For whom the bell tolls: the shunned lepers of Bermondsey’s Lock Hospital

Bells have been used since ancient times to communicate. A bell once rang to summon you to church or to school. If there was a fire the bells clanged to tell you so and when the town crier had something to say he'd ring his bell to make you listen.

In medieval times they'd be sounding for all sorts of reasons: to open and close a market, to mark worship times for the monks or to accompany a burial. Bells always signify something's going on and everyone pays attention.

So imagine how it must have been when you had to ring one to let everyone know you were in town. And then imagine that once it had chimed everyone ran away from you, or spat at you as they fled.

There you are all on your tod, being treated like a leper - why? Because if you'd had a bell round your neck in the middle ages that's exactly what you would have been.

Through the ages it's become a tradition that the City of London's dumping ground was Southwark. Any yukky, smelly industry was banished from within the precious city walls, which usually meant it made its way to our borough.

But it wasn't just industry that got up City folk's noses; any undesirable people were also elbowed to the other side of London Bridge. A sudden dramatic increase in leprosy in the middle ages ensured there was quite a bit of elbowing going on.

It would seem that Crusaders coming back from foreign climes brought a souvenir with them – the leprosy bacteria. All the hey-nonny-nonny flew out of the window when city folk realised there were people with less than ten toes dancing with them.

And so in 1346 a royal mandate was issued stating that all those who had the blemish, as it was known, were to quit London. They were told to take themselves into the country and seek food and shelter as best they could.

Anyone found harbouring a leper had their property swiftly taken away from them. But of course, down and outs are always attracted to the bright city lights in the hope of making a few quid to survive and the lepers started to drift back.

The City officials, worried that leprosy would become an epidemic, decided to found a hospital especially for these unfortunate people, which would be situated along the Kent Road in the middle of nowhere.

The Lock Hospital, or Le Loke as it was known, was built along what is now Great Dover Street and covered modern-day Bartholomew Street. 'Loke' probably derives from the French 'loque', a reference to the rags, or fragments, that were applied to the sufferers’ sores.

Made of stone, the hospital was situated away from any residents in lush green fields where a stream, the Lock Stream, ran through the middle. This stream then headed off towards Bermondsey Abbey before meeting up with the Neckinger.

https://southwarknews.co.uk/history/history-plus/when-bermondsey-was-an-island-for-medieval-pilgrims/

Some time after the hospital was built, the Lock Bridge was erected to carry the Kent Road traffic across the stream. The bridge was situated by the south end of Tabard Street (old Kent Street), near the ancient gate known as the 'Bar of Southwark'.

At the time of Le Loke's inception, Tabard Street was just a mediaeval track that ran through open country with cattle and hedgerows on either side. There were few other buildings save for inns such as the Bull, The Roebuck and The Black Horse, and those of us that like a drink will know that two of these survive in situ.

https://southwarknews.co.uk/news/community/there-used-to-be-37-pubs-on-old-kent-road-now-theres-only-two/

A short trek across the meadows would bring you to Bermondsey Abbey, also a sanctuary for the sick but as royalty and other big wigs often visited, there had to be somewhere else for the unfortunate lepers to go.

Once someone had been diagnosed with leprosy they became 'dead among the living'. The church held a special 'goodbye' mass for the leper who was made to stand in a freshly-dug grave holding a candle.

The congregation, which would include his friends and family, would sing hymns and say prayers as the priest threw earth upon the leper, signifying his old life had ceased to be. The poor soul was then cast out from society and given a sheet of do's and don'ts for leper living.

He was made to wear a bell or carry clappers and make a noise when coming into contact with 'the living'. As he was now one of the 'unliving' he could no longer mix with family, friends or business colleagues or live at home.

A manuscript image of a leprosy sufferer. Credit- Welcome Collection

The church banned lepers from all services, only letting them watch from a discreet hole in the church wall.

Lepers were generally seen as evil, lustful, sly and paranoid. The Holy Men believed that lepers were getting divine punishment for lustful living – after all, why else would someone good-looking catch something that disfigures them so badly?

Still, things had been worse; King Edward l ensured there were no lepers in his realm – he buried them all alive. Decent sort of chap.

In 1375 a city warden was appointed to the Loke hospital, William Cook, who was sworn not to bring in any lepers to the City. In return they paid him an allowance and gave financial assistance to keep the hospital going. They also allowed the inmates to beg at the side of the road as travellers made their way to and from Kent on pilgrimages.

The hospital had a small side window where the good of the day could leave food for the lepers without actually having to touch them. And what a charitable bunch they were; food that was deemed too rotten to sell was kindly donated to Le Loke for the poor lepers.

They were allowed to go out and either buy or beg food for themselves but the bell or the clappers had to go before them. That's where the saying 'going like the clappers' is said to come from.

https://southwarknews.co.uk/area/southwark/the-historical-origins-of-southwarks-place-names-camberwell-walworth-nunhead-peckham-and-more/

They were made to carry a stick and had to point at any food they wanted whereupon it was put into a basket and given to them on the end of another stick. Some market men no doubt made a pretty fortune from the lepers, pushing up their prices knowing the poor unfortunates couldn't really bargain. Others wouldn't touch them with a bargepole.

What a sad and sorry sight it must have been for those that did venture near Le Loke. Lepers roaming the fields had to wear a kind of uniform of a dull grey or white woollen robe and black gloves and had to bind their sores and disfigured faces with pledgets. Pledgets were small compresses of lint or some other absorbent material that were steeped in medicament and applied to the wound.

Leprosy affects the nerves and the skin, causing crusty, red swellings. It thickens the skin on the face and eats away at the tissue. The sufferer loses the sensation of temperature, touch and pain. Eventually they lose their fingers and toes as well as all the nasal bones, which leaves them with just a hole in their face where the nose used to be. The upper pallet and top lip fall away and they go blind as well as acquiring a gruff, hoarse voice.

So as well as having no one to share their distress they also had no way of communicating once their speech and sight had gone. In fact, archaeologists always know when they’ve come upon a leper's burial ground, as most of the skeletons have no nasal bones, just a big hole.

Le Loke was, like all leper hospitals, known as a Lazar House, named after Lazarus the Beggar from the Bible, who was believed to be a leper. The hospital was dedicated to and named after St Leonard, the saint of captives, reflecting the lives of the lepers who were shut away from the world both physically and spiritually.

Despite the stigma that stuck to the lepers the hospital wasn't short of a groat or two. There were always plenty of rich benefactors who believed that giving the lepers cash would guarantee them a place in heaven, so they dug deep into their drawstring purses.

There were the dedicated few who tried to make the lepers’ lives a little more comfortable. There was no known cure for leprosy but nuns would treat the sufferers with mediaeval medicines that could be obtained nearby.

Honey was and still is, known for its healing and antiseptic qualities and was used in compresses to try and sterilise and heal the open sores. Lavender, another great skin soother, was also used along with garlic and vinegar. There were also less pleasant treatments such as a course of leeches and blood-letting.

Henry lV was said to suffer with leprosy and apparently visited the hospital, referred to as a stone building in Bermondsey. It is actually written that he signed a few charters whilst residing there, before he died the year after.

By the 1500s leprosy was dying out in England. The theory is that various plagues killed off so many people that there weren't enough to be infected with leprosy. TB was also prevalent by then and it is known that its microbes are dominant to those of leprosy. On 31 st July, 1557, the very last lepers were received at Le Loke from St Bartholomew's Hospital.

By 1565 Kent Street was growing in population and the road was paved right up to Le Loke's front door. In 1711 part of the Lock's Fields were enclosed and consecrated as a burial ground and the hospital went on to treat another stigmatised illness: venereal disease.

By 1886 the hospital fell into disrepair and most of it was incorporated into the recreation garden. New roads were built across the meadows that were once roamed by these tortured people in their restricting rags: New Kent Road, Bartholomew Street and The Paragon took their place.

Part of the chapel and parlour stood until the building of Great Dover Street. A small piece of the old ground still survives on the edge of the Bricklayer's Arms roundabout – but it is now within the walls of St Saviour's & St Olave's school.