Tales of English Minsters: St. Paul's

by Elizabeth W. Grierson

And here is a representation of a Bishop blessing little black children. That is Bishop Heber, first Bishop of Calcutta, who wrote a great many hymns, some of which I am sure you know—‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,’ ‘From Greenland’s icy mountains,’ and ‘Brightest and best of the sons of the morning.’

Here is a beautiful memorial—a bronze angel stooping to lift the figure of a wounded yet crowned warrior. Let us read the inscription under it, for it tells of forty-three thousand men, sons of the Empire, who flocked from our Colonies—from Australia, India, Ceylon, New Zealand, and South Africa—to help us to fight against the Boers, and who ‘Gave their Lives for the Motherland.’

Near by is a great window, representing our Lord healing the sick, which was placed there as a thanksgiving for the recovery of our King from a very dangerous illness when he was Prince of Wales.

Look up to the Dome. Do you see the paintings there? They are so far above us that we can hardly see them properly; but if we were nearer we should see that they are scenes from the life of St. Paul. They were painted by an artist called Sir John Thornhill, and he almost lost his life when he was painting them. Indeed, he would have done so had it not been for the promptitude of a friend of his. A great scaffold had been erected for him to stand on while he was painting, and it makes us almost giddy to think of the height that it must have been from the floor. One day he was up there, working busily, and, luckily, a friend was with him; for he stepped back to see the effect of his work, and went so near the edge of the scaffold that another step would have taken him over, to be dashed to pieces on the floor below.

His friend saw his danger, and, seizing a wet paint-brush, flung it at the painting. The artist rushed forward to intercept the brush, and so his life was saved.

Now let us enter the choir, and look at this wonderful carving on the stalls. This was done by a famous wood-carver, named Grinling Gibbons, whose story is as well worth knowing as that of Sir Christopher Wren. He was partly English and partly Dutch, and was born in Rotterdam. He was very fond of carving, and he used to copy all the things that he saw growing outside—fruits, and flowers, and sprays of leaves, and berries—and he became a very clever carver indeed.

He came to England, and made up his mind to work hard at his art, and, in order to have time and quietness to do so, he hired a tiny house at Deptford, and went and lived there. After he had been there some time, he determined to do a really great piece of work.

He was very fond of a wonderful picture of the Crucifixion, which had been painted by a Venetian artist named Tintoretto, and he made up his mind that he would copy this in wood, and frame it in a wreath of carved fruits and flowers.

It was a very ambitious thing to do, but he succeeded beautifully, although it took him a long while, and cost him a great deal of time and work.

Now it chanced that near his little cottage there was a great mansion called Sayes Court, in which lived a very wise, rich, and cultured man named John Evelyn. We know all about him, because he did what perhaps some of you do:—he kept a diary, which has been preserved, and which we can read to-day.