Cathedral Cities of England

by George Gilbert

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.