Some people love sunsets, or crackling fires, or sandy beaches. I like those things, too. But I also have some worry might be an “unhealthy fascination”* with churches and cemeteries. For me, these aren’t just bricks and stones, but portals into the past that speak to love, war, hope, despair, and everything that makes us human.
With that in mind, let’s talk about St. Olav’s Church hidden away on a quiet street near the Tower of London and its requisite hordes of tourists. It’s a charming little church, but I came for the skulls. Literally. The fact that there was a burial ground in the church’s front yard was icing on the cake.** But I was here because Charles Dickens used to attend this church and he nicknamed it “St. Ghastly Grim.” Not “Somewhat Unsettling Church upon Thames” or “Slightly Off-Putting Sanctuary Without Bishopsgate,” but “St. Ghastly.” And I do appreciate the occasional dramatic flair.
The church, which is conveniently located near The Walrus and the Carpenter pub in case you feel like having a pint before or after your visit,*** has one of the most, erm, “distinctive” gates I’ve seen—an arch from 1658 crowned with three stone skulls, who I imagine are named Huey, Dewey, and Louie. And as if a trio of skulls wasn’t welcoming enough on a Sunday morning, they’re surrounded by iron spikes, which were apparently added in the 19th century sometime. The Victorians really nailed the goth look. Props for committing to a look is all I have to say.
Stepping back, though, this isn’t just any church. This was a Viking church, that Viking being King Olaf II Haraldsson of Norway, later known as Saint Olaf. Olaf fought alongside the Anglo-Saxons in the early 1000s against the Danes in an epic battle on London Bridge. Or for London Bridge. Or Tower Bridge. They also say the church was built on the exact site of the battle. I’m so confused. All I know is that this church has some sort of Viking connection.
Later, the church was one of the few things that were spared in the Great Fire in 1666.**** The flames got dangerously close, but the church was saved at the last minute with the quick thinking of Sir William Penn† who ordered his men to blow up all the houses surrounding the church to create a firebreak.†† Property damage? You bet, loads of it. But the church still stands. Priorities, people!
And then we get to Dickens.††† He loved that gate and he wrote about it in an essay, “The City of The Absent” in The Uncommercial Traveller in 1860. He wasn’t drawn to it because of its historical significance or its Gothic architecture—no, he loved it because those skulls made him feel something.
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.
So the next time you’re in London, take a short detour from the tourist-y stuff and stop by “St. Ghastly Grim.” And say “hey” to Huey, Dewey, and Louie for me!
* Hi Mom!
** Thousands (!) of people were buried here, including Mother Goose and hundreds of plague victims. So many people, in fact, that the yard’s ground level is noticeably higher than the pavement of the street. The More You Know!™
*** This place is a great photo op, especially if you love Alice, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, or Wonderland. The food, though, is meh. You know what is good at 99.99% of all pubs, though? The beer.
**** It was a miracle! Thank you, St Olaf!
† Fun fact! Not our William Penn, his dad.
†† Hmm…so less of a miracle and more of a cynical choice to sacrifice commoners' homes to save a wealthy church. A truly spiritual move if I ever saw one.
††† You didn’t think I was just going to leave you hanging, did you? Chekov’s gun, “If you introduce a famous author in the first paragraph, you better circle back to explain the connection.” Or something.
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