THE PRIORY CHURCH OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT,
SMITHFIELD

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE FOUNDATION
AND A DESCRIPTION OF THE FABRIC
AND ALSO OF THE CHURCH OF
ST. BARTHOLOMEW-THE-LESS

BY

GEORGE WORLEY

AUTHOR OF "SOUTHWARK CATHEDRAL," "THE TEMPLE CHURCH," ETC.

LONDON GEORGE BELL AND SONS 1908

CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

PREFACE

In gathering material for this handbook I have received valuable help from several friends, whose kindness calls for grateful recognition. My thanks are due, in the first place, to the Rev. W. F. G. Sandwith, Rector of St. Bartholomew-the-Great, and the lay custodians of the church, for the facilities which have allowed me to examine the building in all its parts, and for the readiness with which they have given information, not accessible elsewhere, on various points of its history and architecture. In this matter, besides more personal obligations, I feel that I owe much, in common with many others, to Mr. E. A. Webb, the active member of the Restoration Committee, for the suggestive data of his open lectures, and for the interesting expositions of the fabric by which he has always supplemented them. Others to whom I am indebted are Dom Henry Norbert Birt, O.S.B., of Downside Abbey, and Mr. Charles W. F. Goss, Librarian to the Bishopsgate Institute, for their skilful guidance in the literature of the subject; Mr. F. C. Eeles, Secretary to the Alcuin Club, for the Elizabethan Inventory and account of the Mediaeval Bells; and Messrs. Wm. Hill and Son, the famous builders, for particulars of the organ.

For the illustration of the book, Mr. A. Russell Baker has kindly contributed a selection from his rare set of old engravings, before presenting the whole to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.

The photographic views of the church and monuments, as seen at the present day, were taken by Mr. Edgar Scamell, of 120, Crouch Hill; and the seal-impressions by Mr. A. P. Ready, the British Museum artist. Finally, Sir Aston Webb, R.A., has to be thanked for the ground-plans of the church and monastic buildings; and Mr. G. H. Smith for the plan and dimensions of St. Bartholomew-the-Less.

A list of books and papers is appended for the benefit of students anxious for more detailed information than could be included here.

G. W.

June, 1908

A SELECTION OF WORKS ON ST. BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT

The progress of the modern work at the church has been announced from time to time in the circulars issued by the Restoration Committee, the substance of which is incorporated in the text, where also the other authorities consulted by the present writer are referred to.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

ST. BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT

CHAPTER I

The spring and fountain-head of our information about the Priory of St. Bartholomew-the-Great is an account of the foundation, interwoven with the life and miracles of Rahere, the founder, which was written in Latin by one of the Canons soon after Rahere's death in the reign of Henry II. An illuminated copy of this work, made at the end of the fourteenth century, is preserved in the British Museum, with an English translation, which forms the groundwork of all subsequent histories.[1]

Allowing for a few contradictory dates and statements in this precious document, and for the occasional flights of a pious imagination in the biographer or his subject, we arrive at the following historical basis: Rahere was a man of humble origin, who had found his way to the Court of Henry I, where he won favour by his agreeable manners and witty conversation, rendered piquant, as it appears, by a certain flavouring of licentiousness, and took a prominent part in arranging the music, plays, and other entertainments in which the King and his courtiers delighted during the first part of the reign.[2]

In the year 1120 a total change was wrought in Henry's character by the loss of his only legitimate son in the wreck of the "White Ship," on its voyage from Normandy to England, after which the King is said never to have smiled again. The event naturally cast a gloom over the Court; frivolities were abandoned, and religious devotion, either genuine or assumed in polite acquiescence with the royal humour, took the place of the amusements which had hitherto held sway. In one case, at least, the spirit of reformation was at work in good earnest. Rahere, repenting of his wasted life, thereupon started on a pilgrimage to Rome, to do penance for his sins on the ground hallowed by the martyrdom of St. Paul, some three miles from the city. The spot known as the Three Fountains, now rendered more or less sanitary by the free planting of eucalyptus, was then and long afterwards particularly unhealthy, and while there Rahere was attacked by malarial fever. In his distress he made a vow that, if he were spared, he would establish a hospital for the poor, as a thank-offering, on his return to England.

His prayer was granted, but his recovery was slow. During his convalescence he had a vision, or dream, in which he thought a winged monster had seized him in its claws, and was about to drop him into a bottomless pit, when a majestic form came to his rescue, and thus addressed him: "I am Bartholomew, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, that come to succour thee in thine anguish, and to open to thee the secret mysteries of heaven. Know me truly, by the will and commandment of the Holy Trinity, and the common favour of the celestial court and council, to have chosen a place in the suburbs of London, at Smithfield, where in my name thou shall found a church. This spiritual house Almighty God shall inhabit, and hallow it, and glorify it. Wherefore doubt thou nought; only give thy diligence, and my part shall be to provide necessaries, direct, build, and end this work."[3] Rahere at once promised compliance, and, as soon as he got back to London, first obtained the King's consent, and then, "nothing omitting of care and diligence, two works of piety began, one for the vow that he had made, the other as to him by precept was enjoined."[4]

The suburb of Smithfield (Smoothfield) is said to have already occurred to Edward the Confessor as a suitable place for a church on the outskirts of London, possibly as affording a similar area, in its level and marshy surface, to that chosen for his Abbey at Westminster. The greater part of it was, indeed, covered by water, the one dry spot (known as "The Elms") being reserved for public executions, which continued to take place there till some centuries later. The eastern portion of this waste land was granted by Henry I, through the agency of Richard de Belmeis, Bishop of London; and it was here that, in the year 1123, Rahere began building.[5]

In a marvellously short time the funds were forthcoming, and his double object was achieved in the erection of the Hospital, with the Church at a little distance, the whole being dedicated by the same friendly bishop to St. Bartholomew the Apostle, in fulfilment of Rahere's vow and the Saint's instructions.

Rahere is said to have been assisted in his architectural work by Alfune, who had founded St. Giles's Church, Cripplegate, in the year 1090; and there is a story to the effect that three noble travellers, or merchants, from Byzantium were present at the foundation, when they foretold its future greatness, and were consulted by Rahere as to the design and character of the building while his plans were under consideration.

On the southern side of the church the group of buildings gradually arose which constituted the Priory, of which the founder, having devoted himself to the monastic life, of course became the first Prior; and here he spent the rest of his days with thirteen companions—the sub-prior and twelve subordinates—all living under the Rule of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine. The number was afterwards brought up to thirty-five by Thomas of St. Osyth, the second Prior (1144-1174), who made a corresponding addition to the premises.[6]

In 1133, when the buildings were fairly advanced, and the value of Rahere's work had got to be recognized, a charter of privileges was granted by Henry I to the Prior and Canons. Commencing with an invocation of the Holy Trinity, it was addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London, with a greeting to all the King's faithful subjects, especially the citizens of London. Its comprehensive immunities may be inferred from the opening paragraph:

Another paragraph may be worth quoting, as it expressly includes Bartholomew Fair among the privileges conveyed, though it is clear from the terms of the instrument that a fair had previously been held in the open space at Smithfield on the Saint's anniversary. Even before the accession of Henry I there had been a market on the spot, known as "the King's Market" when the ground was allotted to Rahere. (Vide "Vetusta Monumenta," vol. ii.)

The observance was afterwards extended to a double octave of fourteen days, and included all kinds of shows and entertainments, theatrical, conjuring, and acrobatic performances, in addition to the traffic in cloth-stuffs, horses and cattle, which gave the fair its commercial importance. The stalls, or booths, in which the portable goods were exposed for sale, were held within the monastery walls, the gates of which were locked at night, and a watch kept over the enclosure.[8]

Rahere died on 20th September, 1144, and was buried in the church, where his tomb occupies the usual place for Founders on the north side of the sanctuary, surrounded by his magnificent Norman work in the choir, with the ambulatory beyond it, and extending upwards to the arcading of the triforium. The eastern part of the clerestory is a modern reproduction of that which superseded Rahere's; but, with this exception, the interior of the choir was probably much the same originally as it is (restored) to-day.

There was, however, a central tower, and, if the design on the twelfth-century Priory seal is to be trusted, a high circular turret at each end of the exterior.[9]

Thomas of St. Osyth, the second Prior (d. 1174), erected the transepts and the easternmost bays of the nave, all of which bear signs of the architectural transition. The nave was probably completed during the next half-century, in the Early-English (then superseding the heavier Norman) style, as may be inferred from the surviving western gateway, and the mutilated columns which remain within the building at the western end.

Perpendicular work was introduced early in the fifteenth century, when Roger de Walden, Bishop of London (1405-1406), built a chantry-chapel to the north-east of the choir, and inserted a new clerestory, in the then fashionable style, in place of the original. He also made a considerable alteration in the chancel by substituting a square east-end for the circular apse, part of which was taken down and used as building material for the innovation. But de Walden's work was cut short by his death, when he had scarcely held the See of London for two years, and was buried in his Chapel at St. Bartholomew's, instead of in the Cathedral Church like most of his predecessors.

The Lady Chapel, with the crypt beneath it, dates from about 1410, when also the central tower was probably rebuilt, and decorative additions were made to the Founder's tomb, in the shape of a canopy and panelling. In the first part of the next century Prior Bolton (1505-32) inserted the Oriel window on the southern side of the choir-triforium and the doorway in the south ambulatory, both of which bear his sculptured rebus—a bolt, or arrow, driven through a tun. In 1539 his successor, Robert Fuller, the last of the Augustinian Priors, surrendered the entire property to Henry VIII, in compliance with the Act of Dissolution, its value having been already ascertained in the twenty-sixth year of the King's reign. The exact figures are given by Dugdale as follows:

For many years before the dissolution of the monasteries the system on which they rested had been gradually undermined by the spread of the Reformation, accompanied by a growing conviction that the religious communities had not only outlived their usefulness, and to a great extent departed from the high standard of their founders, but that their enormous wealth had given them an influence far beyond that of any other institution, or combination of institutions, in the kingdom, and brought them into formidable rivalry with the State itself—the more dangerous in proportion to their devoted adherence to the Papacy, with which the State was in collision. By whatever unworthy motives Henry VIII may have been governed in aiming at the monastic property, he was therefore able to bring forward many political considerations, which coincided with those arising out of religious doctrines, to make his measures intelligible to his people, and consequently easy to himself. Among the various plausible reasons which were urged against the continued existence of the conventual houses, one of the most likely to appeal to the practical sense of the multitude was the misuse of the resources with which they had been endowed. While it was admitted that in their earlier days they had been extremely useful in mitigating distress among the poor, it was now argued that their indiscriminate charities were doing more harm than good, and that the changed economic conditions of the sixteenth century called for a corresponding change in the distribution of relief, to save the country from being overrun by undeserving mendicants, amongst whom some of the religious Orders were themselves to be reckoned. It does not appear that any part of this argument held good against the Augustinian Canons, or that the more serious moral charges brought against the smaller communities were at all applicable to their case, which was rather one of involvement in a common ruin than the result of any specific accusation. It is true there are instances of laxity at individual houses, showing a too easy discipline where they occurred, but there is nothing sufficiently extensive or important to compromise the Order as a whole, or materially damage its character in the eyes of the impartial modern student.[10]

It might have been expected that some immunity from the wholesale spoliation which followed the Act would have been granted to Rahere's foundation, in view of his special provision for the poor in the hospital which was an integral part of it. The hospital has indeed been allowed to survive as a separate institution; but the whole of the strictly monastic buildings were doomed, the nave of the church being at once pulled down, and the choir only preserved for the use of the parish. With this reservation, the site of the Priory and the buildings upon it, including the Lady Chapel, were sold in 1546 to Sir Richard Rich, Knight (Attorney General), for the consideration of £1,064 11s. 3d., and the property has remained in the hands of his descendants till quite recent years. The possession was, however, interrupted by Queen Mary, who introduced the Dominican Order of Black Friars into the Convent. They had started rebuilding the nave when the accession of Elizabeth meant a return to the policy of her father, the expulsion of the friars, and the restitution of the Priory estate to Richard (then Lord) Rich and his heirs "in free socage," by a renewal of the previous grant.[11]

Some idea of the strong ecclesiastical influence broken up at the Dissolution may be gathered from a glance at any old map of London, showing the numerous religious foundations by which the Priory was then surrounded, now for the most part swept away, or only surviving here and there in institutions which retain the ancient names under modern conditions. Immediately to the north lay the Carthusian monastery, familiarly known as the Charterhouse. On the north-west was the Priory of St. John-of-Jerusalem, founded by the Knights Hospitallers. The Franciscan Convent of the Grey Friars extended along the southern boundary of St. Bartholomew's, between the Priory walls and St. Paul's Cathedral. To the south-west, near the Thames, there was the monastery of the Carmelites, or White Friars, with the church and houses of the Knights Templars beyond it. Within the City, to the east, were the great establishments of the Austin Friars and St. Helen's nunnery, while east and west the churches spread—many of monastic origin—culminating in two of the most important buildings in Europe, the Tower of London and the palace of Westminster, each with its ecclesiastical dependencies, the whole dominated by the mediaeval spirit about to be dispelled, for good or evil, by the great movements of the Renaissance and Reformation.

A conjectural restoration of the Priory buildings, as they stood in Prior Bolton's time, based on the records available in 1893, and the architectural fragments which then remained, shows them to have been bounded on the northern side by the Church, which extended from the Lady Chapel at its eastern extremity to somewhere near the line indicated by the small archway now leading from the public square into the churchyard on the west. This churchyard covers the ground formerly occupied by the nave, a mutilated portion of which remains within the building, attached to the lower stage of the central tower. It seems clear that the choir once extended over the tower-space, and was separated from the nave by a screen, with a parish-altar on its western side for public worship, while the chancel was reserved for the monastic services, with a raised presbytery for the high altar at its eastern end—a threefold division providing for the ancient ritual arrangement.

In the ambulatory on the northern side of the choir there were apparently three chapels, besides Bishop Walden's chantry, which was the easternmost of the series, and is supposed to have had a semicircular apse. There was a similar, but rather smaller, chapel opposite to it on the south side, and between it and the south transept a sacristy, erected about 1350.

Outside the Lady Chapel lay the cemetery of the Canons, on the favourite (south) side for burials. The cloister formed a large quadrangle attached to the south aisle. The Prior's residence was probably on the western side of the quadrangle, and on the south there was a range of buildings comprising the refectory, buttery, and kitchen, with the Close beyond them.

Opening into the cloister on the east was the Chapter House, an oblong structure, adjoining which, on the south, was the dormitory, overlooking the Mulberry Gardens on the east, and the Close on its western side.[12]

The work of demolition commenced immediately after the transfer of the property to Henry VIII, when the nave was destroyed; and as soon as Sir Richard Rich came into possession, he started pulling down the buildings for the sake of the materials, which were used in the erection of new houses where the old had formerly stood, as well as on the gardens and orchards around them. By the time of Queen Elizabeth the district had become a favourite residential quarter for great people, who gradually disappeared with the growth of London, and the migration of gentry westwards, when the houses vacated in Smithfield were let off in tenements to the same sort of poor people who now share the neighbourhood with merchants and shopkeepers.

During Elizabeth's reign the church had been allowed to get into a very dilapidated state, and that it was in some danger of total destruction appears from a letter written by Edmund Grindal in 1563, while he was Bishop of London, to Sir William Cecil, proposing to take the lead from the roof, and transfer it to St. Paul's Cathedral:

Lord Rich thought favourably of the proposal; but that fears were entertained elsewhere would seem probable from a second letter, in which Grindal writes as follows:

The long period of neglect and desecration which follows is rather to be inferred from the condition of the buildings in the early part of the nineteenth century than from any actual records respecting them. What that condition was in 1809 is described in two letters which appeared in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for March and April in that year. They were written in a spirit of indignation at the behaviour of "a powerful junto" which had been formed in the parish to sweep the whole structure away, church included, on the pretext that part of the choir was in danger of tumbling down. It had, however, been saved by the exertions and judicious repairs of Mr. Hardwick, to whom the writer pays a just compliment for his timely action against the particular committee. He then goes on with a lamentable picture of what met his eyes on a "recent survey" of the Priory, which he had previously examined in 1791, when it was pretty much in the same state.[14] The Lady Chapel was still in existence, but wholly filled up with modern tenements; the north transept was more or less destroyed, and the arch bricked up to reduce that side of the church to a level, while the south transept—a ruin without a roof—was walled off from the church, and used as a burial-ground. The eastern side of the cloister was all that remained of the quadrangle, and was turned to account as a "comfortable eight-stall stable" for horses. The site of the north cloister was occupied by a blacksmith's forge, a public house, and certain private offices; the south and west being covered with store-rooms and coach-houses. Of the Chapter House the remaining walls were "no higher than a dado," and under them the timber was stored after treatment in the sawpit of the enclosure. The dormitory to the south of the Chapter House had been demolished, and the crypt beneath it bricked off into divisions for stores, with a common thoroughfare open between them. It may here be mentioned that a close examination of the ground has shown that there was formerly the usual "slype," or open pathway, running from the cloister-garth, between the south transept and the Chapter House, to the canons' cemetery on the southern side of the Lady Chapel.

The building against the south wall of the choir (probably the sacristy, though called a chapel) is described as a magnificent structure, of about the time of Edward III, with windows on the eastern and southern sides, and a grand arch (then latticed up) which formerly connected it with the south transept. It was being used as a store-room for hops. The chapel to the east of this was destroyed in its upper part, and the windows had lost their arched heads, though the columns and architraves to the jambs remained, showing some very delicate and beautiful work, which was also remarkably fine in the dado mouldings. The ceiling of the church—the wreck of the Tudor open-worked timber roof—had been "pared down to a common pediment covering," supported on the heads of cherubim as corbels. The Doric altar-piece is contemptuously referred to as "a painted theatrical scene of architecture."[15]

While the subordinate buildings were dropping into ruin, the church, besides having suffered from fire and neglect, had been disfigured by a long series of repairs and embellishments, the character of which may be inferred from the glaring instances pointed out in the letters just quoted. The other alterations made in the interior may be briefly summarized as follows: The level of the floor was raised by a thick deposit of earth; the walls were enveloped in whitewash, to the concealment of the ancient mural paintings and certain delicate sculptured ornament; and high pews were erected, which reached almost to the capitals of the piers. The openings of the triforium were bricked up—in some cases entirely obliterated—and at the east end, above the altar-piece just mentioned, there rose a brick wall, pierced with two ugly round-headed windows, filled with square panes of glass, and destitute of mullions and tracery. The space between the termination thus formed and the original apse went by the name of "Purgatory," as a receptacle for human bones, some thousands of which were found to have accumulated when it was cleared out in 1836.[16]