In selecting another of the churches of the metropolis, to continue the series which we are presenting to our readers, it seems only natural that we should have fixed upon the prominent edifice of St. Clement Danes. The merry peal of its bells almost rung us into the new locality that we have taken up. Full on the right, in fresh and decent order of comeliness, stands our office of the LONDON NEWS, and, when the sun is shining upon it from the opposite heaven, the tall tower of that silent house of God flings its shadow across our windows, and, after a passing cloud has for a moment shrouded the sunshine, comes full upon our presence with an almost startling effect. There is nothing very handsome or inspiring in the ancient building, for its architecture is motley, and its design the reverse of grand; but we seem to have made a new acquaintance with it, that we hope for many years to keep; and it has a kind of association with our readers too, as a sort of neighbourly landmark of the time of our arrival near it, watching over the harbingers of our first great success, and not likely, we hope, to frown upon us, if, by and by, we should be found growing grey in the service of our friends. We give it at once, then, to the public in its old familiar form, with such records of its history as the antiquarians have supplied. Nor even in its modern presence has it been altogether without furnishing a theme for reflection. We have looked out upon the busy, cheerful, bustling world beneath—gazed upon the rushing crowds wending to and fro on the everlasting business of Mammon-peered into the heart of the living throng, and then turned our eye and thought, up to that temple of silence; or, if not silent, only waked by the echoes from the stirring life without, and thought that although no voice spake there, yet there was a holy tenancy within-the sacred presence of the Eternal Spirit, whose will wielded the destinies of every being who passed it upon his worldly way. Soon came the Sabbath, and, if we again looked down upon the broadway before us, the street was silent then; but the temple of Heaven had become vocal with prayer and holy song, or there came forth a swelling sound of sacred harmony, breaking with beautiful solemnity upon the awe-struck ear. Every other dwelling around was closed; a reverential decorum pervaded the neighbourhood; and only the dwelling-place of God was open to those who chose to enter in. How, then, did the day of rest seem to triumph over the day of world-business —how was Godhead asserted above the infirmities of human nature when the homage of man sought the footstool of Heaven, and within that hushed and holy sanctuary a band of hoping sinners knelt down with faith to pray? To have associated the destinies of a newspaper with the thoughts so inspired by the sacred edifice before us would have been, perhaps, to have trod the brink of blasphemy; but we are willing to believe that we committed no irreverence in breathing an aspiration that, so long as we were pursuing our calling in the public behalf, the responsibility entrusted to us in the conduct of this journal might never be outraged by any violation of the Christian and religious principles which men went into that church to practise or to learn; but that morality and purity of doctrine upon every topic of instruction or intelligence might still and ever characterize our progress, and give our welfare something like the claims of virtue to support.
Now to our history of St. Clement Danes, premising to our country readers that it stands in the heart of one of the busiest thoroughfares of our metropolis, a little west of Temple-bar, and east of the office which we formerly occupied in St. Mary-le-Strand. It would seem, according to William of Malmsbury, that there was a church here before the arrival of the Danes, and that they burnt it, slaying the monk and abbot, and, marching off, continued their sacrilegious fury throughout the land; “at length, desirous to return to Denmark, they were about to embark, when they were, by the just judgment of God, all slain at London, at a place which has since been called the Church of the Danes.”
Fleetwood’s account is that, when most of the Danes were driven forth of this kingdom, the few that remained (being those married to Englishwomen) were compelled to reside between the isle of Thorney (Westminster was so called) and Caer Lud (or Ludgate), where they built a synagogue, afterwards consecrated, and called Ecclesia Clementis Danorum. Thus saith Fleetwood the antiquary, and Recorder of London, in a document addressed to the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, who resided in this parish in the time of Elizabeth, when the line of the Strand (taking its name from the river’s side) was a street of the palaces of England’s nobility.
The church of St. Clement Danes is first noticed by historians as a gift from Henry II. to the Knights Templar. On the dissolution of that order the advowson was conveyed to the canon regular of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, near Warwick, whence, in the changes of time, the patronage of the living fell into the hands of the Exeter family, the representative of which, the present Marquis of Exeter, still holds the same. The architecture of St. Clement’s is a strange jumble of handsome and incongruous parts. The church was rebuilt in 1682, and the architect, William Pierce, is said in Malcolm’s Londinium Redivivum to have “received the directions of Sir Christopher Wren.”
Within the church are twelve composite pillars, somewhat gaudily coloured and gilded, extending from east to west. These form a semicircle before the altar, and spring from galleries supported by square Tuscan pillars. The intercolumniations are arched, the largest arch facing the altar, and all most extravagantly overloaded with festoons and drops, while the ceilings are crossed by enriched bands and intersecting arches. The vault of the nave is large and noble, and hence the pillars have a pitiful effect, being disproportionately small. The vault exhibits five panels of unequal size, the smallest full of ornament, the remainder blanks. The sacrarium is a semicircular, with a centre and two side windows. There are flowers in the panels, which are gilt, as are all the columnar capitals throughout the church. The altar-piece consists of four Corinthian pilasters, with entablatures, arms, and festoons. The commandments are surmounted by an arch, which supports five candlesticks, and in the tympanum is seen a pelican. The whole is formed of the intercolumniations of four isolated pillars, the entablature of which has attic pedestals and good statues of Moses and Aaron. The table is of porphyry, as are the two steps for candelebra; the frame and rails of wrought iron gilt, and the floor of marble. The pulpit is a sexagon, most magnificently and elaborately carved, its piereing and relieving rendering it a graceful, elegant, and admirable object.
Thus much for the interior of St. Clement Danes; and if we are inclined to cavil at the style of taste displayed upon its embellishments, we are yet free to admit that the parishioners have good cause to be proud of their house of prayer. It is true that, to the educated eye, it is elaborately overloaded with decorations; nevertheless, its ensemble is rich and imposing, and the pious feeling which must have prompted this outlay on their sacred temple is creditable to their devotion and their liberality.
The church is 93 feet in length, 63 in breadth, its height to the roof 48, and of the steeple 140 feet. It is thus entered in the last report of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners:—1836, population, 15,442; church accommodation, 1350; net revenue, £518 ; patron, the Marquis of Exeter; and its rector, the excellent, gifted, and eloquent Dr. William Gurney.”
The Illustrated London News, London, England, Week Ending October 1, 1842
