Picturesque London

by Percy Fitzgerald

In a pleasing passage Mr. Justin McCarthy has recorded his impressions of the aspect of this wonderful building. Many years ago, when he was beginning his literary career in London, he used, he said, to come down the river as far as Blackfriars at all seasons and in all weathers, and he never came near to the Bridge without observing the magnificent dome of St. Paul’s. He would go into one of the niches and lose himself in the singular beauty of the noble dome, rising out of the mist or gilded by the sunlight. It was always beautiful and always touching, no matter what the weather might be. Seen dimly shining through fog or mist it had a certain charm, because it seemed to be like some building in a distant phantom city of which you could only imagine a dim outline. When he looked around him and saw the hurrying crowds of people and heard the noise, the tumult, the incessant tramping, the constant talk of the passers-by, it seemed to him a sort of poetic duty to lift himself, for a few moments at least, out of the daily commonplace of life, and have a sort of communion with that ideal world which was floating high above him. He added, that there were two points of view from which such a picture could be looked at; to consider whether the real and ideal ought to be brought into juxtaposition or be compared and contrasted with each other to make a true picture, whether in life or in art. The very dome of St. Paul’s would not be so beautiful were it not for the bustling crowd below, nor would the crowd seem so real without the calm dome above.

More wonderful still is the view from the surging gathering at the bottom of Ludgate Hill, where all the ways meet. There is the raging tumult, the hurrying from the City and to the City, the business, the traffic, the confusion; yet calm, unruffled above all, rises the great dome, like some work of nature and with all the mistiness of a mountain. The railway bridge across is not by any means a blemish, and most picturesque is the quaint spire of the church half-way up the hill, said to have been placed there by Wren as a foil to his greater work. Its elegant Italian

mouldings are well worthy of study, as well as the exquisite proportions of the spire, exactly adjusted to the tower and building below.

There are some other interesting points associated with the great Cathedral and its construction, which may be suggested to the casual visitor. He will note the imposing portico which fronts him as he approaches from Ludgate Hill, which is in two tiers, one placed over the other, with a double row of columns. It has been often compared with that of St. Peter’s, which offers a single portico of the ordinary pattern, and is considered to be more simple and imposing. Wren, however, could not procure from the quarries blocks more than four feet in diameter, and as lofty columns, to exhibit due proportion, should be far thicker, he was thus compelled to content himself with short columns in two tiers. The same difficulty was found at St. Peter’s, but there the portico is comparatively low, and the columns short.

With all the claims to admiration of this great work, the critical architect, or indeed the amateur, finds other blemishes. One of the most conspicuous is the treatment of the side aisles, where they join the nave and transepts. The most careless observer will be struck by the confusion and make-shift air of the whole. A gallery runs across each, with a low second arch. Below there is a sort of apse, from which open out the two side aisles. This complicated arrangement destroys the general grandeur. The chapels on the right and left near the bottom are set down to the inspiration and influence of the Catholic Duke of York, who, it is said, hoped in better times to use them for his own faith. But it is not likely that such interference would have been tolerated.

The curious statue, or group of statues, in front of the Cathedral, representing Queen Anne, with images of the kingdoms at her feet, is not ineffective. It had gradually fallen into decay, and her Majesty’s features had fallen away. A fanatic once climbed over the railing and was discovered hammering ferociously at the nose, figures, etc. The damage was never repaired. Later the Corporation determined to have it altogether renewed, and the commission was given to the notorious Belt, whose supposed wrongs and hard treatment had excited great noise and sympathy. During the progress of the new replica the sculptor unluckily “got into trouble,” and being found guilty of a serious charge of fraud, was consigned to prison. The work, however, went on, and was completed in prison, where, by the indulgence of the authorities, the sculptor was allowed to do his modelling, carving, etc. This work therefore may be said to have been executed by a convict under sentence.

This suggests the incuriousness of the London public as to some of their monuments. Many will recall the perplexing statue which once stood in the centre of Leicester Square. Antiquaries could not agree as to the individual it represented, and from time to time amusing and heated discussions broke out on the subject. Meanwhile the statue began gradually to go to pieces. But no one thought of interfering. Soon it appeared with a wooden prop under the horse, which was accepted as satisfactory for some time. By-and-by came a farceur who fitted it up with a broom in one hand and a saucepan on its head. And this degradation was tolerated. At last it was carted off.