St. Paul's, Southwark, and The Author

Okay, so some of you are curious about what Dianna and I are seeing now. I'll just gloss over a few highlights. Yesterday, we spent half a day in St. Paul's Cathedral. The towering work of Christopher Wren, this is a 17th-century church built on the foundation of a 12th-century structure that went up in flames in the Great Fire of London (1666). A great mathematician, Wren had been given the job of renovating the old building that was practically falling down, built scaffolding all around the church that he said should probably be knocked down, and low and behold, the whole thing is consumed in fire presenting Wren with a blank slate. Personally, I think that Wren started the fire himself, but then, I've been reading a lot of Dan Brown. Its cavernous interior is gleaming white stone--gleaming because the whole thing has been cleaned in the past three years, having been covered by a layer of grey-brown London grime over the past three hundred years.

Since that other church--the Abbey over by Parliament--has been filling up with famous dead people since the 1200s, St. Paul's has become home to artists, composers, and statesmen since it opened. The crypt holds Admiral Lord Nelson, the Duke of Wellington, poet John Donne, Holman Hunt (the Pre-Paphaelite painter), and Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert & Sullivan fame!) to name a few. What you really need to know is that Dianna and I climbed to the very top of the cathedral following the tour. Yes, past the "whispering gallery" that looks down on the nave, beyond the dome porch, she kept going up until we stood at the tower overlook. She was stunning with the wind tossing her hair. London was nice, too.

Today, we crossed the Thames River to Southwark. We visited the catherdal that has been much rebuilt since a Christian church was first founded there in 606AD. There are several nice sculptures including a 12th-century, wooden crypt carving of a Crusader knight. It holds the burial crypt of Lancelot Andrewes, bishop and scholar whose claim to fame is that he worked on the 1611 translation of the Bible that became know as the "King James Bible." Additionally, the church is the home parish of one of London's most famous suburbs. John Gower attended, died, and was buried there. Gower wrote "Coffessio Amantis" and other Latin works in the mid-14th century that proved early English writers were capable of high art. Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Dickens were also known to have attended services there; in fact, Shakespeare's brother, Edmond, and friend and fellow playwright, John Fletcher, are buried in the transept.

Having visited the hub of the neighborhood's culture, Dianna and I wandered the streets of Southwark. We passed the one remaining wall of the prison where Dicken's father was held as a debtor and saw the street where Dickens' lodgings once stood. A park wedged between streets is called "Little Dorrit" after the Dickensian character. We walked down Tabard Street to near the spot where the Tabard Inn stood until a 16th-century fire. The Tabard is the location where Chaucer's 29 pilgrims are supposed to have gathered for their trip to Canterbury to see the grave of Thomas Becket. In fact, Tabard Street is crossed by Pilrgrim Street and Becket Alley. That's the way of walking in London--a little history around every corner.

P.S. To Kathy N.--I forgot to mention in my last blog that the Norwich Cathedral has just opened a stone labyrinth that they laid in the southeast yard of the church. Monthly walks have been very popular, and I had to think of you as I took a turn around the stones.

P.S. to Bonita--thanks for the quote from your comment. I had never read the passage, but I found it accurate to the word to the sights and feelings of my walk to and from Holy Island. Don't mean to be too sentimental, but it literally brought a tear to my eye.