Sunday, March 10, 2013

GOOD EGGS



I declare from the start that I am inordinately fond of eggs, boiled, poached, fried, scrambled or folded into wonderful omelettes, believing them to be the most nutritious and delicious of foods; I consume them with gleeful enthusiasm. Yet in my curious household, I am in a minority of one. My dear wife claims she cannot abide the smell of boiling eggs; two of my charming sons hardly ever touch them in any form while a third falls into a theatrical faint at the very mention of these splendid comestibles. So if I eat an egg at home I have to do so surreptitiously, as if I were indulging in some solitary vice. I might understand if we were talking about drinking camel’s milk, devouring haggis or chewing barbecued platypus, but eating an innocent egg?  Oh, Gordon Bennett! Do me a favour!

Boiled eggs and toasted soldiers
Fried eggs and bacon


                               


 Allow me a brief paean of praise on eggs. What is more tempting than two soft 2-minute boiled eggs (OK, three would be even better) with toasted soldiers dipped in their yolky goodness: or fried eggs, sunny side up, surrounded by crispy bacon, mushrooms, sausage and for special occasions, black pudding? Need I expatiate upon the wonders of scrambled eggs – my talented mother made them light and buttery: or delicate poached eggs, when the stomach craves something undemanding? The restaurant world (the New York Waldorf-Astoria no less) invented Eggs Benedict at the turn of the last century combining poached eggs, bacon, muffins and hollandaise sauce: there are a hundred variations on this delightful dish. Omelettes are of French origin and there are cooked to sans rival perfection: Spanish vegetable omelettes are terrific too and one of my favourites is Omelette Arnold Bennett featuring Finnan haddock, the invention of London’s Savoy Hotel Grill and named after its novelist instigator. What delicious foods!

When I was a young man, the Egg Marketing Board urged us to “Go to Work on an Egg” – excellent advice in my view, encouraging us to set ourselves up with at least one egg a day and a generation did just that. Yet eggs have been under sustained bombardment for some years. We are told by the usual “experts” that eggs are heavy in damaging cholesterol, clogging up our arteries and shortening our otherwise happy lives. In fact the amount of cholesterol ingested via eggs is infinitesimal.  The unmissed Tory Mata Hari, Edwina Currie, informed us, when a Health Minister in 1988, that all UK eggs are contaminated with the harmful bug salmonella. This was a travesty of the truth and she soon resigned, but the damage had been done. Eggs do harbour salmonella but this element disappears if the eggs are cooked. Only the benighted or the heavily hung-over eat raw eggs, a tiny minority. Concern about poultry animal rights in battery hen-coops is probably well founded but the change to free-range production is quickly solving that issue and egg consumption is not affected. In short, forget about health scares, eggs are as safe as houses.

Egg consumption globally is increasing every year. The largest per capita consumption in the world is in Mexico but much the largest overall consumer is China, with Japan in second spot. The Chinese do not yet sit down to a plate of ham and eggs, but they are huge consumers of pasta and noodles, both of which require eggs. A busy laying hen will produce 300 eggs per year and there are millions of them. The US is a very large egg producer and consumer too but its rather over-zealous health concerns make it wash and disinfect eggs before sale, not much helping the taste. Countries have distinctive egg colour preferences – Europe liking brown eggs while Brazil will only eat white ones.

Easter is not too far away and eating large quantities of hard-boiled eggs is one of its many pleasures. This year I will be in London for the Western Easter on 31 March and in Athens for the Orthodox Easter on 5 May, so I will have double egg rations – yummy! In Greece Easter eggs are always dyed red and you crack them with a partner for good luck. Years ago King Constantine, as Commander in Chief, always held an Easter Sunday parade and, instead of presenting arms, his soldiers presented eggs which His Majesty genially cracked. As a child I rolled boiled eggs down a hill at Easter and imagine this carefree custom lingers on in Britain.

Red hard-boiled Easter eggs
As an egg aficionado, I wholly approve of the expression “A Good Egg” to describe someone thoroughly reliable and pleasant. It is not used for the dynamic or the ultra-successful but for solid pillars of the community. It is an epithet to which I happily aspire.


SMD
10.03.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013

Saturday, March 9, 2013

THE CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES (4): Monument to Leadenhall Street




[This is the fourth of 10 articles briefly describing the 39 functioning historic Anglican churches in the City of London]

Old London Bridge forded a much wider Thames than we now see. In Victorian times; embankments were raised and a new bridge was erected to the detriment of St Magnus the Martyr, whose tower acted as a portico to the church and stood over the footway of the old bridge. But the fine white Portland stone church, by Wren 1687, stands proudly with its splendid tower while its interior is one of the finest in the City. T.S Eliot’s lines still evoke its grandeur.

St Magnus the Martyr

“Where Fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.”

The Fishmen have gone since Billingsgate market closed but a recent renovation gives us plenty Ionian white and gold.

St Magnus the Martyr interior
                                                 
The medieval, Tudor and Stuart church had a distinguished history. Dedicated to a 12th century Orkney king and martyr, St Magnus was a prominent church, a convenient stopping place for pilgrims to Canterbury and the scene of many religious controversies over the years. Myles Coverdale, the first translator of the complete Bible into English printed in 1535, was Rector 1564-6. Sadly the church was very near to Pudding Lane, the seat of the Great Fire of 1666 and was one of the first churches to be consumed.

The present church is a standard-bearer of the Anglo-Catholic wing of the Anglicans and is much involved with the Fishmongers and Plumbers Livery Companies.

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Not far away in narrow Lovat Lane stands St Mary-at-Hill at one time one of the most attractive City churches. Betjeman rated it very highly and I recall its beautiful woodwork, especially a pulpit and sounding board with a long wooden staircase with a carved balustrade. There were box-pews, communion rails, sword rests and floral wall decorations. Much of the wood-carving was Victorian by the masterly Gibbs Rogers.

Alas, a fire in 1988 seriously damaged the church, closing it for several years. Although the ceiling, plaster and the organ case were repaired, the surviving woodwork and all the furnishings were put in store and have not re-appeared. Inertia and bureaucracy has paralysed restoration and a virtue is made of the empty space left behind, used for rehearsals, meetings or as a lunchtime shelter on a cold day. When I was there recently, primary children were learning about the nearby Monument (311 narrow steps, not for the lame and the halt!). Restore St Mary-at-Hill soon, please!

A spartan St Mary-at-Hill
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A few steps from Lovat Lane over Eastcheap take you to the handsome Wren church of St Margaret Pattens in Portland stone with its 1684 Wren-Gothic spiky lead spire. The name “Pattens” supposedly derives from the wooden clogs (pattens) made nearby or left at the church door by women parishioners on entering the church. St Margaret’s position parallel to busy Eastcheap and surrounded by huge office blocs makes it easily overlooked and undervalued.


St Margaret Pattens interior

It has an airy interior with many clear glass clerestory windows. There is a gallery to the West, with much dark wooden wainscotting and a charming pulpit contrasting with the painted white and gold. The church has a comfortable late 17th and 18th century atmosphere which is most appealing.
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A short walk to Leadenhall Street to the North takes us to the unusual and splendid Caroline church of St Katherine Cree. The church was far enough east to miss the Great Fire and it escaped the Blitz too.
                                        
St Katherine Cree, Leadenhall Street
The original church was built on the medieval site of Christ Church Priory (“Cree” is a corruption of “Christ Church”). It became unsafe and was rebuilt in 1631 with only the Tudor (1508) tower surviving. The church displays the transition between Tudor and Classic styles with classic arcades with Corinthian columns supporting a Gothic clerestory with very characteristic plaster rib vaults.

St Katherine Cree interior

At the East end there is an attractive St Katherine wheel rose window, the glass said to be original.

To the right of the altar is a side chapel devoted to William Laud, dominated by his portrait.  Archbishop William Laud, patron of the church, was shamefully executed in 1645 during the Civil War by the Puritans who execrated his High Church practices. The chapel is supported by the Society of Charles King and Martyr, surely rather a lost cause these days.

In the same side chapel is the elaborate tomb of Nicholas Throckmorton, who died in 1570 after a notable career as Queen Elizabeth’s envoy, perilously trying to keep the peace with the Spanish and Mary, Queen of Scots.

The rich variety and interest of the City Churches is always remarkable.


SMD
9.03.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013








Thursday, March 7, 2013

JOHN SMITH AND HIS CIRCLE: Scots in UK Politics (3)





John Smith is one of the many “might-have-beens” in British politics. Recognised as outstandingly able, he succeeded Neil Kinnock as Leader of the Labour Party in 1992, began a reform programme only to die prematurely in 1994. His Glasgow-oriented circle included his close friend Donald Dewar and his legal guru Derry Irvine, both of whom achieved substantial distinction in their own right.

John Smith 1938-94

John Smith was the son of a headmaster and was brought up in Ardrishaig, a loch-side Highland village to the south of Lochgilphead in Argyll and Bute. He went to Dunoon High School (the alma mater of Lord Mackay and George Robertson) and entered Glasgow University in 1956 to read History then moving on to Law graduating in 1962. He was a keen debater, winning the Observer Mace competition in 1962: student debating saw him befriend Donald Dewar and Derry Irvine. He practiced as a solicitor for a year but soon after joined the Scottish Bar; he eventually became a QC in 1983.

Smith had joined the Labour Party in 1956 and his rise in its ranks was meteoric. A moderate Gaitskellite, he contested two elections in the 1960s and entered Parliament representing North Lanark (later East Monklands) in 1970. Against the Party line he supported the Roy Jenkins group in voting in favour of EEC entry in 1971. Not wanting to be side-lined as a Scottish law officer, he declined the Solicitor-Generalship of Scotland offered by Wilson in 1974 instead becoming a Minister in the Department of Energy.

A more substantive office was as Minister of State in the Privy Council Office under Michael Foot in Callaghan’s government and there he piloted the controversial Devolution bills for Scotland and Wales through Parliament. His performance impressed and in 1978 he joined the cabinet as Secretary of State for Trade until Labour lost office in 1979.

In Opposition Smith took on the Shadow Energy and then Trade portfolios. At Trade he shone when Thatcher’s government in 1986 got tied in knots over helicopter orders at Westland and Smith gave offensively over-confident Leon Brittan a particularly hard time. Smith had a deceptively genial and moderate air but his tongue was scathing, as was that of his colleagues Donald Dewar and Robin Cook. Smith was not a memorable platform orator but his restrained, probing style suited the House of Commons and that was where his triumphs most resounded.

When Labour lost the 1987 election Neil Kinnock promoted Smith to Shadow Chancellor. A year later Smith ominously had a serious heart attack and was incapacitated for 3 months. He gave up rich food, cut down his alcohol, went on a diet losing more than 2 stones. He took to hill-walking in his beloved Highlands and scaled 108 of the 277 Scottish “Munros” (mountains over 3,000 feet).

As Shadow Chancellor he had a major parliamentary success in 1989 twitting his opposite number Nigel Lawson over his disagreements with Mrs Thatcher’s economic adviser Alan Walters. Smith sang a parody of the soap signature tune “Neighbours” to the amusement of the House. Both Lawson and Walters soon resigned.

After Thatcher resigned in 1990, the fortunes of the Tories revived initially under the calming leadership of John Major. Smith may have damaged Labour’s prospects by saying Labour would raise the top rate of income tax to 50%. In the event, the Tory majority of 102 was reduced to a still workable 21 at the 1992 election. Kinnock resigned and John Smith became Leader of the Labour Party and Leader of the Opposition.

Donald Dewar
Derry Irvine



After the ERM debacle, he characterised Major and Lamont as “the Laurel and Hardy of British politics” and he was derisive of Major’s policies later invoking the TV comedy “Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em”. As Party Leader he abolished the trade union bloc vote and committed Labour to the introduction of a Scottish Parliament. Sadly, to the shock of the nation, Smith suddenly died in London of a heart attack in May 1994, at the age of 55. He was buried on the sacred island of Iona, his close friend Donald Dewar being a pall-bearer and the only politician invited. Smith died before his full potential could be realised but his moderate views and rational instincts did much to make Labour electable, Tony Blair reaping where John Smith had sown

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Donald Dewar (1937-2000) devoted the greater part of his career to the concerns of his native Scotland. Born in Glasgow, he was the only child of a distinguished consultant dermatologist. Secondary education at Glasgow Academy was followed by Glasgow University with an MA in History and an LLB in Law by 1962. He was very active in student debating and Labour politics and his close friendship with John Smith dates from this time. He unsuccessfully contested Aberdeen South against long-established Lady Tweedsmuir in 1964 winning the seat in 1966. He duly became PPS to Labour theoretician Anthony Crosland, but their chemistry did not gel.

I slightly knew Dewar at this time, helping his campaigns. He was a conscientious intellectual, a fine speaker and moderate in his views. In private he was an entertaining conversationalist, rather untidy sartorially and happily married to his charming wife Alison. If he had a fault it was that of many eloquent speakers: he found the sharp quip or telling phrase irresistible. I remember him mortally offending his Labour loyalist agent, who had fought in Spain, asking, all innocence “On what side did you fight?”  I recall making a snobbish remark about a Glasgow variety theatre audience and he rightly took me to task – I came under withering fire.

He lost his Aberdeen seat in 1970 and spent 8 years as a solicitor to a children’s panel in Glasgow. This was a difficult time for him as his wife left him in 1970 for Derry Irvine, taking their two children. It took 25 years and pressure from Tony Blair for him to exchange a civil word with cabinet colleague Irvine. He lived a solitary bachelor existence, steeped in his history books, becoming an authority on 18th century Jacobites and on the Disruption, the schism in the Church of Scotland in 1843 leading to the formation of the Free Church. He returned to Westminster at a 1978 by-election winning the Glasgow seat Garscadden (later Anniesland) against the resurgent SNP.

During Labour’s long wilderness years he was shadow Scottish Secretary for 9 years as the Tories lost seats in Scotland to Labour and the SNP. He championed Devolution, realising that Labour would otherwise be out-flanked by the SNP, but was a firm opponent of independence. He fought off hard-Left de-selection challenges.

When Labour lost the general election in 1992, his friend John Smith thought Dewar needed a change and gave him the Shadow Social Security brief and later he became an effective Chief Whip. Yet Scotland was his love and he was delighted to be appointed Scottish Secretary by Tony Blair when Labour swept to power in 1997.

He threw himself into the Scottish devolution legislation and piloted it through Parliament. He was appointed First Minister of Scotland in 1999 and was hugely proud when the Queen opened the first Scottish Parliament since 1707. His term in office was beset by local problem issues and complaints about the expense of the new Parliament building, but Dewar dealt with these matters in his usual competent and transparently honest manner. He had built up a deep residue of public respect.

Hard work took its toll and Dewar had heart problems. Returning to the fray too soon he had a fall followed by a fatal brain haemorrhage in October 2000. He was 63. His funeral at Glasgow Cathedral attended by Prince Charles and the entire cabinet was almost a state occasion. Some had already called him the “Father of the Nation” but Dewar himself scoffed at such hyperbole; in a rare honour his statue was erected in Glasgow’s Buchanan Street.

Donald Dewar's statue in Glasgow

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Derry Irvine (1940- ) is rather more elusive. He is the son of a roofer from Inverness and his mother was a waitress. Like his erstwhile friends John Smith and Donald Dewar, he was a keen debater at Glasgow University where he read Scots Law. He really blossomed when he went to Christ’s College, Cambridge to study English Law winning a starred degree. After lecturing at LSE, he entered the English Bar in Maurice Finer’s chambers and in 1981 set up his own chambers with barristers specialising in employment and commercial law. One of his pupil barristers was Cherie Booth (decidedly a legal star) and later Tony Blair (decidedly not a legal star): the pair were to marry in 1980.

Irvine became a legal adviser to the Labour Party, guiding it through the struggle with hard-Left Militant and changes in its relations with the unions. He became shadow Lord Chancellor, much favoured by John Smith and Tony Blair.

His tenure of the Lord Chancellorship between 1997and 2002 was notable for his introduction of the European Convention on Human Rights, the cause of many subsequent problems, and for freedom of information legislation.

Irvine had become rich from his practice at the Bar and became known for his rather effective rumbustious and haughty manner. He loved to eat and drink well and his wife Alison avidly collected paintings. There was a sharp controversy when Irvine spent £650,000 of public money redecorating the Lord Chancellor’s rooms at Westminster - £59,000 on the Pugin wallpaper alone!

Irvine's notorious Pugin wallpaper

He retired in 2003 and despite a 4-year estrangement, went back to Alison in 2009. He maintained a grand house in Smith Square and a loch-side country house in Argyll. For all his alleged pomposity, Irvine was a powerful influence on the first Blair ministry: he had come a long way from the rowdy debating sessions with Smith and Dewar at Glasgow University.

The office of Lord Chancellor has now been subsumed by the new Justice Secretary and the old conflicts of interest between judicial and political matters resolved. It is ironic that the last three holders of the ancient office in its pomp (the office of Cardinal Wolsey, Thomas More, Thurlow, Eldon, Brougham, Halsbury, Birkenhead et al) should have been Scotsmen - Lord Mackay, Lord Irvine and Lord Falconer.


SMD
7.03.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013
















Tuesday, March 5, 2013

THE CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES (3): Gresham Street and Aldersgate




[This is the third of 10 articles briefly describing the 39 functioning historic Anglican churches in the City of London]

Gresham Street is to the West of Moorgate and it is a pivotal area for banks, huge law practices and the civic dignity of the City. A modern square opens out and you admire the historic Guildhall, ceremonial headquarters of the City and site of grand dinner functions including the annual speeches on the economy by the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer. In one corner of the square stands St Lawrence Jewry, the church of the City Corporation, suitably majestic and stately.

St Lawrence Jewry, opposite Guildhall

St Lawrence Jewry interior

St Lawrence was lavishly restored by Cecil Brown after the destruction of Wren’s 1687 church in the Blitz. It has a worldly air with its white and gold decoration, Corinthian columns, fine plaster work and elaborate sword-rests. A recent Vicar of right-wing views organised lunchtime talks which I attended; Ralph Harris, Mrs Thatcher’s economic guru: Norris McWhirter, tireless libertarian campaigner whose twin brother Ross was murdered by the IRA: Viscount de Lisle VC, high Tory and the last British Governor-General of Australia. All this was much to my taste.

Yet St Lawrence Jewry obviously did religion too. I will never forget the Lenten sermon preached by The Blessed Anthony, leader of the Russian Orthodox in London, looking like Eisenstein’s Ivan the Terrible, and speaking of God’s judgement with matchless eloquence while imbuing his audience with the urgency of repentance. Easter certainly came as a relief that year!
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A short walk from St Lawrence takes you to a curiosity – the site of St Mary Aldermanbury, gutted in the Blitz. As a memorial to Winston Churchill the remaining stones were transported to Fulton, Missouri, where Churchill had given his famous “Iron Curtain” speech and the church was faithfully reconstructed. It looks very fine in its new home. All that remains in London are some foundations and a generous memorial to locals Hemmings and Condell, compilers of Shakespeare’s First Folio.

St Mary Aldermanbury at Fulton, Missouri
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Towards the end of Gresham Street St Anne and St Agnes is prettily set back in a little garden. Red-brick and homely, by Wren 1677, the church remains in Anglican ownership but has for many years been let to the Lutheran congregations in London, with regular services in English, Swahili and Latvian.

St Anne and St Agnes, Gresham Street
                                                       ------------------------------------- 

Strolling up narrow Foster Lane off Gresham Street takes you to the agreeable white Portland stone church of St Vedast Foster Lane. Although the church was redesigned after the Fire by Wren and completed in 1700, its most remarkable aspect is its mathematically imposing steeple by the unmistakable hand of Nicholas Hawksmoor, Wren’s one-time pupil.

St Vedast Foster Lane, Church and Steeple

Internally the church has been well restored by Stephen Dykes-Bower after being gutted in the Blitz. The seating is collegiate, facing each other: there is a flat ceiling with attractive plaster wreaths and flowers. Modern stained glass (by Brian Thomas) is, unusually, critically praised. There are excellent furnishings acquired from other demolished churches.

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Gresham Street ends at St Martin le Grand once home of the first general Post Office. This street becomes Aldersgate Street and we soon see the modestly boxy St Botolph Aldersgate built in 1788 by Nathaniel Wright and internally arranged by Nathaniel Evans. St Botolph was a 7th century East Anglian saint, patron of wayfarers and by extension of town gates. Three extant churches in the City dedicated to St Botolph are connected to old City gates - Aldgate, Bishopsgate and Aldersgate.

The externals of St Botolph are unremarkable although there is a pretty tower and bell-turret. Internally there is a splendid 18th century barrel-vaulted roof, lavishly plastered and decorated: airy galleries: Corinthian columns, gilded and marbled: fine wooden panelling throughout. As an example of the Anglican Church’s genial ecumenism, St Botolph is currently used every Sunday by the Free Church of Scotland.

  
St Botolph Aldersgate interior

St Botolph’s churchyard is now known as Postman’s Park, a welcome stretch of green amid the City’s bustle. It was later extended and in 1900 planned by the Victorian painter GF Watts as a Memorial to Heroic Self-Sacrifice. It was neglected after Watt’s death but there are still a number of plaques commemorating the otherwise unsung heroes who died saving others in house fires, accidents and other catastrophes. One day the saviours of the City from the Economic Crisis may even get a memorial!


SMD
5.03.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013

Sunday, March 3, 2013

THE CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES (2); Bank




[This is the second of 10 articles briefly describing the 39 functioning historic Anglican churches in the City of London]

The area around The Bank of England (always known simply as “Bank”) is a rather untidy hub of disparate buildings; the 1753 Palladian Mansion House by George Dance the Elder for the Lord Mayor, the Victorian Royal Exchange, currently a rather under-used if up-market retail centre, and the Bank itself, once a building of consummate elegance by Sir John Soane from the 1790s, devastated by Sir Herbert Baker’s clumsy rebuilding in the 1920s.

However within a stone’s throw of the Bank are four notable churches which give the area a unique distinction, namely St Mary Woolnoth, St Mary Abchurch, St Stephen Walbrook and St Margaret, Lothbury.

St Mary Woolnoth, completed in 1727, is the masterpiece of Wren’s pupil and equal Nicholas Hawksmoor.

St Mary Woolnoth

It stands with massive solidity, an oasis of peace, despite the first Post Office behind, Bank underground station beneath and floods of bankers, lawyers and office workers all around. Its rusticated front, imposing and original twin towers and delightful blind arcading on the Lombard street side create a memorable exterior. The interior does not disappoint. It is quite small – a Greek cross within a square – with Grinling Gibbons wood-carving, a lavish baroque altar, a sumptuous pulpit with tester and elaborate Corinthian columns. The church is lit by a clear glass lantern; my only regret is that the blue starry ceiling has been replaced by a duller beige. The church exudes Georgian confidence and well-being.

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Nearby in Abchurch Lane, deep in banks, sits St Mary Abchurch, whose painted dome gives a welcome dash of colour to the sober Protestantism of the City – you could almost be in Flanders.

St Mary Abchurch

Founded in the 12th century, it was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666 and rebuilt to designs by Wren and completed by his assistant Robert Hooke. It is built a little back from the narrow alley and has a charming courtyard where lunch-break workers linger. A lead covered spire completes the attractive exterior. Inside, the dome is the most notable feature, modestly painted by William Snow depicting the Virtues: there are now some rare box-pews, but it is really the 17th century woodwork that most attracts – a lovely reredos by Grinling Gibbons and a splendid pulpit.

 A direct hit by a 1940 Blitz bomb blew the altarpiece into 2,000 pieces, but it was carefully restored along with the rest of the fabric by Godfrey Allen. This is a typically understated, uplifting and airy City church.

                                                      -----------------------------

By the side of the Mansion House on Walbrook stands St Stephen Walbrook, generally reckoned to be Wren’s finest church in the City, dating from 1677.

It is certainly architecturally adventurous with a cube of 16 Corinthian columns supporting a large beautifully plastered dome – some say even finer than St Paul’s. David Piper in his unrivalled Companion Guide to London extols its “almost abstract lucidity and elegance, yet also the most subtly sensuous delight”. The vista of the columns create a complex architectural effect and, says Simon Jenkins in his magisterial England’s Thousand Best Churches, this is where the appeal of St Stephen lies. I have to admit that as an unschooled layman I find the church confusing and untidy; I cannot share in the general critical admiration. My dissatisfaction is compounded by the introduction of a large lump of Travertine stone by Henry Moore, supposedly an altar, imposed upon the church by Lord Palumbo, paymaster of the church’s restoration, after an acrimonious court case in 1987. It is ugly and incongruous. I have to acknowledge that my unresponsiveness to St Stephen is most likely a simple, sad, aesthetic blind-spot on my part.

St Stephen Walbrook with its fine dome and controversial Henry Moore altar

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I am more enamoured by the homely merits of my final church St Margaret, Lothbury, by Wren in 1686,  tucked behind the Bank’s back door where heavily escorted gold deliveries used to be made (before Gordon Brown sold most of them).

St Margaret Lothbury interior

Lothbury is a prime banking area, once housing the head office of NatWest, but historically there were many more churches hereabouts. St Margaret has been a beneficiary as it has acquired furnishings from other, now redundant or demolished churches. Most striking is the magnificent wooden screen stretching the whole breadth of the church: a massive eagle with outstretched wings is suspended from the central broken pediment, which is crowned by the coat of arms of William and Mary.

Other fine furnishings include its delicate pulpit, marble font and excellent reredos add to the attractions of St Margaret. I recall years ago attending lunchtime organ recitals here, a welcome haven of civilisation.

Externally St Margaret is of white Portland stone with a distinctive Wren spire and a grand classical portico attributed to Robert Hooke – a comforting sight.

St Margaret Lothbury exterior

SMD
3.03.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013




Saturday, March 2, 2013

THE CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES (1): Cornhill and Lombard Street




[This is the first of 10 articles briefly describing the 39 functioning historic Anglican churches in the City of London]

The City Churches are one of the glories of England and it is a miracle that so many of them have survived given the onslaught of Fire, Blitz, Mammon and Property Developers. Many are really quite modest places, but they have devoted guardians, and are part of that vibrant thread of living history which so animates England.

There were 97 churches before the Fire devastated the City; a handful were unscathed and Sir Christopher Wren and his team designed almost 50 restorations. A few more were built in the 18th century. By Victorian times the population of the City had fallen sharply from its peak of 80,000 and is now about 7,000. The railways brought the suburban commuter and now about 350,000 make the daily journey to work in the City. The Victorians unified benefices reducing the number of parishes; redundant churches were sold or demolished. The Blitz destroyed four completely but severely damaged almost all the rest; extensive rebuilding work continued into the 1960s. The creation of Guild Churches in 1952 (open only on weekdays and usually sponsoring a favoured cause) stopped more churches being declared redundant, although the financial strain on the Church of England is severe.

St Peter’s upon Cornhill occupies the highest point of the City, but that is not saying much. The Romans had their central temple here but the notion that this became an early Christian church is thought fanciful. But the church site is old (probably 7th century). The medieval building was destroyed in the Great Fire and the present church was designed by Wren and rebuilt 1667-87.
St Peter's Cornhill
Like many earlier City churches, St Peter’s is hemmed in by shops but it boasts a cheerful Wren tower. An alley-way (the City here is a place of alleys) takes you round to the main church door and there is a quiet garden where City workers sit out and eat sandwiches. The interior is interesting but public access is limited as the church is currently a satellite of Great St Helens and is used as a training place for new clergy.

A few steps down the road take you to St Michael Cornhill, a favourite for memorial services, where departed City veterans are eulogised and their memory burnished. Its recent Rector, Peter Mullen, a controversial but charming chap, had some mordant comments to make about the hypocrisy of such proceedings.

St Michael is odd architecturally. A Classic Wren interior of 1670 was supplemented by a fine tower of 1724, inexplicably in the Gothic style, by Hawksmoor. The interior was heavily Gothicised in Victorian times by Sir George Gilbert Scott and its gloomy stained glass has mercifully been lightened. A 1775 eye-catchingly large stone pelican, a symbol of plenty, feeds its young by the font. The church is happily conservative - still using the Authorised Version and the Book of Common Prayer.

Richly carved Tympanum at St Michael
Round the corner and just off King William Street stands St Clement, Eastcheap, easily overlooked amid the hurly-burly of banks and no longer in Eastcheap itself. Of ancient foundation, it was rebuilt toWren’s designs in 1687. It has fine woodwork, notably a spectacular pulpit wreathed in cherubs.

The reredos at St Clement, Eastcheap
A  punitive restoration by Tractarian enthusiast William Butterfield (he of brash Keble College, Oxford) in 1872 left a legacy of raised choir, stained glass, reorganised furnishings and polychrome tiled floors. A 1933 restoration by John Betjeman’s admired Sir Ninian Comper moved the furnishings yet again and included the beautifying of the Reredos in a slightly incongruous gold and blue.

Half-way down Lombard Street takes us to St Edmund, King and Martyr, a handsome Portland Stone church with Lombard Street frontage which must be worth millions if property development was on the Church of England’s agenda, which it is not.

St  Edmund King and Martyr
St Edmund, "Centre for Spirituality"





St Edmund was a 9th century Saxon king in East Anglia, duly martyred by the Norsemen; When the Italian Lombards displaced the Jews as the tolerated money-lenders in the 13th century, St Edmund was known for a while as “the bankers’ church”; this early church was destroyed in the Great Fire and Wren’s replacement of 1679 is unusual in that the altar is at the North end rather than the liturgically conventional East end. There is a certain clumsiness about St Edmund, despite its fine tower, which is untypical of Wren – his friend and assistant Robert Hooke organised the interior.

St Edmund was underused for many years after the war and is now “The London Centre for Spirituality” mainly dedicated to a religious bookshop, although it still looks like a church.


SMD
2.03.13

Text copyright © Sidney Donald 2013

Thursday, February 21, 2013

SIR ALEC DOUGLAS-HOME: SCOTS IN UK POLITICS (2)




Sir Alec Douglas-Home had a brief and undistinguished ministry in 1963-4 as Prime Minister of Britain wedged between that of Tory Harold MacMillan and Labour’s Harold Wilson. He did much better in his two periods as Foreign Secretary and his career sheds some light on the tortured history of Unionism in Scotland.

Sir Alec Douglas-Home
Early Political Experience and Inheritance

Alec Douglas-Home (1903-95) was the eldest son of the 13th Earl of Home, a Scottish aristocratic family with estates in and around Coldstream, Berwickshire. Educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, his most obvious talent was skill at cricket. Alec was influenced by the Unionist (Scottish Tory) intellectual Noel Skelton - an early advocate of a “property-owning democracy” - to enter parliament and Alec did so as member for Lanark in the National Government landslide of 1931, known then by his courtesy title Lord Dunglass. He became the modest Parliamentary Private Secretary to Skelton at the Scottish Office, learning the ropes of government, but moved upwards to be PPS to Neville Chamberlain in 1936, then Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Neville Chamberlain retained Dunglass as his PPS when he became Prime Minister in 1937 on Baldwin’s retirement. Dunglass was helpful to Chamberlain, who was a distant and unsociable character, by sedulously promoting his master’s policies and views to back-benchers. He accompanied Chamberlain to his fateful third meeting with Hitler in Munich in 1938, advising him against making grandiose claims: despite this, Chamberlain returned claiming “Peace in our Time” and waving his piece of paper signed by Hitler, all soon to be shown worthless.

Dunglass somehow avoided being tarred as a “man of Munich” as was for example Rab Butler, but always claimed Munich gave Britain a vital extra year to prepare for war. When war broke out Dunglass was soon diagnosed with a tubercular spine and was hospitalised for a lengthy period, reading voraciously and not returning to the Commons until 1943. He spoke from the back-benches on foreign affairs, particularly warning about Soviet ambitions, and sufficiently impressed his party to become briefly an undersecretary at the Foreign Office under Eden in Churchill’s caretaker government of 1945.

Dunglass lost his seat at Lanark when Labour swept into power in the1945 election. He surprisingly regained it in 1950 but his father died in 1951 and Dunglass became the 14th Earl of Home with a seat in the House of Lords. One might have expected his political career to have effectively ended.

The Unionist Party of Scotland

The party which Dunglass, by some measure anachronistic, had represented in Parliament was becoming an anachronism itself although it reached its apogee in the 1955 election holding 36 of the 71 Scottish seats. The Unionists were in origin an alliance of the old minority Scottish Tories and those Liberals who opposed Home Rule for Ireland in 1886. They were enthusiasts for the integrity of the United Kingdom and Ireland and for the growth of the British Empire. The word “Conservative” was always avoided, as it was too English in its connotations while Scotland had a strong Liberal tradition. The Unionists were independent constitutionally but in practice took the Conservative whip at Westminster.

The Unionists were champions of Protestantism, gaining much support from Presbyterian Church of Scotland members and from working-class people fearful of losing their jobs to Irish immigrants. There was a sectarian aspect to Unionism including sympathy for the Orange Order. However by the 1950s and 1960s the Empire was visibly crumbling and religious passions were largely spent. The Unionists steadily lost seats, often to the SNP and Liberals. In 1967 the Unionists were absorbed by the Conservatives but Scotland was not enchanted by Heath, Thatcher or Major and Conservative support nose-dived leaving the party with a feeble single MP.

Leadership of the Unionists came from a very narrow social base, largely anglicised Episcopalian (the church of a small minority), upper class landowners. There was a thicket of toffs with double-barrelled names – Sir Colin Thornton-Kemsley, Sir Alick Buchanan-Smith, Patrick Wolridge-Gordon, Jock Bruce-Gardyne, clever but disreputable Sir Robert Boothby or Lady Tweedsmuir, whose idea of meeting the people of Aberdeen South was touring its housing estates in a slow-moving Rolls-Royce and waving a gloved hand to the plebs from the back seat! Too late, the Conservatives backed ordinary (if confrontational) candidates like Teddy Taylor. All this added to the off-putting toothy and chinless grouse-moor image of the Scottish Tories of which Sir Alec was a prize specimen.

Promotion to Cabinet and Foreign Secretary

Home however did not fade away in the House of Lords. He was appointed a Minister of State in the Scottish Office in 1951 serving under the powerful Unionist grandee James Stuart, a one-time serious suitor for Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, later George VI’s Queen and Mother of the present Queen. When Eden succeeded Churchill in 1955 Home entered the cabinet becoming Commonwealth Secretary and had to keep the organisation together after the sharp disagreements over Eden’s failed Suez invasion. MacMillan kept Home at the Commonwealth Office and when Lord Salisbury resigned in 1958 over the return from exile of Archbishop Makarios of Cyprus, Home added Salisbury’s portfolios to his own becoming Leader of the House of Lords and a central figure in the government. When in 1960, MacMillan wanted to appoint Selwyn Lloyd to the Exchequer, he broke an unwritten rule by appointing Home, a member of the unelected Lords, to the Foreign Secretaryship with Edward Heath deputising for foreign affairs in the Commons. Quite soon after, it became possible, after a campaign by Anthony Wedgwood Benn, for hereditary lords to renounce their peerages.

Home was Foreign Secretary for 3 years during the momentous period of the erection of the Berlin Wall, the Cuban Crisis and the assassination of Kennedy. Britain was not a central player but Home was well-respected by Dean Rusk and by Andrei Gromyko, maintaining a wary view of the Soviets. He clashed sharply with his successor Iain Macleod at the Commonwealth Office whose African decolonisation policies Home thought too rapid.

Prime Minister

MacMillan’s government was struggling through the hilarious but damaging Profumo scandal in 1963 when MacMillan fell ill with prostate problems. Believing the problem to be worse than it was (he lived another 23 years), MacMillan resigned, throwing the Conservatives into a frantic leadership contest. The expected successor was the highly experienced but colourless Rab Butler; the other candidates were the younger Reginald Maudling, then a worthy but dull Chancellor, and rumbustious, self-publicising Lord Hailsham, then Tory Chairman, who electrified the party by announcing the renunciation of his peerage.

There was no election in those days, the Tory Leader “emerging” through some backstairs process of osmosis. To much astonishment the undeclared candidate Home was the choice and he became Prime Minister though two Cabinet ministers, Iain Macleod and Enoch Powell declined to serve under him, Macleod complaining of the “Magic Circle” which had supported Home.

Home had to renounce his earldom – his son David eventually became the 15th Earl – and won a by-election as Sir Alec Douglas-Home to enter the Commons again. In the event his ministry was a stop-gap one. He passed a liberating Act ending Retail Price Maintenance and internally introduced elections for the choice of future Tory leaders. Sir Alec, with his skeletal face and half-moon spectacles was by no means telegenic and his good natured but unwise admission that he needed to move about a box of matches to understand economic problems probably did not impress the voters. An election in October1964 was inevitable and after his 11-month tenure Sir Alec did quite well only to lose the election to Wilson’s Labour by 4 seats. Sir Alec soon enough stepped down as Leader to be succeeded by an elected Edward Heath.

Foreign Secretary again

Sir Alec accepted the Shadow Foreign Secretary portfolio under Heath and took a strong line against UDI in Rhodesia, which became a running sore. He also supported Heath’s pro-EEC policy. To general surprise Heath won the 1970 election and Sir Alec returned to the Foreign Office. The UK duly joined the EEC in 1973: Sir Alec expelled 105 Soviet diplomats after the spying activities of the KGB became too blatant: the Rhodesian rebellion rumbled on without solution: Middle East tensions needed diplomatic effort. Sir Alec ran his ministry competently but when Heath lost the first election of 1974 Sir Alec resigned from parliament accepting a life peerage as Baron Home of the Hirsel (his stately home at Coldstream).

His legacy

Lord Home retired from politics, enjoyed fly-fishing on the Tweed, wrote his unrevealing memoirs and died at the ripe old age of 92 in 1995. It was not easy to dislike him: he was courteous and charming to all. He represented a past governing class which was becoming a curiosity; without his highly privileged birth it is not obvious where his life would have gone. No record remains of any bright idea, memorable phrase, ambitious project or beautiful object created by him. The same is surely true of many Britons, but they did not effortlessly rise to the office of Prime Minister of their nation.

The Hirsel, Sir Alec's ancestral home

 SMD
21.02.13

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2013