A. C. Ward (2) (1891–1973)

Published in 1943, this slight book is a journey to the literary sites affected by the German bombing. It is an eyewitness account of how a rich heritage was devastated by the war. Beginning with St. Paul's in London, the reader sees the great cathedral still standing amidst the ruins of the booksellers shops and stalls on Paternoster Road. Then on to other areas of the great city: Bloomsbury where the ironwork around Bloomsbury Square and Russell Square have been sacrificed to the drive for metal; St. Giles Cripplegate where Milton's statue is toppled but unharmed in the rubble; the Temple Gardens, scene of the white rose and red in Shakespeare's Henry VI gone, as well as Oliver Goldsmith's house in Brick Court and Lamb's birthplace. Only Dr. Johnson's haunts, at least most of them, appear untouched, though the Wren churches he knew are, in 1943, a heartbreaking memory.

Moving south on the trail of Chaucer's pilgrims, Ward comes to Canterbury. The great cathedral library is wrecked and most of King's School where Maugham attended and later would have his ashes scattered. Marlowe's birthplace and Dicken's inspiration for Uriah Heep's 'umble 'home are demolished. In Rye, Lamb House, the home of Henry James and E.F. Benson (and, more important, Lucia's house!), is badly damaged. But Jane Austen is undisturbed in Winchester Cathedral and the great pile of Stonehenge is withstanding the war. And so Ward moves around the country, commenting on the small and the large places in British literature, writing eulogies for the destroyed and being thankful for the shrines still spared.

In the great northern shires, even the rural landscape shows the changes wrought by the war. The Bronte moors are being farmed and petrol rationing has made the roads less crowded and the nights less noisy, harkening back to the more bucolic times of Wordsworth in Grasmere.

I loved this book because I have seen many of the sites described and Ward's optimism at the end proved true. So many were restored. The Temple Church today gives off the same eerie vibes. Red and white roses bloom in the Temple Gardens and Milton's statue is in front of St. Giles Cripplegate, even though the church itself is isolated in the vast concrete Barbican complex. Paternoster Row with the book shops and stalls is gone forever, but then in the 21st century most book shops have disappeared.… (altro)