St John's, Smith Square - History

History

The architectural style of St John's, Smith Square has always provoked a reaction in the viewer - although not always complimentary. An 18th-century commentator thought the new church "singular, not to say whimsical" and, later, Charles Dickens described it (in Our Mutual Friend) as appearing to be "some petrified monster, frightful and gigantic, on its back with its legs in the air". However, tastes change and today St John's is regarded as one of the masterpieces of English Baroque architecture.

The building was designed by Thomas Archer (1668-1743). We know that his family were country gentry, but nothing is known about his architectural training. After the usual education for a cultivated young gentleman - three years at Oxford followed by the Grand Tour of Europe - he made his way as a courtier being appointed to the post of Groom Porter by Queen Anne in 1705. As such, he was responsible for licensing all gambling at court (including tennis, dice and billiards). He retained this post for the rest of his life under her successors George I and George II and, in addition, acquired the sinecure of Comptroller of Customs of Newcastle in 1715. Not surprisingly, he became a wealthy man and on his death he left a legacy of £100,000 to his nephew in addition to property in London, Hampshire and Warwickshire. Possibly as a result of this wealth and the distractions of Court life, his architectural output was small - including some work at Chatsworth; Roehampton House (now part of Queen Mary's Hospital); St. Philip's Church, Birmingham (now the Cathedral) and St Paul's Church, Deptford. However, the original - not to say idiosyncratic - personal style, which is the hallmark of St John’s, distinguishes all of his work. While his contemporaries included Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor, Archer's style owes most to the Italian influences he experienced on his Grand Tour, primarily that of Borromini.

Writing in 1981, Sir Hugh Casson describes the building thus: “The plan is squarish and almost symmetrical, but like all Baroque churches the interlocking pattern of the internal spaces is ambiguous, so that you can "see" and comprehend the church centrally or longitudinally as you prefer. The outside is such a turmoil of movement that you could almost say there are no walls or windows ... only a composition of classical elements, columns and cornices, moulded pediments and heavily modelled towers ... Archer handles all this with an energy, courage and confidence which is irresistible. Admittedly, it looks a bit too large for the space it occupies - rather like some great piece of machinery that has been parked in this tiny domestic little square of brick-faced houses and white sash-windows. But this architectural outsize swagger is part of its fascination. It positively challenges you to take it on full-face (and on all four faces). Once up the grand steps and through the doors the contrast is complete. All within is quiet simplicity - a lofty, spacious emptiness filled with a pale, clear light (there is no stained glass) - white walls contrasting with a scarlet curtain and a dark, polished timber gallery, giant white-painted Corinthian columns carrying a simple barrel-vaulted roof... It's all as cool and quiet and evocative as the inside of a seashell. But there's another surprise to come. Beneath the church and reached by stone spiral stairs in the corner tower is another architectural mood ... the crypt. Low brick vaults - hardly more than head-high - a sense of weight and gravity ... (no wonder, under the weight of so much masonry, the church began to sink into its marshy site while it was still building).”