St Olave's Church, Hart Street

Tucked away in the heart of London sits St Olave Hart Street, one of the precious few medieval churches to miraculously survive the Great Fire of 1666. While the surrounding city crumbled into ash, St Olave’s stood firm. Today, it remains a captivating time capsule, boasting direct connections to the Black Plague, the American Revolution, and legendary writers.

Here is the incredible story of a sanctuary that has weathered nearly a thousand years of British history.

From Viking Warrior to Stone Sanctuary (1014–1450)

The deep roots of St Olave’s stretch back to a bloody battle for the throne of England. In 1014, Olaf Haraldsson, a Norwegian king, supported the English King Ethelred "the Unready" in a fierce battle at London Bridge to reclaim the city from the pagan Danes. Olaf, who had been baptised into the Christian faith in Rouen, France, was later canonised as the patron saint and "Perpetual King" of Norway.

Local legend suggests that St Olave’s Church was built right on the site of that historic battle. Around AD 1050, the first church was erected here as a humble timber structure. As London grew, the church grew with it; it was rebuilt in stone during the 13th century, and expanded again in 1450 under the wealthy patronage of Richard Cely, a prominent wool merchant. Visitors today can still step down into the eerie, atmospheric crypt that dates entirely from this medieval era.

The Grim Legacy of the Black Plague (1658–1665)

Centuries later, the churchyard took on a more menacing character. In 1658, a new churchyard gate was built, adorned with a grim, macabre row of carved stone skulls. While meant to remind passersby of their mortality and the need for spiritual protection, the gate cast a dark shadow over the neighbourhood.

That shadow materialised in 1665 when the Great Plague of London tore through the city. St Olave’s was hit hard; 357 victims were hastily buried in the crowded churchyard, their names marked with a chilling, solitary letter "p" for plague in the parish register. Among them was Mary Ramsay, the woman popularly blamed for bringing the black death into the city, who was laid to rest here on July 24, 1665.

The Diary of Samuel Pepys and the Great Fire (1660–1703)

One prominent parishioner who managed to survive the horrific plague was the famous diarist Samuel Pepys. Working nearby at the Royal Naval offices on Seething Lane, Pepys and his wife, Elisabeth, were regulars in the pews. Pepys chronicled 14 years of parish gossip in his legendary diaries, including his habit of nodding off during the long sermons of the Reverend Daniel Mills. He even had a private gallery built, connected directly to his naval office by a staircase, so he could attend church without getting caught in the rain.

When the devastating Great Fire erupted in 1666, Pepys used his naval authority to order nearby wooden buildings to be pulled down, creating a firebreak. The roaring flames came within 100 yards of St Olave's, but Pepys’ foresight, paired with a sudden shift in the wind, saved the medieval church from destruction.

Tragedy struck Pepys in 1669 when his beloved Elisabeth died of a fever. Heartbroken, he commissioned a beautiful marble bust of her, placing it on the north wall of the sanctuary where he could gaze upon her face during church services. Pepys went on to live a highly distinguished life, even serving as President of the Royal Society, where he published Sir Isaac Newton’s groundbreaking 'Principia Mathematica'. When Pepys died in 1703, he was buried in the nave right beside his wife.

Spikes, Skulls, and the Boston Tea Party (1773–1860)

The church also holds a surprising link to the birth of the United States. In the church tower, a memorial once stood to Monkhouse Davison and Abraham Newman. These Fenchurch Street grocers made world history in 1773 when they shipped a fateful cargo of tea across the Atlantic, a cargo that disgruntled American colonists famously dumped into the harbour during the Boston Tea Party.

By the 19th century, the churchyard’s grim gates caught the eye of the legendary Victorian novelist Charles Dickens. Living close by, Dickens was so fascinated and unnerved by the entrance that he dubbed the church "St Ghastly Grim" in his piece The Uncommercial Traveller:

"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."

From the Ashes of the Blitz to Modern Restoration (1941–Present)

St Olave’s survived the Great Fire of 1666, but its luck ran out during World War II. In 1941, German bombs during the Blitz absolutely devastated the building, leaving nothing standing but the medieval stone arches and the tower.

During the war, King Haakon VII of Norway, living in exile in England after refusing to surrender to Hitler, frequently came to worship amidst the ruins of the church named for his homeland's patron saint. Following the war, a brilliant, sympathetic restoration was launched by architect Ernest Glanfield and driven by the vision of the Rector, Augustus Powell-Miller. King Haakon VII returned to lay the foundation stone in 1951, and the beautifully rebuilt church was officially rededicated in his presence in 1954.

Today, step inside St Olave's and you will find a vibrant mix of the ancient and the resilient: the colourful monument to Sir James Deane (d. 1608), the historic bust of physician Peter Turner which went missing during the war and was miraculously recovered at an art auction in 2010, and the permanent legacy of Samuel and Elisabeth Pepys. It stands as a profound testament to London’s ability to rebuild, remember, and endure.

The churchyard, although small, contains a paved Labyrinth which has a Jerusalem Cross as its centrepiece, while the garden includes plants associated with the 16th century botanist William Turner, who is laid to rest here.

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