Hooray! Gilbert & George (‘Two people, one artist’) have opened the Gilbert & George Centre just off Brick Lane and I visited last Friday. ‘The vision was for people to see our work [and] have access to our pictures,’ they say. ‘So if someone arrives in London and loves our art, they’ll be somewhere they can see our pictures and won’t have to wait for our next gallery or museum show’ …
The space, a former brewery complex, has been designed by SIRS Architects in collaboration with the artists. Visitors enter via regal gates sinuously outlining the artists’ initials into a secluded cobbled courtyard evocative of Gilbert & George’s restored Georgian home and studio …
The gate is adorned by King Charles III’s gold-encrusted royal cypher, a testament to their affection for the monarchy …
Inside the courtyard, past the reception area, a beautiful Himalayan magnolia tree leads the way to the exhibition space’s entrance …
The centre is spread over galleries providing 280 sq m of exhibition space, alongside an outdoor video space.
This first show in the venue is called ‘The Paradisical Pictures’ displays Gilbert and George’s interpretations of Heaven …
It features vast photographic screens of leaves and organic products, including figs, roses, dates and leafy greens through which the artists peer or can be seen lolling on benches, either resting or in a swoon.
Here are the images I took on my visit. Trigger warning, be aware that, in typical G&G fashion, some of the titles are provocative!
There is, of course, merchandise you can purchase to commemorate your visit …
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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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I’m having a few IT problems at the moment so I hope you won’t mind if this week I re-publish a previous blog. It’s about my visit to St Botolph’s and I referred to it in my 300th edition last week.
It starts with an image of this distinguished gentleman …
Robert Dow was a Master of the Merchant Taylors and during his life gave away a substantial sum to various charitable establishments. The value of his donations and those receiving the money are listed on his monument …
He lived to the great age of 90 and died in 1612. I love the expression that, when he eventually passed away, he was ‘full of days’. The skull his hands are resting on may be to remind us that we too are mortal, even as we relax and enjoy his company and read of his generosity.
Nearby is an eyecatching brown and cream alabaster monument. It commemorates Lord Darcy and Sir Nicholas Carew, both beheaded on Tower Hill for high treason against Henry VIII in 1537 and 1539 respectively …
The figure is a corpse resting on a bierwith the head thrown back dramatically.
The inscription reads …
Here lyeth Thomas Lord Darcy of the North, and some time of the Order of the Garter. Sir Nicholas Carew Knt. sometime of the Garter. Lady Elizabeth Carew, Daughter to Sir Francis Brian, Knt. And Sir Arthur Darcy Knt. younger Son to the abovenamed Lord Darcy. And Lady Mary his dear Wife, Daughter to Sir Nicholas Carew Knt. who had ten Sons and five Daughters. Here lye Charles, William and Philip, Mary and Ursula, Sons and Daughters to the said Sir Arthur, and Mary his Wife; whose Souls God take to his infinite Mercy. Amen.
More delights await you further inside the church.
This beautifully carved wooden panel depicts King David along with musical instruments …
It was created between 1713 and 1715 to grace the front of an organ gallery in the church of St Mary Matfelon, Whitechapel. When the church was destroyed by bombing on the 27th December 1940 the carving was saved and later restored …
In 1676 Thomas Whiting gifted the organ for the benefit of the ‘hole parrish’ …
The organ was originally built for his house, which must have been a substantial property to say the least.
There is a fine 18th century sword rest …
Sword rests (or stands) were originally installed in City churches to hold the Lord Mayor’s sword of state when he used to visit a different church every Sunday, a practice that ceased in 1888 as congregations fell and people moved to the suburbs.
There is a long eulogy to Benjamin Pratt inscribed on a hanging drape …
He affected to end his days in celibacy and departed this life on the 3rd day of May 1715 … he had just arriv’d at the prime of his age and was then taken from his labours to receive an exceeding great reward.
And now a memorial that positively demanded more research, an inventor who died ‘in want’ in 1831 and was finally commemorated by a Lord Mayor in 1903 …
The full story is fascinating and I can’t do it justice in this short blog. To read more go to the London Inheritance blog which you can find here.
A number of past Lord Mayors are commemorated in stained glass …
Now leave the church and walk around to the north side where a few gravestones have been placed against the wall.
This one contains an intriguing and poignant inscription to a son and his father …
It’s now much worn but, luckily for me, an audit of churchyard inscriptions was made in 1910 and this is what the tombstone tells us …
Sacred to the memory of
THOMAS EBRALL Citizen and Corn Merchant, shot by a Life Guardsman unknown, in the shop of Mr Goodeve, Fenchurch Street, 9 April, 1810 died 17th same month, in his 24th year.
THOMAS EBRALL, his father, died from his loss, 23 August, 1810, aged 48.
‘Died from his loss’, how sad. I have tried to find out more about the incident that resulted in young Mr Ebrall’s death but no luck so far.
The man who conducted the inscription audit at the turn of the last century was one Percy C. Rushen who noticed how they were slowly disappearing due to ‘atmospheric elements’ or ‘sacriligist’ vandalism. Here is a link to his book – my hero!
There is also an unusual water feature resembling a chest tomb …
Now cross the road to the Minories and look back …
The following drawing from 1740 by its builder, George Dance the Elder, shows the church looking exactly the same as it does today …
Incidentally, the church had a narrow escape during the Blitz when a bomb fell straight through the roof but failed to explode. The Blitz was an extraordinary period for the Rector of the day, who slept in the Crypt, surrounded by coffins, and climbed onto the roof during air raids to put out incendiary fires.
I can’t really believe how long I’ve been publishing. I launched originally in March 2017 with three editions and then regularly every Thursday since July of that year. Thank you so much for being a subscriber – I do hope you have found my efforts intersting and occasionally fun so I thought this might be a good opportunity to look back and pick out a few favourite subjects.
I really enjoyed researching the background history of drinking fountains and their close connection to the Quaker movement. It was a nice sunny day when I stood in front of this modest little example outside St Sepulchre’s Church on Snow Hill near Holborn Viaduct and recalled a picture of the scene on 20th April 1859 when it was unveiled as the first public drinking fountain in London …
Its opening was an incredibly well-attended event, as recorded by the Illustrated London News …
Emphasising why the water supply had to be totally trusted was explained in the blog relating to this famous pump, still located in Aldgate …
During its passage underground from north London, the pump’s water had passed through and under numerous new graveyards thereby picking up the bacteria, germs and calcium from the decaying bodies. Many people died before this discovery was made. Read the full story in my blog The Pump of Death.
Sundials attracted my attention in September 2017. Especialy this one dating from around 1700 …
And this one on a building that was once a Protestant church, then a Methodist Chapel, next a Jewish synagogue and now the Brick Lane Mosque. ‘We are but shadows’ …
The wealth created by the City encouraged philanthropic giving and what a pleasure it was to enter the church of St Botolph Without Aldgate and come face to face with this distinguished gentleman …
Robert Dow was a Master of the Merchant Taylors and during his life gave away a substantial sum to various charitable establishments. The value of his donations and those receiving the money are listed on his monument …
He lived to the great age of 90 and died in 1612. I love the expression that, when he eventually passed away, he was ‘full of days’. The skull his hands are resting on may be to remind us that we too are mortal, even as we relax and enjoy his company and read of his generosity.
There are other fascinating memorials nearby and you can read about them here.
Personal bravery is commemorated in many City churches and you’ll find this one in St Stephen Walbrook.
Sometimes I look at church memorial plaques and, if they are entirely in Latin, just rather lazily move on. In this case it was a big mistake since I was ignoring a tribute to a very brave man …
Unlike many physicians, Dr Hodges stayed in London throughout the time of the terrible plague of 1665.
First thing every morning before breakfast he spent two or three hours with his patients. He wrote later …
Some (had) ulcers yet uncured and others … under the first symptoms of seizure all of which I endeavoured to dispatch with all possible care …
hardly any children escaped; and it was not uncommon to see an Inheritance pass successively to three or four Heirs in as many Days.
After hours of visiting victims where they lived he walked home and, after dinner, saw more patients until nine at night and sometimes later.
He survived the epidemic and wrote two learned works on the plague. The first, in 1666, he called An Account of the first Rise, Progress, Symptoms and Cure of the Plague being a Letter from Dr Hodges to a Person of Quality. The second was Loimologia, published six years later …
A later edition of Dr Hodges’ work, translated from the original Latin and published when the plague had broken out in France.
It seems particularly sad to report that his life ended in personal tragedy when, in his early fifties, his practice dwindled and fell away. Finally he was arrested as a debtor, committed to Ludgate Prison, and died there, a broken man, in 1688.
His memorial is on the north wall and this is a translation from the Latin …
Learn to number thy days, for age advances with furtive step, the shadow never truly rests. Seeking mortals born that they might succumb, the executioner [comes] from behind. While you breathe [you are] a victim of death; you know not the hour which your faith will call you. While you look at monuments, time passes irrevocably. In this tomb is laid the physician Nathaniel Hodges in the hope of Heaven; now a son of earth, who was once [a son] of Oxford. May you survive the plague [by] his writings. Born: September 13, AD 1629 Died, 1o June 1688
Bravery and tragedy are often linked.
Every year I recommend a visit to the Tower Hill Memorial which commemorates men and women of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets who died in both World Wars and who have no known grave.
The First World War section commemorates almost 12,000 Mercantile Marine casualties and was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens with sculpture by Sir William Reid-Dick. It was unveiled by Queen Mary on 12 December 1928 …
The Second World War extension, which commemorates almost 24,000 casualties, was designed by Sir Edward Maufe, with sculpture by Charles Wheeler. It was unveiled by Queen Elizabeth II on 5 November 1955.
In the background, Neptune (standing on the old Port of London Authority headquarters) points towards the sea …
Within the garden the walls are overlaid with bronze plaques on which the names of the men and their ships are inscribed in relief. At regular intervals, between the inscription panels, are allegorical figures representing the Seven Seas. Here is one of them, Neptune with his trident …
And another, a mermaid combing her hair …
Images from my visit last November …
I noticed a small cross resting on one of the allegorical figures, just above the dolphin’s head …
Here it is in close up …
How wonderful. Arthur Myers remembered by a grandchild and two great, great grandchildren. His ship, the Empire Lakeland, was sunk by a U Boat on 11 March 1943.
You can read the full blog here – it’s entitled Lest we forget.
One of the City’s most fascinating sights is the Watts Memorial in Postman’s Park …
Among the beautifully designed plaques you will see one dedicated to ‘the little hero’ John Clinton …
He was only 10 when he dived into the Thames to save another little boy’s life. Unfortunately, after the rescue, John himself slipped back into the water and drowned. According to his father this wasn’t his first brave act, having saved a baby from a fire and tearing down burning curtains that were threatening the house. Both acts were commemorated in this illustration …
From The Illustrated Police News, 28th July 1894. Copyright, The British Library Board.
His funeral was widely reported …
Finally, by way of light relief, here are a few of my City animals.
I found myself in Smithfield last weekend and thought it might be nice to write again about some of the local pubs.
This is the Fox & Anchor in Charterhouse Street …
I’m indebted to the HiddenLondon websitefor the following background information.
The pub’s present, four-storey incarnation was built in 1897–9. The architect was Lambeth-born Latham A Withall, who trained and practised in Australia before returning to Britain in the late 1880s. The Art Nouveau tiling and grotesques that grace the pub’s facade were the work of William J Neatby, who at that time was head of the architectural department at Doulton and Company of Lambeth, where all the ceramics were produced …
The street across the road has an odd name …
There is, of course, a blogger who writes about street names and they have established that it’s named after a pub that was demolished to make way for the market. They have consulted the Dictionary of Pub Names, which reckons that a landlord of the tavern was called Fox. Furthermore, his wife made headdresses that incorporated the fashionable ‘topknot’ of the time. Therefore, Fox and Knot. Here’s a link to the Street Names blogger.
The Smithfield Tavern has been renamed but has retained its rather attractive old pub sign …
A nod to the market … golden bulls’ heads …
This plaque intrigued me …
But I couldn’t find out any more about J. H. Schrader.
The Old Red Cow has an impressive exterior even on a miserable dull day …
It boasts of its connection to two very famous characters of the mid-20th century world of entertainment – Lord Bernard Miles and Sir Peter Ustinov …
In a walking guide to City pubs published in 1973 the authors Richards and Curl wrote : ‘The origin of this pub name is simplicity itself … As old red cows are a rare sight in this country, it follows that their milk (beer) is of great value.’
The Sutton Arms is another fine Victorian building …
The Rising Sun lives just across the road from the magnificent St Bartholomew the Great church …
You can also see its conveniently close location relative to the market at the end of the alley …
This is The Hope in Cowcross Street …
It is still recognisable from the description back in 1973 – ‘an unusual front, with bow window and large fanlight over a granite plinth’ …
And Richards and Curl also celebrated the ‘encaustic tiles in the corridor and entrance’ …
The entrance to the Sutton Arms has similar decoration …
Two other pubs of interest are The Bishop’s Finger and the Hand & Shears – you can read about them in an earlier Smithfield blog of mine from January last year.
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