The Whispering Gallery is almost exactly a hundred feet from the pavement, and curiously enough about the same distance across. We are still, be it understood, below the level of the apex of the exterior roof, and the Cross is quite two hundred and sixty feet above us. The gallery projects so that the lectern steps and the pulpit are underneath. The attendant whispering across the whole area can be distinctly heard, an acoustic property seemingly caused by the nearness of the concave hemisphere above.
INTERIOR OF THE DOME.
From an engraving by G. Coney in Sir H. Ellis' edition of Dugdale's St. Paul's. [ToList]
The Drum.—The actual bend inwards now begins, but for this part only in straight lines.[98] First comes the plain band or Podium, panelled and of a height of twenty feet. On this stand thirty-two composite pilasters, in reality, as well as in appearance, out of the horizontal. Three out of each four intervening spaces are pierced with square-headed windows; and from them such light as the dome possesses, streams down through the windows of the exterior colonnade. The alternate fourth recesses, apparently nothing more than ornamental niches, conceal the supports which bear the weight above. In the recent scheme of decoration they have been filled with statues of Early Fathers—the four eastern, SS. Chrysostom, Gregory Nazianzen, Basil, and Athanasius; and the four western, SS. Ambrose, Augustine of Hippo, Jerome, and Gregory. If the light allows, the Podium, at present bare, is a suitable place for mosaics.
The Cupola.—So, for want of a better name, we will call the topmost section or inner roof of brick, two bricks thick. Here the straight lines bearing inwards give way to the sphere; and here, too, the three separate coverings, which constitute the dome, begin. The circular opening below the lantern coincides with the lower edge of the fluting of the exterior shell, and is about two hundred and fifteen feet from the pavement.[99]
These upper regions, hidden in an almost perpetual gloom, were decorated in monochrome by Sir James Thornhill; but his work has failed to resist the chemical action of the surcharged atmosphere. Yet a word or two about it may interest. Concentric circles surround the opening; and the remaining surface is ingeniously divided into eight compartments by designs of piers and round arches; the piers coinciding with the eight recesses below. In these compartments are scenes from the life of the patronal saint: (1) The Conversion, (2) Elymas, (3) Cripple at Lystra, (4) Jailer at Philippi, (5) Mars Hill, (6) Burning Books at Ephesus, (7) Before Agrippa, (8) Shipwreck. We have all of us heard from the days of our boyhood or girlhood the story of the painter, on a platform at a great height, who stepped back to get a better view of his work. As he did so, an assistant, standing by, brush in hand, observed with alarm that the slightest further backward step would entail his falling headlong and being dashed to pieces. He deliberately daubed the painting; and the artist, stepping instinctively forward to prevent this, saved his life. The painter is said to be Thornhill: the scene, the giddy height under the dome.
The interior height of two diameters will always be a disputed question. Stephen Wren[100] seemed to think that his grandfather hit the happy medium of a diameter and a half; but this only reaches to the windows and Early Fathers. He probably gives us the Surveyor's intention. Afterwards, when Wren was compelled to raise the height of the exterior, he increased the interior. St. Sophia and the Invalides are both less than two diameters, and give the idea of greater area. While it is difficult to see what æsthetic advantage is gained by a roof and upper regions immersed in perpetual gloom, the acoustic properties and the light might both have been improved by a more modest elevation. Yet the advocates of a smaller ratio injure their case by writing about "a great disproportioned hole in the 'roof.'"
The Pulpit was one of the additions suggested in Dean Milman's time, when the dome area was used for service. It is a memorial to Captain Robert Fitzgerald, designed by Mr. Penrose; and the marbles come from various places. It stands on columns, of which the gray are from Plymouth, the "dark purplish" from Anglesea, and the red from Cork. In the panels and elsewhere the green is from Tenos, and the yellow chiefly from Siena, with a little of the ancient Giallo Antico from Rome.[101] Alike in the design, and in the combination of these different marbles, the pulpit is a fitting and judicious adornment. The Lectern takes the familiar form of an eagle, and is of bronze. This fine piece of work was finished in 1720 by Jacob Sutton, at a cost of £241 15s.
The Mosaics.—Stephen Wren tells us that his grandfather intended his great building to be adorned with mosaic work, and that one of his numerous disappointments was his inability, thanks to the ignorant opposition of the Commission, to carry out this intention. The categorical statement of the grandson is corroborated by (a) the text of various Acts of Parliaments, (b) other Renaissance Churches and notably St. Peter's, (c) the use of material softer than Portland stone for various surfaces.[102] Bishop Newton, who was Dean a hundred and twenty years ago, roundly accused the authorities of filching the decoration funds for William's wars. Queen Anne's wars would have sounded more probable. It was not until our own day that in this respect, as in others, the Surveyor's ideas have been carried out.