Ecclesiastical London in 1900: Churches

Arthur H Beavan described a few of the most typical churches and chapels in London in 1900, and he selected them "without prejudice" from a multitude of others, equally important, but not quite so accessible to visitors, whose time, like the space at his disposal for this section, was limited.

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The Chapel Royal, forming part of St. James Palace, has been already alluded to, but I would just mention that the most attractive of its services was that held on the Feast of the Epiphany (Twelfth Day), when the Sovereign's offerings of gold, frankincense, and myrrh were made on the altar with much dignified ceremony; and our national conservatism was strikingly exemplified by the fact that this custom had been observed by successive sovereigns for the past eight hundred years!

Both myrrh and incense (a small quantity of each) were supplied by the apothecary to the Royal Household, and were placed together with red wax, and enclosed in a bag of crimson satin bordered with gold braid.

The money was afterwards distributed in relief of special cases of need; but what became of the other offerings no one seems to know exactly, except that the bag used to be the perquisite of the Bishop of London (Dean of the Chapel Royal).

Whitehall Chapel having been secularized, there was now but one other Chapel Royal, the Savoy, hidden away behind the south side of the Strand.

The little building, historically associated with the palace of the Savoy, destroyed by Wat Tyler in the time of "old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster," suffered greatly from fire, having been twice burnt out during Queen Victoria's reign, so that of its original walls but few traces remained, and its interior, with its fine pulpit, beautiful font, nobly-painted altar, and richly carved ceiling, was entirely modern.

Here, in 1661, took place the assemblage of divines, to be known ever after as the Savoy Conference.

Some notable persons are buried here; amongst them being the Earl of Faversham, who was in command at the battle of Sedgmoor; Dr. Cameron, the last to suffer for his connection with the rising of 1745; and Richard Lander, a once famous African traveller.

Of the numerous marriages at the Savoy, that of Lady Burdett Coutts to Mr. W. Ashmead-Bartlett in 1881, was perhaps the most interesting to the readers in 1900.

Of the two churches in the Strand, St. Mary and St. Clement Danes, the latter was more frequently visitied, if only for the sake of seeing the pew, No. 18 (in the north gallery), where, against a pillar, Dr. Johnson sat on Sundays for many years.

In the Vestry Hall of this church, Duckitt's Charity was annually apportioned to female domestics who had faithfully served one master or mistress in the district for seven years or upwards.

To such, £5 was awarded; those exceeding the minimum term receiving further amounts for each five years, until a maximum of £20 was reached.

This bequest was made more than three hundred years ago, when only twenty applicants put in an appearance, their qualifications being periods of service from seven up to twenty-two years.

St. Clement's was conspicuous in 1900 for the number of minor institutions surrounding it, such as a cabmen's shelter, an ambulance, a fire-escape, a fire-station, a coffee-stall and a recently-invented universal-providing-lamp for the supply of tea, coffee, and cocoa on the penny-in-the-slot system.

Unfortunately for dwellers in the neighbourhood, St. Clement's was also notorious for its bell-ringers' practice, and its doleful chimes that at all hours rang out hymns, disturbing by day the studies of students, and by night and early morning preventing the well-earned sleep of toilers.

Operations, carried on at night, had begun at Clement's, under the Strand Improvement Act, for the removal to Woking, at a cost of £1800, of over two thousand bodies from the churchyard; and amongst them were the remains, so it is said, of Bishop Berkeley, two Bishops of Exeter, and many members of the Howard, Arundel, and Berkeley families.

A long flight due north, and many an interesting place of worship was passed, including the Foundling Hospital Chapel, attendance at which involved an early start to secure a seat, an offering de rigueur of silver on entering, and a tour round the place after service, including a peep at the boys and girls dining in respective halls.

St. Augustine's, Kilburn, was one of the most ritualistic churches in London.

A fine modern Gothic building with graceful spire; within, spacious and lofty; an elaborately-carved rood-screen minus a rood but with statues rising above the frieze; up many steps, an altar with tall candles; ornate reredos; and a splendid organ.

The choir was good, the music Gregorian, and the congregation enthusiastic and punctilious in the matter of genuflexions.

The men were restricted to the south, and the women to the north side of the nave; and the ritual represented the most pronounced sacerdotalism of the type introduced long ago at St. Andrew's, Wells Street; All Saints', Margaret Street; St. Andrew's, Holborn; St. Barnabas', Pimlico, and by 1900 met with everywhere; perhaps in its extremest form at St. Cuthbert's, South Kensington.

Certain churches seemed to be monopolized by titled people, and during the season more than half the aristocracy could be found distributed in the following : - Christ Church, Down Street, Mayfair (where the Duke of Cambridge worshipped); St. Paul's, Wilton Place; St. Peter's, Eaton Square; St. George's, Hanover Square; Holy Trinity, Sloane Street; and a few Mayfair chapels-of-ease.

The large upper middle class of successful professional men, merchants, and Government officials formed the bulk of the congregations at such places as St. Michael's, Chester Square; St. Peter's, Cranley Gardens; St. Jude's, South Kensington; All Saints', Ennismore Gardens; St. Mary Abbot's, Kensington - a magnificent specimen of Sir Gilbert Scott's art - St. Mary, Boltons; Christ Church, Lancaster Gate; and St.Stephen's, Gloucester Road.

St. Paul's, Onslow Square, was the staunch stronghold of Evangelicalism, and so constructed that the eastward position at Holy Communion compelled the clergy to face the congregation.

St. Marylebone was one of the finest parish churches to be found anvwhere, and was celebrated for its elaborate musical services.

At St. Luke's, Sydney Street, Chelsea, one could always depend upon a thoroughly good service of the cathedral order.

A broad-church tone had prevailed for years past, both in its ritual and doctrine. It was a noble-looking church with lofty pinnacled tower - a landmark for miles - and was one of the very few sacred edifices in London with a vaulting entirely of stone.

Before crossing to the Surrey side of the Thames, Chelsea Hospital Chapel ought to be seen.

Its architecture is in Wren's dignified style, and dates back to about 1672.

Visitors sat on each side parallel to the wall; the old warriors, picturesque and clean, in the middle; but in cold weather, when some scores of septuagenarians were incessantly coughing, etc., the spectacle was rather distressing.

It was here that Professor Herkomer took studies for his memorable picture of 1875, The Last Muster.

But the old flags were the great attraction.

Over a hundred, mostly in rags, were sent there by William IV in 1835; amongst the survivors of these wrecks being the eagle and flag taken at Waterloo by Sergeant Edward of the Greys.

There were also colours from the battlefield of Blenheim, originally some hundred and seventy in number, the bulk of them mere tinder, the silk so rotten that when the walls were cleaned, these precious trophies had to be tenderly wrapped up in cloth lest the slightest draught should blow them into dust.

Two other chapels, associated with the legal profession, were well worthy of a visit.

The one, Gray's Inn, on the north side of Gray's Inn Square, was a small building seating about a hundred and fifty persons, and had an equally tiny, though very efficient, choir.

There were some good stained-glass windows, one being to the memory of High-Church Archbishop Laud, a member of the Inn.

The morning services were preceded by the Bidding Prayer, a curious relic of the past, and wonderful old music by the early masters could generally be heard there.

The other chapel, Lincoln's Inn, whose Gothic designs were by Inigo Jones, was repaired in 1791, and restored in 1882.

Its stained-glass windows were unusually fine, and its organ is of great sweetness of tone.

A thoroughly legal atmosphere pervaded the place, and it possessed an open crypt where students of the Inn used to meet and talk matters over with their clients, and here was buried John Hunter, Oliver Cromwell's secretary of state.

In the East-end of London, the parish church of St. Matthew's, Bethnal Green, was notable for its stained-glass windows, its curious old beadle's staff, and its antique communion plate.

A special service for the deaf and dumb used to be held there on Sunday afternoons.

Holy Trinity, Bethnal Green, was a new church, but remarkable as being one of the five sacred edifices in England that were built "up-stairs," having been erected on the top of the parish gymnasium.

Whitechapel church, St. Mary Matfelan (derived from a Hebrew word signifying "a woman recently delivered of a son") (like St. Matthew's, burnt down and rebuilt), was a prominent object in Whitechapel High Street, having a pulpit balcony for open-air services in the churchyard.

Across the Thames, there was the splendidly restored cathedral church of St. Saviour, London Bridge, with a beautiful Lady Chapel, Choir, and Nave, and a grand tower.

The government of this church was peculiar, the parishioners being the patrons, and selecting their own rector.

The tendency of the service was decidedly towards ritualism, which was opposed with much vigour by an influential portion of the "electors."

St. George the Martyr, Southwark, was a notable church, and to lovers of Dickens appealed forcibly as being the place upon whose register Little Dorrit rested her head the night she was locked out of the Marshalsea, and in which same book she signed her maiden name for the last time.

It was a particularly popular church for marriages of the poorer classes, especially on such festivals as Christmas, when perhaps dozens of couples were joined together in holy matrimony simultaneously, and sometimes got rather mixed up, let us hope with no worse result than that recorded by Dr. Pigou, the Dean of Bristol, who states that old Sagar, sexton of Halifax parish church, of which he was rector, once wrongly grouped some wedding parties, so that an aged couple, who had no intention of getting married, were joined together in holy matrimony.

When told of it, the sexton remarked, "They haven't long to live; so it didn't matter very much."

The parish church of Lambeth, St. Mary the Virgin, was a conspicuous object adjoining the Archiepiscopal Palace and the steamboat-pier.

With the exception of the tower, its architecture was Early English.

The organ was by Renatus Harris (rebuilt), and the valuable communion-plate was very ancient.

In the church were buried several archbishops and Elias Ashmole, the learned antiquarian, whose friends, the Tradescants, father and son, celebrated botanists and horticulturists, lie in its God's acre.

Another St. Mary's was on the river-side at Battersea near the bridge.

It was an ugly parish church, surrounded by unsightly factory chimney-shafts, and was remarkable for the number of its curates, no fewer than seven being engaged in working the crowded district.

Here may well end this brief survey of the "Establishment's" churches and chapels in the metropolis in 1900, for there remains a vast body of important religious communities, broadly grouped as Nonconformists, besides those of the Church of Rome, "one and indivisible."

Many years ago, England was described as a country possessing only one sauce, but a hundred religions.

Our condiments in 1900 were many, but our religions had developed with such fertility that no fewer than three hundred and ten different denominations, including the Established Church, Moslem, and Hebrews, were registered at Somerset House.

Thus it is obviously impossible to do more in the limited space of this article, than just to allude to the leading places of worship.

First in size was the Baptist Tabernacle at Newington Butts, that owed its existence to the great Charles Haddon Spurgeon.

In 1859 the foundation-stone was laid by Sir Morton Peto, and on March 31, 1861, the huge building was opened debt-free, and became the scene of the popular preacher's ministry until his death in 1892.

In the afternoon of April 20, 1898, a fire was discovered in the south-east corner of the upper gallery, and before two o'clock the place was a ruin.

By the time these lines first appeared in print, in 1901, a new Tabernacle, as large as its predecessor, and handsomer and better planned, had been inaugurated, with electric light and all other details so essential to the comfort of a congregation numbering from five thousand to six thousand individuals.

Of external beauty the original building had little; and, speaking critically, the same may be said of its successor, save that there is a certain dignity in the spacious Corinthian portico.

The Tabernacle was a landmark and one of the institutions of London, and was a centre of intense and earnest Christian work on a grand scale.

Not very far off was Christ Church, Westminster Bridge Road, quite an orthodox-looking house of prayer, with tall steeple; but in reality the outcome of Nonconformist energy, and long associated with the Rev. Newman Hall.

At Clapham, where, some generations ago, the efforts of a few residents led to the establishment of most of the leading Evangelical and Bible Societies of England, they can boast, not only that giant of the Free Churches, the Rev. J. Guinness Rogers, D.D., at Grafton Square, but the Clapham Congregational Chapel claims to be one of the oldest in existence, going back for its origin nearly two hundred and sixty years, a period when the neighbourhood was purely "country," as it appears to have been greatly troubled with foxes, hedgehogs, and polecats! for the killing of which, payments are constantly appearing in the parish accounts.

Clapham's sister suburb, Brixton, rejoiced in its Independent church in the Brixton Road, a lasting memorial of the Rev. J. Baldwin-Brown, a great pulpit orator, an advanced Liberal in theology, and a noted writer against the doctrine of everlasting torment in the next life.

In 1900 the pastor, the Rev. Bernard Snell, was a remarkable and outspoken man, with pronounced views on the subjects of sacerdotalism and baptismal regeneration.

On the Middlesex side of the Thames was Westminster chapel, Buckingham Gate, S. W., famed for its good preachers.

In Tottenham Court Road, the new Congregational chapel (Whitfield's Tabernacle) was redolent with memories of John Wesley's friend and co- worker.

The new Independent chapel in the Marylebone Road superseded a strange old rectangular Bethel with sentry-box door and Jack-in-the-box pulpit, which dated back to the year 1813, when the Marylebone Road was newly formed and Lisson Grove was umbrageous, and the Grove was lined with fine old trees, with the villages of Bayswater and Notting Hill lying to the south-west.

Due north from Paddington chapel, now Hampstead Green, was Lyndhurst Road church, presided over by an eminent Nonconformist divine, Mr. Robert Horton, its sole defect being that its sitting accommodation was exiguous, for so popular was the preacher that the benches of a play-house pit could hardly be more densely packed during the run of a sensational piece.

Mr. Horton eschewed anything approaching to clerical attire, and even objects to be called "reverend"; but he was both a name and a power, his sermons were worth a long journey to hear, and he had the rare gift of a gentle, yet clear and incisive voice.

A very efficient choir rendered the musical portion of the service wonderfully well.

In Islington was the well-known Union chapel (Congregational), where the celebrated Dr. Allon used to preach so admirably.

In the City Road, passers-by could not fail to notice Wesley's chapel, the Mecca of Methodism, where sleeps its great founder, whose movable pulpit was preserved with deep reverence at West Street chapel, Seven Dials.

Up Fetter Lane, from Fleet Street, on the right, was the narrow entrance to the curious old Moravian chapel (which escaped the Great Fire), the only one in London.

The Church of Scotland was well represented at Crown Court, Russell Street (opposite the colonnade of Drury Lane Theatre), where to a past generation the well-known Dr. Cumming used to discourse on the approaching termination of this earthly dispensation.

In the West-end I would mention St. Columba's (Scotch National Church), Pont Street, Belgravia, whose delightful services and earnest, well-thought-out sermons by the Rev. Donald Macleod, D.D., were much appreciated.

At St. James' Hall, the Wesleyan West London Mission every Sunday converted that temple of music into a place of prayer and praise; while the Rev. Mark Guy Pearse, and that remarkable man, the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes, eloquently held forth on subjects divine, to an audience of some two thousand five hundred people, the music being provided by a splendid orchestral band of seventy performers.

Mr. Hughes, an eloquent preacher with a clear, penetrating voice, was also that rarity, a fine reader of the Scriptures.

As President of the Wesleyan Methodist Conference, he was presented at a Levee in 1899, and it is recorded that his Court dress consisted of a Geneva gown with cassock beneath, knee-breeches with buckles, silk stockings, shoes with silver buckles, and a college cap.

Dr. Parker's City Temple represented the old chapel that once stood hidden behind the houses on the south side of the Poultry, built in the days when Nonconformists were subject to all kinds of pains and penalties, when, as Dryden writes -

"They, far from steeples and their sacred sound,
In fields their sullen conventicles found."

But there was no air of seclusion about the1900 building, its conspicuous tower lifting to the heavens being observed by every one crossing the Holborn Viaduct.

It would hold three thousand worshippers, whose voices, when any well-known hymn was sung, with fine effect quite drowned those of the large well-trained choir that was supposed to lead the singing.

Dr. Parker was a most striking pulpit orator, whose sermons, never commonplace, were frequently extraordinarily original.

He persistently avoided ordinary forms of speech and ideas, and was great in epigrams and paradoxes; his gestures were remarkably emphatic, even theatrical; and no one should have missed hearing him.

Undoubtedly, the free-lance of the religious world was Father Ignatius, who was to be heard at the Portman Rooms, Baker Street.

Though neither a church nor a chapel, these rooms were sufficiently sanctified by the gathering together of the "two or three" in His name.

No description is needed of the surroundings.

One's attention was concentrated on the idiosyncrasies of him who conducts the service.

What was Father Ignatius?

He professed to be an English monk of the order of St. Benedict, but in doctrine he was very much akin to a Plymouth Brother, the Second Advent being a leading element in his faith.

A door opened, and a tonsured priest in loose monastic dress ascended the platform, invoked the Trinity, crossed himself, and the service, modelled after that of the Free Churches, proceeded.

An eloquent sermon followed from a perfect master of language; his words burned with conviction; and follow him attentively you must, whether you liked it or not.

He strongly maintained that the regeneration of the world would never be brought about by the nostrums of socialists or faddists generally.

He was terribly in earnest, and one was certain that he believed what he preached.

His discourses were never dull, neither did they err in being too long or too short, and he recalled the old days, when, as Dr. Parker said, "They had better preachers than we have; they had a doctrine, we have none. They had conviction; we have compromise. We want to live all comfortably together; they did not see how Christ could walk with Belial."

I must now refer, and no more, to the ubiquitous Salvation Army, whose noble work is patent to all the world; to the Unitarians, whose Association Hall was in Essex Street, Strand, and to their Unity Chapel, Upper Street, Islington, a building quite ecclesiastic in appearance, cruciform, with nave, aisles, chancel, and lofty spire; to the Swedenborgian Church at Camden Road, Holloway, and to the one at Palace Gardens Terrace, W.; to the Quakers' Meeting House at 12, Bishopsgate Street Within, E.C., and to the Catholic Apostolic semi-cathedral in Gordon Square,W.C., a lasting monument to the memory of the gifted Edward Irving.

Then there was the Greek Church in Moscow Road, Bayswater, and another at 32, Welbeck Street (the Russian Embassy chapel).

And there were, in round numbers, forty Jewish Synagogues in various parts of the Metropolis in 1900.

In various halls throughout London, Sunday meetings were held, representing every conceivable phase of theological thought; perhaps the most extraordinary being that of the Christian Science Church, imported from America, whose comfortable creed that "there is no such thing as sin, sickness, or death, except in the human illusion," had great possibilities before it!

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