Doctors, Dissection and Resurrection Men

The unpredictable weather may not be inspiring you to stroll idly around the city streets at the moment but it's absolutely perfect for planning a day in a museum. The Museum of London should be high on your list anyway but there is a must-see exhibition on right now (until 14th April) with a true and wonderfully gruesome London tale behind it. Ready to immerse yourself in the murky depths of nineteenth-century London? Are you sitting comfortably? Then let's begin . . .

In the summer of 2006, Museum of London archaeologists stumbled across an unmarked burial site at the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel, believed to have been used for patients who had died and whose bodies had been unclaimed. What they found was unexpected and disturbing: many of the graves contained bones from several different bodies, some human and some animal, all showing clear evidence of dissection and anatomical study. Even more disquieting was the fact that the graveyard was used between 1825 and 1841 - despite the fact that before the Anatomy Act of 1832 it was illegal to dissect any cadaver other than that of an executed criminal.

The exhibition sets the background perfectly, with a finely-balanced blend of history and theatre. Medical science was still in its infancy: the accepted treatment for a broken limb was amputation and as there were no anaesthetics any surgery was a brutal experience, with many patients dying of blood loss or shock. Speed was vital: for this, surgeons needed a thorough knowledge of human anatomy, and for this they needed fresh corpses to practise on. The only legal source was hanged murderers from the gallows and competition was fierce.

Grave-robbing became prevalent, with a fresh adult corpse fetching over five times the average weekly wage. Grieving relatives would take shifts watching the graves of the newly-interred, watchmen with dogs patrolled the cemeteries and special iron coffins designed to secure their contents from theft became popular with those who could afford them. As so often, the poor were most at risk; many could not afford burial costs and even for those that could, it was common for several bodies to be in one relatively shallow grave - easy pickings for the so-called 'resurrectionists'. The exhibition has a fascinating diary belonging to a body snatcher, detailing the phases of the moon - careful preparation for planning a raid under cover of darkness.

In an age when many of us carry an organ donor card, it is difficult to appreciate the dread and horror that nineteenth-century Londoners would have felt at the prospect of dissection. At that time dissection was a terrible punishment meted out only to the vilest criminals; mob outcries and riots at public executions had prevented the bodies of those hanged for relatively minor offences being taken, resulting in an official policy of using executed murderers only. In addition, the commonly-held religious belief of eventual resurrection on the Day of Judgement led to a fear of the body not being whole for the afterlife. With donation almost unheard of and the graves becoming harder to rob, some resurrectionists looked to another supply - the living.

In a practice made infamous by Edinburgh's Burke and Hare, London's poor and homeless were now in danger of being 'befriended' before being drugged, murdered and sold for dissection. The case that made headlines, and ultimately led to the passing of the Anatomy Act, was that of London 'Burkers' Thomas Williams, John Bishop and James May - and their victim, the Italian Boy. The corpse's  intended buyer at King's College was alerted by the fact that the body was 'suspiciously warm' and kept Bishop and May talking until police arrived. They were arrested, the house that Bishop and Williams rented in Nova Scotia Gardens was searched, and several items of clothing found in a well. Bishop admitted that he and Williams would offer lodgings to those sleeping rough, drug them with rum and laudanum, then tie a rope around their feet and pitch the unfortunate victim headfirst down the well to drown whilst they went out drinking at a local tavern.

Bishop and Williams were convicted and hanged for murder. In a karmic twist, as executed murderers their bodies were  then sent for dissection - one of the more macabre exhibits is pieces of tattooed skin said to be from their bodies. Another is a plaster cast of murderer James Legg, whose corpse was taken fom the gallows, crucified and then flayed to expose the muscles. A cruel and terrible punishment for some unimaginable crime? No, merely a way for artists and sculptors of the time to settle an argument as to whether depictions of Christ's crucifixions were anatomically accurate or not. Whatever the intended purpose, it is a dramatic sight that will stay with you.

The exhibition ends in a brightly lit, clinical and modern look at where we stand today with medical science and politics and a film where young Londoners discuss how they feel about what happens to their body after death. It's not for the squeamish (or children under 12) but it is a fascinating, thought-provoking and excellently-presented exhibition and I really enjoyed it. Check online for discounts.

Yours, delving into London's dark past just for you,
Girl About Town xx

The V&A Café

The V&A Café looks like any other museum or gallery café at first glance; brightly lit, bustling staff clearing trays, signposted stations for hot or cold food, coffee or cakes - and all heavingly busy. A modern, functional place to take the weight off and fortify yourself with tea and cake before venturing back out into the world's greatest museum of art and design (their words, but does any other venue even come close?). Now take a look at the suite of three interlinked rooms off to the side and it's like stepping back in time; together these rooms make up the world's very first museum restaurant and it is a seriously impressive setting.

The Refreshment Rooms at the Victoria and Albert Museum were intended as a showcase for contemporary design and craftsmanship and are a wonderfully Victorian mix of the ornate and the practical. The main central section is the Gamble Room, designed by James Gamble, Godfrey Sykes and Reuben Townroe. Originally the main doors to this room were directly opposite the museum entrance so this would have been the first room visitors saw; even by Victorian standards this must have seemed imposingly grand. Look more closely; the ceiling is enamelled iron and both the walls and the huge columns are completely covered with ceramic tiles, making this most majestic and opulent of dining rooms completely washable and practically fireproof.

Mottoes espousing the joys of food and drink adorn the beautiful stained glass windows and the frieze is a quotation from Ecclesiastes II:24: 'There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and make his soul enjoy the good of his labour.' Hard to argue with that.

The Morris Room (the Green Dining Room) was the first major commission for William Morris's company Morris Marshall and Faulkner. The dado panels based on signs of the zodiac were painted by Edward Burne-Jones, who also designed the stained glass windows. The influence of William Morris and his pattern-making is most recognisable in the plasterwork leaves and flowers on the walls (although if you are a Morris fan, the rest of the museum has plenty to offer). This room, although beautiful, has a more restrained, quiet feel.

The Poynter room (the Grill Room) designed by Edward Poynter has a homely cosiness to it, with blue Dutch tiles and wooden panelling. The large tiled panels of the months and seasons were actually painted by students from the ladies' tile-painting class at the Schools of Design; this was very much in keeping with V&A Founding Director Henry Cole's  radical idea of involving students and the public in creating this public space. Giving such an important commission to female students would have caused quite a stir in Victorian times.

The beautiful iron stove where a chef in whites would have grilled steaks and chops to order is still in place; the V&A website has sample menus from 1867 - both first and second class - which include options such as jugged hare for 1/6 (i.e. one shilling and sixpence, or 18p) or, from the second class menu, stewed rabbit for 10d (ten pence). That may sound like a bargain until you consider that an unskilled labourer's wage was about a pound a week.
http://www.vam.ac.uk

Nowadays the catering side is handled by Benugo, so expect freshly-prepared basics and great cakes (although as everything is made fresh on the day, quality and availability can inevitably dip if you arrive too near closing time). I hear the cream tea is good, so that's my next visit sorted.

Yours, scratching the surface of London history just for you,

Girl About Town xx

Sunshine? Head to the Serpentine!

If we're lucky enough to get an Indian summer this year - God knows, we haven't had any other kind - then make the most of it and head to the Serpentine in Hyde Park.

Created by keen gardener Queen Caroline in 1730, the Serpentine was one of the first artificial lakes in England deliberately designed to look natural with its long, irregular shape. I really think that one of life's simpler and more carefree pleasures is to hire a boat and potter about on the water amongst the wildfowl. Rowboats feel more traditional but don't worry if you don't know your rudder from your rowlocks; simply opt for a pedalo instead and just figure it out as you go. An hour's boat hire costs £10 for an adult - check out times and prices here: http://www.royalparks.org.uk/parks/hyde-park/facilities-in-hyde-park/boating-in-hyde-park

Alternatively let the sun do the work and glide across the lake on the UK's first solar-powered ferry, the Solarshuttle.

If you're in the mood for some posh nosh, the nearby Serpentine Bar and Kitchen serves locally-sourced British food with a modern twist - but isn't cheap. Alternatively, a short saunter around the lake is the slightly less expensive Lido Cafe Bar, just the spot for an equally scenic al fresco lunch and accompanying glass of something chilled (they also have nice loos!) - or most frugal of all, pack a picnic and hire a deck chair to watch the world go by.

Suitably refreshed, mosey on over to the Serpentine Gallery. This compact and buzzy gallery is free and has regular contemporary and modern art exhibitions but is worth checking out for the Pavilion alone. For the last twelve years the Gallery has commissioned a new Pavilion building each year; this year is one of my favourites, designed by Herzog & de Meuron and Ai Weiwei - the team responsible for the architectural star of the 2008 Olympics, the Beijing National Stadium. Chill out in the semi-subterranean depths and experience the strangely muted acoustics of the cork-covered interior; the story of the ideas behind the design can be found here: http://www.serpentinegallery.org/2012/02/ai_weiwei_herzog_de_meuron_serpentine_pavilion_2012.html

Fingers crossed, fellow sun-seekers,





Yours,
Girl About Town xx

Celebrate a Secret Wedding

Occasionally I like to take a break from eating and drinking my way round our beloved capital or wandering round one of the many galleries and museums and show a bit of initiative. Inspired by the history of this amazing city, I search out the sites of its tales and secrets. Here is the first story; are you sitting comfortably?


On September 12th, 1846, a studious man of 33 married a woman in delicate health six years his senior at St Marylebone Parish Church. The wedding was secret, as her father had forbidden her (or any of his twelve children) ever to marry; afterwards she returned to the family home alone and lived there for a week while arrangements were made before eloping to Italy with her new husband. Her father never spoke to her again and the many letters she wrote to him were returned unopened.

The marriage of poets Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning was the culmination of a romance that had been conducted mainly through love letters; they corresponded for almost five months before their first meeting and had exchanged 573 letters by the day of their wedding. The original letters are at Wellesley College in Massachusetts but digitised images and transcripts can be seen online here: http://digitalcollections.baylor.edu/cdm/compoundobject/collection/ab-letters/id/1966/rec/1

St Marylebone Parish Church is quietly beautiful, with carved wooded pews and moulded ceilings; standing before the altar it is easy to transport yourself back to Victorian London and empathise with the conflicting emotions and divided loyalties of that marriage over a century ago. There is a service at 11am on 9th September organised by the Browning Society to commemorate the day or you can visit the Browning Room, a small room off to the left just inside the door of the church, which has a small stained glass window dedicated to the poets. It is usually kept locked, but if you let them know you are coming they are happy to arrange a suitable time for you to view it. 

During this time Elizabeth wrote her 'Sonnets from the Portuguese' ('Portuguese' was his pet name for her) which trace the joy and doubts of their courtship, although Robert Browning had to convince her to make them public. They include probably her best-known poem, 'How Do I Love Thee?':

'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.'

Elizabeth Barrett Browning died in Florence in 1861. In a letter to a friend her husband wrote: 'Then came what my heart will keep till I see her again and longer - the most perfect expression of her love to me within my whole knowledge of her. Always smiling, happily, and with a face like a girl's, and in a few minutes she died in my arms, her head on my cheek . . . God took her to himself as you would lift a sleeping child from a dark uneasy bed into your arms and the light.' Browning returned to London with their son, never remarried and would not return to Italy for seventeen years. He died at his son's home in Venice in 1889 and is buried in Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey.

Somehow, I just don't think showing my future grandchildren texts and tweets will be the same.






Yours, missing the romance of old-fashioned letters,
Girl About Town xx

The Ayes have it: Westminster Palace, aka the Houses of Parliament

Truth be told I'm not a rabidly political animal, although I do admire that passion and depth of knowledge in others (a bit like watching those hardy souls who go swimming in the Serpentine on Christmas Day; I think it's very laudable, but faced with such a Herculean task myself I usually end up watching a box set of The Thick of It with a glass of wine instead). Whilst I dutifully toddle off to the local infant school to cast my vote when my country needs me, I pretty much forget about the whole process until next time.

So, finding myself with a couple of hours to kill before meeting a friend for drinks in Westminster, I thought I would partake of the tour of Westminster Palace - more commonly known to most of us as the Houses of Parliament. Summer Opening hours means that tours run from 9.15am to 4.30pm every day except Sunday; I may have just been lucky but I bought my ticket from the Jewel Tower opposite on the day and got a place on the very next tour. The tour lasts 75 minutes and includes the following:

Westminster Hall
Almost four cricket pitches long and with six-foot thick stone walls, this is the oldest building in Parliament and virtually the only one to survive the devastating fire of 1834, witnessed and painted by Turner. In medieval times when you incurred a debt a tally stick was broken in half and a piece given to each person; when the debt was paid, the halves were reunited and the stick kept by the Exchequer as proof. Apparently workmen hired to dispose of the sticks put them in the furnaces in the basement under the House of Lords and then went off to the pub; the ensuing blaze destroyed most of the ancient palace. This is the only place on the tour you are allowed to take photos.

The Robing Room
This is where the Queen puts on her ceremonial robes and the Imperial State Crown before the State Opening of Parliament. Frescoes representing various virtues as epitomised by Arthurian legend adorn the walls, although the painter William Dyce discovered that this particular technique works rather better in the sunshine of Italy than the drizzle of England, and died before he finished the whole set. There is a small, endearingly threadbare velvet Chair of State and a footstool used by Queen Victoria, who at only 5ft tall may have needed a little help to reach it.

The Royal Gallery
Used for state receptions and other important events, the Gallery features portraits of various kings and queens and two enormous paintings; one of Nelson and one of Wellington. Addresses from visiting dignitaries to members of both Houses usually take place here.

The House of Commons
Smaller than you'd expect, this room of beautiful wood-panelling and green leather benches on each side is where our laws are made. A red line on the floor in front of each set of benches may not be crossed during debates; it divides the members of each party by the length of two swords and presumably shows that discussions have always been heated.

The House of Lords
Dramatically more ornate, the House of Lords houses both the golden splendour of the Royal Throne and the relative simplicity of the Woolsack. The Royal Throne is modelled on the medieval Coronation Chair in nearby Westminster Abbey and is used by the Queen during the State Opening of Parliament; the Woolsack is basically a large red cushion stuffed with wool, introduced in the 1300s as a symbol of the source of England's wealth, and is used by the Lord Speaker.
When the Queen arrives at the House of Lords for the State Opening of Parliament, an official called Black Rod is traditionally sent to the Commons to summon them to hear the Queen's speech; to prove their independence, they slam the door in his face. Dressed in black and carrying a black rod topped with a Victorian coin, he then bangs three times on the door before he is admitted - you can see a small splintered section on the door where it is struck.

Central Lobby
My favourite - gorgeous and impressive vaulted lobby with mosaics of the UK's patron saints and statues of England and Scotland's kings and queens around the walls.

I've left quite a lot out, so there's plenty left to inform and surprise on the tour; I took my student ID and got in for £10, so check the prices before you go. Also be prepared for some predictably hefty security - a bit like boarding an international flight, complete with the obligatory awful photograph.

A chance to stand where history has been, and is being, made.




Yours patriotically,

Girl About Town xx

Postman's Park - get Closer

A hop and a skip from the bustle of St Paul's is a tranquil little park next to the General Post Office, built in 1880 for their staff. Philatelists may be interested in the statue of Sir Rowland Hill, inventor of the postage stamp, but of a more general appeal is the intriguing and beautiful glazed tile memorial inside the park. The Watts Memorial to Heroic Self-Sacrifice was set up in 1900 by the painter George Frederick Watts to commemorate unsung heroes, often young people or children, who gave their lives to save others.

The loftily dramatic Victorian language may make the stonier-hearted amongst you (and me, to my eternal shame) feel an initial twinge of dark humour: 'Sarah Smith, Pantomime artiste at Price's theatre - died of terrible injuries received when attempting in her inflammable dress to extinguish the flames which had enveloped her companion.'

Read on, though, and I defy you to remain unmoved. If nothing else, you are transported back to a time when Herberts, Harolds, Ellens and Georges, stationer's clerks, schoolboys and passers-by, unselfishly went to the rescue of those in distress.

The park had a brief moment of celluloid stardom in 2004 when a film was made of the Patrick Marber play Closer; early in the film, Jude Law and Natalie Portman's characters walk in the park and she subsequently assumes the name Alice Ayres.

I like to think that the memorial has achieved its aim; that Watts, who believed so strongly that 'the national prosperity of a Nation is not an abiding possession, the deeds of its people are' that he set the memorial up himself when he was refused support from the government, has given us a reminder of ordinary, everyday heroes and a renewed faith in our fellow man.

No man is an island - even in London.





Yours, optimistically,

Girl About Town xx

Bunhill Fields - honouring literary giants in an oasis of calm

In an uncompromisingly solid and practical City landscape, Bunhill Fields Burial Ground is an unlikely but welcoming oasis of green and tranquility for harried Londoners. It may sound odd to recommend a picnic in a graveyard, but I do; the obvious history of the trees and the tombstones seems to make time pass more slowly, and perhaps make our earthly troubles seem less severe - and where better to contemplate the vagaries of life than lying on soft, sun-dappled grass underneath an ancient oak?

'Bunhill' Fields comes from 'bone hill'; around 1550 this was a marshy stretch of fields outside the old City wall owned by St Paul's and they dumped the contents of an old charnel-house here during a clean-up. Apparently so many bones were bought here that it raised the level of the ground - hence 'bone hill'.

In 1665 it was set up as a burial ground for dissenters - those Protestants opposed to state interference in matters of religion and who as a result were refused the right to hold public office, attend certain universities - or be buried on consecrated ground. Bunhill Fields became a popular resting place for non-conformists including such literary giants as Daniel Defoe (author of Robinson Crusoe), John Bunyan (author of Pilgrim's Progress) and visionary poet and artist William Blake.

'To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower . . . '

When I visited I was charmed and moved to find Blake's gravestone adorned with small gifts and tokens from visitors: flowers, trinkets, beads, shells and coins. If you go at lunchtime on August 12th (the anniversary of Blake's death) you can join members of the Blake Society and commemorate his life by reading from his work and then repair to the local pub for further discussions. Check their website for details:
http://www.blakesociety.org/events/event/hear-the-voice-of-the-bard/

Cramped and disorderly, Bunhill Fields is a striking image of what London's graveyards would have looked like in the seventeenth century. Now a carefully maintained Grade 1 listed park, you can download a useful little map from here:
http://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/things-to-do/green-spaces/city-gardens/visitor-information/Pages/Bunhill-Fields.aspx

Remembering Blake's words:

'A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent'



Be nice to each other,

Girl About Town xx