This was in March, 1826. By July, 1829, the voluntary subscriptions, amounted to £2,400; [145] which sum, with £59 18s. 6d., was placed in the banker’s hands, in order that the building might be begun. Mr. Cockerill’s first plan would have cost £11,020; this he was obliged to modify from the circumstance of sufficient funds not being forthcoming. £8,000 was the amount of his next estimate, but this plan he did not live to carry out; and with its execution his son, the present Royal Acadamician, was not entrusted. To Mr. Fowler, we owe the design for the present building; his final estimate for which was £8,592 5s. 0d.
Several ineffectual attempts have been made at different times, since this church was finished, to induce the vestry to grant funds for its enlargement. But in July, 1848, when the church-rate was in full play, the demand could no longer be resisted; and on the fourth of that month, it was resolved by the vestry, unanimously, that the west gallery of St. John’s be enlarged, but at a cost not to exceed £700. The enlargement was effected, and, so far as my knowledge goes, this is the only resolution of the vestry, respecting the expenditure of money for church-purposes, that has ever been observed.
This church, however, even in its brief existence, has been some expense to others, besides those who have been accommodated by it. Down to 1839, the minister received the stipend appointed him by the Church Commissioners; the surplus pew-rents being paid to the churchwardens towards the expenses of the church. Since that date no pew-rents have been paid to the churchwardens of the parish, but they have had to pay out of the parish funds upwards of £4,800, including the sum above-mentioned.
St. John’s is not a copy of any particular period of middle-age art, being built in the style designated pseudo-gothic. But it is not necessary to give any particular description of this building; for I saw by a model of it, which was honoured with an excellent place amidst the multitudinous and never to be forgotten beauties of the Great Exhibition, that Mr. Fowler’s original design was not completely carried out. Its exterior, as finished, presents to us nothing offensive; and the interior is well proportioned, well arranged, and, with the exception of the painted window at the eastern end, contains nothing incompatible with a religious feeling.
Although every one who wishes to receive instruction from the visible remnants of the past, must admire the works of art as preserved to us in the brilliant colours, and quaint symbolic designs, which modify “God’s light” as it attempts to enter into the ancient temples dedicated to his service; and although every one who can so feel, must detest the barbarity of a Barebones—who is said to have thanked God every time his zealous and mischievous weapon was raised from the demolition of the Canterbury windows—yet I think it would be difficult to find any satisfactory reason for the re-introduction of stained glass pictures, and tinted glass, into the church windows of our day. Every reason I have ever heard in favour of “the dim religious light,” or “the scriptural story,” is equally powerful in favour of all other modes of teaching by “stealing the senses.” If painted glass, why not painted canvass? If one picture, why not a hundred? If candles on the altar, why not lighted? If Puseyism, why not full-blown Romanism? But this is only one of the many “first step to Rome.” And as in the case of St. John’s window, which was the origin of this remark, these first steps are not completed at once. How long it took to fill up the whole east window of St. John’s I do not remember; but there were only a few Apostles there at one time; and the “naughty boy”—who went to this church, more I fear to look at this window than to say his prayers, or hear the very excellent and learned ministers who preach there—asked his Ma, one day, “why they did not write down the names of those men, so that he could find out who they were?” When he was told they were the Twelve Apostles—he said “Oh no, that can’t be, there are but ten, for I count them every Sunday.”
The New Parish Church—St. James’s.
Twenty years ago, the bishop’s building Acts were beginning to tell in real earnest; and from 1831 to 1841, the increase in the population of the parish of Paddington, averaged above one thousand per annum. Yet the errors of the past were unnoticed by those who never wish to see errors in high places; for it was not till the fifth of December, 1837, that the local governors of Paddington saw the necessity, created by this annual addition of a thousand souls to the parish, for increased means of religious instruction, and public worship; and then their attention to this necessity was aroused by their Reverend Chairman, who, on that day, stated he was desired by the Bishop of London to call the attention of the vestry to the great want of additional church room there was in the parish—or more correctly speaking on his estate. The bishop sent word “that he and the trustees had resolved upon a site for a new church; and that he would submit the case, (of the destitution of this parish), to the Metropolitan Church Committee; and would himself subscribe £300!” [147]
The vestry, in obedience to this message, resolved “that an additional church would be highly beneficial to the parish at large;” and a committee, with full powers to carry out this resolution was at once appointed. Expressions of praise escaped some lips; and the vestry did not break up, as their minutes shew, without thanking the bishop for the plot of ground on which the new church was to be built, and the liberal subscription offered by him. Whether any one in the vestry remembered the words of the polished nobleman, who said, “Praise, when it is not deserved, is the severest satire and abuse,” I do not know; I am inclined to believe that the majority of those who tendered their thanks to the bishop, were sincere. But how oddly do those praises and thanks come upon the reader, who has studied the history of the Paddington Estate!
This new Paddington church was to be built by subscription on a site fixed by the owners of the Estate, at the western extremity of the Grand Junction-road. And on the eighth of June, 1840, the committee report “that a design adapted to the wants and means of the parish has been selected by the vestry,” subject to the appropriation of the two great subscribers; “the Metropolitan Churches Committee,” and “Her Majesty’s Commissioners for building new churches.”
Plans were advertised for, and thirty-eight designs were received. “Five of the most eligible” were selected; and the one with the motto, “Let merit bear the Palm,” was especially recommended by the Committee to the vestry. On this, as on many another occasion, however, merit was jostled out of the field by mediocrity, or something worse, and Mr. Lindsey’s design was rejected on account of his having been induced to increase the detailed cost of the building far beyond his original estimate.