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and where the fire broke out, in 1830, that destroyed the latter, and some other parts of the old Priory. There seems to be no doubt that the chapel formed

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some portion of the monastic buildings, though what is unknown. It had an ancient timber roof, and a beam projecting across near the centre; and in a corner there is said to have been a very antique piece of sculpture representing the figure of a priest with a child in his arms. In several parts of the building it appears there were, prior to its destruction, marks of private doors in the wall. From the time of the Nonconformists, the chapel was occupied by Presbyterian ministers till 1753, when Wesley obtained possession, and, we believe, opened it himself, for the service of his disciples, with a sermon. The spot marked in the plan Q, or the Prior's offices, is that towards which we next direct our steps. The stables, wood-yard, and other domestic buildings, are thus referred to. In a large and ancient house we here find, on the ground-floor, a very thick wall and a pointed arch-evidence of its connexion with the Priory. The same house has some other noticeable features; namely, two beautifully wainscoted large rooms, the upper of which has a vaulted ceiling and a fine carved mantel-piece. Lord Rich, to whom the buildings and site of the Priory were granted, resided in some part of the latter:-was it here? The mansion has evidently been occupied by some resident of importance at a distant period. The family of the present occupier has lived in it for a century, during which the features we have referred to have existed as at present. The Mulberry Gardens were here also; and but a month ago was cut down the last and finest of the descendants of the old Priory trees, which stood behind the house. Returning to the eastern extremity of Middlesex Passage, the Prior's House is on our right, standing almost in a line with the church; and by the side of the latter are the remains of the south transept.

This house also bears plenty of internal evidence as to its antiquity. The walls, for instance, would shame those of many fortifications; there are just within the modern gable roof three arches, with square flat pillars and fluted capitals, corresponding with those of the choir; on the broad staircase is a kind of alcove in the wall, and beside it a slightly pointed arch set in a square frame; there are latticed windows in different parts; and above all, at the top, is the dormitory (le Dorter), where the canons were locked up at night, like so many unruly children. Here each inmate had, we presume, in accordance with the general custom, a little place wainscoted off, with a shelf in the window to support books. The middle part of the dormitory, where now the gimp-spinners* are pursuing their ceaseless walk, was, no doubt (also as usual), paved with fine tiles. If we may trust the author of the Ship of Fools,' the monks might well be treated as children, for they were as full of fun and frolic; and on reaching the dormitory, considering, we suppose, that they had been sufficiently grave for one day, began to play all sorts of wild pranks. For, says Barclay,

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"The frere or monk in his frock and cowl

Must dance in his dorter, leaping to play the fool."

Unpleasant must have been the change when, in the midst of their mirth, they were called at midnight on the calends of November, and other holy periods, to descend from the warm and comfortable dorter to hurry shivering into the choir, and engage in the devotions proper to the occasion, whilst the Prior, with a dark lantern, went all round to see that each was awake and properly performing his duty. Part of this large, characteristic-looking room was no doubt used as the infirmary, or fermery, where the sick monks were so well treated, that it is no wonder those in health felt a little envy, and occasionally fell very suddenly ill, to the perplexity of the worthy Prior.

The transept we have mentioned is on the south side of the church, and the pile of ruins that fill up almost all the area of this part speak not only of the destruction that has seized it, but of the Chapter-house also, which stood between the old vestry and the transept. Faint traces of the once beautiful arch that led from the latter into the Chapter-house are to be seen in that rugged mass of wall which stretches across in a right angle from the church in our south view. Of the Chapter-house itself, where the monks used to sit in some establishments daily, in others weekly, to transact business in connexion with its discipline, and more particularly to hear charges that any monk had to make against one or other of his fellows, and when necessary to inflict the not very honourable punishments of flagellation, &c.,—of this building, which in some of our cathedrals is so conspicuously beautiful a feature, and perhaps was scarcely less so here, not a vestige remains. Of the transept also, the piece of wall we have mentioned is all that exists. Opposite the picturesque-looking low porch, with its deep penthouse, now the entrance into the church from the transept, was formerly an entrance into St. Bartholomew's Chapel. Of the original mode of communication between the church and transept we shall speak in our description of the former. The space included originally within the transept is now a small churchyard. The exact

*The building is occupied by a fringe-manufacturer.

part of the Priory devoted to the purposes of the ancient cemetery we are unable to point out, but it was most probably in this immediate vicinity. We should like to have looked upon the green sward that has grown over the graves of generation after generation of these peaceful men; we should like to have set our fancy at work to trace, from any little circumstance that attracted its attention,a spot a little more elevated, or somewhat more green,-the grave of the good old monk who has preserved for us all the interesting particulars of Rahere's foundation above all, we should like to have given a "local habitation" to a picture that has often absorbed our attention; the solemn and imposing ceremonies attending the burial of a deceased canon; the body in its boots and cowl, the lights at its head and feet, the constant watchings and psalmodies, the sermon in the Chapter-house, and the act of absolution; then the procession to the grave, with tapers, and the sprinkling of holy water, the deacon and his censor, the tolling of the bell, and the ceaseless chant; followed by the lowering of the body with the paper of absolution on its breast, the bearers descending with it into the grave, and, lastly, the extinguishing of the lights, and the cessation of the bell, signifying at the same time to the senses and to the mind that all is over -the earthly history of the buried man is completed! Requiescat in pace!

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[Burial of a deceased Monk in the interior of a Convent. From an ancient drawing in the Harleian MSS.]

We are now on the threshold of the centre from which all these buildings sprang, the choir of the Priory Church. Before we enter it, however, let us first notice one or two points that yet remain to be mentioned in connexion with its exterior. In Cloth Fair a narrow passage, with a door at the extremity, points out the position of the north transept. Extending from the sides of the choir, both north and south, and partly over its aisles, were buildings used as schools:

that on the south was burnt in the fire before referred to; the other still exists.

Entering the church by the gateway below the tower, we get the first glimpse of the new world as it were that opens upon us, or rather we should say the old world of seven hundred years ago that has passed away. Everything is solemn, grand, and apparently eternal. Those immense pillars that we look upon have lost nothing as yet of their original strength; there is no token that they will ever lose it. Within the porch are the remains of a very elegant pointed

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arch in the right wall, leading we presume into the cloisters, but of an older date than those glorious Norman pillars to which some, of as peculiarly slender make, belonging to another and opposite arch, appear to have been attached, somewhat we think to the injury of their simple character. One of the most interesting features of the choir is the long-continued aisle, or series of aisles, which entirely encircle it, opening into the former by the spaces between the flat and circular arch-piers of the body of the structure. It is about twelve feet wide, with a pure arched and vaulted ceiling in the simplest and truest Norman style, and with windows of different sizes slightly pointed. The pillars against the wall opposite the entrance into the choir are flat. One of the most beautiful little architectural effects of a simple kind that we can conceive is to be found at the north-eastern corner of the aisle. Between two of the grand Norman pillars projecting from the wall is a low postern doorway, and above, rising on each side from the capitals, a peculiarly elegant arch, something like an elongated horse-shoe. The connexion between two styles so strikingly different in

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most respects as the Moorish, with its fantastic delicacy and variety and richness, and the Norman with its simple (occasionally uncouth) grandeur, was never more apparent. That little picture is alone worth a visit to St. Bartholomew's The postern leads into a curious place enclosed by the end of the choir (or altar end) on one side, and the circular wall of the eastern aisle on the other. It is supposed by Mr. Godwin to have been the chancel of the original building, and no doubt it was, if we are to suppose that the altar wall has undergone great changes. At present the space is so narrow and so dark, that it need not surprise us to hear that it is called the Purgatory. We have no doubt that this part has been visible in some way from the choir, and not, as it is now, entirely excluded from it; for a pair of exactly similar pillars with the beautiful arch above, standing at the south-east corner of the aisle, are in a great measure shut in here. On opening the little door, indeed, into the place, we can with difficulty refrain from an exclamation of surprise at the sight of the stately pillars rising up so grandly in that unworthy spot; and to make it evident that their arch has been intended to be seen from the choir, we find that, unlike the other, of which we see only the exterior, this is beautifully ornamented. We must add that these aisles are a fine study for the architect; thus, for instance, from the very exquisite horse-shoe arch we have mentioned, there is a regular gradation through the next two windows to the perfect semicircle. Near the junction of the south and east aisles is the old vestry-room, which Malcolm supposes, and we think justly, to be the oratory mentioned in the manuscript in the following extract:-" In the cast part of the same church is an oratory, and in that an altar in the honour of the most blessed and perpetual Virgin Mary consecrate." It was in this place, it appears, that the blessed Mary once deigned to show herself to a monk of peculiar piety, named Hubert, in order to complain that her "darlings" the canons did not pray and watch sufficiently. It is a solemn antique-looking place, in fine harmony with the legend and its supposed antiquity. The present vestry is built over the southern aisle, and occupies a part of the space of the southern transept. Here is a beautiful Norman semicircular arch, forming originally, no doubt, one of the range of arches by which the second story of the choir was continued at a right angle along the sides of the transept. Among the monuments of the aisles is one in the form of a rose, with an inscription to Abigail Coult, 1629, who died "in the sixteenth year of her virginity." Her father, Maximilian Coulte, or Colte, was a famous sculptor of the time, and was employed by James I. in various public buildings. In the office-book of the Board of Works appears the line-" Max. Colte, Master Sculptor, at 81. a-year; 1633." Filling up the beautiful horse-shoe arch, which it thus conceals, at the south-eastern corner, is the monument of Edward Cooke, with an appeal to the spectator which the latter must be indeed hard-hearted to resist :

"Unsluice your briny flood; what, can you keep
Your eyes from tears, and see the marble weep?
Burst out, for shame; or, if
you find no vent

For tears, yet stay, and see the stones relent."

Observing no symptoms however of the kind here indicated on the part of the

Churches of London.

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