Daily entries from the 17th century London diary
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St Olave Hart Street is an Anglican church in the City of London, located on Hart Street near Fenchurch Street railway station.
The church is one of the smallest in the City and is one of only a handful of medieval City churches that escaped the Great Fire of London in 1666. It is dedicated to the patron saint of Norway, King Olaf II of Norway, who fought alongside the Anglo-Saxon King Ethelred the Unready against the Danes in the Battle of London Bridge in 1014. He was canonised after his death and the church of St Olave's was built apparently on the site of the battle. The Norwegian connection was reinforced during the Second World War when King Haakon VII of Norway worshipped there while in exile.
The church is first recorded in the 13th century as St Olave-towards-the-Tower, a stone building replacing the earlier (presumably wooden) construction[1] . The present building dates from around 1450. It survived the Great Fire thanks to the efforts of Sir William Penn, the father of the more famous Penn who founded Pennsylvania. However, it was gutted in 1941 during the Blitz and was restored in 1954, with King Haakon returning to preside over the rededication ceremony.
St Olave's has a modest exterior in the Perpendicular Gothic style[2]with a somewhat squat square tower of stone and brick, the latter added in 1732. It is deservedly famous for the macabre 1658 entrance arch to the churchyard, which is decorated with grinning skulls[3]. The novelist Charles Dickens was so taken with this that he included the church in his Uncommon Traveller, renaming it "St Ghastly Grim".
The church was a favourite of the diarist Samuel Pepys, who worked in the nearby Navy Office and worshipped regularly at St Olave's. He referred to it affectionately in his diary as "our own church"[4] and both he and his wife are buried there, in the nave. John Betjeman described St Olaves with words to the effect that it was a country church set in the bustling setting of Seething Lane; a description with which many who know the church, will surely agree.
The interior of St Olave's only partially survived the wartime bombing; much of it dates from the restoration of the 1950s. It is nearly square, with three bays separated by columns of Purbeck limestone supporting pointed arches. The roof is a simple oak structure with bosses. Most of the church fittings are modern, but there are some significant survivals, such as the monument to Elizabeth Pepys and the pulpit, said to be the work of Grinling Gibbons.
Perhaps the oddest "person" said to be buried here is the "Pantomime character" Mother Goose. Church documents record her interment on September 14, 1586. A plaque on the outside commemorates the event. The churchyard is also said to contain the grave of one Mary Ramsay, popularly believed to be the woman who brought the Black Death to London in the 17th Century.[5]
The church tower contains 8 bells. These are rung by the University of London Society of Change Ringers.
St. Olave’s Hart Street —
one of the medieval churches that survived the Great Fire; heavily damaged in the blitz, but subsequently restored.
The Rocque Map reference:
http://www.motco.com/Map/81002/SeriesSearchPlatesFulla.asp?mode=query&artist=384&other=321&x=11&y=11
Best guess is that the church is across Seething Lane from their home.
more resources for the the visitor
http://lachlan.bluehaze.com.au/london2002/april2002/25apr2002b/
http://www.londontaxitour.com/london-taxi-tour-sights-churches-st-olave-hart-street.htm
http://www.london-footprints.co.uk/peopepys.htm
http://www.moodmapper.com/idx_result.asp?mood_id=349&place_ID=223
Brief information from about 60 years later, in 1722.
http://www.londonancestor.com/stow/stow-church-122.htm
There are 220 houses in the parish, which is absolutely tiny, so the population density here must have returned to that which existed before the Great Fire of 1666.
About two centuries after the Diary, Charles Dickens wrote a whimsical account of St Olave’s in “The Uncommercial Traveller” as follows:
“When I think I deserve particularly well of myself, and have earned the right to enjoy a little treat, I stroll from Covent-garden into the City of London, after business-hours there, on a Saturday, or - better yet - on a Sunday, and roam about its deserted nooks and corners. It is necessary to the full enjoyment of these journeys that they should be made in summer-time, for then the retired spots that I love to haunt, are at their idlest and dullest. A gentle fall of rain is not objectionable, and a warm mist sets off my favourite retreats to decided advantage.
Among these, City Churchyards hold a high place”
“One of my best beloved churchyards, I call the churchyard of Saint Ghastly Grim; touching what men in general call it, I have no information. It lies at the heart of the City, and the Blackwall Railway shrieks at it daily. It is a small small churchyard, with a ferocious, strong, spiked iron gate, like a jail. This gate is ornamented with skulls and cross-bones, larger than the life, wrought in stone; but it likewise came into the mind of Saint Ghastly Grim, that to stick iron spikes a-top of the stone skulls, as though they were impaled, would be a pleasant device. Therefore the skulls grin aloft horribly, thrust through and through with iron spears. Hence, there is attraction of repulsion for me in Saint Ghastly Grim, and, having often contemplated it in the daylight and the dark, I once felt drawn towards it in a thunderstorm at midnight. ‘Why not?’ I said, in self-excuse. ‘I have been to see the Colosseum by the light of the moon; is it worse to go to see Saint Ghastly Grim by the light of the lightning?’ I repaired to the Saint in a hackney cab, and found the skulls most effective, having the air of a public execution, and seeming, as the lightning flashed, to wink and grin with the pain of the spikes. Having no other person to whom to impart my satisfaction, I communicated it to the driver. So far from being responsive, he surveyed me - he was naturally a bottled-nosed, red-faced man - with a blanched countenance. And as he drove me back, he ever and again glanced in over his shoulder through the little front window of his carriage, as mistrusting that I was a fare originally from a grave in the churchyard of Saint Ghastly Grim, who might have flitted home again without paying.”
Here’s a recent photograph:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/57351475@N00/19684301/in/photostream/
Panorama of inside St Olave Church…
Detailed current description of architecture, monuments, furnishings, etc.
Buildings of England: London I, The City Yale UP, 1999. (rev ed.) pp 253-255