Whenever I’m stuck for something to write about the Guildhall Gallery often comes to my rescue.
I visited the little Heritage Gallery on Monday and what I found was very interesting. Rather than rewrite all the information on the plaques I hope you won’t mind if I simply reproduce them below.
Look at these fine fellows …
The Right Honourable the Lord Mayor of the City of London, Nicholas Lyons, and the Sheriffs, Alderman Alastair King and Andrew Marsden for the period 2022-2023.
The Mayoralty Charter …
In 1215 King John was faced with a major rebellion …
An etching of the Magna Carta seal which I found on the Internet …
Also on view is the Cartae Antiquae …
Dating from the 1400s, this beautifully illustrated book records charters and statutes covering laws enacted from the reign of Edward III (1327 onwards) to the accession of Henry VII in 1485. City officials used this book as an essential reference tool as they scrutinised statute and safeguarded the rights of the medieval City. There is a portrait of each king on the first page of the statutes for his reign; the page open shows the portrait of Richard III, one of the best known medieval monarchs.
In a nearby display case are prints of Coronations in the 19th century.
George IV on 19 July 1821 …
William IV on 8 September 1831 …
And finally Queen Victoria on 28 June 1838 …
As you leave the exhibition space and head for the exit, take a moment to inspect the David Wynne sculpture of Prince Charles as he then was …
He just doesn’t look happy, does he? Maybe he wasn’t too keen on the rather spiky modern version of a coronet that he is wearing here at his 1969 Investiture as Prince of Wales. It was designed by a committee chaired by his auntie Princess Margaret’s husband, Antony Armstrong-Jones (later Lord Snowdon). The globe and cross at the top was originally intended to be solid gold but the committee concluded that this would be far too heavy. The solution was to use a gold plated ping-pong ball – which is why I always smile at this portrayal of the Prince (and possibly why he doesn’t appear to have ever worn the item again).
In other news, the Barbican duckling population seems to have thrived this year. I haven’t seen the heron lately – could that be the reason?
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Last week I set off without any particular purpose, seeking shapes, patterns and views that might look interesting as images.
It’s often just as fascinating to keep looking down as well as up and here are some of the curiosities I came across in Spitalfields.
Some intricately designed coal hole covers that have survived road works and redevelopment …
The above is a typical Hayward Brothers plate. One of their greatest services to Victorian society was saving pedestrians from nasty and embarassing injuries or even death-by-coalhole. Falling down coalholes through an unfastened plate was a regular occurrence in those times and the Hayward Brothers ‘safety plate’ using a ‘twist and lock’ mechanism was supposed to cure the problem.
As well as the coal hole covers, the pavements of Spitalfields are also the home of a number of circular metal plates set into the pavement and known as roundels. They are the result of a commission by the 1995 Bethnal Green Challenge and are intended to be emblems reflecting the diverse culture and history of Spitalfields. They were designed by Keith Bowler and you can read more about them in two blogs, one by The Gentle Author and one by Katie Wignall. Here are images of the three I came across.
One of the prettiest is the one on Fournier Street, taken from floral fabric designs by Anna Maria Garthwaite (1688-1763), the textile designer whose official blue plaque is on 4 Princelet Street …
At the corner of Brushfield Street and Commercial street are some apples and pears. A nod to the original fruit and vegetable Spitalfields market with a flourish of cockney rhyming slang thrown in …
And finally this very cute one outside the local primary school on Brick Lane. A boy and girl in a book surrounded by pencils …
There were 25 originally but it’s believed there are only a dozen left.
I wandered around the Barbican looking for angles, shadows and reflections …
Here are some colours and shapes from ‘Them’s the breaks’by the RESOLVE Collective at The Curve Gallery …
I’d also like to include a few favourites from a previous blog where I experimented with black and white images.
Tower 42 …
Plus Leadenhall Market …
Here are some of the more unusual things I came across during my walk.
I have entered the Barbican Highwalk from the Barbican Station footbridge on dozens of occasions and never paid any attention to this doorway which is obviously no longer in use …
Last week I peered through the grubby glass and was astonished to see this lively jungle scene …
I’m trying to find out more about it.
In the Smithfield Rotunda Garden there is a reflection with a poetic message …
‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall … Litter left here reflects badly on us all’.
On display in the Barbican Centre is this stunnng architectural model of the Estate …
The City is still full of new developments despite changes in working patterns and in many cases this means the demolition of existing buildings. A new view has now temporarily opened up looking south from the St Alphage Highwalk showing the north side of the Guildhall with the Shard in the distance …
Finally, I laughed out loud when I popped in to St Giles church and noticed two acknowledgements of the Coronation. Milton was surrounded by flags as he clutched a volume of his works …
But by far the most witty gesture was kitting out the famous parliamentarian and regicide Oliver Cromwell with a golden crown and a ‘Long Live King Charles’ postcard …
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From where I live I have a nice view of my local church, St Giles Without Cripplegate. This image gives a good impression of where this wonderful old church is located within the strikingly modern Barbican Estate …
I am always pleased to come across old images of the area, particularly those taken in the three decades after the Second World War. I am indebted to the author of the splendid London Inheritance blog for this view from 1947 showing the devastated landscape …
The building on the left is the Red Cross Street Fire Station.
Another image showing nearby destruction …
The following photo taken in the days following the raid on the 29th December 1940 shows the damage to the interior of the church …
Since the walls and tower survived a service was possible with the parishioners able to look straight up to the sky …
The inside of the church today. I was fortunate enough to visit when a lady (on the left in the picture) was practising beautifully on the organ …
Here’s an aerial view from the 1960s and the church now has a roof. The more modern looking building on the right is Roman House which has recently been converted into apartments …
In this 21st century aerial image you can just make out the church’s green roof …
Some monuments remain from the old pre-Blitz building.
There is this touching memorial to a favourite character of mine, Sir William Staines …
And here is the man himself …
Staines had extremely humble beginnings working as a bricklayer’s labourer, but eventually accumulated a large fortune which he generously used for philanthropic purposes. He seemed to recall his own earlier penury when he ensured that the houses he built for ‘aged and indigent’ folk would have ‘nothing to distinguish them from the other dwelling-houses … to denote the poverty of the inhabitant’.
British History Online records an encounter he had with the notorious John Wilkes who referred rather rudely to Staines’ original occupation …
The alderman was an illiterate man, and was a sort of butt amongst his brethren. At one of the Old Bailey dinners, after a sumptuous repast of turtle and venison, Sir William was eating a great quantity of butter with his cheese. “Why, brother,” said Wilkes, “you lay it on witha trowel!”
Incidentally, Wilkes is also commemorated in the the City in Fetter Lane where a striking statue of him honestly portrays his famous squint …
John Milton (1608-1674), the poet and republican, is perhaps the most famous former parishioner of St Giles and his statue stands by the south wall of the church …
It’s made of metal, which means it is one of the few memorials in the church that survived the bombing in the Second World War. It is the work of the sculptor Horace Montford (c1840-1919) and is based on a bust made in about 1654.
He used to be outside and was blasted off his plinth during the bombing …
There is also this commemorative plaque …
And a bust which clearly indicates his later-life blindness …
Milton was buried in the church next to his father, however he was not allowed to rest in peace.
‘A sacrilegious desecration of his remains, we regret to record, took place in 1790 … The disinterment had been agreed upon after a merry meeting at the house of Mr. Fountain, overseer, in Beech Lane, the night before, Mr. Cole, another overseer, and the journeyman of Mr. Ascough, the parish clerk, who was a coffin-maker, assisting’.
Having identified where they thought Milton’s grave was, they dug down almost six feet, found a coffin, and removed the lid. The report goes on …
‘Upon first view of the body, it appeared perfect, and completely enveloped in the shroud, which was of many folds, the ribs standing up regularly. When they disturbed the shroud the ribs fell. Mr. Fountain confessed that he pulled hard at the teeth, which resisted, until some one hit them a knock with a stone, when they easily came out. There were but five in the upper jaw, which were all perfectly sound and white, and all taken by Mr. Fountain. He gave one of them to Mr. Laming. Mr. Laming also took one from the lower jaw; and Mr. Taylor took two from it. Mr. Laming said that he had at one time a mind to bring away the whole under-jaw with the teeth in it; he had it in his hand, but tossed it back again’.
As if that wasn’t undignified enough,’Elizabeth Grant, the gravedigger … now took possession of the coffin; and, as its situation under the common councilmen’s pew would not admit of its being seen without the help of a candle, she kept a tinder-box in the excavation, and, when any persons came, struck a light, and conducted them under the pew; where, by reversing the part of the lid which had been cut, she exhibited the body, at first for sixpence and afterwards for threepence and twopence each person’.
The body was reburied but rumours spread that it wasn’t Milton in the coffin, but a woman. So Milton was dug up a second time and the surgeon in attendance examined the bones — what were left of them — and pronounced them to be masculine. Only then was Milton, at last, allowed to rest only to be permanently obliterated in the bombing.
Notwithstanding the generous memorials to the great and the good, I was captivated by this modest plaque on the south wall …
An attorney at law who obviously believed in brevity. No Latin exhortation of his virtues, no figures of a grieving widow and children, only the important facts and the bald, concluding statement ‘That is all’.
There is a lot more to see at St Giles such as modern stained glass …
And intriguing inscriptions, both inside …
And outside …
But for the moment ‘that is all!’
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