The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Peter’s Hill, the walkway from St. Paul’s to the Millennium Bridge. The Tate Modern is across the Thames. It was formerly the Bankside Power Station. Plaques indicate on several buildings that they were built on the site of something destroyed in the Great Fire of London.
The College of Arms is the official repository of the coats of arms and pedigrees of British families. It was rebuilt here on its original site after the destruction of the Great Fire of London. It is halfway up and just off Peter's Hill. It was here that "Chuck" Eaton, a relative and the first principal of the school at which I worked all my life, wrote to find information to create the Crest for Horton District High School. My stepmother, Dianne Thompson, a member of the first class at Horton, in 1959-1960, is an artist, and she drew the crest the school still uses. I was given the task of revising and upgrading it when a new school was built, Horton High School.
From the Millennium Bridge, looking west down the Thames towards Tower Bridge. I am fascinated by the old structures revealed with the tide being out. I remember telling my students about Anthony Burgess’s accounts of how criminals in Shakespeare’s day were sometimes subjected to “the washing of three tides” for minor crimes. I imagine some thief of a loaf of bread chained to the bank, hoping that the tide will not be especially high for the next day or so!
When Sam Wanamaker started to fulfil his dream, he hoped the Globe could be rebuilt on its original site. Although archaeologists discovered foundations in 1987, that site was not available, so one nearby was secured. Thus, the New Globe Theatre location is approximately 200 yards from the site of the original Globe theatre.
Built in 1599 to house Shakespeare's company, The King's Men, and burnt to the ground when the thatch caught alight during a performance of Henry VII in 1613, the new Globe is also thatched, the only building in London roofed in such a way. The thatched roof was essential for this authentic re-creation, so special approval was sought and gained. The original Globe was located in close proximity to the Bear Garden on land that had once been owned by the Bishop of Winchester; his estate was called the Liberty of the Clink.
Since I first saw the Globe in September, the building is now being re-thatched, meaning that the structure is covered with plastic and scaffolding. The theatre season ended in October, so work started then to end in December. Therefore, I cannot get a decent photograph. I am early so there are no crowds, although later several school tours arrive.
Although taken on our earlier day in London in September, this telephoto image from the Thames at least shows the Globe without scaffolding.
Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
The tour I take of the theatre today is only £10.50 and the guide is a young actor/director who knows his “stuff” and is very entertaining. I keep wanting to add to things he says, but for once I manage to keep my mouth shut. (Well, not quite: I do ask a question about the expertise of the workers re-doing the thatching, which should have lasted 50 years, not only 10.)
We leave the exhibition hall—to which I shall return later—and cross a plaza covered with flagstones each engraved with the name of someone who contributed to the multi-million Pound cost of the project. Here we see a wonderful sculpture, for which I have no information.
We go into the open-air theatre and sit in the galleries as we are told about Shakespeare, his life, his plays and his theatre. It puzzles some people that there is no roof—we are told that one American woman asked who had painted such a realistic sky!!!—and while it is not raining, it is a damp, cold day. Later I buy a postcard that seems to show some kind of covering made of fabric used during a performance. I see signs of the weathering effect of exposure to the elements. I know that the stage itself has been reproduced speculatively, close to what scholars have long surmised.
I love the view of “The Heavens”, the ceiling of the stage. The muted colours are as I imagined them. Perhaps someday I might return to see a performance of one of the plays. Perhaps I might hear the wonder Prologue from Henry V:
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
The Galleries: Here we sit and learn about the groundlings (or stinkards) and the “Winchester Geese”—our guide discreetly refers to the prostitutes as “ladies of the night” since children are present. He also tells us about how the Globe stairwells were used by some theatregoers as toilets in Shakespeare’s day and that the 1000 groundlings were so packed in—“back to back and belly to belly”—that they just urinated where they stood! I note that the floor of this Globe is concrete, not earthen. Our guide tells us not to believe everything our school teachers told us because they are often wrong. As an example, he said that students are often told that theatregoers threw fruit and vegetables at the stage if they did not like the play, but this was nonsense: these people could not afford to buy produce, let alone hurl it away at actors! (Of course, I already knew that!) One thing I am not sure I ever knew is that Elizabethans came to the theatre not to SEE plays but to HEAR them, so that the best seats were in the galleries closest to the stage, although a clear view of the stage was not available from them. Our group became curious about what it cost to see plays in Shakespeare’s day, so the presentation bogged down in arithmetic and currency values. I allowed myself to watch the workers thatching the roof.
I do wish the scaffolding was not here, but who can complain? It does seem incongruous—as do the jets passing over London—but I think there has been a clever juxtaposition of Elizabethan and modern in this replica, so the scaffolding is OK. Here we can barely see the “hut” above the stage.
After the tour I take my time to look at the superb exhibits. Not new to me, but interesting nevertheless.
Sam Wanamaker with model of the Globe project, right. I am happy that over the years, several of my students have made beautiful models of the Globe Theatre, one of the best being completely made of popsicle sticks by one of the very quiet boys!
A wonderful stairwell leads down from the exhibition areas to a theatre foyer with more displays. Like so much else in this building, it is made of solid oak.
These glassed in, room-sized displays of props are intriguing, as are the costumes on display, and the re-created costume-making facilities.
Also re-created are machines used for making thatch and wood turnings and also there are printing presses. The re-building of the Globe used traditional methods and materials, all of which are explained and illustrated in displays. It was even put together with wooden pegs, not screws! It is an incredible feat and as authentic as possible, this new Globe.
I bid farewell to the displays and the theatre--well, I do not actually say anything except when I chat with the tour guide on my way out. I take a last look at a pretty wall hanging in the foyer, which perfectly illustrates again the muted or soft colour scheme of the whole enterprise.
Outside, I wander through the Bankside neighbourhood, which connects to the City via the Southwark Bridge, near the end of which the first Globe stood. This is now an upscale area, full of students and well-dressed lawyers and bankers here for lunch in one of the many restaurants. This new building, between the end of the Southwark Bridge and the Globe, features several eating establishments.
Part of the project is the International Shakespeare Globe Centre and Swan at the Globe Brassier, where I enjoy a great meal. Plus there is also a modern theatre named for Inigo Jones.
Next door, at the foot of the Millennium Bridge, the Tate Modern features a Rothko exhibition today, but I can only do so much, and I am committed to going back over to St. Paul’s. Perhaps it is just as well: controversy has erupted this month over the issue that some of the works by Rothko were hung sideways and even upside-down!
Attached to the Globe is this little house. Tradition says that Sir Christopher Wren lodged on Bankside while he was supervising the building of St. Paul's in the 1670s and 1680s. If so, Wren chose quite a spicy area in which to base himself, since Bankside then was London's most celebrated red-light district. This attractive 17th-century house is named Cardinal's Wharf, and it carries a ceramic plaque proclaiming it to be where Wren lived. Cardinal's Wharf looks respectable enough, but the long-demolished inn after which it was named, the Cardinal's Hatte, was itself a well-known brothel. All around were bear- and bull-baiting pits, cheap taverns, gambling dens and the theatres.
To the left of the Millennium Bridge on Bankside, showing the modern buildings that have replaced the old, and the Thames Walk which runs all along this side of the River Thames. I head back across the Millennium Bridge, north across the Thames, towards St. Paul’s Cathedral.
One of the few buskers working the area: she seemed sad in the cool and damp, so after I took her picture I dropped a few coins into her instrument case. We saw many more buskers in September near the London Eye. I have yet, however, to see a single beggar. There are more panhandlers on Spring Garden Road in Halifax on a single day than I have seen anywhere in the UK.
Looking toward St. Paul’s across the Millennium Bridge, up Peter’s Hill, to the South side of the Cathedral.
The Great Fire of London in 1666 destroyed the medieval cathedral of St. Paul's. Sir Christopher Wren was commissioned to create a new cathedral and the result is this magnificent Baroque cathedral, built between 1675 and 1710, and the scene of many great state ceremonies, such as the funeral for Sir Winston Churchill in 1965 and the Royal Wedding of Charles & Diana in 1981. An icon of London, she became especially symbolic during the Blitz, standing bravely above the terrible destruction all around her, mostly escaping damage, and saved by brave volunteers who watched over her day and night. On one night, 29 December 1940, 28 incendiary devices fell on her. Tragically, almost everything else around St. Paul's was destroyed and 40,000 Londoners lost their lives. But Churchill had said, "at all costs, St. Paul's must be saved." And it was, the great symbol that is was and is.
Once inside I marvel once more over the architectural feat such buildings are, and at the exquisite beauty of the design. During my walking tour I find myself drawn again and again to the great dome, and sit beneath it staring upwards, drawn not only by its height--at 360 feet the highest in the world--but by how elaborate and beautiful it is. In my little notebook I jot down my impression that "the colours are rich--blues, golds, reds, but mostly golds from which sparkles of light are reflected throughout the dome." (Somehow, each cathedral I visit is stunning, and then I discover one even more so.) The imposing succession of massive arches and gorgeously illustrated saucer domes along the nave open into this amazing space in which I sit and gaze.
Some say that St. Paul's has never been so beautiful as she is now. Not only has the greatest cleaning of all time brightened everything about the cathedral, but we need to remember that much of the artwork is quite new. It was Queen Victoria who complained that the interior was “most dreary, dingy and undevotional.” This resulted in the addition of many mosaics and other works of beauty.
New artwork continues to be added. The north quire aisle contains the sculpture Mother and Child by Henry Moore who is commemorated in the crypt. The memorial to modern martyrs honours Anglicans who have died for their faith since 1850.
The nave features prominent memorials. A monument to one of Britain's greatest soldiers and statesmen, the Duke of Wellington, is on the north aisle. The marble and bronze memorial shows him lying on its base and on the pinnacle, riding his great horse, Copenhagen. Wellington died in 1852 but his monument was not completed until 1912, when the figure on horseback was unveiled. (It took longer to finish—54 years—than did the Cathedral!) Located in the south transept is another imposing memorial: Admiral Nelson's monument shows Britain's greatest naval hero leaning on an anchor. His monument features a handsome lion, a symbol that means the person commemorated died in battle.
Currently the apse is home to the American Memorial Chapel standing behind the High Altar in an area that was bomb-damaged during the Second World War – a gesture of gratitude to the American dead of the Second World War from the people of Britain. The roll of honour contains the names of more than 28,000 Americans who gave their lives while on their way to, or stationed in, the United Kingdom during World War II.
I decide, in spite of my phobia about steep stairs, to climb up 259 of them to the Whispering Gallery. As I trudge upwards I experience the same feelings I had climbing towers in Edinburgh and at Warwick: how will they get my corpse out of here when I drop dead from the exertion? And then, reaching the Gallery I barely dare to look over the railing at the floor far below. I mostly look upwards at the huge dome paintings designed by Sir James Thornhill.
The dome's unusual acoustics mean that words whispered against the wall can be heard clearly on the opposite side. I am alone, and while I often talk to myself, I cannot figure out how to be on both sides of this huge space to hear myself talk! I ask a young man whispering to his girlfriend on the other side, and he confirms it works. And then, despite better advice, I decide to climb to the Stone Gallery, 378 more steps above, and go outside the dome, where my fear of high, open spaces should really thrill me! (Thank goodness the Golden Gallery is closed today! I would have climbed 570 steps to just under the massive lantern!)
It is from here, of course, that I am able to photograph London all round the compass. I do so, with trepidation, but I am only disappointed by the haze of this overcast day, and by the abundance of building projects cluttering up the views. [Later, on my computer, I increase the contrast considerably to enhance the photos: hence, their stark, even surreal appearance.]
From the Stone Gallery, atop St. Paul’s, looking straight across the Millennium Bridge toward the Tate Modern and The Globe Theatre. [When I get home I shall find the photos I took from here in 1965 when I was sixteen. Back then I took photographs with 35mm slide film. Back then, I likely took only 100 photos from one end of the UK to the other, through France, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Denmark and Sweden. I have been on this trip for four months and have already taken more than 4000 photos!] Next I photograph the Globe in the distance. [ADVICE: make certain your digital camera has a lot of telephoto capability, as this Canon does.]
30 St. Mary Axe, “The Gherkin” 
View west, below, showing Tower 42, “The Gherkin”, Lloyds Building, and Canary Wharf. 
Eventually, I manage to get back to the ground, upon which I immediately climb down into the Crypt. This is the foremost burial place in St. Paul's, where some of the nation's greatest are buried. (In comparison, over at Westminster Abbey, there was no single crypt, so burial tombs clutter up every available spot!) Everywhere I go I seem to run into Horatio, Lord Nelson, only here is where he was actually buried following the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. His tomb lies directly beneath the floor of the great dome, in the place where his casket was lowered during his state funeral. Atop the beautiful black marble is Nelson's viscount's coronet. Nearby is the tomb of the Duke of Wellington, who fought against Napoleon at Waterloo in Belgium in 1815. His tomb is massive, but simpler, a sarcophagus of Cornish granite, watched over by four guardian lions. There are too many other monumental tombs to mention, except perhaps those of Sir Christopher Wren, Florence Nightingale, the composer Ivor Novello, William Blake, and John Constable. There are memorials to Churchill and to Robert Douglas Eaton, a former chorister who died in the World Trade Centre 11 September 2001.
(I wander into the beautiful OBE Chapel, but fail to notice the Commonwealth Screen, which features a Canadian Mountie! This happens when visiting such places: I find out later when studying guidebooks that I missed something interesting!)
I have special interest in the fate of John Donne, one of Britain's finest poets, who was Dean of the Cathedral from 1621-1631. His effigy now stands in the south quire aisle, one of the only ones to remain unbroken during London's Great Fire in 1666, when everything crashed through the floor into the crypt. One can still see the scorch marks on the base of the Donne effigy. Donne is esteemed for giving us verses such as his most famous one:
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
His own life was also eventful. A terrible misjudgement early in his legal career ended it. He fell in love with a young girl (14) and secretly married her against her powerful father's wishes. It earned him a short stay in Fleet Prison, but also led to his famous epigram: John Donne, Anne Donne, Un-done.
One could wander among the dead for hours, but I need fresh air and lunch, so I leave the cathedral and spend some time at the west facade, with its statue of Queen Anne, who reigned at the time St. Paul's was completed.
Nearby, outside the incongruous Marks & Spencer store are columns with carved heads, quite modern, but I failed to note what each represents. In fact, the entire area north of St. Paul's is very new and modern. But in the midst of the modernity is Wren's Temple Bar.
Sir Christopher Wren's Temple Bar marked the gateway to the City of London for 200 years. Then, late in the 1800s, it was rebuilt at Theobalds Park to form a grand entrance to a country estate. In 2001, the City of London agreed to fund the return of Temple Bar to the Square Mile. At a cost of just over £3 million—funded by the City of London along with donations from the Temple Bar Trust and several Livery Companies—the reconstruction of Temple Bar adjacent to the northwest Tower of St Paul’s Cathedral, was completed in November 2004. It forms a pedestrian gateway into the redeveloped Paternoster Square.
During the eighteenth century Temple Bar was used to display the heads of traitors on iron spikes which protruded from the top of the main arch. Wren's Temple Bar stood in Fleet Street for just over 200 years until a variety of factors dictated its removal. The roadway needed widening to relieve the heavy traffic and the building of the Royal Courts of Justice resulted in the decision to remove the somewhat costly and outdated Temple Bar. On January 2, 1878, the first stone was removed and just 11 days later the scaffolding was cleared and the dismantling was complete. In its place, the Temple Bar Memorial was erected in 1880. The monument, a tall pedestal surmounted by a dragon or "griffin" still stands in the middle of the roadway on Fleet Street, which we had seen on another day. The griffin reminds me of my school, whose emblem also features a griffin!
Temple Bar arch leads into Paternoster Square, where one sees the Paternoster Square Column, which I first photographed from the Stone Gallery of St. Paul’s.
Paternoster Square is a new, upscale urban development, owned by Mitsubishi, next to the Cathedral. In 1942 the area, which takes its name from Paternoster Row, centre of the London publishing trade, was devastated by aerial bombardment in The Blitz during World War II. Rebuilt badly after the war and recently redeveloped, it is now the location of the London Stock Exchange which relocated here from Threadneedle Street in 2004, and of investment banks.
At the north end of the square is the bronze Shepherd and Sheep by Dame Elisabeth Frink.
Views of St. Paul's from Paternoster Square.
In the open area across from the south entry to St. Paul’s is this ultra-modern City of London information centre.
Another view of the west facade, with St. Paul crowning the apex. Finally, some neighbourhood views of the Great Dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
I do not really want to leave St. Paul's--it has been an enriching experience-- but it is starting to become dark. I head for the close-by St. Paul's Underground Station and smile happily as I see the headlines reporting that Barack Obama is winning the US Presidential election. This will be a November 4th I shall remember.
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