St Paul's Cathedral in 1900 London

Antiques from London on eBay

LORD BYRON, THE WORKS, MURRAY LONDON 1832-33 17 VOLUMES
30 Jun 2010 at 7:05am
US $1,299.00
End Date: Friday Jul-30-2010 5:05:22 PDT
Buy It Now for only: US $1,299.00
Buy it now | Add to watch list
ANTIQUE LONDON ENGLAND MAP POPULATION DENSITY Rare NR
18 Dec 2006 at 7:44am
US $9.99
End Date: Friday Jul-30-2010 6:49:01 PDT
Buy It Now for only: US $9.99
Buy it now | Add to watch list

In Imperial London, 1901, Arthur H. Beavan describes St Paul's Cathedral:

The metropolitan cathedral sharply contrasts with Westminster Abbey.

It attracts many by the grandeur of its exterior; but by the few, its Italian renaissance architecture is deplored as a mistake, unsuited both to our climate and to our national traditions; they contend that there is no medieval mystery about it, no direct appeal to the imagination as in Gothic cathedrals, and assert that it derives its interest chiefly from the history of the sacred edifices that preceded it.

This may be true; yet St. Paul's is a very notable building, the loftiest in London, (in 1900), a landmark for miles around, and the centre of the world's capital.

Externally, it is very imposing, and on rare occasions, when a light fall of snow has settled between the black ribs of the dome, the most beautiful effect is produced, the great cupola is etherealized, and looks as if a delicate silver network had suddenly encased it.

But first let us think of its history, and that of its predecessors.

St. Paul's Cathedral, 1754, by Giovanni Antonio Canaletto, courtesy of AllPosters.com

Amongst my curios are some old bones, disinterred thirty feet below the road-level during the rebuilding of No. I, St. Paul's Churchyard.

Whether they were human or not was for the moment hard to determine, time having completely changed their colour and texture, but on submission to an expert, they were pronounced to have belonged to some long-departed sheep.

Under what circumstances had those ovine relics found their way to this spot?

Two thousand years ago, when the Thames valley was a vast morass when, perchance, Ludgate Hill was crowned by some rude "zareba," a mere cluster of hills surrounded by a deep ditch and a fence of felled trees, this sheep might have roamed with hundreds of others outside the primitive fortifications, a feast in prospect for the Britons as they sat around their fires.

Or, in the Roman time, the sheep may have been dragged to the temple on the hill-top, and offered in sacrifice to the Goddess of Hunting, its carcase sold in the shambles, or devoured in this identical place!

Or, in the days of King Ethelbert, Saxon workmen, while building the cathedral dedicated to St. Paul, may have carelessly flung away these very bones, after an al fresco banquet of mutton.

Again, in the days when the second church, old St. Paul's, rose complete with lofty tower and spire, and glorious high altar, these shank-bones may have formed part of the miscellaneous rubbish, - potsherds, scraps of leather, broken bottles, etc. - cast into the primitive dust-bins of the dwelling-houses which stood here.

(Old St. Paul's was undoubtedly the largest church ever built before St. Peter's at Rome, for medieval writers record that it was 690 feet long, and the only English cathedral with cloisters on both sides.)

Alas! my curios are dumb, and no Ezekiel power can make these dry bones tell the story of their past!

Few localities have been the scene of such remarkable gatherings and processions as Ludgate Hill, their goal always the great fane on the summit, or the pulpit cross in the north-east angle of the churchyard.

Thousands in the past used to flock thither to gaze at notable offenders against the Church or State.

During the Protectorate of Richard Duke of Gloucester, came poor erring Jane Shore, clad only in her shift, bare-footed, and holding a great taper in her hand.

Again, in Henry VIII's reign, Elizabeth Barton, the Holy Maid of Kent, a weak, hysterical woman who openly declaimed against the King's intended divorce from Catharine of Aragon.

But the chief point of attraction in the cathedral was necessarily the shrine of St. Erkenwald.

King Henry III used to attend mass in great state on the Feast of St. Paul's Conversion, when the Baud family offered up, with much ceremonial at the high altar, the carcase of a fat doe, in lieu of certain lands.

After one such occasion, the monarch generously feasted fifteen thousand poor people in the adjoining close, in what manner or with what viands, the chronicler does not relate; but, no doubt, there was plenty and to spare.

Queen Mary, in the intense earnestness of a Roman Catholic bigot was constant in her attendance, and Protestant Queen Elizabeth went on many occasions, of which the most notable was a solemn thanksgiving for the defeat of the Spanish Armada.

Both Charles I and his successor occasionally attended the services, and had much to do with St. Paul's.

The former helped to build Inigo Jones' pretentious Corinthian portico, while the Merry Monarch not only authorized a commission for its entire renovation, but after its destruction made the most generous promises of help towards rebuilding it.

How these promises were redeemed the financial history of St. Paul's Cathedral records to his shame.

Much has been written about the position of St. Paul's in its relation to Ludgate Hill; but it was not the fault of Wren, says Dean Milman, "that St. Paul's was cabined and confined by buildings crowding around it, though kept in his day in some subordinate proportion, and contrasting with their crowning structure."

Yet how grand might have been the position and surroundings of St. Paul's, had a large open space been secured around it, and Ludgate Hill transformed into a perfectly straight approach!

Thus our ancestors lost "the opportunity of placing the cathedral on an esplanade worthy of its consummate design - an esplanade which we might almost say, Nature, by leaving a spacious level on the summit of the hill, had designated for a noble edifice," and for the assemblage of multitudes.

The Hill was always tortuous enough; but when the L. C. and D. Ry. Co. purchased from the Corporation of London the ground made vacant by the demolition of the Fleet prison, and threw across the roadway their ugly iron bridge, what little there was to be seen of the portico and towers from Ludgate Circus, became still further reduced.

This black deed accomplished, any lingering expectation of Ludgate Hill ever becoming a thing of beauty, vanished.

But, in 1864, the City Commissioners of Sewers succeeded in taking the first step towards widening and improving the thoroughfare on both sides, and in about a quarter of a century this was done!

Yet the result was incomplete and not altogether satisfactory, and it is impossible to get a really good prospect of the cathedral as you ascend the hill.

From the balcony beneath the spire of St. Martin's, Ludgate, there is an effective view, and St. Paul's stands revealed in all its grandeur.

Both the west front and north side are seen, and the great length and fine proportions of Wren's masterpiece can be properly gauged, Queen Anne's statue, reduced to toy-like dimensions, serving as a capital scale.

(Close to this statue, and on the pavement at the foot of the steps leading to the west facade, has been cut the following inscription: -- "Here Queen Victoria returned thanks to Almighty God for the sixtieth anniversary of her accession, June 22, 1897.")

The centres of modern capitals naturally shift with their growth, and St. Paul's, though quite on the borders of the Plantagenet and Tudor city, is now all but in the exact middle of Greater London.

Unlike Paris, with its Place de la Concorde, London has no large open space, where one can stand and say, This is London.

It has only a series of road-points, where many thoroughfares converge, such as Holborn Circus, the Elephant and Castle, the Exchange, Ludgate Circus, Charing Cross, Piccadilly Circus, Hyde Park Corner.

From the heights of Hampstead, the eye, wandering over a forest surroundings, with steeples and towers in all directions, invariably settles down upon the great dome that compels attention, and centralizes itself as no other form of church architecture does.

The Mosque of St. Sophia at Constantinople, the Mosque of Omar (Dome of the Rock) at Jerusalem, the great Mosques at Damascus and Cairo, the Duomo at Florence, the Invalides at Paris, St. Peter's at Rome, and, across the Atlantic, the magnificent iron cupola of the Capitol at Washington, which can be seen for miles, are instances of this.

The dome ever predominates over the more elegant, but less commanding minaret, or Gothic spire.

So much for the ancient history of St. Paul's, and its external appearance.

The interior decoration of this, the largest Protestant church in the world, arouses the criticism of even the most unobservant; and well it may, for it is a subject of national importance, around which fierce controversy has long raged, and though Wren's adornments are heavy, they suit the massive proportions of his masterpiece.

Since 1891 Sir William Richmond, R.A. has been designing the decorations, and now that his great task is approaching completion, a good idea can be formed of the general effects of a scheme, which, whether for good or evil, is the most important that has been attempted in London for many years.

Unfortunately, the general verdict seems to be that it is a failure, an experiment tried in the very last place where it should have been tried.

Like its immediate predecessor in the Stuart times, St. Paul's is a popular place to stroll about in, especially on a hot summer day when even the sparrows are too lazy to chirp, the thermometer marking anything you like over 80° in the shade.

Then it is that the exhausted sight-seer turns gratefully into the cathedral, and, sinking down with a sigh of relief into a chair, experiences a delightful sensation of coolness, produced by the thickness of the walls, while the bright sunbeams stream innocuously through the upper windows far above him.

In few cathedrals are the services more effective, or better arranged, morning and evening alike perfect; while the officials are uniformly courteous and attentive.

One of them, a bulwark of the place, Mr. Green, whose figure and silver wand has for fifty years been familiar to all worshippers, has, alas! retired.

He was present at the Duke of Wellington's funeral, and his judgment and organizing powers in an arduous, and often thankless capacity, were remarkable.

The latest up-to-date improvement at "Paul's," as Pepys called it, is the instalment of the electric light, through the munificence of Mr. Morgan, the New York banker, and the effect is very good.

No doubt our American, Colonial, and provincial visitors, guide­book in hand, will conscientiously " do" the cathedral.

They will inspect, and freely criticize the reredos and the decorations of choir and dome, and admire Grinling Gibbons' beautiful carving in the choir; they will praise, or not praise, the costly Wellington memorial, still shorn of its equestrian finial; they will gaze at the tattered regimental colours hung up for ever in peace; the whispering gallery, the inner and outer golden galleries will, with exertion, be reached, and some adventurous spirit may even achieve an ascent to the open iron-work below the cross, and obtain, if it be fine, a superb view of the mighty city.

They will see the beautiful stained-glass windows (given by the late Duke of Westminster) in the north and south transepts representing the Archbishops and Bishops of the pre-Norman church and the Kings of the Saxon Heptarchy.

They will descend, and will view the crypt chapel, where several interesting fragments of old St. Paul's are preserved; and in the crypt itself, will note where Dean Milman, Canon Liddon, Sir Arthur Sullivan, and Dr. Creighton, the first Bishop of London interred in the cathedral, are laid to rest; they will look upon the tomb of Wellington and other great warriors, and - most impressive (to my mind) and most suggestive sight of all - Nelson's black marble sarcophagus.

There let them contemplate the fact, that if that wasted little form, sleeping so calmly, had never existed, Trafalgar might never have been fought, French might now be the official language of our nation, the tricolour might be waving over Windsor Castle, our colonies and India might be dependencies of France, and Gallic rule and Gallic ideas might have prevailed to this day throughout Great Britain.

Next: London churches in 1900 : The Temple Church