City of London Churches Introduction All Hallows by the Tower
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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.