TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/052989/05298900.019

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 6.4 KB | 124 lines

                                                                                SCIENCE, Page 64

To Build or Not to Build


That is the question that riles London's preservationists


    "Thus far into the bowels of the land we march'd on without
impediment."

    In Richard III, Shakespeare wrote of armies tramping across
medieval England, but the words could equally apply to the
hordes of developers who in recent times have swept over London.
Their relentless building has gone largely unopposed, even when
it has demolished rich portions of the city's heritage. But for
the past few weeks all of London has been in an uproar over the
scheduled destruction of two of the city's recently discovered
archaeological treasures: the ruins of a Roman bath complex that
dates back 2,000 years and the underground remains of the Rose,
the Elizabethan theater where Shakespeare may have premiered
Titus Andronicus and Henry VI and even trod the stage.

    Protesters have besieged the British government with pleas
to save the sites. They have written letters, staged marches and
held all-night vigils. Among the petitioners: Laurence Olivier,
Dame Peggy Ashcroft, Dustin Hoffman and Princes Charles and
Edward. Declared Tony Banks, a Labor Member of Parliament: "The
destruction of these sites would represent the archaeological
equivalent of destroying the rain forests. Once they are gone,
they can never be reinstated." Last week both landmarks received
last-minute reprieves. Developers of the Roman site announced
that they will revise their plans and save the remains. And the
government declared a one-month stay of execution for the Rose
to allow developers and officials time to explore ways to
preserve the theater.

    To preservationists, the furor points up the need to
strengthen the laws protecting archaeological finds. Since 1973,
London's monuments have been safeguarded largely through
officially sanctioned voluntary pacts between developers and
archaeologists. The agreements basically give scientific teams
time to investigate all sites exposed by the digging of
construction crews. The costs are borne by the developers, who
have been quick to see the public relations advantage. Last year
they provided $9 million for explorations at 162 sites in the
London area. But the effort amounts mostly to a delay in
construction. After archaeologists record their findings and
salvage some artifacts, most sites are leveled. More than 80%
of the city's archaeological heritage, including medieval
marketplaces and remains of the Roman city known as Londinium,
have already been lost to modern office buildings and
underground garages.

    Londoners have feared that the same fate would befall the
two newest finds. The remains of the Rose were unexpectedly
discovered last February after an office building was demolished
on the south bank of the Thames in preparation for the erection
of a new nine-story complex. The archaeological team sent to the
site knew the area had been the Elizabethan theater district,
but no one expected to find vestiges of the Rose, which was
built in 1587. The team stumbled onto chalk foundations, sloped
mortar flooring and, most astonishingly, the base of the stage
6 ft. below the ground. From the debris, scientists have
determined that the Rose was a small polygon-shaped theater,
just 43 ft. in diameter, with plaster walls and a thatched roof.
Viewers sat in tiered galleries or stood in a pit in front of
the stage. Among the rubble was a layer of hazelnut shells,
possibly the medieval audience's version of popcorn.

    The discovery of well-preserved Roman ruins just across the
Thames at Huggin Hill was equally serendipitous. Excavations in
1964 had revealed extensive baths on the enormous site, which
measures 20,000 sq. ft. Experts are unsure whether the remains
are part of the palace of Julius Agricola, the Governor of
Britain in the latter half of the first century, or public baths
built for the citizenry.

    The Huggin Hill Baths were designated a protected
archaeological site by the government years ago. But in 1988
the Department of the Environment granted a development company
permission to build a seven-story office complex on the west
end of the ruins. The government believed the site had already
been irretrievably damaged by construction in the 1960s. But
last January the archaeological team discovered a large room
with central heating, vaulted semicircular recesses and a mosaic
floor.

    Few doubt the archaeological value of either the Rose or
the Roman baths. But the stumbling block in preservation efforts
is money. In granting a temporary reprieve to the Rose, the
government had to pledge as much as $1.65 million to the
building's developers to cover the costs of delays in
construction. And officials admit that revoking permission to
build at Huggin Hill could run the government's liability as
high as $40 million.

    The cheapest answer to protecting the sites is to rebury
the remains and proceed with construction; future generations
could re-excavate the ruins when the new buildings are knocked
down. That is exactly what developers have decided to do at
Huggin Hill. Stacks of tiles from the 2,000-year-old
central-heating system will be covered with foam and wood before
the whole site is filled in with sand; a planned two-story
basement will be built at another location so that only a small
section of a Roman retaining wall will need to be destroyed.
Developers of the Rose site have also proposed re-covering the
remains. But critics say the theater fragments are too fragile
for such treatment. Moreover, construction plans still call for
20 concrete piles, some of which would be driven through what
is left of the theater.

    Worst of all, both historical sites would stay out of
public view. One solution still being considered for the Rose
is to incorporate the remains into the new building. London has
used that remedy successfully several times. For example, a
12-ft.-high portion of the Roman wall that once encircled
Londinium forms part of the basement wall of a new office
building; pedestrians peek in through sidewalk windows. Allowing
the Rose, the only Elizabethan theater ever discovered, to
disappear once again sounds like the stuff of a Shakespearean
tragedy. "Replicas of Elizabethan theaters are being built
everywhere," observes actor Ian McKellen, "but this is the real
thing, and you don't throw away the real thing."