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Archive for the ‘Religion’ Category

This article first appeared in London Historians Members’ Newsletter from January 2014. 
By Hawk Norton. 

‘Tis prophecied in the Revelation, that the Whore of Babylon shall be destroyed with fire and sword and what do you know, but this is the time of her ruin, and that we are the men that must help to pull her down?’
John Rogers, 1657

‘A thing that never was heard of, that so few men should dare and do so much mischief.’
Samuel Pepys, 1661

In 1648, the bloody civil wars, which had caused the deaths of around 250,000 English men and women, seemed to have ended. In December the ‘Long Parliament’ was purged by Colonel Pride and replaced by the ‘Rump Parliament’, enabling the trial and execution of King Charles I. The monarchy, the House of Lords and the Anglican Church were abolished and England became a republic. After a successful campaign in Ireland and the defeats of Scottish Royalists at Dunbar and Charles II at Worcester, by 1651 power lay firmly in the hands of Oliver Cromwell and the other leaders of the 70,000 strong New Model Army.

Spurred on by these events, radical social, political and economic reforms had been proposed by fledgling left wing groups such as the Levellers and the Diggers: the people’s sacrifice in the wars surely merited some reward. In a heated debate with Cromwell at St Mary’s, Putney in 1647, the Leveller, Colonel Thomas Rainsborough had declared: ‘For really I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he; and therefore, truly, Sir, I think it’s clear that every man that is to live under a government ought first by his own consent to put himself under that government.’ But as a member of the incumbent ruling elite, Cromwell was never going to accede to their revolutionary demands. As these early radical groups were suppressed, one of their number lamented: ‘It seems now, except a man hath a fixed estate in this kingdom he hath no right in this kingdom.’

The period also saw a huge surge in the popularity of radical religious sects. The bible was available to all to be read, interpreted and freely debated and free from the stranglehold of the repressive machinery of the church, the presses poured forth a flood of pamphlets espousing every form of radical religious belief. Many of these sects (and two thirds of preachers in the New Model army) were millenarians, believing in the imminent arrival of the Fifth Monarchy (in succession to the Assyrian, Persian, Grecian, and Roman). As foretold by the Books of Daniel and Revelation, Christ would return to inaugurate a thousand year rule of the saints over an age of peace, prosperity and see an end to priests, lawyers and landlords. This millennium would be followed by the third coming of Christ and the Day of Judgement.

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A plethora of 17C non-conformist sects.

The most radical of these sects were the Fifth Monarchy Men whose leaders’ analysis of the biblical prophecies led them to believe in an imminent final showdown between Christ and the anti-Christ (the pope). Among their most prominent spokesmen were fanatical preachers such as John Rogers, Christopher Feake and Vavasor Powell who regularly delivered lengthy and passionate sermons to capacity congregations at London churches, and pamphleteers, such as William Aspinwall and John Spittlehouse, who carried their beliefs to a wider audience. With Feake declaring that in the millennium there would be ‘no difference betwixt high and low, the greatest and the poorest beggar’, their cause was naturally most popular with the lower orders, many of whom were disappointed and angry at the suppression of the Levellers. However, unlike the Levellers, the Fifth Monarchists had no interest in extending parliamentary franchise, or in democracy at all for that matter, and espousing a dictatorship of the godly which they believed would rapidly spread to cover the whole world, were the ultimate Puritan killjoys.

Strongest in London, at the height of its popularity, supporters of the movement probably numbered around 10,000 countrywide with a far smaller hard core whose fanaticism bordered on lunacy. From the government’s point of view, the most important consideration was the level of support within the now dominant institution in the land: the New Model Army. Their supporters included several men of senior rank such as Major-General Harrison, who had delivered Charles I to Parliament to stand trial and, at Cromwell’s behest, evicted the ‘Rump’.

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Major-General Harrison.

On March 29th, 1652, ‘Mirk Monday’, a solar eclipse, resulted in the country being thrown into total darkness, an extraordinary event which added to many people’s expectations of the fulfilment of the Fifth Monarchists’ prophecies.

At first they had supported Cromwell, especially when he had dismissed the self interested Rump. It was replaced with a new assembly of 140 elders, ‘faithful, fearing God and hating covetousness’, nominated by Independent church congregations throughout the country. Though only holding a minority representation, the Fifth Monarchists welcomed this assembly, believing it able to prepare the Commonwealth for the return and rule of Christ. But the ‘Barebone’s Parliament’, named after one of its most prominent members, Praise-God Bairbon, was plagued by confrontation between the moderate majority and the tireless efforts of the radical minority, led by the Fifth Monarchists, to push for wider and faster reform. The Speaker and forty of the moderates lost their nerve and walked out, returning power to Cromwell.

He and the leaders of the army agreed on a new constitution, the ‘Instrument of Government’, creating a Protectorate under Cromwell as Lord Protector. The Fifth Monarchists were bitterly disappointed and Cromwell, now ‘king in all but name’, had completely lost their trust. Feake described him as ‘the dissemblingest perjured villain in the world’ while Rogers prayed to ‘hasten the time when all absolute power shall be devolved into the hand of Christ; when we shall have no Lord Protector but our Lord Jesus’.

Cromwell’s intelligence service, under John Thurloe, was probably the most effective in Europe and monitoring the activities of subversives included sending agents to attend Fifth Monarchist services to relay the content of their sermons back to the government. Favouring liberty of conscience in religion, Cromwell demonstrated remarkable tolerance towards the Fifth Monarchists but, amid rumours of an imminent armed uprising, he was ultimately left with no alternative but to take action. Army officers such as Major-Generals Harrison and Overton were deprived of their commissions and imprisoned, along with Feake, Rogers and various other preachers, for inciting revolt. Cromwell was prepared to release them on the promise of good behaviour, but was met with defiance so had no option but to prolong their captivity. Deprived of its most prominent leaders and effective orators, support for the sect began to dwindle.

The new Parliament was dissolved within five months, having attempted to limit the powers of the Protector, and rapidly gave way to military rule. A Royalist uprising in March, 1656, though easily quashed, resulted in Cromwell dividing the country into eleven military districts to be controlled by Major-Generals, responsible only to Cromwell and his council, enabling him to exert tighter control and keep a close watch on the, now diverse, opponents to his rule. Most alarming to the Fifth Monarchists were rumours that he was planning to take the title of king.

Feake and Rogers were eventually released from captivity in December, 1656. A manifesto entitled ‘A Standard Set Up’ was published outlining their grievances and the nature of the new form of government they proposed. All ‘civil and honest men’ were promised protection and there would be no fixed salaries for ministers of religion, no tithes, no excise and no taxes at all in peacetime. Impressment of men for the armed forces would be abolished and all soldiers who still retained their ‘simplicity and integrity’ were summoned to break away from ‘the apostate and backsliding army’ and enlist under the banner of the Lord Jesus.

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A typical pamphlet of the Fifth Monarchists.

In Swann Alley off Coleman Street, a congregation of about eighty Fifth Monarchist fanatics under the leadership of Thomas Venner, began to plan an armed insurrection. On the afternoon of April 9th, 1657, they assembled at a house in Shoreditch with the intention of rendezvousing with other Fifth Monarchist groups on Mile End Green at 9.00pm. But loose tongues had alerted Thurloe to the plot and a troop of horse was dispatched to surround the house where twenty of the conspirators were arrested. A search revealed several hampers of arms and ammunition and ten more were discovered at Swann Alley. The rebels who had evaded arrest planned another uprising for the end of the month but again tip-offs led to their capture. Surprisingly, the conspirators were never brought to trial, but Venner and two others were held in the Tower until the end of the Protectorate.

Cromwell died on September 3rd, 1658, the anniversary of his victories at Dunbar and Worcester. Such a coincidence, combined with the ferocious storm that occurred that night, led many to believe that he had sold his soul to the devil in return for absolute power. The Fifth Monarchists had already made plans to mount a coup on his death to be led by Major-Generals Harrison and Lambert. These came to nought and he was peacefully succeeded as Protector by his son, Richard. Lacking the capabilities of his father and the respect of the army, ‘Tumbledown Dick’ was swiftly nudged aside. Against the background of a political vacuum, a bad harvest, rising prices, arrears in soldiers’ pay and rioting in London, it became clear that the best means of avoiding a total breakdown of order would be the restoration of the monarchy.

To enable his restoration, Charles agreed to the ‘Declaration of Breda’, elements of which included a general pardon to all of his subjects apart from those that Parliament should see fit to exempt, religious freedom for all that didn’t threaten the peace of the kingdom, and payment of soldiers’ arrears and their acceptance into the king’s service. The declaration paved the way for the King’s triumphant return to London on May 29th, 1660, his 30th birthday. He was welcomed at Blackheath by the lord mayor and 120,000 of his subjects and escorted to Whitehall Palace.

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Charles II’s triumphant return to London.

Charles soon sought vengeance on the fifty-nine regicides who had signed his father’s death warrant. These included two Fifth Monarchists, Harrison and John Carew, who were arrested, tried at the Old Bailey and sentenced to death. Samuel Pepys recorded in his diary on October 13th, 1660: ‘I went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn and quartered; which was done there, he looked as cheerful as any man could do in that condition. He was presently cut down, and his head and heart shown to the people, at which there was great shouts of joy. It is said, that he said that he was sure to come shortly at the right hand of Christ to judge them that had now judged him; and that his wife do expect his coming again. Thus it was my chance to see the King beheaded in White Hall, and to see the first blood shed in revenge for the King at Charing Cross.’

John Rogers had fled to Holland before the Restoration, but Thomas Venner and his co-conspirators had been released, in an act of clemency by Richard Cromwell, in February, 1659. They had immediately resumed their Fifth Monarchist activities, still using Swann Alley as their base and now the Restoration stirred them to plan a second uprising. They produced a pamphlet entitled ‘A Door of Hope or A Call and Declaration for the gathering together of the first ripe Fruits unto the Standard of our Lord KING JESUS’. This was similar to their previous manifesto but embellished with references to the new king, describing him as ‘a profest enemy, a rebel and traytor to Christ’ and warning of the danger of England being conquered by ‘Popery’.

Warned of an imminent rebellion, the Government arrested several suspects and began conducting searches. Aware that the net was closing, on the following Sunday, January 6th, Venner assembled his supporters at the meeting-house in Swann Alley and told them that the time of the Fifth Monarchy had arrived. That evening Venner led about sixty well armed men down Cheapside shouting ‘King Jesus, and the heads upon the gate!’ (in reference to the exhibited heads of the executed regicides). They broke into St. Paul’s intending to use the cathedral as a fortress and posted sentries at the doors. When one of them demanded of a passer-by who he was for and received the reply, ‘King Charles’, the sentry declared that he was for King Jesus and shot him dead.

Receiving news of the disturbance, the City authorities sent a company of the trained bands to suppress it but the ferocity of the rebels’ resistance quickly drove them back. Venner now marched his men through the City to Bishopsgate from where they crossed Moorfields, marched along Chiswell Street, and re-entered the City at Cripplegate. Rumours of the imminent arrival of a troop of horse caused them to retreat to Beech Lane where, encountering further opposition, they marched north to Hampstead and eventually took shelter for the night in Ken Wood, Highgate, a locality that had long held support for their cause.

On Wednesday January 9th, Venner led about fifty men back to the City, unopposed. Arriving at the Compter Prison on the north side of Poultry they demanded the release of the prisoners but by now the alarm had been raised and they found themselves confronted by another detachment of trained bands. These were repulsed but the arrival of reinforcements forced a retreat along Bishopsgate Street and into Cheapside where they met up with another group of insurgents that had set out from near London Bridge ‘well-accoutred both for musquets, blunderbusses, carbines and halberds, with buff-coats and helmets, both back and brest being thus completely armed’. Turning into Wood Street a furious fight ensued with two more companies of trained bands until the arrival of a detachment of Life Guards forced the rebels to make a fighting retreat towards Cripplegate. By now, two of their leaders had been killed and Venner himself was seriously wounded and they broke up into small groups to attempt an escape. By the time 1,200 further reinforcements arrived from Whitehall they had already been overpowered.

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One of the Fifth Monarchists’ leaders, Thomas Venner.

There are several contemporary accounts of the uprising. The differences between them, particularly in the estimates of the numbers involved, clearly demonstrate the level of chaos and confusion it had caused. Pepys wrote in his diary on January 10th: ‘These Fanatiques that have routed all the train-bands that they met with, put the king’s life-guards to the run, killed about twenty men, broke through the City-gates twice; and all this in the day time, when all the City was in armes; are not in all above 31. Whereas we did believe them (because they were seen up and down in every place almost in the City, and had been in Highgate two or three days, and in several other places) to be at least 500. A thing that never was heard of, that so few men should dare and do so much mischief.’

On January 17th, Venner and another nineteen prisoners pleaded not guilty to charges of murder and high treason at Justice Hall in the Old Bailey. Four were acquitted by the jury but the others were found guilty and sentenced to death. On January 19th, Venner and Roger Hodgkin were drawn on a sledge by two companies of trained bands from Newgate Prison to Swann Alley where, having warned the crowd of the approaching time ‘when other judgement would be’, they were hanged, drawn and quartered. As with the regicides, parts of their bodies were displayed on the City gates and their heads mounted on poles on London Bridge. The other condemned men were hanged at various locations in the city and other leading Fifth Monarchists, though having taken no part in the uprising, were rounded up and imprisoned.

Despite these severe punishments and a Royal proclamation banning all unauthorised public meetings, pockets of Fifth Monarchist activity continued for some time, particularly in south east London. But the restoration of the monarchy had also brought the restoration of the Anglican church. The bishops were back, and all members of clergy were required to swear allegiance to the new state church and take an oath of non-resistance. The Five Mile Act barred dissenting ministers from living within five miles of a town. The Bishop of London, declared that ‘Those who will not be governed as men, by reason and persuasion, shall be governed as beasts, by power and force.’

The popularity of fanatical religous sects rapidly declined and though there would be sporadic rumours of further Fifth Monarchist uprisings for several years to come, beset by informers and agents provocateurs, the movement gradually disintegrated, its leaders either executed, dying in captivity, or going to ground. The best demonstration of the extent of their decline is surely the lack of any attempt to utilise the Great Fire of 1666, a year bearing the number of the Beast, as a rallying point for their cause. Yet in 1671, when a cow broke into New Palace Yard, Westminster, amidst the chaos, the cry went up that ‘the Fifth Monarchy Men were up and come to cut the throats of the lawyers’, and in 1684, 5,000 mourners attended the funeral of one of their leaders.

The Fifth Monarchists were very much a product of their time: a period of great turbulence and enormous destruction accompanied by unprecedented religious freedom in an age of superstition. Their biggest problem was that the dour fanaticism with which they pursued their cause, not only lost them the support of many who might otherwise have been attracted to their millenarian doctrine, but also left their leadership totally bereft of the political credibility necessary to achieve anything without the divine intervention which they undoubtedly expected. With the restoration of the monarchy, the general feeling in London must surely have been that if Christ wasn’t going to return at least the King had, and after years of suffering, soul searching and uncertainty, it was time to fall back in line and to lighten up and live a little.


All images used in the above article are scanned from the author’s private collection.

Hawk Norton is a collector of antiquarian and second-hand books, all of which are about London and its history. His remarkable library comprises over 4,000 titles dating back 400 years. All are now for sale at well under market prices. For a price list, email Hawk at hawk@btinternet.com

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in our time

I am a massive fan of Melvyn Bragg’s In Our Time, BBC Radio 4 most Thursdays at 9am. There are various ways you can search it, but as a service to our readers, here is a list of the London-related ones.

Aphra Behn
Annie Besant
Athelstan

Thomas Becket
Bedlam
The Black Death
The Bluestockings
The Book of Common Prayer
Boudica
Robert Boyle
Brunel
Fanny Burney

Caxton and the Printing Press
Chaucer

Mrs Dalloway
The Death of Elizabeth I
Dickens
The Domesday Book

The East India Company
Englishness
The Enlightenment in Britain

Michael Faraday
The [Great] Fire of London
Foxe’s Book of Martyrs

The Gin Craze
The Great Exhibition of 1851

William Hazlitt
Octavia Hill
Holbein at the Tudor Court
Robert Hooke

[Samuel] Johnson

London

Marlowe
Milton

The Novel

Titus Oates and His ‘Popish Plot’

The Peasants’ Revolt
Pocahontas
[Alexander] Pope
The Putney Debates

The Restoration
The Royal Society

The Scriblerus Club
Seventeenth Century Print Culture
The  South Sea Bubble
Suffragism

The Trial of Charles I
The Tudor State

Utilitarianism

Oscar Wilde
Mary Wollstonecraft


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DSC09938b_200Next week the remains of the Temple of Mithras will be open to public view once again. Unloved and open to the elements for almost fifty years, the development of its original site by the financial information giant Bloomberg presented an excellent opportunity to give this highly significant Roman building the type of home it deserves. Bloomberg, Museum of London Archaeology (MOLA) and other partners have enthusiastically and painstakingly carried out a project which unearthed by far the largest number of ancient Roman artifacts from a single British site. The quality and variety of them are truly staggering. The survival of many of the perishable objects – typically wood and leather – is thanks to the muddy conditions in the vicinity of the lost river Walbrook. The most significant object of the dig must surely be a tablet from circa 53AD which mentions “Londinium”, the oldest known reference of this name.

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There were Mithraeums in most urban centres of the Roman Empire. Its symbol was Mithras killing a bull with a knife.

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This tablet is inscribed with the earliest known use of the word Londinium.

As someone whose degree strongly featured ancient Rome and who has visited the Eternal City many times over past decades, I’ve always been a bit sniffy about what I considered the paucity of London’s surviving Roman remains. With the best will in the world, there can be no comparison. The bits of Roman wall near the Tower and the ribbon along London Wall combined with the Roman bath house in Lower Thames Street hardly set the pulse racing. Perhaps that’s just me. But with this new development to add to the Roman amphitheatre installation beneath Guildhall Yard – only discovered in the 1990s – that has all changed very significantly indeed, I think.

Londinium was, after all, the beginning of this most historical of cities. Suddenly, with the addition of the London Mithraeum, we have, I feel, a truly weighty and credible Roman London collection for all visitors to enjoy and Londoners to be proud of.

We must thank and congratulate Bloomberg for not just paying lipservice to our heritage but for embracing it and wholeheartedly backing this project. An example for all businesses and developers to follow.


Find out more and book your free places at the London Mithraeum.

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by Dr Helen Szamuely

Alexander_Konstantinovich_Benckendorff225Ten men are buried in the Crypt of Westminster Cathedral, which can be visited by special permission: nine cardinals and one “civilian” the last Imperial Russian Ambassador, Count Alexander Konstantinovich Benckendorff (1849 – 1917), who had taken up his ambassadorial position in 1902 and held it to his death. As it happens he was the great nephew of the Countess, later Princess Lieven, wife of the nineteenth century Russian ambassador, whose own diplomatic activity is generally better known than her husband’s. Count Alexander was, unusually for a Russian official even of Baltic background, a Roman Catholic, having been brought up by his German mother Princess Louise de Croy. Through his own and his wife’s eminent Russian family the Shuvalovs, he was related to most of the Russian and a good part of European aristocracy. On the one hand this made life and career relatively smooth, on the other hand, it became a tragedy as public opinion hardened just before the First World War and during it. To take one example, the German ambassador to London in the summer of 1914, Prince Lichnowsky, the son of Countess Marie de Croy, was Benckendorff’s first cousin. The drive towards the war and Lichnowsky’s enforced departure (as a matter of fact, he opposed German policy) was a personal tragedy for these two men.

Benckendorff remains a divisive figure in Russian historiography, just as he was a divisive figure in his lifetime. He has been accused on not knowing any Russian, which is not true, and of being more anxious to promote the British point of view in Russia than the Russian in Britain, which has some basis in truth. His first languages were French and German but he did speak Russian and wrote to his children in that language. Diplomatic correspondence across the Russian corps was, in any case, conducted in French.

Having grown up in Europe, he was anxious to become a Russian landowner and acquired an estate in Sosnovka, spending every summer there with his family until 1914. His sons were sent to Russia to finish their education. The younger, Petr, joined the army fought in the Russo-Japanese war, re-enlisted in 1914 and was killed in 1915. The older, Constantine, went into the navy and survived not only the First World War but the Revolution, civil war and a stint in the Red Navy. In 1922 he married the harpist Maria Korchinska and in 1923 they came to England. As he said in his memoirs, Half a Life, they could not have known that they would never see their homeland again. Their sister, married Jasper Nicholas Ridley. Both marriages produced fairly eminent offspring.

Count Benckendorff was obsessed with the need for an Anglo-Russian Agreement and pursued this policy (backed by the French ambassador to London, Paul Cambon, often beyond his instructions from the Imperisal government. His friendship with the Empress Maria Fyodorovna gave him a special entrée to the British court and allowed him to communicate directly with King Edward VII, something that the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs found frustrating as they felt that Benckendorff was ready to accept any British policy whether it was directly good for Russia or not.

The need for that agreement, in his view, was based on three main reasons: he feared Russia falling under German domination, he thought that only an Anglo-Russian agreement would stabilize the situation and keep peace between the two countries in Asia and Europe and, he hoped that it would promote liberal, Western ideas in Russia. One can argue whether the Anglo-Russian Accord of 1907, Count Benckendorff’s cherished plan for which he worked so hard contributed to the move towards the First World War or not but that is where Europe ended up much to his discontent. Not only were his hopes dashed but, to a great extent, the war was a personal tragedy for him, his family, his entire circle.

By the end of 1916 the news coming out of Russia disturbed Count Benckendorff even more. The war was becoming vrey unpopular, there were disturbances, revolutionary activity, shortages. Would Russia be able to continue fighting? Would she collapse under pressure? These questions clouded his last weeks. An early victim of the Spanish influenza that was to devastate Europe and the world, Count Alexander Benckendorff died in early 1917 and caused a diplomatic furore after his death. He had worshipped in Westminster Cathedral and had requested that he should be buried there. His reuqest was reinforced by the Tsar, Nicholas II, but rejected by the Cathedral, who pointed out that only cardinals are buried in the Cathedral’s crypt. The Count’s Requiem in the Cathedral was attended by member of both Royal families but the question of the burial was finally solved by Kind Edward Vii intervening with Cardinal Bourne. He pointed out that Russia, Britain’s staunch ally was having many difficulties and needed support. An agreement to bury Count Benckendorff in the Cathedral crypt would be such support; permission was granted.

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Final resting place: the crypt beneath Westminster Cathedral.

Nathalie Ridley, the Count’s daughter, commissioned Eric Gill to carve a memorial slab,which was installed in 1939 and can still be seen. In simple elegant writing it says in English and Latin, the latter provided by Mgr Ronald Knox:

 

Count Alexander Philip Constantine Ludovic Benckendorff,
Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotenitary
from the Emperor of Russia to the Court of St James.
August 1 1849 – January 11 1917.
May he rest in peace.

The new Russian government has an ambivalent attitude to the country’s history, both Imperial and Soviet. Nevertheless, the Russian Embassy now holds a Diplomats’ Day on February 10 and wreaths are laid on the graves of all ambassadors and chargés d’affaires who happen to be buried in Britain. A ceremony in Westminster Cathedral crypt ends with red, white and blue flowers decorating the gravestone of Count Alexander Konstantinovich Benckendorff, last Imperial Russian Amanssador and the only non-cardinal buried in the crypt of Westminster Cathedral.


This article was published in London Historians Members’ newsletter April 2017, less than two days before the author passed away in Charing Cross Hospital on 5 April. We shall publish other articles by Dr Szamuely about London-based Russians during the coming weeks. 

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Guest post by London Historians Member Caroline Swan.

main_9781445661117_1It’s a fairly common occurrence for builders to uncover disused burial grounds in London; it can feel as though the entire city is built on top of a vast graveyard. Many visitors and Londoners alike are fascinated by London’s multitude of burial grounds and London’s Hidden Burial Grounds will no doubt be of interest to those who have wondered where Londoners were laid to rest in the centuries before edge-of-town cemeteries and cremations became the norm.

Rather than focusing on London’s famous suburban Victorian cemeteries, such as Highgate and Kensal Green, Robert Bard and Adrian Miles take the reader on a journey through central London’s lost burial grounds, little patches of ground that today serve as parks or playgrounds, or have disappeared altogether. The authors clearly covered many miles whilst researching this book, visiting the featured sites and taking photographs, many of which are featured (in colour) in the book, alongside historic images and some wonderful photographs from the archives of Museum of London Archaeology.

This book draws extensively on two key nineteenth-century sources: Gatherings from Graveyards by George Alfred Walker (1839) and The London Burial Grounds by Isabella Holmes (1896). Both of these figures had an interest in improving the health of Londoners – Walker, a surgeon, wanted to see inner-city graveyards shut, as he was concerned that overcrowded burial grounds were the cause of high levels of disease and mortality in the areas surrounding them, while Holmes campaigned for disused cemeteries to be transformed into parks and playgrounds for the use of people with little access to outside space.

London’s Hidden Burial Grounds is divided into three main sections: “Plague Pits and Pest Fields,” “London’s Worst Nineteenth Century Burial Grounds,” and “Disused and Hidden Jewish Burial Grounds.” The chapter on plague pits and pesthouse grounds looks at sites from both of London’s famous plague outbreaks, in 1349 and 1665, as well as other sites of mass graves such as workhouse burying grounds. These sites are generally indistinguishable as burial grounds today – one of the featured burial grounds is now beneath a multi-story car park in Soho. Many of the Jewish burial grounds featured in the book’s final chapter are also hidden, but behind high walls and locked gates in unassuming corners of the East End.

The main part of the book is dedicated to the huge number of little churchyards and urban burial grounds that began to disappear during the nineteenth century. Many of the burial grounds used in London in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were profit-making ventures run by often unscrupulous owners who crammed thousands of bodies into spaces that were nowhere near big enough. George Alfred Walker’s investigations helped to uncover the horrific practices going on in many of these places; the famous scandals of Spa Fields and the Enon Chapel are recounted here, along with accounts of churchyards literally overflowing with the dead. Bard and Walker also include an account of a woman thought to have died of cholera who, not actually dead, broke out of her coffin en route to burial in Southwark. The horrors of these overcrowded graveyards makes for grim but compelling reading – it is hard to imagine the sights and smells that Londoners must have been confronted with when visiting any of these places.

London’s Hidden Burial Grounds sheds light on the often-overlooked history of burials in London before the advent of the “Magnificent Seven” cemeteries and their successors, and makes for a great guide to central London’s forgotten cemeteries. It is superbly illustrated with colour photographs, while an extensive bibliography includes a wide range of titles for further reading. The use of archaeological reports adds another dimension to the story, providing physical evidence to back up the often-lurid Victorian accounts of overcrowded, squalid burial grounds. All in all, it makes one grateful that the persistence of the likes of George Alfred Walker paid off and that the people of London are no longer forced to bury their loved ones in such dreadful places.

London’s Hidden Burial Grounds by Robert Bard & Adrian Miles, is published by Amberley, 2017. Cover price is £14.99.

 

 

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430 years ago today – also a Tuesday – Anthony Babington and six of his co-conspirators were executed. A guest post by Mathew Lyons.


On Tuesday 20th of September 1586, seven Catholic men were bound to hurdles in the Tower of London – one of them, a priest named John Ballard, on a single sled, the others two-a-piece – and were dragged westward on their final slow journey through the city’s autumnal streets to a hastily erected scaffold in the open fields ‘at the upper end of Holborn, hard by the highway-side to St Giles’, probably somewhere a little to the north west of what is now Lincoln’s Inn Fields, then known as Cup Field. The crowd gathered at the scaffold numbered in thousands. The authorities had fenced off the site to stop horsemen blocking the view, and had also raised the gallows ‘mighty high’, so that everyone could see justice being done.

The names of the men were – Ballard aside – Anthony Babington, John Savage, Robert Barnwell, Chidiock Tichbourne, Charles Tilney, and Edward Abingdon. (Seven more conspirators and their accomplices would die the following day: Edward Jones, Thomas Salisbury, John Charnock, Robert Gage, John Travers, Jerome Bellamy and Henry Donne, elder brother of the poet.) Most of them were minor courtiers, well-connected, wealthy; it was said they wore fine silks on this, their last day. Just a week before they had been tried at Westminster and found guilty of treason; six weeks before that, they had still been free men. But then had come intimations of arrest – one story is that Babington was alerted by catching sight of a message delivered to a dining companion named Scudamore and realising that Scudamore was, in fact, one of Walsingham’s men – followed by dispersal and desperate flight, Babington and four others taking to what was then still wild woodland beyond the city at St John’s Wood.

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Contemporary illustration of the Babington conspirators.

The authorities searched the houses of some thirty known recusants around London. Almost all were outside the city walls in places such as Hoxton, Clerkenwell, Highgate, Enfield, Islington, Newington and Westminster. One conspirator, John Charnock, was captured on the road from Willesden, where he too had slept in the woods. Babington and his companions, hungry and fearful, disguised their clothing and cut their hair, smeared their faces with green walnut shells, and then – with watches guarding every road out of London – made their way cross-country to what they hoped would be a safe house near Harrow-on-the-Hill. Servants there noticed the strangers’ arrival, their oddness; furtive conversations and the gold lacework of a fine cloak over coarse yellow fustian doublets. The five were finally taken, hiding in the barn. Bells rang out across the city as news of their arrest spread; fires were lit and psalms sung, song and smoke rising together in the late summer air.

And now the men were to be hanged, drawn and quartered.

Although the exact site of the gallows is unknown, we do know that it was chosen for symbolic purposes: the men had used these fields for secret meetings as they plotted to assassinate Elizabeth I and replace her on the throne with Mary, Queen of Scots. Indeed, much of their conspiracy seems local to this area, just beyond the city’s western edge where streets and houses seeped into pasture, and where, on warm spring days, women dried their washing out in the fields, weighting down the sheets with rocks and stones. If in some senses the locale emphasises the marginality of their deadly enterprise, it also perhaps hints at a fatal detachment from reality.

Two of the conspirators’ favoured inns were nearby: The Plough, which seems to have been close to Fickett’s Field, between Cup Field and The Strand, and The Rose Tavern, which was on the south side of the Strand itself, just without Temple Bar on the corner of Thanet Place, and well-known for its garden. (A character in Middleton’s Roaring Girls claims to ‘have caught a cold in my head… by sitting up late in the Rose Tavern’.) Savage, Charnock and Babington had rooms in Holborn, the latter at a place called Hern’s Rents, an address he shared – coincidentally or otherwise – with another would-be Catholic regicide, Edmund Neville, who also used to walk in the fields with his co-conspirator, William Parry. Just eighteen months earlier, Neville had betrayed Parry to Walsingham – and to the fate that now awaited Babington and his friends.

Francis Walsingham, circa 1585, attr. John de Critz the Elder. National Portrait Gallery.

Francis Walsingham, circa 1585, attr. John de Critz the Elder. National Portrait Gallery.

It was customary for a traitor’s death to come by hanging, and for the blood rituals to be enacted on his corpse. This day, however, was different. One after another, the men were left to swing briefly by the neck – until they were half-dead, an onlooker wrote – and then cut down from the gallows, still alive and conscious, and made to watch as the executioner hacked off their genitals and dug out their guts – and then eventually their hearts – with his knife. As their insides were cast into a burning brazier, each man’s body was then dismembered, and the severed head set above the gallows.

As the historian William Camden – a likely an eye-witness – noted, the day’s events were ‘not without some note of cruelty’

The first man to die, was Ballard, arguably the plot’s ringleader. The second, its lynchpin, was Babington. He alone of the men standing beside the scaffold awaiting their fate watched Ballard’s agony’s unflinchingly, coolly, not even deigning to remove his hat; the others turned away, fell to their knees and bared their heads in prayer. But when it was his turn to suffer, and he was pulled down breathing from the gallows to face the executioner’s knife, he cried again and again Parce mihi Domine Iesu, Spare me Lord Jesus.


A longer version of this article was first published in London Historians Members’ newsletter of December 2011. A pdf version can be found on our Articles page. Scroll down to December 2011. LH Member Mathew Lyons is a writer, historian and author of The Favourite, which relates the story of Elizabeth I and Sir Walter Ralegh.

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A guest post by London Historians Member, Christopher West.

DSC03440blogEntering the Docks from Tower Bridge Road, you will see the cast-iron grey Tuscan Columns which adorn International House- these were saved from the original Hardwick warehouses built for the Telford Docks, opening in 1828. Walk along the new waterside pathway and notice the original wall, complete with mooring rope rings, looking up at the grey columns and at the nearby historical Thames Barges.

Back in the 10th century, King Edgar gave this land to a group of knights who traded here, then in c 1147 the Royal Hospital of St Katharine was founded, on the orders of Queen Matilda, by the then proprietor, an Augustinian Priory at Aldgate, governed by a Master, three Brothers and three Sisters. Later, a Church was added and a community that became known as St Katharine’s Precinct developed. Some of the land was sold to allow the Tower Of London to build the East side of its moat and the precinct developed its own orchards, school, court, prison, factories, breweries and various types of housing. It had a ‘dokke’ at least from the 14th century.

Medieval Church of St Katharine by the Tower. Image by Jane Young.

Medieval Church of St Katharine by the Tower. Image by Jane Young.

Sadly and controversially, the ancient Royal Hospital, Church and more than four thousand people were removed in 1825, to make way for the new Telford Docks, which was built in a record three years, opening in 1825, trading in luxury items from all over the world. The Royal Hospital and Church were relocated at Regent’s Park, together with splendidly preserved relics, which are still in use at today’s Royal Foundation Of St Katharine at Limehouse. Throughout its history, Royal patronage has remained (usually the Queen) and today’s Master was appointed by the current Queen, continuing the tradition which has survived since the 12th century.

Builders Taylor Woodrow renovated the Docks, following the closure in 1968, first having to clear war damage and demolish derelict buildings. When pulling down the brick walls of a late 18th century warehouse, a grand wooden framework was discovered, so it was moved 70 metres and became the basis for today’s Dickens Inn. Modern offices were built in place of the Hardwick warehouses, including Commodity Quay, which housed two thousand commodity traders and Reuters News Agency. Ivory House (1852) was turned into luxury flats and numerous others were added surrounding the East Dock. Various shops and restaurants were built, creating the ‘Yacht Haven’, eventually becoming the sparkling Marina that we know and cherish. Still on show today are the Telford Bridge, numerous sculptures by Paula Haughney, (representing luxury items such as turtle shells, herbs, spices and exotic feathers), Wendy Taylor’s famous Timepiece and various other treasures.

Dickens Inn at St Katharine Docks

Dickens Inn at St Katharine Docks

Starbucks Coffee Shop is on the site of the ancient Hospital. It was built as the Coronarium, an all denomination chapel, again featuring original Tuscan Columns; unfortunately, after 19 years of use, it was closed, to reopen as a coffee shop. The mural in the window depicts a sketch of the intended new Docks c 1823.

Today, St Katharine Docks hosts boats from all over the World, as well as historical vessels which include the Royal Barge Gloriana, Havengore, which carried Churchill’s body in State, Flamant Rose, which belonged to Edith Piaf and the majestic Thames Barges.

Christopher West has written a book, The Story Of St Katharine’s, which chronicles the area from the tenth century to today.  He can be contacted on thestoryofstk@outlook.com.

St Katharine Dock today.

St Katharine Docks today.

St Katharine Dock today.

St Katharine Docks today.

St Katharine Dock today, view upriver.

St Katharine Docks today, view upriver.

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