Architectural Perspectives

Contributed by Ron Pettapiece

In the chapter dealing with finance, we will learn about the present monetary value of Trinity Church. This information is noteworthy in a practical sense both for the sake of our curiosity about inflationary tendencies and for the perspective it provides on real capital, but its significance stops there. To the members of Trinity and St. Paul's - Avenue Road, our homes of worship have meant much more than simply wood and stone, land and property values. Over the last century, we have developed a real attachment to these buildings — everyone has personal memories to cherish and individual sources of pride. Yet, in common, we revere these buildings as second homes with their generous though intangible attractions. Our own senses and emotions signify their real value.

Nevertheless, it is with special pride that we recognize the artistic features of the church edifices. In fact, the Toronto Historical Board has designated both buildings to be of artistic and architectural merit and requires City approval before changes can be made to the structures. In this chapter, we will explore the architectural and artistic intricacies of the church buildings.

Trinity United Church

Like many public buildings during the last half of the nineteenth century, including the (Old) City Hall and Victoria College, Trinity United Church was constructed of stone quarried from Forks of the Credit River. It was built in a Revived Romanesque style made popular during the period by the American architect, Henry H. Richardson. Richardson modified and improved the Romanesque style then having a revived popularity in Europe. He was greatly impressed with its "rugged, masculine and unaffected"1 qualities. This style aptly displayed the newly acquired sense of propriety, wealth and stability so important to Victorian society through its reliance on "structural massiveness, height, excessive ornamentation and graciousness". Certainly Trinity reflected this trend to "gain in bulk" and "reach... skyward", except that it down-played the use of ornamentation. In fact, Trinity owes its stylistic success to its application of Revived Romanesque devices, in particular the massive-style arched entrances and heavy rusticated stonework. The dwarfed pillars, which are intended to suggest they can barely support the weight upon them, further emphasize the massiveness of the form. The lack of exterior embellishments, except for the tower belting and carved arch pedestals, add a Norman appearance to the whole structure. Viewing the church from Walmer Road on a still, foggy night, it does not take much imagination to visualize a solid, medieval fortress. It was said of Richardson that "his architecture and even that of his imitators stood out like rocks in the urban sea of insincere and trivial building." Although this opinion was written in 1880, it could, at the risk of sounding indulgent, equally be said of Trinity Church in its present surroundings.

The chief architect for Trinity was Edmund Burke. Born in Ireland in 1850, he immigrated to Canada with his family and was educated at Upper Canada College. Burke received his formal architectural training from his uncle, the prolific church architect Henry Langley,3 and became a partner in the firm in 1873. After the construction of Trinity, he would design several impressive public buildings including the Simpson department store at Queen and Yonge and several other stores across the country.4 In 1909, while he was in partnership with John C. Horwood, he returned to Trinity and designed the Sunday School addition. Edmund Burke died in 1919 and left an impressive legacy as one of Toronto's great architects.

Little is known about the deliberations over the style to be employed in Trinity, yet it can be comfortably conjectured that the founders of the congregation, Gage, Eaton, Langmuir and Westwood, all had input. Nonetheless, they must have been impressed with Burke's credentials as President of the Ontario Association of Architects, with the many buildings he had already completed and with the picturesque vagaries of the Romanesque style. Most certainly they would have left the major decisions to the architect. The committee's primary concern was the size of the church. It required a building capable of holding the 1,700 Methodist worshippers in the congregation. With extra seating in the galleries and the horseshoe arrangement of the pews, capacity was actually increased to 2,400 and Trinity was for a time the largest Protestant Church in Canada.

Moreover, it should be remembered that having Edmund Burke produce a Romanesque church was quite a novelty. In general, church architects have conformed in symmetry and design to the standards required by liturgical faiths and traditions. Roman Catholic churches, for instance, have many of these standards set forth in rubrics. Trinity Church, therefore , was an innovative experiment in design reflecting the contemporary attitudes of its progressive congregation.

It is apparent that Burke had some fun employing various structural and authentic devices in the interior. In particular the great rose-style windows with bull's-eye insets on the north, east and south give immediate shape and light to the sanctuary. Large circular spandrels, found at the base of the vaultings, imitate the window design. Over the windows are barrel-arched vaultings which arrive at the central skylight. The "lantern" as it is properly called, is a 40 foot square of 2,118 glass panes arranged in a checkered pattern and is the single most interesting feature of the building. At one time it could be illuminated for night use, presumably by gas jets.

There is a network of cables in the lantern enclosure. Until prohibited by the pigeon situation, the cables were pulled from below by means of a pulley system to retract the large pane sections and allow the hot air to escape in summer. The external windows of the enclosure could be opened in a similar manner and the chandelier can still be lowered to the floor of the sanctuary by pulley and crank today. The lantern also has the aesthetic effect of emphasizing the sanctuary's square-shaped massiveness. A rectangular light, on the other hand, would have suggested length which is not a characteristic of the Romanesque style. On all four corners of the lantern are found double-arched tresses which appear to support the ceiling; this is not altogether true. Although the estimated weight on the arch spans of the 78 foot ceiling is understood to be 60,000 pounds, the main roof supports converge unnoticeably above the tresses in a square inside the lantern enclosure. The lantern thus has great structural as well as artistic value in its creation of the "hanging ceiling effect". The main thrust of the building is carried by a series of piers which follow much of the length of the 98' high walls. These piers connect to 1' square rafter beams and run behind the walls on either side of the windows into 20" square granite footings underground. In Burke's other churches such as Walmer Road Baptist, this structural apparatus tends to be quite visible and somewhat more conventional.

Some of Trinity's intended grandeur, however, was lost in 1982 when the furthest side aisles and some of the second aisles were walled off to provide space for a nursery, vestry, offices, choir room, kitchenette, and the new Memorial Room. The reduction by half of the sanctuary's original width of 97' and the shortening by 151 /2' of its 88' length reduced the total seating capacity to approximately 850. The effect has been according to Ellen Willows, to "convert the vast space into one that is far cozier".

For a church of its size, Trinity is indeed "cozy". Its dark woodwork and rich diapason colours of deep green and maroon warm the sanctuary. The present pulpit and anterior woodwork were completed in 1933 under the direction of architect A. Frank Wilkson. At this time, the choir and organ platform were improved and the present communion table and pulpit seats were installed. Both before and after the restorations, the central focus had been upon the pulpit. But the symmetry and homogeneity afforded by the new workmanship created a more pleasing effect. Nothing has been allowed to distract attention from the pulpit. Even the burnished pipes of the organ or the fine woodwork of the pipe gallery fail to threaten the continuity and focus of the sanctuary. The unity of the sanctuary is also heightened by the irreplaceable wrought iron balcony rail. Detailed with sheaf motif, its perforations seem to join rather than separate the upper and lower floors.

Finally, as we return outside, it is worthy to mention the iron railing along the north side of the church. Originally it surrounded the property of one of the church's founding fathers, W.J. Gage. The most remarkable exterior feature, however, of the church's 198' length is the large tower on the northeast corner. Rising 115' above Robert and Bloor Streets, the tower gives access to the lantern and also leads to an outdoor loft. The original pinnacle was embellished by red terracotta corner moldings and was crowned by a copper finial similar to the one still seen on Walmer Road Baptist Church. Today the tower dominates the surrounding landscape and is a visible beacon to all arriving at the church. At its base, it also provides the formal double entrance for Sunday worship.

Figure 4 - Photograph of the original linen rendering (Horwood Collection) signed by the contractors on the completion of the building in December, 1889.

Figure 5 - The nave of St. Paul's Church, 1973.

St. Paul's United Church

By the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the City of Toronto was gradually expanding north of its old Bloor Street limits. As more and more people moved into the Yorkville Village and eastern Annex area, the existing church facilities were becoming woefully inadequate. The union of the various Methodist denominations in 1884 added to the pressure on the former Primitive Methodist Church at Yonge and Davenport (now the site of the Masonic Temple Building). In 1886, under the leadership of Rev TW Jolliffe, the congregation decided to erect a new church further west In the same year, it purchased the present site on the southeast corner of Avenue Road and Webster Avenue (originally Avenue Place) for $60.00 per foot frontage. The lot measured 100' along Avenue Road and under 284' east along Webster. The land and church combined cost just under $40,000 and was partially paid for by the sale of the old Yonge Street Church for $19,000.

The firm of Smith and Gemmel were given the contract to design the new church. During his celebrated fifty-seven year career, James Smith was responsible for the building of over ninety churches in Toronto alone. Smith and his former student John Gemmel had formed a partnership in 1870 and together they had become renowned for their high Victorian Gothic buildings including old Knox College on Spadina Circle north of College Street and the Anglican Church of the Redeemer at Avenue Road and Bloor. While some architects were preoccupied with the new Revived Romanesque style, Smith and Gemmel remained faithful to the graceful French Gothic. At the same time they were absorbed with the use of new building techniques and new materials to create intricate and unusual forms to fulfill the potential of the Gothic style.

St Paul's is a wonderful combination of structural design concepts such as the use of cast iron interior supports which draw the observer upward to the ceilings groined elegantly in plaster. The designers intended, and the skilled contractor, WH Crane, fulfilled the expectation, that the vaulting should resemble stone. Therefore, the structural ribs which at first appear to be only decorative do not look out of place fitted on their slender cast iron supports. The effect is very sweeping and naturally uplifting. The pillars and vaultings can be compared favourably to the ceiling constructions stylized in Spain during the twelfth century. Dependent from two of the central triangular ceiling sections are two "quaintly wrought gaseliers" which are very French in appearance. Surrounded by the luxuriant Hahn fresco, the nave as a whole is the very definition of elegance.

Somehow, as if by magic, the disparity of materials, styles and periods have united to create an interior gracefulness that is a true paradigm of its twelfth-century models. The renowned architect Eric Arthur extolled the beauty of St Paul's interior not long before his death:

The nave of St Paul's is a gem in its way, without equal in Canada, or, for that matter, in North America. It has so attractive a pattern of interlocking structural ribs that, were that the whole story, the church would be worth preserving. But what gives St Paul's its unique character is its painted ceiling, done in the Art Nouveau manner by Gustav Hahn in 1890-2.

Indeed, the crowning glory of St Paul's church is the much celebrated fresco which is considered to be the best of its kind still extant in Canada, if not North America. When the ceiling design was commenced, "Art Nouveau" was flourishing in Europe and its introduction into Toronto church architecture was rather spectacular. As with all good religious art, its significance lies with the mood and atmosphere it creates for the worshipper and in this regard the fresco has been eminently successful. The virginal angels, surrounded by lilies, tendrils, and scriptural passages have provided a real focus for worship over the years at St Paul's. For example, Mary F Stott fondly recalled: 'I am very fond of the quotation, "God gave his children memory, that in Life's garden there might be June roses in December". One of my June roses is the memory of the Sunday at St Paul's when Gustav Hahn, the artist who painted the Art Nouveau ceiling and the arch over the organ pipes, came into the pulpit and told us how he lay on his back on the scaffolding day after day and painted the ceiling. He said that when he had finished the ceiling he felt he had to express his feelings and with joy, painted over the organ pipes the words of the 84th psalm, "How amiable are thy tabernacles, oh Lord of Hosts, my soul longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the Lord". I am sure I'm not the only one in the congregation whose eyes were upwards to those words every time we were in the sanctuary. This is one of the things I miss most about the church that was my "home" for so many years.

Although the interior beauty of St Paul's makes it unique in Toronto, it must also be remembered that the exterior has great merit and appeal as well. The white brick and stone materials still maintain a degree of elegance reminiscent of the time when the church dominated the residential landscape. The effect of the gables, the contiguous tower pinnacle (the most Gothic of the adornments) and the glass doors which once filled the arch entry to the principal vestibule are only the beginning of the interesting exterior features. Nevertheless, the exterior of St Paul's, like so many Toronto churches, is suffering from what I call, "metropolitan dwarfism". Camouflaged by the generally overwhelming modern buildings which surround it, St Paul's has been deprived of the candour it once had when it stood resplendent in its whiteness as the "church on the corner".

The sanctuary is now a theatre and the Sunday School and hall house various business and social operations They have also suffered somewhat from the transformation to secular purposes. There is a positive side, however. At least the building was not destroyed and thousands annually are able to view the interior grandeur as they attend the Canadian Rep Theatre. Although minor structural alterations have been made, the elliptical gallery with its ornamental iron work front is still the same. The curved staircases, which were rare for the period, are like the rest of the woodwork still handsomely finished in Chestnut. And the ten stained glass windows, although now covered by blinding, have not been disturbed. A stage now stands where the small but neat pulpit once rested, surrounded by semicircular choir pews. Even the organ console is still visible under the flooring.

It is not by way of qualification that I say we should not feel sad over the loss of this magnificent church. It has meant so much to so many for so long. But, by way of marriage, the spirit of the congregation and of the building is alive at Trinity-St Paul's. Moreover, the church edifice, itself, promises to remain an important part of the city's life. More important than its official designation as an historic property, Torontonians are growing to appreciate that:

Wherever a nation had a conscience and a mind, it recorded the evidence of its being, in the highest products of this greatest of all arts.

Figure 6 - Ceiling panels adorned by Gustav Hahn's Pre-Ralpaelite angels.