In the 1630’s, the King’s Surveyor of Works was Inigo Jones, and he was commissioned by Francis Russell, 4th Earl of Bedford, to build London’s first planned residential square on the site of what was once the ‘convent garden’ of the Abbey of St Paul’s. Jones, a follower of the neo-Classical architect Palladio, modelled the new ‘Covent Garden’ piazza on Livorno in Italy. During the Restoration years, the piazza became the most fashionable place to live in London, before the coming of the fruit and vegetable market. The Theatre Royal, around the corner in Drury Lane, was constructed and the area became a magnet for performers just as Shoreditch and Southwark had done in late Elizabethan times.
Russell knew that if he were to attract the great and the good to his flash new piazza, he would have to erect a church for them; however, he was mindful of the cost, and warned Jones: ‘I would not have it much better than a barn.’
‘Well then,’ the architect responded, ‘You shall have the handsomest barn in England!’
Built between 1631-33 yet not consecrated until 1638, the church was a simple oblong, towerless, with an overhanging roof and tall arched windows. At the east end, overlooking the piazza, Jones designed an outstanding Tuscan portico with two square and two round columns. He intended this to be the main entrance so, to allow for this, he attempted the unorthodox approach of placing the altar at the east end of the church. This arrangement, however, was disallowed by the Archbishop William Laud, so Jones moved the altar to the east end but kept his Tuscan facade as a false entrance. The proper entrance is now at the west end of the church. Both founder and architect are remembered in local street names: the address of the church is Bedford Street, and it’s western approach is Inigo Place, apparently once the site of an Eleanor Cross.
The second great rise of the theatre, in Restoration years, saw the area at its zenith and St Paul’s took over from St Leonard’s Shoreditch as the ‘Actor’s Church’. Samuel Pepys was a regular visitor and his Diary records his ecstasy at visiting the dressing room of the Theatre Royal and meeting Nell Gwynne face to face. He also records watching, in the shelter of St Paul’s Tuscan portico, the first ever Punch and Judy show. This is another of those touching examples of historical continuity; any visitor to this vibrant part of London today can still see the street performers strutting their stuff under Inigo Jones’s impressive construction. [It is worthy of note that Pepys, an ardent theatregoer, was not much of a critic. Twelfth Night? ‘One of the weakest plays that ever I saw on stage.’ Romeo & Juliet? ‘The play of itself the worst that ever I heard in my life.’ On the other hand, he was quite fond of Hamlet!]
I approached St Paul’s from the west, through a churchyard landscaped with rose bushes, and stopped to admire the red-brick facade, so utterly different from the grey, towering portico on the east, yet somehow a lot more welcoming. The church interior is now different from Inigo’s original design, thanks to careless workmen causing a serious fire in 1795. Although it was redesigned close to the original, this was changed in 1870 by William Butterfield, who removed the galleries on the north and south and raised the east end to make the altar more prominent.
The most striking feature of St Paul’s interior is the wood panelling, the most important of which is a 17th century carving by Grinling Gibbons on the west screen, an image – and monument to – Inigo Jones. The rest of the panelling is adorned with memorials to actors who, although not buried here, had their memorial services held here. Not for nothing is this the Actor’s Church. Charlie Chaplin, Hattie Jacques, Vivien Leigh, many others. On the south wall can be seen an urn. This holds the ashes of Ellen Terry, whose home at Smallhythe Place was recently the site of a Cantiaci visit. St Paul’s was one of many churches I visited on this day, and it was the one where I performed my good deed for the day. An elderly gentleman was tuning the piano, and lacked the strength to replace the piano lid. Yours truly flexed his feeble muscles, and managed to perform the task without crushing any fingers.
Although their tombs are long gone, swept away by Victorian zeal, the bones of many known figures rest in the churchyard and the crypt:
*Claude Duvall, the original gentleman highwayman, 1670.
*Sir Peter Lely, Court painter, 1680.
*Samuel Butler, author of the burlesque satire ‘Hudibras’.
*Edward ‘Ned’ Kynaston, actor who was the main character in the recently released comedy film ‘Stage Beauty’, 1706.
*William Wycherley, poet and dramatist, 1716.
*Grinling Gibbons, Wren’s master woodcarver whose astonishing work can be found in many churches, including this one, 1721.
*Dr Thomas Arne, whose home is marked by a blue plaque just around the corner, 1778. He gave us the patriotic words that everyone knows: ‘Rule Brittania, Brittania rule the waves. Britons never never never shall be slaves!’
So if ever you visit Covent Garden, as I often do, and buy a hot potato from one of the local outlets before sitting in St Pauls Churchyard to eat ( while being bothered by hopeful pigeons), listen to the distant noises of the street performers on the other side of the building, the rhetoric of the actors, the laughter of the assembled crowd, and recall that these ragamuffins under Inigo Jones’s great portico are continuing a tradition that began a third of a millenium ago!
Author Mark McManus
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