SAMUEL JOHNSON'S HOUSE, ST. PAUL'S Pubblico Deposited

WAYNE'S LONDON DIARY 11 AUGUST, 2007

Contenuto dell'articolo
  • The E-Sylum: Volume 10, Number 32, August 12, 2007, Article 18

    WAYNE'S LONDON DIARY 11 AUGUST, 2007: SAMUEL JOHNSON'S HOUSE, ST. PAUL'S

    My work week got busier and busier and I stayed later at the office
    each night. On Thursday I didn't leave until nearly 11pm. On the tube
    home the driver announced, "we're stopping at this station for a few
    minutes so we can clean up some vomit on the first car." That was
    just what I needed to hear as I attempted to digest a few pieces of
    late-evening pepperoni pizza from the office. The driver came on
    the loudspeaker a couple minutes later and said, "Really, it's only
    vomit, there's no need to look down the car." I wasn't among those
    looking - all I wanted was to get back to my hotel.

    At 6am my alarm rang and by seven I was standing outside on my suit
    and tie. Three of us hopped into a car driven by our client. We
    circled around some local street closures, then alongside Hyde Park
    to Marble Arch. The large archway was built as an entrance to
    Buckingham Palace, but it was later moved and reassembled at the
    southwestern corner of Hyde Park. Here we turned onto Edgeware
    Road heading north out of London. This is the beginning of what
    is now the A5 expressway, following a route originally paved by
    the Romans.

    We arrived in Leavesden well before our 9am meeting. The building
    had a café in the lobby, and our client offered to buy us breakfast.
    I'm not a ham and eggs person on a good day and would have been happy
    with some toast or cereal. But the café was mainly offering hot
    wrapped sausage sandwiches, basically sausage hot dogs. Everyone
    bought one. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought. So I
    ate a sausage hot dog for breakfast.

    Our meetings went well, thanks in part to our preparation work the
    night before. But a lack of sleep was catching up on me. I had to
    concentrate to not doze off as others droned on. But that wasn't
    my biggest problem - that would be the silent sausage farts. My
    biggest fear was that I'd fall asleep and my colleagues would wheel
    me out of the room so I would stink up the hallway instead. But
    the storm passed and a supply of caffeinated cola kept me awake.

    About 5 o'clock our client dropped us at a train station and we
    took the tube back into London. We worked until 6:30 or so, then
    walked toward the Lowlander Pub in Covent Garden, where we'd been
    a few Fridays before. My co-worker, who's usually very good with
    London directions, ended up detouring us a good bit out of our way,
    but it gave me a chance to see Covent Garden Market again. The
    place was alive with hoards of people. An acrobat entertained by
    juggling while riding a unicycle on a rope suspended between two
    columns. Tourists were having their photo taken with a man dressed
    as a statue of a Roman soldier. A sign chiseled in a nearby wall
    noted that Samuel Pepys watched his first Punch puppet show near
    the site in May 1662. Over three centuries later, the place was
    still a magnet for street entertainers.

    We finally got to the pub around seven. Our client joined us later,
    along with his wife. We had some nice conversation, but I was fading
    fast - exhaustion was setting in. I couldn't bear to eat and drink
    like the locals - screw the Romans, screw Wild Boar Sausages, and
    screw the beer, too. I ordered a bottle of water and a hamburger.
    I left around 9:30 and could barely keep my eyes open. But I made
    it home, looking forward to a good night's rest.

    I guess I got my rest - I didn't set the alarm and didn't crawl out
    of bed until after 10am. The forecast was for a sunny day with a high
    of 79 degrees Fahrenheit. That would make it warmest day I've seen my
    whole stay in London. Earlier this week it had hit 102 degrees back
    home in Virginia. Here in London the high was only 70; going to work
    in the morning I saw people wearing jackets. I gladly put on shorts
    and a T-shirt, looking the part of a proper American tourist.

    I left my hotel around noon. As I walked to the main street, I
    could already tell it was going to be a perfect day, one where the
    skies are clear, the air is warm, and all the women are beautiful.
    Alongside Prince Alfred pub, a florist displayed colorful cut flowers
    for sale. I wanted to buy my wife a bouquet, but she and my kids
    were thousands of miles away.

    Wishing to try something different for lunch, I walked into Halal, a
    local eatery run by a Muslim. I hadn't been in before, but was impressed
    with the cleanliness and brightness of the place. I ordered a chicken
    curry dish, and it was very good. As I paid my bill I noticed some Euro
    coins in the tip plate. I asked the manager about the exchange rate,
    and then offered to pay in pounds for the coins. He agreed, and I took
    the coins - two fifty cent coins of country different designs, and a
    twenty cent and ten cent coin.

    I walked into my regular Queensway tube station. As I turned the
    corner onto the platform, a train was just arriving. See - I just
    knew it would be a perfect day. I hopped on and exited at the Holborn
    station. One woman walking near me had a little dog walking ahead of
    her on a leash. A woman up ahead of me was wearing a pair of jeans
    cut a little bit too low around the waist, revealing an inch or so of,
    shall we say, "cleavage". She must have felt a breeze (or my eyeballs)
    and gave her pants a tug upward.

    On the way to my destination was Sir John Soane's museum. This time
    there was no wait to enter and I went in for some unfinished business.
    I made a beeline for the Napoleonic medal set on the second floor.
    The sunlight beaming through the window made it easy to see the medals
    this time. I confirmed Tuesday evening's impression - the medals were
    generally in superb shape, although some could benefit from some
    conservation work.

    Two small holes in the trays were unfilled, causing me to wonder if they
    had ever been filled. Two round patches of background material less faded
    by sunlight than the surrounding areas made me suspect two larger medals
    had either been lost or (hopefully) taken by the curators for study or
    conservation. One of them had suspended via a hole or bezel - a small
    nail remained behind. My favorite medal? There on many, particularly
    those with very high relief. They had allegorical motifs, nudes, Gods,
    warriors and of course, Napoleon.

    In the daylight I could read the spines of many of the books I saw.
    Remember, Soane was an architect and he used his collections and
    library partly for the education of himself and his pupils. Some of
    the books were tour guides and town histories, undoubtedly acquired
    for information on old buildings. Some titles included "Walks Through
    Bath", "Beauties of England and Wales", "Oxford Guides", "Winchester &
    Cambridge", "History of Exeter" and a four-volume set of "Hughson's
    London".

    Before leaving I took a quick walk around, and it was a better
    experience now that the rooms were better lit. Light poured through
    the windows and skylight domes. Outside in the court I could see
    Soane's tall monument to the family dog, inscribed "Alas / Poor Fanny".

    The Picture Room revealed its secrets. I had wondered why it contained
    so few paintings. It didn't. Today I could see that the walls open up
    on hinges, an ingenious space-saving design revealing many more paintings
    and prints behind on hinged panels. Many are paintings and drawings
    of Soane's architectural designs. On a shelf is a scale model of
    Soane's South Front of the Bank of England.

    Once outside I decided to walk through Lincoln's Inn Fields, a city
    park across the street. It is the largest public square in London
    and is thought to have been one of the inspirations for New York's
    Central Park. The trees are a wonder - with trunks measuring several
    feet across, they must be centuries old. The oldest building facing
    Lincoln's Inn Fields is Lindsey House, built in 1640. At nearby
    Powis House, the charter of the Bank of England was sealed in July
    1694.

    As I continued my walk I heard the beep-beep-beep of a construction
    vehicle backing up. It was a flatbed truck (pardon me, "lorry")
    carrying wooden timbers, perhaps for scaffolding. Construction
    cranes towered nearby. I imagined John Soane's excitement if he
    could be with me today - he'd probably run over to the site
    foreman's office, imploring to be shown the plans.

    I passed the Courts of Justice and Law Society on Chancery Lane.
    A plaque on one building noted what had been lost to earlier
    construction: "Site of Old Serjeant's Inn 1415-1910".

    My destination was the home of Samuel Johnson, author of the first
    major dictionary of the English language. An elderly couple from
    Chicago that I'd met at the Benjamin Franklin house recommended it,
    but noted that it was difficult to find in narrow lanes off Fleet
    Street. So onto Fleet Street I turned. A double-decker tour bus
    passed by. Across the street was a tall, narrow building housing
    Ye Olde Cock Tavern.

    Following my map I came to Pemberton Row. There was a construction
    fence and another tall crane. But the fence held clues that I was
    drawing near. Painted on the fence were definitions of interesting
    English words, including: "Equinumerant - Having the same number",
    "Discalceation - The act of pulling off the shoes", "Circumferaneous
    - Wandering from house to house ' 'A circumferaneous fiddler, one
    that plays at doors.'"

    Around a corner I walked onto Gough Street and spotted my goal, but
    my heart sank as a read the sign on the locked gate: "Dr. Johnson's
    house will be closed today..." But I was relieved to read the rest:
    "... between 1-2 pm". I was even more relieved as I checked the time
    on my mobile phone: 1:57pm. The admission was 4.50 GBP. I pulled
    out a fiver and waited. I was soon joined by five other people.

    A pretty blond woman walked out of the house and clapped with
    excitement - "Ooh, a crowd!" She unlocked the gate and let us in.
    I paid my admission and was given a 50 pence coin in return. I looked
    at it disappointedly. "You should be giving out Johnson coins in change,"
    I said. In 2005 the Royal Mint issued a circulating commemorative 50p
    coin in honor of the 250th anniversary of the 1755 publication of
    Johnson's Dictionary. Finding one of the coins in change had partly
    inspired my visit.

    The clerk explained that they'd tried to get a supply of the coins,
    but it had taken months to get their order filled by their bank.
    They had none in the till, but did offer some uncirculated ones for
    sale in Royal Mint packaging. The gift shop also sold books on
    Johnson, including, of course, James Boswell's classic, "The Life
    of Samuel Johnson."

    In the front hallway, the original front door was secured with two
    large deadbolts and an even larger iron chain. Partway up the stairs
    was a small built-in closet that once stored candles, handy when
    going upstairs after dark.

    At the top of the stair was a nook with chairs and a video player.
    I pushed in a tape and watched a 20-minute video with costumed actors
    portraying Johnson and Boswell touring the house and discussing
    Johnson's life. He had been born into a poor family in 1728. He
    entered Oxford University but was too poor to complete his studies.
    He later found work as a teacher and founded a private academy. He
    only had three pupils, but one was David Garrick, who became Johnson's
    friend and later went on to fame and fortune as an actor. By 1737
    Johnson was penniless and he and Garrick set out together to make
    their fortunes in London. There he found employment writing for
    The Gentleman's Magazine. For the next thirty years, Johnson wrote
    biographies, poetry, essays, pamphlets and parliamentary reports.

    In 1745 he signed a contract with a publisher to write his dictionary,
    worth the equivalent of over $300,000 today. He thought the project
    would take three years; it took a decade. He moved to the Gough street
    house to work on the project and be close to his printer. Johnson
    scoured his extensive library for references, underlining words and
    sentences for inclusion in his dictionary. He had a team of six
    clerks working for him in the attic of the house. They transcribed
    the excerpts onto cards and organized them for him. Johnson would
    study the cards and write his definitions. Eventually the cards
    were assembled and prepared for the printer to typeset.

    I climbed to the attic workroom. While Johnson's dictionary was not
    the first dictionary of the English language, it was by all accounts
    the best to date and came along at a fortuitous time - the declining
    cost of printing and the corresponding rise in literacy demanded
    clearer standards in meaning spelling, and grammar. The workroom
    was dim, but large enough to accommodate the clerks and their work.
    It held no furniture or artifacts relating to his dictionary. If
    there was copy of his original dictionary anywhere in the house, I
    did not see it.

    So what's the numismatic connection? Well, we at The E-Sylum love
    words, although it's been a while since we've defined an unusual
    numismatic term. That's all that led me here. But there were
    some interesting numismatic items here besides the 2005 commemorative.

    In the attic room through 18 September is "Behind the Scenes", an
    exhibit on Georgian Theatres 1737-1784. In one case was a
    Shakespearian Jubilee Medallion, a silver medal struck in 1769
    to "commemorate the Jubilee organized by David Garrick in Stratford-
    Upon-Avon to celebrate the bicentenary of Shakespeare's birth. The
    medal was displayed with its original hanger, ribbon and box.

    In another case was a group of 1778 Haymarket entry tokens. These
    were used as admission tickets to the Haymarket Theatre. The four
    apparently polished tokens were encased in Lucite. Their
    inscriptions included the words "Box", "Pit", "First Gall'y" and
    "Second Gall'y". The exhibit text explained that Boxes were for
    people "of quality". The Pit was for "ladies, gentleman and
    intellectuals." The First Gallery was for "tradesmen and their
    wives" and the Second Gallery was for "the mob." [Quick quiz:
    name a U.S. numismatic item relating to a theatre. -Editor]

    Finally, a third case contained another unusual numismatic item:
    "John Philip Kemble's 'George'", a crude-looking medal of "silver
    or nickel alloy c1781-1817." The text explained that "A George
    Medal was "... traditionally worn onstage by actors in the role
    of Richard III; it depicts George slaying the dragon'.

    It was nearly 3pm. I made my way out of the Johnson house and
    found a new passage back to Fleet Street. The dome of St. Paul's
    Cathedral loomed in the distance. I was thirsty, but passed up
    the first shops I encountered - A McDonald's and a Starbuck's.
    Not enough of the local color for this numismatourist.

    But I soon came across Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese restaurant. A
    sign noted that it was rebuilt in 1667 (after the London fire
    of 1666) and was "a known haunt of Samuel Johnson, Charles Dickens
    and countless others." To the right of the entrance was a sign:
    "Under 15 Sovereigns ... Rebuilt in the reign of Charles II and
    continued successively in the reigns of ..." The sign listed
    all monarchs from James II (1685-1688) through Elizabeth II (1952-).

    The most telling sign of the restaurant's longevity was the stone
    stoop in front of the door - it was worn down several inches by
    centuries of patrons' shoes. A grate above it allows today's
    visitors to enter without tripping. But I didn't need a restaurant,
    just a drink.

    This being Saturday in the City of London, a booming business
    district during the week, many shops were closed. Local chains
    Pret A Manger, E.A.T. and William H. Smith were closed for the
    weekend. I found an open convenience store and bought a cold Coke
    Zero.

    I walked down the street and entered St. Paul's Cathedral. After
    waiting in line with other tourists I bought my ticket and was told
    "if you want to climb the dome, you'd better start now - there's
    not much time left." So I found the first of the 400+ steps and
    began my ascent, but not before marveling at the absolute beauty
    and splendor of the magnificent structure.

    "Stairway to Heaven" I heard someone quip. The first landing is the
    Whispering Gallery, a shelf of seating surrounding the lower part
    of the main dome. A choir began to practice and the sound and view
    were heavenly. Entering another door, I climbed the second set of
    stairs to a higher landing. It's as if Christopher Wren designed
    the stairs with tourists in mind; the various landings allow you
    to catch your breath before resuming the ascent. There are also
    benches at various points along the stairs.

    The final journey is on a narrow winding iron grill stair. If you
    look down, you'll see the faces of others below looking up at you.
    The line of people backs up here, as people linger at the very top
    before coming back down a separate stair. At one point in the final
    climb, you have to squeeze through a narrow stone doorway. The trek
    is not for the obese, acrophobic, claustrophobic, or discreet women
    in skirts.

    A one point there is a glass window in the floor at the very center
    of the dome. You can look down from an angel's perch to the floor
    of the Cathedral below, where people look like ants. Near the pinnacle
    of the dome you step outside onto a walkway to a magnificent view of
    London. The Thames sparkles below. Downstream is the Tower Bridge
    and Tower of London. Upstream are the Houses of Parliament, the
    Millennium Bridge and the London Eye, the huge Ferris Wheel also
    built to celebrate the millennium. I took some photos, like everyone
    else. What would the architects Wren and Soane think to view their
    city from this vantage point today?

    The climb down was quick and uneventful. I entered the American Chapel
    at the East End of the Cathedral. A sign read "This area, originally
    containing the high altar, had suffered major bomb damage in October
    1940." Later, downstairs in the crypt, was a placard stating "following
    the bombing raid of 29 December 1940, when St. Paul's was seen rising
    above the smoke and flame all around, Winston Churchill telephoned
    the Guildhall to insist that that Cathedral must be saved at all costs.
    St. Paul's was a symbol of the nation's defiance in the dark days of WWII."

    After the war, restoration work began on the Cathedral. The replacement
    of the high altar area "revived an unfulfilled plan of Sir Christopher
    Wren and provided a space for a chapel of great beauty and significance."
    The American Chapel was dedicated in November 1958. The sign
    reproduced Winston Churchill's letter about the Chapel:

    "Our two countries, parted long ago by war, were brought together
    again by war in a unity and understanding such as we had never known.
    Through long years of endeavour and endurance we shared all things,
    and though we lost so much we found a lasting friendship. We shall
    not forget those gallant American soldiers, sailors and airmen who
    fought with us..."

    Churchill's was the only non-royal state funeral held in St. Paul's,
    on 30 January, 1965. The others were Nelson and Wellington, who have
    huge monuments in the basement crypt. I lingered a bit, then went
    outside to continue my journey. I followed my map toward The Tower of
    London, passing the Bank of England on Threadneedle Street. By the
    time I arrived at the Tower it was 5:30 and too late to enter. I
    walked around the outside of the old structure, and viewed some
    remaining parts of the old Roman wall that once encircled the City.
    I hopped on the tube and headed home for dinner.

    Back at the hotel Saturday evening I did my laundry and worked on The
    E-Sylum in my room. Twice I returned to the laundry room to find that
    one of the other guests had mucked with my dryer - after an hour and
    a half my clothes were still wet. I stalked back to my room and brought
    my laptop down to the laundry room, where I worked on the E-Sylum with
    the computer atop a dryer. Next one to touch my clothes will find
    themselves stuffed into a washing machine with the agitator in an
    awkward place. So my Saturday evening wasn't as glamorous as the ANA
    awards banquet in Milwaukee. But it was a fun day of numismatic
    adventure.

    For more information on the Marble Arch, see:
    wikipedia.org/wiki/Marble_Arch

    For more information on Covent Garden and Punch and Judy, see
    Full Story

    For more information on Lincoln's Inn Fields, see:
    wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln's_Inn_Fields

    For am image of the Samuel Johnson commemorative 50 pence coin, See:
    wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:50PENCE05.jpg

    For more information on Samuel Johnson, see:
    en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Johnson

    For more information on the Royal Haymarket Theatre, see
    theatrehistory.com/british/haymarket001.html

URL di origine Data di pubblicazione
  • 2007-08-12
Volume
  • 10

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Autore NNP