Brompton Oratory

Brompton Oratory 1880-1884. The second largest Catholic Church in London with a nave wider than that of St Paul’s Cathedral. 

I recently read a wonderful book, Notes from Deep Time by Helen Gordon. In it, she explores the nature of time through the medium of rock, comparing geology with the more shallow timespan of human history. It’s full of mind stretching wonder, but one chapter in particular, ‘Urban Geology,’ sparked an urgent desire to visit Brompton Oratory. 

In the chapter she rhapsodised on the subtle qualities of marble:

 ‘Wine-red Griotte d’Italie against moss-green Connemara marble. Dark green, smoky Verde Alpi serpentinite. Blue Belg, Belge Noir, pale pink Nembro Rosato the colour of an old-fashioned tea rose. Pillars of buttery gold Sienna Breccia, dove-grey Repen Zola, translucent, orange-tinged English alabaster. . .’ it rolled off the tongue. I wanted to read more. I wanted to see it! But until two weeks ago, alI I was able to do was read and imagine. I hope these pictures bring her words to life. 

There was an intensely spiritual atmosphere throughout, the central nave housing more intimate chapels to either side. I drifted ghostlike - okay, more comically furtive perhaps - between pillars so as not to disturb those quiet in prayer. 

More words:

‘ . . .  shining piles of marble and alabaster turned into columns, panels, altars, fonts and sepulchres. Stilled swirls, branching veins, jagged stripes and smoky clouds of colour.'

It reads like Keats on LSD but Keats would also also have appreciated the science behind it,

marble being a by-product of physics and chemistry. Intense heat and pressure on sedimentary limestone allowed a complex ingress of mineral rich waters, creating both colour and pattern. But somehow the science gets lost in the vision unless you make a conscious effort to see it. 

 As the French philosopher Roger Callois argued ‘We find marble beautiful because the marble itself, far older than human civilisation, has taught us what is beautiful. The stones themselves have shaped and guided human aesthetics.’ No doubt Keith Richards will live long enough to do the same.