The Two Elizabeths

Elizabeth Doughty was born in the eighteenth century to Henry Doughty of Snarford Hall in Lincolnshire. The Doughtys were long-time recusants. Henry also owned land in the Holborn area of London—where Doughty Street was laid out in the late eighteenth century—and a London house in nearby Bedford Row. In Richmond he had acquired and rebuilt a large property on Richmond Hill, with fine views over the Thames, which came to be known as Doughty House. His daughter Elizabeth lived there, with her brother George—who predeceased her—and the family became deeply involved with other Catholics in Richmond.

She was evidently a practical woman: Her energies were devoted to serving the Catholics of Richmond, for whom she clearly felt a sense of responsibility. She also enjoyed the pleasant things that wealth brought, living in a splendid house with one of the most beautiful views in England. In 1809, she acquired further land along the river at Kew for a summer retreat, where in 1812 she built a small house and chapel, the whole place being called The Sanctuary—the name by which the area is still known.

At some point during the next sixteen years, Miss Doughty must have taken the decision to build a new and larger church. The first step was to find a suitable site, and in December 1820 she bought Clarence House and its adjoining land. Her choice of Saint Elizabeth of Portugal as the patron of the church at Richmond is surely a nod to her own royal ancestry, as a descendant of Henry VIII’s younger sister Mary. It is the only church in Britain with this dedication.

Elizabeth (Isabel) of Portugal was born in 1271, daughter of King Peter III of Aragon. At the age of eleven she was formally betrothed to King Denis of Portugal but continued to live with her parents until she was old enough to become his wife and begin married life. This was in 1288, when he was twenty-six and she was seventeen. She would play an active role in the politics and policies of Portugal, while leading a pious life and being deeply involved in charitable work. As queen, Elizabeth also worked as peacemaker in the dynastic wars of the country and its neighbors. She died after one last project—reconciling her son, King Afonso IV, with his son-in-law, the king of Castile. At her death in 1336 she was widely hailed as a saint, and stories of her courage and charitable work became widely known. She was beatified in 1516 and canonized in 1625.

For a Catholic church in England in the 1820s to be named after a medieval Catholic monarch may perhaps have seemed rather provocative. But there is no record of any public opposition or anti-Catholic feeling locally. Perhaps Miss Doughty’s known wealth and status, and her charitable work, meant that she was simply accepted as a local figure who was entitled to endow a small church for her needs and those of other local Catholics.

The site chosen for the new church was in The Vineyard, where, as already mentioned, Miss Doughty bought Clarence House and its adjoining land. The Vineyard lies beyond the center of the town, leading up towards Richmond Hill. Although not actually very far from Richmond’s parish church, it feels remote, away from the main street with its shops and the Green surrounded by its large houses.

The space available for the new church was not large: It would stand alongside the former school at Clarence House—which Miss Doughty sold to a local stationer—where there was enough room for a squarish, “box”-like building with a modest house for the priest attached. Building began in 1822 and was completed by the summer of 1824.

The architect of the new church, possibly chosen or at least approved by Miss Doughty, was the young Philip Hardwick, probably best remembered for the much-lamented Euston Arch—controversially demolished in 1962. Saint Elizabeth’s appears to be his earliest documented work. Contemporary accounts describe the church as being “of oblong form, with a small tower of stone at one extremity, supported by pillars, and surmounted with a richly gilded cross. The interior is at once neat and elegant.” Four large round-headed windows along the south side let in the light. Cuddon’s New Year’s Gift, or Catholic Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Pocket Book for 1825 published a description of the church (which named the architect) and illustrated it with an engraved view of the exterior seen from the southwest. A striking feature of the original church, shown in this view but which no longer survives, was the ciborium-like tower at the west end, with its forest of columns surmounted by a cupola and a gilded cross.

The engraving also shows that the statue of Saint Elizabeth in its niche above the entrance porch was an original feature, perhaps surprisingly, given that new Catholic churches at this time were usually rather self-effacing and discreet.

Inside, attention was focused on the semi-circular sanctuary, in which stood a marble altar under a semi-dome of “richly painted glass” depicting the Angel of the Lord announcing the birth of Christ to the shepherds. This was the last work of the Italian-born enamel-and-glass painter Charles Muss, who died very soon after the church was opened. The Pocket Book was very complimentary: “The colours are rich and beautiful, which, with the sombre light it reflects over the Sanctuary, has a very good effect.” Suspended above the altar was a golden cross. Candles on the altar declared this to be a Catholic church—in the Church of England, rules banned any use of candles except those required for light. Extra candles were deemed “popish.”

There was no central aisle, and the box pews were reached by walking up a narrow aisle on either side. This is very much a church of its period: Augustus Welby Pugin and the Gothic revival were all some years ahead. Catholicism was still a form of religion that was practiced with discretion, and Saint Elizabeth’s reflected this. But there was no lack of beauty and a devotional atmosphere: This was no Puritan preaching-house but very definitely a church designed for the celebration of Mass. Altar rails sealed off the sanctuary, which was approached from the side where a door led through to the priest’s house. The Pocket Book concluded, “The Chapel throughout is finished and fitted up in the neatest style of excellent workmanship; which powerfully portrays the unrestricted beauty of its noble foundress.”

The altar at Saint Elizabeth’s was consecrated on July 5, 1824, and the church was formally opened the next day. No doubt because of the Doughty connection, the opening was an important occasion and received considerable attention from the press, Miss Doughty herself being described there as “an elderly lady, whose name we believe stands high in the list of the pious and charitable of this country.” The Morning Advertiser reported that “the Chapel was crowded almost to suffocation, with persons of rank and fashion, several of whom came in their carriages from London and the surrounding country to witness the ceremony.” Mass was celebrated by Bishop Bramston, Co-adjutor to the Vicar Apostolic, Bishop Poynter, who preached the sermon, in the course of which he “bestowed some high encomiums on the pious founder.” Music was provided by singers from Covent-Garden Theatre and Gentlemen from the Chapel Royal under the direction of the organist at the Spanish Embassy Chapel, Mr. Le Jenne. Possibly the only disappointment was the absence of the famous Italian prima donna Angelica Catalani, who had promised her services but was prevented from providing them by an engagement in Cambridge.

Acting through Philip Hardwick, Miss Doughty arranged for regular attention to be paid to the heating, lighting, and cleaning of the church, leaving specific funds for this purpose: a servant to be paid thirty pounds a year for cleaning both the church and the priest’s house. She also arranged for a monthly Mass to be celebrated for the repose of her soul, and left specific instructions that there were to be no tombs in the church or in its vaults, or on any of the surrounding land.

What was parish life like in those years just before Catholic emancipation? It was not a very communal experience. People would have walked to Mass—perhaps from some distance as there was no other Catholic church in the area. Very rich people might arrive by carriage and be assisted to their rented pews at the front of the church. There were of course no buses, trains, or cars. There was no parish hall, and no one expected there to be one: The idea of chatting informally after Mass simply did not fit with Catholic life in Richmond at that time.

There were no parish groups studying together or inviting guest speakers. Young people did not gather informally to chat or sing or arrange to attend a pilgrimage or retreat together. There were no Scouts or Guides or Beavers, no Union of Catholic Mothers or Knights of Saint Columba. No one imagined that Catholic missionaries might be sent from England to Africa or Asia, and raising funds for such a venture would have seemed absurd. Discretion and a sense of privacy about being Catholic meant that there were no processions or outdoor celebrations. There was no Saint Vincent de Paul Society, and any assistance to poor people was carried out privately: It seems likely that Miss Doughty would have tried to help out in cases where poverty was known.

Social distinctions were central to the structure of society. With no street lighting, and many roads unpaved and muddy, most people did not travel about at night. Homes were lit by candles, and household work, done by either family members or servants, took up a good deal of time. A servant working in a busy household might be given a day, or at least a half-day, off each week, and a generous employer might possibly understand that a Catholic servant might want to attend Mass on Sunday morning. But getting to the church might not be easy—a very early start and a long walk. There were no evening Masses.

The Mass was said in a low voice, in Latin. The congregation did not make any responses. Those who could read might use a prayer-book; others just prayed silently. Being able to see anything depended on seating: Obviously those at the back could see and hear very little. Frequent Communion was unheard of. The Church’s rule at that time was that receiving Communion required fasting from midnight.

Saint Elizabeth’s had a good pulpit, placed so that people could see and hear the preacher. One publication in particular nourished the faith of many Catholics at this time. This was The Garden of the Soul, a manual of spiritual exercises by Bishop Richard Challoner, the heroic and saintly Vicar Apostolic of the London District, which contained devotional prayers and detailed instruction on the Faith and the sacraments. Its message was that whatever else in life seemed important—work and duties and pleasures—what was essential was the cultivation of the garden of the soul, with an understanding that eternity awaits. The message was clear and rather stern: God will judge each of us, and we must be ready for this.

In this book, and in sermons and private exhortations, Catholics were reminded of the duty of confessing sins. This was not very easy, however: A church like Saint Elizabeth’s did not have confessionals. These would only come in with the Catholic revival later in the century. Instead, the priest waited in the sacristy, and people entered one by one.

Did Miss Doughty attend Mass Sunday by Sunday in the church she had built? It seems she did not. Later legend fostered a story that she disliked the building and found it ugly and disappointing, but we have no evidence of this. What seems more likely is that she continued her own preference for a private Mass with her chaplain at home, or attended Mass in London if she was there for some special occasion. Certainly, she does not seem to have had a pew permanently reserved for her in Saint Elizabeth’s or a private chapel or prie-dieu.

Elizabeth Doughty died in 1826, just two years after the church she had built was opened. She did not live to see the great changes that would follow over the next two decades. Catholic emancipation was achieved in 1829 with the passing of the Roman Catholic Relief Act, which removed all but a few token restrictions on Catholics and ensured that a normal parish life could flourish around a Catholic church. The changes Britain witnessed in the decades after the opening of Saint Elizabeth’s made such flourishing seem natural: railways, industrialization, the movement of Irish people into English cities particularly following the grim potato famine. Catholic schools would be built, with increasing numbers of children attending them; guilds and associations were organized for the relief of poverty, care for prisoners, instruction of converts, and a range of other projects. Convents and monasteries would be built and filled. Funds would be raised for foreign missions. Saint Elizabeth’s would gradually be filled with the rising numbers of middle-class Catholics, with a wholly new experience of Catholic life.