelist John Cleland (d1789), author of 'Fanny Hill:Memoirs Of A Woman Of Pleasure', composers Thomas Ford (d1648), John Sheppard (d1558), William Cornysh Snr (1502) and Nicholas Ludford (1557), the playwrights Thomas Southerne (d1746),  Edward Sharpham (d1668), and Nicholas Udall (d1556), authoress Eliza Haywood (d1756), who coined the word 'poignancy' and the phrases 'middling classes' and (appropriately) 'final resting place', and the organ-maker Father Smith/Bernhardt Schmidt (d1708). An impressive list, all resting beneath the bland turf of the churchyard, none of them with a memorial.

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!

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 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. Buried here in 1623 was Nicholas Tooley, a fellow actor and one of the sponsors of the 'First Folio'.

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. The Elizabethan author Thomas Deloney came to rest here in 1600, and was followed by the composer Giles Farnaby in 1640.

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! That trembled not to grasp his bones, and steal his dust away!'