Methodist Central Hall, Westminster

Stand on the pavement at Storey's Gate and look up. Pale stone climbs above you in heavy, curving forms, and a wide dome sits on top like a grey shell. Behind you, the towers of Westminster Abbey rise against the sky. Traffic moves around Parliament Square, buses sigh at the kerb, and somewhere a bell marks the hour. This is Methodist Central Hall. It is a church, a concert venue and a meeting place, all in one large building.

Most visitors walk past it on their way to the Abbey. That is a pity, because this building has its own place in the story of the twentieth century. It is a place of worship for Methodists, one of the largest Protestant movements to grow out of England. It is also a civic space, rented out for conferences, concerts, exams and public debates. In a single week, you might find a Sunday service, a choir rehearsal and a business conference under the same dome.

To understand why it stands here, start with one man. John Wesley was an eighteenth-century Anglican clergyman who travelled across Britain on horseback, preaching in fields, market squares and mining towns. His followers became known as Methodists, a name first used as a mild insult for their methodical habits of prayer and study. Wesley died in 1791. As the centenary of his death approached, Methodists began to plan a grand memorial for the new century.

The plan needed money, and the way it was raised is the first surprise of this building. Instead of relying on a few rich patrons, Methodist leaders asked ordinary members to give one guinea each. A guinea was an old British coin, worth a little more than a pound. The campaign became known as the Million Guinea Fund. Over a million people took part, from wealthy merchants to factory workers and children. Their names were recorded in a long register called the Historic Roll.

Think about that for a moment. The stone above you was paid for, coin by coin, by people who would mostly never see it. Many of them lived far from London, in chapels in Cornwall, Yorkshire and Wales. For them, this hall was a statement. It said that their movement, which began in open fields, now had a permanent place in the very centre of national life — a short walk from the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament.

The site itself has an unexpected past. Before the hall, this ground held the Royal Aquarium, a Victorian entertainment palace. Despite its name, it became better known for music hall acts, performers and popular shows than for fish. Some people considered it rather disreputable. When the Aquarium was demolished, a Methodist church rose in its place. The change from pleasure palace to place of worship says a great deal about the confidence of the age.

The architects were Lanchester and Rickards, a partnership known for bold public buildings. They chose a style often called Edwardian Baroque, with influences from Vienna and from French design schools. Baroque is a style of rich curves, deep shadows and dramatic shapes. Look at the way the stonework swells and turns at the corners. There is almost no spire, no pointed Gothic arch. Instead, the building looks more like a grand town hall than a traditional English church.

Here is the second surprise. That great dome is built with a steel and reinforced concrete structure, a technique that was still new in Britain when the hall went up. It allowed the builders to cover a very wide space without rows of columns blocking the view. The hall opened in the early 1910s. At the time, its dome was among the largest of its type in the world. From the street, it looks like solid stone. Inside, it hangs over a single, open room.

That room is the Great Hall. It holds more than two thousand people, arranged in curved rows and balconies that face a central platform and a large pipe organ. The shape is designed for hearing the spoken word. Methodism has always placed great weight on preaching, and the architects wanted every person in the room to hear the speaker clearly. That same quality has made the hall a favourite for orchestras, choirs and public speakers ever since.

Now for the moment that brings visitors from all over the world. In January 1946, only months after the Second World War ended, the first General Assembly of the United Nations met in this Great Hall. Delegates from dozens of countries gathered here to begin the work of a new international organisation. London was still scarred by bombing. Food was rationed. Yet inside this room, representatives tried to build a framework for lasting peace. A plaque in the building marks the occasion.

It is worth imagining the scene. Delegates walked across Parliament Square in heavy winter coats, past bomb damage and sandbags, and climbed these steps. Translators worked between languages. Journalists filled the galleries. The organisation later moved to its permanent home in New York, and many people today have forgotten that it began here. For a few weeks, this Methodist hall was one of the most closely watched rooms on Earth.

Over the decades, the building has kept that double life. It hosts public meetings, political rallies, lectures and music. It also hosts regular worship, weddings and quiet prayer. Inside the entrance, the atmosphere changes quickly. The street noise falls away. You may hear the murmur of a conference crowd, the scrape of chairs, or an organ warming up. There is often a café on the lower level, where visitors and office workers sit side by side over tea.

If you go inside, take a moment beneath the dome. Look at the way light falls from above, and notice how wide the room feels without supporting pillars. Then think of the coins from the Million Guinea Fund, and the delegates of 1946. One building holds both stories. It began as a gift from ordinary believers, and it became a place where nations first sat down together.

When you step back outside, turn slowly. On one side, the medieval stone of Westminster Abbey. On another, the clock tower of Parliament. And here, the pale curves of this Edwardian dome — newer, quieter, often overlooked. Listen to the buses, the footsteps, the voices of tourists in many languages. In a small way, that mix of voices is exactly what this hall was built to welcome.