When people visit school here for the first time, they always get a tour and they comment on the amazing facilities we have here. And we do. I once gave a tour to an OB who had not been back for 15 years – I said I would show him the buildings he had not yet seen, and even I was amazed at the quality as I went around the Music School, Science Blocks, Library, Dining Hall, Quarry Theatre, Memorial Hall, Langham Pavilion – all built or done up significantly since 2003. However, I am also always quick to point out that it is the people that really matter, not the buildings – and this usually gets a nod of approval, a smile of understanding, a knowing agreement. It is obvious, isn’t it? Well, maybe; then again, the relationship between people and buildings has long been complex.
I was lucky enough to go to Paris for a few days over the break, where this assembly was conceived – standing outside Notre Dame Cathedral, still unable to get in due to the fire of April 2019. The roof, which was largely wooden, was totally destroyed in scenes which were broadcast on the news all around the world. Two things happened at that time which struck me as interesting. Firstly, these pictures were not only broadcast around the world, but also greeted with an outpouring of grief, despite the fact that not a single person had been hurt. What was important now? The people or the building? Then, within a week, almost 50,000 people and companies had pledged between them almost £1bn to restore the still smouldering cathedral. A billion! What on earth makes a country want to pledge £1bn in a couple of days to rebuild a building? Have a think about that for a moment.
I take you next back to wartime Britain. In the Autumn of 1940, London underwent 57 consecutive days and nights of bombing. Then, after a brief lull, almost exactly this time 82 years ago, on the night of 29 December, London came under the worst bombing of the entire blitz period. Seemingly endless Nazi bombers dropped 100,000 mainly small incendiary devices, which started 1,500 fires all over the very centre of London, which soon joined together to create several enormous fires. The date for the attack was chosen because it was low tide, so that firefighters would find it almost impossible to get the water up from the Thames to help put out the fires; and anyway, even to get to the water, they would have to wade through the muddy river banks, in which a load of unexploded bombs already laid waiting.
At 10.00pm that night, a lady called Beryl Morris, working for the Fire Brigade and hitherto unknown, took a call from a man she later described as impressive, powerful and familiar. It turned out to be Winston Churchill himself, who made it absolutely clear to her that, whatever else happened in that all-engulfing fire in London, St Paul’s Cathedral must be saved at all costs. The rest is history. Firefighters on the ground fought back the towering flames around the Cathedral, whilst 200 volunteers inside the Cathedral hunted down any flickers of flame in the building itself, including in the roof, and put them out before they did any damage. The huge building survived, and, as an adjunct to the story, Herbert Mason’s incredible photograph of the dome’s continued magnificent existence, surrounded by flames and smoke all around, made the front page of the London news, almost as if the war had been won for the Allies, and also the front page of the German news, as if the war had been won for Germany.
Why did Churchill order this one building to be saved? Not least, perhaps, as many people’s own homes were burning. Again, I will let you ponder that for a moment.
My third and final building to think about is in Athens. The Parthenon was built ostensibly as a sign of Greek dominance over its Persian neighbours – as a thanksgiving to Athena for final victory in the Persian Wars of the 5th Century BC. It was really built, also, as a sign of the dominance of Athens over the other Greek states, all of which now relied, somewhat grudgingly, on Athens’ protection. Two and a half thousand years later, international arguments over this single building continue to rage – largely as a result of a man called Lord Elgin, who, in the early 19th Century, transported to England a large number of the building’s marble sculptures, which are now housed in the British Museum. Since the early 20th Century, the Greek Government has demanded them back. It has been a fierce debate, with Britain claiming that the marbles were legally acquired, and Greece claiming that they were looted. A few years ago, Greece was so sure of their return that they even built a museum at the foot of the Acropolis which left huge blank spaces in the upper walls for the re-siting of the marbles themselves. This year, despite the marbles being the possession of a museum and not a country, even UNESCO has got involved. It is in fact a very interesting debate, as similar movements are happening elsewhere, not least with the Benin bronzes and their potential return to Nigeria.
But, again, why is this so important to people? A lump of old stones, chiselled 2,500 years ago. Why all the fuss, when the world is in recession, or in the case of St Paul’s, at war, or in the case of Notre Dame, on the cusp of a global pandemic? Should we not be worrying simply about our ageing grandparents, our brothers, sisters, friends – people we really care about, and who can openly care back? Is it not, as I often tell the prospective parents who come round the school, “the people that matter”?
Well, yes of course it is people who matter. But the key to our conundrum, I think, is that people have always needed to feel part of something larger than just their immediate surroundings. Something powerful. Something timeless. Something global. Something glorious. Something way, way bigger than themselves. It is not only buildings that become the focus of this need – it may be paintings, or concepts, or religions, or philosophies – but buildings are perhaps the most obvious and visual. Notre Dame has become over the years not just a religious building, but a symbol of France’s greatness on the world stage. It arose as Paris arose, and it has overseen, from the very heart of the city, all of its ups and downs. Parisians, the French people, and indeed people from all around the world who love France, or Catholicism, or great architecture, or history, have been given the opportunity by the fire to be a part of that building and they have taken it. St Paul’s Cathedral plays a similar role in the British psyche. Its scale is vast, and the height of its dome made it the tallest building in London until the late 20th Century. But Churchill recognised its place in people’s hearts, not simply as a building, but as the centre of a whole united people – and felt that if it fell, then the people of Britain would follow. It was a big call – and a great one. Athens’ heyday was undoubtedly the 5th Century BC, when the Parthenon was built. At times of economic and political difficulty, much of which the country has seen in the last century, it is an obvious place for Greek people to rally around as their “part of something bigger”. This is the spot from which they have derived; the British museum, therefore, houses its very being. Put in these terms, those old stones are anything but trivial. And finally, you should remember that it is no coincidence that the three I have spoken about were all built as religious buildings. Sitting in this building today, we sit as part of something bigger than ourselves, too. Whether you are Christian or not, this building, like the three I have mentioned, embodies far more than simply bricks and mortar.
So, there I was, in Paris. The place was packed! It is the French holidays; the queues for all the major monuments were endless; the restaurants were all booked. Yet, standing in front of Notre Dame, or for that matter the Eiffel Tower, the Sacre Coeur, Versailles, the place de la Bastille, reminded me that we may all be small and insignificant on our own, but that we are all part of something far bigger. Ultimately, I think for all of us, it is a comfort to know this.