Part 13

No epitaph more noble and impressive can have possibly been conceived than the simple Latin inscription placed upon the modest tomb of Christopher Wren: "If ye seek my monument, look around." When building this magnificent structure, the great architect was preparing a glorious sepulchre to receive his remains. Some thirty-five years it took Wren to realise this great achievement--an achievement the more astounding when we learn that he was actively engaged throughout the whole time in the planning and personal superintendence of some thirty churches in London, no two of which are alike. Daily he walked around jotting down a sketch of the next detail to be worked upon, deciding, as the work progressed, and maturing his plans, throwing out one day a course, another day realising an idea that had just occurred to him. Thus the fabric rose higher day by day, month by month, year by year. He adhered to no carefully prepared plans; he entrusted nothing to his subordinates; he hugged the entire responsibility. They did not know what phase of work the morrow would bring. On the day each workman would receive a rough section and plan jotted down on the spot, accompanied with verbal instructions. If, even when finished according to his directions, Wren was dissatisfied with this gem of his brain, down it had to come, to be substituted by some other improved idea. Of course Wren had in the first place to submit plans for the proposed cathedral. It is not likely that any committee would engage in anything so important blindfolded. But these plans only formed the shell on which to peg any new suggestions that might crop up in the progress of the work, very much after the fashion of a plastic sketch submitted by the sculptor to a committee, who look wise and generally make foolish comments. The sketch is merely an indication of what is to come after, and is intended as some guarantee. Without this no conscientious committee would commit themselves to any agreement. They control the expenditure of the public subscriptions. If the finished work does not come up to the promised standard of excellence, the committee can fall back upon the sketch and get exonerated of all culpable blame. The artist gets the abuse for the failure or departure from the original. When such necessarily rough sketches are faithfully carried out, they often are failures; for what look well in a rough sketch often become serious blemishes in the completed work. The true artist is never satisfied--that is, that extraordinary being who has a greater love for art than for mere coin--and will alter and improve upon his original design at every suggestion (and they crowd thick upon him) that makes itself manifest, with a total disregard to his own pocket and that punctuality so essential to the successful city man. He has got his ideal, and he is determined to reach it if he has to go through a brick wall.

Very much in the same way, we may be sure, Wren was actuated. His pay was no inducement. He received only L200 a year throughout the whole time of building, and then at one time a certain portion of this miserable pittance was withheld by order of Parliament, because his detractors accused him of delaying the final completion of the work from corrupt motives. Wren's clerk of the works, by name Nicholas Hawksmoor, who afterwards became famous as the builder of several London churches, was paid only twenty pence a day. Tijou, his ironworker, and Grinling Gibbons, the famous carver in wood, were all actuated by the same ideal when they helped to give expression to their master's genius. However, in one or two particulars, which will be mentioned later on, Wren's superior judgment was overruled by his committee. Much to his intense and lasting mortification they carried the day and stamped themselves as incompetent judges. This process of realisation, this seeking after an ideal, sometimes led Wren into strange architectural difficulties, only to be overcome in a masterly way. By discovering these little inconsistencies, the architect's skilfulness in taking advantage of accidents, in turning what appeared an irremediable blunder into a great success, shows what a complete understanding he had in that great branch of art--architecture--and endorses more than ever the great position he will always be accorded.

An example will serve to illustrate his ingenuity.

How many people, when climbing up the stairs that lead to the whispering gallery and elsewhere, have ever noticed any peculiarity about them? Yet there is one. When first they were being built each step was meant to be of the same height, but as they mounted higher, Wren suddenly discovered that the top one would be an ugly tall one to ascend. To avoid this meant one of two things, either to demolish what had already been completed and start afresh, or to turn this accident to good account. The latter alternative was chosen. By gradually reducing the height of the remaining steps, he contrived to overcome the difficulty so successfully that he has tricked the eye and foot, so slight is the difference of each tread. They appear to be equidistant as the ones lower down, and the illusion can only be dispelled by measurement.

If any one is observant on reaching the top of Ludgate Hill, one peculiarity of the great building will strike him. It is that the great west facade does not squarely face Ludgate Hill, but bears considerably to the right. In fact its axis does not run due east and west.

On the advancement of Wren to be principal architect, he was not only commissioned to erect the Cathedral, but was to rebuild the city. His scheme was very thorough. It comprised the widening of the streets; the complete insulation of all important churches; the public buildings were to have good frontages; and the halls of the City Guilds were to form a quadrangle around the Guildhall. To carry these improvements into effect, Government issued orders that none except Wren's rebuilding would be recognised. Unfortunately much valuable time was wasted in an attempt at the restoration of the old cathedral, insisted upon by the committee, against Wren's wishes, and it was only when a portion of the nave fell down that Dean Sancroft was able to obtain the consent of the committee to raze the old walls to the ground and to allow Wren to build from the very foundations. The delay of this decision had in the meanwhile given opportunity to individuals to erect buildings much as they pleased upon their own properties in spite of Government prohibition, with the result that to a great extent streets and boundaries, which existed before the Great Fire, were reproduced. It also caused the loss of a far more spacious frontage than now exists, which we may be sure formed an important item in Wren's design for the Cathedral. The architect, however, by receding the west front from the old site now occupied by the statue of Queen Ann, has cleverly spaced out a noble frontage. Another consideration that determined Wren to alter the axis of the Cathedral was his great aversion to utilising the old foundations. His great ambition was to strike out for himself and to be dependent on no one else's work. In order to realise this he laid the axis of the new work to a point farther north of that of the old cathedral, and the plan by this projection has in a marvellous way covered practically the same ground, whilst at the same time Wren managed to secure fresh ground for his foundations almost throughout the whole church. The plan of St. Paul's is a Latin cross, and is based upon classical lines. The principal front, the west, is composed of a double portico of Corinthian fluted pillars, with two flights of steps leading down to the road-level. In fact the entire body of the ground floor is above the elevation of the street. Overhead is a large pediment, with its panel sculptured in high relief. On either side the west front is flanked by a campanile tower, composed at the summit of grouped circular pillars. Just inside, on the left, is the Morning Chapel, whilst straight on the opposite side lies the Chapel of the Order of St. Michael and St. George. Proceeding eastwards, the nave is flanked by three massive and imposing arches. Then comes the dome or cupola, rising to a height of 365 feet, or 404 feet to the top of the cross. Viewed from the interior the inner dome is 225 feet, and rests at the intersection of the cross. The transepts are carried one arch to the north and one to the south, each of which are bound by semi-circular rows of Corinthian pillars.

Continuing again towards the east, a couple of steps mark the commencement of the choir leading from the dome, and is carried forward by three arches on either side. Behind the altar the colossal building terminates in the apsidal Chapel of Jesus. Throughout the entire length and breadth of the building is the crypt below. There under the choir, the nearest to the south wall in the crypt chapel, is the modest slab that covers the remains of the great architect of the grand edifice. Next to him lies the body of Lord Leighton, the greatest president the Royal Academy has ever had. Just in the one corner are buried some of the most eminent of England's painters, sculptors, and musicians. Those more generally known are Sir Joshua Reynolds, the first president of the Royal Academy; Benjamin West, who succeeded him in office; Sir Thomas Lawrence, who next filled it, and Sir John Millais, who held the dignity only a few months after Leighton's death. The remains of J. M. W. Turner, James Barry, John Foley, Sir Edwin Landseer, and Sir Arthur Sullivan, musician, who are also some of the many great builders of art, have all been accorded a little plot of ground close to their very great brother-artist and predecessor, Sir Christopher Wren. In the centre of the crypt, or rather right underneath the dome, is a noble mausoleum containing the body of England's greatest admiral, Viscount Horatio Nelson, whilst just close to him between the crypt chapel and the dome is the massive sarcophagus of granite, encased in which is the body of the Duke of Wellington. The monument of this hero of Waterloo is the chief feature of the plastic art that attracts the visitor on looking up the nave. It is the great artistic expression of Stevens, the sculptor, and dwarfs all other monuments in its immediate neighbourhood. We would like to enumerate the names of all the great men that lie in the mighty shadow of St. Paul's, and pay some tribute to the many artists who have, through their monuments, endeavoured their best to honour the memories of those who have so worthily upheld the traditions of the great empire; but any such attempt we feel we must relinquish, and devote all the space we can to Wren's work and to that of his predecessors.

The wonderful wood-carving of the choir stall, and especially the remarkable realistic floral designs of the Bishop's throne, were executed by Grinling Gibbons, who lived between 1648 and 1720. He was born at Rotterdam, and as a youth came over to England, and was discovered by Evelyn, the diarist. So astonished was Evelyn by the genius of Gibbons, who had just carved in wood a copy of Tintoretto's "Crucifixion," that he introduced him to Wren, Pepys, and the King. With such powerful friends and his marvellous talent he soon became the most famous carver of his age. In viewing the great edifice one cannot help thinking from whence came the money which enabled Wren to carry on the work. With the exception of the Tillingham farm there were no endowments, and people were, after the fire, far from being generous donors. As funds were absolutely necessary, royal warrants were issued to authorise the building committee to borrow on the security of the coal and wine taxes. As the remuneration of Wren, Grinling Gibbons, and Tijou was nothing to speak of, we may take it that practically the whole of the proceeds was sunk in the materials and the workmen's wages.

Throughout the whole time of building Wren was harassed by petty annoyances on the part of the committee, who interfered in small matters of technical and artistic knowledge which lay quite beyond their province. Against the architect's will they insisted upon the erection of the heavy iron railings which fence in the Cathedral and mar the beautiful gradations of lines from the lowest step of the transept entrances to the summit of the dome's cross. This only serves as one of many such instances. Finally, Wren's persecutors went so far as to suspend his patent in the year 1718, being the forty-ninth of his office and the eighty-sixth of his age, and William Benson was appointed to succeed him.

This abrupt dismissal entirely upset any plan of internal decoration which Wren might have been thinking of, though it is supposed he had proposed to enrich and beautify St. Paul's with a scheme of colour composed of marble and mosaic work with gold and paintings. With the exception of the frescoes in the dome by Sir James Thornhill, nothing of importance was done for fifty years after Wren's death. A proposal to contribute a number of paintings from Sir Joshua Reynolds and the members of the Royal Academy was negatived by Dr. Terrick, who was Bishop of London at that time. In 1891 W. B. Richmond, A.R.A., was commissioned to decorate the choir and the dome with mosaic work, it being considered the most suitable material on account of the brilliancy of its surface, and the easiest to clean without risk of injury to the work. Sir William Richmond, K.C.B. (as he has since been created), decided to depart from modern methods in favour of the ancient way of embedding in cement cubes, so chosen and disposed to suit the various shades of his subjects. They represent various incidents taken from the Bible, treated most skilfully, as one would naturally expect from such a talented artist.

The difficulties of such an undertaking, restricted within certain limits as it must be by the nature of the material, together with the many attendant side-issues of which the outside public have not the faintest idea, can only be known to the artist himself, and perhaps to some of his _confreres_.

In course of erection is the gilt iron balustrade upon the cornice that runs round the church in continuation of that commenced by Wren at the west end. This is the gift of Mr. Somers Clarke. He has also designed the fittings for the installation of the electric light, which is the generous presentation of Mr. Pierpont Morgan.

In conclusion, we cannot help recalling the incident that cheered the closing years of Wren. Once every year the aged artist came from his retirement at Hampton Court to London, to spend the day seated beneath the great dome, happy to view the creation of his great intellect, though possibly disturbed now and then by a little grain of discontent: how much better he could do it now, if only he had youth and opportunity--a worry that only assails the true artist.

In the natural sequence of dates we ought to have opened this account with the earlier foundations. This we purposely disregarded, and introduced the reader straightway to the most beautiful and impressive building of St. Paul's that the site has ever had, leaving the others to be dealt with until now.

The earliest known house for religious observance on the site of the present cathedral was a temple. In accordance with the usual practice of early founders, it is not surprising to find that the site selected for it was upon the highest spot of ground in the city. If we follow the accounts of old London, it would have been folly for the Romans to have erected an important building like a temple upon a lower level, which might have got swamped by an unusual rising of the tidal Thames. Apart from such consideration, it was not the Roman custom to debase, but rather to elevate as high as possible, any object they held in great reverence. It would form also a convenient centre to rally round in defence of any attack. In all accounts of the site of St. Paul's the writers have plenty to say about the three churches, but seldom, if ever, allude to the temple erected by the Romans.

This is the more curious when etymologists have endeavoured to explain the affinity of Christian symbols to those of heathenism, showing how it was clearly impossible, and hardly to be expected, that pagan customs should be suddenly arrested and completely abolished, and an entire set of new observances introduced expressly for the new faith--Christianity. Such a sudden change could not, they contend, be thrust upon a people brought up to revere the old heathen deities and observe customs rendered sacred through superstition and countless ages. They required a gradual weaning, and this, so they say, was done by christianising the pagan symbols derived from nature-worship and adapting them to meet the requirements of the new faith,--symbols which, in course of time, became so clothed that their original significance was lost sight of.

It would greatly astonish all devout Christians to learn that the many objects they look up to with sacred awe and wonder of mystery, the inverted triangles which often form an ornament in church windows, the facing towards the east, even the derivation of the very nave they may happen to be in, with a variety of other symbols, existed long before Christianity was ever thought of. It may also be a little disturbing to learn that, quite unintentionally, they are indirectly paying respect to many of the most heathen observances cloaked under the garb of Christian religion. It is far from our intention to advocate a return to pagan darkness, but if this be really true, surely there is a very close connection between the temple and the Christian church. For this very reason, and the more so in that certain lines of their argument are not to be refuted, we would accord a greater importance than has been hitherto done to the Roman temple that undoubtedly first stood on the prominent piece of land in the London of those days. We do not mean to say that at the time this temple was erected to Diana the sufferings and crucifixion of Our Lord had not already borne fruit, but the very existence of the temple clearly indicates that in London, at any rate, the new faith was very much in its infancy, if it existed at all. But the demolition of the temple, to make room for the first Christian church, which was in turn destroyed in 302 during the Diocletian persecution, clearly gives evidence that there must have been growing indications of the presence of converts and missionaries which led to the erection of the latter from the ruins of the former.

A matter of twenty years later, in the reign of Constantine, the church was rebuilt, and completed by 337. What the shape of the first one was can only be conjectured. It would most probably be based upon the temple. The second was undoubtedly Romanesque, if we can rely upon the dates of its rebuilding. They fall conveniently between 306 and 337, a period of marvellous development of ecclesiastical architecture based upon classical remains, which the favourable attitude of Constantine towards Christianity encouraged. Converts in Rome had increased to such numbers that it was felt that some covered-in space was essential to protect the congregation against the sun's hot rays and inclement weather, the more especially as such a building, far from attracting hostile attention, would serve to the furtherance of Christianity. The form it took was the conversion of the basilica. As anything that came from Rome was looked upon as a correct thing to copy, it is not surprising to learn that travelling merchants and missionaries were able to control the taste of the cities they passed through. In this way each country adopted the basilica, though in many features they differed from each other, consequent on customs, surroundings, and climatic conditions. However, about the year 597, the pagan Saxons appear to have destroyed the church. We come then to the first church of St. Paul's of which we have authentic record. It was built by Ethelbert, King of Kent, in 607. He had first to obtain the sanction of Sebert, who claimed London as being in his dominion of the East Angles. To this see Mellitus was appointed as the first bishop. He was one of the forty monks who had accompanied Augustine in 597 to help to carry out Pope Gregory the Great's scheme, which was to divide England into two provinces with metropolitans of equal dignity at London and York, with twelve suffragans to each. Since then London's see has become third, ranking next to York. In the course of four hundred and eighty years, 607-1087, no doubt Ethelbert's church underwent considerable alteration, probably commencing with a very humble building, perhaps chiefly of wood, and as portions got out of repair such characteristics of stone buildings, as learnt from travellers returning from Italy, were introduced, thus gradually transforming the Saxon church to architecture "in the Roman way." For after the departure of the Romans the Britons at first appear to have returned to primitive methods of architecture. It is only as time progressed that they gradually became initiated, through the visits of travellers, into the working of stone, which, after the arrival of the Normans, came into more general practice.

To provide for the maintenance of St. Paul's, Ethelbert endowed it with a farm at Tillingham in Essex. The property is still managed, the rents of which are controlled by the Dean and Chapter.