2 Emil Kaufmann, Architecture in the age of reason

Introduction

London had experienced a remarkable amount of growth in the 16th and 17th century. Its significance in both a social and commercial sense cemented it as the nucleus of the country (to which it remains presently) and spared it from the economic stagnation which plagued several outlying English cities.6 Inevitably, the result of an unregulated urban sprawl would manifest itself in the form of an urban tinderbox within the City. The proposals put forth by the government to regulate space around newly built houses were deemed somewhat too equivocal by the general public7, furthering the subdivision of the city into narrow winding streets in order to accommodate an ever-growing population. Despite the economic prowess of London continuing for over a century, its architecture would remain a stark contrast to the Baroque majesty of its European equivalents. In any case, the forthcoming fire presented a tremendous opportunity for the reinvention of London and the City landscape.

Sir Christopher Wren, to whom most of the rebuilding of London is owed, had submitted his sketch-plan to King Charles II on 11 September; just 6 days after the fire was more or less under control – followed by John Evelyn on the 13th; and others in the days that followed.8 In this instance, the fervour and initiative of Wren becomes immediately apparent, though the level of forethought shown by other city fathers as well as Wren is also a clear indication of a general concern shown for the City’s appearance at large.9 Wren would incidentally visit Paris just months before the fire – providing a profound influence on his proposal for his parish churches, as well as the new City which had scope for a greater degree of capacity and scale.10 In essence, it was designed around several nodal points which served to define the urban fabric of the City and house prominent public buildings; the largest of which was a proposed new West End civic space, just north of Victoria Embankment. The areas themselves were generally linked by grand boulevards and thoroughfares, bearing great semblance to the planning of France, particularly Henry IV’s scheme for the Place de France, which though not completed, was accessible in engravings.11 The grandeur and magnificence of the Louvre and Tuileries Palaces would have undoubtably captured the imagination of Wren during his visit to the French capital – providing him with a clear precedent through which his vision for London would be channelled.12 By 1970, the second rebuilding act had been passed which arranged for the construction of St Paul’s and the parish churches via an increase in tax on coal imports to the City.13 Wren presided over the practices of a small committee responsible for the churches, which consisted of himself, Dr Robert Hooke, and Edward Woodroffe.14 He had established himself as one of the most esteemed architectural figures in the country, and it was through the City churches and the reimagining of London’s skyline that he would make his most profound impact.

6 Nikolas Pevsner and Simon Bradley, London. 1, The City of London, pg. 57 7 Nikolas Pevsner and Simon Bradley, London. 1, The City of London, pg. 57 8 John Summerson, Architecture in Britain: 1530 -1830, pg. 187 9 Whitechapel Art Gallery, Sir Christopher Wren, an exhibition, pg. 60 10 Nikolas Pevsner and Simon Bradley, London. 1, The City of London, pg. 67 11 Margaret Whinney, Wren, Pg. 39 12 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 9 13 Doreen Yarwood, The architecture of England: From prehistoric times to the present day, pg. 231 14 Margaret Whinney, Wren, Pg. 45

Figure 2: Engraving of the Place de France, Paris, 1609, Claude Châtillion (left) and Figure 3: Wren's plan for the City (right)

Rebuilding the City:

“Lector, si monumentum requiris, circumspice” (“Reader, if you seek a monument, look around you”). Such are the words engraved on the memorial tablet of Sir Christopher Wren in the crypt of St Paul’s15 and no more appropriate words could have been written to honour the accomplishments of Wren. Indeed, much of the historic legacy of the City of London is beholden to him, through the design of his Universities, Royal Palaces, and ecclesiastical buildings within the City. In the span of Wren’s ninety-one-year life, England saw the paradigm of architectural principle shift liberally; a notable contrast to the model in Italy and Central Europe which saw Baroque remain the standard for several generations; subsisting well into the mid-18th century. Even in France, a historical succession of the Baroque can be inferred, even though it had a shorter stay and was ‘limited in form’.16

As the centuries past however, Wren’s presence in the consciousness of the public would diminish and one may argue that currently, his reputation rests for the most part upon one single building: St Paul’s Cathedral. His parish churches on the other hand, ranging from the Gothic to his own conception of Classicism, remain far more enigmatic in their legacy, and serve to define one of Wren’s most esoteric periods of his multifarious career – as far as his architectural method is concerned. Moreover, time has not been kind to the Wren Churches. Of the fiftythree which Wren saw to completion, only a handful remain intact in their original form. Over the centuries, the majority have fallen victim to renovation, the devastation of The Blitz and ‘ecclesiastical philistinism’.17 That is not to say it is not possible to hold a certain level of affinity towards some of Wren’s churches. They do in fact receive some acclaim as modest contributors to London’s picturesque skyline, even if they fall short of being regarded as individual masterpieces in their own right.18 In reality, the context in which the City churches were built are an essential component in understanding why the Wren churches look the way they do. The rebuilding of the City, though a formidable task, had a demand to be completed as swiftly as possible, as to retain the City’s economic and social vitality. In fact, the rebuilding of the City itself was subsequently carried out on the old medieval street plan.19 Often constrained by the demands of the vestry, the size and funds of parishes, and the limitations of the site itself20; Wren, as Surveyor-General, was forced to work within the parameters he was set and very few churches, if any, do a better job in providing an insight into the architectural method of Wren, as well as offer a basis through which we can understand his evolution, than St Stephen Walbrook. It stands as an enduring symbol of the City’s resilience as well as Wren’s own blueprint through which his creative and intellectual assurance would come to fruition.

15 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 1 16 Kerry Downes, English Baroque architecture, pg. 1 17 Colin Amery, Wren’s London, pg. 7 18 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 55 19 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 11 20 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 1

St Stephen Walbrook:

St Stephen Walbrook perhaps represents Wren’s most creative articulation of geometric forms. The relationship between the rectilinear plan and the dome is the ‘central motif’ of the church and is conceived in a similar vein in which St Paul’s would be, albeit at a smaller scale. In effect, the restrained façade hardly hints at the majestic interior of the church21 and it is only upon entry, after climbing a flight of steps, that the visitor is enchanted by the richness of the church. As was the case with many of the churches, limited funds and awkward site geometry meant that they were for the most part designed to be appreciated from the inside - presenting an opportunity for the newly reformed Anglican Church to convey its identity through furnishing and craftsmanship in a classical manner. In fact, this idea of the centralised plan is a reoccurring theme amongst many of Wren’s churches. The geometric problem of a square or cross within a longidudinal plan likely appealed to Wren’s critical instincts and was the basis for some of his smaller domes.22 Despite this, the majority of his churches show signs of being a hall-type Basilica. For example, St Magnus the Martyr is one of many churches which have a longitudinal plan with a continuous barrel-vaulted ceiling. Its north and south aisles are enclosed by ionic columns which leads the procession directly towards the chancel. Once formulated, wren’s concepts for the churches did not for the most part deviate23, and the differences we see in plan owe more to practicality and the state of the previous medieval church plan than Wren’s own experimentation.

Figure 4: St Stephen Walbrook plan (left) and Figure 5: St Magnus the Martyr plan (right)

21 Nikolas Pevsner and Simon Bradley, London. 1, The City of London, pg. 262 22 Colin Amery, Wren’s London, pg. 11 23 Kerry Downes, The architecture of Wren, pg. 57