http://ahds.ac.uk/ahdscollections/docroot/shakespeare/performancedetails.do?performanceId=11371I have had a love affair with London since my first visit in 1968 (aged 15) to see Brewster Mason, Barry Ingham and Ian Richardson in 'Julius Ceasar' (dir. John Barton) at the Aldwych Theatre. I later met Barton on his visit to my school (Coleshill Grammar) 2 years later just about the time I joined the National Youth Theatre (working for Michael Croft in Zigger Zagger at the Roundhouse and touring in 'Coriolanus' ). That first trip to London melded with my first experience of professional Shakespeare had a great influence on my life. I have enjoyed both equally ever since. Later that same year I had the joy of seeing Dorothy Tutin, Janet Suzman (who I hear on the radio today talking about Zimbabwe) and Alan Howard (as Jaques) in 'As You Like It' at Stratford. But it was the first mix of LONDON with THEATRE that I found intoxicating.
The mystery and magic of London, for me, can be found in the unexpected places just happened upon. These special places, and the people we meet there, highlight experiences which form our history. They are memorials to and a celebration of, our shared past. They form a connection through time which facilitates continuity. The continuity of what Peter Ackroyd refers to as the 'English Music'.
I suppose the places which speak to us most directly are graveyards and memorials to the heroic dead. One such place I have visited on several occasions is Postman's Park.
Postman's Park is located between King Edward Street, Little Britain and Angel Street, and was laid out in 1880 on the site of an ancient burying ground and the filled in moat of the Roman wall. It was called Postman's Park because it was around the corner from the General Post Office sorting offices where Anthony Trollope worked in between novel writing. In the street, a statue of Rowland Hill, the penny post man, stands, facing the traffic, looking across to their long-gone offices in St Martin's le Grand. pews.
Aldersgate Street is on the far side of Postman's Park. It was on this street in 1735 that John Wesley had a mystic spiritual experience which led him to found the Methodist church.
But what Postman's Park is really famous for are the ceramic plaques commemorating men, women and children who gave their lives saving others. It was the idea of a Victorian painter, George Frederic Watts. In 1887, the Jubilee year, Watts wrote to The Times, proposing a national memorial recording examples of everyday heroism and self sacrifice. He quoted the case of Alice Ayres: "a maid of all work at an oilmonger's in Gravel Lane who lost her life (in 1885) saving the lives of her master's children".
Nothing came of the idea so Watts decided to create his own memorial here in Postman's Park. In an open gallery, roofed with red tiles, are 53 glazed ceramic plaques designed by the de Morgan factory, where the earliest ones were made. Later tiles were made by Doulton. The lettering is elegant, delicate and old fashioned
Aldersgate Street is on the far side of Postman's Park. It was on this street in 1735 that John Wesley had a mystic spiritual experience which led him to found the Methodist church.
But what Postman's Park is really famous for are the ceramic plaques commemorating men, women and children who gave their lives saving others. It was the idea of a Victorian painter, George Frederic Watts. In 1887, the Jubilee year, Watts wrote to The Times, proposing a national memorial recording examples of everyday heroism and self sacrifice. He quoted the case of Alice Ayres: "a maid of all work at an oilmonger's in Gravel Lane who lost her life (in 1885) saving the lives of her master's children".
Nothing came of the idea so Watts decided to create his own memorial here in Postman's Park. In an open gallery, roofed with red tiles, are 53 glazed ceramic plaques designed by the de Morgan factory, where the earliest ones were made. Later tiles were made by Doulton. The lettering is elegant, delicate and old fashioned
Many commemorate children. Edward Morris, aged 10, drowned in the Grand Junction Canal trying to save his companion when they went swimming in the summer of 1897. David Selves, aged 12, died in Woolwich Reach "supporting his drowning playfellow and sank with him clasped in his arms," September 1886. At 9 years old, William Fisher was the youngest: he died in Walworth in July1886 trying to save his little brother from being run over in the street.
The heroic Dr Rabbeth was treating a four year old boy for diphtheria. A tracheotomy was necessary but, since the child still couldn't breathe, the doctor used a tube to suck the infected matter out of his throat. Samuel Rabbeth, aged 28, died of diphtheria in October 1884. The child also died.
One of the last plaques records the death of Alfred Smith, a policeman, who died saving the lives of women and girls in an East End factory after it had been bombed by German Zeppelins in 1917.
The heroic Dr Rabbeth was treating a four year old boy for diphtheria. A tracheotomy was necessary but, since the child still couldn't breathe, the doctor used a tube to suck the infected matter out of his throat. Samuel Rabbeth, aged 28, died of diphtheria in October 1884. The child also died.
One of the last plaques records the death of Alfred Smith, a policeman, who died saving the lives of women and girls in an East End factory after it had been bombed by German Zeppelins in 1917.
Watts was a Victorian with a social conscience. Painting portraits made him rich and he spent his money on good causes like the Home Crafts and Industries Association which taught art to working people. (His wife held classes in their home.) He also gave money to St Jude's — now the Whitechapel Art Gallery — and gave his paintings free to galleries, such as the Tate, which had no admission charges. He deplored the killing of birds to adorn hats with their feathers and, what might seem to us odd (but was much in keeping with the views of the Pre-Raphaelites), he was president of an Anti-Tight Lacing Society which, presumably, was set up to encourage women to loosen their stays (Victorian ladies were so prone to fainting).
The City of London is only one mile square but redolent with history. Take time to look at the street names! The English settled there in the ruins of a former empire and were invaded in turn by Danish and Viking marauders, then Norman conquerors finally took over. It went from Celtic gods to Roman gods to Saints with quaint English names like Ethelburga and Ethelreda. Its guilds and livery companies are medieval. Its Bishop condemned Tyndal to death for anglicising the Bible. Shakespeare, it is said, stole an entire theatre, sneaking it away plank by plank at dead of night. Donne preached of death and salvation from his coffin at St Paul's Cross. The city financed wars and civil wars, survived plague, fire, bombs, Reformation, Regicide, Restoration, Enlightenment, and will no doubt survive all the modern ills prophesied by the Daily Mail. Yet here is set aside a little space to remember how a labourer called Richard Farris died trying to save a washerwoman from drowning herself in the Surrey Canal. Their memorials were unveiled in 1900 by the Lord Mayor and the Bishop of London who was, no doubt, happy to read the Bible in Tyndal's English as perfected by King James's Greek and Hebrew scholars.
In the Patrick Marber play 'Closer' a character takes the pseudonym 'Alice Ayres' from one of the painted tiles.
Much of this information regarding 'Postman's Park' is gleaned (with thanks) from the following sources:
http://www.victorianweb.org/art/parks/9a.html
and
http://www.urban75.org/london/postman.html
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