THE IRISH MONTHLY

DECEMBER, 1907

TH

A VISIT TO ST.

ETHELREDA'S

HE distinction between solitude and loneliness is never, perhaps, so keenly realized as when one finds oneself a stranger in a crowd. The feeling then experienced amounts to desolation almost. To wander lonely through a crowded London thoroughfare is quite painful; and one is guided by an instinct in retreating from the full fire of life into the peaceful regions of a by-street. It was thus, not many years since, an Irish youth in London felt; and thus in seeking to avoid the loneliness of the crowd, he came into a knowledge of London's by-ways, full of pleasant surprises and joyous moments for those who find delight in quaint and historic incidents and things.

One experience stands out clear. He was sailing by a sea of faces stretching along Cornhill, Leadenhall Street, Cheapside, Newgate Street, on to Holborn and beyond, without having sighted a single friendly sail to signal a good luck to him. At Holborn Circus he left the main thoroughfare, and turned into one of its offshoots. Not many yards down on the left-hand side a watchman quaintly dressed arrested his attention. He presided over a little unfrequented by-street, and wore the look of a man who felt the responsibility of his position and knew a great deal more than he ever intended to tell. His sentry box was in the centre of the road outside a famous firm of solicitors, to whom are known, it is said, all the secrets of social England. So profound and important is the look of the watchman that one might be pardoned for fancying that the clients of this firm first poured their secrets into his ear and sought his advice. His manner to an inquirer, however, is courteous, tempered with a certain amount of suspicion. From him the youth learned he

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was in Ely Place. It is a short lonely street, which impresses one as being very old and almost worn out. For this youth, however, it possessed enough interest to impel him to spend that afternoon and many another, finding out its history, and the history of its chief attraction-the old Church of St. Ethelreda.*

It is surprising that this Church of St. Ethelreda is so little known. For students of history and literature the whole place teems with interest; but it is to Catholics that it must always make its strongest appeal. With that ready sympathy which their faith gives them, they can appreciate its peculiar charms best, and best understand the vicissitudes of its fortunes.

Away back in the thirteenth century, Ely Place was a street of great note and importance. Then and for centuries afterwards it was the London seat of the Bishops of Ely, who lived there while Parliament was sitting. By virtue of an ancient charter, taxes could not be levied there, nor could those inside its walls, who had committed certain offences against the law, be arrested by the civil authorities. Even in Elizabeth's reign it was a safe sanctuary for persecuted and hunted priests and laymen. At that time portion of the Bishop's Palace was held under lease by Gondamar, the Spanish Ambassador; and without fear of penalty or arrest, the faithful assisted at the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. John of Gaunt, father of Henry IV, took up residence in Ely Place when the rioters had burned down his palace of the Savoy. He remained there till his death, in 1399. According to an old tradition it was in Ely Place, too, that Henry VIII first met Cranmer. In the angry hour of Henry's apostasy from the Faith, the property was confiscated. Eventually portion of it was handed over by Elizabeth to a favourite of her court, Sir Christopher Hatton. When he was ill, it is on record, that she visited him there. Students of Shakespeare, too, will remember that in the play of Richard III" the Duke of Gloucester asks John Morton, Bishop of Ely, to send for strawberries to his Palace Gardens at Ely Place. The scene occurs in the Tower of London, the morning that Hastings is accused of treason and put to death.

* St. Ethelreda was born about the year 630. She was the daughter of St. Hereswyda, wife of the king of East Anglia. She had three sisters, all of whom have been canonized-St. Sexburga, St. Ethelburga. and St. Withburga. Ethelreda was baptized by St. Felix, first Bishop of Dunwick. She was married twice; first to Tonbert, Prince of East Anglia. and on his death to Ecgfrid, King of Northumbria. Both contracts were marriages of convenience, into which she was forced against her will; but in each case she obtained the formal consent of her husband to keep her vow of virginity. With Ecgfrid's consent she took the veil at Coldingham at the hands of St. Wilfrid. Subsequently she founded the famous Abbey of Ely, where she died in June, 679.

The close of the thirteenth century is the beginning of the history of Ely Place. The chapel of St. Ethelreda was built about that time. At any rate there is positive proof of its existence in 1303. From then until Henry's spoliation of Church property it was the London seat of the Bishop of Ely. The Protestant prelates who took the place of the old Catholic Bishops, were unable to maintain its ancient splendour. Under their rule even the vaults where the dead lay buried were converted into gaming houses and drinking saloons. Towards the end of Elizabeth's reign portion of the property was leased to Gondamar. Then the Mass bell was again heard. By a special Act of Parliament, in 1642, the place was converted into a prison. Later it served as a hospital for soldiers. The Bishop of Ely, in 1772, induced the Crown to buy up his interest. Subsequently it was purchased by an architect, Mr. Charles Cole. In 1844 it fell into the hands of Welsh Episcopalians. To end a protracted law suit, by an order of the Court of Chancery, it was put up for public sale. The agent of the Welsh Congregation was authorized to bid up to £5,000. The Congregation was apparently of opinion that if a higher sum than this were bidthe highest it was prepared to give a Welsh magnate, Sir Watkin Williams Wynn, would step into the breach. Curiously enough, the Congregation's agent mistook the Catholic agent for Sir Watkin's. Looking across the room to him, he said: "I suppose it is all right in your hands." "Certainly," was the laconic reply of the agent of the Fathers of Charity, to whom the property was knocked down at his next bid of £5,400. It was not till the sale was completed that it became known that the old Church of St. Ethelreda's had once again fallen into the hands of Catholics. The Church was formally reopened for Catholic worship on the 23rd of June, 1879. On that morning in the crypt, Cardinal Manning offered up the first Mass that had been celebrated there since the days of Gondamar. It was a thrilling moment.

In passing from the street a small flight of steps leads into a short corridor. The walls of the corridor are built of large blocks of stone, and one wonders why walls were ever built so thick. The thickness of the south wall is certainly eight or nine feet. This wall is pierced by several small peculiarlyshaped windows which admit light, tempered by stained glass, into the crypt. The crypt is entered through a door at the end of the corridor. Descending a few stone steps, one is suddenly translated from the light of the corridor into a darkness Cimmerian almost in its denseness, broken only by a shaft of light from the red lamp that lights up the golden gates of the Taber

nacle. Gradually, as the eyes become accustomed to the gloom, two or three other lamps show themselves; and after a little while one sees the whole building clearly. Huge beams, black with age, stretch across the ceiling and support the floor of the upper chapel. A curious smell of burning oil, and of what one can call nothing else than antiquity, pervades the atmosphere. The crypt is divided into two aisles. At the end of each there is an altar. In the sanctuary between these two altars there stands a statue of St. Bridget. This statue together with the statues of our Blessed Lady and of St. Joseph were brought hither from the old chapel in Baldwin's Gardens, which has long since been demolished. The Holy Mass is offered up in the crypt daily. No doubt in the congregation that assist at it, the Irish race is well represented, and it is mainly Irish men and women that compose the Sacred Heart Sodality which meets here regularly else why does St. Patrick, staff in hand, look down so benignly from his niche inside the door?

Leaving the crypt, half a dozen steps lead to the upper chapel. Between it and the crypt the beautiful construction and carving of the arches and columns of the building enable one to form a mental picture of what a glorious shrine it must have been. In the porch outside the upper chapel there is a fine piece of oak carving representing the royal arms. When the church was devoted to Protestant service it hung over the Communion table, but, as may be seen from the inscription underneath it, "This Emblem of Royal Supremacy was removed from the Church of St. Ethelreda when it was restored to the Roman obedience."

An obliging charwoman kindly moves her pail aside and with a smiling word of thanks on one's lips, one enters the upper chapel. The beauty of the Gothic screen inside the door attracts one's attention immediately. If was presented by Mr. Edward Bellasis. On one side his arms are emblazoned, on the other side are emblazoned the arms of Leo XIII, of the first Bishop of London and Ely, of Cardinal Vaughan, of Rosmini, the founder of the Institute of Charity, of Father Lockhart, the restorer of the Church, and also the Royal Arms of England. Behind this there is, perhaps, the largest church window in London. It is of stained glass, erected in commemoration of the martyrs who died under Henry VIII and Elizabeth. It is in an unfinished state. On either side of our Lady of Martyrs, are the figures of two Carthusian monks from the old Carthusian monastery of Charterhouse, not a stone's throw away. Below our Lady Blessed John Fisher and Blessed Thomas More fill the centre lights. There are eight side windows, all of stained glass,

each representing some incident or lesson of the Old Testament. At the eastern end of the upper chapel there is another magnificent stained glass window, nearly as large as the window of the English Martyrs at the opposite end of the chapel. It is the gift of the Duke of Norfolk, in memory of his sister, Ethelreda. The upper tracery of the window is filled with the imagery of angels. Our Blessed Lady and St. Joseph occupy places at either side of our Divine Lord crowned as a king. The outer lights are appropriately filled with the figures of St. Bridget and St. Ethelreda. The high altar in front of this window is of chaste and simple design, and composed altogether of alabaster. Beneath the high altar there is a jewelled reliquary containing among the relics of many other saints, portion of the incorrupt hand of St. Ethelreda. In leaving the sanctuary the eye is attracted by a brass tablet, erected in memory of Father Lockhart. Its inscription runs thus: " William Lockhart, B.A. (Oxon.), Priest of the Order of Charity, founded by Rosmini, Rector of this mission, a man of great kindliness of judgment and loyalty to truth. Friend and disciple of Manning and Newman, he preceded both in the great act of their lives. By his instrumentality this ancient chapel of the Bishops of Ely, wherein later in times of persecution, as a Catholic Embassy chapel, the Holy Mass found for a while an inviolable sanctuary, was, in A.D. 1876, restored to the old religion of an undivided Christendom. Born 22 Aug., 1819; died May, 1892. On whose soul, Sweet Jesus have mercy."

The general impression which the architecture of the upper chapel leaves on the memory is pleasing. The harmony of the different points is exquisite. One cannot withhold one's admiration from the genius of the architect who planned

This immense

And glorious work of fine intelligence.

A visit to St. Ethelreda's is an experience not easily forgotten. A sense of awe and reverence fills one's soul. The spirit of antiquity broods over the place, On its stones lies the dust of six hundred years. What sights of splendour it must have witnessed! Could its old walls speak, what tales they could tell! Many a time, no doubt, have they heard whispered intrigues affecting maybe the lives of men and women in high stations-affecting, perhaps, the life of the kingdom itself. Often have they heard the blare of trumpets ringing out on the air to announce the approach of a king. Often have they seen the place lit up by the flash of swords leaping from their scabbards to salute majesty. Many a saint has knelt on this floor,